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iviarellereads · 10 months

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Nona the Ninth, Chapter 23

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)

(Sixth House icon) In which Crown has a point: aesthetics are important, dangit!

Nona takes a few steps toward the dais, and Ianthe comes down the rest of the way, to examine her. Ianthe declares there's no way this should be working, and asks Crown if Harrow's been blind the whole time. Crown says she left out some details, but she doesn't see what the big deal is. Ianthe says she's having feelings in two separate nervous systems and it's not making her feel less intensely.(1)

Ianthe asks Harrow (Nona) if she has anything to say for herself. Nona replies simply "No". Ianthe remarks that Cam's glasses don't belong to her, and Cam says, "Noted". Ianthe says it's just rather curious, and taunts Cam and Harrow both, then asks if Harrow has a comeback. Nona says "No" again and Ianthe says she rather expected for Harrow to march in here demanding the return of her cavalier's body. Nona remains silent.

Ianthe gets impatient and asks Cam if she knows why they're there. Cam says she doesn't play guessing games. Ianthe taunts her again.

Crown said quickly, “Camilla, don’t bother. Everything’s going to be fine,” and Ianthe said pettishly, “Honey, stop telling people things are going to be fine. Things are, I promise you, not going to be fine. Things are, frankly, going to be antonyms of fine.”

Cam suggests Ianthe wants the Sixth House back. Ianthe says, not herself, but God does, and badly. At first when the facility went missing(2) he thought it was his temper and the resulting solar flare(3) that had destroyed it. They were very surprised to find that it was proper missing, and Ianthe asks how they moved it. Cam admits they used 532 obelisks together. They discuss the relative details until Cam withholds an answer, and Ianthe says she'll just ask one of the Oversight Body for it.

Nona's eyes start to itch from the fake cataracts.

Crown says Ianthe can't get away with killing off the Sixth House's governance. Ianthe remains confident, but Crown says the way to deal with a morale failure is to leave them in place, even under arrest. Ianthe says the Houses will just be happy to get any of the Sixth back, Crown protests that the Sixth will never be loyal again, and Ianthe says she'll teach God to apply the boot(4) after being so hands-off for so long.

Ianthe breaks off her fanatic rant to observe that Hect is smiling.

Nona, astonished, turned to Camilla without thinking; she tilted her head back immediately, afraid of being caught out, but by then she had seen Camilla’s face. Camilla was smiling: an easy, loose little smile, as though she were listening to a story. She said, “Yes.”

Ianthe demands she explain. Cam asks if God knows why the Sixth left. Ianthe assumed some moral reason. Cam says the Sixth "doesn't move for moral philosophy." Ianthe asks, what then? Cam says Cassiopeia left them instructions many years ago. Their founding Lyctor told them to.

Ianthe yells at Duty (Pyrrha), demanding an explanation. Pyrrha confirms she died, but can say no more.

“Then how?” But Camilla and Pyrrha didn’t answer. The Prince passed one hand over her dead blue-and-brown-spattered eyes and said, “Oh my God. This is the last thing we need. If he hears that yet another one of his duplicitous sluts(5) betrayed him, he’s never going to come back from it. He’s so fragile right now. Not even if we scourge Antioch and fly the First flag from the tallest tower.”

Pyrrha says Cassy liked long games. Ianthe gets very frustrated, and Crown throws herself at Ianthe's feet, wrapping her arms around Babs's legs.

When Crown spoke her voice was low and tender, the lowest and tenderest voice Nona had ever heard: “Baby, it sounds awful.”

Crown suggests Ianthe abandon her post and come with her. Nona would have done it immediately, but Ianthe is harder to move, and calls Crown ridiculous. Crown says they've been apart so long, screw the system, they can go off on their own, be together, start over.(6) It's not until Crown says she knows people who need them that her grasp on Ianthe really slips, and Ianthe laughs coldly.

“‘People.’ Oh, darling, you’re always everyone else’s girl. Don’t worry … I fully intend for us to be us, together, now … but I have the framework for it and you, my poor dummy, do not.(7) Don’t worry about anything. Seriously, you need to relax. And to moisturise. And to cut your hair,” the Prince added critically, moving to stand. “I’m hagged as hell … believe me, you’ll know that when you see me … but you need some serious triage before I can do anything with you. I doubt you even have a skincare routine right now.”

She removes herself from Crown's embrace, leaving Crown looking hurt. Ianthe asks Pyrrha where the other live ones are. They discuss troop positions inside the building, and Crown starts laughing at Ianthe for "talking military."

Ianthe comes to stand in front of Nona again, and comments that Harrow is never this quiet. She outlines what happened when Harrow was last seen, ponders aloud how Harrow can stand beneath Varun's presence, and suggests she might be addressing someone else.

The fist tightened. No would not do; Yes was worse; Cam had told her to pretend to be the Captain. Nona decided to pretend to be the Captain, and opened her mouth, and screamed like the Captain had screamed. She had never been good at coming up with conversations. Nona simply made her mouth go as the Captain’s had gone—she could remember the movement, it was easy—and she screamed, “Help! Help! Help!” for want of anything better to say. The scream moved through her chest and up her throat and out of her nose. When she let it out, it did not at all sound like when she had heard the Captain do it. The scream somehow seemed to take all the lining of her throat with it.(8) It was like the scream was made of her insides—her insides dissolved and resolved themselves by coming out her lips as a vocal bomb. The electric light sizzled in its housing. The room went dark. Prince Ianthe Naberius dropped her and staggered back, and Nona completed her Captain impression by pitching forward, onto the carpet, facedown, practically senseless, aware of nothing but the scream—a noise that seemed to keep coming out of her nose and ears and mouth. She went away from herself briefly.

When she regains consciousness, she worries she'd vomited or something, but has only coughed up some water.(9) Her surroundings, however, are chaos. Ianthe has drawn a rapier, which is bloodied at the tip. Pyrrha is on her hands and knees, with a gun nearby, knocked from her hands. Crown is flanked but not held by two dead soldiers. Cam is held and pinned immobile by four of the dead guards, though her knives are still in her hands. Some of the dead are on the floor, unmoving.

Honesty and Hot Sauce and the others had been right. She didn’t like this zombie stuff at all.

Nona worries she's ruined the plan. Ianthe stands and points at her, and some of the dead soldiers seize her.

“You,” said the Prince, “are coming home to the Emperor tied and gagged, and not as a sex thing. You”—this was to Pyrrha—“prep to leave. This is over. I’m not wasting any more time here. Ready the shuttle to get us out in an hour. We have too much to lose. Duty, are you alive?” Pyrrha said, with difficulty— “Yes.” And: “Everyone with a necromantic body is down.”(10) Pyrrha said, “The Sixth House—” “Oh, fuck the Sixth House! Daddy(11) can have you three safe and sound … well, soundish … and like it. I’m extracting my sister before anything else happens.”

She tells Crown she'll get her wish, and Ianthe will even take the rap about the whole becoming an Edenite thing. Then she addresses Cam, who Nona notices has a long, freely-bleeding gash down her chest. Cam asks if she ever intended to emancipate the city. Ianthe says, no, she just wanted the Sixth back "as a goodwill gift for God." She's not staying anywhere there's a Resurrection Beast. But the Sixth isn't a priority, so Cam isn't needed.

At this, Nona notices Pyrrha has stood back up, and Crown has taken a step toward Ianthe.(12)

Ianthe offers to kill Cam here, or remove her limbs and kill her after interrogation. She adds that Cam saved Ianthe's other arm and her legs, but she wasn't good enough to save the first arm, so Ianthe's still holding a bit of a grudge. Cam offers an apology, but Ianthe cheerfully does not accept it, and offers again, death now or deferred?

Crown says she'll never forgive Ianthe if she kills Cam. Ianthe says they're traitors, and she has to pick her battles. She'll save Crown, even save Judith, but she has no reason to save Cam. She offers, one last time.

“You challenged the Sixth for its keys,” she said eventually. “You named the time. You backed down, but I had right of reply. We didn’t consent. Or reject. I accept the challenge of the Third.” Prince Ianthe Naberius looked at her. The expression was—strange.(13) “That was a lifetime ago,” she said. “Over a year.” “The challenge is valid.”

Ianthe asks what the stakes would be now, then. Cam offers, if she loses, she dies now. If she wins, she walks away. She won't even ask to take Harrow. Ianthe says Hect can't kill or disable her in Babs's body, and she's taken away the weaknesses that once existed between them.

Cam says she wants to die on her feet. Ah, at this, Ianthe refuses. The setup is too suspicious, Cam can't be doing it without an ulterior motive. She has the dead soldiers force Cam to kneel, but movement catches Ianthe's eye, and her head turns to see that Pyrrha has gotten her gun back, and tossed it to Corona, who points it at her own throat and demands that Ianthe free Cam. Ianthe says to stop this, she wouldn't want Corona to get hurt when Ianthe's soldiers take the gun from her.

“I wouldn’t get hurt. I’d just die,” said Crown, her bronzed throat working against the barrel. “You’re not all-powerful here. All you have are wards and puppets. I shoot, the bullet goes through my palate and into the brain, and then you’re the Crown Princess of Ida … like you never wanted.” “Stop being so fucking dramatic—” “Staaahp being so fucking dramahhhtic,” Crown mimicked, in a high-pitched voice. “This isn’t the time, you dumb, hilarious bitch!” “You don’t even know how to fix Naberius’s hair! He needs it done pompadour! He looks awful!” “That’s your opposition? Seriously?”

Regardless, Crown says she'll do it, for real this time. Ianthe doesn't think she has it in her. Crown closes her eyes, and Ianthe says urgently that she really can't save both Cam and Judith. Crown says Ianthe should duel Cam, then. Ianthe says Crown will be mad at her when she kills Cam, but Crown promises she won't, as long as the fight is fair. Ianthe protests, you can't get a fair fight between a Lyctor and a human.

Crown was pleading, “One fight … one last duel. You challenged her with Babs, you know, back on Canaan House. I didn’t do it. So follow through, for me. You always do things for me, don’t you? My heart’s own … my necromancer.” Prince Ianthe Naberius shuddered.

Ianthe says she'll do it if Crown drops the gun. Crown hesitates, but does so. Ianthe doesn't go back on her word, and tells Crown to arbitrate. Crown declares "Parietal(14) to calcaneus,(15) I suppose" and sets the remaining conditions, such as no active necromancy. When Cam asks, what about her, Ianthe offers that if Cam can get Ianthe's handkerchief out of her shirt, Ianthe will consider Cam the winner. Cam doesn't seem to take this very seriously.

The dead soldiers release Cam, and she straightens herself up, picks up her knives. Nona almost wants to scream again, but she's dizzy and nauseous.(16) She can see clearly, so she thinks she's blinked out the dye and lens inserts. She thinks back to the only other fight she's ever been invited to watch, between Hot Sauce and Honesty and some bigger kids who don't go to school, but that one didn't go on after Hot Sauce drove(17) a car and hit one of the other kids beforehand.

The fight begins, and Ianthe and Cam banter a bit, and the fight goes on. Nona tries to take slow breaths, despite the smelly hand over her mouth. If she can just stay calm, maybe it will help Cam. Eventually, Cam does something rather spectacular and flashy that I hesitate to try to describe here, go read it yourself again, and ends up with Ianthe's right wrist in Cam's right hand, and Ianthe's sword in Cam's belly.(18)

“You really don’t know when to throw those things, do you,” said the Prince a little sadly. Camilla said, “Match to the Sixth.” Ianthe said, “What?” and then her eyes rolled backward in her head and she fell.(19)

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(1) I'd like to think that doubling of perception and feeling is why Ianthe doesn't seem to really catch on that Harrow isn't Harrow, even though Nona is doing a very poor job of being Harrow even for a little while. (2) I don't think it was made clear earlier that they literally unmoored the entire complex from Mercury and flew it off to BOE territory. (3) Ah yes, the one when Mercy vaporized him. (4) The jackboot of totalitarianism, of course. (5) This is one of the main fandom names for the Lyctors these days. Can't argue with it. (6) This and the glove kiss and all the embracing… these two aren't carrying on like any twins I've ever known. More like the Hitachiin twins from the Ouran High School Host Club manga. (7) Personally, I read this as that Ianthe wants to incorporate Crown's soul now that she's had practice eating Babs's. It would be much more convenient to know that your twin is forever a part of you and can't disappoint or upstage you with her caring about people and being a better leader. (8) Sounds a lot like what she was doing when she had her tantrum. (9) That's an awfully strange thing to cough up after a scream like that. In her tantrum she'd been screaming blood and the lining of her throat. I suppose the "her insides dissolved" line wasn't a complete exaggeration? Also, interesting how often Nona's relationship to water comes up, isn't it? (10) Something about the cry took out everyone who could use necromancy. Judith's screaming didn't take Pal out, though. Why would Nona's use of it be more powerful? Or is it just that Pal was protected by the same means as from Varun's light, because he stays so short a time in Cam's body? (11) She really just called Jod "daddy". (12) Neither is going to let her go without a fight. (13) What would Ianthe be thinking, in that big ol' brain of hers, inside Babs's emotions as well? What would the reminder of Canaan House do to her? Or is it the thought of dueling Cam? (14) The parietal bones are part of the skull, which stitch together to form the main of the sides and top. The… crown, if you will. (15) The calcaneus is one of the bones in the heel of the foot. So, the fight is fair hits from head to toe. (16) From fear for Cam, or aftershocks of her screaming? (17) Let's be honest, stole. (18) It's a classic move to take a deathblow to issue one yourself, but I am once again forced to wonder if Muir has read the Wheel of Time, because a particular sword move that results in just this situation in that series is a major plot point. (19) What did Cam do? How am I supposed to stop reading right now? (Oh right, I don't have to, I can just write the next post!)

#the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #nona #camilla hect #coronabeth tridentarius #ianthe naberius #pyrrha dve

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wastelandcrown · 4 years

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logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 6: don’t lose ur head (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Roman is a teenager who makes bad choices EXTREME edition, Remus being Remus, Intrusive Thoughts, Minor Bad Parenting, so much swearing it’s insane (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! I love this freaking chapter SO much but I’m really scared of how it’s going to be received. All feedback is extremely welcome!!

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, One-Sided Logicality, Platonic DRLAMP

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord

Over the course of the next month Logan learns that despite their reputations, Roman and Remus are the opposite of what everyone thinks of them.

Logan is the smartest person he knows, there is no way in hell he’d ever miss Roman’s multiple attempts to sabotage his role as Hamilton. Smart, and yet so oblivious. Each time Roman had tried to mess with Logan after he began cultivating a friendship with Remus he was miraculously saved from the torment at the last second. Remus is a hundred percent certain that Logan has no idea that he’s fighting off his brother at each and every turn. He’s not certain of much, so it’s saying a lot. There is a beautiful dichotomy in Logan’s logs of the events and the stories Remus tells about his brother’s scourge against his brand new ‘enemy’. On a page labeled ‘Roman Incidents’ in Logan’s succinct handwriting documents every incident through the month when Roman attempted to sabotage him.

July 20th - Roman tripped near my things in the drama room while holding coffee. When I went to check on my things, someone had removed the contents of my bag and filled it with around six pounds of glitter. If this happens again, throw the bag away. Glitter makes anything unsalvageable. You will keep finding it everywhere.

Remus knew Roman had been planning something. Of course he did. Though they didn’t share a room anymore, sneaking into it had never been exceptionally hard. Neither had eavesdropping, when it counted. It counted now more than ever because Remus had become unreasonably attached to Logan and when he heard Roman talking to himself and mentioning the name of his favourite little nerd badly he knew it was now or never. It took two excruciating hours of sitting still and listening to get the juicy stuff. He almost got caught by their mother twice. She’d only been home for three days and she’d checked on Roman twice in one night. If Remus told her about the amount of effort he was putting into something she might keel over dead from shock.

What a funny sight that would be to him. His mother, dead from the shock of his hard work to do something good, thumping onto the floor. He laughs a little, quiet enough to keep Roman from hearing. His brain supplies the rational next step of Roman running out of his room and distraughtly cradling their mother’s head in his lap. Roman sobbing. Roman blaming him. Roman screaming about how it was his fault. And it would be, if she died like that. Remus doesn’t think it’s all that funny anymore, but once the train of thought starts it can’t be stopped. He decides that eavesdropping isn’t fun anymore and makes his way to the kitchen, trying to shake the idea of his brother cursing him out for killing their mother out of his mind.

It doesn’t really work, but he tries anyway. The kitchen is full of distractions, good and bad. The knives in the block look so enticing to his self-proclaimed ‘shitty-dick-wad brain’, but the cookies he nabs from the cupboard are so easy to shove into his mouth that he figures it evens out. He sits at the kitchen island and doesn’t even bother to turn on the light. It takes six cookies in his mouth at once before he can direct his thoughts somewhere else momentarily. How in the hell is he going to combat Roman’s plan? He spits all the cookies onto the counter as his brother walks in, flicks on the light, and sighs deeply.

“You could at least do that onto a plate.”

Remus just shrugs, so Roman speaks again, “How’s your evening been?”

“Before like...five minutes ago I was really liking it.” Which was true, Roman slides into the seat next to him and picks a cookie from the box.

“What changed?”

“Shitty brain,” He replies, “Y’know how it gets.”

“I do indeed. Do you need anything?” His voice is surprisingly soft with him, to the point where Remus has to give him a confused look before deciding what to say next. He figures out how to fuck with Roman’s plan in that moment.

“I wanna go to Party City and terrorize the night staff.”

Roman only chuckles, Remus watches his twin put away the cookies and grab his car keys from the bowl on the counter.

“Come on then, we can buy some of those plastic babies you like so much.”

As Remus is falling asleep later that night, his chest feels warm. He attributes it to the upcoming scheme-ruining scheming. It’s easier than admitting that that was the first time Roman had willingly hung out with him alone since elementary school. He knows the next morning that Roman is most likely buttering up because he suspects Remus knows. Which is...fair. Even if it hurts a little. They get coffee on the way to the theatre and separate. They both have important things to do. The best part about their somewhat rocky-relationship is that they always know where the other is in order to avoid each other. Remus knows that Roman has gone to see Janus and probably make heart eyes and pine over him like a dumbass. Roman knows that Remus is off drooling over his arch nemesis. Today it is more imperative than ever. During practice Remus manages to steal Logan’s backpack while he’s busy.

He swaps the contents out with the six pounds of glitter he bought the night before and shoves Logan’s things into his bag for safe keeping. Nobody would dare look into Remus’ bag for fear of gore or weird pornography, even if he only has one in his bag at the moment. He’s shoving a small notebook in when he catches a title. “Hamilton Performance Experiment”. It takes literally all of his self-control not to immediately snoop. He makes it through, eventually meeting up with Logan and even carrying his bag to ‘be nice’ so Logan doesn’t pick up on the bag glitter. When Roman walks by with his coffee and “trips”, spilling his coffee all over Logan’s bag, Remus smiles.

“Oh! Logan I’m so sorry! What a terrible accident!” Roman cries, ever the actor.

Logan looks downright frantic as he lunges for his bag and rips it open. Glitter goes everywhere. Logan’s hair, Roman’s shoes, the entire dressing room floor. The look of distress fades from Logan’s face momentarily, returning full force when he realizes his things are missing.

Remus pulls them out of his bag in secret, walking to the corner of the room, walking back and exclaiming, “What a good prank Roman! You must be taking some tricks from my book!”

When he hands the things back to Logan, Logan smiles. He decides not to ask about the notebook.

July 27th - One of the props from the prop room was moved in with my things. I suspect Roman because of the look on his face when Remus took the fall for me.

Just because he didn’t ask about the notebook does not mean it left his memory. By the time he gets in the car alone with his brother he realizes that Roman is pissed off at him.

“Couldn’t you have left it alone? How did you even find out!?”

“I have my ways. Now shut up about it before I tell mom about that time in 8th grade-”

“Okay! Okay! I’m shutting up!”

And he did. However that included no longer voicing his plans out loud. Which meant Remus had to get creative. He was very very good at getting creative.

Dinner with their mother was much more quiet that week. Both twins brooding and not speaking with each other, their mother only prompting Roman to talk. It was too familiar in the worst possible ways. Remus despised his mother, but he knew how much his brother loved her. She was...well she was beautiful, intelligent, a very influential fashion designer, extremely supportive. Roman would go on about how perfect she was for hours. Sure, Remus could concede that their mother was beautiful, intelligent, and a very influential fashion designer, but whenever Roman talks about her he never says she’s at all a good mother. Especially not to him. He watches her laugh breathily at one of Roman’s shitty anecdotes from practice and decides he’s had enough of family dinner. He gets up and dutifully cleans his plate and places it in the dishwasher. The chef gives him a smile, and he smiles back.

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, “If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

Then she turns back to her food like she didn’t just attempt to insult him. Jokes on her, it takes a lot more than that to hurt his feelings. He still ends up forcing himself into the shower for thirty-five minutes that night.

The rest of the week he’s more tired than usual, which the others notice. He makes an effort to not be, he really does. When his mom is in town, everything just sucks. He hangs out with Janus three times and Virgil once to get out of the house and away from his family. The other nights he spends sitting outside the convenience store with a monster or two. He ends up calling Logan one of those nights out of need for company. Logan chuckles when Remus makes up a silly reason for calling that he can’t even remember now, but he can remember Logan’s laugh. He listens to Logan talk about the book series he’s been reading and he feels a little lighter. He never ends up finding out what Roman has planned, but it’s so easy when it’s happening right in front of him. Despite his lethargy lately, he feels a fire lit in him when the missing prop is found with Logan’s bag.

Virgil and Janus are the only two teenagers with keys to the prop room. If Logan stole the missing prop, he would have had to steal the key. No one but the twins even knew Janus had a key, and Virgil was dead set on not letting a soul into the prop room. The idea that Logan, precious little innocent fucking lamb Logan, committed theft not once but twice enrages Remus. When they find it with his things, Logan is utterly baffled. Then he realizes the implications and his face pales. Roman calls for Thomas, spouting off about how Logan stole the prop and he should face consequences, when Remus laughs as loudly as he can.

“Hah! You guys are so funny! You think specs could ever!? Guess my prank worked out pretty damn good if you actually think Mr.Goody-Two-Shoes could commit such a heinous fucking crime!”

Thomas sighs, tells Remus to just ask next time, and leaves. Roman stares at his brother for a solid minute with his mouth slightly ajar. Janus and Virgil are both looking at him like he’s insane because it’s so obvious to them that Roman did it. Patton is looking not at him, but at Logan, with so much concern. And Logan...Logan stares up at Remus with the look of a small and confused animal.

“Did you really do that?”

“Of course I did! I’m the resident rat bastard, I have to cause a little recreational chaos.”

He’s pretty sure Logan believes him until they’re leaving for the day and Logan whispers a ‘Thank you’ to him as he walks by. He would have melted into the floor if Janus hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him down to whisper to him.

“Why the hell did you let Roman get away with that?” Virgil is on his other side now with a scowl.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about JJ! I committed a very heinous crime!”

“Then why did Roman ask to borrow Janus’ key earlier?” Virgil asks, and Remus drops his smile to replace it with an annoyed look.

“He just fucking asked for it!? I can’t even believe I’m related to that half-witted twit.”

“Yeah,” Virgil scoffs, “Not really the sharpest sword in the armoury, is he?”

“Please, we’ve known that for years. What I’d like to know is what are we going to do about it?” This quieted Remus, but made Virgil smirk a little.

Janus continued, “After the backpack incident, and now the stealing incident, I’m half-convinced we have a brand new chaos demon in the group.”

“At least Remus’ chaos is fun sometimes,” Virgil mutters, “Roman’s just an ass.”

Remus gets away with being quiet as they talk until they get into Janus’ beat up old van. He doesn’t call shotgun, doesn’t slap the car's ‘ass’ as a joke, he just climbs into the back and sits there. He’s so quiet that Janus and Virgil are a little shell shocked.

“Remus?” Virgil asks quietly and pensively, it sounds just like that soft tone Roman used with him last week.

He’s quiet, Janus starts the car and clicks his tongue, “I’m going to shove Roman down a flight of stairs.”

“Don’t.” He manages, and the boys in the front seats go quiet. Virgil passes him the aux cord.

He plays “Call Them Brothers” by Regina Spektor and Janus and Virgil know that tonight will be a very quiet outing.

They’re sitting at IHOP drawing dicks on their pancakes in syrup when Remus’ phone rings. Janus and Virgil know who’s calling the second Remus sees the caller ID and smiles.

“Evening Logie-Bear, why do I get the pleasure of hearing your devilishly sexy voice in this IHOP tonight?” Remus says and Janus groans loudly.

“You’re at IHOP?” Is the first thing Logan says, which makes Remus smile even brighter.

“Yes, sir! I’m with Virge and Janny too, you wanna say hi?”

Logan sounds a bit contemplative when he mutters, “I was hoping you’d be alone...”

Eavesdropping Janus and Virgil make surprised faces, Remus smacks Janus in the arm, “Oh you were, were you? Why? Phone sex?”

“I wanted to ask for an opinion on a predicament.” Virgil smirks and Janus nabs his phone to speak for Remus.

“Remus would love to-Remus let me talk-You should come have some pancakes with us-Ow, watch the face!-and tell us all about how your science is going.” Janus can hear Logan hiding his laughter through the phone as Remus wrestles with him in the booth.

“It’s more of a philosophical predicament.”

Janus nearly sees red, eyes widening and making Remus cackle,“Why in the world would you ask Remus Grimm about phi-”

It’s silent for a few moments then Logan hears a familiar voice. “It’s Virgil, we’re at the IHOP on 81st and Green.”

Logan laughs brightly, “I’ll be there. Order something for me.”

They spend the evening with breakfast for dinner, and the four get into a fairly heated friendly debate about moral ethics. Janus isn’t sure he’s ever had more fun in his life. When he’s driving away from Virgil to drop Remus off at home, he can’t help but smile at Remus’ improved demeanor.

“Remus,” He starts after they’re alone, “I thought you and Roman were doing better, did something happen?”

“He tried to sabotage Logan twice for entirely selfish reasons, I wouldn’t care if he dies!” Remus dramatically cries.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

They’re quiet the rest of the ride, and Janus gets out to give Remus a hug before he goes in. Remus ignores Roman’s questions about his whereabouts and locks himself in his room to try and keep his mood up. It doesn’t work, but he tries. He does.

August 3rd - Roman gave me a “peace offering” in the form of lunch. I am led to believe he was attempting to give me food poisoning, as Remus ate the lunch and has now come down with food poisoning.

His mother leaves for her office in Paris on August 1st. Roman cries and hugs her, says he’ll miss her, goes on and on about how it’s so terrible how she’s never home. He does this every time their mother and father leave, he has since they were young. Remus couldn’t give less of a shit. His plan now was finding out what Roman’s next move was. Which was hard because they were back to avoiding each other like the plague. They’d spent a few months getting better at being brothers, then one of their parents shows up and ruins it. This time it was great, Remus would never admit it, but it was. Roman made an effort when their parents weren’t around, a few months ago he started doing things like making dinner for them both and bringing it to him, offering to do a load of laundry for him while he was doing it, being mindful of his volume when practicing his singing and acting, all these little things.

He’d even started initiating physical contact again, which Remus couldn’t get enough of. Literally. An occasional pat on the back, a grab of his hand to pull him somewhere, a light slap to his knee or arm when he said something distasteful. Giving physical affection to Remus was something that seemed to be unique to Roman. It had always been like that when they were younger, and Remus didn’t think he wanted it to stop. Any time he thinks about it he always drifts back to his head against Roman’s knee a few weeks ago when Roman had carded a hand through his hair and then a few minutes later practically tackled him to douse him in perfume The shit smelled awful, but afterwards Roman had slung an arm over his shoulder and gave him a squeeze. That and the closeness with Logan kept him buzzing for the next two days.

Now there was nothing again. It was like Roman could turn off his affection for Remus and pretend he didn’t exist. Remus tried not to be angry about it, he really did, but he couldn’t stop the fire that he felt when the other people on stage got his praises and affection. Both of them were incredibly clingy, but Roman was so much worse at hiding it and it made Remus nearly scream. He piled all of his affectionate behavior onto Logan, and Logan never really minded. He’d place his head on Logan’s shoulder, hold his hand on stage, sit pressed up against him offstage. He loved it, he did. He loved protecting Logan, talking to Logan, existing in the same space as the dork was exhilarating. He hated having to protect Logan from his brother. There was no way in hell that Remus would let anything terrible happen to Logan, but there was no way he would ever let his brother’s stupid selfish decisions fall back on him. He knows he shouldn’t give a single shit, but he does.

His tiredness fades with his mother, but he’s still exhausted because Roman keeps trying to fuck with Logan when he knows damn well Remus won’t let him. The selfish ass. This time, Roman has the gall to pull his entire scheme in front of Remus.

“Logan,” He starts, his affected air is slightly dim today and his hands are hidden, “To apologize for my unkind actions, I have brought a peace offering.”

Roman hands Logan a little bag from a restaurant Remus swears he recognizes.

“Oh, thank you.” Logan says quietly, opening the bag and pulling out a wrapped burger.

Logan takes it out and inspects it as Remus wracks his brain trying to remember where he knows the packaging. It hits him right before Logan takes a bite. This burger is from the restaurant that gave Roman food poisoning a few months ago. It looks like the same burger too. At this point, Remus is half-convinced Roman is taunting him. He’s in a bit of a panic and doesn’t think before he snatches the burger and shoves it in his mouth.

“Remus!” Both call out, the wrapper is still on the end of the burger so he pulls it out then chews and swallows the thing whole.

He coughs and sputters for almost two minutes after, then shoots Roman an awful glare.

“What just happened?” Logan asks, extremely puzzled.

Roman is gawking at Remus again, “Why did you eat that!?”

“Fuck you that’s why, you horsefucking shiteating egomaniac bastard.”

Roman walks off in a huff, Remus lays on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Logan questions, handing him a water bottle.

Maneuvering onto his side, Remus takes a sip and his throat feels miles better, “I just straight up ate a burger whole like a fucking snake, how do you think I am dipshit?”

“Hm,” He pauses to think, “Bad.”

Both boys laugh, and Logan joins Remus on the ground.

“I am beginning to believe your brother has a vendetta against me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Logan pauses, looking at Remus who is still occasionally wheezing.

“Are you alright...emotionally?” Remus wheezes and laughs at the same time, sounding something similar to a goose.

“‘Thought you didn’t know much about those, poindexter.”

“I do not. However, as your friend I feel like it’s important to ask.”

Remus just sighs, closes his eyes, and blows a raspberry at the ceiling.

“Me and Roman are complicated.”

“I can tell.” Remus laughs, Logan really is something else.

It’s quiet when Remus asks, “Do you hate him?”

“No,” Logan’s response is measured and confident like he’s asked himself this question a hundred times, “I don’t hate him. I think he’s got some things to work out, and is taking out his frustration on me as of late.”

He keeps talking, Remus covers his closed eyes with his arm, “More importantly, do you hate him?”

He almost rockets to his feet when Logan says curiously, “Or, more interestingly, do you love him?”

It takes him nearly two and a half minutes sat up and sipping water, watching Logan pack his things, to muster up the will to tell the truth.

“Of course I love him. Nobody else is gonna fucking do it.”

He could barely comprehend Logan’s response to his admission so he shoved it out of his mind with all the force he could muster, then waved a goodbye to him when he parted and left Remus with his mind.

He ends up going home early because his awful decision ended up actually giving him food poisoning. He takes a sick day the next day, and spends most of the time feeling like shit physically and emotionally. His brain has kept tabs on all the shitty feelings and thoughts he’s had and is now playing out a full length shitty horror movie about his life and his dumb brother and his shitty summer crush. Then there’s that conversation with Logan. The last sentence is running through him over and over again. He keeps coming back to it, though he’s sure Logan didn’t even mean anything by it. Seventeen words and his world was sent spinning.

“Ah, I understand, it’s hard to love somebody when they don’t act like they love you back.”

Logan doesn’t even know the half of it.

August 20th - Roman asked me directly to leave the production. Though I admire the effort, all it achieved was a quite awful night, and an angry lecture(?) of sorts from Janus. I do not believe Roman will be trying this tactic ever again.

Roman tries to apologize multiple times, but something angry and petty in Remus doesn’t accept any of them. They’re both getting more and more frustrated by the minute. By the time the thirteenth of August rolls around they aren’t on speaking terms again and everyone can tell that it’s taking its toll on them both. Remus acts out more than usual against people he doesn’t usually target. He scared an ensemble girl one too many times, to the point where she ended up slapping him. He deserved it, but it still stung. Roman poured himself into his role more than ever, but it only ended up stressing him out even more than usual. When his voice so much as wavered on stage it shattered his confidence.

It affected their friends as well. Roman spent more time with Patton and Emile, avoiding Remus and Janus as much as he could possibly manage. Janus rolled his eyes but just resigned himself to the tech booth with Virgil, Remus, and Logan. The only good thing that was happening lately was Janus’ newfound attachment to Logan. The pair's insane intelligence and love of debate meant one was nearly guaranteed every other time they were in the same room. It was exhilarating to watch, and probably exhilarating to take part in. Remus didn’t much care for debates, but watching Janus and Logan go at each other with an occasional snarky comment or new suggestion from Virgil was making him grow a fondness for them. At this point there was barely anybody in the theatre who didn’t adore Logan.

The staff, the cast, the tech. Everyone adored him. He was smart, diligent, and hard-working. He asked questions, didn’t undermine others, and respected the entire cast's talent at what they did. It was magical to watch everyone in the auditorium drift under Logan’s thumb. Remus was included. They were saving Say No To This until near last because of the lack of dancing involved, but it didn’t even matter. Say No To This was not needed in Remus’ seduction plan because Logan seemed to gravitate towards him with ease. He is a damn good friend and Remus is determined to make that boy his bride.

Despite his growing lack of sleep and reliance on caffeine, Remus is skating by just fine without anything bad happening. Until his brother decides to fuck with his life again. He’s on the thin line between being shitty in secret and full-on breakdown, Roman really isn’t helping his case. Remus is lounging on the floor while Logan reads in a chair next to the makeup mirrors. He hears someone enter, but isn’t bothered enough to move.

Ever the polite, Logan greets the newcomer “Ah, Hello Roman, how are you?”

“I need to ask you something.” His brother asks, and Remus turns his head away from the noise.

“Alright, what is it?” Logan sounds so measured and calm.

There is a long pause, “What is it going to take for you to realize you should quit?”

The calmness in Logan’s voice wavers, and Remus can hear it wobble, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I mean, it’s obvious I've been trying to get you to leave, so what’s been keeping you!?” Roman raises his voice near instantly, that same childish selfishness burns from his tongue.

“It is none of your business.” There’s a dignified fire raging under his voice now, it’s like he’s been practicing for this.

“You’re not even a good actor! From what I can tell, you’re entirely uninteresting and way too intellectual to be here!” Roman continues, Remus feels the urge to get up but he can’t find the will to move.

“Roman, please think before you say something you regret.” Remus knows what Roman is going to say before it happens.

“No!” His brother is so typical, “You have no idea what this role means to me, why can’t you just leave!?”

That’s typical too, Remus opens his eyes and looks at the pair. Logan looks pissed off, Roman looks pissed off, and Janus is watching from the doorway.

“I try very hard to give you the benefit of the doubt in regards to your debilitating egomania, but it is beginning to appear as if your whole sense of stability and purpose is built upon some false reality where you need to be the star at every possible moment. Go to therapy about it, and leave me alone.” Logan spits this in Roman’s face, then turns back to his book.

Clenching his fists and staring at the ground, Roman looks almost defeated until he catches Remus staring and his face morphs into something so bitter he has to force himself to look away.

“No. I will not leave you alone until I get this part. None of you have any idea how much I need it.”

“Roman-” Janus speaks up daringly from his spot by the door, his tone is enough to warn him to stand down.

Roman’s eyes are squeezed shut, his fists are clenched, “I know we have the same face, but I’m not a failure like my brother.”

That sends Remus to his feet and out the door before anyone can say a word. As he passes Janus on the way out Janus tries to stop him but he pushes past him, past everyone, and out the front door of the theatre.

Janus turns on Roman in an instant, walking slowly into the room and shutting the door with purpose. Roman’s eyes are sewed shut and all the guilt he tries to push down floods him when he makes eye contact with his pissed off friend.

“Roman, we need to have a talk.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts remus #ts logan #ts roman #ts janus #ts virgil #intrulogical #REMUS BABY IM SO SORRY-#this title could just be titled 'roman fucks up for 4k words straight' and it would fit #i genuinely loved writing this chapter and i hope it goes over well with yall #roman IS going to get kicked in the teeth with character development #the boy has been self-sabotaging himself so hard #Honestly after chapter 6 imma need to tag 'The Grimm Parents' A+ Parenting' like i'm on fucking ao3 or some shit #anyway!! theres the fic!! happy reading!!#Love you all and goodnight!!

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cursed-and-quirkless · 3 years

Text

Chapter 1 - The Curse

Hello all! Welcome to my first MHA fic! This is the first part of a series about if Izuku was a quirkless vigilante, because I really love that trope.

TW: This fic, the first part especially, has some themes of injury, death/being on the verge of death, and ideas of suicide. No suicide is attempted, however. If these ideas bother you, please be cautious. To skip the first part, do not read until the first “~” symbol. There is also weird church stuff (that’ll make sense when you read), so if that makes you uncomfortable please be cautious. Thank you, hope you enjoy!

Ao3: queenofliterature

They say before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Izuku never thought that was accurate until now.

There had been plenty of times he had almost died. When a shot rang and the muzzle of a gun flashed, the only thing Izuku thought was run, dodge, never anything about who he was, or how he got here.

Now though, now he understood.

Izuku blinked his tired eyes, focusing on the grey sky. The city was surprisingly peaceful, though maybe that was the falling snow coating the sounds of the bustling life under him. Or the ringing in his ears.

Eyes swollen with exhaustion refused to close for too long. If he fell asleep now, he would never wake up. And as much as he lied to himself, Izuku wasn’t ready for that, not yet.

Hypothermia was settling quickly into his bones, his shallow breaths obvious against the cold night. But the gentle flakes tickled his nose, and all he felt was relief when they touched his fevered skin. Besides, he wouldn’t be dying of the cold tonight, the pools of blood gathering steadily underneath him was a testament to that.

Maybe if Izuku tried hard enough, he could roll off the edge. The rooftop had no railing, and if he stretched his arm just enough, he could dangle his hand over the streets below. But that wouldn’t do, he wanted to see the sky when his body finally let go, and his eyes closed and never reopened. Besides, Izuku could barely even move his fingers, let alone roll his entire body. No… he was stuck here.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Perhaps it was the fact that his blood was sluggishly trailing out of his body this time instead of the threat of instant death but…

His mind began to drift.

He was happy.

The middle class apartment he lived in with his mother and father always had the drapes thrown open, rays of sun keeping the apartment a comfortable temperature and bathing the bright green house plants.

His mother would playfully yell and scream, the damsel in distress. His father and him were the heroes.

He doesn’t remember much of his father, but he remembers the warm feeling of his chest, of the hot and smoky breath that would tickle his ears and ruffle his hair.

His father’s hands would hold him in the air as he flew to rescue his mother from the villains that had taken her.

Most of his peers probably wouldn’t want to spend their 5th birthday in the doctor’s office, but to Izuku it was the best present his parents could give him. He should have had a quirk by now, Kaccan said so. But if it was taking this long, it should have been cool and powerful! Just like Kaccan’s!

Izuku buzzed in excitement as the doctor read his file and looked at the x-rays they had taken in the big machine they put him in. Maybe he’d get telepathy, or fire, or a combination! Kaccan and him would grow up and be an unstoppable team and they’d share the rank for Number One hero (no matter what Kaccan said) and they’d save people and fight villains and-

“Quirkless.”

And just like that Izuku’s world shattered. The doctor’s uncaring drawl barely pierced his mind as his stomach lurched.

“W-what?” His mother questioned tearfully. His father simply sat there, eyes clouded with something Izuku would never understand. Sure 20% of the world was quirkless, but most were old and that number was dying out everyday. Only .01% of Japan’s population remained quirkless. And Izuku was now one of them.

When Izuku awoke the next day, his father was gone, and his mother wasn’t surprised.

There was no explosion, no shouted words, no hits or screams. His father was simply gone, any traces of him lingered like a ghost. Sometimes Izuku thought he had made up his father, the only proof he had that the man existed were the pictures Mom had kept in the trunk beside her bed.

It was raining the night he got diagnosed, as if the heavens were weeping for the shattered dream of a crushed child. He sat for hours watching the video of All Might saving all those people at the factory, hitting the replay button until his fingers hurt.

“Because I am here! Because I am here! Because I am here!”

Izuku heard the door creek softly behind him, but he didn’t turn around, he didn’t need to. “S-see that Mom?” Izuku’s tiny voice cracked, and he finally turned around. His mother already had tears springing to her eyes, and Izuku would realize later that’s the moment he would never see his father again.

“He always has a smile on his face, no matter how bad things get.” Izuku’s voice was slowly breaking down along with the little boy. “Even when things seem impossible, he never gives up.” Izuku will never forget the look on his mother’s face, the pain and the sorrow.

“Do you think… I could be a hero too?” Izuku already knew the answer to that question, he saw the answer in his mother’s eyes. His mother rushed forward, gripping him tightly and nuzzling into his hair, murmuring apology after apology. Her touch burned and the ache in his chest choked him, but Izuku didn’t bother to fight her off.

Izuku doesn’t even remember his father’s last words to him.

Izuku and his mother went to church the next day.

His mother was aching for a sense of normalcy, and some foolish part of Izuku believed his father would be there waiting for them.

His father was half japanese, but he never told Izuku what his other half was. Hisashi’s parents and siblings chose to follow the Christian faith, though what branch Izuku also didn’t know, he never paid attention. There was a small church half an hour away from the Midoriya apartment, and Hisashi thought it would be good for the small family to have a sense of community.

His mother must have opened up that day to the pastor before Sunday Service, because that was the first time Izuku was called a curse to humanity.

The little boy sat in the pew, hunching over as every word the pastor said pierced his heart.

“The quirkless are a scourge, a curse, a remnant of the days of old. They are a reminder of the sins of man!” Izuku’s eyes pricked at the cheers coming from around him. “We must stay strong in the face of adversity!” The cheers were stronger this time. Whatever his mother told the pastor must have sunk deep into the man’s skin, because they spent the next hour listening to the talks of plagues and scourge and punishment that were the quirkless population, all while he looked at the little green-haired boy.

After the service, all Izuku wanted to do was disappear. Going home would mean facing the unnatural quiet that now suffocated the once bright household, and staying here meant facing the lingering glares and whispers. His mother was in the restroom preparing for the semi-long trip back when Izuku heard footsteps approaching.

“Hello, Izuku.” The pastor greeted with a soft smile. He supposed it should be comforting, but all Izuku felt was fear.

“H-hello.” A meek voice greeted back.

“Your mother told me of your condition. I just wanted you to know I meant every word I said. But I can help.” The pastor offered, and despite the dangerous glint in the man’s eyes, Izuku perked up.

“You can?” Izuku asked cautiously. Maybe this would make Dad come back! And he could make Mom happy again! Izuku’s heart clenched when a hand grabbed his wrist.

“Come, child, it's not your fault. The children of God are innocent, you are being punished for the misgivings of your ancestors.” The gentle words of the pastor did nothing to ease the bile growing in Izuku’s throat. The more Izuku fought, the tighter the bruising grips became.

“W-wait.” Izuku protested as he was dragged away from the restroom. “My Mom! She’ll wonder where I am!”

“It will be a nice surprise for her, don’t you think?” The pastor ignored the protests and continued dragging the boy through the church.

“What-what’s gonna happen?”

“Simple, child. We’ll get the Devil out of you. It may hurt but I promise you’ll be better for it.” The pastor reassured. Thi wasn’t right. Mom and Dad said never go with strangers! But… the pastor wasn’t a stranger, he said he could help?

“Can we ask my Mom, p-please?” Izuku gave a powerful tug, and that seemed to be the last straw.

“Foolish child! Your mother does not understand what needs to be done! I do!” The others in the church startled at the noise, but turned away when they saw what was happening.

Izuku didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t like it! In a last attempt, Izuku lashed out and bit the man’s hand, pulling away with a gasp when the pastor yanked his hand back.

“You evil child!” The pastor screamed as Izuku ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He remembered the way to the restrooms, he just hoped his mother would be there. He wanted to go home! He wanted to play hero and be held by his dad and be tucked in by his mom when he fell asleep on the couch!

“Mom!” Izuku screamed when he spotted green hair. The woman quickly turned around from the couple she seemed to be frantically talking too. Izuku’s own eyes matched the tears that were streaming down his mother’s face.

“Izuku!” Inko yelled in relief as her little boy crashed into her. “Baby, where were you? I was worried sick!” Inko cried.

“M-mom, the p-pastor, h-he, a-and-” Izuku couldn’t get any of the story through the spasming of his little lungs. Through hiccuping sobs, Izuku heard the frantic footsteps of the pastor approach him, and he buried himself further into his mother’s neck.

“Pastor? What-what happened?” Inko hesitated at the teeth marks on the hand of the pastor. Her little boy wouldn;t do that for anything.

“H-he said.” Izuku’s little sobs broke her heart.

“Said what, Baby?” Inko coaxed, ignoring the man above them.

“G-gonna get the Devil out.” Inko’s heart dropped, knowing the implication.

“You were gonna beat him?” The horrified whisper reached the poster’s ears and he scoffed.

“Not him, the scourge. The boy may feel pain, but it would make him better.” The pastor declared. Perhaps if Inko hadn’t already been in pieces, she would have yelled at him. Perhaps if her husband hadn’t left and her son wasn’t falling apart she would have defended her son, but for now she had enough.

“Izuku, we’re leaving.” She said to the pastor just as much as her son, and Izuku saw the glance towards his blackened wrist.

It was the first time his mother ignored a bruise, but it would not be the last.

The drive home was quiet, and Izuku didn’t think he would ever get used to the silence that now permeated his new life.

“Mom?” Izuku spoke up, his timid voice uncomfortable with breaking pure silence. “Everything is going to be okay, right?” He just needed to hear those words as his world was crumbling beneath him, ‘It will be okay’.

“Izuku, my baby, there will be many more like him. From now on I want you to walk to and from school with Katsuki. No detours, nothing.” Izuku nodded at his mom’s serious voice. “We’re gonna get you a phone, I want you to text me everyday at lunch, and before and after school, and when you get home.” Izuku nodded again, and kept doing so as more rules were given to him.

When they got home that afternoon, his mother shut down. From afternoon till night, Inko Midoriya held an empty tea cup, not having the energy to fill it. She sat at the table, and tried to remember the deep voice of her husband that floated around the kitchen like embers, and the light and airy voice of her child that bounced against the walls.

Now all she heard was the stone cold silence of a shattered household.

Meanwhile, Izuku sat at the computer. Mom didn't bother to enforce computer time. So he watched the video, over and over again until it somehow pierced the unfeeling void that was beginning to set in. It never did.

“Because I am here! Because I am here! Because I am here!”

He realized that night with a bitter numbness he was already forgetting what his father’s laugh sounded like.

Izuku was finally beginning to understand, he knew he was a plague on his mother and father’s life, an infestation in his own skin.

He knew he was a curse.

~~~

Disclaimer: Nothing against any religion. Just as long as you don’t use it to hurt others I don’t care what religion you are/aren’t, this specific church, however, was very radical and was based loosely on unfortunate experiences I had in churches with some personal issues of mine. I just thought it would be interesting to explore how radical groups like this would see quirklessness.

I don't usually do this, but each chapter is gonna have a song I think that fits it!

Chapter Song: i can't breathe by Bea Miller

I have a Discord, and this fic has a channel! Same with Tumblr

Discord: https://discord.gg/UpWvDzKC5R Tumblr: cursed-and-quirkless

#quirkless midoriya izuku #quirkless deku #quirkless discrimination #quirkless izuku #quirkless au #cursed au #please read warning #izuku will be adopted eventually #its a surprise who #not Aizawa #although I love those stories #vigilante deku

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Pacify Her (Chase Collins AU) (Sneakpeak)

Lemon oneshots that inspired me to create this into a series: Part 1 Part 2

Characters: (18+) SugarBaby!Sub!Chase Collins x You

Overview: Your life has been full of conceit, deceit and malfeasance. Born with a golden spoon in her mouth, Y/N has her life with burdens weighing on her shoulders. With men crawling before her and only one purpose in their minds, it was to be the successor on the wealth that she and her family had. Little did the fellows know, she was married and was one manipulative, ruthless, wealthy dame and she knew one man's plan if she sees fit.

Thus, her mindset didn't phase one mischievous, cunning and obscure man who had his coverts kept where humans couldn't bother to even know because it was too atrocious to start.

One man who had a dour heart who'll manage to corrupt you in the most sinful way. Though, he didn't know that the wickedness he had would bind with yours. He was different among the flocks of men, literally and philosophically because he certainly didn't mind the sins which will soon live upon you both. Those sins that would eat you both alive.

Chase Collins is your evil, witchy, baby boy. The only baby boy you owned, wanted and cared about.

Therefore, he had no right to leave.

Warning: Sugar baby content, infidelity, filthy AF, There’s a lot? of? dirty ass smut in this whole series (ISTG), Toxic relationship. Reader's one toxic bitch. (18+) This can be quite dark? Hehehe? SUB CHASE COLLINS! I don’t even know if that’s considered a warning? Hehehhe.

A/N: I’ll be creating a Masterlist for this once I finish writing the 1st chapter for this series of mine. Tell me what you think about this! I just wanted to try and see if y’all will like this! Send me an ask if ya’ wanna be included in the taglist!

Disclaimer: GIF'S and PNG'S aren't mine, however the whole one shot and edits are rightfully mine to begin with.

Scourging sounds of mirth deafening the stillness inside the elevator where you were both trapped in. Amidst of the discussion running between the both of you. He needed sanitation. You both needed sanitation, cleansing, stabilization because of what has happened between your dueling. You, together needed some psychological help with all the toxicity fuming inside your fiendish ambitions and regimens.

It was an entire blackout, the thought of a sudden sombre in the daylight was doubting you that he had to do with this. The ire he was spitting out of his mouth proves you why he certainly controlled the power of your building because he was in wrath.

Chase Collins was in an outrage because you had everything wrapped around your finger. Even him and it wasn't supposed to be that way because it should've been the other way around.

Yet, he didn't regret cowering before you like a child whom was scared of his own mother because he was actually one in your life and he planned to be.

"I didn't know you had a husband," He spoke lowly and tauntingly as he caged you in his arms, his words were like vile to his heart because he sounded ruined, shattered and under fire. He wasn't supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be heinous, infernal and substantial but it seemed like the world rolled on the ground and now you were on top, the one who had the last laugh and it was maddening him to the fullest.

You let out a ear-screeching giggle, jesting him till he would detonate. Chase's jaw clenched from the sound because he still felt the need to hug you and for you to cuddle him back. Treat him like he was your baby.

It's because its true. He's your baby boy. The only one whom you've risk your marriage with.

Hence, you were his little secret where he could find solace in the midst of his monstrous abnormality of trying to be human.

"Yet, you knew I had a girlfriend and you tried your best to ruin us, me." His voice was shaking from anger, wanting to laugh in spite of the betrayal he was feeling. You were supposed to be crying because his resentment should fear you, though all those anguish felt like everything was falling in your hands and in the right time.

He hated you for looking so vindicated, small and almighty when being guiltless should be the least of what you looked like.

Nonetheless, he would still cave in because it was you.

"What's there to ruin when its already ruined in the first place, Chase." Your euphonious voice, he remembered how soughing it had been and it's still there and he hated you for it again because he couldn't stop the way he felt for you and it was breaking his strong facade apart.

"You made me break up with her," the lights to the elevator turned on and off as he emphasized his words with gritted teeth, getting a glimpse of his ruddy face that was making you feel a little weird, a fathomable feeling forming in the pit of your stomach and you were quick to grab onto his black tie that was hanging out of his coat. He stiffened and you grinned against the darkness surrounding you both.

"I didn't," you stood on your tippy toes, warm breath fanning his ears, giving him a weird feeling of just taking you up inside the elevator for all he wants as he was controlling the whole blackout situation. He could hear the jocularity slipping with your words and it was driving him insane.

He was insane.

A witch has always been insane. Psychopathic. Or maybe it was only him?

"You made the choice all by yourself, I'm not the bad guy here. I'm just a giver, your confidante, the only person who could support you in this life you have. I literally give you everything, Baby. Every, damn, thing." your words came out as seething. The mouth against his ear scratching his earlobe that could make him kneel before you. Kneel before the queen as he sees it fit.

He would. For you. Only for you.

You continued your little twitting, the smug grin never leaving your face. "You want me to leave my husband? Is that what you want to be, baby? A homewrecker?"

Chase's lips formed a thin line, tightly biting half of his lips in between his gritted teeth because no matter how bad that sounded, it seemed the only thing possible to say. It was the truth, he was because he was your baby boy. The latter could feel his diabolic state of mind roaring in the back of his brain. It wasn't like he had never been insidious. He still is, especially with what happened a month ago.

Burning.

The barn.

Caleb.

Ipswitch.

His two-month ex-girlfriend.

The will to have that power..

"I do," Your baby boy murmured as the lights to the elevator was flicking on and off in the most chilling way. You've stared up at him, eyelashes fluttering like a cherub watching behind the clouds. He hated you, still. Albeit, the hate he felt was actually adoration, passion or love if humans may call it.

Chase Collins never felt so much connected towards a human before and he loved it. He loves you, yet he also hated you at the same damn time.

"I'm your homewrecker, as long as I'm the only one," At long last, the lights finally flickered on. The brightness making you squint your eyes shut before you were met with a pair of black ones which should trigger you to run to the hills because he was showing you who he was.

Strangely enough, you were more drawn to him than any other woman would. Not even his ex-girlfriend would accept him, only you because you already knew him deep down. His secrets, his mysteries and the certain blood that runs inside his glorious body.

He was a witch. He was one of those warlocks and the thought never bothered you ever because you accepted him. You still wanted him despite of it.

"Let me be the one to ruin your marriage," his smile was sinister, like a diabolical plan was about to unleash. "I can be anything you want, Mistress."

He roughly snatched the tie off your hands, blinking in the process as his once black eyes turned to normal. A fiery gold outline flashing around the blackness of his eyes before consuming the normality of what color he wanted. Now, the hues of his baby blue eyes sparkling against the lights of the lift ignited a beam out of you. You had him on the rocks. You were his. It should end up that way. It always does. The latter's fingers straightaway went up to the first button beneath his collar, hastily unbuttoning with heedful need as the elevator never moved its spot. Chase being the one to control the lights to the lift you had and you definitely knew why. The boy knew you all along.

"Ruin me if you must, my evil miss muffet."

Despite of the depravity you were both feeding off each other, together you laughed as though the perniciousness was making you both satisfied with your lives.

My divider is contrasting with the content of this post of mine. HAHAHAHHA Fook me, Chase--I mean. Yeah. You get what I mean. Gosh, this is so wicked. Y’all gotta throw me in a bucket of holy water. 🤣🤐🤣😎🤣

XOXO,

TATA (SEBASTIAN’S POTATO BITCH)

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tamorasky · 4 years

Text

Mistress Anna Chapter 5

Rating: M

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon for the women to be eventually cast aside, Anna was just naive enough to believe it would never happen to her.

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Anna/Hans (ew)

Words: 3600

Canadian Frontier Au.

Ao3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

It was early in the season when Anna became certain she preferred the winter in Ahtohallan. In Arendelle the snow was always dirty with mud and excrement, not like in the country where it was pure white and soft to fall in.

She watches the snowfall through the window in the sitting room, her arms resting on the back of the sofa with a smile as flakes fall onto the veranda. Grimm’s Fairy Tales lay abandoned next to her as she carefully watches the fourth snowfall of the winter.

Anna twists her body on the sofa as she hears the front door open, she furrows her eyebrows at the sound of her country husband’s voice; he never came home early from work. Pulling the book back onto her lap Anna watches as Hans strides into the study, Frederic and Erik both following close behind him.

Hans was clearly angry, his jaw clenches tightly as he stares at the two men. “He has cost the company hundreds already in the span of 3 months. Tell me how that happened.” The auburn-haired man demands.

The two brunette men look at each other before staring at their boss, Erik clears his throat. “We…don't know sir. It seems he started in Quebec, traded illegally into the United States and must’ve crossed into Rupert’s land through the Unorganized territories.”

“I don’t care how he got here.” Hans snarls, startling Anna as he slams his fists on his desk. “I want his head on a pike, do you understand? Men like him are a scourge on our society and need to be dealt with.”

Anna’s heart races as she watches the scene before her, she had never seen Hans so angry before. She thinks momentarily about slipping out of the sitting room quietly so that he might not hear her and never know she was there.

Quietly she stands from the sofa, hoping none of the men would notice the movement of purples and whites of her dress. Anna watches the men as she silently stalks through the room, her throat constricting as piercing green eyes meet hers.

Hans sighs as he smooths his dishevelled hair back, straightening his posture and his suit jacket. “Anna, what are you doing there?”

“I was just reading. B-but I was just leaving to give you men some privacy.” She explains, playing with the first flounce of her skirt nervously. Hans smiles, coming around the oak desk to make his way towards his country wife.

He cups Anna’s cheeks as she peers up at him. “No need my pet, Erik and Fredric were just leaving.” He presses his lips to hers briefly, shooting a glare at his two subordinates to indicate for them to leave. Frederic and Erik comply with Hans’ silent demand, leaving the house without another word.

Anna does her best not to stare at the men, especially Frederic who had always made her uncomfortable and made pointed remarks about her mixed-race heritage.

“Are you done work for the day?” Anna inquires, running her hands over the lapels of his jacket.

“It would seem so.” His hands come to circle around her waist as the young woman in front of his fusses over his clothing. At his response, Anna’s beams at him as her hands come to rest on his shoulders. “You’re no longer feeling ill?”

Anna shakes her head in response, recalling the last few weeks of feeling ill in the morning. She had been able to hide it from Hans until this morning when he walked into the room as she was throwing up. “No, I’m fine now.”

“Good, I can’t have my pretty little lover being ill, can I?” He asks pressing a kiss to her forehead as he withdraws from her. Anna’s heart drops when he makes his way back to his desk, sitting at it. She holds her hands behind her back as she saunters over to his desk, draping herself over his shoulders as she kisses along his neck.

“Hans.” She purrs as she runs her fingers through his auburn hair. “You’ve been working all day.”

“Anna…” He warns, removing her hands from his body. “Don’t be greedy now, it’s unflattering to act like an insolent child.” The young woman withdraws from him, folding her hands in front of her and looking to the ground as if she was a child being scolded by their parent.

With a sigh Anna walks back into the sitting room, taking her place on the sofa to resume reading. She stares over her book at Hans, watching him work. She never seemed to know what he wanted from her, he only ever touched her tenderly when there were others present and only made love to her at night.

She had known that European men typically only engaged in intercourse at night in their marital beds she but had hoped for more from Hans. Anna didn’t understand what the fuss around sex; when Angelique had gotten married many of the women in Ahtohallan teased her about the number of activities she and her husband, Gabriel engaged in during the day.

Since their first night together Hans was gentle in bed, Anna didn’t mind giving herself to him it was her duty to him as his country wife; it didn’t inconvenience her in any way. She knew it was necessary for a successful partnership to thrive.

Anna closes her eyes as she feels herself become nauseated for what seemed to be the 100th time that day. Letting out slow breathes to control the uncomfortable feeling building in the stomach.

“Anna, do you mind keeping it down?” Hans calls from the study as he briefly glimpses at the young woman. Anna nods, standing from the couch.

“I’m going to have a laydown.” She carries the fairy tale book with her out of the room, walking into the foyers encountering Hilde. “Oh, Hilde. Can you bring some peppermint tea to me and Mr. Westergaard’s room?”

“I’ll do that as soon as I find a moment.” The stern woman replies before stalking into the kitchen. Anna slowly makes her way to her room, sticking close to the walls to maintain her balance.

She closes the door behind her, placing the book on her vanity as she goes to sit on the edge of her bed. Clutching the mattress as her stomach turns, she lays down across the bed placing her hands over her belly as she controls her breathing.

Hilde enters the room without knocking, placing the tea tray on the side table next to the bed. The raven-haired woman stares at Anna, laying on the bed clearly trying to stop herself from vomiting.

“What’s the matter with you then?”

“I don’t feel well,” Anna whispers as she closes her eyes. Hilde clears her throat staring at the young woman sternly.

“I’ll send for Doctor Perkins, I can’t have ya getting the whole house sick.” Anna nods at the older woman’s statement, not being able to bare this any longer, she wouldn’t be able to hide this from Hans for much longer. Hilde leaves the room without another word, slamming the door behind her.

She excepts Hans to come to check on her, but he never does. Unsure if Hilde would have bothered to actually tell him about her condition; the older Scottish woman clearly despised her and felt her presence was a burden to everyone in the house.

Sitting up as she hears a knock echo throughout her room, Anna was starting to feel slightly better from her bought of nausea.

“Come in.” She calls. The door opens to reveal Hilde and a shorter grey-haired man who enters the room.

“Mistress Anna?” The man asks, peering at the girl over his round-rimmed glasses. “I’m Doctor Perkins, I’ll be examining you this evening.”

Anna nods, looking at the maid before her. “Hilde you can go.” The older woman nods, closing the door behind her as she leaves.

“Now, what seems to be the problem.” Doctor Perkins asks, placing his medical bag on her vanity.

“I’ve been experiencing illness in the mornings for nearly 2 months now, just recently I’ve been nauseous throughout the day,” Anna states, fiddling with the end of the woollen blanket under her.

“Have you noticed any changes in your weight?” He turns to her, raising an eyebrow at the young girl. She stares at him, shocked by his blunt question regarding her weight.

“I mean…a little bit,” Anna admits. “I mean it must be because I’m not used to Hilde’s cooking.”

“Well if you were truly ill, it would be more constant. Mistress Anna, may I ask a very personal question?” He closes his bag, causing her to furrow her brows.

“S-sure.” She stutters, afraid of what he was going to ask of her.

“When was the last time you had your monthly?” The balding man asks. Anna looks to the ceiling; he was right it was a rather personal question. She begins to think back for these last few months, trying to think about the last time she had bled.

“I think it was in…October. But I’ve been very overwhelmed with my relocation here and adjusting to this new life.”

“Mistress Anna, I have good reason to believe that you are carrying Mr. Westergaard’s child.” Anna’s ears ring as he tells her the news; she hadn’t even thought to take precautions against pregnancy. Sniffling she looks down at the skirt of her dress.

“T-thank for telling me. Are we done?”

“We are. Good day Mistress Anna.” The older man regards the young woman for a moment before leaving the room without another word.

A baby. Their baby. Placing a hand over her lower abdomen Anna smiles, tears welling up in her eyes as she processes the news.

She had always assumed they would have children later; in her experience, it often took months for women to conceive. It was nearly a year into Angelique and Gabriel’s marriage when Kristoff’s sister finally fell pregnant.

Anna stands from the bed, racing over to the mirror next to her armoire; smoothing the cotton of her dress over her body trying to see if there might be any noticeable difference in her body, but there wasn’t. She runs her hands over her abdomen, nonetheless, knowing she was carrying her child.

“Taanishi.” She greets her baby as she stares down at herself. Anna bites her lip as she giggles, tears rolling down her cheeks. Meandering back towards the bed she sits back on the edge, wiping her tears away as she composes herself.

She’s excited to write to her mother about the news, hoping she might be able to return to Ahtohallan for the birth. Knowing it was pointless to write Elsa, for the last five months all of Anna’s letters to her sister went unanswered. But her mother would write back quickly, especially regarding the news of Iduna’s impending grandchild.

With a deep breath, she manages to compose her emotions but decides to tell Hans after dinner and when he was done work. He was overwhelmed as it was with the independent fur trader who was disrupting the company’s operation.

She props her pillow up against the headboard, swinging her feet onto the bed Anna lays down on the bed. Resting her hands against her abdomen again, Anna begins to hum softly as her thumb brushes against the fabric of her dress.

Hilde knocks on the door when it comes time for dinner, yelling through the door at the young woman. Anna can’t bring herself to care about the way Hilde spoke to her, she was so happy at the moment.

She manages to keep the news to herself throughout dinner, it was easy between trying to eat Hilde’s chewy beef stew and Hans muttering about work. After dinner Hans suggests the two of them retire to the sitting room, she readily agrees to at her lover’s suggestion.

Anna sits on the sofa staring at Hans as he peruses his library, trying to decide what he would read for the evening. The sewing on her lap discarded as she ponders how she would tell him about the baby.

“Why did Hilde call on Doctor Perkins today?” He inquires as he picks out a book, flipping through the pages of the book. Anna watches him carefully as he comes to sit in the armchair across from her. Hans places the book on his lap, staring thoughtfully at his young country wife.

“I wasn’t feeling well today. Hilde called Doctor Perkins to make sure I was in perfect health.”

“And? What did he have to say?” He folds his hands in front of him, crossing his legs. Anna takes a deep breath, placing her sewing beside her on the sofa.

“W-well. He said I’m in perfect health.” Her heart swells as she sees him sigh in relief at the declaration. “But he gave me the reason why I’ve been feeling unwell.”

Hans physically stiffens at this statement, cocking his head slightly as he narrows his eyes at her. “What reason is that?”

“I’m…” Anna can’t stop herself from smiling as she prepares to tell him. “Hans…I’m with child.” Hans stares at her for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Swiftly he stands, the book on his lap falling to the ground with a loud thud.

He paces towards the bookshelves and then back across the room, his hands folded behind his back. Anna’s smile disappears the longer he remains silent and paces throughout the room. She opens her mouth to say something, only for him to stop and hold a finger up towards her.

“Don’t.” He says, balling his fist in the air. “Don’t speak…how could you Anna?” his voice was quiet in nearly a whisper as Hans finally looks at her. Her stomach turns again as he stares at her broodingly.

“Well…” Anna falters before he raises his finger at her again.

“I told you not to speak.” He hisses as he takes two steps towards her. His action causes the young woman to shrink into the sofa, pressing her lips into a thin line to keep herself silent. Hans collapses in the armchair again, tapping his finger against his knee. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”

Anna remains silent, staring to the ground as she feels shame overtake her. She wasn’t sure she actually understood the severity of the situation. She didn’t understand why Hans wasn’t happy to hear about her pregnancy either.

“I thought you’d be happy.” She manages, her voice breaking still unable to make eye contact with him.

“Happy? Do you know what people will say, Anna?” He questions, his jaw setting as he scrutinizes her. Anna finally looks up at Hans, contemplating for a moment to argue with him. But when she meets his furious gaze, his emerald eyes baring into her own the young woman finds herself looking back to the ground

“I-I’m sorry.” She manages, trying her best to mask her sadness. She plays with the flounce of her skirt, her lower lip trembling unwillingly as she attempts to stop tears from falling.

“Now I have to deal with your mess.” Hans huffs, standing from the armchair to march into his study. Anna wipes her wet cheeks as she stands, leaving the connecting room swiftly for the safety of their bedroom.

Anna ascends the staircase, walking down the hall to their room. As she reaches for the knob she stops, her hand hovering over the brass. Withdrawing her hand Anna takes a step away from the mahogany door, she couldn’t go into there. Instead, the young woman enters the second bedroom on the right.

This was always Anna’s favourite room, since arriving at Hans’ home she had always referred to this room as the “blue room”. This wasn’t because the room was painted blue, the sheets were always blue but that wasn’t the reason either. The window of the room had a perfect view of the sky, it perfectly showed the various gradients of colour in the sky during the day.

Staring out the window Anna comes to sit on the far side of the bed, closest to the window. She lies down facing towards the window, her tears falling down her temple and the bridge of her nose silently.

She was devastated that Hans wasn’t pleased about the baby, but she was worried about what he’d make her do. Anna wonders if Hans might send the baby to her mother’s once it was born, she knew it happened. Of course, it wouldn’t be the worst thing for her child to be raised by her mother, the baby would grow up in Ahtohallan and be raised Metis as she was.

Anna rests her hand over her abdomen, stroking her fingers against where she assumed her child was. She could go visit the baby in Ahtohallan whenever she wanted, Hans couldn’t deny her that right.

She is unsure how long she lays in the bed, waiting for sleep to take her but it never does. Staring out into the darkness of the night as her heart breaks knowing that she may be separated from her baby.

A terrifying thought crosses her mind, the idea that Hans might give their baby away to a white family. These things were never discussed among the women, it was only rumours about how missionaries or white family members took babies from their Metis or Indian mothers and sold them to white families for the child to grow up ‘civilized’.

She didn’t want that for her child, she wanted her child to grow up knowing about the heritage Anna grew up with. Not to be educated in a boarding or missionary school in Canada East or West. She would take her child away from this place before she’d allow that to happen.

Hearing footsteps down the hallway Anna draws her knees and arms to her body, bowing her head as he curves her back when she hears someone open the blue room’s door. His sigh echoes through the room as he makes his way to the bed.

The mattress sinks as he sits on the side of the bed, causing Anna’s body to fall slightly to the middle of the bed. She flinches as Hans rests a hand on her waist, pulling her to him as he presses himself against her.

The couple remains quiet as Hans holds her. Feeling comfortable at the sudden act of affection from her partner Anna slowly uncurls herself from her form; straightening her back so her body perfectly aligned with his. Hans presses a kiss to the back of her neck.

“Come to bed.” He finally says, playing with the ends of her auburn hair. Anna sniffles nuzzling her head against the pillow. “Anna, my dear. I apologize for my words; you have to understand what people will say about you. I care about you so much; do you love me?”

Anna turns to face him, not caring about the tears still falling from the corner of her eyes. “I love you, Hans.” He smiles at her declaration, cupping her cheek and stroking his thumb against her cheekbone. “Are you still upset about the baby?”

He sighs his thumb stilling as he shakes his head in response. Anna feels as if a weight has been lifted from her chest at his answer. “You have to understand my pet my mind’s been preoccupied with this criminal. But of course, I’m happy to hear you're carrying my son.”

Anna nearly expects him to touch her belly, but he doesn’t instead his hand remains on her cheek. She smiles sweetly at him. “It could be a girl.”

Hans chuckles at this, removing his hand from her to sit on the edge of the bed. “The Westergaard’s are not known for producing girls. Come to bed.” He stands from the bed. Anna stands from the bed, taking her lover’s hand in her own as he leads them to their bedroom.

The young man closes the door behind Anna as she reaches behind her back to attempt to unbutton the back of her dress. She frees herself from the garment allowing it to fall to a pile on the floor and strips herself bare. She grabs her nightgown off the bed, shivering while she shrugs it on as the cold cotton touches her skin.

Throwing the blankets back Anna crawls into bed, the familiar sheets feeling nice against her skin as her nightgown slides up her legs as she settles. The young woman falls into her usual position her back facing away from Hans’ side of the bed while Hans extinguishes the candle on the bedside table. Her breath hitches in surprise when he pulls her body against his, his arm resting over her waist.

Hans never held her at night, always citing that he was unable to sleep touching another person as he overheats easily. “Good night Anna.” He presses a kiss to the back of her neck before steadying his breath.

“Goodnight my love.” She responds, closing her eyes as she rests her hand against her abdomen again a smile coming to her face. Anna knew she was fortunate she had a partner who loved her, and in a short nine months, they were going to have a baby.

#kristanna #kristoff bjorgman #anna of arendelle #frozen #frozen 2 #Canadian Frontier Au #Fur Trade au #fanfic

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thebattlelost · 3 years

Text

"The Best Of Times"

"Tonight's the night we'll make history, honey, you and I

And I'll take any risk to tie back the hands of time

and stay with you here tonight

I know you feel these are the worst of times

baby I know, you wouldn't have to cry

I do believe it's true

When people lock their doors and hide inside

Rumor has it it's the end of Paradise

But I know, if the world just passed us by

The best of times are when I'm alone with you

some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two

our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime

We'll take the best, forget the rest

And someday we'll find these are the best of times

These are the best of times

I do believe it's true"

Styx

Charles Dickens wrote "It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times" but to tell the truth of the

matter for me, it seemed anyways that it was nothing

more than time, a time that was filled with chaos and so much

confusion and of course cha cha changes when your

friendships, some that even went back as far preschool

and or kindergarten would start to become something

slightly different, as everyone started growing up graduated

and then started moving on to what we call the real life

becoming so called adults in a world that had a hell of

alot more questions than it did answers to give, then having

to make those decisions about college the military, starting

families making new friends or loosing old ones becoming just

a mixed up menagerie of broken and fractured memories

of our past, almost like chapters in a book that were

ending with brand new ones beginning'' in a world that

was so much different then the one we had all grown up

in, one that was harsher, colder, less caring, less God-

fearing, more hateful, and spiteful in fact it was down

right terrifying. Down here on this planet that we call

earth which is the third planet from the sun, that revolves

along its axis every twenty-four hours or what we call

a day, all the while revolving around the sun that takes

three hundred sixty five days or one year, which does

not sound all that very long at all except that when you

think about it and relizes that an average human only

lives up to seventy nine years meaning we only get that

many spins to get it right or to find the meeting of life,

or why it is we are really here. Even Einstein said its

become appallingly clear technology has surpassed

our Humanity and that is very sad, which brings us back

to the beginning of at least this prose, for my generation

was one of the last to know and truly understand what

"friendship" really means, all of those connections we made

are ones that will last a life time because we had

the time to spend and the energy to cultivate and feed

and grow, using our bicycles skateboards and playgrounds and most of all real life

communication in a language that seems to be dying

out going extinct called get this actually talking face to face,

everyday, and night, for

days, weeks, months, and years through laughter and

tears the real kind not electronically recorded sound

boards or stupid smiley or poop emoji

standing around

not making a sound staring down at a phone no, we

were bonded by laws of the sacred street light where

if you were not in by the time they came on the parent militia

would be released as you dodged the neighbors trying to

capture you giving you an ass whooping as you were trying

to find your way home each taking turns spanking your butt

with a wooden spoon or hair brush or scolding you then

when you are hand delivered to the warden, your mother

where you hear the dreaded phrase "Just wait until your father

gets home" thats when it went silent not a sound and all

your friends cringed knowing what was coming then

sneaking candy or sodas to make sure you survived

the ordeal and that my friends is love. yes real

tangible love the kind I have been searching for my

entire life trying to get back wanting to feel that once again.

Love is not just between a man and a woman or wife and husband or even boyfriend and girlfriend, it is

between those who will open their doors at three am without a

question why, those who have cried with you, laughed

when you shaved your eybrows off accidently, or when

you lost your dog or cat, fell off the swing lost your

diamond ring, called your parents Mr. and Mrs or

just plain mom and dad, all of those friends who made

the effort to actually physically either walked, rode their

bike, skateboard, or scooter all the way across town

just to say hello, and not just call, text, or have their

assistant send an email that is what love is all about,

it is sad nowadays who they call a friend for the people

you meet today may indeed call themselves friends and

they might or might not stick around for just a little

bit but there is a difference and it is all superficial at that

because if you ever needed help for any reaon or were

running from the cops and I do not mean you just killed

somebody because you would not be a good friend

dragging them in the middle of that or you just needed

someone to talk too at four am in the morning the first

ones that come into my mind are those that have already

been there with me through good and the bad, happiness

and being sad, had a bed ready and beer whenever

any and the many breakups I have had just appeared.

But enough of that I think you get the picture and if you

do not then I feel sorry for you because your probably a narcissist

who do not even know how to love themselves

or even worse, just a scourge to humanity anyways run

As fast and far as you can away from them, so in

closing I would like to say I love you to class of nineteen eighty-four

and all the others before and after who know the true meaning of

friendship and love and all the hardwork that goes into

making both work, and any and all of you who ran the

street light gauntlet trying to get to the house before

your father got home and bear the marks of a belt whopping

given by the neighbors when you ran from mom, or

playing with me in the park until dark, pitching

quarters at school, buns up at lunch, even walking

home or taking the school bus,

ditching class to

go to zuma beach, driving around smoking Marijuana,

Skiing down a hill at Mountain High first thing

in the morning, taking a hike in the hills around

White Face, putting out fires in October as the winds

tricked or treated us. All of those memories I will never forget

reminding me of a very short moment of time that God had

given me when I was so very happy I had the chance to

experience in my life because all of those friends that I

made back then are and will be my

friends until the

very end and to those friends who we have already

lost to God up in heaven just know you will never be

forgotten, so just know I have made the spin around the

sun more then half my lifespan and shall soon follow you

down the path you have taken to be your friend once again.

Rumor has it it's the end of Paradise

But I know, if the world just passed us by

The best of times are when I'm alone with you

some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two

our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime

We'll take the best, forget the rest

And someday we'll find these are the best of times

These are the best of times

I do believe it's true"

Styx

Poet Richard M Knittle Jr.

A Poet's Journey

A Texas Poet Laureate Nominee 2016 - 2022

#poets #knittle #poetry #poem #love #heart #soul #giving #quotes #poet

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 222: Reverberations

Once the fireworks ended, people began to disperse and leave for their homes for the evening. The clean up crew was already deployed and the band was packing up. Leo and Elsa were preparing to depart for a short honeymoon aboard Pegasus. They had accepted Glinda's offer to stay at one of Emerald City's luxurious resorts for a couple days and were going there soon. But not before they sat down as a family to hear about James and Aphrodite's experience in the Underworld.

"Wow...so you were actually Anchises?" Leo asked.

"I was...and before you ask, no, Eros is not related to you by blood. Zeus explained that I'm only related to David in this life as James," James replied. Leo let out a small breath of relief at that.

"And the curse on you both...it's finally broken?" Snow asked. They nodded.

"Once George placed my mother's enchanted charm in my hand, it restored my memories. Or at least my real memories of this life and how we were in love," James replied.

"The man I was...after I lost her wasn't the real me, it turns out. After George stripped me of my memories of Aphrodite, he found a way to warp my mind and mold me into what he wanted me to be," James explained.

"My memories of James were erased too, by Blue and Hera," Aphrodite added.

"It wasn't much longer after that, maybe a year at most that I was killed. But this time, Zeus decided that he was tired of seeing her be hurt and bargained with Hades to deny my revival," he explained.

"But then Athena convinced him to allow James to be revived after he met the two of you in the Underworld. She said that, as my champions, you two could indirectly bring our curse to an end," Aphrodite said. Snow and David exchanged a glance.

"I...I don't think we did that," Snow said.

"Yes you did...Blue was exposed for what she is because of you. It led to all of this," Aphrodite replied. They smiled.

"We're just glad that you've broken the curse and you'll never lose each other again," Snow gushed, as she rested her head against David's arm.

"Yeah...but how did the Horned King know about the curse? Did you ever find out?" David asked. They nodded.

"We did...it was because James is the one that banished him," Aphrodite said.

"It's how we met in this life, but you and Hermes helped me banish him," he reminded her.

"But you saved me from him, just like you saved me as Anchises and Adonis," she gushed.

"Wait...who else did he save you from?" Emma asked curiously.

"Well...as Anchises, he found me near his home after a bad encounter with Clayton's ancestor. He, with the help of Blue and Hera, tried to trick me into thinking he and his consort were true love to get the chalice," Aphrodite revealed. Snow gasped.

"So that's how he knew about the chalice…" she realized. Aphrodite nodded.

"The knowledge of exactly what the chalice is and what it could do was passed through his family. Later on, Adonis rescued me from Clayton's grandfather, who tried to force me to...be with him," she said, with a shudder.

"Yeah...then Clayton tried to do the same. He wanted her to bear his heir and planned to take her to Atlantis so he could have control of the chalice," James added.

"Oh my God…" Snow said in outrage.

"That explains his obsession with you and the Chalice...and us," David replied.

"You have no idea...he told us himself. His plan was to replace you after Snow was forced to crush your heart. His last ditch effort to have a Divine heir was Snow," James explained.

"Of course it didn't happen, nor did he factor in that you wouldn't be able to have children after Bobby," Aphrodite added.

"Bastard...please tell me he's burning in hell," David said.

"Apparently worse than that. Nyx decided that Tartarus was even too good for him. She sent him somewhere called Gehenna, which apparently only the absolute worst scourges are sent," James said.

"Trust me...Tartarus is a picnic compared to Gehenna," Aphrodite confirmed.

"Good...that's the best news I've heard in awhile," Eva agreed.

"Yeah...now if we could just get rid of Creepyl so Nyx could send him there too," Leo said.

"And we will…" David assured, as he squeezed Snow's hip and she smiled at him.

"We will...and the power rests in your family," Aphrodite said.

"How?" Snow asked.

"Now that I have all my memories...I remember how to utilize the chalice and your star gems to their full extent," Aphrodite replied.

"Then let's do it," David said and she winced.

"The problem is...he'll see it coming a mile away," Aphrodite said.

"Then we have to find a way to take him by surprise," Emma said.

"And we will," Aphrodite promised.

"I guess Clayton is about to get his wish though," Natalie mentioned.

"Hey...no, this baby will be a Charming and his son isn't getting anywhere near him or her," David assured her.

"He's right…" James confirmed, as he looked at his father.

"Did you know about her? Did you walk out on her too?" he asked, a bit sternly.

"He didn't know," Natalie confirmed.

"I didn't...and I wouldn't have walked out if I did. I regretted that with David, as much as I regretted having to give you up," Xander answered. James seemed to accept that answer with less resistance than David did and for the moment, any other questions were quelled for the evening, for the hour grew late.

With that, they saw Leo and Elsa off and everyone else dispersed for the evening after a lovely celebration, despite the brief, rude and unwelcome interruption.

~*~

Jekyll stormed into his lab, with his partners in crime trailing behind him.

"I was so close…" he growled, as he angrily tossed one of the lab tables against the wall, shattering the contents and sending debris everywhere.

"Yes...that backfired quickly," Grimm agreed.

"It's those brats, as usual," Drizella said.

"Particularly the young one, it seems. He did have a significant hand in defeating Seth, after all," Grimm replied.

"What is your point!?" Jekyll snapped.

"My point is...those magical children will always block our path to victory," Grimm said.

"They will block my path to gaining the authorship and they will block hers to the Prince, just as they will block yours to Snow White," he continued.

"This device you created to keep him from touching her was ingenious, but the boy will always circumvent it," Grimm said.

"I still fail to see what your obvious statements contribute toward our success," Jekyll growled.

"I thought it was obvious...we have to isolate Snow and Charming from anyone else that can help them. Then you must be able to overcome the power of their chalice," Grimm reiterated.

"Neither of those is an easy task...but perhaps not impossible," Jekyll mused.

"What...what is this on my arm?" Drizella asked, as she noticed there was a large patch of grayed skin.

"I told you there may be side effects from the injection...it's probably wearing off," Jekyll replied.

"But I need magic if I'm to be the new Evil Queen! Can't you improve the serum?!" she demanded to know.

"I will make some adjustments, but none of this does us any good if we cannot thwart our enemies more completely," Jekyll said.

"Then we have work to do," Grimm replied.

~*~

He was trying not to, but he knew he was brooding again. He stood out on the balcony in the cool night air, only in his sleep pants. Snow was getting changed out of her dress and ready for bed, while he attempted to quell his feelings of anger and failure over Jekyll's latest strike and near victory again. He loved their children and was constantly in awe of their power. But he didn't want them fighting these battles for him. He wanted to take on and defeat Jekyll himself, once and for all. But with his demonic powers combined with his scientific ability to invent seemingly anything, he knew the odds were stacked against him. The image of that monster's hands on his beautiful Snow was seared into his brain and he seethed with barely restrained rage. He felt it start to ebb away though, as he felt her presence behind him. It was their mystical connection and irrevocable love that kept him grounded. She could banish his anger in an instant and the heat of her body behind him beckoned. He turned to her, finding her in a slinky white negligee and emerald eyes that pierced through him. Her eyes spoke to him and he cupped her face in his hands. Whatever fear remained in her slowly ebbed away in that moment at his touch. Their lips met in a smoldering kiss and her arms went around his neck. When their lips finally parted, they were breathless and gasping in ragged impassioned breaths. Her knees nearly gave out, as he kissed her throat and she pressed herself flush against him.

"I need you…" she pleaded.

"I need your hands on me," she begged. Jekyll had starved her of his touch for only moments, but it felt like a lifetime. Perhaps because he had meant to make it a lifetime. They needed each other like air and he had found a way to keep them from the simple act of touching one another, not to mention holding or kissing and it nearly broke them. Just the thought of not feeling his hands on her or his lips pressing against hers was enough to drive her mad and him as well. Never one to deny her anything, he swept her into his arms like she weighed nothing and carried her the short distance to their bed with purpose. David kissed her deeply and pinned her beneath his hard body.

"Charming…" she whimpered, as her body writhed beneath him and ached to be touched. She clawed at his waistband and managed to push his pants down his legs.

~*~

Their lips crashed together again and she moaned, as he gripped her thighs and parted them. She raised her arms and arched toward him, as he pushed her negligee over her head. She mewled, as his hands slid up her sides and to her breasts, cupping her firmly and his lips trailed down her neck.

"Charming…" she cried out again, as he raised up and sat back on his haunches. He pulled her up, straddling her in his lap, as he slid her onto his thick, pulsing cock. She hooked her arms around his neck and he began to pump in and out of her at a rapid pace. He rode her hard, taking her to a place of pure ecstasy, as they made love. As he took her, she hummed in pleasure and she slid her hands into his hair, gently running her fingers through it. They stared into each other's eyes and their shared heart pounded in sync. No words were spoken, but their eyes and heart spoke volumes. For them, this went far beyond physical and always had. They had always been so in tune with each other; a love that had always been on another level than most. Being one in heart and mind already made their connection awe-inspiring. So when they became one in body too, it was nothing short of purely magical and almost ethereal.

He shifted their positions and gently lay her on her back, as his pace became slow and languid, as he now glided deeply into her with each thrust. She lay writhing beneath his undulating body, legs splayed around him. With every thrust, he hit her sweet spot and slowly pushed her to the edge. As she neared her climax, her mewls grew in volume and she raked her nails along his naked back, as her entire body trembled beneath him. He had her right at the edge and her cries became whimpers, as her body begged to come. She was beside herself, her mind clouded in the ecstasy that was him taking her. His slow lovemaking was expertly extending her pleasure in a way only he could do for her. If there was one thing Charming was an absolute expert in, it was all things Snow. They could make love and fuck each other for eternity and it would never be enough for either of them. And she was determined to have him for eternity, despite another looming threat from Jekyll and many other adversaries. He watched her come apart and marveled at the sight. Snow...beautiful Snow, emerald eyes dark with love and lust for him, only for him. Red lips parted, as short pants of air were inhaled and exhaled. Her body writhing and glistening with perspiration, her back arching and her aching for his touch. Her round, full breasts bobbing between them and the moan she made when he put his hands or lips on them was one he wanted to hear forever. The feeling of thrusting inside her was pure heaven and he'd never tire of making love to her. When he was inside her like this, he could hardly form coherent thought and he liked it that way. He liked that it was him that made her dripping wet and cry out wantonly. Gliding into her slickness with slow pumps and feeling her tightness clenching around his cock, quivering and begging for release, was a feeling he wanted to feel for forever.

"Baby…" she whimpered, as she writhed and bucked in the wake of a powerful climax; one that only he could give her. He was close to his own and increased his pace, as the whole bed rocked with them.

"Snow…" he cried out, as he finally came inside her and they trembled together in the wake of their purely magical coupling. He collapsed beside her finally and they cuddled together, as their ragged breathing slowly returned to normal.

"We'll beat him, Snow...because he is never taking you from me. I'll find a way," he promised, as he kissed her forehead.

"I know...I have never doubted you, nor will I. You're the hero in my story, my love...my hero," she gushed, as he kissed her tenderly and they finally drifted off to sleep, thoroughly entwined together...

~*~

Three Days Later

"And Good Morning United Realms!" Le Fou announced, as the morning news show began once again.

"Welcome fellow United Realmers on our first day back from hiatus," Goldilocks said.

"As usual, there's no shortage of news. Just days ago, Prince Leo married Queen Elsa of Arendelle in the celebration of the year," Le Fou reported.

"But since this is Storybrooke we're talking about, it didn't quite go off without a hitch. After the happy couple exchanged nuptials, their reception was interrupted by a dastardly trio," Goldilocks said dramatically.

"Yes...Drizella Tremaine declared herself as the new Evil Queen, a mysterious man named Grimm seemed to issue a challenge to our favorite author, and once again the raging psychopath, Dr. Jekyll made another play for the fair and beautiful Snow White," Le Fou said.

"Yes...and this time, the United Realms' embattled pair had to be saved by their youngest son,"

"They are insufferable...seriously how do they still have jobs?" Paul asked, as he finally turned off the television, while Eva poured coffee into their travel mugs.

"Well...they're mildly entertaining I suppose, though I wish they would find things other than my parents to gossip about," Eva replied.

"Yeah, they definitely need to stop calling them news," he countered and she chuckled.

"Yeah...news, they definitely fail at that. But you know that gossip sells far better than news," Eva said, as she handed him his mug and kissed his cheek. He smiled and pecked her on the lips. Today, they were not headed to the hospital right away, but rather to her parents castle for a meeting. In the infamous war room.

It had been a very long time since her parents had called an actual formal council meeting at the table in the war room and never yet in her lifetime. But with the worldwide undertaking they were about to embark on with the Major, they had decided to convene it to discuss the operations they were about to embark on.

"Are you ready?" he asked. She nodded and they joined hands, before leaving their loft for the day.

~*~

Snow giggled, as they cuddled in bed together that morning.

"We really have to get up," she cooed, as he kissed her neck and his hands roamed in the wake of a bout of morning lovemaking.

"Remind me why we scheduled this thing so early?" he asked.

"We didn't baby...we scheduled it for eleven and it's almost ten," she reminded him.

"Really?" he asked. They had been awake for hours, but very busy since.

"Yes," she replied.

"Well, you know what they say...time flies when you're having fun," he said and she giggled, as he kissed her again.

"These last three days have been amazing," Snow said, as he spooned her against him.

"Mmm...yeah, but definitely not long enough," he replied, as he kissed her again.

Since Leo's wedding, they fortunately heard nothing from the wedding crashers and their most nefarious adversary. Instead, they had been allowed three blissful days to spend with each other and their family.

They had family picnics with their kids and grandkids, complete with horseback riding and campfires. They had taken romantic walks on the beach, family dinners at Granny's, and then the last day, they had spent alone together. And they hadn't left their bedroom much on that day.

"We should have pushed this back another day," he murmured against her skin.

"You know we can't...not if we want to take the first two cabal members down," she reminded him.

"Well…Italy is supposed to be romantic so I guess there's that," he agreed, as he slipped out of bed.

"Care to join me in the shower?" he asked, with a sly look.

"Oh, that is an offer I'd never refuse," she replied, as she took his hand and they hurried off to the bathroom.

~*~

Mephisto arrived in Milan and made his way into the luxury hotel where that evening's event was set to take place.

"So...you're here," a man said, as he met him in the lobby with a woman.

"Mr. Landers, I presume?" Mephisto asked.

"Yes Stefan Landers...and this is Ms. Erin Mercer," he replied.

"Perhaps we can go somewhere a little less public," Mephisto suggested. Stefan nodded and led them to the freight elevator, which descended below the hotel.

When they arrived, several levels below ground, the elevator door opened and he observed young women in cages, as well as empty cages ready to snatch unsuspecting young women from the modeling pool.

"So...this is your operation," Mephisto observed.

"Yes...and from what we've been told, you believe that they are coming for us," Erin said. Mephisto smirked.

"Oh, I'm certain of it," Mephisto replied.

"They will come tonight...and we will be ready for them," he added.

"And these two...they will give us the power you said?" they asked. He smirked.

"With these two...we'll have a first class golden ticket to the United Realms and all its power and treasure," he promised...

~*~

It had been a long time since they had held a meeting in the war room and the last time they did, many of the people in this room hadn't been born yet and the one person they used to combat was now one of their best friends and confidantes. How times had changed and evolved, only to come full circle to this moment.

The last time he had led a war room meeting, he had been dressed in his formal royal clothing or battle wear. But today, he wore a simple button down shirt and jeans, common clothing of this realm. But the casual clothing did not mean this was just a casual meeting. They were about to embark on a series of missions outside the comfort of the United Realms borders and taking on some very dangerous people that wouldn't bat an eye at slitting one of their throats. But they would be potentially saving many by taking down this network of corrupted people that purportedly were the people that really ran the world. So, as they always did, Snow and David would begin this new undertaking, despite the looming threat of Jekyll, who they still had to neutralize once and for all.

"Thank you to everyone for coming," David said, as he began the meeting.

"As you know, Snow and I are about to embark on a series of missions with the Major, outside our borders, to dismantle an evil underground network that poses a threat to us and potentially the entire world," David began, as he looked at her. She nodded.

"We've decided that the best way to approach each mission is to assemble a small team to go with us and rotate the team members for each mission," Snow said.

"For this mission, we're going to Italy and attending a high end fashion show. Supposedly, our first two targets are there and they reportedly run a very large global trafficking ring there," David added.

"David is right...and once we take down these two, it will put the others on alert. I will be honest, these missions will be dangerous, each one more so," the Major said.

"And we're supposed to be okay with you putting our parents in the line of fire to fight your battles?" Emma interjected.

"Yeah...I have to agree with Emma. Give me one good reason that we shouldn't wall off the United Realms and let your world deal with its own problems," Regina said.

"Ninety-eight percent of the population doesn't even know these people exist or that their lives are controlled by them," Patricia said.

"The same ninety-eight percent that doesn't believe in magic," Leo chimed in.

"True...but that doesn't mean they don't deserve saving," Patricia countered.

"She's right," Snow agreed.

"Mom...we love you and we love that you and Dad always want to help everyone, but this is so risky," Emma said.

"We know honey, but you know we can't turn our backs on this. Clayton is gone, but this network that he helped create is still doing his evil bidding," Snow replied.

"She's right...we need to take them out, because we know that there is no guarantee that even a barrier will keep these people out of the United Realms forever," David added. Emma sighed, but didn't argue that, because she knew he was right.

"Okay...well since you two are a walking target for mayhem, I volunteer for this first mission," Regina offered.

"We're not…" David started to say.

"Yes you are," all five of his children echoed before he could finish. He rolled his eyes and Snow smiled with a wince.

"We kind of are," she said.

"Fine," he relented.

"Elsa and I are going too," Leo announced.

"You two are still on your honeymoon," David protested. He shrugged.

"And Italy sounds like a great place for an extended honeymoon," he said, as they shared a smile.

"Besides...I think we may enjoy the danger and adventure just as much as the two of you," Elsa replied, as she and Snow smiled at each other.

"Okay, with the Major, that's a team of six," David said.

"You and Mom are going to hate it, but I probably should go on every mission with you," Bobby chimed in.

"You're right...I hate that," Snow said.

"Mom...my magic was the only one that defeated Jekyll's stupid crazy bastard sciencey invention," he reminded her.

"Language," she scolded and he sighed.

"The point is...you're probably going to run into Mephisto out there. You need me if you do," he said. David sighed.

"He's not wrong," he muttered and Snow huffed in annoyance.

"Don't worry Mom...he's got a lot of other magic surrounding him. You know Aunt Regina would blast the crap out of anyone that comes near him," Leo said.

"He's not wrong either," Rumple agreed.

"Fine...then I guess we have our team of seven. That's a good number," Snow said. David nodded in agreement.

"Then we should pack and leave soon," David said.

"How are we getting there? Using a bean isn't a great idea. We'll just freak out a bunch of people and Milan isn't exactly a harbor city," Leo mentioned.

"He's right, though I loathe the idea of a commercial airline and all the staring," Regina said.

"Can we even get on a commercial airline?" Bobby asked.

"There is too much red tape for that, not to mention that none of you have passports and the United States government doesn't even consider any of you citizens," Patricia said.

"That sounds like it could be trouble...especially since you've been fired," David replied.

"It may be...but you do have protections on the borders watching for a breach, right?" she asked.

"My men regularly patrol the outside borders," Fandral chimed in.

"Now that I'm back, I'll be reinforcing our magical protections," Aphrodite said.

"Aye...and if any unrecognized ships enter the Harbor, they'll call me immediately," Killan added.

"Then we shouldn't have anything to worry about for now. If they thought they could invade without it being a bloodbath, they would have done it already. But they have seen what magic can do," Patricia replied.

"So no Jolly Roger or plane. It has to be a portal, but how do we do that without freaking people out?" Leo asked.

"There is plenty of countryside just outside the city. You'd be fairly safe portalling there. I can give you coordinates if you can will the chalice to open in a specific location," Natalie replied. Snow nodded.

"We usually have no trouble willing the Chalice to do what we need," she said.

"Then it's settled. The team leaving Milan needs to meet back here in an hour," David replied. They nodded and dispersed, as Aphrodite approached them.

"Is it true that Blue is locked up?" she asked. Snow nodded.

"Fandral was able to capture her," she replied.

"Yes...she was foolish enough to come after Rose to try and keep her from reading your real story," Fandral said. Rose nodded and presented a book to her.

"You mean...it was in your library all along?" Aphrodite asked. Rose nodded.

"Yes...but it was cloaked and only appeared after you left. Aesop informed us that he was commissioned by Zeus to record the real thing and then it was hidden in our library by Hermes," Rose replied.

"When you left to learn the truth, it appeared," Fandral added.

"I'm sure Athena is responsible for that," James deduced, as the blonde leafed through the book.

"It's all here…" she said gratefully, as he put his arm around her waist.

"And Blue is where she belongs. She'll remain there until her Royal Tribunal that will decide her ultimate fate," David replied. James looked at his twin brother with scrutiny.

"You're really going to try her?" he asked. David nodded.

"But Royal Tribunal usually has one outcome. The death penalty," James reminded him.

"We know...and it's not something we will likely ever be comfortable with, but Blue's crimes are too devastating. She is too dangerous and a threat to the safety of everyone, as well as the sovereignty of every Kingdom," Snow said.

"She's right...she's more than earned this fate and if found guilty, then she'll be executed," David replied.

"We will never regret showing mercy, even to our enemies, but we've learned that not all of them deserve it. She's one that doesn't, especially since she has been trying to destroy true love for so long," Snow added.

"Between James and myself, as well as Zorro, I'd say we'll be able to keep an eye on things around here," Fandral said. David nodded.

"Yeah...we'll be on psychopath watch with Dr. Creepyl, but I think we should find out more about this Grimm guy," James said.

"Oh Fandral and I can talk to Aesop. He started to tell us a bit, but seemed reluctant to talk about his past," Rose replied.

"Perhaps in light of these recent events, he'll be more willing to tell us what he knows," Fandral said.

"Then I guess everyone has their assignments. Once this mission is over and we locate the next, we'll rotate a new team in," David replied, as they dispersed. Snow slid her arms around his waist and he kissed her tenderly.

"You were amazing, as usual," she gushed.

"If I am...it's only because of you, my darling. I...I just wish we had a clear, concise plan to take out Jekyll," he said.

"And we will...I'm fine," she assured him.

"I know...it just haunts me at how close he came this time. I couldn't touch you...it was torture. He knew it would be," David said.

"He's sick and evil...he gets off on tormenting me and pursuing you. He's the one evil we can't seem to shake," he added.

"But we will...there is nothing our love cannot overcome. He caught us off guard at the wedding, but there is no doubt in my mind that we would have found a way to defeat his device, even if Bobby hadn't intervened," Snow said, as she caressed his cheek.

"Have faith...our love has never let us down," she added. He smiled and kissed her again.

"You're right...it never has and it never will," he said, with renewed confidence.

"Now...let's pack. We may be going on a mission, but this is Italy and the prospect of going to such a romantic city with my husband is exciting," she replied. He joined hands with her and they returned to their room to pack.

~*~

The black sport utility vehicle drove along the winding roads of Maine and General Mendoza sat in the back, looking over the Nolan files he had seized from Major Donovan's office. He was in complete control of her operation now and had everything, except an item for entrance into the United Realms. But that wasn't going to stop him from exploring the rumored location of this mystical place.

He thumbed through David Nolan's file with great interest. He found it very intriguing how he had been found on a rural Maine road, bleeding from his side, with an infant in his arms. He had then spent ten years in a coma, only to awaken upon his daughter finding her way to him. She had only done so after having run away from a group home and he wondered how she had even obtained his location or even knew about him in the first place.

Even more interesting was Xander Nolan and his shadowy presence in this world for nearly as long as his son's. As an operative to the Collector, Xander had moved around the world in the shadows, doing the Collector's bidding, and evading law enforcement with ease. He had little on him, but that wasn't surprising. Clayton was a part of the Underground cabal that his own family was a part of, even if he ended up screwing them all over in the end.

In 1993, David Nolan awakened and disappeared into thin air with his daughter and only re-emerged more than thirty-years later in Seattle, not having aged a day. With him, his wife and five children came with him. Then after the supernatural events in Seattle, they disappeared again until two years ago when they popped up in Boston again. Major Donovan had a detailed explanation of everything, but he was still having trouble wrapping his head around such fantastical stuff, even after they saw it during the battle only weeks ago. He knew about his ancestor's travels and quests, but he had never put much stock in the more fringe nature of the story. Now he was realizing that it was all true. Traveling to far off realms, lost worlds, mystical warriors like the Dragon King and his betrayal of him...it was all true and thus he had a duty to continue his family's mission.

"Stop the car," he said, as his driver obeyed and he got out. These were the coordinates, but all he could see was woods. But that would not remain for long. He was determined to find a way in and for that, he made a deal with the Devil. He only hoped he came through soon. With that, he got back into the car and instructed his driver to take them to the nearest town. He was a patient man and he would find a way in.

~*~

On the other side of the invisible barrier, Zorro watched the man, as he looked around with scrutiny. He didn't know who this man was, but he clearly was clued in on their location, that was obvious.

"Keep patrolling. I'll be doubling our men," Zorro said, as he mounted his horse.

"I must inform Fandral of this development," he said, as he headed for Andresia.

~*~

Agent Green winced, as she finished getting dressed. Her stay in the hospital was thankfully at an end and she looked at the young doctor, who was writing on her chart

"You've healed nicely, but I have to insist you take it easy for a few days," Eva said, as she watched the agent look at her phone.

"Well, if I stick with Major Donovan, I won't have a job anyway," she replied.

"Then you know about her being fired," Eva said.

"Yeah...agent Harding texted me and gave me the rundown," Tessa replied.

"What do you plan to do?" Eva asked.

"Relax…I'm not going to work against your parents or anything. Agent Harding is going to need help on the inside of this thing," Tessa said.

"I thought you hated us and this whole thing," Eva replied.

"I do...but you did save me and I do not like the idea that I've been working for such corrupted people," she said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Eva replied.

"Did...did you happen to recover Agent Brooks' body?" Tessa asked.

"Yes...he's at the morgue and we were waiting to ask you if he had family," Eva replied.

"No…I'm afraid not. It was just him and he has no wife or kids. His parents are also dead," Tessa said, with a sigh.

"As his partner, I guess it's up to me," she added.

"We'll help you do whatever you need," Eva replied.

"If you can tell them to cremate him...then I can scatter his ashes in the ocean. He...he would have liked that," she replied. Eva nodded.

"I'll tell Doc and he'll take care of everything," she said.

"Doc?" Tessa asked.

"He's our medical examiner and Bashful is our forensic analyst," Eva replied. Tessa shook her head.

"This place is wild," she commented. Eva smiled.

"It can be," she agreed.

"Anyway...thank you for saving me," Tessa said. Eva smiled again.

"Paul and I can take you to Granny's to get a room for the night and then we'll help you find your way back to Boston after Agent Brooks' remains are taken care of," Eva said. Tessa nodded and followed her out.

~*~

The sparkling orange portal opened in the Italian countryside and the seven of them stepped through. Thankfully, there was no one around and Regina poofed a sport utility vehicle into existence for them to use.

"It will be a tight squeeze, but it will get us there," Regina said. Snow looked at her husband and he smirked.

"Or we could follow you in something else," he said, as the chalice glowed between them and materialized a motorcycle.

"Fine, ride the death trap," Regina commented.

"Relax...it's enchanted. We'll be fine," David said, as they willed the chalice into their rings to conceal it. They put helmets on, while David got on the bike and Snow got on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. The others got into the car and they headed for the city.

~*~

James put the car in park and looked over at his wife. After spending the morning with their babies, they had dropped them off with Granny for an hour to come to the prison.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Yes...and I can't wait for her tribunal. I want to see her behind bars," Aphrodite replied. He sighed.

"Okay...then we'll go," he said, as they got out and joined hands. They were allowed entrance and they took the elevator to the top level. Sneers and calls from some of the worst, high level criminals were ignored, as they made their way to the end and peered into the cell.

"Well, well...you're back from your little adventure," Blue said. She looked horrible. Her hair was matted and her makeup, what was left of it, was smudged. Apparently, she wasn't using the time allotted to her to clean up or even try to maintain her appearance.

"Yes...we are and your failure is complete, because we have broken the curse you placed on us," James hissed. She began to slow clap dramatically.

"Oh congratulations...now you get to live happily ever after with your bimbo and your brats," she growled. James advanced on her cell and wrapped his hand around her neck.

"And you...you'll face justice in your royal tribunal. The Goddess Nyx will then be waiting for you and has promised you a very unpleasant afterlife," he growled back. Aphrodite put her hand on his arm and he calmed down, releasing her and stepping back.

"And still...my only regret is that I didn't succeed in destroying her," Blue said, looking to Aphrodite with pure hatred in her eyes.

"I never did anything to you...except be born. Was the power of the Chalice so important to you that it warrants this hatred of me?" Aphrodite asked. Blue rolled her eyes.

"It was never really about you. Power is everything and when Rhea created the Chalice she gifted to your mother, I knew that it was the key to ruling all the realms. I also knew how foolish it would be to place it in mortal hands. That's why Hera and I knew we had to rid ourselves of your idiotic mother," Blue replied. Aphrodite glared at her.

"Once Hera married Zeus...it was supposed to be her Chalice. We would have still had to place it in mortal hands, but that's why we chose Clayton's bloodline. We knew their ambitious quest for power and control would serve us well," she continued.

"Imagine...all the realms under his control and thus ours. It would have been an ordered world," she said.

"You mean an enslaved world, void of hope and love," Aphrodite corrected. Blue snorted.

"Love...it causes only pain. Look at his brother and Snow White. They may have a blissful true love, but look at all the problems that come with it," she said.

"Love is worth any of the strife or problems," Aphrodite refuted. James smirked.

"Yeah...because love always wins. That's why you're there and we're here. And that's why anyone that tries to defeat love is either already dead or will meet that same fate as the Clayton family you seem to champion," James said smugly.

"Yeah...you definitely backed the wrong family," Aphrodite agreed, as they joined hands.

"Enjoy hell, you blue flea," she said, as they walked away, satisfied that the woman that had cursed them and caused so much pain was imprisoned. They had all their memories and their family was whole again, because love would always win out in the end.

~*~

Once they arrived at the hotel where the event was taking place, they arrived in their suite and proceeded to get ready for the evening. David wore a tux again and was stunned when his wife emerged dressed in a gorgeous white evening gown. It shimmered in the light and the bodice hugged her curves perfectly. The straps were very thin and the collar dipped in a low v. The dress was long, but had two daring slits up the sides and she sauntered toward him.

"Wow…" he said, as she slipped her arms around his neck.

"Wow yourself, handsome," she purred, as she kissed him passionately.

"Are you ready?" he asked. She nodded.

"I know we have no idea what we might be walking into, but I do know that we're going to face it together and eliminate two really bad people," she replied. He nodded.

"Together," he agreed, as they shared another kiss. He offered his arm to her and she hooked her hand on his elbow, as they stepped out of their room and prepared to embark on the mission ahead...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #original season 9 storyline #Fandral the Dashing #Rose Red #Dashing Rose #Prince James #Aphrodite #Prince Goddess #Regina Mills #romance #adventure #drama #family #finding you always #the epic continues

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whoareyouandwhyshouldicare · 5 years

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To all my fellow LoVe shippers who are feeling down I have one thing to say.

I can’t make the last 8 minute of season 4 disappear but I can recommend some really great LoVe fanfiction that will make you feel at least a little bit better. So without further ado here are a few of my favorite LoVe fics!

A Hard Habit to Break by mskatej Nothing gets Veronica over her failed relationships better than Logan Echolls.

...And Long For You by AbsolutelyIris It was moments like those Veronica wished she could be like Lilly- storm into his house and curse and yell and damn him to hell before demanding he fuck her...and like with Lilly, he would gladly, if reluctantly, do so.

“Any Love Is Good Love, Baby” by wily_one24 Apparently, Hollywood was wrong, the devil did not wear Prada, the devil wore butch black boots and tiny little skirts.

The Best (and Only) Kept Secret in Neptune by vixleonard Even when they hated each other, Logan and Veronica just couldn't stay away from each other.

The Burdened Vessel by vixleonard Veronica needs a favor only Logan can help her with.

Every Belt That Ever Hit Someone (Is Still Made to Hold Something Up) by igrockspock Logan doesn't get any votes for Most Changed at the ten-year reunion, which is bullshit when you think about it. In the past ten years, everything in his life has changed. He's joined the Navy, dated a pop star, and figured out that Dick Casablancas can occasionally behave like a real human being. Only one thing hasn't changed: he's still in love with Veronica Mars. Oh, and he's suspected of murdering his girlfriend.

"Fear and Loathing in Neptune" by wily_one24 Veronica Mars was going to get herself laid. Series Part 1 of Any Love

A Fine and Endless Cycle by kartography A freshman year at Hearst and the cyclical nature of love

Fireworks by AliLamba Veronica is technically not a virgin, and awkward results ensue. An AU version of LoVe's first time.

For the Sake of a Friend by jacedesbff What if Logan and Veronica were involved in a secret relationship throughout the events of Season 1?

The Game of Trust by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra) This time Veronica really did trust him, and she knew how to prove it...

Getcha, Getcha, Getcha, Getcha by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra) Veronica and Logan prank each other. Really, it's shameless the way they flirt...

Give Me The Ocean by scandalpants Post Season 3 AU. Veronica decides what she really wants. Spoiler: it's not Piz.

Home Is Where The Heart Is by: lv63 AU preseries and forward, begins in season 1. this story is all about veronica and her friends. angst, mystery, humor and romance, LoVe and MaDi. summary in prologue.

I Hate You Because by: SilverLining2k6 Mid 1X3 - Meet John Smith. Logan, Veronica, a pool, snark, and a made up drinking game.

i knew you were trouble when you walked in by youcallitwinter And, it's just— Logan had always been her intense high-school romance, sure. But she had, somewhere along the way, in some secret corner of her mind, convinced herself that was all he was; a high-school romance. Explosive, powerful, passionate, and bound to burn itself out eventually

(Im)Perfection by AbsolutelyIris The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing.

In a World by: my shangri-la A/U! Exploring the 'what ifs' that could have happened if Lilly Kane hadn't been murdered, and her secrets – and others – had come out anyway. Pairings: Lilly/Logan, past Duncan/Veronica, eventual Logan/Veronica. (Story begins with Lilly as a senior, the rest are juniors.)

In the kind of world where we belong by Anonymous There was always something missing. A Lilly Kane sized hole in both their hearts. Instead of going to see Aaron Echolls on October 3rd Lilly decides to comfort a friend and their lives change forever.A very smutty OT3 take on what might have happened if Lilly had lived.

Kid Things by sowell 5 years after graduation, Logan comes back to Neptune to ask Veronica for help.

King of Mars by: HGRising AU. In which everyone has a story to tell but not everyone gets the chance. And, things make more sense from a different perspective. Ever wonder why Veronica Mars was Lilly Kane's best friend? There's redemption for some and condemnation for others when the secrets come out. And everyone's got a good one.

Landmine by AbsolutelyIris It needed to be forgotten, and quick.

The Long Way Home by AbsolutelyIris "We should take the long way home."

Matching Pink Bikinis by Anonymous Veronica and Lilly wear matching pink bikinis to Logan's for a pool day. This is pure threesome smut, folks.

Pink Lemonade (Logan/Veronica/Lilly) On a trip to Honolulu, Lilly manages to bring Veronica out of her pink, frosty shell. Spoilers/Warnings: This is a threesome fic and therefore includes some femslash.

Playing Hide and Seek With the Truth by: jenwin23 Continuation of the Truth series. The kids go back to school. Old issues remain while more secrets will be revealed, relationships will change and lives will crumble.

The Real Thing by: Josielynn AU. Logan and Lilly are off again/on again. Duncan is dating Meg. Veronica was never friends with Lilly. Logan sees Veronica in her soccer uniform and wants to date her.

Scotch on the Rocks (A FanFic Tribute) by kmd0107 A long time ago...there was an incredibly hot LoVeLy trilogy fic (Pink Lemonade & Sex on the Beach) started over on Live Journal that never got its third part. This is a tribute to what that might have been. Logan POV of the evolving sexual and emotional relationship between himself, Veronica, and Lilly.

Scourging Fire, Blazing Soul by Nerdyesque What if Veronica didn't grow up with the 09ers, but came into their lives prior to Lilly's death? How would her presence affect Duncan, Lilly, Logan, the Kanes, and the Echolls? Also, who is Veronica without Keith Mars' loving protection?

Sex on the Beach (Logan/Veronica/Lilly) NC-17 Lilly's chapter in my Drinks Series. Nobody wants to talk about what happened in Hawaii, and it's driving Lilly crazy. How could she possibly make what happened less awkward? By making it happen again, of course!

Some Truths Hurt by: jenwin23 Jumping off point: V gets Duncan's journal in Echolls' Family Xmas. AU from there but many canon events happen too. All characters in the VM-verse make an appearance, but it is a LoVe story. In script format-but give it a try, it's well written.

The Third Kane by: Mac-alicious Lilly, Duncan and Veronica Kane rule the social scene in Neptune. The three are loyal and inseparable. They once believed there was nothing that could come between them. They didn't count on Logan Echolls.

Time, Make It Go Faster Or Just Rewind by kmd0107 Logan being ‘the real-Logan’ is so familiar that she almost can’t help but give in to it, even if it’s just a one night pass. She’ll embrace this moment out of time and the walls and armor can go back up tomorrow.AU from 1x4 Wrath of Con

Truths Too Big to be Told by: jenwin23 Sequel to Some Truths Hurt. It's summer time and more than the weather is hot. Neptune is embroiled in class warfare, Veronica is looking into the mystery of another dead girl, the fallout from Lilly's case continues, and more secrets will be revealed.

I’m also throwing in some of my favorite MaDi (Mac and Dick) fics because Dick needs a hug too.

The ABCs of Mac and Dick by: jenwin23 The ABC challenge with Mac and Dick. Created for Madi lover at VM Santa 2010 at livejournal. Cross-posted. In letter order, not in chronological order.

Bodycount by: BIFF1 Cassidy and Mac meet a little earlier and a little blood-lust gives him an entirely different problem when it comes to forming a real relationship with Mac. AU with MAJOR season two SPOILERS! Mac/Cass, Mac/Dick, Mac/Cass/Dick

Casablancas Kryptonite By: BIFF1 "You just don't get it. She's like kryptonite or something." Dick looked at his brother and thought about those blue eyes that cut and the way her mouth twisted around insults. Yeah maybe she was kyptonite. Casablancas kyptonite because isn't he just as weak.

Casual? By: BIFF1 It's just sex. Casual sex. no attachments, just good hot sex. But that was the summer and now school is about to start up again and Veronica's back from Virginia and can tell that something is up. They can stop, no problem...

The Charm Bracelet by: DalWriter Future Fic. Who Knew Prince Charming Would be Dick Casablancas? Mac reminisces as she looks at a charm bracelet Dick gave her.

Commitment Buffers by: BIFF1 Dick and Mac live with Logan and Veronica in their attempt to have some sort of commitment buffer between them. Only problem with the arrangement is that Mac and Dick tolerate each other at best which is a big improvement as far as their concerned. However living in such close quarters may prove difficult when it becomes obvious that they may actually sort of like each other.

Dark Day by: BIFF1 It's Cassidy Casablancas' birthday and the two people closest to him are falling apart. She just wants to hide away from the world for the rest of the week, just drink and cry and be with someone who gets it and no one gets it more than Dick. Not as angsty as it sounds, promise. Now complete with happy ending!

Electrify by: BIFF1 A guilt trip from Logan has landed Dick in a crowded tent with Mac. With a lightening storm raging outside he can't sleep and it appears neither can she.

Rendezvous by: BIFF1 A collection of one-shots. In which Dick and Mac are forced together by fate or friends and hook up. Because I apparently really like writing them hooking up.

Secret Santa By: BIFF1 Saw this homemade sweater from hell prompt from VMficRec. It's a November challenge but I couldn't help myself. Just some fun when Mac pulls Dick's name for Secret Santa. She figures a six pack and porn until he makes a big deal about not wanting anything handmade. She can't really help herself, she spends the month knitting Dick a sweater.

#veronica mars #LoVe #Logan Echolls #logan x veronica #fanfiction #fan fiction #season 4 fix it #veronica mars fanfiction #fanfic #logan deserved better

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artistic-writer · 5 years

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Fragments of Home :: CS AU :: E :: Epilogue

Title: Fragments of Home by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan must return home to her childhood town of Storybrooke when her mother dies and stays in the house left to her and her brother, David Nolan. Emma must juggle a temporary job at the hospital with her loss, something that has made her feel smaller than she ever was. When a tall, dark, handsome stranger comes into her life in the most unexpected way, and she begins to fall in love, will she stay in Storybrooke, or return to her new life back in New York?

Rating: E

Previous: Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - 11 - 12

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: This is it! The end of this story! With special thanks to @kmomof4 for being a kickass beta, @hollyethecurious and @doodlelolly0910for listening to my ramblings and to @darkcolinodonorgasm for being so patient :D Small warning that this chapter talks about miscarriage.

Taglist: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke@thislassishooked@hollyethecurious @deathbycaptainswan@branlovesouat @delightfully-difficult-pirate @flipperbrain@wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @doodlelolly0910 @darkcolinodonorgasm

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Six Months Later

Killian hated conferences, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be the person attending it. The hotel was like every other mass erected, stone monstrosity owned by the Gold Corporation and they were spread all over the city. New York was plagued by Gold and his business endeavours, like a scourge across the city, breaking up people’s lives and homes to build more and more. Gold had his fingers in all sorts of pies, but Killian could see each and every one of the corners that had been cut to line Gold’s pockets.

The lobby was drab and the whole building had been designed to let in as little light as possible. The tiles were black, flecked with tiny shards of some gold leaf that glittered in what little light there was. There was a stonework fountain in the centre of the lobby, the concrete worn smooth by years of people sitting on it or curious hands across its surface. It was not powerful, instead, a slow trickle of water rising up through the centre of the main part, a dagger, and exiting through the top of the handle. The blade looked almost real, and Killian could see that someone on the staff had kept it clean despite the best efforts of the corrosive water.

The noise in the lobby was overpowering. The mixer had been organised by Gold Corp to announce the inception of yet another building, although this time, Killian had to admit it was a much worthier cause. The hospital next door to the hotel was expanding, opening its doors to more people with a huge extension project of its emergency department. It would mean better, faster, more specialised care for every patient that walked through the doors in need. Whilst out of character for a parasite like Gold, Killian had heard rumours that his new wife was the main influence for his sudden and spontaneous growth of a soul. Killian would never have dealt with Gold otherwise.

So many people made Killian nervous. Everyone looked his way as he made his way from the check-in desk, every set of eyes piercing into him from all directions. Ever since Emma had left, Killian had been mostly off-grid. David had signed him up for a short six-month expedition to help design and build orphanages in underdeveloped countries, and it had been single-handedly the best and worst six months of Killian’s life. He couldn’t contact Emma before he left, and the signal was spotty at best under the blazing heat of the African sun, so to say he had little human interaction lately was an understatement. New York was the opposite of isolated.

There was another problem. Emma lived in New York.

Killian could go and represent the company, smile and shake hands with everyone he met with all the charm and charisma he had, but he wasn’t sure what would happen if he ran into Emma. They hadn’t talked since shortly after she had come out of the hospital, sleep taking him before he had known what was happening and the sheets as cold as ice when he awoke the next day. She had left a note.

At first he was angry, not at her but himself, for not realising sooner that she had felt so lost. She had asked for time and he had obliged, naturally, he would have given her anything, but his patience wore thin very quickly. Then he had tried to contact her with no success, each phone call ending with a generic disconnected error message. David was no help either. He simply reminded Killian that if he truly loved Emma, then he would respect her wishes. She would come back, she just needed time. Killian gave her time and tried to respect her wishes, but when he finally couldn’t take it anymore, David had told him to stop chasing someone who didn’t want to get caught. Stop trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found.

And then, David delivered the devastating news that crushed the only hope Killian had left. The baby was gone, how he wasn’t sure because there was no explanation, but it was gone. Oh, and Killian was going overseas for no less than six months to help build a home for unwanted children. Killian’s child had been wanted, and he found a great calmness in creating a home for those unfortunate enough to be unwanted. There wasn’t a day that went by when Killian didn’t think of Emma and what she must be going through, but without a way of contacting her, he just had to live with the knowledge that the most overprotective brother he had ever met would be there for her.

Two nights in the hotel was all Killian had to survive before he could go searching for her. The panels were only a few hours long, one on each day and the interlude between would be the time Killian needed to take advantage of the free wi-fi and look up the elusive Dr. Emma Swan. Maybe he could find a new phone number for her? A work address? Home address?

“You sound like a stalker, Killian.” A chuckle escaped his lips as he swirled the honey coloured rum around in the bottom of the glass in his hand, his fingers hot against the cool of the chilled glass. He threw his head back, emptying the last remnants of his third rum into his stomach with barely a swallow to ease his mind.

The mixer behind him was in full swing, lights dimmed lower as the evening had drawn on, the sound of high heels and fake laughter echoing through the hotel bar. Tomorrow would be the first day of talks, the first day of business, but for now, the bar was free to all VIP guest speakers. Even if he wasn’t talking until day two, Killian was certainly keen to drown out the echoes of grief with a quick flash of his VIP card. And who knows, maybe he could even drown out the day one talks whilst he was at it.

He slipped off his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. The room had become suddenly hot, musty with the smell of day-old sweat and stale perfume as his peers danced the evening away, and Killian quickly unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled his shirt to his elbows. The bar, its rolled edge capped with brass, was cold against his arms as he leaned forward and waved his laminated VIP card at the barman again with a tight-lipped smile.

After his fifth rum, Killian was sure that his brain was playing tricks on him. Everyone in a cute little cocktail dress looked like her, and everyone with a blurring flash of blonde hair smelled like her, but when the buzzing in his ears cleared enough that he could hear voices again, only one sounded like her. Killian twisted his body on the high, leather-coated bar stool, only for his vision to blur and betray him instantly. He blinked a few times, vision focusing on a blur of red and a flash of yellow he would recognise anywhere.

Emma Swan was here, in the same hotel, and she was gorgeous.

Her hair was longer, set into loose curls that bounced on her shoulders with each shake of her head as she talked into the brand new phone pressed to her ear. Killian could still see the seal of plastic around the edge of the device that had yet to be peeled off, and even slightly tipsy, he could tell it was a new model. None of that mattered once his eyes fell on her body, slightly rounder in places than he recalled but no less delectable, the figure-hugging little red number clinging so tightly to her body he could have sworn she was poured into it.

A long, agonizing stare down her long, perfect legs and he was met with her ankles, delicately strapped into some kitten-heeled red leather shoes that matched her dress. Killian could see the tiny, hand-stitched strap around her ankle had recently been loosened to a new hole and the swell of her ankles was most likely to blame, the strap still digging into her flesh in the name of fashion. Also to note, in the name of fashion, was that she wasn’t wearing a bra, the shape of her breasts and swell of her cleavage adding to Killian’s already inebriated state.

With a panic, he spun back around until he was facing his distorted reflection in the curve of a half emptied spirit bottle hanging in the bars optics. His head was spinning, his eyes struggling to focus on anything, and his hands splayed out, sweaty palms heating the surface beneath them as he took one, two, three deep breaths in an attempt to ground himself to the bar. To anything really. For so long Killian had an idea of what he wanted to say to Emma if they ever saw each other again, but now, as he lifted his head and caught her reflection staring back at him through the optics before him, it all disappeared.

“You’re here,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the beat of the music. “David said you would be here.”

Killian narrowed his eyes, finally turning to look at her as she planted herself down on the stool next to his. A little shorter, she had to hop up onto the plush material, but when she finally stopped moving, blurry around the edges from his alcohol intake, Killian opened his mouth but no words came out. He was at a loss for words, still not believing what his eyes were seeing. Emma Swan, here, next to him, after six months of dead ends and runarounds, she was real and just how he had remembered her. Perfect.

“Don’t be angry with Dave,” Emma said finally, waving the barman off with a shake of her head when he eagerly approached her. “He only did what I’d asked.”

“I tried to find you,” Killian slurred. The emotion was clear in his voice, as was the shock.

“I know,” Emma soothed, placing her hand over his on the bar surface. “I just-,” she began but Killian silenced her when his other hand landed over the top of hers.

“Emma, are you alright?”

His words were so simple and yet, Emma had no simple answer to his question. She knew it held a million meanings as well as a million more questions about what had happened to her in the last six months, but none of them was easy to answer, especially in a hotel bar during a work conference. She wasn’t even surprised by his compassion, even if he was drunk but more that he even had an ounce of it for her after what she had done. After she had run away from the conflict in her heart rather than face it head-on and accept that she was at peace with what it was trying to steer her towards. Killian.

“Killian, I’m so sorry,” Emma blurted out, pulling her hand from his. “You don’t deserve anything I have to offer as an excuse for how I treated you.” She got up to leave, tears pooling at her eyelids as she hopped off the stool and attempted to navigate her way to the exit, her heart crushing a little bit more in her chest when she felt Killian’s fingers wrap around her wrist.

“Emma, wait,” he pleaded, bumping into someone but ignoring the glare they gave him when she turned around to look at him. “Please, just…” Killian began through ground teeth, his inner self screaming at him to give Emma what she wanted, to let her go and possibly never see her again, whilst his heart told him to keep her in his grasp a little longer. He looked up, their eyes meeting finally, a clash of darkened blue and muted green expressing everything they needed to know about the other at that moment. Holding her gaze he softened his grip on her wrist a little.

Standing still in a room full of merry people, another person bumped into them and Emma was jostled forward and into his arms. Killian wasted no time wrapping his tattooed arms around her, holding her like it was the most familiar thing to him in the entire world and the colour that crept over both their cheeks was almost the same shade as Emma’s dress.

“Come back to my room,” Killian asked on another plea. “Just to talk,” he clarified when Emma gave him a strange, questioning glance.

She nodded, giving him a quick, soft smile as she peeled herself from his body and righted herself back on unsteady feet. Her heels were killing her, and she had only been in them for two hours, the mingling and greeting people who were paid way more than she ever would adding to her ire. Killian offered her his hand, reaching behind himself and pulling his jacket from the bar stool before he did, and she took it, settling her fingers across his palm like a warmth he had missed on a winter's day.

“Just to talk,” Emma agreed and fell into step behind him.

Silence. That was all that was between them as they made their way across the lobby of the hotel and stood at the elevator, waiting for it to reach them. It wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable, but when Emma had slipped her hand from his as they had come to a halt, Killian tried to ignore his rationale telling him it was a bad omen, an indication of what was to come, when in reality she had just done so to press the call button. His mind swirled, everything about her sending his brain into overdrive, questions forming on the tip of his tongue and threatening to escape, and it didn’t stop when the elevator arrived at the lobby with a chime and they stepped inside.

They were the only ones there, the metal box creaking under their combined weight when he reached over and pressed the number for his floor. The round button lit up and the doors slid closed with a clunk, the elevator dropping a little as it reset its destination and was pulled upwards by the pulley cable hidden above them. There was no music, not even the cheesy instrumental music that sometimes came with elevators, and Killian was thankful because his curiosity got the better of him and without warning, he hit the emergency stop button and the elevator ground to a sudden stop.

“Killian!” Emma screeched, losing her balance and falling hard against the back wall.

“I’m sorry, love,” Killian said sincerely, rushing to her side and catching her before she had time to twist her ankle. He held her up, clutching her elbows and allowing her a few seconds to right her dress until he was sure she was okay and then stepped back out of her space.

Emma looked up at him, and when she brushed her perfectly curled hair out of her face, Killian saw through her exterior, inside, where she kept all of her emotions, her love, hidden away from everyone. Everyone except him. He had always been able to see into her soul, effortlessly scale the walls surrounding her heart, and now that they were no longer in the bar, he could see pain. It had dulled the vibrancy of her eyes, paled her skin to an eerie white and when her eyes clouded with tears, it wasn’t just because she might have hurt herself against the wall.

“Stop,” Emma huffed.

“Stop what, love?” Killian asked softly.

“Stop looking at me like that.” She waved an accusatory hand in his direction. “Like I have answers.”

Killian licked his lips nervously. “Emma, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I don’t have questions because you know I do, but I can’t let you go. Not again.”

“Killian,” Emma breathed, her voice low and cracking in the back of her throat as she looked away. “You’re drunk and a lot has changed in six months.” Her words stung like a wasp, stabbing him in the heart at the sudden realisation she was right. “Holding me in an elevator won’t change any of that.”

“Is there-,” he began with hesitation but to his relief, she shook her head as if reading his mind.

“No one else,” she confirmed gently with a sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Than what did you mean?” Killian frowned.

“Nothing,” Emma mumbled, hiding her face in her hands.

“In my experience, when a woman says ‘nothing’, it is rarely nothing.” Killian moved to lean against his side of the elevator, hands gripping the brass bar, and gave her a small smile when she dropped her hands and looked up at his words. It was a hopeful smile that she had tried to resist once and failed, and it gave her pause.

“Are you happy?” She asked him suddenly.

“Are you?” Killian countered.

“I asked you first,” Emma said defiantly.

Again, Killian licked his bottom lip nervously and began worrying the flesh with his teeth. He let his head roll back until it collided with the wall, bright lights blinding him from the ceiling, a burning sting in the back of his eye that he ignored as he contemplated her question. He knew the answer, and she probably knew the answer, given how vehemently he had tried to find her, but she wanted to hear it, and maybe, in a strange coincidence, so did he. Saying it out loud made it real, justified his feelings, cementing them and putting them out there for her to see.

“No,” he croaked, rolling his head forward again when the light in his eyes became too much. “I’m not. I thought seeing you again would fix me, give me a closure that I know only you can provide, but it’s gone horribly against my favour, and now, with you here, all I have in my mind is more questions than before.” Killian swallowed, catching her eyes as they shifted to his throat and back up to his. “All I want is for you to be happy, it’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, Emma. You know that right?”

She nodded but her head barely moved.

“And you can call me drunk, or whatever you think I have become, but there is one thing I know I most definitely am, and that is lost.” Killian pushed himself off of the wall and the elevator rattled in the shaft, swaying from side to side as he took a step towards her. “I’m lost without you, Emma, each and every day we have been apart, and do you know why?”

She shook her head, eyes darting to his lips and an expectant blush creeping over her neck and chest. Killian took one more step, within reaching distance and her breath caught in her throat.

“I’ve lost the best part of me.” He swallowed and took a breath. “You will always be the best of me, love.”

Killian reached out and with a steady hand, tucked a stray tendril of Emma’s hair behind her ear, a delicately caressed her cheek with his palm. His fingertips brushed her skin and she let her eyes fall closed, her entire body surrendering to the tiniest of touches, her shoulders sagging and her skin itching with anticipation. She thought he would kiss her, expected to feel his lips on hers at any second, but when he didn’t, she opened her eyes with a flutter and felt Killian pull his hand away.

He let his hand linger a little at the side of her face, stroking the apple of her cheek with the pad of his thumb, slightly roughened by the nature of his profession, but no less soothing to her skin. Emma had yearned for his touch since the day she had left, but so many things kept her from seeking him out or allowing him to find her, and before she could contain it, her life had spiralled out of control and all she could do was carry on running.

They were broken, incomplete without the other, and without saying a single word, they both knew it.

“I need to show you something,” Emma said with a slight cough to clear the emotion from her throat. “But not here,” she added, flicking her eyes to the emergency stop button behind him. “My office. Next door, in the hospital.”

The short walk to the hospital next door took more time that Emma would have liked. Obediently, Killian followed her at a respectful two or three paces, her heels clicking against the pavement as she hurried through the cold of the evening. It whipped at her skin, her shoulders now covered by her evening coat, but her legs still open to the elements. It caused all of her skin to burn with instant heat as her hairs stood to attention in an attempt to trap warmth, but her freshly shaven legs were no match for the chill, and so Emma rushed between buildings to avoid it.

They entered via a side door to the emergency department, the safest options considering it had recently become a building site, and still, Killian kept on her heels. They made their way down a narrow hall, obviously halved by the construction, through some free flowing clear tarpaulin hanging from some scaffolding, and then through another door at the end of the hall. The floor was littered with dust and bits of stonework from the renovation and it stuck to Killian’s shoes as the warmth of his feet made the outer leather humid now, attracting the dirt like honey to flies.

“This isn’t the part where you kill me, is it?” he joked as he ducked under another tarp.

“Just taking you the back way,” Emma laughed, motioning him to follow with a wave of her hand as she reached another door. It looked more like how a door in a hospital should, white with a tiny porthole window and a keypad to one side. Emma took her keycard from her purse and swiped it over the scanner on top of the manual keypad, the light turning from red to green and a click signalling the release mechanism for the door. “Come on," Emma coaxed as she pulled the door, holding it ajar for him.

Killian stepped after her and was immediately hit with the warmth of the hospital. Outside had become a lot colder than was usual for this time of year, but he figured it was because they were in New York. The second thing he noticed was the lighting. It was dimmed to almost darkness in both directions except for a nurses station at the one end of the hall, and beyond some double doors in the other direction. Before he had time to ask her where they were, Emma laced her fingers with his and gently tugged him after her down the silent hallway.

“Is this part of the hospital closed for work too?” Killian asked, peaking into darkened rooms as they walked.

“No,” Emma told him. “The lights are like this for the patients.”

Killian wasn’t sure what she meant until they arrived at a huge window pane that separated them from another room that seemed to be in complete darkness apart from a few patches of light that were spread out in no particular order. A nurse was in there, he could see that, flitting between the patients at a snail's pace, checking charts and monitoring them, jotting down figures on her clipboard every so often. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Killian soon discovered that the dim lights were because ‘the patients’ were in fact babies and they were standing outside of the ward that looked after all premature and ill babies that required specialist care.

“I come here to think,” Emma told him without turning from the glass. “It’s quiet and peaceful. My escape.”

Killian watched her profile, David’s words coming back to him in a flood of sadness.

The baby is gone.

“It shouldn’t be,” Emma continued. “So quiet, I mean. All of these babies should be screaming their lungs out for their mothers.”

Her words trailed off a little and she sighed, breaking Killian’s heart in two. If things were different, maybe even half as different, then Emma would never have to stand here and wonder what it would be like to be a mother. She wouldn’t have to watch tiny, transparent skinned babies fight the hardest battle they ever would, clinging to life behind a perspex case that kept them warm and in some cases, breathed for them.

“Are you allowed up here?” Killian whispered to her as he ran his hand down her arm and held onto her elbow. He gave it a small squeeze, drawing her attention to him and Emma turned to him in the darkened hallway and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Do you remember what you said to me the night of the storm?” She asked him in a hushed tone, ignoring his question. When Killian gave her a confused look, she continued. “You said, ‘Dave’s always right’, and I believed you. I believed him when he suggested I would be happier coming home to New York.”

“You were miserable in Storybrooke,” Killian said gently and Emma nodded.

“But I was miserable here too,” Emma told him, turning back towards the glass. “I had nothing, no one and then…”

“I’m so sorry.” Killian swallowed hard, petrified for her reaction. He’d done so much research into the subject of miscarriage following David’s words, scoured the internet in search of support groups for mothers and fathers, so in the event he ever saw Emma again, he would know what to say. Except now that she was here, he couldn’t find anything but an apology.

Emma looked over to him, giving him a warm smile that was enough of acceptance that he smiled back, but the next words out of her mouth sent his relief plummeting to the bottom of his stomach and beyond like a rock tossed into a deep lake.

“I can’t have children ever again,” she shrugged but Killian saw her bottom lip quiver. “That’s what I meant when I said a lot has changed.”

“Emma, I don’t care about that, all I care about is-,” Killian began hopefully, but she silenced him by holding up her open hand.

“Please, let me finish,” she begged and Killian nodded, clamping his jaw shut. She turned to face him, the tear lines marking her face as she blinked and a new wave of emotion took over her. “I’m sorry I left, and I’m sorry I was such a coward. I love you. I love you so much and there is no excuse for the way I treated you, Killian, and maybe if I hadn’t...” Emma looked down to her feet, a sob escaping her throat when Killian hooked a crooked finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “How can I ever ask you to forgive me?”

Killian almost didn’t recognise the person in front of him anymore, a meek shell of the woman he had once known. Who would have kicked his arse not six months ago with her sass alone. Here she was now, pale faced and weary, tired lines and dark circles under her eyes telling him that he could, without any sort of doubt, forgive her, whatever they had been through. This wasn’t just her second chance, it was his too.

“Emma, love,” Killian said softly before pulling her into his embrace and tightening his hold around her. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head and exhaled hard, the warmth of her against him like a home he had missed. “I’ll always forgive you.”

Killian had stayed in New York after the conference and David had let him. Killian didn’t care if it was through his guilt or because his sister had told him to say yes, but either way, he was thankful for David’s decision to let him and Emma mend. They had taken it slowly like they should have done from the start, and over the few weeks they spent together, they found more joy in being around each other than either of them cared to admit. It wasn’t just the small glances and loving touches here and there, but every moment they spent together resonated with such love that it took their relationship onto a new level.

They had loved before, but it was different then, a more physical love that Emma had since admitted she had thrown herself into just to forget the pain of losing her mother. Killian understood completely and felt glad she could share that with him. It didn’t mean he loved her any less, knowing that her intentions were for a one night stand, but it did mean he loved her more knowing that she could admit how much she had missed him.

It meant the world to see her smile now, really smile, for a while at least. They still visited the NICU, often in the late hours of the day after Emma had finished her shifts, and that was when Killian noticed she smiled the least. They had migrated from one side of the glass to the other and both of them had found that the quickened beeps of the machines and lack of adults around gave the room a strangely familiar feel, something they both had accustomed too.

Every once in a while a parent would visit and they would leave the room, continuing to stand on the other side of the glass so they could maintain a little privacy. It crossed Killian's mind once or twice, to ask Emma exactly why the NICU was somewhere she felt calm, but he didn't push the subject, considering what had happened to her. Maybe she just felt safe there and he wished more than anything he could make her feel the same way again.

"Did we break up?" Killian asked with a cheeky smile, one that he knew Emma wouldn't be able to resist. When she looked up from the chart in her hand, after skimming over the notes of this particular baby, she gave him a narrowed glare. "I mean, you didn't explicitly say in your note," he teased, biting his tongue.

"Well, you flew off to a third world country to build orphanages and schools," Emma countered, replacing the baby's chart on the railing at the end of the cubicle it was asleep in.

"Ah, but I never wanted to go," Killian told her with a raised brow.

"But you did," Emma said flatly, the corners of her mouth ticking up into a smirk.

"If you'd needed me, I would have been on the first available flight back, you know that."

Killian's words changed the mood a little and Emma looked away from him, her smile fading. The truth of the matter was that she had needed him, at the worst possible time, but she wasn't sure how to contact him, let alone explain what had happened. That and the details were not something she wanted to dwell on alone, each day reminded of such with her visits to the NICU. They had become much easier since Killian's decision to stay, but we're still so hard.

"Are you alright, love?" Killian's voice shook her back to reality and when Emma opened her eyes after a few clarifying blinks, he was standing in front of her and his soft fingertips were brushing the skin behind her ear as he toyed with the hair there. "I didn't mean-"

"I'm sorry," Emma said shakily, her gaze dropping between them. "I'm just having a rough day."

"Anything I can do?" Killian offered, dipping his head to catch her eyes once more.

Emma smiled, short and warm, but ultimately shook her head. "You know, some of these kids are hundreds of miles from their parents," she sighed. "We are a specialist hospital, and some people just can't commute to visit their sick babies." Killian watched as she traced the outline of a baby's face through the perspex window, her eyes full of sadness. “I don’t know if I could be that far away knowing my child was that sick.”

“Me neither,” Killian agreed.

“Really?” Emma didn’t mean to sound so surprised, but her voice had obviously betrayed her when Killian leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to one side.

“Of course,” Killian insisted in earnest. “There wouldn’t be a thing on this earth that could keep me from my child.”

Emma had no response before the baby in front of them stirred, scrunching his little chubby cheeks and dislodging his nasal breathing tube. It made him cry out as the tape tugged at his cheeks, pulling against the skin that was already paper thin, causing the squeak of discomfort. It was minute, almost inaudible over the sounds of the machines, but without even a prompt Killian was on his feet and at the babe’s side, fingers pressed eagerly to the perspex as he tried to calculate the answer to the baby’s problem.

“It’s okay,” Emma’s voice soothed, and Killian looked up to see she had moved to the other side of the cubicle now. Two tiny portholes into where the baby was sleeping were popped open silently, and in slipped her hands, righting the little boy’s breathing tube so it was back in his nostrils. He let out another high pitched sound that seemed to take all of his energy, his whole chest expanding with the force of it. “I know, I know,” Emma whispered again and Killian watched her with nothing but awe.

The baby boy fussed some more, clenching his tiny hands and stretching his legs out as far as they would go, which wasn’t very far as his tiny temporary home was only as long as an average laptop. Discontent raged inside his plastic home until Emma laid her hand over his tiny chest, and the baby stilled instantly with a content sigh.

“It’s the skin contact,” Emma said in a hushed voice and even though she could feel Killian watching her, she didn’t look away from the baby boy under her palm. When she was happy that the tot had relaxed, she looked up and met his eyes over the top of the incubator. “You want to try?”

“Me?” Killian frowned. “I-,”

"Take off your shirt," Emma instructed with a nod. "And sit back down."

For a moment, Killian was stunned by her demand but also a little intrigued. He had heard of the benefits of skin to skin contact with infants but judging by the way the tot had stilled under Emma's hand, he wasn't so convinced his skin would have anything more beneficial.

"Maybe if I-"

"Just take off your shirt, Killian," Emma teased with a soft smile. "I know what's under there already, and there isn't anyone else around."

"What about him?" Killian smirked, holding her eye contact as he nudged his head towards the incubator. He tugged at the shirt, pulling it over the back of his head and not missing the way Emma's eyes roamed over his now exposed torso.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mind at all,” Emma smiled as he sat back into to chair behind him. “And besides,” she began, popping the clips that held the incubator closed. “This little guy doesn’t care if you are his mommy or his daddy.” Carefully, she lifted the baby from his bed with little fuss, his tiny body limp in her grasp, before navigating back towards Killian, mindful of the breathing tube newly attached to the tot’s face. “He just cares that you are warm,” Emma whispered as she positioned the baby so he was comfortable atop Killian’s inked skin.

Killian froze for a second, unsure of how to hold a baby, let alone a newborn that had clearly arrived way too early. The baby moved a little, unsure of his newly appointed sleeping position until Emma turned his little head so his cheek was flush with Killian’s chest, and his breathing tube was swept aside over Killian’s shoulder. Emma tucked his little legs up until he resembled a small ball of flesh and grabbed Killian’s hand and placed it under the tot’s backside.

“Just relax,” Emma told Killian in a hushed voice. “He’ll relax when you do.”

She took a step back, content with how she had placed the baby, and after one last feeble attempt to voice his concerns, he was still. He was too small to lift his hat covered head but that didn’t stop Killian from instinctively clutching the boy to him in case he managed to wiggle sideways when he felt the tot stiffen.

“See, you’re a natural,” Emma praised in a whisper.

Killian looked up at her for a second, a beaming smile on his face. “I always thought all kids would hate me,” Killian confessed, turning his head to the newborn again. He inhaled the smell of him, a sweet but sour milk tinged scent that he found had an almost calming influence on him as he breathed him in and craned his neck to watch the baby sleep. “Guess I was wrong,” Killian whispered against the baby’s blue hat, lowing his voice in an effort to hear the baby breathing.

“Why would you think that?” Emma tilted her head to one side, shifting her weight onto one hip.

Killian shrugged one shoulder and his fingers idled with stroking the baby’s toes. “Most adults hate me,” he said softly.

“I don’t,” Emma assured him. She moved closer and when Killian lifted his head she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, letting them linger for a few seconds before pulling away.

“What was that for?” Killian asked with a grin. “Not that I am complaining,” he smirked with an arched eyebrow.

“Nothing.” Emma smiled that happy smile again, one he had missed so much. “I just feel happy.”

“Only because I took my shirt off,” Killian teased.

“You got me,” Emma said dramatically, rolling her eyes.

The baby wriggled, tiny fingers gripping at chest hair as he snuggled harder against the planes of Killian’s chest. Killian could feel his heartbeat thumping his own skin at a million miles an hour and with a gentle cooing, he managed to soothe the tot back into a state of stillness.

“Does he have a name?” Killian asked absently, watching the baby sigh. “Or do I just call you wiggly baby?” His voice turned into something he didn’t even recognize but wasn’t ashamed of, high pitched but low enough that it wouldn’t spook the baby.

“Not yet,” Emma told him with a shake of her head. “His mother wanted to wait for his father before she chose, but she had no idea when she would see him again.”

Killian pursed his lips and his brow furrowed in confusion as he again craned his neck to take in the little boy sleeping sounding over his heartbeat. “That seems unfair that you don’t have a name yet,” he told the baby gently. “Who knows when you’ll be named now.”

“What would you call him?” Emma grabbed one of the chairs nearby and with short, slow tugs pulled it towards where Killian was sitting. She sat down, leaning her head on her hands before she reached out and stroked a finger down the baby’s downy haired back. “I’ve always thought he looked like a David.”

“How unfortunate for you, wee one,” Killian cooed and Emma stifled a small giggle at his words. “Hmm,” Killian hummed in contemplation and he joined her in stroking the baby’s back. “I’ve always imagined calling a little boy Liam, after my brother, so I’ve never given any other name much thought.” Killian gave the baby another look, watching as his mouth moved with a delicate sucking motion. “Maybe he looks like a Liam David?” He suggested.

“Yeah, that suits him,” Emma agreed.

“Maybe you could suggest that to his mother?” Killian asked eagerly. Whether he liked to admit it or not, he had somehow become attached to the wee babe over the last few weeks he had been visiting with Emma. More than any of the others. He had watched him grow stronger each day, more determined than any of the other babies on the ward to be free of the apparatus that helped him survive, and Killian had developed a rapport with him. He felt like he knew the baby like they had met in a past life, and he did, in a strange way, remind Killian of his brother. “I mean, It’s better than ‘baby nine’,” Killian scoffed.

A sniffing sound caught his attention and Killian looked up to see Emma crying, red faced and watery eyed, her bottom lip quivering just enough for him to notice. She swallowed what seemed to be a huge gulp of emotion, frantically wiping at her eyes and trying her hardest to clear her throat with a small cough that instantly filled him with even more worry. Killian’s heart beat faster with concern and were it not for the premature baby in his arms, he would have bundled her up in his grasp faster than it took for her fat tears roll down her cheeks.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” Killian asked quickly. “Are you alright?”

Emma waved him off with a flick of her wrist and a nod, wiping away at yet more tears with the back of her hand.

“What happened? Did I say something-,”

“It’s just my hormones,” Emma said weakly. “The doctor said they would take a while to get back to normal.”

“I don’t believe you,” Killian said firmly, staring at her until she looked up at him, and when she did, she began crying once more. “Emma, talk to me,” he pleaded.

It was all he could do whilst holding a tiny baby, but he wanted more than anything to hold her in his arms. He knew something was wrong and no amount of words would make it right.

“Emma, please,” he continued. “I hate to see you cry, love. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Emma whimpered, sniffing. “Nothing is wrong at all.”

Killian gave her a sympathetic look, his head lolling to one side as she sought out some tissue to wipe her nose. Stuck to the spot with the baby in his arms, Killian was helpless to intervene, instead relegated to wait for her return with nothing but his nerves as company. When she finally did return, after what felt like ages, Killian looked over her face for any sign of an answer but instead just found the stains of her tears.

“When Dave said the baby was gone, how did you feel?” Emma croaked.

“Broken,” Killian said without missing a beat. “Like I had lost something more precious to me than anything else in the world, apart from you, of course.” He smiled sweetly and was glad when Emma returned his gesture. “And I hurt. I hurt for you and for us, even if there wasn’t a us anymore.”

“All I wanted was for you to be by my side, and then Dave said you had gone, and I didn’t know how to reach you to tell you.” Emma moved closer, unable to stop herself from dragging her hand across his shoulders as she circled him.

“I know now,” Killian offered, arching his back into her when she draped her body over his and nuzzled her face into the side of his.

“You don’t,” she whispered into his ear, immediately hiding her face under the scruff of his beard. Her hand joined his on the back of the baby and she let her thumb smooth over his. “Killian, I never miscarried,” she whispered, her voice a little lighter than before. She reached down his inked chest and traced the outline of the cheeks of the fragile baby in Killian’s arms. “This is our son.”

Our son. Their son. His son.

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but the second they did, a weight that he hadn’t even noticed was lifted. Killian felt okay, more than that, he felt elated. Beyond wondering how, because at that moment he really didn’t care, Killian felt wonderment and love like he had never before. The tiny baby in his arms was his, small but mighty, strong and tough, a fighter through and through, and it didn’t matter to Killian how on earth he had come into the world because his only fatherly concern at that moment was keeping him safe.

“But Dave said,-” he began, pale faced and prickly heat spreading over his shoulders and neck, but Emma cut him off.

“Dave didn’t mean he had died, just that I had gone back to New York,” Emma told him in a hurry.

“I just believed ‘gone’ meant something had happened and Dave never told me otherwise,” Killian told her.

“This isn’t Dave’s fault. So much was going on, and he was so worried about me, he just let you make your own assumptions. He’s hated keeping this from you, Killian, he really has.” Emma sighed, the emotion choking her in the back of her throat. “He loves you like a brother you know.”

“Of course, love,” Killian nodded with a smile as he instinctively rubbed his hand over the baby’s back. “I feel no ill towards him.”

Emma physically sagged, her shoulders relaxing with Killian’s confirmation that he and Dave would be okay. Things had exactly happened the way she had wanted them too, but Emma knew she would never be able to live the rest of her life knowing that the father of her child and brother were enemies, especially as she would have been the cause of their dispute. Killian’s words were enough, but when he gave her a proud, wide eyed smile, she knew for certain that her life would be just fine.

“I have a son,” Killian laughed out in disbelief. He rose to his feet, baby in arms, and gave her the widest grin Emma had ever seen. “We have a son!”

“He was born too soon,” Emma began emotionally, grabbing his face in her hands and wiping away Killian’s tears as she spoke. “I wanted to call you, to tell you how much of an idiot I had been to run, but then I went into labour and the doctors couldn't stop him from coming, and in the rush all I could remember was Dave’s number and he told me you were on your way to build the orphanages and-,”

Killian cut her off with a kiss, cupping her face in his free hand and ending her rant the only way he knew how. Her lips trembled against his but he didn’t let her go until he felt all of the tension leave her, the muscles in her jaw relaxing and her mouth opening to invite his tongue inside. There was no haste in the kiss, just passion, Emma pouring her apology into it and Killian accepting every last silent word without a single hesitation. They parted, neither wanting to let go as they rested their foreheads together, their tiny son between them in a cocoon of love and warmth, the only things the boy would ever know.

“I love you,” Killian whispered in a gravelly voice. His fingertips stroked her face, coaxing any residual tension from her body with the delicateness of his touch. “Nothing will ever change that.”

“I love you too,” Emma murmured through a smile, grabbing his hand and clutching it to her face.

“All that matters now is that I’m going to be there for you, and this little guy, for as long as you’ll have me.” Killian tucked some of her hair behind her ear, the strands coarser than he remembered them, but no less beautiful. “Does forever sound alright to you?”

Emma coughed out a laugh, nodding her head against his. “Forever sounds perfect.”

#cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #fragments of home #foh #chapter 13 #epilogue #architect!Killian #doctor!emma

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lordmetallix · 5 years

Text

UPDATE

So this was a tricky one. I had two different versions written that I thought were equally heart wrenching, so in order to decide which one to post I simply flipped a coin. Enjoy!!

Final Space Chapter 6.5

“Take care of my boy.”

Avocato, waking up in a white void. His eyes snap open in a panic. Like waking from a bad dream: “Where am I?”

Avocato, feeling a sharp pain in his ears, covered them: “AHH! What the hell-”

He then felt a sharp pain in his chest, and placed a hand there too. He slowly came to realize that he had died.

Avocato, looking around to see the emptiness before him: “Oh.”

Before he could digest what happened, a strong figure appeared from the void. A strong chiselled jaw and a muscular frame.

Avocato, in bewhilderment at the man before him, he tried to grab a gun or any weapon on his person: “Who the hell are you?!”

The man chuckled and with a comforting smile said, “I’m John Goodspeed.”

Avocato, knew right then and there, that this was someone he could trust.

Later, in the same void, there was a bar where the two men sat. All the beer you could imagine cluttering the table, with the two men laughing and as buzzed as a couple of dead guys could get.

Avocato, with joyful laughter: “And then I said, ‘What?! No tunes baby!!!’ and jumped off a cliff, grabbing Gary! Ahahaha!!” Avocato then merrily took another swig of beer.

John, listening with pride, happy at the stories of his son: “What happened next?”

Avocato, excitedly: “Oh man! So we busted our way into the Lord Commander’s prison and we just went in, guns blazing, shooting anything we could see!!! Hehe. Only there was no one there. The Lord Commander killed them all.”

Avocato’s smiled slowly faded, as the end of his story came to a close: “And then… I told Gary…” the memories of his time as an agent of death flowed back into the cat’s mind. Avocato sighed and said, “I told Gary that he did enough. That he could go back to the Galaxy One.”

John, knowingly: “He didn’t listen did he?”

“Nope.” Avocato said taking another sip.

John was curious about his old copilot. Wondering what happened and where it went wrong with Jack. He turned to Avocato and asked: “So… Lord Commander. Jack was always such a nerd. Who else comes up with something as silly as 'Lord Commander’ right?”

Avocato gave a nervous laugh and said: “Hehe. Yeah…”

John went and asked: “So all that stuff… Jack did that, huh? Well… as his copilot I guess I should apologize. If I told him to stay, or maybe tried understanding him more. Hell, maybe I could have put a bullet in his head if all else failed.”

Avocato was clearly nervous, clasping his lips on the beer bottle, symbolically shutting his mouth.

John, continuing: “It’s just… it’s not even a 'you thing you know a guy’ kind of thing. I could never imagine him hurting a fly. Well… maybe an annoying fly who keeps buzzing in your ear and won’t just leave your french fries alone. But only that hypothetical fly would he hurt.”

Avocato slowly started sliding back into his chair; bottle in mouth.

John continued further, with tears welling up in his eyes: “And if what you said about the Infinity Guard is true… gosh, I don’t know what to think. I had a lot of friends in there too. Not just Jack. I can only hope they didn’t side with that dilwad when he did all that horrible stuff.”

Avocato, downing his beer, offered a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder: “Hey, man. That kind of stuff shouldn’t matter to you. You… you’re a hero. You did nothing wrong.” Avocato looked at the whiteness around him. The heavenly feel of the place started to weigh down on his soul.

Avocato continued, with a sigh: “What am I doing here?”

John said, not really answering: “What do you mean? You’re a hero, right? You saved your kid.”

Avocato, with another beer in hand, was about to take a sip, but looking at his reflection, he could only be disgusted: “No… no I’m not a hero. Yeah, I saved my kid, but that’s the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

John, with a comforting voice: “Saving your son is enough in my book.”

Avocato, with tears welling up said: “No! That’s not… that’s not what I mean. It’s…” Avocato knew that he couldn’t keep the secrets up for too long.

Avocato, sighing in resignation, tears streaming down his face: “Jack… the Lord Commander… all those things he did… that’s only scratching the surface. He’s done even worse. He’s a scourge on the universe. He’s evil. The lowest of the low. And I was his second in command.”

John, at first with a look of surprise calmed himself and asked: “Did you tell Gary?”

Avocato, still with tears streaming down his face: “Yeah…”

John, calmly and confident, almost knowing the answer: “And what did he say?”

Avocato, with even more tears streaming down his face, stated with a mix of great happiness and great sadness,: “He said…. he said…. that he still had my back!” Avocato covered his face on the table, weeping openly to the other man. Realizing how much Gary’s validation meant to him.

John smiled, proud of his son, and said: “Then nothing’s changed between us, either.”

Avocato: “sniff Thanks. That… that means a lot to me.”

John raised his arm to offer a comforting hand, but before he could reach out, Avocato stopped him and said: “I’m fine. Just sniff just need a minute.”

After a few moments of awkward silence and beer drinking, John broke the ice in the only way a proud father would: “So, uh… tell me about your boy. Little Cato was his name?”

Avocato’s ears pepped up. He knew John was trying to pick him up, but he didn’t care: “Ah, Little Cato. One of the coolest kids in the universe.”

John smiled and said: “Oh really? Tell me more.”

Avocato: “When he grew up I taught him all sorts of things. How to fight, how to build, how to hack. Before I… you know, he said he surpassed me years ago. You have no idea how proud I was.”

John, chuckling to himself: “I can guess.”

Avocato continued on saying: “Back on Ventraxia he was the Junior Elite Thimble Champion. Imagine that. Junior Elite over a whole planet. I was so proud.”

John: “Thimble, huh? I miss that game. Should have taught Gary before I left.”

Avocato continuing: “That boy he would have grown into something great. Someone I could be proud of. Someone… you know… better. Better than me.”

John: “That’s what every parent wants. For their kid to be a better version of them.”

Avocato: “True. I just wanted to be there to see it. You know. When he grows taller than me. When he brings home a girl.”

John: “Or guy.”

Avocato: “Yeah. To be honest, I kind of regret that I my last words weren’t to him. You know. 'I love you’ or something like that.”

John: “What were your last words?”

Avocato: “'Take care of my boy’. I told em to Gary before I died. Bomb to the chest. The Lord Commander sent one up on Little Cato. I just… went with my first instinct.”

John small droplets of tears welling up: “Jack… Avocato you say you went with your first instinct. Though it hurts that you didn’t give your final words to your son, everything you did was the right choice.”

Avocato with tears forming: “You think so?”

John: “You could never expect that kind of levelheadedness from anyone. Even if you lost your life everything you did was for your son. That you told Gary, my son, to take care of him. Well…” John raised a bottle in salute “…I couldn’t be more honored.”

Avocato wiping his tears and raising a beer bottle in turn: “Thanks man.” clink

#final space

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gwiiyeoweo · 5 years

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Ignis moves into a new town, to take temporary ownership of a small cafe as his uncle recovers. Its people are friendly enough, his neighbors quick to receive him with housewarming gifts, and he easily finds himself falling for the quaint little place.

Even for the friendly creature lurking outside his window, skin pale as the moon and hair gleaming with black starlight.

Simple: Home Pairing: Ignis/Noctis Rating: G @ignoctweek

With the jingle of his keys, Ignis pops the trunk open and grabs at his scant belongings: a single large suitcase and a duffel bag. The parking garage echoes loudly as he firmly shuts the trunk and locks his car, and he slings his bag over his shoulder while he takes to the elevator, rolling his suitcase behind him.

It’s a quiet ride up to the fifth floor, alone as he is during this afternoon. Limbs weary and dry eyes blinking from his six-hour drive from Insomnia to Delia — a quaint little seaside town in Cleigne — he manages a tired smile when he plucks his phone from his pocket, scrolling through the texts shared with his uncle. He shoots a quick message to the man, to let him know he’s arrived safely at the condominium and was now riding up the elevator, before pocketing his phone again.

The elevator slows, chiming sharply when it finally stops, and Ignis winces just slightly at the shift in gravity that needles at his head — he's always hated that. Though all things considered, there’s not much choice aside from getting used to it, he supposes. He’ll be living here for a while. When the metal doors part to let him through, he steps over to the directory, perched on the wall just across from him, and searches for his unit number. ‘Units 500-510 to the left… 511-520 on the right.’

He follows the right hallway, eyes keeping track of the plaques next to the doors. He quickly passes by units 514 and 515, pauses at 516 to fumble through his keys and find the one his uncle handed him — a bronze key with a tiny cactuar sticker on it — and turns it in the heavy lock of the door. A click. And he’s home.

Ignis steps through into the foyer, quickly foregoing his manners and kicking his shoes off, and makes a bee line for the couch in the living area.

He tosses his keys onto the coffee table, but he miscalculates and it skids across the surface to fall onto the floor. He thinks nothing of it and lets the handle of his suitcase fall out of his hand, lets his bag slip off his shoulder and down his arm, as he all but throws himself into the couch. Ignis rolls onto his back, props his feet and head up on either ends as he throws his arms and stretches with a loud groan. He can feel and hear his spine pop and stretch and decompress and whatever the hell bones and joints do, and he receives it all with gratitude and relief. He’s never made such a long drive before, especially not a straight course distance with no breaks, and he silently chastises himself for not stopping at the rest area when he had the chance. It was killer on his back and legs.

Well, lesson learned.

He allows himself this moment’s respite, stretched and sprawled out on the couch with his eyes closed, until a chime from his phone interrupts the silence. He fishes it out of his pants and looks at the screen. A reply from his uncle. Ignis swipes his finger across the notification and reads the entire message, a short thank you and some reminders. He taps out a message of his own, assuring that it was no problem at all and that in fact, he’s rather excited for this new venture. There’s a few more texts sent back and forth until he puts the phone down on his chest.

“Alright,” Ignis huffs after a few more minutes of idling, lightly patting down his cheeks, “Time for work.”

He swings his legs over the couch and plants his feet on the floor, standing with his hands held squarely onto his hips. He crosses the living space and opens a small closet, finds a vacuum, a mop and bucket, some disinfectants and sprays. He goes for the vacuum first, plugging it into the nearest outlet. Then goes to town on the condo.

It’s early evening by the time he’s done scrubbing down the walls and floors, done dusting the shelves and airing out the sheets. He finishes the last of his housekeeping when he puts away the last of his folded shirts into the drawer, and he checks the time to see if it’s not too early for dinner. Between making a homemade meal for tonight or trying out the local fare instead, he chooses the latter. While his unit is completely furnished and decorated, the refrigerator and pantry are bare and dry. Ignis thinks it’s too much of a goal to completely stock his kitchen, too many trips in the elevator that he cares for in one go, so he may as well start with a small trip and work his way from there.

He’s locking up his door when he meets his first neighbor, the resident in 515 by the looks of it. Immediately his first impression is that of a spunky young blonde, more of a boy than a young adult, with his naive but inviting smile that threatens to blind Ignis with all the strength of a midday sun.

“Hey there!” The man is loud too. He trots over to Ignis, a distinct pep in his gait, and offers a hand. “Just moved in?”

“Indeed. Pleased to meet your acquaintance,” Ignis takes the offer in a quick handshake. “Ignis Scientia.”

“Prompto Argentum here,” the blonde replies, raising his eyebrows, “And like, Scientia? Like Vincent Scientia?”

“He would be my uncle, yes. Do you know him?”

“Oh, duh. I technically pay my rent to him. He owns all the units on this floor, y’know.”

Ignis knew his uncle had made investments here and there, that his sizeable wealth wasn’t coming only from the little cafe he owned. He knew his uncle owned the unit he just moved into, that he had extra furnishings delivered solely for Ignis’s new residence, that he refused to have his nephew pay rent for the condo. But he didn’t know his uncle owned all the units on the fifth floor.

“Plus, his pumpkin croissants are to die for, man.”

And he didn’t know that his uncle’s croissants were apparently famous. It was Ignis’ turn to raise his eyebrows. “I didn’t know his oven was so popular.”

“And his coffee. He has the best little coffee shop around here. I only worked there part time, but it was like, the greatest employee perk to take home the day’s leftovers. Everyone was so sad when we heard about the stroke too. Is the old guy okay?” Prompto’s bright smile lost its radiance then, concern etching along his eyes and mouth.

“He’s faring quite well, thank you. He won’t be returning to work for a while, but they’re optimistic.” While Ignis is genuinely appreciative of the care and worry over his uncle’s wellbeing, he wonders just how much of a mini celebrity his uncle is. And of what else he has yet to tell Ignis.

“Oh, that’s good. It’s a shame we’ll have to settle for Starbucks now, but it’s great that he’s doing okay.”

“Ah, about that.” Ignis smiles. “It’s why I’ve moved here.”

As they make down the elevator, he explains his whole motive for coming to Cleigne in the first place. How Uncle Vincent, once he was able, had called Ignis and asked if his darling nephew was interested in putting his recent business degree to use, if he would like to try his hand at running his cafe over in Cleigne. That the trip from Insomnia may be long, but room and board would be covered and free, that his ever-wise and ever-humble uncle had a condo open and free for a new tenant named Ignis. That he knew his nephew would be bored out of his mind working in an office cubicle in a stuffy suit and tie, that coming over to Delia and running the ovens and espresso machines would be leagues more fun.

And that he agreed with his uncle, that kneading his fingers into dough while surrounded by the strong aroma of coffee was more of his element, that his business degree was something he had earned only because his parents were iffy on sending him to culinary school.

“And, if you have the time, would you be interested in working at the cafe again? As eager as I am, I’m afraid I’ve little real-life experience in managing a business,” Ignis says, as they walk along the sidewalk outside the condominium. “Your insight would be extremely helpful and appreciated, Prompto. And it goes without saying you’ll be paid for your work. We could discuss a raise, even.”

“Dude, hell yeah I’ll work again. Between my classes and finals, I haven’t found the time to go job hunting. Man, if not for the paycheck, then I’ll do it for those sweet, sweet pumpkin croissants, baby.” Prompto winks and throws a pair of sidelong finger-guns at Ignis.

Ignis cracks a smile, amused at the other’s light-hearted fun. They discuss possible work hours, wages, responsibilities, and so forth, even as they walk into the local Crow's Mart. Eventually, of course, their conversation turns away from work and leans toward Prompto giving Ignis a rundown of the town, what restaurants to check out and which ones to avoid like the Scourge, or which neighbors to keep away from “like that weird lady who has this creepy taxidermy hobby and probably has five stuffed cats in her bedroom.”

Ignis cooks dinner for two that night, and he tries not to gloat too much when Prompto stuffs his face with rice and chicken, eyes sparkling as he showers the man with nothing but praise muffled between forkfulls of food.

While Ignis found himself pleasantly surprised with such a friendly and outgoing neighbor in Prompto, he didn't expect the same for the rest of the fifth floor tenants. Didn’t expect for the next three mornings, for more neighbors to come knocking at his door. For them to come bearing gifts in their hands and warm welcomes on their lips.

Gladio was a mountain of a man, a scar over his left eye and an impressive tattoo over his muscled arms and chest, the sight enough to scare off any petty thug. Ignis was almost startled out of his mind when he opened his door to see the hulking man in nothing but a tight tank top, until he saw Prompto at his side with his typical blinding smile. Gladio held up a gift basket with a small bouquet of flowers and a small box of chocolates, at which Ignis thought would be more suited given to a potential date than a welcome gift. Gladio seemed to read his mind, admitting that this was on short notice and the florist's he worked at had nothing better. But Ignis was grateful nonetheless, and he carefully placed the flowers in a decorative vase he rinsed out and placed in the kitchen.

Cindy was a pleasant woman, with all her southern charm and hospitality. Ignis was eating the chocolates when he had heard her playful knocking at the door. She stepped right on in and gushed about how homey his place was, that she particularly liked the little coeurl statue sitting on the shelf. He could barely give his thanks when she turned on him and took both his hands to drop a gift bag in them, before pulling him into a tight hug, and surely a lesser man would have blushed as her… Gifts pressed against him. He offered her some coffee but was declined, saying her father needed her at the auto shop, but that Ignis could definitely drop by at the mechanics if “Yer gal's ever needin’ a fixin’, sweetie. Or if ya need a guinea pig to taste test ol’ Vince's brew.”

Or at least, that's what Ignis thought she said. The gift bag was a mini assortment of shower gels and lotions, all with a hint of citrus, and two sets of face masks, and were set in the bathroom, though Ignis wasn't sure if he'd ever use the masks. (His five-step routine did the job quite well at the moment.)

Takka was an older fellow and not even from the fifth floor but from the second. His visit was short, though he greeted Ignis with a chickatrice and beans casserole. He learned the man owned the diner a couple blocks down, and Takka boasted he cooked the best damn homemade meals in this side of Delia. Ignis humored him and promised to taste his food there one day, even if he had his doubts about the cook's claims. Takka only asked to let him know when the Cafe would be up and running again, because he sure missed those pumpkin croissants. (Ignis really wondered if those croissants were as delicious as everyone kept making them out to be.) When Ignis took his first bite of the casserole, he was determined to weasel the recipe out of Takka the next time they met.

A few old ladies even came by — none of them the one Prompto had warned him about — and brought cookies and a knitted scarf and well wishes. An old couple gave him candles and a blanket, a young man a bottle of wine and a tupperware set, another some more flowers in a glass vase.

It was all very heartwarming. And as much as he appreciated their gestures, it was also almost overwhelming.

Which is why he makes sure to wake up at the crack of dawn this morning, foregoing his casual but sleek attire for a set of loose sweats. Breakfast is a dull affair, simply eggs and buttered toast, and he makes a hasty trip to the elevators in case someone spots him and lays down more gifts before him.

He chooses the thirty-minute walk over the car ride, and strolls along comfortably in the cool mist of the rising sun, admiring the humble town. It's just a bit chilly this spring morning, but the walk and rising temperatures warm him enough and the sights are sufficiently distracting. The well worn buildings are nothing compared to Insomnia's high-rising towers and neon billboards, but there's still a touch of modern and urban living. Delia looks to be an old town with its wood and stone eroded from years of salt and moisture, yet it's still very much alive and kicking.

The sign reads “Bervenia” in a simple large script, perched right in the center and above the door. He peers in through the wide glass windows, smiles at the nostalgia of it all, and unlocks the front door. It's a bit dark, considering the lights are off and the sun has yet risen to its full glory, and the chairs are set atop the few tables, but it's mostly as he remembers it all those years ago, when he visited his uncle during his childhood. His memory of Bervenia may be a little fuzzy, but he remembers the patchwork tiles and the soft lavender wallpaper quite clearly. The refrigerated display, though, is new. He only remembers his uncle offering goods to eat warm or at room temperature. But to be frank, he expected more changes and additions other than a display case, given all the years.

Heading to the back, Ignis checks the time on his phone and swipes through his contacts. He shoots a quick text to Prompto, asking if he'd be willing to help clean up the cafe should he have the time. It's still a bit early in the morning and a Saturday, so he hopes his text doesn't interrupt his neighbor's sleep. A short beat later and his screen at least confirms Prompto is awake.

Sure! B there in 20

No use in dilly dallying in the meantime. Ignis rolls up his sleeves and sets to work.

He’s immensely thankful for Prompto’s help, who promptly (Heh) came in with a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s a runner, he told Ignis, and that he’s typically up at these hours for his morning jogs. Meaning, Ignis didn’t need to worry about waking him up at Saturday’s early hours.

Only a month out of commission and the poor thing was covered in dust; not to mention the fridge’s contents had gone rancid. That had been a smelly affair, much to the blonde’s dramatics. But with their combined efforts, they managed to clean up for the most part. Prompto had left an hour ago, much to Ignis’ insistence, considering he kept the poor man far past lunch time.

Ignis finishes wiping down the espresso machines and throws the dirty rag into a bin, finishing up the day’s cleaning. He takes a quick peruse of their inventory, taking into consideration what needs to be restocked or replaced. He has yet to test all their machines, but he’s confident they’re all in working order. In any case, he’ll make sure to confirm everything’s functional in the following days; no need to rush since he has to wait to restock their shelves first.

As he takes a gander through their supplies, he notices there’s just enough ingredients to try his hand at baking. He remembers the little box of recipes in the office, so he rummages through the drawers for the small wooden box and searches through the laminated cards for a muffin recipe.

‘How old fashioned,’ he thinks, smiling to himself as he brings the card over to the counters. He makes a mental note to make a digital copy of all the recipes, just in case; he’d hate to lose them all in a fire or storm, and a back-up is always a good idea.

Ignis makes a quick trip to the gas station down the street, to pick up the perishables that the recipe calls for, and makes it back to the cafe in quick order. He skims over the ingredients and puts the card aside, reaching into the cabinets for bowls and flour and whatever else his uncle instructed. It’s simple enough, a standard muffin batter, with just a few personal flairs that make it unique, though Ignis isn’t sure about the dash of hulldagh nutmeg. He adds it anyway, because surely there’s a reason his uncle underlined it in bold green highlighter.

By the time the chocolate muffins are done, the sun had already set. He cleans up quickly as he lets them cool on a rack, then gathers them all in a couple paper bags once he’s done putting everything away. When he locks up Bervenia for the night, the fresh cool air hits him all at once and already he finds himself missing the aroma of the oven and spices. It’s something he could easily find himself falling in love with for sure.

The streets light up as the sun dips ever lower into the horizon, its orange and yellow hues disappearing into the dark of the night sky. Ignis wants to believe in the peace and safety of the town, but he can’t help but keep his pace brisk as he avoids the growing shadows and dubious corners. It’s safe for all his uncle has told him, but his time in Insomnia tells him otherwise. The Crown City may be a bright glistening thing with all its lights and sounds and thrumming engines, but not even its neon lights could ward off the dangers that lurk in her dark streets and narrow alleyways.

The stars have just begun to peek out when he makes it to the condominium. He knocks on Prompto’s door, to offer him a bag of muffins for his help today, but no response has him carrying both bags back to his condo. He’s searching through his cabinets for the smaller tupperware gifted to him, so that he can drop them off to Prompto in the morning, when he hears a suspicious rattling from his balcony. He automatically thinks cat, but he remembers there are no trees that reach above the third floor; and pets aren't allowed. There's a possibility that someone's hiding one anyway, but the long distance between the adjacent balconies makes him doubt it. Birds maybe? It's night, however, and they should all be roosting.

It could be an owl. But then it's a distinctive knocking — three bold raps — and Ignis nearly jumps out of his skin at the sheer loudness of it. He gingerly steps over to the balcony door, his phone in hand just in case he needs to call security, and he pulls the heavy curtain aside with a sharp rattle and. Oh.

Hm.

A young man stands there, one hand in his jacket pocket and the other waving at him. Ignis is so thrown out of his zone that he barely catches the “Hi” the stranger-possibly-burglar-slash-serial-killer mouths to him.

Common sense dictates he calls security, right now. But Ignis is too busy wondering how and why and where. There's no trees to climb, no ladder to reach up so far, and there's too large a distance from the neighboring balcony to even think of making the jump. And unless this man is some sort of professional stuntman who is deeply invested in parkour, it's almost impossible he climbed down from above without sporting some broken ankles or other bones. And he looked perfectly fine with his sheepish grin and bright eyes, no sign of injury or pain anywhere.

Maybe he's hallucinating, maybe it's all the fumes from the detergents he used while cleaning up Bervenia , or maybe instead of nutmeg, his uncle had stashed away some sort of hallucinogenic drug in the spice rack, and he had inadvertently laced his chocolate muffins because this made absolutely no sense and —

The man's tapping pulls him out of his bout of panic. Again, logic tells him he really should just call security , but instead he makes a completely absurd decision and unlatches the sliding door, cracking it open just enough to fit a man's finger through.

“Hey, is Vincent here?” the intruder asks.

Vincent. Uncle Vincent.

“…No.” Ignis answers before he can stop himself, and he silently berates himself for his chain of bad decisions. It’s that terrifyingly disarming smile, he tells himself, that the man offers him.

“Oh. Really? I thought I smelled his muffins,” he says, his posture suddenly turning awkward. He shifts his weight between his feet, one hand reaching back to idly scratch at his neck. “Sorry, my bad.”

“I baked them.” Okay. Ignis visibly cringed at how quickly he responded. “They’re my uncle’s, ah, Vincent’s recipe.”

He purposely ignores the fact that this man claimed the smell of his chocolate muffins as the reason for this unannounced visit. Ignores that it was not at all normal to knock at someone’s (fifth floor) balcony instead of the front door. And especially ignores that, on closer inspection, his skin looks so pallid it’s almost translucent, his hair so black it melts into the night sky and stars danced among his locks. He looks almost ethereal .

“Oh! You’re his nephew then. He mentioned you a few times, just graduated from university and all that, yeah?”

“Yes, I’m here to take care of the shop in his stead.”

“That explains it.” The man’s chest puffs up visibly as he takes in a deep breath. “You smell like Bervenia, so I thought he was back.”

“Would you… perhaps like a muffin?” he said, against his better judgment — which could strangle him right now if it had hands.

“Hell yes.”

Ignis turns his back — a death wish if this man truly meant any harm — and plucks out the treat from the bag. He quickly returns to the door, relieved and delighted that the balcony intruder didn’t take advantage of the opportunity to see through with any heinous plans he may have had. Ignis widens the door, just enough to slip his hand through, and drops it off in the other’s palm.

“Thanks a bunch. I’ve been craving his goodies lately, been really missing his pumpkin croissants. Can you make those too?”

Again, those pumpkin croissants.

“I’ve never tried, but I don’t see why I can’t.”

“Cool, thanks again for the muffin. Say hi to Vincent for me, too.”

Ignis barely got the time to nod when the man backed away to place one hand on the railing and then —

Jumps over the fucking railing.

Ignis throws open the door and takes the three fastest steps he had ever taken in his entire life, a lightning speed compared to Field Day at high school when he had been delegated as the final runner in the baton pass. His torso lurches over the edge, and he half expects to see a blood splatter on the concrete, to maybe call emergency services after all.

But there’s nothing. Everything is still, quiet. No body, no blood, not even a passerby walking down the sidewalk.

“Uncle, this condo wouldn’t happen to be haunted, would it? I believe I’ve just met a ghost.”

“Oh, Ignis my boy, of course not. Only a vampire.”

“Ah, yes, of course… Pardon?”

After a riveting half hour spent on the phone with his uncle, Ignis tries through the motions, to recreate his normal, typical nightly routine, and charges his phone on the nightstand. He returns to the kitchen, boils some water in his electric kettle, and spoons in some loose-leaf tea into a steel filter. He takes a sip out of his mug, warm and comforting in both his hands. Then one more.

Alright, no. This isn’t working.

So instead of trying to feign normalcy, he dumps his tea down the sink and heads back to his bedroom, where he sinks into the mattress and stares at the ceiling. Ignis breathes in deep and reviews what his uncle had told him, instead of trying to shove it away and ignore it all.

And according to his uncle, the not-burglar-slash-serial-killer is a vampire. A friendly vampire, the little voice in his head corrects, who really likes Vincent’s pumpkin croissants. (At this point, did anyone not like his croissants?) His uncle had pointed out the vampire had a sweet tooth in general, but he was partial to whatever Vincent baked up. Also, that the vampire had been in Delia long before Vincent moved in himself.

“But he’s like a friendly cat, don’t worry about him. Just don’t try to feed him vegetables, and he won’t bite… Probably,” Vincent had said, hanging up before Ignis could question the ‘Probably’ part.

Okay. Alright. He could deal with this. Probably.

#ff15 #final fantasy xv #ignis scientia #noctis lucis caelum #ignoctweek #i can type

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ficswithrimi · 5 years

Text

Mine (Chapter 9)

Title: Mine

Pairing: Noctis Lucis Caelum x Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance

Trigger Warning: Mentions of blood, violence, depression, suicide attempt, and minor sexual content

Synopsis: Daughter of a Niflheim soldier, you were sent out to Tenebrae to spy on the Nox Fleuret family and their involvement with the Lucis Caelum family. However, after learning the truth about Niflheim, you betray them. Your journey of revenge begins after learning of the death of your adoptive sister, Lunafreya, and your childhood friend Noctis Lucis Caelum.

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A/N: Merry Late Christmas and Happy New Year! Here is my final gift to the Tumblr Writing Community for 2018! This chapter... is a month late lmao. It was supposed to come out in November and Chapter 10 this month BUT writer’s block is that... anyways. I hope you all enjoy watching my main character (She has a name in my mind but this is self-insert, so...) spiral into confusion. Bye! See everyone next year!

“It is time.”

Your eyes shot open as a door burst open with a loud ‘bang.’ Whipping your head around, your eyes widened in shock as two Niflheim soldiers carried in a woman that resembled you. She kicked and screamed as the soldiers rushed her inside, their tight grips on her arm turning her pale skin dark purple from bruising. You watched in horror as they literally threw her in the corner of the small, confined room. She hit her head with a ‘thud’ that seemingly knocked her out upon impact. You stared at her for a second before realizing who the woman was. She was, who you assumed, your future self. The Titan had caused you to dream into the future a couple of weeks ago where you overheard that the woman – you – were to be executed. Though the situation seemed futile at the time, you thought the future you would’ve found a way to escape; however, as you looked at your unconscious self, you knew you hadn’t.

Hearing the laughter of the imperials, you sharply turned your head in their direction with a glare. A fire burning inside you, you attempted to summon your daggers – ready to kill the two men in one sweep. However, your daggers didn’t appear when you commanded them to. Anxiety slowly setting in, you felt around yourself to see if they were tucked away somewhere. Nothing. Glaring back at the soldiers who were casually standing around talking, you decided to use hand-combat. It would be harder to succeed but you were confident you could take them. Running towards them, you attempted to grab the imperial’s arm that was nearest to you only for your hand to go right through his. Stumbling forward to the ground, your eyes widened as you saw they didn’t seem to notice your presence. Getting back up, you tried again to attack only to fail once more. You glanced over at the future you on the floor who slightly budged, you ran over to her. Maybe she could feel your presence. She sort of did before, right?

“Uh… Y/N… you have to wake up…” You said in a hushed. Not sure if touching her would work, you reached out to see how your hand, just as with the imperials, went straight through her. Cursing under your breath, you stood up and turned back to the soldiers just to see two others come in. A gasp escaped your lips as you took in who they were – General Glauca and your dad.

“You both can leave now. Jeno and I will handle it from here…” Glauca spoke as the two imperials who had brought the woman in saluted him and hurried out of the room. You were confused. How could Glauca still be alive? You thought Cor had said he perished in Insomnia when you met him? How was your father, fully decked in his uniform that you forever had etched into your mind, here? What was going on?

“Are you sure you want to be the one to do this?” Glauca said as he and your father turned to look at the unconscious woman on the floor. “I can get someone else or-“

“As the one who turned her in, it is my duty to dispose of her,” Your dad said in a cold voice that resembled no regret. Turned her in? You? Was your father… the one who caught you and turned you into the Empire? There was no way. You would never let him… he would never get the opportunity. But then, you thought as you glanced back at the woman, how would that explain how you ended up here?

“What about your daughter?” Glauca asked. “How will you explain her death to her when she’s older?”

Just as your father was about to speak, the woman began to come to her senses as she slowly lifted her hand to her head. Immediately, Glauca and your father raised their guns and aimed at her. Your eyes widened as you dashed to her side. You couldn’t do anything, you knew this, but you could at least try. To see yourself die by the hands of these evil bastards was the last thing you ever wanted to witness. But… what did Glauca mean by ‘your daughter?’ Did you have a sibling you didn’t know about? That didn’t make sense…

“Jeno-“

“Shut up!” Your dad cut off the stuttering woman as she looked in his direction. “I have this Glauca. This shouldn’t take long.”

You watched as General Glauca nodded towards your father and exited the room. Your father snarled at the woman as he looked at her as if she was a piece of filth. He slowly walked towards her, gun still raised, as she desperately tried to stand up. Your heart fell to your stomach as you could only watch as she pitifully attempted to come fully back to her senses.

“Jeno, please,” She begged, globs of tears beginning to spill from her eyes. “You can’t do this! I’m not a traitor! I just want what’s best for our family-“

“My family,” Your father spat at the woman. “My family, we don’t need untrustworthy people such as yourself.”

“Jeno, think about the baby! Let me go, please! We can run off together, leave this place behind,” The woman said as she stood up and slowly tried to approach your father. “Please, I just want what’s best for us…”

You began to tune the woman out as her previous words circled in your mind. Why would… you want to run off with the man who left you behind – who didn’t attempt to stop Glauca from murdering you? There wasn’t a plausible explanation… unless… this woman was…

“You’re nothing but pathetic scum. Niflheim will be better off without you. Y/N will be better off without you…” You gasped as your father said your name. She was… this lady was…

“Jen-“ Before the woman could continue to beg, your body froze over as you saw the flash of the gun go off and hit the woman directly in her head between her eyes. Immediately she dropped dead as blood began to gush from the wound. Your father stared briefly at the woman’s corpse before turning around to exit the room, not batting an eye. You stood there in fear and shock as your eyes stared at the door he just walked out of. Shaking slightly, you turned around to look at the corpse on the ground. This woman was…

Carefully, you approached the body and bent down to examine it. The woman’s hazel eyes stared lifelessly up at the ceiling with her mouth slightly ajar. Again, you noticed she had the same physical features such as yourself aside from the long hair that was now drenched in her blood. You knew that if this woman was you… she’d have one distinct feature. You brought your hands to the right side of your neck where your fingers carefully traced your ‘x’ scar. Gulping, you dropped your hand and slowly pushed back the hair that covered the woman’s neck. You let out a gasp as the skin was bare – free from any scar. This woman was…

“Marina Y/L/N was her name,” Your dad frowned as a six-year-old you blinked curiously up at him. “She didn’t love you nor myself. She was selfish. That’s why she betrayed us – betrayed you.”

“Why would mommy betray our home?”

“The same reason you betrayed your home,” You quickly turned from your mother’s corpse to look around as the voice of Gentiana filled your ears. However, before you could respond, the room began to fade into a bright white light before you blacked out.

~!~

Lunafreya’s & Ravus’s POV

Lunafreya. I am with Noctis. We will be reunited soon! Please keep safe for now. – Y/N

The words from the latest message from Noctis – from Y/N – swirled in Lunafreya’s head. She was okay. Her beloved sister was okay. She was with the love of her life. He was protecting her. Lunafreya would see her soon. Everything was going to be okay… at least that’s what Lunafreya wanted to believe. As her body continued to fight off the scourge and awaken the Gods, she could feel herself growing weaker and weaker by each passing day. She wasn’t sure if she would survive the awakening of the Leviathan, but she wasn’t going to give up. Noctis fulfilling his duty as the Chosen King was one of her top priorities. The other being reunited with Y/N, even if just for a little while. She missed her dearly and to know she was alive was a stress-reliever for the blonde woman. She would be reunited with two of the people she held dearly in her heart.

Lunafreya let out a weak smile as she stood in her field of sylleblossoms. It was her favorite spot in all of Tenebrae. She and Y/N would always come out here to play as children and tend to the flowers. Lunafreya used to chuckle as Y/N would talk to the flowers that weren’t growing properly and telling them they better catch up to the others. She held many memories of Y/N in this field. It was where she could temporarily forget her duties as oracle and just spend quality time with her younger sister.

“Sister!” The sound of Ravus’s voice rung through her ears causing them to perk up slightly. Why was he back in Tenebrae? Didn’t he have commander duties to tend to – such as glorifying the attempted murder of their sister? The thought of Ravus being in Y/N and her happy place pissed off the woman. Frowning, Lunafreya turned to throw a sharp glare at the older man. “Lunafreya-“

“Why are you here, Ravus?” She shouted at the man, taking him aback slightly.

“Lunafreya… what’s wrong? What’s gotten into you-“

“Our mother told as kids to always be there for one another – never forget where we came from! I know she’s not from here originally but she’s a Nox Fleuret whether you believe she is or not! And to… to attempt to have her killed-“

“It’s not like that at all! Listen to me-“

“You may not see her as a sister anymore – especially after finding the truth behind her origins – but she’s my sister. She’ll always be my sister. I’m going to prepare for my trip to Altissia,” Lunafreya said as she began to storm off towards the castle. She had to begin to prepare for her trip to Altissia soon. Gentiana told her earlier they would be leaving before nightfall.

Ravus’s eyes widened as Lunafreya’s words sunk in. She was going to Altissia to awaken the Sea Goddess, thus, risking her life in the process. At this point, Lunafreya was slowly killing herself… and all for him. Ravus already lost his mother to death and Y/N’s trust; he couldn’t lose Lunafreya. “Sister, cease this madness! That boy will never be king!”

Stopping at his words, Lunafreya turned her head slightly behind her. “Noctis is chosen. It is ordained. You of all people should know.”

“I know that you’re throwing your life away!” Ravus shouted at her.

“That may be!” Lunafreya whipped around and shot another glare at the man. A silence fell upon them as the wind began to pick up, blowing some of the petals off the flowers around them. Ravus searched Lunafreya’s eyes that revealed how drained she was from summoning the Gods and healing people from the scourge. However, they also revealed how determined she was to fulfill her calling in life. She wasn’t going to give up no matter how much he begged her.

“But…” Lunafreya began to speak again as the anger in her voice began to fade. “It’s my choice…”

Ravus watched helplessly as his younger sister turned away from him and looked towards the sky, as if asking the Gods for her final request. It tore him inside to see not just Lunafreya, but Y/N, throwing their lives away for Noctis – someone who didn’t seem to acknowledge his calling or the sacrifices everyone around him were making. “If only… if only I could hear his voice once more…”

Tears began to fall freely down Lunafreya’s face as she spoke about her wishes, “If only we could laugh together as we did as children… him, Y/N, and me… I just want to be with them…”

“Lunafreya…” Ravus said quietly as he slowly approached the crying woman. Gently, he turned her towards him and enclosed her in his arms as she sobbed in his chest. It broke him to see her in so much pain. She didn’t deserve this life. She deserved to be happy with the ones she loved. Ravus wish there was a way he could take his sister’s pain away but there wasn’t. She was the oracle and it was her duty. Just like, though he hated to admit it, it was Noctis’s duty to save the world from the scourge that engulfed it.

~!~

Your POV

“The same reason you betrayed your home.”

Gentiana’s words swirled in your head as you hastily moved to gather your things from your hotel room. You had to get out of here. You needed answers about your mother. More importantly, however, you had to escape from Noctis and his friends before they found out the truth about who you really were. If there was anything you learned from what you saw in your dreams and what happened to you as a kid, betraying others on this star led to death. You lucked out twice already; both times involving Lunafreya coming to your rescue. Lunafreya wasn’t around this time and if the Lucians found out about your origins, there would be no stopping them in killing you as you would be seen as a threat to the Chosen King – Noctis.

Noctis…

Your hand traced the jacket he had given you to compliment your new outfit you received as a treat from Iris. Though you knew traveling with him would be dangerous, you felt that the danger increased more as time went on. With Ardyn ready to spill your secrets to the boys at any given moment and, more importantly, the way Noctis made you feel – the situation called for aborting. Though you knew Lunafreya was somewhat safe, you still longed to get your revenge on Niflheim for all the mayhem they’ve caused in the first place. You’ve held 12 years of pent up anger and you were ready to release it on them. You wouldn’t be satisfied until you saw the Empire burn down. However, Lunafreya was priority. You knew fighting the Empire would ultimately lead to your death, so you wanted to see your sister for one last time. You’d rather die fighting for your revenge than by the hands of those who’s trust you’ve gained but would eventually break. But Noctis…

You shook your head as you dropped your hand from the hanging jacket and walked towards the door, your hand pausing as it reached out for the door. Why was the thought of Noctis holding you back? Wouldn’t suddenly leaving without any notice hurt him? Haven’t you hurt him enough in the past couple of weeks? With all his friends and him have done to help you reunite with Lunafreya, wouldn’t this hurt all of them? Wasn’t this worse than them finding out you were from Niflheim – that you worked for the Empire? That it was because of you, Tenebrae was attacked, Lunafreya’s life was restricted to her oracle duties under Imperial watch, the falling of Insomnia, and the killing of King Regis? The killing of King Regis – Noctis’s father. The man that Noctis wept over in the comfort of your arms just last night – something he hadn’t been able to do since his father’s passing weeks ago? It was your fault – all your fault. How could any of them forgive you for that? Ravus barely forgave you when he found out where you truly came from.

10 Years Ago (Age 10, one year after Queen Sylva’s death)

“She has to go, Lunafreya!” Ravus barged into Lunafreya’s and your shared room one night. Startled from your sleep, you both quickly sat up, confused as to what Ravus was talking about. Before you could comprehend his words, he marched over to you and roughly grabbed you by the arm. Your eyes widened in fear as his blue ones bore hatred down onto you.

“Ravus! What are you doing! You’re hurting her!” Lunafreya yelled as she climbed out of her bed and tried pulling Ravus away from you. Ravus only shook her off, however.

“Don’t try to save this traitor, Lunafreya. She’s not a Nox Fleuret. She’s one of them,” Ravus snarled as tears began to pour down your face. “Don’t cry now! How can we trust you after all you’ve done?! You could be plotting to kill Lunafreya!”

“Ravus!” Lunafreya screamed at the man as she again attempted to pull him off you.

“Why would I kill my sister?” You wailed as you struggled to remove your arm from his grip. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the moonlight that shone through the windows and the light from the opened bedroom door. However, you knew there were already purple and blue bruising on your arm from his grip.

“She’s not your sister. Sisters don’t condone the killing of their mother! You’re just as bad as Regis and that son of his!”

“Ravus! What are you talking about? Has the Empire brainwashed you? Y/N didn’t kill anyone! They tried to kill her!” Lunafreya yelled. “You saved her, remember?! We saved her!”

“I should’ve let them have their way with you,” Ravus spat as he threw your arm aside, causing you to lose balance and fall back into your bed. “Pack your things. Get the hell out of here.”

“Y/N, stay.” Lunafreya sternly looked at you before glaring over at Ravus. “You’ve been brainwashed by those emotionless creatures! Explain yourself!”

“Lunafreya, there’s no need to-“

“If you don’t explain then tonight you will lose two sisters.” Ravus let out a heavy sigh as he ran a stressed hand through his blond hair. His attention turned to you.

“Tell her,” Ravus commanded. Teary eyed and snot flowing freely from your nose, you sniffed as you used the back of your arms to rub your eyes. You knew they’d found out someday, you just wish it wasn’t so soon.

“I’m – I’m from Niflheim… my father… he works for them!” You stuttered. You avoided looking up at Lunafreya as you already knew there was shock and disbelief present on her face. “I was being trained under them… to be a soldier in the future. My first mission was to spy on your family… yours and King Regis’s and report back to the Empire. I was told you were bad people that had to be stopped.”

“B-but!” You looked up at Lunafreya and directly stared her in her eyes. “You’re not bad! They’re the bad guys! I had no idea they would come to attack! They simply said they were gonna come get me when they felt it was time. I didn’t know they would kill our mommy or hurt you. I’m sorry, Lunafreya. Please forgive me. I’m not a bad person! I promise!”

Tears streaming down your cheeks as you turned away from Lunafreya, you didn’t notice her walking slowly over to you. Sitting on your bed, she pulled you in for a hug as you began to wail into her bare shoulder.

“Your name is Y/N Nox Fleuret. You’re from Tenebrae. You’re the daughter of Sylva Nox Fleuret. I’m not mad at you so there’s nothing to apologize for,” She looked away from you and shot a look at Ravus who was staring at the two of you. “That includes for our brother.”

“Lunafreya, you can’t-“

“Do you believe our mother would allow her to reside here and risk her life for her if she didn’t know about Y/N, Ravus? Don’t underestimate her.”

Ravus parted his lips to speak but no words came out as he watched you grip onto Lunafreya as if your life depended on it. You were visibly shaking in the 13-year-old’s arms as she rubbed small circles on your back to soothe you. Ravus let out a heavy sigh. Lunafreya was right… you were harmless. There was no way their mom didn’t know about you. Besides, you risked your life to save Lunafreya – someone who worked for the Empire wouldn’t have done that. That was something… family would do for one another. Blinking back his own tears, Ravus slowly approached the two of you. Dropping down in front of you, he wrapped his arms around the two of you.

“I’m sorry… my sisters. Please forgive me…”

Present Day

You wiped the tear that fell as you remembered that night. Though he apologized and forgave you, you knew he still didn’t fully trust you. That was obvious when he sent you out to get killed. You didn’t want to hurt Noctis again or have him see you in a negative light. Not just Noctis, but the others as well. They’ve been all you had along this journey and every day you risked losing them. To distance yourself from them was the only way to prevent from hurting them. Gripping the door handle, you turned again to look at the jacket that belonged to the prince.

The prince who has been making your heart race as of late as old feelings resurfaced. Feelings you locked away because Lunafreya loved him. Your sister who you were eternally indebted to after all she’s done and sacrificed for your sake. How could you allow yourself to love the prince when the one who mattered the most to you loved him as well? How could you betray her? You’d rather die. The entire purpose of the trip originally was to reunite the two, not fall for him. That’s why you had to get out of here. It was dangerous for everyone. You needed answers. You had to leave…

“Y/N? Are you ready? We’re about to leave for Hammerhead…” The voice of Ignis filled your ears. Sniffing quietly and wiping your face, you swiftly turned around to grab the jacket off the hanger. Grabbing the items you had gathered earlier, you opened the door and placed your signature smirk on your face.

“All set to sail,” You winked at the man as you pushed past him to meet the others downstairs.

~!~

Noctis’s POV

Something felt off. The feeling came upon the prince when they were leaving for Hammerhead earlier in the morning. As they were saying their “see you laters” to Iris, Talcott, and Jared, Noctis felt his heart drop suddenly to his stomach. He felt as if one of them… he wasn’t going to see later. As they conversed with Gladiolus and Ignis, he tried to shake off the feeling and say it was just his imagination. They were only going to be gone for a day or two, right? Everything was fine. There was no need to worry. After finding comfort in Y/N last night, he had glanced towards the older woman to see if he could catch her gaze. To his surprise, her eyes were fixated on the floor. Her fingers were gripping the sleeves of her – his – jacket tightly. She had been quiet all morning. The woman would usually be throwing sarcastic remarks at the men, especially Gladiolus. However, she seemed to be even ignoring him. Could she sense something was off as well?

Noctis continued to think this as they sped down the highway to Hammerhead. Prompto had pointed out how there were more Imperials around than normal, all heading in different directions. However, Noctis took notice how most of them seemed to be heading in the direction of Lestallum. He shook his head as he tried to remove the thought from his mind. Glancing towards Y/N through his peripheral vision, he noticed the woman was looking towards the sky as another aircraft passed over them. She seemed to swallow hard before lowering her head and staring at her hands – more so, the ring that was placed on her right ring finger. Noctis didn’t know the importance of the ring, but he had noticed since traveling with Y/N, she’d fiddle with it when something was bothering her. He wanted to ask her what was wrong – and express his concerns as well – but she didn’t even open up to him last night. Instead, she got him to tell her what was bothering him and that was it. She was still keeping her thoughts bottled up.

“You’re mighty quiet today, princess,” Gladiolus spoke up as he noticed Noctis worriedly looking at the woman in between them. Y/N didn’t give a vocal response as she just shrugged.

“Yeah! You haven’t thrown an insult to us or expressed how much you dislike us all day,” Prompto turned from the front seat to look at the sulking woman. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m fine…” Y/N’s voice was slightly hoarse from not speaking for an extended amount of time. She gently cleared it before glancing up at the blonde man and gave him a soft smile. Noctis raised his brow at the gesture. Something was wrong. He nudged her arm slightly with his, causing her to suddenly jump from the contact. She looked at him but diverted her eyes to look past him so he couldn’t see her emotions. After flashing him the same soft smile, she focused her attention back on her ring.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Prompto said, “But why do you always mess with your ring? I’ve never seen you take it off.”

“My…” Y/N swallowed. “Sister gave it to me…”

“Ah, a gift from Lady Lunafreya?” Ignis asked as he glanced at the woman through the rearview mirror. Y/N just nodded her head.

“I’m sure she’s waitin’ for you in Altissia! You guys can catch up but first,” Prompto smirked towards Noctis suddenly, causing the prince to arch his brow again. “Noctis should spend some quality time with his wife-to-be, eh? They haven’t seen each other in 12 years after all!”

Noctis’s eyes widened at Prompto’s words as he quickly turned to look at Y/N to see her reaction. However, to his disappointment, she was back to focusing on her ring.

“Yeah... my sister… will be overjoyed to see you,” Y/N finally looked up into Noctis’s eyes. Noctis’s azure eyes widened as he finally saw the emotions within Y/N’s hazel ones. He saw confusion, anger, exhaustion, but most of all, he saw sadness. Just as Noctis blinked, Y/N glanced away from him. However, he kept his eyes glued to her. He didn’t know what had happened over the course of the night, but whatever it was, it was clearly bothering Y/N.

The rest of the ride to Hammerhead was quiet except for Prompto occasionally turning in his seat to ask Gladiolus something. Ignis would through concerned glances to Y/N, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, ever so often. Noctis just let out a heavy sigh as he rested against the door of the car as he tried to swallow down the unsettling feeling he had.

~!~

Your POV

You sat in the diner as the guys were outside with Cindy discussing the condition of the Regalia – or more like, they were being lectured by the mechanic. She had sent you inside after seeing that something clearly was wrong with you. You had met Cindy when you first arrived at Hammerhead with the group of Insomnian refugees who rescued you. She was the one who patched up your bullet wound and made sure you had somewhere safe to stay for the night. She asked how you ended up the way you did but you were too distraught over the idea that Lunafreya, Noctis, and King Regis were dead at the time.

Sighing, you looked out the window at the guys. They were clearly worried about you. Prompto tried to lighten your mood in the car about seeing Lunafreya soon, however, that didn’t even cheer you up. You guys didn’t even have a way to get to Altissia yet. The only thing everyone knew was that the oracle was there under Altissian and Imperial watch. You tightened your hand into a fist as the thoughts of the Imperials crossed your mind. Why had there been so many of them on your way to Hammerhead? You had an unsettling feeling in your stomach as you watched them invade the sky, most heading to Lestallum. You couldn’t connect as to why so many were heading in that direction, but it unsettled you.

It seemed to worry Noctis as well. When you briefly met his eyes in the car, you noticed worry was in them – and not just for you, either. However, you couldn’t stare into the prince’s eyes for too long as memories of the previous night flashed in your mind. Though, just as quickly they surfaced, they began to be overcrowded by other thoughts such as betraying him and the gang with your affiliation with the Empire and betraying your beloved sister as well by having growing feelings for the man she was in love with. You had turned away before he could read too deeply into them. Thoughts of running away again crossed your mind as you sat in the booth. You could easily sneak out behind the diner and hike it towards the nearest train station. It wasn’t as if you haven’t walked long distances before. Of course, if you did this, then you’d be heading right to Niflheim – to Gralea, the capital where the Empire was located. You would execute your plan of revenge as well as finding more information about your mother, but the downfall to this was you wouldn’t have a chance to say goodbye to Lunafreya.

You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh as you buried your head into your arms. Although you desperately wanted to find out more about your biological mother and how she came to betray Niflheim, you also wanted to see Lunafreya again. You wanted to reunite with her one last time where you would see her reconnect with Noctis after so long. Then you would leave the group and go for your revenge. This was the ideal plan, but how long could you hold up? There were so many secrets and confusion inside of you that you wanted to explode.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ignis’s voice filled your ears as you lifted your head up to look at him. Frowning at the sight of him, you dropped your head back down. “Hm, guess not.”

“Why would I talk to you?” You mumbled out after hearing him take a sit in the booth in front of you.

“Well, I could see something was or has been bothering you and thought you’d care to chat with someone you’re not too familiar with,” Ignis said as he intertwined his fingers and glanced down at you. Lifting your head back up, you frowned again.

“Why aren’t you out there overseeing Noctis getting injured or something?” You spat at the man. He briefly looked taken aback before clearing his throat.

“As we discussed before, Noctis is the Chosen King and he must-“

“Fulfil his duties, got it. However,” You sat up fully, “You don’t have to watch him get obliterated by these so-called Gods everyone on this dumb star worships.”

“There’s nothing I can do to assist-“

“Yeah, okay, Ignis. I get it. You’re his adviser. Your duty is to make sure he fulfils his – whether that ends in his death or not, right?”

“Y/N, I don’t think you understand-“

“No, I understand completely. Look, maybe before he becomes king and you become his official adviser, you should learn to be more compassionate. Life isn’t all about fulling duties, you know? Do you think I’d be here right now if I fulfilled my-“ You instantly stopped talking as your eyes widened at your words. You almost revealed yourself to Ignis.

“Fulfilled what?” Ignis arched a brow at you.

Standing up and stretching, you shook your head at him. “Just… try to care more about the person you want to protect rather than him fulfilling his duty is all I’m saying. Can’t fulfil his duty if he’s… dead, right?”

With that, you walked towards the door of the diner to go catch up with the others. Ignis watched through the window as you slowly made your way to the others by the car. Prompto grinned at you as Gladiolus smirked. Noctis, however, seemed to be throwing you worried glances again that you seemed to brush off as you went to lean on one of the gas pumps, an unamused expression on your face. However, Ignis caught something. As he continued to study you, he saw you quickly glance towards Noctis who was already gazing towards you. Immediately, you had shifted your eyes away from his and pushed yourself off the pump. Without acknowledging them any further, you headed towards the trailer where everyone would be resting for the night. Suddenly, Ignis knew why you continuously lectured him on caring more for Noctis’s wellbeing.

“It would appear… the future king has captured the hearts of both the Nox Fleuret sisters…” Ignis smirked quietly to himself.

~!~

You lay in the bed of the trailer, wide awake, as everyone else slept around you. The thought of sleeping was the last thing on your mind as thoughts raced a mile a minute. Sighing in frustration, you shifted your body to look at the two sleeping men occupying the other bed. Noctis and Prompto were fast asleep, probably tired from the long drive from Lestallum to Hammerhead. You knew on the floor were Ignis and Gladiolus. The soft snores and breathing of the four men filled your ears as they slept. Turning onto your back, you stared at the ceiling. The streetlights from outside peeked through the cracks of the closed blinds and casted a small shadow on the ceiling of the trailer. Thoughts of how you almost revealed yourself to Ignis earlier today swirled inside your head. What would’ve happened if you let your frustration towards the older man get the best of you? Would you have not caught yourself from revealing the truth? It was becoming clearer as time passed with the men that keeping the secret was becoming tougher. Especially now that so many other secrets were swallowing you whole. As you thought about your dreams, Gentiana’s words, and your history with the Empire, it felt like you couldn’t breathe. It was as if the more you thought about them, the more they began to consume you.

Inhaling deeply, you carefully sat up in the bed. Your body tensed as the bed squeaked and movement from below could be heard. After making sure the man – Gladiolus - hadn’t been disturbed from his sleep, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and slipped on your slippers. Ignis slept at the foot of Noctis and Prompto’s shared bed while Gladiolus slept at yours. Holding your breath, you quietly stepped over the muscular man who was fast asleep. You just needed some fresh air to clear your mind. As you successfully reached the door of the trailer, a cell phone could be heard going off near the beds. Your eyes widened as you swiftly dashed towards your bed before the sound of the ringing phone startled the boys from their sleep. Ignoring the creaking of the bed from your body being thrown onto it, you pulled the covers over your head. You let out a tiny sigh as you heard Gladiolus’s deep, sleep-filled voice quietly fill the room.

“Hello…?” He answered groggily. You listened as it was quiet for a while before you heard him jump up suddenly.

“Gladio? What’s wrong?” You heard Ignis’s hushed voice.

“Wait, Iris, calm down, what’s wrong? What happened-“ Gladiolus stopped talking as, you assumed, Iris cut him off. Your heart began to pound as you could hear the urgency in the usually calm man’s voice. Something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” Now Prompto’s voice could be heard. You heard brief footsteps before seeing light flood through the room from them being switched on.

“We’re coming! We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Gladiolus said through the phone. Pulling away, he turned to the rest of the group, “Wake the hell up! We have to get to Lestallum now!”

Not knowing what was going on, you threw the covers off you to see Gladiolus storming out of the trailer as Ignis was grabbing the Regalia’s keys off the counter. Prompto had just shaken awake Noctis, who was confused about the commotion, and was trying to inform him how they had to leave for Lestallum.

“What – why? What’s wrong?” Noctis asked as he climbed from the bed and began to gather his things as well.

“Something happened in Lestallum. I don’t know the exact details, but Lady Iris called and is asking we get there immediately,” Ignis said. “I’m going to start the car.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as thoughts of what could possibly be wrong filled your head. Was everything okay? You mean, of course things weren’t okay if Iris was calling in the middle of the night, requesting you guys to return as soon as you could. But was everyone okay? Did it have something to do with all those Imperial ships you guys saw heading towards the city earlier in the day? Did they do to Lestallum what they did to Insomnia…?

“Y/N, let’s go!” Prompto shouted as he threw your jacket at you. Grabbing it, you nodded your head as you swung your legs from the bed and stood up. Sliding on the jacket and running to grab your shoes, your eyes briefly glanced over at Noctis. His face was filled of worry as he rushed past you and out the trailer. You knew that he could tell something was direly wrong. Preparing yourself for whatever was coming when you arrived in Lestallum, you turned the lights out in the trailer and followed after Prompto as you both exited.

~!~

It was about 7am when you guys had arrived at the city. The morning sun was already sitting in the sky and everything seemed calm as far as you could tell. However, you knew the calmness also meant something was wrong. Lestallum was usually a bustling city, no matter what time of day. Street vendors, kids, tourists, Insomnian refugees, and the female power plant workers could often be seen littering the streets. However, today everyone seemed to have taken shelter in their homes as the streets were practically empty besides a few stragglers. With them not knowing of Noctis’s status, they only eyed you and the guys suspiciously as you hastily made your way to the Leville. The suspicious looks made your heart pound as they weren’t looks you had received before in your previous visits to Lestallum. Someone had invaded the city in your absence and made the people wary. And you had a feeling as to just who that someone was.

“Everything looks okay,” Prompto let out a nervous laugh to brighten up the mood.

“Yeah, well, Iris didn’t sound okay,” Gladiolus said.

As soon as you guys entered the hotel, everyone witnessed Iris standing in front of the couch of the hotel, her face stained with tears. Your eyes widened as you took in the image of the usually peppy teenager.

“Oh Gladdy,” She said solemnly. Gladiolus immediately approached his sister as tears began to stream down her face again.

“What’s wrong?” Gladiolus asked as he placed his hands on her shoulder.

“I let you down. We… were supposed to be heading to Caem but we never made it…” She sniffed. “The Empire came… while you were gone.”

“What?” Noctis’s eyes widened as he approached the teen. She looked over at him and more tears poured from her eyes. “H-hey, let’s go to your room so you can explain everything to us, okay?”

Iris nodded as she removed herself from Gladiolus’s grip and eyed everyone. As her eyes met yours, you felt a chill rundown your spine. Her brown orbs bore into yours temporarily before she wiped her face with the back of her arm and began to lead everyone up the stairs to her room.

As everyone entered, Prompto gently shut the door behind him as everyone gathered around Iris who was still quietly sobbing in a chair. You looked at all the men and how they were unsure of how to initiate the conversation with the crying girl. Ignoring your feelings from earlier that were still present, you inhaled deeply before walking over to Iris. Gently, you placed a hand on her upper back and began to rub small circles. She had become tense from your sudden, unexpected touch but you felt her calming slightly as you continued to comfort her.

“They… they came looking for Noctis,” Iris said as she stared down at her intertwined fingers. Tears that fell from her eyes fell directly onto them, seeping into the cracks of her hands. “None of said a word about Noct. They just showed up and then… poor Jared.”

You hand briefly stopped as Iris struggled said to say the elderly man’s name. Everyone’s breath in the room hitched and the only sound that could be heard was Iris’s sniffs.

“What do you mean? What happened to Jared?” Gladiolus asked calmly. You solemnly looked over to him and everyone else in the room. Each of you already knew what she meant by her words but still, you knew none of you would be able to accept it unless you heard it come from her mouth. Prompto’s foot was bouncing uncontrollably from the bed he was sitting on as a look of frustration and fright was present on his face. The look confused you as you found yourself staring at him. What was he afraid of? If anyone should be afraid, it should’ve been you. The Imperials, the people you once worked for, took the life of another Insomnian close to the Royal Family. First their home, then their king, and now Gladiolus’s and Iris’s family servant and friend. Your heart dropped before Iris could mention Jared’s death. You at least thought Gladiolus would be able to have a forgiving heart once you revealed the truth – if you revealed the truth. But now? He was going to side with Noctis and the rest of them… again, the Empire killed someone who was an important factor to the men’s lives.

“There was nothing we could do!” Iris suddenly shouted, causing you to jump from your thoughts and remove your hand from her. You gulped down the lump that was forming in your throat as you took a step back from the sobbing girl. You’d only met Jared a couple of times throughout your adventure with the boys and could tell he was a man that highly respected the Royal Family and sought the safety of Noctis. Before you guys left yesterday morning, Jared was talking about discovering King Regis’s boat in their old hideout in Cape Caem. He was going to travel there with Iris and Talcott for safety. They were supposed to leave today…

As silence engulfed the room, the creak of the door opening could be heard along with the sniffs of a kid. You knew it could only be Talcott as it was his grandfather. Everyone’s heads turned towards the boy who stood crying in the doorway. Your hand immediately went to your heart as it began to ache from everything that was happening. Looking up, you saw Noctis slowly approach Talcott and squat down to his height. You could tell from his posture that he didn’t really know what to say to comfort him. Besides, he, himself, just recently learned how to mourn over the death of his father. Now he had to try to cheer up someone who admired him as a leader.

“It’s not right… we should’ve been here…” Noctis said regrettably. You blinked back tears as you heard his words. He was taking the blame for Jared’s death. But why? It wasn’t his fault… if anyone was at fault… it was yours.

“I-I couldn’t stop them!” Talcott stuttered out as tears still flowed down his cheeks. Noctis let out a heavy, slow breath as he looked at the kid.

“But… I won’t let the empire get away with it. They’ll pay for what they’ve done,” Your eyes widened at Noctis’s words. Though he was attempting to reassure the kid, you could hear the vengeance in his voice. He was serious. He was going to see the end to the empire. He was going to see the end… to you. “I promise.”

“I believe in you, Prince Noctis…” Talcott continued to cry. Without knowing, you slowly began to approach the kid. He and Noctis looked up at you as you stood before them. Noctis moving slightly out of the way, you crouched down and pulled Talcott into a tight hug. His brown eyes widened before coming overfilled with tears. He gripped onto you tightly as he sobbed into your chest as you tightly held onto him, trying to stop your own tears from spilling out. Why was this happening? Why…?

“They…” Iris’s voice said from the chair she still sat in. “They were looking for you as well, Y/N…”

Your heart stopped at Iris’s words. That’s right… you were still wanted by them for escaping the destruction of Insomnia and the train massacre.

“Why Y/N?” Gladiolus arched a brow at his sister. Iris just shrugged.

“We figured it was something dealing with Lady Lunafreya, so just as we did with Noct, we didn’t tell them anything. However, that seemed to piss them off even more. One of them said to tell her that her father is looking for her… what did they mean by that, Y/N?” You felt the eyes of everyone on your back. Even Talcott had pulled away slightly and looked at you. Meanwhile, you could feel your mind literally escaping the moment as Iris’s words from the empire rang throughout your head.

“Your father is looking for you, Lady Y/N!” A maid said to the nine-year-old you. You were in Lunafreya and your shared room, playing with some cards, when the maid had knocked on your door. Excitement immediately filling your body, you hoped up and opened the door. Only to your surprise, it wasn’t a maid at the door, but an Imperial soldier. Screams could be heard throughout the castle along with a sudden loud explosion from outside. Your eyes widened as you looked past the female soldier and down the hall.

“Where’s Lunafreya? And Ravus? And King Regis-“

“You’ve fulfilled your duty! It’s time to return home with us, young woman,” You could hear the smile in her voice. Shaking your head, you pushed past her.

“No! I have to find my sister!”

“Your sister? My, have you forgotten who you are? Glauca and your dad will be disappointed…”

“I… I don’t know…” You said as you mentally returned to the room. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for an answer.

“Well, Talcott and I are going to Caem. We… we can’t just stay here and do nothing!”

Noctis sadly shifted his eyes from you to the crying Iris as he let out a shaky breath. “I understand.”

~!~

That was the final straw. You had to leave tonight. The longer you stayed with the men, the more it was becoming dangerous for you and everyone involved. The Empire had no remorse when it came to killing off Insomnian royalty and those affiliated with them. You couldn’t allow anyone else to get hurt. Frantically, you tore off Noctis’s jacket and tossed it on your hotel bed. Everyone should be asleep by now after the events that happened earlier today. Though your body was mentally and physically exhausted, you had no choice but to leave. Thoughts of dying before seeing Lunafreya for one last time tried to convince you to change your mind, however, you were determined. You wanted your revenge on the empire. At least when Noctis and the other’s eventually finds out where you came from and who you worked for, they’ll know you died being on their side. You’ve always been on their side since the day Queen Sylva took you in. However, now, you had to prove it to them and yourself.

Knock. Knock.

Your head whipped to the door before dashing to hide the small bag you had begun to pack to take along with you. “Uh… one second!”

Quickly you shoved the bag under the covers of your bed and walked towards the door to open it. Your heart raced in fear that one of the boys or even Iris had pieced together how you related to everything that had been happening as of late. Gulping nervously, you threw the open to reveal Prompto. Before you could get a word out, he barged into your room and slammed the door behind him.

“Prompto, what the hell?” You frowned at the male blond. However, the frown softened as he looked up at you with a saddened face. “Uh…”

“Can I tell you something?”

You blinked confusedly at the male. “Uh… wouldn’t you rather tell Noctis or someone you’re, I don’t know, closer to?”

“It has to be you,” He said, “But first, can I ask you something?”

“S-sure?” You arched a brow at him.

“How’d you get that scar on your neck?” He bluntly asked. Your mouth fell open slightly as your hand immediately flew to your neck to cover the marking with your hair – something you often did out of habit whenever the scar was mentioned.

“It’s uh, from an injury as a child…” You said as you turned away from the male. “Isn’t it late? Shouldn’t you be asleep like the others?”

“Y/N,” Prompto walked over to you. “That’s not a normal scar. How’d you get it-”

“Why are you here?” You raised your voice at him. You felt your nervousness beginning to turn into anger the longer Prompto stayed in your room.

“Can you please just answer my question? I need to know-“

“Get the fuck out,” You said as you removed your bag from under the covers, not caring whether he saw or not.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving?” Prompto’s eyes widened.

“And what if I am?”

“Are you from – never mind, if anyone shouldn’t be here… it should be me…” He let out a heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. Stopping at what you were doing, you lowered the bag in your hands and looked at him.

“What… do you mean?” You asked slowly.

“Gods, I’m one of them, Y/N. I’m from Niflheim! Born and raised until about age ten when I moved to Insomnia to escape from my family back there. I can’t help but feel guilty… like I��m part of the reason all these events are happening… I feel like I’ve betrayed everyone…”

Your mouth fell open slightly as the bag you were holding dropped to floor with a soft thud. Prompto looked up at you with angry tears filling the corner of his eyes.

“I just had to tell someone… who may understand what I’m going through. Someone who doesn’t feel like they belong. I know you don’t like traveling with us, so I thought it’d be easier to tell someone not from Insomnia… though I guess you’d hate me, too, since it was the Empire who separated you from your sister and tried to kill you off…”

“Prompto…” You said slowly as tears began to fill your eyes. Prompto’s eyes widened as you lifted your hair, revealing to him the flesh-colored ‘x’ scar. Prompto couldn’t help but stare as it was marked almost perfectly. He slowly inched towards you as he stared at it. He could tell it was a deep scar from the way it was raised on your skin, if it would’ve been any deeper, the blade that caused it would’ve definitely hit something important and cause you to bleed to death. “This scar… wanna know what it represents?”

Prompto blinked as he just nodded his head at you.

“It represents the day a nine-year-old me decided to betray her country of Niflheim and her love for the Empire to protect those who really cared and loved her…”

“Y-you’re from Niflheim as well?” Prompto swallowed hard as your words replayed inside his head.

“I was a special spy for the Empire…”

“You were there… you saw everything that went down that day in Tenebrae… you-“

“Caused it?” You let out a bitter laugh as you sat on the edge of your bed, eyeing the ring Lunafreya had given you. “That’s why I tell you guys not to call me a princess…”

“What?” Prompto blinked at you as you glanced towards him with pain in yours eyes.

“I’m not a princess… I’m a traitor to everyone around me.”

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raendown · 5 years

Link

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 4/18 Word count: 1776 Summary: When Tobirama is exiled from the Senju clan without warning, without even the chance to plead his case, it feels like his life is over. What does he have to live for now without his older brother to believe in him? Captured by the Uchiha in his moment of weakness, Tobirama slowly learns to live again with the last people on earth he would have ever expected to care for - or to fall in love with.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 4

Waking slowly to realize that someone else was in the room with him was so familiar at this point he almost allowed himself to slide back down in to sleep. The sweet bliss of unconsciousness was much more preferable to the pain of being awake anyway. He very nearly managed it until the two voices finally registered and he lay there listening to Izuna and Madara conversing in barely lowered voices, clearly not aware he had woken yet and just as clearly not worried their conversation might change that. Either they didn’t care or they were banking on his preference for remaining unconscious.

“But it’s his own brother…”

“Yeah. I know. You’ve said that eight times – nine now, counting that time.” Izuna sounded as though he were rolling his eyes and the familiarity of their banter sent a lance of pain through Tobirama’s chest. He’d had that familiarity in his own life too until recently.

Someone, most likely Madara, huffed indignantly. “It’s just shocking. I don’t think there’s anything you could possibly do that would make me turn you away. Unless you were…I don’t know…killing off all the clan babies or something.”

“He was messing with the dead.”

“I suppose. But – and don’t freak out – I sort of get where he was coming from? If you thought you had found a way to see Taro or Tamotsu again, wouldn’t you do it?” Tobirama vaguely recognized the names of the two Uchiha clan heirs that died long ago, surprised that he did so. His father had made him memorize every member of their enemies’ head family on the off chance he had an opportunity to kill one of them. He hadn’t so much as thought of those names in a very long time.

“Don’t ask me weird questions.” Several heartbeats passed in silence until Izuna sighed. “Fine. Stop looking at me like that. You know my answer.”

“Exactly! We would all do it! There’s not a person I know that wouldn’t give anything and everything for the chance to see the people they’ve lost just one more time. But Hashirama exiled him for that? Maybe he’s changed but that isn’t the Hashirama I remember.”

Tobirama squeezed his eyes closed tighter. It wasn’t the Hashirama he had known all his life either. He couldn’t begin to fathom why the man hadn’t even spared him the chance for an explanation or listened to his side of the story. If he had only been able to speak on his own behalf he was sure he could have made Hashirama understand.

What a world he lived in where his greatest enemies believed in him more than his own sibling.

“Kami’s beard, is he ever gonna wake up?”

One of them shifted and then Izuna yelped before Madara replied sternly, “I think he’d rather sleep his way to death if he could so don’t tempt him.”

“What are we gonna do with him when he does wake up?”

“I…don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right to kill him in cold blood now, not knowing what he’s gone through.”

“You know he’s our enemy right? Scourge of the Uchiha? Killer of our brethren?”

“How many of his brethren do you think we’ve killed in turn?”

“Good point… good point…”

One of them sighed again, probably Madara this time because the sound was quickly followed with his voice muttering, “That’s why we wanted to stop this war in the first place when we were kids. None of us hate each other for actual good reasons, it’s just an endless circle of ‘you killed so-and-so, now I’m going to kill you back’ and it’s all so pointless. We mourn our losses and then throw more soldiers away as if that isn’t exactly the cause of all our own misery.”

“Whoa, hold on, I don’t know if I’m ready to get all deep like this so early in the morning. I only followed you down here ‘cause I wanted to know what you planned to do with that broken ghost over there.”

“Broken ghost?” Madara parroted his brother incredulously.

The two of them descended in to giggles and Tobirama would have been offended if he could muster the energy for it. He’d been called a lot worse, though, so mostly the insult just rolled on passed him like so many others had. Besides, he couldn’t exactly deny he was unusually pale, especially considering that most of his clan tended towards more medium skin tones than the lighter ones the Uchiha were prone to, but he wasn’t fat.

No, not his clan. The Senju. He was going to have to get used to that.

It took a while for the two brothers to calm down, repeatedly breaking out in to fits of sniggering. They were probably doing something to set each other off again each time but whatever it was he couldn’t be bothered to look. Eventually they trailed off and sat together quietly for several minutes until Izuna spoke again.

“You know, I never would have expected this sort of behavior from him, of all people.”

“What do mean?” Madara asked.

“It’s just…pathetic. His clan kicks him out and he just gives up on life? Granted, I can’t really say I know much about him other than how he holds his blade, but from what little I know of him he just doesn’t seem the type to let himself go to waste like this.”

“He lost his whole family,” Madara pointed out in a hushed tone. “And judging from the story he gave us he clearly values family as much as any Uchiha. Would you do any better in his situation?”

Izuna declined to answer – or at least if he responded it was not verbal. Tobirama wrinkled his nose with distaste. He was not enjoying their conversation but letting them know he was awake wasn’t guaranteed to shift the topic to anything brighter so he didn’t see the point in trying to stop them. All he could do was hope they grew bored and left soon. Or maybe he would get lucky and one of them would take the opportunity to put a blade through his spine while his back was turned.

Unlikely but a man could dream. There wasn’t much else he could dream of now anyway.

“You’re not going to like this. Actually, lots of people aren’t going to like this.”

“Like what?” Izuna sounded cautious, suspicious.

“I think we should keep him.”

“Keep–? Are you out of your mind?”

“Well, think about it! We can’t turn one of our greatest enemies loose, especially not while he’s this mentally unstable. He’s truly not a Senju anymore, you heard Hikaku’s report the same as I did, so technically he’d not even our enemy anymore. And I…Izu, I don’t think I could make myself kill him. Look at him. He’s like a big child having a tantrum except it’s a hundred times sadder to watch.”

Body going stiff with offence, Tobirama finally found something to react to.

“Fuck you,” he muttered. He was briefly satisfied to hear both of them jolt in surprise.

“Well look who decided to wake up.”

“Fuck you too, Izuna.”

Shuffling sounds met his ears and then nothing but the shifting of air as the two of them came closer, stopping at the door of his cell.

“My brother has good news for you but something tells me you’re not going to like it.”

“What could you possibly gain from keeping me alive?” he grumbled, rolling over to glare up at the two of them.

In a strange mirror of how they usually looked, Izuna had left his hair down again while Madara had his wild mane pulled back in to a thick braid, clearly thrown together quickly and meant more for convenience than for aesthetics even if the look was a good one on him.

“Who says we won’t put you to work?” Madara grinned and leaned against the bars. “Maybe I’m just looking for a little free labor around the compound. Don’t you worry S-…Tobirama. We’ll keep you so busy around here you won’t have time to think of anything but how much your back aches from carrying my laundry around.”

“So I’m to be a slave, then?” Tobirama growled. With some effort he picked himself up off the ground to stomp across to the bars and loom over the other man. His body might be withered from inactivity but he was still taller. Unfortunately, despite his lesser height, Madara seemed the taller between them with his easy stance and smug expression. He even had the gall to laugh and reach through the bars to poke Tobirama in the middle of his chest.

“You’re to stay alive and make yourself useful. If I’m going to feed you then I’m going to get something back for my efforts as payment.”

“I don’t need you to save me from myself.”

“Well then I guess I’m just doing this out of the goodness of my heart. Imagine that, eh? An Uchiha with a heart.” Madara draped one arm around his brother’s shoulder and turned them both towards the door, still looking back at his captive. “Probably doesn’t feel like its possible right now but you’ll thank me for it someday. You’ll see.”

Tobirama peeled back his lips in a sneer. “Not likely.”

He got no answer other than a shrug. As the brothers left him he could hear Izuna asking if they were really going to keep him like a pet, then Madara’s voice scolding him not to phrase it like that, and Tobirama despaired. He had hoped that was only a bluff to get under his skin.

Angry and made restless by his own irritation, Tobirama paced back and forth across the wooden floor boards, counting all the spots where it creaked beneath him. He had paced the circumference of his cell several times already before he thought to notice that they had left the single bulb burning, keeping light in the room for the first time. Until now he had been allowed to wallow in darkness, probably because he spent all of his time curled on the floor with his eyes closed anyway, seeing light only when someone brought him food or came to ply him with more questions he generally refused to answer.

Now the light had been left on across the room, wasting precious electricity. Tobirama eyed it and wondered if it had been left by accident or if they knew somehow that he was up and about at long last. He scowled as he resumed his pacing. He would hate to be so predictable to those jerk-heads.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #izuna #fanfiction

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years

Text

Baby Daddy - Chapter 9

You can read it here on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

“Did you hear about this?” Dad asks, shaking out the newspaper as Stiles makes breakfast.

“What?” Stiles asks. “Also, who even reads newspapers anymore? Don’t you have a phone like regular people?”

Dad ignores that. “The Hales are back in town. They’re rebuilding the house.”

“Oh.” Stiles feels a jolt. Right. The Hales. Who he has somehow forgotten to mention to his dad that he knows. And that he is also playing an integral part in producing a new one. Those Hales. “Um, yeah. I knew they were back in town. I didn’t know about the house though.”

Dad peers at him over the frames of his reading glasses. “You knew they were back in town?”

“Yeah. My friend Laura? From the diner? It’s Laura Hale.”

His Dad frowns. “You didn’t mention this when I told you I was checking out the Hale file again.”

“What’s to mention?” Stiles asks, smacking the side of the coffee maker to get it to start working. They really need to get a new one of those at some point. “It’s not like we sit around and talk about that time most of her family got incinerated.”

“I guess not,” Dad says. “It’s just the three of them left, isn’t it?”

Three and a bit, Stiles thinks, and feels his face flooding with warmth.

“I think so? Laura doesn’t talk about her family much, and I don’t really blame her.” He gives the coffee maker another smack. “I met her brother last night though.”

Her incredibly hot and weird brother. And Stiles didn’t exactly meet him, did he? He stood there while the guy glared at him and then turned around and ran like Stiles was the devil or something. Definitely hot, but definitely weird. And Laura was weird as well. Whatever Hale family weirdness Stiles had stepped into there, he has no idea, only that there was sudden tension in the air thick enough to choke on. It had felt like Stiles had wandered on stage in the middle of some dramatic moment but nobody had given him a script. Definitely some heavy stuff going on, and it had been awkward as hell, but Stiles figures he’s already jerked off into a jar for Laura Hale, and whatever was going on last night can’t even come close to that, right? What’s a little more awkwardness thrown in?

“Those poor kids,” Dad says, and Stiles feels an odd moment of disconnect thinking of Laura and Derek that way, but of course they were only teenagers back then and that's how Dad remembers them. Laura must’ve been barely eighteen.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and thinks of Derek Hale. It’s probably unfair to think of him as weird, right? He works nights, which explains his zombification—Stiles once saw his dad get back from a night shift, carefully peel an orange, toss the segments in the trash and then just stare at the peel in his hand like he was knew something had gone wrong but couldn’t quite figure it out. Sleep deprivation is a bitch. And is it any surprise that Derek’s not a Chatty Cathy? The Hales have been through hell. It’s probably a miracle any of them are functioning at all.

Stiles isn’t sure he would be, in their shoes.

Dad sets the newspaper aside and rolls his shoulders. “How’s the Jeep running?”

Stiles gives him a genuine smile. “Really good. It starts like clockwork every time!”

“Well, that’s what a starter motor does, son,” Dad says.

“My old one didn’t.”

Dad huffs out a laugh. “The tutoring is still going well, then?”

“Yeah. It’s doing better than I thought.” Stiles is getting stupidly good at lying about this. And while it works for little things like groceries and the electric bill and the Jeep’s starter motor, he’s not sure yet how he’s going to explain that the hospital bill has been paid. He’s hoping to intercept all the mail until he figures out a way around it. “And it’s awesome to have the Jeep on the road again.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Dad says with a fond smile. “So, how about we celebrate that by going for a drive?”

“Um.” Stiles blinks, and shrugs. “Sure. Where are we going?”

He figures out halfway there, and tells himself he probably should have known.

***

Once upon a time, the private road that snaked through the Preserve ended at a three-storey house with a wraparound porch, bay windows, and a Dutch gable. Stiles has seen the photographs. Now there’s nothing left except the front façade of the house, charred and blackened, and the towering chimney that leans at an ominous angle.

Stiles pulls the Jeep up behind what looks like a contractor’s truck, and goes around to help Dad out the passenger side. They do an awkward little dance while Dad gets his crutches situated, and then they approach the remains of the house.

The contractor turns out to be a surveyor, and some guy that dad knows from town.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a big job,” he says. “Gonna have to shore up the cellar and all the tunnels before we even bring in the bulldozers to clear the site.”

“Never did figure out what those tunnels were about,” Dad says, gazing at the charred remains of the house.

The surveyor shrugs. “A leftover from bootlegging days, maybe? A bunch of old families made their money that way around here. This once place up in Elk Creek, I had the lady try to tell me it was from the Underground Railroad.” He shakes his head. “In California? In a house built in the twenties? Place was still full of empty whisky barrels.”

Dad laughs at that.

Stiles looks at the house, and at the lay of the land, and tries to remember where the three tunnels came out. He’s seen the plans, and they make no sense. How would a narrow tunnel that connects the house basement to a root cellar be of any use to bootleggers? And the other two didn't lead anywhere at all except few hundred feet into the Preserve.

Dad and the surveyor chat for a few more minutes, and then the surveyor leaves to go back into town.

Dad leans on his crutches and stares at the house, like he’s waiting for it to tell him all its secrets.

Stiles stands with him.

“You just…” Dad exhales heavily. “When your house is burning down, you don’t lock yourself in the fucking cellar.”

“Okay, but the fire investigator said it was an electrical fault, right?” Stiles asks. “I don’t know, maybe they were having a slumber party down there or something?”

“It was a regular concrete cellar, Stiles,” Dad says. “It was storage space. There were no bedrooms down there. Not even a couch and a TV. So what the hell were eight people doing down there that night? It doesn’t make any sense, unless…”

Stiles feels a prickling of unease down his spine. “Unless what?”

“Unless it wasn’t just the fire they were trying to get away from,” Dad says, his expression hard. “Unless there was some reason they couldn’t run out the front door, so they tried for the tunnels instead.”

Stiles shivers. “Like what reason?”

Dad gazes around the Preserve. “I don’t know, kid. I really don’t know.”

“You think someone targeted them,” Stiles says, and the realisation is like being doused in cold water. “You think they couldn’t use the doors because whoever set the fire was waiting to pick them off as they came outside. So they tried the tunnels, except they were blocked off somehow too.”

Dad smiles grimly. “Crazy theory, right?”

“Yeah!” Stiles rubs his forehead. “I mean, it’s insane, but it’s also the only thing that fits.”

He understands now why his dad wanted to come out here. It’s been eight years since the fire. There’s no physical evidence left out here. But sometimes it’s important to look at a crime scene to get a sense of the distances, the spaces, even the way the light falls. And sometimes it’s an important reminder that it’s real, that it didn’t just happen on paper and in photographs, and that actual people died here.

Stiles watches as Dad leans heavily on his crutches and looks around the clearing. There’s an old sorrow in his gaze, the weight of what the place is, what it had been once, and of the night itself. Stiles remembers the morning that Dad came home smelling of smoke and ash. He remembers the way his hands shook when washed them in the sink, over and over again, even though they were already clean.

He’s never asked what his dad saw that night, but he knows it was bad.

This isn’t just a puzzle to his dad. This is about his duty to the Hales who lost their lives that night, and the Hales who didn’t.

And, even if Dad doesn’t know it yet, to a tiny Hale who has yet to be born.

***

On the way back to town, down that twisting road through the trees, they pass a black SUV with heavily tinted windows.

It could be a contractor. It could be a sightseer from town. It could be anyone for any reason, but Stiles sees that his dad notes the licence plate number down.

***

Stiles’s stomach tells him that it’s lunchtime when they get home. He pulls the Jeep into the driveway, parking beside the cruiser already there. Deputy Jordan Parrish is leaning on the side of it, and he lifts a hand in greeting.

“Hey, it’s your work son!” Stiles says, waving back at Parrish.

Dad gives him a look. “Where the hell do you even come up with this stuff?”

“Oh, please. You love him. It’s adorable.” Stiles climbs out of the Jeep and heads around to the passenger side to help Dad out, only to find Parrish already there. “Hey, dude.”

“Hey, Stiles. How’s college?”

“Not bad. How’s fighting crime in the vast metropolis of Beacon Hills?”

Parrish makes a so-so gesture with his hand. “I gave out two fines for jay walking last week.”

“Good for you! Jay walkers, man. A scourge on decent society!” He gets ahead of Dad and Parrish so he can get the front door. “Are you staying for lunch, Jordan?”

“Uh, I guess? If I’m not intruding?”

“As if. Dad likes you more than me! I’m making sandwiches.”

“Sounds great.”

Stiles leaves Parrish to get Dad settled in the living room, and heads into the kitchen to rustle up some sandwiches and coffee. He decides on some basic turkey and mayo, with extra lettuce and bean sprouts on Dad’s. When he takes them into the living room, it’s to catch the tail end of Jordan giving Dad the weekly recap of what’s been going on down at the station: current investigations, crime stats, and the continuing saga of the scrub jays that have built a nest overlooking the parking lot and now try to attack anyone walking from the station to their cruiser.

“They’re birds, Parrish,” Dad says, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe they’re holding the entire station hostage like that.”

“I called the park ranger’s office to see what we should do,” Parrish says. “He laughed at me.”

“Because they’re birds,” Dad repeats, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Anyhow, Stiles and I went out to the old Hale house this morning to take a look around. We saw an SUV on the way back. Can I get you to run the plate for me?”

“Sure thing, Sheriff,” Parrish says, and takes the piece of notepaper Dad hands him. “I can do it now if you want?”

“Eat your lunch first."

Parrish nods, and tucks the paper into his shirt pocket. “The Hales were pretty well known, weren’t they?”

Parrish hasn’t been in Beacon Hills for long enough to remember the Hales, or the house, back when they were whole.

“They were an old family,” Dad says. “Well liked.”

Stiles exchanges a look with him. If they were so well liked, then why the hell was someone targeting them?

“Do you think that now they’re back in town, there’s going to be trouble?” Parrish asks frankly, and this is why Dad likes him. Parrish gets straight to the point, just like Dad.

“I think that’s a possibility we ought to consider,” Dad says. “I think there’s more to the fire than what you’ll find in those files, that’s for sure.”

“You think it was arson,” Parrish says, raising his eyebrows.

“I think it was murder,” Dad tells him. “The fire investigator was adamant it was an electrical fault, but when your house is burning down around you, you don’t shelter in the goddamn basement. You don’t try and get out that way either, not when you’ve got perfectly good doors and windows on the ground floor. Damned if anyone could tell me why they’d do that.”

Stiles feels a rush of excitement. “Dad!”

“Hmm?”

“Dad, eight years ago nobody could tell you, because Laura and Derek weren’t there, right?”

“Right.”

“But Peter Hale was,” Stiles says. “He was in the house. And didn’t the paper say he was the one that applied for the planning permission? He’s awake now, so why not ask him?”

Dad blinks at him for a moment. “Shit, kid. Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”

Stiles knows.

For eight years his dad has gone around and around in circles with the Hale fire, and he’s so used to treading those same paths that he didn’t even realise that something new had shaken loose that might change the entire picture. Hasn’t Dad always said that the thing any old case needs most of all is a fresh set of eyes? Someone to look at things in a different way? And Stiles has always been good for that.

“You’re friends with Laura, you said?” Dad claps him on the shoulder. “Can you get me her uncle’s number?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “I can do that.”

Because Laura is his friend, and he wants to keep her safe.

Her, and the newest Hale that she’s trying to bring into the world.

***

Parrish heads out to his cruiser after lunch and Stiles trails along with him. He watches as he inputs the licence plate into the cruiser’s onboard computer.

“Who the hell is Gerard Argent?” Parrish asks, and writes the information down for Dad. Argent has an Arizona address.

Stiles shrugs and takes the notepaper back. “No idea, man. Probably some lost tourist.”

“Probably,” Parrish agrees.

#my fics #baby daddy #sterek #discontentedwinter

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morkaischosen · 7 years

Text

Sage and Joan Gardener

Some More CMWGE Characters

The original idea here came from Wounded Angel, and the idea of doing mirror-image versions of the same character, where each was the other’s sealed-away Blasphemy monster form. Then I decided the version that’s slightly truer to the Nobilis half of the inspiration was better. I’m pretty sure wanting to use Prophet wasn’t even the main reason for that!

(Sage is, as you will likely notice, using standard-issue Fallen Angel arcs, while Joan is on the canonical Angel arcset, yes shut up Prophet is definitely an Angel arc and you can’t convince me otherwise.)

Sage Gardener, the Friend to All Weeds, is a foundling of mysterious parentage. He was raised by the Kichi family, whose sacred pools long ago prophesied his arrival; sealed away within him, the prophecy says, is an apocalypse of fire and brimstone that will bring ruin and destruction to the world. The only way to avert this doom is for him to live a peaceful, compassionate life; if he gives in to anger, the terrible forces he contains will escape into the world.

If anyone can raise him and keep him safe from that fate, it’s Fortitude’s shrine families - but adolescence will test even their tranquility.

Sage is a small, slight boy with a shaved head and a smile that ranges from calm to cheeky, depending on his mood - he almost never frowns. He has a kind word for absolutely everyone he meets; in Fortitude that’s not particularly surprising, but he shows the same polite respect to rampaging abominations of science, monsters, and even door-to-door salespeople.

The grass stains on his knees and the scratches on his hands somehow entirely fail to make him look messy - they seem as much a part of him as his clothes and skin.

Sage is one of those people who can have a conversation about anything someone finds interesting, but his personal passion is botany. He tends a small wildflower meadow not far from the Kichi shrine, full of plants most of his neighbours think of as weeds - Sage maintains that everyone else not wanting them in their gardens just means it’s even more important to make space for them here, and sometimes even transplants weeds to make sure they have somewhere to grow. He’s so used to the thorns, thistles and stings that he sometimes forgets to warn people, which can be a problem when he invites people to sit with him in the garden - it’s not that they don’t hurt him, it’s just part of life.

His unshakeable calm is starting to shake as puberty makes itself known, though. He’s starting to find his mood swinging more than he’s used to, particularly when people are judgemental towards those they don’t understand - he can’t stand that kind of behaviour, but it’s so much easier to be angry about it than anything else. He’s managed to keep it under control for now - despite a few forlorn patches of fresh ash in his garden - but he’s scared of what could happen if he’s not as good at that as his (consistently supportive) foster-parents and teachers think, and too worried about upsetting them to bring it up.

Sage Gardener, the Friend to All Weeds

Superior Holiness 2 (but Sage’s Holiness is entirely unsuited to scourging anything - he can heal people, inspire them, and calm wild animals with a word, but ghosts and monsters can tolerate his presence just fine.) Kindness 2 Meditation 1 Botany 3

If Joan also exists, Sage should have a Connection 1 to her, even if they’ve never met.

Wounded Angel 2:

Dramatic: Sage tends to turn up when people really need someone to talk to - as often for “ohmygod I just read this book and it’s AMAZING” as anything else.

Devices: herbal infusions and incenses with mystical properties, efficaciously channeling his Holiness.

Blasphemy: when Sage loses his last Divine Health Level, he flowers into a terrible mandala of fire, wings, and lidless eyes that scourges away all spiritually impure things - and most things are spiritually impure.

Empowered Wounds: handles everything from holy powers of peace and love through the corrupt powers of a malevolent spirit possessing him (because malevolent possessing spirits deserve somewhere to live!) to manifestations of the terrible doom of scourging flame he could become.

Creature of the Light 1:

Tireless: Sage has access to Miraculous Will while showing compassion and acceptance to the things others reject.

Well-Lit: Sage is a blessed and holy being, and the world shows him to the best of its ability.

The Auctoritas Magister

Appear: Plants often turn out to have been Sage (or have had a Sage sleeping underneath them) when he needs to be where they are.

Transfix: Sage’s calm motions hold people’s attention, bringing peace to the world.

Possible starting Empowered Wounds include nettle stings that mark him as a friend to weeds, allowing him to manipulate plant life and giving an Affliction of “My skin stings like a nettle,” as well as barely-controlled mood swings allowing him to summon fire, with some appropriate Affliction.

Perks: Affliction: “When I give in to anger, things burn.” (Tied to Wounded Angel - currently 2)

“It’s like a home to me” - Sage’s wildflower meadow gives a +1 Tool bonus to feeling at peace.

XP Emotion: Believing In You XP or D’awww XP are the two I’d be likely to hit.

Joan Gardener, the Foe to All Weeds, is a foundling orphan. Her adoptive family are a quiet Fortitude couple who’d already been looking to adopt when she was found, a baby, on their doorstep with a cryptic note explaining that young Joan Gardener needed a home. As she grew older, it started to become clear that she might not be an entirely normal child - nothing that would be that obvious on its own, but the coincidences are piling up.

Joan is a stocky girl with shoulder-length mousy hair, often tied up in a slightly messy ponytail. She spends a lot of time frowning, either in concentration or because someone’s said something she disagrees with - she’s a wilful sort, and her teachers very rapidly learned that it’s difficult to satisfy her with a partial explanation. She’s willing to back down if you can actually convince her she was wrong, but doing that isn’t easy.

She’s fond of most forms of art - a beautiful painting or a well-performed song always replaces her trademark frown of concentration with a surprisingly sweet smile - but she decided at an early age that her true love is gardening. As always, she committed, and every day when her lessons are done, she armours herself in her apron and her gloves, belts on her secateurs and the weed-killing blowtorch nobody will admit to having let a child get hold of, and sets forth to earn some pocket money. Her campaign against weeds is legendary - she fights them with zealous efficiency, often insisting on staying out late if the root system is more extensive than expected.

She’s often frustrated by grown-ups not believing her, especially when she can’t explain why she needs to do something; as puberty starts to make itself known, her parents are finding themselves at odds with her more often. She’s a good kid and she doesn’t like being disobedient, but more and more often, the alternative seems just as bad. It’s frustrating and confusing for everyone, but as ever the idea of backing down is far from her thoughts.

Joan Gardener, the Foe to All Weeds

Superior Holiness 2 (but Joan’s holiness is harsh-edged - she can inspire people, cure infections or drive back a ghost with a word, but when it comes to encouraging growth she’s better off using good compost and the right fertiliser.) Confidence 2 Making an Effort 1 Gardening 3 Flying 0 (she can jump about as effectively as a normal child who jumps a fairly normal amount but has no particular investment in this mode of transportation).

If Sage exists, Joan should have Connection 1 to him, even if they’ve never met.

Prophet 2:

Joan is the Prophet of Pruning, the cosmic principle of carefully cutting away imperfect or unwanted things to allow space for beauty to grow. It’s most deeply tied to gardening, but it can also be found in surgery and the like. Her enemies include Sage (whose message of acceptance refuses to allow the destructive side of pruning); other foes might be an industrial interest representing Productivity - where Pruning cuts away some stems of the bush to promote more flowers to grow, Productivity uproots the whole bush so it can build a factory.

Divine Guidance: Joan can allow the cosmic weight of Pruning to guide her towards what needs to be removed. If she sustains this for a whole chapter, some broader-scale beauty is given space to flower into the world.

Materialization of Possibility: Joan can call on Pruning to solve an immediate problem - coincidence and chance conspire to cut through the Gordian knot, or doubts and confusion are removed to make a chaotic mess suddenly simple and clear. Pruning is reductive - it’s well suited to removing obstacles and bringing clarity, but less adept at creating new things.

Inspiration: When performing the work of Pruning, Joan can escape the bonds of gravity to find the best angle to work from, using the Flight of Pruning; and her actions take on divine force, cutting through obstruction and indecision and removing her audience’s doubts when she moves and speaks with the Confidence of Pruning.

Vestments: Joan has a weed-killing blowtorch of flame. Nobody’s quite sure who let a 12-year-old girl get her hands on something that dangerous, but it’s definitely hers and taking it off her seems like a bad idea. The “of flame” seems a bit redundant, but omitting it feels like abbreviating the thing’s proper name. With this mighty weapon, Joan can burn weeds and purify away all manner of malign presences.

Hallow: given a few minutes to work, Joan can prepare a place for Pruning. This enshrines the region property that “Impure and unwanted things can be cut away to give beauty space to grow.”

Illumination: It can be hard to cut away the things that hold you back; when Joan listens to people’s struggles with what it means to give themselves the space to grow, it can be Foreshadowing or Sympathetic Action.

Keeper of Gardens 1:

The World, Like Clay: Joan Gardener is a gardener and Keeper of Gardens, and thus can garden her gardens with her Gardening skill. But, like, more than normal gardeners can.

Toxic: Joan has a Bond 2: “I make everything simple and straightforward.” Her confidence is infectious.

Land-Rule: The rules allow shifting some points into Superior Land-Rule, but I feel like the things of Joan’s gardens likely respond to Confidence and Holiness well enough that it’s not necessary.

The Great Magic: By wounding a Divine Health Level, Joan can shape the way her gardens grow, allowing them to develop into ever more beautiful forms.

Guide: Talking flowerbeds and sentient water features are possible, but - unsurprisingly - Joan’s most common Guides are created as topiary.

Perks: “It’s like a home to me” - Joan’s parents have let her take over the gardening at home, and the results are elegantly beautiful. (Both Prophet and Keeper of Gardens will allow her to claim more gardens in future).

The other perk slot is flexible if you have a good idea; if not, a second Bond: “I must eradicate weeds wherever they may be found!” should lead to Fun.

XP Emotion: Believing In You XP or Fist-Pump XP?

(If you’re running a martial arts version of CMWGE where everything is inexplicably bound up in martial arts tournaments, Sage is a student of baguazhang, true to his Airbender inspiration; Joan insists that European longsword styles are entirely valid martial arts and shows up in full armour.)

#cmwge #sage gardener #joan gardener #awesthetic

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