#{ encounter ;; anthea }

[tangledfate]

A discussed starter for @royalbstrd

Knuckles rapped on the harsh wood of the door to the Commander's office; likely the only one that actually announced their presence before pushing inside. Bringing the tray of food up into both hands once more, Anthea offered him a polite smile when she set it down before him.

He said nothing. In fact he didn't even look up from what he was working on--hunched over a plethora of maps and books as he tried to work SOMETHING out. She waited a moment before questioning him.

"Aren't you going to eat?"

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 6

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note:

Just a heads-up that the next part of this series will offer two reading options due to sensitive topics in the upcoming section. There will be the original post titled "Keep Moving Forwards, Part 7" with the unedited content, and another version titled "Keep Moving Forwards, Part 7, Summary" that summarizes the material to avoid any discomfort.

For those who have asked to be tagged, you will be automatically tagged in the summarized part to ensure no one accidentally encounters content they might find triggering or uncomfortable. If you are tagged and wish to read the original, please visit my main page when the next part is posted tomorrow at 12:00 PM EST. The two options will be posted simultaneously.

Thank you for your support and understanding. I'll see you tomorrow.

This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Days blurred together as you continued to heal. Azriel made himself scarce, sending Anthea to check on your progress and report back to him. However, he still ensured your meals were slightly more palatable than the standard fare of the training camp, often adding fruits or sweets when he could. Over the next two days, you shared your meals with Anthea, who only ever took a bite or two before refusing any more, despite your encouragement. Neither of you asked many questions, and your interactions remained brief. You no longer needed help turning over, but your body was still weak, limiting you to short walks across the room.

On your first attempt to walk, you collapsed, and Azriel appeared like a shadow to help you up. You quickly pushed him away, determined to maintain your independence. You also began hiding knives under the mattress and storing non-perishable food in the bedside drawers, preparing for the day you could leave. Your stash included two apples, a pear, and some rolls. Not much, but it was a start.

By the fourth day, you had enough strength to get out of bed and look out the window. The camp outside was a bleak sight. You could see distant mountain ranges, but the camp was nestled in a clearing deep in the woods, a space likely carved out by the Illyrians. The thought of ancient trees felled, sent crashing into the mud for this camp turned your stomach.

The camp itself was a muddy mess. To your right and left, you saw other log cabin-like structures similar to the one you were in, each with pointed roofs and a few windows. Below, the ground sloped down to rows of small, mud-splattered tents on wooden platforms. Footprints crisscrossed the muddy ground, and soldiers moved up and down the hills. In the center of the tent village was a larger log structure, which seemed to be the mess hall, where soldiers gathered at mealtimes.

Scattered among the tents were slightly larger tents, likely for higher-ranking soldiers, and raised platforms with canopies, tables, and chairs, their purpose unclear. On the edges of the camp were fenced-in pens where soldiers, each with their hulking wings, practiced sword fighting. They took great pleasure in knocking each other into the mud and continuing their fights with fists, resembling wild animals.

A particularly ostentatious Illyrian soldier often removed his shirt during fights, choosing to battle bare-chested, swinging his sword with reckless abandon. You half-wondered if only the strongest survived because they were killed before they could even make it to battle.

You noticed very few females around, and the ones you did see were in the same state as Anthea—battered, seemingly brutalized, and sneaking between rows of tents. They quickly retreated to hiding spaces or even into the woods at the sight of a group of males. Over the next few days, you watched Anthea tread a careful path from the mess hall to your cabin, ducking behind tents and listening intently for male footsteps before scurrying like a mouse to the next sheltered area. Every female seemed fearful of the soldiers, and it wasn’t hard to piece together why.

It rained incessantly here, with daily torrential downpours turning the meadow into a muddy quagmire. Despite the rain, the soldiers carried on with their training. Many ventured into the treeline in groups, disappearing for most of the day or night and returning either exhausted or invigorated. You never saw anyone without wings coming or going from the camp, making you acutely aware that you might be the only non-winged creature among them.

Once Anthea decided you had spent enough time wrapped in bandages, she brought you new clothes. She apologized for the fit, noting that they only had sizes for males, and these were the smallest options available. While they hung from your body and required extra rope to keep the pants up, you were grateful for the offer. Azriel continued to flit in and out at random times. In your time spent at the window, you often saw him leaving early in the morning, wandering into the tented area, and entering the larger tents. He rarely interacted with the soldiers, maintaining his role as Spymaster, keeper of the High Lord’s secrets.

On the seventh day, Anthea brought your breakfast and wished you a good morning as she set it down on the bed. You remained curled up by the window, but as she dropped the tray, you called over your shoulder, “I think I would like to go.”

Anthea paused, turning to you. “Go where?” she inquired.

“Just go,” you replied, stretching your legs out and standing to investigate the meal. You picked up a piece of toast with purple jam smeared on it and met her eyes, which widened slightly at your request.

“I don’t understand. Where do you want to go?” she asked again.

You shook your head slightly. “Go away from here.”

“Where are you going?” she asked, picking at the scabs on her hands.

You chewed and swallowed the toast, the rhubarb and strawberry blend coating your tongue with its sour deliciousness. “Not sure yet. I just need to get moving. I can’t stay here anymore.”

Anthea looked at you, still utterly puzzled. “You... you can’t leave.”

You stopped chewing, placing the toast back on the plate and wiping the crumbs on your pants. “What do you mean I can’t?”

“No one leaves,” she stammered. “They always bring you back.”

A lump formed in your throat. It wasn’t that you couldn’t leave; Anthea just couldn’t imagine a world where anyone could. “You tried to leave?” you asked.

Anthea nodded, her gaze cast to the floor. She didn’t elaborate, just continued nodding.

“What happened?”

Anthea shook her head slightly, pressing her fingers into a wound that oozed around them. She didn’t speak.

“Did they hurt you?” you asked.

Anthea still didn’t speak, just shaking her head as she found a new scab to pick at.

“Anthea,” you said, reaching for her to stop her from scratching. She took two steps back immediately, running into the swords and axes poised at the edge of the fireplace, sending them clanging to the floor. Azriel appeared instantly as Anthea dropped to the floor, trying to pick up the weapons while apologizing profusely. He looked between Anthea and you, trying to piece together what had happened. Anthea continued apologizing until Azriel knelt beside her and began picking up the weapons too. She whispered her apologies again before Azriel placed his hands on her shoulders. She jumped slightly, and her eyes seemed to glaze over.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Nothing is wrong.”

Anthea nodded, tears filling her eyes as Azriel released her. She quickly stood, glanced at you with a tear rolling down her cheek, then briskly walked out of the room, covering her mouth with her hand. You turned to the window and watched her exit the house, heading into the nearby woods.

Azriel finished placing the weapons back in their spots before turning to you. “What happened?” he asked.

You watched the treeline for a second, and when Anthea didn’t reappear, you turned back towards him. “Nothing,” you said.

Azriel looked around the room, then back at you. “You’re standing.”

“Yes,” you replied.

“That’s,” he paused, stuttering slightly, “that’s good.”

You nodded before taking a few steps toward him. “I want to leave.”

A flash of emotion crossed Azriel’s face, but it was gone before you could read it. “Where are you going?” he asked.

You looked up at him, noting how he towered over you, forcing you to crane your neck to see his face. “It’s none of your concern.”

Azriel sighed, running his hand through his hair—a gesture you had begun to notice he did when nervous or uncomfortable.

“Look, I-” Azriel started.

You interrupted him, “I appreciate what you’ve done, and you’ve been very generous. I just think I need to move on.”

“If this is about what happened earlier-” Azriel started again, but you cut him off once more.

“It has nothing to do with that,” you noted. “I just want to be on my way and out of your hair.”

Azriel paused, searching for the right words. “Let me at least get you where you want to go,” he finally said. “It’s not like your journey was going well the last time.”

You scoffed lightly. “There’s no need for that.”

“Please,” Azriel insisted.

“If I say no, will you make me stay?” you asked.

Azriel paused. “No. I won’t make you stay.”

“Good,” you replied. “I want to leave then. Today.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. “No, that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Azriel glanced out the window as clouds began rolling in for the daily downpour. “It’s going to rain soon.”

You didn’t bother looking out the window. “Then I will leave after.”

Azriel looked back at you, his eyes pleading. “Can you just wait a few more days?”

“What am I waiting for?” you asked shortly.

“Just give me some time to plan.”

Your brows furrowed. “Given you aren’t coming with me, I don’t particularly understand what you need to plan for.”

“Just, please,” Azriel pleaded, his eyes filled with yearning. “Stay a few more days, and then you can leave.”

You ground your teeth, feeling like a caged animal. “Fine.” There was no way you could push past him, and it was clear he could outrun you if you tried.

“Thank you,” he said, his face relaxing slightly. He ran his hand over his face. “What happened with Anthea?” he asked again.

You stopped, annoyed he repeated the question. “I asked her if I could leave, and before she could answer, she accidentally knocked down the swords.” You pointed to the weapons now restacked.

“Got it,” Azriel responded. He glanced at your half-eaten breakfast. “Are you done with this?” he asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms, the bruise on your side causing a pang of pain.

Azriel picked up the tray and left, leaving you alone in the room once more. It was clear your request had bothered him as his anxiety left hard rock in your stomach. You wouldn’t be staying long, certainly not a few more days.

Authors Note: Thanks for all the continued support from the following readers who asked to be tagged!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantasyreader28

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Earth & Fire

Chapter VI - Orpheus

09/11/2023

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 7,932

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, imagined character death, Hermes being a massive d*ck

Summary: An intruder makes it past the gates to the Underworld and sets forth a chain of events that finally makes Anthea and Hades realise their true feelings for each other.

A/N: Gosh, this chapter turned out to be a real beast. It got longer and longer, so decisions had to be made and I ended up splitting it into two separate chapters. I think it does not take away from the reading experience, but it means you will have to wait just a tad longer before our two sweethearts will finally make a move.

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

Anthea hurried to get away from the palace. It was still early in the day, at least she believed it was as there was no way to be sure in the complete absence of sunlight. But the hallways had been suspiciously quiet and she had not encountered anyone on her way outside. 

Looking back over her shoulder, she found that she was a good distance from the palace now, and more importantly, that she was still alone. But just to be on the safe side, she stepped around one of the larger rocks to her left and crouched down. With a swift movement of her hand she produced the golden robin her father had given her upon their arrival from inside her garment. Even though it had travelled back and forth quite a few times by now, it looked as spotless and shiny as on the day of her arrival. 

The day of her arrival, she mused, as she opened her hand to set the tiny bird free and watched it lift off. Had it already been a week? Or two? Maybe even more. Anthea had no idea. All she knew was that time seemed to pass even slower since Aidon and her had returned from the pond. 

If only it had not been for that dreadful dream. She had not dared look him in the eyes when their paths had crossed the next morning. And he had not spared her a word either. It was almost as if he knew, as if her desire and the shame it caused surrounded her, like an aura, visible to no one but him. And his withdrawal only confirmed what she had been fearing all along—that their behaviour inside the cave had been untoward. 

She should have known, should have realised from the way it had excited her. But she had chosen to give in to it, not knowing what it would cost her, and now she was paying the price for her lewdness.

On the day she had arrived here, Anthea had thought that she had nothing left to lose except her life. How foolish she had been. But now that she had lost him too, she knew better. The days seemed endless without his company, and the nights even more so, as they brought back images of his sweet smile, the sensation of his warm embrace and the melody of his laughter. Sometimes she was lucky though, when dreamless sleep found her and let her wake in the merciful misbelief that, even if Zeus had taken away her life as she knew it, she still had him.

But realisation always came too soon, and when it did, it hit her with full force, the violent clench inside her chest almost impossible to bear. 

There was not much to do for her now that she had driven him away, except for writing to her father. Of course she had told him nothing about the recent developments. It was not so much that she feared his anger, but she knew that her unhappiness and solitude would worry him, and he had enough on his hands to worry about because of her already. 

At least it seemed that his plan of leading Zeus astray was working. For now. They both knew they could not outrun the All-father for all eternity. It was only a matter of time before he would discover her hiding place. Especially with all the devoted spies and allies that were only waiting for a chance to prove their loyalty to the King of the Gods. 

Hephaestus had reminded her of that in his last letter, urgently. To be careful, to trust nobody and to not let anyone see her when she released the robin. It would probably have been best not to use him at all, but she did not have the heart to give up the only silver lining she still had. 

Anthea jolted as suddenly a warm, wet snout pressed into the palm of her hand. He had come out of nowhere, but now he was everywhere. Two heavy paws landing on her shoulders, her back met the rock behind her. One head licked her face eagerly, the other still nuzzling her palm in an enthusiastic appeal for her attention, as the third one barked in excitement.

“Cerberus, please,” she squealed as she tried to push the Guardian of the Underworld off of herself. “I would love to give you all the pats you deserve, but you’re making this quite impossible if you keep squashing me into this rock.”

She doubted that he had understood a word she had said, but he stilled anyway. Then he turned and it was only when a voice came from above their heads that she knew why Cerberus had chosen to stop his antics.

“It’s not hard to see why he let you pass the gates to the Underworld unharmed.” 

First a pair of feet strapped in leather sandals came into view. And the set of tiny wings, fluttering excitedly at their heels, was enough to give away the identity of the intruder. He peered down at her with his signature haughty smile and she knew there was more to come. 

“He adores you.” He stopped for a second to give his next remark more weight. “They all do.”

She knew he was referring to his father, and once again Anthea felt that warmth spread through her when she remembered that, even though he was the Messenger of the Gods and therefore a  gossipmonger by nature, she had nothing to fear from him. Thanks to Aidon. And without knowing how he had achieved his aim, finally Hermes' words began to sting like he had intended them to. 

“Aidon sure doesn’t.” 

Even to her own ears, her reply sounded awfully childish and bitter. And despite averting her gaze, she could hear the god’s amusement upon her negligence in his answer.

“Oh, I am certain there is no need to fear the loss of his affection, my dear. Or do you really think he would allow you to call him Aidon if he wasn’t utterly smitten by you?”

Her bewilderment must have shown as her eyes snapped back to the intruder. At least it coaxed a frustrated sigh from his throat before he condescended to clarify his words.

“No one calls him that. They don’t dare. Not even Hecate or Thanatos, two of his closest friends.”

Anthea pondered the new information for a moment, letting her fingers sink into Cerberus’ soft fur to ground herself while she did. “I’m sure it means nothing,” she finally stated. “He just didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable, being the excellent host he is.”

“Ha! Excellent host,” Hermes sneered, tipping the brim of his winged petasos back a little. “I bet the residents of Tartarus would like to disagree.”

“If he does his job right. After all, they earned what they got, didn’t they?”

“Probably.” Hermes’ grin had fallen a little, still he was nowhere near satisfied with the torment he had caused so far. “But tell me, if he really is such an excellent host, why does he leave you on your own so much?”

“I…he…” Anthea’s fingers dug deeper into the hound’s silky fur. How dare he question the hospitality of the only being in the whole universe that had been kind enough to take her in, despite the risks standing up against Zeus might entail? “I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. Maybe he just has an awful lot of obligations to fulfil. And besides that, he owes me nothing, not even his company. He has already done more for me than anyone would have under these circumstances.” 

“Oh, I am sure he has.” A wicked grin continued to spread on Hermes’ lips until two rows of pearly white teeth were revealed.

“What are you insinuating, Lord Hermes?” Anthea spat, the tone of her voice so sharp that even Cerberus felt compelled to join in with a low growl. Then suddenly he stiffened, his heads whipping around in unison, and before she knew what was happening, he dashed off. 

She felt bared without his protection, completely vulnerable now in the presence of a god who had no regard for the feelings of others. A situation that was all too familiar.

“I am insinuating nothing. Nothing at all.”

His smirk told a different story. 

“Aidon is not like that.”

“Like my father, you mean.”

Anthea rose to her feet. “And like you. Like all the other gods. Taking what they want, whenever they want, regardless who they hurt in the process.”

Her outbreak did not impress the god in the least. Instead he laughed at her, a deep, guttural laugh that made Anthea dizzy with rage. 

“And what do you think qualifies you to be the judge of that? You have known Hades for what, a week?”

Anthea did not rise to his provocation. She would not let her guard down with him more than she already had. So instead of granting him an answer, she just glowered at him.

“Suit yourself. It’s all the same to me. But you know what they say, the higher the pedestal, the deeper the fall.”

“I don’t think he’ll ever do anything to change my high opinion of him.”

“And how could he, seeing that he spends no more time with you whatsoever?”

His remark felt like a smack to her face. It stung, reaching deep within, her gut twisting and turning as she tried with all her might to battle the rising tears back down.

“As I said, I’m sure he has good reasons for—”

“To be honest with you,” Hermes came a step closer while he cut her short, “I don’t think he has. And even if he did, it hurts, doesn’t it?” He took another step, letting his hand sink against the rock now that he was close enough, to shield her in on one side. “The rejection. The realisation that there are more important things in his life than you.”

Anthea swallowed. He was so close now that she could feel his hot breath hitting her face like the scorching fires of Tartarus. 

“That’s not—” came her feeble reply and her words died away completely when all of a sudden a loud noise filled the air. Some kind of warning signal, she guessed from the alarmed look on Hermes’ face. And as he drew away, eyes scanning their surroundings frantically, she could feel a familiar panic rise inside her.

“What is happening?” she almost screamed at the god who was already lifting off the ground.

“An intruder. You should head back to the palace.” 

Zeus. 

He had found her.

And he was here to finally claim what he had been denied.

Hermes was right. She should head back to the palace, run as fast as her feet would carry her to the only shelter she knew. But she could not. Frozen in place she watched the Messenger of the Gods fly off, without a single look back. And the further the distance grew between them, the harder Anthea found it to simply breathe. Soon she was gasping for air, her breaths stuttering like the beat of her heart. She needed to support herself against the cold stone as the world first began to spin and then blur. Good, she thought, unconsciousness would be the only mercy she could hope for when he finally found her.

“Anthea!” The voice came from far away, still it possessed the power to stop her mind from descending into darkness. “Oh, thank the Fates.”

A pair of arms wrapped around her, just in time to stop her from sinking to the ground, and she felt herself sinking against him instead. 

“It’s all right. It’s all right,” the soothing voice chanted over and over again. “It’s not him.”

She registered a faint whooshing noise, but she paid it no mind. It did not matter, not as long as his scent surrounded her and his arms kept her close. She was safe. 

But then his arms were replaced by another softness, not as warm and nowhere near as comforting, but she felt that he was still there, still by her side, and as well-known hues of pink and purple welcomed her back, she knew where he had taken her. 

“Aidon,” she muttered, blindly reaching for him as her lids still refused to open and allow her the sight of his beautiful face.

“I’m here, love.” His hands wrapped around hers, lifting it to his mouth to press his lips against her knuckles in a tender kiss. 

“Please don’t go.”

Aidon hesitated, a mere heartbeat, but his silence finally gave her the strength to open her eyes. He looked pained, almost heartbroken as he glanced down at her from the bedside.

“I’m afraid I must. Even if it is not Zeus who has tried to sneak into the Underworld, I still have to deal with our uninvited guest.”

Anthea nodded. “Of course.” She heard herself say the words, but they were not her own. They were the words of reason, when every fibre of her being wanted to beg him to stay, or at least take her with him. But she knew that was out of the question. He would not let her get up, not in the state she was in. 

“Rest now. I will come looking for you as soon as I can.”

His lips found her hand again before he gently laid it down on her stomach. A smile played on his lips, to reassure her, she knew, but it was dimmed by his worry. She hated to be the cause of that. Hated to be so weak, making it easy for panic to overwhelm her. 

And this very second it was as clear to her as it could ever be. She needed to brace herself, for the moment would come when she could no longer outrun her deepest fears. And she would meet them with a brave face. She had to. For him. 

Hades loathed leaving her like this. The pleading tone of her voice, still shaking with fear, had broken his heart. Even more so as he could not stay by her side to soothe her. A mortal had tried to breach the gates to the Underworld and even though Hades knew that his presence here had nothing to do with Anthea, he wanted him gone as soon as possible. 

He had come in vain anyway, especially after scaring the living daylights out of Anthea with his appearance. Of course, he could not have known what torment he would cause her, but that did not change the fact that he had and thus had sparked the ardent wish to make him suffer for it in the God of the Underworld. 

Hades’ mood only darkened further as he watched the young man stride through the packed throne room now. His face was a perfect display of deference, but underneath it Hades could sense the same arrogance that he had had to endure countless times on his rare visits to Mount Olympus before. The arrogance only a god could muster, and had now bequeathed unto his mortal son. 

The lyre he clutched in his right hand was another hint to his divine father, at least for those who had never encountered the god Apollo and therefore could not recognise the uncanny resemblance. Especially his flowy blonde curls and eyes as blue as the sky gave irrefutable evidence of his descent.

Hades sighed as the intruder sank to one knee at the foot of his dais. Yet another disturbance of his peace Zeus was to blame for. As if Hermes was not enough of a pest already.

“Orpheus, son of Apollo, you have tried in vain to descend into the Underworld unnoticed and in doing so committed a grave crime against the laws of this realm.” 

The murmur of the spectators had died away with their ruler’s first words, yet there was one individual who did not know when it was best not to break the silence.

“My lord, I—”

“Quiet! It is not your turn to speak yet, bard.” Orpheus’ eyes went wide and a few souls exchanged knowing glances. “But taking into account whose son and grandson you are, I will forgive you the lack of decorum, just this once, as you are clearly not to blame for it. So you will better not speak up again without permission. Do you understand?”

Still on one knee, Orpheus obediently lowered his head and his free hand clutched the fabric of his crimson chiton right above his chest.

“Yes, my lord. And I thank you for your lenience.”

Following the rules of a hearing like this, Hades would ask the Thracian to defend himself and state his case, but he had heard of his story already. Everyone knew of it, in the mortal realm as well as in the realm of the dead. 

Orpheus was here to plead for his beloved’s life. Eurydice. He had lost her on the day of their wedding. It had been a joyous day, everyone who had witnessed the ceremony agreed, and the bride had asked her groom to play on his lyre so she could dance with the naiads in celebration. It was a skill Orpheus had been taught by his father and mastered to perfection, and so he was eager to fulfil his wife’s wish. 

But as they danced, a shepherd saw her. Enchanted by her beauty, he wanted her for himself and began to chase her. In the course of her flight, she stepped onto a nest of vipers and was bitten. Orpheus, who had chased after the shepherd and his wife to protect her, could do nothing but hold her in his arms as she slowly slipped away to the other side.

Since then, Orpheus had been in mourning, pestering everyone in the Upperworld with his laments. Soon their fate was known as a tragedy that had moved many hearts—even those of the gods.

Some of them must have given him the advice to journey to the Underworld and reason with its ruler. Why they had done so, Hades could not tell for sure. A few might actually have meant well, honestly touched by his loss, others just liked to cause mischief and watch chaos unfold, eager to find out whether Orpheus would make it to the Underworld alive, which was not the common result, not even for the son of a god. Actually, most mortals who set out for the realm of the dead never even reached the Styx, lost somewhere in the dark labyrinths that led here or discovered by Cerberus, who took his assignment as guardian of the gates to the Underworld very seriously. 

Strangely enough, Orpheus had made it here unharmed. Not without help, Hades suspected, and as he looked around to find Hermes amidst the crowd of spectators, the messenger’s impish grin confirmed his suspicions. It was probably his nephew’s way of paying him back for making him swear that oath to protect Anthea. He did not like to be pushed around. But neither did Hades. So hopefully Hermes was prepared to see his revenge backfire, even though it would be others who had to pay the price in his stead.

“Orpheus, as many before you, you have come to the Underworld in the hope to return to the light with your wife Eurydice. I know your story, I have heard it several times, and I cannot see how it differs from those of others I have sent back home empty handed. So that will be your fate as well, to leave the way you came, Cerberus by your side to escort you back.”

Hades could see the young man’s head shoot up, unbelieving eyes finding his in an instant. He was not prepared to accept his rejection yet, but Hades’ mind was made up. It had been, long before Orpheus had even conceived the plan to travel to the Underworld in the first place. Hades had never overruled the decisions of the Fates, not because he could not, but because death was part of life. From the day of birth, it was inevitable that life would eventually end. It was the only true equality there was. And who was he to take that away by making exceptions?

“I accept your verdict, Lord Hades. Even though it is very uncommon not to allow the petitioner to state his case.” A turmoil rose among the crowd. But it was only after a while, as the murmuring grew louder, that Hades realised it had not been started by the bard’s repeated impertinence, but because he himself had ignored the fixed procedures. And when he found Hermes’ eyes in the crowd again, he knew that he had been played. Now all he could do was wait for the humiliation, and he did not have to wait for long.

“Please,” Orpheus spoke again, raising his arms to calm the agitated audience, and to Hades’ great dismay, they listened. “Lord Hades is right. There is nothing that makes my loss greater than the loss others have suffered, or my grief any graver. It is a truth hard to bear while standing right  at the centre of a storm that threatens to tear you apart. But I thank you for reminding me of that, my lord.”

“You are welcome, son of Apollo,” Hades pressed out as casually as he could. There was more to come, he was sure of it. Orpheus would not leave without at least trying to sway him, not after coming all this way.

“My lord, against the warnings of others, you have been most kind to me. Will you allow me to express my gratitude with a song before I return to the mortal realm?”

Hades would have liked to refuse, but there was no way he could. Not without angering every single soul in the Underworld and in turn losing their respect. He would have to endure what was coming. But how hard could it be? It was only a song. It would change nothing.

And so he felt himself nod and extend his hand in an invitation for the bard to proceed.

A mixture of disbelief and triumph flitted across Orpheus’ face, but it faded quickly as he was eager to use the chance he had been given. He knew he would not get another one. 

And so deft fingers began to move, coaxing the first tunes from the strings. They were soft, designed to be inconspicuous, and soon Hades found them weaving their way into his ears and from there, as they were met with no resistance, reaching deeper. Not in any way did their facile nature prepare him for what was about to come. 

A force so strong he had to close his eyes suddenly overcame him. And there she was. Warm eyes, the colour of fertile soil, and golden hair, always shining as if it held the light of the sun itself. The hint of a shy smile played on her lips and when her eyes found him, it erupted into something so bright he was tempted to blink before his heart would burst with joy. 

It was only now that he noticed she was dressed in wedding attire. Part of her hair was braided and someone had done very well to weave in some flowers here and there. She was magnificent, even more so than she usually was, if that was possible. It was beyond him how he had managed to tear his gaze away from her, but he had, and as he looked down his own form now, he found himself matching her outfit. 

How…? What was this trickery? 

Until this very day he had never even given the faintest thought to marriage. It was a luxury, he had concluded early on, the God of the Underworld could never be granted. And being married to her, well, that was never going to happen anyway. He had vowed it would not, and yet somehow here they were, dressed the part, her hand reaching for his and he knew everything was just as it had always been meant to be.

Still, however real the bliss of being bound to her for eternity felt, he knew this was only a dream. It had to be. No matter how warm her body felt as it pressed into his, or how his stomach fluttered as her lips came closer, her heated breath already drifting across his own as a foretaste of the sweetness that was yet to come. 

But suddenly she stilled in his arms, her grip a little tighter as her eyes drifted to the ground. To her feet, he corrected himself, staring in disbelief at the two angry red punctures on her ankle. And when she found his gaze again, the turmoil of her eyes left him in no doubt that she knew. 

With mere moments left, life already leaving her body, her weakening form collapsed against him and he held her as they both sank to the ground, his heart sinking even deeper. There were no words left to speak. For what could be said in the face of inevitable loss, of forced separation from the one you vowed to spend your life with? This and every other that was yet to come.

Hades was not sure if he could have found his voice anyway, with devastation clutching his heart in a tight grip and his mind plunged into chaos. He could not lose her, not now and not ever, not without losing a part of himself that would die with her as soon as her heart would stop beating. 

Please, please, he thought, not even sure who he was pleading to, not her. Anyone but her. 

It did not take long for the tears to rise from deep within and find their way into his eyes. Some would have seen them as a mercy, would have welcomed them as they began to cloud the view, but Hades fought hard to force them back. not wanting to be robbed of the last moments they had together. There would be plenty of time to weep, but now all he wanted was to look at her, to take every single second to memory, so he could remember what it had felt like to be blessed with the gift of being alive at the same time she was. 

Death was close now. He could feel him luring in the shadows already, but his old friend refused to turn himself visible just yet. A kindness that was greatly appreciated and would not go unnoticed. 

“Anḗr,” she whispered, collecting what little remained of her strength to lift her hand and reach out for him. But she was too weak already and so he cupped her hand with his own and brought it up to his cheek for her. It was only this tiny gesture and the warmth of her touch that stopped him from breaking apart upon the way she had addressed him. It would have been easy to convince himself that he had simply misheard, but he knew that he had not. She had said it, however feeble the whisper had been. Anḗr — husband.

She was gone as soon as she had appeared before his eyes while the music slowly faded. And even though his torment was still fresh, lingering like the soul of a newly deceased that was not ready to leave the mortal realm just yet, already it was wearing thinner to make room for relief. And there was no relief he had ever felt that could compare to the alleviation that spread through him this very instant. She was alive, her heart still beating somewhere inside the walls of this palace and all he had to do was listen closely and he would hear it.

A comfort the man at the foot of the dais did not have anymore, Hades realised as his eyes found him there. What had only been a nightmare to him, was Orpheus’ living hell, day by torturous day. To wake every morning in a short moment of oblivion, just to be hit by realisation the next. Happiness and grief, side by side, shifting in the blink of an eye. Ripping his heart into shreds, over and over again.

It was only now that Hades became aware of his surroundings once more, and found the whole room in a state of distress that seemed to resemble his own inner turmoil. As they began to wander, his eyes caught souls trembling with the trauma of their own deaths renewed, nymphs were weeping as they held onto each other in their despair, even some of the gods and daimons present were wiping tears from the corners of their eyes. Strangely enough, the only one who seemed perfectly composed was the man who had stirred them all with his performance. And as an even greater  surprise, the bard simply bowed, and then turned to leave.

Hades had no idea what came over him. His mind had been made up. No exceptions. Still he found himself rising to his feet as his voice echoed from the walls in a strange and unfamiliar sound.

“Wait.” Immediately Orpheus halted his steps, yet he did not dare turn and look at the ruler of the Underworld just yet. “Son of Apollo, look around. You have touched the hearts of every being in the Underworld with your mournful song.” Orpheus did as he was told and let his eyes glide over the crowd. Finally, they settled on the King of the Dead once again and he continued. “As your reward, I will not drive you away as I have done with every other mortal who came here in hope of returning to the Upperworld with their deceased loved ones. Instead, I will grant you the chance to actually regain what you have come here for—” murmur broke out among the spectators, as he had suspected it would, and so he spoke up, his voice taking on its full godly boom, an effect he almost never used. But he needed Orpheus, and everyone else, to hear the next part loud and clear. “If, and only if, you can give me one good reason why you cannot wait until the day you will be reunited with your Eurydice the natural way.”

“By death, you mean?” Orpheus asked hastily, but immediately realised the foolishness of his question. What other natural way was there to reunite him with his wife? Still the humiliation of his folly did not weigh heavily on him, as shortly after, he suddenly started to smile sweetly.

“Well, my lord, since the day my Eurydice was carried away from me on Thanatos’ large wings, life is not life anymore. It is death already, but instead of the fields of Asphodel, my forlorn soul is trapped inside this body on the wrong side of being.”

What sweet words, Hades thought. Still they were words, nothing but words. Orpheus was a bard and a poet, it was his profession to persuade with words. But words could easily deceive. 

“For someone who claims to be dead already, you seem very much alive to me, Orpheus.”

A hearty sigh rose from the intruder’s chest, almost a little too dramatic to be fully convincing. 

“If by alive you mean that I am breathing and my heart is beating, you are right, my lord. But living is more than being alive. It is loving and being loved, because in knowing someone else completely and being known by that person in return we live not only in ourselves but in the other and thus become immortal. In losing my Eurydice, I have lost not only her but part of me as well,” his voice was almost a whisper when he added, “the bigger part.”

Hades was quiet for a moment. He could have ridiculed him for his comment on immortality. There was no immortality, not for mortals anyway, and yet it was what they eternally seemed to chase. Still, there was a truth to Orpheus’ words that even he could not deny, a thought that had been growing inside of him for a long while as well, but had only fully ripened these past days, and he had not been able to put it into words until now. He was just about to voice his reply, when Orpheus’ growing unease upon the god’s silence made him speak first.

“Forgive me, my lord, but if you do not believe that I speak the truth, it can only be because you have never experienced the wonder of love.”

Love. What was that even? He had asked himself many times in the centuries of exile. For most, and he suspected Orpheus to be one of them, it meant not being alone. To have someone to spend their life with. But it had never been the solitude that had bothered him. The absence of someone being around. In the rare cases he had found himself longing for company, he had always had Cerberus. Hecate and Thanatos too, even Hermes from time to time. 

But for him it had never been about company. Or sating his desires. He could have had that with Minthe long ago. No, it was something else. He knew that now and thanks to the bard he was at last able to lend the right words to his thoughts. It had been the being unable to communicate the things that mattered to him, the lack of understanding, the realisation that not a single soul truly knew him, and never would, that had made him feel so utterly lonely. 

But things had changed. He had changed.

“As impossible as it may seem to you, son of Apollo, I do know that feeling you speak of. But mere words will not be enough. I will need you to prove that you actually know what you are speaking of and did not simply borrow those words from someone who does.”

“Anything, Lord Hades, I will do anything.”

“Careful, Orpheus. Others have made that claim before and, as you very well know, none of their stories did have a happy ending.”

He could see Orpheus gulp as the words sank in, and for a moment, he almost pitied the young man.

“You will leave this realm instantly.”

“But, my lord—“

“Quiet! Calm yourself and let me finish, or you will leave with less than you have come with. I will grant the soul of your wife to follow you. But,” now it was Hades’ turn to use the dramatic effect and pause a second, “if you turn back to look at her before the sunlight touches both of you, she will be returned here immediately and the day of your reunion will be decided by the Fates alone.”

Orpheus fell to his knees once again, his legs unable to support his weight upon the chance he had been presented with, a chance no one had ever been granted before. 

“Thank you, merciful Ruler of the Underworld. I will not fail you.”

If Orpheus had even inherited the smallest ounce of his grandfather’s temperament, Hades very much doubted that this venture would end well. 

“Should you fail, Orpheus, your failure will not be at my expense. Go, leave now, and be reunited with your Eurydice, before I regret my decision.”

anḗr

The whisper of her own voice still echoed through Anthea’s head as if she had just spoken the word. As if she had actually spoken it. Even the cold of the black pillar that pressed against her back could not stop her mind from repeating it over and over again, nor did it soothe her racing heart or her laboured breathing. Instead it made her wish for his warm embrace even more ardently. 

But it was not only his touch she longed for, it was also that look in his eyes she wanted to feel again, so soft and full of love for her as he took her in. There had been flowers in his hair, emitting a scent so sweet that it had made her lean in until she had been fully pressed up against him, their hearts being as close as they had ever been. It had been in that very moment, a mere heartbeat before his lips would finally touch hers, that she had known. This was the way it was meant to be. The Fates had woven their threads together, entwined for eternity, never to be untangled again. 

But the sweetness never came. Instead a sharp pain had spread through her and before she had even known what was going on, she found herself ripped away from the love she had just found and thrown into nothingness instead.

For a moment she had hated Orpheus for doing this to her when she had come back to her senses, had hated him for inflicting such cruelty. Even more so as her attention had soon been directed to the god she had called husband mere seconds ago, who had held her as she had slipped away from him, and who now was in a state that seemed in no way lesser than her own torment. 

Aidon was talking to Orpheus, she could see his mouth moving amidst the dark hair that covered half of his face, and even though her mind was still too far gone to capture the gist of their conversation just yet, she could feel his agitation despite his controlled demeanour. And to her own surprise she felt herself stir in her hiding spot behind the pillar, her feet eager to run up the steps of his dais so that her lips might press to the creased spot between his eyebrows until the skin was smoothed out and the worry chased from his mind. 

But of course she could not do any such thing. He had told her to rest and wait for him in her room, if she showed herself to him now, showed him that she had left her bed and wandered all the way through the deserted corridors regardless, it would probably only add to his worries. Because what he did not know was that she had left in search of him, every fibre in her body yearning to be in his soothing presence after that horrible scare, and that she needed to feel him close, that it was actually her who needed to press her lips to his forehead to calm her own demons.

Quickly she turned, leaning her back against the cold stone pillar once more to deprive herself of the view in front of her. It was dangerous to keep watching because she could feel the truth creeping up on her with every passing second. Anthea knew that it had always been there, she had just done well in denying its presence. But ever since that bard had been allowed to sing his lament, it was harder and harder to remember why she had been so eager to fight the obvious this whole time.

And it seemed that simply turning away from him had not been enough. It was not even anywhere near enough. Anthea should have run instead, or better yet she should have stayed in bed as she had been told to. Because she would have never heard what she heard now, would have never felt that new spark of hope deep inside her, igniting her heart as easily as if it were carved out of tinder.

“As impossible as it may seem to you, son of Apollo, I do know that feeling you speak of.”

Could it be? Did he actually… But Anthea did not get to finish that thought. What her ears picked up next was far too unbelievable to let her mind stray from the conversation at this point. Had Aidon just…had he just allowed Eurydice’s soul to return to the mortal realm? Orpheus’ stunned voice and the murmuring that broke out all around her seemed to suggest just that. 

Truthfully, she did not know all too much about the Underworld, but she could not remember a single story anyone had ever told her that spoke of another case in which Aidon had ever used his powers to overrule the Fates and permitted a soul to return to the Upperworld. She understood why he had not. There were rules to life and death, and they existed for a reason. Breaking them might lead to chaos, and it was the gods’ purpose to keep the world from that fate. And unlike so many other gods, Aidon had always appeared to her as one of the few who actually took this task seriously. So why break these rules now? Why risk chaos for a grieving mortal and his wife, however beautiful of a song he had sung?

“Oh, I think you know exactly why, my dear.”

The unexpected, and even more unwanted, voice made her jump. 

“You!” Anthea glared at the sneering god in front of her. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? You seemed to be rather eager to get away from me as soon as the alarm was sounded earlier.”

“Ah, you see, it wasn’t so much about getting away from you than about getting here as quickly as possible. The best seats for this kind of event are taken faster than you might think and I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this hearing for the world.” He paused, his grin growing even further during the short moment’s silence. “Besides, I would not have wanted to rob Hades of his chance to come to your rescue and thus stand in the way of young love.”

“Fuck you, Hermes.”

She pushed past him, not caring any longer whether Aidon might see her or not, as long as it would take her away from this insufferable deity. But to her great surprise, she found that the room had already been cleared out. There was no one left but her and the nuisance who called himself Messenger of the Gods, and he appeared very eager to pester her a bit longer. 

Hermes was quick to follow her on his winged sandals, outpacing her with ease just to cut off her way.

“Not so fast, sunshine. I was not finished yet.”

“But I was finished talking to you.”

“Feisty.” His blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “I can see now why my father is so enamoured with you. I did not think that would float Hades’ boat too, but I guess no one truly knows what is going on inside that head of his anyway.”

“What do you want, Hermes? Are you just trying to mess with me or rile me up by mocking Aidon? Or is there an actual purpose to your existence?”

His smile wavered for a second and he took a step closer.

“Careful now, missy. I think you might be forgetting that you are talking to a god here.”

“How could I forget, my lord, when all you ever do in my presence is display the greatest of your powers, God of Mischief?”

“Huh,” one corner of his mouth slid upwards in a crooked, but not unimpressed grin, “that is rich, coming from you, my dear. But, please, keep calling me out for being a trickster when we both know the real trickster in this room is you.”

Anthea rolled her eyes upon the ambiguity of his words. 

“And whatever could you mean by that?”

That was Hermes cue to move. Slowly he was circling her while his watchful eyes locked onto her face as if he could not afford to miss even the tiniest alteration of her expression. 

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me, Anthea. I know exactly what you are up to. First my father, now Hades… Why not take a little trip to the seaside next? I bet it will be a mere trifle for you to ensnare the last of the big three as well.”

“What?” Anthea spat in utter bewilderment. “Do you know just how ridiculous you sound right now, Hermes? Why would I do such a thing?”

“Isn’t that obvious? Just think of the war that could ensue if the rulers of this cosmos would fall out because of a woman. It would be so convenient, wouldn’t it? I bet your father is in on it too. Fates, he probably still hates the lot of us for not standing up for him when Zeus cast him out. It would be quite easy to reclaim his place among the Olympians, maybe even reach for the throne, with the three most powerful gods out of the way.”

It did not matter to her how many insults and ludicrous assumptions about her he came up with, but by calling Hephaestus a schemer Hermes had crossed a line.

“How dare you drag my father into these fantastical conspiracy theories of yours when I am only in this place because of yours?”

“This place?” he repeated her own words to her, not even rising to her allusion in the least. “You say it as if it was a bad thing for you to be here. You know, I might be wrong, but I thought that you were beginning to finally warm to the Underworld. Or at least to its ruler…”

She could have denied it. It would have been the wise thing to do so, considering who she was with. But there was something inside of her that simply could not deny the truth in his words any longer. And her silence seemed to be answer enough for Hermes.

“So it is true then. Thanks for the affirmation.”

Anthea was silent for another moment. It would still not have been too late to contradict him, but her rage had pushed her way past that point. 

“Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear? Is your curiosity finally sated?”

“It isn’t so much my own curiosity. I mean, personally, I couldn’t care less who your puny mortal heart is beating for,” he paused dramatically, “but there is someone who does care and whose heart it will break to hear the news.”

Anthea snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if Zeus cared whether I have feelings for anyone.”

“Not Zeus, silly girl,” Hermes tutted. “Minthe.”

“Minthe?” Anthea’s brows knitted together in confusion.

“Yes, have you forgotten about her already?”

“Of course not. I—”

“Well, but I bet you didn’t even waste a single thought on her sudden absence from the palace, did you?”

Anthea had to admit, she had not.

“I didn’t think so. But just in case you are interested now, seeing that it really is your fault, you might want to ask your beloved Hades about her whereabouts.”

“Listen, Hermes,” Anthea began, pinching the bridge of her nose, “why don’t you safe us both some time and just say what you so obviously want to get off your chest so we can go our separate ways again?”

He had just reached the blind spot behind her back during one of the many circles he had drawn around her when he stopped. And suddenly his voice was close to her ear, freezing her in place.

“And where would be the fun in that?”

Anthea spun round, ready to give him another piece of her mind, but all her fuming eyes found there was the empty room.

Chapter 7

***

taglist:

@ashesofblackroses

@lowkeysimpinloki

[simpforfandom231]

Goddess with feelings

In the heart of Philadelphia, within the bustling halls of the university, lived Y/N Montgomery, a bright and kind student immersed in the captivating world of history and Greek mythology. Known for her sweetness and adoration of animals, especially dogs, Y/N found solace in the tales of the past.

Meanwhile, Anthea, also a student at the same university, delved into the complexities of bioengineering. Unbeknownst to her peers, she carried a divine secret — she was the daughter of Atlas, capable of manipulating time. Anthea, preferring to blend in as an ordinary student, adopted the name Anne and kept her divine lineage concealed.

Despite her extraordinary abilities, Anne rarely used her powers, fully aware of the potential dangers they posed. Her heart, however, harbored an entirely different secret – an unspoken crush on the sweet and adorable Y/N. The two had never spoken, and Anne, with her limited understanding of human emotions, struggled to decipher the feelings that stirred within her.

One fateful day, as Y/N faced the torment of bullies, Anne witnessed the injustice unfold. Unable to stand idly by, she felt an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness for Y/N, prompting her to consider using her powers to intervene. Yet, fear of revealing her true identity and the consequences that might follow held Anne back.

The university courtyard echoed with the cruel laughter of the bullies as they circled around Y/N, who desperately tried to retrieve her broken glasses. Anne, observing from a distance, felt a surge of anger and determination. She approached the scene with a newfound confidence, her eyes reflecting a glint of power she had never revealed before.

"Hey, back off!" Anne declared, her voice unwavering as she stepped between the bullies and the distressed Y/N. She gently bent down, picking up the broken glasses and handing them back to Y/N, her eyes locked onto the offenders.

One of the bullies, a tall and imposing figure, smirked at Anne. "What are you gonna do, sweetheart? You gonna cry to the professors? Little miss perfect can't handle a little teasing?"

Anne, however, remained composed. "I suggest you leave her alone. You won't like the consequences if you don't," she warned, her tone carrying an unspoken gravity.

The bullies burst into laughter, mocking Anne's threat. "Consequences? What's this nerd gonna do, cast a spell or something?" one of them jeered.

Anne's expression remained stern. "You really don't want to find out," she replied, her eyes glinting with an otherworldly intensity. Unbeknownst to the bullies, time itself seemed to hesitate in the presence of the mysterious Anne.

The atmosphere grew tense as the bullies hesitated, sensing an inexplicable shift in the air. Y/N, grateful yet bewildered by the unexpected intervention, watched with wide eyes as Anne stood her ground. The quiet determination in Anne's eyes hinted at a power beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.

The bullies, however, continued to scoff. "Come on, let's go. This is getting weird," one of them said, dismissing Anne's warning with a nervous chuckle. They dispersed, leaving Y/N and Anne alone in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Anne turned towards Y/N, her expression softening as she offered a reassuring smile. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice carrying a genuine concern that transcended her lack of understanding of human emotions.

Y/N, still processing the surreal encounter, managed a nod. "Yeah, thanks... Anne, right?"

Anne nodded in confirmation, a subtle warmth blossoming within her as she realized that, for the first time, she had taken a step beyond the boundaries of her divine anonymity to protect someone she cared about.

Y/N gingerly accepted her repaired glasses from Anne, but as their eyes met, she noticed an inexplicable glint of golden light in Anne's eyes. It was a brief, ethereal shimmer that caught Y/N off guard, leaving her momentarily stunned.

"Did... did anyone else see that?" Y/N asked, her curiosity evident in her voice. The golden glow in Anne's eyes had been unmistakable, like a fleeting glimpse into something beyond the ordinary.

Anne, quick to react, feigned a nonchalant smile. "See what? You probably imagined it. Stress can do strange things to your perception," she replied, brushing off the peculiar occurrence with a casual remark. In reality, Anne couldn't reveal the true nature of the glint, a manifestation of her divine anger and power.

Y/N, though perplexed, chose not to press the matter further. "Well, um, thanks for stepping in back there. That was... unexpected," she admitted, a hint of gratitude in her tone.

Anne chuckled softly, still grappling with the unfamiliar territory of human emotions. "Consider it a stroke of luck that I happened to be passing by," she said, her eyes avoiding a direct gaze with Y/N.

Curiosity lingered in Y/N's mind, but she decided to let it go for the moment. "You're not from around here, are you? I mean, I've never seen you before," Y/N inquired, attempting to strike up a conversation.

Anne hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much of her true self she could reveal. "No, I'm relatively new. Transferred in recently," she answered vaguely, keeping her divine identity carefully concealed.

Y/N nodded understandingly. "Well, welcome to the university, then. I'm Y/N, by the way. Y/N Montgomery," she introduced herself with a warm smile.

As Y/N and Anne continued their conversation, Anne, in her guise of the seemingly new and unfamiliar student, remarked, "You know, I'm still trying to navigate my way around here. Would you mind showing me the way to the cafeteria? I'm hopeless with directions."

Y/N hesitated, knowing all too well the pitfalls of the cafeteria and the potential for encounters with the bullies. Nonetheless, she sensed an unusual sincerity in Anne's request. "Sure, I can help you find it," Y/N replied, offering a tentative smile.

As they walked through the university halls, Anne skillfully feigned an air of unfamiliarity, subtly observing the surroundings. Y/N, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity, guided her towards the bustling cafeteria.

Upon reaching the cafeteria entrance, Y/N hesitated once again, memories of past encounters with bullies flooding her mind. Anne, perceptive to Y/N's unease, sensed the hesitation. "Hey, do you mind if I join you for lunch? I don't really know anyone here, and I could use some company," Anne suggested, her tone genuine.

Y/N, surprised by the unexpected request, felt a warmth in her chest. "Uh, sure. I mean, I usually eat alone, but why not?" she replied, a shy smile playing on her lips.

As they found a table, Anne's eyes subtly scanned the cafeteria, her divine senses alert to any potential threats. The golden glow flickered in her eyes momentarily, a silent promise to herself that she wouldn't let any harm befall Y/N.

Over lunch, the conversation between Y/N and Anne flowed effortlessly. They discussed classes, shared anecdotes, and even delved into their personal interests. Anne, struggling with the nuances of human interaction, found herself surprisingly at ease in Y/N's company.

Y/N, despite her initial nervousness, began to appreciate Anne's presence. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection that transcended the ordinary dynamics of friendship.

As Y/N and Anne enjoyed their lunchtime conversation, Anne noticed a subtle shift in Y/N's demeanor. Sensing the unease radiating from her newfound friend, Anne quickly redirected the topic to something she knew would bring joy to Y/N's heart — dogs.

"You know, Y/N, I've always found dogs to be fascinating creatures. Do you have any favorite breeds?" Anne inquired, subtly steering the conversation away from the potential source of discomfort.

A bright spark lit up in Y/N's eyes, and a genuine smile broke across her face. "Oh, absolutely! I adore golden retrievers, they're so loyal and friendly. And don't even get me started on corgis – they're just too adorable!" Y/N exclaimed, her enthusiasm for the topic evident.

Anne couldn't help but be amused by Y/N's animated response. As Y/N continued to gush about her love for dogs, Anne marveled at the transformative power of the conversation. It was as if the mere mention of these furry companions had whisked away the shadows that had briefly clouded Y/N's spirit.

However, Anne's heightened senses soon detected an ominous presence in the room. Her eyes scanned the cafeteria until they fell upon a tall, dark-haired boy sitting at a distant table. His eyes bore an evil smirk, and the malicious intent in his gaze was unmistakable.

Y/N, unaware of Anne's silent vigilance, continued her animated monologue about dogs. "And you know what's the best part? They're so pure and loyal. I've always wanted to have a dog of my own, but with my schedule and all..."

Anne, torn between the pleasant conversation and the potential threat, subtly interrupted, "Hey, Y/N, I just remembered I have to grab something from the library before our next class. Do you mind if we wrap this up?"

Y/N, slightly disappointed but understanding, nodded. "Sure, no problem. We can continue our chat some other time."

As Anne and Y/N gathered their things, Anne kept a watchful eye on the dark-haired boy who seemed to be fixated on Y/N. "We'll talk more about dogs later, okay?" Anne reassured, offering Y/N a comforting smile.

As Anne and Y/N made their way towards the library, the unsettling feeling in the air intensified. The dark-haired boy, his eyes glinting with an eerie blackness, stood up from his place and started moving purposefully towards them. Anne's senses heightened, and the golden glint in her eyes began to flicker as an instinctual response to the impending threat.

The boy, a malicious grin etched across his face, approached Anne. "Well, well, if it isn't Anthea. Fancy seeing you here," he sneered, his tone dripping with mockery.

Anne, momentarily taken aback by the use of her true name, struggled to maintain composure. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the rising tension.

The boy laughed, the sound sending shivers down Y/N's spine. "Oh, you know me, Anthea. You've always known me," he replied cryptically, his gaze locked onto Anne's.

Y/N, unaware of the underlying tension, jokingly chimed in, "Anthea, huh? Sounds like a character from one of those old mythology books I read. You know, the daughter of Atlas or something."

The boy's malicious grin widened, the glint in his eyes growing more sinister. "Oh, she's much more than just a character, sweetheart. Anthea here has a lot to answer for," he said, his focus shifting to Y/N.

Anne, now realizing that the boy knew her true identity, felt a surge of protective energy coursing through her. The golden glow in her eyes intensified, and an otherworldly aura surrounded her.

Y/N, oblivious to the tension, playfully nudged Anne. "Hey, you're not secretly one of those daughters of Atlas, right?" she teased, unaware of the reality that lay beneath the surface.

The boy's evil smile deepened. "Oh, she's more than just a daughter. Anthea, daughter of Atlas, bearer of burdens. Let's see if you can handle the burden of your past," he taunted, his words carrying an ominous weight.

As the confrontation unfolded, Y/N sensed the tension in the air but remained blissfully ignorant of the divine complexities at play.

Y/N, still under the impression that the unfolding scene was nothing more than a joke, laughed along with the supposed banter. "Wow, Anthea, daughter of Atlas! That's quite the title. Do you have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders or something?" she quipped, nudging Anne with a playful grin.

Anne, caught between the weight of her divine heritage and the desire to protect Y/N, managed a forced smile. "Something like that," she replied vaguely, her eyes never leaving the dark-haired boy who seemed to revel in the unfolding drama.

The boy, enjoying the confusion he had sown, decided to play along with the charade. "Oh, it's much more than just a burden. Anthea here has a destiny to fulfill, and it involves more than just attending classes and chatting about dogs," he added cryptically.

Y/N, now intrigued by the theatrics, leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Come on, spill the beans, Anthea. What's the divine scoop?" she teased.

Anne, internally grappling with the delicate balance between revealing her true nature and protecting Y/N, chose her words carefully. "It's... complicated. Let's just say I have a unique family background," she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of mystery.

The dark-haired boy, reveling in the unfolding drama, continued his act. "Unique indeed. Anthea here is part of a grand cosmic design, and her choices have consequences far beyond the mortal realm," he declared with a theatrical flourish.

Y/N, still taking it all in jest, nudged Anne again. "Who knew our quiet university had such hidden gems? Daughter of Atlas, cosmic destinies – this is better than any mythology class!"

Anne, her divine senses on high alert, couldn't shake the feeling that the boy's words carried a deeper, more ominous meaning. Yet, she continued to play along, protecting Y/N from the truth that lurked beneath the surface.

As the trio continued their banter, little did they know that the lines between myth and reality were blurring, setting the stage for a tale that transcended the boundaries of ordinary existence. The ancient forces that had long remained dormant were awakening, and the destinies of Y/N and Anne were becoming intricately entwined in a web of divine intricacies.

Anne, growing weary of the cryptic exchange and increasingly concerned about Y/N's unwitting involvement, decided to cut to the chase. "Alright, enough with the theatrics. Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded, her golden-glazed eyes narrowing at the boy named Miguel de Angelo.

Miguel de Angelo, his dark eyes glinting with a malevolent satisfaction, finally dropped the façade. "Well, well, Anthea, you always did have a knack for cutting through the nonsense," he remarked with a smirk. "The name's Miguel de Angelo, son of Hades. I'm here for a little family reunion," he added, his tone dripping with a sinister edge.

Anne's expression darkened as she processed the revelation. Y/N, still under the impression that this was an elaborate prank, looked between the two with a bemused expression. "Son of Hades? Seriously, is this some kind of role-playing thing? Because it's getting a bit intense," she commented, her playful tone masking the uncertainty beneath.

Miguel chuckled, relishing in the confusion he had sown. "Oh, it's very real, sweetheart. Anthea here and I go way back – ancient prophecies, divine bloodlines, the whole shebang. I'm just here to make sure she doesn't forget her roots," he explained, his gaze locked onto Anne.

Anne, now fully aware of the potential danger Miguel represented, spoke with a firm resolve. "I left that life behind. I won't be a pawn in whatever game you're playing, Miguel," she declared, her voice carrying a subtle echo of divine power.

Miguel leaned in, his tone a menacing whisper. "You can't escape your destiny, Anthea. And dear Y/N here is more connected to it than you might think."

Y/N, growing increasingly uneasy with the intensity of the conversation, interjected. "Okay, seriously, this has gone on long enough. If it's a prank, it's not funny anymore. If it's some weird cult initiation thing, I'm out."

Anne, realizing that the situation had escalated beyond mere theatrics, gently urged Y/N to step back. "Y/N, I think it's best if you go. This is something I need to handle," she said, her eyes conveying a mix of determination and concern.

As Y/N reluctantly stepped away, Miguel de Angelo's sinister grin widened. "Oh, we'll be seeing each other again, Anthea. This is just the beginning," he declared cryptically, fading into the shadows of the university corridor.

Anne, her divine senses on high alert, watched Miguel disappear with a heavy heart.

Y/N watched in bewilderment as Miguel de Angelo vanished into thin air, the shadows swallowing him whole. The air of tension dissipated, leaving behind a baffled Y/N, who couldn't decide whether to be amused or terrified.

"Okay, seriously, someone tell me this is a prank, a magic trick, or maybe an advanced hologram project for some class," Y/N exclaimed, looking around as if expecting the mysterious illusion to be unveiled.

Anne, her expression a mix of concern and determination, approached Y/N. "I wish it were that simple, Y/N. But there are things you don't know about me, about my past," she admitted, her voice carrying a weight of solemnity.

Y/N, still trying to process the surreal encounter, attempted to diffuse the tension with humor. "Past? What past? Are you secretly a superhero or an alien or something? Because, honestly, that would be way cooler than Greek mythology," she joked, though her eyes betrayed a trace of genuine unease.

Anne managed a weak smile, appreciating Y/N's attempt to lighten the mood. "Not exactly a superhero, but close enough," she replied cryptically, realizing the challenge of explaining her divine heritage to someone deeply rooted in the mundane.

Y/N, taking a deep breath, continued her comedic relief. "So, what's the plan, Anne? Are we going to team up with some demigods, fight monsters, and save the world? Because I've always wanted to be part of an epic quest."

Anne chuckled, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "Well, it's not quite like the movies, but we might be in for a bit of an adventure," she admitted, her eyes scanning the corridor for any lingering traces of Miguel's malevolence.

Y/N, picking up on the seriousness in Anne's tone, shifted from humor to genuine concern. "Wait, are you serious? What was that guy talking about, prophecies and destinies? Is this some secret society initiation gone wrong?"

Anne hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "It's complicated, Y/N. There are aspects of my life that I've kept hidden. But I promise, I'll do everything I can to keep you safe," she reassured, her gaze unwavering.

Y/N, still grappling with the surreal turn of events, sighed with a mix of exasperation and curiosity. "Well, this is officially the weirdest day of my life. Demigods, prophecies, and an impending adventure – who would've thought my quiet university life would take such a turn?"

Anne took a deep breath, steeling herself to reveal the truth to Y/N. "Y/N, what I'm about to tell you might sound unbelievable, but I need you to keep it to yourself. It's not something that everyone can or should know," she began, her eyes holding a mix of sincerity and a tinge of ancient wisdom.

Y/N, still processing the bizarre encounter with Miguel, nodded hesitantly. "Okay, hit me with it. I've got my superhero cape ready," she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Anne managed a small smile before delving into the extraordinary revelation. "I'm not just a student, Y/N. I'm Anthea, daughter of Atlas, and I'm much older than I appear. In fact, I'm about 6000 years old," she confessed, watching for Y/N's reaction.

Y/N's eyes widened, her playful demeanor momentarily replaced by genuine shock. "Wait, what? 6000 years old? Are you like a vampire or something?" she teased, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of Anne's revelation.

Anne chuckled, appreciating Y/N's attempt to cope with the surreal information. "Not a vampire, but a goddess. I am the goddess of the manipulation of time, the youngest of three sisters," Anne explained, her words carrying an air of both solemnity and ancient power.

Y/N, still grappling with the enormity of the revelation, attempted to make sense of it through humor. "Goddess of time? Does that mean you never have an excuse for being late to class? You can just... rewind time or something?" she quipped, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.

Anne, amused by Y/N's coping mechanism, nodded. "Technically, yes, but I try to keep it low-key. Time manipulation can have... consequences," she admitted, her gaze briefly reflecting the weight of the responsibility she carried.

Y/N, now fully embracing humor as a defense mechanism, continued with her jests. "So, the 12 Greek gods are real, half-bloods exist, and all those tales about Zeus throwing thunderbolts and Hera being mad at him are true? Is Percy Jackson a distant cousin of yours?" she joked, a playful glint in her eyes.

Anne chuckled at Y/N's attempts to make light of the situation. "Something like that. The stories you've read about Greek mythology are more than just tales. The gods are real, half-bloods walk among mortals, and, well, you just witnessed a glimpse of it," Anne explained, her tone carrying a blend of sincerity and nostalgia.

Y/N, though still uncertain about the gravity of Anne's revelation, chose to ride the wave of humor. "Okay, so, does that mean I should start believing in minotaurs and pack some celestial bronze in case I run into a cyclops on campus?" she joked, her eyes glinting with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

As Anne and Y/N navigated the uncharted waters of divine revelations, the threads of their destinies became increasingly entangled with the ancient forces that lurked beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary lives.

Anne, her gaze carrying the weight of centuries, continued her revelation, recounting a tale that transcended the boundaries of time and mythology. "About a thousand years ago, my sisters and I faced a great threat. Kalypso, my once-beloved sister, turned against humanity. She sought to wipe them out by planting the seed of the Tree of Life on Earth," Anne began, her voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and determination.

Y/N, who had been using humor as a coping mechanism, now listened in stunned silence. The gravity of Anne's story began to settle, eclipsing the initial shock with a sense of awe and disbelief.

"Kalypso's betrayal forced Hespera and me to stand against her," Anne continued, her eyes reflecting the pain of ancient battles. "We fought to prevent the catastrophe she intended, and in the end, we succeeded. But the blast from destroying the Tree of Life took the lives of both my sisters."

Y/N, her playful spirit dampened by the weight of Anne's revelations, could only manage a whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Anne nodded, appreciating Y/N's genuine empathy. "But the aftermath awakened something beneath the Earth. Something dark and powerful. I've kept the seed of the Tree of Life safe all these years to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands," she explained, her words carrying the burden of a millennia-old responsibility.

Y/N, her mind reeling from the fantastical story, stammered, "Wait, so, you're telling me there's some ancient evil under the Earth, and it's after you because of this... what, cosmic explosion thing?"

Anne nodded solemnly. "Yes, Y/N. That ancient evil is Kronos, a force that predates even the gods. It has awakened, and it's hunting me down," she revealed, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Y/N, who had been teetering between disbelief and acceptance, fully lost her composure. "Kronos? Seriously? The Titan from Percy Jackson? Are you telling me we're about to get attacked by a villain from a YA novel?" she exclaimed, her tone a mix of disbelief and hysteria.

Anne, understanding the overwhelming nature of her revelations, placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "I know it sounds absurd, but the danger is real. I've kept this truth hidden for a reason, to protect those around me. And now, with Kronos awakened, the stakes are higher than ever," she explained, her gaze urging Y/N to grasp the severity of the situation.

Y/N, still struggling to reconcile the fantastical tale with her reality, took a deep breath. "So, what's the plan, Anne? How do we deal with this... Titan situation?"

Anne's expression turned resolute. "We need to find a way to stop Kronos. And I need your help, Y/N. Your involvement in all of this is more significant than you can imagine," she declared, her eyes conveying a blend of urgency and trust.

Y/N's mind raced, trying to process the unbelievable revelation that Anne had just shared. The weight of the ancient tale, the existence of gods, and the impending threat of Kronos overwhelmed her. Panic seized her, and her eyes widened with terror.

"K-Kronos? Like, the big bad Titan? This can't be real. This has to be some kind of elaborate prank or a fever dream. Titans and goddesses aren't real!" Y/N stammered, her voice betraying the sheer panic that had taken hold of her.

Anne, empathizing with Y/N's shock, spoke calmly, "I understand how overwhelming this must be. I wish it were a prank, but the danger is very real. We need to figure out a plan to stop Kronos before it's too late."

Y/N, pacing nervously, ran her hands through her hair. "Stop Kronos? I can't even wrap my head around the fact that Kronos is a thing! What do we do? Do we call the police, the Avengers, or maybe some divine pest control?"

Anne sighed, realizing the difficulty of convincing someone accustomed to the ordinary of the extraordinary. "Y/N, this is beyond mortal authorities. We need to rely on the knowledge and abilities tied to the ancient gods. And as absurd as it sounds, we have to face this together," she explained, her eyes urging Y/N to find courage amidst the chaos.

Y/N's panic shifted to a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Okay, so what? We just go on some quest, find magical weapons, and hope for the best? This isn't some fantasy novel. I can't deal with gods and Titans. I have exams, student loans, and a part-time job at a coffee shop!"

Anne, with a reassuring touch, said, "I know this is a lot to take in, Y/N. But we can't ignore the reality of what's happening. We'll navigate this together, and I'll do my best to keep you safe."

Y/N, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions, muttered, "Safe? Safe from what? Divine beings and ancient evils? This is like saying I need protection from Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster!"

Anne smiled gently, attempting to alleviate Y/N's distress. "I promise I'll explain everything as we go along. Right now, we need to focus on finding a way to stop Kronos. And, well, perhaps we'll have our own version of magical weapons."

Y/N, overwhelmed and uncertain, collapsed onto a nearby chair. "I need a moment. This is too much. Gods, Titans, quests... I just wanted to finish my degree without becoming the protagonist of a supernatural drama," she mumbled, the weight of the revelation settling into the core of her being.

As Anne and Y/N grappled with the enormity of the situation, they stood at the precipice of an adventure that would force them to confront the extraordinary and challenge the boundaries of what they thought possible.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

J Is Just A Letter

Chapter 6 - Adler

Lady Smallwood had requested his presence. Mycroft couldn’t deny that it irritated him somewhat, but he did have a duty to keep people informed of the situation in some capacity, he certainly wasn’t going to admit to a known spy and general nuisance straddling him the night before.

‘You’ve called off the search for J, any reason for it?’ Smallwood asked, sitting at her desk unimpressed. Mycroft decided he didn’t want to risk anyone being able to read his body language when talking about her, so he stood at the window and looked out at the view of London below.

‘She made contact last night,’ Mycroft said, musing. ‘She is no longer in danger and an agreement has been reached, one where we will be able to utilise her knowledge and skills.’

‘And what did we have to give up for that?’ Smallwood and the several other council members who were observing, shifted, listening closer.

‘She only wants to open one door.’ He said, trying to extract the words from the memory and not dwell on the circumstances themselves. ‘I’ve told her I will be checking in once a week, she will prove her worth and I will find out which door she wants to open and why. I will not allow her access to state secrets if I can help it.’

‘If you can help it?’

‘She’s a difficult woman to deal with,’ they couldn’t understand the reality of that statement. ‘But not impossible. Patience is key and gaining her trust is vital, but I believe the gain outweighs the loss considerably.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Certain.’

While the council began talking amongst themselves, Mycroft took a moment to think on what he just said, he needed to be sure that the gain was for Britain and not just himself. Of course, if she just wanted one night with him then it could be arranged easily enough, Mycroft would be more than willing to give into her, but if he could extract information from her at the same time than maybe he could convince himself that he really did have the best intentions for the country.

He excused himself from the meeting, idly stating he had work to do and returned to his office. Anthea had given him enough work to occupy himself with for the time being.

Mycroft sat down in the confines of his office and thought on what had happened the night before. He’d never felt so exhilarated in all his life, he’d had a couple of girlfriends whilst at university, the odd encounter at some gala or another, he’d thought those encounters had been heated, but the truth was that she could make him feel more without even kissing him than any woman had made him feel by sleeping with him.

He wondered where the cut on her lip had come from, the bruising on her wrist, he should have asked, shown how observant he could be, she’d like that, she’d like that he was taking her in in such detail. He was aware that she’d barely let out a moan, but the noises she made whilst on top of him were far more beautiful than he’d ever heard before. Mycroft thought on it a little too long, but reminded himself that she was a lustful creature, not a loving one. This was all a game to her, one big show.

He prepared himself over the next few days to check in with her and ask her a question about an operation he was working on, he knew she’d spent some time in Berlin and so would therefore have picked up wind of a few things he might have needed to know.

Lady Smallwood was still asking the terms of the agreement, but Mycroft wasn’t in any mood to tell her a single thing. He just dismissed her and told Anthea to keep everyone out until he was ready. He would need the time to play this right.

Mycroft loosened his tie, he took his suit jacket off and sat back in his chair, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen.

Two rings.

‘Mycroft.’ She sighed. ‘Is this the first check in?’

‘It is.’

‘Fine. Business first, pleasure second.’

‘The way it should always be.’

‘Until you mix the two together, of course.’ She was teasing him, testing him. Already the memory of her lips grazing his was returning, the feel of her pulse thumping hard under his mouth, it was more arousing than he’d counted on and he took a deep breath to refocus himself.

‘What do you know about our operation in Berlin?’

‘Which one?’

‘Operation Cherry.’

There was a strange pause on the other end of the phone. He could her something akin to soft material rubbing together, if he had to guess, he’d say she was currently sitting in bed.

‘If this is the way you want to do this, can we just assume that I know everything about every operation you’re running?’

Mycroft let a slow breath out. ‘Fine. We aren’t going to stop the cargo from being taken, instead we’d like to intercept the hand off. Where is the meeting point?’

She paused once again and Mycroft listened to the soft sound of her breathing. ‘Lebus is the most likely point for exchange.’

‘Lebus?’

‘It’s about an hour and a half east of Berlin on the Polish border. You’ll find the hand off at the fork in the road between Schulstraße and Oderstraße. But they’ll be taking precautions.’

‘We can handle a security detail.’

‘I’m sure you can.’

Mycroft paused, he remembered the other part of the deal, she was to choose a topic of conversation, he was dreading it, but he was also excited by it.

‘I suppose that’s the business end of this conversation over.’ Mycroft sighed. ‘What would you like to talk about?’

‘What did you do after I left a few nights ago?’

‘Nothing. I finished my work and went to bed.’

‘Is that it?’

‘Was there something you were hoping I would be doing?’

‘Indulging.’ The way she said the word had his chest inflating suddenly. In truth, he’d thought about it, but somehow he couldn’t bear the thought of coming without her.

‘No, I showered instead.’ Mycroft felt a little ashamed. ‘What did you do?’

‘I went back to work.’

‘So, no indulging for you either then?’

‘I’m afraid not. I had rather hoped we could have done that together.’

Mycroft swallowed thickly. The thought on it’s own was making his sitting position uncomfortable.

‘How did it feel?’

‘What?’

‘To have me on top of you.’

Mycroft didn’t know how to answer. ‘It was certainly an experience.’

‘Well that much was obvious,’ she chuckled. ‘But tell me how it made you feel.’

Mycroft swallowed thickly. ‘Warm.’

‘Warm?’

‘What’s wrong with warm?’

‘Nothing, but I had hoped for more than a four letter word.’

Mycroft thought for a moment. ‘Indulgent.’ He settled on.

‘Hmm, now there’s a word I like to hear you say. You have a fantastic vocabulary, Mr Holmes. I do hope I get to reap the benefits one day.’

‘I’m sure you’ll drag it out of me, much like you have with other things.’

‘What things?’

Mycroft was silent.

‘I’m in bed at the moment,’ she said, noting his reluctance to speak. ‘I’m looking out of the window and wondering why on earth I’m still alone at this time of night.’

‘Night?’

‘I told you, I had work to do.’ She was getting out of bed, going outside, he could hear the cool breeze. ‘Indulge me. Ask me what I’m wearing.’

Mycroft glanced towards his office door, it was soundproof, no one could hear him. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘Nothing.’ She whispered. Mycroft had to adjust his position in his chair, his trousers were tight. ‘Mmmm, the breeze feels nice against my skin.’ He could see it, he could see the way her body was reacting, it was so clear in his mind. ‘The view is beautiful. Would you watch it with me?’

‘I would.’ He could hear the shake in his own voice, giving himself away.

‘Would you kiss me?’

‘Yes.’ His voice was turning into a whisper as well.

‘Would you touch me?’

Mycroft sucked in a deep breath, all he could see was the black and white photo, the one of her beside the bedpost. Waiting for him. He could suddenly hear a soft beeping, unsure of if it was from outside his office or from her end.

‘Well?’

‘I would.’ He said, lowly.

‘Where?’

‘Wherever you want.’

‘Wherever I want?’

Mycroft closed his eyes. ‘Wherever I want.’ He adjusted his wording.

‘And where do you want to touch me?’

Mycroft swallowed thickly, his breathing was completely disrupted, he was verging on panting, how could she do this to him just by talking?

‘Everywhere.’ He breathed. He listened to her take her own deep breath and bite her lip, he knew her pulse would be pounding against her skin by now. ‘Racing.’ He whispered.

‘Yes.’ She breathed. The beeping sound got a little louder and he heard the hitch in her breathing, like a fly in the ointment. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Mr Holmes. Until next time.’

‘Until next time.’ Mycroft repeated.

J hung up the phone and left Mycroft feeling empty once again. Whatever the beeping was, it demanded her attention and he felt a sudden and vicious hatred for it. Mycroft took the time to refocus himself, prepare to face the company outside of his office and at least look like he wasn’t pining after an enemy of the state.

‘And she just gave you this information?’ Lady Smallwood asked, they stood in the surveillance room watching the hand off occur of the precious cargo.

‘She’s proving her worth.’ Mycroft said, cryptically, Not taking his eyes off the screen.

‘What did we have to give her in exchange?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Nothing yet.’ Mycroft corrected himself. They watched the hand off get disrupted, the team went in and secured the precious cargo and the infiltration cells and the operation was over before it really go started. ‘Once I’ve learnt which door she wants open, we will know more about J than ever before, but unfortunately, she will see it coming. Patience will be needed.’

‘She thinks she’s getting a special key card that opens every secure door in the country?’ Smallwood scoffed. ‘Dear lord, what kind of childish fantasies is this girl living in?’

‘There is of course the possibility that she will anticipate our every move and with her resources it’s hard to say who will be living in who’s fantasy, Lady Smallwood.’ Mycroft turned towards her finally. ‘Best leave her to me for the time being. She wanted my attention, now she’s got it. Time to see what she’ll do with it.’

‘You’re sure you know what you’re doing?’

Mycroft just gave her a glare as if to ask if she was seriously asking him that question.

In the next few weeks, Mycroft found that J’s knowledge of things she should be completely unaware of, far exceeded anything he’d ever imagined. She knew dates and times of terrorist cells, hideouts of drug lords, code names and words that seemed so insignificant and out of context, Mycroft wondered if she got it right. When he put all this information into place, it was right. He had a new admiration for her, one that had him secretly begging for her to pay him another visit.

Their conversations were always conducted in two parts, business first, pleasure second. But the pleasure part of the conversation was often interrupted and increasingly often dismissed by J, claiming she needed to get to work, but not before she had ignited him, not before she had made his body react to her simple breathing or tiny noise that told him everything he needed to know. On one occasion, he was sure he could hear her panicking, panting hard and possibly running. He wondered if there was something more going on that he was unaware of.

Mycroft had no reason to call her one week, no pressing operation or case to ask her about, but he was growing concerned. He got into the back of his car and looked down at his phone, debating whether he should call her, it was the right time to do so, same time every week, like clockwork. Even if it was just to indulge in her voice for a while then he would do that, he wasn’t keeping up with his end of the bargain and he couldn’t risk losing her as an asset. At least that was what he told himself.

He took a breath as the car started up and went to dial the number he had memorised, but a message popped up instead.

J: Postpone your call tonight. I have work to do.

Mycroft frowned at the message. She rarely ever text, she liked to hear his voice, she liked listening to the effect she had on him.

MH: For how long?

J: One hour, this won’t take long.

MH: One hour it is.

Mycroft wanted to run a trace on the number, but he’d done it before and come up short, there was no reason to suspect she was even in the country.

He drove through London thinking about the week he’d had and how boring it had been, but if he had cared to look out of the window driving down one particular street, he would have noticed the one thing that sucked the boring out of his life. J walking into Irene Alder’s London home. Mycroft didn’t look up, if he had, she might not have stepped through the front door at all, he may well have convinced her to join him in the back of the car and that point, anything could have happened. Anything that wasn’t boring.

She stepped into the beautiful London home and inhaled the scent of leather, Irene was a woman of taste, impeccable taste. In another life, they might have been friends.

‘She’s with a client.’ The woman’s whose name J could never remember, spoke from the end of the hallway. ‘She won’t be much longer. There’s tea waiting in the lounge.’

J nodded, carrying her clutch close to her waist, she entered into the lounge and made herself comfortable. She was annoyed that she needed to postpone Mycroft’s call, she wanted to hear his voice, it had been far too long since she listened to his soft breathing, his every little movement of his lips, his tongue coming out the lick them, his throat making a soft gulping noise when she really teased him.

It was another five minutes before Irene was finished with her client, it was obvious from what J had seen that it was one of the royals, but she couldn’t care less who, she was there for more important reasons.

‘Well, who slapped you the wrong way?’ Irene said as she entered wearing her usual lace robe and little else. She was a stunningly beautiful woman and J wasn’t one to deny it. ‘Should’ve used the other side of the hand, back hands are never much fun in my opinion.’

‘Nor mine.’ J felt the flare in her cheek, the bruise that Irene was referring to.

‘No, you prefer a more delicate touch,’ she said, pouring herself some tea. ‘Firm, but delicate.’

J just observed her and knew exactly what the first move would be.

‘Is Mr Holmes everything you hoped he would be?’

J said nothing.

‘I’m just curious.’ Irene shrugged, settled in the chair on the other side of the lounge and sipped her tea. ‘I can’t say I understand your fascination, but I’m not one to judge taste.’

‘Clearly not.’ J took a mouthful of tea, before diving into her clutch and pulling out a memory stick. ‘I heard you were looking for some things, a little information on several important figures in the French election. I’m more than happy to give it to you.’

‘In exchange for?’

‘A truce.’ J made her position clear. ‘It’s either you or Jim whose chasing me, I didn’t work it out for a while, but after tugging on a few of your strings, the chase became more dangerous.’

‘So, that was you in Berlin?’ Irene said, intrigued. ‘I have to say I was exceptionally impressed with Mycroft’s ability to anticipate where my boys would drive, but it makes sense now, it wasn’t Mycroft at all, it was you.’

‘It was.’ J nodded, she wanted to add that Irene should probably avoid using the same men twice if she didn’t want to get caught again, but there was no point now. ‘But I can’t afford for those small victories to cost me so dearly. So, this is my proposal. A trade. A truce. I have what you need for the election, every piece of it, all I need is the key code.’

‘What key code?’

‘We can play it that way if you want, but it won’t end well.’ J shot back immediately.

Irene thought for just a moment before knowing J was serious.

‘Fine.’ She said. ‘I don’t have it, but I know how to get it.’

J nodded and put the memory stick back in her clutch.

‘I see.’ Irene leaned forward, elbows on her knees. ‘I’ll have it brought here within the hour.’

‘Best make it in the next thirty minutes, I have other people to visit today.’

‘You mean one other person.’ Irene raised her eyebrow.

J just gave a coy smile. ‘No. I mean people. Some of us are not so fortunate to spend more time on pleasure than business.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ The two women hadn’t broken eye contact since the start of the conversation. Irene only did so to make a phone call and get the code that would open the one door J needed to access, but after that there was a peace between them. ‘Apologies about the back hand, I did tell them not to break the skin. Did you put ice on it?’

‘Yes, this was as good as it got.’

Irene nodded while they waited, both of them getting comfortable again.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Who?’ J frowned suspiciously.

‘Mycroft Holmes, of course, I imagine if we’re calling a truce to this little game then there’s no real reason we can’t be friends.’ Irene sat back and drank some more of her tea. She was right, if they were no longer enemies then perhaps there was room for them to be casual acquaintances.

‘I don’t think friendship is really an option, Miss Adler.’ J smirked. ‘Neither help nor hinder, we stay out of each other’s way.’

‘Absolutely, you’re not the only one whose suffered because of this little feud. Neither help nor hinder.’ She agreed. ‘Now tell me why you find him so fascinating.’

J smiled, Irene was nothing if not a woman of her word. ‘I think you do yourself a disservice. The Iceman, that’s what Jim calls him. Ever seen a man made of ice, melt in front of your eyes? Almost makes everything else worth it.’

‘So, it really is a game?’ Irene clarified. ‘Here I thought you were catching feelings.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ J scoffed. ‘I’m just passing the time.’

The key code arrived only a few minutes later and the deal with complete. Irene had the information she’d been seeking for months and J had access to the door. Finally, this nightmare would be over for them both.

Once J was in possession of what she needed, she had another stop to make before heading home for the first time in six years.

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Main Story

Mycroft Holmes Masterlist

[themirokai]

I'm posting the stories of my Mystrade spy series, His Professional Capacity, to tumblr in anticipation of posting the first new installment in three years.

The first three installments are here, here, and here.

But this is the one you actually need to read before the new one, because this is where I introduce my OCs.

When I was writing Spy Wedding (which isn't part of the series, but you may enjoy) I had this idea that Mycroft would have a soft spot for younger people who are brilliant but troubled, and when you took away all of the emotional family baggage with Sherlock, that could lead to some quite nice relationships. So, in this universe, Mycroft has work kids. One of them, who is introduced here and will be returning in the new story, ended up being incredibly popular with my readers. I hope you enjoy:

Protégé

Mycroft and Greg's date gets interrupted. Greg encounters one of Mycroft's protégés.

Tags: Action/Adventure, Assassins, Spies, Mycroft's job, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Mycroft is a softie, Inappropriate flirting

~3,695 words, minor tweaks from the version on AO3.

Note: This takes place about 6 months after The Dangerous Parts and refers to events from that story, but that's not required reading. You just need to know that Mycroft is still recovering from a broken femur here.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Mycroft had decided that Greg in summer was one of his favorite things to look at. The light dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the strong forearms. The healthy glow of his skin, the way he held his highball glass, licked his fingers after he squeezed the lime wedge into his gin and tonic. 

Mycroft was enjoying the view at a small restaurant where he and Greg had placed their dinner orders. Their opportunities to go out to eat since Mycroft’s “car accident” nearly 6 months ago had been severely limited. First there was Mycroft’s reluctance to navigate any space besides his home and the office when he was still in the full leg cast, and then the brace, combined with the onslaught of issues to catch up on when he was back to work full time. But now he was walking fairly steadily with just a cane, the pain was tolerable compared to what it had been, and he and Anthea had managed to keep this evening and the upcoming weekend free. 

Greg finished describing a goal he had scored at the match his recreational football team had played the previous evening. Mycroft had encouraged him to return to the team several months ago, after Greg had given up the flat that he hadn’t been to in months and officially moved in with Mycroft. The exercise, the time spent with friendly acquaintances, the fresh air, and - most importantly - something out of the house that was just his, were all clearly good for Greg. “It sounds very exciting,” Mycroft replied to the story, “perhaps I shall come watch...” he trailed off. 

“Aw, it’s not really fit for spectators, darling, besides if you were there I’d spend all my time looking at you instead of playing.” 

But Mycroft’s attention had been taken by his driver entering the restaurant. Oh no. Greg must have observed his changed expression because he turned to follow Mycroft’s gaze. 

“Is that Lucy?” he asked. As Mycroft watched, the driver turned to look over her shoulder, and her jacket moved to give a glimpse of the gun from the car’s hidden compartment tucked into her waistband. Oh, this was bad. “Gregory,” he said quietly, “we may not be able to have dinner after all. … What is it, Simmons?” Mycroft asked, keeping his voice calm as the driver approached.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve got to go,” Simmons replied. “Romer and Vaden clocked a couple suspicious blokes as you were coming in here and when they ran facial recognition it turns out they’re affiliated with-” her eyes slid sideways to Greg and she cleared her throat, “people who are not fans of yours, sir. Romer and Vaden went after them but lost them. Backup’s coming but we need to get you out of the open.” 

Mycroft grimaced. “I’m sorry, Gregory.” 

Greg was already on his feet and reaching for Mycroft. “None of that. Come on, let’s get you home.”  

“Office, I’m afraid,” Simmons said as Mycroft gathered the cane and let Greg help him to his feet. “A team will have to fully secure the house before you go back to it. Right now the top priority is getting you to safety, bringing those two in, and making sure they didn’t have more friends.” 

Mycroft winced a bit with his first step and kept hold of Greg’s arm as they moved off between the tables. 

“Got an extra gun, Lucy?” Greg asked Simmons quietly. “I’m not carrying.” 

“In the car,” she replied. “Under the back seat. Mr. Holmes can show you.” 

Greg positioned himself so that Mycroft was between him and Simmons as they reached the door. 

“Gregory,” Mycroft said, “you are the civilian in this situation, you don’t -“ 

Greg shook his head. “‘M not a civilian, darling, I’m an officer of the law and you’ve got a bum leg. Stay between me ‘n Lucy, alright?” 

“The car’s just at the kerb, sir. You and Lestrade get straight in while I go to the front.”

Mycroft took a breath and nodded. Simmons paused, looking around through the glass of the door, then pushed it open. 

Just as they stepped onto the pavement two figures came tumbling out of an alley ten feet away, struggling with each other. Mycroft caught a glimpse of a young face framed by shaggy brown hair and his heart sank. Romer. 

Simmons cursed and grabbed Mycroft’s arm, putting herself between him and the men. The unexpected motion made Mycroft stumble and he grabbed for Greg, who caught him easily. 

BANG! 

Oh god! “Romer!” 

BANG! BANG! 

Greg was shoving him bodily into the car, his previously injured thigh slamming painfully onto the seat and making him see stars. Then Greg was diving in after him and Simmons was in the front, peeling out with a screech of rubber. 

“Romer!” Mycroft gasped, “Is Romer alright? Was he shot?”

Greg was opening Mycroft’s jacket, running his hands over the waistcoat and his arms. “Are you alright, Myc? The fucker was shooting at you!”

“I’m - I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.” Greg continued feeling him all over. “Gregory,” he snapped. “I was not injured. I’m fine.”

Greg finally sat back, only to be knocked back onto Mycroft as Simmons took a sharp turn. They both righted themselves and put their seatbelts on. 

“Simmons, are you alright?” 

“Fine, sir!” 

“Are you on coms? Can you hear Romer?” 

“Yes, sir. I’m not sure what’s going on though. I think he’s fighting.” 

“Give me your earpiece, Simmons.” 

“Mycroft, let her drive,” Greg put in. 

“Simmons,” Mycroft said, ignoring his partner, “your earpiece. Now.” 

Without taking her eyes off the road Simmons ripped the com link out of her ear and tossed it in the back seat. Mycroft quickly wiped it on his pants then put it in his ear. He immediately heard panting breaths. “Romer … Peter, are you alright?”

“M-Mr. Holmes?” The thick Scottish accent was a balm to Mycroft’s soul. “Sir? That you? Ya weren’t shot were ya? I’m so sorry, Mr. Holmes, he never shoulda got that close.”

“It’s me, Peter, I’m fine, he missed. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”

The young man laughed and raised his voice. “Ya hear that you cocksucking motherfucking wanker?! Ya missed him ya mafia piece of shite!! Yeah what’re your Cossack big brother bosses gonna say to that ya fucker? Oh wait, you’ll never know cos you’ll spend the rest of your life rotting in a British prison. Oi!” A sharp intake of breath. 

“Peter!” Mycroft cried.

“S-sorry, sir. Bit of … bit of a knife fight going on here. Aaarrgh. I- uh- I may need some stitches, sir.” 

Before Mycroft could reply a female voice cut in. “This is Ahmad. I’m one minute out from Romer’s position. I have backup.”

Oh thank god. Mycroft kept his voice sharp. “I want to see you both in my office, in one piece, tonight. That is an order. Am I understood?” Both agents gave affirmative answers and Mycroft knew better than to listen to the subsequent fight. “Holmes out.” He removed the earpiece and handed it back to Simmons, then collapsed back into the seat, closing his eyes. 

Romer was injured. He’s a field agent, these things happen. Romer was injured protecting me. He was apprehending a foreign national who had committed assault and attempted murder. He was only in this situation because I recruited him. If I hadn’t recruited him he would probably be dead of an overdose by now or, best case, still living on the streets of Edinburgh. He volunteered for my security detail. … Ahmad is in jeopardy now too. Ahmad said she had backup. They are both skilled agents and together they can easily take down one thug, especially with backup. If it is just one thug. They have backup. 

The car stopped and Mycroft opened his eyes to see that they were in the underground parking structure of his office. Greg gave his hand a quick squeeze, then got out and came around to help him out of the car. Simmons was standing by the open driver side door. 

“Good work today and good driving, Simmons.” Mycroft squeezed her shoulder. 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll coordinate with the team securing the house and let Anthea know when it’s alright to leave.” 

“Thank you, Simmons.” 

Mycroft took Greg’s arm and proceeded into the building. “Damnit,” he muttered as they got onto the lift. 

“What is it?” Greg asked. 

“I didn't get a status on Vaden. I was so distracted by Romer.” Mycroft shook his head at himself in disgust. “I shouldn't have favorites,” he chided. 

“To be fair, the one you see grappling with a bad guy with a gun is pretty distracting,” Greg reasoned. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get a full update once we’re upstairs.” 

And in fact Anthea was waiting as soon as they exited the elevator. Though she was wearing a normal professional dress and blazer, her hair was up and she was wearing glasses, not contact lenses. Clearly she had gone home shortly after he had left for the day, only to be called back. Her gaze swept over him quickly and a flicker of relief showed on her face. 

“Sir. Glad you’re alright.” 

“Thank you, Anthea. Bring me up to speed please.” 

“Vaden and the team that went to back him up have already brought their target in. Romer, Ahmad, and their team should be back shortly with their target. Romer is injured. Ahmad thinks the doctor can handle it so I’ve asked the doctor to report here. A team is at your house now, securing it, but the preference is for you to stay here at least until we have a better sense whether the two that were caught were the only ones. Parnell is running point on that operation and will cover interrogating the targets. We’ll also need to reassign someone to cover Romer’s spot on your detail. Vaden should be fine to stick with you.” 

Mycroft felt his grip on Greg’s arm and the cane tighten as a wave of fatigue washed over him. He sighed. “Alright. It was the Solntsevskaya Bratva?” 

Anthea glanced at Greg. 

“His clearance is high enough now,” Mycroft said. 

“It is?” Greg’s voice lifted in surprise. 

“I had your clearance raised when you moved in with me,” Mycroft explained. “In the event something like this happened.” 

“We believe it’s Solntsevskaya, sir,” Anthea said. “Both the assassins are affiliated with them.” 

Mycroft nodded. “You’ll keep me apprised of any updates, of course, and send Romer and Ahmad in as soon as they get here.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Mycroft and Greg entered the large, beautifully appointed office and Greg shut the door behind him. “You’re shaking, love.” 

Mycroft steered them over to the couch. “I’m tired. My leg hurts. And I know if Ahmad didn’t think Romer needed the hospital then he’ll be fine, but -” Mycroft grunted as he lowered himself down to the couch and started trying to massage away the pain in his thigh, “I just worry about him. He’s barely more than a child, Gregory.” 

“Can I get you a drink?” Greg asked. 

Mycroft nodded. “Please.” 

Greg headed over to the drinks cart. “Romer is one of your proteges?” 

“I recruited him. Off the street, no less.” 

Greg returned with two tumblers of Scotch, handed one to Mycroft and sat beside him. “How did that happen?” 

“Thank you.” Mycroft took a sip. “When he was sixteen Peter’s parents turned him out of their home upon finding him in the arms of another boy. He ended up living rough in Edinburgh, mostly picking pockets and shoplifting to survive. About five years ago, two of my field agents were conducting an operation there, when they realized this homeless teenager kept showing up everywhere they were. Thinking he was working for the other side, they pulled him in but it turned out that he just noticed them following someone so he decided to follow them. This half-starved, occasionally stoned, untrained boy was managing to tail experienced agents. When I arrived at the conclusion of the operation, they brought him to meet me, and I could see he was special. I arranged for him to finish secondary school and go to university. He completed university in two years and came to work here.” 

“You care about him,” Greg said quietly.

Mycroft nodded, taking another sip of Scotch. “Peter’s instinct for the work is incredible and he’s blazingly brilliant. He needs more training and we’re working on self-discipline, but he will be an invaluable agent some day.” He sighed. “And yes, I care about him. Very much.”

Greg moved a little closer and placed his hand on the back of Mycroft’s neck, starting to massage the tense muscles. Mycroft sighed and leaned into the touch. “Thank you.”

“Can I ask a question about… this evening?”

Mycroft chuckled without humor. “After I’ve put your life in danger and am keeping you from your home? Yes, I’d say you deserve some answers, Gregory.”

Greg frowned. “You didn’t put my life in danger, darling. Those assassins did.”

“You easily could have caught a stray bullet when I was being shot at. And now that you live with me and are seen in the open with me, there’s the possibility that someone will think to use you to get to me.” 

Greg took Mycroft’s hand in both of his own and gently kissed each finger. “I’ve known that was a possibility since our third date, darling. I don’t care. You’ve got a dangerous job. I’ve got a dangerous job. Life is short and could be even shorter for both of us. I love you. I want to be with you. Even if that means dodging bullets now and again.”

Mycroft caressed Greg’s cheek then leaned in to kiss him. The scotch on their breath mingled together with the scents of their colognes. When the kiss ended Mycroft rested his forehead against Greg’s. “I love you so much, Gregory.” 

“More than words can say, darling.” Greg planted a light kiss on Mycroft’s lips and sat back with a chuckle. “I still get a kick out of you referring to the house as my home.”

“It is your home, my love. As long as you’re willing to occasionally be kept from it by a security team sweeping it for hidden assassins.” 

“The smallest of prices to pay.” Greg sipped his drink. “Who did you say it was? Solo Sky Bravo something?”

Mycroft chuckled. “Solntsevskaya Bratva. A part of the Russian mafia.”

“Is my clearance now high enough to ask why Sol… part of the Russian mafia is trying to kill you?”

Mycroft was torn, briefly, between an innate impulse for modesty and the desire for Greg to have a clear view of the danger. “Some years ago I was responsible for shutting down their operation in the UK.” Mycroft leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes. “Destroyed rather a lot of their infrastructure.” A small smirk crossed his lips with the memory. “That they are sending people after me now may be because they want revenge, but it is more likely that they see me as an obstacle to rebuilding here.” 

Anthea’s voice came over the intercom. “Mr. Holmes, Ahmad and Romer are here, as is the doctor. May I send them in?”

Mycroft pushed the button beside him to respond. “Yes, Anthea, thank you.” He gathered the cane and used it to push himself to his feet with a grimace. 

The door opened and Ahmad and Romer staggered in, Romer’s arm over Ahmad’s shoulders and Ahmad’s arm wrapped around Romer’s back. Mycroft started forward, his breath hissing through his teeth. “Peter.”

Romer squinted at him through one eye, the other swollen shut. “Sir? You’re really alright? He really missed you?” 

Mycroft crossed the rest of the way to them and cupped the back of Romer’s head. “I’m fine, Peter. He could hardly get a clean shot with you on top of him. You weren’t so lucky, my boy.” 

“I’ll be fine, sir. Doctor’ll stitch me up in no time. Nothing to worry about. And he looks much worse.” Romer looked up at Mycroft, his good eye shining with earnest intensity as the words tumbled out of him in a rush. “Sir, I’m so sorry! My first week back on your detail and I let him get that close. It never should have happened, sir! We shouldn’t have lost them! Especially when you’re still recovering from-”

“Peter,” Mycroft cut him off quickly, “that’s enough. You and Vaden did everything right. You identified the threat, you gave me ample warning, I got to safety without being injured, and you brought the targets in. I’m only unhappy that you were injured in the process.” 

Romer looked down, a blush starting to show around the bruising on his face. “I’ll be alright, sir.” 

Mycroft turned to the woman still supporting Romer. “Ahmad? Were you hurt?”

“Nah, sir. I came in armed, unlike this idiot.” 

“He got my gun away from me!” Romer protested. “I got his away from him too, and I still had my knives!” 

Mycroft stepped back and gestured to the doctor waiting in the doorway. “Let’s get you seen to, Romer.” 

Ahmad transferred Romer’s weight to the doctor and stepped back. “Sir, I believe Parnell is going to start the interrogations soon. Alright for me to join him?” 

“Yes, Ahmad, thank you. Please tell Parnell that I will speak to both of our guests in the morning and I would like them in a condition that they will be able to hear and understand what I have to say.” 

Ahmad smirked. “Yes, sir.” She drew herself to attention for a moment and gave him a curt nod, then left. 

Mycroft stepped out of the way for the doctor to help Romer to the couch. As he moved, Romer was able to see Greg for the first time since entering. The young agent’s face immediately brightened. “Ah, Silver Fox is here! Hullo, Silver Fox!”

Greg gave a good natured chuckle. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Romer, instead of seeing you out the window or across the street.” 

Romer squeezed his eyes shut and groaned a little as the doctor helped him lower himself onto the couch. “You’re even better looking up close than you are through a lens, Silver Fox,” he said breathily. 

“Romer.” The warning in Mycroft’s voice was tempered by the smile he was barely managing to conceal. 

“Sir, it’s not my fault you’ve taken up with someone this gorgeous.” Romer grinned. 

“Remove your shirt, Mr. Romer, let’s look at that slice you’ve got,” the doctor instructed.

“Oh, gladly,” Romer flashed a wink at Greg. When the bloody shirt was removed, Romer was revealed to have a three inch cut across his pec, as well as a deep gash in his left side. 

“I’ll just bandage the one on your chest, but we’ll do a local anesthetic and stitches in your side,” the doctor said. 

“Can I have a nip of that whiskey while you’re working, doc?” 

The doctor nodded, and Mycroft, who was about to sit in an armchair across from Romer, started to turn. 

“Sit, love,” Greg ordered, heading to the drinks cart. “I’ve got it.” 

“Romer, you were favoring your right leg too,” Mycroft observed, as he pulled out his mobile and started reading a message from Parnell “are you cut there as well?”

“No, sir. He got a kick in at my kneecap. Just bruised is all.” 

Greg brought Romer a tumbler of scotch, and the young man made sure to touch his hand when taking it. “Thank you very much, Silver Fox,” Romer purred. 

Greg gave him a patient smile. “You’re welcome, and you’re not my type.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly looking my finest now am I? But once I get cleaned up…” 

Greg shook his head. “You’re too young for me, kid.”

“Doesn’t bother me. Didn’t Mr. Holmes tell you I have daddy issues?”

“Not interested,” Greg said with a glance at Mycroft, who was typing something on his mobile. “And taken.”

Romer hummed. “He’s not interested either,” he said with a nod at Mycroft. “Never has been, more’s the pity for me. But he’s very interested in you, and now I fully see why.”

“Romer, that’s enough,” Mycroft cut in as he pocketed his mobile again. “Stop flirting with my partner or you will find yourself with a permanent posting to Beijing.”

“Aw, sir, you know my Mandarin’s crap.” 

“I do know that, Romer. I suspect that after a few years we shall see your skill much improved.” 

While Romer kept up a stream of cheeky banter through being stitched and bandaged, he did lay off of Greg and even addressed him as “Inspector.” When the doctor was done, Anthea brought Romer a clean, unripped shirt and the young man gingerly put it on. 

“Alright Romer, go home. Rest,” Mycroft instructed. 

“Sir, I was just going to nip downstairs and watch Parnell.” 

“Absolutely not. Go home and sleep, Romer.” 

“Aw, but sir-“

“You are lucky that I’m not putting you at an analyst’s desk for the next month.” Mycroft’s tone brooked no argument. “If you do as you’re told tonight, you may observe my interviews with our guests tomorrow morning.” 

Romer’s face lit up. “In the room, sir?”

“No, over the feed.” 

Romer shrugged. “Still a Holmes interrogation. Brilliant.” 

Anthea entered at that point and Mycroft turned his attention to her. Romer took a few steps towards Greg. “Oi, Silver Fox.”

Greg raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Listen, we’ve got eyes all over the outside of the house but… keep a gun in the bedroom at night, yeah? Just in case? Mr. Holmes may already have one, but I can’t ask him.” Concern shone through every bit of Romer’s bruised face. 

Greg patted his shoulder. “Yeah kid, I’ve got it. Go get some rest. He’ll know in the morning if you haven’t.”

Romer’s cheeky grin returned. “Yeah, right. Nice to properly meet ya, Silver Fox.”

“You too, kid.”

“Romer,” Mycroft called, “what did I say about flirting?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir!” 

~*~

Thank you so much for reading! The last part (so far) of the series is up on tumblr now. It’s a direct follow up to this story, featuring Romer.

[chihoshisai]

A Lonely Flower Amidst a Garden

Chapter 2

Pairing : Mycroft x Reader / Word count : 1395 / Genre : Fluff and lighthearted

A/N : I recommend listening to "everyday is a gift" by Yuki Kajiura (it's quite short so put it on repeat!) / you can find Chapter 1 here / the amount of time I spent looking up pastries let alone furniture name is embarassing oops / i'm turning this into a full fic so there will be more parts :)

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

You remained as a simple yet pleasant memory in Mycroft’s mind as the young lady he met on a rainy day - Mary Poppins - surprising himself by watching the movie that same night. From time to time he found his mind wandering back to this day, replaying the conversations over and over. However, time can be evil. It didn’t take long for him to fall back into his work routine whilst dealing with the stunts his brother Sherlock pulled here and there. 

That day, Mycroft sat in his office, taking a look at a flyer advertising a limited edition of multiple exclusive bavarois’. Under normal circumstances, he would have tasked Anthea to fetch it for him, not being fond of frequenting such places. Though, as it was a high end tea room, he convinced himself that it wouldn’t be too bad. He would simply have a tranquil afternoon tea after work and leave. On his way, the already ashen sky of London started to darken even more. It seemed as though rain was on its way. 

As expected, the line was quite lengthy. Mycroft didn’t need to concern himself with the way of the common people - waiting in line -  as he exited his car, making his way towards the entrance. At this moment, you came running, a look of desperation on your face, being late to an event you had been looking forward to for so long, dreading the long line that was ahead. 

“Why did matters at home had to take so long?!” You complained without noticing the man that was currently stepping out of his car. You abruptly stopped in your tracks, almost bumping into him. 

“I’m so sorry.” You glanced at the tall figure standing who, also taken aback, shot an annoyed look in your direction before his expression changed to that of surprise. At this moment, the feelings Mycroft felt on that rainy day came back to him. Curiosity. There you were, standing right in front of him, looking just as startled. 

“Well, hello again. Fancy meeting you here.” Mycroft couldn't help but give you a warm smile. Suddenly getting to know each other didn’t seem entirely impossible. 

“Ah… yes.” You hadn’t forgotten him, but didn’t feel thrilled to see him again. After all, it was naught but a chance encounter. Given the circumstances in which you met, you would have done the same for anyone. You turned your head away, fiddling with your fingers, looking at the fancy tea room exterior, remembering what you were here for. “Are you also here for the limited edition bavarois?” You inquired, slowly pointing towards the property. 

Seeing as you were not returning the same energy as him, Mycroft suddenly felt himself becoming a little disheartened. Well it had been 2 months since your last encounter so it was to be expected.  

“Indeed I am. If you’d like, you could enter with my company so as to avoid this tremendous line. It just so happens that I have a special VIP access to the event. Unless of course, you would like to wait in line?” He made his way to the door, opening it while giving you a look so as to know your answer. You did not waste a second and followed him inside to the many grunts and protestations of the people who had to wait. 

A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling while the place looked extravagant in velvet colors. You learned his name as he presented himself and his reservation to the reception, not thinking much of it. VIP rooms were upstairs, as you followed Mycroft. “Looks like we both have something in common.” You said from behind him as a matter of fact. Mycroft smiled to himself before turning his head in your direction. “It appears so.” You both entered a square shaped room that had two chesterfield sofas with a freshly polished knee high wooden table and various yellow lights arborhing the walls.  

You both sat down as the menu was brought to you. “Order anything you like. It’s on me, as thanks for last time.” He gave you a polite smile. You curled your lips into something that resembled one while uttering a thank you. 

You looked at the menu seriously, pretending to decide between the 5 bavarois flavors offered. You already knew which one you wanted ; the problem was that you could feel Mycroft’s stare at you. Used to such behavior from people, you decided to ignore it. To Mycroft, in this lavish room something stood out to him. You didn’t seem out of place. In fact you seemed to fit right in, as he took a closer look at the pale red knee-length dress you were wearing, the ankle socks and Mary Jones shoes, he realised that everything was expensive. You didn’t seem bothered by the extravagant look of the room either. You weren’t part of the popular mass and that intrigued him more. Which part of high society did you belong to? He was itching to know. 

“Have you decided?” You raised your eyes from the menu, wanting to put a stop to the scrutinizing. 

“Indeed I have, it will be chocolate for me. You?” Mycroft closed the menu, having already decided from the start too. “Strawberry for me.” As usual, your manner of speaking was flat. Both of you ordered, and your dessert came almost as soon as the waiters left with your orders. 

“How is your arm? Healed by now I suppose?” It was the only thing you could possibly think of. You were almost inhaling your bavarois as you spoke - almost as if you were eager to finish it - giving furtive looks to Mycroft from time to time.  

“Very well thank you.” He paused, evidently taking notice of your eating behavior, and feeling more and more curious as to why you were in such a hurry. “Will you tell me your name this time?” 

“Oh yeah, it’s… Strawberry Shortcake.” You took another bite of your strawberry flavored bavarois intently keeping eye contact whilst silent fell for a moment. Mycroft couldn’t help but scoff at this. Seeing as you were trying so hard to keep your identity a secret made him eager to know it all the more. You on the other hand were quite confused by his reaction. You didn’t think of yourself as funny, but trying to make sense of people’s reactions was no concern of yours anymore. 

Rain started splattering the windows of the yellow lit room. You longingly looked at it, realising you didn’t bring an umbrella in your rush to get here. “I should get going.” You stood up, having finished what you came to try and feeling satisfied with it. Food truly tastes better when it’s free and even better when it’s shared in company. 

“So soon? We’ve only just got here.” Mycroft seemed a little distraught by your sudden departure. 

“Yes, I must go. Thank you for today. It’s been a pleasure.” You made your way to the door and clutched its handle. “We’ve met two times by chance now and third time’s the charm they say.” You turned your head to look back at him. “If this is fate and not a coincidence, I shall tell you my name on our third encounter.” You opened the door and left without even hearing his reply. 

Mycroft sat there. Speechless and caught off guard. You were so mysterious, unwilling to open up - albeit the fact that you were still strangers - yet there seemed to be more about you than meets the eye. At this moment, Mycroft wanted to return to his office and search everything there was about you but settled himself. A third encounter. A third encounter was all he needed and sure enough, it didn’t take long for it to happen. 

2 weeks later, one of the most prominent families in the country was holding a party. Mycroft being ‘a part of’ the government was forced to attend much to his apprehension. As he entered the mansion, you were there, standing next to the other members of that family, greeting guests as they entered with your usual flat tone and blank expression. In due time Mycroft stood before you. Your vacant face became one of astonishment, as he greeted you with his usual smile. You failed to reply for you did not believe in fate. 

[silverjirachi]

silverjirachi’s Works and WIPs Master Post - 2023

I have a lot in the works and a lot to be completed so I figured I’d put an updated list all in one cohesive place. This will also be available on a page on my blog directly, in case you want to check in.

---

Pokemon Fandom

The Dead Sea Trilogy, @the-dead-sea-trilogy

Pokemon RSE / ORAS

Pairing: Archie & Maxie

Book 1: The Devil and the Dead Sea (complete) - 76,000 words

“So, where would you be, Mr. Sunshine, if the blistering sun dried up the raging sea?"

The first book in my hardenshipping trilogy, The Devil and the Dead Sea, focuses on Maxie's desperation to reach the Seafloor Cavern. After his own plans fall through, he must enlist the help of his enemy in order to reach his goals, and joins hands with Team Aqua in order to reach the cavern.

But along the way, a hidden romance is discovered between the two teams, and Maxie must bring his team - and his own sanity - back under control, lest he lose everything he's ever worked for in the process.

A traditional Enemies-to-Lovers - featuring many parties Maxie does not want to be at. Gossip, nonsense, sad feelings, and sea shanties ensue.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Maxie, Archie, Courtney, Tabitha, Shelly, Matt, Groudon & Kyogre, original Team Magma/Team Aqua crew, Maxie and Archie fighting and falling in love on a ship.

Link to AO3

Book 2: Icarus and the Blistering Sun (being updated actively!) ~ 100,000 words

Thanks for instilling dreams in me, Max. I’m off to pursue mine. See you when I awaken the great and mighty KYOGRE!!

The preqel to The Devil and the Dead Sea, Icarus and the Blistering Sun tells the story of the beginnings of Archie and Maxie's relationship-turned-rivalry, and how there once was a close partnership and even a friendship therein - and how it all went so bitterly, catastrophically wrong.

Follow a young, aspiring, college-age Maxie as he strives to find his calling. He and Archie--along with one other peculiar blue-haired scientist--travel the region to chart and discover the legendary Pokemon--inadvertently feeding this information directly into the hands of Team Rocket.

Featuring Even More Parties that Maxie Does Not Want to Be At, and Colress, who is only there to break rules. There is some light Maxie/Colress content, a peculiar and disastrous ship I am referring to as FeralScienceShipping

Featured Characters/Concepts: Maxie, Archie, Colress (B2W2), Petrel (HGSS), Domino (Team Rocket, Mewtwo Returns), Archie's encounter with Jirachi, Maxie's backstory, and the inception of Team Magma

Link to AO3

Book 3: Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky (wip) ~ 100,000 words (probably)

“Thwarted by two twelve year old kids." Maxie paused again.  “Hm.  I don’t like that this is a recurring pattern for some reason.” “It’s like every region’s just linin’ up waitin’ for their next apocalypse,” Archie laughed.  “Who’s next?  Kalos?  Alola?  Sinnoh?” “Please don’t talk like that.” “What?  Why?” “Sinnoh is home to creatures far more powerful than Kyogre and Groudon.”

The third book in the Dead Sea Trilogy, in which Archie and Maxie (and their third wheel, Colress) are working together to build something new from the ashes of their two retired teams. They join forces with their mutual parole officer (Looker) to keep themselves out of jail, and to a stop to an emerging threat in the Sinnoh region.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Maxie, Archie, Colress, Looker, Matt, Shelly, Courtney, Tabitha, Team Galactic, Archie and Maxie's fledgling romantic relationship, Courtney's weird computer thing, and the Creation Trio.

Spinoff: Ophelia and the King’s Madness (wip) ~ 140,000 words

"N's heart is pure and innocent. But there is nothing more beautiful and terrifying than innocence."

This is one of only three quotes uttered by Concordia in the entire game. Ophelia tells the story of Ghetsis' lesser-known children, Anthea and Concordia, and how Concordia came to the conclusion she did. It explores Team Plasma as a cult, Ghetsis as its leader, and the two sisters as sheltered prisoners in their own "heavenly" home.

The story centers greatly on Concordia and the secret, romantic relationship she develops with Colress, who hides a great portion of who he is while continuing to experiment with Team Plasma and Project Genesect behind her back.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Anthea, Concordia, Colress, N, Ghetsis, Project Genesect, the logistics of Team Plasma as a cult, Ghetsis' manipulation of Anthea & Concordia in order to "correctly raise" raise N.

LINK TO PREVIEW: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881342/chapters/70850358

Currently Unnamed: Dead Sea Trilogy one shots collection (brainstormed)

This will be a collection of related stories and one-shots featuring the cast of characters from the Dead Sea Trilogy, similar in vibe and feeling to Stories from Exile.

---

The Legend of Zelda

Exile//Vilify (complete) ~ 150,000 words

The boy was special, and he intended to find out why.

An origin story for Astor from Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity, Exile//Vilify tells the story of those that are chosen, and those who are not.

Astor has trained since childhood to become the next Royal Seer, but he is plagued with a dark secret: a prophecy that states that he will one day be expelled from the castle, sent into exile, and devote his life to Calamity Ganon.

General fiction, no extensive ship content. Featuring Astor as the royal seer, Astor having a deep, meaningful relationship with Zelda's mother, and a Fate-worshipping cult that calls themselves the Royal Order of the Seers.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Astor, Zelda's mother, King Rhoam, Master Kohga & Sooga, original Hylian characters, a deconstruction of the concept of fate & predestination, and an exploration of Astor's cult/eventual worship of Calamity Ganon.

Link to AO3

Stories from Exile ~ 50,000 words (ongoing)

In which Kohga and Sooga are really just friends.

Stories from Exile is a collection of one-shots, short stories, and other just general snippets, some much more serious than others, that are related to the world of Exile//Vilify. Majority focuses on "evil" Astor - aka, his time spent in exile - and his misadventures with the Yiga Clan, although there are a handful of stories of Royal Seer Astor in Hyrule Castle, including a few heartwarming ones with the baby Princess Zelda.

The Totally-Platonic relationship of Kohga and Sooga really takes the cake here though, and a great handful of stories also focus on Yiga-Clan shenanigans. There is a table of contents at the beginning so you are able to sort through and find what you'd like.

Updated sporadically as new ideas strike me, all canon or semi-canon to Exile//Vilify.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Master Kohga, Sooga, Astor, Lady Urbosa, Princess Zelda, the rest of the HWAOC crew. Antics.

Link to AO3

Trouble Will Find Me (wip)

"If I stay here, trouble will find me // If I stay here, I'll never leave." -The National, "Sea of Love"

Trouble Will Find Me stands as a prequel to Exile//Vilify. It is a story that focuses on Astor's mentor, Thelem, and what brought him to the Royal Order of the Seers, and to the events that take place right before his first meeting with Astor.

This is Thelem's origin story, featuring the formative years he spends on Satori Mountain, finding himself, his meeting and relationship with Azelphir, and a more in-depth look at the culture and religion of the Order of the Seers.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Thelem, Azelphir, deeper lore of the Order of the Seers, Thelem's origin story, Thelem and Azelphir's underlying feelings for one another. Blupees, Koroks, Hyrule's other supernatural phenoma, and the Lord of the Mountain.

PREVIEW - AO3

Rewoven into the Stars (complete) ~ 8,000 words

And this new king before him, he wasn’t like the old one.  He was stubborn and sweet.

Rewoven into the Stars was a gift/commission for a friend, which falls in the Stories from Exile universe. A portal opens through space-time and sends a rather strange (and kind) Ganondorf through. He and the formerly-royal seer spend the following weeks growing closer, even falling in love.

Featured Characters: Astor & Ganondorf from the Born Evil universe by @sherlocktheravencat

Link to AO3

Prophet to a Gerudo King (wip)

“Are you willing to vow your undying loyalty to me?  From not just now unto death, but into all your future lives to come?"

A one-shot that muses on the pact between Astor and King Ganondorf, with Astor acting as Ganon's royal seer. Semi-canon prequel to Exile//Vilify, depending on how you look at it.

Featured Characters: Astor, pre-Calamity King Ganondorf

The Rhoam Cucking Chronicles (complete?) ~ 4,600 words

"He fucked my wife." -King Rhoam, in the games (real)

A shitpost about Astor fucking Zelda's mom, the Queen of Hyrule. Based in the world of Exile//Vilify / Stories from Exile. I (might?) add more silly portions to it someday, although it is unlikely. I can be bribed to do it, however, as I can be bribed to do many things...

Featured Characters/Concepts: Astor, Zelda's mom, King Rhoam, Astor fucking Zelda's mom (obviously)

Link to AO3

Hyrule is Doomed! (ongoing)

Hyrule may be in a lot of trouble, yes. But under Link's professional, expert, and yes, even reckless care -- it certainly will not be doomed.

Hyrule is Doomed! is a SILLY collection of one-shot stories that detail my chaotic, shirtless himbo playthrough of BOTW/TOTK. Featuring tales such as Link scaling the castle naked and with six hearts (and beating Windblight Ganon), going west instead of east off of the Great Plateau, and the ever-beloved Guardian Tipping.

Updated as ideas and the memories come to me, or when I do something stupid in BOTW/TOTK again.

Featured Characters/Concepts: Link being silly

"Link" to AO3

[unovasrose]

My one-stop shop for all of Rosa’s headcanons and lore, under the cut for length.

Major Headcanons (about Rosa).

Public vs. Private Knowledge*

Empathy

Vulnerability

Heroine of Justice

Views on the BW Protagonist

Champion Title and Efforts*

Champion Troubles*

Mental Health Struggles

Acting and Pokéstar Studios*

Handling Negative Emotions

Sleeping Habits Part I

Sleeping Habits Part II

Diet and Eating Habits

View on Romance in Media

Establishing Pokémon Preserves

House in Village Bridge

Bedroom Setup

Fear of Ghost-Types*

Versus Shauntal*

Knowledge of Natural Medicine

Major Headcanons (about others).

Rosa’s Mother

Rosa’s Father

On Cobalion Choosing Her as Hero of Justice

On Hale Foster, alias Nicholas Venner*

On Hale’s Plot and His Relationship with Rosa*

On Interpol’s Involvement in the B2W2 Storyline*

On the Sages, Anthea, and Concordia

On the Shadow Triad

On Legendary Encounters

Minor Headcanons.

Alcohol Consumption

Education and Intelligence

Pokémon Headcanons.

Clover the Serperior

Rocco the Krookodile

Blaise the Arcanine

Blaise’s Overprotectiveness

Elise the Ampharos

Delta the Azumarill

Aspen the Lucario

Aspen in Movies

Eira the Glaceon

Struggles with Maximus

Luna the Musharna

AU Headcanons.

The Princess of the Starlight Ball ( Fantasy Princess AU )*

The Swords of Justice ( Fantasy Princess AU )*

[nova--spark]

How did the strays first encounter big bos? I’m assuming he acted first, and they reacted, since I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t actively make enemies

So, the Strays didn't encounter Bos for a while actually!

Bos is a calculating man, he thinks out every outcome before attacking in any manner.

Bos has orchestrated a good chunk of the previous attacks the Strays encountered however ex: goaded Starscream into capturing them with the rumor of Solus Reborn in Anthea/Astrea.

Thus he obtained the blood sample from the battlesite, of Thea's energon blood.

From there, he created Crystalline, the sentient car combined with Dark Energon.

Bronco and Mustang [triple changers with equine and car modes of their respective names] were hunting down Bos, but never mentioned a name whatsoever, as Bos was reclusive.

Bos also contacted Seo-Yun, 'Glitchy', and informed her of Thea's Energon-Blood, stating it could 'restore her' in an attempt to test how if introduced into another human, what it could do. All in the name of scientific discovery.

Only after these experiments did Bos make a further presence of himself, having settled down the stepping stones to come out of the shadows.

He had collected the necessary data, and now, wanted to see what further damage he could incite in the Strays, using his experiments to place a seed of doubt in Anthea, that her blood only brings harm to subjects tested with it.

He baited the Strays to come to one of his labs, using a signal for 'help'. After all, the primary task of the Strays is to help those in need, rescue ops.

Bos is a herald of Unicron, having long turned to the Chaos Bringer in order to test the limits of science, using Dark Energon, and even using a mix of it, Synth-En, and Thea's blood which he synthesized, Bos created a steroid for himself by which to thus fight.

For he who was once weak, would have those bow to both the might of his mind, and the brawn of the body enhanced to perfection.

And after this first fight, Bos got away mostly untouched.

But would certainly return with even worse experiments.

[tangledfate]

@aetherianxarchive​ asked: “Hey, I’m here for you.”-- For Thea from Ansal on @luna-mxth ;v;

She wasn't going to cry. So what if they'd taken the first chance they’d gotten to kick her out of the tower that had been allotted to her kind after they'd arrived. She didn't need them; she was fine on her own...

If that was true, why did it feel like this?

Lips pressing into a thin line, she crossed the rampart to nearly the other side of the hold and made her way down the stairs and into the garden. There was a small tower there that had yet to be claimed, perhaps the Inquisition allow her to use it.

Or maybe one of their templars would be stationed to watch her like in the circle? Or would they just tell her to leave?

It took some effort to push the door from it's frame, and a good deal more to force it open against the junk that had been left inside to be forgotten. Broken brooms and dishes. Pots and pottery. Shelves and chairs and tables and all manner of odds and ends that looked like they needed to be burned long ago.

She was staring helplessly at the mess before her when someone stepped around her. Ansal said nothing as he started to tidy the space, offering a smile as she watched him with what was likely confusion on her features. Here to help whenever she needed it.

It was the smile that undid her. A sign that their friendship hadn't been severed by her ejection from the tower--the only one that had proven so, it seemed. So, with tears escaping down her cheeks, she stepped into a waiting hug and sobbed as he murmured a gentle reassurance that he somehow knew she needed to hear.

[pennywaltzy]

Mythea, 3, gold

This was also an answer to the 30 Day Writing Challenge, which gave us the title for the story. The prompt this request gave me was "Close the door behind you."

Promises Made, Promises Kept - Anthea extracts a favor from her husband for her help, leading him to think about the start of their whirlwind relationship that was years in the making.

READ @ AO3

"Close the door behind you."

Anthea did as she was told, walking into Mycroft’s office and sitting on the edge of his desk next to him. “Long day ahead?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“The Americans,” he said, placing his elbows on his desk and putting his head in his hands.

“No further explanation needed,” she said. “Representative Occasio-Cortez’s visit?”

“Yes, but she’s the least of the problems. It’s the three other people coming with her and their entourage.” He sighed and then looked up at Anthea. His assistant, his lover, his wife. He didn’t know what he would do without her. “If you take care of them I will buy you the gold earrings you had your eye on at Harrod’s.”

“I already bought them,” she said with a smile, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Make me puttanesca tonight and I’ll solve your problems for you.”

“Deal,” he said, reaching over for her hand and kissing the back of it. She smiled wider then got off his desk and made her way to her own area of the office, on the other side of the door. He leaned back in his seat, wondering if they had all the ingredients for puttanesca, before glancing to one of the many photographs littering his desk.

Strange, what one encounter with a homicidal sister will do to a man.

Lestrade had not left his side until Anthea arrived at his home, and he was a smart enough man to realize there were Things Unsaid between himself and his assistant. Lestrade gave her a rundown of tings he might need that evening, starting with some more brandy, and then he left, wishing Mycroft good luck.

Sherlock may have had doubts about Lestrade’s level of intelligence, but Mycroft knew the man was smarter than he seemed, at least when it came to human nature.

Anthea had waited until Lestrade was gone and poured herself a snifter of brandy, topped off Mycroft’s, and then put the decanter back, almost dropping it from how much her hands were shaking. He’d have given anything to keep the fear at bay, even if it had cost him a decanter of brandy, but after a sip she launched herself at him, holding him close.

Of course, the private feed into Sherrinford.

There was the private feed into his office. After the bomb, she must have figured it out and watched it. She had seen everything with her own eyes and knew exactly how close she had come to losing him. And when embraces became heated kisses and two snifters of brandy were spilled on the floor while they tried to find suitable space to show each other the things they had never had the bollocks to say out loud, things had changed.

It was impossible to hide their relationship, and he hadn’t wanted to. Fortunately, the Home Office felt it was in the country’s best interest for them to continue their professional relationship in addition to their new personal one, so he didn’t have to get a new assistant. Which helped matters when Anthea found out she was pregnant eight weeks after their first session of lovemaking on the desk in his study. A quick marriage later and he had to admit, he was blissfully happy.

There was a photograph from the wedding in Hawaii, the sonogram of the little boy they were having, photos of Sherlock and Dr. Hooper, who had had a similar conversation in the aftermath, it seemed. Photos of his parents and strangely enough, one of Eurus. Despite her actions, the results were favorable, and while she no longer verbalized things, it was a comfort to know she had gotten what she had wanted: her family back.

But the one that caught him the most was one of Anthea in her wedding dress, long-sleeved white and gold lace over a tight bodice and loose skirt. She was breathtaking in that photograph, wearing a lei of white orchids given to her by one of the members of the extended family who had attended, he forgot who. She was stunning, as she always would be. He turned away from the photographs to start ordering the ingredients for puttanesca to be delivered to his home, as he had made a promise to make it, and all promises, no matter how small, should be kept.

And if that meant cooking tonight to make his wife happy, so be it.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Earth & Fire

Chapter IV - Metis

07/29/2023

Pairing: Hades (Hozier) x Anthea (OFC)

Word Count: 3,755

Warnings: graphic nightmare; angst; talk of violence, possible rape and death/murder; some gruesome mythological shit; but also some fluff and comforting to soften it up

Summary: Stirred from sleep by a nightmare, Anthea encounters Hades in the nightly palace. And even though a soft bond is starting to build between them, there is also a painful lesson to learn for Anthea.

A/N: This chapter is rather dark as it deals with the myth of Metis. If you are interested in any further reading on the goddess, I recommend this website as it very eloquently examines the full cruelty of Zeus' actions.

Earth & Fire - Masterpost

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Picture found here.

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

His hands were everywhere, groping, unrelenting, helping themselves to her flesh as if she wasn’t screaming at the top of her lungs, begging him to stop. 

“You’re mine.”

His dark snarl came from somewhere close to her ear, she could feel his hot breath on her neck before he allowed himself a taste and his teeth dug into her skin. She screamed again, louder this time, more desperate. Someone. Please, there must be someone who would hear her. Her father, Hades, anyone. 

But nobody did. It was only her and the overwhelming power he wielded to keep her under control now. All she could do was writhe and wriggle underneath the weight of the All-father, but however much her hands tried to shove him off of her, he was unwavering. 

Another scream rose from her lungs, but he had grown tired of her vocal resistance and was quick to silence her. One hand closing around her throat, he squeezed until her cries broke off, and the world finally went dark.

Her mouth gasping for air, Anthea sat up. The All-father was gone and with him the darkness. Instead, soft hues of pink and purple engulfed her. The sheets and chiton she had dressed in for the night stuck to her sweat-covered skin, but Anthea didn’t notice. Her mind was still clouded from the nightmare, Zeus’ greedy hands imprinted on her form as if he had really been here. She tried to concentrate on her breathing instead. In and out. Deep and drawn out breaths, her chest rising and falling, rising and falling until her heartbeat began to slow. 

“You’re mine.”

In a heartbeat she stood as the voice came as clear as it had before, but as she turned to face the bed there was nobody there. Still she stumbled backwards, away from the place of her torment. Step by step she retreated until the sight was veiled by the light curtains that covered the window and something hard pressed into her back. 

With a gasp she turned, relief washing over her as she realised it was just the balustrade of the balcony that had kept her from falling. The balcony. She froze in place once more. Minthe had made it clear that she was forbidden from coming here. Maybe nobody had seen and she could just sneak back into her rooms. Carefully she looked around and just when she thought luck was on her side just this once, she made out a dark figure not far away, melting into the shadows perfectly. Hades.

But maybe luck hadn’t abandoned her for good after all. It seemed as if he hadn’t noticed her yet. Anthea held her breath, taking a careful step backwards. Hades didn’t move. Then another step. She had almost made it out of sight, just one or two more steps.

“Don’t go. Not on my behalf.”

Anthea stiffened, not daring to look up while she bit her lip like a child that had been caught stealing some honey.

“I’m sorry. I know I am not supposed to be here.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s your balcony and it is most inappropriate to—”

“There is nothing inappropriate about using the balcony that belongs to your rooms.”

His words made her look up in confusion. Was this some kind of game he was playing with her for his own amusement?

“But I thought you said…”

Her voice grew more feeble with every word. He had begun to move, crossing the distance between them with a few long strides.

“What did I say to make you believe you were not welcome here?”

His voice was so soft now, like a balm to her troubled mind, and the pair of tender green eyes that rested on her seemed to caress her like a pair of loving hands, chasing away the ghosts that had been haunting her. Still as always, his actions confused her. 

“You said that I should not disturb your rare moments of privacy.”

“My—“ he stopped, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried very hard to remember. “I’m fairly sure I never said that.”

“Well, technically you’re right.” Anthea blushed. “You never said those exact words to me. Not in person.”

It took him another moment to understand, but then his face darkened.

“Minthe!” he pressed out between gritted teeth as if the name left a repulsive taste on his tongue. “What else did she tell you?”

“Nothing,” Anthea was quick to answer his question. She felt as if she had given away too much already. But his gaze was unrelenting, boring deep as if he wanted to look straight into her soul to find the truth there himself. “Nothing of consequence anyway.”

She could see that her answer did not really satisfy him and so she lowered her eyes. She fully expected him to grasp her chin and force her to look at him again. And if he would, there was no way she could withhold the answer from him. But instead of her chin, his hand found her upper arm and gentle squeezed it.

“I am sorry for the trouble she caused. And let me reassure you, there is no door inside this building that you are not welcome to walk through.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Slowly his hand glided down the length of her arm before it fell away.

“You’re cold.”

He didn’t even leave her time to protest. And next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in the silky wool of his himation. His body heat engulfed her, and it was only now that she realised she had been cold indeed. It was so warm and cozy, shooing the tension from her limbs like the heat of a bath after a long day of work outdoors. It was addictive and every fibre of her being begged for more of the comforting warmth. She could already feel herself lean in, ready to open her arms and wrap them around his waist to secure his heat as close to herself as possible, when he spoke again and startled her out of her trance.

“So, I take it the unfamiliar bed is giving you troubles? Is it too soft? Or maybe too hard? Beds can be a real nuisance.”

He chuckled, seemingly oblivious to her enraptured state which, again, made her give away more than she wanted to.

“It’s not the bed that is giving me troubles.”

Maybe she was still a little delusional, but she thought that she had seen his arm move as if he was reaching out for her, but then it was gone again and she wasn’t sure if it had moved at all.

“I’m sorry.”

Anthea smiled up at him, grateful that he didn’t probe any further on the matter, and he returned her smile. Shy and unsure, but it warmed her heart anyway. 

“But it seems sleep won’t find you either tonight, my lord.”

His smile fell a little and he turned away from her to walk over to the balustrade. Anthea wasn’t sure whether he had wanted to bring some distance between them or wanted her to follow him. Then again he had said that she was free to use the balcony to her liking, and right now she liked being close to him. 

Hades chose not to speak again until she was by his side, and she was certain then that he had wanted her close just as much.

“Nothing to worry about. It happens from time to time.”

“And did it happen tonight because you regret taking me in?”

His eyes tore away from the rocky landscape and glowing blue light that illuminated it.

“What? Why would you think that?”

Anthea swallowed. It was obvious, wasn’t it? It had been going through her head constantly from the moment he had agreed to take her in.

“Because he is your brother. And the All-father. And even if he doesn’t dare come here, won’t this get you into an awful lot of trouble?”

Hades fell silent for a moment.

“Probably.” Anthea couldn’t believe her eyes as a mischievous grin found its way onto his lips. “But some things are well worth a bit of trouble.”

She couldn’t help but mirror his smile, endearing as it was. She would hate to see it wiped away by the implacable revenge of his brother. The things he was capable of… She had only gotten a tiny glimpse of Zeus' power and still it made the blood freeze in her veins to imagine how he would make his brother pay for hiding her in the Underworld.

“Still—”

His touch silenced her immediately as his hand softly covered her own.

“Don’t worry. He won’t trouble us here. He can’t.”

“It’s just…One life ruined is enough, don’t you think? I don’t want him to ruin your life too.”

“Ha,” Hades pulled away his hand and turned to lean against the balustrade. “I already did that to myself. Drawing the lot for this realm…”

“Don’t you like it here? I thought you seemed very…” Anthea was fishing for the right word. “…content.”

“I guess I am. Now. At least most of the time. But there are still moments when…”

He hesitated, one of his hands busy kneading the other one.

“When what?” Anthea gently probed and earned a sigh of resignation.

“When I ask myself it that is enough, to be content.”

This time it was her who reached out for him, her hand closing around his to stop his nervous fiddling.

“The way I see it, there is always something more to gain. But also a lot to lose. To be content means to be free, both of longing and fear. You appreciate what you have and don’t chase that which you don’t. It means peace of mind.”

He pondered her words for a while, his eyes never leaving hers, and as much as she loved the undivided attention he gave her, it made her restless.

“You’re very wise for—”

“A woman?” she cut him short. 

“No,” Hades protested with a passion she had not expected. “That’s not what I wanted to say at all.”

“Then what did you want to say?”

Anthea could feel the air shift between them. Her imprudent words had wiped away the closeness she had felt to him tonight in an instant and she wanted to kick herself now for speaking so hastily. 

“Never mind. I should probably not keep you from your bed any longer.”

He didn’t leave, not yet, and he also didn’t ask her to go, but she could already feel the anxiety creep up on her as the rift between them seemed to deepen further. It was waiting for her in the shadows which drew nearer with every passing second, waiting for her to let her guard down and be foolish enough to fall asleep again. And not long before he would find her again, she was sure of it. Maybe this time she wouldn’t be fortunate enough to wake in time. 

Anthea was shaking now, a few tears streaming down her cheeks quietly. She was quick to dry them, she didn’t want him to see.

“I’m sorry. You are right, I should leave you alone.”

Her voice had been steady enough not to let on, and so she kept her gaze lowered as she turned to walk away, but she didn’t even manage to take a second step away from him before he caught her wrist in his strong hand.

“No, please, don’t ever apologise for your tears. They fall for a reason.”

So he had seen after all. Anthea felt the shame burn hot on her cheeks and she wanted nothing more than for the ground to split open and swallow her as, to crown it all, a violent sob broke loose and shook her whole being. 

“Anthea.”

Her name left his mouth in a sigh and then his arms were there, surrounding her, cradling her in the safe space against his chest. 

“You’re safe here. He can’t harm you. I won’t let him.”

A fresh wave of soothing warmth flowed freely from him and she pressed herself closer until she could hear his heart beat steadily in his chest. She concentrated on that sound, until its rhythm matched hers and her breath had slowed. He must have felt her stir in his arms because he loosened his embrace. She wasn’t ready to let go though, not yet, but she used her chance to look at him. 

“Hasn’t he already? Harmed me, I mean. He may not have violated my body, but he has taken everything else instead, however little it may seem. And now I have nothing, not even a home.”

“You have your life and your health and your dignity. That’s not nothing.”

There was so much hope in his eyes. What for, she couldn’t quite understand, and so she averted her gaze.

“It’s not much either.”

He was quiet for a moment before he loosened his embrace completely and took a step away from her. It was cold without him, causing her to shiver, and again she wished she hadn’t spoken so swiftly. But then his hand pushed into her field of vision, palm turned upwards.

“Let me show you something.”

Anthea wasted no time to lay her hand in his and as soon as his fingers had closed around hers, the world went black for a second. The balcony and palace were gone, replaced by dark rocks and stones. 

“Where are we?”

Hades didn’t answer. He only lifted his free hand to point to something close by. A shadow, flickering dimly a few steps away. 

“Who is that?”

“Go ahead, take a closer look. She can’t see us.”

Anthea did as he had told her. Fascinated by the strange being in front of her, she didn’t even notice her hand gliding out of his. With every step she took, new details of the woman become visible. She was kneeling down, right in front of her a river sprang from the ground. Void of a cup or any other vessel, she had brought her hands together, trying to gather some water. But no matter how often she lowered them, the dark liquid was flowing right through her. After a few tries she grew frustrated, her majestic wings flapping in anger. But then she tried again, and again, and again.

“That’s Metis. Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge.”

Anthea flinched upon his unexpected voice. She hadn’t even noticed Hades had joined her side.

“But I thought Athena is the Goddess of Wisdom.”

Hades huffed. “She is now. But she only inherited that title from her mother.”

“Her mother? So Metis is…”

“The first wife of Zeus.”

Anthea swallowed heavily as she slowly began to understand. 

“But this is just her soul we see, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we speak of her in the past tense then?”

“I fear it is not that easy.” He sighed, his eyes filling with sorrow as he kept them fixed on the goddess who still tried to gather some water in the palms of her hands. “She was magnificent. I am sure you would have adored her as well. She was intelligent, cunning, her sagacity surpassing everything I had known before and got to know after. As you can see, she was beautiful as well. That alone would have been enough to beguile my brother, but combined with her mental powers, she became indispensable to him. At first, their relationship was only a matter of business. She gave him strategic advise as to how he could defeat the Titans, especially our father Kronos. Ultimately it is her who I owe my life and my freedom to. 

"But soon after the Titans were defeated and Zeus had become King of the Gods, he grew paranoid, sensing threats to his power everywhere, even in those who had never been anything but loyal to him. And so to bind her to him, he lay with her. Some say he seduced her, others claim he forced himself upon her. Either way, in the eyes of ancient law it made her his wife, and she also conceived a child. 

"But Metis hadn’t even given birth yet, when Zeus learned of a prophecy. It foretold that Metis would bear a daughter, equal to her father in strength and wise as her mother.”

“Athena,” Anthea whispered, unable to speak any louder with the heavy lump that had formed in her throat.

“Yes, Athena. But the prophecy also told that Metis would bear a second child, a son, and his powers would even surpass his father’s, so much that he would become king of gods and men in his stead.

"Of course Zeus couldn’t risk that. He had just defeated his own father, he could not jeopardise the power it had brought him. And so he came up with a perfidious plan. How he managed to trick someone as wise and brilliant as Metis is still beyond me, but he managed to make her turn into a fly and swallowed her. 

"I know it sounds ludicrous, but there was a certain ingenuity to this act. In swallowing her, he did not only remove a vital threat to his power in the form of their future son, he also rendered her, a woman with much more knowledge and skill and foresight than his own, invisible. And because she was not dead, but lived inside him, her knowledge and power became his as she slowly merged into him. 

"Now she lives within him and yet doesn’t live at all. That is why she is merely a flickering shadow instead of a fully shaped soul. Part of her is dead, but the rest of her lives within Zeus, cursed with immortality.”

By the time Hades had finished talking, Anthea’s heart felt heavy as lead. She could barely hold back the tears she wanted to shed for poor Metis.

“What is she doing there?”

“The river that springs from the ground here is the Lethe. Upon their arrival in the Underworld, every soul drinks from its waters to forget about their earthly life. Only then can they move on to the fields of Asphodel and be reborn again when they are ready.”

“So she is stuck here, in this eternal loop of dying hope.”

“Yes.”

His confirmation hit her with a force she hadn’t seen coming. Anthea could not feel the ground beneath her feet anymore as the weight of Metis’ fate forced her to her knees. There was no strength left inside of her to fight away the tears and so she let them flow down her cheeks freely. 

“Do you understand now? Even if you are confined to the Underworld for now, what you have is not nothing. There are worse things he could do to you than keep you from your home and kin.”

“Please, Lord Hades,” she croaked, grasping the dark fabric of his chiton with both her hands, “please take me away from here.”

“Of course.”

Unable to see him through the tears that veiled her sight, she could only feel him move next to her. And then her weight was lifted off the ground, sure arms securing her to his chest as she wrapped her own around his neck blindly, her head diving into the darkness that awaited in the crook of his neck, wishing never to return again. 

He hated to see her like this, so utterly broken and forlorn. But however much his heart ached for her, it had been a necessary lesson to learn. And even though it seemed to her now that all hope was lost, it was far from that. He of all beings knew that there was always a fate worse than hers waiting, and even though he would do everything in his power to protect her from that, it was only fair that she knew what unthinkable cruelties his bother was capable of. 

Carefully he lowered her onto the soft mattress of her bed. Her nightmare must have been of the worst kind, he thought, as he found her sheets still damp with her sweat. He removed them before he gently unwrapped her from his himation and covered her with it. As he brushed a golden strand of hair from her forehead, he vowed to speak to Hypnos right after he had left her rooms. There would be no more nightmares waiting for Anthea tonight.

He watched her for a moment, watched her eyelids flutter as she still fought against the overwhelming grasp of sleep. And at least for a while she won the battle. Her eyes slowly opened to land on him and a tiny smile played on her lips as she reached for his hand.

“Thank you, my lord. I know how much my stay here might cost us all and I feel terrible for repaying you by being such a whiney nuisance.”

“Don’t. None of this is your fault. And you are welcome to stay in this realm, however long it might take my brother to learn to accept a no.”

In the blink of an eye, she sat up, taking him completely by surprise as her arms wrapped around his neck once more. It took him a moment to fathom what was happening, but then he hugged her back. The gesture was sweet and innocent, but torture just as much. Having her so close, feeling her body against his, so full of life, as the scent of her hair invaded his nose, reminding him of the sunlit sky and the fertile soil of the Upperworld until every fibre of his being yearned for the long lost place he once used to call home. 

Hades was tempted to press his lips onto the silky strands, but instead he busied them with speaking.

“I know you need to rest now, but can I show you something else tomorrow? I think you might like it.”

She nodded, her tongue already too tired to speak, but her eyes told him of her excitement just as much. He waited until she had laid back down again. Slowly her eyes fell closed, her breaths evening out, and then sleep had found her at last. 

It was unfair, he mused, as he kept on watching and the memory of their earlier conversation returned to him. If contentment was the favourable way to be because it was the middle way, the balance between two extremes, where was the balance in the perfection of every single detail about her?

Chapter 5

***

taglist:

@ashesofblackroses

@lowkeysimpinloki

[sam-glade]

Find the Words Tag

Tagged by the incredible @iced-ginger-tea here @charlesjosephwrites here. Thank you💜

I'll pass it gently onto: @void-botanist @sarahlizziewrites @sunset-a-story. Your words are: lonely, silent, happy, sad.

From @iced-ginger-tea daylight, cheer, sunset, dress

DAYLIGHT ❌ I'll look for: SUNLIGHT

The woods were dense. There was something growing in every available bit of space. The largest trees - oaks and ashes - were so large that five men would have trouble joining hands when standing around them. Moss covered every last bit of their bark. Between them younger trees and bushes formed the understory, birches, silver firs, hornbeams, aspens… Below them, ferns created a dense layer, mixed with various berry bushes. Clumps of hazels stuck out in places. Closer to the fallen tree Lissan could see patches of the forest floor, with snake grass, blooming violets, and colourful mushrooms. Everything was growing, fighting for space and sunlight.

CHEER

Katya the Catnip crept up on him like a cat. He turned to face her, forcing a smile. He felt drained.

She looked like he remembered her - short and a little chubby, with a mop of very curly auburn hair surrounding a round bronze face. She grinned at him. One of her upper front teeth was chipped; that was new.

“A little birdie told me that you need someone to cheer you up,” she said as a greeting.

“I’m pretty sure it was a squirrel,” Lissan retorted, shaking her wrist.

SUNSET

Nikols wielded a Djerid, a short javelin-like weapon, more popular across the Sunset Strait, kept in a quiver at his hip. Ianim supposed that at a distance it could be mistaken for a fanciful sheath for a short sword, but he knew the truth.

DRESS

Reinforcements came in the form of Artio and his Bear. The Colonel of the Heavy Infantry was in dress uniform and clean shaven, having come straight from the parade. The Bear's fur was brushed, although it was now covered in black ash. That was still the neatest the Lissan had seen them.

~*~

From @charlesjosephwrites thought, find, paper, light, and reach

THOUGHT (a little longer, but so worth it)

“Master Lissander, this was not Leshy. This was a creature known to charm people and lead them to their death,” Claren pointed out with exasperation. "Surely you know that nymphs take on the most alluring forms…"

"Master Claren. If she really wanted to charm me, she would take on a man's form.”

"…Oh."

Lissan frowned at him, going over the encounter in his head. Master Claren chased the nymph away only once Lissan started asking for details, but he looked wary from the beginning. Not charmed.

"It didn't look like it worked on you either, Master Claren," Lissan observed carefully.  

"I do not believe that there is a form a nymph can take that would charm me," the teacher informed him, now calm and focused.

Oh, Lissan's thoughts echoed Claren's reaction.

FIND (talking about Lissan, of course)

“You mean to tell me that there is a thing he can find intimidating about a person?” Ianim said with a hint of amusement.

Claren laughed and quipped lightly:

“I merely suggested that he has more tact than you give him credit for, Princekin.”

PAPER

“Lissan?” A hand on his shoulder stopped him. “What are you doing here?”

He blinked a few times before turning to face Gullin. Gullin looked tired and in a rush. He was holding a thin paper folder in his other hand, clearly on the way to the upstairs offices. Lissan bit his lip, reminding himself that the Lieutenant General was on duty and very busy. Anthea’s voice echoed in his head. A mature person does not allow emotions to interfere with their duty.

He should tell Gullin that he was on his way out and that Gullin didn’t need to worry about him, but no words could squeeze through his clenched throat.

LIGHT (FYI, 100 occurrences in Gifts of Fate, 154 in The Prince's Shadow, 155 in Prodigal Children, excluding 'lightly' or 'lighter')

Not a minute later Anthea climbed the stairs to the gallery, Mikkel following a few steps behind her. He took the bay nearest the stairs, sitting with his back towards Erya and sipping red wine in silence. Anthea stopped in front of the spymaster.

Erya stared. Without the crowd and all other sorts of distractions, she could finally appreciate how breathtaking Anthea looked that evening, in the wine-red dress with silver embroidery, with a sabre and her Sword in matching scabbards at her side, with her braids coiled at the back of her head in complex patterns. In the dim light, she seemed more like a nymph or an apparition, too beautiful.

REACH

With an angry sigh, he returned to his chore. He did his best to concentrate on chopping wood. The axe felt primitive and soulless. Dead. It wasn’t a weapon, just a tool. He swung it again and watched two pieces of wood fall off a stump. Lifeless.

His Sword lay safe near his bunk, in the room he shared with Marta. He tended to leave it there when he was working around the household. He reached out to it with his thoughts, and the spirit of the blade stirred. The large She-Wolf appeared to be napping. She did it a lot recently, while he couldn’t sit still.

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 4 - Austria

Over the next week, Mycroft hadn’t managed to drop by to see Bethany and felt a twinge of guilt over it, but she was in good spirits regardless, having had a very exciting week with Sherlock catching a murderer and feeling like she was a real-life detective. He had phoned her the day before John and Mary were due back to tell him all about it and he’d heard from Sherlock that they wouldn’t have been caught had Bethany not pieced together the motive.

‘I mean, people do crazy things for love, don’t they?’ She said, he could hear her walking home, it was still light out and Mycroft felt slightly comforted that she wouldn’t be in any danger from the men in the house down the road.

‘Indeed.’ He agreed, signing a document that Anthea put in front of him. Mycroft was good at hiding who was calling him by now that his assistant didn’t bat an eyelid. She soon left him alone and he felt comfortable enough to put his feet up before his next meeting. ‘So, you’ve had an exciting week?’

‘Yeah, it’s been great.’ She said, smiling and hopefully enjoying the sunshine. ‘Wish you could’ve dropped by, we would have solved it a lot sooner if you had.’

‘By the sounds of things, you hardly needed me.’ Mycroft said, picturing her in the sun again. ‘I’m sure Sherlock appreciated the insight you have into human emotion.’

‘Yeah, I did have to talk to the victim’s sister a bit more than I thought I would, Sherlock wasn’t being particularly sensitive.’

‘No, I’m afraid he isn’t the type.’ Mycroft mused. ‘You have plans though, don’t you? A hiking trip next week?’

‘Are you spying on me, Mycroft Holmes?’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He said playfully. ‘Sherlock mentioned something about it.’

‘That had better be the truth,’ she warned, her smile still evident. ‘If I find out you’ve been watching me in the shower, I’ll make your life very difficult.’

‘I have no doubt, Miss Wheeler.’ He agreed, though the image of her in the shower was a particularly desirable one. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m surprised you don’t know.’ She laughed. ‘Yeah, me and a few friends are going camping in Austria, a little bit of hiking and maybe rock climbing if we can. It’s good to get out into the world, see what’s there, you know.’

‘Not my scene, I’m afraid, but do enjoy it.’ Mycroft was a little sad that he couldn’t enjoy the outdoors the way she clearly did, but then again, he’d rather she just be happy.

‘Oh, I’ve been looking forward to this for months, there’s no way I’m not enjoying myself.’ She said, he could hear the sounds of a key unlocking her front door. ‘What are your plans while I’m away?’

‘Running the country.’ He deadpanned, making her giggle. ‘Unfortunately, I will be out of contact for the time you’re away, a few meetings that require my full attention, free from distraction.’

‘And I’m a distraction, am I?’

Mycroft was quiet for a moment, contemplating whether he should have told her the truth. ‘A welcome one, but a distraction nonetheless.’

He listened to her entering her room and making herself comfortable. Picturing her on her bed with a smile still plastered to her face.

‘I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.’ She teased. ‘So, come on, tell me all the top secret government things you’ll be working on while I’m gone.’

‘Well, seeing as you asked so nicely.’ Mycroft loved the sound of her laughing, far more than he wanted to admit to. ‘But I would like to hear about your trip when you get back.’

‘Yeah? You want to get some dinner or something?’ Bethany asked fairly casually, diminishing Mycroft’s hopes that it could be considered anything more than a friendly encounter. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve seen you anyway, it’d be good, I think.’

‘Dinner sounds perfectly acceptable. Let me know when you’ve returned and I’ll make the arrangements.’

‘Great, nothing too fancy though, I’m not a woman of class, I am a lowly peasant, remember?’

‘You sell yourself far too short.’ Mycroft said, gently. ‘But I will keep in mind your request.’

‘Good.’ She was still smiling. ‘Right, I’ve got some journals to read and you’ve got a country to run, or maybe the secret service to order around…’

‘Nice try.’

‘Can’t fault a girl for being persistent.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Right, I’ll catch up with you before I leave. Have a good one Mycroft.’

‘You too.’

Mycroft hung up the phone, idly wondering what journals she was reading, probably light reading as part of her course, but he wished he knew more, it was infuriating for a moment. He was used to just setting up surveillance on people and finding out what he needed to know, but he wouldn’t risk it with Bethany, he didn’t want to upset her for any reason.

He heard a knock at the door and Anthea reminded him that he had a meeting with Lady Smallwood concerning Charles Augustus Magnusson. He internally groaned and tried to focus on something else that wasn’t Bethany Wheeler and him sitting across from each other at dinner.

Mycroft received a final text from Bethany before she caught her flight to Austria, it was a picture of her in the airport with her friends waiting to board the plane and read:

Off to see the world and have adventures. Let me know if you want me to send photos, otherwise, please don’t start a war that means I can’t get home again! – BW

Mycroft smiled, trying to subtly text back whilst in a meeting with Lady Smallwood.

You’re the anarchist, I’m depending on you not to cause an international incident. My power only extends so far. Have fun. Stay safe. – MH

Mycroft would have loved to spend the next week getting the odd photo from her while she was on her travels, but while he was dealing with the Magnusson hearing, he couldn’t let himself be distracted or give him anything to use against him. Bethany was fast becoming a valuable bargaining chip for anyone who might have wanted to get close to Mycroft and he needed to be careful.

He spent the week trying to put out fires where he could, noting that Magnusson had leverage over Lady Smallwood, something that resulted in his interview being dismissed as inconclusive. Mycroft was furious that he’d managed to worm his way into her life like that, possibly with the intention of getting closer to him. Was it a warning shot? It wasn’t clever and it only served to bring out a side in Mycroft he rarely showed other than when someone irritated him a little too much.

He proceeded to distance himself further from a few situations, handing them off to someone who could just about handle it and hoped that would be enough to keep Magnusson at arm’s length. It worked for a while, but Mycroft was searching for a more permanent solution.

He spent most nights sitting in front of the fire, focussing on the next move he needed to make in several different operations he had going. Some more dangerous than others, but all of them as equally demanding of his attention.

By the time the week was up, he was exhausted and looking forward to everything being over so that he could move onto more pressing matters.

Guess who’s back! – BW

The welcome sight of Bethany’s picture message from the taxi home was all he needed to feel his body relax into something calmer. She was laughing in the picture with one of her friends, he hadn’t realised it was a male friend she was holidaying with and felt an instant jealousy. She was more tanned than she had been in the last message he sent, her freckles were almost hidden and her hair was sun bleached, making her look like some kind of exotic creature completely out of his league. She was stunningly pretty. Those dark eyes stared directly at him and made him feel like someone could really see him. It both calmed and unnerved him. Mycroft sighed and typed out a reply whilst getting into his car to go home.

Glad to see you made it back without causing too much trouble. Homeward bound? – MH

Pub. We’re meeting a few friends to celebrate our triumphant return. – BW

And so you should. Stay safe on the way home and please do call if you need anything or if you actually run into trouble. – MH

I will. Thank you, Mycroft. – BW

Mycroft took a deep breath and allowed his mind to finally relax properly after a week of worrying about everything under the sun. Bethany was back and she was in good spirits, Magnusson was being kept at a distance and every operation he was watching seemed to be settling right where he needed them to. There was nothing to worry about.

Well… there was one thing that had his mind racing. Dinner with Bethany. He promised they could spend an evening together once she was back and he wasn’t a man to break a promise.

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[waterloggedsoliloquy]

ariadne's mom and dad are dead and she lives with her paternal grandma. she had an older sister, 3 years older, who may have died in the same accident that killed ariadnes mom and dad (and a couple other people in potters fields). ariadne was really close to her older sister. and now shes gone, but theres magic she can wield now. she wants to know everything about the magic of the dancers, of the garden of sorrow, of life and death and the world beyond. She wants to know it all, uncover the secrets of the universe, and wield magic to the best of her discretion. She’s been a magical girl for longer than Anthea and Sicely have. She’s a math geek-- she loves theoretical physics and things like antimatter, unexplained phenomena, cryptids, and the unexplored.

The numbers also point towards there being something beyond the Garden of Sorrow, and she’s become distracted in fighting against the Garden to instead further investigate. If there's a chance she can break through the veil of life and death with magic/science to reunite with her sister again, she’d do anything for it.

Her infatuation with mathematically proving the afterlife, to reconnect with her dead sister, borders on obsession. She’s deeply lonely, and feels like she lost the only person who could possibly understand her, especially in a town that doesn’t encourage people going off to college.  She believes this is her only chance at a magnum opus, and if she can’t do this she’ll finally have to give up on her sister for good and accept that she’s gone. She’s not sure she can do it. She feels lost without her role model and family; who is she without her? When she lost her, she did not know what she would do. She can’t conceive of the person she can become. She has no future.

the only person in town she believes is on the same intellectual level in this way is her therapist, Thomas. they mostly spend their sessions talking about magic principles and nerding out over the unexplained. her friendships have deteriorated recently, which actually makes it harder to be a Dancer-- you need to be in accord to use magic. she's very good friends with Lucerne, but lately the way her grief has been manifesting as tunnel vision has created a rift between them. ari is also jealous over lucerne, whose little brother survived a deadly encounter. i think she and lucerne get in a fight over it once where she yells at them smth like at least YOUR sibling lived! as if lucerne has it at all "better" ari resents the conditional immortality that being a dancer bestows for her-- where was this ability when her sister needed it? why ari and not her? it hurts. she doesnt know when it will stop hurting.