#--of her platoon choose to follow after her and keep an eye on her
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MIJAAAAL everyone say hi to mijaal ^_^
^ and a little height comparison between her and mary. its one part mary being short and one part mijaal being a bit lanky
#scribbles#mijaal oc#oc refs#bugworld#+lacewing is also there. shouldve drawn her without her metal armor bc mijaal gets rid of it pretty early into hiding out in the forest--#--after the takeover of haal but i realized that only after letting this sit for a night. oops#mijaals a bit young still despite her high rank. one part because of that purposeful recruiting of the young and one part bc one of her--#--commanding officers (fapreisau. he is mentioned for two seconds in the written mijaal thing from a while ago) wanted to get with her--#--and thought accelerated promotions and his poor mentorship were the best ways to earn her favor. its part of the reason why the ghosts--#--of her platoon choose to follow after her and keep an eye on her#AAUUUGH i have so much i could say abt mijaal i rlly like her
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lake house
pairing: anakin skywalker x reader
genre: fluff
summary: in which anakin doesn’t turn to the dark side and padme gives you a lake house
warnings: canon-typical violence, death, pregnancy
word count: 2610
a/n: i literally did this in one sitting bc i’m stupid and it’s so bad, so please do not expect a masterpiece,, for reference this is the nightgown i refer to at the end ----,, also this was slightly inspired by an ask i sent to @etherealsanakin the other day so here is that -----
masterlist
Anakin had been staring out the window of the Council room for what felt like hours, but you were sure was only a few minutes. His gaze was strong and hard. It wouldn’t take a force-wielder to understand something was on his mind. You knew he’d been agitated since his placement on the Council without becoming a master, but you knew there was more to this story. You held your tongue until you saw a single tear roll down the side of his face.
“Ani, my love what is bothering you?” You crouched down next to his seat and wrapped his hand in your own. He squeezed your hand.
“The Chancellor, he’s,” He closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath. “He’s the Sith Lord.” You let silence fill the room, before placing a chaste kiss on your and Anakin’s entwined hands.
“Have you told anyone? Anyone on the Council?” Anakin nodded ever so slightly.
“I informed Master Windu, and he told me to stay behind. That he would handle it.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if to better gather his thoughts. “I’m feeling, confused. I’m not sure of my place in all this.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Ani. Are you talking about the Order?” Anakin pulled his hand away from yours and pressed his palms to his face.
“The Chancellor promised me powers. Powers greater than any Jedi has ever possessed. The power to save you, from whatever it is I keep dreaming about.” Everything slowly started to click into place. Asking Anakin to be his representative on the Council. The nightmares and visions. Why no Jedi could sense a Sith Lord right under their noses. It was all the Chancellor’s manipulation. All of it. You stood up from your crouched position and stood in front of Anakin. You brought your hands to either side of his face and touched your foreheads together.
“My love, I need you to listen to me right now. And I need you to trust me. Can you do that?” Anakin smiled and his eyes curled up, sending a few stray tears down his face
“I always trust you.” Your heart warmed at his confession.
“I know you feel conflicted right now. You aren’t sure where your alliances truly lie.” Anakin nodded as if answering the question. “But if the Chancellor is a Sith Lord like you’ve said, he’s been manipulating you. Anakin, he wants you to join the dark side, and I know that’s not what you want. I know that’s not who you are.” Anakin stays silent, waiting for you to continue. “I have my criticisms of the Order, just as you do, but they want the best for you, I promise.” You place a kiss on the top of Anakin’s head. “I love you. I love you so much that I won’t let the Chancellor make you the man you’re not.” Anakin stands up from his seat and turns to look out the window.
“I love you too, Y/N. I-I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t”
“And you won’t. I’m right here.” You bring his hands to your cheeks. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I want to aid Master Windu,” Anakin admits.
“Then let’s go.” Anakin smiles up at you and grabs your hand. You both run from the Council room to the hanger, and grab a ship to fit both of you. The journey is short. As soon as you land, you both jump out and begin running towards the Chancellor’s office. While running, your each out for Anakin’s hand and grab it. “I’m not gonna lose you Ani.” Anakin looks at you, his expression still serious.
He simply says, “You won’t.” Before you knew it, you ran into the Chancellor’s office. The window had been shattered and blown out. Master Windu held his lightsaber to the Chancellor’s throat. The Chancellor was laying in front of Master Windu, his hands up in “peace”.
“You are under arrest, my lord.” Master Windu proclaimed. You and Anakin have released hands since entering the room but chose to remain close.
“Anakin, I told you it would come to this.” Anakin looked down at the Chancellor. A man he thought he could rely on, a man he thought he could trust. A man that turned out to be a liar. “I was right. The Jedi are taking over.”
“You are mistaken, Chancellor!” You exclaim.
“The oppression of the Sith will never return. You have lost.” Master Windu adds.
“No, no. You have lost!” The Chancellor yells as he shoots force lightning towards you and Master Windu. The lightning strikes you before you have a chance to ignite your lightsaber. You fall to the ground, and attempt to hold out. Anakin stands there, confused and conflicted yet again. All of his senses are overwhelming him. He trusts you, with his life. But the Chancellor had promised him the power to save you, and he couldn’t afford to lose you.
“Anakin!” You yell over the noise. You cannot hold out much longer, the Chancellor is too powerful. “He is lying to you, Anakin. He can’t help you!” Moments later, the Chancellor shouts out a response, still shooting out lightning. You are writhing on the floor.
“I have the power to save the one you love!” Ironic, Anakin thinks, as he’s shocking you with lightning. “You must choose!”
“Don’t listen to him Anakin!” Master Windu shouts out. You can barely hear what’s going on, too focused on keeping yourself conscious. The pain suddenly stops, and you try to pull yourself off the ground. Anakin leans down and helps you to your feet. You pull away from him as he pulls out his lightsaber.
“I trusted you, Chancellor! I trusted you, and all you did was lie!” Master Windu stepped aside slightly as if he knew what was to come. “You’ve done nothing but lie. And you hurt the one I love.” With that, Anakin swung his lightsaber and struck the Chancellor. And the Clone War was over.
---
Immediately following the Chancellor’s death, Master Windu sent you and Anakin to the med bay to treat your injuries. They were relatively minimal, considering the nature of the attack. Anakin stayed with you the whole time, he refused to leave your side. You suspected he blamed himself for waiting so long to step in.
“My love I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t your fault.” Anakin looked at the floor and shook his head.
“I let it go on for far too long, love. I shouldn’t have just let you lay there on the-”
“Anakin.” You interrupted. “You killed the Chancellor, you resisted his manipulation. The war is practically over.” Anakin squeezed your hand.
“You flatter me, Y/N.” The medical droid spoke up, reminding you of its presence.
“Y/N suffered minor burns and will make a full recovery.
“Thank you, 2-1B.” The droid held up its hand as if it had more to say.
“However, during the scan, I have found the Y/N is pregnant.” You feel your heart sink to your stomach. Was the baby okay? Had anything happened to it when you were attacked?
“Is the baby alright” Anakin spoke up.
“Yes, the baby is healthy.” 2-1B responded. You stood off of the bed and moved next to Anakin. He looked at your face before moving his gaze down to your stomach.
“My love, this, this is wonderful.” Anakin envelops you in a hug, squeezing you ever-so-slightly. “And the war is ending, this is perfect timing.” Anakin’s smile seems to increase tenfold with every passing second.
“Anakin, we’re still Jedi. What’re we gonna do?” Anakin smooths down the back of your hair and runs it between his fingers. “We’re not gonna worry about anything right now. All right?” You nod. “This is a happy moment. The happiest moment of my life.”
---
In the weeks that followed, Jedi and their platoons were sent to resolve any remaining conflicts. Luckily, the Council, recognizing your and Anakin’s efforts that ended the war, were absolved from duty.
Padme visited after the final negotiations concluded, and the treaty was signed. At this point, you were only a month or so along, and still found it easy to hide it from others. However, you’d spoken with Anakin the other night about plans for the future. What were you going to do when you couldn’t hide it. And clearly, you’d both broken the Code. You both came to the conclusion that your best bet would be asking Padme, a trusted friend if you could use her planet as a refuge.
“Padme!” You exclaimed as you opened the door to your quarters. You both gathered each other in a hug, having not seen each other since the Chancellor’s death. As you separated, you invited her in. You took a seat on your bed, as she gave Anakin a brief hug before sitting down.
“How have you both been?” Padme asked. She looked concerned. It’s clear she’d been worried since hearing about the nature of the Chancellor’s death.
“We’ve been doing well. Actually-”
“Y/N’s pregnant.” Anakin blurted out. As much as you were annoyed that he spoiled the announcement, you couldn’t be mad at the lovestruck expression on his face.
“Congratulations!” Padme stood up to give you another hug. Anakin stood up as well and placed a comforting hand on your back as you and Padme separated. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, actually.” Padme looks at you, ready to listen. “The Order prohibits attachments, which clearly we have not abided by.” Anakin laughs softly. “So, as things become more obvious, we’re going to need somewhere to stay. We wondering if-”
“Of course you can come to Naboo!” Padme interrupts. “You two are always welcome. You can stay in one of my family’s lake houses, we don’t have much use for them anyway.”
“Thank you, Padme, truly.”
---
Eventually, it was time to present your situation to the Council. You and Anakin had decided to leave the Order so you could raise your family in peace. You had had enough fighting for a lifetime. You never wanted to become a General in the first place, but the war threw many of your plans out the window.
The only Council member who knew of your situation was Obi-Wan, who was incredibly accepting (and also very excited to be an Uncle). He promised to do as much as possible to lessen any consequences given by the Council.
Anakin grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles before you entered the room. “Everything will be okay, my love.” As you stepped into the room, you were met with the many faces of the Council. The Masters that raised you, trained you. You owed your life to these individuals, and it would be difficult to part with them.
“Master Skywalker, Master Y/L/N,” Master Yoda begins. “A request for us, you have?”
“Yes Master Yoda,” Anakin begins. “If I may be blunt, Y/N is with a child.” Several Council members made audible expressions of surprise, but many also looked as if Anakin had made the most obvious statement in the galaxy.
“You really think we weren’t aware of your attachment?” Master Windu chuckled. “The pregnancy, however, is a surprise.” Master Windu looks around at the members, who all nod their heads. “But we are willing to excuse this ignorance of the Code because of all you two have done for the order.”
“Thank you, Master Windu, but Anakin and I were planning on leaving the order to raise the child.” Many members begin to whisper among themselves.
“Many we ask why?” Shakk Ti, your former master asks.
“Master Ti, I think we’ve all had enough fighting for a lifetime.” Many members smile and chuckle at your comment. “I own the Jedi Order my life. But I am ready for another chapter of my life.”
“Granted, your request is.” Master Yoda replies.
---
You, Anakin, and Padme head to Naboo only a few days later, and Obi-Wan is there to send you off.
“You must send me holo-vids once the baby is born. I’m not sure how often I will be able to visit.”
“Of course, Master. We wouldn’t let you miss anything.” Anakin smiles.
Obi-Wan pulls you into a hug. “I wish you the best of luck, Y/N. I remember when you
were just a youngling, and look at you now.” Obi-Wan’s memory makes you smile. Some of your earliest memories were of the older padawans playing with you and your youngling clan in the Creche. It’s sweet to know Obi-Wan was one of those padawans.
“Thank you, Master Kenobi.” You look up to Anakin. “I’ll be with Padme, I’ll let you two say goodbye.” Anakin looks at his former master for but a moment before wrapping him up in a hug.
“Thank you, master. I’ve never thanked you enough for putting up with me all these years.” Obi-Wan chuckles.
“It was a pleasure, Anakin. It was a pleasure and an honor to train you. And I wish you well. Take care of her.”
“I plan on it.” With that, Anakin boards the ship to Naboo with you and Padme.
--
Upon landing, Padme excitedly shows you around the house her family is gifting you. The house is modest. A few bedrooms, a couple of refreshers, the perfect home for the (growing) family moving in.
“We can’t thank you enough, Padme.”
“It’s really no problem, let me know if there is anything else you need. I’m just a holo-call away.” With that, Padme left you two alone. You continued to move about the house. With what little possession you and Anakin had, there wasn’t much to decorate, you hoped that would change over time. You eventually ended up in your and Anakin’s room. It wasn’t much, but it was yours, and that’s all that mattered. However, when you opened the closet, you found it fully stocked. You’d always admired Padme’s gowns, and it seems she left you some of your own. One, in particular, struck your eye. A blue silk nightgown with pearls at the neckline. You slip in on, thankful to be out of your Jedi robes for one of the first times in your life.
You make your way out onto the balcony overlooking the lake. Anakin is already there watching the sunset. He senses your presence and turns around.
“Love, what are you wearing?” He asks, a smirk rising on his face. Anakin holds out his hand and pulls you to him. He looks from your eyes to your lips and kisses you.
“Padme left all kinds of things in the closet. I thought I’d try one on.” Anakin smiles.
“I’ll be sure to give Padme my thanks.” Anakin pulls you in closer and kisses you harder. He eventually pulls away to breathe. The happiness on his face is contagious.
“You look happy, my love.” Anakin lays his forehead against yours.
“It’s because I am, love. Maker, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. We’re here, together, and the baby will be able to grow up here.” Anakin places his hands on your stomach, and his expression changes quickly.
“What is it love, is something wrong?” His expression of surprise changes to one of content.
“Nothing it wrong, Y/N. I’m not a med droid but I think I sense two force presences in there.”
“Two? Two as in-”
“Twins, yes, twins! Twins Y/N!” Anakin picks you up and practically spins you before setting you down and embracing you again. “I love you so much, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Anakin.”
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker fluff#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin imagine#anakin fluff#anakin x reader#star wars#star wars imagine#star wars fluff#star wars prequels
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Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 1
Fury/ Band of Brothers Crossover Fic
Summary: Don "Wardaddy" Collier just wanted his crew to make it through the war. He carried no expectations for himself. But as each day passed, he worried he would be unable to keep his promise. When fate (or more accurately- Boyd Swan) places a woman in his path with a soft touch and softer heart...perhaps he has more of a motivation to see the end of the war after all.
Hey so I’m back with this series! I posted the first chapter awhile ago and then realized I did not have my plot and characters as “polished” as I wanted. So if you read the first chapter already, I would recommend rereading it.
The first chapter is shorter compared to the others so to make up for it, I will also be posting the next chapter! Two in one!
Our beloved Easy Company will come into play in a couple chapters. Patience, my friends. I have a plan...
Warnings: Swearing, some mentions of wounds/blood
Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @alwaysindecemberfeels
Series Masterlist // Next Chapter
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Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Dirt and grime covered his skin and clothing. The sound of the Sherman's tracks rolling over the muddy ground encompassed them. Patches of ice and snow still lined the feeble road. He stared ahead blindly, trusting Gordo to get them to the camp safely. The looks on those around him mirrored his own feelings. Everyone was exhausted. Everyone wanted real food. Everyone was tired of watching allies killed by fucking Tigers.
Everyone was sick of this shit.
They approached the camp. The cesspool that it looked like from far away became even more evident the closer they got. Half-demolished buildings with a dusting of snow were the only standing structures left of what used to be a quaint little town. Soldiers in grubby gear, rifle over their shoulders, ran around. From far away the sounds of artillery fire echoed. Don wondered who was dying now.
"Boyd." He looked over at his gunner. "When we get parked, you go find an aid station. Get that hand looked at."
"Yes, sir." The gunner held his injured hand against his chest, wrapped in a makeshift bandage.
After getting directions from a lieutenant, they found the tank squad on the other side of the town. Seeing the three other tanks gave the staff sergeant some hope.
"Boyd, medic. Gordo, fill 'er up. Grady, check that suspension. I don't like the way it sounds. Norman, find us some ammunition and where the hot chow is." Don barked out orders as everyone jumped off the tank. Replies of "yes, sir" made him nod, silently proud of his crew, before stalking towards where he assumed HQ was.
Soon enough he found the building, soldiers scurrying in and out, making the place look like an overturned ant hill. The glass on the store-front was still intact surprisingly, but the door was busted down leaving a gaping hole to walk through. Sliding past a private who looked barely eighteen coming out, he entered the HQ to see a table set out in the middle with maps laid out, paper weights and bullets strewn about.
"Who you?"
The gravelly voice made him turn to his right, eyeing up the man sitting on a wingback chair. "Staff Sergeant Don Collier, commander of Fury, 66th Armored Regiment, 2nd Armored Division."
The man exhaled, smoke slipping between his thin lips, cigarette hanging precariously. "Ah, Wardaddy, eh? Right, come on." He stood up and waved Don over to the table. "Captain Evans. What's your status?"
Don eyed the man, he seemed far too relaxed for being in a war zone. Then again, his greying hair and beard and those sharp eyes made him briefly wonder if this Captain Evans had been in the Great War. Maybe this was easier compared to trenches? Either way, it was nice to see someone in charge for once that looked like they were actually old enough to shave. Fuck knew too many kids were running around with rifles now, having just gotten out of bootcamp. Don wanted nothing to do with them.
"We secured the town here," he pointed at the map, "left 86th Infantry to hold. Then my guys and two other tanks were sent here."
Captain Evans stared at the maps, mind clearly seeing how best to utilize them. "You and two tanks, eh?"
"Yeah. Ran into a tiger though. Now it's just my guys."
His bushy eyebrows shot up, even those around the table quieted down with the news. "Just you?" At Don's nod, the Captain tapped his fist on the table. "Damn those tigers. Alright, good to have you here, Don. We're waiting on some intel before sending you out. You and your guys get some chow and rest. Come back and see me in the morning."
"Yes, sir." Don nodded and walked out of the building, relieved they were not being sent out right away.
As he walked down the filthy, cobbled street, he could feel the shakes beginning in his hands. Quickly, he stepped onto a side street, hoping no one would notice him. Leaning back against the brick wall of the building, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before anyone could see them shaking. Memories of the fight from yesterday replayed in his mind without permission. The tiger easily destroyed the rest of his platoon. In a matter of minutes, him and his crew were alone. Ten men. They had lost ten men. Good men...well mostly good. There was that one asshole in Edward's squad no one would miss.
War took the best and worst; death it’s equally possessive lover.
Hands slightly fumbling, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The lighter took a few clicks before catching. With the inhale, the nicotine and smoke settled in his lungs beautifully. He closed his eyes, letting the cigarette help calm his nerves and try to erase the memories of his platoon. They were dead now. It did no good to dwell on it.
After several minutes his hands finally stilled. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed off the building and headed out to find his crew. He glanced around wondering the likelihood of finding a roof and real beds for his guys tonight. They deserved it. Especially after all this shit. His own back cried out for a reprieve from sleeping on the hard ground.
Yeah, he would figure out something. Even if he had to toss some goddamn young Privates out into the stained snow.
*****
"Nurse Cooper! You can handle this!"
She pushed the flyaway strands of auburn hair out of her face as she walked past the injured, following the voice of Doctor Erickson. The cries, screams and whimpers of the injured and dying no longer affected her. Or at least that was what she told herself. At least this field hospital had separate areas based on severity and a roof over the top.
She had worked in far worse conditions before.
She nodded to the tall, blond doctor who barely gave her a passing glance as he shoved past her, away from injuries he deemed lesser than what he should be focusing his attention on.
A man sat on the edge of a cot, cradling his hand in his lap, which was wrapped up like a mummy. He was not screaming or swearing, so she took that as a good sign. His eyes were closed, lips moving silently like he was praying, a thick mustache twitching with every movement. He looked like he could only be a couple years older than her own twenty-three years.
"What's your name, soldier?" She stood in front of him, wiping her hands on the stained apron she wore over her equally stained dress. Once they had both been white; now, the apron and dress were a patchwork of stains from blood, dirt and other questionable fluids she chose not to think of.
He looked up, his brown eyes meeting her blue in surprise. "Boyd Swan, ma'am. Those in my crew call me Bible though. "
"Well, Boyd, mind if I take a look at your hand?" She perched on a stool as he offered up his hand. Quickly, she unwrapped it to see the damage with a gentle but methodical touch. A long laceration bled across the palm and past the wrist, thankfully not deep. Honestly, looking it over, it was kind of a miracle it was not worse.
"Well, you're lucky, Boyd. Any deeper and you might have lost use of your hand. You might have some nerve damage; I do not think immobility is a concern at this point. I think we can get away without stitches if you can promise me you'll keep your hand bandaged and try not to use it."
"It's not luck, He's looking out for me and my crew." He pointed a finger on his other hand skyward.
"Yes, He certainly was. Let me grab some new bandages." She grabbed some cleaning solution and bandages for the man. The sooner she finished with him, the less likely there would be concern for infection. If she guessed, it would appear the injury happened at the earliest maybe yesterday. More than enough time for it to become infected. Though her training had taught her to ask and determine when the injury occurred, lately she found herself hating that question. It always led into a story and hearing even more of the horrors these men faced. Her mind had enough memories of blood and guts to fuel nightmares for a hundred years. If she could refrain from hearing others’ memories, she found herself choosing too.
The other reason she wanted to finish with him soon was to open up the bed he currently sat on, in case a worse injury came in. Luckily there had not been a large-scale fight in a week so they only had trickles of men coming in instead of waves of dying men.
"You a religious woman?"
She looked up from cleaning his hand to meet his earnest eyes. "I guess. I don't pray like I used to."
He hummed. "I can respect that. I suspect you've seen plenty of death."
Not wanting to remember all the faces of young men she had slaved over, only for them to die under her care, she changed the subject. "Why do they call you Bible?"
"I'm always reading the Bible... I reckon that's where it started. I stopped trying to convert those heathens in my tank. I pray for their souls though. Always will." His voice trailed off quietly, but the fondness in it was unmistakable.
"You're a good man, Boyd."
He nervously chuckled, looking away for a moment with the sound of his foot tapping repeatedly on the ground. "No, I'm just doing the Lord's work. That's all."
"Well, I'm done." Smiling at him, she pushed back slightly. It was nice to have a patient not screaming at her or leering. There were too many of those men as of late. "Do you know your orders yet?"
"No, ma'am. We just rolled in an hour ago."
"Alright, if you're still here tomorrow I'd like to take a look at your hand again in the morning."
"I can do that."
"Good. Go rest up now, find some food. You earned it." She stood up, holding the soiled cloths, ready to move on to the next patient or task.
"I will.” He rose along with her, clearly understanding the dismissal. "Oh ma'am, what's your name?"
For a moment she hesitated to share her name. Normally she preferred the men to call her Nurse Cooper. From past experience, if she told them her name, they seemed to think she was interested in them. Yet with this man, she found herself wanting to share her name. He was kind and respectful. There were no gut feelings scaring her away from him. "Anna. I'm Anna Cooper."
"Pleasure to meet you, Anna Cooper. You need anything, you let me know, right?"
She was unsure how he could help her. Depending on his orders she might never see him again, but she nodded to humor him. "Sure. It was lovely to meet you too, Boyd."
With a parting smile from both, she hurried to the back of the building where they kept the large tub for boiling cloths. She grimaced when she noticed how low the water was. That meant she would have to go to the river soon. A shiver shot through her at the anticipated cold awaiting her outside. Thankfully most of the snow had melted already but winter’s chill still clung possessively to the air. Plus, it did not help how easily cold sunk into her bones. Back home her family would tease her about that fact. Here, on the edge of the front lines, it only made her life more difficult.
Before Doctor Erickson found a reason to yell at her, she headed back out to assist in whatever way possible. Her conversing with Boyd was her first positive interaction in a few days besides with the few others nurses stationed at the field hospital. She hoped he was not sent away too soon.
#Fury movie#fury 2014#fury fanfic#band of brothers#Band of Brothers fandom#band of brothers fanfic#band of brothers imagine#Don Collier#Don Wardaddy Collier#don collier x OFC#boyd bible swan#boyd swan#mzwrites
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Prompt: Hobson’s choice
A Hobson's choice is a free choice in which only one thing is offered. Because a person may refuse to accept what is offered, the two options are taking it or taking nothing. In other words, one may "take it or leave it"
--
Vietnam AU [and follow-up to this ficlet]
Fraser’s Ridge, North Carolina
June 1975
Three weeks since General Dougal MacKenzie had arrived - unannounced and uninvited - on the doorstep of the home his estranged sister had made with the husband he had never cared to know. Seeking a place to escape the world.
Three weeks of Jenny and Ian and Jamie and Suzette finding small projects to occupy his time: organizing the books in the library by genre and then alphabetical order; sharpening and straightening all of Mrs. Crook’s kitchen knives; ironing and carefully re-folding all the formal linens for the dining room.
Three weeks of shuttling Claire back and forth to her work at the rehabilitation clinic in Boone, silent save for the tinny voice of Patsy Cline over the radio for each 30-minute drive.
Three weeks of sitting up late with Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser - his comrade-in-arms thirty years past - sipping whisky and sharing quiet memories of the horrors they had endured in Belgium and France.
He was present, but distant. Separate. His suitcases were still packed, standing by the door, gathering dust.
“How much longer do you think he’ll stay?” Claire rummaged through a drawer in her bureau, searching for the pearl earrings Jamie had given her for her last birthday.
“God only knows,” he sighed, lacing up his boots, sitting at the foot of their bed. “I suppose when you’re a general, and there isn’t a war to be fought, you can make your own rules.”
In the mirror of her bureau she watched him rise, cross the room, and slide his arms around her waist - hands sheltering her four-months-pregnant stomach, lips caressing the side of her neck, eyes locked on hers in their reflection.
“He doesn’t have an anchor. And he’s looking for one here.”
Jamie nodded. “Da was just seventeen when the war ended - he wasn’t young enough to fight, but Murtagh was. Murtagh enlisted in late ‘43, and he and Dougal served in the same platoon. He’s never talked to me about anything specific that he did or saw...but I know it was bad.”
Claire slid her hand over Jamie’s, squeezing gently.
“He met Suzette in Paris, after the Allies took back control. She...she had been badly treated by the Germans. I suppose they fixed the broken bits of each other. And that’s why he brought her home, brought her here. Da said it was hard, really hard for Murtagh when he came back. But he had Suzette - and our family - as his anchor.”
Gently he turned her shoulders to face her.
“As we are each other’s anchors, mo nighean donn. You - and this little one - you keep me in this world.”
She flushed. “Speak for yourself. But what are we going to do about Dougal?”
He frowned. “He never forgave Mam for marrying Da. He never made the time to know any of us. And now he’s here. It’s...it’s very hard for me, and for Jenny. But we’re not children anymore. The past is the past.”
“Though it has a habit of coming up in the present,” she said quietly.
He leaned toward her. Kissed her forehead. Savoring the feel of the baby between them.
“It does. We just need to help him find his anchor.”
---
They sat in a semi-circle on the back porch, watching the sun set over the mountains.
Dougal - looking so much older in a work shirt and jeans; Murtagh; Fergus Fraser, Murtagh and Suzette’s much-treasured only child, newly arrived home after wrapping up his latest stint reporting overseas; Jamie and Claire, holding hands on the bench; and Jenny Fraser Murray.
For a while they listened to the sounds drifting from the open windows in the house: Mrs. Crook and Suzette washing the supper dishes, Ian reading a bedtime story to his rowdy children, the static crackle of the radio Jenny always left on in the laundry room.
“Tell me about Angola.” The ice clinked as Murtagh sipped his whisky.
Fergus sighed. “It’s about as bad as it gets. An armed Communist uprising, with anti-colonial undertones to boot. My sources on the ground told me that the CIA is sending covert support to the opposition. Meaning, our government is siding with the apartheid regime in South Africa.”
“And that’s about as bad as it gets,” Jamie remarked, his fingertips tracing abstract shapes on Claire’s shoulder
“It’s a classic Hobson’s choice.” Dougal shifted in his chair. “There’s only one option - support the rebels, and in so doing support everything that comes with that - or do nothing. But we can’t afford to do nothing.”
“Why not?” Jenny turned to face her uncle. “And why do we even need to make a choice at all? Haven’t we learned our lesson, fighting Communists in faraway lands? That hasn’t ended so well, for any of us.”
“The logic is that this time, we’re just supporting others in the fight.” Fergus idly tapped his fingers on his knee. “Rather than lead the fight ourselves.”
“I don’t know if that’s any better,” Claire interjected. “And I don’t want to have to patch up the men who come back from this.”
“It won’t come to that.” Dougal sipped his whisky. “We’ve learned our lesson.”
Claire set down her glass of ice water. “I’m going to speak plainly. I know that I’m not a Fraser or MacKenzie by blood, Dougal - but we have something in common.”
Dougal’s brow furrowed. Jamie’s hand slid to the center of Claire’s back, offering silent support.
“We’re outsiders,” she continued. “Scarred by our own battles. Coming to this beautiful place for refuge. Am I right?”
Slowly he nodded.
“When I came back from Viet Nam, it was hard. So hard. But I didn’t focus on the past - I could only focus on the future. That way, all I could think about was opportunities.”
“All right.” His voice was thick with skepticism. “Where are you going with this?”
“You have your own Hobson’s choice, Dougal. To become a full part of this family, to look forward rather than backward. Or to accept the alternative. And you need to make up your mind, because I’m tired of everyone else dancing around the topic.”
Dougal stood. Outraged. “Are you telling me to leave? Who the hell are you, thinking you have the authority - ”
She stood, afire with feeling. “I know you never forgave Ellen for marrying Brian. But they’re both dead. And I know you regret abandoning your family. But that’s in the past. I know you still have nightmares about France, and Korea, and Viet Nam. But let us help you. Let us let you process that. Let us support you. Let us help you move forward. Because that’s what family does.”
She swallowed. “You know - I don’t have any family. I was married before, and I thought my husband could be the family I’d always wanted. But I didn’t understand the true meaning of family until Jamie welcomed me into this family. And it stuns me that you won’t accept that gift.”
Dougal sank to his chair. Smashed his whisky glass against the porch.
Claire glared at him, chin quavering.
“I have fucking nothing, Claire. And I don’t need help.”
“You have everything, Dougal. If you’re willing to open your eyes and heart.”
Jamie stood beside his wife. “She’s right. Will you choose us, then?”
Blearily Dougal looked up at them - and then over at Jenny, Murtagh, and Fergus. Waiting. Watching.
He sighed. Deflated. Defeated.
“I don’t know how,” he croaked.
Jenny crossed the porch, and crouched beside him. “Let us show you.”
Dougal scrubbed his face with his hands. “You’ll need to. God forgive me, I’ve lived more than six decades and I still know nothing.”
The wind rustled the trees. The first stars sprang into the darkening sky. And General Dougal MacKenzie cried silent tears as one by one, his family embraced him.
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Mean boys
Summary: Colonel Sink gives his officers a stern talking to. Word count: 1936 * Colonel Sink’s mother had been a schoolteacher all her life. She had worked to support the two of them, and even though he had never wanted to follow in her footsteps into the profession, something about her iron will had followed him to his army career. Now was one of those moments when he felt it most. He was staring down a row of his own officers, all smart, capable, outstanding and valuable, hard-working soldiers he was proud of. Individually, at least.
Sink couldn’t quite believe he was giving this talk to his officers – Or well… he could believe it about Compton, Welsh, and even Nixon (who didn’t usually get caught), but never in a million years would have Sink thought that Dick Winters would end up in a line-up like this. To his credit, Winters was the only one who looked embarrassed to be there. Sink let his sharp gaze stare down each man in front of his desk. Welsh looked mild and bored, Compton was obviously pissed off, Nixon seemed both irritated and incredibly satisfied with himself, and Winters had all his embarrassment confined in one twitching eyebrow that was the only thing in his expression he didn’t seem to be able to control. “Now,” Sink barked at them, “I want to know exactly what’s happened. So out with it!” Immediately the three most likely guilty ones started explaining themselves at once, and the noise in the room spiked when they tried to speak over each other. “I don’t even know why I’m here – “ “I’m not going to do something useless and stupid for his amusement!” “Well it says in the manual that – “ “You’ve never opened a manual once in your damned service!” “ – it’s the mandatory gear and I have really nothing to do with – “ “ – because I don’t know anything and for once I didn’t even punch anyone, so…” “Be a man and admit it, goddammit! You know what you did!” “I’ve only responded how I’m spoken to, so actually it’s more wrong to ask me to keep calm when I’m yelled at – “ “For a reason!” “ – when I’ve really just given orders like they come from HQ and defended my honor – “ “What damn honor?!” “…so yeah, I don’t even take sides…” Sink felt a headache rapidly building up. “ENOUGH!” he snapped and slammed his hand on the desk, and immediately all three who had been yelling a second ago fell silent and stood in attention. Sink rubbed his temples. He had been with the army too long and seen way too many young men like this to be fooled by either Compton’s righteous anger or Nixon’s faked rationality. “One at a time, dammit,” he said more calmly, then glared again at each man before him and started to draft a plan how to get the truth out of them. “You, Welsh. You start,” he said after a moment, “why do you think you’re here?” A gap-toothed grin threatened to take over Welsh’s face and did no favours in clearing him, but he got it quickly under control. “Sir, I’m here for laughing,” he said in a voice that was only a thread away of making him guilty again. Sink took a deep, calming breath that ruffled his moustache. “What were you laughing at, Lieutenant?” he asked calmly. Welsh shrugged. “Nixon made funny comments and I laughed at them.” “And why has that resulted in you being here now?” Sink asked, refusing to become irritated. Welsh shrugged and smiled a wide, careless smile. “Lieutenant Compton didn’t agree with me,” he cheerfully said. Sink stared the Irishman down for a moment longer to let him know he was not satisfied, but he also had to admit that he was getting nowhere with him. What he could tell was that whatever role Welsh had played in the disgraceful display, he considered himself innocent, and so Sink turned to look at the two others mentioned standing in the middle. Compton was still red in the face, and Nixon had his characteristic expression that at the first glance seemed blank but actually held just enough of a smirk to be detected but not enough to discipline him for. Sink knew that many of his senior officer colleagues found that arrogant not-quite-smirk infuriating, but Sink thought of his mother and felt pity for Nixon; He recalled her stories about many difficult boys who were aloof but charming and who rebelled with smirks on their faces, but who often carried bruises she knew were not sports injuries or accidents like they claimed. That didn’t make Nixon innocent though. Anything but, actually. He was one of the most devilish men Sink had ever trained or commanded, and the definition of someone who was too smart for his own good. Sink looked at the two Lieutenants and gathered that whatever this was, it was most likely something that had started between them. They both pretended like it wasn’t so, but Sink could see they disliked each other deeply. They were both still boys who knew nothing about rising above your ego or acting professionally, but their attempts at it were at least a valiant effort. Still, things like this leaked through. So instead of getting to the core now, Sink decided to teach them patience and turned his eyes to Lieutenant Winters instead. He was standing there stone-faced and not a little flustered and looked remarkably boyish himself, his hands squeezed into fists like he feared he was about to be rapped on the knuckles with a ruler. “Lieutenant Winters,” Sink addressed him directly and watched his expression tighten, “what I am most curious about is what an officer like you has to do with disgraceful behavior like this?” He knew remarks like that would hurt, but Winters demonstrated his strong character once again by not covering or even flinching. He did shift on his feet, though. “Sir…” he started and didn’t seem to know how to continue. “…I was just trying to keep Lieutenant Compton and Lieutenant Nixon from getting hurt.” That wasn’t clearly all, but what Sink found the most interesting was that Winters obviously wanted to say more yet didn’t. He knew very well by now that Winters could lie with bright eyes if he felt it justified, and usually the presence of Nixon meant just that, but now he didn’t seem to be able to even circle the truth, which meant he felt guilty. “Well?” Sink urged him sternly to get the rest of it out. Winters almost squirmed. Almost. It was obvious that he wanted to, but he reined himself in at the last second. “I think I’m here for failing to stop this squabble from escalating. It should never have come to this, and I have personally failed as both a leader and a fellow officer.”
That surprised Sink. He hadn’t expected guilt that deep over an incident that, in the grand scheme of things, was pretty insignificant and nothing he hadn’t seen before.
“Well,” he said when he recovered from his surprise, “at least one of you owns up to your actions.” He turned to the other three, but only Nixon looked any different. His smirk had vanished.
For a moment longer Sink glared at his officers to let them know the gravity of his disappointment. Then he moved onto the actual reprimand, which he delivered in stern, coldly professional tone.
“You are officers. You are the example the enlisted men follow, you are what they look up to and seek out for guidance. In all things you should set the standard for the behavior you wish to see from your subordinates.” He paused, letting his words ring in the silence. “This means that under no circumstances should the enlisted men see two of their lieutenants run in circles and trying to get into a fist fight in the middle of the yard!”
Welsh coughed, obviously masking a laugh, and Sink turned to glare at him.
“Lieutenant Welsh, get the hell out of my sight. You should have put a stop to the fight instead of egging it on,” he barked and promptly jerked his hand towards the door.
Welsh assumed attention, saluted, and then hurried out, skipping over the threshold. The door slammed shut behind him.
“Now you two,” Sink said, turning to chew out the two obvious culprits. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve managed to cook up between yourselves, but it ends now. You hear me? The whole damn company suffers from whatever little juvenile rivalry you’re having, and I won’t stand it a second longer! Understood?!”
A mutual “yes, sir” was muttered begrudgingly and with minimal enthusiasm, but it came from both Compton and Nixon, so that would suffice.
“From here on, Lieutenant Compton is permitted to lead his platoon in the way he chooses as long as it’s practical and appropriate. You don’t have to follow every single regulation in every manual. From here on you have my permission to continue to do things as we’ve always done them in the Airborne.” But before Compton had the time to turn to smirk at Nixon, Sink continued. “However, you will also cease all attempts at violence against your fellow officers, as well as throwing around serious accusations of misconduct. Those could have very serious consequences, and I won’t have one of my own officers endangering the integrity of Easy company with baseless rumors!”
Compton looked like he really wanted to say something back, but bit back his words. “Yes, sir,” he forced out through his teeth, but that was good enough.
Sink turned his attention to Nixon. “Lieutenant Nixon, from now on you will bring any concerns you have about following the regulations in Easy company directly to the CO and stop interfering with individual platoon leaders. Understood?”
Nixon pressed his lips together and took a deep breath like he was incredibly bored, but breathed out: “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Sink said with a firm nod. “You are a smart officer and I hate to see you doing stupid things.” He let his words sink in, then gestured between Nixon and Winters and continued, “So how about in the future you take a look at how your friend here keeps his personal grudges to himself and follow his example? I know exactly just how close you two are, and you spend too much time around him to have any excuses of not having a clear example to follow.”
For a split second Nixon looked almost startled and glanced at Winters by his side, who pointedly looked away. Next to them Compton let out a frustrated huff that was quiet enough to ignore, which was exactly what Sink elected to do.
Once more, he looked at each one, wanting to make himself perfectly clear. “I don’t want to hear about any of this ever again, understood?” he demanded from them all.
A beat of silence passed.
“Yes, sir.”
“You won’t, sir.”
“Understood, sir.”
Sink nodded. “Good. Now get out of my sight, all of you, and get back to work.”
He watched all three of them hurrying out of this office, and when the door finally closed, he sighed. He had total confidence in the second battalion as a competent fighting unit, but moments like this reminded him that the unit was made of boys. Boys with gossip and drama they cooked up when they got together like this and then tried to be all cocky and tough to hide their bleeding hearts.
Sink sighed and thanked God and his wife for having four daughters.
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The Blacksmith’s Daughter
Title: The Blacksmith’s Daughter Author: gaarasgoddess Rating: T Word Count: 2,906 words Summary: What happens when a fallen daughter meets a rising son? What happens when they discover that fate had more in store for them than the lives they’d planned? Japan’s medieval, Edo Period is the background as Gaara and Sakura miss each other in a series of missed connections only to fall into each other hard. Warnings: Mentions of blood and murder. Author’s Note(s): Definition from google: “Medieval Japan is characterised by a decentralised government, warfare, and the rise of a powerful warrior class. Fighting was a way of life for the men and women and politics was as changing as a fire’s breath.” Trope: Medieval Japan AU
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Her parentage was never in question. Sakura was the fifteenth daughter born to the Emperor of Japan. She was the only daughter of a noblewoman who had been sold to the Emperor when her father couldn’t pay his debt. A woman who had failed to produce any more offspring since.
It was a fact. That was who she was. Who she was told never to forget.
And so she believed for eighteen years of being prepped for a marriage to some unknown man, whichever suitor her father decided brought him the most money or power. She learned her kanji, her cursive, her history, her airs and pomp, and her manners. Anything that would be needed to attract a high placed family to want to welcome her into theirs, was taught to her.
She said “yes” to a stranger. To a man she would spend her life with. A man that refused to meet her until then. But she would do her duty. She would wait for him.
In the meantime, her father saw fit to send her to the allied camps to learn to heal. To learn to take care of people. She already knew how to serve her future husband and what to expect when she moved to his land to begin her new life. For now her present was spent tending to the injuries of soldiers who fought and died to keep her father’s control of this land in his own hands. She got a taste of what life was supposed to be about.
With war and death rampant in the country, the shoguns fought over who had dominion where and who deserved to. The Emperor was just a figure head but he was an important one. He spent his days in meetings and adding this pomp and stature in the eyes of the lowly, commoners, and his nights whoring - with whores and wives. Sakura had so many siblings she didn’t think it meant anything who she was, really. Or him. The father who didn’t care about appearances.
And who had no control over what was coming.
.x.
He was the son of a whore. The devil didn’t care about gender. His father was a whore. It didn’t matter that he carried the title of shogun. It didn’t matter that he was well respected. It only mattered that the man deserved to die.
Gaara caught him fucking the servant girls on a weekly basis and a noblewoman’s daughter - or two - every other week. Rasa didn’t bother to hide it anymore. His wife was expected to not care. But his children hated him for it.
Gaara grew up respecting this man; he wanted to be just like him and signed up to become a samurai, as his father had done in his youth, without a second thought. He wanted to get married once he turned eighteen, like his father did, and carry on the tradition of moving into politics and teaching everything he’d learnt to his children. He wanted to matter.
But on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he’d had enough. Gaara packed his bags and enlisted with the regular army and didn’t look back. His father didn’t bother trying to stop him but said he had to return to marry some rich man’s wife in two years.
Not happening.
He never bothered to ask what the girl’s name was. Nor to attend the meetings that had been organised between them. He should get to know her, his mother said, and he almost yelled back “like father is getting to know the servants?”. Almost. She was to be pitied and he did. His father was a whore and a cunt.
But he couldn’t bare to watch her suffer Rasa’s indiscretions. So he left and didn’t look back. His siblings went their own way too, also disgusted.
That was a decision he’d never regretted. Until the day he met the blacksmith’s daughter and decided fate was indeed a fickle bitch.
.x.
Sakura wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before standing and stretching. The last group of soldiers had been hit by enemy arrows in a final attempt to rule the battlefield and were full of holes for their troubles. She’d been on her feet all night.
After years of tutelage, she was almost ready to be allowed to return home. She enjoyed healing people and was not looking forward to returning to the noble court. Her mother’s latest letter had her afraid of what awaited her. She wasn’t ill but talked as though her days were numbered. It made her want to rush to her side but it also left her fearful for her own well being.
Mebuki spoke of assassination attempts and having betrayed her Emperor. That she was going to hell for what she’d done. The raving comments also told Sakura that she was in danger.
‘Don’t come here.’ She wrote. But it made no sense.
“Lady Sakura?”
She started before smiling at her newest patient. Sakura smiled widely at him. “Lord Kankuro, you need to rest.”
He scoffed, failing to sit up in his cot. “I’m fine.”
“Your arm was infected and you’ve been unconscious for days,“ she said, fussing over his bandages.
“You sound like my mother,” he mummbled. And she tutted at him. “Are you busy after this?”
“Huh?” She frowned at him, confused.
“Uh,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not coming onto you, I promise. It’s just, I asked out a cute nurse and she turned me down but if she thought it was a group thing... never mind forget I asked.”
Sakura glanced at the nurse in question when Kankuro looked over at her. She was one of the new recruits who barely knew anything about medicine. Called Matsuri, or something. Sakura also knew that Matsuri was crushing on some other soldier who apparently refused to give her the time of day and had transferred out of this med-tent when the brunette girl wouldn’t stop following him around. Kankuro might be just what she needed, since the rejection from the other soldier had affected her performance in surgery.
Sakura sighed. “I’ll get her in the mess tent and you can bump into us.”
“Thanks, Saku-chan.” He grinned.
She shook her head. “And don’t call me that.”
“Okay, Saks.”
She poked him.
“Okay, okay.”
.x.
Gaara left the tent for two reasons. One: that Matsuri chick was getting on his nerves. Two: the flush of embarrassment he felt when he spotted his brother. He was talking to some pink haired physician and the brothers had not spoken for years. He knew Kankuro had enlisted but didn’t give it much thought, since he kept to himself and took on the more dangerous missions. And he remembered his brother as hating conflict. But so much seemed to have changed.
Pink hair.
Something stirred in his memory but he brushed it aside.
“We’re heading out.” Baki, his commanding officer, hollered at him.
Gaara took a last look at the laughing man he’d once called brother (his eyes drifting over the pretty physician) before following Baki. The redhead had risen in the ranks so fast because of his power and prowess that even the General had stood to attention. The strange man that had connections to nobles and warriors alike.
The Emperor’s favoured mass killer.
.x.
A month of blood stuck to his skin. Gaara didn’t wash except to trek through streams. He smelled like the country side. It made for decent cover as he slinked into the shadows and pounced from bushes and hovels to kill his targets.
He’d become an assassin. After Baki’s death and word spreading of the decimation of his entire platoon, he was reassigned to the darker, specialised killers. He wasn’t a ninja. He wasn’t one of them. But he drew as much blood as they did. He killed like he’d been born to it. Gone were the concerns over the brother and sister he’d left behind. The mother who had passed to illness in the last winter.
Six months ago he’d avoided Kankuro in a medical tent and now he stood, face-to-face with the man, unable to hide his true intentions. He’d been sent here to assist with a platoon that was trying to take out a rival shogun’s family. They needed this family dead. They needed someone who could disappear into the shoin-zukuri in shadow and slit those throats without raising any alarms.
His father needed to appear to have clean hands in their deaths.
Times were changing and the old man was losing control. These enemies needed to die. And so they did. Gaara emerged from their home, covered in blood. He faced down his brother - the man who greeted him and thanked him for his service as though they hadn’t once occupied the same womb.
Gaara’s grip on his sword was tenuous even as he gripped it tighter. How he wanted to just charge the stranger in front of him. To show him who it was that deserved to be in the light and put the dark behind him. But then a mousy girl came out of the tent behind Kankuro.
His wife.
Matsuri had given into him after all. And her belly was full of his brother’s child. She watched on at the silent exchange as though she had never followed Gaara around hoping to be the one to carry his children.
Who cares?
But it made him wonder if someone could. If the monster he’d become could have that. So his hand slacked and he lowered his weapon. This was not worth the aching in his heart. It was time to choose his fate and he refused to die here.
Gaara turned and fled back to the dark. Back into the pain of his life.
.x.
Her return home had not been the horror story Sakura had feared. Though she wished she’d not returned at all. She’d stood at the walls and contemplated fleeing her future. The man who’d been her betrothed had been killed in battle, she said. He was a stain on the memory of her family, so she was to pretend he’d never existed.
But she’d also heard rumours he’d simply defected. A runaway and potentially a traitor. The son rose high and she’d been falling from herself so far. Sakura could not climb the wall in front of her. So she let the guards usher her inside. To see her mother’s corpse. The accident had been tragic they said. The poor woman died so suddenly they claimed. How sad.
Sakura did not spend much time in the presence of the body but even she had seen how only poison could make those pink lips turn so blood red. But what was she to do? She questioned the mortician. She asked to see the autopsy report. But nothing came of it. At last, her father sent an official to inform her she was being sent out again.
Where you’ll cause less fuss.
And this was how she descended into infamy.
.x.
Sakura did not correspond with Kankuro and Matsuri after that first time they’d spent together. She helped him woo the girl and got out of there. Apparently, the man the brunette had liked was determined to ignore her and had gained a reputation for being blood thirsty, which was unbecoming of his noble status. No good was going to come of it.
She wasn’t even invited to the wedding.
But she didn’t care. Sakura returned to the medical tents and threw herself into the work. But she knew she couldn’t keep this up for long. Soldiers would give her strange looks. Shogun under her knife would not call her Lady anymore when she visited them in recovery. And every night she sensed the hidden follower when she returned to her tent. Someone had decided she was trouble. What she could have done, other than question the healers back home, she didn’t know.
But time was getting short as she started to get called into the med tent less and less. She was not as needed as before. She was getting a bad feeling. Rumours of how the war was turning away from her Shogun had her worried. Perhaps the children of the Emperor were being watched more closely? But nobody here should know who she was. She was just supposed to be another noble, not royalty.
Her surgery talents were being wasted.
After overhearing her superior talking to a soldier about transferring her to the front line to get rid of her, Sakura had had enough. She decided to take things into her own hands.
.x.
He followed the girl as she began packing and making her excuses to the soldiers that she was going for a run to get rid of hospital scrubs. He watched as she stole a horse and rode away as though the devil were on her tail. He was tempted to follow. So desperately so, that Gaara didn’t bother questioning that urge. He took his horse and rode into the darkness of the night that surrounded the camp.
Pink hair.
She was the same healer who had helped his brother. The one who’d given Kankuro his happy ending with Matsuri. It had to mean something that he’d been assigned to watch her, and kill her if she tried to flee.
.x.
They did not get far. Sakura and the horse she’d dubbed Shugo. A dark brown pedigree that she’d pushed to its limits in the span of the night. The devil was on her tail. But a day had passed and already she had to sell it for supplies. She needed to go incognito and figure out her next move. Sakura had no idea how to live as a peasant but she’d dealt with harsh circumstances before. Living as a physician in the middle of a war was not the lap of luxury of her former home of course.
And still she felt the weight of eyes on her like that shadow from the camp would not leave her alone. Something or someone was following her and she needed to get out of the open. Dyeing her hair and offering her services as a weaver seemed the sensible thing to do. Nobody noticed the dark haired girl walking among a crowd of similarly dark haired girls.
A month later she was still being hounded by the darkness of her shadow and no amount of companionship from those she met and dallied with could throw off her feeling of being hunted. But the hunter did nothing. And she was letting everything go.
One day, her lowered guard would be the best of her.
.x.
He enjoyed watching her. She was his target but her desire to run from the same life he abhorred kept his knife in its sheathe. It kept his eyes feasting on her flesh instead of tearing into it with a weapon that he still wanted to use.
Gaara did not need to kill to survive. He was beginning to realise that. So he decided to take her lead and ingratiate himself into this new world. He found a dwelling and scrubbed the smell of the land from his body. It seemed to take months to finally be free of the blood. But nobody knew how much was still on him more than he did. It would be there forever.
But he finally looked like he belonged the day he purposefully, accidentally ran into her, knocking her groceries to the ground.
This was how the woman came to know him. She had been going by the name Amaya but introduced herself as Sakura the moment he asked. They both looked surprised at this and she realised who he was the moment he smirked, his canines almost looking like they were dripping in blood.
Her heart beat raced. Her palms were sweaty. Her eyes were wide.
But all he did was bow to her and offer his help in picking up her dropped supplies. All he did was ask her to allow him to pay for her dinner. All he did was touch her softly, carefully, to make sure she knew what he wanted from her.
And Sakura had no idea why she gave it to him. Waves of blinding light and rocking motions and crashing against each other; humming and moaning and joining and she was his. They came together in so many perfect ways. She didn’t question why her shadow decided to love her instead of kill her. She was lost to the pleasure and the touches that gave her reason to let go.
To just let go.
.x.
News of her father’s death and his father’s brutal murder did nothing to stir them.
Sakura just smiled as the local gossip spread the news and the official reports came in. As though she were just another citizen. A dark haired girl who used to be pink.
Gaara helped her to her feet and they wandered out of the temple where they’d finally made their life official. Nothing else mattered. Their pasts were fake and they had their eyes on the future, instead.
That’s how he became just some random farmer travelling into the area with his pregnant wife. And that’s how she became the Blacksmith’s Daughter travelling into the new area, pregnant and looking to start a fresh life with her new husband.
.x.
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The Blacksmith’s Daughter
What happens when a fallen daughter meets a rising son? What happens when they discover that fate had more in store for them than the lives they’d planned? Japan’s medieval, Edo Period is the background as Gaara and Sakura miss each other in a series of missed connections only to fall into each other hard.
Notes: Definition from google: “Medieval Japan is characterised by a decentralised government, warfare, and the rise of a powerful warrior class. Fighting was a way of life for the men and women and politics was as changing as a fire’s breath.”
Her parentage was never in question. Sakura was the fifteenth daughter born to the Emperor of Japan. She was the only daughter of a noblewoman who had been sold to the Emperor when her father couldn’t pay his debt. A woman who had failed to produce any more offspring since.
It was a fact. That was who she was. Who she was told never to forget.
And so she believed for eighteen years of being prepped for a marriage to some unknown man, whichever suitor her father decided brought him the most money or power. She learned her kanji, her cursive, her history, her airs and pomp, and her manners. Anything that would be needed to attract a high placed family to want to welcome her into theirs, was taught to her.
She said “yes” to a stranger. To a man she would spend her life with. A man that refused to meet her until then. But she would do her duty. She would wait for him.
In the meantime, her father saw fit to send her to the allied camps to learn to heal. To learn to take care of people. She already knew how to serve her future husband and what to expect when she moved to his land to begin her new life. For now her present was spent tending to the injuries of soldiers who fought and died to keep her father’s control of this land in his own hands. She got a taste of what life was supposed to be about.
With war and death rampant in the country, the shoguns fought over who had dominion where and who deserved to. The Emperor was just a figure head but he was an important one. He spent his days in meetings and adding this pomp and stature in the eyes of the lowly, commoners, and his nights whoring - with whores and wives. Sakura had so many siblings she didn’t think it meant anything who she was, really. Or him. The father who didn’t care about appearances.
And who had no control over what was coming.
.x.
He was the son of a whore. The devil didn’t care about gender. His father was a whore. It didn’t matter that he carried the title of shogun. It didn’t matter that he was well respected. It only mattered that the man deserved to die.
Gaara caught him fucking the servant girls on a weekly basis and a noblewoman’s daughter - or two - every other week. Rasa didn’t bother to hide it anymore. His wife was expected to not care. But his children hated him for it.
Gaara grew up respecting this man; he wanted to be just like him and signed up to become a samurai, as his father had done in his youth, without a second thought. He wanted to get married once he turned eighteen, like his father did, and carry on the tradition of moving into politics and teaching everything he’d learnt to his children. He wanted to matter.
But on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he’d had enough. Gaara packed his bags and enlisted with the regular army and didn’t look back. His father didn’t bother trying to stop him but said he had to return to marry some rich man’s wife in two years.
Not happening.
He never bothered to ask what the girl’s name was. Nor to attend the meetings that had been organised between them. He should get to know her, his mother said, and he almost yelled back “like father is getting to know the servants?”. Almost. She was to be pitied and he did. His father was a whore and a cunt.
But he couldn’t bare to watch her suffer Rasa’s indiscretions. So he left and didn’t look back. His siblings went their own way too, also disgusted.
That was a decision he’d never regretted. Until the day he met the blacksmith’s daughter and decided fate was indeed a fickle bitch.
.x.
Sakura wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before standing and stretching. The last group of soldiers had been hit by enemy arrows in a final attempt to rule the battlefield and were full of holes for their troubles. She’d been on her feet all night.
After years of tutelage, she was almost ready to be allowed to return home. She enjoyed healing people and was not looking forward to returning to the noble court. Her mother’s latest letter had her afraid of what awaited her. She wasn’t ill but talked as though her days were numbered. It made her want to rush to her side but it also left her fearful for her own well being.
Mebuki spoke of assassination attempts and having betrayed her Emperor. That she was going to hell for what she’d done. The raving comments also told Sakura that she was in danger.
‘Don’t come here.’ She wrote. But it made no sense.
“Lady Sakura?”
She started before smiling at her newest patient. Sakura smiled widely at him. “Lord Kankuro, you need to rest.”
He scoffed, failing to sit up in his cot. “I’m fine.”
“Your arm was infected and you’ve been unconscious for days,“ she said, fussing over his bandages.
“You sound like my mother,” he mummbled. And she tutted at him. “Are you busy after this?”
“Huh?” She frowned at him, confused.
“Uh,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not coming onto you, I promise. It’s just, I asked out a cute nurse and she turned me down but if she thought it was a group thing… never mind forget I asked.”
Sakura glanced at the nurse in question when Kankuro looked over at her. She was one of the new recruits who barely knew anything about medicine. Called Matsuri, or something. Sakura also knew that Matsuri was crushing on some other soldier who apparently refused to give her the time of day and had transferred out of this med-tent when the brunette girl wouldn’t stop following him around. Kankuro might be just what she needed, since the rejection from the other soldier had affected her performance in surgery.
Sakura sighed. “I’ll get her in the mess tent and you can bump into us.”
“Thanks, Saku-chan.” He grinned.
She shook her head. “And don’t call me that.”
“Okay, Saks.”
She poked him.
“Okay, okay.”
.x.
Gaara left the tent for two reasons. One: that Matsuri chick was getting on his nerves. Two: the flush of embarrassment he felt when he spotted his brother. He was talking to some pink haired physician and the brothers had not spoken for years. He knew Kankuro had enlisted but didn’t give it much thought, since he kept to himself and took on the more dangerous missions. And he remembered his brother as hating conflict. But so much seemed to have changed.
Pink hair.
Something stirred in his memory but he brushed it aside.
“We’re heading out.” Baki, his commanding officer, hollered at him.
Gaara took a last look at the laughing man he’d once called brother (his eyes drifting over the pretty physician) before following Baki. The redhead had risen in the ranks so fast because of his power and prowess that even the General had stood to attention. The strange man that had connections to nobles and warriors alike.
The Emperor’s favoured mass killer.
.x.
A month of blood stuck to his skin. Gaara didn’t wash except to trek through streams. He smelled like the country side. It made for decent cover as he slinked into the shadows and pounced from bushes and hovels to kill his targets.
He’d become an assassin. After Baki’s death and word spreading of the decimation of his entire platoon, he was reassigned to the darker, specialised killers. He wasn’t a ninja. He wasn’t one of them. But he drew as much blood as they did. He killed like he’d been born to it. Gone were the concerns over the brother and sister he’d left behind. The mother who had passed to illness in the last winter.
Six months ago he’d avoided Kankuro in a medical tent and now he stood, face-to-face with the man, unable to hide his true intentions. He’d been sent here to assist with a platoon that was trying to take out a rival shogun’s family. They needed this family dead. They needed someone who could disappear into the shoin-zukuri in shadow and slit those throats without raising any alarms.
His father needed to appear to have clean hands in their deaths.
Times were changing and the old man was losing control. These enemies needed to die. And so they did. Gaara emerged from their home, covered in blood. He faced down his brother - the man who greeted him and thanked him for his service as though they hadn’t once occupied the same womb.
Gaara’s grip on his sword was tenuous even as he gripped it tighter. How he wanted to just charge the stranger in front of him. To show him who it was that deserved to be in the light and put the dark behind him. But then a mousy girl came out of the tent behind Kankuro.
His wife.
Matsuri had given into him after all. And her belly was full of his brother’s child. She watched on at the silent exchange as though she had never followed Gaara around hoping to be the one to carry his children.
Who cares?
But it made him wonder if someone could. If the monster he’d become could have that. So his hand slacked and he lowered his weapon. This was not worth the aching in his heart. It was time to choose his fate and he refused to die here.
Gaara turned and fled back to the dark. Back into the pain of his life.
.x.
Her return home had not been the horror story Sakura had feared. Though she wished she’d not returned at all. She’d stood at the walls and contemplated fleeing her future. The man who’d been her betrothed had been killed in battle, she said. He was a stain on the memory of her family, so she was to pretend he’d never existed.
But she’d also heard rumours he’d simply defected. A runaway and potentially a traitor. The son rose high and she’d been falling from herself so far. Sakura could not climb the wall in front of her. So she let the guards usher her inside. To see her mother’s corpse. The accident had been tragic they said. The poor woman died so suddenly they claimed. How sad.
Sakura did not spend much time in the presence of the body but even she had seen how only poison could make those pink lips turn so blood red. But what was she to do? She questioned the mortician. She asked to see the autopsy report. But nothing came of it. At last, her father sent an official to inform her she was being sent out again.
Where you’ll cause less fuss.
And this was how she descended into infamy.
.x.
Sakura did not correspond with Kankuro and Matsuri after that first time they’d spent together. She helped him woo the girl and got out of there. Apparently, the man the brunette had liked was determined to ignore her and had gained a reputation for being blood thirsty, which was unbecoming of his noble status. No good was going to come of it.
She wasn’t even invited to the wedding.
But she didn’t care. Sakura returned to the medical tents and threw herself into the work. But she knew she couldn’t keep this up for long. Soldiers would give her strange looks. Shogun under her knife would not call her Lady anymore when she visited them in recovery. And every night she sensed the hidden follower when she returned to her tent. Someone had decided she was trouble. What she could have done, other than question the healers back home, she didn’t know.
But time was getting short as she started to get called into the med tent less and less. She was not as needed as before. She was getting a bad feeling. Rumours of how the war was turning away from her Shogun had her worried. Perhaps the children of the Emperor were being watched more closely? But nobody here should know who she was. She was just supposed to be another noble, not royalty.
Her surgery talents were being wasted.
After overhearing her superior talking to a soldier about transferring her to the front line to get rid of her, Sakura had had enough. She decided to take things into her own hands.
.x.
He followed the girl as she began packing and making her excuses to the soldiers that she was going for a run to get rid of hospital scrubs. He watched as she stole a horse and rode away as though the devil were on her tail. He was tempted to follow. So desperately so, that Gaara didn’t bother questioning that urge. He took his horse and rode into the darkness of the night that surrounded the camp.
Pink hair.
She was the same healer who had helped his brother. The one who’d given Kankuro his happy ending with Matsuri. It had to mean something that he’d been assigned to watch her, and kill her if she tried to flee.
.x.
They did not get far. Sakura and the horse she’d dubbed Shugo. A dark brown pedigree that she’d pushed to its limits in the span of the night. The devil was on her tail. But a day had passed and already she had to sell it for supplies. She needed to go incognito and figure out her next move. Sakura had no idea how to live as a peasant but she’d dealt with harsh circumstances before. Living as a physician in the middle of a war was not the lap of luxury of her former home of course.
And still she felt the weight of eyes on her like that shadow from the camp would not leave her alone. Something or someone was following her and she needed to get out of the open. Dyeing her hair and offering her services as a weaver seemed the sensible thing to do. Nobody noticed the dark haired girl walking among a crowd of similarly dark haired girls.
A month later she was still being hounded by the darkness of her shadow and no amount of companionship from those she met and dallied with could throw off her feeling of being hunted. But the hunter did nothing. And she was letting everything go.
One day, her lowered guard would be the best of her.
.x.
He enjoyed watching her. She was his target but her desire to run from the same life he abhorred kept his knife in its sheathe. It kept his eyes feasting on her flesh instead of tearing into it with a weapon that he still wanted to use.
Gaara did not need to kill to survive. He was beginning to realise that. So he decided to take her lead and ingratiate himself into this new world. He found a dwelling and scrubbed the smell of the land from his body. It seemed to take months to finally be free of the blood. But nobody knew how much was still on him more than he did. It would be there forever.
But he finally looked like he belonged the day he purposefully, accidentally ran into her, knocking her groceries to the ground.
This was how the woman came to know him. She had been going by the name Amaya but introduced herself as Sakura the moment he asked. They both looked surprised at this and she realised who he was the moment he smirked, his canines almost looking like they were dripping in blood.
Her heart beat raced. Her palms were sweaty. Her eyes were wide.
But all he did was bow to her and offer his help in picking up her dropped supplies. All he did was ask her to allow him to pay for her dinner. All he did was touch her softly, carefully, to make sure she knew what he wanted from her.
And Sakura had no idea why she gave it to him. Waves of blinding light and rocking motions and crashing against each other; humming and moaning and joining and she was his. They came together in so many perfect ways. She didn’t question why her shadow decided to love her instead of kill her. She was lost to the pleasure and the touches that gave her reason to let go.
To just let go.
.x.
News of her father’s death and his father’s brutal murder did nothing to stir them.
Sakura just smiled as the local gossip spread the news and the official reports came in. As though she were just another citizen. A dark haired girl who used to be pink.
Gaara helped her to her feet and they wandered out of the temple where they’d finally made their life official. Nothing else mattered. Their pasts were fake and they had their eyes on the future, instead.
That’s how he became just some random farmer travelling into the area with his pregnant wife. And that’s how she became the Blacksmith’s Daughter travelling into the new area, pregnant and looking to start a fresh life with her new husband.
.x.
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✧・゚: * ( cis woman / she/her / kristen stewart ) — welcome to ireyne, [ ZEPHRINE BYRDE ] of [ WALECH ]. when the doom came, you were [ DOOMED ]. at [ TWENTY-NINE ] years of age, your body has changed, and they now call you [ ESCURA ]. the act of [ PERSONAL GUARD 4 HIRE ] suits you; after all, the whispers always said you were [ LION-HEARTED ] but also [ VINDICTIVE ]. you are [ AGAINST ] the doom.
( TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEATH, VIOLENCE, BLOOD )
STAND UP STRAIGHT. don’t let them see you falter -- do not show even a shred of weakness , no traces of fear. don’t smile, either. no one needs to know that you care.
zephrine was born into a very strict household, both of her parents high ranking military officers. being the youngest of three, there was a lot of pressure to follow in her siblings footsteps, who had of course followed in their parents’. it was expected that she would join as soon as she was of age, but zeph was never like the rest of her family. she didn’t share the same sense of duty that seemed to be instilled in her siblings. she dreamed of leaving walech & becoming her own person, separate from the guilt bestowed on her by parents every day that passed that she did not join them.
AS IF YOU HAVE A CHOICE.
despite having no interest in joining the military, she was still trained to be a warrior from a young age. like her older siblings, her parent’s let her choose a weapon to master. being a little more timid than the rest, she immediately chose a bow and arrow. they warned her that it would take practice and determination to master such a precise weapon, but their doubt only solidified her choice. anything that made her just that much more different than them. by the time she was twelve years old, she could hit her mark without fail, every time. her training gained momentum as she got older, her parents challenging her more and more every day. they began setting her up with moving targets, starting with animals. large and slow to start -- it didn’t take long before she had advanced to small, flying creatures like birds and bats.
after years of excelling at this type of training, she was getting too comfortable. it was all... too safe. she needed to be tested in order to prove that she would one day triumph above her peers. her parents were determined to change her mind, whether they had to force her into their ranks or not. they wouldn’t stand to let their reputation be broken, not now, not ever.
this will show her.
HIT YOUR MARK OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.
zephrine was eighteen when her parents decided that she needed something that would really challenge her. she’d been too used to killing animals, creatures who posed no threat. they used their standing in the military to get ahold of some thieves and traitors who had been captured by their platoon, rotting away in a jail cell just begging to be used for just this. they didn’t tell her what her targets would be, just that it would be life or death. her life or theirs. shoot them or die.
she wasn’t in any position to question their instructions ; she trusted her parents. she couldn’t have imagined they would really put her in harm’s way, not without some kind of back up plan. they were there to protect her, as always, if anything went wrong.... right?
the training grounds had been enclosed by a tall fence, and inside were plenty of large obstacles to hide behind, as well as perches for her to be able shoot from above. they sent her in first, her head spinning with possible scenarios and outcomes, readying herself for the exercise ahead. the young girl had no idea what was coming. what she thought would just be a few predatory animals, like wolves, perhaps even a bear -- turned out to be living, breathing human... targets?
confusion clouded her thoughts with doubt as she lowered her weapon and watched as they scattered around the arena. they each held a different weapon in their clutches ; one with a spear, one with an axe, and one with a---she ducked as an arrow came flying her way all of the sudden, barely missing her head. she felt as if her heart was about to beat right out of her chest as fear coursed through her veins for the first time in a LONG time.
“ FOCUS, ZEPHRINE. THIS IS HOW IT IS OUT IN THE WORLD YOU’RE SO EAGER TO SEE. KILL OR BE KILLED! ”
her father’s voice bellowed from the shadows, hidden in the distance, somewhere she couldn’t see. his presence gave her no sense of peace, especially after what he’d just said. his words echoed in her head over and over: kill or be killed. she took a deep, stabling breath as she pushed all of her fear down, something she’d been taught to do her whole life. she’d never been put into a situation so seemingly dire, but she had to compartmentalize. they’re just targets. you’ve never missed your mark before, you’re not going to start now.
her eyes quickly surveyed the area below her as she ran across the platform she was on, her eyes catching a glint of light reflecting off of someone’s blade. without a second thought, and in one fluid motion, she pulls an arrow from her quiver and lines up the shot, releasing it a split second later. she doesn’t look to see if she hit her mark -- she already knew that she did. she rolled behind a large cart that had been placed in the arena for cover, a place to catch her breath and take in her surroundings. one down -- two to go.
what she didn’t know -- what she couldn’t have known -- was that every time she hit her target, a new one was released into the arena. it didn’t take her long to figure out, of course, as one enemy turned back into two, and two to three, over and over again. just when she thought she’d gotten them all, more came out of nowhere. after twelve of them, she was exhausted ; partly from the energy it took to draw her bow, partly from the constant fear that someone was going to be quicker than her, that her life would be over before it began. she no longer believed that her parents cared whether she made it out alive.
kill or be killed. kill or be killed. kill or be killed.
she drove an arrow through what she hoped to be the last target, she’d lost count at that point, collapsing to her knees as their body dropped with a loud thud. she hadn’t come out unscathed, her body littered with slashes from swords and deep penetrating wounds from stray arrows. her bloodied body had had enough, but despite her exhaustion, she kept her guard up. there was no telling if she was finished. her parents were known to be ruthless commanders. she knew that, but she never imagined that they’d use their tactics against her.
DON’T SHOOT !
just when she thought it was finally over, she heard footsteps approaching rapidly. aha -- they were trying to catch her off guard ! they were moving quickly, but she was quicker. she pulled her last arrow from her quiver, knowing she would have to be precise if she wanted to live. she turned to make the shot, all without realizing that the person coming at her was indeed not a target. she heard loud voices around her--don’t shoot! don’t shoot!--, but it was too late. the arrow was plunged straight into her older sister’s chest. NEVER MISS YOUR MARK.
the look of horror on her face was soon mirrored by zephrine as soon as she realized what she’d done. she caught her before she hit the ground, tears already streaming down her face. all she could do was apologize profusely, over and over, as they were the only words that would come out. what happened after that was a blur -- she knew that her parents had pulled her off of her sister’s body, despite trying to cling to her for dear life. she remembered crying until there were no tears left, falling asleep from exhaustion only to wake up and start all over.
WHAT DID I DO? WHAT DID I DO?
zephrine spent an entire year after that refusing to pick up her bow, feeling completely and utterly defeated. how could she have done such a thing? the overwhelming guilt broke something inside of her, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t mend the pieces. her parents took full responsibility, knowing that they had pushed her too far & they shouldn’t have let their other daughter enter the arena. ‘it was irresponsible of us to let this happen.’ she didn’t care -- it was her hands, her arrow, that lead her sister to her dying breath.
----
( ok switching it up to bullet points now thank u for making it this far my dudes )
she left home about a year and half after the incident, not being able to be around her family anymore.
she vowed to never use her bow unless she was protecting herself or someone that she cared about / who needed her help.
throwing herself into the world after little to no experience was a little scary, and often difficult as she struggled to stay fed and rested. she hunted her own food when she could, also trading furs and meat for ale and a warm place to sleep along the way. she adapted to life on her own fairly quickly, preferring the freedom and the lack of pressure.
she lived like this, as a vagabond of sorts, for a few years. her heart softened as she met people who were actually good, instead of ones who claimed to be something they were not (her parents)
she loved visiting and trading with merchants at the marketplace, telling them of her journeys and in turn listening to their troubles and experiences.
after saving someone from some rogue bandits on the road one day, they offered to pay her to escort them on the rest of their journey. she happily obliged, earning a decent amount of coin. their destination was arella, where her companion spread the word of how her bravery made it possible for her to complete her journey. this is how she became a guard for hire, loving the opportunity to keep people safe.
it was easy for a while, escorting simple traders from one town to the next, fending off simple bandits. a lot of the time, not even having to take out her bow. of course, as her reputation grew, her jobs scaled higher. looking out for nobles who were in real danger, ones with prices on their heads simply for being related to someone in power. she took the jobs in stride, even when it became dangerous for her, too.
she’s only failed a select few of her clients, mostly when they undersell the amount of danger they’re really in. she always tells people up front that if she doesn’t have all of the information, she can’t properly protect them. she has to know what she is to protect them from, or else she cannot be prepared. despite it usually being the fault of the client, she takes the losses personally.
CURRENTLY ...
she still works as a guard for hire, quite proficient at it now, although she does struggle because of the what the doom did to her.
being an escura, it takes everything in her not to let the dark thoughts that intrude inside her mind get the better of her. if she can help it, she does not use her magic. sometimes it comes without warning, especially when she gets angry or upset. she uses it to her advantage against STRONG enemies, like that of magical nature.
she’s VERY against the doom, for obvious reasons. she’s tired of fighting within herself, especially because she’s had this battle with darkness too many times before. it would’ve been easy for her to give into it when she was younger, but she has hardened herself in order to remain strong against it.
she tries to use her magic for good, despite it going against her newfound instincts & the nature of the magic she uses.
rumors of necromancy has had her thoughts racing about her sister, contemplating whether she even wants to go down that road. she would love to see her again, to tell her she’s sorry, to have more time with her. she is curious about it, but without someone encouraging to try it, she likely won’t do it herself (hint, hint)
pretty serious most of the time, almost always has her guard up. the only time she’s ever relaxed is when she’s around people that she trusts & knows that she’s not in any immediate danger. keeps her bow close at all times just in case tho.
will defend ANYONE that she sees is in trouble / danger, esp if they are defenseless. she will NOT put up with any kind of shit.
drinks ale when there’s something to celebrate, but usually doesn’t ever get drunk. hates the feeling of not being in control.
pretty easy to get along with, so long as you’re not a complete piece of garbage (i.e. icarius alkdjgAG)
due to her parents behavior when she was younger, she has a bit of a problem with authority. thinks soldiers in the military are basically just brainwashed goons with superiority complexes
DOES NOT TRUST EASILY
but when she does trust you, she is SO loyal and will always have ur back
kind of want her to have a pet wolf ??? is that weird. a hunting buddy. extra protection. warm cuddles in winter. a cute archery themed name like quiver ????
OKAY BEFORE THIS GETS ANY LONGER IM GONNA END IT. i’m sorry this got so ungodly long & if u made it all the way thru .. bless u . i love u. COME PLOT W ME < 3
(but wait there’s more) SHORT LIST of possible connections
CLIENTS !! people who have hired her to guard them at one time or another, whether it be recent or in the past
someone who is/was in the military and know her folks and maybe think she’s wack 4 leaving bc they don’t know the whole story !
a RIDE OR DIE who she met when she left home & knows everything about her & what happened . :)
her OLDER BROTHER ... who i’ll probs put a wanted connection up for but if any of y’all want it . come @ me
HER PARENTS ... lmao same thing as above ^^^
an experienced escura friend who helps her with her powers n sheeeit
A BAD INFLUENCE DOOMED PERSON who leads her astray ~ gets her more into dark magic maybe ~
#thedoomintro#THIS TOOK FAR TOO LONG#it is also .. far too long#im SORRY#tw: death#tw: violence#tw: blood
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what about a "you start war, you face consequences AU"? At the end of BE Route, Edelgard thinks have achieved her goal. But everything go wrong! First, Claude, who has survived, becomes the king of Almyra and declare war to her to the Empire . And he's VERY powerful. Also some former nobles of Alliance and Kingdom don't accept the reunification and start a rebellion with the former knights of Seiros . The peace wil not happen any soon and a lot of people die or suffer or join the rebellion 1-2
2-2. Finally, Felix has survived and becomes the feral guy and decides to avenge Dimitri (his best friend), Rodrigue (his dad) and Sylvain (his lover) by killing the black eagles one by one and nobody (even Byleth) can stop him, no matter what they do. And Byleth has not the power of Sothis anymore. They can only watch everything falling apart, while being powerless. They can only watch their friends die by Felix's hands, Claude taking back the Alliance AND the Kingdom, ect...
This is actually what would have most likely happened if the Black Eagle Route didn’t have an Deus Ex Machina ending and the Crests and God powers didn’t disappear for no reason. I have made no secret of the fact that Black Eagles is my least favorite Route (yes, I’m including Church Route in this), and the lack of actually having to reform and change the system thanks to magical convenience is one of the reasons.
Nobles will not give up their crest fixation just because Edelgard hates crests. And without crest disappearing, it is unlikely they will take to Edelgard’s reforms. She may end up turning her own allies against her. Especially ones that don’t believe in her cause and just gave up because they didn’t want to be killed.
Also, it is a very, very, very dumb move to spare Claude in the Black Eagles Route. No matter what, he is a political opponent that proved he’s 1) very manipulative 2) very good at thinking on his feet and gathering resources. He should have died just to eliminate the potential for later rebellious uprisings, even if Byleth and Edelgard didn’t know anything about his ties to Almyra. Looking objectively at Claude’s goals and the ending of Black Eagles Route, yeah, he still has a dream of uniting Fodlan and Almyra. And unlike Fodlan, Almyra isn’t suffering from being war torn for five years. There IS a chance he’d come in take over, especially if any of his friends died in the battle.
Point is, Black Eagles Route has a lot of potential for mess if the crests don’t vanish (which I am so fixated on. The CHURCH didn’t make the crests, so why did they disappear? I interpret Byleth’s powers disappearing because they choose to relinquish them, which is a slap in the face to Sothis btw Byleth, but why did the CRESTS disappear when the Church fell? They had nothing to do with their creation! Ugh.)
(Black Eagles, much as I dislike their Route based on their actions and lack of self-awareness, still deserved a better written ending.)
But I’m ranting. Let’s get on to the prompt with Consequences AU:
I’ve spoken in another post about how Byleth, as I interpret them, more accidentally sided with the Black Eagles than anything. It would be the same in this AU, accidentally burning their bridges when they saved Edelgard in the tomb. Then they were forced to see the path through to the end because they couldn’t go back to anyone else, and they DID disagree with Rhea and distrust the Church, so maybe Edelgard is right...?
It was foolish to hope, in hindsight.
Rhea going mad was something that they expected, but they didn’t think their own actions would be the breaking point that drove her to such insanity. And they can’t erase the image of Dimitri kneeling in the rain as an axe meets his flesh. So many of their students died...but that was just...pitiful.
Edelgard assures him that it was for a better future, that all the death and sacrifice now will mean less suffering later.
But it’s hard to look at the people suffering in the NOW and think it’s better for the future. It’s like Edelgard is so fixated on the world that will be she forgot to take care of the world they’re in, or maybe she didn’t, and the people around her just don’t seem as real to her as the people in the future she’s envisioned.
Byleth’s first clue that everything was going wrong should have been their hair and eye color returning to it’s original state.
Sothis and they...the both of them have always been one, whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. They are a single entity that was separated and then made whole again. But now there is an emptiness inside of them, and the emotions they’ve developed are fast fading again. They’re becoming numb once again as they lose the part of themselves that was her, and they don’t understand why.
Soon, they even stop caring.
Edelgard insisted that it was a wonderful sign. That they pointed their blades towards the heavens and won, so her path must be the righteous path.
Byleth no longer cares enough to correct her.
Their students, the Black Eagles, frown more when they speak now. Byleth has lost their emotions, so the fondness is ebbing away again. They’re distressed as they lose their teacher, and Byleth tries to pretend they care until even that seems pointless.
They follow Edelgard because they know that’s what they decided to do, not because they care. They’re too muted now, and even guilt is slipping away as time erodes more and more of Sothis from their very being.
Then the murders start to happen.
It starts when Dorathea was found outside of the Opera House. Her body had been cut down by the singular strike of a sword, left to rot in the street by an unknown assassin. The Black Eagles mourn, and Edelgard swears justice will be paid. The guards are doubled in the city and the hunt is on.
It doesn’t keep Fernidand from dying later. His entire platoon was killed, a mix of sword wounds and Reason magic leaving behind a field of corpses. Witnesses say it was a pale, dark haired, man. Just one. With an unused lance tied to his back. Something about revenge, the witnesses say. For a father, a best friend, a brother, a sister, and a lover.
A year goes by and the guards get lazy again. It seems the assassin had reached their goal or died in the process.
Until Almyra declares war.
Byleth gives their advice as it is sought, but no longer cares enough to see to the personal welfare of the troops themselves. It’s...demoralizing, to say the least.
Then Berneddeta dies in her room, a knife left behind, the signal of House Gautier’s crest carved into the hilt of the blade. A warning.
There are no Gautiers left, though, they were all killed, so it can only be Felix, Byleth explains to Edelgard, because there is no one else left to avenge House Gautier, and Felix was a childhood friend of both Dimitri, who is dead, Ingrid, who died defending Dimitri, and Sylvain, who also died in that battle.
Edelgard puts a bounty on his head.
But her troops are too spread thin with Almyra’s sudden and unrelenting assault. With another war on the horizon, many nobles that don’t care for Edelgard or were taken over surrender to Almyra without hesitation. Fodlan is once again halved, and with it Edelgard’s forces.
Then Lindhardt is killed by Felix, this time with a note: “I’m coming for you Edelgard.”
Claude, it seems, is the leader of the Almyran forces, and declares quite happily that he’s going to make Fodlan a part of his country. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he says it though, and he’s barely holding back heavy disgust.
Byleth can’t help but think of how foolish they are when they have sentiment.
Byleth also advises Edelgard to surrender.
“Not you.” Edelgard begs, knuckles gripped against the table, “Of all people, you cannot abandon me.”
But the Byleth she wants is long gone. Or, actually, they never existed. But if if they had her dream killed them until nothing but a numb shell was left behind. Byleth, as the are, is under no illusions of what they are now. A walking corpse, with all that made them human faded into the back with a sleeping Goddess that was once themselves.
Casper, who swore he wouldn’t let another one of his friends die, falls next. Felix, it seemed, has sided with Claude and is now leading the lands that was formally Faerghus. The people of the Alliance and Fearghus help rebel, throwing riots so large that they cannot be suppressed.
Petra is gone shortly after, taken by riots.
“FOR GOOD KING DIMITRI!” Cry out the people of Faerghus as they flood the streets of Fhiridad. Imperial soldiers are pushed back by people not even wearing armor, such is their numbers, and when actual soldiers come Faerghus is no longer a Dukedom of the Empire.
“FOR THE NOBLE CAUSE!” Cry the people of the Alliance as they’re lead by those still left of the Golden Deer. Hilda’s older brother has taken the helm and lead them to victory.
When they finally take Enbarr Byleth isn’t fighting. They don’t care, and watch from Edelgard’s side as they march her palace. They warn her to surrender, but she claims she’ll die first.
Felix walks in, and cuts down Hubert. Claude walks in behind him, hands on his hips, looking up at Edelgard and Byleth with a cold smile, “Did you get what you wanted?”
“I don’t want things.” Byleth answers, emotionless, “I haven’t since the power Sothis gave faded away, and I was left incomplete again.”
“Sounds awful, hope all this was worth that.” Claude answers as Edelgard’s eyes widen in horror.
“Perhaps if I could still feel, that would hurt.” Byleth answers him, “But I can only remember what emotions felt like, the experience is lost to me now.”
“...wow, that almost makes killing you feel like I’m being merciful.” Claude remarks as Felix glares from beside him, “Teach, why did you DO this to yourself?”
“I had meant to take Edelgard prisoner.” Byleth confesses, “I was simply run out and had nowhere else to go. Helping her seemed like the logical choice at the time, but it’s strange, I can’t see the logic in it now.”
Claude originally meant to take Byleth prisoner, if they could somehow be captured. Interrogate them and whatnot, allow their former students to air their grievances before they were executed for treachery.
Not that just feels too cruel when Byleth was apparently already killed long ago.
So, when the final battle ends, Claude tells Felix to end Byleth.
Byleth never even lifts their sword.
#fe3h#fe16#byleth eisner#sothis#edelgard von fresberg#felix hugo fraldarius#claude von reigen#Black Eagles#Black Eagles Route#Consequences AU#asks
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Jaig Eyes (Ch 61)
Jaig Eyes (61/?)
Summary:
Kida, a former slave who now thrives as a bounty hunter, finds herself sucked into the war she advised Jango Fett against. Now that she’s involved, she has to finally mourn the loss of Jango, seeing his face in the clones that man the GAR. What happens when she allows herself to get attached to one, not for his resemblance to her former mentor, but for his heart?
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Chapter Sixty-One: The General
I was still seething over the conversation I’d had with Krell. He’d been trying to intimidate me, and I hated to admit that it had worked, even if only a little. He had leverage over me, even if it was only military rank and potentially taking me away from the 501st for the mission.
I wasn’t sure why, but the Force was whispering that I just couldn’t leave. The thought of going made my stomach hurt. So I’d play along, just like I did in other jobs when bounty hunting. Or when I had to not die as a slave. I’d play along….for as long as I could, at least.
“Quicken that pace, battalion!” the before-mentioned general shouted over his shoulder. “This isn’t some training course on Kamino!”
He was leading our march behind an AT-RT, followed at a distance by Rex and Fives, who were right in front of me. I fought down the glare I wanted to shoot at the Jedi’s back, choosing to close myself off by sliding up my mask and snapping on my goggles. My interface came to life as we walked, Apex searching through databases for information on Krell.
“The new general has a way with words,” I heard Fives joke lightly, mildly annoyed. The Force rippled around Rex. He was conflicted. Annoyed with Fives’ boldness to talk ill of a general. Annoyed with the general of being an asshole. Annoyed with the chancellor for taking Anakin away.
“He’s just trying to keep us on schedule,” Rex managed in a dismissive sigh, keeping his annoyance at bay.
Fives tilted his head, not being deterred. “By raising everyone’s ire?”
My brows lifted with the corner of my lip. “Ire?” I cut in quietly, earning a chuckle from Jesse and Tup behind me. “Is that a fancy word you learned at ARC training?”
Rex ignored us, keeping his gaze forward. “Either way, he’s in charge, and we’ve got a job to do. Just treat him with respect, and we’ll all get along fine.”
“Do you see that?” Fives asked suddenly, cutting the conversation off. I was glad for that, actually, not wanting to blow up during a discussion about Krell. Fives drew his gun, aiming it at the sky.
“Yeah,” Rex said immediately, drawing his pistols. “Ready your weapons.” The clones opened fire at the two glowing bug-like creatures that were flying towards us. I drew my lightsaber, slicing the blade sideways through one of the bug’s pincers as it flew past. I went to pursue, seeing the other creature pick up a clone, but something big wrapped around my wrist, disengaging my blade.
“You are not a Jedi,” Krell threw my wrist away, tossing me to the ground. “You will not wield that weapon in front of me. It is disrespectful.”
“But,” I started, but stopped when his grip tightened around the hilt of his lightsaber. The Force rippled with darkness in warning. I cleared my throat, getting to my feet and tucking my lightsaber into the pouch at the back of my belt. “It won’t happen again, sir,” I said smoothly, hiding the bite in my tone this time.
Krell leapt away, freeing the clone and killing both creatures easily. He stomped over the dead bug between Rex and Fives, pushing his foot over its spine, making it twitch. “Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?”
I wanted to shoot him. So bad. It would be so easy because he was so cocky right now. But I couldn’t. Shouldn’t, too. That didn’t stop me from daydreaming about it, thought.
“Didn’t think so,” Krell growled, looking directly at the helmet Rex had welded himself--merging the visor of Phase I with the filtration system of Phase II. “Now keep moving!” He took off again, my shoulders slumping only slightly.
“Alright?” Fives asked as he stopped beside me, hand on my shoulder.
I nodded, letting him guide me into walking again, the battalion taking off in our march. “Not tired, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Good. Me neither.”
“Wonderful,” a voice behind us made us turn, seeing Kix’s painted helmet. He sighed, the sound weird through the helmet’s filters. “You’re both exhausted.”
My laughter was automated sounding through my mask, too. “Exhausted?” Fives asked over my laughter. “Is that what we said?” We quieted immediately when Krell glanced back, feeling like anything happy wasn’t what he wanted from us.
Kix shoved past us gently, getting up to Rex’s side. “Sir,” I heard him say soft enough for Krell not to hear. “We’ve been keeping this pace for 12 hours now. The men are getting worn down. We should rest.”
Rex didn’t answer but had been looking back at Kix and immediately walked up to Krell. He was a good leader. He put his men first. Kix fell back in step with us, but I focused my mind, reaching out tentatively to focus on their conversation, allowing myself to hear despite the distance.
“General Krell,” Rex said, earning the Jedi’s attention, “The top of this ridge will make a good place for the men to make camp.”
“The men don’t need rest.” Krell’s response caught me by surprise. I nearly stumbled into Fives, the clone tilting his helmet at me in question. “They need the resolve to complete the task at hand.”
Rex was taken aback too. “But sir--”
Krell didn’t give him a chance. “CT-7567, are you reading me?” I gaped beneath my mask. I knew Rex’s number, of course--the code the Kaminoans identified him by. But I’d never heard anyone actually use it when addressing a soldier.
Rex seemed equally as shocked. “Excuse me, sir?”
“I asked you a question, CT-7567. Do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?”
I was seething from my place behind them and I certainly would not have answered in as respectful a voice as Rex did. “Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile. Despite the difficulty of the conditions, the battalion is making good time. These men just need a little break.”
Krell turned abruptly, our battalion stopping as the general towered over Rex. “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet?” Krell’s chubby finger was shoved in Rex’s face, my anger flaring dangerously. “Look back. See those platoons?”
Rex turned dutifully, his frustration buried deep below the surface as he looked out over us.
“Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly. Time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford. We are the key to this invasion! The other battalions are counting on our support.” Krell was practically screaming now. “If we fail, everyone fails. Do you understand this?” He looked up, glaring at us all. “Do all of you understand this? Now, move on!”
Rex said nothing, jerking his head over his shoulder at us, getting us moving again. It looked like we wouldn’t be getting a break, then.
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We were weary. Exhausted. Still, despite keeping up such a fast pace for so long with no break...the clones were still itching for a fight.
“Sir,” Rex said as he approached Krell. I watched him from afar, wanting to keep my distance from the general. “We’re ready to bring our forward platoons in for a surgical strike on the city’s defenses.” I glanced cooly at Fives. This was the plan Anakin and Rex had developed. It would work...I could be assured in that.
And then Krell had to open his damn mouth. “There won’t be any need, Captain.”
“Sir?”
“All platoons will execute a forward assault along the main route to the city,” Krell replied easily, his tone firm. My jaw dropped. That was suicide.
“But sir,” Rex tried, “General Skywalker’s plan was to surprise them with multiple attacks. If we come in from the main route, they’re likely to engage us in a full-frontal assault.”
“Change of plans, Captain,” Krell smirked, making me simmer in my anger. “I’m in command now.”
Rex looked….afraid. Not for himself, of course, but for his men. For me. “With all due respect, General, we don’t know what we are up against. It might be wise to think first.” The Force rippled in warning. I wanted to step forward and warn my captain, but I couldn’t.
It was already too late.
Krell whirled on Rex. “Are you questioning my order?” He tapped his wrist, a hologram of the capital appearing. “This battalion will take the main road straight to the capital. You will not stop and you will not turn back regardless of the resistance you meet.” The hologram disappeared again as the Jedi stood tall with pride. “We will attack them with all our troops, not some sneak attack with a few men.”
I couldn’t stop myself any more. “Sneak attacks are to ensure victory with as little cost to us as possible,” I spoke up, my tone hard. “Your plan is suicide.” It was bold to say, but someone had to. And it was true, after all. We were all thinking it.
Krell glowered at me, his yellow eyes burning. “That is my order and you will follow it explicitly,” he growled, my mouth closing slowly into a scowl when he looked away from me, the discussion over. I usually was never one to let the verbal battle go….but I didn’t forget his threat earlier. I wasn’t going to leave Rex and the boys alone with him, especially knowing the death wish this Jedi apparently had. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?” He was talking to Rex again, their faces close. He was degrading him by refusing to use his name.
My nose crinkled in distaste. All I wanted to do was put him on his ass. Show him that I’d been a player in this game before...but I wasn’t anymore. And never would be again.
But I couldn’t. For the sake of the ones I loved.
“Yes, General,” Rex replied, his shoulder slumping slightly. Krell was getting to him. I could feel the tension within the clone. How trapped he felt.
“Now, engage,” Krell ordered, the captain snapping off a salute before walking past us dutifully.
“Rex,” I whispered as he went, but he didn’t turn. He would follow the orders….as he was told.
“Fett,” Krell growled, earning my attention. I approached, but didn’t stand at attention. Screw this guy. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear enough before.”
I cleared my throat slightly, remembering to play along for now. “You did, sir. It’s a...habit.”
“Then break it,” he hissed, making me fight off the urge to flinch. “I considered taking Skywalkers advice and using your talents,” he allowed pacing before me. “And I was going to keep you on the ridge with me for strategic uses.” My eyes widened at the fact that he was going to observe the battle from afar, rather than fight with his troops. “But insolence will not be tolerated. Follow the clones you seem so desperate to protect. You’ll be part of the assault.”
Secretly, as much as this was a suicide-mission….I’d rather be on the ground where I can at least try to protect my friends than standing next to that foul monster, watching everyone die.
“Yes, sir,” I replied easily, walking away without being dismissed. A part of me half expected a lightsaber to hit me in the back, but Krell let it slide.
Maybe because he expected me to die during the assault.
Him and me, both, really.
I fell into step with the other clones as we walked along the main road that led to the highway. I did my best to keep my sighs of disbelief in. This was ridiculous. I was glad for my mask and goggles. Otherwise the clones would see the anger I was barely containing.
“So why aren’t we sticking to the original plan and probing the city defenses first?” Tup asked as he walked behind me.
Hardcase turned from where he walked beside me. “We can do this. Let’s take ‘em!” He was terribly confident. More than me, at least. The entire planet rippled with the Dark Side, making it hard to feel the things around me. Not to mention Krell was a mystery that just bundled around either an idiot or an asshole.
“Yeah, leave it to Hardcase to dive in head-first,” Jesse teased, trying to keep the mood light.
“The general’s new plan is reckless,” Fives said, unable to contain his frustration any long. “What you said was right, Kida.”
Dogma glanced over his shoulder at us. “You ever think that maybe the general knows what he is doing?”
I scowled at the young clone behind my mask, but Fives only ignored him. Apparently he was used to rigid shinies like Dogma. “I know you think this is a bad idea,” Fives said to Rex, forcing the captain to stop ignoring our conversation.
“I raised my objection to General Krell’s plan, but he didn’t agree,” Rex explained calmly, as if reading through the instructions of a manual on how to deal with superiors having dumb plans. “So this is it.”
“Well, what if he’s wrong?” Fives questioned. “Then what?”
“This isn’t the time for a debate,” Rex smoothed the situation as best he could. I disagreed, since the debate could save our lives. Of course, I felt Rex’s mind racing. They weren’t trained to question orders. If they did, they could be charged with treason, and that was never a good thing for a clone.
We were backed into a corner.
“Right now, we have to stay alert,” Rex finished, his tone final. The men listened, dropping the argument. For now.
“Eh,” Tup worried, his barrel panning over the tree line. “It’s too quiet out there.”
My pistols were drawn into my fists already as I hummed lowly in agreement, eyes scanning the trees. I brought up thermal imaging, seeing nothing yet.
And then suddenly the ground shook, a tiny shockwave throwing my forward. A clone had stepped on a mine in the road. Another went off as their victims screamed. I froze, Fives and Rex dropping to the ground.
“Mines,” Fives called, “Nobody move!” I glanced around, seeing them all prone. I had already found my feet again, dusting off my armor.
Rex signalled to Kix and Hardcase, the two checking on the injured clones. “Oz is down,” Hardcase called, his hand on his brother.
Kix shook his head sadly. “So is Ringo.”
The captain approached between Fives and I, looking at us. “Can you sweep ‘em?” he asked us both.
I was glad Fives had detection software in his toolbelt, too. It would make things go faster. In order to sweep with my HUD, I had to turn off the thermal, unfortunately. I prayed silently to the Force for it to warn me if we were under attack.
“There’s more over here,” Fives called as he swept the right side of the road, my feet taking me down the left.
“Here, too,” I reported over my shoulder. “It looks like the whole road’s been booby-trapped.”
“Everyone, watch your step,” Fives advised darkly as we began leading the troops down the safest paths.
And then there was a ripple of air across the back of my neck, just barely disturbing the hair there. I turned just in time to see the giant ball of green fire exploding into the road behind us. It was followed closely with the yelling of the Umbarans in their native tongue, green bolts flashing by as they ambushed us from behind.
To be fair, I’d hoped for a warning from the Force. While I was expecting more than half a second….it was a warning, nonetheless.
“We’re completely exposed!” Tup cried as we were quickly surrounded on all sides. My pistols rattled off endless, taking down the Umbarans. Still, it’s like they kept coming endlessly.
“Stand your ground!” Rex ordered.
Hardcase stood near the center of our group, firing his rotary blaster. “You want a piece of this?” he taunted as he mowed down rows of attackers. An explosion rumbled the ground as another cannon blast came in.
“I think Hardcase made ‘em mad,” Jesse observed, still shooting into the trees.
Speaking of, some Umbarans raced from the tree line, trying to take us down by hand. “The Umbarans are advancing,” Fives yelled. Tup easily flipped one, my own attacked swinging high. I ducked below him, easily shooting him twice in the ribs before easily stepping past and moving to my next target.
The Umbarans knew their territory well and had good weapons, I’d give them that. But their hand-to-hand was shit. I wasn’t even sure why they tried it when they had massive cannons to use instead.
I rolled beneath a volley of shots, sending my own into the trees as I reactivated thermal. And then a shot caught me from the side, grazing across the side of my goggles and mask. It burns the material of my mask, making me drag it from my face with a cry of pain. The goggles were fine, besides from some spider-webbed cracking at the corner. They’d hold.
I tapped them.
Osik. Knocked out my thermal, the bastard.
I shook my head, trying to find my way off the ground--where I’d dropped to when my face began to feel like it was melting. “They’re coming from all directions,” I heard Dogma yell somewhere beside me as my goggles recalibrated.
“We don’t have any cover!” Fives screamed.
We were loosing too many men and far too quickly. Screw what Krell ordered. I holstered my pistols and drew my lightsaber as I stood, the blade igniting brilliantly in the misty darkness of Umbara. “Sooran ni’jagyc, Krell,” I grumbled as I began deflecting the incoming bolts to protect my friends. “I’m your new cover,” I called to the men. “But we need to fall back!”
Rex nodded, falling in behind me as I blocked the shots I could. “Get them to follow us. If we can draw them out, we can see them. If we can see them, we can hit them!” He raised his voice louder to be heard over the battle. “All squads, fall back now!”
We raced back down the road in the direction we came, our AT-RT exploding when it hit a mine. I deflected the shots while trying to keep up with the men, the Umbarans closing quickly. As we ran back, some of our other squads came racing in to help. Thank the stars...maybe Krell found some sense when he saw how stupid an idea this was.
Taking up a position further back to meet up with the other squad, I took the front like Krell should have been doing. I wasn’t a Jedi, and I certainly was no Skywalker….but I was better than the general we had now. So I’d protect the men as best as I could.
“Stand fast,” I heard Rex say to his men behind me. “Hit ‘em with everything you’ve got!” With the added power of the new squad and the AT-RTs, we were able to push the Umbarans back. Of course, we still hadn’t gained any ground.
“Where you going?” Hardcase yelled after the retreating enemy, sending bolts into the mist after them. “Get back here!” They fell back, the battle falling silent for the moment.
I glanced over when I felt Krell’s approaching presence. He was pissed. I put my lightsaber away quickly, tucking it into my pouch. “CT-7567,” Krell growled as he shoved past Fives. “Do you have a malfunction in your design? You pulled your forces back from taking the capital city! The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised because of your failure!” He shoved his meaty fingers into Rex’s pauldron aggressively, the clone stumbling backwards slightly.
“General Krell,” Fives cut in before I could shoot the Jedi on impulse. “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain Rex just saved this platoon. Surely you won’t fail to recognize that.” Fives’ tone was...disrespectful. Even I’d admit that.
“ARC-5555,” Krell practically growled, standing over the trooper ominously. “Stand down.” His green saber ignited beside Fives’ head, immediately prodding me to step forward. A hand caught me, making me turn to see Jesse. He didn’t look at me, but his hand didn’t release my wrist to ensure I stayed beside him.
It was for the best. It’s not wise to tempt someone who clearly wants blood.
“Sir, yes, sir,” Fives said back, his words tight. He stepped away immediately to keep himself from saying something that’d actually get him killed.
“Sir,” Rex continued, earning the general’s glare again. “If I may address your accusation. I followed your orders, even in the face of a plan that was, in my opinion, severely flawed.” The anger was billowing in him now, too. “A plan that cost us men. Not clones!” He ripped off his helmet, showing the Besalisk his face. “Men!”
Krell said nothing, but looked over the clone calmly.
“As sure as it is my duty to remain loyal to your command,” Rex continued, his voice more even now. “I also have another duty.” The captain gestured past the general to us, who were standing in a group watching the dispute. “To protect those men.”
The Jedi was quiet for a moment before his lightsaber disengaged, a small smile coming to his lips. “You have a spark of tenacity, Captain, I’ll give you that. I know that I don’t command like the Jedi you’re used to serving. Certainly not like General Skywalker. But I have my way.” My jaw clenched as I kept myself from saying anything, Jesse’s hand still around my wrist. “It may be difficult, but these are difficult times. And it’s proven effective.”
I glared at the general as he continued. He wasn’t admitting any wrongs. He was lecturing us.
“I suppose your loyalty to your men is to be commended. They seem to admire this. That’s important to an effective commander.” Krell’s gaze cut to me. “Though I don’t understand the loyalty to the Sithling.” I felt the darkness in me rear its ugly head. Jesse’s fingers tightened impossibly around my wrist to keep me in place. Still, the clones seemed to fidget like I did. They didn’t like Krell calling me that any more than I did.
“All right, Captain Rex,” Krell sighed finally. “Your opinion has been noted. Dismissed.” He walked away, leaving us behind on the destroyed road.
“I think he almost complimented you,” Fives teased, glancing at our captain.
“Eh,” Rex sighed, looking tired. “It’s hard to tell.”
“Incoming!” The clone’s scream didn’t give us time to prepare for the next attack. The enemy appeared from everywhere, raining hell onto us.
“The Umbarans must’ve regrouped for a counter attack,” Rex surmised calmly, putting his helmet back on and drawing his pistols. I tried to engage my thermal vision, only to curse loudly. I’d forgotten it was broken. “Everyone, we must hold this position!”
“They’re above us,” I called, drawing my rifle and relying on the thermal vision in the scope to start picking off the Umbarans in the trees. We ducked into cover as best we could, the clones still eerily calm.
I suppose that was their training, after all.
“You think General Krell still intends on taking the capital using this strategy?” Fives asked, firing over Rex’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Rex admitted, firing his pistols along with us. “I’ll get back to you on that if we survive this battle.”
“When we survive this battle,” I corrected with a grunt, switching my hold on my rifle to better my angle. I took the shot, downing my target easily.
“Right,” Rex muttered. He dipped sideways to dodge a bolt before gunning down his attacker without even looking. “When.” I appreciated the attempt to follow my optimism. It was pointless, though.
Because that was when the Umbaran gunships arrived to rain hell down upon us.
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MANDO’A
Osik-- shit
Sooran ni’jagyc-- suck my dick
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Author’s Note:
Who’s been watching the new episodes of Clones Wars? I’m super excited about them, but I’m sad over how much we are missing out on that Filoni had planned but can’t create.
As always, thank you for reading. Reviews/Likes/Shares are always appreciated and encouraged.
-Ryder
#fanfiction#fanfic#Fanfc#stars#star wars#star wars the clone wars#star wars oc#oc star wars#clones#Clone Wars#clone#The Clone Wars#Clone Troopers#Fives#Hardcase#Jesse#Kix#Tup#Dogma#captain rex#rex x oc#captain rex x oc#rex#Daughter of Jango fic#Krell#Umbara#thesilversnake666
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The War of Fire: Ch 7. Stink and Filth to the Light
Zelda took a deep breath, her fist shaking at the sight of the empty cell. She was so distracted by the rescue of her daughter and the front lines that she had allowed her castle to be compromised. Again. The Princess couldn’t have escaped on her own. Turning to Impa, she spoke carefully, not wanting her voice to shake. “Impa. I want ever single entrance into the castle covered and observation by the Sheikah tribe. Every sewer entrance, gate, or window. If I can’t feel secure in my own home again than this war is already lost.”
Impa nodded, brushing her hair back to calm her nerves. The war was starting to be drawn out, and with so many failures already under Hyrule’s belt, it didn’t bold well in the Sheikah’s mind. “As you wish my queen.”
The Queen of Hyrule walked with her most trusted advisor and friend back to the war council several floors above them. When the Queen opened the doors open, the environment was somber and heavy. Generals and Commanders of various tribes loyal to Hyrule were relaying casualty reports all around the country. With Zelda having arrived, they turned their attention to her. “Report. How far have the Hasai entrenched themselves?”
“They have as of yet to find a way to reach the peaks of the Rito village your majesty. However, they’ve started a blockade and positioned archers outside. As of now, only our most skilled fliers and breach their line of attack to travel elsewhere.”
“As for us Gorons, the Hasai seem to be more than comfortable with a slow push upwards Death Mountain. We’re an effective wall my Queen, but our chief fears that if we spare too many of our brothers the Hasai could muster the strength to conquer us.”
Zelda held her hands together as she contemplated what to do regarding both tribes. “My heart goes out to the Rito and Goron people, but for now, it sounds to me that the Hasai aren’t actively massacring your people as of yet. Knight Tulilad. Have you located my husband as of yet?”
The man shook his head, fresh ash on his face. “No, my Queen. Our search brought my platoon into contact with a full Hasai army marching eastward.”
“East. That could be in the direction of either Zora’s Domain or Kakariko Village. Impa, has there been any news of fighting drawing near the village?”
“None as of yet. We are still a hidden village.”
“Then my prediction is that the Hasai will march for Zora’s Domain.” The War Council didn’t object, listening closer in on Zelda. “The Zora provide a vast amount of support and economy to the rest of Hyrule. The domain would also make a perfect dug in fortification for the Kikai Empire if they were to conquer it.”
The Zora representatives looked amongst one another. “They would have cross Lanayru wetlands and valley to reach the domain. Following this they’d have to make their way across the great bridges to reach the city. If they have the ability, they might take up a presence in the mountain areas around the Domain.” One of the Zora frowned suddenly. “Oh dear.”
“What is it?”
“There is also the consideration of the dam. If Lanyaru’s Great Spring were to be properly disrupted, then flooding would occur from every lake and river in Hyrule.”
Zelda contemplated her options, before looking to Klinge of all people. “Commander. I want you to take a garrison of Ganondorf’s forces and place them at the valley entrance in the wetlands. “After that, take what beasts, traps, and soldiers you can muster and place them at various staging areas in the Domain. I want our flanks covered.”
Klinge took a map and drew circles around key areas. He’d rather take orders from Ganondorf, but alas, Zelda was still his queen. “I can set up Beamos sentries along the valley to the domain. That will not only alert us if the Hasai choose to attack, but also slow them down.”
“Everyone… war is cruel thing. It tears at our spirits and tries to drag us down with claws of despair. But we must have hope. By standing together, we will overcome this invasion. May the spirits watch over us.” Zelda had never been overly religious in her life, despite possessing the triforce, but for the sake of her people she’d take any support she could take.
As others started to disperse, Klinge approached Impa. Both the warriors stood six feet away from each other, as if a wall of respect or disdain kept them apart. “Impa, I trust that you will keep Zelda’s security a top priority?”
“I always do. Why are you asking me this?”
“I won’t cut down the severity of the situation to you. Ganondorf could very well be dead. I failed him in that regard.” The words hung out of Klinge, making the atmosphere incredibly heavy. “Rinku failed in protecting her younger sibling from our now missing captive. What I’m trying to say is… we can’t have you fail miraculously either. Zelda is the sole face of the kingdom for now. You are her greatest protector.”
With only her eyes visible to the outside world, Impa revealed shock and genuine surprise to the undead warrior. “I didn’t expect you of all people to be so open.”
“Out of all of Ganondorf’s forces that follow him, I’m the one that you should always expect to be the most forward with you. I must ask, with all of us staying far from the castle, who will guard the children?”
“I’m going to have Sheikah agents take the younglings far from the castle and to the domain of the Great Deku Tree. They will stay safe there, hidden from the eyes of the outside world with the Korok, Kokiri and Fairies.”
“After the failure of security at the castle, I feel more at ease with this course of planning. Good luck to you.”
“In my experience, there is no thing as luck Klinge. But may your skills keep you alive.” As Klinge started to walk away, Impa added one more thought. “I do hope that Ganondorf is still alive. Despite certain aspects about the man I cannot stand, he does inspire confidence and hope in the people as king.”
“Coming from you Impa, that means something to me. I’ll see you on the field of battle.”
As Klinge left, Impa made her way to Zelda. The Queen had made her way to the nursery, calmly explaining to her children about them needing to be moved. “Think of it as a little vacation away from all the fighting. The area is very peaceful.”
Covarog took charge of nearly all the questions for his siblings. “Why can’t you stay with us momma?”
“Mother has things people to that depend on her. But I assure you, I will check on you when I can. And when the bad people are all gone, we can go back to normalcy.”
“Where’s papa momma?”
That pulled onto her heart strings, knowing that she didn’t have an answer even she wanted. “We’re still looking for him. But knowing how mighty and powerful your papa is, I’m sure he’s just waiting to make a valiant return.”
Orana held her hand up, waiting her turn. “Will big sisters be joining us?”
Zelda had to process a moment her questions before reality hit her hard. Rinku AND Leere. God knew where her gothic child was out in the chaos of Hyrule right now. The Queen had been so concentrated on the current moment that she hadn’t even considered Leere was in danger. Quickly hiding her feelings on the matter, Zelda smiled to her daughter. “Your older sisters have to help the kingdom, but don’t worry. They’re smart warriors like your papa.”
Zelda gathered her children up and scooped them up in a hug. “Listen to your elders and continue to look out for each other. I love you all very much.”
“We love you too momma.”
Kanisa started to cry, holding her mother close. “Don’t want you to go. I’m scared.”
“Oh my baby girl. It’s ok to be scared, but you have to believe in having hope as well. Hope carries us through the deepest of darkest days.” Zelda gently rubbed her daughter’s hair to sooth her.
As her children calmed down and were escorted by Sheikah, Impa patted Zelda on the back. “How are they?”
“Kanisa is still a mess, but I don’t blame her. She’s the most terrified by the situation. Impa, another thought has occurred to me. Leere is somewhere out in Hyrule. I want you to find her and bring her to safety back to the castle.” Zelda wiped a brow, the days events leaving her already exhausted. “I can’t stand the thought of losing a child on top of potentially losing my husband.”
Carefully, Impa held Zelda closely. “They aren’t lost. Not yet. I will do as you command and bring Leere back to you.”
“Thank you Impa. Thank you.”
~
Zannah carefully made her way through the sewers of Hyrule. Fisk, her loyal bodyguard, always made sure to cover her flank at all times. The smell of waste traveling from the toilets from castle town above was wrenching to the warrior princess’ nose.
Coming across a length of tunnel that could only be crossed if she were to step in a tide of filth. Taking a breath to relax, she jumped in, the gross and dank water rising up to her knees. Zannah walked through the water step by step, something thicker once in a while bumping against her leg. The waste was terrible, but all that was on her mind was how her partial failure at the castle would have her father view her.
Behind her, Fisk tapped her shoulder, breaking her out of her intense inner thought process. “My Princess. I could have carried you.”
Zannah turned her head to Fisk, a frightening look of contempt towards her bodyguard. “I will not have anyone carry me. I can stand on my own two feet, even if that means walking through my own failures of filth.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
“No, you didn’t. Think before speaking to me again.”
Wisely, he decided to keep his mouth shut, least he upset the princess once more. As they continued forward through the underground, a sound faintly echoed from down below. “What is that?”
Fisk shook his head, unsure. “I don’t know my princess.”
Getting out of the sewer water and finally onto a stone walkway, Zannah followed her ear to the sound, until, finally, she could make out a tune.
“Don’t laugh as death passes you by, for you might be the next to die. The grim reaper walks beside of thee, she comes for all, for you and me.”
Zannah was taken aback. Did monsters live down in the deepest depths of Hyrule? Truthfully, she did not want to find out. Not too far, she noticed a light source glistening down in the form of three small beams from above. “Fisk. Get us out of here.”
The man nodded, charging a bolt of fire in his hands. Once ready, he fired it off upwards, blasting the grate from its resting position. The princess could feel stares on her from the darkness of the underground. “Fisk, hurry up and make sure the coast above ground is clear. The sooner we are free of this filthy area the better.”
As the man climbed a rusty ladder to the surface, Zannah’s breath hitched. From around a corner in the distance, it was unmistakable now. A tail flicked around the corner, and peering eyes stared at her. With a shriek, she fired a bolt of fire in the direction of the spying monster. As the flame whizzed by, it illuminated the rest of the darkness. Clung to the walls were monstrous spiders and hiding in the sewer water heads of reptiles poked out with gleaming eyes. One of the Lizalfos raised an axe, hissing a warning at the Hasai.
“Princess Zannah! Hurry!”
Listening to her bodyguard and not wanting to pick a fight, she rose a temporary wall of fire with her magic to give herself time to safely keep a distance between herself and the monsters of the sewers. Rushing up the ladder, she didn’t care about the feeling of rust scraping her hands. Zannah just wanted to breath in the open air. Getting out, she threw down an explosive fireball into the sewer to scatter any who thought it would be smart to pursue her. “Fisk! Put the grate back on!”
On her command, her loyal subject picked up the metal cylinder, slamming it closed on the opening. With a quick use of concentrated fire, both the Hasai fused the grate to the earth. The princess took a few deep breaths for her adrenaline to die down, but once it did, she slowly looked around her surroundings.
The drain lead to a small hillside near a tiny fishing community. The sight had seen better days. It appeared abandoned for quite some time, with flowers and weeds growing over the area. The hillside across the river was a beautiful sight to take in, however. Lush green grass with trees marking the land and sprouting beautiful foliage. Across the river, there was even a deer eating the grass.
Fisk was heading to waters edge when he waved Zannah over. “Come your majesty. We should wash our stench away.”
“Now?” Zannah was still looking around, this time for signs of the enemy. No doubt by now the Hylians had discovered her escape. How fast could they begin their search. Did all the monsters of this land serve the king and queen? “We should make haste back to camp. The Grand Admiral will want to know that I am well and free.”
“And do you think anyone will want to see you covered in a thick stench?”
Zannah scowled, scanning the surrounding area as she thought of an excuse in her head. She none as Fisk continued.
“Take this moment to relax and to enjoy the beauty of the land.”
“Relax?”
“Yes. Just take a breath, bath in the water, and let your worries go for the moment.” Fisk carefully bathed his full body in, not taking off his clothing. “If you’d like, I can wash your clothes and keep an eye out for potential danger. You’d be alerted at the first sign of trouble.”
Zannah felt her breath hitch as she decided what to do. Finally, her sealed her decision with an iron will that would not be persuaded otherwise. “No. We have no time to enjoy the subtleties of this land. Every corner can carry an enemy. Hyrule has spies, soldiers, and monsters at their command. I will not be captured again and bring even more dishonour. Now get out of the river and move out. Consider it an order.”
Fisk watched Zannah turn her back before he could argue in his own favour. Shaking his head, he picked himself out of the water and followed her lead.
~
Seras had just returned from a scouting party towards Zora Domain. There were odd fish people in the river, but none of them had the stomach to face him or his forces in combat. Just as Bellum predicted, there was a strong fortification along the rivers path. The rocks all around the forest area and the mountains of the domain were nearly impossible to climb in the rain, and for whatever reason, the prince felt that the strong rain concentrated solely at the domain was not natural.
Returning to the camp, the prince was eager to report his findings. Once he did, that would mean he could take his army and capture the domain for himself. Opening the tent, he nearly stumbled on his words when he saw his sister. “Z-Zannah?”
His sister looked absolutely terrible. When she turned his way, Seras was able to get a waft of her, and he crunched his nose in disgust. “What the hell happened to you?”
Seras didn’t get to listen to her sister explain herself as Bellum spoke on her behalf. “It seems your sister escaped on her own accord. Must say, I am impressed. I would not have thought the forces of Hyrule to be so careless with such a high value prisoner. Perhaps our attacks have stretched them thinner than even I have foreseen. Your skill on the matter of your escape seems to be questioned, seeing how you were captured in the first place. I wonder how much luck you have left, Princess Zannah.”
Zannah flinched. It was one thing to internalize her own failure, but it was another to hear it aloud from the lips of someone else.
“Yes. But why do you smell so bad?”
“I had to escape through the sewer system. It was-”
“Zannah, that’s absolutely disgusting.” Seras sneered with his interruption. “I can’t believe you’d stoop yourself to the level of a rat.”
Zannah couldn’t hide the hurt on her face, opting to turn away. “I thought you’d be just happy to hear I escaped with my life.”
Bellum cleared his throat to bring attention back to him. “Well, it saves us the trouble of tracking you down. Prince Seras. Your report please.”
Seras narrowed his eyes at his sister, looking back to Bellum slowly. “Yes. Well, as you predicted the Zora have the support of the Hylian armies. The rocks make it incredibly difficult to climb beyond the intended boundaries leading to their capital. Along the river path they appear to have defensive towers in place.”
“As I suspected. For now, we lack sufficient aerial support to transport a large number of troops over the mountains. As much as we’ll be forced to power through their armies, there are some other options for us that can divide up their forces and ensure victory.” Bellum took out a map of Hyrule he had acquired and placed it on a war table. Taking out little blue flags, he placed them at various points. “The Hylian forces will protect these bridges with their life. The capital of the Zora appears to be unfortified itself. If they don’t want their civilians massacred, they would be smart to surrender once we cross the final bridge. There are also key hillsides that give the Hylians and Zora a range advantage on us from above. The engage the Hylians here is mandatory if we don’t want to be cut down by artillery fire. Finally, I suspect they wouldn’t be foolish enough to leave their greatest weakness unguarded here.”
Seras pointed to the blue flag at the right, instantly hooked at the word ‘weakness’ when regarding his enemy. “And what pray tell would that be?”
“According to a Hylian we captured, there is an ancient dam that holds a lagoon. This lagoon has caverns that link all the way to Lake Hylia. If this dam were to be destroyed, the water of the lagoon would flood the western border of Hryule, going so far as to even destroy castle town.”
“Then we could end this war!”
“Yes. With the fall of the Zora’s capital and Queen Zelda’s castle, I predict that the rest of Hyrule’s tribes would fall in line in servitude of the Kikai Empire.”
Zannah smelled herself, wincing. Perhaps she should have taken that bath. “And how will we split our forces?”
Taking out red flags to symbolize the Hasai, Bellum carefully divided them up. “Our main forces will march across the valley and through the bridges. At this point here they will split up to engage the encamped enemy positions.” At the far left near the ocean, Bellum placed a flag above a hilltop looking down on capital. “Here, I will fly one of our blimps with a small battalion of troops. There, we will rain down discord upon the forces of Hyrule, scattering them into confusion.”
“And, what will my position be?” There was wonder in the prince’s voice.
In turn, Bellum smiled like a parent about to reward his child. “You, Prince Seras, will have the honour of leading our forces in combat amongst the front lines. You are the face of the one who killed the Great Ganondorf. With you at the front, you will have the most combat, but also the most glory and attention on you. T0-D will destroy the dam while the majority of Hyrule’s forces are distracted with you.”
Zannah was almost afraid to ask, but she spoke up none the less. “And my position?”
“Yes. You will provide a strike force, observing the land from above on your mount. Wherever a Hasai is in need of support, you will provide it.”
“I won’t fail again.”
“I know you won’t. I can’t imagine the wrath that would fall upon you if you did. For now, rest. We shall march for victory in the morning. Dismissed.”
Zannah looked to her brother. He didn’t meet her gaze as he walked out. “Hey, Seras. Wait a minute.”
When they were outside Bellum’s tent and a good ways away, he turned his heel and slapped her across the face. “How could you! How could you dishonour us the way you did?!”
Zannah held her cheek, a red mark burning on her green skin. “I accomplished my mission! We kidnapped the girl!”
“But you were captured! A princess in chains. It’s disgraceful!”
“There are always risks, but I succeeded in my task.”
“Only for the Hylians to reclaim the girl anyways.”
The was just another piece of information to break Zannah’s pride down even more. “They what?”
“You heard me. The Hylians found the girl and rescued her from our clutches. At least when I killed Ganon he stayed dead!”
Zannah didn’t know how to reply at first. “Brother. We’re a team. You don’t need to bring me down further than I let myself down.”
“No. I don’t think so. I thought you were invincible. We are suppose to be invincible. You told me that you’d never leave me. But you showed the world that you are vulnerable. That you can be weak. You dishonour the Empire and our people by having a royal princess show our enemies that we can be defeated.”
“Brother…”
Seras sneered, turning his back on her. “You smell revolting. Go clean yourself up and get the sleep you need. I’m going to rest up so I can lead us all to victory tomorrow. I’m going to be the next Emperor that our people need.”
The prince stomped his way to his quarters, leaving Zannah feeling smaller than the ants that crawled across her boots.
________________________________________________________________
Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/615242675307905024/the-war-of-fire-ch-6-dead-hands-upon-the-earth
Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/621741836915130368/the-war-of-fire-ch-8-the-battle-of-zoras-domain
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Pollinated Knight: In-Laws: Part III: *REDACTED*
Blake: We've got company.
Jaune: Two airships.
Blake: Three.
Weiss: Atlasian
Jaune: Strength: Platoon. Won't be a problem unless they have huntresses.
Weiss: Atlas. Specialists.
Jaune: Atlas specialists always think they are so special. Red?, advance-left. Black?, retire. Target the engines. Yellow. White. Area of effect and then advance.
Yang: And you?
Jaune: Charging like an idiot. Goal: Passed the two advance airships. Wait for them to make the first move, but don't wait too long...
Two airships appeared in front of them to the side with one behind them. Soldiers bearing rifles started to file out of the airships without landing.
Jaune: Go!
Ruby: *turns into flower petals spiraling to the fore-left airship*
Blake: *turns black with her true self being catapulted by Weiss' glyph*
Weiss: *creates a wave of fire and then ice at the fore-right airship*
Yang: *fires barrages, cycling between those embarking from each airship*
Jaune: *charges forward, shield up, obsorbing most of the fire from those already disembarked from the forward two airships*
Ruby: *cleaves off one of the engines in a single, swift motion*
Fore-Left Airship: *quickly spirals into the ground.
Blake: *wraps herself around the rear airship, puncturing it's engine*
Rear Airship: *slowly spirals around*
Ruby: *takes out the engine of the fore-right airship*
Fore-Right Airship: *quickly spirals down*
Jaune: *in the fray, taking out soldiers one by one*
Weiss and Yang: *charging forward to join him*
Blake: *wraps Gambol Shroud around the legs of the rearward soldiers before disappearing and rushing forward*
Jaune: *ahead of the two downed airships, holding up his shield to block the girls*
RBY: *firing to the rearward section*
Weiss: New target.
Jaune: *looks over his right shoulder*
Jaune: And there's the specialists. Let's hope it's not your sister.
Weiss: What makes you think it's?..
Weiss: *sighs*
Weiss: It is her.
Qrow: *lands on the new airship's engine with his scythe, causing it to spiral down*
Winter: What the hell are you trying to do?
Qrow: I'm not the one trying to kidnap my nieces.
Winter: I'm after my sister.
Qrow: Really didn't think this through, did you? You know, I might disagree with pretty much everything you and Ironwood do, but this is a seriously new low.
Winter: I'm just trying to return my sister.
Qrow: Who was emancipated after your asshole father disowned her. Know how I know?, because my nieces were neck deep in the whole thing. Yeah, might want to jump before we crash.
Qrow: *turns into a crow*
Winter: *bails out of the airship*
Jaune: *charging forward and slams her with his shield*
* * *
Winter: *opens her eyes, groaning with pain*
Weiss: He healed you enough to save your life. For the rest, I would choose your answers carefully?
Winter: Qrow?
Jaune: No, he's not the one you have to talk to, I am. So, give me a damn good reason to not send you to see the dark god, right now?
Winter (weakly): Father wanted...
Jaune: Wrong answer.
Jaune: *stomps on her*
Jaune: My armour is designed to stop Grimm. It weighs as much as you think it would.
Winter (weakly): Sister?..
Jaune: Yeah, no, eyes up here. You either commited a capital crime or an act of war, which is it?
Winter (weakly): I was simply...
Jaune: *stomps on her*
Jaune: In the shape your in right now, I doubt you'll be able to survive too many of these.
Winter: *wheezes trying to say something*
Jaune: No pleas for compassion. No excuses. No, I was just following orders. You committed a capital crime or an act of war. And then you lost. I don't even have to kill you myself, I can just leave you for the Grimm. So, tell me, and be really clear, why should I save you?
Winter: *wheezes trying to breathe*
Winter: I... surr... ender...
Jaune: *places his hands on her, channeling his aura*
* * *
Winter: *opens her eyes, finding herself bound*
Jaune: Now, we want you to tell us everything?
Winter: My men?
Jaune: We didn't do enough to kill them. You were the one dumb enough to jump from on high.
Qrow: I can probably take credit for that one.
Weiss: I will admit, Qrow is a lot more reliable than I first thought.
Qrow: Thank you. Good to see at least someone from Atlas can have an open mind.
Jaune: Let's keep this simple. Jacques Schnee ordered the kidnapping of an emancipated minor, correct?
Winter: What makes you think I'll say everything.
Jaune: One, you already have, and two that might somehow excuse yourself from your crimes.
Winter: . . .
Jaune: You really didn't think this one through, did you?
Winter: And how is Weiss doing?
Weiss: Annoyed at having father try to kidnap him, and wishing I had Jaune's determination right now.
Winter: You'd want me tied up?
Weiss: Despite being my sister, you tried to kidnap, return me to my monster of a father who would basically sell me off to slavery. Yes, yes, it would be an arranged marriage, a carefully selected marriage that would keep me from having any voice, having any say, and keep me from fleeing. You are looking at the man whom - I - fled - to. Considering you joined the Atlas military as soon as Ironwood could seduce you...
Winter: I did no such thing.
Weiss: *rolls her eyes*
Weiss: I figured you might understand my not wanting to be around my family.
Winter: Your family needs you...
Weiss: Disowned.
Qrow: And emancipated.
Winter: We still?..
Jaune: And you send a platoon to kidnap her?!
Winter: . . .
Jaune: I want your confession. Without it, we're just going to be vulnerable to further attacks.
Winter: And if I don't say anything?
Jaune: *irate growl*
Jaune: You, yourself, committed a capital crime, and there won't be much I could do to help you.
Winter: Let... me... go?..
Jaune: If we let you go, you will just keep attacking.
Winter: I won't...
Jaune: *scoffs*
Jaune: That's the problem with specialists. You are officers. Officers have to constantly prove their value. You've been dishonoured. Your only hope for promotion is to prove yourself again. Do you think I studied Atlas Military Rules for the fun of it? No, because we've been worried about THIS EXACT THING! The others don't want to be the one who has to do this, which just leaves little old me. I've got four women who mean the world to me, and I would sacrifice pretty much everything to protect them, even my non-existent selfworth.
Winter: Prepare your scroll.
Winter: *breathes in deeply*
Winter: Our father, Jacques Schnee, sent me, Winter Schnee, to retrieve my errant younger sister, Weiss Schnee. I now realize that this order was completely illegal, as Weiss Schnee is an emancipated minor. I will accept punishment for my crimes, but throw myself on the mercy of the courts.
Jaune: Perfect. Now, if I don't send this to the Vale Government and to Atlas, what are the chances we won't be attacked in the future.
Winter: Acting like this is the first time our Father has been blackmailed.
Jaune: Because I don't see any way we can keep you out of prison.
Qrow: Unless she refused to follow an illegal order.
Weiss: The upper crust in Atlas would definitely not like it, and would fight tooth and nail to keep her from getting promoted.
Jaune: Legally, it is sound. Winter, would you be able to admit to this?
Winter: Lying is not my strong suit.
Jaune: Do you want to die for the crimes of your superiors?
Winter: *breathes deep*
Winter: I won't do it for myself, but I will for Weiss.
Weiss: *rushes in to hug her sister*
Weiss: *let's go*
Weiss: mm, yes, sorry sister.
Winter: I suppose we can hug once in a while...
Jaune: *falls face first into the ground*
Blake: He really did not want to have to do that. For some reason, he's always liked you, Winter.
Winter: He what?
Yang: Probably because you remind him of his Snow Angel.
Weiss: *kneels down and pets his hair*
Weiss: *places his head in her lap*
Qrow: Just when I think I can have respect for Atlas, this happens.
Weiss: And you just happened to be passing by?
Qrow: Jacques Schnee is not someone who likes to hear the word No.
Weiss: No, he is not.
#rwby#pollinated knight#jaune arc#ruby rose#weiss schnee#blake belladonna#yang xiao long#lancaster#white knight#knightshade#dragonslayer#white rose#ladybug#sunshine#checkmate#freezerburn#bumblebee#winter schnee#colour guard#color guard
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Escaping the Danger Zone (Part Two)
Hello! Thank you all so much for reading the first part of this multi-fic, the eagerness to know what happens next makes me very happy that you all are interested in the long but important backstory! So far my favorite part is coming up with flashback ideas and incorporating them into what would be current day, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do! Here is the second part of “Escaping the Danger Zone,” please enjoy!
Warm sweat slowly dripped down the brunette’s forehead as she sutured multiple stitches into the patient that laid on the wooden table, in a kitchen she had never felt more unsafe in then ever before. In the corner of the room stood the same three mysterious men that requested her surgical skills with assault rifles in their hands. Carefully despite the stress, the female trauma surgeon continued to thread the nylon through the deep wound before her portable radio sounded and familiar voices began to speak.
“Affirmative. Major Amelia Shepherd, missing in action. Over.” The man that was her commanding officer said with his southern accent, broadcasted to warn the entire members of her platoon. Before the next message, there was a brief pause.
“Copy that: Major Amelia Shepherd confirmed to be missing in action. Over” Owen responded in return and then clicked off his portable radio. Even through the speaker, Amelia could sense the heartbreak and anger in the male trauma surgeon’s voice. Her heart broke as she silently wished for a possible way to return to her fellow soldiers but was quickly reminded that she was held against her will when she felt one of the men’s hot breath from behind.
“Sounds like your boyfriend is a little upset. Should we report back to him, Major Amelia Shepherd? Or do you want to remain missing in action and not pay any consequences.” The mysterious man questioned Amelia with an evil tone as he enunciated certain words.
“I could at least inform my co-“ Amelia began to say before she was punched from the left side in her stomach area which made her slightly cough. Seconds later, he punched her once more; causing the brunette to double over from the second powerful blow. Bringing the perfect opportunity for the man to remove the radio from near her chest area and throw the object against the wall making it break and then fall on the floor. He laughed.
“Don’t you ever try and escape, or I will kill you.”
Everywhere his electric blue eyes focused on was multiple doctors from different surgical rankings talking amongst themselves about patient care. The trauma surgeon adjusted his light blue tie as he walked past a group of interns competing who would go to the emergency department to complete scut work. Once arriving in his office Owen turned on the lights and sat down at his desk; in which various paper documents and photographs rested. One of the few photographs was of himself, Megan, Nathan and Amelia; in Iraq sitting in a tent as they enjoyed Thanksgiving years prior to her disappearance. He smiled at the memory before a knock on the wooden door interrupted him.
“Meredith and I are going on a date tonight after her ultrasound appointment; are you free to watch Zola or should I ask around?” The male neurosurgeon asked his friend and chief of surgery, whose attention was now focused on the stack of budget forms to the right of his arm. Owen glanced up at Derek as he sat in one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
“As of right now, there are no upcoming surgeries in my schedule but if one suddenly appears I’ll ask Kepner to cover them that way Zola will have my complete attention tonight.” The trauma surgeon answered the other doctor as he retrieved a giant green binder which included a list of all the surgeons and doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital resting at the bottom of his desk.
Derek stood up from where he was sitting and walked towards the same door he walked through moments prior before and smiled once thanking the redhead. Both men have known each other for such a long time and discovered that when Owen returned from Iraq, that it helped Derek keep the memory alive of his sister, they lost over six years ago at that point.
“No problem.”
Shortly after Derek had left his office, Owen returned to the stack of paperwork but was once more interrupted from another knock at his office. This time was what appeared to be a female military chaplain and a major dressed in a black army service uniform and sealed official hats. Owen confusingly glanced at both the man and woman standing in front of him before they began to speak.
“Are you Major Owen Hunt?” Major William Allen questioned the trauma surgeon as he placed his hands behind his back. Owen nodded his head before verbally agreeing to the man’s question.
“Sir; I am Major William Allen and this is Chaplin Jane Roosevelt; we are with the Army Human Resources Command.” The man continued, causing Owen’s world to suddenly move in slow motion as if he was in the same mental state he was in the same day that his friend disappeared on that dreadful day. Things around him slowly came into focus again after he saw William’s mouth close.
Tears streamed down Owen’s face as he stood in utter disbelief after hearing what the major had told him, he wiped the continuous tears and accepted the major’s request before he turned the lights in his office off and shut the door behind him. Anxiety built inside of the trauma surgeon as he followed behind, worrying if the brunette’s older brother was informed or if the other members of her family received the news. Once making it to the vehicle the trauma surgeon was escorted by military officials; he removed the phone from his pocket and dialed a familiar number.
“Derek, they found her. They found Amelia.” Owen frantically told Derek just a short hour after speaking to him in person. The older neurosurgeon didn’t utter a word, causing the other line to be silent.
“What do you mean they found her? Hunt; it’s been six years. Amy has been dead for six years.”
Hours had passed until they arrived at their destination and the night was present, the drive was silent but exactly what Owen needed in attempts to process the heavy information he had been given. Lights of the unknown but giant hospital building had enough lights on to light the entire city, but choosing to ignore that; the trauma surgeon followed inside with the three officers who escorted him. Once they left the elevator, they made their way down a long hallway of the intermediate care unit and gave Owen privacy as he opened the hospital door where a kind nurse was at bedside.
“You must be Owen, it’s so nice to meet you. I am Whitney,.” The nurse said to the trauma surgeon as she shook his hand and smiled at him before she returned to reading the monitors while he began to sit down in the chair near the left side of the bed.
“Major Allen and Chaplin Roosevelt informed me that you and Amelia go way back; and you fought in the Iraq war together. Thank you very much for your service Major Hunt.”
Owen nodded his head and watched on, also appreciative for Whitney making him feel welcomed in the room. The woman sensed the trauma surgeon’s anxiousness.
“They found her about fourteen hours ago in a ditch; apparently. Pretty much ever since she got here; the poor girl has been sleeping but this is the longest she’s been asleep because of constant nightmares. She’s definitely a fighter.” Whitney told Owen, after hearing her last sentence caused silent tears to fall out of his eyes again. Tears of happiness that his best friend was in his view again, tears of sadness for hearing she was having nightmares and tears of confusion.
“I-I know I am a doctor but uh, how bad is it?”
“I am going to be honest with you, Dr. Hunt. It’s gonna be a long recovery and she will have many sleepless nights and be in a lot of pain but she will survive this. If she can survive six years captured, she can for sure beat this.” With that the nurse left the room and checked Amelia’s monitors once more. Once she had left, Owen silently moved his seat closer to Amelia and took notice of her face. Expecting to find bruises he was shocked to find there were none, only the drastic paleness to her skin and sunken in complexion. The brunette’s eyes were closed and she was away from the war but Owen knew a war was very present in her mind. Amelia opened her eyes and saw Owen, the brunette smiled the sight.
“Hi stranger.”
“Hi” The trauma replied back in a laughter tone when he saw the surprise smile on her face.
Thank you so much for reading the second part!
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― 𝙈𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙑𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙍𝙄𝘼!
( pinterest ) / tw: ptsd, death mention
hello ! my name is thalia and i bring to you all my second muse woop woop ! below the cut you will find some information on valeria ! if you’re interested in plotting with her please feel free to hit the like and i’ll come invade your messages or shoot me a message !
ADRIA ARJONA , CIS FEMALE , SHE / HER → according to the school records , VALERIA MORALES NARVAEZ has been teaching at sacred heart for the past 4 months . i last saw them around the courtyard ; i think they were preparing lecture notes . at twenty-nine years old , vale teaches international human rights law and get this , i heard that she witnessed her partner’s death — figure it’s true ? everyone around here always associates them with mud ridden boots traded for sleek shoes, a wedding ring gracing her finger even in mourning & a glare that would put medusa to shame. in this time of strange happenings , they have no affiliation with the cult in the woods .
― 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙄𝘾𝙎 !
name. valeria morales narvaez.
nicknames. vale.
age. 29.
d.o.b. 20th of january.
teaches. international human rights law.
ethnicity. guatemalan & puerto rican.
nationality. american.
languages spoken. english & spanish.
gender. cis female.
orientation. bisexual & biromantic.
― 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔 !
valeria grew up in a town called tombestone, in arizona. with a population of a mere 1,400 people it was small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s business. she never liked that. at a young age, she grew bored of her life, choosing to follow her brother, javier, and his friends about like a lost puppy against her mother’s wishes. she had her hands full with the little farm she owned, javier and ensuring that the family had food on the table. she didn’t want to be running after her daughter, ensuring that she wasn’t found shooting targets with the boys, jumping out of windows late at night, racing old cars on dirt ridden roads, or stealing the neighbor’s chicken again for the fun of it all. and so the woman came down harshly on valeria, harsher than on her brother.
the harsher her mother’s verdict was, the more she distanced herself from the woman. the more she urged herself to leave this town. she wanted nothing more than to go to university out of state, to turn her back and never return. so, when the marines came knocking she answered. name was signed on the dotted line, they would pay for her education as long as she enlisted. perfect, she thought. not thinking twice, she packed her things and left for the other side of the country, not once thinking to call her mother and seeing if she was alright. she attempted to outrun the expectations her mother held.
after university, military service loomed over her shoulders, she knew she would have to keep her end of the bargain or suffer the consequences. and so, she found her way to the marines: a family she never asked for, but loved regardless. training was rigorous, it was hard– even more so considering she was a woman. it felt as though she had to work twice as hard simply to keep up with the boy’s club. the young woman was sent to boot camps all across the country, from sweating their asses of in the desert, to navigating the forests in negative degrees, and taking a well deserved break with an unhealthy amount of smoke. it was all fun and games, until she had to grow up– and grow up fast.
valeria was deployed to a conflict zone, she didn’t think to question orders. she simply did them, following her platoon into danger. it was then that she met a man whom she would fall in love with: jason carter. he was a complete and utter fool, probably the dumbest among men as vale would have said with an eye roll. he got on her nerves for the longest time, though during their time in the conflict zone together she learnt more about him, a side he didn’t show as much, and fell hard and fast.
*TW BOMB & DEATH MENTION*
after a year and a half they married, promises were made of settling down in the countryside together. they became each other’s solace in the messy world that they lived in. someone that vale could turn to, when she had already turned her back on her family. then, they were deployed on yet another tour. jason was in the car before her, perhaps they didn’t see it– vale could not make sense of the events that came to happen. there was a blast, a road side bomb went off. the car toppled over, and no man left behind was quickly forgotten as complete chaos unleashed itself.
her husband was dead. and she would never be able to tell him that she loved him again. she would never be able to feel his gentle touch on her skin, see his gleaming smile at first light, or press a kiss to his lips. he was dead.
*TW END*
her life was never the same again. returning from that tour was harder than any other before. she couldn’t even bring herself to step foot into her own house, haunted by the ghosts that still lived there. instead, she moved into the first motel she could find. she was released from duty shortly after, diagnosed with ptsd (post traumatic stress disorder) and told she would receive help for serving her country. but, the problem was there were too many soldiers, and too little help. she waited in line for an eternity, watching as her brothers and sisters fell to the bottle, drowning their traumas in booze. vowing, never to touch a bottle again.
she had her problems, and oh she had many, but she didn’t want to end up like them.
lifeless zombies.
not quite alive, but not quite dead either.
after a while of medication and therapy she submitted her resume to the united nations peacekeeping mission, and with a stellar recommendation from her commanding officers she was accepted there. after working her way through the ranks, the woman was assigned to various conflict zones this time instilling peace rather than the organized chaos the military orchestrated.
― 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙎 !
valeria worked for the UN peacekeeping mission for 2 years, her military background served her well as she was sent out into various conflict zones and made overall possible due to her degree in international law.
she was offered a position at sacred heart and chose to accept it, she’s been working there as an international human rights law professor for the past 4 months.
her husband has been dead for years and yet she still mourns his loss.
she lives her life by routine: waking up, having the strongest coffee she can get her hands on, smoking a cigarette out of the window, boxing, preparing for lectures in the courtyard, holding her lectures, retreating to the comfort of her home with yet another cup of coffee before marking assignments and going to sleep.
she doesn’t have much of a life, because she’s afraid of getting attached to people again and losing them all over again.
sleep? who that?
she’s still suffering profoundly from her ptsd but she’s got a handle on it, and goes to her weekly sessions with the therapist never once missing an appointment.
she’s incredibly passionate when teaching, the type of lecturer that will waltz in first class of the semester and list a bunch of things wrong in the world then turn to the class being like “does this make you angry? if you’re not angry get the hell out, because you’re clearly not in the right class.”
her husband left her a large quantity of money, but she refuses to touch it, so it’s just sitting in a bank whilst she continues to live like she’s strapped for money.
― 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙉𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉𝙎 !
( these are just some ideas but feel free to hit me up with any you’d be interested in )
i. someone that keeps trying to drag her out to have a good time but she keeps saying no, slowly running out of excuses !
ii. a student that wasn’t too fond of the class at first but actually loves it now that she’s the teacher.
iii. a confidant.
iv. they often run into each other in the courtyard, don’t really talk much but the other’s company is the norm when she’s working on lecture notes. (can be teacher or student, maybe they see each other so often there that it’s weird when the other isn’t there at the usual time?)
v. someone she met when she first arrived that showed her around.
vi. friends from uni (they would know a very different valeria than the woman she has become nowadays).
vii. someone that reminds her of her brother? they’re like family but not really.
viii. frenemies
ix. they just really don’t like each other.
x. a student that had to take her class but slacks about and she’s having none of it.
xi. one night stand (let me make her feel guilty as shit hehe)
xii. flirtationship
xiii. they just roast each other a lot? full on banter where neither has to hold back from stepping over a line.
xiv. boxing sparring buddy.
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Sweet smells lead to sweet memories
What do you mean I can write for other fandoms?
This writing piece is just something based on this drawing that @emizel did, so it's a little short. Probably should have asked more about what Hilda was like, both alive and dead, but I guess I'll die in a volley of arrows.
Word Count: 2,526 _____
“W-we’ll be back! Lord Zarok’s wishes will be met!”
Turning tail with their leader slumped over their shoulders, the team of Boiler Guards fled from the battlefield created by their superior and would be hero of Gallowmere.
Said hero sighed in relief as he slumped to the ground, exhausted from the battle that had just taken place. Practically every one of Dan’s energy vials had been depleted from that attack. Taking out his last flask, it was clear how close he was to losing this fight. The remaining vial looked to be filled about twenty percent. Removing the cork, he toasted to his own self victory before downing the odd healing substance.
The commander of the Boiler Guard troops, Kesten, certainly was a wild card. At first, the metal menace faked him out with his standard rifle, before moving close. The attacks alternating between hitting the skeleton with said weapon or roundhouse kicking him where his gut used to be. Once Daniel began to use his crossbow and regular bow to keep the guard at a distance, he grew surprised.
Kesten tossed aside his rifle in favor of his newly displayed weapons, two knives. Chef knives at that. Daniel wasn’t one to judge, he used his arm as a weapon from time to time. Heck, he even received Chicken legs from the witch of the Enchanted Earth. So blades utilized for the culinary arts weren’t too odd of a thing.
Daniel’s long distance weapons were rendered useless once those came out. The Boiler Guard batted aside the projectiles and even sliced through a few of them. Kesten made short work of his health, it was practically laughable. Daniel almost didn’t have time to ingest one of his health vials, but with the interference of his companion, Hildegard, he seized his chance of recovering.
The mage’s distraction had worked, a little too well. Kesten’s sights turned on her and he rushed at the undead as quickly as he had Daniel. The skeleton attempted to follow, but the metal guard reached her first. It confused him that he did not strike her down as he feared, but had instead flung a knife towards her feet. Thrown off balance, the woman would have tumbled to the ground if not for the Boiler Guard grasping her arm with his free hand, hoisting her off the ground.
Kesten was a tall piece of work, even without the signature Boiler Guard hat adding to his stature, but as he raised Hilda with ease, it became glaringly so. As he lifted her, he still leaned down, a sense of foreboding rippling through Hilda’s body. She could feel the chill of his stare pierce through her, even before a set of burning green eyes flashed behind his visor.
“I believe this is a fight between Sir Fortesque and I, I do not tolerate interference. Especially by traitors.” The last word held venom and not wasting further time with the intrusion, Kesten tossed Hildegard a few feet away, ignoring her complaints.
Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the woman. “Don’t injure her, but make certain she doesn’t interfere again.”
“Yessir!” his lackeys saluted, focus shifting from their boss to the mage. Guns directed at her, they made sure she would remain complacent.
Discarded blade back in hand, Kesten charged towards Daniel, picking up where they had left off.
He started intense as prior, but something became apparent. He was slowing down. Daniel noted this after pulling out his magical sword, trying to apply its broadness for a more defensive advantage. Landing a blow to the guard with the weapon tipped Daniel off. Kesten had a weakness to magical items.
With this new revelation, Daniel did his best to use the newly acquired sword to combat against the metal man.
There was nevertheless a struggle to fight against Kesten, but in no time he was flat on his back, black and green steam emitting from his body.
His lackeys abandoned their duty the second they heard metal collide with earth. Scrambling to their leader, they examined the extent of his injuries. In the end, they concluded it was best to evacuate.
Daniel had been thankful for them choosing to pull out, gods knew if they came after him now, he might not make it to his next destination.
Hoping his friend was fine, he peeked in her direction. She showed to be in good condition, but she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, deep in thought.
Shakily he rose to his feet, walking over to her.
“Hilda!”
No response.
Hovering over her, he tilted his head in confusion. “Hildy?”
Blinking, she looked up to the knight “Oh Dan… you’re ok. That’s good… that’s good.”
Frowning, he jabbed his sword into the ground, leaning against it. “Yes, but are you ok?”
It took her a bit to process his words. “Oh yes, yes just fine.”
“You sure?” A short delay before she nodded and turned her head to stare back at the ground. Lowering her knees slightly, she placed an elbow on one as her palm rested against her cheek. “Just.. thinking about something.”
Sitting down near her, he tiredly leaned against the glowing blade. “Like what?”
“... it’s just that.. I can tell Zarok’s done something to the guards. Or at least him. It was quick, but I saw there was that green glow the villagers had present in their eyes. Course, that could be Zarok’s magic flowing through the odd thing.”
Her eyebrows soon raised, now troubled. “Strangely enough, the scent coming from him smells oddly familiar to me…”
It smelled like.. A much better and different era…
__________
Castle Peregrin, the Kingdom of Gallowmere’s finest jewel. A castle that was acclaimed for good laughs, pleasant hospitality and a cut above the rest staff.
The Kingdom appealed to several people all across the realm. Many claim they traveled to Gallowmere for the gorgeous scenery, some appeared for the untold hopes of grandeur, and others? Well… some wished to live a quieter life.
Those who settled in the province had their reasons. With all the appealing things there was to offer, many interesting characters joined the populace of the vast kingdom. These folk often lived in hiding, though some were found and recruited to work secretly in or near the castle.
The ordinary staff had no clue where or why these new recruits entered their ranks in attending the King, but they tried not to ask questions. If they were there, they evidently belonged. Many of them established names for themselves, both good and bad.
“Hildegard!”
Speaking of..
“Hildegard von Bartles! Where are you!?”
The young woman in question was at her post, yes, but was she doing her duties? Not really.. She was alarmed at hearing the head of staff yelling for her, but as she continued swallowing her newly gained treats, she found she didn’t fully care.
“Hildegard there you are!” The head honcho came into her sight of view, marching right up to her. They were about to yell at her for her lack of progress, but paused as they noticed the treats entering her mouth. “ARE YOU EATING ON THE JOB HILDEGARD!?”
The blond shifted aside, continuing her consumption. A muffled ‘maybe’ escaping her lips.
Sighing, the head of faculty rubbed their temples. “You cannot be eating while on duty! I don’t care how delightful those pastries are, you have a duty first and foremost! King Peregrin is getting ready to host a banquet in honor of Sir Daniel Fortesque and his platoon’s promotion. You need to be on the ball!” They punctuated every word in their last sentence by smacking their hands together, hoping it emphasized how important this was.
Finishing her current treat, Hilda pouted “But these are so good…” she trailed off at the menacing glare shot her way. “Ok, ok! I’ll get back to it… promise!” She smiled as she set the basket down on an adjacent stand.
Staring at the girl for a few moments, her boss nodded their head once before spinning and making their way back down the corridor. Murmurs echoing something or another about the young blond.
Once they were out of sight, Hildegard exhaled and studied at her tools she was supposed to be using today with an uninterested expression. She was out of it today and working just seemed tiring. The little gifts she had found outside her doorstep this morning was the sole thing she had enjoyed about the day. Maybe if she ate another one, it would motivate her to continue working? That sounded like a solid plan.
Reaching for the basket as she smirked, the girl noticed after a moment only air met her grasp. Confused, she twisted her head to see the basket had disappeared.
Stunned, Hildegard patted the table, not understanding what she saw. It was here just a minute ago. Tapping the wooden surface several more times, she glanced around the top and near the floors, wondering where she put the thing. She was going mad trying to solve this mystery. About to lift the darn stand off from the floor and throw it, a tap to her shoulder almost made her scream aloud.
“Excuse me, are you looking for something?”
Stiffly, she turned her head to catch that someone had been behind her. What scared her more was that this individual towered over her. They were even taller than Sir Daniel. Eyes gliding higher to determine who it was precisely eased her nerves. She wasn’t all that familiar with the man, but she recognized him as the chef that often came on the request of the King. Hilda couldn’t quite recall his name, as the first time he introduced himself, she was… intoxicated.
Doing her best to offer a charming smile, Hilda patted her dress nervously as she spun to face him, waving her hands in front of her face. “Oh hello! Sorry, I.. Seemed to have misplaced something! Clumsy me!”
He raised a brow at this. “Oh? Well, that’s interesting.. I seemed to have found something. Is it perhaps yours?” holding a handle with just his pointer finger, the man lifted the basket filled with her pastries into sight.
Eyes widening, Hildegard jumped up and down in excitement. “Oh yes, yes! That is indeed it, now if you would just-”
As she reached for the basket, he raised it higher into the air. Blinking in confusion, she questioned this action. Had today been a different day, she might put up with this. But today wasn’t a different day and thus she wasn’t in the mood for games right now. Her tone was still friendly, but held a little more of an edge to it. “Haha yes yes, uh if you would, please hand over my basket.”
Glancing between the girl and the basket, the chef seemed to think about this. “... no.”
“Excuse me, what?”
“I said. No.” Flabbergasted, the woman pouted. Normally, she might have let this go. But those pastries, ones that are only as flavorful as ones she’s eaten from town festivals, are worth fighting for. She doesn’t care even if she had to fight the king himself, she would get those back even if it killed her!
Much to his surprise, Hilda jumped for the basket, fingertips grazing the underside as he hoisted it higher just in time. Smirking at her antics, he chuckled. “Well.. seems someone really wants this back.”
“Of course I want it back, that has breads and sweets in there given to me!”
“Hmm.. well my answer is still no-”
Getting a little fed up, Hildegard jumped for the basket again, provoking him to lift it higher above his head. Wholly focused on the task at hand, she didn’t even acknowledge how bad this could look to outsiders. She was essentially pressed against some man, fruitlessly reaching for baked goods.
“Give. It. Back!”
He seemed to mull it over, tapping his foot on the ground as he did so. After a moment, his free hand moved into view, displaying a portion of sweet bread. “Kind of rude to have all these baked goods and not share, don’t you think?”
Seeing the delicacy, Hildegard attempted to snatch it, but failed to do so as with the basket. At this point, she was glaring at him so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if he caught on fire. Her stare did little to nothing on affecting him.
“Don’t you dare!”
Smirking the man kept his eyes on the roll. “Well, I didn’t hear a please at throughout this, so… no.” The pastry never quite made it to his mouth as someone else interrupted their little moment.
“Pardon me, Orell, sir! I was wonder-” both the castle staff members spun their heads to the new voice, noticing a man from Sir Daniel’s group, Canny Tim. At both of their glances and observing their position, he anxiously chuckled. “Am I… interrupting sir?”
Chuckling, the man now known as Orell shook his head. “Of course not Tim. Just teasing one of the other staff members. Wanted to see where my assistants extra baked goods were running off to.”
Lowering his hands, he handed the basket back to Hildegard before rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry about that, I find it fun to tease at times. In truth, I get my fill of those pastries for the celebration periods, so your treats weren’t in any real danger.”
Hildegard never got the chance to reply as before she could utter a word, he stuffed the piece of bread he held into her mouth.
“Stay safe kid.” He ruffled her hair before making his way towards Canny Tim. Waving over his shoulder at her, both men departed from her sights.
Blushing, she chewed the pastry angrily. She might need to eat the remaining pastries to help her feel better… and pay Mr. Orell a visit in the kitchen later for a little payback.
__________
Recalling that moment ages ago was random but not unwelcome. She was certain if blood could rush to her cheeks it would happen. Wanting to smack her face for the second hand embarrassment, she wishes she could chastise her alive self for the awkward moment. Canny Tim never mentioned it, but did she ever feel self-conscious around him remembering that particular interaction with Orell.
Hilda now wondered why the scent of the Boiler Guard commander brought back such an old memory…
Tilting her head towards Daniel, her tone grew even more puzzled. “Dan… did that Boiler Guard remind you of anything?” Or anyone?
Pondering her question the skeleton shook his skull, a quiet “Nuh-uh” leaving him.
“Ah ok.. Guess I’m randomly recalling the good old days!”
Glancing to the sky, stars were noticeable among the sea of darkness.
“I think we should set up camp here. I’m sure you need the rest after fighting that mad contraption!”
Dan couldn’t agree more, the battle had left him exhausted. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter the Boiler Guard or his goons for some time. He could only pray that their paths never crossed again. But he’s never been so lucky, has he?
#MediEvil#Boiler Guard#Kesten#Hildegard von Bartles#original character#Sir Daniel Fortesque#glottia writes
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Úlfar til slátrunar // Solo - Part Trois
Βιοί γαρ ουδείς ον προαιρείται βίον. Nobody lives the life he chooses to live.
At this point, he’d rather they just lobotomize him. It would save them a lot more trouble. And him a lot less suffering. As the agonizing moments went on, he sunk to his knees. No doubt this would leave its marks on not only his body but his mind and soul. With every lash, he threw his head pain in a silenced howl, pain contorting his face as sweat and blood mixed. By the time they were done with him, he couldn’t stand, his body sinking to the ground. His backside reduced to hanging ribbons of flesh. It was just a stupid rabbit...
A knot twisting in his stomach for what was to follow. Left to hang? Struggling weakly against the guards, he felt a wave of a nauseated panic surged through him, feeling them tie a noose around his neck. Maybe if he was lucky it would snap his neck. Maybe it would decapitate him. Closing his eyes as they strung him up. He felt like a piñata - now all they needed were a bunch of sticks. He almost laughed at the thought, until they dropped him and he struggled against the rope, clawing desperately with wide eyes. Closure of carotid arteries causing cerebral hypoxia. Closure of the jugular veins. Closure of the airway. Cervical fracture causing traumatic spinal cord injury. Unintended decapitation. Well, at least he could rule out the last one.
Still kicking and struggling against the rope, his fingers clawed as he desperately tried to loosen it. He could only stare out at those around him as this struggle went on for an hour before he went limp and passed out.
Israel’s eyes shot open, frantically trying to get his bearings. It had just been a horrible nightmare. Well, a memory... But where was he? His hazy vision coming back into focus. It all came flooding back to him. In the chaos, he had been separated from his platoon. Most of which had been killed off. There were only eight of them left after the hybrids had ambushed them. And now he didn’t know where they were... or if they were alive. Maximus had knocked him out cold after saving him too. Looking around at the familiar interior he soon realized where he was. He must’ve brought him back to Deacon. Stumbling to his feet he started heading towards the door. Hearing Deacon call out to him, he turned and looked to the human. I’ll be fine. He signed before heading out the door. Rules. He had never been much for them. ‘Sorry Maximus.’ He thought to himself. He knew the other wolf would probably want him to stay put. But he just couldn’t - that wasn’t his style. Continuing down the burning streets, a silent prayer forming on his lips. Like hell, he was going to sit around while innocent people died. He may hate this cesspool of a city but he refused to watch innocents die. He had already watched that during the Factory explosion...
None of those experiments deserved that fate...
The employees, the scientists, yes...
But not the experiments...
Screams caught his attention, his head turning towards a building, orange flames crawling out of a window. Lapping like tongues against the brick and mortar. The blaze enamoring for a moment. Swallowing thickly he surged forward, he didn’t have time to spare. Keeping low and trying to minimize smoke inhalation, his eyes burned as he made his way down the hall. Locking onto two huddled shapes in the bedroom he made his way to them. A mother and her young daughter. Wordlessly he took the daughter and put her over his shoulder and grabbed the woman’s hand. Once they were out onto the street he checked them out of wounds. He couldn't see any aside from a few scrapes and bruises. “Israel!” A familiar voice yelled, catching the wolf’s attention. A few battered and bloody members of his platoon ran up. They looked rough but at least they were standing. As far as he could tell they were fine. Lead these two back to Deacon - or to the hospital if possible. I am going to sweep the parameter. One of the other wolves started to argue but the wolf shook his head. I can do this on my own. Take them and go. Three of the seven left wolves hung back. “You’re insane if you think we’re leaving your crazy ass behind.” Smiling at the other prisoners he nodded before they fanned out. They would check every building and every house if they had to. Pulling body after body out, he felt adrenaline racing through him, his body moving mechanically on instinct. Just get the people out...
“We’ve got company!” One of the wolves stated, pointing a finger down the road. Hunters. Five of them. A sinking feeling formed in Israel’s stoamch. “What do we do? It’s five against three.” “Fight I guess.” “And if we die?” Then we die. “But we don’t have weapons.” Take theirs then. Kill them. Splitting between the alleys they launched themselves at the hunters. Israel grabbed one from behind and wrestled his rifle free by cutting the leather strap, the human barely able to cry out as Israel slashing his neck. Using him as a human shield as one of the hunters shot. He had never been one for guns but in this case, he would make an exception.
Feeling one of the bullets pass through the body and into his abdomen. He grunted. Using the pain to fuel his anger, he took the empty gun and hit the hunter in the jaw with the butt. Breaking it. The human stumbled, Israel’s hand clamping around his neck. Digging his fingers into the human’s neck, choking him with a smirk. Nice try. He clutched him harder, nails penetrating his neck, the body going limp before he retracted his now bloody hand. A gun shot and a howl of pain caught his attention. Turning to the other two wolves, he frowned as one clutched at his side, blood gushing between tightened fingers. They had dispatched the other two and tag-teamed the last. The hunter’s body dismembered and blood on their hands. They were about to turn around and head back to safety before the sound of footsteps stopped them. Hybrids.
Taking the rifle Israel shot at one of them. But it didn’t fall dead. Was it him or were they bigger than the last? As they closed in on the group he realized they were bigger. They grabbed the injured prisoner and they. It had all happened so fast. One of the creatures had launched itself from a fire escape at the two prisoners. “Just run!” They yelled to Israel, fear in their eyes. It was no use. They were going to die. Israel knew this. Turning he ran through the blood-soaked streets, two of those things on his heels. Shooting at them blindly he hoped he had landed some shots before the rifle jammed. Running into one of the houses, Israel shut the door, knocking furniture over in his wake. Anything to slow them down. He stopped at the stairs, turning to the kitchen. He would just trap himself upstairs. One of the explosions rocked the house, sending pictures and paintings toppling.
‘Allfather, you gave me strength, may I use it; you gave me courage; may I follow it; you gave me wisdom; may I share it.’
Hearing one of the hybrids bashing at the door and shrieking to get in, he braced himself against the kitchen counter. Unjamming the gun as it came barreling towards him, he fired and kept firing into it. And it just kept coming till it was on him. Knocking him against the counter, his head hit the cabinet, causing him to slump to the ground. The hybrid pounced on him, its face inches from his neck. Moving his neck and using his arm to block it’s snapping jaws from ripping his throat, he felt its teeth pierce his skin down to the bone and yank. He wasn’t going to die here. Not like this. Not when he finally had a reason to live. Reaching up with his other hand, his hand clamped around its face, pushing against it. It was still somewhat human which meant... His palm digging into its nose - breaking it with a crunch. He could hear another coming to its aid as it cried out. Blood spraying him in the face from its gaping mouth. He could hear another in the living room... Suddenly the one on top of him fell limp. Dead. He held his breath, listening. Silence. Pushing the creature off him with his injured arm, he stumbled to his feet, kicking it in the side. Nothing. Grabbing a pan on the stove, he smacked it in the head. Just in case. Limping out of the kitchen he looked to the dead one on the ground. Stooping to the ground, he pulled out its stilled heart. Again, just in case.
Limping out of the house, he felt raindrops on his cheek, thunder roaring in place of explosions. He let the rain wash over him, soaking him and cleansing him of the blood. He was alive. He had made it. Staggering off towards the hospital, he searched the roads, clutching his arm to his chest as he limped. With every step, he winced. He could try to reach the bullet, but he wasn’t sure what it was made from. It just burnt and hurt like hell. As he made his way up to the hospital doors, he could tell it would already be crowded and he didn’t have much time. Turning around he made his way to his home. He didn’t have time to do the patch job himself but he could take something to make the pain more bearable.
Making his way up the stairs of his home, he entered the house, tracking blood on the pristine white the floor. Stepping over glass he realized someone had broken in through the window. Lovely. Making a bee-line to his lab, he fished through the cabinets for supplies. Jamming painkillers down his throat - he didn't care that he would pay later. Hell, they were probably expired but he didn’t care. Sitting on the table he cleaned and bandaged the bite marks on his arm. If he had more time he would do more but he didn’t have that luxury. Lifting his shirt, he looked at the bullet wound. Standing up he hobbled to the computer and reset the house alarms. His parents would be notified of the break-in. If they didn’t already know. Sending them a quick text he then shut the computer down. He had to get back to the Chateau. Stuffing a small medical bag with a few things he then left the house and headed towards the city center again. A frown pulled at his face as he came upon the bodies of his fallen platoon, the ones who had taken the mother and child. Thankfully, they weren’t lying there so he could safely assume they had got them to Deacon. Or so he hoped. Stooping to close their eyes, he then continued on his way. Falling onto the steps of the Chateau, exhausted, bloody, and worn. He had made it.
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