#But I do not dare utter those words aloud. I just allow the warmth of my sorrows to drip down my cheeks and pool in my hands.

[local-apollo-kid]

I had to add the full context because it wouldn't make sense otherwise 😭

Oh so ur a writer?? Prove it. Drop the last sentence of ur wip in the tags

[ffxiv-ariavitali]

Ooo if you're taking requests for HCs would you be able to do some for how Estinien and the WoL fall in love and how their relationship develops through the events of Heavensward? :) Thanks!

A request for the grumpy jumpy! I hope you like it!

Written in the eyes of a non-drg WoL. Heavensward spoilers up to the end of the Dragonsong War below the cut.

-

Estinien is a rough cut, an unpolished gemstone so to speak, whose single-minded goal was to see the fall of the wyrm that destroyed his village when he was young. His call for vengeance is only matched by his fervent loyalty to Ishgard, which makes his snarky and condescending attitude towards the Scions and to Ysayle more understandable.

That being said, he notices that he’s giving you special treatment after your fight with Ravana. So easily did the boy make mention of your mission to subdue the primal and so easily did you accept, knowing full well that you may very well be sent to your death. Your conviction was strong - strong enough for him to know that you won’t betray anyone or leave anyone behind in a fight. (Those Eorzean bastards that accused you for such a thing be damned.) He accepts this and with the way you fight, he knows he could trust his back to you during battle. It opens his heart just a little bit.

Every now and then amidst your off hours, he would ask for a spar to gauge your strength and you relish the opportunity to ‘play’ for a little bit, for lack of a better term. When you were busy, he would offer his help in the form of dividing your workload with his. Especially if it meant using his abilities to harvest resources in high, out-of-reach locations. He would brush fingers against yours under the guise of an accident occasionally to test your reactions. Seeing your blush tempts him to continue doing so.

His heart swells ever so slightly when you see those thrice-damned rodents- ahem, moogles. The way you calmly entreated them, even knew how to turn their pranks against them, and the way that you grumbled and groaned when you were forced to do their chores made you seem less of a god the rumors made you to be. More mortal and less of a doll. He wonders how he can prod even more expressions from you.

He realizes that he’s fallen deeper in the way that his heart aches at your pain. The loss of the man that had welcomed you into his hearth and home and the expression that you made was something he knew he never wished to see plaguing you again. Loss was inevitable, he knew, but there was something different in the way that it involved you.

What’s more is that he knew this cry for vengeance that you made so easily in front of the lord commander. How quickly you swore an oath to have Ser Zephirin’s heart for what he did to your benefactor was a haunting mirror to his own cries when he was but a boy. It’s not that he wanted to stop you, for he was no saint with no stains upon his hands. Nay, he merely wanted to help prevent you from falling into a spiral just as he has. Just as he has...

His possession. It was but a blur to him and even he was unsure of how much time had passed whilst under the influence of Nidhogg’s rage. Whilst he was encapsulated by an all-encompassing hatred, a plethora of emotions filled his mind. Sometimes, he would hear Aymeric’s voice, Alphinaud’s voice, your voice, and it pushes him to hold on just a while longer. At least until he knows you’d be able to grant his wish.

When he collects whatever semblance of himself he could when Nidhogg is weakened, his hold of the possession waning thanks to your battle on the Steps of Faith, he pleads with you - the Warrior of Light, his comrade - for there is no one else that he would want more than you to grant him his final wish. 

But the face you make is the same as Haurchefant’s when you were losing him. It was not at all what he wished to see. Perhaps a smile like the one you gave him, but he dared not utter this aloud, for it was his shame to bear even in the afterlife for allowing his most hated enemy - for his wellspring of strength - the opportunity to hurt you so. The opportunity to mar your skin, burn it, cut it, through the use of his body. How could he possibly forgive himself?

His memories faded into a bright white light before he succumbed to both exhaustion and pain. The next he awakens, it is with Alphinaud at his bedside and with you nowhere in sight. He hears a runner slam open the doors, the sound ringing in his ears, and no sooner did he sense your imminent arrival were you before him.

Tears ran down your eyes, of joy and relief, to see him hale and whole. He thanks you, praises you, for it has been an honor sharing the mantle of the Azure Dragoon with one such as yourself before subsequently offering it to Aymeric in his desire to retire. Where he craved vengeance now he only wishes rest.

(He would dare not say his true sentiments aloud. He’s given Aymeric enough of a hard time over the years simply because he could and there was still no way on his pride he would allow him the opportunity to tease him akin to a schoolboy. He prays to Halone that he wasn’t too obvious in his feelings towards you.)

As everyone departs, he reaches out to you, grabbing you by the hand. So, you remain with him and sit at his bedside in a comfortable silence. The sensation of your skin against his in this chaste action of merely holding hands is enough to ground him. To fill him with a warmth he never knew existed after the Calamity plunged Coerthas into an everlasting cold.

At this point, he was sure of his feelings for you. Some part of him was sure that you feel the same for him, too.

However, he is not ready. He must recover, to gather his thoughts, to begin forgiving himself for what he has done over the course of his life. The tightening of your hand on his was enough of a reassurance.

Take all the time you need, you say to him without words. I am here.

It was enough comfort to allow himself to rest. To allow himself to forgive.

To begin a new path in his life.

[lokimostly]

Home from War (Ch.4/8)

James Conrad x Reader Word Count: 4,301 Warnings: character death, injury Fic Summary: One year after you lost the love of your life, a last-minute decision changes everything you thought you knew. Now only one question remains: how to make it out alive, and return home from war?

A/N: turns out what I had planned as one chapter is actually going to be two... sorry for the false hype, lol. The next chapter is the Big One, I promise. There are SO MANY extras and I feel like a clown trying to juggle them all. Let me know how I’m doing with that, please. And just in general. Thanks for your support I seriously love you guys <3 

Prequel Series | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight (Epilogue)

It was Conrad who roused you from sleep the next morning.

After the events of the night previous, you nearly collapsed from exhaustion as soon as you came onto the bridge. It took all of your willpower to drag yourself to a suitable sleeping spot instead of curling up on the floor. Conrad had settled you into a cot, answered everyone’s questions about your excursion, and insisted on quiet for your sake – not that it mattered, really. You fell asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.

Now, it was late morning. Sunlight streamed through the holes in the metal ceiling, illuminating pillars of dust. For an island that, thus far, had proved constantly noisy, this little sanctuary was mercifully quiet. It almost made you feel like you weren’t trapped on an island at all. You were somewhere safe and warm and loved.

Conrad lent you his jacket in the night. The familiar scent of cologne had permeated the dreams you were already forgetting; all you knew was that he’d been in them.

You stirred from sleep when a gentle hand tucked a strand of hair from your face. Your nose scrunched and you reached up to push the hand away, eliciting a chuckle from Conrad. He knelt down in front of you and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m afraid you’ve slept long enough, Y/N.”

The gentle utterance of your first name roused you enough to open your eyes. You were immediately thankful in doing so: Conrad’s face in the morning light was a sight to behold. His expression was soft and unlined as he looked at you, blue-green eyes gentle with fondness, a rare smile on his lips. You could never get tired of looking at it.

“Psh,” you responded dismissively, shaking your head and smiling as you turned onto your back and breathing in deep. Your eyelids felt heavy. There was a temptation in the illusion that you were somewhere safe, somewhere close to home, that encouraged you to go back to sleep. You knew why. It was Conrad: knowing that you were safe with him. At home with him. In love with him.

Conrad watched you fondly as you blinked the sleep away and sat up with a yawn. As you tied back your hair, the light made your silhouette glow in a soft halo of warmth. It was like staring at something heavenly. He wondered in silent awe at how fortunate he was, to know and love someone like you. Someone who could silence him with a smile or a single word. 

He had fallen for you completely, heart and soul surrendered. For the first time in a year, Conrad felt like himself again.

“I’m not letting you slip through my grasp,” he vowed aloud. His gentle words broke the gentler silence, but they surprised you nonetheless, and your eyes snapped up to look at his kind, lovestruck expression. 

Your face flushed and you looked away, gazing around the disheveled room. 

The two of you were alone.

“Is everyone waiting?” You asked, pulling on your bomber jacket. He was still looking at you, of course, but you couldn’t bear to return his glance – if you got lost in his eyes, you might never come out again.

“More or less,” He admitted, watching you avoid his gaze. It hurt, but he understood. These things took time. For all he knew it could be years before you trusted him again; loved him again. But for you, he would wait forever and a day.

Conrad stood, offering his hand out to you. He pulled you to your feet, handing you your backpack. “Come on. We’ve no time to lose.”

You watched him turn to leave. 

“Wait,” you said, when he was halfway to the door. Conrad stopped and turned around, looking at you with a confused expression.

“What is it?” He asked.

Those damn eyes. Staring at them brought your train of thought to an abrupt halt. You shook your head quickly, forcing your mind to clear before you tried again. The anxious sea of emotions in your chest came to a crest. You swallowed. You looked up.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” You whispered.

Your voice came out softer and less confident than you’d intended, but he heard. Conrad’s lips parted in surprise and his eyes searched yours for a long, silent moment.

He closed the difference between you in a few strides, cupping your face and stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. His normally stern face held only tenderness. You could feel how warm he was through the touch of his hands. Suddenly the empty room felt very small.

Conrad’s gaze flickered to your lips and back up again. There was a cautious hesitance in his countenance: lingering doubt. The icy hold of grief. He still wasn’t sure if you loved him. 

You certainly weren’t going to wait for him to decide for himself.

You reached up and pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, your lips crashing together. He met you with a quick inhale and a tightening of his hands as he slid them down to your waist, pulling you against him and deepening the kiss.

You relished the taste of his lips, the pleasant flutter of your stomach when his fingers dug gently into your back. He toyed with your lips and smirked when you snuck your tongue into his mouth. The low, contented hum in his chest alone was enough to make you melt. 

Yes, these things took time. But not as much as he’d thought it would. As the two of you stood alone in the sunlit room, your armor fell away for good.

You finally pulled away to catch your breath, gasping and smiling in spite of yourself. He leaned his forehead against yours and exhaled with the same shakiness, cradling your body against his. He laughed, a bit giddily, the same way a person does when they’ve found something long lost and sorely missed.

You closed your eyes and buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting nothing more than to be held. He obliged, muscular arms wrapped around you with no intention of letting go.

For all you cared, this moment could last forever.

After what felt like blissful eternity, Conrad pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, rubbing small circles in your back with his thumb.

“They’re waiting,” He murmured, obviously mournful in mentioning it.

You sighed, nodding against his shirt. “I know.” You looked up and stared into his eyes without reserve, allowing yourself to get lost in them for the first time in so long. It was funny – once you surrendered, it was easier to pull away.

You inhaled deeply and reached up to thumb over his brow, smoothing out the furrowed lines. “You know that when we go back, we can’t be…” You faltered a little. “Like this.”

Conrad nodded and looked down, running his hands down your arms to grasp your your fingers. His hands engulfed yours. “And you’ll have other missions after this,” he assumed.

You blinked. “No, this– this is the last one.”

His eyes looked up in surprise. “You mean–” he stopped midway, not daring to finish the sentence. Not daring to hope.

You nodded, biting your lip and smiling. “I’ll be decommissioned. We can do whatever we want,” you whispered, watching his eyes turn misty as his smile grew. “Just us.” 

Conrad gasped shakily and pressed a fervent kiss to your lips. You laughed against him until he pulled away, your hands on his chest.

“Just us?” he reaffirmed, inhaling deeply. You nodded, and he grinned. “I daresay I can wait a few days for that.”

“Can you?” You chuckled teasingly. You picked up your rifle and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“Have you so little faith in me?” He smirked, following you down the metal stairs. You laughed. It felt good.

The two of you smiled and joked until the boat came into sight. Sobering up reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and cast him a final heartfelt glance. He met it in understanding, with a small nod and a reassuring smile. To everyone else, you were a field nurse and a tracker– in no way affiliated, not even friends.

It hurt like hell, pretending you weren’t in love with him.

You could hear the clamor of voices and the whirring of the boat’s machinery as you approached the river’s edge. Mason waved at you from the deck, camera around her neck.

 “Let’s go! Keep moving!” Slivko shouted, trying to crank the engine to a start in what appeared to be the second attempt. Conrad leapt aboard and took over, his muscular arms straining as he wound the coil tight as it could go.

The engine whirred, choked, and faded, but Slivko was undeterred. “Third time’s the charm, here we go, here we go!” He shouted, clapping his hands together.

You hopped aboard and took the lever with Conrad, using all your strength to help him give it that final push, everyone working together. There was a fading, a faltering -- and then the engine sputtered to life.

“Yes!” Slivko shouted jubilantly, pounding his hands on the metal. “Yes!”

Mason whooped and LandSat Supervisor Nieves almost broke down in tears of relief. You let go of the lever and rubbed your sore hands together, laughing with the rest. Conrad’s eyes caught yours, and you shared a smile.

The laughter died down as Marlow untied the boat from the dock. You cleared your throat, blowing a piece of hair out of your face, and moved past Conrad to find a place to sit. Slivko grinned at you before pulling himself up on top of the boat’s rounded roof, the radio in his lap. You gave him a cheeky wave.

Marlow pulled the rope on board as the boat began drifting away, looking up at the Iwis with teary eyes. “I guess this is goodbye,” He said, with a wobbly smile. “If you’re ever in Chicago, look me up, I guess.”

You smiled faintly at the bittersweet farewell while he watched the bank, the boat drifting away with the current. Weaver held up her camera and there was the faint click of a photo taken – the only artifact of Marlow’s adieu to his home of twenty-nine years.

The wall that guarded the valley opened up like a gaping mouth to let the riverboat pass underneath. You glided smoothly under its shadow and out into the open wetlands. Suddenly you were on your guard again, looking around in wariness. The sight of the where you’d almost died last night turned your mouth dry. Your heart quickened with anxiety and you dug your thumb into your palm.

“L/N,” Conrad said softly, loud enough only for you to fear. You looked up at him with anxiety plain on your face, and found that his eyes held a message of comfort. He gave you a small nod, a half-smile: all he could get away with. But you knew what it meant.

So long as James Conrad was around, you’d be alright.

~

By mid-afternoon your anxiety had subsided. Nothing remotely alarming had happened while the boat carried you steadily upriver. In fact, you were beginning to feel the faintest, smallest hint of boredom.

So you made yourself busy. You were sitting on the deck, backpack between your legs, organizing its contents to accommodate for the samples collected from last night. Marlow was sitting nearby, rambling on amiably to nobody in particular-- but you were listening. 

“I’ve got a wife,” he mused. “Have a wife. Had a wife?” He shook his head and looked down at an old, faded picture in his hands, before turning his gaze out to the water. “Guess I don’t know anymore.”

Conrad stood at the helm listening, one hand resting idly on a baseball bat tied to the wheel while the old man prattled on.

Marlow looked up at the two of you, smiling. “Got hitched right before I deployed. Got a telegram from her the day I got shot down, said ‘we just had our baby boy.’ I’ve got a son out there.” He scoffed lightly. “Grown man I’ve never met.” 

“Yeah, she definitely thinks you’re dead, man,” Slivko chimed in from on top of the riverboat, fiddling with the radio. Conrad hit the roof with the back of his hand. “Hey,” he chastised.

“I’m just saying!” He protested.

“You don’t know what,” Conrad argued, looking back at Marlow and raising his eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how long people wait.”

You looked up, staring at Conrad, and he gave you a cheeky wink. Your face flushed, and you ducked your head quickly, pressing your lips together so that you wouldn’t smile.

“Ah, truth is, I don’t expect ‘em to be waiting,” Marlow admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I’d be fine either way. I just want one last chance to see ‘em. That’d be good enough for me.”

“We’re gonna get you home,” you said reassuringly, and looked up to give him a comforting smile.

Suddenly the radio in Slivko’s lap came on with a buzz of static. “Fox Five, come back. Is anyone out there?”

Slivko grabbed the radio phone so fast that he almost knocked the entire thing out of his hands. “Hey! Hey, this is Fox Five, we hear you! Yeah!” He said, talking a mile a minute. “We’re on a boat. We’re on a boat headed north, going upriver.”

Mills’s voice came through over the radio. “Where’d y’all get a boat?”

“We met this, like, crazy Santa Claus, time-traveler guy from World War II, you’ll meet him.” 

“What kind of boat y’all got?”

“It’s more of, like, a plane than a boat really,” Slivko admitted. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to suppress a snort as he tried to explain it. “Let’s call it a ‘ploat.’ We’re on a ploat.”

“We need their location, Slivko,” Conrad reminded him, spinning the wheel with one hand as the river came to a bend up ahead.

Slivko nodded quickly, stammering. “Uh, send up a flare, so we can find you,” he relayed over the phone.

“Roger that, Fox Five,” Came Colonel Packard’s voice.

There was a not-so-distant boom as you turned around the bend, and the trail of a red flare shooting upwards dead ahead of you.

“Yes!” Mason shouted jubilantly, grinning. Slivko put down the radio and raised his hands to the sky. You felt a surge of relief, letting your shoulders drop and smiling openly.

“We’re going home!” Nieves shouted gleefully, before a giant, yellow bird sunk its claws into his shoulder and pulled him off the boat.

The joyful mood disintegrated in an instant.

“Get down!” You shouted, jumping into action. Slivko leapt onto the deck, reaching for his gun at the same time as you and Conrad. All three of you took aim, watching the birds as they carried a screaming Nieves up into the air. But it was too late to shoot – they were swarming, taking the LandSat Supervisor higher every second. There was no saving him now. 

Nieves’ screams halted suddenly and terribly, and your stomach turned over in your chest.

“What the hell, man?” Slivko choked, his gun still raised. Conrad took the barrel of his rifle and pulled it down gently, shaking his head.

“I feel sick,” you muttered, lowering your M16 and sitting back down in defeat. You put your head in your hands, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth to stifle the nauseous reaction in your gut.

“He’s gone,” Conrad said, with an air of both regret and matter-of-fact. “Everybody, grab your gear. We have to keep moving. We’ll go ashore, meet up with Packard.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Brooks protested, gesturing wildly at the sky. “Is nobody gonna say anything about the – the –” he grasped for words to describe what you all had just witnessed. The birds were still swarming above, blocking out the sun.

“He’s gone!” Marlow snapped. “And he ain’t comin’ back. There’s nothing to say.”

Conrad glanced at you, your hand still pressed against your mouth as you bounced your knee. His heart swelled painfully and he reached out to comfort you without thinking.

Your eyes snapped up at the touch of his hand, and he realized his mistake in an instant, pulling away like lightning. You watched him turn and head up the deck, staring at his back for a moment before rubbing your neck and sighing. 

Your eyes caught Mason Weaver’s from across where you were sitting. Her brow furrowed and she glanced between you and Conrad in confusion. You could see the gears in her mind turning as she tried to connect the dots.

You pressed your lips together and zipped up your bag, pulling it on as the boat came up to the shore.

The two of you needed to be more careful.

~

The forest was unusually quiet– the usual hum of bugs and birds was diluted to a mere murmur, and it was putting everyone on edge. You knelt at the bank of the river, filling up your water pouch, growing more restless by the second.

“Their flare was only two clicks north. They should be here soon,” Conrad said, hands on his hips as he looked out over the water.

“Unless they were eaten by something that’s bigger than us,” Mason muttered, fiddling with the lens on her camera. Slivko and her leaned against a boulder, both looking dejected. Then again, none of your group was in high spirits.

Somewhere in the woods, the sound of snapping branches and rustling underbrush rang out. Amidst the silence, it felt loud as gunfire.

You stood up slowly, raising your M16 as the source of the noise approached, your heart beating faster every second. Your breath was shallow and steady, but your fingers fumbled with your gun, and you feared the worst-- whatever the worst could be.

“Holy shit!” Slivko said, pushing off the boulder and running across the bank. Colonel Packard and the rest of Griffin Co came out of the trees. Their hardened faces softened when they saw your group, and broke into smiles when Slivko ran towards them.

“Slivkoooo!” Reyes shouted, holding out his arms to embrace Slivko as he skidded to a stop on the rocky shore.

“I thought you were taking a dirt nap by now, Sliv.”

“Man, I thought I’d never see you guys again.”

Colonel Packard looked up and you saluted sharply. He waved you away dismissively. There was something different about the Colonel, but you didn’t have time to think on it – you were too busy being embraced and jostled around by your friends, who were whooping exuberantly at yours’ and Slivko’s survival.

You laughed and tried to answer everyone’s questions and hello’s, before finding Mills in the crowd and embracing him.

“Man, I can’t believe you made it,” he grinned.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, pulling away. “I’m made of stern stuff, you know that.” You narrowed your eyes when you realized that his left eye looked injured. “Hey, wait a minute.” You grabbed his face and turned his head back to you, narrowing your eyes as you assessed the damage. 

“She’ll fix you up, man,” Slivko nodded sagely, crossing his arms and smirking.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Mills muttered.

Randa stumbled over to Brooks, shaking his hand fervently with the fellow scientist.

“I thought you were crazy,” Brooks gasped.

“I wish I had been,” Randa admitted.

Colonel Packard nodded to Conrad, leaning against the butt of his rifle.

“What’s your count?” Conrad asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What you see,” Colonel Packard said, looking back at you and the other soldiers, “Is what I got.”

“We lost one, too.”

“Good to see you fellas,” Marlow introduced, smiling a bit nervously as he stepped forward. Colonel Packard looked up, adjusting his gloves.

“Who the hell is this?”

“We picked up a hitchhiker,” Conrad said.

“Luitenant Marlow of the 45th Pursuit Squadron of the 15th,” Marlow recited formally, tugging at his uniform.

“You’ve been here since World War II?” the Colonel asked skeptically.

“Yes, sir,” Marlow nodded, giving him a tremulous smile. “I miss the parade?”

Colonel Packard scoffed, shaking his head and narrowing his eyes. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “Snap to, Luitenant.” The two saluted each other.

“We’re gonna get him home, sir,” Conrad said, pointing downstream. “If we follow this river, we’ll come to the boat, and we’ll make it to the north shore in time.”

Colonel Packard nodded as he listened, looking down and adjusting his sleeves. “That sounds good.” He looked up, smiling an odd smile. “But we’re not leaving yet.”

Conrad’s face turned to confusion as Packard continued. “Still got a man out there, Conrad.”

Conrad’s brow furrowed. “Wait a second, you’ve got someone out there?”

You paused in looking at Mill’s eye and turned to listen, dropping your hands.

“Chapman,” Packard nodded. A few of the soldiers nodded at the name. “He’s with the downed Sea Stallion just west of here.”

The Sea Stallion, you repeated silently. Your medical supplies were on that helicopter.

“West?!” Marlow exclaimed. “We can’t go west! That’s where those skull things live! We have an old saying here, ‘east is best, west is worst!’ That’s why we say it!” He chuckled nervously, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands as he talked. “You know, southwest… we could talk about that. But you’re gonna need a lot more guns if you’re gonna go west.”

You pressed your lips together and eyed the Colonel with uncertainty. Weaver, who had been sitting and listening silently for the past few minutes, stood to her feet.

“Guys,” she confessed, “I think we should listen to Marlow.” She looked between Colonel Packard and Conrad. “This is crazy.”

You agreed with Weaver silently. What mattered most was getting off the island; but were duty-bound to follow the Colonel. Conrad, on the other hand, was not.

Conrad put his hands on his hips and tightened his jaw, frowning at the ground in thought. The rest of the group looked between the two of them with uncertainty– up until now, it had been clear who was in charge. Now it seemed like there might be a rift inside the group. And if the group split, you knew who you had to follow.

Packard snapped his fingers in front of Conrad’s face to catch his attention. “Hey.” 

Conrad looked up at Packard, pressing his lips together. 

“Your job is finding lost men, right?” The Colonel asked, somewhat rhetorically.

He looked away. He tapped the toes of his boots into the ground, hesitance clear on his face. You watched him thinking it over, silently willing for him to oppose: as a non-military person, he was the only one who could, and the only one who stood a chance of convincing the Colonel to change his mind.

Conrad thought for a moment longer before he finally relented and looked back up. “Okay, Sir.”

You sighed quietly and closed your eyes.

“But if we reach that position and he’s not there,” Conrad continued, “We don’t send out a search party. We’re back here by nightfall, understood? In twenty-four hours we have to be on the other side of this island.

“Roger that!” Colonel Packard grinned, with a little too much pep for your liking. “Here you loud and clear.” He turned back to your company. “All right, you heard the man. Moving out in ten.”

You and Slivko exchanged a look, and you tightened your jaw. “Here, Mills,” you murmured, gesturing for him to take a seat and kneeling down on the ground. You took off your backpack and pulled out a tiny flashlight, shining them into his eyes one at a time. 

“Yeah, your left retina is damaged pretty bad,” you murmured, turning off the light and rifling through the contents of your bag. “Anything else giving you grief?”

“Just the Colonel,” he muttered under his breath, and you shot him a warning look. While Mills and Slivko were your closest friends of the group, and often shared the same opinions, that didn’t make it any safer to share insubordinate thoughts.

You pulled some tabs from your bag and set them in his hand, along with your water flask. 

“Mild painkillers,” you explained, clapping him gently on the shoulder. “Tell me how you feel in an hour, okay?”  

You moved on to survey the rest of the group. Cole had no complaints. Reyes was the only other one in need of attention – his side had been grazed in the helicopter crash and the bandage around his waist was in dire need of antiseptic and re-wrapping.

You were finishing the new bandage when you heard Conrad’s footsteps behind you. You tied off the bandage and nodded to him, zipping up your backpack and taking the water canister back to the stream. You knelt down on the riverbank, uncapping it and glancing at Conrad out of the corner of your eye. It was an opening to talk.

He knelt down beside you, holding out his hand for the flask. You handed it to him, watching him stare out across the river with a defeated expression.

“Don’t forget to tell me this is a bad idea,” Conrad murmured, taking a drink and handing it back to you.

“This is a bad idea,” you deadpanned quietly, refilling your flask and sealing the cap. You looked up across the river, and into the depths of the forest. There could be anything beyond those trees; any number of monsters. 

You had to face facts. It would be a miracle if you got off of this island alive.

--------

A/N: Thanks for reading! Tag list is still open. I’m posting this at 4:45 am, and I plan on sleeping late, so leave me a comment to wake up to! love you all <3

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Tag List: @tarynkauai, @jessiejunebug, @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi, @fire-in-her-veinz, @daylight-swiftie, @un-consider-it, @torntaltos, @majahu, @et-puto, @kinghiddlestonanddixon, @awesomefandomsunited, @damalseer, @uinen-ulmiel, @fire-in-her-veinz, @naspter1129, @fandomdarlings, @embracingtom, @alina-margaret, @bthtallmadge2, @larryspantaloons, @lady-loki-ren, @captainsherlockwinchester110283, @holacherrycola90, @indelwen-of-mirkwood

[bunnimew]

Sass, Cynicism, and YA Romance

For RotG Secret Santa 2019 and the always awesome @piratekingpitchblack !

Rating: G Ships: Gen / Pitch Black & Seraphina Pitchiner Notes:  Waahhhhhh This is so far outside of my usual style of fic that I am certainly nervous to release it into the world, but I was really determined to *try* despite the challenge it presented. I wrote half a book in the notes on AO3 here, but I don’t wanna make this post too long so~ Summary: 

It's been a long time since Seraphina Pitchiner has had anyone she could call a father. She's rather ready to have one again.

But that doesn't matter if he's not ready to be one.

It was darker than the other boxes. A tarnished brass when everything else was a shining, polished yellow. Seraphina pressed her fingers to the cloisonne patterns along the top of the box and felt their delicate edges. Awfully big box for just one tooth, but Sera would never dare to tell Tooth how to do her job. It seemed to be a one size fits all kind of situation.

“Thank you for letting me see,” she said, finally letting go of it. She pressed the box into Tooth’s waiting, gentle hand and made herself step back. Tooth’s understanding, patient smile was too much. It hurt. It all hurt, and Sera needed to get away.

“Of course,” and all of the excitement and pleasure that had been in Tooth’s voice before was tamed, calmed into a soothing, lullaby-like tone. She knew Sera was tense, and she was tip-toeing, and Sera hated it. 

She wasn’t going to break. She wasn’t overwhelmed. And if she was, she could deal with it. She had dealt with everything else so far, she could deal with this.

She just… needed to do that somewhere else.

“I need to-” Sera began, then stopped, “I’m sure you’re-” Why did everything sound so cliche? She wasn’t trying to make an excuse, but that’s how it all came out. She forced a smile. “I’ll see you later.”

Tooth’s smile regained some of its shine, and Sera was glad to see it. “Anytime, Love. The palace is always open to you.”

Sera would like to say something else, exit a little more smoothly, but…

Her thoughts were a jumble, and she didn’t have the energy to think on it any more. She bowed, turned, and was gone.

-

“Why have you come here?”

The voice echoed endlessly against the hard rock walls. It perfectly camouflaged wherever the voice may have come from. Which was fine, because Sera was in tune with the Earth and didn’t need to rely on her ears to figure out where bodies disturbing the ground and the air happened to be. Let him hide, if it made him feel more at ease. She wasn’t here to scare him. This time.

“To talk,” she answered curtly. She didn’t owe him manners or pleasantries.

He certainly hadn’t made it a habit of offering those to her. 

Laughter, mean and hollow, echoed this time. She wasn’t amused, and neither was he. “Then talk,” he said simply, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t quite believe you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been so civil with me.”

She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but to herself, that was fair. He had not exactly given her reason to be civil, though.

“Do you remember when I was last civil to you?”

Even for a cave covered in darkness, it was quiet. The silence was unnatural, eerie by design. Sera could feel it through the rock; nothing was moving down here. Pitch was barely breathing. 

She thought he might be thinking about it. Actually trying to remember. His mind was… not what it used to be, but no one else knew just how gone it was. That was a secret Pitch kept to himself.

Mostly.

“Almost.”

The answer was a whisper on stagnant wind. It didn’t echo. The word reached her and faded into nothingness. And yet it said so much.

Almost meant the memories weren’t gone. Almost meant there was some chance of almost becoming yes. Almost was not a no. 

Without letting any warmth into her voice, Sera asked the void around her, “Would you like me to remind you?”

The smallest bit of an echo was back, “Could you?”

She could. She remembered it very well. She had thought about it a lot while she was out there in space with nothing else to really do. It wasn’t a remarkable story. Right boring, actually. On second thought, that wasn’t the story she wanted to tell. It was meaningless, in the grand scheme, and she had so many better memories to pick from.

Like the one she knew for a fact was hidden in Pitch’s mind somewhere, present enough to have been selected and pressed for safekeeping into the one lone tooth he had lost during the whole of Toothiana’s reign.

Did he remember it more than as a distorted reflection? Did he, just maybe, actually remember it?

There was no better way to find out than to ask. It was harder now to keep the warmth out, but she held her voice firm. “Do you remember that afternoon in the Gliese system?”  

The shadows shifted, for the first time since she arrived. It was normally an ill omen, but right now it felt like hope. 

She pushed.

“Do you remember my books?”

“Perhaps,” said a shadow to her left, but then it wasn’t a shadow. The darkness solidified into a man, and eyes and teeth glowed, hanging suspended in the black all around. 

That was a frustrating answer. Sera was not here to play games. She narrowed her eyes in warning and let some ice slip into her words, “Do you or do you not? It is a yes or no question, Pitch.”

His lip curled at the edge, clearly displeased. However, he didn’t melt back into the shadows, or return to his annoying echo-voice, so he must not be that displeased. In fact, it meant this conversation must be more important to him than he wanted to let on.

“I think I do,” Pitch bit out irritably, “Does that answer satisfy?”

“It does,” she said, with a nod to recognize his cooperation, however reluctant it was. Best not to be as rude as she could be. He was, apparently, trying. 

It was a promising answer, too. If Pitch thought he did, then he must, at the very least, be aware enough to have imagined replacement memories, even if the true ones were lost. You didn’t almost remember something you didn’t know you ought to remember. 

“Now,” she began, allowing herself a small, secret smile, “tell me if this sounds familiar.”

-

It was good to get her away. The military made too many demands of his time, and when he stayed home to spend time with her, even their play seemed to be regulated by strict schedules and interrupted by calls for his attention. 

This far out in the Gliese system, if someone wanted his attention, it would take them a while to get it. And he was pretty good at ignoring their calls and dodging their presence until he felt like being found. 

And Sera loved the game of chase. The best part of taking her out here was the utter lack of plan. They could do anything, talk about anything, do nothing if they wanted, and there was no pressure to ‘get back to what mattered’ or ‘prioritize their time’ some other way. 

They were on an average moon of an average planet. Sera had wanted to explore the terrain just because she could. It wasn’t terribly interesting. There were broken rocks and small cliffs, lots of dust and odd little bugs that Sera liked to watch. 

She was done now, though. They sat on the edge of a crater, letting their legs dangle over the edge. Kozmotis had half a mind to let himself slide off the side and along the rounded slope to the bottom, but only after Sera was done lecturing him about young adult romance novels.

“But she should have just let him go,” she was saying, worked up into a proper rant with her arms waving all around, “He wasn’t respecting her career choices! Who was he to say what was or wasn’t ‘like her’? I would never let a boy get away with treating me like that.”

Kozmotis dearly hoped she wouldn’t. 

“If he didn’t like who I was becoming, fine. He can go find someone else to stay the same, then!” 

Her face was flushed a pretty pink in her excitement. Koz didn’t actually have to say anything, he could just sit here and smile at her and she would continue on as if he had, but part of the fun of being dad was interjecting ridiculous things, so he had to. 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to date statues, though.”

“Daaad!” Sera groaned, “You know what I mean.”

“You sound too experienced,” Koz stated sagely, “Do you have boyfriends I don’t know about?”

“Stop it!” She smacked his arm, and it wasn’t all that gentle. She was strong, and Koz was proud. “You know that I don’t. That’s not what I’m talking about! Stop distracting me!”

“Alright, alright, I won’t say anymore,” he promised. It was a lie. “Please, continue.”

“Thank you,” she said primly. It was very cute. “Anyway, she had more chemistry with her best friend. I hate it when writers force two characters together because they’re supposed to be together. I would have rather nobody ended up with anybody! Romance isn’t romantic if it’s stupid.” 

Well, his daughter was certainly opinionated. “Oh, I know,” he said indulgently, “That’s the absolute worst.”

Sera scoffed and looked at him with a put-upon glare. “Dad, you don’t even read these books.”

“I don’t,” he agreed, “but I hear about them through you all the time.”

“It’s not the same!”

He shrugged, “It’s pretty close.”

“It’s not close at all!”

“You’re right,” he grinned, “Guess that means we should get closer, right?” And with a speed and strength born of military training, Kozmotis scooped up his daughter into his lap and attacked both of her sides with nimble fingers.

She shrieked in protest, absolutely shrieked. She could be so loud when she wanted, and Koz winced, but didn’t stop his attack. Not even when she elbowed him in the chest, nor when she kicked his shin with her heel. He only stopped when she finally told him to, gasping the word out between hurried breaths, “Stop, stopstopstop!”

Koz knew the smile on his face had to look horribly soft, endlessly patient, and likely exasperatingly innocent. Sera would appreciate none of it. He wrapped his arms tight around her waist and held on while she caught her breath. When her heartbeat had slowed from a sprint to a trot, he asked, “Close enough?”

“By the moon, Dad!” she exclaimed, hitting both of his thighs with unamused little fists, “You’re not funny!”

Kozmotis thought he was pretty funny. 

Taking the opportunity where it lie, he shoved off from the edge and kept her safely tucked to his chest as they slid the fifteen or so feet down the edge of the crater and into the dust. 

Sera yelped and clung to his arms, smartly pulling her knees up so her feet didn’t drag on the ground. She looked a little panicked, but her grin was huge, and that was the kind of look Kozmotis lived for. Even when they slowed to a stop, Koz didn’t let her go, continuing to hug her close to his chest like the precious bundle she was.

She twisted around to face him, but didn’t try to get away, “Dad, that was dangerous! I wasn’t ready!”

Kozmotis let go only enough to tuck her hair behind her ear. She was still so small, but he could see the woman she would one day be already. Fierce, and wild, but careful and so kind. He couldn’t wait, but he also knew he would forever miss her just like this. “The best things happen when you aren’t ready.”

She laughed and shook her head, looking at him like he was crazy. She was right. “Also the worst.”

Kozmotis leaned back as if he were offended, “Who taught you to be so cynical?”

“Uh, you?” The absolute sass in that tone.

“Never me!”

“And my books.”

Koz shook his head, “We need to get you new reading material.”

Sera snorted and wiggled away from him to stand, then turned around to offer her hands to help him up, which was so cute Koz thought his heart might burst. “There’s nothing wrong with my books,” she was saying, “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn about dating? You just keep telling me not to!”

Koz stood to his full height, brushed his trousers free of dust, lifted his nose into the air and said, “No one will ever be good enough for my little girl.”

Sera rolled her eyes so hard he worried for their safety, “Yeah, exactly.”

“You have years before you have to worry about that,” he insisted. He placed a hand gently around the back of her head, because he just didn’t want to let her go yet.

“No I don’t,” she said right back, and leaned into his side because she was a wonderful daughter like that, “I’m old enough to have crushes. I could have a boyfriend if I wanted! I just… don’t, yet.”

She was growing up too fast. Koz took it back. He could wait for her to grow up. He could wait forever. “Well, be sure to tell me as soon as you do so I can make sure to be extra scary.”

The unimpressed look she gave him was comical in how convincing it was. “Why would I want that, Dad?”

Koz patted her head softly, “Not everything is about what you want.”

She put a hand on her hip and Koz had to wonder just where all of this attitude had come from. “My dating is pretty much only about what I want.”

Koz tried not to laugh too much but feared that he was failing. She looked like an adult crammed into a tiny tween body and he couldn’t help but to lift her up into his arms. “Of course. Absolutely. How could I be so silly?”

She sighed, but deigned to wrap her thin arms around his neck anyway, “You’re always silly.”

“Am I?” he asked. He turned around and began the trek back to the crater wall. He was tall enough that scaling it wouldn’t be too hard. Even with his daughter attached to his chest. “It’s only because I love you so much. You know that, right?”

Sera looked to be fighting her smile, as if letting him see it would encourage his bad behavior, but she was very bad at hiding her happiness and eventually just let it shine. “I know, Dad. I love you, too.”

She was already so beautiful. 

-

His voice was a quiet whisper, scattered by a breathy wind and almost inaudible, definitely not meant to be heard. But she heard it.

“So it was real…”

She let him consider that for several more seconds of silence, respecting his need to process the knowledge and the feelings that came with it. But she couldn’t let them be silent forever. She was a busy spirit, and she was ready to have her father back, if he was at all capable of being back. 

“It was,” she said, “and I have a million more memories just like it.”

Pitch’s eyes snapped up to hers, sharp and glowing in the darkness. There was a horrible desire there, a longing so acute it could slice. He wanted what she was offering, maybe more than she wanted it. No, not maybe. Definitely. 

He didn’t say anything, so she continued. “I know that your mind has been fractured. I am willing to fill in the gaps. Are you willing to heal?”

Pitch’s gaze turned suspicious, calculating, and… wary. He thought she might have meant to hurt him. She couldn’t fault him for it, it wasn’t like she had been particularly nice to him recently. Still, she needed him to make the decision. Sera could tell him stories all day and night, but it wouldn’t mean a thing if he wasn’t going to take any of it to heart and try to be her father again. 

Because right now, she was more of a functioning adult than he was, and that was rather sad. 

Pitch was fighting an internal battle. She could see that he was picking his words very carefully, that he wanted to say something but, maybe just didn’t know how. Maybe just didn’t know how to trust. 

Finally, he lifted his head, eyes steeled with a strength she was almost certain he didn’t actually have. “I am not sure that I can.”

Seraphina was surprised, shocked, at the honesty. She felt a prickling at the corners of her eyes, and blinked it away. That, more than a simple yes, spoke volumes about the willingness he might be too afraid to show. 

“If you can, we will find the way,” she said with a strength and confidence that could only come from her years of experience finding her path all on her own. The Guardians worked miracles every day, and this could be one of them. “Will you try?” she asked, “For me?”

He hesitated, and she would swear that as he stood there, his gaze turned wet, although a tear never fell. His voice, when he spoke, was so soft. It reminded her of when her father used to tuck her into bed with a kiss and a wish for sweet dreams.

“For you, I would do anything.”

[imagine-loki]

Litklœði

TITLE: Litklœði

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 2/5 AUTHOR: Goldtrimmedspectacle ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that Loki and you have been friends for years. Granted, he’s had his rough patches as you have had yours, but your friendship has been a reoccuring factor through the lasting centuries. However, something hasn’t been right recently. Your chest constantly aches and you keep coughing up petals - sometimes whole flowers. Loki seems none the wiser but you just can’t hide the ongrowing illness. Surely it has no correlation with your love for the dark prince of Asgard.

RATING: M (eventual) NOTES/WARNINGS: Angst and fluff.

Earlier updates on AO3.

_______

Chapter 2: Danzleikr

“My dear, do help me with this pin, would you? It has been digging into my shoulder since the opening banquet,” Frigga called from your side and twisted to show the awkwardly placed clothing pin that stuck out from her blue gown. The sheened cloth was gorgeous in the halls low lighting, the flower patterns winding up from her feet and down her arms, and you smiled with a softly murmured��‘of course, my queen’ as the pin was removed and repined in a more appropriate place on her sleeve.

  The palace was warmer now, the snow which had lain mere weeks ago gone and leaving dew-dripped leaves. Spring had begun fully and you could not be happier as the sleet was now replaced by blooming daisies in its place, all which had been swept up and braided into the Allmother’s cascading hair. The entanglement of flowers and ginger strands created waves of vines and waterfalls, all whilst a small tiara was slotted upon her thick hair and reflected a turquoise sheen.

  Your chest lurched as another vine dug into your lung.

  The palace had been alit with chatter and anticipation the last few weeks. The servants and maids waltzed in the servant chambers, giggles stifled by hands and shoulders as the excitement built, and the cooks practised their new recipes all throughout the palace until no hallway was safe from the sweet aroma of brisket and cake.

  Your stomach churned at your prior escapade into the kitchens – followed close behind by Loki, whose eyes had glistened with mischief and absolute delight at the variety of treats that aligned the kitchen counters. He had gathered the treats with quick hands, cookies and cakes stuffed into large pockets as the cooks waved both you and him from the kitchens.

  One or two yelled at Loki with thick southern accents.

  He had cackled and grabbed your hand, pulling you through the twisting passages of the Asgardian palace, much like he had done at five hundred when his mischief was high and less easily hidden. It was rare for his childish delight replaced the hidden angst which had built in the prior years.

  The sight of his dishevelled hair and sly grin had left you breathless in more than one way.

  You stifled a cough and smiled.

  “You look gorgeous, Allmother. I fear you will push the Allfather into an Odinsleep with your mere presence.”

  The queen beamed at your compliment, eyes warm with motherly affection, and she squeezed your hand as another one of her ladies-in-waiting fluttered up in their own attire.

  “As do you, my love. I dare say that we will both push the men into fits with our gorgeous appearances. Maybe even cardiac arrest if we speak to them,” Frigga teased and you laughed along with the two other woman that had joined your small entourage. The expulsion of air caused your chest to throb and you gulped thickly, feeling a petal press against the back of your throat.

  “Perhaps we should make our way to the ballroom, my queen?” The taller of two, a woman named Maarit, beckoned and Frigga agreed goodhumoredly. She led your small party away from her quarters and down the golden walls of the Royal quarters.

  Each step you took seemed forceful and as you passed a mirror, you turned away – ignoring the slightness of your figure in recent days. The sunken pallor of your skin and the darkened veins around your arms and fingers were too much to bear on such a joyous day and completely unfit for such a wonderful spring day. You refused to darken the day with tales of woe and grief, having accepted your fate when the first violet fell from your lips.

  Making polite chatter with the Allmother and her two other ladies, you wept inwardly over the unkind fate which had been handed into your young arms. The Gods had seen your chubby cheeks and unkempt hair and had decided that your life would be kept short by an ailment appropriate for unfit lovers, such as the Midgardian pair, Romeo and Juliet – then banished from the arms of the Æsir and into the clutches of Hela before your two-thousandth name day.

  “Dear child, those violets look wonderful in your hair. They truly suit your dress and bracelet,” Maarit smiled and linked her arm with yours. Her oval face was a true blend of delight and beauty as she fawned over your hair like a mother would to her child, and her lips were painted pink to match the shimmery red frock that flowed amongst her ankles.

  “Thank you, Maarit. You look beautiful also.”

  The violets that streamed through your hair had been Frigga’s request rather than your own. In honour of the new flowers and life within the garden, Frigga had servants fetch flowers and entwined each petal into her ladies’ hair softly and with utter care.

  You tried to ignore the stinging pain as the violets dug deeper into your scalp.

  It had been difficult to hide your growing ailment as each day passed.

  Whether you were inside with the Allmother, or outside by yourself, there always seemed to be a constant factor in where you stood. Wherever you moved, wherever you sat to calm your ease, your heart would yearn for the arms of another. For the touch of his hands against your skin. His lips against your own. His body pressed tightly against your heat.

  You tried to ignore the physical and mental yearning for the young prince whenever you could, but with the violent retching of petals and blood each night, and your loss of appetite and will to bear such pain – all you could do was cry yourself to sleep at night. Arms tangled in your hair and legs drawn close to your chest, filling the absence of Loki’s body with your own bodily heat as the hours ticked by.

  You were ashamed to admit that as the days grew longer and your ailment grew worse, there were hours where you would merely lie on the floor with blood crusting over your lips and petals stuck to the damped tears on your skin.

  Loki had noticed your obvious discomfort – his words soft and gentle unlike his snide remarks and growls directed at Thor and his friends.

  You had waved his words off, knowing full well that what you were experiencing could not be spoken aloud. But Loki’s eyes, pleading and wet, had only added hurt to the pain you were experiencing. So, you laughed and jested about the recent energy in the palace – your constant too-and-fro tasks as a servant taking their toll, which he frowned at.

  You were not surprised to find that Frigga only allowed you to work a half-day that afternoon.

  However, your most dreaded experience was when your ailment had almost been revealed to Loki as you sat reading a book, silent as the library clock chimed seven and the prince opened another novel to read. His eyes had met yours from above the book’s cover, eyebrows raised and eyes crinkled with fondness for your dazed expression.

  There had been whispered words – lost by your fraught memories.

  Loki had spoken of a poet. He had recited a line so crude and brash that you could do nothing but laugh, unsurprised that his book held the dirtiest of ballads to ever grace Asgard’s planes.

  His voice had been low and husked. Lines layered by his honeyed tongue and his eyes boring into yours as the lines of crude verse turned to paragraphs of lovelorn desire and hot flushes. There were a few where your heart threatened to burst from your chest and melt on the tongue which Loki used to soothe you with his cloying lyrics.

  You had been lucky that Loki was drawn from his verse by his brother, who barged into the library with his hammer in hand and yelling for Loki to join him on a hunt. The brash man had greeted you warmly, lips pressed to your hand quickly and softly, eyes dancing with mirth as Thor promised the quick return of his brother. Unharmed, unlike the last time.

  Loki had moaned and howled like a child, his opinion engraved in stone as Thor dragged him from the warmth of your calm company, all whilst Loki glared daggers at the larger of the pair. His eyes had fluttered to you and your heart warmed with the sweet kiss Loki laid on your palm, lingering there a moment longer than you thought was polite, and he walked away.

  As the door swung shut, violets racked themselves up fro your chest, finally free after all your time enraptured by Loki’s company. The pain was sharp and grew fiercer with every cough, your throat feeling swollen and tight as the petals sealed your airways and passed again and again.

  Your body copied the actions of your past and you discreetly pulled a cloth from your sleeve, allowing the small petals to fall and stay hidden in the white fabric. All whilst Maarit, the Allmother and Ona, the eldest of Frigga’s ladies, remained none the wiser. Yet, you failed to notice the sharp look the Allmother sent your way.

  “Do you believe the princes will find wives at this ball, dear blóm?”

  Your lungs ached.

  “Perhaps, Maarit. I know that Thor has calmed since his trip to Midgard, but there is always something rather sad in his eyes. Have you noticed? He does not spend as much time hunting or fighting as he once did, but rather at the Bifrost with Heimdall and travelling the realms.”

  She hummed and remained silent – satisfied with your reaffirmation and the extravagant decorations of the main hall.

  The three ladies split as Maarit fluttered towards an old couple by the door, who welcomed her with open arms and excited smiles, all whilst gushing over how beautiful she had grown. Ona disappeared also, hiding in the throngs of Æsir and their intoxicated dancing. Frigga too pulled away and joined the Allfather at his throne.

  You smiled as she kissed his cheek and Odin took her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.

  “I would know these flowers anywhere. Where have you been today, dear blóm?”

  Your body seized up and a loud swallow filled the loud dance hall.

  “Loki.” He smiled at your acknowledgement and bowed low, hand elevated much to your amusement.

  “At your disposal, dear fae,” the prince jested and rose from his deep bow, arm still waiting for your hand. You did as he wished and linked your fingers together. “Now, where have you been hiding?  Have you been creeping into the kitchens to steal more fairy cakes?”

  You smacked his arm.

  “You are the sole mischief maker here, Odinson. I am but a misguided accomplice – swayed by your sugar-coated words and lavish poetry.”

  He took the bait with a wolfish smirk.

  “My sugar-coated words?” Loki pulled you onto the dancefloor and you were swept into the intricate dance of the Asgardian court. “Perhaps I should sway you with a sweet ballad. Then I may be able to convince you to follow every one of my dangerous plans.” His demeanour seemed dark and dangerous but you smirked in turn, which transformed into a smile as Loki twirled you around another couple.

  “I have heard you sing, Loki,” you whispered in a hushed tone, “It is horrendous.”

  Loki laughed and pulled you closer, arms weaving around your waist.

  “Now I know that is a lie. You fail to remember that I am both the God of mischief and lies, dear friend.”

  Your throat tickled.

  “I have never forgotten.” He rolled his eyes and twirled you out with one hand, pulling you back to replicate the familiar dance moves of the other couples. His hand remained firmly in place as you waltzed under a pair of raised arms and the two of you pulled away, swaying behind another standing couple and re-joining with flared skirts and fast feet.

  Your head fell back as Loki led you in a tight twirl, chests pressed tightly together and an arm clutching your body close to his stomach.

  “Indeed, dear blóm. I know you have not.”

  Pulling yourself up, your eyes caught Loki’s and the skin around his eyes crinkled from his wide smile. The thick eyelashes fluttered as Loki scanned your features, eyes swirling with something incomprehensible under the bright lanterns, and his voice washed off you - a flush of warmth filling your chest and rushing into your stomach.

  His forehead pressed against yours and your breath hitched. Loki’s eyes fell shut as the final chords were strummed and fell silent. The music died down and you waltzed with Loki a moment longer until the strings finished. His hands hovered over your hips, fingers digging deep into the skin until they simply slipped from the light fabric and back to his sides. You smiled with watery eyes, chest heaving slightly in a futile attempt to expel the suffocating petals.

  Clapping filled the lingering silence and Loki’s eyes opened – stepping back with quick grace and his hand holding yours up in the appropriate walking position. He smirked as you were led off the dancefloor with the other couples, none-the-wiser to the position he had forced you into.

  The hall filled with chatter once more.

   “Dance or drink?”

  You choked out a half-hearted cough and swallowed a petal.

  “Pardon?”

  Loki quirked an eyebrow and his hand ran to the crook of your elbow – pulling it to slot with his own.

  “Would you like to dance again or would a drink be preferred at this current time?”

  His lips tugged up into a smirk once more.

  You flailed.

  “A drink would be appreciated.”

  He nodded and dropped your arm, not without lavishing your palm with a soft kiss, and moved to sashay through the parting sea of commons people and members of the Royal court. It was fascinating to watch how men tripped over themselves in their attempts to avoid Loki’s line of sight. It was less fascinating to watch women dressed in emerald gowns chatter excitedly as the man walked past, their dark eyes alight with lust and conniving spirts.

  You felt a stab.

  A gasp tumbled from your lips and another petal tumbled onto your dress.

  You stumbled slightly and were thankful when another pair of arms caught your waist, hands splayed across the chest of another man as the pain was temporarily subdued and your eyes caught the attention of a blue pair.

  “Ah,” your name tumbled from the man’s lips kindly and he helped you balance yourself. “I am surprised to see you here. Away from the arms of Prince Loki, that is.” He jested and picked the petal from your dress, placing it on top of your head to match the other violets present there.

  “Tamas.” Your smile widened at the friendly servant boy, glad to see a familiar face amongst the crowd, and ignoring the slight remaining twinge in your chest. All panic temporarily forgotten in your tumble. “Thank you. It appears that without our trusted prince, I cannot keep myself up straight,” you joked weakly and stood back up.

  You faltered at your own words.

  “Where is your brother?”

  The younger twin scanned the crowds and shrugged good-naturedly, unbothered by his brother’s absence, as it was a common occurrence in the palace.

  “Somewhere. You know how Bas is. Never one to stand with large crowds. I say he is probably hiding in the kitchens with the cook and their help. No thanks to your earlier escapades, I’m sure.”

  You failed to hide your mortified blush.

  The boy stood proudly at barely nine hundred. His shirt had been freshly washed and ironed, but the armour he adorned was old and dented in places. There was obvious pride in how he wore the breastplate, despite its large size on his wiry figure. Yet despite all this, he never failed to call you out on the wrongdoings of both you and Loki. Always teasing whenever the option was presented.

  At least he had not mentioned the chocolate paste incident.

   “Uhm,” you tried to change the topic, “are you enjoying tonight’s activities, Tamas?”

  The boy blushed lightly and smiled, eyes wavering from you and onto a young maiden across the hall.

  Ah.

  Tamas looked very dashing for his age and your heart melted further with his sway in heart. The mortification faded as he laughed sweetly and squeezed your arm, much like a younger brother would do.

  “I see that you are.”

  “Yes, you are quite right. I am. Moreso than I originally thought, perhaps.”

  “And did you originally believe the spring ball would be dull then? With all our hardwork? Tamas, careful with your words or else we shall be expelled from the ball and polite company!” You chimed in playfully, eyes glancing back amidst the crowds in search of other servants and lords.

  “Oh shush, krútt. Go find your prince and halt your teasing words.” His smiled widened and you slapped his shoulder lightly.

  “He is not mine - you must not say so. Now, do tell me more of this young woman that has taken your fancy.”

  The boy laughed again, eyes alive with mirth and doubt.

  “Her name is Beatrix – “

  “Lovely. What is her last name?”

  “Valdottir – “

  “And what does she do?”

  “She is a handmaiden for the guest and extended family quarters. So she does not see much action, however she does get a lovely lady ever so often. It excites her greatly.”

  “Verily - ”

  A new voice interrupted your reply.

  “What a fascinating woman she must be. Although, I can imagine that she would grow tired of Asgardian ladies. There are few women of immense interest in our court, so I can believe that our otherworldly guests would be far more interesting than the many ladies that grace the halls of Asgard.” An arm rested itself around your waist and your hip was pulled to rest firmly against the newcomer’s own.

  “Your highness.” Tamas bowed.

  “Loki – “ a glass was placed in your open hand.

  “That is crediting not Lady Sif and our dear blóm here.” Loki’s hand tugged your own up to his lips. His eyes churned with great joy at the servant boy’s nervous disposition, glad to have interrupted the conversation for slight teasing, and pressed a light kiss to your inner wrist. “For all of Asgard would be far duller without her presence, I am sure.”

  Tamas shifted.

  You pulled your arm to nurse the glass with both hands – heart pounding wildly at the friendly gesture. Your stomach recoiled at the thought and you could feel the flowers pressing against your throat. Your cloth was used once more to hide the growing flowers.

  “Behave.”

  “When have I ever been known to behave, dear?”

  You sent the mischievous God a warning look, which he took and nodded with slight reluctance. The arm around your waist tightened, showing how Loki had acknowledged his patronising tone and the slight cut of his tongue. A silent apology.

  Your attention swayed back to the young boy.

  “Tamas, have you asked Beatrix to dance?”

  The boy shifted again and shook his head ‘no’.

  “I have not. She seems quite happy dancing with her sisters and brother right now. I would hate to intrude.”

  “I am sure she would not mind the intrusion, especially if you are close friends.”

  Loki choked on his drink.

  “Alas, we are but acquaintances,” his smile turned disheartened as the prince coughed. “It would be rude to interrupt her enjoyment.”

  You frowned.

  “Tamas, fret not. I’m sure there will come a time when the option will arise. For the time being, I am quite certain that I am not engaged.” Tamas laughed at your teasing and his eyes retreated from their sorrowful nature, reflecting the exhilaration of your joke.

  “A lady asking for my hand in a dance? How times have changed since I was a little boy.” He teased.

  “Indeed, what does that mean, dear Tamas? I am sure you have had many a lady call for you to sweep them off their feet. Do not lie!”

  “As much as I believe it would be delightful to watch you two dance – “ Loki cut into the conversation abruptly – “I would not dally with your interests as there has been a stable boy watching your mistress for the past hour.” Tamas’ face fell and followed the direction in which the prince tipped his glass. You could feel Loki’s other hand squeezing your side.

  “There is no time like the present, boy. I would woo her with a dance now,” Loki announced with a slight dismissive tone, although his eyes were wide with delight and something darker, “rather than risk it for a later time when she is unavailable to court.”

  Tamas moved, unnerved by the God’s sudden change in tone.

  He glanced at your face.

  “Well… If you believe it would do me well, Prince Loki. Would you excuse me?”

  Loki waved his hand.

  “I am here to enjoy myself, sveinn. You need not my permission to woo a girl. Good luck and do not trip on her feet.” He smirked at the last jab and took another swig of mead.

  You exchanged an exasperated guise with Tamas, who beamed shyly with a hidden eyeroll, and waved as the young man sped his way through the growing crowds.

  You watched until he met Beatrix on the other side of the ballroom and abashed, gifted her his hand, which she took with a bright smile. The young girl seemed even more thrilled than Tamas to have been asked to dance by his side.

  “Did you truly have to tease him so?”

  Loki’s fingers rubbed your side sweetly, reminding you of his light grasp, and hummed.

  “Granted, my previous words were poor and I apologise for that. I know you do not appreciate me insulting the other women of Asgard, especially as there – in your words ‘very lovely and intelligent women around each corner’.  Not to mention, Mother would ban me from her reading room. However, know that you are one of my most favoured ladies,” he teased and smirked at your dismayed expression – ignoring the twinge of pain that came with the honeyed phrase. “But my other words, I cannot hide my shame for there is none,” Loki grinned and you could not help but copy him. “He dearly likes the maid, so I wished for him to not dally with his affections and ask her to dance before another suitor swept themselves into her circle. Besides, I do believe your next dance is mine.”

  Pain.

  “No matter how much you wish to hide that soft heart of yours, you are not as sly as perceived, dear trickster. I quite enjoy these displays of odd kindness.”

  “Oh really?” Loki mocked with raised eyebrows. “Well, perhaps I should grant another kindness upon your wearied soul, dear.” His arm fell away and your glasses lay forgotten on a stray table as the prince pulled you from the busied hall and into Asgard’s dimly lit halls.

  The grand doors slammed shut and his hand engulfed your fingers, thumb brushing lightly over your skin. An eruption of goosebumps coated your arm and your heart thumped so wildly, it hurt to breathe. His presence was overstimulating in its mere existence and you felt faint with how his face looked so chiselled and royal in the shadows.

  “My wearied soul?”

  Your voice sounded so small in the catacombic building.

  Loki slowed his pace to a slow walk, keeping your body close and eyes scanning your face. He turned away and kept walking – hand squeezing yours in a familiar gesture.

  “You act as if I would not notice the changes to your figure and skin, dear.” He traced your wrist for emphasise. “If anyone were to see your sudden tiredness and your reliance on that clothed handkerchief up your sleeve, it would be me,” Loki drawled out and squeezed your hand again.

  You walked through a set of open doors.

  “I refrained from mentioning such things to you after our time in the library and your adamant response on your wellness. But, my dearest friend,” Loki paused at the next junction of hallways. He turned to you. “I cannot sit quietly by your side if you are unwell. It is both against my upbringing and my blatant adoration for you as an admirer and as a most beloved companion.”

  He caressed both hands in his own and eyed the open corridors, pulling your body into an alcove hidden by the servant quarters, away from prying eyes.

  The lack of room had your lungs in stitches.

  “Blóm, what ails you? Tell me and let the healers erase your pain.”

  Your breath hitched.

  Panic.

  “Loki, please. Now is not the time – “ You pushed at his chest as to escape his grasp, but fell prey to your own desire to be near him. Your pushes were far weaker that you would allow yourself to admit.

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “What? No – “

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No, it does no – “

  “Do not lie to me.”

  “Loki, I am not lying.” You knew the words fell flat. “It is a mere passing illness. Nothing more. I am sure the healers could have it removed from my system more quickly, yes, but it is nothing too important to fret over.”

  The prince’s scowl deepened.

  Silence crept into the conversation.

  Loki’s eyes seemed so expressive in the dark hallways – glistening with fear and worry, however hidden under an overlaying film of exasperation and anger. The green of his irises churned with an elixir of moss and seiðr. His pale skin formed a glowing mass of regal air and natural born beauty.

  His hand collected your own once more and he took a step closer.

  “Dear.” The call beckoned you to meet his eyes.

  Loki’s face was so soft.

  So vulnerable when compared to the guarded façade he carried most hours of the day.

  “What ails you?” The voice whispered, heart-throbbing and pleading in nature.

  The flowers stirred.

  You inched closer to Loki’s body and let your hands dropped. They slipped around his waist and your head fell to rest against Loki’s shoulder. The pressure of his chin on your head was a welcomed comfort despite the fraught tension of the conversation.

  A sigh.

  Loki’s hand dug into your hair and pulled the violets from each strand.

  “Tell me, blóm.”

  His hand ran through the loose strands.

  Your head rose and his hand cupped your lower jaw, lips inches apart.

  “Loki – “

  “Loki! There you are.”

  Your bodies pulled away from each other simultaneously. Loki’s hand fell to his side, violet still in hand, and you noticed how his jaw strained with innate tension. His eyes met yours in the darkness and the tension eased ever-so-slightly, which you appreciated and smiled in turn.

  “What is it, Thor? I do believe the lady and I were busy with our trip to the library.”

  The larger of the two princes frowned as he walked closer and rolled his eyes. His hand gripped yours in a brotherly manner, squeezing the skin in a far harsher grip than Loki would do, and pulled you from the hidden alcove. Thor then slapped Loki’s shoulder in a show of brotherly affection and strength.

  Loki stumbled slightly.

  “Ah, the party had grown dull then. I am not surprised that our dear lady and you, Loki, would be retreating to the library after a tiresome evening. At least the feast was entertaining, was it not?”

  Your eyes met Loki’s once more and his smirk was poorly hidden.

  There had been more than a few ‘unfortunate’ instances during the meal, that was certain.

  “Indeed. The poor prince of Eslöv. How he had looked so dapper in that violet waistcoat.”

  Thor ignored the passing remark.

  “Loki, Father requests your presence in the main hall. He did not tell me what for, so I imagine it is a surprise. He was quite adamant for your presence though. There was a smart-looking woman by his side too. I believe she was the heiress of the Innangard kingdom – Vanaheimr’s main ruling sector.”

  Loki tutted in distaste.

  “Princess Catriona. A distant cousin of mothers.” His body tensed. “We have met before – it was not pleasant.”

  Your hand slipped between Loki’s fingers and grounded his thoughts.

  A small smile flooded his features.

  “Well, if that is the case then I am unsure why Father would require your presence. However, he expressed its great urgency, so I think it best if we make haste to the ballroom. Lady blóm, would you give me the pleasure of your arm? It is best if Loki were to arrive before us.”

  You nodded, understanding the courtesy which Thor offered, and slipped from Loki’s fingers - heart breaking at the loss of contact and yearning for his touch once more. For more contact, more stimulation of his skin on yours.

  His caresses.

  His kisses –

  Your body recoiled and a petal grazed the roof of your mouth.

  “We will see you inside, brother. It would be unwise to dawdle.”

  Your eyes caught Loki’s one last time. He scowled at Thor and groaned rather impertinently, running a hand through his hair and realising the flower in hand.

  A pause.

  “Fine. But give me one last moment before I have to face Odin’s ire.”

  Loki stepped forward and his hand fell back onto your cheek. The hand titled your head up and stroked the lines of your cheeks down to your lips, where he paused temporarily and all attention fell from Thor. His lips were thin but tempting in the darkened hallway. The slight ruffled nature of his hair, which had grown rather long since Thor’s return from Midgardr, fell delicately in front of his face and obscured your view of Loki’s eyes.

  A flower was tucked behind your ear and he smirked.

  A soft ‘lovely’ passed his lips and his hand fell away.

  You faulted and grabbed the offending palm.

  Thor remained silent during the exchange and watched with on-growing fascination at the soft display of affection. So unfamiliar with this side of Loki – so soft and vulnerable and new – his mannerisms were so unlike that which Loki displayed at the dining table, that is unless it was their Mother or a particularly kind maid or cook. And the way you handled the turmoiled prince, Thor wondered if he even knew his brother at all – so used to his yells and sarcastic wit, but unfamiliar with his dazed expression of admiration and something he only saw on the faces of young maidens faced with their first love.

  Loki froze at your sudden touch and your eyes widened with delayed panic. His pupils dilated as you pulled the hand to your lips and proceeded with a flushed kiss pressed to the skin connecting Loki’s thumb to his palm. He exhaled a breath of air and watched as your pulled away, eyes lidded and cheeks pink with their exhilaration.

  “Gorgeous.”

  His breath stuttered at your word and you withdrew, afraid of overstepping in your moment of weakness, and mortified by your blatant expression of admiration.

  The moment broke and you promptly linked arms with Thor.

  “We will see you after the announcement, Loki.” Your voice wavered.

  Thor took the moment to pull you away from the enraptured stare of the dark prince. You were lucky that he spoke none of the dizzying encounter and rather, you chose to concentrate on the dull ache that, with every step, grew deeper and heavier.

  Drawing further away from the flower’s love, you glanced a quick look back at Loki.

  He stood there cradling his palm.

  The flowers bloomed once more.

  You turned back and your eyes steeled.

  What ever happened, at least you had pressed one kiss to your beloved’s iridescent skin.

  It was enough.

  It was enough.

      You lied.

__________

Sveinn - translation: boy, pronounced: s-v-ein

[brandedsavior]

@oraculideluna ( x )

☾ - ♕ - ☽ It feels too much, the panic gripping her chest, the pain lancing through her stomach, the weariness of her arms trying to keep her up. She feels weak, yet urgency keeps her from listening to the demands of her body and her Shield, and she doesn’t lie down, not at the threat of her arm giving way beneath her, nor at Lightning’s gentle pressing at her shoulder. She cannot lie back, not yet, not until she knows that Noctis is alright. That is the most important thing to know right now.

And reassurance comes when Lightning tells her that Noctis is alive. Relief floods her entire being, and she finally allows herself to be pressed gently back onto the bed, her arms grateful to not be holding her up any longer. A weight feels as if it has been lifted from her chest, her breathing feels easier, lighter, despite the lingering pain. What good would it be if Luna were to have survived and Noctis to have died? They are both children of prophecy, yet the emphasis is on the Chosen King making it through to the very end. Her life’s dedication is to seeing that done, her own survival be damned. In that moment, holding Noctis close and summoning every ounce of magic she had at the time, her every desire had been to sacrifice herself to see him live.

Her survival be damned.

Still, as she rests her head back against the pillow, murmuring praises to the Six in the common tongue interwoven with her native Tenebraean, there is a part of her that feels…gladto know she is alive, too. There is still so much to hope for, to fight for, and she has another day to continue to see it through. And that is in no small part to-

“Light,” she says again, opening her eyes, and she realizes that, in the haze of pain and relief that had washed over her, she had grasped her Shield’s wrist and held her hand against her collarbones. A human touch to keep her grounded, to keep her from giving in to the pain and falling into unconsciousness again. Perhaps this touch is a breach of propriety, but Luna cannot let go, not yet, as if letting go would prove this all to be some fever dream and Luna would realize that she is dying and allowing her final moments to be encompassed by the warmth of someone she cares about. (And it has come to that, hasn’t it? Years of being Oracle and Shield has lent itself to Luna finding solace in Lightning’s presence, in finding her to be a friend. And who better to spend her final moments with than one who has been there for her through everything? Her hand tightens around Lightning’s wrist just slightly, feels the pulse of her heartbeat against her fingertips, revels in the life beating through her veins.)

“You…you saved me.” Luna has to blink to keep her vision clear as she focuses on the piercing blue intensity of Lightning’s gaze. She knows the woman cannot heal her with magic, so the bandages around her middle are from practiced medicine taught to the woman while in training to be the Oracle’s Shield. Of course she would have been taught what to do should the Oracle be incapacitated, unable to provide her own services. All in the line of duty.

And that’s what it is, isn’t it. Duty. Something Luna should be focusing on more herself. They both have their roles to play here, and Lightning’s has always been to keep Luna safe. Ofcourse she would find Luna’s body and bring her to a place they wouldn’t be found. Slowly, she loosens her grip around Lightning’s wrist and rests her own hands against her stomach. Ardyn’s knife had ripped her open here in an attempt to end her life. Luna’s eyes close and she focuses her strength, her magic, to knit the wound close.

But nothing happens. Her body resists, knowing that expending any energy could cause more damage than it would fix. Luna is alive, but her magic is useless now, while she heals from the wound, and from surging all her own magic to Noctis. She has left little for herself to use. She is, in essence, useless right now, and that is a feeling she doesn’t know what to do with. Despite her enhances strength, despite her ability to use magic and heal people, despite everything she has going for her in her role as Oracle - she is useless. What a feeling to face.

Tears burn her eyes as she closes them, and she despises how they leave hot trails down her face and back into her hair. “I cannot do anything,” she says aloud, putting words to the reality that there truly is nothing she can do right now. “Lightning.” A shaking breath leaves barely parted lips, and she opens her eyes again to look at her Shield. Her friend. “We should go back to Fenestala Manor. They will help keep my survival a secret until I am better.” And their doctors will be able to take over for Lightning and let the woman rest. “Under cover of night, we can go back.”

⚡ ⚡

  THE MOVEMENT OF HER HAND WAS SLOW, but still somehow managed to take the rosette aback when slender digits were wrapped around her wrist, coaxing a palm forward. Fingertips touched warm skin, twitched with the temptation of tracing the jutted bone of her collar. It was foreign, an INTIMATE gesture that Oracle and Shield had never truly indulged -- too firmly rooted in their sense of duty to allow for the physical. Lightning had never been one for prolonged touches, but she allowed for whatever comfort Luna might seek from the contact, gently, carefully, pressing fingers against pale flesh in an attempt to ANCHOR the blonde to reality.

  You saved me. The words echoed in her mind, the Shield attempting to dissect their meaning. Was it disbelief that Lightning had put herself in danger to ensure the safety of the Oracle -- a task for which she’d been prepared from a young age ? Or was it merely the DELIRIUM born of pain and the remnants of unconsciousness? Did she, perhaps, fear that Lightning had only saved her because it was her job and she’d done little more than adhere to years of training ? Much as the rosette had an obligation to the Oracle, it wasn’t merely her title as Shield that has driven her to rescue Lunafreya. Though she strictly adhered to the decorum expected of her, Lightning viewed the princess as a friend -- more, even, if she dared to be honest with herself ( and when it came to ever foreign matters of the heart, she certainly didn’t ). Emotions often failed the Shield; raised in near seclusion -- save for Luna, Ravus and those who taught her what it meant to dedicate one’s life to the Oracle -- and given the minimal contact she’d had with others, the memories of a more carefree childhood long since faded, the difficulty of forging bonds and navigating even the most basic interactions was to be expected.

  Even as Luna’s grip fell away, fingers lingered, aqua gaze falling to spot where flesh connected, watching the steady -- albeit somewhat labored -- rise and fall of her chest. The Astrals had never seemed the benevolent type, but Lightning could only attribute Luna’s survival to divine intervention.

  Unless the Oracle had not finished playing her part in their tale -- a notion that nauseated Lightning. Though the rosette wouldn’t hesitate going toe-to-toe with the deities if it ensured Luna’s safety, she knew the blonde would never allow Light to come between her and the damned prophecy.

  Fuck the prophecy.

  Finally withdrawing her hand, she watched as tears sprung from the other’s eyes, lips down-turned as she resisted the urge to reach out and swipe at the rivulets that coursed across her cheek. Luna had ENDURED much ( too much ) and seeing her like this -- vulnerable, lost -- only solidified her conviction in ending whatever role she was expected to continue to play. 

  The Astrals would no longer treat the Oracle like a plaything, so long as Lightning lived.

  ❛  NO.  ❜  Dusty rose locks shifted as she shook her head, the gaze that met with Luna’s missing its usual STEELINESS, but still held a finality within; this was clearly not up for discussion.  ❛  IT’S TOO DANGEROUS, AND YOU’RE IN NO CONDITION FOR THE TREK.  ❜  Before the expected protest could be uttered, a hand was raised.  ❛  YOU NEED REST. WHEN YOU’RE HEALED, WE CAN MAKE PLANS.  ❜

[misssophiachase]

So this is my Klaroline Winter Wonderland Gift for the amazing Abby - @3tinkgemini - thanks for the lovely review : ) I kind of figured you'd know my identity by the title but I had to do it hehe...(top and bottom lyric from the Foo Fighters)

Summary: A childhood Christmas promise made between neighbours Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes unexpectedly spans years into adulthood. Now he's back in her life suddenly but Caroline isn't quite sure what he wants and what it has to do with her.

Everlong

Breathe out…

"You've got mail," Katherine grinned, a knowing but equally annoying smile plastered on her face. She was sitting by their generously sized Christmas tree, surrounded by an exorbitant amount of wrapping paper in various patterns and colors.

Her heart began thumping in her chest knowing just who her best friend was talking about, not that she'd ever admit it aloud. She wished now she'd never revealed his identity to Katherine during that drunken game of truth or dare in senior year of college.

"What exactly are you wrapping? You've got enough paper for a car. Don't tell me you finally caved and decided to buy me some new wheels, roomie?" She teased, removing her coat and scarf, placing them neatly on the hook behind the door.

"Nice segue," she shot back sarcastically, gesturing to the envelope sitting on the side table. "As for the wrapping, what do you expect when I have Santa's very own elf as my roommate? If anything is less than perfect you're the first one to tell me."

"There's nothing wrong with being…."

"Anal and extremely OCD?"

"When I first met you in college you were a scary combination of the Grinch and Scrooge. Now you're swimming in a sea of perfectly coordinated wrapping paper and ribbon. All we need is some eggnog and Christmas Carols playing and this scene would be perfect."

"You even think about playing Jingle Bells again and Scrooge and the Grinch will come back to haunt your dreams in all their 'bah humbug' glory." She warned, using air quotes for extra effect.

"Well, on that festive note, I'm going to take a bath. I have the headache from hell after my long day."

Caroline grew up in small town Illinois but left shortly after graduation, earning her degree from North Western University as a qualified child psychologist. She'd met Katherine while studying and the two had been inseparable ever since.

One thing she knew from experience was that rather it being the happiest time of the year some of these kids and their parents didn't see it the same way. Sadly, the holidays brought out the worst in some families, hence her insistence on making it as normal as possible at her house, even with the Grinch in residence.

"Don't forget your mail, Care," Katherine sing songed as she passed by the table. "Might make for some nice bath time reading." She didn't bother responding just grabbed it, that neat cursive causing a few familiar feelings to flutter down below.

Seventeen years earlier….

Twelve year-old Caroline loved Christmas. From picking the perfect tree to wrapping presents and helping her mom with dinner, she'd never been as happy as she was on that particular occasion. Until this year spectacularly derailed all her well thought out plans.

He left.

Forever.

She knew then life would never be the same again.

She jumped in the residual, melted snow angrily, her blonde ponytail shaking as her rain boots caused the water to splash far and wide across their back porch. Christmas wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be fun, it was supposed to be happy and it was supposed to be filled with love but her family was broken and all she felt was a simmering sense of anger that wasn't about to abate anytime soon.

Her mom had taken her to some shrink a month ago and Caroline was supposed to share her feelings but right now all she wanted was to yell and scream at her father and say this wasn't fair.

Christmas would never be the same again.

And it was all his fault.

A familiar soccer ball came flying over the fence and nearly hit her in the head, it was going that fast. She ducked, rolling her blue eyes as she did it. Typical that he had to make her life that much worse today. Caroline was beginning to think that her inconsiderate neighbour could sense her moods and set out to make them that much worse on purpose.

He was slowly climbing over the fence and she envisioned throwing his ball back with the exact same force it'd arrived. Klaus Mikaelson not only had the ability to make you feel worse, he always knew just how to make himself at home, even if it wasn't his.

"Has anyone told you that you suck at soccer?" She drawled, choosing that stolen moment to hurl it back and hit him square on the chest knocking him off the fence before he could make a safe landing. Maybe her day wasn't quite so bad, even if he was lying on her side of the fence.

"Ouch," he muttered gruffly, picking himself up and dusting the snow from his jacket. "Actually no, no one's told me that today." He was kind of cute, you know if you liked English accents, blonde curls and penetrating, blue eyes. Pity his personality didn't match his looks.

"Well, I'm glad to be the first," she pouted.

"It's only because it's called football, not soccer, love."

"Fine, has anyone told you that you suck at football today? And don't call me that." She was trudging towards the house now, not allowing him to have the last word. He had this frustrating way of always sneaking something in at the last minute.

"You're even angrier than at school and that's saying something, Forbes."

Klaus was two grades above her but still made it his aim in life to annoy her. She was friends with his sister Rebekah, so that's what she put it down to given he took every chance to harass them both at every available opportunity.

"Well, that happens to be none of your business, Mikaelson."

"You don't have to pretend to hate me, Caroline," he offered. She turned around angrily, her ponytail whipping her face in the process. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes yet again. Who did Klaus Mikaelson think he was?

"You wish," she huffed. "And even if I did like anyone they'd have to be much better at football." He didn't respond immediately just flashed a rogue dimple in her direction. Caroline reeled back briefly wondering where that had come from.

"You said football," he teased triumphantly. She mentally berated herself, thinking it was only because of her father that her emotions were out of whack.

"Whatever," she hissed. "Can you just leave?"

"Just when we were really getting acquainted."

"I'm surprised you know the meaning of the word acquainted," she scoffed, pronouncing it slowly for his benefit. "And no we weren't, you were just leaving."

"Caroline, are you ready? We'll be leaving soon." Her mother yelled from inside, interrupting their bickering.

She closed her eyes momentarily, wishing the earth would swallow her up, well for the holidays at least. They were due in Church soon and she had to do that thing where she pretended life was wonderful and she was just as excited about Christmas as the rest of the close knit community in small town Galena. Apparently her father was away with work, something Liz had concocted to make it through the season relatively unscathed.

"I'm just talking to Klaus," she uttered, albeit feebly. "I'll be there in a few minutes." Anything to delay the inevitable was something. She couldn't miss the surprised smirk on her annoying neighbour's face. Great. Just great.

"And here I didn't think you even knew my name, Forbes."

"You learn the most interesting things on the toilet walls at school," she drawled, hoping he was buying her indifferent act. He featured heavily on those walls, mainly from pathetic girls who seemed to think he was god's gift. Go figure.

"Glad to be of some entertainment," he joked. What happened next she wasn't expecting. His smirk turned into a slight frown, his brow creasing before he finally spoke again. "You know; I'm, uh, sorry about everything..."

"Everything?" She bluffed. Klaus Mikaelson would be one of the last people to know, right? She'd told Rebekah but she promised not to tell a soul, unless…

"I overheard you telling Rebekah," he admitted, his blue eyes now downcast.

"You were spying on us?"

"I needed a glass of water and her bedroom is right near the kitchen and…"

"Sure, whatever," she dismissed, feeling slightly violated he'd eavesdropped on their private conversation. "If you've told anyone…"

"I haven't," he reassured.

"And what? You came over here to gloat?" Caroline didn't mean to be so harsh but her feelings were in overdrive and the fact her annoying neighbour knew everything only added to her anxiety.

"Besides almost hitting you with a 'soccer' ball," he joked using air quotes, a slight smile tugging on those crimson lips, "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Why?"

"Because, believe it or not, I'm not as horrible as you think, Caroline." She narrowed her eyes in his direction not sure whether to believe him. All he ever did was tease her and he had every girl at school chasing him. Why would he care about her? Yes, she was friends with his sister but that wasn't enough to make him come over here specially.

"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, trying not to shed another tear for her father, but failing. "He just left and…"

"And?"

"And I don't know what I did wrong," she whimpered, those tears she'd kept at bay threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"You did nothing," he soothed, leaning forward his hand finding hers. It was the closest they'd ever been and if she wasn't so upset, Caroline was sure she would have slapped him for touching her without permission.

"But Christmas was our time," she sobbed. "I don't know what I'm going to do now."

"Can I tell you something? A secret." She nodded, his hand still covering hers, the warmth making her feel that little less cold outside. "My dad is still around but he doesn't treat us, uh, that well." Caroline knew a little from Rebekah but had never asked given her friend's obvious reluctance.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he answered hurriedly. Caroline could tell from his expression that his father had inflicted just as much pain upon him as hers but didn't want to elaborate. "But just know that you did nothing wrong and if he chooses not to spend Christmas with you then it's all his fault."

"But why does it feel so bad," she answered, perhaps against her better judgment. She'd already cried in front of him so couldn't feel anymore embarrassed than she did.

"It won't always be this bad," he murmured.

"How do you know?"

"Because even though things have changed, Christmas will get better starting this year. I promise." His blue eyes bored into hers and even when her mother came to collect her for Church, Caroline suddenly felt like things might be okay. It was crazy, she wasn't sure why, but his childhood promise strangely meant something.

Caroline was deeply immersed in the bubbles now, the stress beginning to ebb away from her tense muscles before she spied the envelope sitting nearby. She was excited but at the same time nervous. From years of experience, Caroline knew his cards had the ability to make her feel buoyed but also slightly empty afterwards.

Caroline didn't mean to complain, the fact he cared enough to think about her meant a lot but she never really knew why he still did it, especially given his very busy and public schedule after all these years had passed.

She took a deep breath and reached for the card shakily, her thumb clumsily ripping under the flap, the adrenaline coursing through her body as always. Before she could open it the bathroom door opened abruptly startling her, Caroline dropping the card in shock. She watched in dismay as it sank, the blue ink blurring in the hot, soapy water. Her eyes shot up quickly spying her roommate giving her that partially guilty but at the same time 'it wasn't my fault' look.

"I know your bladder is tiny but couldn't it wait?" She hissed at the brunette. Katherine's expression was equal parts sorry and something she couldn't quite identify.

"You, uh, have a visitor," she managed to bite out, her olive cheeks slightly flushed.

"And you chose to interrupt my bath for that?"

"I figured this is kind of important," she pressed, her brown eyes boring into hers. She looked down at her ruined card, her chest constricting at the sight. Looks like she didn't have anything better to do now but still had no intention of moving. It was the principle after all.

"Look, if it's Santa Claus, tell him from me that you've been a naughty girl and don't deserve any presents. If he needs examples I can send him an extensive list of all your 2017 indiscretions and boy were there many."

"It's not Santa Claus, trust me," she replied through gritted teeth. "Get your annoying but cute, little ass out here, Forbes." She gestured madly towards the robe hanging nearby but Caroline had no intention of playing her silly games.

Caroline groaned, lifting herself reluctantly from the bath tub and grabbing the nearby, fluffy towel to wrap around her saturated body. Katherine was going to pay for ruining her mail and interrupting her much needed post-work reverie. It was most probably just Enzo or Bonnie who she saw all the time.

"If it isn't Prince Harry, I'm not going to be happy, Kat." She made her way into the living room, releasing her golden waves from the tight bun she'd styled to avoid the water.

"I never thought you had a thing for red heads, love." Caroline didn't need to investigate any further given that voice and his ensuing cocky statement. He was just as gorgeous, if not annoyingly more so, since she last saw him.

"Well, it has been a while," she squeaked, attempting to pull on the hem of her towel so it stopped riding up so high, while also attempting to find her voice. "Things change, people change. Believe it or not."

"Obviously," he smirked, taking in her scantily clad appearance, one curve at a time. She shivered involuntarily and it wasn't because of the draft. "If I'd known you were going to greet me like this then I would have visited sooner."

"I told you to put on that robe," Katherine murmured, just loud enough to incite a scowl from her best friend.

"You wish, Mikaelson," she shot back childishly, transporting her back to their early days. Suddenly that come back didn't seem so mature or cool for a twenty-nine year-old. "What do you want?"

He seemed a little taken aback by her defensive response but given her state of undress he really shouldn't have blamed her. "I, uh, had a favour to ask, but didn't expect to see you quite like this…"

"How about I change and then we talk?" She offered, desperate to put some extremely thick layers of clothing between herself and Klaus Mikaelson. It wasn't the first time she'd been overwhelmed by her attraction to him, Caroline remembered that night like it was yesterday. What she didn't know was that Klaus felt it too.

Fourteen years earlier

Klaus Mikaelson wasn't one to sneak around his neighbourhood late at night, especially when it was cold and in blizzard like conditions. He'd left the School's Winter dance in a rush knowing he had to make another stop on the way home, not that his date Camille was very impressed. She was okay but kind of boring so it wasn't that difficult for Klaus to leave prematurely.

The neighbourhood was dark this time of night except for the dim glow coming from the street lights. Klaus shivered, pulling his coat across his chest to try and ward off the chill. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the white envelope. Her name was written in perfectively neat cursive on the front. Every time he left a card he was equal parts anxious and excited. Was what he'd written enough? Would she like it? After three previous, anonymously written cards he was hoping he had it just right by now.

If anyone knew what he was doing, Klaus was pretty certain they'd laugh at him. Well Kol and Rebekah would and his father would no doubt taunt him for being pathetic and emotionally weak. Which is exactly why he needed to keep his secret.

Just as he placed it in her mail slot, Klaus felt it. Cold and hard. He was in shock as the snow that had been solidly caked on his face began to melt away.

"What the hell," he muttered. The house was dark and he couldn't make out any life until she emerged from the shadows, another snowball firmly grasped in her hand and aimed menacingly in his direction.

"It's you!" It was more like a hissed statement than a question. Even though it was late and dark, Klaus couldn't miss just how effortless her golden waves looked cascading down her back, her creamy cheeks flushed from the cold.

"You have an interesting concept of hospitality," he grumbled, still shaking off the residual snow.

"That's an unusual way to speak to someone armed with a perfectly formed snowball, Mikaelson," she warned, her light, blue eyes blazing angrily.

"Are you on a weird stakeout or something, Officer?"

"Well, Rebekah and I were until she turned into full-on princess mode and had to go inside to deal with her apparently frizzy hair." Klaus could relate to that scenario as she rambled on before finally returning to her point. "How dare you leave anonymous cards in my letter box all these years without telling me?"

"I thought that was the whole point of anonymity," he growled, sarcastically. "Look, I figured if you knew it was me I'd get more than a snowball for my trouble as proven by tonight's lecture and ensuing threats."

"I resent that," she huffed.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"But why? Since I started high school, you've barely acknowledged me. Do you feel sorry for me or something?" Klaus was popular, he had a certain image to live up to but the one thing he never felt for his neighbour was pity. It was something much more that he couldn't explain, even to himself.

"I just wanted to make your Christmas special," he admitted, albeit quietly. "I promised all those years ago that I would and, believe it or not, it's something I don't take lightly."

"Are you just saying this because I have a snowball aimed and ready to fire?" Klaus smiled, glad to have an easy and fun distraction to avoid anything too emotional or heavy.

"What snowball?" He teased, grabbing hold of her and proceeding to shake it loose from her grip. Her hair smelled like vanilla and strawberries and she was giggling melodically and he couldn't help but think just how perfect she felt moulded into his body.

"Don't you dare!" Before he could continue, she'd wriggled free from his grasp and aimed it squarely at his chest. It hit him before he had much time to react. Before long snowballs were flying thick and fast between them and they ended up in a heap on the front lawn, tired and out of breath.

"It's okay, I won't tell any of your girlfriends I beat you in a snowball fight, I know how crushing that would be for such an oversized ego." She chuckled, her head laying comfortably on his stomach as she said it.

"Excuse me? I won that convincingly," he baulked, his gaze focused on the few stars that were visible that winter's night. For some reason Klaus felt more relaxed than he had for a long time. The fact Caroline was involved wasn't entirely a coincidence either.

She stirred, attempting to sit up in the slippery conditions. Suddenly he felt cold without her near. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, Mikaelson."

"Where are you going?" He murmured, unmoved but taking in the gorgeous view of her from his vantage point.

"I have a Christmas card to read," she smiled sincerely. After all the teasing, Klaus knew she truly appreciated his gesture. Maybe that was why she'd made such an effort to find the author. "Don't worry, I wont tell anyone, Mikaelson. Your secret is safe with me."

"Great," he said, a sigh of relief escaping. "In fact, the less we speak about this is probably for the best."

From then on they never spoke about it again but he always signed his name unafraid to do so after that fleeting but refreshingly honest discussion.

"So, your roommate is…"

"Bossy? Forthright? Intense? Has absolutely no filter?" Caroline interrupted, taking a long sip from her gin martini as she did it. "You're not the first one to notice, trust me."

"She actually reminded me of Rebekah for a bit, although she did offer me eggnog which was a lot more hospitable than my little sister would have ever been."

"Katherine wouldn't even know what eggnog was if it bit her on the ass," she mumbled knowingly. "Before I came along she was Scrooge, so I'm pretty sure her motives were much less pure."

"Less pure?"

"You're Klaus Mikaelson," she hissed, looking around The Violet Hour, a prohibition style bar located in the Wicker Park area of Chicago.

"Thanks for telling me my own name," he chuckled, thinking just how adorable she still was after all these years. In fact, he was struggling to keep her bare, wet and creamy limbs out of his mind from her surprising bathroom exit earlier. When he imagined their reunion after so many years it wasn't a practically naked one, not that Klaus was complaining at all.

"Klaus, hello?" She asked, breaking him from his Caroline induced trance.

"Caroline, I'm just like every other person here..."

"You're not," she muttered, making him roll his eyes in frustration. For once in his life Klaus wanted to be treated like a normal person, not the famous actor he'd become. Sometimes it had its perks, other times not so much. "Didn't you wonder why I brought you to this secluded, dark, speakeasy?"

"I thought you were trying to be romantic, love," he grinned. Even though the lights were dimmed, Klaus was fairly certain she was blushing and it was the cutest thing he'd seen in a long while.

"Do you get joy out of making me uncomfortable?"

"Tis the season for joy right?"

"It's actually the season to be jolly, but enough with the pleasantries." Klaus cocked his left eyebrow curiously wondering what her definition of un-pleasantries would be. "Apparently you have something to ask me, although I can't imagine what it would be." Klaus couldn't help but think just how gorgeously stubborn she looked trying to not so subtly change the subject.

Truth was he'd never forgotten his neighbour after all this time, as evidenced by the Christmas card he penned for her each year, and coming into such close contact wasn't making his mission all that easier. His cell chose to ring at that particular moment, interrupting their conversation. One brief glance at his caller ID did nothing to dispel the theory she had GPS tracking on him.

"Aren't you going to answer that?"

"No," he replied shortly. The last think he felt like doing was listening to Rebekah's incessant yammering in his ear.

"Don't tell me, it's some crazed, psycho-stalker fan?"

"You've been watching too many movies. Although I guess you could say it's something like that," he joked, thinking just how on-point her observations were about his sister.

Finally, it stopped before he was able to speak again. This was important and he didn't want it to come across like he'd practiced it a thousand times on his way over from Los Angeles, because he had.

"Caroline, what I've come to ask you about is if…" It was her cell phone's turn to ring. Caroline's gaze flickered to her purse, consulting the screen curiously.

"Boyfriend?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant but suddenly caring about her answer.

"Your sister actually, which I'm guessing isn't a coincidence seeing as your less than pleased reaction to your last phone caller?" Klaus shook his head in dismay thinking about his sister's dogged determination and her absolutely poor timing as usual. She connected the call and spoke. "Rebekah, how are you?"

Klaus was surprised to hear them chatting so familiarly. When they went their separate ways after choosing colleges on opposite sides of the country he didn't think they'd had much interaction. Obviously he was wrong. "I did get your invite, I'm just not sure if I can make it. My work schedule is quite full this time of year but I'll certainly try." She knew about Rebekah's Christmas party? If she came, maybe it wouldn't be as dull as he'd initially thought.

"You're after Klaus?" She asked, after a few minutes, the person in question shaking his head sternly. "He's actually in the bathroom. Between you and me I'm pretty sure it's a bad case of constipation."

"Constipation? Seriously?" He mouthed, unimpressed by her choice of excuse. She grinned evilly in his direction, it was like they were back to being bickering kids again. He didn't hear his sister's response but when she shoved her cell in his face, Klaus knew Rebekah wasn't buying it.

"Don't tell me you're already having withdrawals since seeing me five hours ago, sister dear?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Niklaus," she bit back, the venom in her voice thick. "I know you have to discuss some important things with Caroline but I wouldn't call unless it was an emergency." Klaus had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, she called often and there was never any urgency about it. "I'm calling in regards to your child who is currently running around the place like a mad thing all hopped up on Christmas candy."

"But what about Kol?" Klaus had left his daughter in the care of her favourite Uncle. Although they all lived in Los Angeles, his Director brother didn't have as much time to spend with his niece as he would have liked.

"Kol is also running around the place hopped up on sugar and the apartment is an absolute mess," she growled. "The fact you chose to leave Sophie in the care of her unreliable and reckless uncle is something we can discuss later. In the mean time I suggest you get your ass back here pronto before I'm forced to smother them both." She disconnected before Klaus could offer a reply. She obviously meant business.

"Let me guess, you have to go?" She guessed, tucking her cell back into her purse. "Rebekah's having a party decoration emergency and Kol had decided to somehow thwart her best laid plans?"

"Something like that," he smiled. "But I really would like to get together so we talk properly…"

"About this mysterious question you have?"

"Yeah, about that. Sounds like you have an invitation to my sister's holiday party but you're choosing to work instead? I know Rebekah can be kind of…"

"Full on?"

"That's putting it mildly," he agreed. "But it would be great to see you again so we can…"

"Okay, fine, I'll be there, but if Rebekah starts bossing me around I'm out of there. I have done my fair share of joint party planning with her in the past and I'm way too old for this crap."

"It's a date..." he faltered, realising what he'd said. Klaus was usually so suave and self assured but she made him feel like he was fourteen years-old all over again. "I mean it's a deal." Her bemused expression was telling Klaus she didn't quite buy it.

"I'll see you tomorrow night then," she said, giving him a brief smile then making her way towards the exit. Before she could leave, he called out to her retreating back.

"So, uh, did you get my card?" She turned around and even though it was dark, Klaus could sense she was a little surprised, not to mention flustered.

"Yeah, I did," she eventually answered. "Thank you. Although I thought we never spoke of such things?" Klaus mentally kicked himself for coming up with that particular, and not very well thought out, rule of their annual correspondence.

"Yeah, just checking, I know how unreliable the USPS can be, you know especially this time of year." Klaus shook his head once she was out the door. Did he really say that aloud?

"Did someone forget to invite me to a party at my own house?" Caroline asked curiously, walking in the front door to see her gaggle of friends crowding around the fireplace in animated and loud discussion.

"Care Bear, you're back, finally!" Enzo greeted making his way across the room and squeezing her greedily. He knew she hated that nickname but still chose to use it just to frustrate her. Caroline was starting to believe he and Klaus shared the same, annoying personality traits. Maybe it was the British in them?

"We heard all about your little visit," Bonnie squealed excitedly, pulling her into a hug as well. "It's not everyday a celebrity comes knocking at your door."

"Although being the actor, I thought he was supposed to be the one putting on a show, not our little Care Bear clad only in a skimpy, bath towel."

"Is there anything you didn't tell them, Kat?" She asked her best friend pointedly before flopping onto the couch.

Bonnie had a medical practice in the same building as Caroline and the three girls had become friends almost immediately, Enzo on the other hand was their annoying neighbour from down the hall who ate all their food and moaned about his love life from their couch. Caroline told him she really should start charging him for her services.

"So, what happened? I know, he kissed you right?" Bonnie did always have the tendency to be overexcitable. "All those years of pent up tension through the mailbox."

All Caroline wanted was to lie in bed and try to deconstruct what exactly had happened with Klaus. They hadn't seen each other in about twelve years and those annual Christmas cards didn't count. They weren't even friends, in fact Caroline had no idea what their current status was. As young children they were initially enemies but now, years later, they seemed to be in some weird no man's land.

The fact Rebekah knew they were together tonight also intrigued her as to what he may want. As far as Caroline was concerned, Rebekah didn't think they had any kind of relationship. It's not like she'd told her about the cards because she promised Klaus it was their secret.

"I think she's experiencing some very intimate Klaus Mikaelson flashbacks," Bonnie offered, breaking Caroline from her trance.

"I was not," she argued, feeling like the Spanish inquisition was only just beginning. These three were like dogs with bones when they sniffed out a story. "I was just thinking how much I'd like to go to bed."

"The lady doth protest too much me thinks."

"Thanks William Shakespeare," Caroline shot back for her nosy neighbour's benefit. "You've been awfully quiet over there, Katherine. No opinion you'd like to share?"

"Even though it wasn't my fault and I was telling the truth about a visitor and I so told you to put on a robe, I felt a teeny bit bad."

"Oh really? About what part exactly?"

"The card," she shared, sheepishly. "So once you left, I fished it out of the bath and we've been drying it by the fire." Caroline looked around to where she was gesturing. There was his card hanging from the mantel, complete with smudged and illegible ink.

"While I appreciate the sentiment," she began, still surprised her friend had gone to such extremes to save her unsalvageable card. "You can't even read it."

"That's not exactly true," Bonnie offered, her hands running along the mess of blue ink. "I am a doctor so messy writing and understanding said messy writing goes hand in hand."

"Oh really and what does it say, Dr Bennett?" She asked, peering curiously at the mess and wondering what she would come up with.

"Well," Enzo interrupted, always insisting on being the centre of attention. "He's wishing you a Merry Christmas."

"Tell me something I don't know." He wrote that particular greeting every year.

"You didn't let me finish," he shot back impatiently. "Here he's saying; it's been too long since we were last together."

"He is not." From experience, his cards were always only slightly heartfelt and even a little witty at times but he would never say anything like that. It was far too intimate. Unless…Her thoughts took her back to the bar and his mysterious request.

"Well, if you don't believe that," Katherine offered, gesturing to another part. "See that word above Klaus?" Caroline could barely make out his name let alone that. "It says love. Like as in, love Klaus."

She stared at the word hoping that her scrambled brain could come to the same conclusion. "It could say anything, Kat."

"Like what?"

"Like."

"Live."

"Lake."

"Lamb."

"Hold up Family Feud contestants and my question of four letter words beginning with the letter L," Katherine drawled, holding up her hand. "Lamb, Lorenzo, really?"

"Maybe he's hoping she'll have some good lamb for Christmas Dinner."

"Now, that's romantic," she shot back, dryly. "Love is the only option, especially given its placement on the card." Caroline had long since stopped listening, her thoughts revisiting his unusual mention of the card. They didn't talk about it. Ever. Why did he feel the need to bring it up now, of all times?

"What's going on, Care?" Kat always could read her mind which was annoying when she was trying to keep her very private thoughts to herself. "I'd know that look anywhere. What did he say tonight? What exactly did he want more importantly?"

"I don't know," she replied. At least that much was true. "His sister Rebekah called with some emergency and he had to leave."

"Even so, when I mentioned the wording on the card you suddenly went quiet," she pushed, her curious glance unrelenting.

"He asked if I got it, alright?"

"And?" Bonnie asked clearly perplexed, still relatively new to their unorthodox, written relationship. Enzo looked equally confused, although that wasn't surprising.

"But you don't talk about it verbally, ever," Katherine said knowingly. "This makes so much sense now, he came here to profess his love in person after doing it initially in writing. At least that explains why he was so interested in the stack of mail on the table when you were getting dressed."

"Really?" Caroline still couldn't believe it but things were certainly beginning to make sense, especially given how awkward the usually cocky Klaus had seemed in her presence. Did that mean Rebekah knew his plans? Her mind was suddenly whirling with possibilities.

"Really," she repeated. "But if he had to runaway so suddenly does that mean you won't see each other again?"

"Did he chicken out?" Enzo asked. "I mean speaking from personal experience and my love life…"

"This isn't about your inabilities with women, Lorenzo," Katherine interrupted. "Focus."

"Maybe it's about his complicated love life at present," Bonnie suggested. "I read all about the divorce in US Weekly last month."

"Divorce?" Caroline asked, unable to help herself. Unbeknownst to her close circle of friends she liked to pretend she wasn't keeping track of his personal life but poured through the gossip magazines when she knew no one was watching.

"They separated eighteen months ago and divorced this past September," Katherine scoffed. "US Weekly are a little late to the party aren't they? And if you try to pretend that you know nothing about a well-known celebrity's personal life, I don't believe you, Forbes."

"Well, obviously not as much as you two gossip junkies," she admitted. "The divorce is news to me. This must be so difficult on…" She spoke again without thinking. Knowing about the separation was one thing but how their only child must be coping with a divorce too?

"Sophie," Bonnie finished. "Apparently he has sole custody, not surprising given that snake of an ex-wife."

"Says who exactly?" When Caroline heard the word divorce it transported her back to her very own childhood and she hated that a young girl might be going through the same thing. "And if you say US Weekly, I'm going to question their accuracy."

"Just Jared uploaded it to his blog a few weeks back then Perez followed suit," Katherine replied knowingly.

"And you believe everything you read? Especially those bogus quotes from a source close to the couple?"

"There's too many sources to dispute the circumstances. Just because you like to pretend you're not interested in this guy's personal life doesn't mean I'm not."

"I'm surprised they lasted as long as they did," Bonnie offered. "But just because she's some supermodel doesn't mean Hayley Marshall is the perfect wife or mother material."

"It's not right to make judgements like that, Bon," Caroline chided. She would never understand someone who didn't want to be front and centre in their child's life but didn't like to make any uninformed comments, especially given her vocation.

"None of that matters except for the fact he's ready to mingle, including the woman he sends cards to every year and has been pining for since they were teenagers."

"You are all jumping to conclusions."

"I'm the first to admit those two agony aunts jump to conclusions but for once they seem to have a point," Enzo added. "So, when are you going to see him again?"

"Rebekah's having a Christmas party," she murmured. "I told him I might drop by." She was in a confused daze now but her friends were obviously buoyed by the news.

"I love a good party, darling," Enzo said, the two girls agreeing wholeheartedly. Looks like she was going to have to sneak in three gate crashers but right now that wasn't her biggest concern.

"Have I told you just how annoying you are?"

"Pretty much every day of my life, Kol, and yet I choose to ignore your incessant complaining," she shot back. "There's only so much whining this professional party planner can take before a big event."

"Why do I come back to Illinois for this again?" Kol growled.

"Because mother likes her children together in the same state and what better place than the Windy City," she replied. "Certainly beats small town Illinois."

For once, Klaus couldn't disagree. Mikael had passed away five years earlier and spending the holidays together without his foreboding presence filled Klaus with some degree of hope for the future. Family was something he always wanted to share with his daughter even if they all had the tendency to bicker when they got together for the holidays and every other occasion.

"Except Elijah, what's his bloody excuse? Last time I checked I had to travel further from LA than New York."

"He's working on an important case," Rebekah explained. Their eldest and stuffy brother was doing what he did best. Work.

"And who wants Elijah at a party when he wants to talk about his latest law drama? It's like watching paint dry but even worse."

"I'll be sure to remember that next time I decide to avoid a family event knowing you'll all be talking about me behind my back, Niklaus." A prim voice interrupted.

They all froze, thinking it was some weird dream he'd decided to intercept but no such luck. The oldest brother, who had the ability to wear a suit like no other, was present and looking extremely serious but pristine.

"Show off," Kol growled.

"Nice to see you too, little brother," he offered, a slightly raised left eyebrow giving away his innermost thoughts. "So, what have I missed?"

"Rebekah is being Rebekah."

"I meant something new, Kol."

"Well, Niklaus and Rebekah are being particularly harsh," he began. "I was babysitting last night and Rebekah had to go and tell him I was leading my niece astray."

"And were you?"

"Not at all," he shot back, albeit slightly guiltily. "We were exploring our creative sides. If anything I figured the actor would appreciate that."

"Is that what you call it?" Rebekah snorted. "You were both high on sugar and left a trail of baking mess in your wake. If anything I was stopping anything more untoward from happening. Given the divorce and custody settlement and the current media interest at least I'm being responsible."

"Oh come on," Kol argued. "Last time I checked the paparazzi couldn't get a lens long enough in this place and being a Director I should bloody know."

"Apparently Caroline Forbes will be making an appearance tonight," Rebekah interrupted sick of hearing Kol's whiny voice. Klaus looked up, giving Rebekah an especially dirty look. "What Niklaus? He asked what was new."

"You're finally going to ask her about you and Sophie?" Elijah asked curiously. "It's about bloody time."

"This is why I try to avoid all these weird family moments," he replied gruffly. Of course Klaus was going to ask her but his simmering feelings were threatening to ruin his strong resolve. He just hoped he could follow through; it was too important after all.

"Now, this is a party," Enzo said. "What does this chick do again?"

"For my sake, please don't call Rebekah a chick," Caroline moaned. "She has very strict standards especially for those crashing her perfectly planned party and using stereotypical names for females."

"It's okay, you don't need to lie Care Bear, I have no intention of ruining your big night with Klausy…"

"Enough, Lorenzo," Katherine interrupted, placing her hand heavily on his chest. "The last thing our Care needs is for us to bring attention to her desperate mission."

"Desperate?" Caroline hissed, hoping no one else overheard that description. Last time she checked, Caroline was only there to hear his long awaited confession. She'd also dressed accordingly in a fitted, red number that only revealed slightly less than her towel fashion from yesterday. "Maybe you should take a long look at yourself before…"

"You haven't changed at all darling," Kol intercepted their path to the bar. "I love that sharp tongue; you know as long as it doesn't come from my sister's harsh and unforgiving mouth."

"Nice to see you too, Kol," she replied, thinking just how things never changed in the Mikaelson family. "Been keeping well?" She regretted that question just as he began to ramble on about his hard life as an up and coming film director in Hollywood.

"You know what? I have the perfect person you should meet." Maybe it was cruel but she was madly hoping to get to Klaus some time this evening and the less excess baggage she had on her the better. Kol took one look at Bonnie and she was suddenly yesterday's news, not that she was surprised given how beautiful her friend was.

"Smooth, Care," Katherine muttered, looking at the two of them chatting. "Don't think I'm going to be that easy to deter from the ultimate goal."

"Ms Forbes," Elijah smiled, approaching her and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Caroline forgot just how handsome the eldest Mikaelson was. "It's lovely to see you again after so many years."

"Nice suit," Katherine interrupted, almost in a trance. This was going to be easier than Caroline thought. Although the sight of him in his finest was enough to bring any Scrooge to her knees. "I mean it fits you extremely well." He gave Caroline a curious glance at her friend's unexpected interest in his attire.

"This is Katherine, my best friend," Caroline introduced. "She's a clothing designer, hence her avid interest in your suit."

"Any chance I could ask you some details about your tailor?" Katherine pressed. Elijah looked a little overwhelmed but nodded anyway too polite to ever decline.

Two down, one to go, she thought to herself. Caroline didn't mean to be rude but if she wanted to speak with Klaus about what was happening she certainly didn't need an entourage, let alone her needy, food lover of a neighbour interfering.

"Caroline! I'm so glad you made it."

Suddenly she felt right at home in this relative sea of strangers. Rebekah had been her first best friend and confidant and even with their obvious differences and the relative distance between them it was like the first day they met on the swings in Primary School. Rebekah had knocked out a boy in their class who'd looked at Caroline untowardly and their friendship was cemented then and there.

"Me too," she replied sincerely, squeezing her tightly. Caroline never realized just how much she'd missed the Mikaelson siblings until right now.

"Now, suddenly so am I," Enzo shared, interrupting their big moment. "Hello there, blondie."

"Blondie?" Rebekah baulked, pulling back from their hug and giving her companion a curious glance. "This Neanderthal is with you?"

"He was dropped on his head as a child," she apologised, albeit feebly. "And he has a habit of getting a little light headed and grouchy when he hasn't eaten anything."

"Oh, I've eaten and what I've had so far was rubbish." She closed her eyes thinking Enzo had no filter and that was going to get him kicked out at best.

"You're calling my food rubbish?" She huffed, hands on her hips. No one insulted one of her parties and got away with it.

"I suppose I am, it's the least I could do after you calling me a Neanderthal," he shrugged his shoulders. Given his advanced math and physics degree from Harvard and extremely high IQ, Caroline knew he could hold his own. Caroline also had to give it to Enzo and the fact he was willing to bear her wrath, no doubt for her benefit. The one thing Rebekah hated was an unhappy customer, no matter how annoying.

"Has anyone told you that you're rude?"

"Has anyone told you the same thing?" They stilled, chest to chest, and Caroline wasn't quite sure what was going to happen. Either they were going to make out or rip each other to shreds. As much as she wanted to watch the fallout, Caroline had other more pressing things on her mind. If Enzo could occupy Rebekah she was free to find Klaus.

The fact Klaus was supposedly admitting his feelings after so long filled her with happiness and long awaited hope but at the same time a certain dread. Yes, they'd grown up side by side, but besides some beautifully penned letters and an undeniable sexual attraction she didn't know Klaus Mikaelson at all, celebrity or not.

If he was going to tell her he loved her, Caroline wasn't quite sure how she'd respond. She made her way towards the impressive fireplace, a cute blonde with her back to Caroline watching the cracking flames in some kind of hypnotic state. She took a seat by her, thinking it was the most comfortable she felt thus far tonight.

"Is this seat taken?" The little girl turned curiously to face her, blonde curls fastened back in pigtails and deep, penetrating, blue eyes. It was like taking a time machine back to when he decided to kick his soccer ball into her yard all those years ago. She shook her head, her gaze returning to the fire. "It's pretty isn't it?"

"I guess," she murmured distractedly. Caroline knew Sophie Mikaelson was only five so conversation, especially with a stranger, wasn't going to be easy but she had some experience.

"Why do you like it?" She paused for a moment obviously trying to work out a response.

"Marshmallows," she shared softly. "I'd cook them over the fire with mommy and daddy at Christmas."

"That must be fun," she smiled, watching the familiar way the little girl's face lit up then fell sadly. It was like looking in a mirror of her twelve-year-old self.

"But not now," she sighed. "Mommy and daddy don't love each other anymore so it's never going to happen again."

"They will always love each other," she promised, knowing that even in her parent's case it was somehow true. "But you know who they love the most?" Sophie's attention was now firmly transfixed on Caroline.

"Who?"

"You." She grinned. "And that will never change, trust me."

"How do you know?"

"My mommy and daddy aren't together either but that doesn't mean they don't love me." Although she hadn't seen her father since, Caroline still held out some belief that he cared in his own way.

"Plus, Caroline knows everything, sweetheart," a familiar voice interrupted. Caroline looked up and into those expressive eyes she knew so well. Those eyes that were silently conveying his thanks for comforting his daughter. "And I happen to know about some marshmallows that Aunt Rebekah secretly stashed for this very occasion."

"Really?" She asked, her eyes wide.

"Really," Klaus grinned. "Go and ask her." He placed a kiss on her head before she ran away in a flurry of excitement.

"All I'm going to say is that I hope you gave Rebekah a heads up," Caroline offered as he took a seat next to her, his knee accidentally rubbing up against her leg teasingly. "Otherwise she's going to be really pissed."

"I'd pay to see that happen," he joked, Caroline returned his gaze her mouth now agape.

"No one goes up against Rebekah Mikaelson and lives, I figured given you're her sibling you'd know that all too well."

"Except if it's her five-year-old niece who she loves more than yours truly," he said knowingly. "She'll have that stash, trust me, and if not she'll make Kol, Elijah or myself go to the nearest store to make it happen."

"Gotta love family."

"That's what I tell myself every time I want to strangle any of them." Klaus chuckled.

"I forgot how warm and fuzzy you Mikaelsons are," she teased, hitting him on the chest playfully. "Not that I can really talk given I sacrificed my friend Bonnie to Kol's attempted charms, my friend Katherine to Elijah's suit measurements and my neighbour Enzo to your sister."

"Neighbour? Is he a lot like me back in the day?"

"Much less irritating but with a much bigger appetite. Enzo took her to task on her catering choices this evening."

"And you think I'm in danger from an uncertain death? I'd make a wager that your boy Enzo is buried in a shallow grave nearby and if not yet he will be very soon."

"She's gorgeous," Caroline murmured, choosing to change the subject from silly to serious. Given her career she could sense a child in need and Sophie was one of those. "Not sure how she came from you at all."

"Very funny," he joked before his mood sobered. "She's not happy."

"That I can tell," Caroline offered. "But it's not completely hopeless, I survived didn't I?"

"But you had the town Sheriff for a mother not a supermodel with multiple career ambitions that don't include her own daughter."

"Maybe so," she agreed, thinking how that upbringing might have altered her childhood. "But at the end of the day, divorce is divorce. Someone is always going to leave no matter the situation. It's up to the child and parents to deal with it in the best way they know possible."

"So, do you have any suggestions?" Caroline turned to face him for the first time. She'd been worried given their close proximity and the effect his spicy aftershave would have but right now that wasn't important.

"Can I ask something first?" He nodded by way of response, Caroline trying to ignore just how gorgeous he looked in that tux Rebekah had no doubt forced him into for her party's strict dress code. "Why am I here? What is that you want, Klaus?" He paused briefly, taking in a few deep breaths before responding.

"I need your help," he admitted sheepishly. "I don't know what to do with Sophie. I figured given your experience you might be able to assist or at least point me in the right direction. She's inconsolable most of the time and I can't get through to her. I'm completely lost."

Caroline wasn't quite sure what to feel. Her friends and inner most thoughts had made her believe he wanted more but he was just a confused father reaching out for help. Given his support over the years to her in the same situation it was the least she could do.

"I'd be more than happy to help ," she smiled, placing her hand over his like he did all those years ago in her backyard and hoping he didn't slap it away like she'd been tempted to. "But I have no intention of going out for marshmallows, its all on you, Mikaelson."

One year later…

The playground was full this time of the day as Klaus fought his way through the hoards of parents and children attempting to spot his favourite girls. He spotted Sophie first, coming down the slippery slide, Caroline watching on proudly. The two adorable blondes on the playground making Klaus pause momentarily. He'd never been as in love as he was at that very moment.

After he'd admitted to needing help a year ago she'd thoughtfully rallied into action in doing just that. Klaus moved back to Illinois to support his daughter and over the next year they went from being somewhat strangers, who wrote cards, to really good friends. Sophie adored Caroline and the feeling was mutual.

"Fancy an ice cream?" Caroline nodded, taking Sophie's hand and leading her towards the nearby van they both knew so well.

"Oh, watch out," Caroline murmured looking further afield as they took a seat while leaving ordering duties up to Sophie as per usual, "$20 bucks on Grayson's mom hitting on you today."

"Come on."

"Chicken. You just don't want to agree because I'll take more money from you again, Mikaelson," she teased. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what exactly?

"Cause grown women with young children in tow to hit on you so unashamedly and publicly."

"I don't know, must be my extremely good looks wit and dazzling charm," he joked. A thousand women or more could hit on Klaus and he'd still only want Caroline Forbes.

"Or the fact that your face is plastered on every billboard in town promoting your latest blockbuster film," Caroline offered. "I always thought your head was just as big as your ego, Mikaelson, but it looks especially huge on those things."

"I resent that."

"I bet you do," she teased. "Oh, look out incoming at nine o'clock." He looked up to see none other than Grayson's mom approaching. "Feel free to add my winnings to your tab." Klaus didn't hesitate, leaning over and kissing Caroline. She seemed startled at first her blue eyes searching his curiously before returning the sentiment, those pink lips he'd dreamed about feeling just as soft as he'd imagined. They eventually broke apart, albeit reluctantly.

"Wow, you'll go to great lengths not to lose a bet," she murmured shakily. The tension was thick, only broken by his little girl approaching in search of cash. Klaus had a feeling it was just the beginning of that particular practice. He roused himself, making his way toward the van, mentally berating himself for kissing her so publicly and close to his daughter who was still working through her parent's break-up. After handing over the money they walked back, ice creams in hand.

"Honey, about Caroline..."

"I like her daddy, but please don't kiss her in front of all my friends, it's so embarrassing." Great, he thought to himself, she was only six and already embarrassed by her own father. But at the same time it was nice to have her blessing even if he hadn't raised it with the girl in question just blindsided her with a rogue kiss. Smooth, Mikaelson. "I'm going to go play in the sandpit."

"Chocolate, my favourite," she grinned taking it from his outstretched hand, the initial shock seemed to have worn off which was something.

"So, uh, about that kiss before..."

"You were so desperate to avoid Grayson's mom, I get it Klaus," she answered hurriedly. "Between you and me it was a little over the top but you are an actor so it's not completely unusual. I mean personally I would have..."

"Do you know you're adorable when you ramble? And did you ever think that maybe I just wanted to kiss you, have done since you knocked me off the fence with my football actually. I could never resist a girl with a good throwing arm."

"Oh you mean your soccer ball right?" She asked, revisiting the old joke they shared.

"I want you Caroline, I think I always have," he admitted. "I kicked that ball into your yard on purpose, you were the only one I ever told about Mikael and I kept writing a card to you every year because…"

"Because..."

"Because you're the one, love." She was silent for a moment, Klaus inwardly kicking himself for possibly coming on too strong. He couldn't help it given how much he loved her and the feelings he'd been hiding for too long.

"What's this?" He asked as she slid the white envelope across the table. His daughter's name was neatly printed on the front.

"Twenty years ago my loud and overbearing neighbour, who I admittedly thought was a bit of an idiot, promised me that it was all going to be okay after my father left. That Christmas would get better," she paused, her eyes downcast briefly. "Then he sent me cards every year to illustrate that very fact."

"Sounds like a top guy,"

"He is actually. That gesture was what got me through my teenage years and, believe it or not, into adulthood. You saved me, Klaus."

"I didn't, love, you did that all on your own."

"You helped me more than you'll ever know," she reiterated. "My mom had me in every counsellor's office in the county and they never got through to me like you did with one small but meaningful gesture. I may be a psychologist and I have loved helping Sophie this past year but nothing will ever fill the void of her mother's absence. But I happen to think this card might help a little."

"So, you're stealing my idea then?" He smirked. If Klaus was being honest he liked that they could continue their Christmas tradition with his daughter.

"No need to be so cocky, but I suppose I'd be willing to give you a discount instead?"

"Not necessary, although there's something you could do for me instead?"

"And what's that?"

"A date."

"A date?"

"I've been dreaming about it since you threw that snowball at me after the winter formal and probably even earlier than that."

"I'll think about it," she teased.

"I'll be waiting," he shot back, sending her his most adorable dimple. "Even if I have to write a thousand more Christmas cards."

"Speaking of cards, any chance you could decipher your last one for me? Especially any unexpected reference to lamb..."

"I'm suddenly confused." While he was mulling over that particular statement she pulled him closer with her free hand then placed her lips sweetly over his. He'd even risk his daughter's embarrassment to kiss Caroline right now and forever into the future. The noise from the playground faded away as he realised all his dreams had finally come true.

So I can breathe you in…

I would love to hear your thoughts! You can find it on both AO3 and FF