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swtki · 3 years ago

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Three Spots -L.L

Chapter 3 // Previous

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Fem! Reader (but as exes), Loki Laufeyson x Sylvie Laufeydottir

Summary: The end approaches, but what does it solve?

Warnings: mentions of previous chapter so the same warnings as for that one, bad bitch behavior, cycles of grief (?), swearing.

A/N: Playlist is in bold as usual.

Everything moved so fast, she felt like she had Motion Sickness. One day she was head over heels for Loki, the next she was burning his shit. Funny how it didn’t help that much, she still cried herself to sleep every night.

“Brother, It Will Rain.” Thor said, a hand on the other mans shoulder. “When it does, I hope you can conjure up an umbrella that can withstand fire and acid.” Loki gave a weak smile.

Sylvie and Loki weren’t exactly together, their love was a kind of Skinny Love. All bones and nothing else. Harsh corners but no cushion. It wasn’t like how he and Y/N were, and he didn’t know why that was. He loved himself, so shouldn’t Sylvie be more than enough?

“Nope! Not Allowed!” Snapped Natasha, guarding the cracked open doorway with her body. “Leave her the fuck alone, go suck yourself off. Or I guess get your female version to do it for you.”

“Natasha, please I just need to see her. I want to make this right.” Loki begged to see his ex lover, who was behind the bed, hiding from him. “All I Wanted to say is that there is nobody who will ever compare to you-“ Loki was cut off when the door slammed closed. He huffed, but in his usual fashion he wouldn’t give up.

“Please, take it for a Test Drive? Try going outside of the room? It’s not healthy, everyone is worried.” Wanda pleaded with her, it had been a week since anyone other than Wanda and Natasha saw the girl.

“I don’t wanna…don’t wanna see him. Not with her. I think I’d die. Or kill.” Wanda places a hand on her shoulder.

“But, Y/N, he’s weak now. He’s been waddling around with a Jar of Hearts held out in front of him, one tap thats strong enough, and he’s down.” Natasha took another approach to consoling, a prospect of revenge.

A few days passed before Y/N crept outside of her room to get something to eat from the kitchen. It felt good, to only be surrounded by friends. But she knew as the weeks came and went; She’d see Loki eventually. Still, Thor was like a brother to her; and she a sister to him. “Ah! Lady Y/N how radiant you look these days!” he complimented her, knowing full well that Loki was around the corner.

“Well, Tears Dry On Their Own; Regardless if your brother is there to wipe them away this time. Which, he isn’t. He won’t even be allowed within two feet if he wants to be safe.”

Loki stayed away, even though he wanted nothing more than to kiss her as hard as he could. He wanted to go back to when she was happy with him, when he was loyal to her. But he knew she was no longer the girl who would take his pathetic self back, she was strong; and it terrified him. It took him two weeks to make himself known in her presence, he didn’t speak to her as he knew it would cause chaos.

Eventually, a month had passed. He knew he could try and speak to her because she had said “Thank you.” to him when he passed her the salt. Yes, he knew it was fucking pathetic; but he didn’t care. Because at the end of the day, she talked to him.

“When I Was Your Man, I don’t remember you laughing as hard as you do now.” It was true, she had never smiled quite so wide in the time they had spent together. As much as it hurt him to see her without him, he was delighted to see her smile.

“Yeah, you’re now my man anymore, Loki. Therefore I Am full of laughter. Crazy how that works.” Her tone was cold, full of pent up anger ready to boil over at any second. Loki took the hint, slipping away to his quarters as to not bother her anymore. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy; What better time for him to bump into Tony Stark on the way.

“Hey, Reindeer Games, You & Jennifer figure out other boarding plans?” Loki raised his eyebrow, not sure of what the mortal man was speaking of.

“Sylvie and me? No, we’re not moving in together. I plan to stay in my quarters and she can float around the galaxy as she pleases.” Tony’s lips spread into a wide,displeased expression.

“You aren’t staying, dickwad. I may have let Y/N keep you here as her plus one but not now. You’re not even part of our team, how could you be; you tried murdering all of us more than once? I gotta make space for the new kid anyway.” Loki’s stomach went cold when he realized what Tony was saying; he was being kicked to the curb. He was never accepted by the rest of the tower, they just put up with him for her sake.

“Who?” Loki scoffed, instinctually defensive.

“Spider boy just graduated, and seeing as how he is part of our team, he’s gonna need somewhere to sleep. Look, I’m giving you two days, get your shit together, sleep at the TVA; I don’t care, just don’t be here.” What was bad was now worse, where could he go? Mobius wasn’t exactly a phone call away, and he didn’t really want to go sleep in the archive section of the TVA library. But what other choice did he have?

“Y/N, I love you, but why do you always fall for the Black Sheep? I mean you’re so much better than Loki, why do you put up with these guys?” Natasha leaned down to her friend, her best attempt at being sensitive.

“‘Dunno. I shouldn’t fall for bad guys, I know. But, I thought Loki was different. Guess I was wrong.” She still wasn’t completely over it all, but she was leaning towards being able to talk about it. “I want him to be in pain, y’know? God, I sound so Selfish. But really, Nat, I just wanna see him burn.” She admits, pulling her knees into her chest.

“I mean, Good 4 U. I think you should feel that way, he deserves nothing but your anger.” Y/N shrugged in response, feeling an empty pit in her stomach both beginning to close and open up even more.

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mipplenoop · 3 years ago

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Chapter One: Refractory

I swiped left, I swiped right. My lips echoed those satisfying plinks and plonks as points racked up and candies dropped. There was a strange sort of comfort that came from controlling supersaturated treats on an iPhone screen, as their bright light danced on the mute concrete around me.

Though I was a prisoner, the phone made me feel free. It brought me back to all those hours at home, playing the 8-bit games that were all the rage back then - especially Sweets Smash. With Aaron, with Ruby, I remembered sitting under the dining table gathered around my brother’s old console, hiding from the discipline of our parents. Even though it was called Candy Crush now, and on a screen smaller than my palm, the feeling was the same. Just like back then, staring at those lacquered sweets made my mouth water.

Oh, how I longed for a good meal. I couldn’t recall the last time I had digested something other than salty, rubbery chicken and reheated green beans. I was so starved for something different that I could’ve eaten, say, an entire spotted hyena. Yes. I imagined myself grabbing the beast by the belly while its brethren howled and laughed, sinking my teeth into its fur and biting down through its thick, black hide. Tasting that sweet, fibrous flesh of a being inferior to me. In fact, I’d have eaten the whole pack - my stomach bubbled and churned as I immersed myself in the game, trying in vain to stave off that ever present sensation. But not a moment passed that I didn’t force myself to gulp down a torrent of saliva, lest I drown in my own starvation. At this point, the mold growing out of the cracks in the wall looked tempting. What made me, of all people, deserving of such punishment? Of such pain?

Nothing, I reminded myself. I was an honest person. I worked hard at making it in this life. I was caring, curious, and funny. Loyal. There were people who loved me. And I loved them, even to the point that I would’ve given my life for them. Sure, maybe I hadn’t always been the best I could be, but I tried. I tried so hard.

Yet in the eyes of the law, I was nothing but a killer. They - the police, the prisons, the surveillance companies, “They” with a big “T” - knew my sins, and were never going to forget. A cold, computational system never forgets. Charged on two counts of first degree murder. One count of aggravated assault.

Nobody understood that I was a victim, too. In the last moments of Duy’s life, it was me or him. Letting him live would’ve been a dark, endless pit that pulled me down forever, sinking me deeper and deeper into a suffocating void of toxicity until I died. Of abuse, or stress, or insanity, I didn’t know. But I felt it in my loins. That feeling was frustrating, and it was the only thing that hurt more than the hunger. They didn’t understand that I was more than ones and zeros. That Aaron, or even Duy was more than a statistic, more than... Fuck. The gnarled remains of my cock hurt just thinking about it. A phantom pain. Tears streamed down my pudgy cheeks, falling onto those precious candies.

I swept the tears away, but no matter how hard I tried, each move felt like a setback - a step towards loss. With each combo, blocks of chocolate grew in area, threatening to envelop my remaining freedom - eating away at the space which would allow the creation of striped candies and color bombs. Those big brown balls dotted with sprinkles of rainbow, that was what I needed to win. Just six of them, in about three times as many moves. I hoped that when I saw that victory screen, with all of the points I had won, it would be almost rewarding as a real meal - maybe I would be able to forget where I was, even just for a second. Yet those brown squares were eating away at my freedom to win, or to even try to win. It was a never ending battle for territory, where each attack that did not seek to eliminate the chocolate only facilitated in growing it.

“Your phone time is over, Gambia.”

The sound echoed through my head, disrupting the swirling thoughts that I had grown so accustomed to housing. When had he entered? I hadn’t even noticed.

Loop Liu eyed me through the bars of my cell, pelvis thrust forward in a display of attempted dominance. His hands rested over a pair of bony hips, lined by a belt weighed down with all variety of police gadgets. Handcuffs, pepper spray, knives, and whistles. Two empty gun holsters. Blue fabric of his much-too-big uniform sagged over them, weighted down by a sparkling, star-shaped metal buckle that identified the man as chief - pinned over his heart like a sticker for good behavior. It made him look even more so like a child in a man’s outfit. His lanky arm reached through the bars, beckoning me to hand over the phone.

“You made your one phone call, right? Who did you contact?” he questioned in a somewhat accusatory tone.

I looked down at the phone, at my game. I hadn't made the call, but only because I was too busy crushing candies. I tried to concentrate on winning, since that was the only thing I could control now.

Still, it was interesting that he used that phrase. “One phone call.” That was just a myth from Hollywood movies, wasn’t it? Aaron had made me aware of such factoids during our time in the hospital. People treated that line as if it was written in the Constitution. But in reality, I had no rights the second they found me - a beautiful brown big boy - beaten, bloody, in a room with two bodies. This phone didn’t even belong to me, but to the lieutenant currently at the front desk. It was an aesthetic. Worse than that, it was probably monitored, tapped, just so they could incriminate me further.

The chief sighed. “Gambia. This ain’t a hotel. Say something. You gonna make me come in there?”

Only fifteen moves left, and I still needed four more color bomb swipes. It was tough, trying to get a row of candies to align in the right configuration. With the limited space imposed by the chocolates squares, it would take all of my skill to get a win.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he taunted.

Fourteen moves now. I couldn’t stop.

“I know people like you, you don’t have anyone to call. You don’t have any family or friends, because either they got scared and ran away, or because you killed them. Am I wrong? I know I'm not. Frankly, it disgusts me that we have to do anything for murderers like you,” Loop Liu tucked his thumbs under his belt and stretched backward. “But it’s the law.”

I continued swiping. Two more moves but no closer to my goal.

He was wrong, wasn’t he? I didn’t call because I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. I had people to contact. The nurses at the hospital, family friends, my parents’ old lawyer. Right? I just didn’t want to involve them in it. And as for the people I had supposedly murdered… Duy… well, that wasn’t my choice.

“Now if you didn’t call anyone, that’s perfectly understandable. You can give me the phone and I’ll leave you be. But if you did talk to someone, and we don’t know about it, if you’re lying to me, well, that’s not good. In fact, some may say that your actions are grounds for additional obstruction of justice charges.”

Why was I still thinking those thoughts? About what happened with Duy. Why was I being stupid again? There was no way out for me. The chocolate was closing in, leaving me with only a five by five grid to build the bomb. Maybe I could use a lollipop booster? No. That would be cheap. Aaron would never have resorted to using microtransactions or cheating in Sweets Smash.

Then again, Aaron wouldn’t have killed anyone, either. Maybe I should just give Loop the phone. It wasn’t even mine, and, like I had said, it was probably compromised. It was evidence that the whole world was against me, that they would try their best to make sure I lived in a dark, cramped jail cell for the rest of my life. It was an impostor. It was a fake friend. My real phone was broken, along with Duy’s spine, when I had crushed him.

My arm began to move, raising the phone toward the chief’s hand.

But I stopped myself.

“No. I want to see Big Wang Chang’s body. Then I’ll give you your phone,” my voice cracked, after having not spoken for days.

It was a pathetic declaration. Irrational. Yet, there was something in me that wanted to grasp onto just an infinitesimal chance at hope. Even though I would never talk with Ruby or Aaron on our old farmhouse, my heart still jumped every time I swiped a candy and was reminded of their warmth. Despite the fact that I would probably never again see the light of day, I pictured myself taking Aaron’s body from the morgue, dressing it in fancy clothes, giving it a modest send off and burying it in the field out back with Ruby.

Loop laughed, as he unhooked a ring of keys from his belt. “You think you can make demands? You’ve already asked us for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a goddamn late night snack every single day you’ve been here. You’re out of requests.”

My stomach growled. Candies beckoned me, and they tasted like my lover. If I didn’t try now, I probably would never be able to again.

“I just want to see him one last time. I won’t do anything crazy,” I spoke, now with a more confident voice.

The chief rolled his eyes. “You want to see Aaron, you mean? Your ‘brother’?”

My twin.

“Not a chance,” asserted Loop. “Quit whining and give me the phone.”

I crossed my arms stubbornly in protest. The chief stood in contemplation for a moment.

Loop Liu lifted his cap and scratched his balding head. “Look, we don’t even have the body anymore. I don’t know what the feds did with it, but it got separated from Duy’s at the hospital. Good thing, too, if you ask me. You wouldn’t want to see your own handiwork. From what I already saw in the photos, that kid's chest was messed up.”

Duy had stabbed him, yet I was being blamed. This was the brilliant system at it again. Aaron was covered in my blood when they found us, and that was all there was the story. No need to investigate further, or to learn about how he saved me from an infection that would’ve taken my life, not to mention my whole cock. My blood began to boil at the sheer thought of it, and the only thing keeping me in check was that I had just gotten another color bomb. Its electricity reached out like tendrils of Aaron’s hair all those summers ago, long before he had cut it. I only had three more to go.

“That’s a lie. If you don’t have a body, how do you even know he’s dead?” I demanded.

I knew he was dead. There was no way around it. I was just stalling, taking up time, in a big middle finger to the chief. How dare he try and tease me, to give me the hope of seeing my twin once again. Fuck the chief. I remembered what Duy had done to Aaron. All I wanted was for them to give me the truth.

“Look, Gambia, we can go over all the fun details during your official interrogation. But let’s take things one at a time. First, I need you to hand me the goddamn phone.”

But I could already recall all the details. How the paramedics first took Duy’s body and threw it on a stretcher. How it landed with a squelch, and how blood spurted from his open mouth as his head fell back. His crushed, limp body jiggled as they tried to take his pulse. No response. Then they just carted him away, into another room full of body bags.

And I was left there gasping on the ground, as Chief Liu’s underlings took photos of me and Aaron.

The chief huffed. “Remember when we talked before? You gave me your solemn oath that we could get started after you settled in. With a real interview, and a phone call to your family, and all that good stuff.”

That wasn’t a promise. It was coercion, as I was being thrown into a hospital bed still bleeding, and still drenched in Duy’s blood. I was being smothered in questions and flashing lights, swarmed by the police, while they left Aaron in that terrible room all alone. Then when all of the doctors had gone, Chief Liu bent himself over me, and pushed his knee deep into the pulp that was the remains of my penis.

“Promises to bastards like you don’t count,” I sneered.

That last statement came out overflowing with anger. I guess I needed to practice holding in my emotions after experiencing so much trauma and isolation. Whatever. That didn’t matter now. I went with it. I held the phone out in front of my face and continued playing, as if to tell the chief “Come get it.” And my game was on an upswing, too. Only two more bombs needed, with eight moves left.

Liu swung his head to the side, with an amused expression.

“Don’t talk to me like that, boy. You won’t like me when I’m angry,” he laughed.

His air of nonchalance infuriated me. It wasn’t just about what he had done to me, either. I knew Loop Liu was corrupt. A liar and a rapist. Duy had told me as much the last time we met, as we hugged with his mouth pressed to my ear. In the end, perhaps he had become so disillusioned with the world because of what Loop had done. That’s right. I had to remember that we were all victims.

“And how are you when you’re angry? What’s that like?” I asked. My voice quivered with rage.

“You just might find out. I’m specially trained to take down punks like you,” the chief snorted.

“No, Loop. I’m going to take you down. There will be a day that comes when everything you’ve done comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Really? That’s hard to believe, because I haven’t done anything,” the chief snorted.

“Of course you have. You know it, and I know it.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked, half jokingly.

No. It was a prophecy. One that was going to come to pass very soon.

“Duy told me,” I said flat-out. “I know what you did to him. What are you going to do when I let every police officer and lawyer in the city know that?”

There was a barely perceptible change in his expression. His brows crossed just a little deeper, and his forehead became just a little more wrinkly. This was the expression of a man who was not quite angry - afraid, and just enough to lose his cool. It made me feel a little bit better.

I was going to win. I could see the path forward - four blue candies split in half by a yellow. I just had to make the right move. Clink. Plop. Candies dropped. I looked at Loop as he started to tap his feet and pace the ground outside my cell. Clearly my statement had some effect on him. He was off balance now, so maybe there was a way through. Not just in the game, either. I was talking about getting out of this cell.

“You know, Julius,” he spoke quietly.

“What?”

“Some of the boys and I made bets. Bets on how many beatings you would have to take before confessing to the two murders. What do you think I wagered?”

“I don't know. Sixty nine?”

Loop chuckled to himself. “I said only one, because despite how fat you are, you have a feeble soul. And I reckon I’m right - don’t try to prove me wrong.”

Oh. Those were fighting words.

“Are we passing on the interview, then?” I asked, barely able to contain myself.

Loop Liu stared me down. “We sure as hell are. And I’m going to substitute it for a beating right now.”

It was fitting. As kids, Aaron always got out of doing chores on the farm by sweet talking our parents. He would joke with them, talk about how little work I was doing, or fake being sick by warming his forehead with our old heated toilet. I was never as smart. I would always end up doing his work, or take his beatings, while he got to go off on adventures with Ruby, or play Sweets Smash without me.

But as a result, I was used to doing backbreaking labor every day up until I fell off the roof of that barn. And even though it had been three years, I was nearly just as strong as I was then. Under my layers of folds and flaps was a man with the strength to bend steel bars. To crush the entire police force.

To kill.

Fuck! I messed up. It was the chocolate again. I wasn’t watching it. Now I had just two moves left, with no clear path to getting that color bomb.

I clutched the phone tighter as traumatic memories caused my hands to glisten. I couldn't handle another loss. I heard crackling, but I couldn’t tell if it was Candy Crush or the device itself. Or Duy’s ribs. The way I squeezed them with such ease, until his lungs popped and his chest caved in. Those round, blue candies reminded me of Duy’s glistening, pleading eyes as I smothered the life out of them-

“Just give me the damn phone!” screeched chief of police Loop Liu.

He had unlocked the door while I was deep in thought. Of course he had, that slippery bastard. Just like he had barged into mine and Duy’s relationship, he began to enter my cell. This space that they had designated for people like me without giving it a second thought. But now I knew it intimately, like Aaron’s smooth, slender body. And I could beat him with that.

Adrenaline, anger, and power pumped through my bloated body, and in that moment I saw every detail of my surroundings: the sixty nine rusted cell bars before me, the cold, mossy concrete slabs behind me, and the faint breeze that pulsed through each of their cracks. The high hum of the security system that blocked me from the outside world. Yellow heat lamps, swinging on their tethers. There was Loop’s pale hand against the door, ready to push. The hinges to squeak and squeal at his behest. And I knew the exact trajectory of its opening. I could think of one thousand ways to stop Loop from grabbing me, but I only needed one.

“You don’t want to do that,” I warned. “You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words.”

I strutted forward in a confident rage, knowing that I could take him. I no longer cared about my freedom, or Duy, or Candy Crush. I wanted revenge. If I played my cards right here, I may be able to escape and wreak even more destruction. The chief was thin and unathletic, hardly able to stand up to my thickness. The distance between his elbows was less than half that of my body. Even though I was sorely lacking nutrition, I had no doubt that I could take him.

I smacked the man across his face, knuckles digging deep into the bony recesses of his cheeks. His head snapped back and the chief fell to the floor.

I stood dominant over my prey. This spotted hyena of a man, a pathetic excuse for chief, pleaded upward at me in terror. But despite my blinding anger, I still knew in the back of my mind that he was cunning. Duy had told me that much. His pack could arrive at any moment. And so I kept an eye on bony fingers as they slid across his belt, making sure he didn’t radio for backup. Once they came to a rest, I was going to pounce. Aim for the legs, then the face. Then the groin - for Duy.

But no. Wait. the chief was reaching for something else, not on his belt. That was it. A bright red whistle tied around his neck. How had I not noticed that before?

In a single motion, Loop Liu grabbed it, put it to his mouth, and blew as hard as he could.

The shrill banshee cry made me shrink back, stumbling ass first into my cell, shielding my sensitive ears with my palms. My strength negated. Could I still salvage the situation? Nobody would have heard that whistle except for me, right? No. Before I had time to regain my surroundings, with just one glance, I knew it was over. I had no more hope of escape, save for some divine miracle. The physical barrier was just too great.

They lined Loop like a street gang: three dark, African men to each side of the chief, each outfitted in tactical gear, batons in hand, ready to wage full on war. They wore full face shields, the tinted plexiglass as dark as the skin peeking out beneath it. In contrast to the chief, they were brimming with vigor and muscle.

The men seemed to have appeared from nowhere, in a highly coordinated effort, and the beck and call of Loop. They stood with feet perfectly aligned, immaculately distanced from each other in a regular fashion, not a millimeter off. They were not only strong, but obedient. Clearly, the best of the police force.

“Come get some!” I shouted.

They charged, and my fists pounded against their vests.

They seized me. Twelve arms wrapped around my torso, beastial limbs ripping into my form as I struggled against them. With every twist, with each shove, they pressed into me harder than ever before. They were the chocolate, and I was that last color bomb, never meant to be.

As I was suffocated under their layers of Kevlar and sweat, I thought to myself that I could’ve overpowered these half dozen thugs. If only I had a little more food, if only I had won in Candy Crush, it would be a fair battle. The embarrassment brought on by my weakness, and my impotence, only galvanized my struggle even more. My muscles rippled under my corpulent body as I cried out in frustration and shame. This brought only further embarrassment, perpetuating a vicious cycle that soon brought me to tears. The phone fell from my hands, screen shattering against the unforgiving floor. I would never be able to play Candy Crush again.

“You’re not going to win, Loop Liu,” I resolved. “I’ll kill you one day, I swear!”

Loop Liu giggled like a hyena. His head rolled back and he clutched his belly, though I could barely tell through the prison of meat that surrounded me.

“Oh, Julius Gambia. You think you’re ever going to get out of here? Out of the most secure containment system humanity has seen since slavery? No. For that commotion you caused, you’re going somewhere not even your lawyers will be able to find you.”

“And where’s that?” I asked, gasping for air.

“To the depths of hell.”

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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Dark days of our past

Request: Would you please write for Bucky & reader, wherein he's in love with Natasha but is forced to marry reader, he's never home ignores her even when she tries hard. She even has to work as a waitress for money, one-night Brock tries to rape her, Steve arrives just in time and saves her. They become good friends. It's on you if you want her to stay with Bucky or get married to Steve. It could be an au where they are not Avengers.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader, Mobster!Steve x Reader (platonic), Arianna, Sam Wilson, Clint Barnes, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, blood, scared reader, violence, characters death (implied), shot wounds, torture, language, violence

Consolation Bride Masterlist

When you wake up your head feels heavy and your throat is dry. You don’t want to open your eyes when you hear someone groaning, obviously in pain.

“Look who finally woke up, Steve. Your best buddies little wife…” Arianna chuckles striding toward you, a bloody knife in her hand.

Your eyes round seeing the blood, Steve’s blood dripping down the knife. Shaking you look at Steve. He’s bound to a chair, one eye swollen, his left arm cut open he spits blood onto the floor.

“Let her go, Arianna. Y/N has nothing to do with this shit. She was only sixteen, a young girl when this happened.” Steve tries to get you out of here, tries to make sure the woman wielding the bloody knife in front of your face won’t torture you too.

“Why should I let James Buchanan Barnes's wife go? Huh?” Mocking Steve Arianna turns around to hit his nose, causing him to groan in pain. It’s already broken but the woman kidnapping you and Steve won’t stop hitting it.

“What do you want?” Bucky is struggling against the ropes holding him to a chair, his eyes dart between his best friend and you. “I thought you are in Italy…”

“Oh, I was to kill Maria Hill. Do you remember the hot brunette? Hmm…” Now Arianna walks toward Bucky, swaying her hips. Towering over your husband she presses the tip of the knife into his shoulder. “The chick you fucked after little Y/N over there got sent to Paris…”

“What did you do?” Eyes cold Bucky tries anything to get his hands free. He can see what Arianna did to Steve. Bucky knows what happened to Maria and the others. He can’t let anything happen to you too.

“I had my revenge, James.” Pecking Bucky’s cheek, she presses the knife further into his shoulder, twisting it but James doesn’t even flinch. “I killed everyone you ever liked or worked with. Maria…Marcos…Pietro and sweet Wanda. Your brother is already dead so I couldn’t get hold of him but…” Now Arianna chuckles devilish. “I got your best friend and your wife. Who shall I kill first?”

“I got no clue why you are doing this, but I swear I’ll kill you if you touch my girl,” Steve warns and Arianna cocks a brow.

“Your girl, Rogers? Is this a sick polyamorous relationship?”

“No! She’s only mine. Bucky never wanted her, Arianna. Whatever you are holding against Bucky, Y/N means nothing to him.” Steve tries to buy Bucky time. Tries to distract Arianna long enough to get you out of this nightmare.

“He doesn’t love her…awe…poor girl…” Glancing over her shoulder she sees the tears well up your eyes. A hint of pity crosses her face before she turns her attention toward Steve again. “Then I’ll just kill you right here and now. Slit little unwanted Y/N’s throat open before I take care of James over there.”

Steve growls when she slides her knife over his arm once again. “Why are you doing this?” Your question caught her attention and she let go of Steve, turning around to walk toward your chair.

“James over there killed my beloved brother. I don’t know why, as your father refused to answer this question before he died…” Arianna smirks at the gasp leaving your lips. “Oh, I forgot to mention I killed Daddy, sorry…” She coos patting your head before she slides her knife over your thighs, drawing blood.

“Leave her be!” Steve is struggling to not lose consciousness, nodding at Bucky as his friend tries to distract Arianna. “I thought you do not love her…” Arianna starts smiling as she walks toward James. “Was that a lie, Barnes?”

Grabbing Bucky’s jaw, she forces him to look up at her as he shakes his head. “I don’t even like her. She’s only a rat stealing my leftovers but her empire, her fathers’ legacy could be mine as Y/N is my wife.” Bucky lies, praying she will fall for his lie.

“What a pity, pretty girl. Loving a man not wanting you…” Arianna is turning around once again, walking toward your position she drops the knife to get her gun out. “I’ll save you, Y/N. Make it all go away…”

“If you let her go, I’ll tell you why I killed your brother…” Bucky gasps seeing her gun aimed to your forehead. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” James is glancing at Steve who is slowly loosening the bindings holding his wrists.

“He just saved your life, little girl…” Arianna chuckles turning her attention toward Bucky. “Now tell me everything.”

Steve nods, silently begging his friend to distract Arianna longer so he can get out of the ropes. “I was jealous of your brother. He had so many sexy girls back then, was a ladies man. One day, he wanted Natasha and I got mad.” Bucky lies. If he tells her about you, she will kill you.

“Hmm…why didn’t Y/N’s father tell me so? He told me about that night, your brother and that he helped you. He said that you made a deal too.” Arianna eyes Bucky suspiciously when he glances at you gulping. “Her father, he forced me into a loveless marriage. I had to give up Natasha for her. That was his price.” Bucky gasps seeing Steve slipped one hand out.

“Why did you have to kill him, Barnes?” Her eyes darken seeing the look Bucky gives you.

“I had no choice. We fought, he had a knife and it just happend. I shouldn’t have been there; this is all my fault. Kill me but let Steve and her go. I’ll take the blame for everything. My brother is dead, just like Y/N’s father. Only I’m left…” Arianna points her gun at Bucky’s head and a tiny whimper leaves your lips, catching her attention.

“Awe…she loves you, James. Such a drama!” Loving the game, she’s playing Arianna walks toward you. She can hear Bucky breathing heavily the moment she grabs the shotgun from a table. “You know, your father refused to tell me the reason why James killed my beloved brother but I can count one and one…” She smirks down at you, aiming the shotgun to your chest. “YOU…”

“No, please let her go. I’ll do anything. I give you my empire, money and my life but let her go…” Steve’s eyes round hearing Bucky begging for your life.

“Everything?” She coos now, toying with James as she passes Steve who is freeing his other hand, nodding at you.

“Everything…I lov…” Before Bucky can end his sentence a bullet hits his body.

He doesn’t know what hits him when the shotgun almost rips his left arm off his body. Losing consciousness, he calls your name before another gunshot echoes through the hangar.

----

“Please, tell me anything! How is he? Is he alive…dead…” Gasping you watch the nurse fixing the wound at your thigh. You barely feel the pain too busy to slowly lose your mind.

“Ma’am, I can’t tell you anything. I’m not a doctor.” The nurse tries and you ball your hands into fists. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N! My father just died or rather he got murdered. This means I’m the only one left to take over his empire.” The nurse turns pale hearing your father’s name as you keep on yelling.

“I had to watch this crazy whore torturing my best friend and shooting my husband. Not to mention she aimed more than one gun at my head. You will move your lazy ass and get a doctor here right now or my men will take care of you!”

“Y/N, thank god…” Sam is storming into the room, nodding at Clint who called him after he traced his boss’s phone. “Sam, do you know anything? How is he?”

“They don’t want to tell me anything. Not a family member and crap.” Sam is watching the nurse rushing out of the room, almost crashing into Steve.

“Man, you look like shit.” Clint teases.

“I had better days for sure.” Steve deadpans slowly limping toward your hospital bed. “How are you, Y/N?”

“How am I? You look like you had twenty rounds with Mike Tyson and ask me how I’m?” Steve is patting your thigh, glancing at Clint. “Do you know anything about Buck?”

“They don’t want to tell me anything. I’m his wife! I got the right to know if my husband is still alive!” Yelling once again you give the doctor entering your room a death glare.

“Mrs. Barnes, can we talk in private?” The doctor tries but you shake your head. “Sam and Clint are my cousins and Steve is part of my family too. You can tell me anything in front of these men.”

“You see…” Clearing his throat the doctor glances at the gun Sam is trying to hide underneath his jacket. “We tried anything but…” Your lips start quivering seeing the fear all over the doctor’s face. “We couldn’t save his left arm. The damage was so extensive all nerves got destroyed, just like the bones. In the end, we had to amputate that member.”

“Wait! He lost his arm…?” Sam is glancing at your stoic face as you try to let the doctor’s words sink in. “He’ll need a prosthesis, but we are positive he will survive.”

“He will survive…” Steve is squeezing your hand, nodding. “I’ll call Tony. His company is well known for its technology. He designed a leg for a friend some years ago.”

“Okay…can you call him right now. I need to tell Bucky something…” Sniffling you get up to let Sam lead you out of the room. “Sam, call all our men, including my fathers. Arianna is dead, but her father and cousins are still alive. She didn’t do this alone…”

“You are telling me to kill them all?” Sam glances at you as you look up at him. “Dad refused to tell her I was the reason Bucky killed her brother; Bucky did the same. I’ll avenge them. My husband will need some time to recover, my father is dead.”

“I’ll make the calls.”

“Sam?”

“Yes…?”

“I’ll take over my father’s empire and Bucky’s for the time being. Prepare everything to make sure we can strike back. Hard. Merciless. Bloody.”

Sam nods, watching you straighten your back as you limp toward your husband’s hospital room.

Your whole posture changed and he can hold back the smile as you push the nurse away who tries to stop you from entering Bucky’s room.

“Hell of a woman.” Clint chuckles. “Shall I call our men too, boss?” Steve nods, grinning at the nurse as she passes by. “I guess we have a new boss in town…”

All works Tags

@yolobloggers, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove , @mogaruke, @shatteredabby, @soryuwifeyxx, @letsdisneythings, @i-love-superhero, @psychicforest

Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore, @notyourtypicalrose, @voltage-my2dlove, @thedoctorscamanion, @officialmarvelwhore, @randomgirlkensy, @juniorhuntersam, @lumar014, @doctorswife221b, @sister-winchesters99, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @the-soulofdevil, @chonisberonica , @redroomproperty

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@hhiggs, @roonyxx, @stylesismyhubs, @multisuperfandom, @mrspeacem1nusone, @shadowcatsworld , @fallenoutofrose

Consolation Bride Tags

@booktease21, @mc225g, @i-alyssa, @retrxbarnes, @cloudyskylines, @plums-and-peaches, @thisartemisnevermisses, @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark, @donteatmycookiesplease, @aruvdreeh, @scarlett-berserker @secretsihideinside

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krys-does-otome · 7 years ago

Text

Bae in Review: Ryouma Sakamoto, Kyoto Winds/Edo Blossoms

I’ve been waiting for you, you suave, sexy man, you.

I took down my original review as it’s now incomplete without input from Edo Blossoms and thus meant I had an incomplete picture of Sakamoto.

However, now that I’ve completed his route all the way through, I can now give my full opinion on this pirate casanova.

Let’s do this, guys.

For previous Baes in Review, here’s the full list. You'll find my reviews for Collar x Malice, Bad Apple Wars, and my first of the Hakuoki Bae in Reviews, Sanosuke Harada.

Remember, spoilers down below~

------------

Sakamoto, for me... He's an alright kinda guy. There are times when he comes off as a little more stereotypical than as an actual character, but it's not a trait to immediately hate about him. If anything, I had a bit of fun with him, the Hakuoki equivalent of a pirate adventure, plus all that Fury nonsense and whatnot.

From the very start of the route, Sakamoto is flirting with us, using his charm and allure to coax us into a sense of security and to spill everything to him while keeping himself a mystery that we want to keep coming back to. And he does come back, repeatedly. He gives off the vibe of that older guy in high school you date that your dad hates, but you love him because of his rebellious streak and about how much he pushes the envelope with your parents, like staying out past curfew, joyriding in his parents’ car, sick tattoos and piercings, throwing loud parties, and all that 'cool, older guy' nonsense that all the girls go nuts over.

Yet, for all of his clashing with his peers, Sakamoto does stick up for what he believes in, protecting what matters most to him, even if the consequences of protecting those things can rub him and others the wrong way.

In contrast to the Shinsengumi's ideals, which involve the old ideas of what it means to be a warrior, the traditions of upholding honor and putting the needs of others above your own, Sakamoto is more self-centered, but not in a bad way. He does not apologize for his actions in the past, switching sides whenever it suited him, nor does he let the mistakes and choices of others affect him in a negative way. Normally, in this kind of narrative, this is something that is looked-down upon, making the figure appear selfish and uncaring, and that it's more important to care about the greater good rather than one's self.

Not so for this route.

Though it does leave some plot threads dangling, Sakamoto's route is a reminder that, yes, while the greater good is important, it's also important to make sure that you are okay as well before you can focus on helping anyone else.

Sakamoto frequently makes attempts to cheer up Chizuru whenever she's feeling down or unsure of herself, trying to make her laugh or focus on something else before she becomes too depressed or over anxious. Through Chizuru as well, Sakamoto learns to focus on something other than himself. One of my favorite moments between the two of them being the scene where Sakamoto is holding Chizuru back when he tells her about Kondou and his upcoming execution.

Chizuru is naturally distraught that one of her father figures, practically a mentor to her, was being executed, very cruelly. Anyone that's played Hakuoki before knows how good of a man Kondou was, how kind and selfless he was, and how undeserving of his fate he was. When Sakamoto breaks the news to her, he physically has to hold her back from going into an enemy stronghold, consoles her that there's nothing she can do to rescue him, that it was a fool's errand to try and rescue him as someone would if this was a heroic epic where you can just waltz into the enemy stronghold and rescue people without any consequences, and how much of a bad idea it would be to even try. Chizuru breaks down even more at this, especially when finding out that Kondou went there of his own free will, surrendering voluntarily, making the idea of rescuing him an even worse idea.

Despite this, I also like how later on, Sakamoto compromises with Chizuru on the matter. That even if they can't rescue him, they at least see him off in his death. I think this might have been the first clue in seeing how Chizuru is changing Sakamoto, that while going to rescue Kondou was a beyond stupid idea, he's still willing to let Chizuru see her friend off in his final moments, to let her have her peace, even if it ends up being a bad idea later on because plot reasons.

This kind of compromise also comes up again when Chizuru finds out about her twin brother, Kaoru, and what he had gone through to protect her.

It brings up the argument of self versus others again, and brings it into a great light.

Chizuru, when she learns that she even has a brother, is immediately ready to embrace him and accept him into her life. However, when Kaoru tells her what he's been through in his life, what he had to do to protect her, something that she had no knowledge of prior to this moment, is naturally devastated.

Sakamoto, on the other hand, has exactly none of Kaoru's spiel. That Kaoru is putting on blame on Chizuru for simply being ignorant when up until that moment she didn't even know she had a brother in the first place, is complete bullshit. Chizuru isn't to blame for Kaoru's traumatic past nor is she responsible for righting his wrongs for him. Other's messes are not your responsibility to clean up, and Sakamoto teaches this to Chizuru, that yes, while the things that happened to Kaoru were terrible, he shouldn't be blaming Chizuru for something he put himself through for her sake.

There’s also something to be said about the contrasts between Sakamoto and Nakaoka, his long time friend. They have a similar outlook in looking out for themselves and the things important to them. However, while Sakamoto prefers a more peaceful means to resolve his problems, Nakaoka takes the violent route in wanting to correct the wrongs done to him, and that he will use any method necessary to achieve those means, including his former Tosa countrymen turning into Furies to overthrow the shogunate.

Yet, in the end, Sakamoto still wants to save his friend no matter the wrongs the other has done to him, and it’s pretty heartbreaking to watch his death, how Nakaoka just wanted his people to be treated fairly and with respect instead of the dirt beneath the noble’s feet. In the end, Nakaoka still does at least respect Sakamoto, that even if they disagree, they can still be friends in the end.

(Water marking, whyyyy....)

If I have to say my gripes with this route, it's that while it's primary theme is focusing on the self, it can be frustrating for those that want to know the larger story, if this is one of the first routes a person takes up. You wonder why at times what purpose Shiranui serves in the larger plot of this route other than being a cockblock to Sakamoto and Chizuru, as that's what he felt like at times, to remind us that, yes, there is a plot going on, can we get back on that?

Also, if you want to find out what happens to Hijikata, Saito, and the war going on? We just don’t know.

Not to mention you can’t infer what happens to Heisuke and Sanan when they face off against Kodo. Do they kill him? Do they die in the attempt? We just don't know.

Also, remember how Sakamoto is a fury? How long does he have to live? Does he just keep nomming on Chizuru for the rest of their days as pirate adventurers? Do they find a cure and he can go back to being human again? We just don't know.

Although it does lead to the first CG I've seen where Chizuru has short hair, so I can't complain about the ending too much.

Overall, Sakamoto is alright guy. He can be frustrating at times, but he more than makes up for it with his good humor and affection.

Pros and Cons

PRO: He’s charming and a smooth talker, probably can work a party crowd pretty well, which can be good for you shy types. CON: He can also polarize the same crowd and have everyone hating him (and somehow you too) by the end of the night.

PRO: He’s the romantic type, sweeps you off your feet, buys you presents, give romantic kisses, sends teasing letters, can name off about a hundred different things he likes about you, etc. CON: PERSONAL SPACE, MISTER SAKAMOTO, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE CONCEPT?!

PRO: He’ll carry you away from danger, even under the threat of gunfire. CON: 99% of the time, it’s his fault you’re in trouble in the first place.

PRO: He takes care of you when you get really hurt, making you laugh and rubbing cream on your back. CON: It's hard to tell if he's leaving you permanently when you wake up alone sometimes because he has that adventurous and reckless personality.

PRO: The sins of the father do not fall to the son to correct, and Sakamoto is a strong believer in this. CON: Kondou dies because of this, as the metaphorical son taking on the parental blame of the shogunate's decisions.

PRO: Having fun being sea pirates on your honeymoon. CON: Wasn't there some sort of war going on? And did we leave two of my friends to die while they murdered my father? Aren't you still lusting after blood? We just don't know.

Bae Rating: 8/10

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If anyone has any special requests for baes for me to review, here’s the most up-to-date list of games and routes I’ve completed thus far: Butts Touched Master List

Have a good day, lovelies, and remember to touch all the butts.

#bae in review #hakuoki #hakuoki kyoto winds #hakuoki Edo Blossoms #ryouma sakamoto

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dr-imaginesandscenariosarchive · 7 years ago

Note

DRV3 girls with a s/o that gets severely injured during the killing game, and just barely manages to pull through?

Ah what is this I see? A despairing request?

Yes! My calling is here! The Angst Queen returns to her throne to cause despair to all one again!

Sorry about that, I couldn’t resist. Anyway, here you go! Please remember that the character limit is 5 so I rolled for three characters. If you want specific ones then please send in another request with those characters once the ask box is open again ^^; I apologize for any feels that are caused. Angst is what I live for.

Note: I tried to make specific situations, but some were difficult ^^; Also these will take place in Chapters 1 - 2 unless specified. Also please consider this an AU of sorts, because it mentions actual mechanics from the game and this was VERY long.

- Mod Lexie

Triggers: Blood and Near Death. Spoilers as well.

Himiko Yumeno:

Note: Takes Place After Chapter 3

It had happened so fast. One moment you were with everyone., then the next was darkness all around. Leaving you in a state of…emptiness yet peace. Almost like…death. You can hear voices but they’re only mumbled before there’s…just nothing.

As the darkness slowly fades, you realize that you’re opening your eyes. The sudden light makes you wince as you feel a massive pain wrack your body. You quickly look around to see that you’re back in your room.

The moment you try to move is when you hear her voice. “D-Don’t move…”

You turn to see her sitting next to your bed. You almost smile before you notice the redness of her eyes. Showing that she had been crying. You look down and see she’s gripping your hand. There’s blood on her clothes but it seems like she doesn’t care. You slowly grip hers in return as you say her name.

“W-Why…?” You look at her surprised before her head shoots up to look you in the eyes. Tears welling up in them once more. “…Why’d you take that blow for me?! Why?!”

You look confused for a moment before it all hits you. Everything being peaceful before fate reminded you that you were in a killing game. All you can remember is an explosion, a ringing in your ears and HImiko screaming as something was about to hit her. You didn’t have any time to think before you just went for it. Shielding her and then…that’s when the blackness hit.

You look up to see her crying once more as she grips your hand tighter. “I-I..would have been fine! M-My magic would have protected me but you…had to take the blow for me and then…I didn’t have enough MP to heal you…!”

Her tears continued to fall as she was barely able to form a sentence. Your ears only catching pieces of what she was trying to say. “Y-You…didn’t wake up…” “I-I thought…” “J-Just…like Angie and Tenko…”

That was all you needed to hear. You slowly sat up with a wince, bringing her small body close to you. Her head resting on your chest so she could hear your heartbeat. A sign…that you were alive and that you were here with her.

She moved to cry into your chest. Letting out all the fear and sadness she had felt. Almost to how she cried after the trial. Making you cry in return as you apologize for what happened. Repeating the words over and over as you rock her in your arms, running your hand through her hair.

Slowly the tears stop and you two are left there, holding one another. The pain in your body is still there but, the pain in your hearts is much greater. She doesn’t move from your embrace as the two of you stay in silence. Nothing more needed to be said to one another before you both pass out together. She never lets you go the entire time as you don’t let go of her in return.

Kaede Akamatsu:

…The pain was instant. Blood covering your vision as you dropped to the ground. The sound of a metal ball rolling around as a man started to scream for help. A flurry of sounds followed, but…all you remember is her voice.

“S/O!”

…That is when the blackness took you over. Leaving you in a state of emptiness yet peace. You could feel your consciousness slowly leaving your own body. The darkness begins to fade as you open your eyes to the sounds of a beautiful song.

You look around to see you’re in a music lab. You have a neck brace on with bandages around your head. It was so tightly wrapped around, there was no way your head was going anywhere. Your eyes move to see her at the piano. A calm expression on her face as her fingers danced across the keys.

You slowly speak, making her stop before she sees you. A smile forming across her face before she slowly finishes her song. She makes her way towards you, hiding her worry and concern over your well being.

“…Do you…feel okay, S/O?”

You try to nod as she smiles. She tells you not to move too much, saying that you had a pretty bad head injury. Though, her smile slowly begins to fade and the tears start to form. Making you reach out to her and cup her cheek. Her hand reaching up to hold yours. You say her name but she starts to cry once more.

“I’m….sorry…”

You look confused for a moment but she looks you in the eyes. “It’s…my fault you’re in this condition. I…wanted to kill the mastermind. But instead, I…nearly killed you.”

She explains her and Shuichi’s plan. How they planned to catch the mastermind and end this killing game before it started. The cameras. The sensors. She then revealed her part in it and how she planned to kill the mastermind behind all this. Yet, you ended up getting involved in all this. The tears fell down her face as she began to cry.

You continue to hold her hand and bring her close to you. You try to wrap your arms around her but she wraps hers around you instead. You don’t need to say anything to her. One look tells her all she needs to know. That you forgive her and everything will be okay now.

She smiles despite the tears in her eyes, pressing her lips against yours in a sweet kiss. “I…love you…” The two of you stay within each other’s embrace for a moment before you ask if she could play you another song. She smiles before getting up and heading back to her piano. Playing you Consolation No. 3 by Franz Liszt. It’s enough to lull you back to sleep.

Sadly…that is the last time you see her.

What she didn’t reveal is that someone was killed in her attempt. What had caused your injury was a rather large book that fell from the shelf. Hitting you in just the right spot while the shotput ball…hit Rantaro and killed him instantly.

She finished her piece before walking over. Pressing a kiss to your lips softly as tears slowly fell down her face. “…I love you, S/O.” She slowly walked out of her lab to rejoin Shuichi in the investigation, leaving you to your dreams. A few more tears trailing down her face as she closed the door behind her.

Kirumi Tojo:

You slowly open your eyes. Looking around you realize you’re in your room. There’s bandages around your head, wrapped expertly and with care. A pain slowly wracks your head.

“…Good evening S/O, you’re awake..”

You turn to see her. She’s just standing there with her hands clasped in front of her. A stone cold expression on her face like that of a maid who was ready to serve.

You slowly start to sit up before she immediately stops you. “Please try not to move. Your condition is too fragile at this time.”

You follow her orders before she starts asking if you need anything. You shake your head no and ask her what happened. This is when she grows quiet for a moment. Her expression slipping and revealing…sadness.

Your eyes widen for a moment. You’ve never seen her sad before. She covers her mouth as tears slowly well up in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak before the tears came in. Leaving her crying as you barely make any of her words.

It was all you needed though. You could guess something went wrong and you got hurt. Worrying her that you’d be the next victim. You slowly move up to grasp her free hand, gripping it tightly. Saying that you’re here for her. She moves to hold your hand in return. Her face turning into that of a smile even with tears down her face.

“You’re…right. You’re here and alive. I’m…so glad you are.”

She looked into your eyes before moving to gingerly kiss your lips. Making you smile before the pain slowly hits hard making you wince. She immediately has a bottle of medicine in her hand, retrieved from the warehouse.

You slowly take it before she lays you back down. A warm motherly look on her face as she kisses your lips once more. “Please get some rest, S/O. Don’t worry…I’ll be right here by your side. That is a promise.”

You smile before slowly closing your eyes, seeing her smile. It being the last image you see of her.

Her smile slowly fades as she thinks of all that had been done that night. The preparation. The murder itself and the clean up after. Everything had been perfect except for that one slip-up back there. It should be fine though. Everything else was perfect. It would work. She would get away and return back to the people that needed her.

…She looks to you and that’s when the tears returned.

You had found her in Ryoma’s lab after she knocked him out. Your eyes wide as you didn’t expect she would attack someone. Her eyes were wide as well, shocked that you were there. You asked her what was going on but instead…she had no choice. She couldn’t let you know. That was when you felt a huge blow on the back of your head before the darkness came.

Silence slowly filled the room, only to be separated by the sounds of her cries. Crying for the very thing she did and the very sacrifice she was going to make. She moved to lightly take you in her arms, holding you close to her as she cried. As if she didn’t want to let go of you.

“…I’m sorry…” was all she said.

#answered #mod lexie #tw: blood #tw: near death #ndrv3 spoilers #drv3 spoilers #kirumi tojo #himiko yumeno #kaede akamatsu

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nydiabelt1941-blog · 7 years ago

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readbookywooks · 8 years ago

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Daenerys

She was breaking her fast on a bowl of cold shrimp-and-persimmon soup when Irri brought her a Qartheen gown, an airy confection of ivory samite patterned with seed pearls. "Take it away," Dany said. "The docks are no place for lady's finery."

If the Milk Men thought her such a savage, she would dress the part for them. When she went to the stables, she wore faded sandsilk pants and woven grass sandals. Her small breasts moved freely beneath a painted Dothraki vest, and a curved dagger hung from her medallion belt. Jhiqui had braided her hair Dothraki fashion, and fastened a silver bell to the end of the braid. "I have won no victories," she tried telling her handmaid when the bell tinkled softly.

Jhiqui disagreed. "You burned the maegi in their house of dust and sent their souls to hell."

That was Drogon's victory, not mine, Dany wanted to say, but she held her tongue. The Dothraki would esteem her all the more for a few bells in her hair. She chimed as she mounted her silver mare, and again with every stride, but neither Ser Jorah nor her bloodriders made mention of it. To guard her people and her dragons in her absence, she chose Rakharo. Jhogo and Aggo would ride with her to the waterfront.

They left the marble palaces and fragrant gardens behind and made their way through a poorer part of the city where modest brick houses turned blind walls to the street. There were fewer horses and camels to be seen, and a dearth of palanquins, but the streets teemed with children, beggars, and skinny dogs the color of sand. Pale men in dusty linen skirts stood beneath arched doorways to watch them pass. They know who I am, and they do not love me. Dany could tell from the way they looked at her.

Ser Jorah would sooner have tucked her inside her palanquin, safely hidden behind silken curtains, but she refused him. She had reclined too long on satin cushions, letting oxen bear her hither and yon. At least when she rode she felt as though she was getting somewhere.

It was not by choice that she sought the waterfront. She was fleeing again. Her whole life had been one long flight, it seemed. She had begun running in her mother's womb, and never once stopped. How often had she and Viserys stolen away in the black of night, a bare step ahead of the Usurper's hired knives? But it was run or die. Xaro had learned that Pyat Pree was gathering the surviving warlocks together to work ill on her.

Dany had laughed when he told her. "Was it not you who told me warlocks were no more than old soldiers, vainly boasting of forgotten deeds and lost prowess?"

Xaro looked troubled. "And so it was, then. But now? I am less certain. It is said that the glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker, that have not burned in a hundred years. Ghost grass grows in the Garden of Gehane, phantom tortoises have been seen carrying messages between the windowless houses on Warlock's Way, and all the rats in the city are chewing off their tails. The wife of Mathos Mallarawan, who once mocked a warlock's drab moth-eaten robe, has gone mad and will wear no clothes at all. Even fresh-washed silks make her feel as though a thousand insects were crawling on her skin. And Blind Sybassion the Eater of Eyes can see again, or so his slaves do swear. A man must wonder." He sighed. "These are strange times in Qarth. And strange times are bad for trade. It grieves me to say so, yet it might be best if you left Qarth entirely, and sooner rather than later." Xaro stroked her fingers reassuringly. "You need not go alone, though. You have seen dark visions in the Palace of Dust, but Xaro has dreamed brighter dreams. I see you happily abed, with our child at your breast. Sail with me around the Jade Sea, and we can yet make it so! It is not too late. Give me a son, my sweet song of joy!"

Give you a dragon, you mean. "I will not wed you, Xaro."

His face had grown cold at that. "Then go."

"But where?"

"Somewhere far from here."

Well, perhaps it was time. The people of her khalasar had welcomed the chance to recover from the ravages of the red waste, but now that they were plump and rested once again, they began to grow unruly. Dothraki were not accustomed to staying long in one place. They were a warrior people, not made for cities. Perhaps she had lingered in Qarth too long, seduced by its comforts and its beauties. It was a city that always promised more than it would give you, it seemed to her, and her welcome here had turned sour since the House of the Undying had collapsed in a great gout of smoke and flame. Overnight the Qartheen had come to remember that dragons were dangerous. No longer did they vie with each other to give her gifts. Instead the Tourmaline Brotherhood had called openly for her expulsion, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers for her death. It was all Xaro could do to keep the Thirteen from joining them.

But where am I to go? Ser Jorah proposed that they journey farther east, away from her enemies in the Seven Kingdoms. Her bloodriders would sooner have returned to their great grass sea, even if it meant braving the red waste again. Dany herself had toyed with the idea of settling in Vaes Tolorro until her dragons grew great and strong. But her heart was full of doubts. Each of these felt wrong, somehow . . . and even when she decided where to go, the question of how she would get there remained troublesome.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos would be no help to her, she knew that now. For all his professions of devotion, he was playing his own game, not unlike Pyat Pree. The night he asked her to leave, Dany had begged one last favor of him. "An army, is it?" Xaro asked. "A kettle of gold? A galley, perhaps?"

Dany blushed. She hated begging. "A ship, yes."

Xaro's eyes had glittered as brightly as the jewels in his nose. "I am a trader, Khaleesi. So perhaps we should speak no more of giving, but rather of trade. For one of your dragons, you shall have ten of the finest ships in my fleet. You need only say that one sweet word."

"No," she said.

"Alas," Xaro sobbed, "that was not the word I meant."

"Would you ask a mother to sell one of her children?"

"Whyever not? They can always make more. Mothers sell their children every day."

"Not the Mother of Dragons."

"Not even for twenty ships?"

"Not for a hundred."

His mouth curled downward. "I do not have a hundred. But you have three dragons. Grant me one, for all my kindnesses. You will still have two and thirty ships as well."

Thirty ships would be enough to land a small army on the shore of Westeros. But I do not have a small army. "How many ships do you own, Xaro?"

"Eighty-three, if one does not count my pleasure barge."

"And your colleagues in the Thirteen?"

"Among us all, perhaps a thousand."

"And the Spicers and the Tourmaline Brotherhood?"

"Their trifling fleets are of no account."

"Even so," she said, "tell me."

"Twelve or thirteen hundred for the Spicers. No more than eight hundred for the Brotherhood."

"And the Asshai'i, the Braavosi, the Summer Islanders, the Ibbenese, and all the other peoples who sail the great salt sea, how many ships do they have? All together?"

"Many and more," he said irritably. "What does this matter?"

"I am trying to set a price on one of the three living dragons in the world." Dany smiled at him sweetly. "it seems to me that one-third of all the ships in the world would be fair."

Xaro's tears ran down his cheeks on either side of his jewel-encrusted nose. "Did I not warn you not to enter the Palace of Dust? This is the very thing I feared. The whispers of the warlocks have made you as mad as Mallarawan's wife. A third of all the ships in the world? Pah. Pah, I say. Pah."

Dany had not seen him since. His seneschal brought her messages, each cooler than the last. She must quit his house. He was done feeding her and her people. He demanded the return of his gifts, which she had accepted in bad faith. Her only consolation was that at least she'd had the great good sense not to marry him.

The warlocks whispered of three treasons . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love. The first traitor was surely Mirri Maz Duur, who had murdered Khal Drogo and their unborn son to avenge her people. Could Pyat Pree and Xaro Xhoan Daxos be the second and the third? She did not think so. What Pyat did was not for gold, and Xaro had never truly loved her.

The streets grew emptier as they passed through a district given over to gloomy stone warehouses. Aggo went before her and Jhogo behind, leaving Ser Jorah Mormont at her side. Her bell rang softly, and Dany found her thoughts returning to the Palace of Dust once more, as the tongue returns to a space left by a missing tooth. Child of three, they had called her, daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire. So many threes. Three fires, three mounts to ride, three treasons. "The dragon has three heads," she sighed. "Do you know what that means, Jorah?"

"Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black."

"I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons."

"The three heads were Aegon and his sisters."

"Visenya and Rhaenys," she recalled. "I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys."

"Blue lips speak only lies, isn't that what Xaro told you? Why do you care what the warlocks whispered? All they wanted was to suck the life from you, you know that now."

"Perhaps," she said reluctantly. "Yet the things I saw . . . "

"A dead man in the prow of a ship, a blue rose, a banquet of blood . . . what does any of it mean, Khaleesi? A mummer's dragon, you said. What is a mummer's dragon, pray?"

"A cloth dragon on poles," Dany explained. "Mummers use them in their follies, to give the heroes something to fight."

Ser Jorah frowned.

Dany could not let it go. "His is the song of ice and fire, my brother said. I'm certain it was my brother. Not Viserys, Rhaegar. He had a harp with silver strings."

Ser Jorah's frown deepened until his eyebrows came together. "Prince Rhaegar played such a harp," he conceded. "You saw him?"

She nodded. "There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon."

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall."

"I remember," Dany said sadly. "They murdered Rhaegar's daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon's sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?"

"It's no song I've ever heard."

"I went to the warlocks hoping for answers, but instead they've left me with a hundred new questions."

By then there were people in the streets once more. "Make way," Aggo shouted, while Jhogo sniffed at the air suspiciously. "I smell it, Khaleesi," he called. "The poison water." The Dothraki distrusted the sea and all that moved upon it. Water that a horse could not drink was water they wanted no part of. They will learn, Dany resolved. I braved their sea with Khal Drogo. Now they can brave mine.

Qarth was one of the world's great ports, its great sheltered harbor a riot of color and clangor and strange smells. Winesinks, warehouses, and gaming dens lined the streets, cheek by jowl with cheap brothels and the temples of peculiar gods. Cutpurses, cutthroats, spellsellers, and moneychangers mingled with every crowd. The waterfront was one great marketplace where the buying and selling went on all day and all night, and goods might be had for a fraction of what they cost at the bazaar, if a man did not ask where they came from. Wizened old women bent like hunchbacks sold flavored waters and goat's milk from glazed ceramic jugs strapped to their shoulders. Seamen from half a hundred nations wandered amongst the stalls, drinking spiced liquors and trading jokes in queer-sounding tongues. The air smelled of salt and frying fish, of hot tar and honey, of incense and oil and sperm.

Aggo gave an urchin a copper for a skewer of honey-roasted mice and nibbled them as he rode. Jhogo bought a handful of fat white cherries. Elsewhere they saw beautiful bronze daggers for sale, dried squids and carved onyx, a potent magical elixir made of virgin's milk and shade of the evening, even dragon's eggs which looked suspiciously like painted rocks.

As they passed the long stone quays reserved for the ships of the Thirteen, she saw chests of saffron, frankincense, and pepper being off-loaded from Xaro's ornate Vermillion Kiss. Beside her, casks of wine, bales of sourleaf, and pallets of striped hides were being trundled up the gangplank onto the Bride in Azure, to sail on the evening tide. Farther along, a crowd had gathered around the Spicer galley Sunblaze to bid on slaves. It was well known that the cheapest place to buy a slave was right off the ship, and the banners floating from her masts proclaimed that the Sunblaze had just arrived from Astapor on Slaver's Bay.

Dany would get no help from the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, or the Ancient Guild of Spicers. She rode her silver past several miles of their quays, docks, and storehouses, all the way out to the far end of the horseshoe-shaped harbor where the ships from the Summer Islands, Westeros, and the Nine Free Cities were permitted to dock.

She dismounted beside a gaming pit where a basilisk was tearing a big red dog to pieces amidst a shouting ring of sailors. "Aggo, Jhogo, you will guard the horses while Ser Jorah and I speak to the captains."

"As you say, Khaleesi. We will watch you as you go."

It was good to hear men speaking Valyrian once more, and even the Common Tongue, Dany thought as they approached the first ship. Sailors, dockworkers, and merchants alike gave way before her, not knowing what to make of this slim young girl with silver-gold hair who dressed in the Dothraki fashion and walked with a knight at her side. Despite the heat of the day, Ser Jorah wore his green wool surcoat over chainmail, the black bear of Mormont sewn on his chest.

But neither her beauty nor his size and strength would serve with the men whose ships they needed.

"You require passage for a hundred Dothraki, all their horses, yourself and this knight, and three dragons?" said the captain of the great cog Ardent Friend before he walked away laughing. When she told a Lyseni on the Trumpeteer that she was Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he gave her a deadface look and said, "Aye, and I'm Lord Tywin Lannister and shit gold every night." The cargomaster of the Myrish galley Silken Spirit opined that dragons were too dangerous at sea, where any stray breath of flame might set the rigging afire. The owner of Lord Faro's Belly would risk dragons, but not Dothraki. "I'll have no such godless savages in my Belly, I'll not." The two brothers who captained the sister ships Quicksilver and Greyhound seemed sympathetic and invited them into the cabin for a glass of Arbor red. They were so courteous that Dany was hopeful for a time, but in the end the price they asked was far beyond her means, and might have been beyond Xaro's. Pinchbottom Petto and Sloe-Eyed Maid were too small for her needs, Bravo was bound for the Jade Sea, and Magister Manolo scarce looked seaworthy.

As they made their way toward the next quay, Ser Jorah laid a hand against the small of her back. "Your Grace. You are being followed. No, do not turn." He guided her gently toward a brass-seller's booth. "This is a noble work, my queen," he proclaimed loudly, lifting a large platter for her inspection. "See how it shines in the sun?"

The brass was polished to a high sheen. Dany could see her face in it . . . and when Ser Jorah angled it to the right, she could see behind her. "I see a fat brown man and an older man with a staff. Which is it?"

"Both of them," Ser Jorah said. "They have been following us since we left Quicksilver."

The ripples in the brass stretched the strangers queerly, making one man seem long and gaunt, the other immensely squat and broad. "A most excellent brass, great lady," the merchant exclaimed. "Bright as the sun! And for the Mother of Dragons, only thirty honors."

The platter was worth no more than three. "Where are my guards?" Dany declared. "This man is trying to rob me!" For Jorah, she lowered her voice and spoke in the Common Tongue. "They may not mean me ill. Men have looked at women since time began, perhaps it is no more than that."

The brass-seller ignored their whispers. "Thirty? Did I say thirty? Such a fool I am. The price is twenty honors."

"All the brass in this booth is not worth twenty honors," Dany told him as she studied the reflections. The old man had the look of Westeros about him, and the brown-skinned one must weigh twenty stone. The Usurper offered a lordship to the man who kills me, and these two are far from home. Or could they be creatures of the warlocks, meant to take me unawares?

"Ten, Khaleesi, because you are so lovely. Use it for a looking glass. Only brass this fine could capture such beauty."

"It might serve to carry nightsoil. If you threw it away, I might pick it up, so long as I did not need to stoop. But pay for it?" Dany shoved the platter back into his hands. "Worms have crawled up your nose and eaten your wits."

"Eight honors," he cried. "My wives will beat me and call me fool, but I am a helpless child in your hands. Come, eight, that is less than it is worth."

"What do I need with dull brass when Xaro Xhoan Daxos feeds me off plates of gold?" As she turned to walk off, Dany let her glance sweep over the strangers. The brown man was near as wide as he'd looked in the platter, with a gleaming bald head and the smooth cheeks of a eunuch. A long curving arakh was thrust through the sweat-stained yellow silk of his bellyband. Above the silk, he was naked but for an absurdly tiny iron-studded vest. Old scars crisscrossed his tree-trunk arms, huge chest, and massive belly, pale against his nut-brown skin.

The other man wore a traveler's cloak of undyed wool, the hood thrown back. Long white hair fell to his shoulders, and a silky white beard covered the lower half of his face. He leaned his weight on a hardwood staff as tall as he was. Only fools would stare so openly if they meant me harm. All the same, it might be prudent to head back toward Jhogo and Aggo. "The old man does not wear a sword," she said to Jorah in the Common Tongue as she drew him away.

The brass merchant came hopping after them. "Five honors, for five it is yours, it was meant for you."

Ser Jorah said, "A hardwood staff can crack a skull as well as any mace."

"Four! I know you want it!" He danced in front of them, scampering backward as he thrust the platter at their faces.

"Do they follow?"

"Lift that up a little higher," the knight told the merchant. "Yes. The old man pretends to linger at a potter's stall, but the brown one has eyes only for you."

"Two honors! Two! Two!" The merchant was panting heavily from the effort of running backward.

"Pay him before he kills himself," Dany told Ser Jorah, wondering what she was going to do with a huge brass platter. She turned back as he reached for his coins, intending to put an end to this mummer's farce. The blood of the dragon would not be herded through the bazaar by an old man and a fat eunuch.

A Qartheen stepped into her path. "Mother of Dragons, for you." He knelt and thrust a jewel box into her face.

Dany took it almost by reflex. The box was carved wood, its mother-of-pearl lid inlaid with jasper and chalcedony. "You are too generous." She opened it. Within was a glittering green scarab carved from onyx and emerald. Beautiful, she thought. This will help pay for our passage. As she reached inside the box, the man said, "I am so sorry," but she hardly heard.

The scarab unfolded with a hiss.

Dany caught a glimpse of a malign black face, almost human, and an arched tail dripping venom . . . and then the box flew from her hand in pieces, turning end over end. Sudden pain twisted her fingers. As she cried out and clutched her hand, the brass merchant let out a shriek, a woman screamed, and suddenly the Qartheen were shouting and pushing each other aside. Ser Jorah slammed past her, and Dany stumbled to one knee. She heard the hiss again. The old man drove the butt of his staff into the ground, Aggo came riding through an eggseller's stall and vaulted from his saddle, Jhogo's whip cracked overhead, Ser Jorah slammed the eunuch over the head with the brass platter, sailors and whores and merchants were fleeing or shouting or both . . .

"Your Grace, a thousand pardons." The old man knelt. "It's dead. Did I break your hand?"

She closed her fingers, wincing. "I don't think so."

"I had to knock it away," he started, but her bloodriders were on him before he could finish. Aggo kicked his staff away and Jhogo seized him round the shoulders, forced him to his knees, and pressed a dagger to his throat. "Khaleesi, we saw him strike you. Would you see the color of his blood?"

"Release him." Dany climbed to her feet. "Look at the bottom of his staff, blood of my blood." Ser Jorah had been shoved off his feet by the eunuch. She ran between them as arakh and longsword both came flashing from their sheaths. "Put down your steel! Stop it!"

"Your Grace?" Mormont lowered his sword only an inch. "These men attacked you."

"They were defending me." Dany snapped her hand to shake the sting from her fingers. "It was the other one, the Qartheen." When she looked around he was gone. "He was a Sorrowful Man. There was a manticore in that jewel box he gave me. This man knocked it out of my hand." The brass merchant was still rolling on the ground. She went to him and helped him to his feet. "Were you stung?"

"No, good lady," he said, shaking, "or else I would be dead. But it touched me, aieeee, when it fell from the box it landed on my arm." He had soiled himself, she saw, and no wonder.

She gave him a silver for his trouble and sent him on his way before she turned back to the old man with the white beard. "Who is it that I owe my life to?"

"You owe me nothing, Your Grace. I am called Arstan, though Belwas named me Whitebeard on the voyage here." Though Jhogo had released him the old man remained on one knee. Aggo picked up his staff, turned it over, cursed softly in Dothraki, scraped the remains of the manticore off on a stone, and handed it back.

"And who is Belwas?" she asked.

The huge brown eunuch swaggered forward, sheathing his arakh. "I am Belwas. Strong Belwas they name me in the fighting pits of Meereen. Never did I lose." He slapped his belly, covered with scars. "I let each man cut me once, before I kill him. Count the cuts and you will know how many Strong Belwas has slain."

Dany had no need to count his scars; there were many, she could see at a glance. "And why are you here, Strong Belwas?"

"From Meereen I am sold to Qohor, and then to Pentos and the fat man with sweet stink in his hair. He it was who send Strong Belwas back across the sea, and old Whitebeard to serve him."

The fat man with sweet stink in his hair . . . "Illyrio?" she said. "You were sent by Magister Illyrio?"

"We were, Your Grace," old Whitebeard replied. "The Magister begs your kind indulgence for sending us in his stead, but he cannot sit a horse as he did in his youth, and sea travel upsets his digestion." Earlier he had spoken in the Valyrian of the Free Cities, but now he changed to the Common Tongue. "I regret if we caused you alarm. If truth be told, we were not certain, we expected someone more . . . more . . . "

"Regal?" Dany laughed. She had no dragon with her, and her raiment was hardly queenly. "You speak the Common Tongue well, Arstan. Are you of Westeros?"

"I am. I was born on the Dornish Marches, Your Grace. As a boy I squired for a knight of Lord Swann's household." He held the tall staff upright beside him like a lance in need of a banner. "Now I squire for Belwas."

"A bit old for such, aren't you?" Ser Jorah had shouldered his way to her side, holding the brass platter awkwardly under his arm. Belwas's hard head had left it badly bent.

"Not too old to serve my liege, Lord Mormont."

"You know me as well?"

"I saw you fight a time or two. At Lannisport where you near unhorsed the Kingslayer. And on Pyke, there as well. You do not recall, Lord Mormont?"

Ser Jorah frowned. "Your face seems familiar, but there were hundreds at Lannisport and thousands on Pyke. And I am no lord. Bear Island was taken from me. I am but a knight."

"A knight of my Queensguard." Dany took his arm. "And my true friend and good counselor." She studied Arstan's face. He had a great dignity to him, a quiet strength she liked. "Rise, Arstan Whitebeard. Be welcome, Strong Belwas. Ser Jorah you know. Ko Aggo and Ko Jhogo are blood of my blood. They crossed the red waste with me, and saw my dragons born."

"Horse boys." Belwas grinned toothily. "Belwas has killed many horse boys in the fighting pits. They jingle when they die."

Aggo's arakh leapt to his hand. "Never have I killed a fat brown man. Belwas will be the first."

"Sheath your steel, blood of my blood," said Dany, "this man comes to serve me. Belwas, you will accord all respect to my people, or you will leave my service sooner than you'd wish, and with more scars than when you came."

The gap-toothed smile faded from the giant's broad brown face, replaced by a confused scowl. Men did not often threaten Belwas, it would seem, and less so girls a third his size.

Dany gave him a smile, to take a bit of the sting from the rebuke. "Now tell me, what would Magister Illyrio have of me, that he would send you all the way from Pentos?"

"He would have dragons," said Belwas gruffly, "and the girl who makes them. He would have you."

"Belwas has the truth of us, Your Grace," said Arstan. "We were told to find you and bring you back to Pentos. The Seven Kingdoms have need of you. Robert the Usurper is dead, and the realm bleeds. When we set sail from Pentos there were four kings in the land, and no justice to be had."

Joy bloomed in her heart, but Dany kept it from her face. "I have three dragons," she said, "and more than a hundred in my khalasar, with all their goods and horses."

"it is no matter," boomed Belwas. "We take all. The fat man hires three ships for his little silverhair queen."

"It is so, Your Grace," Arstan Whitebeard said. "The great cog Saduleon is berthed at the end of the quay, and the galleys Summer Sun and Joso's Prank are anchored beyond the breakwater."

Three heads has the dragon, Dany thought, wondering. "I shall tell my people to make ready to depart at once. But the ships that bring me home must bear different names."

"As you wish," said Arstan. "What names would you prefer?"

"Vhagar," Daenerys told him. "Meraxes. And Balerion. Paint the names on their hulls in golden letters three feet high, Arstan. I want every man who sees them to know the dragons are returned."

#ClashofKings

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