#‘building me a home’ would be like gaius | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-pen-pot · 3 years ago

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When Merlin ultimately fails in his destiny, the fading remnants of magic that linger in the modern world fling him not just back in time, but sideways as well. He ends up in a Camelot where all his friends are alive, well and aware of his magic.

He ends up in a Camelot where his alternate self died more than a year ago.

Can he, Arthur and their friends still forge the golden age he was once promised, or will grief and suspicion tear them apart?

(Coming September 2022, read below for a a first chapter preview!)

Chapter One

Hiraeth – a deep longing for something, especially one's home. Interlaced, however, is the subtle acknowledgment of an irretrievable loss – a unique blend of place, time and people that can never be recreated.

There were days, months, years sometimes, where Merlin longed for Camelot with all his being. His grief had aged like wine, turning sour and sharp in its bitterness. It thrummed through him, resonating its haunted melody along his bones until he thought he might bleed with soul-sick yearning, but there was no going back.

The place where the castle once stood was nothing but open farmland. There were not even any ruined walls. Over a thousand years or more, the stones had been robbed and carried away elsewhere to build new homes and structures. Perhaps, beneath the earth, the tombs of the knights he had once called his friends still waited. Maybe Gwen lay at peace: a stately queen who did her best, but whose kingdom fell to ruination upon her death.

Arthur was not there. He lingered in Avalon, though that was a story Merlin had stopped believing long-ago. Those had been the last words of comfort from a dying dragon: a thread of hope to sustain him.

And oh, how he had hoped.

It was not merely the citadel he missed. If it rose from the trenches of its empty foundations, new and gleaming, it would do nothing to ease the ache in his heart. It was the people within its walls that wove a tapestry of belonging around him.

Home had been in Gwaine's laugh and Lancelot's warm smiles, Percival's quiet compassion and Elyan's stalwart certainties. It had written itself in the comforting press of Gaius' palm, the wry twist of Leon's smile and Gwen's heartfelt joy.

Home was with Arthur.

A shuddering breath passed his lips as a tear fell from his chin, unnoticed. The cup of tea clasped in his hands could not chase back the chill of his misery. After all these years, he did not understand how it could still hurt so. He felt like a child, lost and alone in a vast, unseeing world where nothing made sense and even his magic had all but abandoned him.

'What more do you want from me?' he whispered, looking up at the sky above his head, where only the very brightest stars could be seen through the haze. 'Haven't I suffered enough?'

He did not know to whom he directed his appeal. The gods of the old religion, perhaps, or the background, static hum of a far-flung universe. It was, in the end, an entreaty to existence itself. 'Can't I go back?'

And out there, in the heavens, an answer rung out amidst the darkness, unheard by anyone, but absolute all the same.

'Yes.'

******

Merlin walked down the pavement, ducking through the crowd of pedestrians as he tucked his shoulders up to his ears. London's traffic buzzed around him, belching exhaust fumes. Summer in the capital stank of grease, sweat and pollution. Even now, at almost eleven at night, there was no sign of the place slowing down.

He heaved a sigh, thinking longingly of when everything had been so much smaller: towns and cities and the whole damn world. Looking at him, no one would think he had lived to see London swell to its current size over a thousand years or more.

To an outsider, he looked to be no older than his late-twenties. It was a good age for a body to be. The worst of the hormones were gone and it had not yet become too creaky. He might look young, but he still felt every year of his existence down deep in the marrow of his bones and the bloody pieces of his broken heart.

If he had any choice in the matter, he would have ended things himself long ago. He had tried, once or twice, but life always found him again, dragging him back from the shadows. He was stuck here, in a world that had no place for him anymore. No destiny. Somehow, he doubted that would ever change.

Rounding the corner on to Marylebone, he shuddered as a prickle of awareness raced over him, making the hairs on his arms quiver upright. Halting on the edge of the pavement, he looked behind him, scanning the crowd, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Pedestrians carried on, oblivious, and the gleam of traffic was as it should be.

Merlin shook his head, not knowing what he had expected. There were no sorcerers or bandits anymore. No wyverns stalked the skies. In this modern world, there was very little that could truly do him any harm.

Abruptly, the air fell still as England's mighty capital city ground to a halt. Cars gleamed, their lights smeared and frozen in time. People stood like statues around him, caught in a single moment of their lives as his life continued. Overhead, the clouds thickened: dark and oppressive.

Power slammed into him as the world rushed back in, all noise and motion. Agony flared along his nerves as a tide of magic rose up through the soles of his feet. Yet it did not come from him. It was something far greater than he had ever held in his own hands: ancient and merciless, ruthless and raw. Beneath it all there was a sense of desperation, as if this was a last- ditch attempt at saving something from the wreckage of destiny.

A second wave hit him, and Merlin staggered, his ankle twisting as he stumbled off the kerb and into the road. Distantly, someone cried out in alarm, but he barely heard it over the sound of screeching tires. The stench of burnt rubber coated the breeze. There was a sense of impact, dull and overwhelming, before a bright, awful flare of pain reached its crescendo.

Darkness rushed over him.

Merlin breached the surface of the lake with a gasp, spluttering as his chest heaved in shock. His mind lost itself in a pinwheel of confusion, and he flailed around, trying desperately to catch up. He knew what death felt like. It might not be permanent for him, but it always carried with it the same cold touch.

Whatever had happened, it had killed him.

'Fuck,' he wheezed, treading water as weeds wrapped his calves in their ribbons and his heavy boots dragged at his feet. This was new. Normally he woke up either back in his body or, if it had been destroyed, then in a magically constructed copy nearby. That had happened less than a handful of times, and it always left him sick and horrified.

'Fuck,' he hissed again, because it bore repeating. Squinting around, he tried to find any hint of light that might lead him towards land. There should have been plenty. Streetlamps, headlights, or the glow of store-fronts and the beam of theatre spotlights in the West End. Here, there was nothing. Literally nothing. It was an uninterrupted canvas of black, and Merlin shook his head before looking up.

Stars. Thousands of them. He had never seen a sky like that in London, and he groaned as he realised he must have been transported out of the capital. Sometimes his life was an absolute joke. He had to work in the morning, and how was he meant to get back without a car?

Clenching his teeth, he shook his head. He'd handle that later. First things first, get out of the water. The cold was starting to nibble at his bones, and he couldn't stay afloat indefinitely. His magic was weak these days, but he had enough for a quick spell: something that would at least help him find the way back to dry land.

'Bewlátung mearcwæd cregelád.'

Power punched through him, brazen and bright. He sucked in a breath, choked on a mouthful of water and valiantly tried not to sink beneath the waves in shock. Energy rose in him, spilling through his veins and warming his muscles. He could feel his eyes glowing. Yesterday, they hadn't done more than glimmer, and he had barely had it in him to reheat his coffee. Now – God, now it felt like it did back then. Like he could level mountains or part seas if he only knew how.

It shook him to the core, and he thrashed to stay afloat as he stared at the bright gold ribbon leading him across the water. He'd expected, at best, a thread of illumination, not a road that looked as if it had been painted by the sun itself.

He could probably magic himself to shore if he put his mind to it, but Merlin hesitated. He didn't quite trust himself not to overdo it. His power hadn't been like this for hundreds of years. It had ebbed from him so slowly that he had not noticed the true extent of his loss until it all came rushing back. No, this wasn't normal, and while he'd always been told not to look a gift horse in the mouth, he was not about to rely on whatever this was too heavily. Not yet.

It was a slow, cold swim to the shore, and by the time his feet touched the sludgy bottom of the lake, he was shaking and breathless. The golden path fizzled out the moment he was free of the water, and he flopped down on the coarse shoreline, closing his eyes with a groan.

His stomach fluted with each starved gasp. He'd not had to swim anywhere for more years than he cared to count. At least it was a bit like riding a bike – impossible to forget – or he would have been screwed.

Peeling open his eyelids, he surveyed the sky, taking in the stars again. Out in the lake he'd only noticed their multitude, but now the more he stared the more subtly wrong they felt. He could still pick out constellations, but there was something off about them, and he cuffed a hand over his face, too tired to puzzle it out.

A chill wind blew, making him shiver, and he rolled onto his side before staggering to his feet. His boots squelched sadly and his jeans dragged at his hips while his sodden t-shirt clung to him like a second skin. Merlin worried at the ring through his lip: an anxious habit he'd developed over the past decade or more. The familiar pressure of the metal was a comfort to his whirling mind, and he cautiously touched his fingertips to his clothes.

Magic flared, and a moment later everything that he was wearing, even his underwear and socks, felt like they had just come out of the dryer.

Yesterday, his power had been so frail that he'd had to tell it precisely what he needed. Even then, there were strong odds that it would not work. Now it leapt to obey his will, acting without the direction of words, joyful and vivid and alive.

God, he didn't realise how much he'd missed it. His relief almost cut him off at the knees.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he glared at his dark surroundings. Trees pressed around him, their solid march taking them to the water-line. The thin strip of shore beneath his feet was mostly pebbles, but beyond that, he could see very little.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled free his phone. He'd never dared check if his mobile lived up to its waterproof rating before, and now he held his breath, waiting for the dark screen to come to life. His delight when it bathed his face in its sharp blue light was fleeting. His phone might work, but wherever he was, there was no signal. He wandered around, waving it in the air as if that would make any difference, but it remained stubbornly unhelpful.

So, it seemed he had an abundance of magic but no GPS.

Great.

He raked his hand through his hair and huffed out a breath, clenching his jaw as he half-turned, his body moving even as his mind raced. A glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye made him hesitate, and he froze, staring in surprise.

It was nothing particularly remarkable, just the shape of one of the rocks on the shore that sparked something in the back of his memory: a bone-deep sense of recognition that told him he had been here before.

'Leote!'

The blue orb leapt from his hand, limning everything in soft turquoise. It sparkled off the ripples of the lake and threw the rocks into sharp relief. Long shafts of light pierced the battalion of pine trees at his back, but Merlin paid it no mind. Instead, he swallowed hard as memories he had thought were lost forever assailed him anew.

'That's not possible,' he murmured, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms over his stomach, trying to hold himself together.

He couldn't remember when the lake in which he'd set Arthur adrift had finally dwindled to nothing. Like the fading of his magic, it had happened slowly, the shore getting bigger year-on-year until, eventually, all the water was gone. He could recall the day he'd returned to see not even marshland, but solid earth. He had wondered if that meant the way to Avalon was shut for good, and tried not to weep as the last of his hope fled.

To say it had been a bad time was an understatement.

Now the water was back. He'd woken up in it, and while logic told him that he must be mistaken – that this must be some other lake somewhere else – his heart knew he wasn't wrong. He'd said goodbye to too many of the people he loved in this very spot not to know it. Grief had carved the shape of it in his bones, and he could barely breathe over the thrum of his heart, because if the lake had returned, did that mean Arthur...?

Merlin swallowed hard, his throat clicking as he tried to shove aside the emotion that welled, bright and painful, in his chest. He couldn't do this to himself. Not again. How many times had he looked around him and remembered "When Albion's need is greatest"? How many times had he stared disaster in the face and told himself that this time – this time – Arthur would return? It never happened. Not for plague or war or any of it.

The wind picked up, wrapping around him like icy silk and making the trees behind him creak. The orb of light bobbed like a fishing float at sea, and Merlin reached up a hand to steady it, cocking his head as he listened. That was something else that had been niggling at the back of his mind: the quiet.

There should be a main road nearby, and even at this time of night there would be a vehicle passing now and then, but he'd not heard a single engine. Looking up again, he scanned the sky, searching for the familiar blinking lights of aircraft. Nothing but the stars returned his gaze, solemn and steady. The only sounds were the ones of the forest behind him: the trees, an owl, and the occasional scratch of something small in the undergrowth.

He cast the woods a critical look. Now he thought about it, he was sure there hadn’t been this many trees the last time he was here. They'd been felled to make room for roads and fields. Only tiny copses, scattered here and there, lingered on. Maybe he was wrong. Perhaps this wasn't Avalon after all, because an entire forest couldn't have sprung up so quickly. Especially not one that looked as if it had been rooted here for centuries.

Between the boles, something golden caught his eye. It was nothing much, a flickering hint, but it was a light in this dark place, and where there was light, there were probably people.

He doused the orb floating above his head and began to pick his way through the forest, wincing at every twig that cracked beneath his feet and the rustle of dry pine needles. It reminded him powerfully of being with Arthur on hunts – of the fond, irritated looks he'd cast in Merlin's direction when he completely failed to be stealthy. It made his heart-clench with age-old sadness, and Merlin drew in a shuddering breath as he peered ahead, taking in the low glow of what looked like a campfire.

A deserted one.

The flames still burned, nibbling happily on the firewood. It cast a small circle of light, striking deep shadows across several bedrolls. Merlin stared at them, noticing blankets instead of sleeping bags. A soft huff made him jerk his head up to stare at the four horses picketed nearby. They watched him, more curious than alarmed, liquid eyes reflecting the firelight.

This was... weird.

Not because it was strange, but because it was all so familiar. Even the tin plates set beside the fire seemed to taunt him. His body twitched, old habits half-forgotten about tending the camp stirring in his veins. His fingers fluttered at his side and his heart ached, full and heavy, beneath his ribs.

Maybe he hadn't died, after all. Maybe he was horribly hurt instead, and this was all just a realistic fantasy his mind had conjured to comfort himself? A return to a time he had last been truly happy – when there was more to do in life than wait for a destiny that would never come to pass.

Here, with firelight bathing his face and the woods calm and still around him, he had never felt more at home.

The press of something between his shoulder-blades made Merlin freeze, his body locking tight as his breath stuttered in his throat. He'd been robbed in dark alleys enough times to recognise this feeling: a sharp pressure against his skin and the broad wall of threat at his back.

He'd been too lost in his thoughts to hear anyone approach, but now there was a soft, metallic rasp nibbling at the edge of his hearing. Something he almost recognised, but not quite. He spread his hands to show he was unarmed, holding them up and out to either side of him as his breath shivered between his lips.

A hand grasped his arm, sending a brief thrill down Merlin's nerves as he was forced around to face the person behind him. Armour gleamed in the firelight: supple chainmail glinted, and the solid iron of a pauldron curved lovingly over one broad shoulder. The length of a sword blade separated them. The point hovered, steady and sure, over Merlin's heart, braced to run him through, but he did not care about any of that. He was too busy drinking in the sight of the man before him.

He could never forget him, no matter how many centuries had passed.

'Arthur?'

#Merlin #Merthur

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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What do you think everyone’s favourite animal is?

(Headcanon Masterlist) (Full Masterlist)

Hmm I've never really thought about it before, but let's have a go. Bear in mind none of this is based on facts or evidence, just my dumb brain😅

Merlin likes birds, and maybe that's ironic, but I feel like he's one of those people that birds just... land on; they're not scared of him at all. Robins, pigeons, crows, bigger things like ravens and hawks, they all just love him. And he loves them, maybe because he envies them a little bit? Everyone wants to know what it's like to fly, and birds just... do it, it's all they do. Once everything has settled and he goes out on dragon rides, with other people or not, he always makes Kilgharrah/Aithusa just glide around among the flocks of birds and it's his de-stress activity.

Arthur is a horse girl. No I will not elaborate.

I'm just kidding, of course I'll elaborate. He has a huge amount of respect for the horses he rides, he knows how hard they work, how brave they are, how hard it is to train them. He finds looking after them soothing, and he knows that if you respect a horse and treat it well, it will serve you well in return.

Gwaine came across river otters in his travels, and he never stops talking about how they're the coolest and cutest things he's ever seen (kinda like Merlin). Gwen sewed him an otter soft-toy she copied out of a book one year for his birthday and he almost cried. He just thinks they're neat.

I'm inclined to say that Percival is also a horse girl buuuuut. Man likes rats. He's a rat man. Or just rodents in general I guess, anytime the kitchens have a problem with mice they call Sir Percival in and he catches them and cleans them up and feeds them for a few days before taking them out into the meadows beyond the city walls to release them. It's always an emotional affair.

Leon is a dog person through and through!! Like birds are heavily pulled to Merlin, dogs are all over Leon. Maybe it's the shaggy hair, maybe it's the fact that he's basically a golden retriever in human form, but any and all dogs the gang come across IMMEDIATELY pull their owners over to play with Leon and the guy LOVES it. He looks after the hunting dogs even though he doesn’t have to, and the gang scrape together to get him a puppy one Christmas (they call it something stupid like Camelot, or Honour. Gwaine tries to call it Arthur the First (and better) but Lancelot said no) and he sobs.

Elyan likes snaaaaaakes. When travelling, he never stayed in one place too long except over winter, when he'd set up a temporary little forge in whatever village/town he found himself in. Or he'd help out at the local one in exchange for a bed. Either way he'd be holed up in a VERY warm building and they always had to be so careful because every pipe, every crate, every vent, every nook and cranny, would have sleepy little snakes in it if they weren't careful. He thinks they're really cool and clever and it also helps with intimidating arsehole clients if he has a snake coiled around his neck or wriggling in his hands.

Lancelot. Hmm. Yet another horse girl me thinks. But also cats. But the like... half feral outside cats that will occasionally wander into your home to sniff things and sit on things and generally be in the way, and then leave again. He's weirded out by them because they always seem like they know more than an animal should, but he thinks they're cool and regal looking. He nods respectfully at every cat he passes when with the others, but if unsupervised he will spend hours making smoochy smoochy noises to try and make friends with the local cats, all of whom completely ignore him.

Gaius also likes cats, but it's more of a respect thing? Cats know what they're about and they chase away rodents, that's all Gaius needs.

Gwen!!! Likes rabbits!!! Elyan's snakes always make her jump (she's not... scared of them, per se, but she's not overly fond) and Leon's dogs are just too... hyperactive, she can't be running around with a dog with the amount of fucking layers she has to wear as a woman. But bunnies are cute and fluffy and whenever Merlin finds one he always brings it to her for a quick snuggle before he takes it out into the fields again (how he keeps finding them in the city, Gwen has no clue).

Druids spend a lot of time in the woods, so I feel like Mordred has an adorable fascination with foxes or something. Urban foxes, the ones that sneak into the city at night to snatch babies and dig through rubbish, are horrible, but the timid country ones are amazing. So smart, and quiet, but they can get aggressive if you threaten their home. He just thinks they're really cool and he was bitterly disappointed to find that the ones that roam Camelot's cobbled streets after dark are... not friendly, they're just arseholes.

Homegirl Morgana like cats also, but house cats. You know, the really friendly, cuddly, affectionate ones. Cats kind of ignore Lancelot, despite his love, but they flock to Morgana no matter their original temperament. They're warm, and soft, but they have sharp claws, and Morgana appreciates that, especially when the cat Arthur snuck in to the castle for her when they were children would curl up on her pillow and purr when she had nightmares.

Behold!! My thoughts on something super random because you asked for it!!

Keep ‘em coming!!

(and if you send me romance/relationship based ones, give me a ship as well please, I don’t write reader inserts or anything close)

#headcanons #bbc merlin #animals #send asks #send requests #asks #requests #bbc merlin headcanons #favourite animals #everyones favourite animal #merlin

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xbadgerbearx · 3 years ago

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bird

word count: 1.6k

Can’t Sleep: [4] … [6]

Not too long later, Gaius Grieves revealed himself. Your little trio watched as Robert discreetly put a gun to his back and started talking. You weren't close enough to decipher what he said. Once he started moving your team got the cue to follow. However, everyone stopped in their tracks once soldiers were spotted.

"I thought Milton was supposed to be our lookout," you muttered as the soldiers started speaking Spanish to the patrons in the club.

As the soldiers got more aggressive in their search for Americans, Robert turned to Cleo.

"All right," Robert motioned to Grieves. "Take him out through the back, all right? Find my coordinates in the pad and meet me in half an hour," he ordered while handing Abner a gun.

"What?"

"Hey, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, but-"

"Go."

Cleo hesitated before grabbing Grieves.

"Let's go."

As you were leading your small group to the back entrance, you heard Robert yell out, "Hey, calm down! There's no need to disturb everyone's night."

You could faintly hear Flag speak up as you found a door marked Solo Empleados.

"This way."

Unfortunately the door you opened was the dressing room for the dancers. You heard Abner say, "Oh, God," before a stumbling sound and a gun being handled. You briefly looked back to see Abner holding Grieves at gun pointing and ordering him to "Move it!"

Damn. That was a little hot.

Pushing your way through the dancers and out the door, you let out a small gasp at the soldier standing in front of you. Cleo, ever the quick thinker, used her device to have a rat crawl down his throat.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

You eventually made your way outside in an alley. Milton jogged over once he caught sight of you four.

"Your equipment manipulates animal behavior, clever," Grieves spoke out. "I'm working on something similar with humans."

"Be quiet, please."

"You are perceivably panicked. I'm guessing that you are not the alphas of this battalion."

"Do you want a dozen angry rodents crawling up your ass?" Cleo snapped.

"My answer might not be what you expect."

"Disgusting," you commented as Abner ushered Grieves to move.

You quickly made your way into the van. Milton took the driver's seat, Abner sat in the middle across from Grieves who still had a gun pointed at him, and you and Cleo took a seat in the back by Nanaue.

"Hello, friends!"

"Hi, yes, hello to you too, Nanaue," you said before pointing at Grieves. "Nom nom this man if I give the word."

"Okay!"

Cleo rummaged through DuBois bag before handing you the coordinate pad he spoke of earlier. Was that a picture of his daughter you saw? You couldn't get a good look since Cleo zipped up the bag. Coordinates in hand, you made your way back up the front to give Milton directions.

"Oh ho ho, what's this?" Grieves smuggly declared. You were too busy paying attention to the road to hear him.

"What's what?"

"I saw that little look you gave to your teammate."

"There was no look," Abner denied.

"Ah, but there was. How are you going to pretend you weren't just looking at their ass as they passed? You seem to have a school boy crush."

"Abner has a crush?" Cleo entered the conversation.

"No!"

Grieves laughed before answering Cleo. "You seem to have forgotten that I study people for a living, and I am very good at my job."

"Pet pet and Polky?" Nanaue piped up from the back.

"No! No Pet pet and Polky," Abner said with exasperation. However, upon looking at you and seeing how captivating you looked under the flashing lights of the street lamps, he followed it up with defeated, "Okay, maybe Pet pet and Polky."

"Dios mío!" Cleo exclaimed before she was hurriedly shushed. They both looked over to see if you heard.

"Okay, now take a right onto this street."

You did not.

"I'm happy for you, Abner."

"You seem to have forgotten you are on a mission. This isn't some little girl's slumber party."

Cleo slapped Grieves over the back of the head as Abner seemed to remember that he had a gun in his hand.

"Be quiet."

"Is- is that them?"

The team all looked at you as they looked out the window. Following your gaze, it landed on an upside down armored vehicle in a ditch.

"Of course it is, who else would be dumb enough," you sighed.

Milton slowly approached the area and parked the van. As soon as it stopped you jumped out to see if they were still there. Turns out you didn't have to wait long; the back door unlocked to reveal your three teammates scuffed but otherwise unharmed.

You wouldn't admit it but you felt relieved.

"All right," Robert grunted. "Let's go to Jotunheim."

"Nope. There's somethin' we gotta take care of first."

"What?"

Rick sighed out, "As much as it pains me to say, we gotta get Harley Quinn."

"Harley who?"

"Quinn. She was on Team 1 with me. Now that I know where she is, we gotta go get her."

"Fuck no."

"Come on, man." They made their way back into the van after you. "She's a valuable asset."

"I said no."

"Don't make me get Waller into this."

Robert thought for a moment. "Fuck, fine, alright. We'll go get 'er."

Everyone eventually got seated. This time you actually sat in a seat since you weren't planning on taking an impromptu nap—although that did sound nice. Flag filled Milton out on the details and directed him on where to go as you all got cozy. Robert and Chris were going at it again, Cleo was asleep, Nanaue was trying to get you to sit in his lap, and Abner was watching in amusement.

"No."

"Yes."

"I said no."

"Pet pet?"

"No, Nanaue."

Nanaue put on his best pout, "Please?"

You should not have turned around to look at him. Sighing, you stood up and made your way over to him.

"Hahaha!" He sounded like a giddy kid in a candy store. He gently picked you up and placed you on his lap. Immediately he started petting you again and hummed. Your legs were cramped and you felt like you were about to fall off his lap. Without saying anything, you sprawled your legs across Abner's lap. He just looked at you with a smile before adjusting himself to accommodate you. Resting his arms over your legs, he continued looking out the window.

"How fascinating."

"Hmm?" You looked at Grieves.

"You don't happen to also control animal behavior, do you?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Fair."

You heard a loud sigh from Chris. "Is this going to become a regular occurance?"

"What, you jealous? I'm calling it now, if we have another night during this mission I'm using him as my cuddle buddy."

"Whatever."

Although you said you wouldn't, you were almost asleep before Robert made the call for everyone to gear up. While everyone was rushing to get their gear on, you just yawned and leaned over to handcuff Grieves to a seat before making yourself at home on Nanaue again. You weren't exactly trained to fight with weapons, although you did grab a nearby combat knife to carry.

"You gotta be kiddin' me. You're gonna risk the entire mission for a mental defective dressed as a court jester."

"This is coming from a guy that wears a toilet seat on his head."

"We don't leave our own behind," Rick reminded.

"You're okay with this?"

"No, but I've been around Flag when he's got a rag in his mouth. Best not to tug it."

"Motherfucker!"

Just as everyone seemed almost ready, you hopped off Nanaue and gently nudged Cleo.

"Come on, gotta wake up."

"All right, let's go."

Everyone—besides Grieves—exited the vehicle before Flag announced his plan.

"All right, we'll enter through the third floor, go to the inner staircase, and then down to the cellar where they usually keep their detainees. Hopefully, Harley's still alive."

Still butthurt about what Robert said, Chris stubbornly muttered, "It's not a toilet seat, it's a beacon of freedom!"

Everyone got into position; Peacemaker somehow scaled a building to get a vantage point, Abner was down the street looking for traffic, Rick and Robert were beside one of the walls ready to climb to the third floor, you turned into a bird (much to the amazement of your team) so you could quickly enter the window Robert would open, and Nanaue—who forgot you turned into a bird—stared at you.

"Ratatouille, what do you got?"

"Third floor hallway's clear. Abner?"

"There doesn't seem to be any incoming traffic."

"Bird."

"Nanaue, that's Mimic you meathead- and stay off the comm!"

"Colonel, I got a clean shot on the only one in the office. Just give the word."

"Fire on three, two..."

"What're you guys doing?"

Rick looked at Harley, then DuBois, then back to Harley. "I... you- we're here to save you."

"You were gonna... save me?" Harley visibly looked touched.

"It was a really good plan, too."

"Well I can go back inside and you can still do it."

"That's patronizing," Bloodsport commented.

You saw Harley drag a big stick thing over to Flag and hug him.

"Uh, what's with the javelin?"

"I'm waiting for God to tell me."

"Jesus Christ..."

"Yeah, or Him. Or any of them, really."

You and Nanaue watched as Harley and Bloodsport had an awkward introduction.

"Never mind everyone, Harley is secure."

"What?"

"Meet me in the van so we can leave as quickly as possible."

Sighing, you morphed back into your original form. Nanaue made an audible gasp as he saw you sitting on the railing.

"Pet pet?

"Yes, Nanaue, it's me, Pet pet."

King Shark laughed as he started petting you immediately. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you swatted his hand away and motioned for him to follow you.

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diner-drama · 3 years ago

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Destiny (1/6)

I thought it would be really funny if, instead of finding out about Merlin's magic and having one episode to react, Arthur instead spent a whole season being an absolute prat about the whole thing. Here are some things I've imagined from this scenario, set in that magical period between Season 3 and 4 when the knights of the round table were running around being chaotic dumbasses and stealing chickens.

Chapter 1/6. 1373 words. Rated T. Also on AO3.

"Merlin," yelped Arthur, outraged and relieved in equal measure. "What on earth are you- Is this what you meant by powerful, ancient magic? You can make your eyes go sparkly and then fix people's clothing?"

Merlin stopped short and rubbed the back of his own neck awkwardly. "Among other things, yes."

"And you've been moping around all day about this?"

"You didn't believe me! I was baring my soul to you and you were so arrogant that you just-"

"You told me that you'd saved my life a hundred times with the mystical power of your warlock skills," said Arthur, wiggling his fingers as though casting a spell. "Not that you were hiding the ability to dress me more efficiently."

---

That Merlin and Prince Arthur were fighting was known throughout the whole of Camelot, not least because the sound of yelling echoed impressively though the acoustics of the ancient stone halls. What was less clear was what, precisely, they were fighting about.

The first sign that anything was wrong had been the eerie silence in the castle when the prince and his knights returned from a particularly hairy quest to deal with a nest of wyverns in a distant village. They'd been entirely successful in vanquishing the beasts, but neither Arthur nor Merlin had said a word for the entire ride home and hurried off to opposite ends of the building as soon as they were able.

"Is everything alright, my lord?" called Leon, knocking on the heavy, ornately carved door to the prince's bedchamber.

"Go away," bellowed Arthur.

"Are you sure you-" started Leon, stopping abruptly when something loud and heavy thumped against the door, clearly thrown with great force.

Merlin was also in a less-than-optimal mood.

"He didn't believe me, Gaius," he fumed, pacing around the physician's workshop and gesticulating furiously, hands knocking into the scrolls and books that littered the surfaces.

"I have to say, I am surprised at that," responded Gaius mildly, moving some of his more delicate equipment out of the way of Merlin's swinging arms. "You've done a terrible job of hiding your magic."

This elicited a smile and a reluctant laugh from the young sorcerer, and eventually he was persuaded to sit down and have some dinner, still complaining about Arthur with his mouth full.

"I mean, I'd only just saved his bloody life from that overgrown chicken thing."

"The wyvern?"

"Yes. It doesn't even breathe fire! I don't know why he couldn't just" - Merlin made a series of gestures that seemed to resemble stabbing something viciously with a sword - "and I wouldn't have had to do anything at all! This is all his fault."

"Why on earth did you have to tell him?" asked Gaius in wonderment, shaking his head.

"I didn't mean to! It just sort of slipped out when we were trying to get to the nest." Merlin poked moodily at his stew with his spoon. "I didn't think this was what I had to worry about when he found out about me," he said mournfully. "I thought he might have me beheaded or burned or something, but then he looked at me like I was insane. It was all 'this is stupid, Merlin', and 'don't be ridiculous, Merlin'."

"Don't you find that preferable to being burned at the stake?"

Merlin let out an incoherent noise of frustration. "If I'd known he would be such a mutton-faced prat about it, I would have set myself on fire and saved us all the bother."

Gaius, calling on his ancient and hard-won reserves of patience, took a deep breath and patted him on the shoulder. "Merlin, this is all completely new to him. You must give him time to form his own conclusions."

"How long is that going to take?" whined Merlin, dropping his head onto the table and groaning. "He'll need his life saving fifty times before his brain catches up."

"Go and get some sleep," Gaius instructed him, taking away his empty bowl and guiding him towards his bedroom. "I'm sure this will seem better in the morning."

Long after the sun had risen and all the palace staff had begun their day's work, Arthur thrust open the door to Gaius' workshop and raised his voice.

"Where is my useless manservant?" he bellowed.

Merlin, who was clearly enjoying having a bit of a lie-in and a private sulk, opened his bedroom door to glare at him.

"So you are alive," said Arthur, a brittle, uncertain undercurrent lurking below his usual teasing manner. Merlin looked rumpled and adorable, and not at all as though he were hiding a wealth of unearthly powers. "I had to get my own breakfast this morning - what is wrong with you?"

"You told me to get out of your sight," Merlin reminded him caustically.

"I didn't mean that you had the day off," he scoffed. "You'll do anything to get out of work, won't you? First you come up with this cock and bull story about being some kind of sorcerer, and now you're lazing around in bed - I mean, honestly, Merlin."

"I thought you didn't need my help," said Merlin haughtily. "Since you're so certain of my capabilities."

"What capabilities?"

"Exactly."

"I don't need your help," Arthur insisted, puffing out his chest. "I'm perfectly able to start the day on my own, but that doesn't mean you can shirk your duties."

"Your tunic's on backwards."

Arthur looked down at himself and decided to fly into a rage to cover up his embarrassment. "I can't be expected to notice insignificant details like that! I have a kingdom to run."

"No, you can't be expected to notice anything," sneered Merlin. "Even if it's right underneath your nose."

"Are we really still doing this?" sighed Arthur, turning his eyes to the heavens. "You're not a sorcerer, Merlin. You have neither the intelligence nor the subtlety to keep that from my notice. Now would you please stop being weird and attend to your prince?"

"Fine," yelled Merlin, entirely losing his patience and thrusting his hand in front of him, palm forward. "Arstafas stunt gierd," he hissed, his eyes glowing amber as he cast the spell.

Arthur's tunic righted itself while the prince looked down in amazement. With a self-satisfied smirk, Merlin re-laced the fastenings and tied them in a bow, weaving the magic from a distance with his fingers.

Merlin stopped short and rubbed the back of his own neck awkwardly. "Among other things, yes."

"And you've been moping around all day about this?"

"You didn't believe me! I was baring my soul to you and you were so arrogant that you just-"

"Do you have any idea of the topological complexity involved in-"

Arthur crossed the room to clap Merlin on the shoulder. "Look, Merlin, I'm sorry that I doubted you," he said in mock sincerity. "Clearly, if this is what you think a great sorcerer is, then you truly are one."

Merlin made a face, eyeing the hand on his arm uncertainly. "Aren't you worried that I'm going to be seduced by the dark forces of magic or something?"

"What would the dark forces of magic want with you? Unless they need their trousers fixing, I don't think we need to worry about that."

"So you're not going to..."

"Going to what?"

"Behead me?"

"Behead you? I've just found out that you're a slightly less incompetent manservant than I previously thought, of course I'm not going to behead you."

Merlin let out a relieved huff, grinning widely as Arthur ruffled his hair.

"However," Arthur continued, grabbing his servant suddenly by the scruff of the neck and enjoying his surprised whimper, "I do want to discourage you from keeping little secrets from me again, so I think some kind of punishment is in order, don't you?"

"No, actually, I-"

"I'm glad you agree," he continued smoothly, dragging Merlin towards the door. "I think all of the knights have armour that needs polishing, and I know that there's a whole pile of dirty laundry waiting for you in my chambers."

"Would you like me to lick your boots clean, too?" grumbled Merlin, stumbling forwards a few steps into the corridor as Arthur released him.

Arthur screwed up his face. "Don't be an idiot, Merlin. Saliva is terrible for leather. Oh, and Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"I hope it goes without saying that this all needs to be done by hand. I don't want to catch you using any... shortcuts."

"Of course, sire. Wouldn't dream of it."

#merthur #merlin #I know I'm 10 years too late to this fandom #I'm doing this anyway

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panharmonium · 4 years ago

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@bloomiii asked: Hey! Do you think merlin actually hates Mordred?

Heya! I’m assuming this is a follow-up question to the ask that @once-and-future-gay sent me the other day, and I gotta say, I love this question just as much as I did that one, so thank you! :D It’s a great ask - relevant one, definitely, for Season 5.

I have kind of a lot to say about it, so I’m going to put most of this reply under a cut, but the short answer is this:

No, absolutely not. I don’t think Merlin hates Mordred.

I think Merlin hates himself.

I wrote in the previous post on this topic (which I think this ask is a response to) about the actual reasons why Merlin is in conflict with Mordred, none of which are based on personal dislike and all of which come back to Merlin knowing that he has to prevent Mordred from killing Arthur, not out of a selfish personal desire to keep Arthur safe, but because Arthur’s survival is supposed to be the thing that is going to bring peace to the land and liberate the magical world.

But Merlin, as I said in that post, does not want to be in conflict with Mordred. He likes Mordred. He says as much, to Gaius. He cares about Mordred as someone who shares his oppression, as shown in the beginning of the Disir. He agrees to keep Kara a secret from Arthur, at the beginning of 5.11. And Mordred’s philosophy - “the love that binds us is more important than the power we wield” - is literally as close to Merlin’s own as it can be. That is exactly how Merlin, at his core, sees the world.

Everything Merlin does to Mordred, he does for no other reason than that he thinks he has to. (And I discussed in that other piece how Merlin is not foolish or mistaken for thinking so, either - important to keep in mind.) But all of the things he has to do go completely against his nature, and by the time we hit the end of 5.11, I really feel that Merlin has descended into a pit of self-loathing that the show, because its ending is so poorly constructed, never allows him to climb out of.

Every decision Merlin is forced to make about Mordred makes him hate himself a little more. The decision to let Mordred die in 5.05 is visibly traumatizing for him. He takes no pleasure in leaving Mordred behind for Morgana in 5.10. And 5.11 is the ugliest, most soul-killing situation Merlin has been confronted with yet - he is torn between doing what he truly wants to do and what he feels like he has to do, when Kara comes into the picture. He initially tries to hide Kara from Arthur, because there is no part of him that wants a Druid to be captured and harmed, even if she was with Morgana’s forces. Mordred tells Merlin, “she’s one of us,” and Merlin agrees. “Your secret is safe with me,” he says (and those are sacred words for Merlin; they’re exactly what Lancelot says to him in 1.05; this is not something Merlin would ever promise lightly). He doesn’t betray Mordred’s secret, and when Kara is captured (through no fault of Merlin’s own) Merlin is the one who originally urges mercy, telling Arthur, “you’re breaking his heart/you’ll lose his trust” when Arthur claims he has no choice but to pursue execution.

However, after that, when Merlin learns that Mordred plans to escape with Kara, he boomerangs back to “he’s going to run to Morgana and then he’s going to kill Arthur and I am not allowed to let that happen/magical and godly forces have all told me that the entire fate of Albion and the future of magic all depends on me preventing Mordred from killing Arthur.” And so he tells Arthur that Mordred is planning to escape, ultimately leading to Mordred and Kara’s recapture.

But THEN, after THAT, when they’re back in custody - Merlin urges mercy yet again. He tells Arthur to “free them both.” He says, “How will one more death bring about the peace we long for?” Merlin does not want Kara to be killed. He does not want Mordred to suffer. He does not want any of this to have happened; he did not rat Mordred out because he wanted to; he did it because he truly believed (for legitimate reasons) that he had no choice. Like I talked about in that previous post - Merlin, at this point in the show, feels that his life has no purpose beyond the fulfillment of the destiny that has been prophesied. He has come to see himself as a tool, with no intrinsic worth or value beyond what he can do to ensure Arthur’s survival (and thus the establishment of peace for all people). He hates the things he’s supposed to do, but he literally cannot see an escape for himself. This is just what he was “born” to do.

Even as far back as Season 3 we see this helplessness growing in him:

You feel trapped. Like your whole life has been planned out for you, and you've got no control over anything, and sometimes you don't even know if what destiny has decided is really the best thing at all.

Merlin, in 5.11, doesn’t feel like what destiny has decided is the best thing. But he also has reached a point where he feels like he has to do what he was told. He’s seen the future. He’s been told by multiple magical and divine sources that Arthur is the Once and Future King who is going to build the “the world we dream of.” And so he does things that he thinks will enable that future to arrive (like preventing Mordred from running away with Kara), but because these things go so completely against his nature and cause him such pain, he then whips around and says, “Don’t kill her. Let them go.” He can’t help himself from slipping back into the kind of person he truly is on the inside.

He is trapped between his true self and what he feels is an inescapable duty. And every step he takes away from his true nature makes him hate himself more.

Kara’s interview with Arthur, where she refuses to repent her “crimes” in exchange for her life, has one of the most telling, devastating shots in the show, when she says, “It is not a crime to fight for the right to be who you are.” The camera, in that moment, is trained on Merlin’s face, not hers:

That is done on purpose. The cinematography is trying to say something. It wants us to look at Merlin and listen to Kara’s word’s and hear the contradiction. It wants us to recognize that Merlin is dying inside. The absolute MISERY locked down in his expression here! He has been forced to do things that seem to work against the very goal he’s been told he’s trying to achieve (to have the right to be who he is), and it’s been going on for so long that it’s shattered his soul. He listens to Kara being able to say that, proudly, without fear, and he hates himself for not being like her.

But he can’t see any way to escape the things he knows he’s supposed to do. So ultimately, at the very end, he does nothing, and Kara’s execution proceeds.

He despises himself for it, and when Mordred escapes and runs to Morgana, Merlin’s only reaction is a dull, hollow resignation. He doesn’t blame Mordred for whatever’s going to happen next.

He blames himself.

This is, yet again, another reason why the Merlin finale is garbage storytelling.

It makes no narrative sense for the show to give us 5.11, which ends with Merlin in quite possibly the darkest and most miserable, conflicted spot he has ever been in, and to then start the next episode with him having a raucous good time at the tavern. Merlin, after what happens with Kara and Mordred, is not going to be out laughing and cheering, playing dice, and making casual, tongue-in-cheek, meta jokes about his secret like it isn’t the most painful and soul-destroying burden he’s ever had to carry (“Ah, I knew you’d discover my secret in the end. There is just no fooling you, my lord!”). It is inconceivable for him to be out partying, after the previous episode. It’s insulting to me as a viewer, that the writers thought they could show this to me as if it’s an even remotely rational direction for the story to go, as if I’m not going ask “what the HECK is going on???” when I see Merlin gleefully stumbling home like a drunken frat boy, without a care or concern in the world.

There is ZERO tonal consistency between the end of 5.11 and the beginning of 5.12. It’s horrendous writing, and it’s why I continuously say that Merlin BBC does not actually end, it just STOPS - abruptly cut off after 5.11, with a slapdash two-episode finale tacked on, one which does not actually resolve anyone’s arcs, or address any of the central questions of the show, or follow where the narrative was naturally heading prior to that point.

Merlin’s arc with Mordred is what finally takes him to a place where he is irrevocably, inescapably confronted with the conflict that he has been struggling with from day one - how is he supposed to justify the things that Destiny is asking him to do, when what it’s asking him to do seems to be hurting the very people he’s trying to help? How is he supposed to reconcile his responsibility to his people (and HIMSELF) with an externally-imposed responsibility to protect Arthur? He’s been wrestling with this cognitive dissonance for years, and 5.11 is the inevitable crisis point - Kara is dead, Mordred has defected to Morgana, Merlin’s secret is OUT, and Merlin has never hated or doubted himself more. It makes no sense for the beginning of the next episode to show us Merlin living it up at the tavern. Merlin is tortured, at the end of 5.11. He’s dying inside. The next episode was supposed to be a natural progression from that moment, meaning Merlin should have had the chance to finally confront his conflict head-on, rather than having it all completely wiped away by the pile of garbage that was the finale.

The correct fallout from Mordred’s “turn” should have been a reckoning. Merlin never wanted to be in conflict with Mordred in the first place; he hated himself for everything he had to do, and I really think the end of 5.11 took us to a place where Merlin had finally been pushed over the edge; it was the last straw. The only correct progression from that point would have been change, and Merlin was finally desperate enough to do what he needed to do to find himself again and make things right, but we never got to see it, because the people in charge decided to completely abandon every complicated question they’d been pursuing, in favor of “actually Arthur’s the good guy and we’re gonna pretend we didn’t just spend an entire episode reminding people how Camelot is still an unjust place.”

I don’t understand it. The same people created 5.11, too. They wrote Kara’s righteous speech. They framed her execution as an evil, and they framed Mordred’s flight as something Merlin and Arthur brought upon themselves.

And then they did a 180 and dumped every ethical question they ever raised. They never let Merlin find his feet or hold his head up high, and I’m honestly never going to forgive them for that.

#the once and future slowburn #meta #the druid boy #replies #merlin S5

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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years ago

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@alittletoo-obsessed angsty, you say? Hmm, lemme see what i can do...

So! When Merlin was a kid, he was afraid of fire. He knew the stories of people with magic being burned at the stake, and it terrified him. Naturally. Being forced to accept your own mortality at such a young age is....well, ‘character-building’ might be one way to put it if you’re an asshole. Let’s just call it ‘traumatizing’ for now.

For most of his formative years, his intense pyrophobia persisted. And you would think that after moving to Camelot, the Burning-People-Alive capital of the world, his fears would only grow even more than ever before.

You would be wrong.

Instead, he became fascinated. Curious, even. He couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about fire, why sorcerers had to burn of all things and what he had waiting for him at the end of his life. So he asked Arthur, and Arthur explained that fire was supposed to cleanse the sorcerers of their impure magic in the hopes that their souls might find peace in the afterlife. It was supposed to be a merciful death.

A few nights later, Gaius came home to find Merlin stoking the fireplace. At least, he thought so. Upon closer inspection he found that Merlin was just sitting there with his hand in the fire. And his skin was burning, and Merlin looked like he was in pain, but he sat there anyway.

Gaius yanked him out of the fire, distraught, and shook him by the shoulders asking why he had done such a thing.

With tears in his eyes, Merlin whispered that he wanted to know if he’d be clean when he died.

Thanks for the ask! <3

[Send me a 📂 I’ll give you a random and useless headcanon]

#hmm...i coulda made it angstier #but alas. my wit is low and its getting dark #bbcm #ask #fish post

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 4 years ago

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Watching Merlin The Death Song of Uther Pendragon once again, and feeling more and more justified in my analysis of the episode, available here.

Above, we see Merlin’s expression go hard when Arthur mentions Uther’s disapproval of his decisions. He says, “You mean, your kingdom.” When Arthur shrugs at this fact, Merlin’s expression turns even more stony:

As I explained in my analysis of 5x03, this episode demonstrates that Merlin is the only real family that Arthur has. Upon rewatching the scene where Arthur sits morosely during his birthday celebrations, and rereading my post, I was struck by the inescapable conclusion that despite everything, Arthur is lonely.

Why? Because he has no family. For the first time, I also added his lack of children to the reasons for his loneliness. I suppose this was obvious from the episode, but only through rewatching several episodes have I learned that BBC Merlin’s central theme is not magic, but friendship and family.

Arthur Pendragon is actually one of the most tragic characters on the show. Setting aside the irony of his future being marred by destiny, I also thought about how long it had taken Merlin chiefly to build up his self-belief. Yet with just a few words, Uther could ruin that same self-belief, even if Arthur knew Uther was wrong.

This is what angers Merlin: the fact that Uther still has the power to destroy his son’s confidence. As I said beforehand, Merlin’s deepest problem with Uther is that he doesn’t deserve to be Arthur’s father.

However, I now have something to add. Whereas before, I thought that Arthur had subconsciously adopted Merlin as a brother, perhaps sometime between late Season 4 and early Season 5, I did not realise that Merlin would have done the same.

After all, Merlin had watched the devastating impact that family betrayal had caused to Arthur. So I am now thinking that this motivates Merlin’s deeper sense of defensiveness and protectiveness over the King. This isn’t just about destiny.

Otherwise, Arthur would be totally alone.

Remember: Arthur has no mother. In 4x12, Merlin allows the fugitive King to stay at his mother’s house, and we now see the once proud Arthur eating Hunith’s food. Arthur has no father. But in 4x07, Gaius speaks of taking care of Arthur since boyhood. Most importantly, Arthur has no siblings. Merlin steps into this role himself, and not just by vowing to protect the King, which his Knights also do.

I think the most important thing that Merlin does is to behave like Arthur’s family ought to have behaved. It seems to me that he challenges himself to prove that he can show himself better than Uther, Morgana, and Agravaine. Those 3 in particular. All blood members of Arthur’s family, all traitors in some way, and all people whose mind control Merlin wishes to undo.

Another point is Merlin’s own family situation. Though I would like to think that he kept in contact with Hunith more frequently than was shown, the truth is that he lives a totally separate life. The mother admits as much in 4x12, though she tellingly refers to Ealdor as “home” for Merlin, rather than Camelot.

On top of this, Merlin has no siblings. We know that, despite friends like Will, the time he spent before arriving in Camelot was incredibly lonely, as he told Gaius. I do not know whether Merlin initially wanted siblings, but he certainly wanted a family, which is why he clung to the hope of reuniting Balinor with Hunith in Ealdor. Could he have dreamt of a different life, where he had siblings?

I don’t know. However, even though Merlin shared the pain of losing his father with Gwaine, I think he has the stronger connection with Arthur on this topic. I base this on 5x03 and 5x04, where Arthur twice appeals to Merlin’s fatherlessness in a bid for support. In those cases, he effectively says that they understand the same loss, because they are alike. This is particularly true when, in 5x04, Merlin admits that if someone had murdered his father, he too would have sought vengeance.

And we know that Merlin hates vengeance. In that moment, Merlin reveals that he is more like Arthur than perhaps he even knows.

Fascinating stuff!

PS-- I also finished watching 5x01 and 5x02 again, which make me more and more at peace with the Sir Mordred storyline and Arthur’s eventual death. Indeed, it is Merlin’s dogged insistence that Arthur should not die which is unrealistic. On top of that, I am now convinced the idea of a Golden Age was a false goal. I never really hear this vision being fleshed out, because it is an ideal. Merlin’s great undoing was his idealism, and when he failed to reach those heights, he became jaded. Had he appreciated what he had in real life, perhaps he would not have been so quick to submit himself to prophecies, fate, and paranoia.

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greekbros · 4 years ago

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"greek-Bros: When in Rome, wait wut?; The Reboot Nobody Fucking Asked For"

*after two incidences with his sons, Zeus has recruited Hades and Poseidon to investigate why the living hell was so distracting about Rome*

Zeus: *poorly disguised as a shepard* Well, it is a mighty fine city indeed. It's almost comparable to Athens. Don't you think so?

Poseidon: *also poorly disguised as the world's most muscular fisherman* It is dear brother! Why even our statues here are incredibly beautiful!

Hades: *who's cleverly disgusted as an old lady* hmf.

Poseidon: What's the matter Hades? Disgruntled that you don't have a shrine dedicated to you?

Hades: No quite frankly I actually don't care about shrines or temples in my honor. *Looks around and sees the same issues that the Bois saw* .....why do the mortals here call me Pluto?

Zeus and Poseidon: *both laugh at that*

Hades: Hahaha, laugh all you want.

Centurion: YOU TWO! How DARE you laugh at that poor, ugly old crone! You're under arrest for harassing the elderly!

Hades: *grins*

Zeus: *having absolutly none of this BS* .......

Poseidon: Ugh but sir we-

Centurion: *takes out cuffs and chains, FuCkInG puts them on Zeus and Poseidon* You're coming downtown! *Drags the both of them*

Zeus: *glares into space completely understanding why his sons tried to destroy Rome*

Poseidon: But sir! You can't just thrown people in jail for laughing!

Centurion: *in a completely casual tone* I deeply sorry sir but as of late there has been a zero tolerance policy throughout the city, orders say we MUST make an immediate arrest and put you through the identification process.

Hades: *still as an old crone clicks heels and walks away to sight see*

*later*

Mortus: *looming in the dark corner of the interrogation room, walks slowly to the table and slams his fist*.....where were you on the day of the Coliseum's destruction... And if you weren't there where were you on the day of its reopening?

An innocent bean farmer: *shaking in fear* ugh....in my field sir?

Mortus: *glares at the farmer*

A Centurion: *walks in the room* Sir! We have more prisoners! I think you maybe interested in these two.

Mortus: *slowly turns around* ......if this is another dead end.... you're joining the rest of the scum at the crucifixion field.

A Centurion: *gulps* ....y-yes sir.

Mortus: Bring them in...oh and release this one.

Bean Farmer: *just fucking bolts out of the room*

Mortus: .....

Centurion: *brings in Zeus, whom already looks a little claustrophobic in the already small room* There's a second one outside.

*outside*

Poseidon: *apparently has attracted the attention of many young beautiful women* Fear not Roman citizens! For I Po-*thinks of a name*...uhm...Paul.... understands your infatuation, but alas I am happily married, BUT let that not stop you from admiring my very being! *Tries to flex while handcuffed*

The small crowd of women: *swooned*

A Centurion: oh shut up.

*inside*

Mortus: *actually a little intimidated by Zeus and his stone cold resting death face*....Well now....you rather large for a shepard. Retired I suppose?

Zeus: ....no.

Mortus: Than what is your occupation?

Zeus: ......I do not think you have the jurisdiction to ask me.

Mortus: *getting angry* Where were you when the Coliseum was being destroyed!?

Zeus: .... Probably with your mother, who I would be certain would be very ashamed that her son has decided to harass the elderly.

Mortus: *steaming mad* YOU WILL ANSWER THE QUESTION!

Zeus: I want to speak with my lawyer.

Mortus: WHAT?!?

A Centurion: Um sir, we have a Mr-*looks at a crudly written card* Plutonium? He's a law maker and legally represents the detainee.

Mortus: *feeling a cold sweat as if the devil has entered the building, looks at Zeus*

Zeus: *smiling*

Mortus: ....bring him in.

Hades: *now looks more like a mortal version of himself but now carries a satchel* Good evening my name is Cryus Plutonium and I have heard my client and his brother have been unlawfully detained. *Places a scroll on the table* Sir if I may infer, I've been working several weeks in the law office and I have found no evidence of this new "Zero tolerance policy". So I do believe you have no legal right to detain and must release him-

Poseidon: *from outside* AND ME!

Hades: -and his brother.

Mortus: *stares in disbelief* ....what.

Hades: *slowly walks to Zeus and unbinds him*

Zeus: thank you.

Hades: Now. Let us l-*feels a sword near his next* ......

Mortus: *has just about snapped* .....I've been after you and your mutant kin for a whole year and three months.....you owe not just me....but you owe the empire....an explanation.

Hades: ............

Zeus: ...........*lifts a finger, shocks him and tases Mortus, knocking him cold* ................you know something.......I think I finally understand why the children hate this place.

Hades: *shakes his head, as the two leave they see poseidon just flexing for a small crowd while the Centurion who was gaurding him is tied to a support beam*

A Centurion: Please help me.

Zeus: *points and sarcastically smiles* No. *Walks to Poseidon and drags him* It's time to go.

Poseidon: Awww....but I was just getting the crowd warmed up!

Hades: Let's just say they'll be warmed up with a few weeks of heavy thunderstorms.

Poseidon: .....can there be earthqu-

Zeus: You may bury the lot.

Poseidon: *smiles* Huzzah!

Hades: Or....we can be a little less intrusive.

Zeus: Fine, I shall ask Odin if he wants to help.

Hades: Yes my thoughts exactly.

Zeus: *still angry until he sees Octavia and little Caius and suddenly feels a little odd*......Hades.

Hades: yes

Zeus: I understand you don't have children...but what are the chances that one of my sons may have left something behind.

Hades: *trying to understand what Zeus meant until he saw Caius* Hmm....oh come now you're not going to take the child away from. His mother....or..... fornicate with her.....are you?

Zeus: .....oh damn it all....we can't destroy this city........

Poseidon: *in a singsong tone* I can! *Suddenly a little rumble starts until Zeus bonks him on the head* ~°

Zeus: No....the city of Rome...if officially protected.

Hades: ........all this because there's a bastard grandson around here isn't it?

Zeus: Silence Hades. Look at him, not a care in the world. Enjoying his moments with his dear mother talking to Hera a-WHAT THE?!?!

Hades: Wait Hera is here??

Poseidon: *rubbing his head* Hey look! It's Amphitrite too!

Hera: *talking to Octavia* Oh yes, married life is great but have you ever considered divorce?

Octavia: Oh heavens no, even though my husband has been rather distent. I'm positive he isn't in an adulterous relationship. That's punishable but crucifixion here.

Amphitrite: Well yes darling, for the WOMEN, men here get away with it scot-free.

Octavia: Oh heavens no.

Caius: *squirming a little*

Octavia: aww what the matter deary.

Hera: *knotices that Caius has few enough features of Zeus to be related but not directly enough to be his son* Aw what an adorable little baby boy. Who's the father?

Octavia: oh I'm happily married to General Mortus Biccus.

Hera: hmm....

Zeus: Oh there you are my beautiful, wonderful and not here to make sure I'm cheating on her wife! *Grits teeth* what are you doing here?!

Hera: ....I was wondering the same thing. I'm here shopping for some exotic fruits.

Amphitrite: *shows her basket of bananas*

Zeus: Oh.

Poseidon: *enthralled by the bananas* ohhhh.....

Hades: Well....I guess we can all go home then.

Octavia: Oh my! This must be your husband. You must be very lucky to have married such a big strong man.

Hera: *unamused* I am so blessed.

Zeus: *puts his arm around her* not as blessed as I am to be married to her.

Octavia: aww.

Caius: *kinda happy sensing he's found grandma and grandpa* c:

Zeus: *now getting a closer look, the baby literally looks like a spitting image of Hermes* oh my.

Mortus: THERE YOU ARE! *huffing and puffing from running* You are all under arrest!

Octavia: Oh Mortus, don't be so rude to these fine people they have done nothing wrong.

Mortus: This man shot LIGHTNING out of his finger! And that one *points to Hades* is...well he's just scary and THAT one is just annoying! *points to Poseidon*

Poseidon and Amphitrite: *sharing a banana and suddenly stop* hmf?

Mortus: These men are connected to the destruction of the coliseum last year and the disappearance of Gaius!

Zeus: ....Oh! You mean my sons? Oh yes they're actually harmless. You see, they're traveling magicians and they perform fantastic illusions!

Mortus: NO! FUCK YPU OLD MAN! I know what the people saw! Clearly something is going on! ...my suspensions are...that you...and your cohorts.....are demons!

Octavia: Mortus!

Caius: :c

Zeus: ....oh that's rather rude.

Hera: Now hang on a minute. Let's prove our innocence.

Zeus: Hera what are you doing?

Hera: .....you know, the gods are technically innocent....and exempt from being accused of any crime.

Mortus: *tempted to mention Emperor Caligula and his recent campaign against Poseidon but decided not to*

Hera: ...so...if we were gods...we would be innocent.

Octavia: Hmm...she does have a point.

Mortus: What are you getting at?

Zeus: *deep sigh* Fine...I lied.....me...my lovely wife and my brothers....are all gods......I'm actually Zeus, she's Hera and so on and so forth. My sons are were Apollo, Hermes and Dionysus....you see....it's likely their fault for losing their tempers, I apologize for that too. And I apologize for shocking you but you did threaten to crucify me.

Mortus: ..........*starts laughing hysterically and has officially lost his mind*

Octavia: Oh dear. Let's go honey, I must apologize for my husband's behavior. He's been working day and night. Oh sweetheart let's go.

Caius: byebye c: *waves*

Mortus: *while laughing like a mad man* HAHAHAH wait! I HAVE to know this but IS Caius here yours?!? HAHAHAHA I mean, I don't have BALLS! HAHAHAHAHAHA *gets dragged back home*

Zeus: ......you didn't help with that last portion did you?

Hera: No. I figured a man who looked as pathetic and desperate like that probably was already at his wit's end.... Speaking of which is that child yours?

Zeus: hmm....

*back at Olypmus*

Zeus: *pulls the ears of Hermes and Dionysus*

Hera: *helping with the situation and pulls Apollo's and Ares's ear*

Zeus: You boys are forbidden from returning to Rome. And as for you Hermes....it's one thing frolicking with farm maidens with incompetent husbands....but a war general with no testicles?....shame on you.

Hermes: *knows what he's talking about*.....worth it. *Feeling his ear getting pulled* ow~°

#Zeus #when in rome wait wut #greek-Bros #greek bros #greek gods #roman vs greek jokes #hera #poseidon #hades #Amphitrite #dionysus #Apollo #ares #hermes

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convxction · 3 years ago

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── sexual preferences.

── bold always applies 　⇢　 italics sometimes applies.

inclinations / habits.

*1 i mentioned this before same sex relationship is not prominent in Ylisse, perhaps in Ferox. In Ylisse Chrom’s first actual interaction with that part when Gaius dragged him to the red district where everything goes there. Emmeryn did raised Chrom to be true to himself and never be afraid of who he is and this certainly applies to his sexuality. If he decided he want to explore, surely she would be on his side even if the practice is frowned upon by the noble class.

*2 again following the previous point, Chrom as mentioned in previous posts that he tend to mix like and admiring. so he defaults his emotions to ‘i admire this person’ not ‘i like them’ because he tend to play it safe (press x to keep denying your feels.) Chrom would be aware of that he might not be opposed to being with a guy if they were to his liking and standards. chrom’s standards are basically universal for genders because he just want someone honest, hardworking, and loyal (etc etc.) these are not gender locked things. so yeah if he decided that he likes a guy he might be a bit conflicted and confused more than if he liked a girl. don’t take it that he is being homophobic or something; he is learning about his feelings. i put it as italics because so far we dont have a male partner and as person who does not have interactions in real life with bisexuals or even homosexual, i am very conscious of what i write so i dont write stereotypes or something that could not be true to gay couples'. be patient with me.

body / appearance.

sounds.

[chrom is not picky about how loud his partner is because that’s something for them, not for him to decide so ye both are ok for him

turn-ons / kinks.

[ chrom is not into anything that could harm someone, especially when you are talking about his partner so welp.

places.

[[ he has that tiny bit of craziness to do it somewhere public but that’s like every blue moon ..an ancient one, too. he does not like to put himself and his partner in a weird situation just because he got the urge to do it lol

#⚔headcanon.⚔ (building up)#⚔ooc.⚔ (faty speaks)#[[comes here to place this and goes back to sipping my mango juice and finishing up oc.topath #[[HEH #[[has a feeling someone is going to roll their eyes at this and be like 'ugh he is not like this' and i will just spits mango at their face #[[because i dont care what you think mhm

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clansayeed · 4 years ago

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Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 5: The Long Story

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Oblivionverse tag list!

⥼ Summary ⥽

Freed from the Order's clutches, reuniting with Kamilah after all this time isn't at all like Nadya had imagined it would be. But they all have some catching up to do... And what Kamilah has to say will change everything.

content warnings: language, canon-typical violence, blood

[READ IT ON AO3]

Did anyone else know Kamilah had an entire building as offices set up in pretty much every major city, or was she supposed to just… like… find this out on her own?

Walking through the doorway into a near-exact replica of the woman’s New York penthouse should feel like a relief. Between the practically-identical furniture and layout to the fact that Nadya’s pretty sure she hasn’t let go of some part of Kamilah since they had managed to get that awful cage open; she’d even go so far as to say it should feel like home.

But it doesn’t.

And even though she over-thinks every possible reason until her head hurts, Nadya just can’t figure out why.

“You’re sure they’re okay?” She asks again; not because something might have changed in the five minutes since she last pressed about how Brandon and Greer had gotten out of the Order’s raid alive, but because the repetition helps make it feel a little more real.

Only Jax has clearly reached his limit on the matter. “For the last time, yes. A few cuts and bruises but surprisingly they held their own. I keep telling you I got them out myself but since you refuse to believe me…”

“No no,” hastily, swallowing around her dry mouth, “I do. I just…”

“Blame yourself?”

And it’s clear from even the tiniest glance that’s not a weight she’s carrying alone. Not saying that makes it easier, but…

A familiar touch brushes through her hair and Nadya leans into it on instinct. Kamilah’s fingertips tickle the spot underneath her ear and the tension just sort of… oozes out of her shoulders. “I’ve arranged for their recovery in a safe place. One that cannot be connected to any of us, and free of our kind entirely.”

There’s a knowing glint in her eye when Nadya finally looks up. Thank god, if she could cry any more she just might, that means Gerard made it out okay.

They haven’t even sat down and already Adrian is ducking out onto the balcony, new burner phone already pressed to his ear and a familiar worry etched into his frown.

“I guess Serafine was friends with the owner of the club where you were…” Cadence doesn’t say the words ‘attacked,’ ‘kidnapped,’ or any variation thereof for which Nadya is immensely grateful. “So when we had a solid lead on where you two had been taken, Adrian all but insisted she stay behind and help see to the injured.”

She’s almost hesitant to ask. “How did you find us, anyway?”

After all, the ride back to central London had been long. Well… long for a starving vampire and an exhausted human anyway. The Order had gotten them at least an hour out before the rescue team had swooped in and saved the night.

Her question is met with a long pause. Any other time Nadya might have guessed he was just gearing up for one of his long-winded explanations of this tracking method or that mysterious contact in the shadows. Not this time though.

Not when he pauses mid-step and knocks his shin into the dark-stained wooden corner of the coffee table.

She tries to meet his eyes but something off near the kitchen is far more important. Nadya glances over her shoulder to the sight of Kamilah in the doorway, frozen like a statue with an expression just as stony.

She catches the faintest shake of the woman’s head right before Cadence plasters on a smile a little too wide to be sincere.

“That doesn’t matter now. You’re safe, so best not to dwell.”

“Bullshit.” mutters Lily beside her, and Nadya reaches up to pet her head on her shoulder in solidarity.

There are definitely more questions to ask.

Questions like where the hell did Kamilah come from?

Or weren’t Cade and Serafine supposed to be leading their hunters on a false trail towards literally anywhere else?

And, possibly the most dire of them all, how close are those same hunters now that we’re all in a pretty conspicuous not-so-safe house?

All of them good questions, objectively. But they will have to wait.

Kamilah returns from the kitchen bearing a sterling silver serving tray. Steam and the familiar scent of Gerard’s favorite herbal tea tickles at the tip of her nose; she’s grabbing for it before the tray even meets the table.

Beside the cup and saucer is a blood bag, and not for the first time does Nadya find herself wondering why they didn’t think to hide out here sooner.

You’d think with the scabbing skin still slightly smoky around her wrists and the clear bags under her eyes that Lily would dive into the offered meal like it’s Taco Tuesday… which is something Nadya will now never be able to unsee, which is awesome. She doesn’t though.

Doesn’t even reach for it. Just stares at the thick plastic and how it catches the light overhead silent and transfixed.

And Lily’s not the only one.

Across from them Kamilah sits, rigid and alert. Jax grasps the back of an armchair with white knuckles and a set jaw. Even Cadence bites at his thumb nail with nerves he’s probably not even conscious of.

Nadya sets her teacup down to quell the sudden tremor in her grip.

It’s obvious from the sweat on her upper lip and the slits that were her pupils that Lily needs this.

What she doesn’t need is the pressure.

“Am I supposed to be waiting for Raines to nab a seat for the show?” She bites out, fangs clenched together. She’s making a conscious effort to keep her lips over her top row of teeth which muddles her words a bit.

Unfortunately nobody seems to get the hint to back off but Cadence, who silently decides to go join Adrian instead… with the balcony door closed firmly behind him.

Kamilah and Jax exchange a long look. No words; just quirked eyebrows and Kamilah’s inclined head.

Jax takes his cue and comes around to sit, elbows on his knees and every inch of the ‘stern parental figure’ look resolute on his weary face.

“It was life or death — for all of us. No plan, no escape; I want you to know I think you did the right thing, no matter what. It was kill or be killed.”

Familiar words for them all. They make Nadya’s hand clench into a fist on her lap. She shoves it between her legs at the knees.

This isn’t about her right now.

Lily raises her chin defensively. “You got a point there, Jax?”

Oooh this is bad. Very very baaaad.

“I saw something during the fight.” He laces his fingers together between his spread legs. “And it might’ve just been the chaos, the adrenaline… But if there’s even a chance it wasn’t…”

“Lemme clear that up for you.”

Lily snatches the bag faster than Nadya can blink. Faster than Kamilah and Jax seem to have expected, too; judging by their startled looks.

Faster than a vampire her age and in her condition should be moving, in summary.

She holds nothing back. Brighter eyes a little too much on the edge of carnal looking at the promise of sustenance with glee right before she sinks both sets of fangs in deep. It pops and ruins all future mental images of water balloons for Nadya in the process. But even through her messy eating Lily doesn’t spill a single drop.

Jax leans back and sighs with something like relief, but everything else on his face says the complete opposite. “It was just a flash,” he mumbles as if to himself, “and with everything going on I swore it was a trick of the lights. But then they took you and…”

“The Order is not in the habit of leaving survivors,” Kamilah explains for him; and she would know, “let alone taking captives.”

Lily drops the bag into her lap when she finishes — when there’s literally nothing left inside. Like… not even the weird little blood bubbles left. She looks like she wants to rip it open like a bag of hot cheetos and lick the insides just in case.

On the plus side, her wounds are already starting to heal. New skin fresh and practically glowing.

And thankfully not tinged that Feral-like grey.

“Well they’re good at it, habit or not. Their tech is so high it makes high tech look like dial-up.” She rubs at her wrists; the ghost of the memory dark in her now-human eyes. “And it sucked butts and all but…” how is there a ‘but’ to this of all things?I

“But even I’m not gonna say it wasn’t probably the only thing that kept us alive in the end. So. That’s all I’ll give them — only because we didn’t, you know, get shipped off to some vampire-Guantanamo Bay.”

A heavy silence hangs over them then. Nadya can’t even imagine what the club must look like now — what it must have looked like when Adrian and Jax had finished their share of the fight only to look up, look around, and see no sign of either of them. All the ash, all the bodies… and one of them, Nadya remembers with much displeasure, that she was even responsible for.

Kamilah doesn’t let the moment doesn’t last long though. Good, she really doesn’t need that flashback right now.

“Now that we’ve come to the inevitable source of tension,” she hesitates; rocks pretty much everyone else’s world because no one would ever look at Kamilah Sayeed and consider she was even capable of feeling uncomfortable like she is right now, “perhaps now is the time for explanations of your own.”

And she looks to Lily as she says it but that’s not where she ought to be focusing that judging eye of hers. So Nadya bites the bullet and waves her hand slightly — the shaking helps it look a little more sincere. “Actually, Kamilah, if you’re looking for someone to blame that… that would be me.”

Neither Lily or Jax come to her defense. That tells Kamilah all she needs to know about whether Nadya’s serious or simply blaming herself as per usual. She shifts on her cushion; crosses one leg over the other at the knee and keeps her spine almost uncomfortably straight.

Not that any of her proper etiquette could even begin to prepare her for this. She forces the slight furrow from her brow before she speaks again.

“Very well Nadya. As succinctly as possible, if you would.”

But there’s really no succinct way to go about describing what went down in the King’s Manor. From trying to keep Adrian’s privacy by glossing over his meltdown that led the crypt-Ferals to find and surround them all to how badly Nadya had gotten injured during their escape; to everything still kinda fuzzy but no less terrifying about their confrontation with the Duchess in the cathedral and… and what all that had meant…

Kamilah holds up a calm hand to interrupt her. Nadya closes her mouth so fast her teeth click on the still-swollen part of her cut lower lip. She winces but toughs it out.

“You’re sure you weren’t caught between the reality of the moment and a memory? You actually spoke to a…” But she can’t say it. Even Kamilah’s surprised she can’t say it. Sure it breaks all the rules they’ve known for centuries and implies terrible horrible tragic things — lives that could have been saved and fates that could have been changed — but that’s just another Tuesday for them.

So she just nods once. After a glance to Jax and Lily and their unnerving solemnity… still, Kamilah struggles to wrap her mind around the concept.

“I see. Please… continue.”

The color drains from Nadya’s face when she realizes what comes next. Thankfully Kamilah takes it as her usual anxiety; there’s an empathy lurking in the cool depths of her eyes that says I understand, you’ve been through so much, and I wasn’t there to protect you that Nadya feels more than understands. But that’s more than enough… or it would be if that were the thing she didn’t want to talk about.

Jax clears his throat and comes to her rescue. “We figured it was a long shot. But if whatever makes her blood special was strong enough to undo centuries of insanity on a fully-fledged Feral, then maybe it was strong enough to stop Lily from getting to that point at all.”

We. He means Cynbel of course.

But Kamilah looks rattled enough. The last thing they need is her going outside for a breather and pushing Cadence over the balcony railing.

So with Jax’s help they manage to piece together a sound-enough truth for the vampiress that she doesn’t feel the gaping holes in their memories. One that gives importance to the things that matter, like Lily and her shiny new fangs and the importance of their discovery.

And one that omits things like Nadya accidentally did the thing you were afraid of from the moment you met the man, the thing you wouldn’t tell anyone about; the reason the Trinity is tangled up in all this and puts us last in terms of millennia-old vampires on our side.

At the end of it all nobody knows what to expect, least of all Nadya. She has fifteen different kinds of apologies on the tip of her tongue and runs the risk of all of them spilling out at once.

Kamilah doesn’t let her get nearly that deep in, though.

She turns bodily back to Lily with indescribably scrutiny. “And how do you feel, then?”

“Do I feel like a monster, you mean?”

“No,” she continues clipped; terse, “if I had even an inkling to that being the case you would not be here as you are. But think back to your… first Turning.”

It settles around them thickly in the air that there’s a very good chance nobody in the history of vampire-kind has ever said that and meant it the way Kamilah does now. The importance of it gives her the responsibility to continue. “How does it feel this time; knowing what you are, what has made you this way? My concern here, Lily, is the threat you may unknowingly pose to yourself more than any threat you may be to others. The latter can be dealt with easily.

“But if you feel different? If your soul feels… different, then we must act now in the early days. While we still can.”

Act now. What a kind way to imply such a terrible deed.

Lily throws a sideways glance at Nadya before she speaks. After all they’d already had this talk, right? “I do feel different,” and she cuts Jax off before he can even open his mouth with a finger held up and a shake of her head, “no, I have the right to finish. Because I do feel different. I am different. But I don’t feel any less like myself Kamilah, and I know that’s what you mean.”

“The answer need not be so plainly given. In fact I think we would all prefer if you took time to be absolutely certain.”

“It’s my soul and my body. I think I’m pretty fucking certain.” There’s a harder edge to her voice now. Anger bubbling beneath the surface but not in a way that bares teeth or fangs. Just real and pure anger — the kind without an outlet. “I may not have had a choice in anything that’s happened to me so far but I do now. So either you take my answer here and now or you never really planned on believing me anyway.”

It’s a bold accusation. Makes Kamilah blink, lips pursed… before she gives Lily a short and curt nod.

“Very well. The only one fully able to doubt you is yourself. Especially given your… circumstances.”

Lily clicks her tongue in a “tch,” at the word but that’s all. No, really, that’s all. Everyone’s content to drop it there not just because they have nothing more to say but because they don’t want to add to it.

Things are tense enough as it is.

A tension which breaks when the balcony door slides open and the four of them watch Adrian and Cadence return with a hesitant melancholy. Kamilah quirks an inquiring look at Adrian; he runs his palm down his face with a heavy-hearted sigh.

“She wants to stay and help as much as she can,” he answers her unasked question about Serafine and her whereabouts, “and just asked me to call if we had a solid lead on what to do next. She’s pushing herself a little too hard, but I get where she’s coming from. Even if I wish she’d take it easy.”

Kamilah’s brow furrows. “The final confrontation with Antony left her with more than a simple injury. But alas, I can’t say I’m surprised at her tenacity.”

Antony. Just the man’s name brings all the events in Paris flooding back to the front of Nadya’s mind. The Order was a looming threat — probably now more than ever too — but the immediate one was like… two thousand times worse.

Four thousand if they’re counting Isseya alongside.

“So you’ve caught them up then,” asks Cadence, “on… everything?”

He gives a particular look Nadya’s way that she’s very much not a fan of. It gives her a gut feeling she’d thought—hoped, fleetingly—that they had left behind when they fled Paris. The one where everyone around her knows something about her that she doesn’t know — something they’re trying to spare her from.

Her stomach gurgles in agreement as all the knots start to collide with each other. She slides a hand over her middle and looks away from him before it gets any worse.

Kamilah face twitches in the barest flicker of irritation; schooling her expression with practiced ease but that’s just another mask. Just another cover-up. “I had not yet found the opportunity… Cadence.” She says his name in the same clipped and terse way Serafine does. Like her tongue is trained to know better. Her brain not falling for a trick played on her eyes. But that’s not the case anymore.

“I’m hoping it has something to do with why Isseya led us to believe Gaius had executed you.”

There’s an unfinished argument in the way Adrian looks at his mentor and friend. Kamilah tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods. “Indeed. I promised you answers when the time was right.”

“When we got Nadya and Lily back.”

“Yes—that needed to remain paramount to anything you may feel compelled to do in the near future.” When I tell you what I know, that’s what she doesn’t say. And she’s definitely got their attention now. All of them watching, waiting; silent and with Nadya on bated breath.

“It was an unnecessary evil; one I would not have gone through with had I any other choice. But we knew the fight was lost — that we had been betrayed by some of our last contacts in the Northeast. Between Miss Espinoza and myself —”

“Why isn’t she with you?”

Lily interrupts unabashedly. Judging by the look bordering on sympathy Kamilah gives her (disturbing in and of itself but about this… well there’s a brand new knot that joins the rest) she was expecting this to happen.

“Because she knew one of us needed to stay behind, much like before when it was you who we sent on ahead.”

“Why does that feel like a cop out excuse?”

“Because it doesn’t nearly begin to paint the picture of the truth.”

“You’re one of the handful of oldest bones roaming the earth Kamilah,” Lily snaps, though she catches herself — her anger — and does her best to reel it in before they have to revisit their earlier talk too darn soon, “excuse me for not believing that out of the pair of you she was the one could do more good if she stayed behind.”

There’s a war across Jax’s expression, half a thought forming on his lips before Kamilah raises a soft hand to stay him.

“No, she’s right. And that continues to weigh heavy on my conscience. But if you would let me continue then perhaps you may find comfort in the nobility in her actions rather than the cowardice in mine.”

Lily mulls it over with grinding teeth. She does eventually relent; sagging against her seat with her arms over her chest. That blue cuff Nadya bought her on their first night in Paris caught between thumb and forefinger like a totem that doesn’t quite bring the peace it should.

“As long as you’re aware of your being a coward.”

“Kamilah’s many things — but a coward…” Adrian looks to her like she’ll pick up defending herself where he leaves off. She doesn’t. So he falls quiet as well, falls in line just like the rest of them. They’ve done enough interrupting.

Anyone else, asks Kamilah silent and with nothing but a single raised eyebrow. No one dares, not now.

“It was not an ideal decision, nor was it the smartest. But we were forced to choose the lesser of two evils. Either we could act impulsive and with little thought and hope it would be enough to skirt by, or we could stand and do nothing, be nothing, and watch every effort to fight back be reduced to nothing before our very eyes.

“I said already that we had no allies left. That is only partially true. None that we could fully trust… but in dire circumstances one does what they must to keep their eye not on the battle, but on the war.” She takes a moment for herself; a long silence before she manages to look Adrian in the eye with the weight of her remorse. “I convinced Marcel to grant me access to the secret tunnels beneath his castle upstate.”

“That’s where Gaius is holding his Court, isn’t it?” Nadya asks; and earns herself a genuinely surprised look from Kamilah.

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It’s a long story…” Please don’t make me tell it now.

And she’s grateful that Kamilah doesn’t. Because she gets it. “It seems most of them are these days…” But back to this one for now.

“I hope he will find it in his heart one day to forgive me. We’ve known one another for many centuries, Marcel and I. But needs must.”

Adrian rubs his mouth slowly, like he can feel her guilt in his bones. “At least tell me it was worth it.”

She nods; the entire room sighs in relief.

“Gaius holds his Court in much the same way he used to. The same pomp and fanfare but with different faces in the same roles. Priya sits at his side as some self-appointed princess,” and Kamilah is well within her rights to sneer the word like she does, “while Cecil’s men act as some adjunct guard service. Marcel is there, as was to be expected. And rarely is Valdemaras allowed to stray from his sight.”

Cadence shifts uncomfortably at the name. “The few times I got Isseya to open up, she made it sound like he was being held hostage. Insurance, almost.”

“If there’s one thing Gaius excels at it is finding the weaknesses of others and exploiting them to his own ends. I won’t say the Trinity are without fault; they haven’t exactly made it difficult to determine what they care about the most…”

And in a startling turn of events she actually does the exact opposite of what Nadya would expect of the Kamilah they had left behind. She’d fully anticipated the woman turning away both literally and symbolically; angling her own weaknesses away from Nadya where they’re the most vulnerable.

Instead she and Nadya lock eyes across the table. Pain, frustration, relief deep enough in honey-flecked irises and pupils dark and deep enough for her to drown in. Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, would it?

“But in this case their cooperation is just as damning as their complacency.” The moment passes. Nadya watches her walls go back up from the outside.

“I’m all for a bit of recon,” cracking his knuckles for something to ease his nerves, Jax leans in before she can resume, “but get to the point Kamilah. What the hell does Gaius want with Nadya?”

She doesn’t immediately answer. Adrian, though, looks at the younger vampire like he’s grown a second head. “What would possibly make you think it has anything to do with Nadya?”

What makes you think it doesn’t?

“What about this points to literally anything else, Raines?” Jax answers with a question of his own. One of the few rare times he and Nadya seem to be on the same page about all this.

Before he can make things worse Adrian bites his tongue. That he doesn’t have an answer is written in the worry lines on his fact.

“The guy sent two millennias-old vampires to hunt her down. Her, not you or Sayeed or anyone in this room who could actually pose a threat to him.” There’s a second where he almost looks like he might give Nadya the no offense card but she just avoids eye contact instead.

He’s fine with that. “I’ve had coincidences enough in the last few months for several lifetimes over. This, Kamilah suddenly showing up in the middle of it, isn’t one of them.

“Is it, Sayeed?”

“No, Jax, it’s not.” Though she might have put it in kinder terms; tried to spare certain mortals in the room.

“Then get to the damn point.”

Before things hit a boiling point Nadya coughs into her fist; fake and loud and with more voice than necessary but it works so that’s all that matters. “I can handle it Kamilah,” like she’s got any idea if that’s what holds the woman back; she doesn’t — but this is bigger than her, “I bet it doesn’t even make it in my top 3 of weird since we left.”

She tries to break a smile and ends up with a weak and strained grimace instead.

“Very well. Nadya, Gaius wants you returned to him, at his Court and in front of his subjects, alive and human.”

“I kn—”

“Because he plans to kill you. He plans to Turn you himself.”

Paris, Several Nights Ago…

“All the risks I have taken for you and you still return here?”

She keeps her voice to a low hiss in his ear; a viper full of venom in her fangs despite how she seems very intent on crushing him like some type of constrictor.

Not that she needs to whisper. Doubtful that their accomplices on either side of the fight can hear or see much beyond their frenzied duel somewhere around the alley corner. Steel scrapes against steel and rings out like church bells. Followed by the now-familiar battle cry of Serafine as she rushes in for the kill.

A kill she always tries for — yet always seems to fall short of the mark.

But even with Antony out of immediate sight Isseya doesn’t pull her punches when she sends Cadence flying back into the nearest building wall. His neck cracks uncomfortably, the brick behind him split in several places and just barely indented with his large and sprawling frame. But he shakes it off like he has all of her other attacks. He really has no choice but to do anything else.

He tries to look apologetic as he brushes red dust from the shoulders of his jacket. “It’s just the way things worked out, Isseya.”

“Don’t say my name.”

“I —” He can never tell with her. In Prague she was benevolent. In Rome she speared a rather heavy branch just a couple inches from his heart. In Venice she had him pinned against the wall, could very well have snapped his neck into unconsciousness or the unthinkable worse, but had pressed her lips hard-near-bruising to his temple before vanishing into the night instead.

Why is it they always end up grappling with one another, leaving Serafine and Antony to continue their seemingly endless duel? It makes sense in Cadence’s head that they’d get better results if they switched dance partners.

Another scraaape of swords comes from one alley over. If he’s going to try and convince her now is about the last chance he has left.

“You don’t have to keep doing this.”

“Says a man who has nothing to lose.”

“I think we both know that’s not the case.”

Isseya grits her fangs. Suddenly she can’t look him in the eyes. “If you wish to waste the windows of opportunity I give you, Cadence, then there’s nothing more I can do.”

He watches and waits; sees her momentary distraction for the advantage as it is and strikes. He pins Isseya to the other side of the narrow alley, forearm pushed tight against her throat. A move meant to hold her still more than anything else; one of those moments Serafine calls him foolish for.

The ones where he tries to reason with a woman who has none left to give.

“You could have killed Antony a dozen times over by now,” he growls, “but you cling to the lie that Gaius’ way is the only way. Why, Isseya? Why won’t you… Why won’t you let me help you?”

His voice cracks at the end. They both notice, thankfully they can both ignore it too — what with the seconds they have left alone ticking down faster and faster.

There it is — just a flicker, but that doesn’t make it any less real. The smallest chip in her composure; proof that every effort in every city, every bruise and broken bone and every pleaded attempt he’s mustered hasn’t been for nothing… not quite yet.

“Because I cannot lose another,” her voice a whisper on his skin, “I would not survive it. I can still save him even if… even if…”

Even if you are lost to me forever.

Isseya shoves him back.

Cadence lets her, god help him if you ask him why.

“Antony’s a smart man,” she says instead; it takes the other a moment to realize she’s continuing a conversation they had started more than a week ago. In an alley much like this on the far side of Berlin, “he figured out a long time ago that you two are nothing but distractions meant to divert our course. No doubt he is all but convinced I had something to do with your first escape… but without proof he won’t risk my beloved’s wrath.

“Not with something as valuable as the Bloodkeeper —”

“Nadya.”

“What?”

Cadence huffs through clenched teeth. “Her name is Nadya. She’s a person, not a thing. So stop saying that word like it keeps her from being a living, breathing human being.”

Whatever he had expected her to do, it couldn’t have been close to the laugh his words elicit. Nor how Isseya looks at him with her chin raised and a newfound challenge in her eyes.

“I love it when you do that.”

She steps forward. Cadence steps back. The brick molds perfectly against him like a shadow.

“Do what, exactly?”

“That,” with a flippant gesture, “that thing where you’re so unlike him without even trying. It makes it easier to keep up the chase.” Just like it will make it easier to end things the same way.

Over their heads a shadow eclipses the moon. The pair look up to see the rapidly-moving forms of their companions, still locked in an argument all their own that will soon inevitably catch the attentions of one or more late-night Parisians.

“If Antony knows the others are long gone then why do you continue tracking us?” He snaps in her face to draw Isseya’s attention. There’s a sickening feeling Cadence can’t place — like this will be the last time he’ll be able to get anything out of her until the tides turn. “Why not continue your mission?”

He takes advantage of the proximity between them and searches her eyes earnest and open. He even dares — risks it all, really — and lets his fingertips ghost the inside of her wrist where it hesitates just shy of holding him hostage.

The moment passes between them like a live wire. Not for the first time, and if the universe intends on royally screwing all of them over before this is done then Cadence is certain it won’t be the last. But her sympathy, like her sanity, isn’t Isseya’s to control. It’s not even at her whim.

Serafine’s cutlass flies through the air and clatters loudly to the pavement beside them.

Too late — the moment is shattered.

Isseya flinches back. Yanks her arm away from him like his touch is a burning brand. Before she can say anything else there’s a cry from above. Serafine’s body follows the path of her sword almost perfectly; a swan dive without the water to break her fall and when she collides with the earth it’s to the tune of her breaking bones.

Time’s up.

Cadence’s jeans scrape and wear at the knees as he skids to Serafine’s side and aid.

He gently turns her over, checking for anything worse than the odd angle of her shoulder socket and the deep cut struggling to stitch itself closed along the curve of her jaw. She groans softly in weak protest.

“Ever think about ditching the sword for something a little more permanent?” He mumbles, half to himself and half as a laugh. It’s something Kathy would do — he’s had that thought several times through their ordeal.

It’s actually a greater source of comfort than he can begin to describe.

Unlike Serafine, her opponent joins them from the rooftop with a stalwart kind of grace. His footfalls barely a tap-tap as he lands just shy of a crouch. Fluid movement in how he stands and makes his way to Isseya’s side. His blade — an old Roman gladius, because Cadence has learned from experience that the older they are the more they tend to lean into the cliche — catches a glinting silver on the distant street lamp. Bright all except where the metal is dotted dark red with blood.

“Good thing we aren’t keeping score, old friend.” Antony remarks. His face twitches in a sick kind of satisfaction as together their hunters watch Cadence help Serafine up, her arm slung over his shoulders to bear the burden of her while she forces her body to heal on her time, rather than its own.

“Unless you wish to count this as an extension of our Nassau campaign, of course.”

“How did the Romans ever get anything conquered if all you do is talk?” Cadence remarks; though his own injuries aren’t as severe in the moment it would be foolish of him not to acknowledge how the constant running and chasing and fighting and more running and the cycle unending has taken its toll.

Antony’s brow twitches; he’s barely given Cadence a second glance since the last time they were in this very city. Not that he’s complaining… seeing as his turn with the brutal General seems to be looming inevitably closer now.

There’s a sickening pop too close to his ears but Cadence resists the urge to flinch. Slowly Serafine steadies herself on her own two feet, grabbing her cutlass from the alley floor to grasp the handle tightly and with the same unwavering conviction.

“He’s right Antony,” and even weak as she is she manages a voice like velvet; crooning in her mockery, “you must be getting soft in your old age. I don’t remember this much chatting in Nassau.”

It would be infinitely more impressive if they seemed to have actually unnerved the man. Instead he’s somehow more impassive than ever.

Beside him, Isseya gives a short and exasperated huff of frustration. “You know you cannot keep this up for much longer, Dupont. Doubtful you’d even last the midnight flight to your next safe home.” She steps forward — tries and fails to mask the pain that comes over her as she watches Cadence throw his arm across the other woman’s front as a shield.

“Just tell us where they’ve taken the Bloodkeeper. One little location… we won’t even bring you back to Court. We will leave you to lick your wounds in the gutters as freemen.”

“Doubtful though, that it would last very long.” Muttered in muted amusement beside her; there’s a dangerous thing to be implied in Antony’s words and eyes.

All the more reason to keep this going for as long as possible.

Serafine snaps her fangs. “Why does Gaius even want her?” The same question she’s asked before; and will continue to ask until they manage to piece together an answer from the scraps they’re given.

“There are hundreds of psychics more skilled he could have.”

“You know the Bloodkeeper is no ordinary psychic.”

“Nor is she a formidable threat to someone of Gaius’ age and skill.” Serafine looks to Isseya imploringly. There’s a lot to be said for the fact that the less sane of the pair is the more reasonable one. “You’ve been in her mind, Isseya. And don’t think I didn’t see the damage your snake of a progeny did there, either. Whatever Gaius would want with her will no doubt go beyond what she’s capable of at her age!”

The Trinity vampire gives a callous shrug. “It’s no concern of mine.”

Beside her Antony’s shoulders shift slightly — it takes more than a fair moment for them to realize he’s laughing. Somehow he was less intimidating with the large broadsword raised and ready than… this.

“If you had any idea what she really was… who she could be…” Antony clicks his tongue, glancing off to the side as if to say ‘you are no threat, I don’t even have to keep you in my sights.’

“No doubt you and anyone else who stands against him would be singing a different tu—”

The dagger, slender as it is sharp and keenly disguised without flair in the darkness, barely so much whistles through the air before the blade strikes true. Embedding itself deep in the vampire’s back just to the side of his spine as if in warning. Light as a feather but enough to throw the ancient vampire slightly off-kilter.

He stumbles on his words — rare for a man like him — and staggers one, two steps forward from the shock of it.

“You were always better suited for the stage, domine. What with the way you’re always running your mouth.”

The flash in his eyes, red and bright and vicious is enough to make it clear that Antony recognizes that voice. In fact if he thinks about it Cadence recognizes it too. As Isseya does, as Serafine does. But it shouldn’t be possible — the look he and his injured companion exchange long and in silent awe is proof enough of that. It should not be possible.

And yet.

Despite the odd angle at which the dagger rests deep in his back Antony manages to pry it free with a strange sort of grace. The kind befitting a man of his age and his role in the history of the world… always on the battlefield in some form or another. It slips from his flesh and muscle with a wet noise; catches the light in a strange array of glinting silver and crimson where it catches the light when he looks it over with cool indifference.

Anyone so well-immersed in their kind would know these blades from sight alone; who they belong to and exactly what kind of darkness they’ve invited in alongside it. Antony, of course, is no different.

By all accounts it seems to do nothing more than bore him. “And here I was under the blissful impression I would never again have to hear your snide and unjust superiority, Sayeed.”

His words are punctuated with the hollow metallic clatter of the dagger dropped from his hand and left abandoned by his feet. As inconsequential as the rest of the rubbish strewn up and down the narrow alleyway.

But when Antony finally turns towards the shadows to face the emerging Kamilah, that boredom is all but a fleeting dream. The hardness in his eyes is unmistakable. Already the gears are turning in his mind — evaluating the terrain, the advantages he has and even more importantly the ones he does not. It’s what’s kept him alive this long, that much is obvious.

Though judging by the way the former Bloodqueen looks him up and down positively murderous that may not be enough to save him this time around.

Her eyes never leave Antony’s, but Kamilah raises her voice to speak over the stone wall of him.

“You look a little winded there, Serafine. I do hope you haven’t lost your touch with a blade.”

Serafine who offers a meager, wispy laughter in reply. “I should hope not, Kamilah darling, but here we are.”

There’s a tic in Antony’s jaw. His teeth grind together audibly.

“I see the rumors of your demise aren’t the certainty they were made out to be.” And none of the vampires gathered miss the look he flits to his companion in the dark — barely even a twitch of his head but oh so damning nonetheless.

After all, it had been Isseya who told them — told Adrian and Nadya and Cadence himself — that there had been no survivors of Gaius’ final assault on New York’s remaining vampires.

No survivors typically means, well, no survivors.

But Kamilah Sayeed would be the exception to the rule.

She isn’t foolish enough to avoid Antony any longer than she needs to. “If I didn’t know better I would swear you almost seem glad of it, domine.”

“Glad of the opportunity to pry you like a thorn from my side, perhaps.”

Are they seriously bantering right now? Cadence shifts and holds Serafine closer when he feels her weight sag against him just shy of fully collapsing.

They stalk one another in the narrow space. Apex predators in the shadows — neither of them yielding or backing down; that simply isn’t their way.

But in the steely determination of their eyes Cadence swears — and maybe he’s just imagining it here, but he’s seen a lot of crazy things these last few weeks and this seems by far the least insane of them all — that a silent conversation passes between them. Not in their minds but in their movements and expressions. In centuries, millennia of history between them both. From when they served the same king to now, here, on opposite sides of the fight.

“One might wonder why a reputation such as yours would be so willing to vanish into thin air.” Antony muses low, practically under his breath. Kamilah blows a single strand of hair out of her eyes — the only part of her out of place.

“Reputation means little with so much at stake.”

“Never thought I’d see the day when the Bloodqueen no longer cares what her subjects see when they come face to face with her.”

He’s goading Kamilah — that much is plain as day. But the part that stuns Cadence (and Serafine at his side, judging by the tension rippling tight through her shoulders and how she fights off the pain of her wounds and hunger like she’s preparing herself to jump back into the thick of it) the most… is how it’s working.

Whatever that silent not-conversation they’re having is about, it’s enough to rattle her. Well and truly.

Suddenly Antony stops. Kamilah’s hand tightens around the hilt of her dagger; poised and ready to strike. But the Roman doesn’t use his gladius. He doesn’t need to.

Not when he can cast just as deep a wound in the knowing way he smiles at her through the darkness.

“You know what he’s planning then.”

He’s not asking so much as stating a fact. One Kamilah doesn’t deny. A quick glance down to the woman hanging from his shoulder tells Cadence everything he needs to know… frankly he’s happy to not be as out of the loop as he feels.

Even Isseya, when she shifts on the balls of her feet and draws Cadence’s attention away from the old foes, seems to only have a piece of the proverbial puzzle.

He’s really starting to hate puzzles.

Victory drips like poison from Antony’s smirk. He eases up in gait; leaning back to give the vampire he once called Queen a look far too cynical to be admiration, but the hint of it is undoubtedly there.

“I can’t say I’m all too surprised. Gaius was convinced your fixation on the Bloodkeeper girl would be a blind spot for you. Despite a fair few of us in his Court insisting it would pan out quite the opposite.”

“Am I supposed to be flattered?”

“On the contrary,” his frown returns deeper than before, “because now he may think twice before assuming to know more than his advisors.”

Advisors, Court. So much going on right now.

Antony waits — they all do — for how Kamilah will respond. It’s not something done out of politeness so much as it is a petty nail in the coffin; not the final one but damn well close enough.

She takes them all by surprise. Again. “I’ve never pretended to enjoy your ridiculous Roman politics Antony, especially outdated as they are. But there is nothing to gain from entertaining the ideas Gaius has come to believe over his century of imprisonment.

“Surely you don’t actually believe his claims.”

“Whether I agree with his ideas or not is inconsequential. You know as well as I do there is very little to be done when he demands something of one of us. Gaius demands the girl brought to him alive, it’s as simple as that.”

Antony shrugs — like he hasn’t met Nadya, hasn’t seen her cry in fear and rage and desperation. Whereas Cadence can’t seem to get the shrill noises out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

If this is what it means to live as long as them, he thinks, maybe I’m better off choosing compassion over years.

But… no. That’s not who Kamilah Sayeed is. He’s seen it with his own eyes — Serafine has too. Even now the very mention of what Nadya is (and what she might be, something they seem to be skirting around awfully carefully with their verbal chess) makes the woman stand taller; lights a different kind of fire in her eyes.

Now if only she would take the pair of them out and be done with it. But Kathy’s always had a thing or two in critique about his damned wishful thinking.

“Never in all my years did I expect to see the Marc Antony so willing to roll over at his Maker’s whim.” Kamilah sighs in something like disappointment. It just gets her another one-shouldered shrug while the man tap-taps his gladius against the pavement.

“All power is earned one way or another. You earned yours your way Kamilah, and I continue to earn mine… and the freedom it grants me… by doing what I must.”

An almost serene smile eases the tension in the man’s own shoulders. “And now, faced with yet another large shift in the way of the world, all I have to do is bring a girl to a king. Though I’ll admit I had started out thinking this would be a relatively simple task…” glancing aside, he looks knowingly, accusingly at Isseya and her stony mask of neutrality, “but I suppose that’s what I get for rushing in without a plan of attack.

“But if the girl truly is who Gaius believes her to be, if she can truly give him what he’s promised any vampire willing to abandon your feeble rebellion and bend the knee, then what’s a prolonged chase in the wake of a new age… of an immortal age.”

Cadence spares a fleeting, desperate look to Isseya for answers. She doesn’t have any to give.

And this is Nadya they’re talking about, yes? Nadya with her headaches and hallucinations and less control over her visions as she would let them all believe.

That Nadya?

“What the hell are you talking about, Antony?” he barks in growing anger; catches himself by surprise at the protectiveness in his voice, too. And he’s not the only one who hears it — Sayeed does too. “She’s the Bloodkeeper, that’s all there is to it!” Right?

He set himself up for that one though, to be fair.

Antony chuckles. Eyes flashing red and the hint of a fang curling at the seam of his mouth. “And do you know what that even means? I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, but you’ve forsaken that part of yourself, haven’t you? And with it — answers.”

That’s getting them all nowhere. To Kamilah; “Please, Nadya’s desperate to see you again, Sayeed.”

Whose face falls before their eyes. The chill chased from her glare and her grip on her dagger wavering ever so slightly.

“I will not let him have her,” she says; and louder still, “I will not let Gaius take her away from me. He’s gone mad, well and truly, to believe in the myth of a myth. I would die before I let his obsession consume Nadya — before he would take her life on the chance that she…”

Chance that she what?

But Kamilah can’t bring herself to say it. There’s power in words; in speaking them aloud and giving life to them. Cadence knows that better than anyone.

But before he can even think of how to reassure her there’s a soft moan of pain near his ear that takes priority. Serafine sags heavier against his side; Cadence side-steps and balances them both to compensate for the added weight.

She won’t stay conscious for much longer (if she could be considered conscious now…) and this time is already far more different than their other encounters. Not just with Kamilah firmly between them and Antony’s game of cat and mouse either, but because the game seems to have finally played out longer than necessary.

They need to go. Now.

“I can’t recall ever seeing you rendered speechless, Kamilah.” Cadence isn’t the only one who knows they’re running on borrowed time. That’s why Antony goads her back his way — closer and closer still.

He thumbs a smear of Serafine’s blood from his gladius.

“Don’t tell me the renowned and vicious Bloodqueen is scared of — what did you call it — a myth of a myth? Or perhaps it’s the prophecy itself that disturbs you. I believe I recall your struggle for his affections so many years ago.”

Fuck. It works too well.

Kamilah rounds on him with renewed fury. “You have no idea what you speak of. And if you wish to live to see the dawn you’ll know never to speak of it again!”

“Ah, yes, well… I can understand the pain of an old flame extinguished; a love lost. I think all of us can,” but when he gestures with a sweeping arm no one dares, “or at the very least we might imagine what it must feel like to have your very being compared with a memory; a ghost.

“Everyone at Court knew, of course. How the Bloodqueen never quite measured up to the Goddess Herself.”

Kamilah Sayeed isn’t a woman to issue hollow threats but that’s not what this is. This is fear freezing her in her tracks, anger shaking her body to its core; an unfortunate truth — not all of it, but enough — being forced on her against her will.

“She cannot be brought back from the dead.”

Antony cocks his head to the side. “Are you quite certain? At any rate there seems to be little harm in trying.”

“If you dare…”

“What, Kamilah? If I dare what? What will you do — better yet what will you have the power to do when he gets his chance? Because it looks to me as though you would not be able to lift a finger, or a dagger at that.

“You would stand there as you stand before me now, held captive by your own weakness. Forcing yourself to watch Gaius Turn her, the Bloodkeeper fed the Blood of the First from his veins. And all would gather to see and bear witness as that blood would bring Her back in new form and face.”

Kamilah takes half a step back — a reflex she can’t control. Much like Cadence can’t control the feeling of his stomach dropping out from underneath him.

No one can truly rise above their own fear.

“He will never lay a finger on her.”

“Denial doesn’t become you.”

Out of the corner of his eye Cadence sees a flicker in the dark — Kamilah’s grip on her dagger renewed; made stronger by her own words. And oh how she practically shouts them into the night sky.

“Nadya is not the First Vampire!”

But the Roman remains unfazed. “Perhaps not yet…” he muses, and always with the same damned smirk.

“But she could be. And the King is quite determined to find out.”

#bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #lily spencer #jax matsuo #serafine dupont #marc antony #oc: cadence smith #oc: isseya #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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