#- hold up i just took another look at the cover. those are literally the heraldic symbols of finarfin thingol earendil and fingolfin

[exercise-of-trust]

it baffles me, though it probably shouldn't, that someone can write an entire rpf novel about j. r. r. tolkien finding a mysterious ancient book and going on thrilling international adventures, and get it published with enough success that i can accidentally stumble across it in the sff section of the local library

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Random Thoughts: A Dark Past

This came into mind; the Male reader is a prisoner of war and is taken back to the mainland. As usual, me and @softboy5393 fanboying over this.

I went overboard with this.

You were taken by a Titan with a long face, like a horse into its mouth. You fell unconscious during the whole time.

When you woke, you were in some room. You looked around to see where you were, you noticed you had a red armband on your left arm. 'What the... where am I?'

Then the door opened. "Ah, I see you're awake." the unknown person said along with others. He had blonde hair and an undercut style which was pushed back. [This] He also had an armband on, but his was more of a lighter red.

You took the people that walked and noticed that Reiner was there. "YOU DAMN TRAITOR!" you attacked him. You didn't do that much damage before getting pulled off of him.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS! DON'T TOUCH ME!" you yelled trying to get away from them.

"So, you're the guy that Pieck took? You island devils are sure are something." The one with blonde hair said, sitting down. Reiner was dusting himself off.

"I guess we should introduce ourselves? I'm Pieck. You already know Reiner. The one with glasses is Zeke and the one next to you is Porco." The girl- Pieck said. She had long, disheveled shoulder-length black hair, a Greek nose, and relaxed dark brown eyes.

"You probably have questions as to where you are?" you calmed down a bit to respond.

"Yes. And why am I here? Why did you take me from my home?" you said, backing away from them.

"You're in the nation of Marley. And it was Reiner's idea to take you."

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

It had been 4 years since you were captured. You've kind of gotten used to the new environment. 'So, humanity didn't die after all?'

You were shocked by the outside world. There were these flying ships in the skies, a cart that was driving without horses leading it. The food you have never seen before. A picture that was too detailed for any person to draw.

"That's a blimp, that's a car, and that's a photograph," Zeke said, showing you everything.

You also got to meet others. "That's Gabi, Falco, Sophia, and Udo. They are the next in line to inherit the Titans."

Gabi looked at you with mistrust. She had hatred in her eyes. "Don't mind her, she hates anyone from the 'Island of Devils.'" Zeke whispered into your ear.

It has taken a while for Gabi to get used to you but in due time.

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You were walking with Pieck, Reiner, and Porco in the Liberio Internment Zone. There were stands everywhere and colorful decorations everywhere. You were amazed.

"Today's the festival, M/n. Ambassadors and famous families from all over the world are going to be here for Willy's speech. Of course, since you're with us, you'll be joining too." Pieck said she was your favorite out of all of them.

"Let's go try some things. Try this." she gave you some kind of dessert with a cone?

You gave it one lick... "WHY IS IT SO COLD?!?!" you said, others were looking at you weirdly.

"What's this?" You picked some triangle-shaped food with toppings and cheese? "Mmm, this is good! I never had anything like it!"

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

You had a fun time at the festival but now it was time for Willy Tybur's speech. You sat with the others but Porco, Pieck, and Zeke were requested.

Then the sounds of instruments began to play and Willy came on stage. He bowed before starting. "Allow me to tell you a story."

(This is the entirety of Willy's speech)

"Approximately one hundred years ago, the Eldian race ruled the world with the power of the Titans."

"Between the appearance of the Founder, Ymir, and the present day, Titans have stolen the lives of so many people that the present population of the world..." showed Titans eating people. "Could die thrice over and still not compare."

Then the lights turned red, people appeared covered in blood and screaming. "Because of Titans, and an extraordinary number of races, and the cultures ad histories thereof, have been stolen from the world."

"That slaughter has defined human history and the history of the Eldian Empire. And when the Eldian Empire ran out of enemies, it turned to the killings of its own kind."

You were shocked. Was this the history of your ancestors? Were they like this?

"Thus began the Great Titan War."

"Houses holding eight Titans shed blood in combat among themselves. In these desperate times, one Marleyan saw a path to victory. He was our hero, Helos."

"By artfully waging an information war, he led the Eldian Empire's biggest threats to turn against and kill one another. By joining hands with the Tybur family, they forced the unbeatable King Fritz to flee and retreat to Paradis island." the crowd began to clap. You were awestruck.

"But even exiled to the island, the king still held power. Tens of millions of Titans are capable of crushing the world flat still slumber on that island." the crowd gasps at the revelation and fear.

"The fact that our world still exists undisturbed to this day is pure luck. That is the only explanation our Titan experts could muster up. My fatherland, Marley, decided to take the initiative against the island and sent four Titans to neutralize the threat, but that plan failed and only the Armored Titan returned."

'That's why Reiner broke down the walls.'

"In other words, the Eldian Empire, the scrounge of human history, is alive and well."

"Now, the story up to this point consists of facts known to everyone. The truth, however, differs slightly. From here on, I'll discuss the memories passed down in my family alongside the Warhammer Titan."

"The complete truth will be revealed here and now for the first time. Approximately one hundred years ago, the one who ended the Great Titan War was neither Helos nor the Tybur family." Two people standing side by side to him.

One was represented Helos and the other, the Tybur family.

"The man who brought an end to that war and saved the world was King Fritz. He came to regret the Eldian Empire's savage history and the infighting among his own people."

"Above all, he grieved for the Marleyans and the oppression they lived under. When he inherited the Founding Titan, he and the Tybur family devised a plan." The lights turned blue with King Fritz and the Tybur family shaking hands in agreement.

"To establish a single Marleyan as a hero in the war. His name: Helos. After that, King Fritz moved as many Eldians to Paradis as he could. Erecting the great walls around them."

"He left a warning if anyone threatens his peace, countless Titans would be unleashed in retaliation. However, he never intended make good on this threat." Things began to add up to you. That's why the world hates Eldians. 'I'm not what they say we are!'

He continued. "King Fritz made a vow of renouncing war and bound his successors to uphold it, just as he had. Thus his ideology was passed down to each new King of the walls and the Titans with the power to crush the world remain dormant."

"Marley didn't stop Eldia and pure luck hasn't kept the world from being crushed, it was the king of the walls, Karl Fritz, a man who yearned for peace. That's it. That's all he wanted. He said if Marley grew strong someday and came in force to shatter his peace and seize the Founding Titan, he would accept it."

"He believed the sins his people committed were so horrific that they could never be atoned for."

"When the day of retribution finally comes, I will accept it until then let me enjoy this walled paradise, free from strife and conflict. I ask for nothing but a brief span of peace."

"Those were the final words the king left us with." King Fritz stood next to Willy bowing.

The crowd erupted into chatter. "What does this mean?" Gabi was shocked to along with her friends. You were twice as shocked as they were.

"If what he saying is true..."

"So, Marley and the Tybur family didn't save the world?"

"Willy wouldn't lie..."

"That means Paradis doesn't actually pose a threat, right?"

Willy spoked, the crowd went silent. "It's true, to secure our own safety, my family joined hands with King Fritz and became heroes to the world. While our fellow Eldians became devils but plainly, we Tyburs are petty thieves, growing fat on honor we did not earn."

"I stand before you willingly parting with my false glory because I have come to understand that the world we share is in grave danger" the crowd began to chat again. The drums began to ring.

"With the Founder's might, King Fritz erected three walls, using a great host of colossal Titans..." the background changed to colossal titans conjoining arms. "Counted together, the walls surely contains tens of millions of colossal Titans."

"They guard the King's peace as his shield and his spear or they did, but now, that peace is being threatened from within. An uprising has taken place on Paradis, the king has been deposed, the Founding Titan stolen."

The background changed to a devil. "The thief is an enemy to every man, woman, and child outside his island. An enemy of peace, his name... IS EREN JAEGER." Your eyes widen...

"If the colossal of Paradis are ordered to walk, the rumbling will be felt across the Earth and death will follow. Until now, only royalty has had the power to wield the Founding Titan and King Fritz's vow has kept his descendants from using it, but this Eren Jaeger has found a way to use the founder without having royal blood."

"Which means he could begin the rumbling at any moment. Once the walls of Paradis begin to walk, there will be nothing we can do. Except flee in vain from the sound of Earth-shaking steps that will herald our doom." your face turned into a worried one. Was this going to happen?

"These monsters will crush every city, trample every tree and flower, they will literally flatten our world. I have always hated my blood and more than anyone. I have wished that my race would disappear."

Willy sounded like he gonna burst into tears. " However, I confess that I want to live. That despite everything, I believed this world is my birthright just as it is yours."

"The people gathered here may belong to different races, different nations but if we're to survive this crisis then for the first time in history, we must join as one. SO PLEASE, if you wish to live and lend me your strength, help me protect our world's future!" The cameras began to flash. The crowd erupted into cheering.

"If we work together, we can overcome any obstacle, any threat! I ask each of you to join me as I go to fight the devils who would plunge our world into hell! HELP ME DEFEAT THEM!"

The crowd continued to clap and cheer. "Here and now, as a representative of Marley's government, I send this message to the devils of Paradis!"

"CONSIDER THIS, A DECLARATION OF WAR!" As Willy said that, a Titan erupted from the building behind the stage. A Titan you knew very well.

"Eren..."

[florbelles]

'rip to he' and/or 'the burke roast'?

thank you so much! 💕 i have not forgotten these, sorry it’s been an eternity and a half (as per usual).

RIP TO HE

The context here is pretty apparent from the piece, I think, especially to anyone who more or less knows what happens in Lyra’s story, but a group of the valley’s chosen is hunkered down at the ranch after they receive word that John was killed and Lyra is presumed dead (Hudson took advantage of the chaos and made her escape and the bunker is unstable but not destroyed). Lyra turns up on the ranch’s doorstep three days later looking like a corpse, and the door is opened by John’s bodyguard, Luke.

[EXCERPT]

(unedited and relatively unreviewed disclaimer here)

Something’s wrong. She’s swaying in the doorway, lips pale and drawn, skin caked with mud, dirt, blood – oh, god, so much blood – and she staggers toward him, bloodshot eyes staring blankly.

This is not their herald.

“Lyra,” he stammers. He steps back. “Praise the Father, we thought you were –“

“Where the fuck were you?”

Her voice is throaty, hoarse, low, too low, words rasping out of a dry throat. She still hasn’t blinked. Her eyes are wide, the whites showing, blazing. Her flesh is bloodless. Her side is open.

“I –“ he opens his mouth, closes it, looks to them for assistance, finds none. “We came here, after – John – he told us to get him to the airstrip.”

She’s nodding rapidly, but she’s not listening, it’s manic, wild, disconnected. Her mouth is a snarl.

“You’re not answering the question.” She stares at him. Swallows once. Luke’s eyes dart over to where they’re huddled again, and Matthew shakes his head.

“Where the fuck were you?” she repeats, quiet now. Too quiet.

“I didn’t – we – everything happened – there were –“

“Where the fuck were you?” she shoves him back, and she’s starting to break, and oh, god, her hands, her hands are wrong.

Her nails are gone, fingertips torn and bloody.

Oh, Jesus.

Oh, Jesus.

“Where the fuck were you?”

She’s shrieking, now.

“I didn’t – please – I –“

“Where the fuck were you?”

She yanks his head back by his hair and her ravaged hand goes to his throat, clamps that place at the base of his neck shut the way they’ve watched her do it a hundred times, hundreds upon hundreds over to hundreds upon hundreds of the unfaithful, but no, not the same at all; he coughs, his eyes bulge, grotesque, his tongue protrudes sickeningly from his mouth, and it happens so fast, too fast, there’s a crash, she’s spun him around, she’s bashed his head into the stairs.

His mouth gapes, his body stills, too stunned to fight, too stunned to speak, and she brings his head down on the corner again.

It’s impossible she should have that strength. She’s half dead, or mostly dead, or back from the dead. She couldn’t. She can’t.

But she does.

“Where” – slam – “the fuck” – slam – “were you?”

She’s smashing, smashing, and his face is caved in, bloody, unrecognizable, his skull his cracked, its insides are spilling onto the stairs, and she’s still screaming, where the fuck was he, where the fuck was he, and a piece of his hair comes off in her hand, rips from his scalp, and she seems to realize he’s dead, dead, long past dead, her breath ragged and heaving, her hands shaking. She lets out a whimper, a sob, looks from her fist full of bloody hair to the body on the stair. Her breath hitches.

She doubles over, a wail rips from her throat, erupting through her body, high, piercing, a shriek, an animal sound.

A banshee scream.

“Oh,” she whispers, crawling toward him, what’s left of him, the mangled bloody mess. “Oh. Luke. I’m sorry.”

She’s crying quietly, now, rocking, holding his corpse. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It was not your fault. I’m sorry.”

She looks up, seeming to notice them for the first time, and her face is still inhumanly pale, her eyes wild.

“I did not mean –“

“We thought you were dead,” Matthew croaks.

She nods once. “I am.” She drops Luke’s head, watches it thud again down onto the staircase one final time. She nods slowly again. “I am.”

BURKE ROAST

No Burkes were roasted in this WIP.

This document is most of the scenes involving/leading up to the arrest attempt, usually from Burke’s POV (the titular roast is actually Burke mentally hating on literally everyone around him because he’s 100% done with this shit.) This excerpt is Burke and Lyra’s first real meeting; she’s circling the department to get intel on the impending arrest and seeking Nancy’s aid in getting her on the task force, posing as an investigative media contact (the reason, she insinuates, she arrived shortly before the now-vanished camera crew – untrue, of course). Burke ain’t having it; he doesn’t think much of her or of the cult leader he’s been sent to arrest, and he sure as hell doesn’t think much of this god forsaken job. It’s a rough piece, but it's a good example of how Lyra works; she doesn't directly lie, everything she says is some version of the truth, but the insinuations and implications are extremely wrong (she has been at this for months, but "at this" is working for the Project, not watching them; she did slice her palm open by grabbing a blade, but it was during her first kill when she was 18, not a recent injury; her hand is bandaged here to cover her Eden’s Gate tattoo.)

[EXCERPT]

“You see, darling —” she gestures to the WRATH sprawling across her breasts in large, angry lettering, “— it’s personal.”

“All the more reason for you to stay the fuck out of it.”

“You misunderstand.” She smiles softly. “I’m not seeking vengeance. My personal stake is an investment. I’ve been at this for months.”

“What happened to your hand?” he asks abruptly.

She glances at the bandage winding around her palm, disinterested. “Cut myself. Grabbed a knife.”

“You should be more careful,” he says.

“Hm.” She takes a drag, blows the smoke out through pursed lips, more in his direction than the wind blows.

He coughs, pointed, and wishes he had a goddamn cigarette.

“Look, we done here?”

"Burke, darling.” She’s studying her cigarette, watching the wisps of smoke drift upward. “You're not completely stupid, so I'm going to assume that you're corrupt.”

He stares at her. “The fuck did you just say?”

“Do you not find it odd?” She meets his gaze evenly. Her mouth curves with a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “You would think in this situation there would be a plant, would you not? A stakeout of some sort. Someone on the inside.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s sabotage, don’t you see?” she leans forward, more eager, now, eyes lit up, teeth bared. “Have you not wondered why you’re the only one they’re sending? Have you not wondered why we’re going in —”

“You're not going in.”

“Fine.” Her lips curl, acidic, serpentine. “They are sending you in, eyes blind, guns blazing, and you are unbothered.”

Yeah, sure, that and everything else about this fucking job.

“No guns are gonna be blazing, alright?“

“If they’ve no informant on the inside, perhaps there’s a reason for that? Perhaps you’ve been set up.” She tilts her head. “Or perhaps Joseph Seed has thought of what you haven’t. They’ve a man on the inside, is that it? Perhaps it’s you. Perhaps that’s why I make you uncomfortable.”

Fucking hell. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Perhaps that’s why you oppose transparency.” She grins at that, takes another drag. She looks terribly pleased with herself. He wishes someone would smash those over-whitened teeth in. She steps closer to him and murmurs, only inches from his face, “are you frightened?”

He steps back, instinctively, and immediately hates himself for it. He isn’t paid enough to deal with this. He isn’t paid enough to deal with her.

“Jesus,” he mutters. “Look, lady, I don’t know where you came from or who the fuck you’re supposed to be —”

“You wish for my credentials? You may speak to Nancy, if it bothers you.” She drops her cigarette on the ground, crushes it beneath the red sole that’s probably worth more than his next paycheck, maybe his next five, who the fuck knows. “Is that all?”

She’s apparently decided it is, because she’s flicked the flattened cigarette butt into the trash bin and is already gliding away, hips swaying precariously close to knocking against him as she passes, ridiculous heels clicking on the pavement.

“I’ll be seeing you around, darling,” she calls over her shoulder.

“Great,” he says. “Terrific.”

Pain in the fucking ass.

It isn’t until she’s gone he thinks to wonder how the hell she got there.

[crackinglamb]

gimme 10-13 of the kiss prompts. give

All right, Bugs, you asked for it. 😘

Stolen Kisses

~1900 words, rated M for non-explicit smut

Read it here on AO3.

---

Solas was not a publicly demonstrative lover. He rarely did more than hold her hand as they traipsed across Thedas from one mission to another, be it a rift or a piece of lost lore of his people, or some clue to further their fight against Corypheus. Sometimes, after a battle, after the blood, dirt and exhaustion, he would hold her face in his hands, looking her over with both eyes and magic for more hidden injury. On the rarest of rare occasions, he would press a kiss to her forehead where anyone might see him do it. And when she said rare, what she meant was once. He had done it once. That brush with death had laid bare for both of them just how fleeting and fragile her mortal life was. Those moments of clarity were not to be squandered, even if it meant crossing his disciplined principles.

Imogen understood this about him. She didn't hold it against him. He was a trickster, a rebel. He had outwitted millennia of enemies. He had learned the hard way why one needed to keep their loved ones secret. It was a habit as ingrained into him as his effortless ability to misdirect, to lie by omission, to manipulate events and perceptions. She didn't hold those things against him either. They'd kept him alive, and she needed him that way every bit as much as he needed her since she'd absorbed the Anchor into her hand.

They were an odd pair, to say the least. Elf and human. Mage and archer. Quite literally two worlds collided. Few outside Imogen's trusted inner circle even knew of their intimacy. Fewer still knew how deep it went. Their time together felt stolen, concealed from prying eyes and wagging tongues with utmost care. On the road it was easier, with night watch shifts and too few tents to go around so they had to double up regardless.

In Skyhold it was a choreographed dance. Slipping in unseen after darkness blanketed the fortress, gone again by morning. Therein lay the difficulty in keeping things secret. Imogen had never really been one to lounge around in bed for hours. She was an energetic person who liked to get up and get her day started. But Solas liked his sleep. She compared him waking and leaving the Fade to one who was leaving behind a homeland, no matter that he would see it again when the sun set on the day. She often teased him about it, to which he countered that he gave her little reason to complain about sleeping in with him.

Well, he wasn't wrong on that score. She'd admit it.

Because when they were alone...oh, when they were alone...

---

Imogen woke to the touch of lips against her collarbone, a brush so light it was barely there. She lay there with her eyes closed and tipped her head further back on her pillow. He wasn't truly awake yet, she could tell from the laxity in his arms around her, the smoothness of his brow under her chin, the slow rhythm of his breath in the hollow of her throat. Still, he took advantage of their position, and her tacit invitation. He pressed closer, feathering butterfly light kisses up the column of her neck, across the slope of her jaw and over her cheek. She started to smile when he reached her nose, trailing soft and slow and tender down the length of it until he tilted his head, and she automatically did too.

They weren't lined up perfectly, the corner of his mouth was under hers, his landed in the space between her nose and lips. She felt him smile, even as she let her own grow wide, giddy with the silliness of missing a kiss because they were fuzzy with sleep and not looking. She puckered her lips against his anyway, crooked as they were, making the smallest smacking noise when she pulled away. His hands slid up her back to cradle her as he dragged his lower lip against her mouth until he was just right. Then he plundered.

He was always like this, it seemed. The first touch was tentative, almost wary. The second was raw. As if he'd given himself permission to take what she offered. It never failed to fill her with sparks of joy deep in her body. The Dread Wolf take you. It gave a whole new meaning to the curse, one that she'd teased him with on many occasions. And to her delight, he never failed to deliver on it.

She hitched her leg over his hip, hooking her calf behind his backside. One of his hands stayed between her shoulder blades, while the other smoothed down ribs and waist and the curve of her leg wrapped around him. He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. She was now straddling him and their eyes were open, his storm gray ones meeting her hazel shot blue. She was balanced on her elbows over his face, pressed against him from breast to thigh.

“Good morning,” she murmured, leaning in to nip at his mouth again.

“On dhea, arasha.”

She rocked on him, her spine loose and fluid with arousal. The frequency of waking up this way made her ready with barely more than a single touch, and the glint in his eye told her that he knew it. He pressed up and she tilted down and they both gasped as he filled her. The steady rocking of their bodies became a rise and fall, languid and easy. It was her turn to leave sipping kisses along his cheekbone, following the sharp line of it to where it met his ear. With a grin, she caught his earlobe between her teeth. He lifted into her with a jerk and a hiss and she let go as she gasped at how full of him she was.

Then she giggled at him. “What is that saying? Take the Dread Wolf by the ear...?”

Solas growled in his throat and his hands clamped onto her butt, fingers digging into her with bruising strength. “Careful, arasha. You'll get more than you bargained for.”

“Oh, will I?” she taunted, dropping close once more to run the tip of her tongue along the edge of his ear to the point. Just before she bit him, she whispered, “I can't wait.”

The bed in her chamber was large, large enough that when he rolled them over, they didn't fall off the edge. Not that she was able to pay much attention to that, since he hooked his arms under her knees and thrust into her so deep she saw stars. He chuckled at her loud cry, dipping his head to capture her lips again as she thrashed in his grip. No more slow seduction, he was intent on making her shatter now.

And he did.

There was an undeniable urgency in how they slid against each other, muscles taut and straining as they each urged the other on to completion. He let go of her legs to thread his fingers into her hair, the coiling curls wrapping around his wrists as he held her in place. Her legs were crossed over his back, giving her leverage to lift into his hard thrusts. It built, so fast and so high that she had no choice but to fall over the edge of her climax with a shout, muffled by his mouth sealed over hers, his tongue pressed between her teeth. He followed her, groaning against her as she cradled him, their bodies shivering with aftershocks.

“You and morning sex,” she laughed when they finally pulled apart.

“I could always stop.” He lifted his head from her chest where he had fallen and smirked at her. He placed another kiss on her lips and began to sit up.

Imogen clutched at his arms before he got out of reach. They tumbled back together in the mess of sheets and pillows. “Don't you fucking dare.”

They laughed together as they tussled, sneaking in fresh kisses and touches until they both heard the morning bells of the Chantry chapel. She pushed her riot of hair out of her face and grinned at him, swooping in to plant one final lingering kiss on him. He helped her sit up and untangle herself from the covers. Then he leaned back against the headboard and watched her wash and dress, turning from Imogen to Inquisitor.

“And what duty calls today?” he asked, beginning his own slide away from lover to associate.

“The usual,” she replied, tugging on boots and belts and gloves to hide the Anchor from those who wanted nothing more than an intrusive gawk at the Herald of Andraste. “Meetings and paperwork. You?”

He was silent as he sat in the rumpled bed. Imogen glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at him. He finally met her gaze with an almost sheepish expression. “I should check on my...”

“Agents?” she grinned. He nodded. “Solas, my love, don't act like I don't know you have them. C'mon now. I'm not that much of an idiot.”

He snorted in answer. She brushed back her hair and tied it into a haphazard ponytail, then skirted around the side of the bed to cup his face. She leaned in and kissed him one last time in farewell, brisk and chaste.

“I'll see you later?”

“Of course, arasha.”

Then she bounced down the stairs of the chamber to the Great Hall. How her lover would escape the confines of her room was his own business.

The day passed, her meetings and small tasks taking her from wing to wing of the fortress. It was hours before she skipped through the rotunda to see that he hadn't returned from wherever he met his unknown forces. She didn't ask, didn't pry into his network. They were ultimately after the same goal, the pair of them. But she needed plausible deniability as long as she was the Inquisitor, and so Fen'Harel was a separate man from Solas in the day to day, as far as she was concerned.

It was nearly suppertime before they circled back into each other's orbit. In the darkened recesses behind the kitchen, where Imogen was putting away the newest bottles of her collection, Solas snagged her from the shadows and kissed her breathless against the rough cobblestone walls. Her arms wrapped around his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh air and sunshine. Wherever he'd been, it was not within Skyhold.

“Did you miss me or something?” she asked when he finally let her go.

“Of course not,” he said, a sly little grin crooking one side of his mouth. She scowled at him and mockingly smacked her palm against his chest.

“Liar.”

He kissed her again, slower and hotter. There was a tempest brewing under his skin, she could feel it, nearly taste it. He pulled away to rest his forehead on hers, neither of them letting the other go.

“Was your day successful, arasha?” he asked in a low grumble.

“It was.”

“Is it over?”

She grinned. “Yup.”

His eyes met hers, molten silver in the dim light that spilled between the storeroom and the kitchen. “Shall I have you again?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed, holding him tighter.

[yuthoe]

Practice Makes Permanent (PENTAGON: Yeo One)

Hello, friends! This fic is entirely inspired by this post made by Changgu SO LONG AGO, and it looked so cute that I couldn’t get it out of my head. I’m a big theatre geek--I love acting and I was even in an org for it in college, and was cast last minute for a film, too. it’s one of my biggest passions, and hearing news of changgu being in something rotten! made me extremely happy. i needed an excuse anyway to get into the show, and this is the perfect opportunity!

this one took sooooo long to finish. it’s been in my unfinished folder for the longest time, and i’m so glad i’m finally finished with it. changgu’s last performance as Nigel Bottom is today, so i really tried to wrap it up before then. nothing like a deadline to get your ass in gear, am i right lol. but i do apologize if this one seems messy.

btw, the title is something my director would tell us to keep in mind: practice doesn’t make you perfect, it makes you and your body remember what you’re doing, whether it’s correct or not. so you have to practice things in the correct way before it becomes a habit and you keep repeating things the wrong way.

PAIRING: Yeo One x reader. GENRE: fic, general. WARNINGS: N/A. WORD COUNT: 1,635.

---

You knock twice on the door of a dance studio in the company building, before opening it a smidge and peeking your head through, immediately spotting your boyfriend sitting cross-legged against the floor length mirror, his script for the upcoming show he’s in on his lap. Changgu turns to the door at the knocks and smiles wide when he sees you.

The door clicks closed behind you as you skip to where he’s sitting to give him a peck on the cheek. “Hello, handsome,” you greet as you put your messenger bag down on the floor near you; he murmurs a quiet hi as you settle down beside him. “So what did you ask me to come here for?”

He lifts one of your hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss there. “Okay, so you know I was cast as Nigel Bottom in Something Rotten!, right?”

“Of course, and I’m exceedingly proud of you for landing the role,” you gush, leaning forward and smacking him on the lips. “I know you’ll do great in it.” You’ve seen the musical before, and it’s hilarious, so when Changgu told you the news, you couldn’t help but feel that playing Nigel would suit him to a T.

Changgu chuckles, grinning widely as he kisses you back. “Thank you, love. But yeah, I have a love interest in the play. And much of Nigel’s character development is helped forward by her, so… you know… if you’re okay with it… could you--,”

“Help you memorize your lines with Portia?” you ask with a smile. It’s been a while since you’d done any acting, apart from what’s necessary for your group’s comebacks. The last gig you could remember was for a short film two years ago that was screened during a film festival, and you’ve been itching to get in front of a camera again.

Your boyfriend shrugs nonchalantly, as if it’s no big deal. “Only if you want to, though. I know you’ve been busy lately.” He levels you with a disarming smile and soft caramel eyes. “But I’d really appreciate it if you could help me.”

You had been ready to say yes to the request even before he gave you that look, so you gently cup his face, press a light kiss on his nose, and say, “I’m never too busy for you, love.”

***

“Okay,” Changgu says, sitting on the “bench” (three chairs you’d put in a neat row), sheaves of papers in his hands. “Act 1 Scene 8… action!” He taps his rolled-up script against his palm, quickly unfurls it again, and starts scribbling on the cover with an invisible pen.

You stand a little ways away, clutching a piece of fabric you found in the corner around your head and shoulders like a cloak. Your feet want to move, want to pace around a bit from nerves of seeing and possibly talking to Nigel.

Nigel groans in frustration. “Uggggh, no you can’t.” He sighs, makes to stand up, and you spur into action, walking straight into him as he begins to walk away. “Oh, apologies. Good day, mistress.” He avoids your eyes, defeated.

He begins to side-step to excuse himself when you say, “‘Good days were those when lit with love, till dusk of death did herald th’eternal night’.”

It puts him to a stop, and he finally looks at you properly. He recognizes the line and confusion is written plain on his face, obvious in the way his brows furrow. “Hey… I wrote that.”

“Yes, I know,” you say, trying to fight the smile growing on your face as you lower the “hood” of the cloak. The cloth precariously hangs on your shoulders as you pat your pockets for the paper you stuffed in one of them earlier. “I accidentally took this after our first encounter,” you fumble with the blank page and show it to him. “Your sonnet. It’s--it’s perfection.” You’d never read something so deeply sorrowful and yet yet incredibly hopeful.

“Really?” Nigel’s eyes had lit up when you took off your hood, and now he’s fiddling with his hands, embarrassed but flattered. “You thought it was… good?”

You clutch the paper to your chest. “It touched me in places I did not know could be touched.” Instantly, your eyes widen and you inwardly curse yourself for making it sound like something sexual. You try to backpedal. “Forgive me. Poetry is forbidden in my house, especially poems of earthly love.”

You take a step forward, lifting a hand in front of you like you’re reading a marquee. “OH, IS THERE NO PITY SITTING IN THE CLOUDS THAT SEES INTO THE BOTTOM OF MY GRIEF?!” you yell, and press a hand to your heart with an impassioned sigh.

Nigel points a finger at you, the play coming to him easily. “Romeo and Juliet, Act 3, Scene 6!”

You whip your head towards him, more excited now. “You’ve seen it?”

He nods, just as elated as you. “Six times! And you?”

“Eight! If my father knew, he would disown me,” you reply.

“My brother, too.”

“I adore Shakespeare.”

“Me too! I’ve got Comedy of Errors, first edition,” he says proudly.

You smile. “I’ve got ‘Sonnet No. 1’.” You hold up a finger. “Signed.”

Nigel’s jaw drops. “Wow.”

“I know,” you say, giggling. Talking about literature always makes you so excited that it’s taking all of your willpower to not jump around right now. Nigel chuckles with you, overjoyed to find someone just as in love with poetry as he is.

The laughter dies down after a while, replaced by embarrassed smiles from both of you. As you move to tuck a hair behind your ear, you remember the paper you’re still holding and the reason you sought him out in the first place.

So you take a breath and look at him, completely serious now. “I think you’re his equal--if not better.”

Nigel is already shaking his head. “No, no way.”

“Oh yes,” you insist. “Your sonnet has Shakespearean sophistication mixed with the complexity of Daniel Webster and the sensitivity of Samuel Daniel.” The analysis has been eating at you since you first read the poem, that the words just tumbled out of your mouth. You needed someone to talk to about it, and who better than the author himself?

Nigel looks at you fondly, mouth upturned in an amused smile that shows his teeth. “You really love poetry.”

You sigh, grinning so wide it feels like your face is going to split in two. “Oh, I do. I really, really do.”

“And cut!” Changgu says. “This is where the song comes in, so we’ll skip that.”

“That was a good run!” you say, pulling off the fabric and folding it into a loose square. “I mean, I’m a little rusty so I could use some more practice, but you were good!”

Changgu does a tiny fist pump and gestures to his script. “Can we do another scene?”

“Yeah, sure,” you say, eager to try again. You didn’t think you’d miss acting this much, but Changgu just ignited that fire in you that absolutely loves being on stage. “What did you have in mind?”

***

Hours later finds you both in a cafe, you sitting across Changgu and exchanging notes from your mini-rehearsal earlier that afternoon. He nods in understanding as he highlights his lines on the open script, occasionally scribbling notes and tips in the margins. The serving of iced coffee sits half-empty beside him and you carefully sip your warm latte.

You like this, you think. You like practicing lines with Changgu, acting out scenes together, and delivering a whole new dynamic to your characters’ relationship. It makes you want to actually act with him on a legitimate project and, not for the first time, wish you auditioned for Something Rotten!, even as an ensemble character. 

You hear the clack of Changgu capping his highlighter; it takes you out of the spiral of envy you were slowly tumbling into. He looks up at you, eyes soft and gazing at your face.

“Thank you for practicing with me earlier, Y/N,” he says, smiling.

His smile is literal sunlight and has you grinning back. “Anytime for you, Changgu,” you say with a giggle.

He chuckles and sits back on his chair with a sigh. You study him as he studies the highlighted pages.

“I wonder what it would be like if we worked on a project together,” he muses. “I bet it’d be so much fun. We could practice lines together, have loads of inside jokes…”

His eyes focus on you again. “And it would be an excuse to spend more time with you.”

It still amazes you sometimes, how much you two are on the same wavelength. Because of your packed schedules--comeback preparation for you, and musical rehearsals for Changgu--you hardly have time for each other lately. Truth be told, you miss him, and you know he misses you. Today is just an excuse to see each other after such a long time, and you’re just making the day count until you have free time again. And who knows when that’ll be?

You shake off the solemn vibe and say, “Okay. Next time, we audition for a musical together, yeah? Something… darker, maybe? More drama?”

Changgu grins at you conspiratorially. “Are you thinking romance? Or possibly a tragedy?”

You hum, tapping a finger on your chin in mock thought. “Why not both?”

“Oohh, Sweeney Todd? Chicago?” He starts humming the hook to “Cell Block Tango” while doing vogue-like moves, and it’s taking everything in you to not kiss him right now. You’re in a public place right now, and though there aren’t many people in the shop, public decency is still a thing.

No matter--you’ll make sure to shower his face in kisses later.

[pessimisticlatte]

Glass Roses ~ Chapter 20

Adrienette ~ Marichat ~ Ladynoir ~ DJWifi ~ Lukagami ~ Chlobrina

We’re getting close to the end here, guys!! I’m actually so excited to end this to finish cause I’ve had a million and one MLB fic ideas bouncing around my head for weeks and I literally cannot wait to get started on my favourite one of them!

Anyway, enjoy this chapter! Fanart of Mari in her dress to follow cause I felt like drawing her! Fanart of Ladybug’s dress to come at some point because I’m inspired to draw her dress now too!

Fiddling anxiously with his cufflinks, Adrien’s fingers itched to reach for one of the wine flutes being toted around the room on black trays by plainly dressed waiters and waitresses. People had started filing in ages ago and the stream had remained steady for about an hour now, people coming to the door to have their name announced like a damn debutante ball before they descended the stairs into the white marble room and swept over to Adrien to give him their congratulations on reaching adulthood. Though the ballroom was ridiculously large, he felt so small and so trapped, a clock ticking away in the back of his head for how long he would last before the busyness of this room overwhelmed him and sent him fleeing to the garden for some peace and quiet. Nino had disappeared not too long ago, likely to meet Alya so they could be announced together but something told him that the aspiring DJ was probably crying in some empty corridor somewhere from how slow and boring the music playing was and, frankly, Adrien felt that the string quartet wasn’t exactly his speed at the moment either.

Sweeping his eyes across the room as he shook yet another hand, Adrien searched for the bright red hat of his best friend (Nino had outright refused to take the hat off, even when Gabriel had requested that he did, saying that anyone who tried to remove his hat would not be found the next morning) or the two-toned hair of Kagami’s musician beau with no avail. The smile on his lips was fake but he was so glad that none of the people who he’d greeted so far had known him well enough to see that and he internally begged for someone, anyone, to come and save him from this hell of his father’s making.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” The herald or whatever the guy was called that was standing atop the stairs calling out guest’s names held the card with Marinette’s name on it out in front of him with a confused look as he announced her, Adrien’s eyes immediately snapping to the dark haired young woman standing at the top of the stairs. His jaw dropped so low he swore that he heard the silver threaded marble beneath his feet crack slightly from the impact. He couldn’t think of the words to describe how she looked as she took a tentative step forward and began descending the stairs. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders with a small section of it tied into a small ponytail that melted into the inkyness swishing below, her fringe was fluffier and two small strands of hair framed the sides of her face as she awkwardly chewed a plum painted lip. The train of her dress spread out behind her and cascaded down the stairs in a waterfall of the deepest purple he’d ever seen; the sleeves were long and ended right at her wrists with the top of the dress sitting low across her shoulders so as to expose them and her collarbone tastefully; a sash was tied around her waist and, though Adrien could not see it, sat in a neat bow against her lower back. She wore no necklace, her loose hair ornamentation enough for her slender, slowly reddening neck and shoulders.

Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs, at the same time, Adrien and Marinette smiled at each other as he held his hand out for her to take so he could lead her further into the ballroom. There were whispers around them as Adrien tucked Mari’s hand into the crook of his elbow and wove through the room toward the long catering tables set up toward the back. Eyes followed the couple as they moved past, Marinette holding herself with a grace that made Adrien’s heart race. Let them stare, he thought, let them stare and see that I’m here with the most beautiful person in this entire place. Coming to a stop at the back of the room, Mari looked up at her boyfriend shyly.

“I asked him not to announce me as your girlfriend, I didn’t want to embarrass you,” Playing with a silky strand of hair that had slid over her shoulder, Marinette spoke in a low voice.

“You could never embarrass me, Mari,” Brushing his hand against her waist, Adrien released Mari’s hand and decided to rest his hand on her hip, pulling her into his side. “And I think they’re pretty much aware that we’re together anyway.”

The two began to sway slightly to the soft, classical music coming from the string quartet in the corner across the room from them.

“A-adrien,” Mari began speaking, feeling her words get caught in her throat as he moved slightly to look at her, worried. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Y-yeah, I-i’m okay,”

“You’re not, Mari, I know that look. What’s wrong?” Rubbing his thumb gently against her waist, Adrien tried to press her without being too harsh.

“I...I don’t know if I can do it,”

“Do what?”

“Take the miraculous away from your father,”

“Why?”

“Because…,” Tears sprang to Marinette’s eyes as she bowed her head, ashamed. “Because I know that taking the miraculous away from him means him going away...him going to jail...and I don’t want to deny you the father you deserve.”

“Oh Mari. You’re too sweet for your own good,”

“I know,”

“If he was going to be the father I deserved then he would’ve tried ages ago, which he hasn’t. He’s constantly put himself first and this,” Adrien waved his hand to encompass the whole room and all those within. “Just shows that he never took the time to actually get to know me. God, if it weren’t for Nathalie, he’d probably have forgotten how old I was. Gabriel Agreste isn’t going to be the father I deserve and I know that because the father I deserve gave me you.”

~~~~~~~~~

At exactly nine pm, Alya slipped into the hedged garden just beyond the ballroom and transformed into Rena Rouge, albeit a more formal version of what she normally wore but still distinctive as herself, as she waited for Marinette and Adrien’s signal to conjure Ladybug and Chat Noir’s arrival. The couple had just left the dancefloor and made their way to a table covered in canapes, standing side by side as they discussed something just below the reach of Alya’s fox enhanced hearing, crouching behind the hedge with the glass Adrien and Marinette stood behind in view, Alya watched as Mari turned slightly and swept the long sheet of inky hair hanging around her shoulder blades over her left shoulder. To ensure that the signal was more than just Mari fiddling with her hair like she usually did when it was out, the group had agreed to get Adrien to act as a secondary signaller; his instructions being to somehow snag his cufflinks on Mari’s small ponytail and pull it out so Mari would have to leave the ballroom to fix it, giving Alya the perfect chance to bring in the illusory Ladybug and Chat Noir before Marinette returned so she and Adrien could follow Gabriel’s retreat.

Catching Mari’s hair on his cufflink as planned, Adrien’s eyes met Alya’s briefly as Marinette’s hair came fully loose and she released a yelp of real, sincere pain at the tug. Watching Mari leave for the bathroom, Adrien following after her before slowing down and standing beside Nino, who was talking animatedly with Luka as Kagami nursed a flute of champagne, listening intently to the conversation before Juleka came out of nowhere and grabbed her brother’s arm, dragging him to the dance floor to waltz with her. The team hadn’t exactly factored in their non-superhero friends when they’d made the plan earlier that day and, as Alya raised her flute to her lips and wove her illusion, she hoped against hope that their friends, no matter how dearly she loved them, didn’t fuck this up.

~~~~~~~

Pacing back and forth, Nathalie was wringing her hands again. The skin on her hands was beginning to crack from how much she’d been wringing her hands in the past few days, she’d taken to wearing gloves when they’d arrived at Alsace, trying to hide the extent of her worry from Adrien. Dressed in a floor length cocktail dress of deep crimson, a gauzy cape hanging off her shoulders and falling to the floor behind her dress in a cascading waterfall of shimmering fabric, Nathalie played with the silken fingertips of her gloves as she looked out over the ballroom crowded with people. She could easily pick out Adrien’s golden head in the midst of all the people, his blue and black haired friend being dragged away by a girl with vibrant purple hair as the boy in the red hat, Nino she tried to recall his name as, laughed and laughed and laughed. Moving to the railing and placing her hands against it, trying not to squeeze the shining marble in a display of her anxiety, Nathalie’s eyes scanned across the room for Marinette, confused as to why she wasn’t at Adrien’s side. 

There was a sudden clamouring and rise in volume from the floor below, heads turning to face the staircase as the crowd thickened into a tsunami of people moving slowly. Leaning over the railing slightly, Nathalie saw a dark haired girl in a gown of cold, bright red with black polka dots and a wide skirt standing beside the herald. Ladybug looked stunning, despite her face still being covered in a mask (though this one covered more of her face than the one she usually wore). The bodice was heart-shaped, showing off Ladybug’s clavicle slightly with long, black gloves reaching up to her surprisingly defined biceps and no sleeves, the waistline was tapered slightly in a V before the skirt sat out wide from her hips. A tulle overskirt designed to look like ladybug wings floated over the larger skirt on a phantom wind, that had Nathalie wide eyed and itching to take notes on every aspect of the dress so that she could study it and recreate it for herself. 

“Ladybug, Superhero of Paris,” The herald’s voice rang across the room as every single voice dropped, Nathalie’s heart dropping too and cracking into the floor beneath her feet like a stone. No, no, no, no, she’d tried to tell them not to come. This was what Gabriel wanted. Why would they give him what he wanted? And why would they do it on Adrien’s birthday of all days? They knew that today was for him and they’d still come, intent on destroying Hawkmoth and Adrien Agreste with him. A young man with a head of golden hair dressed in a pristine black suit with a black button up beneath it and a golden bow tie appeared behind Ladybug and placed a hand on her lower back, leaning into the herald who announced him a moment later. “Chat Noir, the Superpowered Pun Master of Paris and King of Kitty Cats.”

Nathalie face palmed. Of course Chat Noir would make a spectacle of himself, asking to be announced in such a way. The two superheroes descended the stairs, Ladybug’s hand tucked into the crook of Chat Noir’s elbow as she looked around the ballroom serenely. Eyes snapping to the back of the room, Nathalie caught sight of Gabriel just in time for him to slip into a servant’s corridor and out of sight, her breath caught in her throat painfully. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

A/N; not an awfully long chapter, this one, cause chapter 21 is gonna be a monster of a chapter and I really didn’t want to make this one massive.

~~~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~

@lady-charinette @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @aussie-lesbian @hnbutt @camelliaflwr @mochegato @a-star-with-a-human-name @beauty-and-her-books @imgaydontshoot @severalverysmallmangoesinabasket @katieykat513 @nifflerstorm @itwasmydog

[elellan]

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

CHAPTER 17 . NOT A SINGLE WORD

It was high time for dinner when she finally left her room and made her way to the Herald's Rest. Big, dark clouds were pacing the sky and the air was still and warm, statically waiting for the rain to fall. She had spent the afternoon in lazy unrest and every step she took brought with it memories of the day before: how the Inquisition forces had garrisoned the cave, destroyed the red lyrium and searched thoroughly every nook and cranny. How they had found the ledger and left the Hinterlands. How they had travelled on horseback all day long, reaching Skyhold only when the sky was pitch black and the crows were already fast asleep. How Dorian, Varric and herself had been forced to sleep in the infirmary so that the surgeon could treat their wounds best. Dorian had vehemently protested: "My own bed is the only place where I'll be able to rest. I will patch up my wounds with magic tomorrow!". But it was no use, and they had woken up in two cots, one next to the other, and Riwan had giggled in seeing her friend's floppy moustache and ruffled hair in the morning. She stopped for a moment in the courtyard and sat on a wall behind a bunch of trees for a short time, unnoticed by Skyhold's bypassers, covered by the rustling leaves and by the sound of the rising wind. Her shoulder and waist were covered with thick bandages and whenever she moved her arm the wound on her shoulder would sting and burn. She inhaled the stormy air, wincing for the pain, and gulped as she finally remembered how during all that time she and Cullen had barely looked at each other and exchanged not even a single word, save from a shy "Goodnight" after leaving their mounts to Dennet. She had tried to search his expression with the corner of her eye, careful for the others not to notice her, but all she could see was his chiselled profile, the back of his head, a stain of blood on his neck... 'Mythal'enaste'. And her cheeks flushed in remembering for the millionth time the taste of his lips on her lips, of his tongue, his metal-clad body pressing hers against the wet wall... She shook her head, muffling an exasperated moan - right now she would just focus on eating and getting a hold of herself, and as she entered the Herald’s Rest she was welcomed by a warm fire and a chatting crowd who made way for her in the line for the evening ration. "Please, I can stay in line and wait!", she begged Segritt. "No, Inquisitor, take my place. You've just returned from battle". She collected her food and carefully carried the full tray upstairs, where she hoped to find someone from the inner circle already seated. Two elves deep in conversation caught her eye before she could distinctly hear Dorian's voice coming from a table nearby. She gave the couple one last look - and then stopped abruptly. There, in their table, the one in the corner, near the big, cold windows, drinking and dining in total merriment, were Dorian, Bull, Blackwall, Sera and - Cullen. Dorian immediately saw her and Riwan shot him a questioning gaze. He slightly opened his eyes in an apologetic attempt, shrugging his shoulders. She wouldn’t move. Dorian looked around him and stealthily pointed towards Cullen, his eyes questioning hers now. She shook her head in panic. He sighed and raised his eyebrows again. She knew what he meant: ‘I can’t do anything about it, silly elf’. "Inquisitor! There you are!", Bull boomed. "Still in one piece! Come sit with us!". Riwan begrudgingly obliged him, sitting at the head of the table. "Mmm, this stew's delicious Riwan, eat it", Sera welcomed her, sauce greasing her chin and her dress. "Yes...", Riwan replied, her temper veering dangerously towards frustration. She prayed for her dark complexion to hide her ever more blushing cheeks. "Nasty thing you dealt with at Dwarfson’s pass, Inquisitor”, Blackwall said, “Cullen told me that you were an excellent cover. Ha! No surprise for us who always follow you around”. Riwan buried her head down towards her stew. “Thanks, Blackwall…”. “I was just telling them about that redhead we saw in Crestwood, remember her, Boss?", Bull said. "How could I ever forget her...", Riwan sarcastically said. She started eating her stew, looking sideways at Cullen: he sat there, seemingly oblivious to the utterly embarrassing situation they were in. He was in shirt and breeches, his arm hanging loosely on the back of his chair, drinking ale and actually snorting at Bull's words. He didn’t look at her and perhaps the redness of his ears and neck was simply the ale producing its desired effects. "Is something the matter, Inquisitor?", Blackwall’s scraping voice reached her, as her eyes darted around in evident distress. "What? Not at all". "Really? It seems like you're planning our Commander's homicide!", he laughed. "I am not", she said through gritted teeth. "What- have I done something wrong?", Cullen said, finally noticing himself Riwan's angry look. The others all laughed, save from Dorian, who studied the Inquisitor with knowing and amused eyes from his seat. "Not at all, Commander. Nothing wrong - that I know of". "Right, I’m- I mean-", he stuttered. "Is it true that you’ve been training your new recruits the whole afternoon, while Riwan and I cleverly spent it sleeping like logs, Commander?”, Dorian intervened. She mentally thanked Dorian and seized the opportunity of looking openly towards Cullen: he was pale and his eyes were injected with blood, probably for not having slept in the last two days. She felt something tugging at her heart at that sight. "Yes, they arrived just yesterday. They can barely tell the hilt of the sword from its blade...". “You could have asked me to train them”, Blackwall said, “Take at least this afternoon off”. “Or me!”, Bull boomed. He laughed thunderously for no apparent reason aside from his being drunk, “Not that that flat-assed Krem deserves to rest”. “How does he manage to stand you, I really do not know”, Dorian quietly remarked. "Let's go back to business, Cullen!", Bull boasted, Dorian’s words missing him completely, "I saw a fine one in your ranks too, are you gonna introduce me or do you want to keep her all for yourself?". "Who are you talking about?". "That young warrior, elfish, blondish, tallish...", Bull said, grinning. "Elfish? Boring!", Sera exclaimed, chewing on a bone. "Not boring at all, she was eyeing us while we sparred last week, Cullen, didn't you notice her?". "Oh, that soldier...". "Ha! I knew it! So, what can you tell me about her?", Bull pressed on. "You're rather insistent, are you not?", Dorian observed. "It's all about-", Bull began. "The details! Yew! We all know it, you always say it, ya'boring!", Sera exclaimed. "I can't tell you anything about her, anyway", Cullen laughed, "She is one of my soldiers and I don't even know her name". "Well, that's too bad. I thought you were the elfish type, Cullen", Bull eyed him and drained his jug. "I-uhm...", Cullen looked down. Riwan gulped, her eyes feverishly darting from Bull to Cullen now. She felt as if a fireball had hit her right in the face. She could tell that Dorian was starting to get annoyed too, though she knew not why. A clap of thunder made the windows rattle and she briefly rejoiced in the sky’s outrage. "Come on, Cullen! We're among friends here! What do you say Boss? Is he not the elfish type?”. "Me? What would I have to say about it?". She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. "Let me replenish your jug, Inquisitor", Blackwall said, taking his and her jug and walking downstairs. "Hey! Mine too!", Sera yelled after him, "Piss, he's gone". Riwan felt the strong desire to open her left hand and unleash magic from the Fade on them all, talking one on the other, joking loudly and jesting as if nothing could trouble them. She swallowed forcefully and decided to endure it all for the moment. "Boss, you act so innocently but I know you're not. You can’t hide your true nature from those who travel around with you! Cullen! That girl kept staring at you all day long!". "She is one of my soldiers! You-you can't meddle in the chains of command-", Cullen said, starting to blush violently. "You don't meddle in the chains of command, you say... I recommend that you try it. And I mean it literally”. "Maker's breath", Cullen said, laughing unsurely and shooting a quick glance at Riwan. "Why don't we talk about something else? The weather, perhaps?", Dorian interrupted them, "Or... what about the poor state in which we found Adan a few nights ago? Riwan, any thoughts?". "Yes, that poor man! Whatever happened to him?". "I dare say he was drunk!", Dorian exclaimed. “He couldn’t be more drunk than Bull right now”. "You two, chickens!", Bull laughed. "Here you go, Inquisitor", Blackwall said, handing Riwan a jug full of ale. "And Sera". "Yasss", Sera said, satisfied to the brim with her dinner. Riwan took a sip of ale, clenching the jug in her nervous hands. Should she try and speak to him or not? And to say what? She watched him closely but he didn't meet her eyes. The others continued ranting on, save from Dorian, who watched the sky outside the window become darker by the minute as another thunder growled in the distance. "I must go now", Cullen’s voice startled her and made her flinch, "Have a nice evening everyone. Inquisitor". He got up and swiftly walked away, blatantly ignoring Bull's complaints. Riwan was shocked. She looked at his empty seat. Not even a single word for her, save for that ‘Inquisitor’. Inquisitor. After a few minutes, Dorian got up and whispered in her ear: “I swear I wouldn’t have invited him if I only knew it was a problem for you”. He patted her on the injured shoulder, making her hiss, and went down the stairs to replenish his jug.

[kumkaniudaku]

Rock the Boat

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Sexual Content (18+)

Written By: @kumkaniudaku

ANYWHERE MASTER POST

Recommended Listening: Rock the Boat x Aaliyah

A second wake up didn’t result in another round, but it did provide needed rest for the busy wife and mother. Chadwick had crawled out of bed long before Tasha for a run along the island’s beach, leaving his lover to wake on her own time. For months on end, she was up at the first sign of daybreak, leading the charge to have everyone dressed and prepared for the day’s events before taking a second to compose herself. The need for relaxation was obviously present in the days leading up to the trip when she would trudge to bed and pass out in a heap at night. So for as long as she needed to sleep, he was willing to grant her that space.

By the time she sauntered out of the villa into the patio space, she was buzzing with renewed energy and a faint glow of sexual satisfaction.

“Well damn, if I’d have known you’d come out looking like that, I would’ve decided to have you for breakfast instead.”

Chadwick took in Tasha’s multicolor monokini and all it’s cutouts through her sheer cover-up as she made her way to his spot at the small table beside the pool. The front of her bathing suit presented her stomach to the world, still soft from carrying two children, but featuring more definition than she’d been accustomed to since Noah was born. In the back, the high cut design got a run for its money against her wide hips, becoming more of a thong than its original intention.

With his arms outstretched, Chadwick welcomed Tasha into his lap to pull her against his clothed chest and press kisses wherever bare skin greeted him. His lips against her shoulders sent a chill through her body that starkly contrasted the tropical heat around them.

“You heard what Micah said last night,” she giggled as she squirmed in his arms. “Don’t bring home any more babies.”

Chadwick chuckled at CoCo’s spot-on imitation of their oldest, “Where does she get this stuff from?”

“Probably my mama and aunties. They don’t make her go to sleep over there and she soaks in everything they say like a sponge.”

“Is that why she calls everybody honey now like she’s 65?”

“More than likely,” she laughed, recalling the time Micah calmly asked for more oatmeal in her bowl one morning before adding a southern ‘honey’ to the sentence for emphasis. At nearly seven years old, she’d only lived in Southern California, yet carried around the grace of a Southern Belle several years her senior.

“Anyway, what’s all this? I am starving!”

“This, my love, is the honeymoon special. That’s not what Niha called it, but I can’t remember so I renamed it.”

“Clever,” she laughed before sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

Peeling back the plate covers unleashed the perfect aromas of local delicacies and American fusions of traditional breakfast items that had Tasha’s mouth watering at first glance. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was while she was being treated to orgasm after orgasm. Now she was almost ravenous as she scrambled to find a fork and knife to dig in.

In the alone time, they’d been granted, Chadwick was able to take in the scope of his wife. It wasn’t that he didn’t know she was beautiful. That was obvious. It was the little nuances of her movements that kept him intrigued.

While he watched the apples of her cheeks rise in satisfaction as she enjoyed her meal, he contemplated sharing a piece of life-altering information that he had been sitting on.

“I talked to Angelique,” he casually introduced, causing his wife to slow down long enough to look at him over her shoulder. “She gave me some advice about our plan if you wanna hear it.”

Chadwick was met with silence before Tasha stood to transition from his lap to the seat across from him.

“Mmmkay. Go ahead.”

“Well, she said that it’s great that we want to do this and thinks we have a great chance of being approved.”

“But,” CoCo interjected. There had been nothing but good news followed by caveats from the moment they decided to embark on this journey. A ‘but’ was always expected at this point.

“But, we’ll need to seriously consider a few things.”

“We’ve been considering things for months. What else is there to consider?”

“Nothing major, baby. Just a few details like the size of the house, whether we want to do an open or closed situation, or if we should foster instead.”

“Let’s start with the size of the house.” The mood had clearly begun to sour as Tasha placed her utensils down in front of her to clasp her fingers and place them underneath her chin.

“She recommends shifting the kids around to make space for one more, but I recommend us moving altogether. Wait,” he interjected just as she opened her mouth to counter. “Hear me out. We can afford to move to somewhere down South. It’s cheaper, we’d be closer to our parents as they get up in age, and both of us are still able to work with no interruption to what we do now.”

“Okay, I can’t argue with you there. I still would rather adopt a small child though.”

“And we can do that. But, please, give fostering some thought. We could really help a kid. Not too old of course, but maybe around 8 or 9?”

“Aaron…”

“Think about it, baby. We don’t need to answer right now. Enjoy paradise and we’ll talk about it later. Deal?”

Finding it counterintuitive to further the touchy conversation while so much beauty and wonder surrounded them, CoCo used the napkin in her lap as her literal white flag and surrendered. There were still three days left to enjoy each other with no distractions and neither Chad or CoCo was willing to spoil it with problems from life back home.

“Alright, Pookie, you have complete control of my body and my time for the next three days. What we gettin’ into?”

“Complete control of your body and your time, huh?”

Their eyes met in equally provocative glances that still carried the embers of the flame ignited mere inches from their current positions.

Biting her lip, CoCo made a of show leaning across the table to address her husband. Her arms purposely pressed against her breasts to give Chadwick a full view of her cleavage spilling out of her bathing suit. Restraint kept his hands planted around his glass of orange juice, but his eyes were given permission to roam as they saw fit.

“Especially my body. Wherever…”

“Whenever,” he finished before letting his eyes travel to meet her dark brown orbs directly. “I’ll hold you to that. Until then, Niha will be back in a few to take us around the other islands. How you feel about snorkeling and jet skiing before lunch?”

“I feel like you just wanna see me wet and half naked all day.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, I can get you wet and completely naked right now if I need to.” The confidence in his matter of fact statement and half smirk made CoCo’s face heat up as she turned her head to hide a smile. Chadwick took notice and let out a full belly laugh.

“Don’t hide that pretty smile from me, girl. You know I’m right.”

“Where is this new level of nasty coming from, Mr. Boseman? I like it.”

Leaning across the table, Chadwick pulled Tasha’s hands into his to graze his lips across her knuckles. “You want me to be honest? I’m living out all the things I wanted to do with and to you when we talked about this all those years ago. Believe me when I say we’ve only scratched the surface.”

In CoCo’s mind, it seemed impossible to go any further than they had already gone. They’d had more sex in 16 hours than they’d had in 16 days in their own private corner of the world. If it all had to end right then, their half a day in the Maldives would still be heralded as their best excursion to date. What more was there to do?

When Niha returned to lay out the full itinerary, CoCo was worried that they would need an extra hour or two in the day to enjoy everything.

Every step of the way, they became drawn to each other like magnets. As the snorkeling guide gave rules and tips at the top of their session, Chadwick kept a hand at the small of Tasha’s back to make the occasional rub across her behind as inconspicuous as possible. A request for more sunscreen became CoCo’s excuse to run her hands across Chadwick’s back and chest more times than necessary. A warning from Niha about the legality of public displays of affection kept them from going too far, creating tension that would be useful for their time back at the villa.

With her body secure in his hold against the back loveseat of their passenger boat, CoCo allowed her eyes to close and her mind to truly take in the scope of what was happening around her. Chadwick felt her shoulders rise and fall in a deep sigh and tightened his grip around her.

“What you thinkin’,” he asked before placing a kiss on top of her head.

“I’m thinking that I am the luckiest girl in the world right now. You have made every one of my dreams come true.”

“You deserve it, baby.” In their first public show of affection that day, their lips came together in rapid sweet kisses and carefree giggles.

“So, you know,” CoCo started as she pulled away to lean against Chadwick. “I gotta step up my game for you this year. If you pull out any more surprises we may have to go to the Moon.”

“Maybe wait until this next one before you make the final decision.”

“What?”

Finally taking the time to pay attention to their route, Tasha noticed that they weren’t in the vicinity of their villa. Open water gave way to an unpopulated boating dock and a boat that carried two waving captains.

“We’re here, Mr. and Mrs. Boseman,” Niha smiled over her shoulders. Your captains for the night are Kyle and Aisar. They’ll take great care of you.”

“Uh, Niha, where exactly is here?”

Niha looked to Chadwick for permission to answer CoCo’s question which he granted with a lazy nod and smile.

“You are about to embark on a Kuoni sunset cruise. Your husband has requested total privacy for your evening. This is the perfect time to watch the sunset and spot a few dolphins during your outing.”

Tasha never got the chance to express her shock or gratitude. Niha’s boat came to a stop at the dock before they were carefully escorted from one mode of transportation to the next. The traditional dhoni, covered in exquisite handcrafted wood and billowing lateen sails, was covered in white roses in the section set aside for Chadwick and Tasha to enjoy alone. Glasses of sparkling wine were presented as gifts to pair a general rundown of the trip before they were left to enjoy the view alone.

Their tour took them past picturesque islands, unaffected and uninhabited, able to exist in gorgeous peace. Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and, soon, the decision to relax against the plush pallet and pillows followed/

The gentle rock of the boat added serenity to the moment between husband and wife and sat side by side to watch the sun take its final resting spot beyond the horizon. A dolphin jumping out of the ocean for a brief hello made CoCo smile, as she stared into the distance. A gesture so tiny would’ve been overlooked by most, but Chadwick couldn’t bring himself to look away. 

If he had to choose, the moments when his wife was absorbed in her thoughts and with no concept of the world around her were his favorites. Her sunkissed skin absorbed the dwindling rays of sunshine and reflected them tenfold. Flecks of her college self still remained to mesh expertly with the more refined aspects of the beauty acquired through maturation. Chadwick would argue with anyone foolish enough to engage that his wife was the most stunning woman on Earth. But, instead of debating what needed no defense, he took her chin between his index and thumb to command her full attention.

“Can I get you anything else? More wine?”

“No, I think I’m good, babe. Thank you. For everything.”

Smiling, CoCo leaned in for a kiss filled with equal parts love and lust. With no one around, ��the risk of offense lessened and she jumped at the opportunity to push the envelope. That simple mantra of whenever, wherever rolled around the corners of her mind as she leveraged her position to straddle Chadwick’s lap. His hands took their time on the journey to her hips before settling in their preferred position.

“Okay, so we’re going to Mars for your birthday. I’ll start booking as soon as we get back.”

Chadwick laughed and shook his head, “You don’t have to go that far. I trust we’ll have a good time either way.”

Both of them could feel the heat of the other through the thin material of their swimsuits as the shared another kiss, this time more intense than the soft pecks throughout the day. Chadwick’s fingertips pressed into the soft skin of CoCo’s waist and hips to guide her movements. He could feel and hear the excitement building as her breathing became shallow. This was the whenever and wherever they’d be searching for.  

At the swivel of her hips in his lap, Chadwick and Tasha shared a moan. Slow grinding was perfect for a night in, but time was waning.  was a sense of urgency in the way that CoCo slid her bathing suit to the side, prompting Chadwick to follow her lead and push his shorts down his thighs. He helped her lift to her knees before using his fingertips to work her pearl in slow circles. Tasha quickly reached down to take him in her palm, forming a half circle around his length to assist him in reaching the peak of his arousal.

“If we’re gonna do this,” Chadwick spoke as he exhaled. “You gotta promise you’ll be quiet.”

Laughing, she bent down to nip at his earlobe, “I was gonna say the same thing to you.”

Their hushed giggles were cut short by simultaneous and different curses. Knowing that time was of the essence, CoCo braced herself with both hands planted on Chadwick’s chest as he adjusted his angle beneath her. Audible sighs of pleasure were lost in the sounds around them while they watched him disappear inside of her inch by inch.

Tasha’s body readily accommodated the stinging stretch of him, hugging and massaging his dick with every rotation of her hips. Satisfied with the honey coating her thighs and his, CoCo planted her knees on either side of her husband’s hips to start a moderate bounce in his lap.

Chadwick was relegated to breathless moaning as Tasha took control. Her face screwed in acute focus, eyes clamped shut, head thrown back and her bottom lipped trapped beneath her teeth. The setting sun cast erotic shadows against the aged wood to transform their bodies into one being.

Her fluid motions became entrancing in the pinks and purples of the impending nightfall. The graceful rise and fall of her breasts matched the rhythmic roll of her hips, adding a visual to the sensation that never seemed to get old when they were together.

“Look at you,” Chadwick whispered into the crook of CoCo’s neck. “So pretty ridin’ daddy’s dick. You gon’ come like this?”

“Yessss!”

“Show me, baby. Don’t stop ‘til you come.”

A dull burn in her thighs did little deter the chase of her approaching orgasm as Tasha went into overdrive. Shifting back to a grinding motion gave her the range to satisfy the throbbing ache within while her clit repeatedly grazed his pelvis. Any extra coaxing would’ve sent her to take her place amongst the stars, which Chadwick knew and used to his advantage.

Firm pressure to her clit with the pad of his thumb gave her the final piece of the puzzle as she came undone in one tremor after the other. Finishing was no longer a priority for Chadwick. His chief concern was getting his wife to the crest of her wave in her favorite position.

Tasha dug her nails into her husband’s back to control the scream bubbling in her chest. At the height of her release, the faint sound of hooping and hollering in the distance felt like an odd hallucination.

“Yeaaaah! That’s how you enjoy the ocean!”

“Get it, girl! Nice moves!”

Tasha rushed to hide her face from the lively group of spectators as their dhoni’s passed in the night. Chadwick held her close to shield her from embarrassment though he found humor in the situation. The lack of light in the immediate area kept their identities concealed, removing the worry of ending up on the front page of a tabloid.

“Y’all have a nice night now,” Chadwick hollered back in the midst of his laughter.

“Same to you, buddy! Enjoy the honeymoon! Don’t do nothin’ we wouldn’t do!”

Chadwick accepted the unsolicited advice with a wave of his hand and a thank you until the visitors were no longer in sight. Collapsing on top of each other in a heap, Chadwick set off a string of laughs at the absurdity of the situation.

“I can not believe that just happened. We fucked on a boat and got caught by the only other tourists for miles. What is life right now?”

“You put on a damn good show though, baby. Maybe we can get some of that on camera later tonight?”

“On camera you say,” she asked with a playful glint in her eye. “Good. I think I’m ready for my close up.”

                                      ____________

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[innerpostmentality]

Sometimes Beginnings Start With Goodbye

This is a TRR AU fan fic inspired by the Choices book series The Royal Romance All rights and many thanks are given to Pixelberry Studios for the use of their characters. This fic is written for my friend @tornbetween2loves who is celebrating her birthday soon and requested the prompt “let me love you” for Drake X MC where MC accepts Liam’s proposal. She requested some angsty heartbreak. There is more story here. There will be at least two parts. I haven’t decided if I’m brave enough for this paddling pool. Angst is hard for me. Rating: M - Mature themes, Erotica                               Word count: 3300 ish Warnings: adult intimacy, serious illness, addiction, depression   Tagging: @tornbetween2loves @gardeningourmet @kennaxval @stopforamoment @bobasheebaby @cora-nova @indiacater @hopefulmoonobject @drakewalkerwhipped Please let me know if you want to be tagged for this. Thanks!

   Giselle rolled over and found herself facing her husband’s bright Mediterranean blue eyes in the filtered dawn light. Her eyes locked with his as she traced her finger gently over his smile til he playfully snapped it in his mouth and sucked on it pressing the tip of his tongue against the pad of her finger and drawing circles on it like he did another part of her body in the middle of the night. She sighed in pleasure and pulled it out of his mouth with a soft pop. Large hands pulled her tight against him his mouth finding hers as he rolled her on top of him.

 His hard length was pressed against her stomach and she reached down finding the tip wet with the slick pearl of his desire. She watched his eyes half close with his pleasure as she deftly smoothed his offering all around his so sensitive ridge with the pad of her thumb. 

“Giselle, my Queen, you will make short work of me doing that.” he gasped.

She chuckled low and murmured as she firmly slid her hand all the way to his base pressing her fingers gently between his balls, “Nothing, could ever, make short work of you my King.” 

 He growled and with unspoken coordination lifted her just enough that she could direct his tip into her soaking hot passage. Her moan joined his as she stretched around him rolling her hips and contracting her walls. His thumb found her swollen clit gently, gently stroking it as he thrust up into her.

 It was the third day of their one year anniversary honeymoon. They were both so sensitive and sore at this point in what had been a marathon of lovemaking even undergarments chaffed them; and still a look, a kiss, a touch and their need to join was upon them both. Liam was gasping beneath her and her head was thrown back little grunts of pleasure heralding the closeness of her release. He cried out arching up deeply in her in his ecstasy spraying his seed in her cervix even as her own rapture crested pulling him even deeper. They kissed, collapsed and clinging to each other. And Liam’s phone rang.

 It wasn’t just any ring. It was Bastien’s ring. Liam groaned reaching for his phone. “Bastien?”  “Your, your Majesty we have taken Drake to the hospital.”

Giselle heard the catch in Bastien’s voice over the phone. Heard Liam’s breath catch even as he pulled her even tighter against him.  “Bastien, what happened?”  “We don’t know Sir. He was found unconscious in his quarters.” “We’re coming home.”  Liam hung up and rolled from the bed pulling on his robe even as he called Mara’s number.                                            ******************************

Two hours later they were in the air headed for Rabat Morocco where they would land to refuel. Barbados only a warm memory.

 Giselle held Liam’s hand as she looked out the window at the seemingly never ending Atlantic beneath her. His other hand held his phone desperately wanting it to ring with news that Drake would be okay. 

Her eyes closed and she drifted back to that night. The night Liam proposed and she got to say yes to the love of her life. Getting back to her room in a happy daze. Finding the note from Drake slipped beneath her door. ‘We need to talk about us. Meet me on the balcony.’  The New York City sky alight with its two hundred and sixty seven skyscrapers obliterating the night and dimming the stars was a spectacular backdrop for romance or breaking a heart.

 She hadn’t thought, still euphoric about her engagement. And she had gone to him still tousled from making love to Liam on top of the Statue of Liberty, Liam’s passion bites a rosy chain descending down her collar bones blatantly visible, she hadn’t thought to cover them. Didn’t even realize they were there it was so unusual for her always considerate, proper king to do anything that would leave casual evidence of his passion. But that night at some primal level Liam was claiming her taking her against the glass of the observation deck slamming into her hard enough she would have bruises from the railing she was braced against, marking her.

 At some level perhaps she was proud of those marks. She would be shocked in the morning and carefully cover them. But that night as she stood before Drake confessing his love to her they combined with the heavy multicarat engagement ring sparkling on her finger to twist the knife she’d never intended to put in his heart. She never intended to hurt him. She did love him. But for her it was always like a brother. 

 He’d been drinking. Drake was always drinking. She saw his eyes go wide as he saw her. “I,” his eyes dropped, “I just wanted you to know. I just hoped…” He closed his eyes struggling. A low whisper she barely heard. But she heard. “I just wanted you to let me love you. I needed you to know. I do, I love you Tyler.”

 He shook his head. Tangled his hands through his perpetually unruly hair and turned away from her wiping his face. “Damnit. Just, congrats. Forget I said anything. Please. Liam’s the very best. You too. Thanks for coming out here. Not leaving me just here.”

 She walked up to him and hugged him pressing her face to the center of his back. Her voice as gentle as she could make it. “Drake you know I love you. But I love you like a brother. You’re the big brother I never had. You deserve someone who loves you with all their passion as well as their heart. I never, never ever wanted to hurt you Drake.”

 He turned in her arms and she saw the tears in his dark eyes. “It’s okay Tyler. Really. For the best, really.” His arms wrapped around her for an instant holding her with desperate strength as he kissed the top of her head and she heard him sob before he let her go and turned away again.

  She looked at him and then left knowing in that moment she had broken him and couldn’t make it better.

Groaning in distress in her sleep her emotions raw with the memory, Liam gently rubbed her back to soothe her. She turned and grabbed Liam’s hand kissing it, clinging to it before blinking awake. “Any word?” “No, but it would have to be a radio call. We’re a couple of hours out of Morocco.” Head down, despair was etched all over her husband.

“Li, have you gotten any rest?”

He shook his head.

“Come, Love. The best thing we can do right now is to get some sleep so we will be in shape to deal with whatever we find when we get there.”   He let her lead him to the back cabin where there was a bedroom.  She turned the bed down and slipped off her shoes arranging the pillows on her side of the bed so she could sit up. Then she went and started undressing Liam who had just been sitting there with his head in his hands. He looked at her but didn’t stop her. There was a lost little boy look in his eyes that broke her heart. He took her hand closing his eyes and kissing it. “Not too long. And wake me if we hear anything.” 

She nodded before settling herself into her pillows pulling up a cute but mindless collection game on her phone. She lifted her left arm to him, “Come here Li. Hold me.” He rolled to her wrapping his arms around her laying his head against her waist. Kissing her side. “Thank you Love.” She stroked the silk of his sandy blond head and felt him slowly relax. 

 It had been a tough year for them. The world was becoming so unstable with the power balance of major nations shifting like quicksand. Liam was doing everything possible to ensure that in the midst of it all Cordonia remained solvent. He’d literally spent more time travelling to summits and in meetings with foreign leaders than he had spent at home. Giselle had been trying to adapt to her queenly duties as well as cover as much of Liam’s local social duties as possible.  And then there was the press. She was their darling. They just wanted her to be pregnant. And the speculation was not always kind. It had been a year after all.

 The truth was in their first year of marriage they had more hours of sexting than sex. For the first three months she had left her implant in place, both of them agreeing to have a little adjustment time with just the two of them. Then she had the implant removed and the doctor advised her that it might take some time for her fertility to return.

Then the trips seemed to snowball. Economies all over the world were wobbling. And the disasters. The previous year’s flooding in Portavira were followed by a serious avalanche in Lythikos and record breaking freezes that threatened the apple orchards in central Cordonia.

 Her eyes drifted down to the mussy sandy head nuzzled against her side and she knew if she had to make the choice all over again she would have made the same one. Liam was snoring softly still holding her tightly as she stroked gently down his back. 

 Thinking over the past months she could see where Drake had been spiraling. He was Liam’s best friend. Honestly, Liam was closer to Drake than Leo. They were the same age a few weeks apart and they had grown up together. At the lowest points in Liam’s life Drake had been there for him. She had been the only thing that had ever come close to coming between them. Even then, she found out later, they had talked. They talked and agreed that they both would support each other whoever she chose. And she knew that was Liam’s intention. But the world intervened. And they both had failed their friend.

  Drake had taken to avoiding her when Liam was away. She rationalized that space from the person who broke your heart was necessary for healing a broken heart. And also it helped ensure there was no chance for any scandalous speculation with her and Liam separated so much, it seemed the proper thing to do. But Drake wasn’t just avoiding her. He was also not going to see Bertrand and Savana and Bartie. He wasn’t hanging out with Maxwell. The volunteer work helping repair houses for the poor and elderly, helping with disaster relief, giving horseback riding and care lessons to some of the local schools and children’s clubs had become a thing of the past. He may not have had an official job but in the past he was always productive and always working on some project or other. She realized that it was a gradual thing; but it was like he had retreated from all the activities that kept him engaged. And they hadn’t noticed.

When they had noticed his absence they had shrugged it off, it was Drake being Drake, he never liked parties, he was probably off fishing or something. She knew in her heart that they should have intervened; she should have intervened months ago. And now all she could do was pray that it wasn’t too late.

                         ************************************************ The petite woman in the white coat walked up to him extending her hand. “Mr. Walker?” “No Dr., I’m Bastien Lykel, head of the King’s Guard. I’m, I’m his friend.” “I see. Mr. Lykel do you know if Mr. Walker has immediate family available or how to get in contact with them?” “Yes Dr., I’ve already contacted them. His mother is in the states and won’t be here for a day or two. His sister is in her second trimester and has had some complications so can’t be here until probably around noon tomorrow. His best friends, King Liam and Queen Giselle are on their way back from Barbados. I expect them in the next eight or so hours.” Bastien looked at her closely, automatically assessing. Mid-thirties, no nonsense, smart, her badge read ‘Dr. Marissa Ardes Head of Critical Care’, very smart he mentally amended. “Mr. Lykel I’ve been treating your friend. And I was hoping to get some information about him. Would you be willing to answer a few questions?” “Of course.” Bastien nodded feeling profound dizzying relief rush through him. In the three hours since they had brought Drake in by ambulance no one had talked to him and all his questions were simply answered with ‘they were trying to stabilize him and the doctor would be speaking with him as soon as they could.’ The doctor wouldn’t be asking him questions if Drake was dead. So he took what felt like the first breath in the last four hours. “Thank you. Just to confirm a few things. Mr. Walker is twenty-nine?” 

Bastien’s eyes widened at the realization it had been over twenty years since his friend’s death and his surrogate fatherhood to Jackson Walker’s son started. “Yes, Dr. Ardes.” “Do you know of any allergies to medication we need to be aware of?” 

“No, Dr. Ardes.” “Do you know when Mr. Walker started drinking?”

“Eighteen or Nineteen? I believe. He went to university in the States and when he returned he was drinking socially.”

“Do you know when Mr. Walker started drinking heavily?”

Bastien wanted to deny it. But he knew it was true. Especially this last year. “I believe it escalated over the last year.” “Do you know of any mental illness, depression, anxiety, severe phobias Mr. Walker may suffer from.” Bastien shook his head, “No. But I know his mother suffered from some depression. Fairly severe depression I believe.” She nodded. “Has he been ill? Cold, Flu, anything like that?” “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days.” “Were you the one that found him unconscious?”   He nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose to try to keep his composure. He’d had a query from the hay delivery man who was looking for Mr. Walker to sign for the feed for the horses. Bastien had called and when he didn’t get an answer he’d left a message and signed for the feed. He hadn’t thought about it for several hours when he realized that he never had gotten a reply from Drake and went looking for him. When his Jeep was still there and all the horses were there he’d gone to his room. The door wasn’t locked so he’d gone inside and found him collapsed in the bathroom. He was lying like a puppet with cut strings in his own vomit, feces, and urine. Bastien thought he was dead. He called 911. When he touched him he was clammy cold. Upon their arrival the paramedics found Bastien holding him weeping. They pulled him away from Drake and found the thready pulse and immediately started an IV. “Mr. Lykel?” Bastien was pulled from the horror by the doctor’s gentle voice. He registered that her tone had changed and he realized he was weeping. “I found him.” “Mr. Lykel can I get you something to drink? Some water or tea or coffee?” He looked at her and realized she was now caring for him. He cleared his throat. “Water would be good.”

She walked over to an unmanned information desk and rummaged around behind it for a moment before returning with a small bottle of water for him which she opened and handed to him watching him sip before she sat back down looking in his eyes. She had very dark blue eyes he realized, not brown like he thought at first.  “Mr. Lykel we are going to be taking excellent care of Mr. Walker. I want you to know that. But his family and friends, well you will have to look out for yourselves and each other. Mr. Walker now has a professional team dedicated to getting him well. Do you understand sir? Is there someone you can call or we might call for you?” He nodded and looked at her. “I thought he was dead.” He rubbed his eyes, “I’ll call someone.” He just had no idea who. She nodded. “He is a very ill young man. I cannot go into details without the family’s permission. But you did an excellent job getting him here to us. I just have a few more questions if you feel able?”

“Yes Dr.” “Do you have any idea how long Mr. Walker was unconscious before you found him?” Bastien’s eyes were burning. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. At least several hours I think. He was supposed to sign for a delivery and they called me. When he didn’t answer I left a message and signed for it myself. Later… hours later I realized that I hadn’t gotten a reply. Drake sometimes goes hiking or fishing or riding. Not in cell phone range. So that’s what I thought. But then I saw his Jeep still there and started really looking for him. That’s when I found him.” She nodded. “So Mr. Walker was fairly active before this happened?” Bastien nodded. “Do you know of any recent injuries he may have sustained? I saw in his record that eighteen months or so ago he suffered a gunshot wound in his shoulder and a sword wound that required stitches? Anything more recent than that?” “Not that I.. No, I saw him limping a week ago? He didn’t mention anything. Not that he would. Maybe check his right leg?” She nodded. “Thank you Mr.Lykel. Do you have any questions? I am very limited in what I can tell you at this time. I do apologize.” He looked at her with his deep gray eyes and she saw the eyes of a father looking at her. “Is he going to make it?”

Her gaze never wavered from his as she considered her reply. “Sir, I’ve been a doctor for over a decade. And I’ve seen a lot of people live that I thought wouldn’t make it. And I’ve seen a lot of people die that I would’ve sworn were going to be fine. We humans are notoriously terrible test subjects simply because so terribly much of our well being has to do with our outlook, our support system, our personal desire to live or die.

 Looking strictly at his charts I would say he’s 50/50 at this point. But he’s here with excellent care so I’ll give him 60/40. And I know he’s got you and the King and Queen so I could put it around 70/30. He is young and was active so I’ll give him 80/20.” She lifted a brow as she studied him.

“But…?  Doctor I’ve been a royal guard for over two decades. I know a condition even when it’s not spoken. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Quite simply Mr. Lykel, we have to figure out why Mr. Walker doesn’t want to live.”

[chocolatequeennk]

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Stuck in a cave in the middle of a blizzard, the Doctor and Rose find a new way to keep warm.

Ten x Rose, huddling for warmth. For @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas, snowed in and cold.

Thanks to @paigenotblank for reading over this for me!

FF.NET | AO3

The play ended just as the first rays of dawn’s light struck the stage, bathing the actors in a pink glow. Rose sucked in a breath and jumped to her feet along with the rest of the audience, clapping wildly.

She turned to the Doctor after the last curtain call. He was beaming down at her, the wide, goofy smile she loved so much stretched across his face.

“That was incredible!” she told him.

He bounced a little on his toes. “Worth sitting out here on a cold, December-like night?”

Rose laughed and tucked her cold nose into the folds of the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders. “Well, we managed to stay pretty warm. And that mulled wine they served at intermission certainly helped.”

The wind picked up, sod’s law dictating that as soon as she said they were warm, the temperature had to drop. “I think I’m ready to go home though.” She folded the blanket a few times, then slung it over her shoulders like a shawl or a wide scarf.

The Doctor took her hand and led her out of the amphitheatre. “Just a short walk through the woods and we’ll be sitting in front of the library fireplace.”

A few snowflakes fluttered around them, and Rose hummed happily. Snow was the perfect addition to the festive day. “And maybe we can have hot chocolate, with peppermint sticks and lots of whipped cream,” she suggested.

Neither of them mentioned the fact that once again, the Doctor’s landing hadn’t been quite as precise as he’d meant it to be. Oh, he’d gotten them to the right planet, and even the right day, but they had a four mile walk through the woods before they could have that hot chocolate.

The Doctor swung their hands between them as they started on the path. “We could… cuddle under a blanket while we watch Christmas movies.”

Rose caught the smirk he tried to hide and joined in the game. For the next few minutes, they took turns suggesting ways to get warm.

“Your turn,” the Doctor said. He held a branch out of the way so Rose could duck underneath it, knocking the snow off of it in the process.

The flurry had become a steady snowfall. Forgetting about the game, Rose held out her hand and watched a snowflake melt into her soft mitten. “It’s like one of those old Christmas card paintings,” she said, gesturing at the forest floor which was just turning white. “Snow makes everything look so fresh and clean.”

That reminded her of a question she’d had earlier. “You never told me why they sit outside before dawn in the middle of winter to watch a play.”

“Today marks the first day after the solstice,” he told her. “So last night was the longest night, and they stay up all night, ready to welcome the first dawn that heralds the start of the lengthening days.”

Rose looked up at the Doctor. “The play, it felt like it was sort of a new year theme. Like, the whole point was that things end, but at the end of everything, there’s a new beginning. Is it always like that?”

The Doctor nodded, sending a few snowflakes fluttering from his hair. “Every year, they hold a contest for playwrights to create this year’s solstice play. The theme varies slightly from year to year, but it always has some kind of hopeful tone to it.”

Another gust of wind whistled through the trees. Rose clamped her lips shut to hold back a shiver and watched warily as the snowflakes became larger and heavier.

“Is it just me, or is the weather getting worse?” she asked.

The Doctor sighed. “It’s not just you. The temperature is dropping and the wind has picked up.”

Rose’s nose and cheeks stung from the cold, but she shook her head. “Yeah, I was more talking about how heavily the snow is starting to fall. Look at my blanket,” she added, pointing at the crusty layer of half-melted snow forming on the soft fabric.

The Doctor groaned and raked his hand through his hair. “I was trying to ignore that, actually.” He pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, then looked down at her. “I’d suggest turning back around, but I’m more certain I can find the TARDIS in a snowstorm than anything else.”

Rose looked up at him quizzically and he tapped the side of his head. With rare exceptions, he could find his ship anywhere. Providing he could actually get to her.

“Yeah, okay,” Rose agreed. “Let’s keep going.” She took his hand and squeezed. “The faster we get home, the faster we can have that hot chocolate, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, hoping she couldn’t tell his enthusiasm was just a cover for his frustration and guilt.

There was over an inch of snow on the ground now, and conversation was limited to warnings to step over tree roots covered in snow, or to avoid a hole in the path. The Doctor focused half his mind on his connection with the TARDIS, and the ship answered with a warm hum. She was there waiting for them.

That kept him going, even when the storm turned into a proper blizzard and their visibility was limited to only a few feet in front of them. He could hear Rose’s teeth chattering above the whistling of the wind—they had to get home.

But when they nearly stepped off the edge of a ravine because they couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of them, the Doctor called a halt.

“We need to find someplace to wait out the storm,” he said grimly. “There’s no point in going on if we’re just going to end up dead.”

“Well aren’t you Mr. Cheerful,” Rose muttered. “All right then, how are we going to find someplace to hide in this storm?”

The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver. His numb fingers fumbled with the settings, but he finally managed to get the one he wanted. “Topographical analysis,” he told Rose as he scanned a complete three hundred sixty degrees around them. “It’ll tell me if there are any caves nearby.”

Come on, come on, he pleaded silently as he waited for the scan results. If his own hands were feeling the cold, then Rose must be nearly frozen solid. He needed to get her into shelter before she became hypothermic.

He crowed in delight when the scan registered a cave only a hundred yards from where they were standing. “This way!” he called to Rose over the wind.

The Doctor took Rose’s hand and held it tight as they picked their way blindly over the rocky terrain. They were already lost in a blizzard; losing each other in the blizzard would be monumentally worse.

After ten harrowing minutes, they finally stepped out of the storm into the cave. The Doctor adjusted the settings on the sonic, and a beam of blue light shone around the shelter.

“Made it!” he said, his voice echoing against the rock walls.

Rose dropped her snow-covered blanket and glanced around nervously. “Are you sure there isn’t something already living here? Like, a big, hairy something that likes to eat humans and Time Lords?”

“Ah. Excellent point.” The Doctor scanned the cave and breathed a sigh of relief when it came up with only the two life signs. “No, this is a completely empty cave.”

Rose rubbed her hands over her arms, her teeth chattering. “G-good,” she said. “I d-don’t think I could have gone much further.”

The Doctor looked her up and down, swiftly taking in her current condition. He swore under his breath when he saw her blue lips. “Here, let me.” He took her hands first, holding them between his as he concentrated on his own body temperature for a moment.

Rose gasped, and he felt her fingers wiggle as feeling returned. “How’d you do that? I thought you were always colder than humans.”

He tugged her close and wrapped his coat snugly around them both. “Superior biology. I can regulate my body temperature.”

She chuckled. “That’s convenient. I like it.”

The Doctor felt Rose relax as he warmed her up, and he rubbed her back a few times before taking a step back. “But that only helps temporarily,” he said briskly. “If we’re going to get your core body temperature raised, we need to get a fire going.”

Rose glanced around the empty cave, then looked at him, her eyebrows raised. “I don’t see any wood nearby.”

The Doctor shook his head and forced a teasing tone into his voice. “Rose Tyler, we just walked through a huge forest to get to this cave. We are literally surrounded by wood.” He held up his hand when she opened her mouth. “And once I bring it in, I can dry it off with the sonic,” he said, anticipating her objection.

Relief flickered in Rose’s eyes. “Yeah, all right. Just don’t get lost out there.”

He held up his sonic. “I’ll just guide myself right back here the way I did the first time.”

A tiny smile finally crossed Rose’s face. “All right then. What are you waiting for? I think you promised me a fire.”

The Doctor waved, then took a deep breath and plunged back into the storm.

He stumbled around, waving his arms in front of him, until his fingers brushed against rough bark. Then he ran his hands up the trunk until he came to the first branch. Working his way down to the smaller twigs, he broke off several, shoving them into his coat pocket.

“Brilliantly done, Doctor,” he muttered as he worked. “Oh yes, take Rose to one of the best solstice celebrations in the galaxy, but then let her freeze to death because you weren’t paying close enough attention to the weather before you started for home.”

He started a bigger pile of branches on the ground in front of the tree, working carefully in a circle around the trunk so he didn’t lose the tree or his firewood.

All his ideas and plans for the day seemed to be slipping away from him. Ever since their foray into the parallel universe, he’d been trying to find a way to hint to Rose that they could move their relationship forward. Taking her to the Elurran First Dawn had seemed… symbolic, somehow. New beginnings and all that.

Even if he hadn’t gotten up the courage to bring up their relationship, he’d also wanted to give her a nice, relaxing trip. They’d had too much trouble lately. He wanted to remind her of the incredible parts of travelling through time and space.

A blizzard did not fit in with any of his plans.

Tree branches creaked dangerously in the howling wind, and the Doctor decided he’d gathered enough wood. Feeling his way back to his pile, he carefully bent over and picked it up, then made his way back to the cave. He paid close attention to the heading from the sonic. In white-out conditions, it was easy to become disoriented and walk in circles, or the completely wrong direction.

Rose was pacing back and forth across the cave opening when he returned. “Whew! You would not believe the weather out there!” he said as he dropped the wood on the cave floor.

She spun around and wrapped him in a tight hug, which the Doctor immediately reciprocated. “Everything all right?” he asked quietly, holding her close.

She nodded and pressed her cold nose into his coat. “Just got worried you’d get lost out there,” she said, the words muffled by his coat.

The Doctor’s hearts clenched at the fear in her voice. He pulled back and looked into Rose’s eyes, his hands on her shoulders. “I will always find my way back to you, Rose Tyler.”

Her eyes widened, and the Doctor’s mouth went dry. This seemed like the perfect moment to broach that conversation, but before he could find the right words, a violent shiver shook Rose’s body.

“Right,” he said, dropping his hands. “Time to get a fire going.”

“I won’t argue with that,” she said. “And maybe that magic sonic-drying thing could work on my blanket and coat too?”

He smiled at her over his shoulder as he set to work on the wood. “Absolutely,” he assured her. “You just wait, Rose. You’ll be toasty warm in no time.”

Rose bit her lip as she watched him work. She’d seen the look in his eyes a moment ago. If the cold hadn’t suddenly been too much for her to stand, what would he have said?

“I will always find my way back to you.”

She shivered again, and the line of the Doctor’s shoulders stiffened. “Almost done,” he told her.

Rose blinked, then she realised that somehow, he knew she was shivering again. And he doesn’t know that wasn’t from the cold, she thought, a rueful smile on her face.

“S’all right, Doctor,” she told him. “I trust you.”

He didn’t say anything, but she thought his back relaxed, just a little. A minute later, he gathered up the kindling and two medium-sized logs and placed them on a relatively flat spot toward the front of the cave.

“We run the risk of the wind putting it out,” he told her as he used the sonic to light the kindling. “But that’s better than suffocating because there wasn’t enough ventilation.”

Rose shuddered. “Definitely,” she said adamantly.

The Doctor carefully positioned the larger pieces of wood over the twigs and the flames licked at the dry wood. “If you sit here, in between the fire and the cave entrance, maybe it’ll stay going while I dry out more wood,” he suggested.

Rose took his place at the mouth of the cave. The shock of the cold wind at her back took her breath away for a moment, and she huddled over the fire to get warm again.

The Doctor looked over at her, and the lines around his eyes tightened when he saw her hunched over the small fire. “I’ll get our coats and the blanket dry as soon as we have enough wood.”

“I’m fine, Doctor,” Rose told him. When he didn’t look very reassured, she changed the subject. “I thought the sonic didn’t do wood,” she said as he waved the tool slowly over the remaining logs.

He rolled his eyes at her, as she’d hoped. “It’s not actually working on the wood right now.”

She grinned, letting her tongue peek out behind her teeth. “Yeah, I figured that might be the answer. So, how does it dry things?”

“Sonic waves excite the water molecules, causing them to heat up and evaporate.”

“Like a microwave,” Rose mused.

The Doctor added a log to the fire, then took off his coat and laid it on the ground next to Rose’s blanket and waved the sonic over them. “Exactly. Just much, much more efficient.”

Rose could see little wisps of steam rising off the fabric, and just a minute later, the Doctor pulled his coat back on. “I see that.”

He grinned at her, then brought her the blanket. “This will keep you warmer than that wet coat while I dry the rest of the wood.”

Rose hadn’t thought the damp coat was keeping her warm, but when she took it off and felt the cold bite into her back, she changed her mind. She shivered and fumbled with the blanket, trying to drape it over her back.

The Doctor took it from her and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. “There. That should keep you warm for the moment,” he said, then went back to his task.

Rose rubbed her numb cheek against the soft folds of the blanket. As cold as she was, the Doctor’s concern made her feel warm straight through.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

He glanced up from the pile of wood he was drying out. “What for?”

She smiled at him. “For taking care of me, like you always do.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched and he shook his head. “If I took care of you, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” A gust of wind blew a flurry of snowflakes into the cave. “We should have gone into town with the Elurrans and found someplace to wait out the storm.”

Rose sighed. “The snow isn’t your fault, Doctor. And you were the one who found this cave, so you did find us someplace to wait out the storm.”

The Doctor silently piled up the dry wood against the wall of the cave. He didn’t look as tense as he had before, so Rose let him think while he dried her coat.

“Come out of the wind,” he invited once her coat was ready. “I think the fire is strong enough to keep going on its own.”

Rose gladly shifted to the warmer side of the fire. She put her coat back on, then held out the blanket for the Doctor. “Come on,” she said, shaking the end at him. “We can get nice and cosy while we watch the storm.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you ever blame me for the misadventures I get us into?” he asked as they settled in by the fire. “Ever wonder what you got into when you decided to travel with me?”

He smiled when she looked up at him, but she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. That’s why he’s so upset about this storm.

Rose shook her head. “Nope,” she said, popping the p like he did. “When I told you I love travelling with you, I didn’t just mean the fun, easy parts. I meant the trouble, too.”

She bit her lip. There was more, but if she kept going, she would as good as tell him how she felt about him. On the other hand…

She took a deep breath and crossed her fingers. “It’s like what you said earlier, that you’d always find your way back to me. Well… me, I’m never going to leave you.”

The Doctor’s mouth fell open. “Rose,” he said, his voice more of a wheezy rasp.

She swallowed hard, then kept going. “I know you thought I wanted to stay behind in that other universe with that Pete Tyler, but I didn’t even consider it. I wouldn’t have left Mum behind like that, but even if I didn’t have Mum, I wouldn’t have left you.”

Rose fell silent, leaving the crackling of the fire the only sound in the cave as the Doctor tried to process what she’d just told him. When he’d told Rose he would always find his way back to her, he’d meant it as a kind of commitment—that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his lives.

And if Rose used that to turn around and promise that she would never leave him, then maybe…

“Never?” His voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat while he waited breathlessly for her answer.

Rose nodded, firmly. “Never,” she promised. She licked her lips, then added, “I don’t think I could, really.”

He reached out and gently tipped her head up so he could see her eyes. “Oh, Rose,” he whispered, cupping her face in his hand. “I couldn’t leave you, either.”

She blinked, then shifted closer and placed her hands over his hearts. “Guess we’re just stuck with each other then,” she said.

The Doctor’s hearts sped up when she looked at him through her eyelashes, and when she smiled coyly, he knew she could feel them. “Stuck with you? That’s not so bad,” he murmured.

Rose’s breath caught as the Doctor leaned towards her. The moment stretched out deliciously, and she curled her trembling fingers around the lapels of his coat when she felt the soft puff of his breathing.

Then—finally—his lips met hers. Rose sighed and tried to press closer to him, tilting her head when their noses bumped. Now she could catch his tempting bottom lip between hers, worrying it gently with her teeth as her hands crept up over his shoulders.

The Doctor threaded a hand through her hair as the kiss deepened. His fingers massaging her scalp sent shivers of delight through Rose. She gasped, and his tongue slid into her mouth.

Rose returned the caress, savouring the lingering taste of mulled wine as they kissed. Her belly swooped with every brush of his tongue against hers. The Doctor’s habit of licking everything had given her several fantasies regarding his tongue, and so far, he did not disappoint.

The Doctor dropped a hand to her waist and pulled her closer, until she was practically in his lap. The closer they got, the more Rose wanted to just go on kissing him forever, but her lungs were burning.

The Doctor grumbled when Rose pulled out of the kiss. Now that they were finally kissing, he didn’t want to stop. But when he tried to chase her lips with his, Rose placed her hand over his mouth. He looked at her then, and desire blazed through him when he saw her red lips and heaving chest.

“Humans need to breathe,” she reminded him.

He grinned and pulled her closer. “Did I take your breath away?” he asked as he pressed a line of kisses along her jaw.

Rose shivered when he started down her neck, and he pulled back quickly. “Cold again?”

“No.” Rose shook her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. “In fact, I think I’ve found a new way to keep warm.”

The Doctor blinked, then smiled down at her when he caught her meaning. “Well then, Rose Tyler.” He bumped his nose against hers, relishing the way her soft giggle tickled his lips. “Allow me to continue in my official capacity as warmer-upper.”

[sp4c3-0ddity]

Dueling Hearts - 5

Chapter Summary:

Pidge forgets the court of public opinion, Allura frets, and Lance loses his shoe.

Chapters:  5/7 Word Count:  5112 (30 189 total)

Read Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

A/N:

those first two scenes did not exist in my original outline...

also thank you to everyone who’s been reading/reblogging this!!

Read Below (or read it on ao3):

Pidge doesn’t bother getting out of bed the following morning. No pressing business awaits her, no task begging her attention, no mystery to solve through action and thought. The entertainment console - whether media or games - holds no appeal to her, the tile ceiling more interesting in her exhausted fugue.

She slept fitfully after King Thurar’s visit, a part of her fearing he’d barge into the room unannounced as soon as she slipped into unconsciousness, greeting her with a blood-stained sword and bragging about Lance’s death. Her imagination kept her busy, and when she finally fell into a doze the walls surrounding her closed in, something in the corner creeping towards her but never straying from her periphery.

It incited a need within her to flee, but terror paralyzed her.

But she forces herself upright and pushes her glasses - will she ever see her family again? Will the king even think to invite his future in-laws to his wedding? - onto her face. Her eyelashes stick together when she blinks, and she’s sure she looks awful, especially after skipping a shower the night before.

(She almost took her shirt off in front of King Thurar so like quiznak she was going to undress entirely with that mortifying event so fresh.)

Perhaps if she makes herself as physically unappealing as possible the king will—

A sharp chime sounds from the door, the guard outside announcing over the comm, “Minister Lirnem is here to see you.”

A prickle of foreboding washes over Pidge when she recalls running into the minster on her mad dash back to her rooms, but she climbs out of bed and tells the guard to admit her.

Minister Lirnem doesn’t enter alone. Three Barsinian women follow, one pushing a cart laden with two covered trays, another with a data pad in hand and what looks like a fancy camera fit for National Geographic hanging carelessly from her shoulder, and the third with a briefcase and a long fabric bag draped over her shoulder.

“Uh…hi,” Pidge says, unsure what else to say while so conscious of her oily face and bed-mussed hair. “W-what do you want?”

She winces when the question slips out ruder than she means - and, well, why shouldn’t she be rude? Isn’t Minister Lirnem, who promised to do something for her, complicit? - but before she can apologize or ask another in followup, Minister Lirnem wonders, “Why are your eyes red? Is that a…feature of your race that you usually cover up?”

Pidge’s lips part in surprise as she rubs her exhausted eyes. “I’m just…tired,” she says, and it’s not a total lie.

(Minister Lirnem needn’t know she cried herself into a stupor last night.)

“Well, if you need to bathe, then bathe. You have a dress fitting and a photo shoot, and you and I can speak over brunch after.”

Pidge’s eyes widen, limbs stiffening in shock. “A dress fitting? For what? For the duel? I wasn’t even fit for that bizarre dress I wore to the ball.”

(She really hopes Minister Lirnem won’t wonder where that dress is now…)

“For the duel you can wear whatever you like,” she replies, primly clasping her webbed hands together. “So long as it is nice and befitting a lady of the court.”

“But I’m not—”

“If His Majesty wins, you will be,” Minister Lirnem reminds her almost impassively. But her thin lips press together, and Pidge wonders if she’s also unhappy with this situation. “This fitting, however, is for your wedding dress.”

If Pidge held something, she would’ve snapped it clean in half while her heart skips a stunned beat. “W-what? But I’m not—he hasn’t—Lance can still—”

“Attend to your morning needs,” Minister Lirnem advises her. “We will begin when you are ready.”

But Pidge will never be ready to be the bride of a man that literally holds her hostage; her feet aren’t cold so much as frozen at absolute zero.

She forces air into her lungs and takes a stiff step towards the bathroom, and another, and the next, until a door separates her from the heralds of her fate. Tiles cool her bare feet, and her shell-shocked reflection stares back at her from over a marble basin.

Pidge grabs a towel, buries her face in its soft cotton-like fabric, and screams.

A part of her wants to escape again, never mind the witnesses that stand between her and the balcony, but she can’t, not with a threat hanging over her head - over Lance’s head.

It’s bad enough she’ll have to marry King Thurar, but if she has to watch him kill Lance too?

Her grip on the towel tightens, her whole body trembling and a sob bursting out of her. But she suppresses the next, taking deep breaths in an effort to keep her emotions in check.

It’s the only control that remains to her.

The shower gives her the opportunity to compose herself, and when she emerges with pruny fingers in a cloud of steam, her heartbeat isn’t too uneven and it doesn’t hurt so much to breathe.

She even manages a small smile for Minister Lirnem, who bids her to stand on a stool before the floor-length mirror in the corner. The tailor - or seamstress? - that she brought drapes a pale green gown over her, its hem covering the stool and a long train trailing behind her.

Pidge finds it ironic that a wedding dress is far simpler - and more elegant - than the gaudy ball gown now dangling from the balcony railing. Not a single thread of wire embroiders this gown, the sleeves made of a lacy material that falls past the tips of her fingers and tapers to a point. The collar is high and edged with the same lace as the sleeves - irritating her neck - and the skirt flares at her waist.

If she didn’t worry she’d trip over it - or if anxiety didn’t churn in her stomach - Pidge would be tempted to spin and watch the hem lift around her.

“You are…shorter than I expected, Green Paladin,” the seamstress observes as she marks where she needs to hem the dress.

“I’m guessing you didn’t design the dress I wore to the ball,” Pidge says.

The seamstress smiles thinly and admits, “My apprentice designed that. It was a project meant to test his mastery.”

“Did he pass?”

“He…did,” she says, “but only because His Majesty liked it.”

Pidge snorts, amused despite herself, and holds as still as she can while the seamstress pins the dress in places it hangs loosely.

She wears something more basic for the photo shoot but, naturally, embroidered with wires in a floral pattern that glows green. She complies with the photographers requests - except for one.

“Please smile,” she says, offering one of her own.

Pidge presses her lips together, partly because she has no reason to quirk them and partly out of defiance. Her fingers grip her skirt tightly, watching the photographer glance beseechingly at Minister Lirnem.

The minister sighs and says, “Carry on. The photographs are more important than her smiling.”

Pidge’s lips twitch out of triumph, but she keeps a straight face for the rest of the photo shoot.

The seamstress and the photographer leave after the shoot, and Pidge changes into her own clothes from among what Hunk brought her from her bedroom aboard the Castle of Lions. Minister Lirnem’s last escort sets up their meal at the small table, and Pidge sits across from her.

She picks at the tableware, the knot of dread in her stomach depriving her of any appetite the sight of Barsinian food hasn’t.

“Why the photo shoot?” Pidge asks when the silence as Minister Lirnem eats grows too stifling.

“The images are for a press release,” Minister Lirnem tells her. “The people of Barsina will have to know something of their future queen should His Majesty win the duel.”

Pidge’s stomach flips, her eyes widening; public relations was always Allura’s - and sometimes Shiro’s or Hunk’s - thing, so she never really stopped to consider what implications King Thurar’s challenge would have on his subjects.

Perhaps she’d been too self-centered not to even wonder how Barsina itself would view her.

“I’d make an awful queen,” she confesses. She prods the black-dotted gelatin in her bowl with a spork.

“I told His Majesty as much,” Minister Lirnem says with a frankness that startles Pidge. She jerks her head back and stares at her, unsure if she should feel insulted or not, but the minister continues, “Your reputation as the Green Paladin preceded you, and it tells of a woman too devoted to her own research and family to lead a people, let alone a population and culture alien to her.”

“I…”

“Barsina needs an alliance with Voltron far more than it needs an alien queen,” Minister Lirnem explains. She sips her burgundy tea, the ceramic cup clattering on the saucer as she sets it down. “His Majesty did not care to hear that. It is his youth and inexperience, I am sure.”

Pidge’s grip on her spork tightens. “W-what did he tell you?” she asks, a part of her fearing the answer.

“He promised you will be able to research to your heart’s content.”

“How…kind of him,” Pidge says through gritted teeth, the spork’s handle bending slightly.

“His Majesty wishes he could devote more time to his own research and inventions,” Minister Lirnem adds, “so he desires a queen that can lead his scientific endeavors while he rules. His mother and predecessor ruled while his father, her consort, was an engineer, so I suppose he longs for the same partnership with his consort.”

Pidge sets her spork down and flexes her stiff fingers. Her heartbeat fills her ears as she chooses her next words carefully, “Why are you telling me this? So I’ll understand him?”

She can’t keep the bitterness from her voice nor the scowl from her face; why should she understand a man that kidnapped her?

“In part,” Minister Lirnem concedes. She frowns at her half-empty tray - perhaps she has no appetite either - and says, “He was a child when his mother passed away, so I ruled as his regent until he came of age. I took us into hiding and restricted our travel in space to avoid too much attention from the Galra, but His Majesty wishes to set up alliances with other planets, and I cannot fault him for that.”

“Well, he’s doing it all wrong.” Pidge crosses her arms and glares at the woman sitting across from her.

“His method, while unconventional, can work,” Minister Lirnem says. “Voltron will not fight Barsina when it can cost them future allies.”

Pidge’s jaw sets stubbornly, but she can’t argue, not when she knows she’s right.

(They’d just help her escape some other way…wouldn’t they?)

“However, I do wonder…with such a start to your partnership—”

“Some partnership,” Pidge scoffs.

“—will you ever be so content to have been forced away from your friends and family and someone His Majesty suspects is your lover?”

“He’s not my—” she blurts on reflex, cutting herself off when she realizes even a truthful denial may do her no favors.

But her face warms at the way Minister Lirnem designates Lance, a heat in her chest because by quiznak does she wish it’s true.

(He almost kissed her…didn’t he?)

“Do you love him?” Minister Lirnem wonders. “Do you love the Red Paladin?”

Pidge bites her lip - she’s never said it aloud and doesn’t wish to start now before a near-stranger that’s as good as an enemy to her - but irritably mumbles, “Yes, but…apparently it doesn’t matter.”

Minister Lirnem stands without replying and walks to the door. “A servant will come for the trays,” she says. “You should eat something. Winters in this part of Barsina are cold, and Tolemac Castle, for its beauty, is poorly insulated; you will need a little more fat on your bones to keep you warm.”

“Uh…” Pidge scrambles to follow, stunned. “Wait, Minister, I have a question.”

Minister Lirnem turns to face her, hands hidden in her long sleeves. “Yes?”

Her heart pounds as she asks, “If I…marry the king and, assuming I follow the laws of Barsina and fulfill whatever duties he expects of me, will I be able to see my family again?”

“If you marry the king,” she tells her, “he will be your family.”

Pidge’s chest tightens, and it takes more than a little effort to breathe. “Oh…then I’d better not marry him,” she says, sounding numb and painfully resigned to her own ears.

“No, I suppose you had better not,” Minister Lirnem agrees. “If there is nothing else—”

“Actually, can you ask one of my teammates to bring me something?” Pidge wonders. She knows her request is silly, especially with her future hanging in the balance, but she wants to be frivolous for once.

“So long as it is not forbidden you.”

“You said I can wear whatever I want to the duel?” Pidge smiles when she nods. “Can you ask them to bring me my dress? They’ll know which one…”

***

Lance woke up that morning telling himself that today would be the day - or quintant? - he would finally summon his Altean broadsword. Between Keith swinging at him - Lance suspected he enjoyed himself a little too much - and the drones on the training deck and his own determination, he hoped it would come true.

Instead, when Allura comes by the training deck to check on him, his bayard still fluctuates between his rifle and its base form and even when he deliberately allows the drones to close in on him, too near to aim a gun, he can’t.

He chucks his bayard across the room.

A frustrated growl escapes him when it collides with the far wall, his fingers curling into fists. Anger - at the situation and at himself - floods him; Pidge depends on him, and he can’t even summon his bayard in the proper form?

“Lance?” Allura’s footsteps echo through the room, and her hand rests on his shoulder. “Did your bayard…do something to you?”

“That’s the problem!” Lance exclaims, spinning around and flailing his arms. “It’s not doing what I need it to! I’ve tried everything we can think of - I even let the drones get close enough to me to shoot me”—his shoulder stings as he’s not training with armor since he’s not allowed any for the actual duel—”but nothing is working!”

Allura smiles, but he can tell it’s strained. “Have you tried—”

“Everything,” Lance insists.

Her shoulders sag, a sigh escaping her. “You can’t go to the duel unarmed, Lance.”

“Can’t I?” He shrugs and holds up his fists. “I have two guns right here.” And oh, would a punch flying across King Thurar’s smug face be satisfying…

But Allura doesn’t smile - of course not, not when it’s barely a joke. “Perhaps you should ask Hunk to help you set up an alternative.”

“Maybe…” he concedes.

It’s not the first they’ve spoken of it, building a hurried and makeshift weapon for him to cart to the duel, but he stubbornly holds onto the wild hope that he can summon the broadsword from his bayard at will.

He needs to; it’s his best bet, a weapon perfectly suited for him even if he hasn’t mastered it. And with Keith’s help over two quintants, he at least grasped the basics.

They won’t do him any good if he doesn’t have a quiznaking sword.

“Then do that,” Allura says. She frowns pensively and sighs. “I’m going to Tolemac Castle to visit Pidge. There are a few important things I need to discuss with her.”

Lance raises an eyebrow. “What things?”

“It’s between me and her,” Allura says.

He crosses his arms, irritation flickering in him. “No, it’s not,” he protests. “I’m the one fighting this duel, not you, so—” He cuts himself off, his stomach flipping with fresh fear, but anger quickly replaces it. “You’re preparing her for if I lose, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“What does happen if I lose?” Lance wonders. His heart sinks with something akin to despair, but he forces it away. “We won’t…abandon her, will we?”

Allura’s eyes widen, and she reassures him, “No, of course not! I will not abandon her to a fate she doesn’t want, no more than you would.”

“And if we do, her family would probably kill us.”

Allura chuckles. “That they would, and we would deserve it.”

Lance runs his fingers through his sweaty hair, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. “It won’t come to that,” he promises with more confidence than he feels. His eyes slide past Allura, to his bayard lying on the floor.

“I hope not,” Allura says. “And…is there anything you wish for me to tell Pidge?”

Lance can think of a million and one things he wants to tell Pidge: that he misses her and her laughter and her teasing so desperately his chest aches, that he’ll win the duel and free her, that he’ll lose the duel and smuggle her away from a royal wedding if he has to, that he loves her and her smile and her big brain and how she always has the answers to the questions both out of his mouth and from his heart.

And he wants to know why she didn’t even talk to him when she escaped to the training pitch…and why he hasn’t seen her since.

Fear grips him, squeezing his heart, and he wonders if she was caught.

But to Allura’s question, he simply replies, “No.”

Everything he wants to tell Pidge he wants and needs to tell her himself…so why doesn’t he?

Allura’s eyes narrow, in suspicion or skepticism, but she says, “All right. I will be on my way then.”

Lance mumbles a goodbye, barely paying attention to her departure in favor of the idea gripping him. If Pidge can’t see him…what’s stopping him from seeing her?

(Besides the duel’s stupid rules, at least.)

Lance collects his bayard and runs to his room for a shower - Pidge deserves better than to greet him at his smelliest. He clips on the cuff from his armor, the map to Tolemac Castle’s grounds downloaded onto it, and attaches a personal cloaking device - built by Pidge; they owe her so much - to his jacket.

(He just hopes Tolemac Castle doesn’t have any thermal cameras or sonar installed to survey its grounds.)

Excitement thrums through his blood, and it’s almost enough to drown out the worry that she won’t want to see him.

Almost.

***

Pidge doodles on a data pad with a stylus, mind buzzing with what information she learned from Minister Lirnem. Her palms sweat - the stylus nearly slipped from her fingers barely a dobosh ago - and her heart stutters with anxiety, and she seeks to distract herself from her fate.

But scribbling designs for the robots she wants to build isn’t helping.

She pinches the Rover pendant of her necklace in her teeth, sliding the chain along it. Rover himself takes shape on the data pad, a black pyramid and a green circle on the screen.

The reminder of something else she loved that she lost makes her chest tighten.

It’s a relief when the door chimes, and a grin pushes at her lips when the guard announces, “Princess Allura here to see you.”

Pidge fidgets with the stylus in the time it takes for the locks to click open and Allura herself to walk through the door.

She smiles, and Pidge doesn’t hesitate to embrace her.

“Pidge,” she says when they pull apart, her hands on her shoulders like a proud parent’s - or like Matt’s. Her smile falters. “I am so sorry this happened to you; this is my fault.”

“What?” The apology shocks Pidge’s system, her jaw dropping. “No, it’s not!”

“It is.” Allura sighs, avoiding her eyes in favor of taking in the lavish room. “I encouraged you to charm the king. Perhaps if I instead—”

“No!” Pidge, unsure what to say or do to alleviate her concerns, shakes her head so fast she almost makes herself dizzy. “It’s not your fault at all! W-why would it be? It’s not like you locked me in a tower and threatened Lance!”

“Maybe not, but I as good as—threatened Lance?” Allura’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “What do you mean? The duel is only to first blood.”

Pidge immediately regrets letting that slip, because if Allura takes that information back the Castle of Lions with her, Lance will find out. And if he finds out…he’ll be that much more likely to do something more stupid. So she raises her hands and forces a smile on her face before backtracking, “Th-that’s what I meant! Even a paper cut’s threatening if you get it from a sword.”

(She winces, the contradiction in the statement almost painful when she doesn’t correct it.)

“If that’s it—”

“It is,” Pidge insists.

“All right,” Allura says, tone resigned. She sits heavily at the table, arm resting atop it. “Lance has been doing all he can to win the duel.”

Pidge swallows as she drops into the chair opposite, mind drifting to the one training session she observed. Her stomach flips, but she agrees, “I know.”

“But…Pidge, Barsina’s not so valuable to the Coalition that we’re not willing to just walk away from an alliance.”

She stiffens and stares at her fingers wringing the hem of her shirt. “I’m guessing if I escape and leave we’d get worse than lose a potential ally.”

“You hit the head on the nail,” Allura admits.

“Nail on the head,” Pidge corrects automatically.

“Nail what on the head?”

“Never mind,” she mumbles. She clears her throat, skin crawling with sudden self-consciousness, and attempts to joke, “I guess we can’t all throw a royal suitor across a room to teach them a lesson.”

Allura grins and concedes, “I suppose not, although I would gladly throw His Majesty across his own grand ballroom on your behalf if I thought it would help.”

Pidge smiles, her chest warming with something like reassurance, and some of the tension oozes out of her shoulders. “And I would appreciate that. I’ll just have to settle for Lance poking him with a sword instead.”

And he will, Pidge tries to convince herself. He has to.

“I hope that will be the outcome of the duel,” Allura says, “but no matter what happens, Pidge, I want you to know that you will not have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know I don’t,” Pidge says, her hands clenching into fists and jaw setting.

But the knot of dread in her stomach tugs tighter. What if King Thurar wins the duel and she refuses to marry him anyway?

He’s already held Lance against her just for her one and only escape…

Allura’s visit stays brief, her updates on their team limited. She confesses to avoiding speaking to the Coalition - especially Earth, and especially Pidge’s family - and adds that, despite the looming duel, Coran still works to find a legal loophole for them to exploit.

And Lance…well, he sent no message with her, and Pidge’s heart sinks in disappointment.

He vows to fight for her but doesn’t wish to say anything?

Pidge’s chest hurts when she thinks of Lance and the last time she saw him too hard, and as her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands, she wonders what she would say to him if they faced each other.

For one, she’d demand what the quiznak he—

A thud from the balcony makes Pidge jump out of her chair. Her heart pounds as she creeps towards the door, remembering the rope she left tied to the railing. She pushes aside the curtains and opens the door and finds a shoe and—

“Lance?”

Pidge’s breath catches as a familiar yelp rises from the balcony railing near the castle’s wall. She sprints across the balcony when Lance himself appears, the timer on a cloaking device running to zero while his body dangles from the railing.

She grabs his arms and heaves with a grunt of effort, muscles straining as his feet find purchase on the wall. She tugs him over the railing, stumbling backwards and panting when she lets him go and he falls.

Lance pushes himself upright, groaning and clutching his shoulder, her hasty lifeline in a pile beside him. “Th-thanks for the—”

Pidge launches herself at him, her arms winding around his neck as she presses her forehead to his collarbone. A lump sticks in her throat when she swallows, her eyes burning even as relief washes over her.

Lance hugs her tightly around the waist, his body trembling against hers and his heart pounding a rapid but steady beat. “P-Pidge, are you—”

A sob escapes her as she shakes her head. “N-no…w-what’re you doing here?” she demands. “You could’ve hurt yourself b-before the stupid d-duel…” She pulls away to look at him, to drink in his face, struck by a sudden gut-wrenching fear:

King Thurar never mentioned what would happen if Lance is caught here.

“W-we can talk inside,” Pidge says. She reluctantly extracts herself from his arms and stands, offering him a hand.

His wraps around hers, and even once they’re ensconced inside, away from the balcony where their voices can drift down to the busy gardens, he doesn’t let go.

“Pidge…” Lance cups her face with his free hand, and she leans into it, her eyes slipping shut. His thumb skirts across her cheek, and she sighs. “I-I’m here because I miss you.” His lips brush her forehead, and he runs his fingers through her hair.

Pidge sniffs, her hand gripping his like it’s a lifeline even as she says, “Y-you shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” Lance wonders, his eyes narrowing when she opens hers to meet them. “I-I saw you yesterday when I was training, but you didn’t come to—”

“I-it was risky,” she says, tearing her gaze away from his. “I could’ve been caught”—she was caught—”and I didn’t want to distract you.”

“If that’s all, then why aren’t you looking at me?”

Pidge bites her lip and forces her gaze back up. “Better?”

Lance frowns, but he reassures her, “Don’t worry, Pidge. I’ve got it, okay?” His hands warm her face, his forehead resting against hers while her fingers wrap around his wrists. “I’ll kick that king’s quiznak tomorrow, and we can go home.”

And Pidge, for all her anxiety and fear, believes him.

***

Lance’s heart pounds with him standing so close to Pidge, heat flooding his body to the tips of his toes and fingers even while regret that she’s upset - actually scared - fills him.

This is his fault, after all, so if he can inspire some confidence in her - even if he doesn’t have much himself - then he will.

He just hopes any she has in him won’t be misplaced.

He holds her close, arms wrapping around her and pulling her against him, and every shuddering breath she takes wracks his body, the necklace he gave her trapped between them. He’d happily spend the night like this - why should he return to the Castle anyway when he’ll be right back here in the morning? - but he came on a mission, and it begins with telling Pidge—

“Why did you never tell me about your bayard upgrade?”

Lance stiffens, surprised by her question and when she pulls back to meet his gaze, an eyebrow raised expectantly. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It…never seemed important since I never got it again.”

“Really?” Pidge frowns skeptically, her arms falling away from him to cross. “It’s a notable development seeing as how my and Hunk’s bayards have changed even if you haven’t been able to repeat it yet.”

Lance misses her warmth and tries to reach for her, but she takes a step back. “It was—”

“And why did you accept the king’s challenge anyway?” Pidge demands.

She’s angry with him, he realizes with a gut-wrenching certainty, and with how dismal his progress at learning how to use a sword - which he doesn’t even have for the duel - he deserves it.

Maybe that’s why he irritably quips, “I guess you didn’t appreciate the romance in my gesture.”

He knows it’s the worst thing to say as soon as the words leave his lips even without Pidge’s face darkening and her lips twisting into a scowl. He knows it, because it doesn’t even come close to hinting at the depths of his feelings for her, for how thinking of her with someone else hurts.

Pidge snaps, “There’s no romance in this because no one - not you and not that jerk - asked what I want!”

“But I—”

“Is this what it takes for you to finally notice me?” Pidge wonders. She flails her arms, and something like hurt tinges her voice. “For you to think you’re going to lose me to a quiznaking king like you thought you lost Allura?”

He reaches for her with growing panic, tries to grasp her hand, but she wrenches it away. “Pidge—”

Her voice breaks, driving a stake deeper into his heart, as she says, “Y-you don’t have to w-win me, Lance.” She sniffs and wipes at her nose with her sleeve. “You a-already h-have me if only I h-have you too.”

An absurd heat rushes to his face, and her words stun him speechless even while his heart hammers in an effort to burst from his chest. His lips part uselessly as he seeks the words to reassure and comfort her and tell her that of course she has him!

He hesitates too long.

“F-fine.” Pidge, her face a burning and embarrassed red, unclasps her necklace and flings it at him.

Lance, startled, fumbles to catch the delicate gold chain and pendant as she shoves him towards the balcony. “Wait, Pidge—”

“Y-you’d better leave before the guards hear you and d-drag you away to be locked in a dungeon,” she tells him.

Lance trips over the threshold and tries to return the necklace to her, but she shakes her head. “This is yours,” he insists.

“I-I don’t want it,” she says, scowling despite the tears swimming in her eyes.

His chest tightens. “Katie, listen to me—”

Pidge turns her back to him, shoulders trembling, and says, “B-be careful on your way down. A-and…you’ll do great a-at the duel.” She flashes him a tight smile that makes his heart ache with the familiar pain of rejection right before she closes the door.

Continue to Chapter Six

[frstbiitten]

‘✂’

KILL YOU WITH ANGER || SELECTIVE

There is something in the concept of watching others die that results fascinating, she found beauty in the cold embrace of death, the blood scattered, shredded guts, the scent or the broken bones. She is an angel of death, brandishing a sword of ice, she decided how or when the execution must be done upon her victims, they have to accept their fate even if they don’t want it. Daring to desist would only lead to a not so fast death, when there’s a chance to fight, there is no doubt that Frost would surrender so easily.

Ocean eyes penetrate into the soul of the soldier, his hour came, the cold inside of the woman claims for blood, to bite the flesh and solidify it, create an sculpture from bones. A Gorgon transforming everything she touches into ice. The ice sword dig into the soldier’s shoulder, he fought so valiantly to defend those who are weaker, but he is not allowed to live another day in the earth, it’s written in his destiny already. The same goddess which she serves acquired Frost’s service, if she fails, the detailed work of holy hands would end up in ruins, she couldn’t risk it and leave the man alive, even if his existence is insignificant. Frost was sent, with a body blessed by a divine touch, a white armor shinning like diamond, granted after accepting to give the Goddess her soul. She is the herald of death and the cold, the lethal winter, the end of life in its purest state.

“Look. At. Me... I want you to look at me while you die by my hand.” Her voice is like a whisper in the wind, she despises this man, with all of her heart, and promised herself to kill him once she has the chance. Never planned how, but would do it slowly, it must be delicious for her sight, the more ruined and deformed ends, better. Vengeance suits her like a ring, and the best, is to see him suffer little by little, as it should be, it must be tortuous. The fingers of her left hand fixated the position of his head while he is with his knees on the ground, obligating him to see how the cryomancer took his life away, watch her own delight to see him like this. Pulled from the sword, leaving fragments shattering on the ground, didn’t have to wait too long to perceive the precious crimson liquid she yearned so much.

“Poor unfortunate soul, you should have stayed dead.” The shape of her lips is now a smile while he can’t stop screaming because of the piercing pain of the biting cold and the open flesh, so many sensations in just one body. An ice dagger punctured a spot in his stomach, which tore apart a loud scream from the old soldier. It’s very well known that the old soldiers are hard to kill, well, she is about to prove how false that assumption is. The cut amplified even more when she pulled the dagger up, noticed how his intestines began to leak out from the deep wound, she held the weapon firmly, until it couldn’t continue because of the sternum. Even like this, she is satisfied with damage.

Her mos vicious side began to flourish, observing the scene she just created made some kind of link between her most brutal emotions and her hands. Both hands reached the intestines and held them up, hands full of guts and blood, his suffering continued since she keeps him standing still on both of his knees, a crown of ice grew from the ground and enveloped part of his back, so he wouldn’t fall and ruin everything. “I SAID: LOOK. AT. ME!!”  Fingers and what they were holding were covered by an ice so hard and cold, comparable to an iceberg, the only bad thing is that he is about to be unconscious by all the blood he lost, and is amusing how he is still breathing. While he is alive, he didn’t have another option than seeing her, Frost’s rage now reached its peak. With both hands, she connected two punches towards his head, let him see how she uses his own flesh to kill him, let him appreciate death doing what she does best.

Crack!

His skull began to collapse by the fast hits, the ice left dark marks and cut. It’s just so pleasing to kill him, she didn’t know when it was the right time to stop, with each hit of her frozen fists, the more the cold devoured his face. It’s already automatic how she performs every move, it came to a certain moment when there was nothing left from the significant features of his face, is just flesh and shattered bones, not even his face or his mouth were there, even his eyes were completely gone. Why stop there? She continued to hit him more and more, a victorious scream left her throat.

Finally, with her fists stained with his blood and the same thing happened with her pale face, Frost smashed his head, literally, there was just tiny shards of bones, a pulverized brain and everything else exploded. The Goddess is satisfied with the impecable work. They can proceed to shape the future.

[sailor-cresselia]

How clever IS Sougo, anyway?

(keeping in mind that I initally wrote this on Oct 26, and Ep 9 hadn’t come out yet. I still haven’t seen it anyway, because I don’t speak Japanese so I’m waiting on subs.)

Okay, so Sougo's definitely Not Good At Socializing, not with normal people. We can TELL that - he doesn't seem to have friends at school. This isn't just from the Fourze arc - there's pretty much nobody interacting with him at all during the first part of Ex-Aid’s arc, to the point where the nerd he winds up with in the gym closet is surprised to see him. One of our first introductions to Sougo is him getting judo flipped to knock some sense into him about the whole "I'mma be a king" thing - and he compliments the guys technique and offers him a job when he makes it.

So he's not good at direct interactions with people, at least average, baseline humans.

But what about indirect interactions?

But he covered for the gamer in Ex-Aid part 1 - Sougo blocked the teachers view of inside the closet, so only he got caught trying to have a private lunch. The gamer classmate wasn't caught. (I mean, there's the Another Ex-Aid problem, but that's a whole different issue. And since Sougo was there, he was able to get help right away.)

He's definitely book-dumb, at least so far as we've heard with academics. Tuskuyomi says as much - his only good subject is history. He was able to tell they were in the Edo period pretty much right away. I dunno if this is a Japanese thing that 'yup, time travel means we're definitely going to be in the Edo period because that's just how it happens', but it might be that he recognized it right off.

And in Edo, when the guys were getting into a fight, what was his go-to method? Asking them politely to stop fighting. (What was Tsukuyomi's aim in shoving him forward, anyway? That's been bugging me - how could she have used that to see if the kid who hadn’t realized he was holding a ridewatch was the evil overlord she assumes he is?) But asking them  to stop doesn't work - technically. But they work together to toss him in the river, and walk away laughing, as friends. Like Sougo basically said, "They're not fighting anymore, are they?"

He broke so many rules of time travel at the end of the Wizard arc - ‘don't meet yourself’ being key among them - but he took the simple approach to finding out if the guy was Another Wizard - he asked. And since, if i remember correctly, the year was hidden under Another Wizard’s cape, he asked the woman when it was that things changed.

In Fourze'n'Faiz, wasn't he the one to point out the fact that the Another RIders have their years on them? He noticed Fourze's year before Geiz did, I think. Sougo's good at making sure Geiz goes along with the plans, too, however loose the definition of 'plan' may be. "Well, if you want to make sure I don't turn evil, you should probably come with me to this magic show, ya know, just in case."

It's not like he anticipated Another Wizard, but Geiz wound up being the one to remember that Wizard existed to begin with, as opposed to Tsukuyomi, who is the one carrying the data-pad. Convincing Geiz to come along to the hospital is how they got into Another Ex-Aids Game World - Geiz knows German, and there's no way Sougo could have anticipated either that or that Emu wrote a note in German in the first place. (Emu stop with the codes man I get it you're clever but oh god at least this one was in pencil)

We might not be looking at Emu or Eiji levels of 'better to be underestimated' and 'beware the kind ones' here, at least, not completely or not yet.

We might be dealing with a variant of Jinno's "You wind up feeling really guilty about deceiving him so you try to live up to what he thinks you could be."

(( An addition from original draft, since I’ve seen the W V-Cinemas now: That might be more apt a comparison than I first thought, actually. Jinno did really well in the fight in that warehouse in the Accel special - the only real hit he took from the mooks was at the end, when one basically sucker-punched him. He was beating them down with the power of slapstick. “Crouching moron, hidden badass” indeed - what brought him down was a GUN, he didn’t really stand a chance there, but unarmed combat? For a guy we never really saw in a fight in the series, he put up a good fight.

And again with the guy from Ep 1, Sougo was thrown onto his back, on cement - and didn’t seem more than a little winded. The Drivers seem to instill a basic sense of fighting competency to anyone who wears them - Jonouchi from Gaim, anyone? Emu and Nico? Takeru? But Sougo hadn’t put one on yet - didn’t even have the blank RideWatch, IIRC. Noodle-arms McGee probably shouldn’t have taken that as well as he did. ))

He doesn’t seem to have goals in half of his actions, but Sougo IS still coming up with plans when he needs to. Some of them seem to involve a fair amount of "LucasArts Point-and-click Adventure Game" logic, but they ARE plans.

He got Geiz and Woz to listen to him at the same time - and they had been literally fighting the episode before, and clearly dislike each other.

“You’re from the future, so you have one of those phones, right?” (Wait. How did Sougo know what number to call. Did. Did Woz have Geiz programmed in? They were friends, or at least allies, once upon a future. Was Geiz in Woz’s speed dial?)

(My concern that Woz is going to go the Alain/Parad variant of Yandere still stands - maybe without the literal possession stunts that they both pulled, but he definitely seems to be heading down that route.)

In ep 5, Sougo tosses himself down the stairs, so that Tsukuyomi and Geiz can get into the nurses office - and he doesn't tell them that it means they'll have access to the computer, so they don't have to hack one, but they figure it out as soon as the nurse leaves.

Ep 4: "I know your son is unwell, but this guy works at the same hospital as this one genius surgeon and can probably help you out with that." This is combined with what is technically foreknowledge, with what Hiiro had said in 2018, but Sougo is currently in 2016 - and Emu has known Hiiro for like three days, four max. Geiz arrived literally DURING episode 2. Clever, clever Emu, who just met both Hiiro AND this strange, skinny boy, and doesn't know the circumstances of the distraught father who had become Another Ex-Aid, catches on quickly.

The question really is, how much of Sougo's plans working is all chance, how much is him reading people, and how much is things all going according to keikaku?  (And who is the one with the keikaku in the first place?)

Because this is pretty clearly a genuinely good kid we’re dealing with, and he doesn't seem to have a mean bone in his body. (oh, look, another Emu and Eiji parallel...) But his recent encounters with Woz indicate that he's getting pretty genre savvy - if he wasn’t already - he's just USED to Woz appearing out of nowhere at this point, and is only surprised by it when the guy shows up directly behind him. He’s not surprised because Woz appeared, but because of the location. (Woz, how did you get upstairs? When did you get upstairs? WHY did you get upstairs? Please stop teleporting sir, my yandere concerns only grow when you keep doing that.)

“If you’re on my side, then let me do this my way.” Sougo says this to the man that keeps appearing out of nowhere, presented his driver on a velvet pillow (wtf), and heralds his every action as Zi-O. He says this to a man who he has seen stop a punch from Another Fourze because he was going to interrupt Sougo’s transformation - and Sougo is sassing him and using the drive that Woz has to support his overlord against him.

How many steps ahead is Sougo thinking? No one in show seems to know. We certainly can’t tell.

It’s bad enough I don’t trust your great-uncle, kid. Don’t make me not trust you, too.

[darkling-er]

Hope’s Savior ( John Seed x OC ) | Part 6

Summary: Trinity-Hope Johnson finds herself in the middle of a holy war, leading the Resistance, while having a complicated relationship with one of the cult’s herald. And she thought her first case would be easy. Oh how wrong she was!

Pairings: John Seed/Fem!Deputy, John Seed/OC, Earl Whitehorse & OC ( uncle&niece ), Joseph Seed/Fem!Deputy ( kind of ), might add more later

Warnings: mild language, violence, eventually smut, use of drugs ( bliss and other, thanks to Sharky ), fluff ( does that even need a warning? ), manipulation, angst, mention of mental illness ( insomnia, depression ), mention of child abuse ( from John’s side ), torture, I think that’s it? I swear it’s not so bad!

Word Counter: 2282

Notes: I’m making up for all the chapters without John, so yay! John interactions!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |  Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | MASTERPOST for the others

Hope sits up on the roof and looks down at her radio. Okay, this guy needs to chill down, we literally just met today. She considers not answering. That would be the wise choice, right? But she has a tendency to acting before thinking and facing the consequences later. John’s voice still in her head, the way he says ‘Dep-you-tee’ sending chills down her spine. And he thinks they need to talk, let’s talk then.

She picks up the radio and pushes down the button.

“I don’t think we need to do anything, Johnny boy. After all, you did try to drown me tonight.”

She’s poking the snake and she knows that. When he started the call he didn’t sound too happy. Well, why would he be? Big bro Joseph wanted him to get her to atone and now she was free, out of his grasp.

There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the radio, before John talks. His voice is sweet and melodic like in the commercial and his sermons at the outposts. But Hope can feel the anger hiding behind the lines.

“Let’s not dwell on the past, shall we, Deputy?”

He says it again. ‘Dep-you-tee’ and it’s getting on her nerves. He must do it on purpose, making the word sound longer then it supposed to be. Her reaction is immediate and it’s filled with venom, with a fake laugh at the end:

“It happened, literally an hour ago... What, you miss me already? Are you angry that I didn’t join you in your weird torture dungeon?”

What is she even doing right now? Why is she talking to her? He’s an annoying ass, that’s for sure. And even if she’s trying to pull on his strings he always fights back somehow, making her angry.

John chuckles at the other end of the call:

“Oh, and here I thought you are the one missing me. You were the one holding my arm and not letting go, if I remember it correctly...” Hope’s glad the man can’t see her right now, because she can feel her cheeks are getting flushed. “Although I can’t lie, I was disappointed that my men couldn’t bring you to my bunker.”

She scoffs and interrupts him, before he could continue.

“First of all: I was drugged, remember? Thanks to your buddies with the bliss bullets. So fuck you! And second: You have to up your game, because your men are weak as hell. I even put down one of your Chosen, remember? And you what? Send me in a truck with two peggies? Come on, I am disappointed, Johnny boy. You’re not even trying.”

“The Bliss only makes you reveal your true nature, Deputy... It doesn’t make you do things, that you don’t want to do...” He speaks through his teeth next. “And yes... I do remember, but be careful. Our actions reveal our sins...”

Hope rolls her eyes.

“You know what? This was a mistake, next time you want to talk to somebody, just call a therapist. I’m sure you need all the help you can get.”

John laughs out loud at that and her stomach sends a weird sensation through her body.

“Oh, but Deputy... Here I thought we were starting to bond. It’s you that needs my help. I can set you free from your sins, but you keep insulting me... And you didn’t even ask about our dear Deputy Hudson, yet.”

Hope clenches the radio in her hands, so hard she fears she might break it. She speaks through her teeth. She knows John mentioned Hudson so he could get a reaction from her. If it’s a reaction what he wants, a reaction is what he’ll get.

“You listen to me, you motherfucker! If you even think about hurting her, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks, clearly satisfied with her reaction, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. “Sleep tight, my dear.”

And with that the call is cut off. She takes some deep breaths and swears out loud. Fuck the Seeds... Why did she even answer? And how come he knew her personal channel? He didn’t use the open one like before. Fuck...

She hears the door to the cabin open and Adam’s voice can be heard:

“Hey, Dep, you okay?”

She speaks low but makes sure the man can hear her answer:

“Yeah, I’m fine.” But in reality, she is far from fine.

All she can see is ash and fire. The sky has turned into a dark red, the clouds are black and instead of snow, ash falls from the sky. Hope can hear screams from everywhere. She’s panicking as she can’t move her leg. She’s in a car. Who’s car? She has no idea, but it seems like she is the driver.

There’s someone outside and the song that is echoing in the air, mixed with the screams she feels like this had happened before. She sees a silhouette walking by the car, but she can’t quite make it out, who it is. Though the next words she hears can’t be anyone else’s than Joseph Seed:

“Was blind, but now I see”

Hope weaks up, sweat covering her body. She is shaking with fear as she can still smell the smoke and ash in the air. She takes a few deep breaths and looks around. It’s calm and quiet, a clock ticking next to her head. She’s still in Adam’s cabin and the sky isn’t red. She can’t hear any screams and most of all Joseph Seed is not there.

She looks at Adam’s bed, he’s still asleep. Maybe it’s for the better, she couldn’t talk about her nightmare if asked. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She gets up from the bed and changes into a set of new clothes Adam got her from Fall’s End.

“You kidding me?” She whispers as she looks down at herself. A ‘trouble maker’ crop top and a jeans with her thigh holsters. One for her pistol and one for the throwing knives. I guess my whole stomach is free, ready to take bullets.

“Asshole, get up” She throws her used clothes on the sleeping Adam. He groans at her but gets up eventually.

Hope considers telling her conversation with John to Adam, but changes her mind as they drive to the Pig Farm.

“Deputy, it’s Pastore Jerome. If you’re getting close to Woodson’s Pig Farm be careful. Cultists will kil hostages if they lay eyes on you. You gotta attack quietly. It’s their best chance of survival.”

“That’s my speciality.” Hope replies. “Feed Boomer, while I’m away, will you?”

After fighting through the peggies, killing most of them with a bullet through the head with a sniper before getting spotted. They free all of the hostages and Hope is pretty satisfied with the work she had done. 

“You’ve done it again, Deputy. Actions like these are sparking the Resistance. Those people are stronger today because of you. Just like the story of David and Goliath. You’re inspiring real courage. Keep it up.”

She smiles to herself and almost gets a heart attack as her radio crackles again.

“Pastor Jerome is selfish and misguided.” She hears the annoyed voice of John Seed. “And if he were a true man of God, his people wouldn’t have left him in the first place.”

Hope laughs out loud, gaining a weird look from Adam. This guy sounds like he’s a kid. Pouting and calling names, like the Pastor took away his favourite toy.

“You, Deputy, will still confess your sins. Because this is the will of the Father.”

He actually sounds like he got a scolding from a teacher and now he has to do his homework. She can’t stop herself as she pushes down the talk button.

“Oh, Johnny boy, what happened? Did you get a scolding from Broseph?” She mocks him with a smirk that he can’t see. “How do you instantly know what I’m up to, anyway? You’re following me, hiding behind a bush, waiting for me to do something that’ll piss you off?”

There’s a moment of silence and she expects that the younger Seed won’t answer, when he replies:

“I have cameras everywhere, Deputy...”

Hope looks around the place but sees nothing. She holds up her middle fingers and takes a 360 turn.

“Kinky...” She laughs. “You see what I’m doing now?”

The answer doesn’t exactly pleases her, because John’s cold voice turns into his teasing one. He’s totally smirking, I can tell.

“Why, yes! Although I’m warning you again. Keep up this attitude and Deputy Hudson will suffer for your actions.” She lowers her arm, all of her playful mood gone. “She even told me things about you, Deputy... Interesting things, really.”

She scoffs and now she’s the one annoyed by this exchange:

“Oh, really?”

The man on the other end chuckles:

“Of course I’m not much for gossip. I would rather have you here, with me. Then you can tell me all about yourself.”

She scoffs and starts walking to Adam’s truck, the gun for hire totally shocked that the deputy is talking to that sadistic asshole.

“How about you find a new hobbie, John?” She uses his real name, not in the mood for teasing nicknames. “Or are you that pathetic that you have to kidnap and torture people talk to you?”

She shuts the car door behind her with a little bit too much force than she wanted to. Another chuckles and a ‘tsk’ sound comes from him:

“And here you are. Talking, to me. When nobody is making you.”

She rolls her eyes and gestures to Adam to start the truck.

“Well yeah, I’m an idiot. And I’m gonna hang up now. So screw you!”

She shuts off her radio entirely, only now realizing she was talking to the open station. Which means everybody who was listening to this channel heard that exchange. Fucking great.

“Why did you answer to him? And why in the hell did you flirt with him?” Adam asks as they drive to the Henbane River. Maybe some time away from the Valley is a good idea.

“I wasn’t flirting.” She says annoyed by even the idea.

“Ugh? Duh? You were. And HE was too. You two were totally flirting. In a sick way, but totally a boner way.”

She slaps his arm and looks offended:

“No, we didn’t. This is called enemy exchange.”

He scoffs with a laugh:

“You mean enemies-to-lovers exchange.”

She hits him now, hard on the bicep. He grunts but laughs and she can’t help but laugh too. Jesus, we were kind of flirting, weren’t we?

They step over the bridge to the Henbane the radio crackles and she’s glad it’s not the Seed’s voice that greets her:

“Deputy, you’ve crossed into the Henbane. Don’t trust anything you see and sure shit don’t believe a word that Faith says. Also steer clear of those white flowers. They seem harmless, but they will fuck your shit up... if you don’t believe me, just wait until you come across some of those shamblin’ junkies... Cult calls them ‘Angels’, but they’ll tear through you like shit through a goose.”

“Alright, thanks for the heads up, Dutch.” Hope replies.

Adam turns on the radio as the peggie channel blazes with music:

“Help me Faith, help me Faith, shield me from sorrow from fea...” The music is quickly cut by Adam changing the radio channel.

“Stupid thing, always ends up on that channel.” He murmurs under his breath and Hope chuckles as she leans back in her seat and looks out the window.

“You said the distress call came from the prison?”

She humms and nods:

“Yup, some guy names Virgil made it. Dutch told me to check out that place first before doing anything in Tinkerbell’s region.”

Adam scoffs and smiles at that:

“Tinkerbell? Johnny boy? Broseph? Are you trying to annoy them or make them your pets?”

She hits his arm, but not with force.

“I’m just asking, darlin’.” He says defending himself with a laugh.

“Yeah, sure. Will keep them on a leash too. Only Jacob left, to get a name.”

He shakes his head, disgust in his voice:

“Don’t call that one anything, he’s the worst.”

She laughs and looks at him with a smile in her eyes as well:

“He didn’t do me wrong... Yet... So on my list, he’s on top. My fave Seed at the moment.”

“I thought that was John.” She gives him a disapproving look as they turn on the road, only a couple of meters away from the Hope County Jail. She takes her AR-C into her hands as gunshots can be heard and she spots a couple of peggies outside of the building.

“First time I see someone trying to get inside the prison” She jokes and jumpes out of the car, when it slows down enough and marches on, taking out peggies as she goes.

“Let’s get these thugs, don’t give ‘em an inch!”

Hope almost gets shot by the voice she hears. Is that...? Adam takes out the peggie coming at her, while she’s shocked for a moment. That’s the last of them.

They open the gate and there he is. Hope’s eyes tear up as she runs up to the man:

“Holy shit... Hope?” She hugs him closely and doesn’t want to let go.

“You’re here... you’re here.” She says shakingly. Thank God, he’s here!

Adam comes up behind her, and asks:

“You guys know each other, I guess?”

Earl looks down at her niece, with pride in his eyes:

“She’s my niece.”

A/N: Okay, so no cliffhanger, and more is to come soon, but I wanted to finish and post this chapter! Thanks for reading! *-*

Tags: @onl-you

[vandnana]

Loving You Is Easy

Part Eleven

The next month I had grown so used to life with Chanyeol and Halmeoni. The disconnection I used to feel was gone completely, and the memories of my old life became fractal in the back of my mind.

Chanyeol and I were almost always together, The relationship we had hardly resembled friendship in the eyes of onlookers, but that was all we were—friends. Slowly though, I noticed how blurred the line between friendship and lover was when we were together. The first few weeks, everything he had done with me and for me was completely foreign, and I merely accepted it as friendship. It was easy for me to dismiss the signs because there was nothing I could compare his actions to. Until I met Kai.

Kai, although a good friend, didn’t treat me the same way as Chanyeol did. We would never hug, never hold hands, only ever really touching when we would shove each other playfully. When we ate together, Kai would never serve my food for me, instead, usually stealing the food I had on my plate. Walking around in the streets, Kai would purposefully zigzag or run to irritate me, knowing that I enjoyed the simplicity of a nice stroll. When we would hang out, he never asked me where I wanted to go, always sticking to an agenda that he carefully planned out. 

The contrast between them both opened my mind to a truth that my heart already knew. I began to find meaning behind the blush in my cheeks, the butterflies in my stomach, and the smile I always seemed to have when he was around. I slowly started to realize how I felt, but confronting those feelings was never something I planned on doing. 

Halmeoni, of course, was always around but she was never a harsh presence. She would encourage me, tell me I was working too hard, and ask about my day. Some days, we would even sit in the living room, talking and joking or even watching a movie. My newfound love for shopping and the scarcity in my closet, excluding the outfit Kai had picked, prompted her to take me shopping. She only saw how little I had in my closet because she asked me to pile up my laundry one day. To say that she was appalled would be an understatement. While I held a small pile in my hands, Chanyeol kept his in the hamper, not able to hold the mountain of dirty clothes he accumulated

The next day, she closed the shop so the three of us could go to Herald Square, and once we got there, I booked it to Urban Outfitters.

This store was much bigger and much more overwhelming than the one near Bryant Park, but once I entered, I was drawn toward the men’s section, eager to find Chanyeol something.

“This sweater is really nice, and it’ll match those blue pants you have too. You’re tall, so you’ll look good.” I held up an oversized mock neck sweater over his body, and he grabbed it from me, inspecting it.

“I agree, but we’re supposed to be shopping for you, not me. Now let’s go to the woman’s section now.” He put the sweater back where I found it, then turned me around toward the racks and racks of women’s clothes on the other side of the store.

Halmeoni had many suggestions, piling up an obscene amount of options for me to choose from. She made me try on everything she picked out for me, but out of what seemed like a thousand items, I liked three: peach high-waisted tapered pants, a light blue oversized v-neck, and a gold silk cropped cowl neck top. I chose them, thinking they matched well with each other. But, I still felt unsure. I texted pictures to Kai, asking for his approval.

Kai:

You’re a regular fashionista. You can put a white turtleneck underneath the v-neck to add some flavor. And for the cowl neck, you should find a slitted skirt for a more formal look.

-Thanks. I’ll keep you updated.

Okay, also isn’t green like the worst color ever?

-No I really like green. Especially like an emerald green. Why are you hating on green?!

Okay yeah I was just joking. Green is great.

-Alright then weirdo. I’ll talk to you later.

I put my phone away, and walked out of the fitting room, still in the cowl neck top. Halmeoni and Chanyeol looked up at me, anticipating what I was going to say.

“I think I’ll get this top and the pants. And then, the blue v-neck.” I concluded, looking back at myself in the mirror. Chanyeol’s mouth hung open as he stared at me, and I saw his expression in the mirror, which made me laugh. I laughed even more when Halmeoni shut his mouth with her hands and covered his eyes.

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” She uttered, and he swatted her hands away.

“She looks pretty. I can’t not stare Halmeoni.” He whispered in a defensive tone.

Halmeoni rolled her eyes in response, then approached my side.

“You know, June, when I was your age, all the girls were jealous of me because I was the prettiest in my entire school.”

“I’m not surprised.” I replied, beaming at her.

“Yes, all the boys wanted to date me, but Chanyeol’s grandpa was the only one for me.”

“How’d you know you wanted to be with him? You know, out of the millions of boys who liked you.”

She laughed at my comment, before telling her story. “He didn’t compromise when it came to me. When I told him that I wanted to go to college in Seoul, he made a plan to follow me, even though he wanted to stay in our hometown. I told him that he didn’t have to do that, but he said that it was more painful to be away from me, and I understood because it was painful for me too. That was how I knew.”

I nodded understanding what she meant as I instinctively looking back at Chanyeol, who was looking at something on his phone. Halmeoni noticed, and a warm smile crept on her face.

“Come on, why don’t you look a little more? You can’t just buy three things.”

I searched around for another hour, finding a slitted skirt per Kai’s suggestion and a beige oversized t-shirt. Chanyeol insisted on carrying my items to the register, and we made our way over to wait in line.

My phone started to ring, and I pulled out my phone to see Kai’s name on the screen. I picked up.

“Kai!!! What’d you think of the skirt? It’s cute right?”

“Yeah, June. It’s super cute. Anyway, I’m at school right now, and you know that project I told you about?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need a model for my clothes, and I was just wondering you wanted to do it. No pressure though.”

“Sure! I’ll be your model.” Chanyeol’s eyes raised as I said this. He still hadn’t met Kai, and still thought he was a girl.

“Really? Great! It’s going to be a while until you need to model for me. I still have to finish all of pieces, but when I need you to do it, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, sounds good to me! Thanks for asking!”

“Noo thanks for doing it. Also, you can use my rewards points when you check out. I’ll talk to you later June.”

“Bye Kai! Thanks!”

I hung up, and put my phone back in my pocket.

“Oooo so you’re a model now?” Chanyeol teased, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“Yes I am. It’s for a school project.”

“That’s nice of her to ask you.” Chanyeol exclaimed.

I  furrowed my eyebrows at him, “No, Kai’s not a girl.”

But, Chanyeol apparently didn’t hear me as he led the way to the cash register. “Come on, we’re next.”  

“How are you guys doing?” The guy behind the counter asked, scanning my clothes.

“We’re good, how are you?” I replied. The man responded plainly, saying he was good too.

He neatly folded the clothes into a paper bag, then stated the total. “Alright, and do you have a rewards membership with us?”

I nodded, reciting Kai’s number, and the guy’s eyes lit up. “Looks like you get 40% off today. Your total comes out to $126.43. You can insert your card into the chip reader when you’re ready.”

I reached into my bag, and so did Halmeoni, but Chanyeol was ready before the both of us, sticking his chip in almost aggressively into the reader.

Halmeoni and I scowled at him, but he just laughed at us.

“Alright, now would you like a receipt?”

Chanyeol shook his head, and the cashier waved goodbye, handing the bag to me.

We exited the store, and once we got out, I slapped Chanyeol on the shoulder.

“I could have easily bought these. Why did you buy them for me?” I whined.

“June, I will literally buy you anything you want.” He stated plainly, putting his arm around my shoulder as we walked to the next store that Halmeoni was leading the way to.

“That’s not fair. I haven’t bought you anything. You don’t even want anything.” I pouted up at him.

“If I like something, I’ll let you know. I’d rather splurge on you anyway.”

We spent most of the day shopping, accumulating more bags than I thought possible. I set a limit for myself, but Chanyeol and Halmeoni insisted that I get more stuff. They almost fought each other at the cashiers, both wanting eagerly to spend money on me. When I tried to buy them stuff, they shot me down immediately, which was heartwarming and annoying at the same time.

During the course of the month, I started sculpting again too. I would sculpt at home in the living room, but it was hard because sculpting was a process. Halmeoni was worried that the clay would find its way onto her furniture and the carpet, so I had to cover every inch of the living room with plastic, and I couldn’t take the plastic off until whatever I was making had fully dried. For some figures, I would need to paint too, which also took hours. There were times when I spent the entire day in the living room, not talking to anyone, just listening to music and working.

I thought that Chanyeol would be impatient with me, as clingy as he was. But, he wasn’t. Usually, he would just sit in the living room with me, either watching me work or working on his music. Sometimes, he insisted that he be the music for the day, and he would sing or play the guitar for me. Rarely did I ever ask him to help, but when I did, he practically jumped for joy.

After a while, the clean up process got exhausting, and I voiced my complaints to Kai. He offered his own apartment, which had an empty alcove that never occupied anything. I asked if he was sure about letting me borrow his space, but he said that he didn’t mind at all, and that space wasn’t a problem because he didn’t have a lot of stuff in his apartment anyway.

I moved all of my stuff into Kai’s apartment, which was sleekly bare. The only characteristic part of it were the mannequins adorned in fabrics and a large desk with a sewing machine, along with other gadgets I knew nothing about.

Kai had given me a key, and told me that I could come anytime as long as I texted him I was there. When I felt eager to finish a project, I would come over while he was at school, but most of the time, I worked while he was home. I felt bad for the mess I would make, and I always tried my best to clean everything up. I had made countless little figurines in one week, and Kai took it upon himself to sell them to people. He reached out to everyone he knew, even displaying them in his parents’ restaurant. Halmeoni also displayed my figures in the shop, advertising them to everyone who walked in. To my surprise, they were actually selling.

Once the figurines, started selling, I stopped making them. My hands were warmed up from the long hours of molding little tiny heads and bodies, and they were ready for a more taxing project.

I decided to make a woman sitting on a crescent moon, holding up a single star. There was a lot of intricacy involved, the image itself already challenging to recreate in a three-dimensional medium. But, I felt determined and ready. Making that sculpture, I practically lived at Kai’s apartment, coming early in the morning and leaving before midnight. Chanyeol would send me millions of messages during those days, knowing that I wouldn’t respond until I had finished what I was doing that day. It never annoyed me as much as it would for any other person. For me, I felt reassured. Kai did his best to make me feel as welcome as possible, even offering his couch multiple times on the late nights. But, I always wanted to come home.

Chanyeol still was unaware that Kai wasn’t a girl, but it wasn’t like it was secret. We rarely ever talked about Kai, and even when we did, the subject of his gender never came up anymore, and to me, it didn’t matter. Every time I told him that I was with Kai or going to Kai’s, he would just tell me to have fun, and when I’d come back, we would talk about other things.

At the end of the month, I finished the piece, and returned to a normal schedule that fit more room working at the shop. Although, Halmeoni never pushed for me to work, still encouraging me to do whatever I wanted.

I left the piece at Kai’s, not knowing what to do with it. It was too heavy and too big to carry back to the apartment, so I told him he could have it as his first real decorative piece. I even made a fake art plaque for it.

At the end of the month, I was struck with intense bewilderment when Kai told me that he had submitted my sculpture to be displayed in an art exhibition based in uptown Manhattan. It wasn’t anything famous or fancy, more fitting for the underground art scene, but he reassured me that it was a real exhibition that people would dress up to go to.

I refused to believe him until we rode the train to see the exhibition location. It was just as Kai had said, very unassuming, but there was a charm to it. The building was small, sandwiched between a laundromat and a photography place. There were ivy vines snaked around the red brick exterior, and the steps leading up to an oddly Victorian door had a red carpet draped over them. When we walked in, everyone’s art was covered with red shrouds, and as we walked in further, Kai showed me mine. It was sat on a large pedestal, also covered in a shroud, but I knew that it was my piece. Its silhouette was enough confirmation for me, but Kai wasn’t satisfied. He lifted the shroud slightly to reveal a plaque that read:

June (b. 01.29)

The Moon Is Mine, The Stars Align

Oil-Based Clay

Made to marry terrestrial beings with the beings that bring us light.

The fake plaque I had made became real in front of me, and I covered my mouth. Dreams that I buried deeply started to unravel in mind, and I felt untouchable. I hugged Kai tightly because of what he had given me, and he had a cocky smile plastered on his face.

“I couldn’t just let your art sit in my apartment. As much as I love it, it looks way better here.” We were still hugging as he said this, and he rubbed my back reassuringly.

I pulled away to look at him, and somehow tears found their way down my cheeks. I wiped them hastily, looking away embarrassed.

“Sorry, these are happy tears, Kai. I never thought my art would be sitting in an exhibition. But because of you, it is. Thank you.” I said as best as I could through my teary eyes.

“You’re gonna be a rich and famous sculptor in no time. You just gotta start somewhere. You’re rising up right now.” He stated, confidence coloring his words.

I pushed him slightly, “You too. You’re already this amazing fashion designer, and you’re gonna make clothes for all the famous people one day.”

“I hope so. Hey, that reminds me. I’m finalizing the design for the last piece. I just need you to come over one day, so I can do a fitting. Then, after that I just need to take pictures and videos of you wearing the clothes, and you’ll be done.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan. Also, don’t you have a men’s wear project too?”

“Yeah, but that’s not due until next semester.”

“You should ask Chanyeol to model for you. He looks good in everything.”

He laughed lightly, a slight ache in his heart arising. He tried his best to bury his feelings, but sometimes they would find their way up to the surface.

“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll let you know when you can ask him. I like focusing on one project at a time.” He faked a smile to hide the pain in his heart.

As much as he understood that I only saw him as a friend, the butterflies in his stomach had a habit of taking over his mind’s rationality some days. There was a slight hope that he never entertained, but felt inside, a hope that I would change my mind and choose him.

[ask-de-writer]

The Knights of Justice (Part 2 of 3) : An MLP Fan Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

THE KNIGHTS OF JUSTICE

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover Art by The Whisper Sisters, now Wind the Mama Cat

© 2014 by Glen Ten-Eyck

6842 words

Writing begun 08/27/14

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

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Prologue: This tale takes place about 4000 years in the past of the modern MLP canon. During this time, Celestia and Luna are still fillies, though close to grown physically. The events here recorded are part of the foundation of the modern kingdom of Equestria.  Specifically, this tale begins what are now known as THE DAYS OF FORTRESS CANTERLOT and the founding of the Knights of Justice.

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For more background information on the canon of this tale, please read:

De Writer and the Orb of the Ages

Hearthwarming Eve / Starvation’s Night

From Darkness to Dawn

Fortress Canterlot!

De Writer’s Tale (a narrative poem)

The Coming of Tam O’Canter and Heather Bloom O’Red Hoof to Ponyville

De Writer canon (part 1)

De Writer canon (part 2)

PART 1 is HERE    

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Nodding, Bright Cloud got hold of herself and explained, “It was Baron Salten's assertion that we drove them off!  He did have a bit over fifty at arms.  These he divided into two wings.  He encircled a small copse that he presumed us to be hiding in and closed in.  

“His right wing attacked his own left, who, understandably, defended themselves.  The battle of Baron Salten against himself was still raging when we came over a small hill and saw it.

“We took them from outside the ring.  They panicked and began a rout, which the Baron joined! Except technically, we did not defeat them.  Baron Salten defeated himself through sheer incompetence and lack of organization.  Perhaps you needed to be there to appreciate it fully.”

The King on his throne and his Queen on hers were grinning ear to ear.  “I think not, Wing Commander.  That did indeed lighten things.  How badly did Baron Salten defeat himself?”

Soberly, Princess Luna replied, “Five of his unicorns at arms and four of his pegassi are dead.  We were delayed in getting here because we stopped and did such surgeries as we could on the survivors.  We saved their lives, healed their wounds and mended their broken bones.  We came on only after we had done all that we could for the fallen.”

“Why would you bother?” demanded the discomfited Salten.  “They were mere ponies at arms. Peasants all.”

It was the old blue unicorn who spoke in answer.  “Luna's Creator/Mother was the Titan of Life Creation herself.  Luna, very rightly, regards only the question of whether the pony before her lives.  If that pony is alive, she works to keep it so.

“You, on the other hoof, have no care for life at all.  You fled the field and abandoned your ponies.  We did not.  Some of those that we healed have requested that we take them to our service.  This, we could not grant for their being the warriors of a friendly nation and we not having Royal Permission to take them.

“What is the source of your power as a Baron?  It has two roots and you have actively worked to make one wither.  The King to whom you owe Fealty is one root of your strength as a Baron.

“The other root, the vital root, is those peasants that you think so little of.  They provide the crops, tend the orchards, spin and weave the fabrics, quarry the stone, cut and shape the timbers, mine, smelt, cast and forge the metals.  They make EVERYTHING that you batten off of.  

“They are not MERE, they are the Solid Foundation upon which the WHOLE of the kingdom rests.  To dismiss them as MERE is to dismiss the kingdom as a whole.  It cannot exist without them.  Nobles are the ones who can be most easily dispensed with, not the peasants.

“Nobles were first created to defend the kingdom and its peasants.  If a noble falls, as happens too often, another will be raised.  The true work of a Noble is not in Court, as important as that can be, it is in organizing the labors of the peasants to get the best for the kingdom as whole.  Any who abandon that work have abandoned the kingdom.”

Camarg, on his throne was listening brow furrowed in concentration, a smile on his lips.

Salten snapped, “That is sedition!  The Kingdom is Here!  We are the Kingdom!”  He swept a hoof dramatically about the room.

Camarg whispered to a page who left and returned shortly after, bearing a scroll.  The whole Court looked on, puzzled as the King's eye swept down the scroll.  Looking up, he nodded to himself.

Speaking to De Writer, he said, “It appears that you have indeed studied our law and ways.”

Turning to Salten he pointed with his scepter and said, “I have just read your Induction to Fealty, Salten.  In this Court, today alone, you have denied your Fealty, not once, but thrice.

“You attempted to have me send armed force against the Delegation of a Friendly Power for your own criminal gain.  You have lied to me about the nature of your defeat, a thing that you well knew.  Further, you have, in open Court, called sedition the very Instrument of Fealty to this Kingdom, which I personally wrote in my second year on the throne.  I have just verified that you signed that instrument as read and understood when you were Elevated.  

“For these crimes, I hereby cast you from the Barony of Salten.  The title and estates are Vacant until a new Baron shall be found.

“Guards!  Take Montre Saur, once Baron Salten, to a prison cell.”

De Writer said softly but in a carrying voice, “We did indeed study your laws.  That Law of yours was so clear and well written that We of Canterlot adopted it with but few changes as our own law, too.  Its origin in your wisdom is recorded as a part of the law as we have it written.  For such wisdom and clarity, we do thank you, Your Majesty.”

Luna gave a piercing look at the pony on the throne.  When she spoke, it carried conviction to all who heard it.  “Your Majesty, since we began Canterlot, we have been carrying out what you wrote.  We sent our armies out after the Sunlord War to do all that could be done to repair the damage and loss of that war.

“We have tried to be open to all who had just grievance.  Where we failed, was in finding the words to make good law of it all.  Your wisdom gave us those words.

“In going through your other law, we have found much that was like to it in both wisdom and clarity.  All that fits our situation we have credited and are using. We came here to meet in person the pony who could write with such grace and wisdom.

“Seeing you now, enforcing that law, has made up my mind.  We do wish a compact with you.  We will discuss that matter privately at a later time.”

A stealthy wisp of pale yellow magic slithered out from among the gathered nobles.  Near invisible, it reached for Luna's tail.  Without even looking, she twitched her tail to one side, so that the tendril had to make a second effort.

As it did, Luna's magic, seeming to have a life of its own, raced up the yellow tendril, swallowing it like a midnight serpent.  Luna did not even bother turning her head to watch.  The rusty brown unicorn who was the source of the tendril was enveloped in star-shot midnight magic.

In only moments the magic lifted from him.  Luna did turn then.  To her foster father.  To the old blue unicorn, she asked, “Did I do it right, Father?”

With an amused grin, the old blue unicorn replied, “Hoof Glue, you mean?  It certainly appears so.”

Turning to King Camarg, De Writer asked, “Would Your Majesty  please have the assembled nobles of your court step over to the left side of the carpet runner to your throne?  I do believe that my Foster Daughter Luna has so done things that the criminal who attempted to steal hairs of her tail for black magical purposes will be revealed if you do.”

Queen Megan quietly said, “Such an attempt was made on me too, My Liege.  That crime could not be traced.  If we have one among our court who is dealing in such acts, it is best if that one be found.”

King Camarg nodded slowly.  The herald called, “Would the assembled Court of Camarg II please cross to the left of the Carpet?”

A lone rusty brown unicorn was left behind.  He was struggling, to no avail.  His hooves were fused tight to the stone pave.  He was stuck there like a cockroach in glue.  

Besides that, he was trying frantically to muster his magic but it would not come.  It would build to barely visible shimmer and fade at once.

Straining at the stone that would not release his hooves, eyes rolling in fear, the unicorn called frantically, “Sire!  What is this, if not Black Magic?  I can not use mine at all!  I am trapped here by an evil sorcery!”

Interested, the King cocked his head at Luna and asked mildly, “What have you done to Baron Cutshort?  It is most amusing, I must admit.”

Luna smiled.  “I learned the magic that we call Hoof Glue from Father.  He used to run a school of reading and writing.  It was a harmless means of discipline for the unruly among the students.  I have blended the stone of the flooring and the lower parts of his hooves.  It is easily undone at your command.

“For the other, my title, Keeper of Dreams and the True Embodiment of All Nightmare, is exact and literal.  He has a day dreaming nightmare fear of his own magic, which causes him to extinguish his magic the instant that it begins to manifest.  This also, I can remove at the moment that your Majesty shall command it.”

The King pursed his lips as he thought.  He called his page close and whispered in his ear.  Moments later three guards came to the King's side.  He whispered to them for a moment.

They left on their errand.

Baron Cutshort guessed what it might be and redoubled his efforts to free himself.

It was not long at all before the guards returned.  They bore a box that was painted black.

King Camarg stared long and hard at the struggling Baron.  That pony had gone from angry struggles to despairing efforts.  His head drooped.  

Turning attention to the guards, the King asked, “Have you looked inside this box?”

Straightforwardly, they answered, “Nay, Sire.  Our order was to bring to you anything that we found suspicious.  This was hidden in his sleeping stall with all arranged so that it would not be easily found.”

“Well done.  Whatever is here, the Baron clearly does not want us to see.”

Luna spoke up in her gentle voice, “A Boon, Your Majesty Camarg?  I would be the one to open this box.  I have a very good idea of the contents.  As the Embodiment of Nightmare, it will not be so hard for me as it might prove to others.”

The Queen had been watching all with sharp eyes.  Megan asked, “May I inquire HOW you know what is in that box?”

Luna nodded briskly, “I would think you remiss if you did not.  I have given the Baron Cutshort a waking nightmare.  It was for the purpose of rendering his magic useless for now.  That nightmare has given me a bridge to his fears. He knows very well what is in the box and its uses.

“With your Royal permission, I will essay to open it here, in court, before you all.  It has deadly traps against being opened.”

The king, sitting his throne, looked his strange visitor level in the eyes and made up his mind. “Open it then, if you deem it safe enough to do so.”

Luna nodded her head and then turned to the old blue unicorn that she had named De Writer. “Father, when this is opened, I will need your speed to preserve the contents.  There is a spell in there to destroy them besides the traps on opening the box.”

One of the nobles in the crowd of courtiers barked a laugh.  “Speed?  An old pony like that?  You would be better getting a garden snail!”

The old blue unicorn vanished. The one that had expressed such levity suddenly flipped flat to the stone pave.  The old unicorn was sitting on his neck and had the laugher's own knife held just under the chin.

Looking down at the fallen unicorn, whose horn was capped by a hard looking sheath of blue magic, the old one said, “Speaking of slow, Turtle, old pony, you certainly fill the bill.”

The knife clattered to the pave as the old one vanished again.  He was standing exactly where he had been.  “Now, dear.  Go about the opening of the box.  I will winkle the contents out when you do.”

Nodding to herself, Luna gathered her magic and enclosed the box in a clear bubble of it.  A thread of midnight shot with stars seeped into the lock.

A needle like blade whipped out of the box, aimed at Luna's eyes.  It was being driven by a pustulent yellow magic.  Striking Luna's delicate seeming, thin, clear, bubble of magic, it stopped as if it had hit a solid object.  Her magic enfolded and shredded the the yellow.

Baron Cutshort's horn briefly glowed and died as he whinnied in agony.

The king nodded grimly.  “If further proof of his guilt were needed, the breaking of that magic causing it to rebound to him gives it.”

The lock clicked as Luna's magic dealt with its workings.  The lid snapped up and flame washed out of the box.  There was a small pile of objects on the carpet in front of old De Writer, who was looking pleased with himself.

He said, “It was easy, Luna, my dear.  I had over a half second to get it all.”

The King, Queen and Court were staring in distaste at the objects.  The gazes of most were drawn to the skull.  It was from a half-grown foal unicorn.  The yellowed scroll along side it drew some attention.  Ritual knives, wands, candles and other things made up most of the balance.  There were neatly labeled envelopes, carefully sealed.  Each bore the name of somepony from the Court.

Luna's head turned toward the envelopes as if her horn was iron drawn by a powerful lodestone.  She gently hoofed through the envelopes and extracted one.

The Baron's eyes filled with despair as he saw which one it was.  Luna, voice filled with the deepest of compassion, asked him, “Please tell me of this one.  I thought that I understood when I saw the others.  Members of the Court.  Power through control of them.  I now see that I was wrong.

“Cindermane.  Tell me of her. Tell us all.”

The Baron's eyes hardened like granite and his struggles stopped.  He showed true spine, suddenly. He glared at one of the Court.  He gave the impression that, had he fangs and been free, he'd have ripped the throat out of Count Eleten.

/////TO BE CONTINUED/////