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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

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Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs. They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter. He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two. The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’. Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call. “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!” Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.” “You… are something else.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?” Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.” “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?” What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one. “Only if it’s my treat.” “But I was the one who asked you out.” “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.” Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?” Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!” Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach. “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.” Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that. “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.” That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.” “I mean it kind of is.” “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?” “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?” Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling. “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.” The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes). Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived. “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.” She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message. Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?” “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…” She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?” “You could say that, yeah.” “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.” Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.” For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist. “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.” “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.” At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.” “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face. “Swear it.” “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.” “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.” “See ya’ in a bit.” Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her. “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it. “Thank you. For being here.” Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.” When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs. As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting. “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs. “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.” Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it. “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.” By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.” She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it. “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.” As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face. “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.” “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had. Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest. When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.” “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.” “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience. “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!” The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe. “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was. “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him. When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so. “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.” “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.” Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

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four-loose-screws · 3 years

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FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 13, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 13: The Desert Palace (con’t)

A cacophony of noises echoed from around the front gate.

Innes and his force had started to move. The enemy soldiers were being even louder than usual. In their eyes, Eirika’s army, at a severe disadvantage, must appear to have attacked with the resolve to sacrifice themselves in battle.

Joshua led Eirika’s group around to the east side of the palace. With them were just Seth, L’Arachel, and a few others, making up a force of only ten soldiers. Though they knew that this passageway would be lightly guarded, it didn’t seem possible that they’d be able to lead a successful attack with such few numbers… Eirika was unsure, but Joshua insisted that they were more than fine.

Just as he’d said, the east side of the palace was deserted. Eirika’s group completely avoided being spotted by any enemies, and they safely arrived at a small door.

It was completely unsurprising that the Grado Army had overlooked this place. If one did not know the construction of the castle in full detail, they would probably never realize that a door would be located in a part of the castle like this.

Ross stepped forward and chopped down the door with a single swing of his axe.

A few guard soldiers had been positioned in the hallway just in case, but they were taken by surprise, and all they did was flail around in a panic, and hardly helped guard the entrance at all.

Eirika’s group defeated them before they could even call for back-up.

“You can see a door to a room used as a weapon storeroom over there. If we take the weapons that are in there, it’ll be a huge help to us.” Joshua said.

L’Arachel started galloping over to it.

Joshua called out to her, “Hey, that’s not where the weapons are! That’s the door to the treasure room! You won’t find anything in there that will help us!”

However, L’Arachel didn’t seem to hear him, as she grabbed the doorknob.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. It opened easily, and L’Arachel rushed inside without any concern.

Eirika followed after her in a panic. There could very well be a crass Grado soldier sneaking and rummaging around in there. It would be very dangerous if they were to cross paths.

The next words she heard come from L’Arachel were almost hysterical.

“My goodness! This is where you were?! I told you to follow me! You cannot meander around in a place like this!”

‘Who is she talking to?’ Eirika thought it very strange, and peered inside the room.

Several locked boxes were inside of it. The contents were probably the various treasures that had been gathered and stored inside Jehanna Palace.

L’Arachel was standing and looking at a young man, someone Eirika had seen before.

He was none other than L’Arachel’s other follower, Rennac.

Rennac looked back and forth between L’Arachel and Eirika, utterly dumbfounded, before dropping his shoulders. “Oh, um… Why wasn’t I following you? I, um… More importantly, what are you doing here…?”

“Rennac?”

An open chest lying on its side lay at his feet, and when Eirika looked very closely, she saw that he was wearing bracelets and crowns, and glittering necklaces lined his pockets.

“What… were you doing?” Judging by what it looked like, Eirika couldn’t imagine that he was doing anything other than sneaking into the treasure room to try and take the treasure.

However, right now, the palace was occupied by the Grado Army. How could Rennac have possibly snuck in here after separating from L’Arachel in Carcino?

But L’Arachel did not mind any of that, instead extending a hand towards him.

“Come with me right now! We will combine our powers and defeat the Grado Army!"

“Hey… now wait just a minute! I’m not your servant anymore! The Grado Army…”

“What?!”

“I was trying to say that I’m working for the Grado Army now!”

“The Grado Army is committing such shameless acts! I cannot believe they stole a follower of mine!!”

“No, that’s not… Oh, whatever. I’m not like that old man Dozla at all! I didn’t really pledge my loyalty to you. I was just employed as your guard, wasn’t I? Yet you haven’t paid me any money at all! Of course I’d be swayed by the Grado army and their high pay…"

“What are you talking about, Rennac? I gave you something far greater than a salary, didn’t I?” L’Arachel warmly spread her arms open wide.

“Huh?” Rennac answered.

“A life mission! I gave you a duty from the gods to fight evil! And it is a duty more grand than any other! The joy you get from doing good and helping others cannot be replaced by anything else! This is all much more important than money!”

The crown and bracelets all fell with a clang from around Rennac’s arms. He covered his hands with his ears, showing how much he did not want to hear another word. “It’s always the same with you! I want money more than duty, or to do good deeds! You always make me go with whatever logic is convenient for you, and drag me around everywhere…”

“And it was all for the better, don’t you think? Your eyes are so much more clear and beautiful than when we first met. It's because you were with me, doing good deeds! Now you shall do even more! Come with me!"

L'Arachel immediately left the room. Rennac watched her leave with regret in his eyes, but then he looked at Eirika. "...Say, Miss?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Would you like to hire me?"

Rennac's expression quickly brightened. He clapped his hands together at his brilliant idea, and walked over to Eirika. "Yeah, that's the best way to solve this! You're different from that stingy princess! You look like you'd pay me well!"

"Uh… um…"

"The name's Rennac. I'm a skilled thief. Well, I call myself that, but I'm no fool. I am more skilled in lockpicking than anyone else! No matter the type of lock on a door or a box filled with treasure, I can open it in an instant. My sword fighting skills are the real deal too! And you can have this indispensable man for ten thousand gold! For just ten thousand gold, I will become one of your allies. That's quite the bargain!"

"Ten… thousand?"

That was a lot of money. To someone who was careful with money like Eirika, such an amount made her take a step back.

If they needed someone who could pick locks, they already had Colm. They had no need to pay this man such a large sum of money and hire him.

She tried to turn down his offer, but Rennac picked up on what she was thinking and quickly said, “You’re a tough nut to crack! Ten thousand gold is a bargain, but I’ll make a special offer for a pretty little lady like you. I’ll give you a big discount, and drop it down to nine thousand, nine hundred, eighty gold! How about that?”

“Um, no.. That amount is still too much…”

The moment he was starting to overwhelm her, L’Arachel peered back into the treasure room. “What are you dragging your feet for, Rennac? Come along!”

Even the eloquent Rennac was weak to the princess of Rausten.

He said in a voice completely unlike the one he had cornered Eirika with, “Please go on ahead, don’t wait for me.” It was the best response he could muster.

“What was that?”

“Um, what I mean to say is…”

“If you don’t follow right behind me, then you’ll get lost again! You have no sense of direction, so be careful not to lose sight of me!” L’Arachel didn’t even wait for a reply, immediately leaving the treasury again.

Rennac ruffled a hand through his hair and whispered defeatedly, “...Dammit… my hands are tied. Guess my luck ran out when I thought she’d be a good employer…” Rennac looked over at Eirika and lowered his head. “You heard her. I’m coming with you.”

“But ten thousand gold is way too high for me…”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ve decided to get her to pay me someday. For now, I'll go along with her…”

Rennac picked up the bracelets he dropped earlier and stuffed them in his pockets, then smirked. “I’ll settle with this for the time being. Now let’s go, before the princess starts complaining again.”

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #eirika #gba #game boy advance #japan #japanese #translation #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

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lonely-teddy-bear · 4 years

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The King’s Mate • chapter 2

(rewritten version)

word count: 2.4k

I will try making them longer, but it means it’ll take me more time to write which I don’t mind but I do go to college and have to read books weekly but I will write as much as I can on my free time :)

Don't hate me, i left a cliffhanger ;) hope you all enjoy!

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Chapter two

Waking up to the sound of my phone ringing loudly, which I assume was the doing of my lovely friend, I grabbed it while still having my eyes closed. I didn't know what time it was or who would be calling me (because I didn't bother checking) but I hope they have a reason to why they would be calling and waking me up.

"Good morning sleeping beauty! Rise and shine we are leaving in an hour so get your ass out of bed and come to the front of the campus. I'll wait here for you with coffee." I wasn't aloud to let out a hello from Micheal talking fast and hanging up right after finishing talking. I don't know how he even has this much energy so early in the morning.

Getting up with a groan and sitting on the edge of the bed to take a minute of my surroundings, I looked at the time on my phone that was still in my hand to see that it was seven in the morning. Geez I wonder at what time Micheal got up this morning.

Since I took a shower last night and had everything packed I just freshened up and changed in some decent but comfortable clothing, and since it was cold outside I made sure to cover myself to keep myself warm.

Arriving to the front of the school I was able to see how I was probably the last one to arrive but gladly was able to see I wasn't. Looking around for Micheal, I was able to find him talking to I'm guessing it was one of the advisors that will be joining in the trip. Heading over to them I smiled at both of them and greeted the advisor with a good morning, even though it wasn't a good morning with the cold weather.

I looked around while they both talked, I didn't want to be rude and eavesdrop on their conversation.

After the other advisors arrived we made a straight line and made us sign in, while we started getting on the bus. We handed our bags to the bus driver where he later placed them in a storage compartment under the bus. I had every intention of heading to the very back, but Micheal pulled me by my arm and with his head he pointed to the middle seats. I rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything because all I wanted was to catch up on some sleep.

Once everyone was on board we started to make our way up to the nearest werewolf pack, which for our luck it was the royal pack.

The Royal werewolves where like the king and queen of England but they ruled over the werewolves and were more old fashioned. At least, that was what I heard from the others that had gone.

The ride over to the pack was supposed to be around an hour, so I made myself comfortable and put my earphones in and closed my eyes while I enjoyed the music. Lucky for me, Micheal had fallen asleep not even ten minutes into the ride so I was safe to take a nap without having to be bothered by him.

Sooner than what I expected, I was already getting shaken awake and when I opened my eyes I saw that it was the advisor.

"Come on, we have arrived. Everyone is waiting outside." I looked to my right and saw that Micheal was gone as well. I can't believe he left me, so much for being on my side at all times.

I met everyone outside, noticing that they were all gossiping and talking among each other. I pushed through the crowd of people, making my way towards the front of the group to see what was going on. I was able to spot Micheal right away but what caught my attention was that there was a girl on his arms. Walking over to him, I tapped him on his shoulders causing him to turn around. Once he noticed it was me he gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I left behind but you wouldn't wake up at all and I kind of got pulled out from the bus." He gave a side glance towards the girl on his arms. Looking at her who surprisingly was almost my height, I saw how she was glaring at me. The glare was so hard that I swear I would have been dead if a glare was able to kill someone.

I raised my hands up in surrender. "We are friends, nothing more I swear. I fully respect the mate bond."

I had heard from a literature that it was best to submit to the werewolf community, no matter what it was for but especially when it came to having friends with mates. I didn't really believe that they would be super possessive but by the way she was looking at me I guess I was wrong.

After a couple of minutes her glare softened and gave me a smile. "I'm sorry, my wolf doesn't really like it when other girls talk to our mate but she seemed to have read you and liked you."

Read me? I glanced at Micheal but he just shrugged, just as confused as I was.

The voice of a man caught my attention, causing me to walk to where I was standing next to Micheal and looked to where the man was which wasn't far from us.

"Hello everyone, my name is Christian and I will be your leader for today's tour. Over there with the tall handsome man is my sister Christina who is in fact my twin and she will also be joining us in this tour. If you have any questions, don't be scared to ask either of us, we won't bite." He sent a wink while smirking after making the bite comment. Some people laughed at the irony and some just looked scared.

"So, you all will be following me while my sister stands in the back taking care of everyone to make sure no one drifts away. With that, we ask that you do not touch anything and try your best not to drift away from the group. We do have guards in almost every corner and they won't be as nice as Christina or me will be, if you are caught wondering off. We do want you to enjoy the tour and learn about us and our culture." He started walking and we all followed. I decided to stick with Micheal and Christina in the back, but made sure to not look like a third wheel next to them.

We walked deeper into the woods and while we walked, I looked around to see how tall and big the trees were. Christian was talking about the werewolves nature and how they shift and run through this woods, but only on the other side of the walls where it was safer for them.

I stopped looking around when I heard people's gasps. In front of us was a castle like building. Tall walls made of gray stone stood strong and acted as a barrier to their territory. I couldn't help but to think of how the whole thing made the woods look darker and scarier than they actually were. Despite the eerie feeling, it also gave off the sense that you were about to meet royalty. Which in a way, we were about to go into a castle where the queen and king lived.

"This here was the first thing built. The stone walls go up to 15 feet tall and in some parts they go taller. They surround almost 8 thousand acres, but we have added more to the pack. At this point we have lost how much acres we have. This here," he pointed to the fence but didn't touch, "are made of pure iron and yes the plants that you all are near by are wolfsbane. We have this in case there is any rouges." He stopped talking when a guy raised his hand and started talking.

"What is a rouge?" Christian gave a small smile at him, "A rouge is a wolf that doesn't belong to anyone, has gone mad if you say. They are ones that have either been kicked out or have lost their mind in some way, maybe lost a loved one, which usually happens when a wolf loses its mate." I heard Christina whimper, causing me and others near me to look at her , she was holding Micheal as if her life depended on him which in a way it did.

The gates opened up without having to press anything, "I used the mind link to get the guards to open the gates," he laughed and continued walking inside.

I looked around and saw people walking around. There were women with children and some men training or hanging around. There were even some wolves that were bigger than I had imagined.

Christian kept talking about what they did in their free time. They seemed to do what us human did, they had jobs, they went to school, they had activities and events, they seemed so normal except the random wolves in the field.

We were taken into what looked like a small castle. It had a gothic structure, but didn't look scary, it looked fancy and welcoming. Going inside caused everyone to gasp. My eyes looked over my surroundings, understanding why there had been so many gasps. It was absolutely beautiful. Gold and white colored almost every surface. The chandeliers sparkled from how clean and bright they were, there was a staircase in sight but we didn't go up, instead we went down a hallway. The hallway was wide enough for us to walk through and have our space but the hall was decorated with so many things. There was clocks that looked older than me, picture frames with paintings on them, they seem to be the queens before the one they have, while the floors where covered in dark red carpet.

"So this here are the previous queens. We like to have them up here so when the next queen comes she'll know where she'll be and so we can honor them, as well." A girl raised her hand and Christian pointed to her waiting for her question.

"So you don't have a queen right now?" Christian shook his head and looked at the wall of queens.

"Not at this moment, we have been waiting patiently for the king to find her, but he is starting to get impatient so let's hope one of you is the next queen so we can all live in peace."

Another girl raised her hand and continued asking her question, "Are we going to meet the king?" Christian chuckled but nodded. "Yes, you will. Everyone meets him because we are looking for his mate. All the werewolves who don't have a mate are waiting at the town hall where our alpha is as well." Everyone started to whisper around, about how it would be cool if they were the one for the king and so on. I, on the other hand, was interested in the first picture of a queen. She looked so familiar but I couldn't think of a name. I didn't realize everyone had moved on and left me behind because when I snapped out of my trance it was by someone clearing their throat behind me, everyone was gone.

I turned around, feeling scared that I was left behind and that someone finding me meant that they could potentially hurt me. I looked around and saw no one in the hallways, not even Christina nor Micheal. They are so distracted with each other I bet they haven't even noticed that I was gone.

I looked back to the guy in front of me. He was taller than me, like way taller, he might have been around six feet tall which, in comparison to me who was barely 5'3, was tall. He was beautiful, captivating and I found it hard to look away even though I knew I should. His green honey eyes were staring back, holding me in place. I wanted to push the hair that fell into his face away, but knew better then to go touching some random guy's face.

Finally he spoke, cocking his head to the side as if he was curious, "Are ya lost?" The accent he spoke with took me off guard. I did not expect that because Christian nor Christina had accents, so why did he?

I wanted to speak, but all my mouth was doing was opening and closing like a fish desperate for water. He furrowed his brows and came closer to me, touching my arm. The trance I was in was broken with the shock I felt in my arm. "Ow! What was that?" I looked down at where he touched me and saw that there was a mark. A mark that I had never had before, it looked like a crescent moon.

I placed my hand over the moon like mark and looked up at the guy, who was staring at my arm in shock before he looked at me with a crazy look in his eyes.

In a blink of an eye I was pinned up to the wall, both his hands next to my head. His face was very close to mine and the only thing I could think of was the smell that surrounded me. He smelled so good and for some reason, I couldn't help but to inhale and smell his cologne. I felt a hand on my face, causing me to open my eyes which I didn't know I had closed. When my eyes met his, his eyes were shining and looked greener than before. His face came closer to mine, eyes focusing in on my lips. The hand that rested on my face moved down to grip at my hips. I knew he was going to kiss me and I wasn't going to fight him on it.

*******************

chapter two is up also in wattpad! I know I left you all wanting more but wait for chapter three ;)

guesses on who the green eye guy is?

If you want to be in the tag list just comment and I’ll add you to it :) xx

Tag list:

@iam-a-painted-whore @heautifulharry @kaepm981

#Harry Styles #werewolf!harry #harry styles x reader #wattpad #werewolf #the king's mate #king harry styles

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vaguekiwi · 4 years

Text

Whom Shall I Fear?

@tony-is-my-daddy posted this and my brain fucking broke down.

Whom Shall I Fear?

Pairings: Tony Stark x Peter Parker

Summary: 1 Samuel 16 - 17 but it’s Starker. (David in Saul’s Service, David and Goliath.) Tony is David and Peter is Jonathan and I have so much to say about this but I’m gonna put it at the very end.

Characters: David:Tony Stark, Jonathan:Peter Parker, Saul:Richard Parker (background unnamed Samuel, Goliath, and Merab.)

Word Count: ~2000

Other Inspiration: Sight by Sleeping at Last

Warnings: Biblical crossover/speculation, safe for work, not safe for church, hint of homophobia, inappropriate use of Biblical concepts/language

When they met, they were both still young.

There was a new attendant in the king’s court. He had dark hair and his neck was curved toward the instrument, so Peter could not see his face. But he handled the lyre carefully, almost reverently, as he played.

Peter itched for the man to turn his face, longed to see the rest of the full jaw in his view, wanted to see the colour of his eyes. Eyes which captured the lyre with an earnest focus, eyes which Peter was sure enamoured anything and anyone they looked at.

“Peter!” Peter started at the sound of the king’s voice, but was glad he did not sound angry or resigned.

“I apologise, my lord king.” Peter bowed when he addressed his father. He could feel those eyes on him now, fought the urge to turn.

“Peter,” King Richard straightened himself and waved his son in, “come, meet Anthony.” So Peter faced the musician who stood to bow.

Peter could see immediately that he could do more than play the lyre. His frame was strong and his eyes - Peter had been right - were bewitching pools of brown; traces of green and gold flashed in the man’s gaze as he looked Peter up and down.

“A warrior, too,” King Richard sighed as Peter shook Anthony’s hand, “yet to truly prove himself in battle, but that time will come. I find his songs… soothing.”

Anthony finally spoke, his cadence rough and gaze never leaving Peter’s face, “I am fortunate the Lord has blessed me with such a gift, my king.”

“Yes, thanks be to God.” The king mumbled, then shook his head. “To think your talents were being wasted so— herding sheep! It is good you have come here, Anthony.”

“I am grateful to be here, my king. And grateful too, for the beautiful instrument you have provided me.”

The king mumbled at that, and made a motion that he should continue playing. So Anthony sat down again and lifted the lyre.

Peter knew he had effectively been dismissed, but he lingered outside the door. He pressed his back to the wall and listened to Anthony’s music. He wondered why his cheeks were warm, and what the stirring in his stomach meant.

—

Anthony’s music did more than soothe the king. It stopped any temperamental episodes all together. The entire castle grew to welcome the sight of the young man with the lyre who could keep the king’s demons at bay.

He was not there all the time. He often went home to his family. Said tiredly that he needed to look after his father, help his brothers, and of course continue to watch the sheep.

When he was not there, King Richard became paranoid and angry. He threw things and spat heresy. The rumours troubled him; the ones that said King Richard had lost favour with God, that God had sent prophets to anoint a new king. Peter didn’t know whether to believe them or not, he just continued to pray for forgiveness for his father.

Then Anthony would return with his lyre, always carefully tuned and polished, and he would play to ease the king’s heart.

He sang too, beautiful homilies of faith and wonder; stories about far-off lands and battle glory. It was because he sang that Peter first got to know him.

“Anthony, are you alright?” He found the young man bending over a desk, a quill rolling between his fingers, lower lip tucked into his mouth.

“Prince Peter,” The shepherd looked up and their eyes met, and Peter wished they hadn’t. He did not want to feel surrounded the way he did by that gaze, like there was pressure on all sides and he was held down by it. Like he desperately needed to come up for air, but could not unless the strength and assurance in Anthony’s gaze gave such permission.

It was a strange feeling of authority, between prince and subject. But it also felt right.

Then Anthony turned his worried gaze back to the paper and he sighed in exasperation. “I am having trouble writing,” he admitted at length, “the words don’t come as easily as some might think.”

“What is it about?”

Peter stepped further into the room, wanting to thumb away the anxiety creasing Anthony’s forehead.

“Fear,” Anthony chewed his bottom lip and anxiously rubbed the fingers of one hand together so flakes of ink fell to the top of the desk. Peter looked down at the paper, the jumble tight print against the page.

The wicked advance against me to devour me, the armies besiege me, war breaks out against me.

There was no music written to the lyric, but Peter could imagine it easily. Could hear Anthony’s lilting voice while his fingers strummed the lyre.

Peter spoke, and put his finger to the top of the page, “if it is about fear, then what is it that gives you strength when afraid? Write about that.” And so Anthony put his quill to the page again and scrawled

The Lord is my light, whom shall I fear?

Then he went still and looked up at Peter.

“It’s… difficult to write, my prince. With someone watching… like this.”

Peter took several steps back which were too big, putting more distance between them than they needed. “Of course, I’m sorry.” He said and turned away. The wicked advance against me, armies besiege me. What did that mean? What did Anthony, the shepherd with the king’s favour, have to be afraid of?

Before Peter left, Anthony called:

“Thank you, Prince Peter.”

And so that became routine. Short moments in the afternoon sitting in an abandoned office; Peter prompted and Anthony’s words flowed. And come evening Peter snuck to the king’s chambers and listened for the finished song.

—

King Richard was right, Anthony did eventually have cause to prove himself in battle.

Peter watched from afar with a trembling lip as Anthony shed the armour he’d been given.

Anthony cast aside his sword and declared the Lord was with him. It was a haughty sentiment, Peter thought, when in theory the Lord was with all of them.

Peter watched the musician push his way to the front lines with only a sling and five smooth stones in hand. Peter turned away, feeling a deep loss at the prospect of his friend’s death. The man who had brought peace to the king’s tortured mind.

The army jeered. King Richard shook his head sadly.

Peter thought of the tales of heroism which had been borne from Anthony’s mind - and what a brilliant mind it was - and sent a prayer for the Lord to protect His servant.

Afterward, when Anthony held the enemy commander’s head aloft, when their army roared and their foes retreated, Peter looked cautiously to his father. They could hear the chanting from here:

Richard has slain his thousands

And Anthony his tens of thousands!

A thinly-veiled insult to the king, if ever there was one.

King Richard’s face was unreadable as he turned to an aide. “Bring the shepherd boy to me.” He ordered.

And Peter thought God must be weary by now of his prayers.

—

But the king did not kill Anthony.

Peter was waiting outside the tent when he emerged. Blood still stained his hands and his clothes were still torn, but now a handsome purple mantle had been draped over his shoulders.

“Anthony!”

“Prince Peter.”

They stood just a bit too far apart from one another, a setting sun casting them in golden light while the cheers of victory and scent of sweet wine filled the space between them.

“My father…”

“He did not hurt me,” Anthony shrugged off the mantle and trudged away. Peter hurried to follow him.

“Are you alright?”

Anthony took them away from the festivities, toward the back of camp and to the seclusion of the streams and veld beyond.

When they were too far for anyone to hear them, but probably still in sight, Anthony said: “Our lord king has asked me to stay with him. To advise. To lead your army.”

“That is a great honour,” Peter said, even though his heart clutched with worry, “your family will be proud.”

“Prince Peter,” Anthony stopped now and turned to face him. He rubbed two fingers together, they watched flakes of dried blood sift off and settle to the ground.

“Prince Peter, I fear I am an enemy of your father.”

Peter glanced furtively back to camp before asking, “Why do you say that?”

“Have you heard that another man was anointed by the prophets? To be king in your father’s stead?”

“Yes.” Peter was conscious of his heart racing in his chest. He had a suspicion of what Anthony would say next, he did not know if he was afraid of it or wanted it to be true.

“Peter, I cannot lose a battle.” With the honorific prince cast away, Peter felt like his own skin had been peeled back, like Anthony was looking down at something raw and something secret. Anthony shook his head and kicked his foot into the desert ground, “I can go up against a ten foot tall general without a sword and still win… apparently.”

Peter whispered: “If you are the man the rumours are about, then the king will want you dead.”

“Or he will want me leashed,” Anthony replied, “he has already offered your sister’s hand. A fine home. A title. He is already afraid of me.”

“There is good reason to be afraid of any man with the Lord’s favour.” Peter mumbled, and then gasped when Anthony stepped forward. He put one hand on the small of Peter’s back and the other on the side of his neck, Peter could still smell the blood on it. The stench of sweat flooded his nostrils and they were very close like this, pressed flush against one another.

“Are you afraid of me, Peter?”

Peter didn’t completely understand the question, but he understood what was happening. He understood the danger of it, the horror of it. He understood that anyone could look down on them from here, and if not recognise them they could recognise the sin of two men so close.

His voice shook, “This is an abomination, Anthony-”

But Anthony only held him tighter, “The Lord is my rock, my protection, my Saviour. I can run to him for safety. He is my shield and my saving strength, my defender.” They were his own lyrics, his breath hot on Peter’s neck as he growled them out, “the world cannot touch me, Peter. Not unless He wills it. And He won’t, His plans for me are grander than this one battle.”

They were both quiet, Peter’s breath was hoarse but he let himself hang in Anthony’s grip, pressed his chin into his palm.

Again: “Peter… are you afraid of me?”

“If the Lord has chosen you to be king, then whom shall I fear?”

Anthony smiled, and it was genuine. It was happy. It was born from goodness and patience, from peace, joy, and love.

And Peter reached for the soft woollen britches which Anthony wore, torn at the knees and along his thigh from the battle.

“May I worship my king?”

Anthony growled. It was a sound that sent a spike of heat through Peter’s whole body. That made his head white with electricity when their lips met.

“Only if I may reward my servant.”

--------

Notes from Grace:

Okay, there’s SO much potential to this story. Everything I have written here is before the Bible actually mentions David and Jonathan making their covenant together. Like after this, there’s chapters on King Saul hunting David, Jonathan helping him to escape, Jonathan manipulating and lying to his father to protect David, Saul lowkey realising they’re in love so lying to Jonathan and accusing David of stealing his son away and corrupting him. There’s this actual dialogue:

**David: Your father knows very well that I have found favour in your eyes

Jonathan: Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do for you

Jonathan: Don’t be afraid, my father Saul will not lay a hand on you. You will be king over Israel, and I will be second to you.

And these actual verses:

“So Jonathan made a covenant with the house of David, saying ‘May the Lord call David’s enemies to account.’ And Jonathan had David reaffirm his oath out of love for him, because he loved him as he loved himself.”

“Then they kissed each other and wept together — but David wept the most”

And David being on the run and Jonathan straight up sneaking away from his dad to meet up in a secret liaison like who can possibly say that wasn’t gay as hell?????

And Saul offering David two of his daughters’ hands in marriage and David being like “... nah.” while ‘affirming covenants’ with Jonathan left and right.

But this is all I wrote. If anyone’s into it I would encourage/welcome you to continue it and would love to be tagged in any such continuation.

**(I use an NIV Bible for 99% of my Bible needs)

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #bible au #grace writes

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she-wolf-of-highgarden · 5 years

Text

All the times Arya mentions “Home”

*Arya mentions wanting to go home every book so far (or 44 times), so this is a long one y’all...*

“I do not mean to frighten you, but neither will I lie to you. We have come to a dark dangerous place, child. This is not Winterfell. We have enemies who mean us ill. We cannot fight a war among ourselves. This willfulness of yours, the running off, the angry words, the disobedience … at home, these were only the summer games of a child. Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is a different matter. It is time to begin growing up.” - Arya II, AGoT

“It was very dark right now, she realized. She hugged her bare knees tight against her chest and shivered. She would wait quietly and count to ten thousand. By then it would be safe for her to come creeping back out and find her way home.” - Arya III, AGoT

“The memory made Arya smile, and after that the darkness held no more terrors for her. The stableboy was dead, she'd killed him, and if he jumped out at her she'd kill him again. She was going home. Everything would be better once she was home again, safe behind Winterfell's grey granite walls.” - Arya IV, AGoT

“All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King's Landing was not so easy as she had hoped. Talk of war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas on … well, her, for one. She had been sleeping in Flea Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find a place to lie down, and it hadn't taken her long to learn that the district was well named.” - Arya V, AGoT

“She's still here," Arya blurted. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged, and walked away. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take her home … still waiting! She'd imagined it had sailed ages ago.” - Arya V, AGoT

“When at last she slept, she dreamed of home. The kingsroad wound its way past Winterfell on its way to the Wall, and Yoren had promised he'd leave her there with no one any wiser about who she'd been. She yearned to see her mother again, and Robb and Bran and Rickon . . . but it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her "little sister." She'd tell him, "I missed you," and he'd say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.” - Arya I, ACoK

“A she-wolf. Arya sloshed her beer, wondering. Was the Gods Eye near the Trident? She wished she had a map. It had been near the Trident that she'd left Nymeria. She hadn't wanted to, but Jory said they had no choice, that if the wolf came back with them she'd be killed for biting Joffrey, even though he'd deserved it. They'd had to shout and scream and throw stones, and it wasn't until a few of Arya's stones struck home that the direwolf had finally stopped following them. She probably wouldn't even know me now, Arya thought. Or if she did, she'd hate me.” - Arya II, ACoK

“A man must be ashamed of the company he keeps, Arry," the handsome one said. "This man has the honor to be Jaqen H'ghar, once of the Free City of Lorath. Would that he were home. This man's ill-bred companions in captivity are named Rorge"—he waved his tankard at the noseless man—"and Biter." Biter hissed at her again, displaying a mouthful of yellowed teeth filed into points. "A man must have some name, is that not so? Biter cannot speak and Biter cannot write, yet his teeth are very sharp, so a man calls him Biter and he smiles. Are you charmed?” - Arya II, ACoK

“He is not," Arya declared. My father only had one bastard, and that's Jon. She stalked off into the trees, wishing she could just saddle her horse and ride home. She was a good horse, a chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead. And Arya had always been a good rider. She could gallop off and never see any of them, unless she wanted to. Only then she'd have no one to scout ahead of her, or watch behind, or stand guard while she napped, and when the gold cloaks caught her, she'd be all alone. It was safer to stay with Yoren and the others.” - Arya III, ACoK

“I wish I was home," she said miserably. She tried so hard to be brave, to be fierce as a wolverine and all, but sometimes she felt like she was just a little girl after all.” - Arya III, ACoK

“I don't care. I want to go home." - Arya III, ACoK

“Arya was remembering the stories Old Nan used to tell of Harrenhal. Evil King Harren had walled himself up inside, so Aegon unleashed his dragons and turned the castle into a pyre. Nan said that fiery spirits still haunted the blackened towers. Sometimes men went to sleep safe in their beds and were found dead in the morning, all burnt up. Arya didn't really believe that, and anyhow it had all happened a long time ago. Hot Pie was being silly; it wouldn't be ghosts at Harrenhal, it would be knights. Arya could reveal herself to Lady Whent, and the knights would escort her home and keep her safe. That was what knights did; they kept you safe, especially women. Maybe Lady Whent would even help the crying girl.” - Arya IV, ACoK

“Arya found herself with Gendry, Hot Pie, and Lommy. Squat, kettle-bellied Woth had pulled an oar on a galley once, which made him the next best thing they had to a sailor, so Yoren told him to take them down to the lakefront and see if they could find a boat. As they rode between the silent white houses, gooseprickles crawled up Arya's arms. This empty town frightened her almost as much as the burnt holdfast where they'd found the crying girl and the one-armed woman. Why would people run off and leave their homes and everything? What could scare them so much?” - Arya IV, ACoK

“He was going to take me home, she thought as they dug the old man's hole. There were too many dead to bury them all, but Yoren at least must have a grave, Arya had insisted. He was going to bring me safe to Winterfell, he promised. Part of her wanted to cry. The other part wanted to kick him.” - Arya V, ACoK

“She nodded. "Yoren was taking me home to Winterfell.” - Arya V, ACoK

“The Lannisters had taken everything: father, friends, home, hope, courage. One had taken Needle, while another had broken her wooden stick sword over his knee. They had even taken her stupid secret. The storehouse had been big enough for her to creep off and make her water in some corner when no one was looking, but it was different on the road. She held it as long as she could, but finally she had to squat by a bush and skin down her breeches in front of all of them. It was that or wet herself. Hot Pie gaped at her with big moon eyes, but no one else even troubled to look. Girl sheep or boy sheep, Ser Gregor and his men did not seem to care.” - Arya VI, ACoK

“Arya climbed. Up in the kingdom of the leaves, she unsheathed and for a time forgot them all, Ser Amory and the Mummers and her father's men alike, losing herself in the feel of rough wood beneath the soles of her feet and the swish of sword through air. A broken branch became Joffrey. She struck at it until it fell away. The queen and Ser Ilyn and Ser Meryn and the Hound were only leaves, but she killed them all as well, slashing them to wet green ribbons. When her arm grew weary, she sat with her legs over a high limb to catch her breath in the cool dark air, listening to the squeak of bats as they hunted. Through the leafy canopy she could see the bone-white branches of the heart tree. It looks just like the one in Winterfell from here. If only it had been . . . then when she climbed down she would have been home again, and maybe find her father sitting under the weirwood where he always sat.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“Arya went to her knees. She wasn't sure how she should begin. She clasped her hands together. Help me, you old gods, she prayed silently. Help me get those men out of the dungeon so we can kill Ser Amory, and bring me home to Winterfell. Make me a water dancer and a wolf and not afraid again, ever.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“I can't. I have to go home. To Winterfell.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“The lord and maester swept from the room, giving her not so much as a backward glance. When they were gone, Arya took the letter and carried it to the hearth, stirring the logs with a poker to wake the flames anew. She watched the parchment twist, blacken, and flare up. If the Lannisters hurt Bran and Rickon, Robb will kill them every one. He'll never bend the knee, never, never, never. He's not afraid of any of them. Curls of ash floated up the chimney. Arya squatted beside the fire, watching them rise through a veil of hot tears. If Winterfell is truly gone, is this my home now? Am I still Arya, or only Nan the serving girl, for forever and forever and forever?” - Arya X, ACoK

“Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time, then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of home; not Riverrun, but Winterfell. It was not a good dream, though. She was alone outside the castle, up to her knees in mud. She could see the grey walls ahead of her, but when she tried to reach the gates every step seemed harder than the one before, and the castle faded before her, until it looked more like smoke than granite. And there were wolves as well, gaunt grey shapes stalking through the trees all around her, their eyes shining. Whenever she looked at them, she remembered the taste of blood.” - Arya III, ASoS

“Lord Beric Dondarrion. Arya remembered all she'd heard at Harrenhal, from the Lannisters and the Bloody Mummers alike. Lord Beric the wisp o' the wood. Lord Beric who'd been killed by Vargo Hoat and before that by Ser Amory Lorch, and twice by the Mountain That Rides. If he won't send me home maybe I'll kill him too. "Why do I have to see Lord Beric?" she asked quietly.” - Arya III, ASoS

“A stream barred her way. She splashed down into it, through water choked with wet brown leaves. Some clung to her horse's legs as they climbed the other side. The undergrowth was thicker here, the ground so full of roots and rocks that she had to slow, but she kept as good a pace as she dared. Another hill before her, this one steeper. Up she went, and down again. How big are these woods? she wondered. She had the faster horse, she knew that, she had stolen one of Roose Bolton's best from the stables at Harrenhal, but his speed was wasted here. I need to find the fields again. I need to find a road. Instead she found a game trail. It was narrow and uneven, but it was something. She raced along it, branches whipping at her face. One snagged her hood and yanked it back, and for half a heartbeat she feared they had caught her. A vixen burst from the brush as she passed, startled by the fury of her flight. The game trail brought her to another stream. Or was it the same one? Had she gotten turned around? There was no time to puzzle it out, she could hear their horses crashing through the trees behind her. Thorns scratched at her face like the cats she used to chase in King's Landing. Sparrows exploded from the branches of an alder. But the trees were thinning now, and suddenly she was out of them. Broad level fields stretched before her, all weeds and wild wheat, sodden and trampled. Arya kicked her horse back to a gallop. Run, she thought, run for Riverrun, run for home. Had she lost them? She took one quick look, and there was Harwin six yards back and gaining. No, she thought, no, he can't, not him, it isn't fair.” - Arya III, ASoS

“Do you swear?" she asked him. Yoren had promised to take her home too, only he'd gotten killed instead.” - Arya VII, ASoS

“Gendry ignored that. "At least your father raised his bastard, not like mine. I don't even know my father's name. Some smelly drunk, I'd wager, like the others my mother dragged home from the alehouse. Whenever she got mad at me, she'd say, 'If your father was here, he'd beat you bloody.' That's all I know of him." He spat. "Well, if he was here now, might be I'd beat him bloody. But he's dead, I figure, and your father's dead too, so what does it matter who he lay with?” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“Arya turned on Tom and Lem. "If you hadn't caught me, I would have been there. I would have been home.” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“The villagers were building a wooden palisade around their homes, and when they saw the breadth of the Hound's shoulders they offered them food and shelter and even coin for work. "If there's wine as well, I'll do it," he growled at them. In the end, he settled for ale, and drank himself to sleep each night.” - Arya XII, ASoS

“No," he said, "you couldn't." He gave her back her coins. "It would make no difference if you could, child. The north has nothing for us. Ice and war and pirates. We saw a dozen pirate ships making north as we rounded Crackclaw Point, and I have no wish to meet them again. From here we bend our oars for home, and I suggest you do the same." I have no home, Arya thought. I have no pack. And now I don't even have a horse.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“The star of home," said Denyo.” - Arya I, AFfC

“The star of home. Arya stood at the prow, one hand resting on the gilded figurehead, a maiden with a bowl of fruit. For half a heartbeat she let herself pretend that it was her home ahead.But that was stupid. Her home was gone, her parents dead, and all her brothers slain but Jon Snow on the Wall. That was where she had wanted to go. She told the captain as much, but even the iron coin did not sway him. Arya never seemed to find the places she set out to reach. Yoren had sworn to deliver her to Winterfell, only she had ended up in Harrenhal and Yoren in his grave. When she escaped Harrenhal for Riverrun, Lem and Anguy and Tom o' Sevens took her captive and dragged her to the hollow hill instead. Then the Hound had stolen her and dragged her to the Twins. Arya had left him dying by the river and gone ahead to Saltpans, hoping to take passage for Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, only . . .” - Arya I, AFfC

“Supper was her favorite time. It had been a long while since Arya had gone to sleep every night with a full belly. Some nights the kindly man would allow her to ask him questions. Once she asked him why the people who came to the temple always seemed so peaceful; back home, people were scared to die. She remembered how that pimply squire had wept when she stabbed him in the belly, and the way Ser Amory Lorch had begged when the Goat had him thrown in the bear pit. She remembered the village by the God's Eye, and the way the villagers shrieked and screamed and whimpered whenever the Tickler started asking after gold.” - Arya II, AFfC

“You lie," he said, "but you may keep your secrets if you wish, Arya of House Stark." He only called her that when she displeased him. "You know that you may leave this place. You are not one of us, not yet. You may go home anytime you wish.” - Arya II, AFfC

“Then stay . . . but remember, the House of Black and White is not a home for orphans. All men must serve beneath this roof. Valar dohaeris is how we say it here. Remain if you will, but know that we shall require your obedience. At all times and in all things. If you cannot obey, you must depart.” - Arya II, AFfC

“Cat always stank of brine and fish by the time they pushed off for home again. She had grown so used to it that she hardly even smelled it anymore. She did not mind the work. When her muscles ached from lifting, or her back got sore from the weight of a cask, she told herself that she was getting stronger.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“Braavos was a city made for secrets, a city of fogs and masks and whispers. Its very existence had been a secret for a century, the girl had learned; its location had been hidden thrice that long. "The Nine Free Cities are the daughters of Valyria that was," the kindly man taught her, "but Braavos is the bastard child who ran away from home. We are a mongrel folk, the sons of slaves and whores and thieves. Our forebears came from half a hundred lands to this place of refuge, to escape the dragonlords who had enslaved them. Half a hundred gods came with them, but there is one god all of them shared in common." - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“I know what Blind Beqqo puts in the hot sauce he uses on his oysters," she would say. "I know the mummers at the Blue Lantern are going to do The Lord of the Woeful Countenance and the mummers at the Ship mean to answer with Seven Drunken Oarsmen. I know the bookseller Lotho Lornel sleeps in the house of Tradesman-Captain Moredo Prestayn whenever the honorable tradesman-captain is away on a voyage, and moves out whenever the Vixen comes home.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“The blind girl did not know whom the voice belonged to. One of the acolytes, she supposed. She did not remember ever hearing his voice before, but what was there to say that the servants of the Many-Faced God could not change their voices as easily as they did their faces? Besides her, the House of Black and White was home to two serving men, three acolytes, Umma the cook, and the two priests that she called the waif and the kindly man. Others came and went, sometimes by secret ways, but those were the only ones who lived here. Her nemesis could be any of them.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

“I saw you. "I gave you three. I don't need to give you four." Maybe on the morrow she would tell him about the cat that had followed her home last night from Pynto's, the cat that was hiding in the rafters, looking down on them. Or maybe not. If he could have secrets, so could she.” - The Blind Girl, ADwD

“He had guards. Two of them, a tall thin man and a short thick one. They went with him everywhere, from when he left his house in the morning till he returned at night. They made certain no one got close to the old man without his leave. Once a drunk almost staggered into him as he was coming home from the soup shop, but the tall one stepped between them and gave the man a sharp shove that knocked him to the ground. At the soup shop, the short one always tasted the onion broth first. The old man waited until the broth had cooled before he took a sip, long enough to be sure his guardsman had suffered no ill effects.” - The Ugly Little Girl, ADwD

#Arya Stark #A Song of Ice and Fire #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #quote dump #meta refrences #asoiaf meta #maybe #this hurt to write

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scarlvtbitch · 5 years

Text

Love Story

Pairing: Gilbert Blythe x Reader

Description: This will be a multi chapter fic about the reader and Gilbert. The reader is new to Avonlea but she has a very fierce personality. She doesn’t take anything from anyone. What will happen when this fiery soul meets Gilbert Blythe?

Saturday was finally here. You barely slept with all the excitement and nerves you had. You were denying it but a part of you was scared of seeing Gilbert. You never let a man intimidate you or hold any power over you, but this wasn’t that. You were scared of him falling for you, or worse. You falling for him. You shrugged off your worries and took a deep breath.

Anne and Diana arrived within ten minutes. Boy are they fast. They said hello to your mother and they immediately accompanied you to your room.

“Come on, Y/N! We need to make you as beautiful as ever.” Anne said.

“Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You are already so beautiful. I wish I was as beautiful as you, but we need to make you look like an actual fairytale princess.”

“That’s nonsense, Anne. You are very beautiful too. You need to see how amazing you are and stop comparing yourself to others.”

“Girls, I know it’s nice to give compliments but we really need to be fast! The party will start in 2 hours.”

“Sorry.” You said at the same time.

“What’s first?” You asked. They went through your closet and they gasped at what you had hidden in the back of your clothes. It was the most beautiful dress you owned. It was only for very special occasions and you never had any of those so you just kept it hidden away. It was a velvet satin gown. It had gold lace around it and a neckline that enhanced your chest.

“Y/N, this is absolutely divine! You have to wear this! Everyone won’t be able to able to take their eyes off you. Especially Gilbert!” Anne said.

“Are you seriously going to keep saying that? Gilbert doesn’t like me.” They remained quiet. “I know how I want my hair.”

After helping you with your hair and makeup, you finally looked in the mirror and you had to admit, you did look very pretty. Your hair was down with a braid surrounding the crown on your head. You said goodbye to your mother and headed out with your friends.

It took an hour to get to Aunt Josephine’s but your mouth was left agape when you saw that her house was basically a castle.

“Diana, this is...I don’t even have words to express how beautiful this is.”

“Aunt Josephine will be glad to hear that, she always loves compliments. Come on, let’s go meet her.”

You got in and there were a handful of people on the floor. Talking, dancing, eating. Anne was right. When you entered, all eyes were on you. A deep shade of pink spread across your cheeks. You saw a lot of familiar faces. Josie. She definitely looked like she wanted to rip your throat out. Billy. Ruby. Gilbert. His stare was unbreakable. You locked eyes with him while Anne and Diana dragged you across the floor to meet Aunt Josephine. You mouthed at him a ‘hi’. He simply smiled. You didn’t have to turn around to know that he was still staring at you as if his life depended on it.

You finally met the famous Aunt Josephine and she became one of your favorite people. You loved how honest and open she was. If she had to say something to someone, she’d say it.

You went to the main floor with Anne, Diana and Josephine.

“Come, dear child, you need to have fun once in a while.”

“I do have fun!” You protested.

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s- I mean. I do- Okay, you got me.”

“You need to dance!” Said the woman.

“Aunt Josephine, she won’t dance with anyone. Trust us.” Diana chipped in.

“Y/N, that boy has been looking at you every three seconds.” You turned around to see who she was talking about. Of freaking course. Gilbert. “Why don’t you ask him to dance?”

“I’m not going to dance with him!”

“He’s coming over here. Maybe he’ll ask you.” Anne said. Dear Gods. Why was this happening to you. Your heart started racing faster than a cheetah.

“Y/N, can I talk to you?”

“Um, sure.” You nodded to your friends and went with him. He took you somewhere less crowded, so you can talk without it being so loud.

“You look beautiful.” You were a little taken aback from his comment.

“Thank you.” You tucked in a strand of your hair behind your ear and blushed. “Why did you want to talk?”

“To tell you that you looked beautiful, and to ask you something.”

“What?”

“May I have this dance?”

“You seriously couldn’t have asked me that over there?”

“Is that a yes?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes.” You followed him to the dance floor, a romantic song was playing on the piano. You swallowed thickly, as a lump was starting to form. Y/N stop being so nervous, you thought.

“There’s just one problem, I don’t know how to dance.”

“Well, you’re in luck. Because I do.” He gave you one of his famous smirks. “It’s called a waltz.” He grabbed your hand and interlocked fingers with you, you both stared at your locked hands. “Then you,” he grabbed your other hand and placed it on his back, you hadn’t realized you’ve gotten so close. You also didn’t notice that you were holding your breath in. “And finally, I put my hand around your waist, like this.” His big strong hand slipped to the back of your waist. Your breath hitched. Your face was probably only two inches away from his. Your noses were so close to grazing each other. You two spent staring into each other’s eyes and lips for what seemed like hours. You were just standing there. Forgetting to actually dance.

“And now?”

“Now, you just follow my lead.” You started swaying left and right and you were afraid you would do terribly since it was your first time. The music was absolutely enchanting, goosebumps started to form on your arms and you felt like your stomach was jumping up and down.

“You’re a natural.”

“I suppose I am.” You both smiled. You looked around to see that everyone’s eyes were on you and Gilbert. “Looks like we have everyone’s attention.”

“Well, we are the best dancers.” You let out a chuckle.

“That’s true.” You smirked.

“How are you settling into Avonlea? Do you like it so far?”

“I mean, I guess. I love the essence of peace it has. I also made very good friends.” You looked over at Diana and Anne who were smiling like children. He gave you a twirl and he pulled you into his arms, you were startled and bumped into his chest. You two were really close now, lips inches apart.

“Am I included in that statement?” His eyes were so full of hope, he felt like a kid opening presents on Christmas. You were hesitant to answer. Scared of opening a door to new beginnings.

“Yes.” You whispered. You stopped swaying back and forth, you two were just standing there. The room may have been filled with over fifty guests but at that moment you were the only ones there. You both were leaning in, your stare went from his eyes to his lips, your lips were a second away from touching…you closed your eyes and your lips finally touched for the first time. You’ve never been kissed. But this was no kiss, it was something out of fairytale. His hands tangled in your hair and he pulled your closer by your waist. You were pretty sure everyone was staring but you didn’t care. You only cared about you and him. Your tongues wrestled for dominance. But suddenly something snapped in you, reality. You pulled away abruptly, he looked taken aback by your actions.

“I’m sorry. I- I can’t.” You escaped his grasp and fled the room. You ran to the garden in the back of the house, and sat on a bench. Staring at the flowers, somehow hoping they’d give you a solution. Minutes later your friends found you.

“Y/N! Are you okay? What happened out there?” Anne asked.

“Why did you leave?”

“Me and Gilbert kissed.”

“I know! I’m pretty sure everyone in the world saw, but why did you run from him?”

“I-I don’t know. I guess, I was scared. Of falling for him.”

“But would that be such a bad thing?”

“Yes! Yes, it would because- because,” you sighed, “what if we are together and it doesn’t work out? What if it ends miserably and we have to see each other at school. I don’t want to lose his friendship.”

“Oh, Y/N, you won’t. Have you seen the way he looks at you.” Diana said. You bit your bottom lip. “By the looks of it, it looks like he adores you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” She smiled. On cue a certain boy arrived. Hello, awkwardness.

“Guys, can you, um,” You motioned your head to the house.

“Right! Sorry, come on, Diana.” Anne dragged away Diana to give you some privacy.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi.” He sat down next to you.

“Gilbert,I-”

“Y/N, can I-”

You said at the same time and laughed.

“You go.” You said.

“Y/N, I’m just going to ask you this one time. If you say no, then I’ll never bother you again but if you say yes…” He took a deep breath. “Do you like me? As more than a friend.”

You wanted to shout from the rooftop ‘yes’. You wanted to say yes and live happily ever after, if only life was that simple.

“I- Gilbert, it’s not that simple.” you heavily sighed and looked at the horizon.

“Why?”

“What if we’re together and everything is sunshines and rainbows at first, but then something happens. And we break up. How do you think it’s going feel when we have to face each other everyday. I don’t want to lose your friendship. I don’t want to get hurt. I can’t.”

“Y/N, that won’t happen. I promise you with all my heart, that I would never hurt you. Not in a million years.You’re, God, you’re the most amazing person I’ve met. I would love to court you. If you’ll allow me.” He slowly bowed his head, probably scared of your answer.

“Can I think about it?” It wasn’t a no, but it also wasn’t a yes.

“Of course, I’ll wait for you a thousand years if I have to.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. It was such a warm feeling.

“Goodbye, Y/N. Talk to me when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You gave him a sad smile.

Soon after you told your friends what happened and left the party.

That night you went to sleep thinking about Gilbert Blythe.

Days later Gilbert’s father died. You found out through Diana. He hadn’t been to class for four days. You wanted to visit him, to tell him everything was going to be okay. But you weren’t great at comforting others. So you just decided to stay away. Not going to his father’s funeral.

“Why didn’t you come?” He was mad. Rage, anger, sadness. All building inside of him.

“Gilbert, I’m so sorry.” He let out a scoff.

“You always are.” He turned around to leave

“I’m not good at comforting others!” You blurted out.

“You being here was more than enough comfort! You abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

“You’re being foolish! Abandoning you would be if I left forever. You’re being unfair.”

“I’m the one being unfair? You’ve been playing me the moment we met!” He was too angry about his father to think before he spoke. This wasn’t Gilbert, he was acting like another person.

“No, you don’t get to do that. You know, I have my reasons.” He clenched his jaw, a little too hard.

“Maybe it’s best if we stop being friends.”

“Maybe we should.” You challenged him.

“Fine.”

“Fine.” You repeated angrily and headed to your house. Sadness started creeping up on you, but you weren’t going to let yourself cry.

The next morning came and all you could think about was Gilbert. How badly you regretted the conversation you had yesterday. He was going through a hard time and you weren’t making it any easier for him. You decided to stop thinking about him by going to town and getting some groceries. You spent most of the day in town and by the time you got home the sun was starting to go down. Then, you had a brilliant idea. You needed comfort, and you thought of going to the most comforting place for you. The magical hill as you liked to call it. You walked fast, running almost. Trying not to miss the sunset. Thankfully it was really close to your home.

You wasted no time to sit down on the flowers and look to the horizon. It gave you peace. It gave you time to think. About life. About Gilbert. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a moment.

Suddenly, you could feel something blocking the sun, or rather someone. Gilbert.

#awae #anne with an e #gilbert blythe #gilbert blythe x reader #gilbert blythe imagine #anne with an e imagines

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naruwitch · 4 years

Text

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 4: Rise of Voltron Part 4

Lelouch and Milly's planet looked almost like a giant diamond from afar, the entire planet's surface shined like a thirty-carat jewel on a ring.

"Oh!" Milly swooned as the planet's sun glimmered off of it, "What I wouldn't pay to have that as my wedding ring."

"Milly focus," Lelouch chastised, "we're here to find a giant Lion, not admire the scenery."

"Such a spoilsport Lulu," Milly slightly pouted but then became serious, "seriously though, who's that C.C. character. What sort of name is 'C.C.' anyway?"

"Milly-" Lelouch sighed in exasperation as they pod landed on the surface, "Look… I'll explain everything later; right now, we need to focus on the objective."

Milly scoffed as the two exited the pod. The grass and vegetation that surrounded them shared the same glimmer, and shining metallic glow as crystal. Even some of the different bugs they spotted scurrying in the grass sparkled the same way. Far off to the left appeared to be a city made out of the crystal spires if the hole-like windows within them were any indication.

"It's like we landed on a living diamond," Lelouch observed as Milly activated the device Coran gave to them. "At least the air breathable. Which way to the Yellow Lion?"

"Um… looks like a few kilometers this way," Milly said as she started heading towards a bedazzled forest to the right.

"At least most of this is flat ground…" Lelouch muttered low enough so Milly couldn't hear.

After about a half-hour of walking along the forest path, they came across another crystal spire village. This time, however, they were close enough to spot some of the natives. From what they could see, there were three different types of people. One looked exactly like them, with no extra features or limbs. Another had pointed ears very similar to Allura and Coran. The only difference was that they had large feathered wings on their back in different colors, from speckled to solid colors. The third looked like a water creature, with scales lining their arms and legs, webbed hands, and gills on their necks. One thing that they all had in common, though, was that they all sparkled the same way that the crystal surrounding them did.

"Hope we're not trespassing like this…" Milly muttered nervously.

"Do we have to go through the village to get to the Lion, Milly?" Lelouch asked.

"Well," Milly said, looking at the map, "we can go around, but the fastest way is through the village, yes."

Lelouch bit his lip thinking about the best course of action. They had already been on the planet for a half-hour. This meant that they had another ninety Earth minutes. But they had no idea how much farther the Lion was either. "We have no choice; hopefully, they won't ask too many questions."

"What type of questions?"

Milly and Lelouch jumped at the voice from behind them. Turning around, they saw that a fish-like and a bird-like native had somehow snuck up behind them. They both had blue hair and gold eyes, the wings on the bird-like native were a mix of mahogany and brown like a Kestrel.

"Are you two aliens?" asked the fish-like native asked innocently.

"Err… well," Lelouch blushed, not quite sure how to answer.

"Were you sent by the Great Lion?" asked the bird-like native after he saw the device in Milly's hands.

"The Great Lion?" asked Milly, suddenly interested where this was going.

"Uh-huh!" the boys nodded, the fish-like being continued, "the Great Lion lives on that hill on the other side of the village. No one knows how long she's been there, but just yesterday, the light that surrounds her shined brighter than ever."

"The light that surrounds her?" Lelouch asked.

"Yup! Over yonder! The Lion's light protects our kingdom from the evil that curses the heavens," the bird-boy proclaimed.

Lelouch and Milly looked at one another; this certainly sounded like the Galra Empire. Had the Galra tried to attack this planet before? Did this Lion have some power that kept the Galra away?

"Can you take us to this Great Lion?" Milly asked with a friendly smile, "My friend and I are here to see her."

"Why?" asked the fish-boy, "Why do you want to see the Great Lion?"

"Well, young man," Milly bent down on her knees and smiled. Lelouch instantly knew that Milly had this covered, "what if we told you that there are others like your Great Lion out there?"

The boys didn't answer; they only looked at the blonde in wonder. Was it true? Were there more Lions?

"And… what if we told you that the sisters of the Great Lion need her help? And without her, the darkness that is kept from this world will spread to others? Once she has rejoined them, they can destroy this darkness forever and ever?"

"And you have come to bring the Great Lion to her sisters?" asked the bird-boy.

"Yes," Lelouch joined in, "if you take us to her, we can reunite them. Wouldn't you want to see your family again after thousands of years apart?"

It seemed to convince the two boys of how important the Great Lion was, and if there were more of them out there, that meant more protection for their planet.

"Destroy the darkness? That would be a glorious day!" bird-boy exclaimed in excitement, before pulling Milly's hand, "Come! We'll take you to her!"

Lelouch and Milly smiled in accomplishment. This may be easier than they thought.

o~o

Just like Milly and Lelouch, C.C. and Rai were having little to no trouble on their planet. However, unlike the diamond planet, the world they landed on was covered in thick forest and swamp, filled with a large amount of familiar and unfamiliar flora and fauna.

As they exited the pod, Rai led the way, keeping his eyes on the device at all times, although he did send curious glances at C.C. every now and again.

"Something on your mind?" she finally asked after Rai glanced at her for about the seventh time.

"Huh?!" Rai sputtered, nearly dropping the device, "Wh-what, are you talking about."

"Well, I'm sure you aren't glancing back at me just for giggles. This is about what happened back at the castle, isn't it?"

"We-well, yes, I-I mean you did just sneak onto the Blue Lion without us noticing, and Lelouch and Suzaku are the only ones that seemed to recognize you so..."

"I've already told you that Lelouch and I will explain everything to you when we retrieve these Lions. Better for it to be repeated once than multiple times, facts could get mixed up."

"I guess…" Rai muttered as they continued walking. They walked for about another ten minutes before the bushes to their right rustled. Rai jumped back in alarm before a creature leaped out before them that seemed to look like a mixture between a rabbit, chipmunk, and caterpillar.

C.C. smirked, "Careful boy, I hear they can smell fear."

"Heh, guess I'm a little jumpy," Rai laughed.

They continued through the jungle until they came to a calm river. However, what Rai was more interested in was the canoe parked on the shore. It looked like any other ordinary canoe except that the head of it was in the shape of a roaring Lion. They heard a moan to their left, turning to their left they saw what appeared to be an oversized sloth, almost as tall as Coran.

C.C. blinked in surprise at its size while Rai yelped and leaped behind her for cover. She rolled her eyes as if to say, 'Oh, what a gentleman, letting the woman fight his battles.' The sloth didn't attack them though and only seemed to study them curiously as Rai peaked out from behind C.C's shoulder. Really, how dangerous could a sloth be anyway?

"It's just a… whatever that thing is…" Rai said.

"A giant sloth?" C.C. asked bluntly.

"...Maybe?"

The sloth then seemed to notice the device in Rai's hand before smiling and walking over to the canoe. It then made a gesture to follow him.

"I-I think he wants us to get in his canoe," Rai said.

"Then let's go," C.C. said as he walked towards the sloth. Seeing Rai's hesitation, C.C continued, "I think we can both agree that compared to everything that's happened to both of us, this is close to nothing."

Seeing her point, Rai followed behind the green-haired witch to the canoe. Extending his paw like a gentleman, the sloth helped C.C. into the boat, and Rai followed right behind. Once they settled, the sloth began rowing the canoe gently down the river. As they proceeded down, more of the rabbit-squirrel-caterpillar critters popped out from the hedge surrounding them. They seemed to wave and sing to them in harmony as they glided along. C.C. couldn't help but giggle at how adorable they were, and even Rai smiled as well. They entered a stone archway that led into a long tunnel, and the top of the entrance had a very similar picture of a Lion, like the ones they first saw in the cave back on Earth. The sloth-thing certainly seemed to know why they were here and what they were looking for.

"I wonder if Lelouch, Milly, Rivalz, and Shirley are having as good a time as us?" Rai wondered out loud.

o~o

"WAAAAAHHHHH!"

"NONONONONONONONO!"

Unlike Lelouch, Milly, C.C., and Rai, Shirley and Rivalz's planet was anything but peaceful! They had arrived on the asteroid shaped planet just as the others had but were almost immediately shot down by Galra fighter jets. The 'peaceful' world they had been sent to was now a mining colony for the Galra. And they just so happened to be trespassing.

They were both currently screaming their heads off as Rivalz struggled to steer the Blue Lion out of range of the Galra lasers and missiles. However, it didn't take long for one of them to hit the Blue Lion, causing it to start crashing towards the surface. Fortunately, Rivalz managed to regain the Blue Lion's balance inches before they hit the ground, and the chase was at it again.

"I THOUGHT CORAN SAID THESE PLANETS WERE PEACEFUL?!" Shirley screamed hysterically.

"MAYBE 'PEACEFUL' MEANS SOMETHING ELSE IN ALTEAN!" Rivalz replied nearly in the same hysterics as Shirley.

After regaining balance once again, Shirley took a moment to activate the device with the coordinates. "Uh, according to these coordinates, we're right on top of the Orange Lion," she looked out the screen of the Blue Lion to see the opening to one of the mines that the Galra robots were heavily guarding. The Lion had pulled up a zoomed-in image of the entrance, "It's below there where they're mining for the ore. They don't even know the Lion is there… or maybe they just got here, and they're digging for the Lion? I don't know, what do you think, Rivalz?"

"Who cares? Just go get it! I'm dropping you down there!"

Shirley paled, "Me? Down there? No, no, nononono…!" she shook her head vigorously.

Rivalz gritted his teeth, "Yes, I'll cover you!" he gripped the controls and soared towards the entrance, dodging the laser blasts left and right. Those that hit did little to no damage to the Lion's mechanical body. When it hit the ground, it charged towards the cave entrance, crushing robots beneath its paws in the process.

Shirley, however, was having a full-on panic attack, "We-well what if the Orange Lion doesn't work? Wh-what if I- what if I can't get in the mine? What if I start crying? It's too late; I'm already crying!"

Rivalz could only send her a nervous, sympathetic look, "Sorry, Shirley, no time for questions!" Rivalz then hit a button on the dashboard, and Shirley disappeared into the floor, screaming. It felt like one of those waterslides where the floor vanished beneath your feet before the ride began, and just the anticipation of waiting for it to open made Shirley hate those slides. This felt ten times worse, considering that immediately after, she was spat out of the Blue Lion's mouth onto the hard stone surface of the planet. She narrowly avoided hitting her head on a rock as she rolled to a stop at the cave's entrance.

A series of lasers immediately came shooting towards her, but Rivalz and the Blue Lion quickly blocked them. Scared, but not wasting this distraction, Shirley scampered toward the platform that would lead her down into the mine. Fortunately, she remembered her dad had taught her how to hardwire a car if hers, or a friend's, ever didn't work for some reason. So it was easy for her to find the generator and start tampering with the electrical wires.

"Oh sure, just drop me off on an alien planet, that's cool, Rivalz, a great way to treat a lady," she angrily muttered to herself she picked and pulled wires. "It's only occupied with mean purple aliens that want to kill me but whatever. Just ignore them and go connect with a big, orange mechanical cat! Easy-peasy! Yeah, that makes total sense! Perfect sense!"

At some point in her rambling, she managed to make the cart work as it jerked downward. As it descended, the tunnel began to light up in orange-colored markings of a Lion just like on Earth. As Shirley gazed at the images, all of the fear she felt before began to fade away.

"Wow… cool!"

When the cart stopped at the bottom of the tunnel, Shirley quickly jumped out and leaped behind a pillar that the Galra had put in place to keep the cave from collapsing. It seemed the Galra had already made themselves at home on this planet. Along the walls of the tunnel were more pictures of Lions. It appeared that Shirley was in the right place. The roof shook as sounds of the fight above continued; it seemed Rivalz was keeping them busy, but how long would he last?

"Okay, I'm in a giant hole. Now what Shirley?" she asked herself. If she remembered correctly, all Rivalz had to do was touch the Lion drawings and then they started glowing. She didn't notice there were drawings on the floor as well until she stepped forward to reach the wall marking, unknowingly stepping on a floor drawing. The orange glow appeared once again, startling her. Turning around, she saw two more Lion drawings, the one she had stepped on and another further away from it. Then on the wall across from her appeared to end in a circular symbol on the wall.

"Oh… pretty! Now how do I get through that?" she asked herself before turning around to see a giant drilling machine becoming visible thanks to the cave's glow, "Hmm… that'll work!"

o~o

While Shirley got busy trying to get the drill to work, Rivalz and the Blue Lion got hit with another blast from the Galra cruisers. Rivalz prayed Shirley didn't take much longer as he was having a hard time keeping these guys at bay. Glancing back, Rivalz saw that one blast hit a little too close to the cave entrance, only to realize that they were aiming for that the entire time!

In desperation, he shot the Blue Lion into the air, which then used its tail cannons to blast them out of the sky.

'Hurry up, Shirley!'

o~o

Back on the diamond planet, the two native children had led the pair to a path that led up the mountain. Lelouch groaned at the number of steps they would have to take just to get there. As they approached the levels, though, Milly and Lelouch noticed that the two children had stopped moving, as if they were hesitant to keep going.

"Why'd you stop?" asked Lelouch.

"We are forbidden to go further than this," the bird-boy explained, "only those called by the Great Lion can climb the steps."

"And since you are the ones the Lion called, you have to do it," the fish-boy added.

Lelouch and Milly looked at each other with raised eyebrows. These people seemed a bit too superstitious, even for them. Their trains of thought were cut short though when the steps to the stairs, mainly the pictures of the Lions themselves, started glowing a bright yellow. It left not just Milly and Lelouch in awe, but the native boys as well. Had they taken a step back from the mountain, they would have seen that the mound in its entirety was lighting up in bright yellow light.

"I think that's your cue, Milly…" Lelouch said as Milly nodded in agreement, before smiling and started skipping up the stone steps.

"The mountain has never done this before!" the bird-boy exclaimed in wonder.

"The Great Lion is excited!" the fish-boy added.

Lelouch could only smile at their innocence.

Milly was panting a little as she made it up to the last flight of stairs. When she made it to the top, though, there wasn't anything there. There was only a large stone carving of the Lion at the very center. Walking towards it, she hummed in thought. Shouldn't the Lion be here?

Milly then yelped as the ground beneath her began to rumble, the craving of the Lion lighting up and splitting apart the floor. Milly quickly leaped to one side avoid doing the splits herself. When the top was completely open, Milly looked apprehensively down, seeing only darkness. Raising her eyebrow, she expected to see the Lion. She lifted her head and looked around, was something else supposed to happen?

Milly then shivered as she felt a soft purr echo from the hole, and immediately it filled with light so bright, Milly had to cover her eyes not to be blinded. But any apprehension that she felt before wholly vanished as well as she grinned and leaped into the hole, knowing full well her Lion was waiting for her.

"YAHOOOOOOO!"

Down below, Lelouch and the two children stumbled as the ground shook beneath them. Looking up, they see that the top of the mountain might as well look like a separate sun. Finally, out of the 'sun' emerged a stunning yellow feline mecha, the light itself had seemed to radiate off of it. Lelouch could only smile while the two boys looked on, their eyes sparkling in awe. In the distance, in the village where the boys lived, a chorus of cheers filled the air.

o~o

Back on the meteorite planet, below the surface, Shirley finally managed to get the drill thing to work, and it wasn't long before the wall in front of her came tumbling down. Jumping off, she could stare in wonder at what was in front of her. Just like with the Blue Lion on Earth, the Orange Lion was also within a forcefield of the same color. Its eyes glowed a bright yellow and seemed to have a little bit of red outlining on its plating. She also noticed that compared to the Blue Lion, this Lion seemed to have much more armor on. It reminded her of the more heavily armored Glasgows that were made more for close combat.

Out of everyone in the Student Council Shirley was the one who got scared the easiest (besides Nina), however looking up at the Lion, she strangely didn't feel fear at all, in fact, she felt completely safe and calm as if the Lion was assuring her of just that. Slowly, she began to approach the particle barrier that surrounded it.

"Okay, you can do this," Shirley told herself. She got closer and, though feeling a little ridiculous doing so, waved at it, "Um… Hi, I'm Shirley, and I guess I'm supposed to be your pilot… so um… yeah, I'm going to get you out of here… I hope…"

Shirley honestly wasn't quite sure what to do. When they found the Blue Lion on Earth, all Rivalz had to do was tap on the particle barrier and poof, the Blue Lion was free. She figured that would be the best place to start. So she tentatively touched the forcefield, and just like Rivalz, it reacted, glowing just as brightly as the one on Earth, releasing the Lion for the first time in a millennium.

o~o

Gritting his teeth, Rivalz spun in the air and proceeded to dive-bomb the Galra cruisers that continued to attack the cave. The Blue Lion let out a roar as it's jaws enclosed around the wing of one, ripping it off before it exploded. Hovering in the air, the Lion continued to shoot down any cruisers it saw with its tail cannon. Turning around, Rivalz's blood ran cold. Their next action made Rivalz's blood run cold.

"Oh no!" he shouted as he saw several cruisers aiming all of their ammunition at the cave entrance and around it. They were going bury Shirley alive along with the Lion!

Desperate, Rivalz raced after them, shooting as many down as he could, but one missile managed to fire just as the cruiser blew up, and there was no stopping its trajectory!

"SHIRLEY!" Rivalz screamed in horror as the missile made contact with the entrance, causing a massive explosion, thick black and red clouds of smoke filling the area, blocking the view of what happened. Sweat dripped down Rivalz neck, and his eyes could only look in horror as it finally cleared to not only reveal that the entrance had been sealed…

But half the mountain had collapsed into itself.

o~o

For Rai, it felt like the river they were on went on for miles as and miles, and if there was one thing that Rai did know, even in his partially amnesiac state, was that he hated waiting! And when he was forced to wait, thoughts would start forming in his head with no control whatsoever, just like a mob of hungry koi fish receiving their daily meal.

"I know the Princess said that this is supposed to be my Lion, but what if she's wrong? I mean, she's probably not wrong. She's a princess, but I'm not a pilot, even though... I've always wanted to be a pilot. I mean, I read all the fighter manuals, but never got to do the simulator. But, hey, I can't be all that worse than Rivalz-"

As the teen continued to ramble, the sloth looked at C.C. as if to ask: 'Is he always like this?' C.C. only shrugged in response as she had never gotten close to Rai until now. The canoe, however, continued down the stream into another long cave with more Lion carvings on the side and green moss growing along the walls.

"-but what if I get in there and it doesn't respond? What if I get in there and it's too big, and my feet don't touch the pedals? WHAT IF THERE AREN'T EVEN PEDALS?!"

"Well, if you keep rambling like that, you're going to get more than just your tongue in a knot," C.C. said with an amused smirk. Rai blushed in embarrassment. C.C. continued, "I might not know much about this Voltron that the Princess speaks of, but I do believe that you, Lelouch, and the others were brought here for a reason. If she believes the Green Lion is to be piloted by you, I see little reason to doubt her."

C.C. couldn't see Rai's face as his back faced her, but the teen now had a small smile of reassurance on his face, taking a little bit of comfort in her words. Before he could say thank you, he gasped as they finally approached the end of the river. The path that led away from it had thick curved vines and trees in the way, and the middle was what appeared to be a sizeable ancient temple also covered mostly in vines.

After the boat docked on the shore, the pair departed, waving thank you to the strange sloth that escorted them. They approached the stone temple, passing by two more large Lion statues on the way. The markings on the ground they also saw started to glow bright green as if sensing Rai's presence, creating a trail that led up the stairs of the temple.

As the two walked closer to the temple, more markings appeared on the steps, until they led into the most significant cluster of vines at the top. Rai seemed completely entranced as they stopped at the bottom like something was calling to him. Rai then swallowed, hesitation still very present in his head.

"Well?" asked C.C., smirking and folding her arms, "What are you waiting for?"

Hearing C.C.'s words, Rai quickly shook the nervousness away and ran at full speed up the steps to the top. After the stairs ended, he then proceeded to climb up the large vines, some with quite a bit of difficulty because of how thick they were. He was panting as hard as Lelouch would be after a light run when he finally reached the top. After taking a moment to catch his breath, Rai looked around, suddenly confused, there was nothing up here but vines.

Rai was about to leave in disappointment when a low growl was heard right below him. Looking down, he was soon greeted by a brightly glowing green light. He could feel the energy radiating from it. Grinning, he leaped down into the mess of vines, the lights shining brighter after he landed.

"WHOO-HOO-HOOOOO!" he cheered.

Back on the ground, C.C. was leaning against the pillars that led up to the temple. Suddenly the ground beneath her shook, and a roar filled the air, making her stumble. Looking up in bewilderment, she saw that at the top of the temple, the vines had begun to glow and shake. Then they suddenly dispersed, revealing a huge green Lion was rising in the air with burning yellow eyes.

In spite of herself, C.C. couldn't help but give an impressed smirk as the wind blew her long green hair back.

"What did I tell you?"

o~o

Rivalz was panicking. Now that the cave had been destroyed, likely killing Shirley, the Galra forces were focusing all their firepower on him as he struggled to outmaneuver them with the Blue Lion. Gritting his teeth, Rivalz attempted to turn around and fire at the ships again, only for the Blue Lion to get shot down by more lasers. He was completely overwhelmed!

"Oh, no, no, no! Going down! We're going down!" Rivalz panicked as they crashed to the ground. In desperation, he pulled the controls as hard as he could, which managed to have the Lion to roll along the ground and land upright. However, it was still somewhat damaged as it attempted to rise. Red warning lights flashed everywhere inside the cockpit. Rivalz shook his head as he had been jostled during the fall, only to look through the screen to see several missiles heading towards him.

"Oh, no!" he gasped. He could only close his eyes and look away, awaiting death and hoping it would be painless.

Before the missiles could strike, though, a massive mechanical beast came shooting out of the ground, landing between the Blue Lion and the rockets, which promptly exploded on the impact of the new arrival. From the clouds of smoke, a massive Orange Lion came clambering out before leaping into the air and crushing the Galra cruisers beneath it, causing them to explode.

It stood up and turned to face the Blue Lion. "Rivalz, you okay?"

Rivalz gasped, "Shirley! I thought you were dead! You jumped in front of all those shots to save my life?!"

Promptly a screen appeared in front of Rivalz to show Shirley in the cockpit of the Orange Lion. It looked identical to the one Rivalz was in, except the seat, all of the gadgets and buttons inside were orange colored. She didn't appear to be hurt if a little frazzled. She must have been in the Lion already when the mountain caved in.

"Well, actually, I was trying to get out of the way. Thankfully, what this thing lacks in speed more than makes up for in armor, and man can it take a beating!"

The conversation was brought to a halt, though when more Galra cruisers came flying down, shooting lasers at the two Lions.

"We've got incoming!" Shirley exclaimed, looking towards the shots with her Lion.

The two prepared to engage the enemy again when another screen popped up, this time in both their Lions. It was Allura. "Paladins! Please hurry back! I can't hold the wormhole much longer!"

Rivalz didn't need to be told twice, "Let's get out of here!" he exclaimed as he and Shirley blasted off into the air with their Lions the wormhole straight ahead. About halfway there, Shirley felt herself jolt forward as she was hit by one of the cruisers, causing her Lion to spin as it continued upwards.

"Oh no, not again!" she nearly wailed as she felt nausea begin again. She put her hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep the food down.

"Keep it together, Shirley, the wormhole's closing!" Rivalz said, just as the Lions made into them before it closed behind them.

o~o

The control room doors slid open as Shirley and Rivalz walked in, both groaning. Shirley was holding her head while Rivalz massaged his lower back. Lelouch, Milly, C.C., and Rai were already there waiting for them, alongside Suzaku, Kallen, Allura, and Coran.

"You made it!" Allura said with relief as they entered.

"Yeah," Rivalz frowned, flexing his arm, "Just barely, that was a nightmare! I almost puked out there! I felt like Shirley!"

"Think how I felt," Shirley retorted, "I am Shirley!"

"Yeah," Milly smiled, looking at Lelouch, "we had a tough time too," Lelouch smirked in amusement. C.C. rolled her eyes as Rai snorted a little.

"Did we find the Purple or Red Lions yet?" asked Lelouch.

"Allura just located them," Coran said, "there's a bit of good news and bad news. The good news is that both Lions are in the same place and nearby. The bad news is, they're on board that Galra ship that's now orbiting Arus… but wait! Good news again, we're Arus!"

Lelouch's eyes widened in shock, as did everyone else's, "They're here already?!"

"I thought you said it would take them two days to get here! Not two hours!" Kallen exclaimed in anger.

"Apologies," Coran said a nervous smile, "it seems my calculations were a bit off. Finger counting is more of an art than a science."

His explanation, though, was cut short as a large screen appeared in front of them, drawing everyone's attention to it. The image that appeared showed a purple-colored alien, one of the Galra. Much like the rest of his kind, he had purple fur and skin, long catlike ears, and in his right eye was what appeared to be a large round mechanical eye. His left eye had no pupil and was completely yellow. He had a healthy, muscular physique, making him look very intimidating.

"Princess Allura, this is Commander Sendak of the Galra Empire," the Galra addressed them, earning several gasps from many in the castle. Lelouch and Kallen were only ones who didn't seem afraid of him, only glaring at the Galra in defiance. The way he addressed them reminded Lelouch and Kallen of the nobles of Britannia back home. The very thought made their blood boil.

"I come on behalf of Emperor Zarkon, ruler of the known universe. I am here to confiscate the Lions. Turn them over to me, or I will destroy your planet."

#Fanfiction #AU #Code Geass #Voltron #C.C.#lelouch lamperouge #kallen stadtfeld #suzaku kururugi #rai (lost colors)#shirley fenette #milly ashford #rivalz cardemonde #princess allura #coran #galra empire

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 5 years

Text

Happily Ever After?

Rating: T

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 14501

Summary: Sir Snow is a heroic knight. Lord Pitch is an evil warlock who kidnaps the princess. Sir Snow defeats Lord Pitch and saves her every time. That's how the story is supposed to be. Right?

Read on AO3

AN: Hey, I did it :) It took awhile to figure out exactly what the plot should be but with some help from the amazing @carryonmylovelies, I hammered it out. I hope you guys like it :D

Tags: @sourcherrysconess @purplenarwhal19 @wo2ash @pixiecodesnowbaz @sharkmartini @alixanderthequeer @the-lincyclopedia

———————————————

Simon

He’s going to show up. I can just feel it in the air, or in my bones, or in my stomach. Though that could just be hunger. I’m always hungry. I bite into my sweet bread while my eyes dart around.

“Good Lord, Simon,” Agatha says, “what did that bread ever do to you?”

I flick my eyes over to her. She’s walking next to me through the market stalls. The sunlight glitters beautifully across her gold and diamond tiara. Wind pulls at her soft pink skirt. She looks very pretty. There are two guards walking in front of and behind us, (not that they’ll do any good if he comes.)

“He’s going to show up today, I can feel it,” I grumble.

Agatha sighs heavily, shaking her head. “You always say that.”

“I mean it this time!”

“Like you meant it last week, and the week before that, and the week before that. But when was the last time he showed up? Two months ago?”

I frown, almost bordering on a pout. “I mean, yeah, but that just means he’s due to show up again. He never goes away for too long.”

“Unfortunately.” Agatha looks like she almost has a scowl. But she’s been trained to be a proper princess too well to actually do it. “I wish he would just stop it.”

“Me too, Ags,” I sigh. “Maybe if he went away, your parents would finally let us get married.”

“Hm, yes.”

She goes all calm, proper princess again, looking out at the dirt road in front of us. I wonder if she’s thinking about our wedding. It’s going to happen someday. Everyone knows we’re going to get married. We’ve practically been betrothed since school. We’re meant to be. Princess Agatha, heir to the throne of Watford, and Sir Simon Snow, the greatest knight in the land. We’re meant to be. So we’re going to get married, someday at least. Maybe after I finally defeat him. My time is too occupied with that to think about marriage.

We start walking through the town square. The people greet Agatha, and she talks to them graciously. She’s never patronizing, just kind. Some of them come up to me, asking about my adventures across the land. I do my best to answer them but my mind is far away. I’m thinking about where and how he’s going to appear. A big explosion? Massive tidal wave? Riding a dragon? He would ride a dragon, the tosser. He likes to be all dramatic and shit. It’s infuriating how good he is at being an all powerful, majestic evil warlock.

There’s a loud crack in the sky. Everyone freezes. I look up. The sky has turned grey all of sudden, when it was clear blue two seconds ago. Thunder groans and rumbles around us all. Everyone starts gasping and mumbling. I inhale sharply, hand immediately going to my sword.

“He’s here,” I mutter.

No less than a second later, there’s another crack. The clouds part, and lightning flashes, illuminating his silhouette. He’s standing on a cloud, dressed in a glittering dark silver jacket and trousers, night black cape flapping in the harsh wind along with his hair. He poses dramatically above us all, and I can see that stupid smirk on his face.

“Baz,” I growl.

“Good afternoon, Snow,” he says smoothly, voice dripping with annoying smugness. “You don’t have to try with that sword, we both know it’s useless against me.”

Stupid bastard. I growl again and unsheathe my sword, because fuck him. He makes a dismissive snort, which just makes me more angry. “How about you come down here and fight me properly? Or are you afraid you’ll lose again?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and his thin lips curl into a scowl. It’s annoying how beautiful he still looks when he’s mad. “One lucky shot does not a hero make, Snow.”

“Says the guy who lost. So let’s have a rematch.”

Baz tilts his head to the side, showing off his long neck. He does that a lot, showing off. Thinks he’s so fucking perfect just because he’s a strong, graceful, ruthless warlock. “Now, why would I do that, when I can just do this?”

He pulls his ivory wand from his sleeve and points it downwards, right at Agatha. I look her in the eye just before she soars upwards. She screams as she zooms up into the sky, gown flapping and tiara falling onto the cobblestone. Baz pulls his arm in and Agatha zooms towards him. She floats next to him, arms and legs frozen by her side. She looks unbelievably annoyed. She used to be scared the first few times this happened, but nowadays, she just gets perturbed.

“Bring me ten thousand gold pieces,” Baz calls out grandly, “or the princess will never return. You know where to find me, Sir Snow. I look forward to your surrender and my ransom.”

The clouds pull around both of them, and the dark storm flies away unnaturally fast. I try to chase after it, but it’s past the horizon when I reach the edge of town. My lungs are burning. I heave, bent over with my hands on my knees.

“Shit,” I pant. “I need my horse.”

I turn on my heels and race back towards the castle. It’s on the other side of fucking town of course. People part for me, thankfully. They know who I am, and they saw the weird storm clouds. Everyone knows what’s going on. This has happened a lot over the last two years. Some took a few days to resolve, some a few weeks. We do this over, and over, and over again.

I shake those thoughts from my mind as I reach the castle. The stables are right there, and I can see Penelope already standing with my rucksack and holding the reins of my horse, Cherry.

“I saw the sky from my study,” she said. “Storm clouds this time? Really?”

I sigh as I take the reins from her. “Yeah, I know. His cape and hair were flapping in the wind and everything. Dramatic twat.”

Penny scoffs, arms crossed over her chest. “Well, we’re fully aware of that. When will you be back?”

I shrug. “Dunno. Hopefully a week at most.”

“Alright. As long as it’s not a month.”

“Nah, don’t worry, I won’t get lost this time. I know the route off by heart now.”

“Mhm, alright. Got your mirror?”

I pat the side of my rucksack, where I can feel something smooth in the side pocket. “Yup, always. I’ll call you as soon as I make first camp.”

“Good.” She puts a kind hand on my wrist. “Be careful out there, Si.”

I peck her hairline. “Always am, Pen.”

It’s a familiar mantra we have, for every time this happens. She knows I’ll be alright, I have been for the past two years. But it’s still nice to know she cares.

With familiar ease, I get on Cherry’s saddle. She’s a good mare, very well trained, and she likes me so that’s a plus. I give one last smile over my shoulder at Penelope, then I flick the reins. And we’re off. To get to Baz, to save Agatha, to adventure.

Again.

———————————————

Agatha

We land on the top turret of Baz’s manor, the wind dying around us with a low whine. My hair falls in my face. I try to blow it out the way but it’s useless.

“My hair’s a mess,” I grumble.

“Terribly sorry,” Baz says, voice genuine and kind. He stopped being mean to me “If it’s any consolation, my hair is a complete rat’s nest too.”

I scoff. “Serves you right for using such a ridiculous spell.

“I suppose so. Come along, you can freshen up in your room.”

Contrary to what most people believe, Baz doesn’t keep me in a dark, dirty, cold little cell in some dungeon. He tried that the first time he took me but I kicked up such a fuss he let out me out and put me in a warm little storage closet instead. After the fourth time, he gave me my own room. It’s nice. Not as nice as my one at home, but better than a cell or a closet. We walk down the hall towards it. Baz opens the door for me. He can be quite the gentleman. But he’s still my captor.

“I’ll go get supper ready,” he says. “Lamb stew alright with you?”

“Sounds lovely. My throat is dry from that stupid storm wind.”

He chuckles as he walks away. I gently close the door behind myself. There’s a simple cotton dress laid out on the bed. Baz started having clothes ready for me after the sixth time. He’s very considerate, actually, for a kidnapper.

I change out of my itchy gown into the dress. It’s soft and smells freshly laundered. Baz must’ve been planning this for a bit. I sometimes wonder how much he plans for these things. It seems he did for this one, at least.

As I walk through the halls to the dining room (I know the way by now), I look around, taking in the details I’ve forgotten over the past couple months. The house is all dark wood with intricate carvings, probably made with magic. Low burning torches burn across the walls. Portraits of very stern, proper people look down at me. Baz has told me about this manor. It’s been in his mother’s family for generations. After her death during the battle between her land and Watford, his father moved them back to his own family home. But once Baz was of age, he took back his this manor and vowed to make Watford pay. That’s when and why he first kidnapped me. Though I’m very sure that’s not the reason anymore.

The dining hall is as grand as I remember. The table is a massive ebony line. It probably could’ve fit a hundred people at it’s capacity. Now it’s just Baz and I. We used to sit at the opposite of the very long ends, but now we’re across width wise. Still apart, but closer.

Baz is already sitting, still in his silver jacket and raven cape, black ceramic bowl and red wine glass in front of him. There’s a setting for me too with white wine. Baz knows I prefer white over red by now. I take my seat, politely putting my napkin on my lap. Baz lifts his glass to me.

“Cheers, your majesty,” he says. He still says that, even though I’ve told him to call me Agatha.

I raise my own glass and clink it with his. “Cheers, Lord Pitch.”

We drink our soup and wine in peace. This used to be tense but we’ve settled down quite a bit. Though it’s more tense for me tonight, because I have something I need to say.

“Baz,” I say, “why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” Baz replies. “Eating? I need it. Despite what Snow believes, I’m not actually a vampire.”

“No, Baz. Why do you keep doing this? Kidnapping me?”

Baz tenses up, already statuesque body going even more rigid. “You know why, your majesty.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. (Learned that Penelope, the best court mage ever.) “Yes, yes. Your land and Watford fought, your mother died in said fight, and when you came of age you returned here to get vengeance for her death and did so by taking the Watford heir. I got the whole speech during kidnapping number one.” I point my knife at Baz, which is absolutely on purpose. “But that’s obviously not working, since that speech was sixteen kidnappings ago. So, answer my question, why do you keep doing this?”

He somehow gets even more tense. I swear his muscles are made of rock. “My reasons stay the same.”

I groan and roll my eyes again. And I thought Simon was frustrating to talk to. Simon mumbles and stutters, but Baz is a stone wall. He doesn’t let anything out, even when it’s so obvious. “Drop the act, please.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says while looking pointedly at his soup.

“Stop pretending, Baz! Despite what people think, I’m not an spoiled royal moron, I notice things. Like how I noticed the way you looked at Simon when he wasn’t watching!”

He drops his spoon into the stew, making brown liquid splash up and coat his hand. He immediately goes for the napkin and cleans it off, but his fingers are shaky. Yup, I know I’m right. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

I point my knife at him again. “Two months ago, last time Simon rescued me. We were riding away when I looked back over my shoulder, just out of curiosity. You were standing there all bloody from your fight with Simon. But you didn’t look angry or defeated. You looked sad, Baz. And longing, for something or someone you were looking at. For a second I thought it was me, but I quickly realised you were gazing at Simon’s back, not mine.” I lower my knife slightly, trying to look as sympathetic as possible. “That’s why you keep taking me, right? So you can see him again.”

“That would be ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“Exactly. It is ridiculous that you insist on randomly stealing me from my home instead of just bloody talking to Simon.”

He snorts. He’s good at that. “Snow is more of a ‘hit first, ask questions later’ kind of bloke, we both know that. I doubt he’d be willing to talk to me.”

“He won’t if you keep acting like a prick and kidnapping me.” Baz doesn’t say anything. I sigh and put my utensils down. “Baz, look, I understand how hard this must be for you. You and Simon are supposed to be enemies and it’s obvious you care about him instead. That must be hell. But, that doesn’t mean this is okay.”

Baz looks up. He seems genuinely worried. “What are you speaking of?”

I glare hard at him, trying to funnel all my frustration into one look. “Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean. I hated being your pawn when I thought you were using me for revenge, but I’m even more annoyed that you’re using me just to see Simon again. I’m not some object for you to steal because you’re so emotionally inept that you can’t admit your affections!”

Finally, Baz’s stone face cracks slightly. He looks incredibly remorseful, which is even worse, honestly. It would be so easy to hate Baz if he was a straight up villain, but he’s not. He’s a person who has made a lot of mistakes, but still a person. He slumps a bit into his chair. It’s barely noticeable, but I notice. I’ve known him long enough.

“Look,” I sigh, “I really do understand. But that doesn’t make it okay. Using me as a dangling carrot to attract Simon is wrong. Using me period has always been wrong. You can’t keep doing it, and I won’t tolerate it anymore. I’m tired of it, Baz. So, you’ve got one more chance.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, voice slightly strained.

“It means, this is the last time you steal me from my home. Simon is going to come to get me in a few days time. You have until then to decide to tell him. If you don’t, that’s it. Because if you kidnap me again, I’ll escape again.” I stand up, leaning over the table to glare at him through the candlelight. “And then I will come back here myself, with the entire army of Watford behind me. Do you understand, Basil?”

In the years I’ve known Baz, I’ve never seen him frightened. He’s not scared now, just shocked, which is the closest I’ve ever seen. I don’t think he expected me to be so assertive. But I’m pretty sure that no matter how much sympathy I give, Baz won’t admit his true feelings. So scaring him into no longer kidnapping me and finally fucking talking to Simon seems like the better option.

I stare him down for another long minute, until the mask pulls over Baz’s face again. He dabs the corners of his mouth with his napkin then stands up, straightening his coat and picking up his bowl.

“I’ll be taking my leave for bed now,” he says calmly. “Feel free to finish your dinner, your majesty. I will see you tomorrow.” He used to say, don’t try to run, but that stopped after kidnapping number ten.

Baz turns and starts walking away. He looks like he always does, graceful and poised. But I notice the small tremor still showing in his hand. I hope this wanker bloody well listens to me.

———————————————

Baz

The speed at which I walk to my room, after depositing my dishes in the kitchen, is almost inhuman. Maybe Snow is right and I am a vampire. It would explain why my heart feels dead inside. Well, it’s not dead actually, just fucking idiotic.

I enter my room and close the door a bit too hard. I immediately start pulling at my jacket frantically. Stupid thing feels like it’s choking me. I actually hate these glittery, stiff clothes, but it completes the image I’m trying to create. Luckily, I don’t need them here alone. I throw off the jacket, and the trousers, and the fucking cape. Then I flop on my bed, dressed only in my white tunic and linen underpants. Finally I can breathe.

Today has been a day. First the kidnapping, which I planned, then bantering with Snow, which I looked forward to, and then Wellbelove giving me an ultimatum, which I did not expect. I know she’s not the weak flower others think she is, but that was still a surprise. She’s right though, kidnapping her all the time is very wrong. She deserves better than being my pawn. I should have stopped ages ago. I didn’t though, all because of my...feelings.

Fuck my feelings. They’re stupid. I’ve known that since the moment I saw Snow for the first time, when he first rescued the princess. He burst into my manor in all his golden glory. He was beautiful, brave, strong, fucking perfect. Even when he was yelling at or fighting me I was so dazzled by him. But it was stupid, and I instantly hated myself for it. I still do.

What would my mother think? Falling hopelessly in love with the champion of the kingdom that killed her. And can I even call it love when I haven’t talked to him properly once?

Looks like I’m going to have to now, or lose my final chance.

After magically snuffing the torches, I curl under my thick fur blanket, nearly in the fetal position. I close my eyes and try not to think of him. But my dreams are still filled with blue eyes and bronze curls.

———————————————

Simon

I don’t make camp until well into nightfall. Probably not a good idea, but I want to cover as much as ground as possible. I want to be back in a week, like I told Penny. We ride until we reach the edge of the plains that mark the end of Watford’s territory. All flat grass with few trees, but there’s one tree, which is my spot. It’s all dirt with a bit of blackened wood from my last fire. I won’t start a fire tonight. It’s warm and I’ve got some snacks that Penny packed.

Cherry and I stop next to the tree. I throw her reins over a branch even though I know she won’t leave, it’s just to be safe. I stroke her mane as I feed her a carrot.

“Good girl,” I whisper, “you did a good job today.”

She neighs happily. If she were a person, she’d be grinning.

I set up my own cot on the dirt and immediately flop down. My legs and arms throb with exhaustion from riding for so long. Two years later and the first ride still wrecks me. I can feel exhaustion start to seep into my bones, but before I pass out, I grab a packed scone and my mirror. While I’m eating the lovely treat, I tap the mirror twice. Magical ripples go across the glass. Soon Penelope’s face appears in front of me.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey,” I reply.

“It's late. You shouldn’t wait this long to make camp, Si.”

I sigh, rolling onto my side. “I’m fine, Pen. I’ve done this before.”

Her lips twist a bit. That’s her worried friend face. “Yeah, you have. Aren’t you getting tired of this?”

I shrug and take a violent bite of my scone. “I have to do this. If he keeps taking Agatha then I have to keep going to get her.”

“That’s not what I asked, Si.”

Fuck. I know that she’s right, but I don’t know what to say. I look down at the ground. “I should get some sleep. Night, Pen, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Simon-”

I swipe across the mirror and Penelope’s face ripples away. I eat the last chunk of my scone, then roll on to my back. The stars are beautiful tonight. They sparkle like the gems on Baz’s jacket. Stupid wanker, thinks he’s so great because he’s so powerful and gorgeous. I’ll show him. I’ll defeat him and get Agatha back. Again. Like I’ve done sixteen times before. Like I’ll probably do for sixteen times after.

The thoughts start to creep into my mind again. I turn on my side and force myself to bed, just so I don’t have to think about it.

———————————————

I wake up before sunrise, barely having slept four hours. My eyes feel gummy and my muscles feel tired. Nightmares again. I’ve had them my whole life. Usually they’re of Agatha and Penelope dying because I couldn’t save them, or the kingdom falling to pieces, or worst of all, the orphanage. The memories of that place will never go away, I guess.

Cherry is just waking up as well, whinnying and shaking her light brown mane. I calm her down easily. Luckily she likes me quite a bit. (Can’t say that for a lot of humans, unfortunately, but I prefer my horse over them anyway.)

It only takes a few minutes to pack everything up. I’ve gotten good at it over the past two years. I get on to Cherry’s back again, stroking her neck.

“Good girl,” I coo.

With one flick of the reins, we’re off again. We fly over the grass with the wind whistling in both our hair. I try to let the air wash away the nightmares and remind me of my mission. Get to Baz, get Agatha back, be a hero. Just like always.

———————————————

Baz

I bet Snow has many theories on what I do when I’m not kidnapping his princess. Probably that I conjure dark forces or sacrifice tiny animals or drink blood. Well, contrary to his beautiful pea brain, I don’t do any of that. Blood would be disgusting. Usually, I’m just in my garden.

It’s a lovely place, filled with bright flowers and useful herbs. It was an overgrown mess when I first came back here, but two years later and I must say, I’ve done a bang up job restoring it. Everything is thriving and the plants are each put in a good place, yet it all still retains its wild charm. I’m quite proud. And I just like gardening. I like maintaining the greenery, making sure everything is growing right, using the herbs for potions and remedies. It keeps my mind off everything, especially him.

I’m in the middle of the garden, watering the lilies. The sun is beating down on me brutally. I pull at the tight collar of my scarlet jacket, feeling drops of sweat roll under it. Usually I’d be wearing simple linens for gardening but with Wellbelove here I need to keep my ‘grand warlock’ image up. Though tending to pretty flowers might hurt that appearance already.

“It's looking lovely.”

I turn to see Agatha standing behind me, wearing a cream dress and her golden hair in a braid. She's beautiful, the kind of girl my father would want me to marry. And I would, if I had any interest in women. (Or anyone besides Snow.)

“Thank you,” I say. “The lilies turned out well this season.”

“They certain did.” She walks forward, arms swinging at her sides. “So, are we going to talk about last night?”

In lieu of answering, I turn my back and march towards my rosemary plant. It needs watering too. Unfortunately I hear her steps follow me.

“You can’t run from this, Baz,” she says.

“Watch me,” I grumble.

She scoffs very loudly. “You kidnapped me and now you’re avoiding me? That’s rich.”

“If you’re going to keep bugging me, then yes, I will avoid you. I’d rather talk to my plants.”

“They won’t give you any advice.”

“And you will?”

“Yes!” I hear her get closer. “My advice is put down your wand, tell him to put down his sword, and just try to actually talk.”

I snort as unkindly as I can, just to get my point across. (Though I’m not sure what my real point is beyond “that’s impossible” and “I don’t want to.”) “Like the great hero will want to talk to me.”

“Yeah, I think he actually will.”

What? I look over my shoulder at her curiously. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

She sighs, fiddling with the end of her braid. “I was going to tell you this last night, but you left before I got the chance.”

“Tell me what?” I’m getting frustrated, and concerned.

She chews at the corner of her lip. “Well, I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I will tell you that Simon talks about you an inordinate amount.”

I snort again. “Yes, because he hates me.”

“I don’t think you spends ages going on about how pretty the hair and clothes are of someone you hate, Baz.”

My head snaps up and I inhale sharply. What?! I spin around to look at her. “Wait, seriously?”

Agatha nods slowly. “Honestly, most of his conversation topics revolve around you. When you’ll strike next, what you’ll do, and definitely how annoyingly perfect you are. It’s a miracle if I can get him to talk about anything else. I promise that your obsession isn’t one sided, Baz.”

My cheeks become more red than my jacket. It’s involuntary and completely fucking stupid. Wellbelove obviously notices, shown by her tiny smile. I can’t tell if she’s happy for me or mocking, but either way it’s not good. My feelings are far more obvious than I ever wanted them to be.

“He wants to marry you,” I blurt out defensively.

She shakes her head. “No, he thinks he’s supposed to marry me, because I’m the princess and he’s the knight. But he definitely thinks about you a lot more than he thinks about me. More than a hero should about his rival, I think.”

My stupid fucking blush gets even worse. The very thought of that makes my heart nearly explode. Agatha can clearly see it. I should talk to her about it. I haven’t talked to anyone about it in the past two years.

But unfortunately, I’m a certified coward.

“I have tonics to make for the townspeople,” I quickly say. “Feel free to roam the garden, and your books are still in the library. I will see you for supper.”

Once again, I run away. I walk calmly while the princess can see me, but the second I’m alone, I sprint across the stone. I stop only when I reach my lab/study. There are three shelves of pristine leather bound volumes and multiple many shaped glass bottles filled with iridescent liquids lining the walls. Papers with multiple notations are spread over my dark wood desk. There’s quite a lot of paper. It’s either a beautiful testament to my intelligence, or strong evidence of my growing insanity. Most likely a horrifying concoction of both

I sit heavily in my desk chair, staring blankly ahead at the large chart in front of me. (It’s sixty five different tonic recipes. I’m more than a bit obsessive.) I’m still processing Agatha’s words. So, Snow never stops talking about me, be it about my plotting or apparently my hair. What does that mean? Is he just a hero obsessed with his villain? Or...could he possibly feel something close to the horrible, wonderful things I feel?

No, never, not really. Why would he? I’m his evil warlock who kidnaps his love. I can’t be anything else. And it’s not like I’d actually know what to do if he wanted me back. I’m not capable of even showing affection properly. I’m so emotionally stunted that I kidnap a princess just so he’ll come to my manor again. How could I ever give him the caring and kindness he deserves?

I can’t. I never could.

———————————————

Agatha

I just watch him as he literally runs away from his problems, again. I hoped telling him about Simon’s obsessiveness would help, but it seems to have just made him panic more. Honestly, I do feel a bit bad for him. He’s obviously extremely tortured by this. Which makes sense. I’d be tortured too if I was in love with my mortal enemy. He must be in agony.

Still, it doesn’t excuse what he’s doing to me. I shouldn’t have been part of this game to start with, and I refuse to continue. I hope he figures out his own heart soon. I don’t want to storm his manor because he’s a lovesick moron, but I’ll have to if he doesn’t stop.

———————————————

Simon

Cherry and I make good time. She must just as determined to get to Baz as I am. We get past the plains and reach the edge of the Wavering Wood. It’s a massive old forest, filled with ancient trees, hanging vines, and sparkling lights. It’s a treacherous, horrible place. The first time I came in here, I fell in a bog. The smell didn’t come off me for a two weeks. Baz called me a smelly troll with that stupid pretty smirk.

Fuck the Wavering Wood.

I slow Cherry to a trot. There’s one good path I’ve found through a lot of trial and error. It’s thin, but mostly free of poisonous animals or fucking bogs. Cherry carefully walks across the dirt. I keep an eye out for any wayward wildlife, hand on the handle of my sword. Luckily, nothing decides to jump at me for once. Compared to my previous treks through here, this is quite peaceful.

That is, until I get to the end.

There’s only one exit for the Wavering Wood. Well, unless you want to cut through a mass of overgrowth that could hide any number of horrible magical things. It’s the one little open archway made of bending branches. I don’t know if it was made by sword or magic, but I don’t care. I just want to get out. However, one wor: bandits.

He’s right in the middle of the exit, wearing a brightly coloured coat and holding a curved sword. He's young but looks full grown, with strong, visible muscles. This guy must be new, I’ve never seen him before. He’s got his chest puffed out ridiculously big. Cherry and I approach him slowly.

“Who goes there?” he announces grandly.

“Sir Simon Snow of Watford,” I reply. “I’ve already paid the toll here before.”

“Not to me.”

I groan. “Look, sir, I’ve been through this bef-”

“Silence.” He points his sword at me with flourish. “If you won’t pay in coin, then pay in blood.”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Fine, if you insist.”

I get off Cherry and lead her to the side. She’s seen me fight before, so I know she’ll stay calm. I take out my broadsword, swinging it back and forth lazily. It’s a heavy sword but I’m strong. (I may or may not be showing off a bit.) We both raise our weapons and take stance. I already notice that his legs are too wide. Pfft, amateur.

“En garde,” I say.

He doesn’t reply, just goes straight for a swing down. Wow, very rude. Guess young bandits don’t like dueling etiquette. I easily block his swing, despite the strong arms, then push back. His poor stance makes him stumble and flail like a turned over bug. I step forward, going for a more direct swing at his weapon. I’m really not trying to hurt this kid, I just want to disarm him. He blocks me with far more force than necessary. Again, amateur. One quick twist of my foot and I have the upper hand, pushing him back again. Dueling is like dancing, and- Well, I’m a shit dancer, actually, but dueling comes way easier. The rhythm of the fight flows through me like a rushing river as I parry every one of his hits and keep forcing him to give ground. This is good actually. I’ve been tired, and this is something I still enjoy.

We go back and forth for a few more minutes. He screams in frustration and throws a huge swing. It breaks the rhythm but I block it. He puts all his weight behind it, which is his mistake. I hold back for a few short moments. And then I step to the side.

“Gah!” he screams before falling face first into a mud puddle with a resounding splat. I can’t help but snort and giggle.

“I think I won this duel,” I say.

“No,” he growls, “this fight is not over. I will-

“Niall! Enough!”

We both turn to the voice. I grin ear to ear. There she is, with two guards around her, in all her golden coated glory, the Queen of the Bandits. She walks with her cane in one hand and sword in the other. She looks amazing as always.

“Miss Possibelf,” I say, “good to see you.”

“And you too, Sir Snow.” She glares at the mud covered boy. “Apologies about Niall. He’s new and still learning.”

I shrug, the smallest pleased smile on my mouth. Kinda the way Baz looks at me sometimes when I mess up. It’s infuriating but I sort of admire it too. “I think I taught him a few things.”

Miss Possibelf grins too. “I certainly think you did.” She pats my shoulder. “Get a move on. You’ve got your princess to save.”

For some reason that makes my chest strain. Right, that’s what I’m supposed to do. Saving Agatha, being the hero, fighting Baz. I can’t stay here, even though I want to chat with Miss a bit longer.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I should go. See you next time?”

She pats my shoulder once again, looking at me with a soft smile. “Yes, we will.”

I get Cherry and remount on her. I give one last wave to the bandits (Niall glares at me) and ride off back onto my path. I refocus my brain on my quest; Get to Baz as soon as possible.

———————————————

I try to ride all the way to the Pitch land border, but Cherry gets tired. I can’t push her any further without hurting her. I won’t do that. Luckily, we get to my favourite inn, Pritchard's. I put Cherry in the stable next door, bringing her to the feeding trough, then go in the grand front door. I open them with a bit more flourish than I meant to. It’s a lot like Baz, honestly.

“Simon!” The patrons cheer happily. They come up to me, ruffling my hair, hitting my back a bit too hard, asking many questions about my most recent quest.

“Same old, same old,” I chuckle. “Baz has taken Agatha again.”

“Such a strange bloke, that one,” a man grumbles.

“Very pretty though,” a barmaid comments.

“Definitely,” I say, “it’s so annoying. Evil people shouldn’t be allowed to be beautiful too, it’s not fair to us good guys. Their prettiness makes it hard for people to stay on the good side.”

That makes both of them laugh. At least my sense of humour is appreciated here.

I go up to the bar, where Cook Pritchard is. She smiles at me happily. “Hello, Simon, nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too, Cook.” I put some coins on the table. “Got a pint for me?”

“Always.” She pours a large wooden mug for me. I drink down a few large, throat burning gulps, and let out a sigh. I don’t have much of a taste for alcohol, but Cook Pritchard makes it very well.

“Thanks, Cook.”

“No problem, Simon. Need the bed for tonight?”

“Yes, please. I can’t feel my feet anymore.”

She chuckles and pats my head. “Of course, I’ll get it ready for you. Always glad to see you again, Simon.”

I smile back. Even though this quest is tiring, there are some good parts. This is one of them. I just wish I didn’t need an evil warlock and a kidnapped princess to be here.

———————————————

Baz

Over the years, I’ve found walks help clear the mind. Or at least quiets it for a few moments. I walk around the walls of the manor. I put them here two years ago, in theory to keep the princess inside, but really it’s to keep everyone else out. Perfect metaphor for my life, I’m aware.

Out here, I like to practice my magic. The nice kind, not the scary kind I use with Snow. I’m waving my wand around, creating patterns of light in the air. Sparkling streams of violet, crimson, and rose fly through the air, then dissolve into the wind. I smile to myself. Part of me wishes that Snow could see my magic like this, not the frightening way I show it to him.

I just finish a rainbow figure eight when I hear the smallest sound. I freeze, immediately thinking something nefarious has reached my family home’s walls. I spin around, wand outstretched.

“Who goes there?!” I shout. “This is my property, you will not get through!”

There’s nothing for a long moment. Just the whistling of wind through the branches and nighttime hoots of owls. I stand there still, a fixture in the nature around me. Until there’s a rustling behind me.

I whip around so fast my hair hits me in the face. I spit out the strands in a very undignified fashion. And when my vision is clear, I come face to face with with a pair of bright yellow eyes.

“The fuck?” I say.

It blinks up at me. For a second I think it’s a wolf or a raccoon, but as it steps into the dim moonlight, it’s all too clear; my intruder is a cat.

It’s very, very small grey cat with incredibly fluffy fur, limping it’s way out of a bush towards me. Those big yellow eyes keep blinking at me. It makes the tiniest little meow up at me. And I must say, it’s adorable.

“Hello,” I say, lowering my wand, “who are you?”

The cat meows again. It sounds weak, and there’s blood on it’s left leg. Injured, probably by some larger, stronger animal. My magic feels a storm coming very soon. Without help it’s not going to survive out here in the cold rain. Logically, I know it’s my responsibility to help. It’s a cat, it’s nature, shit happens. I don’t have to do anything. I’m busy, I shouldn’t.

It blinks it’s big, glowing eyes up at me and meows pathetically again.

Fuck.

I take off my black cloak, sweeping it off my shoulders. I reach out my hand to the little thing. It sniffs my hand for second, then gets closer, nuzzling it’s tiny fuzzy head against my fingers. Slowly, I pick it up, wrapping it up in my cloak. The cat burrows down into the fabric, and I can feel it purring softly.

Fucking hell, what am I doing?

———————————————

Agatha

“For fuck’s sake, stop scratching me, you brat!”

When I hear Baz shouting from the kitchen like that, I assume he’s working with some sort of hell creature he’s summoned from the dark depths. What I don’t expect is to see Baz, all powerful lovesick warlock, trying to put bandages on a very small cat.

“Baz,” I say surprised, “what are you doing?!”

He looks over his shoulder with wide eyes. He looks incredibly embarrassed. “Um, I found something outside.”

“I can see that, but what you doing?”

“The animal is injured. I’m trying to bandage it’s legs.”

I raise my eyebrow. “You can’t use magic?”

He shakes his head. “My healing spells are meant for larger human limbs. I don’t know any animal ones. So, bandages.” He tries to leg again, but the cat scratches at him, and he yelps. “You little rat,” he grumbles.

I sigh, shaking my head this time. “Hold that cat’s paw out, I’ll do it.”

He blinks at me in surprise. “You know how to do this?”

“Yes. I work with animals. Mostly horses, but I’ve helped the castle veterinarian with cats too. So gently hold the cat down on their side and I’ll take a look at the wound.”

Baz still looks doubtful but thankfully does what I say (that’s a first). The cat squirms and whines, but doesn’t escape. Baz isn’t too forceful though, just holding them gently on the table. I take a look at the cat’s little paw.

“Alright,” I say, “it’s not a deep wound, just a scratch. You’ve got skin cleaner?”

Baz pushes me a little glass vial and linen bandages. I rip off a tiny piece, soak it in the clear liquid, and put it against the cat’s paw. The poor thing yelps and whines. I’m about to reach out to pet them, but Baz beat me to it. He brushes the back of his long fingers against their tiny head. The cat bends towards his touch, even closing their eyes.

“There there,” he says quietly, “it’s alright, you rat. It’s helping. You’ll feel better soon.”

The cat doesn’t struggle at all as I wind the bandage around it’s leg, not even a little. I’ve never seen an animal so calm without the use of a tonic or a spell.

“Okay, all done.” I’m a bit curious, so I lift the cat’s leg slightly higher. “And this cat’s a girl, by the way.”

“Good to know,” Baz replies. He carefully gathers her back up in his black cloak. The cat snuggles into the fabric, closing her eyes and audibly purring.

I look up, and Baz’s expression is complicated. His mouth is a tense, thin line, the muscles in his jaw obviously straining with effort. But his grey eyes are incredibly soft. The only other time I’ve ever seen him look so vulnerable was when he gazed at Simon’s back.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. Because something’s wrong, I know it.

Baz rolls his lips together. “I don’t know why I did it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Did what? Brought the cat inside?” He nods slowly, still looking pained. “She was injured and she’s small. Taking her inside was the right thing to do.”

“I don’t do the right thing,” he grumbles. “I hurt other people for my own means. I’m not even nice, I’m a class A arsehole.”

“You help the people in your town.”

He shakes his head, clutching the cat closer. “I do that out of duty. They’re my subjects, I have to care of them. This was just a random animal wandering around. I almost left her. Why didn’t I?”

Baz looks so distressed. I’ve never seen him so...not scared really, just perplexed, and anxious. This little cat is causing him so much confusion.

“Baz, it’s called compassion-”

He scoffs. Not at me, I think, more at the concept. “No, no, I can’t. I’m evil and cold. I’ve had to be. I can’t be anything else.” He scratches behind the cat’s ear. “I’m not good...”

I sigh again, but less at Baz and more at this situation. He doesn’t think he’s capable of being a good person. So that’s why he refuses to talk to Simon. Idiot. I stand next to him, arms over my chest.

“Baz, you don't think you're a good enough person to be happy, right?” His silence and lack of eye contact is a good enough answer. “Well, here's a revelation; you don't have to be cold and evil if you don't want to be. You can be a person who takes in injured cats, helps others out, doesn’t hurt people for his own ends, and lets himself show his love for someone.”

His face tenses up. If it were anyone else, I would say he was on the verge of tears. He pets the cat, probably without even thinking. I walk up to him and put my hand on his arm. He flinches but doesn't pull away. That’s an improvement.

“I know that terrible things have happened to you,” I say as kindly as I can. “Your mother dying must have been awful, along with losing your home and whatever else you went through. You don’t have to pretend all that doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t make you too broken for happiness either. You’re obviously miserable living like this. So maybe it’s time to start trying something different.”

Baz stares down at the little grey cat like it’s a piece of the universe itself, beautiful and terrifying. I scratch on her chin, making her lift her head. I flick my eyes up to see Baz smiling softly.

“Think of a name?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe Rat, because she’s grey and kept scratching me.”

“That’s a mean name.”

“Rat it is then.” I give him a deadpan look. The bastard is still smiling. “My cat, princess, I get to pick the name.”

I smile back. “Your cat, huh? So she’s staying with you?”

He nods slowly, petting Rat’s head. He looks me in the eye without any sign of fear or cold mask. “No matter what happens with Snow, I won’t take you ever again, Agatha. I promise.”

His voice is firm, and his expression is serious. I know he’s telling me the truth.

“Good,” I say. “I hope things go well with Simon.”

Baz’s smile is a bit strained, but his eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them before. He’s trying. That’s good. That’s very, very good.

———————————————

Simon

It takes awhile to get out of the tavern. Cook Pritchard gives me three scones to keep me fed on my way, making me promise I’ll eat them. Then every tavern patron wants to say goodbye to me. I’ve gotten to know them quite well. Maybe I should come here when I’m not on a quest. That would be nice, to be here without the weight on my shoulders.

I give Cherry a thorough brush before we go. She deserves it for being so good through all this. After she’s well cleaned and fed some carrots, we set off again.

Luckily, there aren’t anymore bandits or treacherous magical forests on the path to the Pitch Lands. It’s mostly tall grass and a few trees. There’s only an occasional garter snake that spooks Cherry a bit, but she’s good. She’s faced dragons and giants. Snakes are nothing for my brave girl.

At late evening, we crest over a hill that marks the border of the Pitch Lands. I see a small cottage in the distance with little white dots around it. I grin ear to ear, then spur Cherry into a run. The wind rushes through my hair as we descend. I can’t control the rapid beating in my heart. As we get closer, the little white dots come into focus. Their fur, hooves, horns, and finally their adorable faces. I stop Cherry and swing off her with ease. I kneel down, scratching their little heads

“Hi, kids,” I coo, “good to see you again.”

“They’re happy to see you too, Simon.”

I look up and see exactly who I expect. Ebb looks about the same. Old red sweater, large wooden staff, and short blonde hair. The dying sun lights her up perfectly so she looks like an angel. Which she is. Ebb is probably the best person I know.

I stand up. I’m a bit taller than her, which makes it easier for me to hug her tight. She chuckles and hugs me back. “Hi to you too, Ebb.”

“Hi, darling.” She pulls back but keeps a hand on my arm. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I sigh. “Could use some tea if you got any.

"Course I do. Want to tie Cherry to the post?”

I look over my shoulder. Cherry is happily prancing on the grass. “Nah, she’s fine. She won’t go too far.”

“Alright. Let’s get some soup and tea.”

We walk in to Ebb’s little cottage. It’s a wonderful place, made of softwood and covered in vines. There’s a main sitting area that takes up most of the place. It’s got a stone fireplace, two wicker chairs, and a very colourful rug. There’s a small kitchen to the left and Ebb’s room to the right. Her brother’s old room is behind the wall with the fireplace. That’s where I stay when I’m here. It means a lot that she lets me, considering what happened to him.

After getting the fire started, something I’m good at now, I sit in my usual chair, putting a knitted throw blanket over my knees. My muscles throb with the exhaustion of the past few days. Even resting can’t get rid of the persistent ache in my bones. I sigh, sinking into the cushion. I hear Ebb chuckle.

“Tired, Simon?”

I crack my eye open. She’s smiling at me from over the kitchen counter, where she’s magically heating up some bowls and cups. “Yeah,” I sigh. “I’ve done this so many times but it still takes a lot out of me.”

“Hm, yes, it is quite a journey. All the more reason you need some sustenance.”

She puts the tea blocks in the water, then walks over and places the clay bowl in my lap and the mug in my hand. Heat tingles through my whole body. “Thanks, Ebb.”

“How are you doing?”

Ebb settles in her own chair, placing her staff next to her. “You’re welcome, dear.”

We drink the soup and sip on the tea. It’s a warm vegetable broth with potatoes and carrot bits. It tastes so good. I love Ebb’s soup. Once I’ve drank the entire bowl, I put it down and turn to Ebb, who’s softly blowing on her tea.

“How are you doing, Ebb?” I ask.

“Oh, I’m doing alright, love,” she says. “Me and the kiddies have been okay. Delilah is doing very well.”

I smile brightly. Delilah was born the last time I was here. I even helped Ebb deliver her. But she was born very weak. We did our best with her magic and my bandages, but when I left to fight Baz there was still a chance she wouldn’t make it. Two weeks later, I got a letter from Ebb saying Delilah was getting much stronger. I was so relieved. I’d fought dragons and saved a princess more times than I could believe, but hearing that I helped a little baby goat survive felt like my greatest victory

“That’s very good to hear,” I sigh.

She smiles as she sips her tea with a smile. “How are you, Simon? Off to save Princess Agatha again?”

I groan, letting my head loll back on the chair. “Yeah, again.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Sixteen or seventeen, I think. I met you at number five.” My weight shifts forward, making me curl in on myself, clutching my mug tighter. “I don’t get it. Why does he need to keeping doing this? He’s got a huge manor and amazing magic and perfect clothes. He doesn’t need Agatha or the money.”

Ebb shrugs. “Maybe it’s just to hurt Watford. Your kingdom did kill his mum.”

That makes me wince. It’s not a nice reminder that the kingdom you fight for killed someone, especially the mother of a five year old boy. (I’ve read a lot about Baz. That’s how old he was at the time, apparently. Only five.) Watford has fought a lot of wars in a lot of places, actually. Watford has caused a lot of pain...

“But why doesn’t he just blow us all up?” I blurt out the second the thought comes into my mind, drowning out everything else. “If he wants revenge, he could just make the castle explode. Wouldn’t that be easier? Does he just like torturing me and Agatha particularly?”

Ebb shrugs again. “Don’t ask me, Simon. He’s your villain. You know him better than anyone.”

“Exactly! But I don’t get it!” I groan, slumping forward even more. “I’m just not sure what he wants anymore, Ebb.”

“Maybe you could ask him.”

I whip my head to look at her. She’s actually being serious. “What?! No! I can’t do that! I-I can’t just ask him. He’s the villain, I’m the hero, so I stop him. W-We’re not supposed to ‘talk it out.’ That’s not how it works!”

She gives me a look of genuine concern. “But Simon, is that what you really want? Just doing this over and over forever without knowing why?”

I open my mouth, but no words come. My entire body deflates, like every bit of strength has been sapped out. Honestly, I’ve been feeling like that for awhile, it’s just easier to collapse right now because of how safe I feel right now. Ebb’s cottage has always felt safe.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I just do it. I’ve tried not to think about it, but I just...don’t know. All I know is that I’m really tired.”

“Long ride today?”

I shake my head. “No, not just that. Everything feels tired.” I sink into the chair. I want to sink into it forever. “I’m so tired, Ebb.”

Suddenly, something touches my knee. I crack an eye open. Ebb’s hand rests on me, patting me kindly. “Then you should get some rest, dear. Sleep on all of this.”

I nod slowly. I push myself up and out of the chair, taking my rucksack with me. We go to the room behind the fireplace. Ebb’s hand is shaky as she pushes the door open. It’s just like her own room, cozy and nice. The bed is in pushed against the left wall, right near the fire. It’s always warm at night.

When I look at Ebb, I see a few tears fall down her cheeks. I put an arm around her shoulders, and she leans into me. She used to pull away but not anymore.

“I still miss him sometimes,” she whispers. “Poor Nicky. He should still be here.”

I hold her tighter. Nicodemus, Ebb’s twin brother, died years ago, but Ebb still gets sad over him a lot. He made connections between shady people apparently. And one day he crossed the wrong shady person. Poor guy was stabbed in the gut, bled to death for hours behind a building. Other people think Ebb is too weepy. But I would be weepy too if my brother was murdered in cold blood. It’s such a kindness that she lets me sleep in his old room. I wish I was as kind as she is sometimes.

“I know, Ebb,” I say. “I wish he was here for you too.”

She squeezes my hand, her calluses scratching me slightly. “Thank you, love. I’ll be alright. I’ve got the kiddies. And I love having you around when you pass by.”

Pass by, yeah, that’s all I do. I should come see her more, when I can stay longer. I want to tell her that, but I’m too tired to say the words. (And it’s not like words come to me easily then I’m alert.) So I just hold her a bit tighter. She pats my chest kindly.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Ebb helps escort me to the bed. The second I sit on the firm but soft mattress, I know I’m done for. I’m really, really tired. I flop down on the pillow, not even bothering with putting on my linens or pulling up the quilt. I just need some rest.

“Goodnight, Simon,” I hear Ebb say, though her voice is distant as I drift off.

“Night, Ebb,” I reply, muffled by pillow.

There’s the low click of the lock, and I’m shrouded in darkness. I try not to think about the stresses of the day. But when I dream, all I see is Baz’s stupid, smug, pretty face.

———————————————

Baz

The only thing I enjoy almost as much as my garden is going into town. Pitch Town was founded by one of my ancestors. Ever since then it’s been my family’s job to take care of its citizens. I take that job very seriously.

I dress in my simple clothes (no need to be flashy for normal citizens), load my bag with my wand and healing potions I’ve made, and put on my best boots. It’s a half hour’s walk and I don’t want blisters. In theory, I could float myself there, but why waste magic like that? And why intimidate the citizens? They don’t need to be scared of me. Though now I’m wondering if Snow needs to be scared of me either.

As I’m putting on my brown wool cloak, something brushes my leg. I make an undignified yelp and jolt away. I look down, and frown.

“Rat,” I sigh, “you scared me.”

She meows up at me, blinking her pretty yellow eyes like she’s done nothing wrong. Cute little brat. She keeps rubbing against my ankle, purring softly, nuzzling me in that absolutely adorable way. I try to move away but she follows.

“What do you want? I’ve already fed you, brushed you, petted you so much my fingers hurt. What else could you possibly want?”

She keeps nuzzling and blinking up at me. Fuck, I think I know the answer. I sigh, shaking my head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

I lean down and scoop up Rat, placing her in my wicker basket. She curls up on top of the soft cover and purrs happily. It’s probably a good idea to get her out of here. She used to live in the wild. The manor must be a big change for her. And it’s nice to have a companion on this trip for once. I sigh, scratching behind her ear.

“I don’t know what you see in me,” I mumble to myself more than her, “but I do appreciate it.”

She meows again in some form of answer. I do up the last button of my cloak, and we’re off.

———————————————

The walk itself is quite peaceful, save for Rat nearly jumping out of my basket to chase a butterfly. (She barely makes it out, what with the injured leg and all. Adorable moron.) Over some green hills, across flowery fields, until I see the red brick houses of Pitch Town. They’re like shining flowers on the green surface.

I walk down the cobblestone roads, waving back at the people who wave at me, writing down if they have any concerns I need to address next time I’m here. I even magically repair a wall for someone. Their child laughs as the bricks swirl up into place. It’s a lovely sound, and it reminds me of my siblings. I wonder how they’re doing. I’ve been so focused on Pitch Town and Snow that I haven’t had time to think about my family. I should send them a letter.

I go down my list of people that need potions. I knock on doors and everyone answers me with a grin. It still astounds me when people are happy to see me, but I’m trying to stomp those self loathing thoughts down more. I’m trying to let people be happy around me.

Eventually, I make my way to the main square. The stalls are colourful and bright, lots of people hawking their wares and laughing and talking. It’s so much better, so much happier. I’ve always just considered it just my duty, but maybe Agatha has a point. I’ve helped here. Maybe I should feel good about it.

I walk up to a particular stall. The man in it raises his head and then grins in full force. “Lord Pitch!” he says with his booming voice. “Good to see you!”

I shake his strong hand. “Good to see you too, Mr. Hawkins. How have you been?”

“Oh wonderful since you gave me that tonic. Leg pain is completely gone.”

“Good to hear. I’ve got some more for you.” I reach into my basket, and Rat decides this is the perfect time to wake up from her nap. She tries to nip at my hand and I yelp. Mr. Hawkins starts laughing heartily.

“I see you’ve got a new friend,” he says with his smile.

“Yes,” I grumble, “very adorable and annoying new friend.”

“She got a name?”

“Rat.”

He chuckles. “Very good. My husband just calls our cat Stupid.”

Rat tries to gnaw on my finger again, and I gently push her away. “That may be appropriate for this one too.”

Mr. Hawkins laughs at me again. He reaches out and offers his thick finger. Rat bites at it, but his calluses are so thick he doesn’t even flinch. He plays a little tug of war with her which she seems to enjoy.

“She likes you,” I chuckle. “Do you know if I should feed her anything in particular? She’s-”

“You guys got any scones? Sour cherry maybe?”

I freeze. My entire body goes rigid. Fuck, I know that voice. It haunts my fucking dreams. Sweet, lovely, strong, usually yelling at me to surrender. I flick my eyes to the left. Fuck my life, there he is, wearing his light armour with that infernal sword on his hip. Blue eyes, bronze curls, goddamn beautiful Simon Snow, standing right at the other end of the market with his bloody horse. I know I’m supposed to talk to him but not right now, I’m not ready, I need to be ready.

I quickly flip up my hood. “Sorry, Mr. Hawkins, I-I need to go. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.”

“Alright, have a good day, Lord!”

I wave as I dash off. Rat is disturbed by going so fast though, so I slow down to a slightly frantic speed walk. Even with magic to fly back, it’s going to take me fifteen minutes to be ready. I pray to God that Snow is as easily distracted as I know him to be.

———————————————

Simon

I’m gnawing on my scone (blueberry not cherry unfortunately), holding Cherry’s reins, as I walk through the town. It’s really nice. I’ve never been here before. I always take the more direct route straight across the fields, but Ebb suggested I try somewhere new to help get out of this tired funk. Penny agreed when I called her this morning. She was very cross that I hadn’t called her for days. Maybe I can find something to bring back for her, to say sorry.

We walk past a booth and I stop. It’s filled with lovely ceramics and glassware, twisted into wondrous shapes. My mouth hangs open as I stare.

“Anything I can help you with, good sir?”

I look up, then up, then further up. This man is huge. He’s like a giant, and I’ve seen those before. “Uh, hi. Is this your stuff?”

“Yes it is,” he says with his booming voice. “Anything you like?”

“Yeah. Like, all of it. You’re really good.”

“Thank you, Mr.- May I ask your name?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s Simon.” I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

He shakes my hand, his grip firm and strong. “I’m Mr. Hawkins. Lovely to meet you too, Simon. I’ve never seen you around. New to our town?”

I let his hand go (and don’t let him see the way I shake mine out, damn he’s strong.) “Yeah, never been here before. It’s really nice.”

“Yes, we’ve done quite well in the past few years, considering what we were like before.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, our town was falling into disrepair not too long ago. After Lady Pitch’s death we were easy targets. People were raiding us, looting, everything. We were getting sick too, what with no mage to help our ailments. But ever since Lord Pitch returned, we’ve been doing much better. He’s been such a big help.”

My eyes bug out and my jaw falls so far open I could catch flies. “Wait, what?! Lord Pitch helps you?!”

He looks at me like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, when really it’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. “Yes, of course. His family have taken care of us for generations and he’s no exception. He does a lot for us. He just gave me some new tonic for my leg.”

“Wait, Baz was here?!”

Mr. Hawkins is taken aback, his expression saying he thinks I’m crazy. Which I don’t blame him, it feels like I’m crazy right now. “Um, yes, he just left a few minutes ago. He gave me the tonic and let me play with his cat. Very nice young man.”

My mouth falls even further open. This is completely nuts. So Baz, the evil warlock who ransoms Watford’s princess, takes care of a whole town, brings people medicine, owns a cat, and is very nice. And strangest of all, he was just here, so he must’ve seen me, but he didn’t try to attack me. Doesn’t he hate me? Why wouldn’t he try? What the ever loving fuck is going on? It feels like everything I thought I knew about Baz is shattering into itty bitty little pieces. He’s nothing like I thought, not like that at all.

“Okay,” I say quietly, “wow, that’s, uh, wow.”

“Are you alright, son?” Mr. Hawkins asks.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just gotta, I gotta go. Have a nice day.”

“You too, Simon.”

I start rushing through, past the bustling main square and all the smiling faces. It’s astounding to think that all of this could be Baz’s doing. And in a good way. There are so many questions swirling in my head, and I need answers. So I think it’s time I ask.

———————————————

Approaching Pitch Manor feels different this time but it really shouldn’t be. It’s still the same tall, dark place, with thick woods and walls. I leave Cherry tied out front of the large entrance like always, take out my sword on instinct, and push the doors open. It’s the same receiving hall I’ve been in sixteen times, made from dark wood and filled with scary carvings. And there he is, standing in the middle of the room like always.

Baz is dressed in his bright white sparkling jacket and trousers with his black cape. It looks good on him, like always. He’s got his hand behind his back and shoulders straight. His expression is unreadable as always. But it’s less cold, I think. Just, neutral.

“Hello, Snow,” he says flatly.

“Hi, Baz,” I reply, “I’m here.”

“I can see that. And you’ve got your lovely little sword. Plan on using it well?”

I open my mouth to retort, but then I think of the smiling faces in town. And I wonder how much of an arsehole Baz actually is. If there’s something else underneath. For once, I want to know more. For once, I want to be kinder to Baz, be more like Ebb. So I toss my sword to the side, letting in clunk on the stone. Baz’s calm mask breaks, his eyes going wide.

“No,” I say firmly, “I’m not. I don’t want to fight.”

Baz looks very taken aback. “Oh? Are you surrendering for once? Makes my job much easier I suppose.”

“Actually, I just want to ask you some questions.”

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. Baz clears his throat then straightens up again. “Well, if it’ll make this all go quicker.”

“Can you drop your wand? I don’t want to get zapped.”

Baz pulls his arms out from behind his back and shows his empty hands. “I don’t have my wand.”

He offers no further explanation even when I gape. He just stays still, though there’s a twitch to his lip that I can’t figure out. I don’t understand. But I nod and step forward.

“I’ve gotta ask,” I start, “what’s up with you?” He cocks an eyebrow. “I mean, you keep doing this whole thing of taking Agatha and demanding the ransom, but it never works. I stop you every time but you keep doing it.”

“I’m stubborn,” he replies.

“Yeah, but you’re not stupid. I’ve fought you, you’re smart as fuck. So why do you keep doing something that keeps not working?”

I start stepping closer. Baz stays still. “Watford killed my mother.”

“So why don’t you just blow up the whole bloody kingdom? You’re powerful enough, I know that too.” I’m only five feet away from him now. “Except, I’m-I’m not sure I know anything about you anymore.”

“Oh? You thought you knew me in the first place?”

“Yes! We’ve been seeing each other pretty regularly for two years now, Baz, I’ve gotten to know you. You’re brilliant, powerful, strong, and I thought you were, y’know, evil too. Now I’m not sure.”

Baz inhales sharply. I’m close enough I can hear that. “I see. You do make stupid assumptions, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

I roll my eyes and groan. “Can you stop being an arsehole to me for like, two minutes?”

I wait for a retort, but Baz’s face softens. He lets his arms fall to his sides. “I suppose I can try.”

Well, as if this say isn’t already full of surprises. I step closer. “I thought you were evil, but evil people don’t take care of a town, make tonics for them, apparently own a bloody cat, or,” I get even closer so there’s only three feet between us, “let their sworn enemy go when he’s just down the street.”

He gulps, and I think I’ve finally got to him. “So you talked to Mr. Hawkins.”

“Yeah, I did. He told me what you did for their town, and he said you left a few minutes before I showed up. You could’ve fought me right then and there, but you didn’t. Why?”

I can see and hear him take a deep breath. “Maybe, I didn’t feel like fighting then.”

My head tilts to the side in curiosity. “Do you feel like fighting now?”

The way Baz’s expressions shifts is fascinating. All those calm, unfeeling walls melt away like butter on a hot stove. He doesn’t look like the emotionless arsehole I know, or even the calm statue I saw a few minutes ago. He doesn’t look like a villain. I don’t think he’s a villain, actually. I think he’s just...a boy.

“No,” he says quietly, “no, I don’t. Do you?”

I shake my head instantly. “No. I’m tired of fighting.”

He sighs, and it sounds like relief. “Me too. I’ve been tired of it for awhile.”

Huh? That only confuses me more. “If you’re tired of it, then why did you keep taking Agatha? Couldn’t you have stopped?”

“Yes, I could have, and I should have. But I didn’t want to.”

“Why? To hurt Watford?”

“No, because...” He looks me in the eye with the most vulnerable, human expression I’ve ever seen on him. “Because, it meant a certain knight kept coming back here.”

I blink at him in utter disbelief. I hear the words but I don’t understand them, not at all. “You...you wanted me to come back?”

He nods slowly. “Yes.”

“But, why?”

Baz doesn’t answer with words. His sharp tongue seems to vanish in an instant. But I watch as red spreads across his pretty face. He’s...he’s blushing. Baz Pitch, terrifying warlock, is blushing. And I think I finally get it.

“Oh,” I squeak. “You...you feel like that?”

He nods again, eyes downcast and arms curling up over his chest. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“A long time. Almost since we met.”

My mouth falls open. “Seriously?” He keeps nodding. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He looks up again, but it’s only to glare at me. “You’re the champion of the kingdom that killed my mother. It wasn’t good, or even possible I’m supposed to hate you, and I knew you hated me.”

My feet moved forward before I realise it. I’m so close to Baz now. I can count every shade of grey in his eyes. He has really pretty eyes. “I don’t hate you,” I whisper. I don’t need to be louder, he’s that close. “I thought I hated you, but I don’t think I do now.

His gaze widens in disbelief. “You don’t?”

“No. I mean, you’re kind of an arsehole.” He frowns, and it’s kind of...adorable. “But I don’t hate you, not anymore at least. In fact, I think you’re pretty amazing. It’s annoying how great you are.”

He looks even more shocked somehow. “What are you saying, Snow?”

What the fuck am I saying? I’m not sure myself. All I know is that I’m really close to Baz right now, but I’m not scared. Actually, I like it a lot. I like having him here, in front of me. Not fighting or off plotting something. Just here where I can see him and make sure he’s alright.

“I’m saying,” I step even closer, “that maybe a certain warlock is what brought me back here too.”

His eyes are so wide they look like full moons. “Do you really mean that? Because I don’t want to be toyed with, Snow.”

“I do. I really, really do.” I reach forward, and while he does stiffen, he doesn’t flinch away. So I carefully tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. It’s soft, just like I’ve always thought it would be

“Simon...” His eyes flick briefly down to my mouth. And for the first time ever, my impulses aren’t a bad thing.

I lean forward and I kiss him.

Baz’s mouth is cold, colder than a normal person probably should be. But he’s softer too. Like a cloud made of silk. It’s such an incredible revelation, and I want to remember it forever. My eyes slide shut, trying to sink into the feeling. But Baz is still rigid under me. I put my hand on the nape of his neck, running my thumb over his sharp cheek, moving my lips more, trying to coax him to relax. And suddenly, I feel the tension seep out of him. His body unwinds, and he finally starts kissing me back.

Our lips slide together like that’s all their made to do. Baz’s arms cautiously wind around my waist. I put both my hands in his soft hair. His arms get tighter around my waist. He presses into my back, like he’s trying to get to my skin through the armour. I desperately want it off right now so he can touch me, so I can feel his long, rough fingers. We keep kissing slowly. My mouth opens and Baz follows. I nearly collapse when our tongues touch. But Baz’s strong arms keep me upright and I hold him, pull him closer. I feel like I’m exploding and falling and just...amazing. Everything just feels better than ever before.

We pull apart, but keep our foreheads together. Our breathing is loud in the echoey hall. Baz’s arms don’t loosen on me. I don’t let go either.

“I like this,” I whisper against Baz’s swollen lips. “I like this better than fighting.”

He sighs and brushes his nose against mine. “Me too.”

We keep standing there, breathing each other in. I don’t know what we’re going to do, there’s still so much to talk about. But I’m not letting Baz go.

———————————————

Four years later

I wake up and immediately reach out to my right, but instead of tepid skin, I feel something furry. My eyes blink open and I frown. Baz isn’t there, but Rat is. She’s stretched out and purring in his spot. I lean up on my elbow, giving her a long pet. She bends towards my hand. Rat is a very lovely cat. I wish Baz hadn’t given her such a god awful name.

I look around our room. The curtains are still drawn over the window, but I see a little light bleeding in. It’s barely morning. And Baz isn’t here, which means he’s in his study. The damn bastard never stops working. Unless I get him to.

Slowly, I sit up, stretching my arms up. The blanket falls down a bit too far and I shudder for a second, a bite cold air hitting my bare skin. That’s what I get for sleeping in just my pants. It’s a good thing we live alone at the top of a hill. Sometimes I’m tired after a long day of goat herding and forget pajamas. Baz doesn’t mind at all. He likes to use my warm skin as his personal heater in these colder months.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slip on my fur slippers. They were a gift from Penny, to keep me warm in the wild. (This isn’t the wild but it’s a nice thought anyway.) Then I throw the quilt over my shoulders, pulling it around me like Baz used to do with his cloaks.

I pad through our cottage in my slippers. It’s a mile away from Ebb’s place and less than an hour from Pitch Town. Baz and I spent six months designing and building it. We made it from light wood, green painted metal, and clay tiles. It’s not very big, just enough room for us, Rat, and the occasional guest. (Though we can expand when we add little humans to our family. Which we will someday, when we're a bit older.) Others would call it cramped. I call it cozy. I love being here every day. It’s not a castle where I work or an orphanage where I was abandoned. It’s a home that Baz and I made together.

Once I’m through our living room, I enter Baz’s study. It’s made of almost all glass, so his potted plants can get proper sunlight. His bigger garden sits just outside next to Cherry’s stable. And there’s the man himself, hunched over his desk. I immediately drape myself over his back, encasing him in the quilt. He doesn’t flinch at all. It’s taken a few years but he’s not on guard all the time anymore.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“It’s too early,” I say, “come back to bed.”

Baz chuckles, leaning back into me. “I have to make a new healing potion for Mrs. Nelson, love. Her stomach is acting up again.”

“You can do that later. But right now,” I press my lips to his ear, “come,” I move to his cheek, “back,” under his jaw, “to,” and then his neck, “bed.”

I feel and hear him sigh. He leans further back, looping an arm around me to weave his fingers through my hair. “You’re a menace, Simon, always interfering with my work.”

“Mhm, and you love it.” I bury my face in his skin. He smells like his fancy handmade soaps, cedar and bergamot. His smell always makes me feel better. “And I love you.”

He sighs, turning his head to peck my temple. “I love you too, Snow.”

“You called me Simon before,” I tease.

“No I didn’t,” he says with a smile.

“Liar,” I kiss his pointy ear, “now leave your work alone for a bit.”

“I really have to do this, darling. But you should go. You have to be up in a few hours to get to the goats.”

I groan and hold him tighter. “Baz, we both need sleep. And I don’t know about you, love, but I sleep better next to you.”

It’s true. Ever since we started living here two years ago and I started sleeping next to Baz regularly, I’ve had less nightmares. And if I wake up from one, he’s right there to hold me and remind me none of it was real. I can sleep alone, but I prefer him with me.

“Alright,” he sighs, “give me a minute to finish this bottle.”

I grumble, but I know this is the best I can hope for from my workaholic healer mage lover. I press a kiss to the corner of his lip. “One minute. I’ll hold you to that.”

He chuckles, then turns his head to give me a proper kiss. My body feels like it’s melting, like it does every time we kiss. He pulls away smiling against my mouth. “One minute. I promise.”

“Mhm, good.”

He kisses me once more, and again, then we finally let go. I stand up straight and pull the quilt around myself again. Once I reach the doorway, I give Baz one more look over my shoulder. And he’s looking back. We both smile just as I turn the corner back through the cottage.

———————————————

Baz

It’s a struggle to turn back to my work. I desperately want to follow Simon, scoop him up, and snog him silly as I carry him to bed. The idea of that motivates me to finish faster though. I put the last drop of silver in the vial, then grab my wand and mumble the spell I need. It warms up and glows a soft blue. Perfect. I cork it and put it in my basket. Rat and I will make the journey into town today on Simon’s ridiculously lovely horse. No more half hour walks for us. Cherry makes the journey far easier.

I walk back towards our bedroom. When Simon suggested we make our own house, I was cautious. I spent so long trying to get back to Pitch Manor, it felt wrong to leave it. But in the end it was the right thing to do. The manor held so much pain and loss. I couldn’t move forward there. But here, in mine and Simon’s cottage, I finally feel free.

When I walk in, Simon is already mostly asleep again. He’s laying on his side with Rat next to his head on the pillow. She’s technically my cat, but I swear she loves Simon more. I don’t blame her. I love him more too. I slip in next to him under the quilt, throwing an arm over his side and pressing my hand to his chest. He’s so warm. I used to be so cold, but I haven’t been since the moment he kissed me.

“You’re here,” he mumbles.

“I did promise,” I reply.

“Hm, true.” He snuggles closer, and I hold him tighter. “We gotta start packing tomorrow, y’know. Penny expects us there for the winter solstice. The snow is gonna make the trip longer.”

“Don’t worry, love, I remember.”

We don’t go into Watford’s capital since I’m still not exactly welcome, (even though Agatha has forgiven for the kidnapping, the citizens are still touchy,) but we go to Bunce’s family home just a few miles outside it. Simon moved there after the two months he spent living with me post-first kiss. It was hard watching him leave, but we weren’t ready to live together properly then. There was still so much we had to sort out on our own. My guilt and grief, his knighthood and future. So we just sent letters, until I finally felt comfortable going to Watford.

It was very scary at first, but eventually, Watford stopped being the place that killed my mother. Soon, it became where Simon introduced me to his best friend, where he first told me he loved me, where he said he wanted us to stop just visiting each other and build our house. And on the winter solstice, it’ll be where I ask him to marry me. I’ve got the ring hidden in my study. I know he’ll say yes, he already said he wants to get married. I’m very excited.

“Mm, good. You and Pen can trade magic notes again.”

I chuckle against his neck. “Yes, I suppose we can. We can’t stay too long though, remember.”

“I know, I know,” he mumbles. “Gotta see your family too. At least they like me now.”

I can almost hear Simon grin. Though it took a bit for my family to accept Simon, they’re now just happy that I’m happy. And it does help that Simon is so good and kind it’s impossible to hate him. I figured that out years ago. “Hm, yes. Not sure about my brother though. He did spit up on you the first time you met.”

Snow makes a displeased noise. “Yeah. Luckily he’s cute. Kids are cute.”

My heart races at those words. We’ve discussed adopting children, taking in orphans like Simon. But we both want to wait until we're a bit older before taking on such a responsibility. Still, I can't help imagining it though. Little kids running across our hill, playing with Cherry and Rat, fake wrestling with Snow in our backyard, watching with awe as I create bursts of magical light for their entertainment. A big, joyous family. I never realised I wanted that kind of life before him. And now I want it so much.

But I can wait. I'm more than happy right now. And Simon isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not anymore.

I kiss just under his ear. He lets out a happy sound. I close my eyes, pressing my nose into his neck. “Sleep, Snow. We’ll talk more about family and travel plans later.”

“Okay,” he yawns. “Love you.”

My eyes slip closed. When I first saw Simon, I assumed I’d always be looking at him from afar, never allowed to have him. But here he is in my arms, in our bed, telling me he loves me. Like he will for the rest of our lives.

We’re no longer the strong knight or the powerful warlock. Just a simple goatherd and healer. And we’re far better off for it.

“Love you too,” I whisper, before I drift off as well.

———————————————

AN: Yeah, I tried to make the ending as fluffy as possible. They deserve it. Credit to @carryonmylovelies for Rat's name. Don't let her name your pets, lol. Any who, hope you all liked that. I tried my best to show their growth which leads Simon and Baz to decide to break the cycle. And I hope you didn't mind that they weren't with each other for most of the fic, that's my biggest worry tbh. Idk, I liked it. Hope guys did too :)

So I've got a lot schoolwork (yay exams and finals) so I don't think I'll be posting anything again until late April or early May. Black Swan updates will still happen but that's all I can handle rn unforunately :/ But once exams are done, I'll be opening requests again. So I'll see you guys then :D

#snowbaz #carry on #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #agatha wellbelove #fluff #angst #fantasy au #getting together #enemies to lovers #mysnowbazfic

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datoneidiot · 5 years

Text

Of Paintings and Actors

This was supposed to be a quick 3k fic for @coconut-cluster‘s Sander Sides Hogwarts Au but it turned into a 9k mess. I ended up putting a lot of focus on the Roman Vents To Paintings into it but it’s based off of an anon’s submission: What if Roman asked Virgil to the Yule Ball but thinking that Roman wouldn’t ask him anyways and he really doesn’t want to be the only person he know going aloNe, Virgil gets asked by someone else and we get to witness Roman’s heartbreak.

Very Roman centric, lots of one specific painting, Prinxiety and background Logicality, very long. Im not terribly happy with it but I hope you enjoy!

“I was the only one who didn’t pass the Arithmancy test. It’s like, everytime i go into a room they all turn away and-- I can hear them laughing! They’re not even trying to pretend they’re not-- they won’t help me! I study as much as them, i study more than them but i'm still not smart enough, I’ll never be--”

The painting above the distraught Ravenclaw wished she could do more than just listen but there isn’t anything else to do when you’re stuck behind portraits.

“Now don’t say that. The Sorting Hat decided what house it believed was best for you.”

“What does creativity have anything to have to do with intelligence, Circe?”, Roman wiped at his wet face with the red blanket Virgil had so generously made for his birthday in their second year. No one in his house had even gifted him with a quick Happy Birthday, choosing to ignore the birthday sash he wore all day-- the one he spent a week on making. Roman didn’t know if he cried that night because of how warm his friend’s smiles were or because of how lonely he felt the second the tower door shut behind him.

He looked down at his ice cream tub, desperate for some food comfort, only to realize that his eyes were too watery to even see the spoon. How pathetic.

Roman scoffed, scooping yet another spoonful into his mouth and watching yet another tear fall onto the Magical, Wonderful School of Wizardry’s cold and simple wooden floor.

“I would make a great, uh what are they? They sing and dance and uh shake-- um spear? Spear...the guy who wrote those plays in theater? The muggles doing them? They...pretend to be someone they aren’t?”

Circe felt her painted heart break with each of the cracks and sobs Roman just managed to keep leveled. The only reason she would’ve even caught them was how often he visited her at midnight in her hidden room.

“I believe you mean an actor, dear?”

And the sad truth was he really would be a great actor.

In his first year Roman was actually excited for the new adventure that awaited him in Hogwarts School of Magic. He used to be so eager to learn magic and make friends and to actually be apart of something. Instead he learned how to walk in a full room and act like he can’t hear the snickers and whispers, how to use water resistant makeup to hide the embarrassing bags under his eyes from studying all night, how to blink away the stinging pain behind his eyes when he got a grade unworthy of his house name, how to break down without making a sound in bathroom stalls and at three in the morning but he still couldn’t get used to the horrible aching feeling of just wanting to be accepted. Of just wanting a hug.

“Yes! I can't even remember what I basically am! I don't..know..who i am..”

Circe had meet his friends before. Logan was leaving from what was probably the kitchen guessing by the bag of treats he was carrying. The Slytherin was quick and precise in his walk, a comfortable pink resting over the smile on his face. He gave a polite nod and apologized for disrupting her by roaming around so late. She wished him a safe trip back to his house. Patton was sweeter than a bag of sugar. He and Roman had passed by before and it only took five minutes for her to understand why Roman had called him Padre so often. She hadn’t met the one Roman had talked about the most. The Gryffindor seemed to be the most interesting of the bunch, especially when Roman said one his thousands of nicknames so fondly. But even Patton didn’t know how desperate Roman was to be away from his house.

Circe looks to her right, tracing over the detailed spaghetti bowl in it’s own, smaller portrait. Each noodle was defined, every mark on the bowl was carefully planned, there were even smaller containers of side options for the pasta and the longer she looked the more life she found.

The color scheme even match hers.

“You're the few who value other people’s feelings and thoughts at the same level as your work.” Though you value their thoughts on your work too much. “I've seen their ways, desperate enough to stab each other in the back just to get top grades on essays. You are intelligent, in your own way. You belong there.”

Another set of tears trailed down his face and Roman rubbed them away quickly, soft laughs barely making a sound in the secret room hidden by the Great Hall at ungodly hours.

He clutched the red blanket to his chest. “Thanks Circe. You’re always there to save my day.”

“If i could i’d turn the whole lot of them into pigs. Imagine how surprised all their dates would be when they found out they were going to dance with a boar during the Yule Ball.”

Roman’s boisterous laugh echoed in the hall, nearly knocking over his forgotten ice cream tub. And it’s bittersweet because only in the dead of night in an abandoned hallway he can laugh like this but in the common rooms during the day he’s too annoying. He’s alone either way. He wasn’t entirely alone though, he could be himself with his friends. If he ignores the growing voice in his head telling him he’s too annoying for them too.

“I was actually thinking of um, asking Virgil if he’d like to...go with me--” Roman looked down at the blanket he was hugging, tracing over the castle emblem Virgil added in a corner. It was red and gold, Roman’s two favorite colors. He marveled at how different they were from blue and white. It felt like it was made from warmth and love, like Virgil was actually there hugging him and telling him that he’s important and ok. Like he wasn’t talking to a dead witch painted by magic, taught to behave like the person they actually aren’t. He just wanted to be someone worth being proud of.

The sinking realization made him nauseous.

Circe wasn’t even a real person. Or at least, wasn’t anymore. Everything she would ever say to comfort him was the personality she was taught. She’s a painting. All of them were.

There wasn’t anyone joking about turning dates into pigs.

There wasn’t anyone supporting him.

There wasn’t anyone believing he’s good enough.

There wasn’t anyone saving him from himself.

There wasn’t anyone who loved him.

There wasn’t anyone listening when he cries about his stupid problems at three am in an abandoned hall.

No one was actually proud of him.

He’s alone.

It’s just him, projecting his stupid feelings into a blanket, abandoned in a hall. The love wasn’t coming from anyone but himself. He didn’t even feel love for himself.

“--but as friends! It was Emile’s idea of course, i would’ve never thought of it. I just...i don’t want to scare him. He’s...he needs to be protected and i don’t want to be the one hurting him. He needs a friend.” He sighed and put the blanket down.

Circe let her hands rest on the side of the frame. Fingers carefully tracing the wooden carving from the sides inching to the top, reaching for the side facing Roman. Ten precise dancers were unable to grace the top, an invisible barrier kept her trapped in the painting. Her fingers fell back to their spot, hands useless and arms empty. Circe growled. Neither of them could move past the truth the wooden rectangle held.

“You need a friend.”

A barely noticeable flinch shakes Roman’s world like an earthquake. The crack of thunder emits from an ice cream tub falling over, echoing through the school.

“You need to tell them everything.”

And this sounds worse than knowing he has nothing. Because he has something and he’s been so ungrateful of them. Logan, Patton and Virgil…

Passionate debates over which forms of magic are the best and lazy over-lunch conversations over which poetic elements are the worst, baked sweets during study sessions and random hugs after classes, snarky comments over Disney and emo bands and playful teasing during quidditch games, hidden smiles memorized and the imprint of purple and gray clouds and safety.

He has them, he has enough, he should have enough and he’d risky it all by saying they weren’t? That Patton’s broken heart over being called a filthy mudblood, Logan’s inability to move past his human imperfections and Virgil’s anxiety waiting to drag him down were so much worse yet he couldn’t even survive this alone?

That he lied to them for years everytime he said he was fine?

And he couldn’t forget Emile, Sabrina and Damien...

“No. I can’t bother them with stupid things, they have bigger problems than me to deal with and i can’t add on to it, they shouldn't have to suffer because me--”

“You help them with their problems...don’t you think they’d like to help you?”

Roman’s face screwed into uncertainty, “I don’t know…”

“They deserve to know Roman. They’re your friends, not the Ravenclaws.” Circe watched him fiddle with a faded corner on his robe. It was long faded from earlier in the year. Each year the one specific corner gets faded quicker than the last.

“You belong with them. You can talk to them, they accept you. Virgil wouldn’t hate you if you asked him, i'm sure you two will have a great time at the Ball.”

Roman’s eyes shined with unshed tears and a mix of doubt and hope, “You really think so?”

And for a second he silenced that stupid voice in his head telling him they won’t, he can’t--

“I will. Well, i mean, i’ll ask Virgil but i’d, i’d like to wait a little before telling them my uh, problems...”

Despite the fear of the future he was excited. Circe said he could, he could, he’s going to ask Virgil to the Yule Ball. They’re friends with him for a reason. They accepted him and everything that came along with him. They loved him. He can do this. It’s only a question, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Thank you Circe. I-I can’t ever thank you enough.” Roman jumped up from the floor, arms opening up on instinct, a buzzing feeling of emptiness in them. He let them fall back to his sides and smiled widely at her instead.

Circe watched Roman start to leave, gathering the ice cream tub and carefully wrapping the red blanket around him.

“Roman.”

The troubled Ravenclaw wrapped in red faced her, curiosity and confusion evident. He’s very expressive, she noted, though she wondered why he was able to bring the room to life and why it was more than just the feeling of it.

“You can do this.”

Roman smiled and smiled so wide he burst into a happy shriek of laughter and quickly turned down the hall.

He could practically feel air beneath his feet as he ran. His spirits were high and he felt high, literally and figuratively. Roman looked down at his feet as he turned down the left of a hall full of empty classes and he couldn’t tell if he imagined it or not but there was a little sparkle of gold from beneath each step he took. He didn’t know why or whatever it was-- maybe he was tired from studying and staying up all night or maybe he wasn’t actually seeing things and he was doing magic without even realizing it or whatever but he focused on this feeling, this wonderful amazing feeling. The feeling of being free and empty, of being full and warmth. Of air and water and fire and stars-- everything clashing together and falling into one and being able to see something beautiful. Of being ok and excited, of colorful futures and possible endings he’s loved in, of laughing with Patton and joking around with Logan and Ravenclaws welcoming him with open arms and smiles, of dancing with Virgil and the hunger for more of it. The feeling of flying and eagerness-- the feeling of previously unknown happiness.

He can do it, he can do it, he can do it

He will be ok

And it ran through his head from his heels hitting the floor to his heart beating in his chest as he ran through blurred halls. It was too much and not enough but he had to let it out before he burst. It started with little giggles and squeals to happy laughs to happy tears.

By the time he made it to the Ravenclaw tower his face was wet and his stomach hurt. He was sure he had woken up someone with how loud he was laughing.

“Are you alright Roman?” The knocker nearly scared the pants off of Roman and he dissolved back into howls and wheezes.

“No, no I’m fine I just-- oh gosh, I'm sorry for being so loud.” He barely managed to say the sentence without bursting into giggles.

“I see” chirped the eagle knocker, “Are you going into the tower?”

Roman was still smiling when he reached for the golden handle, “Yes.” He knocked once and it sounded like a cannon blast. He must’ve woken everyone up, they’re going to be upset--

“You’re in a dark room but how do you get out?” The little voice recited the riddle melodically.

Who cares if they’re upset at him? He’s ok. He’s welcomed. He can do it.

“You have to stop imagining it being dark.”

Roman thanked the knob before it closed behind him.

The pain of grades, the fear of laughs, the ache of loneliness, the numbness of routine. It was gone. Even if for only this night he could live without the stinging discomfort of being red and gold instead of blue and white, he could be happy. And tomorrow would be even better! And he’ll dance his worries away and spin Virgil until he can’t stand anymore then sweep him off his feet. And every day will be happy.

Roman skipped to the stairs and pretended to offer a hand to the Gryffindor up the stairs. He twirled and spun onto his single room-- none of the Ravenclaws wanted to share a room with him-- and whirled right back on to his bed, laughing all over again.

Tomorrow was going to be perfect, he’ll make sure of it. Virgil deserves to be treated like a prince and he had to make sure he wouldn’t trigger his anxieties, so not grand but personal, something that's special to him.

A million ideas spin in his head as he did before. It’s loud and quiet, mixed with the colors of the brightest roses and the coolest lavenders, softly drizzling like rain hitting a window. Sometimes it’s too much for Roman, alone in his room with his thoughts. It’s too big and it’s too small and he just doesn’t fit but now-- thoughts of gray and little smiles flood in, similar to warm blankets and faded robe corners and old an old stitched sweater left at home ground him.

With a gasp, Roman shot up out of his bed. He knows exactly how to ask him.

He would have to use a lot of magic to make it work and a lot of time. His eyes scanned across the room and landed on a stack of books. Studying would have to wait, this was more important. He was more important.

Roman focused on what he wanted to make-- creative conjuring and transfiguration was a higher form of magic he hadn’t learned or tried yet. Despite having no experience, time or sleep, he wove his fingers delicately in the lonely room for hours. He absolutely could not wait for tomorrow. All he had to do was wait till their shared dinner. He could wait eight classes right?

Oh gosh he couldn’t but he’ll have to make do if he wanted to woo the edgy tempest.

He can be happy. He held onto the soft fabric beneath his fingers and laid the sweet flower on top of it before going to bed at yet another ungodly hour. They accept him.

He can do this.

…

Virgil pulled his robes tight around him. Roman usually meet them in the mornings and walked with them, why wasn’t he here? Patton rubbed his shoulder.

“Hey i'm sure he just overslept or something. You know how he is.”

Patton knew him too well. Of course, all he was known to worry about stupid little things like this. Yeah it wasn’t the first time Roman overslept, and it wouldn’t be the last time he would lose track of time but he couldn’t stop the worry bubble in his stomach. Without Roman, without consistency, it felt like everything was watching him. Watching him walk down the hall, alone, without an annoying, loud-mouthed--

“Hi Virgil, Patton, I gotta go, see you later!”

Roman ran past the duo before Virgil even had a chance to speak. Today was going to be horrible.

“Come on let’s meet up with Logan.” Patton urged Virgil, grabbing his arm and bringing him from the opposite way Roman had just abandoned them-- it was a distraction for him, Virgil knew, but he looked back to see where Roman had ran off anyways.

Roman was-- Roman...how does he even start? He’s obnoxious, loud, annoying, prideful and petty...but he was thoughtful and considerate, he was sweet, if not corny, and he distracted Virgil, focused him, on anything but the other wizards and witches in the hall, let him ruin the corner of his robe, and was always first to make sure he was ok even during stupid fights. He grounded him, and Virgil was forever grateful for it because he couldn’t even imagine going a day without Roman looking out for him and protecting himself from himself. It was a big change from keeping defenses up to letting someone else worry for him and look at him like that with those big stupid smiles, and now the Gryffindor couldn't see himself without Patton, Logan or Roman.

And it was so stupid, so so stupid. Everything was stupid-- besides Patton.

“Hey V, four, seven, eight, you can do it. In and out. Like that, good-- where’s Roman?”

And Logan.

Patton eyed Virgil and gave a weary smile to the other speckled fourth year, speaking in a softer voice, “He wasn’t able to walk us today, Virgil got a bit anxious.”

“I didn’t-- i dont want, i didn’t mean to--”

Logan placed his hands on his shoulders. “We know, it’s not something you can control, just breathe. Uh, how does Roman typically-- the Ravenclaw besides the Charms class...adores flying...with, um.. her turtle companion? Named…”, Virgil noticed how Logan’s eyes caughts Patton’s and the smile he gave him, “--Pat! Rick, uh Patrick. Patrick the...Turtle.”

Virgil couldn’t help but laugh when Logan turned an embarrassing pink. Patton giggled, “Just like Roman! I’ll see you second Lo!” and headed off for his first class.

Logan watched Patton leave, sluggishly waving a hand bye. Virgil snickered as they started walking again, “Oh my god L, that was so bad.”

“You will not tell Roman about this.” Logan said half pleading, half threatening. Virgil rolled his eyes but their smiles were still there, “Mm-hmm”

They walked in silence to their shared Potions class for a bit. Virgil pulled at the corner of his robe. “Thanks L”

Logan glanced at the shorter Gryffindor, “Of course, i'm glad to be of assistance. I’m positive you’ll see Roman in your third period.”

Virgil smiled. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.

....

It was horrible. Virgil had nearly forgotten about the Yule Ball because of his panic this morning. How could he forget it? Everyone’s been raving about it for the past two weeks.

Potions with Logan was replaced by ballroom dancing with McGonagall. Logan and Virgil were separated by their houses and taken into different rooms. He felt bad for Logan, having to be with Damien alone for a whole period but he had bigger problems now.

The Gryffindors were a mess. None of them knew how to dance and Virgil couldn’t tell if he felt better because everyone was doing terribly or if he felt even worse because to him it seemed like he was the worst of the bunch. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering how Logan and Patton were doing. Logan’s had experience already and Patton could pick up anything easily. They were going to have fun at dancing with each other. Virgil didn’t even have to think about how Roman was doing. He was great at any of the arts, singing, painting, dancing. Roman wouldn’t want to go to the ball with a Gryffindor with two left feet.

The thought alone of Roman dancing with him made him trip over his feet. What was he thinking? Roman wouldn’t-- he was dreaming if he thought Roman, of all people, would ask him to go to the ball with him. Virgil figured they both knew he couldn’t ask him, and Roman was the more bolder of the two, maybe he imagined Roman smiling at him like that, maybe he was just really touchy and gentle with everyone, Roman would never think of him like that but Virgil still placed it somewhere in the back of his mind that if he was going to the ball with anyone, it’d be him.

It didn’t help when he went to his third class, expecting to see his current fixation of the day waiting at the door, his eyes lighting up and the typical big grin the Ravenclaw gave him when greeted him. Roman wasn’t even at the door. Virgil walked in the class cautiously, arms tight around his books like something was going to jump out at him. He felt too open, too exposed. Roman didn’t say hi to him or explain why he was in a rush this morning. He scribbled stuff in his book and to Virgil it felt like he was intentionally avoiding looking at him.

Roman’s voice ran through his head when he answered the teacher’s question. It was taunting him. His brain short circuited right back to the basics. Roman’s avoiding him. What did he do wrong? He’s just overthinking this, Roman doesn’t hate him. He already has to worry about going to the ball and what he’s going to do and how he could possibly ask a certain Gryffindor to with him, at least as a friend. He has to stop jumping to conclusions.

The whole period was a blur of words, a clash of Roman’s voice, the lack of it, and the voice inside his head. It was a monstrous cacophony that made the whole room spin.

“Wait, Roman--”

He didn’t even turn around when Virgil called for him. He had practically scrambled to get out before everyone. Before him. When he got out of the room, kids had flooded the hall and Virgil was left to walk by himself to his next class without having a panic attack.

It didn’t get any better after that.

Virgil spent his classes distracted, worried that Roman was mad at him for something, that everyone was watching him and judging him. Why was he a Gryffindor again?

He only survived to sixth period with Roman and Damien because of Patton and Logan, but now he was alone with those two and Virgil already had enough trouble with them together.

He never really talked with Damien, he just...rubbed him wrong. He looked very similar to Patton, too similar to Patton to have such a polar personality to the literal ball of sunshine. And he wasn’t afraid to cheat or lie and he flirted with Roman every chance he got. And Roman flirted back! It drove Virgil insane, how could Roman just-- like it wasn’t anything-- and wasn’t wasting time or distracting other people.

But what was worse was the lack of stupid annoying flirting. Virgil dragged his feet, prepared to be unprepared only to see Roman and Damien talking quietly. Roman was loud and dramatic and Damien shared that trait with him-- though it was much less tolerable than Roman’s version. They weren’t being obnoxious and laughing at each other pick up lines or excessively touching each others hair and arms or complimenting each other--

Virgil popped out of his stupor, not having realize he was staring-- more like glaring-- at them. He caught Roman’s eyes. They were their normal brown but they looked different, big and worried didn’t suit him well. To Virgil, it just wasn’t Roman. And as fast as he caught them they were gone, Roman had turned away fast and Damien glanced at him. He felt his eyes burn into his brain and Virgil quickly opened his book.

Suddenly Virgil understood exactly how Logan feels about Damien.

Fuming, he tried to focus on his notes, he tried to focus so hard but all he could hear was their hushed whispers. Virgil can’t help but take another glimpse at them. He can see Damien nodding and very clearly trying to block his view of Roman. If he listens hard enough he can hear his sarcastic remarks and half-flirts and it enrages Virgil. Why would Roman-- and then he sees Roman.

He’s jittery, very jittery. He looks like a mess, he’s making sad attempts at extravagant gestures, there’s clearly bags under his eyes, he’s running his hand through his hair and jumping his leg up and down. He looks stressed, and when he sees Roman’s eyes he recognizes something. Roman’s anxious. He’s anxious about something? Damien puts a hand on his arm and speaks leveled, much more calmer than Roman. Why would Roman go to Damien of all people? But here and there after Damien says something and he can see Roman’s eyes he looks...excited. Nervous and excited and anxious. It loops in his head and suddenly he can’t take it anymore. He has to speak to Roman.

It’s agonizingly long but finally, the professor is done with his lesson and allows everyone to pack up before they have to go to their next class. Virgil closes his long forgotten, half scribbled notes and scrambles out of his seat.

He makes his way over to Roman and stops dead in his tracks when Damien glances at him again. It’s a look Virgil can’t stand, it’s one that makes him want to demand to speak and one that makes him want to run. Regardless, it’s a look of warning. A glare that screams back off. Like he was a villain. And it makes Virgil stumble back, his lower back hitting the table behind him. The chair underneath hits his lower leg and makes a loud ugly screech. He backs up. Then he runs.

Somewhere, lost in his thoughts he can faintly hear the bell ring.

Why did he ever think he could go to the Yule Ball with Roman? He’s probably going with Damien, everyone loves Roman, he’s charming, he’s funny, he’s sweet, he has this stupid, stupid smile. He’s probably gotten asked by half of the HufflePuffs and the other Gryffindors or Ravenclaws and Slytherins--

Kids flood the halls.

He’s going to be the only person he knows who’s going alone. Should he even bother going? There’s going to be so many people and dancing and-- he only imagined having fun with Roman, he was comfortable with Roman, Roman was-- he’d hate to see Roman dancing with someone else, smiling and laughing and making them feel special and important and--

Oh my god, he can’t handle this right now, there’s too many people, there’s too many people--

“Hi, Virgil?”

His head snapped up.

“I’m Ethan, we share potions and had ballroom dancing with McGonagall?”

Virgil’s anxiety skyrocketed and his stomach dropped. It wasn’t Roman, he wasn’t coming for him. Roman wasn’t going to help him.

“Well i was wondering if you’d go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Virgil didn’t even know he responded. All he heard was that same voice. Roman would never ask him, who was he kidding? He was so stupid, so stupid, what was he thinking? Why would Roman want to go with Virgil, he’s so stupid--

“The guy i wanted to go with broke his foot and i don’t want to be one of those losers who stay in their room the whole night, y’know?”

Virgil could barely see what was happening. “I--”, he nearly choked on his own breath. He couldn’t think straight enough to give an answer, “I don’t--”

“Are you already going with someone or not?”

“No--”

“Figured, you don’t seem to hang around with a lot of people. Well?”

Roman wasn’t going to ask him out anyway and he really doesn’t want to be the only person he knows going alone.

“Alright, I’ll see you there then, i got to meet up with my friends” and without a blink Ethan’s gone, leaving Virgil alone in the now empty hall.

Virgil doesn’t even know how he managed to say yes. He felt his chest tighten and he stumbled to the wall. Logan and Patton weren’t nearby and Roman--

He heaves trying to stop himself from crying. Four seven eight, four seven eight, four seven eight

At least he wasn’t going to the Ball alone.

...

Roman was convinced Lady Luck was on his side.

His mothers sent in his robes this morning and they looked absolutely wonderful. He was buzzing with energy when he woke up and the smile on his face felt real.

Roman even made sure to stash his gifts for Virgil with Circe so he can get them later. He felt bad for running past Virgil and leaving their classes fast but if he didn’t he would’ve explode and asked him right on the spot and Virgil would be pressured into saying yes and he’d be uncomfortable with everyone around and that was the last thing Roman wanted. He wanted to go so badly with Virgil but he wanted him to be happy and if waiting meant his happiness than he’d wait forever!

It was around Potions when a sudden thought struck him. Virgil could say no. Well, he knew Virgil could say whatever he wanted and he was hoping for a yes but he never considered if Virgil said no. What would he do then?

“Damien i don’t know what to do, what if he says no?”

“Then he says no. I thought not thinking about our problems with each other was our deal?”

“Damiennnn” Roman dramatically flopped on the desk.

Damien rolled his eyes, “You know i’m not good at comforting. Should’ve gone to Patton if you wanted a hug.” Roman half ran his hand through his hair and half pulled.

“Look, anyone would want to go with you. I sure wouldn’t mind.” He nudged Roman.

“Not now please.” Roman put his head down on the desk.

“Fine. You know i just like bothering racoon over there.”

“And not everyone wants to go with me, the Ravenclaws certainly don’t and Virgil might not want to either.”

“Not to vouch for him, but Patton would get mad at me if i didn’t, Virgil will say yes.”

Roman peeked up, “Really?”

Damien gave him a small smile and placed a comforting hand on his arm, “I’m sure, he gets so upset when we mess around. Besides he’d be lying to himself if think he doesn’t.”

Roman sat up again, “Thanks Damien.”

“Sure. Let’s stick to our usual way though, being nice ruins my mean face and i don’t want to be buddy buddy with racoon. I can respect your dramatic but i will not respect him, even if he’s your possible future boyfriend.”

“There’s the Damien i know. I just...i can’t help but worry over it still. What if i do something wrong?”

The class flew by and before Roman knew it he missed all the notes he was supposed to take, the screech of a moved chair brought him back to reality and he headed for his next class. He could do this.

…

Round found himself terrified when he walks with Virgil towards the Great Hall before dinner. He had so foolishly shoved his transfigured purple aster up his robe’s sleeves and he hoped he was hiding his gift well.

Logan and Patton had gotten enthralled in a discussion about some Magical Creature of the Week and he recognises this as the perfect proposal time. It was now or never.

“So”, Roman started not so smoothly, hyper aware of every crack in his voice. What was he doing?

Virgil expected something horrible. Why was Roman avoiding him? Did he do something wrong? Why was he so nervous? “Have you gotten your dress robes yet?” Roman wasn’t even going to mention why he hadn’t seen him all day? Was he supposed to bring it up? “Yeah i got some, it wasn’t the fun-est experience.” Even though Roman wants to ask what they look like, he holds it in. He’d rather see it at the ball and it feels too much like bad luck to see them beforehand-- it was a muggle superstition his mom mentioned before about weddings. Instead he clutches the flower tightly, watching as a petal falls from the corner of his eye “I'm sure they’re magnificent, Virge.” Virgil falters a step but it’s smooth enough where Roman misses it. Virgil was sure something was going to happen. Everything would fall apart in an instant. Roman quickly rushes to continue the conversation. “Was McGonagall the one teaching the Gryffindors dancing?” And then an even worse thought struck him. Roman didn’t want to be his friend anymore. He was avoiding him because was stressed about telling him-- of course he would be, he’s Roman, why would he want to be his friend anymore? Four seven eight, four seven eight. “Yeah, it was a mess.” Virgil blinked and kept his voice as steady as he could, “We were all really bad, it was kind of funny, in a way?” And when Virgil offers him the best smile he can Roman’s heart stutters to a stop for a few seconds. He can’t do this, he can’t ask Virgil, he can’t-- Roman looks ahead and he can see Patton and Logan walking nearly twenty feet ahead of them and he thinks of Circe. They’re his friends. It was just a question. He can do it. He lets the happy, nervous feeling course through his veins, from his heels to his heart and his head.

“I was wondering, Virgil.”

Virgil froze when Roman suddenly came to a halt. This was it, he was being cast off for good. Roman was sick of him and it only took a day.

“If um, if there was any, would you like, um Virgil...would you consider doing the honor of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?”

Roman seemed to magically spring a purple flower in his hand and shly offered it out. Virgil was speechless.

What kind of cruel joke was this? No, Roman wouldn’t, Roman wouldn’t hurt him like this. “Oh”, Virgil wrapped his arms around himself like a shield, he had to protect himself from whatever was happening, “I was asked earlier by one of the Gryffindors and i said yes...”

Roman felt the ground beneath his feet fall. He was too late.

Virgil’s face had turned to stone and Roman couldn’t help but feel to be the receiving end of it. He didn’t even look anxious or uncomfortable he looked...angry. He was getting defensive again. The aster tilted to its side in his hand, unaccepted.

He hated Roman.

“Oh”, Roman cleared his throat trying to level how shakey his voice came out, “I see, i meant, we could go as, together as friends, not--”

The Grand Hall feels too tight, too big, too small. Just like his room. He feels so alone. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he was hyper aware of the gift just barely slipping out his fingers.

“Yeah it was just, it was stupid, it was a stupid idea, I’m sorry I-- I’m so stupid--”

“Wait, Roman--”

He can’t read the face Virgil's giving him but it’s enough to push on his spiral. Everything starts to get fuzzy.

Of course another Gryffindor would ask him. Roman wasn’t a Gryffindor, he was a Ravenclaw and he didn’t even belong in that house. Roman never had a chance, how could he have ever thought--

He built up his hopes up and it only took one day for them to break down.

“I’m sure you, you and you’re date you’ll, it’ll be a great time, you’ll have fun i’m sure--”

“What, what is that?”

Roman’s eyes snapped down at his hand. He saw it--

Roman stumbled backwards and he bumped into someone. It was a Ravenclaw. The disgusted face made him sick and their snicker echoed like thunder in the hallway.

“Ro--”

“I have to go, I’ve gotta, i need to, sorry i’ll, see you--”

Roman took another few steps backwards before turning and rushing forward. He didn’t know where he was going.

“Roman?”

He turned towards Patton and Logan, Virgil trying to push pass the crowd to them. Patton and Logan’s usual smiles were gone, replaced with furrowed eyebrows of confusion and worry.

They were upset and annoyed-- he interrupted their conversation. There’s too many people here. Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Gryffindors and Ravenclaw alike. They were all looking at him like that like-- Roman doesn’t belong in this hallway. He needs to get out now.

Roman turned and ran as fast as he could.

His footsteps felt slow and heavy, like he was fighting against chains holding him down. The feeling of closing walls, locked jail cells and an empty bedroom. Of being squeezed and squeezed until the life was drained out from him, of gray and black and white, dull and painful, of stinging eyes and muffled sobs. Of losing friends and everyone and the feeling of freeing happiness.

How foolish of him to think he could enjoy hope and kept it without losing it as fast as he got it.

And yet as fast and loud as his thoughts clash and his feet run, he thinks he heard someone calling his name and a different set of feet trying to follow his. And it doesn’t help the aching loneliness when he can't hear it behind him anymore.

...

Circe remembers when she first met the ostracized Ravenclaw. A frustrated first year wandered the halls holding tightly onto himself. She asked where he was going. He gave her a smile that was too big.

“Oh, um the Ravenclaws didn’t tell me the password to the tower. But it’s alright! I'm sure it was an accident. They probably just didn’t hear me...when i was right behind them..” his arms tightened their hold.

“It’s usually a riddle. I believe this time it’s ‘Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?’.”

The boy’s big smile fell. “That sounds awfully complicated…there’s too many answers that could be right and even more that could be wrong”, he looked at the floor before looking up at her. There was a smaller but more real smile. “Smart stuff like that makes my head spin, but thanks. Uh what, may i ask, is my heroine's fair name?”

She smiled. “Circe witch-nymph, daughter of Helios, feared by man and boar alike. And what would my fair Ravenclaw’s name be?”

He laughed. “Roman. Roman Walsh. But that's not nearly as interesting as your name. How’d you earn such an extravagant title?”

“I was a nymph alone on a lost island in Greece. Aeaea was said to be a cursed land. There was no life but a single Acacia tree, a handful of boars and a single plant of wheat. I spent centuries growing and flourishing my island but the Acacia tree, boars and wheat crop remained scared to my island, a gift from the Gods. I had everything i needed, but there was something missing. When the first humans landed on my island i wanted to share the beautiful land i made. I let them stay at my home and told them of all i done, how important the single Acacia tree and boars were. I gave them food and shelter and i was happy. I used to hear stories of how humans cared but no one but themselves, how they hurt others to save themselves but i let them stay. We laughed and talked, they offered to bring me back to their land, full of people and friends waiting. They promised the safety of the island. I woke up the next morning to the sound of the Acacia tree hitting the ground. They slaughtered every boar and loaded them on their ship, staining the sands with red. They lied to me. I took a branch from my fallen tree and shouted the first thing that came to mind. They turned into swines. Squealing and running little swines...I destroyed their boat and kept the wand. I spent a year trying to regrow my tree but i couldn’t save it. Wheat had covered nearly every open space. When the next set of humans came and i pulled out my wand...”

Circe laughed, “Ah i'm talking your ear off.”

“What happened after you pulled out your wand?”

“Huh?” Roman had stars in his eyes, nearly falling over from how far he was leaning forward. He was looking up to her, crissed-crossed on the floor with such wonder.

He leaned as far as his elbows on his legs would let him and repeated himself, “What’d you do when the new humans came?”

Roman gasped, “Oh my stars was the first set of humans Odysseus and his crew? Were you that Circe? Was the Odyssey wrong?”

Circe blinked, “I--”

“Did they...oh they’re always doing this aren’t they? They made another powerful women evil? History is always written by the winner isn’t it.”

Circe wasn’t expecting to see Roman so interested and passionate about her story. Especially since it was typically retold wrong in a longer epic. It was...nice.

“You...yes, Odysseus was the one who offered to take me back to the mainland. It was so lonely on that island...i turned half of them back in to humans and banished them off of my island and they wrote me as the evil witch. I thought every human would be out to kill me so when the next set came i pulled out my wand again but...they spoke soft and treated my island the same as i did and they listened to me with the same wonder…” I see in you, “I hadn’t seen in a while. They set up a small camp by my home and asked to use some wheat to make food and i let them. I could see smoke coming from their tent and i went to make sure they weren’t burning but they were fine. Cooking food they said, and offered me some yellow noodles they called spaghetti. It was amazing. They told me stories and praised the land, my land. They said it was beautiful. And they thanked me for letting them stay before they left. I told them they could come back whenever they wanted and they smiled. It’s been so long since i saw them…It’s silly for a witch to miss spaghetti but...I’d love to have another bowl of spaghetti with them. A painting can’t really do that can they though?”

Roman yawned, having moved to lean against the wall sometime in the story. “You’ll get your spaghetti, one day...”

Circe smiled down at the sleepy Ravenclaw. She was happy to see the smile, the big smile on his face as his eyes struggled to stay open.

It was silent for a few moments, the whole castle sleeping in their beds except for a painting and a Ravenclaw. She wondered if breaking the peace was worth it. He wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if she spoke too loud so she waited a little longer until she couldn’t tell if he was awake or not.

“What do you think the answer to the riddle is? What came first the Phoenix or the flame?”

Roman lolled his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing for a split second.

“I think that...a circle has no beginning.”

Circe barely heard his answer. Light snores already starting to fill the new silence and she hummed to herself thoughtfully. She hadn’t heard that one before.

“What a creative answer.”

….

“Gracious morning, Circe!”

Circe blinked. Roman had practically twirled in the hidden room, moving quick enough that she nearly missed the weary miss footings. It had been two weeks since she had meet Roman in the middle of the night...which it was now.

“Oh, i mean, Gracious night!” Roman smiled sheepishly, if not tired, “I haven’t been paying terrible attention to the sky’s faces recently.” He carefully put something against a back wall and turned back to Circe quickly, his robes blocking what looked like a picture frame.

“The sky’s faces?”

“Yeah!” One particular side of his robe had been worn out from anxious fiddling. She wondered if it was from Roman or someone else.

“Oh, sorry; that was loud for this drowsy night.” He ran his hand through his messy bedhead and bounced on his his toes. More like anticipatingly excited than anxious it seemed.

“I like to think of the sky-- like when--” Roman struggled to find the words. He looked up at the ceiling on instinct and Circe guessed he had been doing this often with the blue and gold eagle clad tower’s full window view.

“You know when the sun rises? And it’s just waking up? The stars fade into a light pink, the cold black comforter reveals a wooly blanket dipped in a nearly forgotten blue. And on the light blues and pinks, a soft orange dances on careful toes until the sun shines through to watch, to see the animals wake up and the early morning grace leave from the sky into homes, laying on wooden floors and colorful carpets for cats to nap on, making everything new and different. Or the middlemost face. Rich blues and pastel blues light up the sky in a sundress. Clouds of different shapes, whites and personalities sprinkling the dress, each with its own story of adventures all over the globe. And the sun’s looking over them like a loving mother, shining down on the dirt and exploring every inch of our earth, through water and fire, soon to be covered by clouds as she listens to everything, every bird and story. Or--”

An abrupt silence brought a pink dusting over Roman’s cheeks. “Sorry, i didn’t mean to ramble about stupid whims like that.”

“That was...anything but stupid. How’d you…” she laughed a little to herself, “Sounds just like Aeaea.”

Roman grinned. He messed with his hair again before taking another, slower spin. “I think Logan would like the face of stars…”

“Logan?”

“Oh! Logan’s one of my friends! Well, i think? Hope...We argue quite a bit, and Pat and V don’t like when he fight, but he’s very skilled in poetry. I’d love to write with him sometime, he’s very good. Actually...he’s very good at everything, i think. And he loves to learn, he’s so determined and he’s more curious about the Earth’s water’s than the stars above. He said we barely know six percent of our ocean? That's like-- That’s insane! Outrageous! He can go on and on for ages about how the other planets are great and the stars are amazing but we don’t even bother exploring our own ocean! I agree with him, i think it’s just so interesting and how does he even know that much about everything--” Roman paused again, “..he’d love the Ravenclaw tower. He’s so smart...he should’ve been a Ravenclaw.”

“Who’s Pat and V?”

Roman’s face had lightened up significantly from where it was two seconds ago. The room seemed to come to life again.

“Patton and Virgil! Patton’s very sweet. He’s the best little puffball we’ve got-- he’s a HufflePuff obviously, Padre’s brother is in Slytherin with Logan and my dark and stormy knight cloud is in Gryffindor. Virge hasn’t said much about it but i hope it’s going well. Oh i would’ve loved to be in Gryffindor with him! We’d have so much fun and the emo nightmare wouldn’t have to worry so much. That’d be even better actually. He gets so...anxious all the time. All panic! at the everywhere. I didn’t even know one person could be so edgy and sensitive at the same time, he loves those muggle bands and eyeshadows a lot. I'd stay in Ravenclaw for the rest of my life if my chemically imbalanced romance wasn’t so stressed. He was kind of defensive last week, and it was a bit of a rocky start for us especially compared to when we first came here but he’s J. D-leightful! I think he’d make a good writer too, his work is very inspiring. I still feel awful from when i called him a bad raisin oatmeal cookie and Jerky McJerkface so cruelly the last time we fought. We kind of made up and he said it was fine but i don’t know. I think i pushed it after Incredible Sulk and Robert Downer Jr--”

“Are you two dating?”

Roman stopped abruptly in a dance meant for two, seeing as he was dancing as though there was someone holding his hands instead of empty air, and promptly hit the ground. He hadn’t even realized he was dancing since he started talking about Pocket Protector and Padre, he must’ve started his weird tango-ballroom dancing mesh when he started on Virgil. Impossibly`` messier hair popped back in Circe’s view. His face turned red from embarrassment, Circe guessed it was more the reaction to her suggestion than the suggestion itself.

He blinked, wide eyed. “What?” he said rather dumbly.

“You said my chemically imbalanced romance earlier? And you have uh, what are they called, pet names? For him?”

A beat passed before Roman started cackling. “Me and-- and Stormcloud?”

“Oh my, Circe--”, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he had to clutch his stomach, “Oh it’s been a while since i laughed that hard, my stomach hurts. You got quite a humor, that was great but no, Virge and I aren’t together like that. Just friends. Oh gosh, i hope i didn’t wake anyone up.”

He smiled up at her. “I should start visiting you more often. I’d love to hear more about Aeaea.”

“I wouldn’t mind telling you more, if you don’t mind telling me more about your friends. It gets pretty quiet in this room.” She eyed the frame by his feet.

Roman’s legs blocked it again. He thought for a moment, now turning to eye it himself. “Actually, don’t get me wrong, i really do enjoy Virgil’s company. I didn’t mean it like i was laughing at him, i would never, or at least not intentionally. His wit is impeccable and his humors just a tad darker but i haven’t thought of him like...that. I mean--”

“That’s alright Roman. You’re still young, your adventures just beginning.” Roman’s hopeful smile was short lasting before he fixed his hair again, picking up the frame behind him. It was half his height.

“Um, i can’t stay much longer, im supposed to be studying right now but,” he fiddled with the worn out corner of his robe before the smallest little smile broke out. Circe could’ve sworn she heard something along the lines ‘Picking up sunshine’s habit huh’ before releasing the corner.

He picked up the frame and in a much louder voice compared to how he said sunshine he said “For made you-- I made, for-- I made--” Roman exhaled, “I made this...for you.”

He held up the frame, it was a portrait. A painting, rather, of--

“Spaghetti?”

“I know it’s silly but i thought-- i figured that maybe you’d feel better, well you didn’t look like distraught or anything but i don’t know-- i just...i wanted to make spaghetti for you but your a painting so--”

“You painted...Spaghetti? For me?”

“You don't, you don’t have to like it or anything but i tried to make it magic and it kind of worked? I mean, I don’t know what i did, i don't-- but it got this haze and it like, it-- Virgil yelled at me when i woke up, apparently making or attenoting? Yeah, trying to make magical paintings is a more advanced magic and-- i woke up ten hours later, you know the Ravenclaws didn’t even look for me, Virgil he was so-- well i wouldn’t say terrified but he looked like he was really worried, i felt so bad for stressing him out but i really hope you like it-- I mean, you don’t have to really, it’s not, i'm not trying to, but i just--”

“Roman…” The Ravenclaw stopped mid-ramble. His hair was all over the place when he paused and he noticed the suddenly lack of noise coming from his feet. He had a habit of tapping his feet and pacing-- or dancing.

“I'm sorry--”

“I love it.”

“You…” For the second time, Circe was dumbfounded at the disbelief and awe Roman expressed, “You really like it? Like it...really?”

Circe smiled when Roman completely lit up, bringing life into the deserted room and continued rambling. It turned almost melodic in a way and she wondered if he sang when he was excited, blending words together and lightly sweeping them into each other.

“Could i put it up? Maybe you’ll be able to actually eat it!”

Roman was bouncing on his toes with the biggest smile, one he was failing to contain. How could anyone say no?

“Of course.”

It took a bit of struggling seeing how short Roman was but he remembered he had magic and carefully lifted the painting besides Circe.

“I hope it’s ok, i have to go study, i’ll see you later!”

“Goodnight Roman.” She watched him spin out of the room with more energy than when he came in with. Before she could even look at the bowl he came back in.

“Circe?”

Circe tried to turn so she could see Roman from the hidden exit but she couldn’t, instead she just responded hoping he thought she was looking at him.

“Thank you.” The sound of feet running off back to the Ravenclaw tower was the only way she knew he left. She looked back at the bowl. Carefully she slide an arm to the side of the frame. She hit the invisible barrier rather than feeling a wooden bowl.

He was a young wizard and bringing paintings to life was a very advanced magic, still she was beyond grateful for the gift. She waved the tips of her fingers on the barrier. He painted spaghetti for her and used so much magic to try to make it real. Roman truly was something else but it takes years to learn how to--

She gasped, feeling the curve of wooden and the smell of warmth fill her portrait. The front of her arm was gone. She grabbed on the object and carefully pulled back. How did he--

If Roman could do something this advanced...what other kinds of magic can he do? She held the bowl of spaghetti in her hands.

He really is something else huh. Something special…

….

Each step Roman took was an earthquake shaking the ground below him. Thunder and floods drowned and deafened every sense he had and the world’s spinning on a tilt. He doesn’t stop running when he starts heaving or when he starts sobbing, loud and pained, a cry a painting has never heard before, especially before eleven pm.

Circe searches from her portrait, scanning the hidden room for the source. A Ravenclaw runs straight into her room and when he stops, frantic and scared and he meets her eyes Circe immediately reaches out.

He throws something straight to the ground and before it even slides to the wall, he’s gone, running before Circe had a chance to speak.

A single crushed aster and a stitched sweater are left abandoned on the floor. And all Circe can do is stare at it.

Paintings can’t hug behind portraits. And actors want to sing about the faces of the sky, and know that at least one person sees them too.

#sander sides #hogwarts au #ahskj not happy with how I wrote the ending or the middle scenes #and I didn't play for it to be super long #but here it is #hope its illegible #I love your au coconut!#couldn't do it justice :v

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