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saxxxology · 5 years

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THE CURSED - Ch.9

Being an English Princess in 1739 is everything for Y/N, a Princess from a prosperous, powerful kingdom, to be happy about… until her parents arrange for her to marry a Prince from a nearby kingdom against her wishes. Unable to join her on her journey, the Royal family hires the Winchesters, two experienced Rangers, to guide her. However, the Princess and the younger brother begin to display affection for each other, and when her heat threatens her life, Sam makes a possibly deadly decision to save it.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

WORD COUNT: ~2600

OVERALL WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting), age gap, smut of varying levels, descriptions of injury and gore, a tad of dub-con and 18th-century sexism from time to time, occasional bits of angst, fighting, and violence, eventual minor character death

NOTE: Edited by @crispychrissy and @quiddy-writes - please heed all warnings! Please keep in mind that this series is set in the 18th century - society is not what it is today. I do not control where your eyes go; if you feel disturbed or think something may trigger you, it is your responsibility to either stop reading or scroll past.

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Winter came and went. Sam and his Omega dealt with the frigid nights and mornings with several layers of thick, heavy blankets. They hardly left the bed, save to wash up and eat twice a day.

By the time spring arrived, the snow was beginning to melt, making the now-icy lake rise by several feet. Sam and Y/N had survived their first winter as a couple, but one question remained on both of their minds.

They’d had gone through another heat and rut together, and Sam kept a watchful eye on her for weeks after, watching for any sign of a growing pup. However, her belly stayed flat, leaving both of them to wonder if there was a possibility that one of them, at least, might be unable to procreate.

On a crisp morning in January, they walked the two hours to town, leaving Shadow to run about in her paddock, whinnying after them. Patches of snow crunched under their boots, and Sam kept Y/N closely by his side, under the warm refuge of Yellow Eyes’ coat.

They reached town just as the bells of the local church tolled for twelve o’clock and ambled down one of the crowded lanes when Sam stiffened, and Y/N looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s here.” Sam looked as if he was torn between smiling and snarling in anger.

“Who?” She asked.

“Rowena, the witch,” Sam muttered. “Come.”

He took her hand and led her over to a small tent, where several red symbols were painted over the flaps. Y/N noticed that the villagers steered clear of her door, except for a few young ladies who stood across the road, looking as if they were debating going in.

Sam pushed one of the tent flaps aside, and Y/N was immediately swarmed by a comforting warmth and the scent of cloves. A small redheaded woman sat behind a table, arranging a stack of cards in long rows. She looked up as they entered, and when she saw Sam, her red-painted lips pulled back to reveal a row of straight, white teeth.

“Samuel,” she stood and walked around the table to greet them. She spoke with a thick Scottish accent. “It’s good to see ya, m’boy.”

“Rowena,” Sam bent to kiss her hand. “How has England been treating you?”

She shrugged. “I’m a Scot, I’ve been treated as the English believe I deserve. My little Fergus is runnin’ amok somewhere, stirring trouble where he can find it. He said he’d be here, but I never could trust the li’l rat.” Her eyes landed on Y/N. “He’s just a bairn, doesn’t know right from wrong no ma’er how much I show him.”

Sam put an arm around Y/N’s shoulders. “Rowena, this is Y/N. My Omega.”

“Ahh, I see,” Rowan cast her eyes over Y/N’s face, and she felt like the witch could see right through her, into the darkest depths of her soul. “She’s a beautiful girl, Sam, I’ll give ya that. How old are ya, m’ wee darlin’?”

“Eighteen.” Y/N replied.

“Oof, and young too.” Rowena shot her a knowing look, “Samuel here always did like ‘em young.” She paced back around her table and motioned them to sit. “Well, what brings you here today?”

Sam pulled out both chairs on the opposite side of the table and watched as Rowena poured them both tea. “We’ve been mated for some time, and… and we were thinking about a child. Not now at least, but in the future…”

The witch glanced back and forth between them. “And no luck so far, I take it.”

“None.” Sam replied.

“So, it’s fertility you’re troubled with,” Rowena raised her eyebrows and smiled. “One of my specialties. And what exactly do you want me to do?”

“Can you…” Y/N spoke up, and her voice wavered slightly, “can you tell me if I’m incapable of bearing a child?”

Rowena nodded. “Of course. Right over here, darlin’.”

Y/N looked at Sam, who nodded and stood with her. Rowena brought them to a table hidden behind a large curtain. A black strip of cloth covered it, painted with white markings and symbols Y/N didn’t recognize. She began preparing herbs and objects (some of which Y/N believed to be bones) in a small metal bowl. When she seemed done, she set the bowl in the center of the black cloth and reached for Y/N’s hand.

“I need a li’l contribution from you, m’dear,” she said.

Y/N obediently held out her hand and yelped in pain as Rowena immediately jabbed her finger with a needle, holding it over the bowl. Two drops of crimson landed on the ingredients, and Rowena began speaking in a foreign language. She cradled her sore finger in her hand and stood back as the witch’s eyes rolled back into her head, the orbs white. The bowl on the table exploded into a ball of purple fire, and Y/N stumbled back in fear.

“Sam, what is she—”

“I never said her methods were orthodox by any means,” Sam replied quietly. He took her hand and kissed her finger. “But she is good. Let her work.”

Y/N nodded and stood by his side, shivering. She couldn’t tell if it was due to the cold or fear over what she was seeing. After another minute, Rowena’s eyes normalized, and she rose steadily to her feet.

“What is it?” Sam stepped forward. “What do you know? Is it me or her? Or both of us?”

“It…” Rowena swallowed and put a hand over her heart. “She was capable of having a child.”

“Was? What do you mean?”

“She was perfectly fertile until you bit… until you claimed her.” Rowena replied firmly. “Your curse spread through the bite, but not to the full extent.”

Sam stood there, frozen in shock. “I… I don’t understand.”

“Well, the curse you bear, it wasn't supposed to allow you to take another mate,” Rowena explained softly, “but your love for her, your need, overcame it. You took her as your own, but the curse… it took something from her in retribution, just as it was supposed to take all chance of happiness away from you.”

Y/N felt her heart drop. “So… so I cannot conceive because of…?”

Rowena sighed and pursed her lips. “I can give you some herbs to try and help, but… as far as I know, Samuel, this is a permanent situation. It might be remedied if she was to take the curse in full, but…”

She brushed her hand over his and spoke something to him in another language Y/N didn’t know. Then the witch’s eyes flickered to hers. “I’ll get some things together, wait here.”

She disappeared behind the curtain, leaving them alone. Sam sat back heavily on a spare chair in the corner of the tent and buried his face in his hands. Y/N stood across from him, her uninjured hand against her stomach. She felt the tears well over and drop down her cheeks.

“Sam?”

No answer.

“Sam, please answer me.”

He looked up, and his eyes were red-rimmed. “How am I supposed to answer you? I’ve failed you. I could have given you a child if only I hadn't been so impulsive and—”

Y/N walked closer. “Sam, this doesn’t mean that we can’t be happy. I love you, no matter what, you know that.”

His upper lip curved into an angry snarl. “I destroyed the very thing you should want most, I ruined all hope of having a family—!”

He went to push past her, but Y/N refused to let him pass. “Sam, keep your voice down,” she shushed him. “Please, let’s just take the herbs and go home.”

Sam glared at the ground as tears slid down his cheeks. “Y/N, you need to let me by.”

“No, Sam, I won’t allow you to leave!” She raised her voice. “I know it hurts you. Believe me, it hurts me too, but I will not allow you to go storming off!”

Sam gathered her into his arms as she fell against him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, Omega, I am so sorry…”

Rowena appeared in the doorway, clutching a burlap pouch in one hand. She observed their embrace with her cold green eyes and waited for them to part before stepping forward. Sam murmured something to her in the same foreign tongue and disappeared through the curtain, and Y/N heard the tent flap open and shut.

“Where did he go?” She asked.

“He said he was goin’ to the church,” Rowena replied. “He won’t leave ye, I swear it. He’s just being a man, needin’ some time to cool down.” She slid the pouch into Y/N’s shaking palm. “Now, these may help. Your chances were not altogether quenched, but t’ be honest, dear, I don’t see much hope.” She saw the look of helplessness on Y/N’s face and reached over to brush the tears away. “I’m not leaving Dolgellau until the weather is warm. If you should need anything, you know where to find me.”

She escorted Y/N into the main room and pulled a handkerchief from her top pocket. “Here,” she began to wipe at Y/N’s cheeks and eyes, “no more cryin’, it’s no good. Go find Sam, he’ll want to speak with you.”

***

Sam knelt in the front pew, hands clasped against his forehead. He was praying for forgiveness harder than he ever had before, harder than when his father had been killed and he blamed himself for his mother’s grief, harder than when Jess had been killed because he’d left her alone… and now, he was praying for God to forgive him for destroying his Omega’s life.

What he’d done to her was worse than death.

What is this? He asked silently. Why must everything I do hurt the ones I love? I don’t understand.

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, the lump in his throat growing tighter every second. He stood up, glaring angrily at the wooden carving of Christ crucified above the altar. He was going to leave when he nearly bumped into one of the priests. He was smaller than Sam but then again, nearly everybody was.

He had short, black hair that was mussed around his fair skin, and almond-shaped eyes that were the clearest blue Sam had ever seen.

“Why leave so soon?” The priest’s low, gravelly voice was quiet, but simultaneously echoed around the otherwise empty church.

“My business with God is, uh,” Sam sniffed, “well, I refuse to pray to someone who refuses to answer.”

The priest nodded, then held out his hand. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. My name is Castiel. I’ve seen you in town, spoken with your brother every Sunday.”

Sam hesitantly shook his hand, out of politeness rather than because he wanted to. “And?”

“I know who you are, Samuel,” Castiel replied, “rather, what you are.”

Sam stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I saw you and your wife go to the witch Rowena,” Castiel replied. “I’m surprised; I’ve never seen a couple go to a witch before consulting God.”

“She’s not my wife,” Sam replied. “We’ve not… married yet.”

“Oh,” Castiel lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. “May I ask why?”

Sam’s next words were brutally honest, and he hated himself for saying them. “I’ve barely thought about making her my wife. If you know what I am, then you’ll understand my hesitation to wed. And I doubt anyone here in town would be kind enough to marry us; even the other priests here are afraid of me. I’ve not set foot in here for nigh on two years.”

“I am aware of what ails you,” Castiel’s eyes locked with Sam’s, “but you bear it with strength. I might call it a blessing.”

Sam tightened his lips and look at the ground. “It is not a blessing. I was not supposed to take another mate after… after my first Omega, Jessica…” he swallowed, “and when I claimed Y/N as mine, the curse took something from her.”

“Which would be…?”

Sam sighed and looked up at the ornate ceiling, “She can never bear a child. In saving her life, I destroyed the possibility of her ever producing it.”

Castiel nodded slowly. “You’re angry.”

“Of course I’m angry.” Sam spat the words as if they tasted foul. “My Omega—the woman I love more than anything in my life—can’t bear our children. And it’s my fault. I was reckless and stupid and I never thought that my curse could pass to her—”

“You did nothing wrong,” Castiel said. “I am not one to trust witches that deal in black magic, but Rowena is a very smart woman.”

“I know,” Sam folded his arms, “she’s the one who first told me I was cursed.”

Castiel nodded again. “Immortality.”

“Excuse me?”

“Immortality,” Castiel clarified. “Many would sell their souls to the darkest demon to roam the surface of the Earth to live forever. It isn’t a curse, Sam. Not when you’re with Y/N.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” the priest passed him to stand at the altar, “that you have an opportunity to live with her by your side forever. I can see the fear in your eyes, you’re terrified of her leaving you.”

“And how do I make her stay?” Sam felt tears brim in his eyes. “She must hate me, I’ve cursed her.”

Castiel shook his head. “No. No, she won’t hate you. It is a shock, I’ll admit, but you must keep your thoughts up. Something good may come out of this. You cannot keep thinking in the negative.” He handed Sam a small slate tablet covered in foreign writing. “My wife, Meg, she makes these for our parishioners. She’s a healer, and she gives these to those patients with little hope of happiness.”

Sam glanced at the tablet. He was a skilled studier of Latin, English, and Scottish Gaelic, but the letters carved into the slate seemed scrambled and disorganized. “I can't read this.”

“There are very few who can,” Castiel replied. “She is one of them. To loosely transcribe, it’s for luck, propsperity.”

Sam clutched the slate in his hand and held it up, a stiff smile playing on his lips. “Thank you.”

Castiel crossed himself, and Sam did the same before he turned to go. At the door, he stopped and turned around. “Father.”

The priest turned. “Yes?”

“I thought priests couldn’t marry.”

Castiel smiled. “My wife and I were married long before I joined the church. God has not given us any punishment yet; I can only believe that he has given us freedom to continue about our lives.” He touched the cross around his neck. “If you and your… Omega seek a child in the future, we do shelter many orphaned children, many of them infants. If you felt you could take one into your home in the future…”

Sam smiled and nodded. “We’ll consider it.” He held up the tablet again, “thank you, Father.”

Y/N was just walking up the steps to the church when Sam exited. Her face was dry and clear, but Sam could see anxiety heavy in her eyes. “Sam, what have you been doing?”

“Speaking with a priest,” Sam cupped her hands in his and raised them to his lips. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind.”

She shook her head and sighed. “I just want to go home.”

Sam pulled her back against his side and tugged his cloak over her shoulder. “I think we should get you a cloak of your own while we’re here.”

“I have one at home.”

“You deserve another.” Sam gripped her hand tightly in his and walked with her towards the shopping stalls. “You took the herbs from Rowena?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” Sam kissed the top of her head and felt her slide an arm around his waist. “What we heard today means nothing. We’ll keep trying. And whatever happens…”

“I know.” She glanced up at him. “You know I’m not angry with you, right? I don’t blame you, we had no way of knowing.”

Sam’s heart ached at her words. “I… I still feel horrible. The curse has even passed to you, love.”

“Not all the way.” Y/N protested. “Sam I’m… if I’m already halfway there, then I want to go all the way.”

He turned to her. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” She returned. “I refuse to just… pass into oblivion while you live to the end of time. I want to be by your side for the rest of my life, no matter how long it is. I belong to you.”

Sam slung an arm over her shoulders. “May we finish this conversation at home?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

Sam shook his head and kissed her, not minding the people that started as they passed by. “You needn’t be. Now, let’s go get you a coat.”

If you want to see chapter 10, reblog and leave a comment! Feedback is my fuel!

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#the cursed series #alpha!sam x omega!reader

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warriorqueen1991 · 7 years

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Memoria (pt. Two)

Characters: Sam X Claire

Warnings: some serious angst and just a tid bit of fluff

**I just wanna apologize for the error in part one, Sam’s injury is actually located on his right leg not his left sorry for the confusion.**

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“How are you feeling today Sam?”,

Claire watched as the man in question continued to stare at the white card table set up between them. The question itself was a mere formality, There was no doubt in Claire’s mind how he felt. Sam was angry. His brows pulled together, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, the sleeves of his black wool sweater pulled over his large hands. He felt vulnerable, he was guarding himself that much was clear. “It says here in the staffs nightly report that you didn’t get much sleep last night” Claire scanned over the papers in the manila folder leafing through at a leisurely pace.

Sam decided to give up his staring contest with the table to slide his chair away from it so that his hard gaze was now aimed at the neighboring wall. Claire was disappointed that he chose to remain silent. Grimacing slightly she nodded at his unspoken answer writing down something in her note book as Sam finally spared her a quick glance. His eyes were tired and frustrated as she met his hazel orbs with a sympathetic smile. “Hmmm” was the only sound Sam made as his eyes returned to the wall. Claire was dressed in a deep maroon pants suit that clung to her curves, her long legs complimented by ink black heels her hair hanging down in a slight wave below her ears. Sam snuck another glance her way as she flipped through what he guessed was the nightly report she had spoken of.

She nodded a couple times to herself before lifting her eyes once more to his, a soft smile lifting her glossed lips as he jerked his gaze away. He heard her let loose an almost tired huff, “Sam, please don’t do this…you agreed to talk to me” she flipped the folder closed with a snap placing her manicured hands on top fiddling with the large paperclip attached to its corner. “look if you don’t want to talk about the nightmares then don’t…but please don’t shut me out, I can’t help you that way”. When she didn’t get a response Claire was struck by an idea clapping her hands together causing the sound to echo around the room. Sam’s body jolted in surprise his lips pulling into a grimace as he eyed her angrily, well at least now she had his attention.

Keeping her hands together Claire smiled brightly “ok how about we do something fun?” Sam continued to eye her in annoyance as she suddenly grabbed a large white box he hadn’t noticed before by her feet pulling it up onto the table. Sam watched closely as she flipped the lid off the box and began rummaging through it before letting loose a triumphant “ah ha ” slapping a small stack of laminated cards next to her notepad “here we go” Claire giggled at Sam’s displeased expression.

“What’s your favorite color Sam?” she giggled slightly continuing to stare at him, Sam glared at her before letting out a scoff “I don’t have a fucking favorite color doc”. Claire raised an eyebrow at him with a mischievous smirk as she spread the cards out in between them “I want you to look over these cards and when you see a color that makes you happy I want you to point it out”. Sam continued to glare at her before she let out a heavy sigh “Sam humor me, please” “this is fucking stupid” he growled turning his body back toward the table before dropping his eyes to the cards.

The cards were simple enough, each an off white signaling their use with large circles of different colors in each center. Sam exhaled through his nose as his eyes darted from one card to the other. Claire watched him closely looking for the slightest change in demeanor. The room was silent except for the ‘tick tick’ of the nearby clock. It seemed like hours before she saw it, the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. Claire couldn’t hold in her gasp “there!!” once again causing Sam to jump in surprise any hint of a smile disappeared quickly, replaced with a mixture of annoyance and maybe some fear. Claire smiled wide “what color were you looking at?” “uh…i..when?” he stumbled over his words clearly confused by her excitement his brow still tense and his mouth now opening and closing not realizing there was anything to be excited about.

Claire smiled gently reaching her right hand out with her palm open, Sam eyed her fair skin then her face in curiosity. “It’s there if you need it Sam” He gave a slight nod but didn’t accept the gesture. Claire gave a soft smile before pulling her hand away “which card made you smile Sam?” He made an uncomfortable noise in response before clearing his throat “none of em” he growled. Claire let out a short frustrated sound “that’s not true Sam” she snapped. His eyes darted to the table then to the floor, Claire felt a pang of guilt realizing how unjustly short she was becoming with him, “I…I’m….look Sam i’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you” she sighed rubbing her temple before gesturing toward him “when you were looking over the cards you almost smiled, it wasn’t a full one but it’s enough to get excited about”. Sam looked at the cards his fingers lightly touching the edges of a few, his lips pulled in a tight line shaking his head before he looked up at her.

“I’m not sure” Claire nodded with a slight frown “ok, well…. here…” startling Sam once again she gathered up her chair positioning it next to him their shoulders touching gently as she pressed in to gather up the cards. Sam coughed roughly, his mouth a gap once more as she moved back to her seat. He internally scolded himself for his increased breathing at her close proximity. Sam watched her shuffle the cards in her lap scooting away from the table gesturing him to do the same so that they were once again facing one another. Claire smiled up at Sam noticing him slowly rubbing his right shoulder where they touched. His far off stare making her feel the need to apologize “crap, god Sam I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make u uncomfortable or anything…” Sam shook his head smiling briefly “it’s fine Ma'am”. Claire watched him, a smile spreading across her face “there it is!” Sam met her gaze tilting his head in confusion at her words. She leaned forward slightly “the smile I was looking for” her voice soft, her smile widening as he looked to the floor in attempt to hide his own, his face turning a slight shade of pink barely visible amongst his tan skin. Choosing to not pry to far into his emotions Claire smiled biting her bottom lip before holding up the stack of cards. He had a beautiful smile. “I’m gonna hold up each card and when I see a reaction I’m gonna place it on the table, ok?” Sam took a deep breath nodding in compliance as she began holding up each card. Silently he watched each card presented to him, a heavy weight pressing in on his chest. He didn’t want to smile. It had been a selfish mistake when he had let it slip earlier. Claire was a beautiful woman.

She was smart, vibrant and kind. Sam was none of those things. He was damaged and even the best psychiatrists in the state weren’t able to pull him from the depths of his self pity. What’s worse was the fact he didn’t know why he felt guilty, just that the feeling felt right. He would be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to see how much she cared, but in the end he didn’t fucking deserve it. In his heart Sam knew he was a horrible person, he could feel it like a sickness. It’s like his soul had been poisoned. Well, that is if he even believed in that sort of thing. He didn’t deserve to be happy. He didn’t deserve her pity, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve to smile.

Claire had been observing Sam’s retreat into himself as she flashed the cards. He checked out right around green, his eyes glazing over. Gently she sat the cards in her lap. “Sam?” Claire made sure to speak softly, the last thing she wanted was to startle him into a panic attack. Her heart began to race when he didn’t answer, looking around the room she got to her feet setting the cards on the seat of her chair before walking over to him kneeling by his side taking it slow as he began to breathe heavily.

Claire eyed his rigid form cautiously as several emotions played over his handsome face before she did the only thing that made since. Reaching over to place her hand on his wool covered arm she gasped in shock and pain as he quickly locked her hand with his in a vice grip. His eyes wide and distant, his chest heaving as he sunk further in the chair. “Sam!…Sam! Come on snap out of it” Claire was running her hand over the one he had a death grip on she was getting worried. Claire had read about his episodes but this was the first one she had witnessed first hand. Ignoring the growing pain in her hand she quickly brought her left hand up to his cheek running it across his silver facial hair pulling his forehead to hers. “Sam you can make it back, just listen to my voice ok, focus”.

“You!!…you hunted us like animals you piece of shit” the voice screamed at him the sky rolling above him a deep red. Sam lay on the burning sand his right leg on fire as blood oozed through his cargo pants pooling beneath him. His chest heaving against his sweat soaked shirt as he reached up toward the silhouette hovering above him, lighting broke the sky with a loud crash “Let the dessert have you!” the shadow growled at him as drops of rain fell from the sky soaking his overheated body. Sam roared in pain arching his back off the ground as the wound on his leg seemed to get worse the skin tearing away from his exposed bone. “LET THE DESSERT KILL YOU!!!” another streak of lightning illuminating the golden sand as Sam dropped back to the hot ground sending dust dancing up around his writhing body. All he could see was red as he lifted his hands above his face the rain turning a deep red drenching him in dark blood. “Sam!!” a loud clear voice echoed in his head causing him to cry out.

Sam screamed in pain as he shoved himself away from Claire falling to the floor with a painful thud. His whole body was trembling, panting as he scrambled to the nearest corner beside his bed, pulling his legs to his chest. He was sure his heart was going to tear right out of his body at any moment. His lungs were on fire as he gasped for air slamming his head against the wall. “Sam! Calm down, it’s ok, breathe” Claire had made her way to the foot of his bed, she wanted to help but she didn’t want to make matters worse by invading his space. “Sam, look at me please” Sam couldn’t bring himself to look at her, they were getting worse, his nightmares weren’t nightmares anymore, he couldn’t escape. His lungs refused to work, wincing as he smashed his head against the wall again and again screaming out in agony and rage before dropping his face to his hands letting in a shaky breath. The sound of his door opening caught Claire’s attention, quickly she waved her hand at the orderlies telling them she had the situation under control.

“Sam, it’s ok…you’re safe here” her voice was clear but shaky as she gently place her hand on his shoulder rubbing his arm in soothing circles. Sam jerked at the touch but didn’t move away his head still firmly in his hands as he tried to catch his breath. Claire’s heart broke as he moved his hands through his graying hair gripping the back of his head releasing a choked sob. His shoulders shook slightly as he took deep breaths “just….leave me alone, please” his voice broke barely audible beneath his sweater clad arms. Claire shook her head scooting in next to him on the floor happy that this time he remained motionless “that’s not happening Sam. what kind of person would I be if I left you now?” “A smart one!” He growled beneath his arms propping them onto his knees still hiding his face. Claire’s smile faded before returning slightly “Sam I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere I promise” she watched as his head bobbed slightly in acknowledgment, she could see the side of his face was damp with tears but she kept silent choosing to just sit next to him there backs against the bleach white wall as she continued to rub his arm. She didn’t need to talk. She needed him to know He wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

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Thank you again for reading it means the world to me please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list 😘

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#jdm #jeffrey dean morgan #fanfic #desierto #sam #memoria #sam and claire

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doublenuzlocke · 7 years

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Entry #10: From my limited knowledge of D&D, I present to you: The Fantasy AU

Smoke melds with a grey, cloudy sky. Fires crackle on splintered mounds of wood, some still holding the semblance of structure. A road divides the burning remains, pockmarked with footprints and littered with various items. Broken jars, trampled clothes, rotten food, children’s toys… even bodies. The destruction and decay increase further inwards, towards a ruined fountain overflowing with blood. In the center of the fountain, atop a makeshift throne of bone and marble sits a gaunt figure.

He moves sluggishly in his ragged, black robes as he surveys his kingdom, surrounded by dozens of undead soldiers of varying races and unturned corpses. Resting on his hooded head is a misshapen crown of rusted metal, each point sharp and splattered in crimson. His silver eyes gleam as he looks past the wreckage, towards the outskirts of his domain.

Three shadowed figures emerge and slowly, deliberately draw closer. The one leading the group waves a gauntleted hand, surrounding them in glimmering aura before fadingt.

“So, you’ve finally co-” A bolt flies from the haze and collapses a group of his minions.

A woman emerges from the dust, lofting a staff wrapped in vines. The jewel at the top glows a sickly green as she points it at another cluster, her navy robes embroidered in red billowing as another bolt coalesces and shoots out. When it lands, the animated fall to the ground, the magic and entrapped souls freed.

He smirks, “Enlisted the aid of a fellow necromancer?”

“I’m nothing like you,” she growls, brown eyes almost red with rage under the shadow of her pointed brimmed hat. “Sunny! Jolly!”

CREEE! An giant, alabaster eagle swoops from the side, barrelling through a crowd of undead and rising again with two flailing in its talons. From the opposite end letting out a massive roar, a dire bear with mossy fur stampedes into its foes, downing dozens with the heavy swipes of its paws. Atop his throne, the figure’s fingers curl and their smile drops.

“Woo! Nice going, Kotoné!” cheers her companion as he sprints forward, red scarf flapping against his bare chest. Galloping ahead, his gold eyes gleam and his sharp grin widens as he drops to all fours, shifting his onyx skin into scales as he gnashes and throws hoards as an alligator, his plates flecked in yellow.

“W-” Kotoné turns to the last of their group, lowering her voice. “Crys, was that part of the plan?”

Bringing a gauntleted hand to her face, Crys sighs and runs the hand into her short, blue locks, “Of all times NOT to listen to us, Gold…” She unsheathes her long sword. “Let’s back him up.”

Crys jogs forward, her plate mail armor creaking as she brings her blade up to cleave the assailants attempting to flank Gold. Kotoné stays back, preparing more spells. Jolly and Sunny continue dwindling the hordes.

All the while, the man on the throne glowers at the display. He rises, clenched fists crackling with dark energy. Bringing a palm up, he aims it at the foolish witch, eager to watch her suffer.

THUNK! THUNK!

“HRGK!” he staggers forward, robes soaking as he stumbles knee deep into the crimson liquid. In his shoulder and back were twin daggers. He cranes his head back to see a short, hooded person rising from some of the wreckage. Silver eyes met silver.

“Oh, Silver, my boy,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “My son.”

“You are no father to me,” the dwarf hisses, lowering his hood to reveal braided red hair. Any nearby undead were taken care of with simple thrown daggers to their temples. “Giovanni became childless when he experimented with life and death. He became a monster when he chose to be a lich.”

Giovanni turns away and shrugs, “Sacrifices must be made to achieve true power.”

“Was this power worth my mother’s LIFE?!” Silver roars, fists clenched but rooted in place.

“No power is worth the lives of the hundreds of people you’ve taken and killed,” Crys adds, sky blue eyes cold and fanged mouth set into a grimace. Her sword glows white as she raises it up, ancient phrases falling from her lips. The daggers in Giovanni’s back begin to shimmer.

“No!” Giovanni gasps, too late to rip the blades away.

From above, the clouds part. A column of pure, white light cascades out of the opening, smashing directly into Giovanni’s form. An agonizing screech escapes him as he is shredded by the holy beam, his clothes vaporizing. The gathered blood evaporates in an instant; and as the luminescence fades, all that is left is an empty fountain and a smoking skeleton collapsed on its throne. Without their master, the remaining undead tumble bonelessly to the ground.

Kotone sighs in relief as Sunny and Jolly make their way to her for congratulatory nuzzles. Silver stands motionless, his head bowed and eyes closed. Crys lowers her sword, wipes the sweat from her brow, and marches the remaining distance to the fountain throne. Rumbling in what was almost a cackle, Gold morphs back into his two-legged self, wipes non-existent grime from his intact horn, and scampers next to Crys.

“To think we spent so much time planning and preparing,” he crows as they stop at the foot of the fountain.

Crys shushes him and exams the remains, “Something’s not right. Silver! Could you check for tra-”

And then time froze… or it maybe it didn’t? Because the fires were still crackling and the clouds were floating by, but none of them could move a muscle. Not Kotone stopped in the middle of scratching under Jolly’s chin. Not Silver who had jolted up at the sound of his name. Not Crys or Gold as they stare unblinkingly ahead. All paralyzed as a skeletal hand raised its fist. Well, fuck.

Black smog emerges from Giovanni’s fleshless form, surrounding him in a volatile cloud peppered with constant crackling sparks. He rises a foot above the throne and curls his hands in front of him as if cradling a ball. A deep red, almost black sphere begins to form and grow between his palms. A laugh echoes from him, deep and mad and vengeful.

Everyone struggles to move to no avail.

Gold would laugh and cry if he could. Because what kind of deja vu bullshit is this?!

🎲🎲🎲

Instead of fire, he’s back on that goddamn snowy mountain, sobbing over the body of his best friend. They were supposed to be heroes, right? Not that he signed up for it or anything. It was her dream, and he thought it’d be fun, too.

For all her complaints about him rushing ahead, what had given her the right to do the same?! He knew she was unbelievably strong and brilliant, but those didn’t save her from this. From being controlled and forced to fight on behalf of some self-centered fuckface of a monster. Dammit!

He was basically out of all his spells and half-dead to boot. Broken horn, broken ribs, broken every other thing really. At least he was alive, unlike…

“Fuck,” he muttered as he cradled her limp form, once long hair now shorn from a cutting attack. More tears escaped him as he leaned his forehead into hers. “Shit! Crys, what the fuck am I supposed to…”

Right. He still had that spell, and the monster had enough of a hoard to cover the cost. On his feet in moments, he was gathering supplies, and he knew. He KNEW he shouldn’t be doing this. But he can’t wait. Because it’s Crys and he didn’t get to tell her.

He had everything prepared. The jewels, the money, and whatever else was surrounding them in a circle, and he had already begun reciting the words and calling upon the magic within him. Yeah, his speech was shaky and the crying really wasn’t helping but things were glowing and it was working. He held her hand as her body hovered a few feet above the center.

As the last of incantation finished, Crys’ body became encased in light, slowly obscuring all of her features. Supporting the back of her head, Gold leaned down and kissed her, “I love you.”

With the last of his magic spent, he collapsed, darkness creeping at the edges of his vision. He watched as more dazzling ribbons wrapped around her, like a cocoon. Then it all dissipated and dropped her on stumbling feet, drowsy and disoriented.

Crys looked down at her hands, now a bit larger and skin tinged in green. Gold couldn’t care less as he laughed and cried until he passed out. Because she was alive.

🎲🎲🎲

And like hell is he gonna let it happen again! A roar escapes Gold’s throat, his eyes burning with intensity, as he practically rips his arm off its socket to point it at Giovanni and dispel that orb of doom. It evaporates into nothing.

Gold grins for a split second before a sharp bone lances through his stomach, knocking him down into the dirt and leaving him breathless. No time to even whimper as another pins his shoulder. And the last finds its place in his heart as he takes one last look at Crys.

Even with the paralysis gone, she looks down at Gold’s body in horror. Her vision blurs. The sound of fighting dulls as staggers towards him and falls to her knees.

“You idiot,” she murmurs as she desperately tries to find any sign of life. No breath. No pulse. Just blood and cold.

Something whizzes past her ear and forms a small crater about a meter away. Everything falls back into place and clarifies. There is still a battle to win.

They are fiercer against this revived Giovanni. With one of their own down, they scatter across the battlefield. Kotone still stays back to fire spells but has Jolly and Sunny with her now for protection. Silver dances around the lich, ducking and slicing at every opportunity. After removing the bone spikes from his corpse, Crys slings Gold over her shoulder and uses the others’ distraction closer to Giovanni. She clutches the holy symbol around her neck.

A blast of ice curls around Giovanni’s feet, grounding him completely. With a dagger in each fist, Silver stabs them between the two bones of each lower arm, hooking the gaps and pulling them together to hinder movement. He ignores the sting of the sparks as they collide with him. The storm cloud shifts violently and begins to billow out more and more. Lightning begins to crackle out further and further, even hitting Kotone through the openings in her beasts’ defenses.

Like before with the pillar of light, Crys raises her sword.

Four ethereal and glaring blades appear around Giovanni as he quakes and roars. Three impale his ribcage. Two of those hit where his heart would have been. And the one final arcs above his head and cleaves him cleanly in half from the top down. The smog dissipates immediately, and whatever magic had held the skeleton together fades. Bones clatter to the ground in a heap.

“Oh god, Crys!” Kotone pushes past Sunny and Jolly to examine Gold’s body. “He’s…he’s… do you want me to…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” Crys assures quietly as she crouches and lays him down on his back. “We still have the rest of our mission.”

Kotone nods and scampers off to check on Silver. Crys rummages through a pouch on her side to grab a hefty jewel, places it on his chest, and gently folds his hands over the gem. Cupping her palms under his chin and head, she bows her head low enough to brush his brow. Closing her eyes, she begins to pray. Her mind plunges into an endless ocean of souls.

Over the next hour, Kotone and Silver move around her, gathering the dead. They separate the mangled from the intact. A mouse named Merry pokes its way out of Kotone’s collar to help search and is soon joined by a little lizard who flops out from one of Silver’s sleeves. Occasionally glancing at their companions, they notice the power in Crys’ words grows gradually stronger with each passing minute and how a sphere of wind expands around them.

Sweating profusely, Crys searches desperately for signs of Gold’s soul. If only it was as simple as finding it lingering about and shoving it back into his chest. Countless millennia of deceased proves that searching the depths of the underworld for a single individual is next to impossible. But she is determined, and there is no way he is letting him go without telling him.

There! She finds him floating aimlessly and sluggishly. Unable to physically reach out, she calls out to him instead, “Gold!”

No response.

“Gold, you need to come back! Please!”

Nothing.

“Remember when I was here?” she croaks, feeling the tears from her material body falling. “I know you don’t like to. You just want to focus on the now, but I remember when you called for me.”

Crys laughs softly, moving her head so that they hovered over his lips.

“I remember when you kissed me.”

It’s only a small peck, chaste and unsure, but it is enough. She feels Gold’s soul finally acknowledge her, ready to rejoin the living. The last of the spell words leave her lips, and the wind sphere around them whirls around for a few seconds more before dissipating.

Crystal blue eyes greet the opening of gold ones.

“I love you.”

THE END! THIS IS VERY UNEDITED AND SILLY AND I WROTE LIKE HALF OF IT WHILE I WAS VERY SLEEPY

Bonus:

“Sis, our real life bleeds way too much into these games,” Silver states as he watches the couple across the table from him kiss again. Next to him, Kotone giggles along with Blue, who is seated at the head of the table hiding her ear-splitting grin behind her dungeon master screen.

RRRRRRRRR!!!

“AGH! Crys! What the fuck is up with your stupid dog?!”

“Lilo, stop! Down girl!”

“We were supposed to be finding that cleric girl, right?” Silver wonders over the commotion. “The blonde gnome one?”

“Yeah, but first I want to roll for perception on how bad off you are and kiss away all the boo boos!”

“Sometimes, I want us all to die so we can have characters that aren’t so romantically involved.”

#au fanfic contest #submission #agirlwholikestosayhi

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