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grumpygreenwitch · 2 years ago

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The Fairy And The Prince #66 + #67 + #68 + #69 + #70 + #71 + #72

Part 1 - Part 2 - Parts 3 & 4 - Part 5 - Part 6, 7 & 8 - Part 9 & 10 - Part 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 & 16 - Part 17, 18, & 19 - Part 20, 21 & 22 - Part 23, 24, 25 & 26 - Part 27, 28, 29 & 30 - Part 31, 32, 33 & 34 - Part 35, 36 & 37 - Part 38, 39, 40 & 41 - Part 42 & 43 - Part 44 & 45 - Part 46 & 47 - Part 48, 49, 50 & 51 - Part, 52, 53 & 54 - Part 55 & 56 - Part 57, 58, 59 & 60 - Part 61, 62, 63, 64 & 65 - Part 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71 & 72

THIS IS IT. 103K words and I don’t even know how many months later, and it’s done. If you stuck it out with me, THANK YOU. Thank you from the bottom of my soul. If you enjoyed it, just a little, and would like to let me know, I’d appreciate it. If you hated it, I would like to know as well. When I first started writing this, I meant to go back and forth between it and Ser Lyrian’s story. I also thought it’d be a short story, a speed writing. It... is not. The size of it boggles my mind somewhat, and I’m the one who wrote it. If you came this far with me, and would like to do me a kindness, there are five questions I always ask of people who read my writing and express a willingness to go the extra mile.

1. Favorite Character? 2. Least Favorite Character? I’m interested in the character you love to hate, but if you have a character that’s just boring, I want to know about that, too. 3. Favorite Scene? 4. Least Favorite Scene? Meaning a scene that plodded on or was poorly written. 5. Anything else you liked/hated?

Adam managed. He even found the time and the energy, somehow, to scrub at his battered clothing, and to replace his missing sword with the traveling blade kept with his saddle. The peeping, chirping sparrows that made their homes in the vastness of the stables came to greet him; to them he'd always been Adam, and he always would be. They didn't care about crowns or Compacts or trials, lucky them.

He didn't meet any of the stable-hands he heard working in other parts of the vast building. He did meet some few people on the worn path going down to the stables, but sleepy and elderly and blind his horse was still a very large creature, and they scrabbled out of his way, staring in disbelief. Someone ran back up to the palace, and Adam kicked the charger into a light trot; even the jarring gait of its arthritic limbs felt good, felt real and solid against the Prince's own aches. "Trout, would you go tell them I'm coming?"

The pixie took off like a bird. He could hear the ruckus slowly growing somewhere in the depths of the castle as he rode up to the gate, frowning minutely when he realized the closer he drew, the more exhausted he felt, as if he were dragging miles of chains all unseen behind him. Had they snuck up another test on him? Were they truly cheating at the very last possible moment? He'd ride the horse to his bed if he had to, the charger seemed to have no problem carrying him.

His concerns scattered when he reached the palace gates, and a smile as sunny as the dawn broke over his face when he saw Dane standing there, tall and broad and wrapped in priest-blessed armor.

Trout flew back to Adam's shoulder and perched there. Dane caught the reins of the gelding and looked up.

"Dane," Adam greeted.

"Highness," Dane replied.

With a muffled groan Adam slid off the saddle. His ankle tried to give out on him; Dane's hand snapped out to steady him, and Adam caught onto his shoulder. They traded a very small smile, and Adam felt suddenly lighter, as if he were young again, at a time where such things as crown and loss hadn't mattered.

No one stopped them as they made their way through the palace, coming back much as they'd gone the day before, even if Adam was a little poorer in fairy gifts in his pockets, and infinitely wealthier in grime. Somewhere behind him a ruckus was growing where the impromptu messenger who'd caught sight of him on the path to the stables delivered his news.

Adam didn't care. He opened the door to his rooms.

He paused, and after a moment he had to laugh.

The same breakfast on the table, laid out exactly the same to the last plate and spoon. The same books on the desk, quill trimmings on a small bowl. A fire in the hearth. The wash basin ready, steaming faintly. Even Culli-maid's and Beli's clothing were the same, a miracle he would have never believed after seeing the state of Culli's house slippers the night before. He had the feeling that his bed would be rumpled down the same to the last wrinkle on the sheets.

Beli had been pacing restlessly, and Culli had been sitting by the fire, her basket of mending on her lap. It went flying when she sprang up to her feet. That, at least, they didn't have to change; they'd been just as anxious the day before.

"Hello, Culli," Adam greeted her.

Tears spilled down her round cheeks, and she couldn't speak for a moment. "Good morning, Highness," she managed at last.

He swept her into a hug that dislodged Trout off his shoulder, and she sobbed. "Has it killed you, not to make the bed?"

"Oh, it needs changing anyways, Highness," she protested, laughing through her tears.

Adam held her a moment longer before stalking up to Beli. "Look at me," he demanded.

"I can," Beli told him.

"Look at me!"

"I can!" Beli's smile was the brightest Adam had ever seen in the solemn young man. The pale brown of his eyes was bright through tears he refused to cry until Adam caught his face and stared at him; he caught his Prince's shoulders. "I can. I can see you. I can see you just fine."

"Beli." Adam dragged him into a hug as well.

"Don't think this will save you from doing the books with me," Beli warned him in a choked whisper. "Welcome back, Highness."

Adam stared all around them, at this tiny Court of his, his friends, half his world that he'd come so close to losing. He still felt exhausted, crushed, as if he were carrying a millstone on his back, but even that couldn't crush the simple joy of being home, being among friends, being safe.

"Adam," Dane called in warning, and the young Prince turned. There, on the doorway to his rooms, stood the Queen Dowager. She was wearing an exquisite quilted robe over her sleeping clothes, and a long, elegant shawl over it all. Her silver hair hung in a long braid at her back. Without the pomp of her rank she looked tiny and fragile, like a porcelain figurine. There was a single maid with her, likely the only one who'd been dressed and present at that early hour.

Adam left Beli and nodded to Culli, who moved over to further push the door open. The Dowager and the young Prince met by the hearth, and Adam bowed very low before her. "Majesty, good morning."

There were tears caught in the deep blue of her eyes, Adam suddenly realized, but she drew herself up proudly. "Good morning, my Heir."

Something immense snapped so loudly that Adam flinched, instinctively whirling around to cover the Queen, hand going for his sword. The Dowager cried out and staggered, and both Culli and her maid rushed over to catch her. Dane and Beli were instantly by Adam. "What's wrong, what's happened?!"

Adam tried to step back and nearly fell into the hearth. He felt light as air, light as a feather in a stiff breeze. The world, beautiful though it was, shone to his eyes with nearly blinding new colors, with light and life he'd never seen before. "Didn't you hear that, can't you see that?"

"He can't. They can't." It was the Dowager who replied, leaning on the young maid and drawing herself up carefully straight. "The Compact is fulfilled, and the seal in our bloodline's magic is broken. Now, now we are as we were always meant to be." She gestured lightly, and power gathered and spiraled around her fingertips; the smile she gave Adam was radiant. "Thank you, my Heir."

***

Life turned into a whirlwind after that.

Adam insisted on making one last visit alone. He hadn't known what to expect, but after seeing how hard it had been for everyone he'd left behind, he'd wanted to give his oldest nemesis the grace of discretion. Everidge Leminy had wept like a child at the news.

The priests of the Night-Mother and the Tree-Father had come, and before two vast audiences of worried, hand-wringing nobility, Adam had gone through all the tests. He'd been pulled this way and that, brought to far too many meetings, asked a deluge of questions though no one seemed to be listening to his answers, introduced to endless rows of people. Adam smiled and nodded and did as he was told.

He bid his time.

He still found the chance, on the early morning of the first true day of summer, to sneak out of his room and the palace altogether. He ran into the woods and to the clearing where the green pixies nested. Barefoot, in nothing but pants and a light shirt, he climbed up the linden tree and nestled in the familiar crook of a strong branch, watching the vast green sea of the woods ripple in the morning breeze. "I heard you," he murmured. "When I was lost, and I had nothing else, and I called out, I heard you. What a nanny you've been," he teased wryly. "There's not a time I can name when danger came looking for me in these woods that you weren't there to ward it off."

The tree swayed lightly in the breeze, a green, sweetly scented cloud all around him.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Stay, the tree begged in the song of the breeze.

"I can't," he replied, caught off-guard and strangled breathless by the endless well of the tree's heart, that even then would ask him to forgive. To heal.

He stayed there as long as he could, but in the end he had to go back. He was dressed in rich royal finery, fussed over, fawned over.

On that first true day of summer, Prince Adam of the Realm was named Crown Prince and Heir before the worthies of the realm. A great celebration was thrown. He smiled and greeted people and let them fuss over him and make much conversation about their daughters and nieces and sisters and cousins.

He bid his time still.

The next day, for the first time, he made his way to the Chamber of Council. During those two months between his birthday and his coronation, Adam had spent every moment he could spare with the Queen Dowager, with Master Leminy, with the Genealogist and with teachers who'd seen very little of him before. Nine years of education had taught him the theory of the laws and politics of the realm, but in truth none of the princes had any actual practice with the ruling bit of, well, ruling. None of them were firstborns, none of them were heirs to their own family holdings; Adam, himself, was the youngest of several children.

Though neither the Dowager nor the Master of Scions approved of what Adam wished to do, neither would oppose him. They had made very careful plans for that first meeting. Adam walked in to find most of the seats empty, as expected. He'd taken the throne at the vast horseshoe table and been mostly ignored, as expected. The fact he'd ousted the Earl and Duchess sitting at both his sides to allow both the Queen Dowager and Master Leminy to take their places had made them grumble, but there were so many empty seats that it seemed a non-issue.

The first issue, on fisheries and taxation, came up. It was, the Dowager had told him, an old issue. The coastal lords didn't want to pay taxes; they wanted the fisherfolk to pay them instead, leaving their coffers untouched. Adam remembered the kind, warm welcome of the folk who worked the gull-winged ships of the realm. He refused the tax. The lords threatened to override him.

He snapped his fingers and the very long and seal-laden scroll burst into flames.

The chamber went breath-takingly quiet.

"All this time," he said into the silence. "All this time you've known the price the Crown paid to keep the rest of you safe, and still into the grindstone you sent your children, just for a shot at it. And in the meantime, you schemed for power and acted as if the only reason you'd given your loyalty was fear. Fear of magic. Fear of power. If you want to be ruled by fear, I can absolutely do that. I've learned a little about fear from the Court Beyond the Woods. I'm happy to put those lessons to use with you."

"How dare you speak to us so!" One of the nobles shouted, surging to his feet and gesturing sharply at the Dowager. "Do something!"

"The Duke of Cherst misunderstands, perhaps," the Dowager replied mildly, "who answers to whom here."

"Perhaps the Duke is not aware," Adam examined some of the documents before him idly, "that people can burn just as well as parchment, provided the right amount of power is applied." He leveled a hard, dark stare on the man, who didn't need to know it had taken Adam two weeks to be able to pull off that bit of showy magic without setting on fire everything else in the vicinity. "Sit down."

When the ashen-faced Duke obeyed, he threw the list aside. "Fear is a poor way to rule," he said into the silence. "I want to rule with you, but make no mistake, mine is the crown. Mine is the right. I have bled for it, I have faced madness and darkness and death for it. I will hear your voices, and I will take your words into account, as long as you speak sense to me. But you would do well to remember that the power of our armies is meant to be used against our enemies abroad. In here, within our lands, the power is magic and the magic is mine." He stared at them all. "We're not taxing the common folk. If that's your business here today, it's concluded. The answer's 'no'."

"But, Majesty -" A woman protested.

"Your reasons better be exceptional, Duchess, because I have a full day planned ahead for us and you're already costing us lunch. Let's hear them."

She went quiet.

"Hm." Adam gestured. Leminy's secretaries began passing around scrolls. "These are the new taxes and levies; you'll find there's also -" The chamber had gone to chaos at the sound of that dreaded word, and Adam sprang up on his feet with a shout. "Enough!"

Every goblet, pitcher and inkpot shattered. Cracks appeared on several of the glass panes in the windows.

"Levies, yes. You'll find they're generous. There are also exemptions for the provinces that meet the quotas included."

"Majesty," a younger man pointed out hesitantly. "These are quotas for uncured iron and rowan wood army lengths."

"They are." Adam dipped his head politely. "There are thirteen graves behind the palace temples. There are just as many if not more scattered across the realm. That doesn't include the common folk that had the miserable luck of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The crown is done with the Court Beyond the Woods. We go to war." Before they could get into too much of a fit over those news, Adam pitched his voice to carry. "And because I know first-hand how fragile a matter royal inheritance can be, I will be wed before we march." He gave them all that hard, heartlessly level look. "Consider the choice of my queen a further potential exemption."

"Majesty," a stately woman with far too much make-up smiled graciously at him. "Surely this is a course of action best discussed with all of your ruling lords, not just us measly few?"

Adam popped his lips thoughtfully, as if the meeting weren't going exactly as the Queen Dowager had predicted. Well, barring the glass shattering. At least he hadn't had to escalate to kicking a chair; they were bloody solid and he wasn't sure he wouldn't have broken his foot in the doing, no matter what she said. "Exceptional wisdom, Baroness. On second thought, meeting adjourned. We meet again in one week's time. Enough time for those who wish to travel to do so."

And with that, he swept out of the chamber and left them to their panic.

***

Prince Canemore made one last trip into the hidden keep beneath the Old Place. He made it wearing traveling clothes, his very best; he had very far to go, on a trip he didn't wish to undertake, to a goal he didn't wish to reach.

He found the gateway leading into his secret garden empty, cold and dark. Rubble covered the space beneath it; though he didn't know it, it had been painstakingly carried, one piece at a time, from beneath the empty plinth where the dancing lady had once stood.

Beyond, the frozen summer garden had gone to autumn, against all his power, matched at last to the seasons above. At the center of it, in the perfect clearing, the golden, gilded cage stood, twisted and broken, bars pried apart by the force of the wild growth of the amethyst vine.

Of Linden there was no trace.

He threw the garden into winter and darkness as he left, and stalked away, never to return.

***

His books had been absolutely right, Adam found out: war is not a quick affair. He found his time full from dawn to midnight, accounting for meetings and supplies, oversight of troops and manufacturing. He never faltered when he spoke, and neither did those around him: their enemy was the Court Beyond The Woods, not the woods themselves. The Courts could be powerful allies just as they could be dire enemies; he would point at the winged, golden creature perched on his shoulder whenever the question came up. Trout had already bit someone's fingers off when they'd waggled them too angrily in Adam's face, and no one cared to find out how well it could wield those silver-tipped lacquered hair-pins.

Before he knew what had happened, autumn and winter had come and gone, and spring loomed again. His birthday, the celebration of the Compact being fulfilled, was planned to be a massive celebration, a masquerade to dwarf all others before. The entirety of the realm, it seemed, wanted to attend.

"They're dusting off every relation they can find, as long as they're young and female," Adam protested vaguely as he suffered through one more fitting. "There's girls pouring out of every cellar and cupboard."

"You can't blame them, Adam." The Dowager was directing the seamstresses and examining the Heir's costume with a stern look. "You're the one who opened that door."

"It seemed the thing to do," he admitted.

"Oh." She shooed the seamstresses away so she could speak to him so very, very quietly. "You could try for friendship, Adam. Even a broken heart can have friends."

He managed a wry smile at that. "It can. But it wouldn't be fair to her. She'd expect love. No, it's better like this. She gets a crown, I get iron. Beli, any new contenders on the guest list?"

The Dowager gestured the seamstresses back to work. From his desk in the Prince's rooms, his Seneschal answered. "Not really. It's hard to compete with the fact that Lord Bagley has both the mines and the foundries. There's just one. Their counteroffer is... clever."

He brought a set of papers for Adam to examine, and the Heir looked very surprised. "You're joking!"

"I thought it might be an issue -"

"No, no." Adam found what the letters were telling him, at the very least, amusing in the extreme. There was light and animation to him that had been missing for months. "At least I'll be able to tell her apart from the others. How goes my personal project?"

"The engineers are working the axles and wheels. Water's heavy, Adam, I didn't realize how heavy until they told me. Carrying that much water, and a person to boot? That's hard. They're thinking of sleds at this point."

"As long as they think of something," Adam winced when a pin stabbed him, and looked up swiftly when the door opened, suddenly hopeful.

Dane, just coming in, shook his head as he'd done every morning for nearly a year, and wilted to once again see hope fade from his Prince. Every morning he went into the woods to wait. Every morning he came back having met no one, not even the pixies. They'd abandoned the clearing of the linden tree, and no one could find them.

No Needlemaw.

No Boul.

Adam turned, expression gone to stone. "Well, now I just have to meet the ladies and we'll see what we'll see."

He was eventually allowed to escape the fittings, only to be snared into a few more last-minute meetings. Then it was Culli who rescued him, only to shove him into a bath, though she did manage to sneak in a meal, the first of his day, for all that it came at the price of his dignity, having to subject himself to the ignominy of being scrubbed like a toddler just so he could use his hands to eat.

Clad in his costume, the circlet on his head, an incredibly itchy domino tied to his face, he took his place at the entrance to the palace's grandest ballroom, to greet the mass of people pouring in and be introduced to all their marriageable relations. He wouldn't, couldn't, leave the party without a betrothed; a number of concessions had been granted to the Council of Nobles in exchange for that promise. No one wanted war, and no one could budge the Crown Prince from it, so they were all working as best they could to minimize any potential fallout from it.

Trout, on his shoulder, solved half the itchy part within five minutes, by biting off the domino's feathers and gleefully flailing around with them. Adam couldn't very well be stern at the pixie when the Queen Dowager herself, standing just behind him, could barely keep from laughing aloud at the fierce creature's antics.

He was introduced to the young lady Bagley, grand-daughter of the Earl of Bagley, who stammered through half her greeting and forgot the other half, overwhelmed. She winced openly when Trout spit out a feather. Adam sighed.

Behind her came the first familiar face in that sea of strangers, and the young Heir couldn't help but smile. "Prince Rickard."

Rickard flushed under his elaborate mask, all the more so when the Crown Prince offered his hand, preempting a bow. He took it, and couldn't help a little smile. "Prince Adam."

Adam grinned, the first honest gesture to cross his face since the gala had started. Rickard was costumed as a bull, in violets and reds, and the silver and gold that his family boasted were stitched on every velvet and satin seam. He'd grown into a young bull, too, though he couldn't match Dane in either height or breadth of shoulder. The hand gripping Adam's was powerful, but the callouses Rickard had earned from his years spent at the palace were fading. Still, it was the sight of the man that gladdened him. "Prince Bully," he murmured.

Rickard's discomfort vanished under a very inelegant snort of laughter. "Prince Twerp," he retaliated. "Where are the others? I know there's a few that... made it."

Adam gave him a disbelieving look. "As far away from the palace as they can be," he replied. When his one-time torturer gave him an uncomprehending look, Adam gestured all around. "Every girl of marriageable age in the realm is here, Rickard, prowling for blood. Until you got here, I was the only available bachelor." He watched understanding, horror, and panic flicker over what he could see of the young man's features and jerked him suddenly close. "No running. We die as men," he whispered, and let him go.

"Oh, gods," Rickard squeaked. In all of the ruthlessness and machinations he'd once wielded and devised, this apparently was a trap he'd not seen coming.

He was none too gently elbowed by his companion, and the Crown Prince's mouth twitched. "Duke Lagrace, won't you introduce me to your companion?"

Rickard cleared his throat and gestured to the elegant white, silver and gold doe next to him. "My sister, the lady Elizabeth Lagrace, Majesty."

Elizabeth Lagrace curtsied with great grace. "Majesty," she murmured. She was, astonishingly, built along the same powerful lines as her brother, softened by the fact she'd not spent her formative years trying to survive in a cutthroat court, or learning to fight with every weapon and tactic created by man. Adam could only see that she had her brother's eyes, but her hair was lighter, a riot of golden curls artfully oiled and pinned over her head with an exquisite silver clip.

Silver, gold and priests. The Lagraces would back the Crown Prince's war without hesitation for a shot at the crown. Adam expected nothing less than the lethal predator that her brother had once been behind the dainty doe's mask. Elizabeth Lagrace was one year older than Adam, but they'd been so sure of their offer that they'd sent none of their younger ladies.

"The lady's costume is radiant as a star." Adam took her hand and kissed the lace of her gloves. "I wager it pales before what it hides."

"The Heir's costume seems to have grown lopsided," she replied evenly. "Shall I make a note to stay only to one side of you if I wish my hair to stay of even lengths, Majesty?"

Adam barked a laugh. "They grow them merciless in Lagrace," he noted in amusement at the siblings. "I should like a dance with the lady, if I can find her in the chaos later?"

"I will be found, Majesty," she assured him, lacing her arm through her brother, who was scowling in an entirely brotherly fashion at the Crown Prince. She all but dragged him off.

"Better than Bagley," the Queen Dowager murmured.

"Perhaps a little too much," Adam agreed.

"Adam, what are you looking for? Bread in milk?"

"A queen that won't resent my absence from her life. That one has her brother's wits. If she also has his drive, she absolutely would."

But then who would be coming up to him but Arditty, and he swept her off her feet and spun her around, her lace butterfly wings fluttering with the wind of his delight. She introduced him to her flustered husband and their son, who was young enough to be shy of the firebird stranger, but old enough to do his bow without aid. Adam made her promise him one dance before the endless cavalcade resumed once again.

The first dance, however, went to the Queen Dowager. It was the one move Adam knew couldn't be ascribed to politics or diplomacy. Likely they thought it was an invitation made out of family love, but love was the one thing they knew would never grow between them; they had both done things too terrible, lost too much, to be willing to offer more than affection and loyalty and friendship. But they could indeed be friends, and hers was the wealth of knowledge and courtly savagery Adam knew he would need in the days to come. He would have asked the same of Master Leminy, but the Master of Scions had begged leave to retire, and he'd looked so worn and fragile when at last he'd known himself free of his terrible duty that Adam hadn't had the heart to refuse him.

They moved sedately to the music, the swan and the firebird, and Adam was surprised to find out he'd put on a few inches on her. When had that happened?

He danced a merry jig with Arditty, bringing her back to her husband breathless and laughing, and taking the time to tell him wicked tales of her besting the higher authorities of the palace when they'd been younger. He left them in each other's arms and went on to dance and dance and dance some more, until he found himself wishing for more conversations on supply trains and iron forging just so he could sit at a table and rest his feet. Trout brought him a handful of grapes and Adam didn't ask where the pixie had got them. A special pocket had been stitched into the costume because Adam would not have worn it without, and Trout dove into it, safely away from the noise and crowds. Adam envied him.

He danced with the lady Bagley, and managed to get a timid smile out of her. Rickard was under siege when he went to request a dance from the lady Lagrace. She took his hand with a little curtsy; the music began, and they danced in silence for a few moments before she spoke. "You really aren't here at all, are you, Majesty?"

"I beg your pardon?" Adam jerked himself sharply back to the present.

"Here, at the party," she specified, then added. "You're as far away as if you'd flown to another land."

"I am here now. The Lady Lagrace has my undivided attention."

She scoffed. "I know better, Majesty. Don't insult my intelligence and I shan't insult yours."

"Noted," Adam replied, his curiosity roused. "Is this how the lady means to draw my interest? Veiled insults?"

"Nothing I said would be new to you, Majesty. I asked Rickard to tell me all he could of your time in the palace. I wrote to any of my friends who had family here during that time. No, I shall simply be honest."

"Honest."

"Yes. And share with you my observations."

"Do." The dance spun them momentarily away from one another, then brought her back into his arms.

"You're never going to love your queen."

Adam's jaw tightened until a muscle twitched along his cheek. "The lady Lagrace is correct. 'Correct' and 'bethroted' are quickly becoming mutually exclusive."

She smiled. "Would it help if I admitted I've been mistaken for a while now, and didn't realize it until I met you?"

"Do I truly wear my heart on my sleeve like that?"

"Gods, no. You're one of the hardest men to read I've ever met."

Adam hesitated as he spun her. "Thank you?"

"You're welcome. No, you see, I thought at first you wanted a queen that would love you, even if you don't love her. But I was wrong. You know how cruel that would be -"

"Dangerous."

Her head cocked minutely.

"Cruel and dangerous. I don't need a wife that'll stray. Thrones have fallen for less."

"Ah. Cruel and dangerous, then. And you are many things, Majesty, but you're not cruel. You're simply not here at all. Whatever wife you choose will have to live with that absence. It would break Miriana's heart, you know. Lady Bagley. She might agree to a loveless marriage, but your absence would destroy her. She'd die thinking she failed in some way she can never understand."

"So I should choose you?"

"Lagrace has the best offer to your future military endeavors," she replied coyly.

"You don't strike me as the sort that would abide my not being there."

"Oh, I'm sure it would drive me mad every now and again. But I would have the crown to keep me warm in that empty bed. See, marking your absence and letting you know I do are two different things, Majesty. I'm quite sure you'd never find out how I felt about it. Until I met you I was also fairly certain I could make you happy, but now I know no one can."

The dance ended; Adam held onto her. "And why would that be?"

"Because it's not that you can't love, which is what everyone believes, what I believed until I met you. But that you already love someone, and can never have them." She shrugged gracefully in his grip. "I come into this fight knowing I'm already beat, Majesty. And I'm alright with that. How many girls here can say the same thing?"

She stepped back and Adam let her go. He danced, again and again, but it all came to him in a blur where he didn't register faces or names or music, his feet moving out of training as Elizabeth's words careened through his mind.

You already love someone, and can never have them.

For a while, caught in the whirlwind storm of preparing for war, Adam had forgotten.

Suddenly there was no hiding, and the pain was there, like a fist around his throat, like a dagger through his heart.

Linden.

"Mortal prince?"

"Adam?"

He was sitting, and there was a cup being pressed into his hands. The storm of sound and color of the party came back to him, painfully overwhelming in ways the world hadn't been since he'd learned to master his perceptions of it with his magic unchained. Trout was a warm press against his cheek, and Dane was crouched before him, splendid in the official armor of the Captain-of-the-Guard he was still years from becoming.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely, dragging off the mask and rubbing at his face. He was sitting on the stone bench that ran along the railing of an oval balcony, one curtain drawn, the other open, and he felt cold to his soul.

"You stopped. Like a clockity-clockwork toy," Trout told him. "You said not to bite you so I called Dane."

"Ugh." Adam buried a hand in his gold-dusted hair. "Did anyone notice?"

"Only that you're tired. The Dowager is making your excuses."

Adam buried his face in his hands. "I really thought I could do this, Dane."

"You're doing fine, Adam. What happened? Trout said you were just talking, no one's come at you with a weapon. And Culli's got the kitchen locked tighter than Beli's purse-strings. It can't have been poison."

"It was words, Dane. It was just words, and suddenly I just remembered everything I'll never have anymore, and I couldn't breathe. I remembered that I miss my other friends. That I never said goodbye to Boul, that I never even saw Needle. That Linden..." He swallowed thickly and threw his head back, eyes closed and hands gone to fists.

"I'll get you out if you want, Adam. Just give the word."

"I never wanted this," Adam whispered.

"I know."

"Well, gods help me if Lady Lagrace figures it out." Adam downed the cup in one gulp. "Trout, thank you for not biting me." The pixie's wings buzzed and its slender chest puffed up proudly. "I need a favor from each of you."

"Name it," Dane said simply.

"I need you to find an alcove, close the curtains and douse the candles. Trout -"

"I'll go find them!" The pixie arrowed away.

"Adam, what are you doing?"

"Making sure I've done one thing right since I came out of the damn woods," the Crown Prince replied, rolling to his feet and tying on the domino with a gusting, weary sigh. "Go on. I suppose I can get in one more dance while you get it all set up."

He was halfway through a dance with a young girl who was giggling so hard out of nerves that Adam had yet to get her name out of her, when he caught sight of Dane waiting for him. The dance ended and she curtsied and fled, leaving him free to meet his friend. "I wonder if their parents told them I eat young marriageable girls for breakfast or something. I know I'm not that terrifying to look at."

"You aren't. The crown you're wearing is." Dane led the way.

"Ugh." Adam followed. "You'll want to wait outside, Dane."

"Adam -"

"This is stranger than Needlemaw."

Dane's jaws worked a great deal around words he would have never told Adam, but was seriously considering telling his Prince. In the end he stepped back and closed the curtains, leaving the Heir in nearly perfect darkness.

"Sluagh?" Adam asked quietly of the dark.

"Oh." Several sets of eyes suddenly filled the dark with their pale, blight-haunted light. "You did ask after us. We did not know what to think, when the pixie told us."

Adam had to laugh a little. "I did. I wanted to know... that you're alright. That you're finding the scraps and the bones left for you."

"Yes." The pairs of eyes moved through the dark. One drew close and suddenly stood up, towering over Adam. He could just make out, in the light of Sluagh's eyes, the faint upper outline of its muzzle, neither human nor animal but something more and something else. "Hunger is less now, because of you."

"You can never not be hungry, can you?"

"No," Sluagh admitted. "We are hungry to the marrow of our hollow bones, to the knots in our empty muscles. We can eat until we gorge, and gorge we have, thanks to you. But there will always be hunger to us."

"Then I'll ask something else. Are you content?"

Sluagh stared down at the Crown Prince. "This is important to you, this answer. Not because you will use it against us, not because it brings you power. But because we... matter to you."

"Yes. You've been watching people, Sluagh, you're learning how they think."

"It seemed important. You were... new to us. There have not been many new things in our lives. And you were neither enemy nor food. It is important to learn, when someone is not either of those things."

"How old are you?"

"We don't count time as you do. We have been since before the War. There was no palace. We are not certain there were any of your people on this land. There were more of us then."

"What happened to them?"

"We ate them."

"I don't know why I even asked," Adam admitted sheepishly. "And no one's tried anything against you?"

"No. The Court Beyond the Woods is quiet. Waiting. They will see what you do, first. Perhaps they will leave, and things will be as they were before. Peaceful. Small. Better."

"I would accept that," Adam said. "I would count it a victory if they left and never came back."

"Ah, there is the shadow that follows you," Sluagh breathed. "Your crown of blood and sorrow and black ice. Until now it was hard to see."

"Hatred."

Sluagh nodded. "We do not feel hatred. We see it, know it, but do not feel it. We do not think it would be a good thing, to feel it, for all its power. It wounds you in ways no one can help." They paused. "And we would help, if we could."

"To know that is almost as good as the help itself, Sluagh. Thank you. I'm sorry if I called you away from something important. This is the first time I've had time to think on all that I should have done and didn't."

"It is fine, bones do not run," Sluagh replied blithely, their head cocking. "Here comes your pixie. Let us give you a gift on this, the day of so many of your births, when you are finally many. Truly a first among your kind." The fairy threw out their spindly, long arms, and bowed with unearthly grace. "We are Sluagh. We greet the mortal king, crowned in loss and wit and heart. We pledge him our service." Sluagh straightened up and crossed their arms. "Be he fair to us, we will always be fair to him." And then the dark fairy was no longer there.

The sound of Trout's wings came, muffled, past the curtains, pausing after a moment. Adam opened the curtains to find the pixie perched on Dane's gauntleted fist.

"It's tin and paste," Dane explained at the Heir's look of disbelief. He rapped his knuckles on the shiny, shiny gauntlet.

"It's gross." Trout was rubbing its hummingbird tongue against the tiny tabard Culli had made for it.

"Trout, please don't lick Dane's armor. Words I never thought I'd say, but here we are." Adam went out to dance and converse and occasionally sneak away to scarf down whatever food and drink Trout and Dane managed to sneak him. He found himself dancing with the Dowager once again at some point close to midnight.

"Any luck?" she asked him.

"I think it might have to be Lagrace," he replied. "Bagley is apparently the sort to get attached, and hurt later from it."

"And Lagrace?"

"She's the sort to not give a damn."

"A dangerous game, Adam. If you should grow to love -"

"I won't."

"If you should grow to love Bagley," she persisted, her tone clipped, "she would at least love you back. Lagrace never will."

"If I were capable of it, I would have never survived the trials," Adam said simply, and she could give him no answer to that.

"I will speak to her father," she said resignedly at last.

The dance ended and everyone clapped. The bells of the temple, the heavy brass of the Night-Mother's and the smaller copper ones of the Tree-Father's, called out midnight.

Conversations and music and the general hum of the party petered out under that double onslaught, until there was a rare moment of silence when the bells at last stopped ringing. In it, the thump of the Seneschal's staff on the marble floor seemed as loud as if he'd cracked the stone with it. "Queen of the Courts of Spring and Summer, her Majesty, Titania."

The entire immense ballroom might as well have been a painting. Even the servants ferrying food and drink had frozen in place. No one could believe what they'd just heard.

Adam closed his eyes and felt inexplicable laughter bubbling up inside him. The year's worth of training in remaining unreadable and stone-faced was the only reason he could turn around and look towards the entrance of the ballroom without looking like a madman before the elite of the realm, drawing in a deep breath through gritted teeth. "Well." He laced his hands at his back and waited to see the shape of this new trick against him.

He faltered almost immediately. He could remember, in vivid detail, Queen Conemara. He had drawn her a few times in his journal, and though he knew he was no artist, he was also certain he'd been faithful to the blinding, painful light and brittle, icy beauty of the Queen Beyond the Woods. Conemara would have been like a clay cup before the gilded chalice that was the Sidhe woman moving through the parting crowd.

She was nearly as petite as the Queen Dowager, of a height with her and even more delicate-seeming, as if she were made of the finest gossamer. Her skin was the pale, soft color of a quail's eggshell, her features sharp and inhuman but without any of the painful starkness that made it hard to look at any of the members of the Court Beyond the Woods. There was a subtle, gentle softness to her, detracting nothing from her inhumanity but making her a flawless, enthralling beauty. Her eyes were green and violet behind the merest hint of a domino. She was dressed in a gown that put to shame the richest costumes the wealthiest nobility in the realm had been able to conjure, all the more absurd because she was a humble spring meadow, a hundred shades of green dotted freely with violets and daisies and bluebells, with larkspur and clover, with fluttering butterflies and bumbling bees. Her hair was a rich crown of vivid crimson braided in a stern, motherly fashion. Her crown was gold, and on it winked a gem of every color known to mortals, and a few they had yet to find. Her wings were a summer sky, the finest spun clouds, sunlight dappling through the trees.

She moved with gracious surety through the crowd, never hesitating as she approached Adam. Dimly the Heir noticed that Dane had rushed to his side, that the Dowager was hurrying to him. Trout clambered up on his shoulder and shifted restlessly, wings slicked flat against its body.

There were three more fairies with the Queen - no, four, Adam realized. A tiny blue pixie perched on Titania's shoulder as Trout perched on his, wings flicking idly as it peered with great interest at everything and everyone around them. He tried to look at those escorting the Sidhe Queen, but his head shied away from them; they looked human enough, and that was enough for Adam to know that they weren't, but even his magic couldn't penetrate the Queen's glamour.

"The throne of Faerie greets the Crown Prince, the Heir to the Throne of this mortal Realm," Titania's voice was a song in the stunned silence. She curtsied with grace that made the heart glad to behold.

Adam bowed with as much formality as he knew. "I am beyond honored to welcome the Queen to the palace, to this party. She honors us with her presence, and even more with her greeting. I'm not sure we can do justice to her visit, but we will surely try." She smiled at him, and Adam felt his heart trying to swell with pride, as if she were a doting mother and he a child who'd done well at a difficult task. He gritted his teeth until they ached.

Linden.

"Your welcome is gracious and warm, Prince Adam. More, because we know it's offered under dire circumstances."

"My moods do not affect my manners, Majesty. I'd be a poor excuse of a future king if I allowed them to do so."

"Ah, one could hope to find such poise and sense of station among our own," she murmured. The Dowager reached them then and, astonishingly, a sunny little smile broke across the Sidhe Queen's flawless beauty. "Charlotte."

"Titania," the Dowager replied, trying not to sound breathless.

Adam blinked at her, and all at once he felt like a fool. All those years and it had never occurred to him that 'Dowager' was her title, not her name. He felt color creeping over his face.

"It has been brought to our attention," Titania's voice suddenly rang clear and sure like a silver bell over the gathering, "that the Crowned Heir of the Realm feels Faerie has deeply slighted him." She pinned those green and violet eyes on him. "Deeply enough that he feels war is the only solution."

Adam saw the question in her eyes, felt it in her power as it reached for him, but unlike Conemara, she didn't force her way in. She waited, as courteously as a guest at the gate. Before her he set the broken half of his heart, the other half shattered and gone. "Majesty, I do," he said simply.

Her eyes went soft and bright. "Oh, your heart," she whispered. "Is peace not an option?"

"I sued for peace," he admitted. "I sued for peace twice. Before the Court Beyond the Woods, before Queen Conemara and Prince Canemore I sued for peace. I asked for one thing. They could not, or would not, give it. I will, if need be, sue for peace a third time before the Highest Queen of Faerie. But that would be a third, and I fear it might be... discourteous."

The Faerie Queen smiled wryly. "It would. Particularly when the fault for this terrible situation lies completely with the Court Beyond the Woods."

Adam recoiled minutely. The entire gathering gasped; no one had expected to hear one of the Fair Folk, particularly their Highest Queen, admit to being wrong.

"When we sent the twins here, it was our hope that being alone, forsaking the joys and merriment of the Highest Court, would teach them the... poise and sense of station that they lacked at the time. Instead it would seem their character flaws have grown into unforgivable behaviors and abhorrent mannerisms." Titania pursed her lips. "The Court Beyond the Woods is no more. They are Queen and Prince no more. They are simply Conemara and Canemore." She looked at Adam. "Would that make peace an option?"

Ah, so that was the trick, then. Adam's smile was brief, thin and bereft of humor. "Majesty, it would not."

The nobles caught their breath. Next to Adam, Dane shifted nervously.

"Hm." Titania looked unsurprised. She tapped long, shimmering nails against the rosebud of her mouth. She had better offers in mind, Adam was sure of it; she hadn't got to them yet, that was all. "Our daughter offered you her brother's life, and you refused it. We will not repeat that mistake. Does the Crowned Heir remember what else she offered? It would help us greatly."

"Knowledge, wealth, power. Majesty, I hardly know what to do with the power I already have. I want no wealth but what keeps my people and their homes safe. I want nothing that she offered."

"Well, we would offer a palace greater than this one by a hundredfold, hidden in the woods," Titania mused, and the Dowager gasped tinily. "But it is not ours to give."

"It does miss its mistress, though," Adam murmured.

"It doesn't!" The Dowager hissed.

"It does," he persisted. "I didn't tell you?"

"I didn't think to ask," she admitted.

"For twenty thousand years we have watched you mortals." The Sidhe Queen's voice filled the immense hall. "We have laughed with you and cried with you. We have raged against you, taught you, learned from you. We have shared so much with you. What we have never done, not once, is win a war against you." Her green and violet eyes passed from spring to summer and back again, spiraling slightly, and for a moment it was nearly impossible for Adam to stare at them, they were so like those many-colored, shattered eyes. His hatred, his sorrow, his rage all rose up inside him until only the force of will that had brought him to that moment kept him from screaming until he lost his voice.

"Adam." Her voice was suddenly very gentle, like rain against the black ice of his hatred. She had reached out to touch his cheek with the tips of three fingers, warm like summer sunlight.

"Please don't do that." He stepped back minutely, his voice strangled. "It hurts too much."

"Ah, it must be a family thing, to give away your heart the once, and never again," she murmured, pulling away her hand and looking knowingly at the Dowager. "Tonight, on this day of celebration for your birthday, you are seeking a consort, I'm told."

"I am." Adam shrugged minutely. "A throne without an heir makes people nervous, and wars have a habit of killing without much care as to who dies, peasant or king. It's better for the realm to have that matter settled."

"And if such a consort asked you for peace?" Titania asked, and stepped gracefully aside.

Adam felt the world tilt out from under his feet. Dimly he was aware that Dane had caught him, was holding him upright, but he couldn't understand anything beyond that.

Behind the Queen of Spring and Summer, shining like the first true kiss of dawn on a night-dark land, was Linden, his friend, his love, his heart, willowy and slender, a willow's grace, an oak's strength, a linden tree's beauty. They were wearing a gown that shimmered through every color of their shattered eyes; Titania was a spring meadow, but Linden was the summer woods, where flowers hid amidst a sea of green, where the sky shone blue and perfect, where sunsets were fire and dawn was golden treasure. They had put on a slender domino made of bark, dotted with bejeweled insects picked out with fantastic accuracy in emeralds, sapphires, rubies, obsidian.

But they were Linden. His Linden, the white fuzz of their hair very short on their head so early in the season, faint green freckles on their sharp brown cheekbones. Adam's Linden, all that was kind and joyous and fierce in the woods, perfect down to the one bark-covered hand. Linden, surrounded by a flock of green pixies, crowned with a circlet of living vines with a single stone blossom nestled between the green leaves, an amethyst heart just peeking through the gray.

"Linden," Adam heard himself say, and the black vastness of icy hatred inside him cracked, his heart struggling in a darkness that had swallowed it for far too long.

"Adam," Linden said, and there were tears ruining the elegant glitter someone had sprinkled so very carefully on their cheekbones.

Titania lifted her hand, and blew lightly, scattering a stirring of dust like golden motes in the air. The Dowager gasped. Adam wheezed for breath.

Needlemaw, the illusion that had hidden her broken, was suddenly on Adam's other side, holding him up when he would have slipped from Dane's grip and fallen. "Come, now," she urged him, "where's that muchness of ye gone that yuir knees go to jelly for naught but a wee bit of glamour!"

"Needle," Adam gasped.

"Aye."

"Needle!" Adam cried out and dragged her close, close enough to bump their foreheads together, so close that he could smell her charnel-and-soil scent, and he felt as if he could not breathe, as if he were drowning in the blackness with which he'd armored himself. He clawed at nothing, trying to escape it -

A gentle, rough hand the size of his chest caught the front of his costume and lifted him effortlessly back onto his feet. "Adam."

Dane, for whom the Queen's glamour still persisted, swore under his breath at the all-too familiar voice, the abrupt pong of a bullfrog's croak, both coarse and gentle. Adam had to laugh. "Hello, Boul," he managed, and realized he was crying. "I'm sorry. I'm being a baby and can't even greet you properly after missing you like someone cut off a limb."

"You always greet me before," the young troll said. "Now, I greet you." He offered his hand in the human fashion. "Like the first time."

Adam, surrounded by his friend both mortal and fae, fought himself to his feet and then collapsed again. "I can't breathe."

"Breathe with me." Suddenly Linden was there, and it really was Linden, kissing their prince, their Adam, sweet and sure and patient, with a love that had known itself so clearly, so certainly, that it had never doubted its time would come. Under the taste of that kiss, lemon and honey, sunlight and summer, wind and laughter, the ice of Adam's hatred didn't stand a chance. It was gone as if it had never existed, and Adam gasped in a huge breath, as if he'd been drowning for the past three years and had only reached the surface there, in that place and moment.

Linden caught Adam's face between their hands, both sun-browned, one smooth, one rough. Adam clung to those hands and brought himself to his feet. Linden laced the fingers of one hand with his, and the young Heir turned to face the Sidhe Queen. There was one more person with her, but Titania had not broken the glamour on them.

"Majesty."

"Crowned Heir," she nodded graciously.

"You asked me a question." Adam found his voice rough, and swallowed to try and keep it from breaking. "I have been asked for peace before. I would not grant it to a friend." He looked at Dane, but his childhood friend looked so profoundly happy for him that Adam knew the prospect of war was not even a thought in Dane's head. "Nor would not I grant it to family." He glanced at the Dowager, who gave him the tiniest nod, her eyes once again filled with tears she refused to shed.

He looked at Linden, who squeezed his hand, and turned to face those green and violet eyes. "But if the right consort asks for peace, I will grant it."

"I ask," Linden whispered.

"It's yours," Adam answered, and they fell in each other's arms.

***

The gala continued. No one had a single solitary clue as to how to handle what had happened, but they also knew that the Queen of the Spring and Summer Court had come expecting a party, not for all the guests to stampede in a panic at her arrival. And so the party carried on.

"Charlotte."

The Queen Dowager had retreated to a seat behind an elegant floral sculpture, where she was nursing a goblet of mulled wine. She looked up into the unchanging face of an old and dear friend, and smiled. "Larkspur," she greeted, offering her hand.

The Sidhe Queen caught that hand in both of hers and crouched before her mortal friend. "Oh, Charlie, why didn't you say something? Why didn't you call for help?"

"I honestly don't know, Larkspur," the Dowager admitted, finally allowing her tears to fall. "Pride? Grief? By the time I realized what he'd done, it was done. I couldn't figure out how to fix it on my own, and then I was too ashamed to admit to it, and you'd gone back home -"

"I would have come back for you. I would have come back for the sister of my heart, you know that."

"I know. Look, I was young, I was in love, I was heartbroken. Common sense was nowhere near my first priority."

They both laughed, sheepish and quiet. "I want to give you something, Charlie, but I won't if it will hurt you."

"What is it?"

"It's something you were promised," Titania said. "Promised, and never given. Your people taught mine the importance of keeping one's word." Without actually reaching into purse or pocket, there was suddenly a small velvet box, black and gilt in gold, in the Sidhe Queen's hand. She opened it.

The Queen Dowager went very still. After a long, long moment she drew in a deep, shaky breath, and reached out to brush her fingertips delicately against the ruby. It was a brooch, without adornment or addition, a single ruby the size and shape of a man's heart. Under her fingers it beat, harried and steady. "It's -"

"Yes," Titania confirmed. "He promised it to you, and lied. And so now he must keep his promise, whether he wants to or not. It is yours. And yours it will remain, until you feel he has earned it back."

"Is it wrong of me," the Dowager asked in a very small voice, "to be a little pleased at the shape of your justice?"

Titania laughed. "Never."

***

They sat, all of them, in an open balcony. Adam debated waking Beli, or trying to pry Culli from the kitchens, but decided against it in the end. Plenty of time in the morrow for them to gather once again and come together, at last, the two halves of his world. They shared their stories, the harrowing trials Adam had faced, the infinite patience of Linden's own escape and race to the High Court, only to be met halfway on the Winding Road by Titania. As Linden had predicted, the Queen had been more than glad to welcome the blue pixie back into her Court. She knew its worth. And its news had spurred her to action at last, to correct the unforgivable infraction her children had tendered against a Danu-child.

Boul and Needle were, in theory, there to escort the Queen, and so they'd had to leave when Titania chose to mingle, disconcerting greatly the massed nobles. But the third person stayed with Linden. She was an older woman with very dark skin and very green eyes, bundled up in simple peasant's clothing that was more cozy than elegant. She allowed them to kiss, but when the kiss lingered she cleared her throat pointedly.

Adam squinted at her. "Do I know you?"

Linden laughed. "Adam, how can you not? She didn't come here for me!"

Adam gave Linden a puzzled look, and then turned to face the stranger once more. The woman gave him a look of such profound and utter affection that the Heir found himself flushing faintly, and the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. He rushed over to hug her, and in those powerful arms he found himself made safe once again, as always he had. "Silly me," he said, feeling near tears once again at that most poignant show of loyalty. "You are wearing a costume, you're disguised as a human!"

The linden tree smiled proudly at him, and brushed back his hair. They hugged again, and when he was at last willing to let go, she turned and walked away through the crowd.

"It's hard for her to be away from her place," Linden explained. "But she really did want to come see you, make sure it was all set to rights. She wanted to know you weren't hurting anymore." When Adam looked down, they bumped him lightly. "She said you heard her."

"I did. She's the only one I hear. But if that's all I ever get, that's more than good enough." Linden beamed at him, then leaned on his shoulder with a grimace. "What, what's wrong?"

"These shoes are very pinchy."

"Kick them off? The skirt's so big, no one's going to notice."

Linden did so, and Adam shoved the delicate green slippers under a bench. "Ah!" Linden sighed in relief. "So much better."

"You still look like your head is full of plans."

"Well, not plans. I've done all the planning I can stomach already. You're the one who's good at planning, I just asked myself 'what would Adam do'. That's how I fixed everything. It's just..."

"What?"

"I don't care for the dress. It's lovely, but it's all over the place. I can't walk without crashing into someone, or something. And do I have to be a Queen? That's what Canemore called me."

"Oh, that!" Adam laughed in relief and stood up. "That's why you see all the women go around with their hands plastered down. Shoves the skirts right back out of your way."

"But what if I need my hands?"

Adam popped his mouth thoughtfully, and Linden swatted him for it, and the sheer familiarity of the gesture made him feel as if his heart might burst with joy. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be Linden. Consort's just what you call someone who marries a King, so, yes, if we marry, you're a Consort. But that won't take away from you being Linden. It's just a thing people call you."

Linden's expression brightened up like a sunny day. "Oh, it's like having all those princes running around. Prince is just something you call them. Consort... I could be that, I suppose, as long as I can still be Linden."

"You will always be Linden." Adam leaned close, and they rested against each other.

"There's lines on your forehead that weren't there before," Linden brushed the fingers of their smooth hand over those lines. "Can't I fix that?"

"I don't know. The whole point of this mess," Adam waved a hand at the vastness of the hall and the ongoing masquerade, "was to make sure there'd be an heir. A baby, at some point. I guess." He sounded about as sure of the goal as he did the process, and even less thrilled about it.

Linden brightened up. "Oh, I can do that!"

"You can?"

"Yes, of course, it's easy." Linden seemed to think. "Though we're going to need a few cabbages."

8/29/2022 7:55 PM X 1/3/2023 3:48 AM

#the fairy and the prince #linden and adam #linden the fairy #adam the prince #original writing #Fantasy Writing #boul #boul the troll #boulders-for-brains #needlemaw #needlemaw the redcap #trout the pixie

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sparkbeast20 · 3 years ago

Text

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt15 Final

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12 Pt13 Pt14

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature.

Previously

“Okay, now here’s the Plan” Satan start discussing about how to trap Lucifer and make sure that he and Mammon stay in one place and not make the same mistake as before.

“Why do I have to carry the two of ya” Mammon as Levi and Belphie are in his arms. While you are with Beel upfront and Satan with Asmo is behind of two, as Beel following Lucifer’s scent.

“Because your more bigger then Beel right” Levi answer him, and Mammon just groans at him.

“I didn’t realize how soft your feathers are Mammon, this could be great for pillow stuffing” as Belphie said it, he nuzzles his face on to Mammon’s arm. Hiding the fact that he misses his big brother.

“OI! Don’t get any idea!!” Belphie sleepy laugh at Mammon’s bash reply, which Belphie scoffs.

Beel track down Lucifer’s scent in the mountain’s valley near the woods where Mammon’s treasure cavern is, soon you all hear a shrike from the distant, to both Mammon and Satan displease with the latter which clench his fist so tight he dug his nails into the palm of his hand.

“Satan, are you okay…...your trembling” Asmo asks as he feel Satan shaking.

“It’s fine Asmo…... it’s just my instinct kicking in, maybe because we’re in his territory I start acting like this. Shit I didn’t expect this strong of a demonic presence, this ruin the plan entirely”

“So, what now?”

“Our best bet is y/n’s pact with Lucifer, pinning him down long enough for at least on of us cast a chain spell on him, then Mammon can make sure he doesn’t escape”

After minutes of flying, both Asmo and Beel to feel weak and unease, and Mammon sees it.

“Oi, what’s going on with you two”

“I don’t know…... its like my body is getting heavy” Beel can barely say it, he felt like something is causing his body to feel numb.

“I think…... I can’t go on” Asmo started to slowly decent down, as Satan tries to talk to him.

“Asmo! You need to~”

Suddenly both Asmo and Beel felt a surge through their body, they felt that their wings are getting heavier.

“Shit! I can’t move wings” Beel is trying his damnedest to keep flying, eventually he can’t take it anymore and decided to make an emergency landing in one of the path ways between the mountains, and Asmo followed suit with Mammon not far behind.

“Beel! Are you okay!” Belphie immediately rushes to his twin’s side as Asmo can barely stand, while the rest looks around to see where you guys landed.

“Mammon…...” you called out to him, with a worried tone in your voice, as if you felt someone or something is watching you.

“Stay right there, I’ll come to you” Mammon start walking towards you, when he stops and his feathers immediately stand upright, and his wings is spread out in a defensive way.

You quickly turned around to see a black griffin-like demon with six pair wings, a tail with seven peacock feathers on the tip end, familiar horns and eyes with the sclera ink black with crimson red eyes staring directly at you.

“Lucifer…...” you mutter under you’re breathe as your eyes start to shifted, scared of what’s is going to happen.

Lucifer shrikes, launches himself towards you, but Mammon leaps over you, and colliding with Lucifer. The two of them fall on the ground and quickly got up and take a defensive stance as they growl at each other.

“Lucifer! Snap out it. Your better than this. You know us, you know me!” but the only thing that Lucifer did was shrike at Mammon and rushes at him. But then.

“Lucifer. STAY!?!” Immediately Lucifer was pinned on the ground, and try to struggle out of the invisible force on his body down.

Mammon turns around to see you with one hand reaching out and your pact mark with Lucifer glow on the right side of your chest, but Mammon can see that you’re struggling to hold down Lucifer.

The others finally got up, then Satan start casting the spell while the others circle around the two older brothers.

“Lucifer!!” Asmo calls out to him only met with anger shrike, then Levi and Beel start walking close to the two.

Feeling surrounded and threaten by his brothers. Lucifer, let out an eerie shrike causing the other brothers halted in place as they can feel their body twitching uncontrollably as they feel an uncontrollable force making their body weak causing them to fall on their knees all expect Mammon who fought the effect of Lucifer’s shrike, as he makes his way to him.

He sees it in Lucifer’s eyes. Fear, panic and confusion in his eyes just remained when he was like this, not even fully changed yet, and he was terrified. But you were there with him before and after transformation to keep him company and you might know it, but you were his guide back to his sanity when he was lost in his own instinct, now you’re helping him with Lucifer’s own beast.

This time he’ll be the guide for his brother, now he towards over the avatar of pride subdue state, with the attend to remain him of the promise he made with him long ago.

“Lucifer” Mammon calls out to his brother with sincere and honest in his voice “I’ll still stand by you, Lucifer” He stop shrike, and look at Mammon with confusion in his eyes. “Remember what I said to you long ago, I never regret following you and never will we need you Lucifer."

Mammon, will not let this happen, losing him like this. not even in a fight.

But he didn't know that Lucifer can hear him and remember that night.

The night he took Mammon's advice, and that draw him back to his senses, as Mammon continue on.

"And if I have to beat that to your thick head to make you realize that we need you and how much you need me. I know you’ll never say it~”

“I do need you Mammon….” He’s eyes widen to hear Lucifer talk to him, even his like this “I…...I’m sorry…. for lying and…... everything”

He got to him. He knew that Lucifer can hear him.

Mammon chuckles to Lucifer’s apology, to think his never going to hear this from him once this all over.

Meanwhile Levi was the first one to get back on his feet, and witness what he always wanted. The two talking with out turning into an argument. With Mammon comforting Lucifer in his own way.

“Oi, you can’t say things like that here, what if Satan or Belphie hear ya” he getting through to him. “Lucifer, listen. We’re gonna stay in the cave until you get a hold of this. It’s too dangerous to go back home yet. Don’t worry I’m stay and help ya through this” he smiles with eyes at Lucifer.

“Your …... enjoying this aren’t you” even with the demonic voice, Mammon can tell that Lucifer sound tired. Maybe once there in the cave, he can tease his brother.

“y/n its okay, he’s calming down”

“Are you sure” he nodded in respond, so you lower you hand and sigh in relief. Then let the first and second be alone while check on the others.

Once the force of the pact was gone, Lucifer got up with his head hang low. Disappoint at himself for using the book, he thought it was necessary with Mammon’s state. He was wrong, then he looks up to see Mammon who is trouble maker, stepping up took charge, when he was gone. He might be mentally exhausted but he can clearly see how Mammon has grown.

Lucifer walk up to Mammon and lean his head on Mammon's Shoulder, and let out a satisfy squawk. Then he pat Lucifer on the head, just glad that his calming down

“Good to have ya back, brother”

Once he reaches the nest in the cavern, Lucifer flop in the center nest and immediately fell in sleep, while Mammon watch from the mouth of the cavern.

After making sure that Lucifer is fully asleep, he heads towards you and the rest of his brothers to entre way of the cave.

“How is he?” you ask as you walk over to him.

“he’s asleep, he would be tired after all of that flying after changing” he answering you, before puling you into hug and holding you tightly. “Make sure our room is clean, by the time we get back kay’” you hum in respond as you bury your face into him, and start sobbing. “Hey! Its not like I’ll be gone forever. It’ll be a week, or even least with Lucifer prideful head, keeping him in control.”

You look up to him with tears gathering in the corner of your eye. “I know, is just I couldn’t help to feel responsible to cause all of this” tears start fall, but Mammon use the back of his hand to wipe it off.

“y/n even if we didn’t go to the casino that night, I would have done everything to make sure your save and sound, you’re my treasure after all” you blush and hide your face in his feathery chest and he laughs at your action “Hahaha. Now who’s flustered now!”

“Shaddup”

“Oh my, your even talk like him. You really need this time to be apart” Asmo chipper in as he and Beel are getting ready to fly back to house.

“Come on normie! We can’t waste more time here anymore. I’ve missed three days’ worth of events and login~”

“Oi! You’re not going anywhere; you’re staying here with me and Lucifer.” Mammon cuts off Levi and quickly grab him by the helm of his jacket and drag him back.

“This so unfair!?! Why do I’ve to stay?”

“Welp we’re off” Satan grab hold on to Asmo, he and Beel with you and Belphie arm on each of his arm took off leaving a pleading Levi yelling to take him with you.

Once you all are far way from the cave Asmo flew closer to Beel, Satan start talking to you.

“Enjoy the next couple of days with no Lucifer, because once he and those two come home, expect your name to be written on the ceiling”

“Satan!” Asmo butts in “Lucifer wouldn’t do that to our little human, he might be cruel but he’s not that heartless”

Satan looks up to Asmo with a grin on his face, telling him that to eat his own words.

“I can’t believe you would do that to our human Lucifer!?! How could you!”

“Asmo, I will not hesitant to strung you up to, for giving a headache this early in the morning”

“So, Lucifer how’s it feels being back to chaos and piles of paper works”

“You two, better enjoy your freedom now. Because once Diavolo approve the use of the book. You’ll be first two are going to change and I’ll make sure of that”

After returning from that cave with Mammon and Levi, two days ago. Lucifer had been catching up with a week worth’s of reports, bills, and paper works.

Now Asmo is at his side nagging and Satan just being Satan, as he makes his way to staircase where him strung you up by the waist after finding out that it was you who drag Mammon at that Casino in the first place.

As he got there, he saw Beel looking up to where you are being hanged.

“Beel what are you~” he Immediately cuts himself off when he looks up to see that you were gone and the rope is cut. Satan and Asmo try not to laugh at the whole thing.

“Ah? Lucifer” he glances over to Beel who is holding a white feather in his hand. “I find this~”

“MAAAMOOON!”

At the roof of the house was you at Mammon arms just being at each other’s presences as you two heard Lucifer screaming his name.

“Looks like that our que to fly out of here”

“Where do we go?” as you ask Mammon lifted you up in his arms, and quickly shifted into his tame form.

“Where do ya want to go?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, lean in to kiss him on the cheek, then set you head on his shoulder.

“Anywhere, as long your there” he chuckles “ya got it, treasure” and take off, flying to the dark sky. Happy and content.

Fin

Note: I didn’t expect for this story to take this long.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me reader x mammon #obey me monster love #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me blue lotus petals

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rightsockjin · 4 years ago

Text

Number 23: Yoongi

Here is Number 23 with Yoongi! It took a long time together right so I hope y'all enjoy! Looks like RightsockJin is back y'all!

Summary: When soulmates are found to be real, its only a matter of time before Yoongi is paired with his. But all is not perfect and he can't figure why.

Rating: T+

Genre: Fluff a little, angst a little, smut a little...

Warnings: mentions of depression and emptiness. grinding, kissing, destiny.

Send a request!

Prompt list

Yoongi was nervous.

Which was perfectly natural in a situation like this!

How anyone could feel anything other than paralyzing nerves was beyond him but… well he digresses.

He’d arrived much earlier than he had anticipated.

But he blamed that on the nerves once again.

He was scheduled to come into the S.O.-

(Soulmate office)

At around midday and yet, there he had been, bright and early at around six or maybe seven, waiting in his warm car, complete silence in his head and his body buzzing.

Honestly, he hadn’t slept the night before.

How could he when he knew what the next day would be?

He sighed, his head falling to the head rest behind him.

He was so tired.

Somewhere behind the haze of excitement and nervousness, he could tell he was tired.

Maybe he’d crash after everything was said and done.

Though, honestly, he didn’t want that.

He knew he would want to spend time with his person.

Whomever they were.

He should have slept.

In the back of his head, he heard Namjoon’s voice saying “I told you so” in the most maddening way possible.

He shook his head. His heart raced with annoyance.

He hated when Namjoon was right.

And unluckily for him, he was correct often.

He took another look at the clock hoping that somehow, the hours of wait were up.

No.

Still had about an hour and a half to go.

He had done this to himself.

He had no one to blame but himself.

He ran his hands through his hair, completely forgetting that Jimin had done it up earlier and strictly instructed him not to touch it.

His hands froze with his hair knuckle deep into his waxy strands.

His small eyes widened.

Then as quickly as the panic came, it went and he let his fingers finish their path through his hair.

This was his soul mate. They weren’t going to like him any less if his hair was a little messy.

Still, he turned the rearview mirror towards him to check that it wasn't too messy.

He didn’t want his S.O. to think that he was a slob or didn’t care enough to get nice to meet them.

He just hoped that he hadn’t gone too far out of his comfort zone when it came to this.

True, he didn’t dress up often, but he did for special occasions so in a way he would have been lying if he hadn’t dressed up right?

But then what if his person thought that he always dressed like this?

It was equally a lie.

Was he catfishing them?

Too many thoughts ran through his head. He began to miss the empty buzzing that was filling him only minutes before.

It was too much emotion for Yoongi.

Too much to decipher and feel.

He hated feelings.

Well… he hated expressing them.

This was mostly evident in how he had reacted when he told his friends that his S.O. meeting was that day.

Everyone was ecstatic and giving him advice, but he had only shrugged, said he was interested, and tried to change the topic.

Only that he was secretly vibrating on the inside with fear and excitement.

How would his person feel about this?

Would they hate how cold he came off?

Would they be emotional to contrast him?

Or would this person be just like him?

Which did he want?

He wasn’t sure.

In a way, he was grateful that the government had found proof of soulmates.

It took a lot of choices out of his hands.

And Yoongi hated making the wrong choice.

This was preferable to him.

Though he’d spent most of his life opposed to the whole thing, now that it was his turn, he couldn’t help but be optimistic about it.

Gross.

Positivity.

Yoongi’s eyes began to flutter shut.

He shook his head and sat up straighter.

He couldn’t let himself fall asleep.

But the sweet murmur of darkness pulled at his lashes.

He fought with his body to keep himself up but he was past the point of no return.

His head was heavy.

His shoulders were protesting.

His eyes burned.

How attractive could he look with red eyes? He reasoned with himself.

A quick nap wouldn’t hurt.

In fact, it might relieve some of the anxiety that had been bubbling in his chest.

Yeah.

If he set an alarm, then everything should be fine.

Okay, so at first it was cute.

Your soulmate was late to the meeting.

It was something you would have to get used to.

You supposed that this was a good contrast to how on time you always seemed to be.

His tardiness would go well with your incessant need to be early-

As being early is being on time and being on time is being late to you.

-and maybe this would be good for you.

Sure, it was your pet peeve to be kept waiting but a couple of minutes wouldn’t kill you.

But then a couple of minutes stretched into ten then into thirty and now it had been a full hour of you sitting in the hospital-white room with nothing to do but to sit and wait.

They had taken your phone before you entered the room.

They told you it was because there were supposed to be no distractions when you met for the first time.

That was also the reason for the plain rooms with only a table and two cushioned chairs.

So yeah, you had been sitting in a less than comfortable chair staring at a white wall for a whole… fucking… hour.

Were they sure that this was your soulmate?

There is no way that any soulmate of yours would have left you waiting this long.

This was not at all what you had expected.

You thought that it would be perfect.

Somewhat at least.

You thought he would walk in, your eyes would meet, you would… kiss(?) hug(?)... talk and then you would leave the facility with the camera that you knew would be given to you and the journals to document your first couple of months together and everything would be fine and dandy.

Maybe you’d go get some food together or something.

But no.

Your stomach was eating itself, you were bored out of your mind and to top it off, you were starting to doubt that this was your soulmate after all.

What if they couldn’t find your soulmate?

What if they died on the way to the meeting?

What then?

The anger in your system gave way to fear.

What would happen if your soulmate just decided that he didn’t want to meet you?

Maybe he had seen you walking in and decided that he didn’t like what he saw and bolted.

It was possible…

Sadly, you hugged your sleeve covered arms and made to stand.

Had they ever had this happen before?

You were going to ask, not taking well to being humiliated and not wanting to sit for any longer.

But as you pushed your chair back and fought back tears, the only door out of the room burst open.

You jumped back, a hand flew over your heart.

It took you a second to realize what exactly you were looking at.

In the doorway stood an average height man dressed in all black, a smart jacket on his admittedly thick arms.

His face was glossy and he was breathing heavily. He was bracing himself against the door frame and behind him was one of the S.O. workers that had escorted you in, but he looked frazzled and scared.

“Sir we asked you to wait for-” the worker was saying but when your eyes met the man’s, you couldn’t hear a single word.

It was like the world had faded entirely and the white room which had been fuling your insanity melted away and all you could feel was this insatiable want.

This pull from your navel that seemed to lead directly to him.

He was it.

Yoongi knew he had fucked up.

When he had awoken peacefully instead of the jarring awakening he had expected from the loud, obnoxious alarm he had set, he had known he was screwed.

How long had he been out for?

Had he missed his meeting?

No..

No, no, no, no…

He must have woken up before his alarm.

There is no way that his body would betray him like this.

He smiled at himself in the mirror.

He would look down at the clock and of course it would say that there were thirty minutes left for his meeting and he’d have to wait nervously for the rest of the time.

But he knew he was wrong.

It was a feeling in his stomach.

So when he glanced down at the clock and it was an hour after when he was supposed to meet his soulmate, his heart sank.

Still, he froze for a couple a second, not knowing what to do.

Did people often miss their appointments?

What happens now?

Then without a second thought, he threw his door open and ran out of the car.

He clicked his car key over his shoulder hoping that it locked but not caring enough to check.

He ran into the building, the sliding doors only opening a fraction before he squeezed himself through. His heart was beating fast.

He must have looked like a wild animal because the receptionist was looking at him with wide eyes and her arms across her chest.

“Is everything okay, sir?”

“I- I have a meeting- my alarm… I’m late… did I- did I miss it?” he said as he ran over to the desk trying to get his thoughts in line.

“A meeting? Can I have a name? I can check if your S.O. is still in the building.”

He did exactly that, as he tried to catch his breath.

She was too slow.

She was typing almost as slow as was humanly possible(?)

Or maybe it was just that his blood was pumping through his veins at a whole 60 miles an hour.

After( ten, twenty, sixty) a couple of minutes, she smiled and looked up at him.

“Looks like she’s still here. If you will wait for a couple of minutes, I’ll have and escort take you over to the room-”

“Wait no please,” Yoongi interrupted feeling his brain swim with anxiety, “I can’t keep her waiting any longer!”

Her…

His person was a her…

He felt a smile threaten to pull at his lips.

Any bit of information he got felt like he was floating.

He pushed the smile away when he remembered that he probably had already made a hugely bad impression on her as it was.

What an awful way to start a new relationship.

“Don’t worry, he’s on his way to get you. She not far,” the woman continued with an incredibly happy smile, like she was enjoying herself, “she’s right up that hallway in the last room to the-”

Yoongi felt his blood level rise.

“Thank you,” he said before taking off towards the hallway that the receptionist was pointing at.

“No wait! Sir!”

But he wasn’t listening.

He needed to get to her.

As he neared the double doors, he realized that he needed a key for the scanner.

Before he could even think of a solution, one of the doors opened and a man in a button up blue shirt and black slacks walked out.

It looked like the universe was on his side.

He smiled brightly and didn’t hesitate to run straight past the man.

He didn”t even see it coming as he casually ran into his shoulder.

“Sorry!” but he didn’t stop.

“Wa-wait,” the man said, taking off after him but Yoongi wasn’t slowing.

His person was so close. She had waited for him.

She hadn’t left.

He was going to run straight into the room and get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness.

When he neared the end of the hallway, he instantly turned left into the final door and ripped it open.

When Yoongi’s eyes met yours, his heart dropped.

You were the most beautiful human being he had ever set his sight on.

He couldn’t pull his gaze away from you.

He felt drawn magnetically. Like you were two opposite poles and you needed to be together.

And who was he to deny this urge?

The man behind him-

He assumed he was the escort who was coming to get him.

- was saying something or other but his mind was clear of anything but you.

He couldn’t understand any language.

All he could fathom, all that he wanted… was you.

He took a step closer to you, feeling both like it was the hardest thing he had ever done and the most natural one as well.

Each step was more difficult than the last and you weren’t moving which meant he had to do all the work but he didn’t mind.

He knew, the moment he saw you that he would walk over hot coals and needles if he had to just to get to you.

You were watching him move towards you with no apprehension.

You willed him on, feeling the same pressure to move yourself but you felt rooted to your place.

Like if you moved, this spell you were under would be broken.

Mentally, you sent him your strength as if this would somehow help.

Then, he was before you, and you could smell something citrusy and, for lack of a better word, green.

It was intoxicating.

It filled your nostrils entirely.

And you were drowning.

Drowning in a pool of his scent and you didn’t care.

It didn’t matter because he was following you.

He held onto your hands and drowned with a satisfied smile in the scent of your vanilla and lavender perfume.

His mouth salivated.

You smelled good enough to eat.

Good enough that he wanted to lick you clean.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

Way too ahead of himself.

There was plenty of time for thoughts of that sort later.

You had your whole life for that sort of thing.

And where did you start?

How did one start any sort of relationship with their soulmate?

And what type of relationship would it be?

Yoongi supposed he’d have to ask you to find out.

How did one speak again?

You reached out, not baring the small distance you had between you two any longer.

When your hand touched his, a sense of peace washed over you both.

“I- I…” but the scrumptious man before you-

Because come on, he was a full snack.

-was cut off by a voice from behind.

A female voice.

Reluctantly and with great difficulty, you both turned to the voice.

A woman in a lab coat was standing in the doorway seeming peeved.

The escort was standing behind her, a mixture of fear and uncertainty lay in his eyes.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt as usually we don’t want to skew,” she cleared her throat and avoided your eyes, “Soulmates reunions but you have been taking up this room for longer than we usually allow…”

“Oh,” your soulmate said, his voice vibrating through your entire body, “that would be my fault…”

He was soft spoken it seemed.

His voice was like a whisper that caressed your brain.

“Yes, it appears it is. Still, we’re glad that you made it...eventually,” again she avoided looking directly at you two, “but we have another meeting set up in a couple of minutes. If you could pick up your packets at the front desk, that would be great and we expect you back in three months.”

Your soulmate’s fingers webbed their way between your own. A whole zoo of animals stampede in your chest at the gesture.

You gently, awkwardly, squeezed his hand in return.

“We’ll get it on the way… I’m really sorry for taking up so much of your time Dr…”

“Yes well… what’s done is done,” she said, glancing at the man behind her who moved out of her gaze as quickly as he could.

“Please be on time for the next meeting Mr. Min.”

Min.

Last name Min.

“I will.”

The packets in your hands were heavier than you had anticipated.

Yoongi, you had found out his name after you had whispered your own as you made your way, hand in hand to the front desk, was signing a couple of releases that he didn’t bother to read.

It was standard stuff, he’d assured, so it didn’t really matter.

Was he a lawyer?

You didn’t know quite yet but you were excited to find out.

You picked up a pamphlet that was laying on the desk out of curiosity.

It was thin and said in bright yellow letters “What to do Once You’re Not Just You- a guide to you, your soulmate and what comes after”.

Interested, you read through a couple of the points.

Nothing seemed too out of the box.

Mentions of relationships and sex were widely covered which didn’t surprise you.

You wondered how many people just jumped the whole, “get to know you” section and jumped each other’s bones.

You couldn’t blame them.

If anyone had a soulmate as good looking as you did at least…

Though you weren’t keen to skip over everything.

Then something caught your attention at the bottom.

A little asterisk.

*Soulmates can choose to have platonic relationships if wanted. Soulmates don't equal romance.

What?

You had never heard of that little note.

Who would opt out of a romantic relationship with their soulmate?

Who had ever heard of such a thing?

Not you.

Still, a smidgen of fear wormed its way into your heart at the thought that maybe… he would just want to be friends…

“Ready?”

His voice cut through your internal monologue like a knife through butter. His eyes were bright albeit you could make out dark circles under the concealer on his skin.

“Uh… yeah.”

As you walked out, your hand still firmly held in his, he questioned, “Did you drive or…”

“No, I took the bus… I was hoping you would drive.”

Yoongi smiled softly as the sun poked through the clouds of the day.

“Guess you’re lucky that I drove here then.”

Yoongi did not like public displays of affection.

Yoongi did not like hugs.

Yoongi openly scoffed at couples- soulmates or otherwise- that walked around wrapped around each other like octopi.

(Like Joon and his damn soulmate that couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other for one seconds. Or Jimin and Taehyung…)

So when he pulled your entwined fingers up and pulled his arm around your shoulder-

Your sides were flushed against each other.

-He couldn’t tell you what had gotten into him.

Just that the proximity felt...nice…

You cleared your throat trying to keep the heat from your cheeks.

“Ye-yeah.. Lucky.”

In the car, he instantly turned the heating on, though you felt hot enough as it was. You considered asking him to turn it off but it was a cold day and you knew that once your blush calmed down you would be cold.

There was no music playing.

The silence seemed to stretch on.

But, unlike multiple of your other relationships and friendships and relationships that you had experimented with, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was…

It was nice.

You didn’t know what to do.

Should you speak?

Did you dare break this blissful silence?

Or should you wait for him to speak.

Maybe it was your intuition, but you decided not to say a word.

Instead, you looked at the interior of his car and noticed how messy yet neat it seemed.

Like he was actively trying to clean but was too lazy to finish it all the way.

In other partners, perhaps that would annoy you but for some reason, it was endearing.

He cleared his throat. Your head snapped to his profile. His chubby cheeks reflected the light of the day though they were a little red.

He was so pale.

You wondered if he was a homebody then.

“Wou- would it be okay if I took you home?”

In his head, the request was strange. Foreign.

It felt heavy rolling off his lips and instantly, a wave of fear creeped over his head.

Yet, he knew that you wouldn’t take it the wrong way. Of course you wouldn’t. You must be feeling the overwhelming heat that was currently consuming his whole being.

You must feel it too.

So why did he feel so sacred that you would reject him?

“Home?”

A pause.

A sigh.

It was taking everything in him to contain himself.

“My apartment.”

Oh.

Oh…

Already?

He was forward. He didn’t beat around the bush. You added these to the slowly growing list of things that you were learning.

From the nerves on your scalp all the way to the tips of your toes, your blood warmed and rushed.

Suddenly, the car was far too warm.

“Oh-okay yeah… sure. All good. Sounds good, yeah…”

And the only word that came to Yoongi’s mind was-

Adorable.

His apartment was cold.

Grey.

There were a couple of clothes sitting on the kitchen table, folded and ready to be put away but seemingly not ready to be moved just yet. There were a couple of cacti on the window sill, though if you looked closely enough, you would see that they were plastic and kind of stood out from the rest of the cool toned house.

At the corner of his living room, there was a key board.

Some sheet music-

Well… everywhere.

Computers and electronics were scattered around the entire space and some black out curtains kept the room fairly dark.

Yoongi felt a wave of embarrassment cross him as he saw a pair of his boxers on the floor next to the grey couch. If he was lucky, he could steer you away from it.

He could feel your presence close behind him.

His hand sat perfectly held by yours. Your warmth seemed to penetrate deep into his soul.

It was so hot.

So hot.

Why was he burning up like this?

It was so cold outside that it didn’t make any sense.

But he was burning up.

The fire in his soul was licking at his insides.

He was wearing too much clothing.

He might even be sweating.

You cleared your throat and suddenly (as if he had forgotten) he remembered you were here.

And like a wildfire, his mind lit up with a thought.

An inappropriate thought.

A delicious thought.

But wasn’t it too soon?

Would you think badly of him for suggesting that?

He barely knew your name.

Barely knew how cute you smiled.

How pretty your hair was.

How delicious you smelled…

He turned towards you, letting go of your hand reluctantly and taking your coat for you, then bending down and untying your shoes.

A small smile crossed his face as your curves met his inpatient eyes.

Quickly, he pulled his eyes from your form and focused on taking your shoes.

It was so quiet in the apartment that the pressure seemed to press hard against his ears.

His blood was pounding into his head.

He licked his lips.

He could feel the radiating desire coming off of him in waves.

When he looked up at you, with much struggle on his end, he was met with innocent eyes that hid something a lot less so behind.

Could you feel the pull as well?

It had come to you like a freight train.

Your body was shivering but it wasn’t because you were cold.

On the contrary.

You felt like you might have a fever.

You felt so tense.

All your muscles were constricting.

Weak.

And the solution could only be one thing.

You felt so empty.

So far from your soulmate.

Would he think-

But then he stood and you were looking up at him expectantly.

Your heart sped up.

He leaned close.

You could smell the coffee on his breath and more of that green scent from earlier.

You leaned in a little closer but neither of you want to close the distance.

Somehow you know that as soon as you do, you won’t be able to let go.

You won’t be able to unstick.

Yoongi let out a strained breath and licked his lips once more.

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, revealing a row of pretty pearls and a single dangle.

His mouth watered. He was begging to kiss it softly. To whisper.

He wanted to see chills on your arms.

To see your back arch.

“Should I turn on some lights?”

You didn’t know what to answer. Not sure if that would mean that this energy would be broken.

When you didn’t answer, a small, soft smile crossed his doll like lips.

He pulled his hand from your hair, bringing with it the smell of grapes and all things right in the world before he forced himself towards the living room area.

He clicked a button that was hidden by the rug on the floor and on came a string of lights from the ceiling.

A soothing shade of blue lit up at first, then it shifted to an orange, then yellow.

Yoongi clicked on it until he was satisfied.

When he was done, a deep blue lightly illuminated the room. It gave him a halo and the ambience of peace which was the entire opposite of what he was feeling.

With a single gesture, you stepped farther into the apartment.

A smirk crossed his face as he clicked on a speaker.

His usual playlist came on. The popular rap songs of the late 90s filled the room for a second before he changed it to his calming playlist.

Songs that he had composed just to soothe himself on days where he was stressing out too much.

But this time, the music had a different effect.

It was arousing.

Your heart beat a tattoo on your rib cage.

You felt like you were walking willingly into a trap.

This time, when he touched you, you wouldn’t hold back.

And then you were in front of him and without hesitating, he pulled you with him onto the couch.

Your legs were straddled around his lap.

You sat on his knees not wanting to over step.

He held your hands in his, rubbing small circles into the backs.

He was looking up at you, like he couldn’t quite believe that you were there. That you existed.

You smiled softly, awkwardly.

He let out a small chuckle that was more air than anything then let his hands travel up your arms slowly. He touched every inch of skin through your long sleeve shirt he could.

When he reached your shoulders, he let his hands fall to your back.

He drew little shapes into you as he traveled down.

“This is crazy isn’t it?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“What is?”

“This,” he said, his hands at your waist now, “the fact that we finally are here.”

His hands moved sharply down an inch.

“That you’re in my apartment.”

Another inch.

“On me.”

And his hands were at your hips. Roughly, he pulled you closer on his lap.

Your core and his were unbelievably close.

You tried to hold yourself back from rolling your hips.

He was so smug.

Any hint of hesitation was suddenly stripped from him.

You let your hands balance you on his chest.

You could feel his heart beating almost as fast as yours.

They were almost in time.

The lo-fi in the background served as your unifying beat.

Then his smile faded and a bit of worry made it way back onto his face.

“If you want to stop, please say something…”

Your mind was blank.

“Li-like a safe word or???”

Yoongi laughed but there was no humor in it.

“If that’s how you want this to go.”

You didn’t not want this to go that way…

“Pineapple.”

“Pineapple?”

“Yeah… that okay?”

“Do you like...not like pineapple or something?”

“I love it actually.”

“So then why-”

“I just thought it would be obvious enough. We can use something else if you want-”

“No it’s okay!”

This time, you laughed.

“Are you sure?” he asked once you had calmed, but he didn’t really need to.

You pulled yourself the final inch that you needed to for your centers to connect as he spoke and an insatiable hunger filled him to the brim.

His hold on your hips tightened a smidge.

You let yourself fantasize about his fingerprints bruised into your skin so you could show them off to your friends later.

Let your mind wander to what was waiting for you.

What would this be like?

This wasn’t your first time.

There was a brief time in your younger years that you had truly believed that you wouldn’t be one of the people who had a serious soulmate so you had had boyfriends.

One of which led to some exploration of your own.

However, you weren’t sure if he had had any experience.

Would he just know what you wanted?

Was that how this soulmate thing worked?

Before you could dwell much more, Yoongi leaned up towards you again.

It was an invitation.

And it broke you.

The thirst pulled you forward.

Maybe it was a little too hard, because pain shot up your cheek and you knew that your lips would be swollen.

But that didn’t stop you.

Neither did the clang of teeth as you sloppily tried to figure out a rhythm.

Neither of you knew who was leading.

Who was following.

Who should give in.

But you didn’t stop.

As you had guessed before, you couldn’t pull away if you tried.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your lips.

You were drowning, drowning…

He pushed your hips into his. He thrust up softly, just to get the feel of you against him.

You were so hot.

He was so hot.

You were burning up.

Too many clothes.

TOO MANY CLOTHES…

He thrust up into your center particularly rough and you moaned.

It felt fantastic. And this was through clothes.

Without asking, you began to unbutton his shirt, but he didn’t stop you.

Instead, his hands traveled up to your back again.

His nimble fingers found the hooks of your bra.

His tongue licked a thin strip across your slightly chapped lips.

You held your breath as he nibbled lightly then began to kiss desperately on your cheeks and your neck.

His left hand was on your jaw, tilting your head away so he could suck at your smooth skin.

Without warning, and with only one hand, he unclasped your bra through the fabric.

You were impressed.

Yoongi was as well. He didn’t know he could do that.

His mouth made loud wet noises that traveled straight to your core.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it apart.

He slipped his hands under your own shirt and, after pulling away for only a nanosecond to give you a questioning look- which you answered with the smallest of nods-, pulled it over your head.

You awkwardly held your bra to your chest, suddenly realizing that you were two seconds away from flashing this man, this stranger.

Your eyes met his.

And all the worries melted, and you let your cover drop.

Why were you so angry?

It had been four weeks since you and Yoongi had first met and everything had been… strange.

After your first night, everything seemed to fall into place but then you guys began to argue.

You felt out of sync.

When he went left, you went right.

When he said up, you said down.

You couldn’t seem to see eye to eye.

Yoongi wondered if this was how it always was.

Namjoon sat before him, along with Taehyung.

Namjoon was sipping on a black coffee.

Taehyung was barefoot and flexing and unflexing his toes.

“Jimin and I are always arguing,” he said, making each of his toes do a small wave. He seemed highly interested in the way they moved.

“Remember the time we fought over the dumplings-”

“We all remember that,” Namjoon said, stopping him in his tracks.

“Well yeah, you guys were there,” he curled his big toe then the next four.

“The point is that we argue often but we always go back to being closer than ever after. Arguments happen.”

“Yeah but you and Jimin aren’t romantic. It's a little different,” Yoongi said.

“Then why am I here?”

“Perspective,” Namjoon interjected, sipping his coffee with a knowing smile.

Yoongi turned to the younger man with hope piling up. If anyone could help him sort out these problems, it would be Namjoon.

“What happens when you and your soulmate argue Namjoon?”

The smile on Namjoon’s thick lips pulled farther.

Something both fond and mischievous in his expression.

“Depends on what we argue about. Usually, we take a five minute break to calm down and sit down to talk about what’s bothering us.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whined.

“What?”

“I don’t think moaning counts as a language,” he countered.

Namjoon had the decency to blush at the ears but only laughed.

“Just because you don’t speak it doesn’t mean that it isn't a valid form of communication.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“So you fuck the anger out of eachother? How does that solve anything?”

Namjoon shifted awkwardly in his seat.

“Well...when we both,” he cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee, “finish, we usually cuddle or shower together and talk about why we got upset. We’re both more vulnerable that way.”

Yoongi felt his shoulders fall.

This wouldn’t be viable for him and his soulmate.

You always fell asleep after any of those activities.

“But do you argue often,” he asked, trying to get some confirmation that you guys weren’t broken.

“Yes,” Taehyung interrupted loudly.

“No,” Namjoon said, glaring at his friend.

“Then how do you explain the constant communication?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes.

“Sometimes we communicate just for fun Taehyung.”

Taehyung scoffed and went back to his bare toes, alternating their flexing.

“Whatever you say,”

An awkward silence followed in which Yoongi’s heart sank to his stomach.

“Do you guys think it's possible to only bend your fourth toe?”

Namjoon furrowed his brows at the youngest of the group.

“No.”

Taehyung’s shoulders fell.

“Why is Jimin always right?”

You weren’t fighting anymore.

But you weren’t talking a lot in general.

Yoongi wasn’t feeling well.

You could tell.

But you weren’t sure if you were supposed to talk to him or let him have his time.

It had been three months and you had moved in together but you didn’t know if this was the right thing to do.

Something felt really off.

Like he didn’t want to speak to you.

Like you were a burden.

Your anxiety had been acting up a lot lately.

You were terrified that he was going to come home one day and tell you to get out.

Tell you he had never loved you.

That there was a mistake.

But every day he’d come home, kiss your forehead, then walk into his room and sleep.

You were beginning to wonder if he was depressed.

It wouldn’t completely surprise you.

But what did you do then?

Would he want you to ask about it?

You heard the door open.

Yoongi pulled his shoes off by the door like usual.

He slipped off his jacket.

Every hair on your body was standing on end. An energy that you couldn’t place ran like electricity through your limbs.

Every set seemed to charge you further.

It was like when you walked on carpet with socks on and you could feel your hair frizzing.

Closer.

Then you saw him, and your eyes met.

There were tears in his eyes and then you knew.

You just knew.

And you got up and opened your arms.

A tear ran down his round cheeks and he barrelled into your open embrace. He pushed you onto the couch, his body weight heavy on top of you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Hot tears rushed onto your skin.

He held you close, refusing to let you go.

He didn’t tell you, but he had been so scared that you would leave. That every day, when he came home, your things would be packed, and you would be gone.

His depression had come back worse than ever and it wasn’t helping your relationship.

But every day, you waited for your one kiss, with a warm meal that he never ate and you never once judged.

Strangely enough, he hadn’t felt like he was home until the moment he hugged you.

Six months later and you guys were inseparable.

You had met his friends at some point in those six months and had become fast friends with Namjoon’s S.O.

You both agreed that they were far too touchy and way too cringy.

Namjoon’s hand was always on her leg.

Her back.

Her hands.

She was always leaning into him, kissing him.

She was always smiling like a love sick child when he didn’t notice and he was always returning those looks when she looked away.

You both thanked God that you weren’t that type of couple, but then Namjoon’s S.O. pointed out how you and Yoongi never seemed to be apart if you could help it and how she loved the way he smiled at you when you weren’t looking.

And you blushed.

And then you realized that you were probably just as cringy as they were.

Because you too smiled at him when he wasn’t looking.

And you kissed him when you thought no one was looking.

And you felt like you could read his mind with just one glance.

But you drew the line at matching outfits.

You wouldn’t be that couple.

You would leave that to Joon and his S.O.

For now.

It had been a year.

A whole year that you had spent with the love of your life.

Because yeah.

He was the love of your life.

You were sure of it.

No matter how hard times got, or how ugly you fought, you wanted him.

You were connected to him.

Your red string-

Or as Yoongi liked to think about it, a glowing gold string.

- seemed to tangle more and more as the days passed and you were almost excited to show off how close you had gotten to the S.O.

You were to go in separately, but you didn’t mind.

You were sure that Yoongi and you would give similar answers.

You were extra early today.

Yoongi had insisted since he was so late the last time.

You sat in the waiting room, your hands in one of Yoongi’s.

He drew small circles on your knuckles, kissing them every couple of minutes.

He was nervous.

You could tell, though you weren’t sure that it was due to a soulmate connection.

He was shaking his leg incessantly.

You pulled a hand from his hold and pushed on his leg to bring his attention to it.

He blinked down at your hand then up at your pretty face.

He smiled then crossed his legs.

“It’s going to be okay.”

He nodded.

“Mr. Min?”

You both looked up to see the Dr. from the first time you both were here.

Yoongi swallowed loudly, kissed your cheek then let go of your hand.

“Ready?” The doctor asked.

“Yes,”

When he sat across from the doctor.

There was a tensnes in the air that he couldn’t comprehend.

His lips felt so dry and the separation anxiety was already starting to set in.

The doctor started to ask questions.

Things about his love life.

This about you.

He answered as honestly as he could.

A smile threatened to tug at his lips the entire time.

He could feel something lingering over their heads.

He could tell the doctor had something to say.

It began to eat at him.

The way she skeptically wrote down all his answers on a clipboard.

Her miniscule scoffs.

It wore on his nerves.

What was happening.

Suddenly, she sighed, slouched on the seat and rubbed her temples.

This was it.

“Mr. Min, I am happy to hear that things are going well with you and uh… Ms. Y/L/N, but I am afraid I have some… disturbing news.”

Yoongi held his breath.

What could they possibly tell him in the S.O.?

Did they also know if they were sick or something?

Were you dying?

Was he dying?

“We only waited this long to mention it because that’s how long the effects of the mist last and we wanted to give you the choice to continue or to start this process over. Since you signed the release forms a year ago, you did give us permission to use this incident for our research and while we could just mist you again, we thought you should have the choice since you are the older one.”

Yoongi didn’t understand.

What did any of that mean?

“Incident?”

The doctor sighed again. She seemed to hope that he would just get it, and maybe he did but no… he needed her to state it plainly.

“Mr. Min, the way that this soulmate process works is that we, The S.O., go through birth dates and personalities and match you up with a person who logistically fits well with you. We then set a date for you to meet, where both persons are at legal age. Usually, we try to keep it in the early 20s but sometimes we wait a bit longer to match you up.”

“Your person-”

“Y/N” Yoongi interrupted but the doctor ignored him.

“Was born a couple of years after you so we thought a later union would be favorable. That is why we called you in at the age of 27...and her at the age of 23…”

Something inside of Yoongi broke.

23?

You weren’t 23.

You had just turned 21…

Did that mean…

“When people come into a room, we mist you both with a concentrated form of pheromones that will help you stay together for a year. This gives you time for your natural chemistry to form. We stage this honeymoon phase to make the process easier. These are specifically tailored to both people.

“When you came in late, and ran into a room, you were sprayed with the wrong person’s pheromones. The wrong room.This means that the most likely wore off within a couple of weeks, can you attest to that?”

Yoongi only blinked at the doctor.

Was he understanding correctly?

You weren’t his-

When he didn’t answer, the doctor went on.

“This can be characterized by a period of arguing, feeling distant, deep depression, lack of sex drive amongst other things. Does that help?”

Numbly, Yoongi nodded.

The doctor wrote something down then looked back up.

“Alright. As expected then. Did that ever stop? Did you and Ms. Y/L/N, recover?”

Flashes of steamy nights and cuddle sessions and the many nights that you both stayed up chatting flashed in Yoongi’s mind.

Again he nodded.

The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Interesting.” She wrote some more.

“Well, now I have two options for you. You can continue this process with Ms. Y/L/N,or we can start this process over with the proper person. Your true soulmate. She was sent home that day. We told her that because of a logistical mistake, we had given her a date a year too early.

“She’s here now.”

Yoongi was reeling.

“We have a back up for her if you decide to continue on your current process. Again, this is up to you.”

Yoongi felt his whole body fall. What was he to do?

“So… so Y/N isn’t my soulmate?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

In his mind, the fragile image he had carved of you two together shattered into tiny pieces.

You weren’t his…

His eyes watered.

His soul felt like it was being ripped apart.

He was numb and yet he felt so deeply lost.

A hand was squeezing his heart.

How could this happen?

How could you not be his when…

When he was clearly in love with you.

When your very presence made him feel more yellow than grey.

When your smile gave him butterflies.

When you held him together…

No.

There must have been some mistake.

You had to be his.

“No?”

“I’m very sorry Mr. Min. If you want to meet your true soulmate-”

“How do I know that she actually is my soulmate?”

Tears streamed down his face but there was no emotion on his features.

“You have every right not to believe us. In reality, your soulmate is only so based on our intelligence. In reality Mr. Min, Soulmates are made, not found and that’s what we are doing in this office.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

“Why are you telling me all of this? You know I could just tell everyone what you just said don’t you?”

The doctor smiled, as if she knew this would come up.

“You signed paper earlier today Mr. Min. One of those was a Non-disclosure agreement. You legally can’t tell anyone what I am saying to you.”

Like a stab to the heart, he realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to tell you either.

“What is your decision?”

When Yoongi walked out, you were waiting for him by the front desk.

A huge smile crossed your face as he neared.

His heart jerked.

How could he live with himself.

He had stolen your happiness.

He was selfish.

You seemed to pick up on it instantly.

Your smile faded as he got closer. You dropped the pen from your hand and opened your arms like you had so many times before when his world had been falling apart, when the image in his head shook violently.

Would you be able to put him back together now?

He leaned down and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. Your lavender scent filled his nose and fogged his head like a love potion.

He felt his body relax for a second before he remembered that he only had one week to figure out what he wanted to do.

If he wanted you.

The thought of you being pulled from his arms felt almost as painful as cutting an arm off but at the same time...you weren’t his arm.

He had taken you from someone else and now that person was armless.

He gave you one last squeeze and did his best to hide his emotions.

He gave you a small, gummy smile, hoping that you didn’t see the red in his eyes.

“What’s wrong babe?”

He swallowed the emotion that threatened to spew from his lips and cleared his throat. He begged the heavens for a steady voice.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

He nodded.

You weren’t convinced, he could tell, but you also dropped it and for that he was grateful.

You finished signing some paperwork, which Yoongi saw, was also an NDA, but you didn’t seem to have read it.

“They mentioned to me that they wanted us back in a week?”

Yoongi’s stomach sank. Had they told you too?

“Ye-yeah.”

“I wonder why,” you said curiously handing the pen back to the woman at the desk.

You took his hand in yours and led him back towards your car.

“They didn’t tell you,” Yoongi questioned letting you take the lead.

“No. just said they needed one more meeting with us.”

You unlocked the car and looked at him over your shoulder.

“Maybe it’s because we’re such a great match.”

And then you winked.

And Yoongi knew then...exactly what he should do.

It was the wednesday after your year check in that Yoongi and yourself were over at Taehyung and Jimin’s place.

Namjoon and his S.O. were also there in matching outfits and sickeningly sweet smiles.

Jin had recently been paired as well and his new S.O. was chatting with Namjoon’s S.O. and you.

Yoongi watched you interact with the group numbly.

He couldn’t let his emotions bubble up to the surface. He couldn’t let you know that something was wrong.

You were so beautiful.

So perfect.

So you…

“Hyung,” Namjoon said, calling his attention back to his friends.

He tore his eyes from you and looked at the taller man, trying to keep his face neutral.

“You’re really quiet today…. Is everything alright?”

No.

“I’m fine. Just sleepy,” Yoongi answered, but the looks he got from his friends were telling enough. He wasn’t doing a good job of hiding his feelings.

“Yoongi, what’s the matter with you,” Jin asked jovially trying to lighten the mood, “You should be happy for your favorite Hyung! Now I get to be a part of S.O. night! Be happy for me!”

Yoongi gave his best smile to his friend, but it fell just short of his eyes.

He was questioning everything.

Was this soulmate even the real thing?

Was Namjoon’s?

Were Jimin and Tae soulmates?

How many mistakes had they made?

“Ouch… are you that sad to have me around,” Jin asked with a chuckle and a hard pat to his back but Yoongi could tell he was worried.

“No hyungie of course not.”

“Then why do you look like someone just farted and you’re the only one that smelled it,” Taehyung asked.

“TaeTae,” Jimin groaned punching him in the shoulder.

Tae smiled his boxy smile but rubbed at the place he was hit.

“Yeah hyung,” Namjoon continued, “You look like you’re having a rough time.”

Yoongi shook his head and rubbed his temples.

“It’s nothing guys. Really, I’m just tired.”

“Don’t lie to us hyung,” Jimins said, “we may not be your S.O. but we all know you well enough to know that something is bothering you.”

Yoongi slumped.

Why did his friends have to know him so well?

He glanced over his shoulder at the girls, the men followed.

When he looked back, all four men looked worried.

“It’s about Y/N?” Jimin asked.

Yoongi didn’t confirm, but he didn’t need to.

“What is it Hyung,” Tae asked, suddenly concerned.

“I can’t really tell you,” Yoongi said, thinking of his NDA.

“Bedroom problems?” Namjoon asked.

“Girl problems,” Jimin stated.

“Can’t get it up,” Jin asked, earning him a swift slap on the back from Yoongi.

“None of that!”

“Then what?” Tae asked.

“We won’t tell!” Jimin said.

Namjoon nodded in agreement and Seokjin crossed his heart.

Still, he couldn’t tell them what the doctor had told him.

But if he just gave them a… hypothetical?

“What if,” he was cut off slightly as the girls laughed from across the room. While they couldn’t hear each other, he lowered his voice and leaned in.

The men around him followed.

“What if… your soulmate wasn’t actually your soulmate? What if you woke up one day and found out that your S.O. isn’t your S.O.?”

Confused and shocked faces met his question and he instantly regretted saying anything.

“Hyung you don’t think that Y/N is your soulmate?” Jimin gasped quietly.

“Shhhhhhh!”

“I’m whispering!”

“Well whisper quieter!”

“More quietly,” Namjoon corrected.

“You know what I mean!”

“Well,” Jin interjected, “Answer the question!”

A small beat followed in which Yoongi pondered his next statement.

“Of course not. I’m just thinking,” he lied.

“What would you guys do, if someone told you today that your S.O. isn’t your S.O.? And that your real S.O. is waiting for you and you have the choice to leave the current partner for the real thing. What would you do?”

The small group exchanged strange looks.

Tae looked at Jimin suspiciously.

“Taehyung this is hypothetical! We are Soulmates!” Jimin scoffed.

“I’m getting in the mind set!”

Jimin rolled his eyes then turned to Yoongi with a grimace.

“How soon can I change?”

Tae frowned, “You’re so mean to me! I was going to say that I wouldn’t trade you!”

“Awe really,” Jimin asked, tears instantly brimming in his pretty eyes.

“Yeah! But now…”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at the two but couldn’t help but smile as he turned his attention to Joon and Jin.

Jin shrugged, “I don’t know. I suppose I’d switch but I feel like you would know if they weren’t your soulmate… when I saw (J/S/N) I could feel it all the way to my core that she was mine.”

“Yeah,” Jimin said, wiping a tear from his puffy cheeks, “As soon as I saw TaeTae I knew I could never again live without him.”

Yoongi’s heart tugged. He knew that this was not a sign of a soulmate as he felt exactly the same way about Y/N, but he wouldn’t say that.

Yoongi turned to Namjoon, who had been eerily quiet this whole time.

There was something in Namjoon’s eyes. A clarity that the other men lacked.

“What about you Joon?”

Namjoon held his chin in his large hand and looked over at the group of giggling girls.

His S.O. was twirling a piece of hair in her hand and blushing.

“I don’t think I would switch.”

“Why not,” Jin questioned, seeming baffled.

Namjoon continued to talk, looking directly at his S.O.

“I love her,” he said simply.

The group waited for him to go on as he usually did but he said nothing more.

Jimin and Jin exchanged a confused look while Namjoon looked at his friend perplexed. Yoongi watched curiously.

“But if she wasn’t your soulmate, wouldn’t you want to… I don't know, meet the real one?”

Namjoon looked over at his girlfriend for a couple more seconds. His lips pulled into a soft, fond smile that reached his chestnut eyes.

Then he looked at Jin, and at Jimin, then Tae, and finally, Yoongi.

“Soul mates aren’t found hyung, they’re made. And even if I were to find out tomorrow that (N/S/N) wasn’t my official soul mate, I think I've made a soul mate in her. I can’t live without her. But more importantly, I don’t want to. As much as the Universe chose her for me, I choose her too. Every day. And I will continue to choose her. As long as she keeps choosing me.”

Then, like a magnet, Namjoon snapped his head to look at the girls once more and this time his S.O. was looking back. A fond smile that matched Joon’s on her painted lips.

With a nod towards the door, Joon stood.

Yoongi watched in surprise. Namjoon’s words seemed to fit his situation a little too well. They were a little too close. Hadn’t the doctor said something similar to him? What did that mean?

“Sorry guys but I think that (N/S/N) and I are going to head out.”

“Already?” Jimin whined.

“Yeah, sorry Jimin but we have a date tonight that I can’t miss.” He winked.

“More communicating?” Taehyung asked, slumping over his arm rest.

“Probably,” Namjoon shrugged as his S.O. came over and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“See you later. And hyung,” Namjoon said directly at Yoongi.

“Keep close the things that make you feel like sunshine.”

With that drop of wisdom, Namjoon and his S.O. said their goodbyes and left.

Yoongi released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Were Namjoon and his soulmate mistakenly matched as well?

But you would never know it by looking at them.

They seemed so perfect together.

“I just have one question,” Jin said, drawing the remaining people’s attention to him, “What the hell does Taehyung mean by communicating?”

Yoongi knew what he wanted.

He had known from the moment he had left the office earlier that week but Namjoon had really put it into perspective for him.

So when he walked into the doctor’s office and he once again was asked a slew of questions, he didn’t flinch.

“So Mr. Min,” the doctor started casually, “Have you made your choice?”

And Yoongi had never been so sure of anything in his life. Your laugh rang in his head and a smile tugged at his baby lips.

“I think I have.”

Master list

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elwenyere · 3 years ago

Note

K and N for the asks, if you are so inclined

I am so, so inclined, Sabre: thank you!!! Questions come from this post.

K: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

Oh my god, yes, so many. The well I always go back to (in both reading and writing) is mutual self-sacrifice. I cannot read too many versions of my goobers competing to see who can be more recklessly protective of the other, and at least 60% of my own fics have started with me imagining a scene in that vein and then trying to earn it.

(Shout out to A Higher Form of War for having some of my all-time faves in this category.)

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

Ahhh this one is so generous. <3 And yes! One of the WIPs I'm most excited about is an Old Guard AU that is Sambucky and Stony, with Sam as the newest immortal, who joins Steve, Nat, and Shang-Chi and keeps dreaming about the friend they lost to capture, known now as the Winter Soldier. Meanwhile Stane has been attempting to track the group, but the closer that his chief researcher, Tony Stark, gets to the immortals he's hunting, the less he feels inclined to help the company find them.

A little snip from the beginning!

The first time Sam Wilson died, he had the theme song from The Golden Girls stuck in his head.

Riley had been singing it into his combat boot while they suited up for the last mission (everyone had their own ways of channeling the pre-flight adrenaline, and Riley’s sounded like two cats going at it in an alley). Sam had rolled his eyes and chucked a towel at him at the time, but then sure enough, the fucking tune had been playing on a loop in his mind all the way from Kandahar.

He couldn’t say for sure whether that had anything to do with his lapse in attention as they flew over a low stone wall just east of Belal. Much later, his mind would play tricks on him, adding to his nightmares a blur of movement and a flash like moonlight reflecting off metal. Had he seen it at the time and failed to register what it meant? Could there have been a moment - a split-second when a different choice might have saved their lives? Sam turned the question over and over, but no answer could ever be as final as what had happened: in the instant when it mattered, he hadn’t done shit. He’d flown them both straight into the path of the RPG.

That was the first time: a jagged line of fire tearing through his tissue as the combined voices of his dead wingman and Cynthia Fee thanked him for being a friend.

#writer asks #ask meme #thank you sabre!!!

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capricornus-rex · 4 years ago

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A Shadow of What You Used to Be (14)

Chapter 14: And So the Hunt Begins | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: I’m honestly a little worried about the story getting attention. There are times where I feel insecure and doubtful of the work I put out. A ton of questions come to me like “Has the story gotten boring?” and my answer to that is I sure hope not. If you’ve been following the story, looking forward to each chapter update, and you’re actually enjoying it, thank you so so much! That really means a lot to me. I try my best not to let the stress of work and personal life get in the way of my posting and especially my creativity. Please, guys, do me a small favor: let me know what you think of the story so far. 🙏🏻 As always, love lots 💜

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

15 of ?

Irele, along with HY-L33, bolted to the elevator lobby. The door opened to the hangar bay. The young girl’s strides were poised with urgency, she commanded the nearest captain to prepare her ship and a small unit of Stormtropers to accompany her.

“Ma’am, the 65th Squadron has already been deployed to Zeffo.”

“That’s Captain Kane’s squad.”

“Indeed,” the commander’s eye rolled to the side for a bit. “What’s left of them, at least.”

“Their transmissions mentioned a Jedi who cut them down by the numbers, and you’re satisfied with what’s left of them?”

“That’s… not my implication, my lady,” the commander blushed.

The commander then held his tongue. There was no way debating through that. Complacency and settling for less were neither minor or major offenses, though it makes one’s work efficiency and ethics seem questionable. The uniformed man hung his head in shame, hoping that Irele would not say another word and leave it at that.

A hangar operator cut in their conversation—or lack thereof—indicating that Irele’s light cruiser, the Obeisance, is ready to go. He got his unspoken wish.

“Jedi can be fools. But so is one who decides to underestimate them.” Irele lectured, serving mostly as a reminder to herself than an advice to the commander.

Nothing was further said. Irele hopped into the cruiser and her droid companion followed along. The pilot was already informed of their destination, so Irele had time to do some more “light reading.”

The small computer in her quarters provided the database of all the logs transmitted from various troopers and officers originating from several, different planets. Irele narrowed down her search about the Zeffo logs and skimmed the holos until there was mention of the Jedi.

She had a strong feeling that this incident in Zeffo has got something to do with the red-haired Jedi she eyed on during the briefing with the Inquisitors. Secretly, she had feared that one or two of them might have gotten there first, though they would have most likely gone for the more notorious survivors—Jedi masters and Padawan prodigies, for instance.

“What can be said about Zeffo, Haylee?”

“A small colony of humans reside in the continent just along the planet’s equator. Albeit a large landmass, the terrain is rather hostile—as 60% of the planet is water.”

“It is also a treasure chest of sorts—for the Emperor, at least, and other like-minded hoarders,” Irele added, the droid had nothing to comment. “Stay here in the Obeisance, Haylee, understand? I can’t have you in the line of fire down there.”

Irele was the first to alight the cruiser via her personal TIE Interceptor docked in the cruiser’s hangar. Riding behind her was the transport ship carrying the 77th Squadron. The transport landed first, melding with the remnants of the 65th, while Irele demanded the last known location of where the Jedi was found.

“Lady Irele, Captain CL-5857 reporting. Sending you the last reported coordinates of the Jedi.”

“Very good, Captain. My channel’s open for you now.”

The numbers instantly appeared on Irele’s screen and followed the navicomputer after the coordinates have been encoded. The TIE Interceptor zipped past the said colony—which was now literally a ghost town sprawling with Stormtroopers, almost like ghosts. Peeking over her window, she spotted a bleach-white mound pushed to the side along the stone cottages.

Dead Stormtroopers.

“Interesting.” Irele muttered and smirked. Not the least bit fazed of just how possibly deadly her target is.

–

At the end of the Augur Pulverizers, Cal found his way on a dangerously-placed metal balcony and startled two Stormtroopers, sneaking up on them. He stayed there to catch his breath. The roar of a TIE Interceptor’s engine caught his attention and watched the ship dart through the overcast skies like a loosed arrow.

He half-dismissed the feeling he got before the TIE flew out of sight. Irele got a quick glimpse of the other end of the pulverizers, the head full of red hair was such a dead giveaway, he stood out more than the white armor dotting Zeffo’s terrain.

On his right was a plateau where more of them waited for him, but it was his only way to get to the tomb.

Irele circled her way around the mountain. She discovered her destination when she found the monument of a Zeffonian sage standing amongst the jagged pillars of rock. She remained on the high ground, docking her TIE on a plateau that overlooks this region of the planet and sensed Cal coming this way.

Trekking through Zeffo’s steep ridges and cliffsides were both exhilarating and arduous. Fresh air welcomed itself to Cal’s lungs and the wind swept off the auburn locks from his head. He emerged from the mouth of the cave at the far opposite of the grand entrance of the tomb.

Cal scanned the area and saw that the coast was clear

Too clear.

Sitting atop of one of the stone columns dotting the courtyard of the tomb was Irele, leisurely swinging her one leg over the other.

“I’m almost hoping you’re not the guy the Stormtroopers are talking about in their audio logs,”

Her entrance startled Cal, setting him on high alert and had him brandishing his saber on pure instinct. Bemused, Irele smirked while she rested her chin on her palm.

“Well, let’s see if looks really can be deceiving!”

She leaped off of her perch; lightly did her feet touch the ground at her descent. Dust plumed over the tips of her boots, and while bent, she takes her lightsaber off of the clip pf her belt to boast a pair of red blades on both ends.

Cal tried his best to remain calm. His gloves squeaked as he tightened his grip on his own saber. He activated the second frost blue blade, a statement implying that he’s just as capable as she is.

Irele smirked and cooed, “Well now.”

They battled in the second tier landing of the tomb’s courtyard. Dual-ended blades clashing against one another. Red versus blue.

If only Vader could see her now.

Irele’s training did not betray her. Those two years of strenuous training had given her a great amount of stamina, more than enough to last her two duels against a Jedi and still have more to chase them down to finish what she started.

“Come on, redhead! Don’t disappoint me!” she snarled, taunting the boy.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find I’m full of surprises!”

“Oho!” she cackled. Distanced herself for a second’s worth of a breather, she bared her teeth in a wide, mischievous grin. “I do love surprises!”

Cal wasn’t afraid to admit that his opponent was nimbler, more dexterous, and perhaps even stronger. He could feel the hate and anger flowing in her, as if it’s replaced the blood in her veins, though he thinks she’s a fool for weaponizing those emotions—ones that only a Sith would use to their advantage.

He needed to find an opening. This girl was too strong, he thought. He rammed his shoulder to her, causing her to stumble in her footing, and then—within a moment’s opportunity—he recoiled and sprung his hands to his front: sending a wave of the Force to increase the distance away from her. Then he made a run for it—there was an opening at the side of the tomb entrance, and hurriedly squeezed his way through the narrow space between two boulders.

He managed to slither his way out, but Irele caught up to him fast. Shrapnel of stones flew and clattered behind Cal, he looked over his shoulder and saw the girl appearing from the dust cloud, her crimson blades lighting up in the middle of the fog.

“Who are you!?”

No reply from the girl.

She just kept pushing forward. Greedy to land more strikes on the boy and hopefully disarm him.

Ahead of them was another way to the lift that leads to the underground level of the tomb. The only obstacle is that a ring of rocks, spinning around the lift in great speeds, is blocking Cal’s way of ever getting into that ancient elevator.

Desperately, he slows down the movement of the stones circling the lift, and bolted through while it was still safe. Irele was at his tail. They continued their exchange of strikes until either of them could notice that the influence of Cal’s Force Slow was wearing off. He had made his way closer to the lift while they fought, but Irele was too blind to be aware of her surroundings. When the stones were gradually returning to their original speed, Cal mustered up enough energy again to push Irele out of the stones’ orbit with one hand, while the other slowed the stones but they were now at his volition.

“NO!!”

Cal hopped into the lift, his one hand relaxed and the stones were orbiting the golden elevator at cyclonic speeds. As the golden lift sank, with a heavy bell-like clang to signal its descent, so did Irele’s stomach. This is unacceptable, she knew it, she needs to find another way to the tomb and catch up with the Jedi.

Meanwhile, Cal sought refuge and rest in the safety of the golden lift. He caught his breath and shook off whatever tension and adrenaline left from that fight.

“Who was that?” he asked to nobody in particular.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 chirped.

His comlink beeped, and Cere’s voice popped through the speaker.

“Cal? Have you found the tomb?”

“Yeah, I found it. And I also found someone interesting.”

“Who?”

“She… I don’t know if she’s an Inquisitor. I’m not even sure if she is one. Though I am sure that she’s with the Empire. I saw her TIE Fighter earlier, didn’t expect to bump into her though.”

He recalled quietly what she looked like and what she wore. Normally, Inquisitors donned armor with the Empire’s insignia on it. But Irele was fashioned differently, compared to a completely armored Inquisitor: her outfit consisted of a short-sleeved top that covered her from the neck down, a long skirt complemented by ankle-length boots. The only pieces of “armor” she has are a brown leather surcoat over her top and a belt. In her defense, she preferred less is more.

“Whether or not she’s an Inquisitor, if she’s just as bad as you say she is—then you better keep an eye out. You are definitely not alone out there.” Cere warned with a graveness in her voice.

“I know.”

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henryobsessed · 4 years ago

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The Widow and The Widow - Epilogue

Jaskier sat to their right playing beautiful tunes on his lute. Jaskier finished his song his face wrinkled which reflected in the warble of his voice as he spoke to Julia "Ahh the good old days, adventures and romance, monsters and money" Geralt growled low as Julia laughed "You didn't go on any of those adventures Jask you were too busy playing with the children"

Word Count: 1950

Warning: Grief

A/N Awwww I didn't want to do this ending but I knew it was needed.

First I want to say Thank you for finishing this book with me, For my first story I know there may have been a lot of mistakes but I wanted to get the story line out.

If your willing and would like to help I am going to edit now so can you comment of the Chapter that you think need the most immediate correction? Which one did you think was weakest?

Which chapter was your favorite?

Epilogue

The Sun was dipping over the garden, the sky was streaked with pinks, reds and deep hues of purple. It had been a full day of laughter and joy, as the estate's families had all returned to celebrate Julia's 98th Birthday. That morning Geralt had bathed his beloved in kisses and cuddles before helping her bathe. She had dressed in her favourite dress the Royal teal satin dress that she had cherished for many years, it was slightly too big for her now thinning frame but it still lit up her face whenever she wore it.

Geralt had settled her in her garden on a special day bed that Tobias had made for her so that she could enjoy the sunshine and watch the children play. Today there were many children running around the garden playing hid and seek and running underfoot of the Adults who were eagerly catching up after some time apart. Jaskier sat to their right playing beautiful tunes on his lute. Jaskier finished his song his face wrinkled which reflected in the warble of his voice as he spoke to Julia "Ahh the good old days, adventures and romance, monsters and money" Geralt growled low as Julia laughed "You didn't go on any of those adventures Jask you were too busy playing with the children"

Laughter rang out from her lips as Jaskier pouted and then smiled a devious smile as he began to strum "Toss a Coin...." Even before he could finish the sentence Geralt gave him a look that silenced the old man. "No fair Geralt, I need to revel in my youth. You still look that same as you did when we first met and Julia and I, well we've seen better days." Putting a soft wrinkled hand on Jaskier arm Julia smiled and said "It's ok Jask, why don't you play me Caleb's favourite lullaby. I always loved that song" a gentle sweet smile formed on Jaskier's face as he began to play a gentle lullaby that almost succeeded in taking Julia away into slumber.

As the morning's festivities moved into lunch and then Mid-afternoon a large cake was bought out for Julia. Large enough to accommodate the myriad of candles adorning the top, she asked the children to gather around and help her blow them out. Geralt loved how much she enjoyed her great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. He knew however that today she would not have had the breath to blow out one candle let alone 98. He sat behind her as she lay comfortably against his chest, their familiar position as the procession of Gifts were paraded before her. First came Tobias and Renee who both looked remarkably young for being in their late 60's easily mistaken for being in there 40's. Followed by Wilfred and his family and their children and Amelia and her family and their children.

As they moved forward Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert and Cohen bowed low before her Julia the only one looking even remotely as old as Julia was now was Vesemir his frame slightly bent and eyes watery but he looked in his mid 80's rather than the possible 600yrs that he was. The brothers blew her a kiss each and they moved along to allow Visenna and Yennefer a chance to present there good wishes presenting the only Gift Julia would agree to accept today a small bottle of her favourite Honeysuckle oil.

As each servant presented before her Julia remembered her cherished ones those who had passed on ahead of her Nessie her beloved cook who had become a cherished friend. Ruth and Hannah who had died in an outbreak of the pox 20 years earlier along with Jolnar and Petra. She had done all she could for them and it still it haunted her knowing she could not save them.

As the last couple walked near, she recognised both the beautiful lady standing before her and her handsome son standing taller than his father broad shoulders carrying their youngest child. No longer a teenage girl but a regale Queen, Cirilla had rightfully taken her place as the Queen of Cintra along with her husband Caleb beside her. She and her children now ruled the lands of Cintra and had enjoyed peace for many years. Ciri and Caleb kneeled before Julia and took her wrinkled hands in theirs. There eye's meeting, Ciri's full of unshed tears as she kissed Julia on her hand whispering "Happy Birthday Mother, I love you" handing their youngest to Jasker who was happy to cuddle with his nephew Caleb leaned forward and embraced his mother. His deep baritone voice whispered "You're looking well today mum, has dad been looking after you?" the cheeky glint in his eye speaking to how well he knows his parents the even after all these years their passion for each other had never wavered.

Now Geralt had Julia wrapped up in his arms in their favourite place, a blanket sitting over their bodies snuggling on the day bed in the healing rooms looking out over the place where so much love and warmth was met today. As the stars began appearing Geralt whispered to Julia "did you enjoy today my love?" he could hear her gentle soft breathing as she nestled further into his arms "Yes, it was so good to see everyone. This place seems so quiet when they are off living their lives" Geralt hummed in agreement as he ran his fingers through her hair now just as white as his own. They stayed that way for quite some time just enjoying the stars and each other's warmth until Geralt felt something change. It was an imperceptible shift in the way Julia was breathing he looked down at her, as their eyes met. Her pale now milky blue eyes smiled as she said "Take care of them my love" and with that she breathed one last breath and was gone.

He had known it was coming, they had prepared for this moment since Julia had started to feel her strength decline, but it didn't make the feeling of loss any less. Rather than moving Geralt relaxed into the day bed content to hold his beloved in his arms for just one more night.

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

Visenna placed a hand on Geralt's shoulder, she had found him sitting on the day bed looking out at the stars. Thankfully the family had been still in town allowing for a funeral to take place before they all went their separate ways.

At the contact of her hand on his shoulder she sat as he turned, and her son curled into her sobbing. No matter how much they had planned for this, talked about this she knew he would feel the grief and loss for many years to come. She was just glad she could be here to comfort him, to walk it thought with him. She knew he would be ok, that the love of their large family would help him remember the good times. To remember the love that Julia had shown to so many, and to celebrate the life that they had together. Still right now it was raw, and he needed to be allowed to grief so she did what she could she held her son and let him cry.

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

It had been a few months since Julia had passed and Geralt was only just beginning to start to feel more that just the loss. He had woken in his empty bed his arms aching to hold her again. Just wanting to feel close to her he went out to the stables and saddled Roach. The chestnut mare had been a present to him from Julia after Rose had passed away. They had clicked straight away, and roach had been a faithful companion. Today he knew where he needed to go, to their special place. Getting into the saddle he urged Roach into a gallop as they flew over the hills, past the Witcher keep that now rose up to the east of the main dwelling, past the orchards and finally to the river. He had pushed Roach fast needing to feel the wind and adrenaline through his veins.

Here, he found their favourite place, the watering hole had not changed too much since that day he had proposed to her. The trees were still strong and created the sound of waves as the wind rustled the leaves. The birds had come and gone, and now new generations occupied their branches. Even the ant's nests continued their cycle completely unperturbed by the destruction of their colony all those years ago when he had landed his beloved directly on top of their home.

Sitting down on the same bank he shut his eyes, picturing her face he spoke "We miss you Julia, I miss you. Your smile and your hugs. I miss your constant prattle about the grandchildren, and your worry about their safety. I wish you could have lived as long as I did, and that I wouldn't have to live without you" He opened his eyes looking at the water, he realised the biggest thing he missed was the peace that she exuded. Even in her worry she was peaceful.

As he sat a voice seemed to carry on the wind from long ago, her voice as it recited "The lord is my Shepard I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil, my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." As the words swirled around his mind a peace settled in his heart. It wasn't just Julia that he had missed is was the presence of her unnamed God that seemed to follow her wherever she was that he missed.

Speaking to the wind his deep voice carrying around the river he said "I know you, I watched you work through Julia's hand, her compassion, her heart for her family for her patients for me. I saw you work your miracle to bring us the child she so longed to have. If she's with you I want to be there too. I have never believed in higher beings, help me find you. I want to know you like she did" With that a peace greater than he had ever felt before wrapped itself around his heart. In that moment he knew without a shadow of doubt that he would continue to protect and love the family he had on this earth, and that he would one day see Julia again. Filled with a renewed strength and peace he went to Roach mounted and set off for home.

THANK YOU FOR READING THE WIDOW AND THE WITCHER

Previous Chapter Twenty Nine Masterlist

I have Tagged people who follow me and who I follow if you want to be removed or added please let me know :)

@keanureevesisbae @darkverrmin @viking-raider @littlefreya@madbaddic7ed @the-soot-sprite @thelastsock @lovetusilver20@crimsonrae @demivampirew @ladyreapermc@henrycavillobsessed @nitannichionne @runawayolives @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @star017 @llly113 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @ayamenimthiriel @starstruckkittyangel @lebguardians @summersong69 @notyouraveragemochii @imneonpanda @carriebee1 @ivyfatale @thereisa8ella @lucy930 @sarahmichelle5 @stuckupstucky @cleodoramer @kmuir1 @elliepower @xobriellaxo24 @xxxkatxo @supernovacocorocha @hennerslionhat @xo-mery-ox @waitedforlove743 @ladamari68 @coksy @wickedrum @harleyfranquinn @mysticalstrangerearthquake @justrae9903 @willkatfanfromasia @daddys-littlewhitegirl @cavilladdict @lebguardians @theblondetumbleweed @snowbellexx @radaofrivia @geralttheewitcher @acdd22 @thullyana @fanfictionaddiction99 @beckythfc1882 @heyheyharry @sauve-et-libre @shy-violet-soul @elliepower @msamericanrebel @minion-of-the-lord

#thewidowandthewitcher #geralt #geralt x ofc #the witcher #henry cavill

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thehierophage · 4 years ago

Text

Holy Day Meditation, 4/4/21 e.v.

April 4, 2021 æ.v. Dies Solis,

☉︎ 15° ♈︎ : ☽︎ 21° ♑︎ : ☉︎ : Ⅴⅴⅰⅰ æ.n.

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.

The Day of Zayin, the Day of the Lovers

Hebrew Letter: Zayin

Numerical Value as Letter: 7

Numerical Value as Word: 67/717 (Zayin+Yod+Nun or Zayin+Yod+Nun [fin.])

Meaning: Sword, ornament, weapon.

Thoth Card: The Lovers (Atu VI)

Alternate Title: The Brothers, The Children of the Voice, The Oracle of the Mighty Gods.

Image:

Correspondences:

Tree of Life Path Association: Key 17 - Tiphareth to Binah (from Sephira 6-3)

Astrological Sign: Gemini

Element: Air

Egyptian Godforms: Various twin Deities, Rekht, Merti, Heru-Ra-Ha

Geomantic Figure: Albus

Gemstones: Alexandrite, Tourmaline, Iceland Spar

Perfumes: Wormwood, Mastic

Plants: Hybrids, Orchids, Laurel, Bending Vervain

Animals: Magpie, hybrids, Parrot, Zebra, Penguin

Colors:

King Scale – Orange

Queen Scale – Pale Mauve

Prince Scale – New yellow leather

Princess Scale – Reddish grey inclined to mauve

The Secret Instruction of the Master:

The Oracle of the Gods is the Child-Voice of Love in thine own Soul! hear thou it! Heed not the Siren-Voice of Sense, or the Phantom-Voice of Reason: rest in Simplicity, and listen to the Silence!

Mnemonic:

To each his Understanding sooth discovers Wordless: your mode, immortal Twins and Lovers!

Recommended Text for Meditation:

Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente Sub Figura LXV, cap. 2

Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente

A.˙.A.˙. Publication in Class A. Imprimatur: N. Fra A.˙. A.˙.

1.I passed into the mountain of lapis-lazuli, even as a green hawk between the pillars of turquoise that is seated upon the throne of the East.

2. So came I to Duant, the starry abode, and I heard voices crying aloud.

3. O Thou that sittest upon the Earth! (so spake a certain Veiled One to me) thou art not greater than thy mother! Thou speck of dust infinitesimal!

Thou art the Lord of Glory, and the unclean dog.

4. Stooping down, dipping my wings, I came unto the darkly-splendid abodes. There in that formless abyss was I made a partaker of the Mysteries Averse.

5. I suffered the deadly embrace of the Snake and of the Goat; I paid the infernal homage to the shame of Khem.

6. Therein was this virtue, that the One became the all.

7. Moreover I beheld a vision of a river. There was a little boat thereon; and in it under purple sails was a golden woman, an image of Asi wrought in finest gold. Also the river was of blood, and the boat of shining steel. Then I loved her; and, loosing my girdle, cast myself into the stream.

8. I gathered myself into the little boat, and for many days and nights did I love her, burning beautiful incense before her.

9. Yea! I gave her of the flower of my youth.

10. But she stirred not; only by my kisses I defiled her so that she turned to blackness before me.

11. Yet I worshipped her, and gave her of the flower of my youth.

12. Also it came to pass, that thereby she sickened, and corrupted before me. Almost I cast myself into the stream.

13. Then at the end appointed her body was whiter than the milk of the stars, and her lips red and warm as the sunset, and her life of a white heat like the heat of the midmost sun.

14. Then rose she up from the abyss of Ages of Sleep, and her body embraced me. Altogether I melted into her beauty and was glad.

15. The river also became the river of Amrit, and the little boat was the chariot of the flesh, and the sails thereof the blood of the heart that beareth me, that beareth me.

16. O serpent woman of the stars! I, even I, have fashioned Thee from a pale image of fine gold.

17. Also the Holy One came upon me, and I beheld a white swan floating in the blue.

18. Between its wings I sate, and the æons fled away.

19. Then the swan flew and dived and soared, yet no whither we went.

20. A little crazy boy that rode with me spake unto the swan, and said:

21. Who art thou that dost float and fly and dive and soar in the inane? Behold, these many æons have passed; whence camest thou? Whither wilt thou go?

22. And laughing I chid him, saying: No whence! No whither!

23. The swan being silent, he answered: Then, if with no goal, why this eternal journey?

24. And I laid my head against the Head of the Swan, and laughed, saying: Is there not joy ineffable in this aimless winging? Is there not weariness and impatience for who would attain to some goal?

25. And the swan was ever silent. Ah! but we floated in the infinite Abyss. Joy! Joy!

White swan, bear thou ever me up between thy wings!

26. O silence! O rapture! O end of things visible and invisible! This is all mine, who am Not.

27. Radiant God! Let me fashion an image of gems and gold for Thee! that the people may cast it down and trample it to dust! That Thy glory may be seen of them.

28. Nor shall it be spoken in the markets that I am come who should come; but Thy coming shall be the one word.

29. Thou shalt manifest Thyself in the unmanifest; in the secret places men shall meet with thee, and Thou shalt overcome them.

30. I saw a pale sad boy that lay upon the marble in the sunlight, and wept. By his side was the forgotten lute. Ah! but he wept.

31. Then came an eagle from the abyss of glory and overshadowed him. So black was the shadow that he was no more visible.

32. But I heard the lute lively discoursing through the blue still air.

33. Ah! messenger of the beloved One, let Thy shadow be over me!

34. Thy name is Death, it may be, or Shame, or Love.

So thou bringest me tidings of the Beloved One, I shall not ask thy name.

35. Where is now the Master? cry the little crazy boys.

He is dead! He is shamed! He is wedded! and their mockery shall ring round the world.

36. But the Master shall have had his reward.

The laughter of the mockers shall be a ripple in the hair of the Beloved One.

37. Behold! the Abyss of the Great Deep. Therein is a mighty dolphin, lashing his sides with the force of the waves.

38. There is also an harper of gold, playing infinite tunes.

39. Then the dolphin delighted therein, and put off his body, and became a bird.

40. The harper also laid aside his harp, and played infinite tunes upon the Pan-pipe.

41. Then the bird desired exceedingly this bliss, and laying down its wings became a faun of the forest.

42. The harper also laid down his Pan-pipe, and with the human voice sang his infinite tunes.

43. Then the faun was enraptured, and followed far; at last the harper was silent, and the faun became Pan in the midst of the primal forest of Eternity.

44. Thou canst not charm the dolphin with silence, O my prophet!

45. Then the adept was rapt away in bliss, and the beyond of bliss, and exceeded the excess of excess.

46. Also his body shook and staggered with the burden of that bliss and that excess and that ultimate nameless.

47. They cried He is drunk or He is mad or He is in pain or He is about to die; and he heard them not.

48. O my Lord, my beloved! How shall I indite songs, when even the memory of the shadow of thy glory is a thing beyond all music of speech or of silence?

49. Behold! I am a man. Even a little child might not endure Thee. And lo!

50. I was alone in a great park, and by a certain hillock was a ring of deep enamelled grass wherein green-clad ones, most beautiful, played.

51. In their play I came even unto the land of Fairy Sleep.

All my thoughts were clad in green; most beautiful were they.

52. All night they danced and sang; but Thou art the morning, O my darling, my serpent that twinest Thee about this heart.

53. I am the heart, and Thou the serpent. Wind Thy coils closer about me, so that no light nor bliss may penetrate.

54. Crush out the blood of me, as a grape upon the tongue of a white Doric girl that languishes with her lover in the moonlight.

55. Then let the End awake. Long hast thou slept, O great God Terminus! Long ages hast thou waited at the end of the city and the roads thereof.

Awake Thou! wait no more!

56. Nay, Lord! but I am come to Thee. It is I that wait at last.

57. The prophet cried against the mountain; come thou hither, that I may speak with thee!

58. The mountain stirred not. Therefore went the prophet unto the mountain, and spake unto it. But the feet of the prophet were weary, and the mountain heard not his voice.

59. But I have called unto Thee, and I have journeyed unto Thee, and it availed me not.

60. I waited patiently, and Thou wast with me from the beginning.

61. This now I know, O my beloved, and we are stretched at our ease among the vines.

62. But these thy prophets; they must cry aloud and scourge themselves; they must cross trackless wastes and unfathomed oceans; to await Thee is the end, not the beginning.

63. Let darkness cover up the writing! Let the scribe depart among his ways.

64. But thou and I are stretched at our ease among the vines; what is he?

65. O Thou beloved One! is there not an end? Nay, but there is an end. Awake! arise! gird up thy limbs, O thou runner; bear thou the Word unto the mighty cities, yea, unto the mighty cities.

Love is the law, love under will.

#Thelema #thelemic holy season #Tarot

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the-knight-of-the-stars · 4 years ago

Text

Echoes: a Descendants Fanfic

The children of the isle, and the children of Auradon, are now lost and alone in an unknown world.

Can they remember the truth? Can they remember who they really are? Is it possible for them to find their way back home?

All they have left, are the echoes from another life...

Chapter 1: Uma

His large, calloused hand slowly caressed her cheek. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, the wood smell of his clothes. How sweet it felt to be around him. Hot specks of ash flew around them, amid a thunderous sound of revolts, screams, some crackling fire. It looked like the end of the world. Through a haze, she blurred a pair of blue eyes full of melancholy, a sadness weighing on him.

"Come on Hook, I'll always be a just step away from you, " she said in a voice she didn't recognize.

"I know, we are light from the same star, right?" His deep voice slipped from his lips, tears streaming down his dirty face. Behind him, a pulsing red light blinded them, giving the young man the mythical appearance of a fiery creature. He leaned in, bringing their foreheads together in a desperate attempt to feel her close one last time "Goodbye, Uma ..."

Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounded. His words still echoed in her head, she still felt that suffocating heat, the chaotic sensation, and the sadness that vision had caused her. It had been brief, but still, she felt like she had been sleeping for days like she didn't think she would ever be able to wake up. But now the cold of the undaunted room made her hair stand on end and reminded her that it had all been a dream. She blinked several times, barely realizing she was clinging tightly to the sheets, making sure she had returned to reality. She put her hand to her heart and felt it pounding and excited. It felt alive. "I miss you," she thought, closing her eyes to that strange and familiar feeling, "Even if I don't know who you are."

Uma watched the snowfall through the grimy window and found that just as it had happened every day in that dead tundra, the sun had not risen. In that forgotten corner of fleeting feelings, only the gloom remained. Without fire, without chaos, there was no one by her side. Her breath resonated on the icy upholstered walls as if floating in the heavy silence that only abandoned houses have, that sad emptiness of having had and have lost. She got up from the bed.

But of course, Uma couldn't remember ever having anything. That loss was all she knew. All that remained inside her, like a luminous lamppost guiding her, was the hope that one day she would be able to recover everything she had lost. She walked through the lonely house, her long blue hair falling like soft clouds over her naked body, two small front braids, eternally tied, from which hung small amulets whose meanings she did not know. Only the heavy wool blanket that had wrapped her up during the night covered her.

Just like every day, Uma went to the small kitchen, lit the oil lamps, and started to heat the tea. Outside, the wind whistled, and as she cracked two eggs on a frying pan, the heat of the kitchen reminded her of her dream. Fire, ash, the musty smell of gunpowder and blood, the boy with blue eyes. That was her dream. Over and over, that vision haunted her at night. He had lost count of how many times she had had that same dream, always the same, always leaving her with that feeling that she did not understand, but could not get rid of. "I miss you".

Something inside Uma told her that there was a reason why it felt so real, why it kept popping up in her mind. It was more than a dream, it was a memory. But she couldn't be sure, Uma wasn't sure about anything. As far as she knew, that exciting memory could only be an invention of her mind.

In town, they called her a witch. They said that magic had destroyed her mind, and that was why she did not remember who she was. Maybe they were right. Maybe that sad-eyed boy she called "Hook" wasn't real, it was just magic confusing her mind. As Uma ate her breakfast, listening in the distance to the howling laughter of the forest elves, she couldn't help but feel once again disappointed that the dream hadn't changed. Why couldn't she remember more? She sipped her tea and tried to forget about it.

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

The last fishermen of the town began to gather their nets with slow and tired movements. It had been a long day. Uma said goodbye to them with a kiss thrown into the air, as was the tradition, and they responded in the same way, thanking her for the help and hard work. The dogs surrounded her amid joyous barking, and she had to dodge them laughing, as she walked away carrying her own basket overflowing with fish. In front of her stood the messy mound of windows, balconies, doors, and chimeneas. Uma had always thought that those particular tower-towns so common in the northern lands, looked like a tree made of houses stuck together. An oasis by the sea, a refuge from that mysterious, cold, and hostile land.

She entered the city swinging her basket, she knew perfectly the path between that maze of stairs. Here, the air was different, it smelled of bread, sweat, coal, human heat. It was more joyous, more comforting. Uma found the company she needed just by seeing the townspeople in their daily life while continuing to climb to the top. Boys hauling lumber, up alleys with the day's game on their backs, people on balconies spreading clothes, shaking rugs, or lighting lanterns. She paused for a moment, daring to look back, to see the huge sea from above.

Up there, where she was at the height of the birds flying and the trees seemed tiny, Uma stopped feeling so alone. Up there, among the wind, the heat, the flowers in the windows, the amber lights in the houses, and the noise of the people, even if it was only for an instant, Uma could almost feel normal, like someone loved, like someone human. And that was precisely what had motivated her to dream of one day, to be able to raise enough money to buy a little house in the highest part of town, where she could wake up every day in the midst of that joyous daily life, where she could finally feel that she was someone.

Finally, Uma reached her destination. She entered the narrow, candlelit establishment and approached the counter. She put the basket on the floor, and a skinny girl came out from the back.

"Uma! How are you? How are things going down there on the plain?" The girl greeted her with a charming smile. Uma shrugged, returning the smile.

" Hi Ruba, you know, cold as always ... I brought fish" replied Uma, smiling fondly at the girl in the store.

"I see they had good fishing today, right?" Ruba looked at her excitedly, and Uma only answered with her head "Well! How much do you want for it? It looks very good, how about 60 coins?"

"Are you crazy? Your mother would kill me if she finds out you gave me that much money" said Uma, laughing slightly. The girl from the store smiled, pleased to see her happy, and handed her a bag of fifty coins on the counter.

"Come on, take them, " Ruba said with a wink. "My mother doesn't have to know ..." Uma laughed again, slightly flushed.

"If you insist" she answered taking the bag and weighing it on her hand with pride. Ruba sighed with a huge smile.

"You know? I don't even think mother notices ... She is too busy licking a foreigner's boots" Ruba whispered with an amused tone "They say he came from the warm lands of the south and we are renting him my brother's room, you should have seen his face, He is furious to have to sleep on the kitchen floor, but he had no choice ..."

"He comes from the warm lands?" Asked Uma intrigued "And how is he?"

"Well, he is tall and handsome ... He's tanned, you know, like the people of the South ... He came on the train dressed as a prince with a ruffled suit and a suitcase full of wonders ..." Ruba explained with bright eyes of emotion "I'm sure he would love to meet you!"

"Me? Why?"

"Because you are a witch, you are the best that´s ever happened in this boring town ..."

"Thank you?"

"Oh, I almost forgot! I wanted to give you something… " Ruba said happily and took out from the folds of her dress a small wrapped package.

"To me?" Uma asked, surprised, and happy. No one had given her a gift since her teacher had died.

"The stranger brought us gifts from the south, you know, for letting him stay, and I thought why not give one to my favorite witch?" Ruba admitted, blushing a little. Uma smiled gratefully and took Ruba's hand in a happy squeeze.

"Thank you, Ruba, for everything ... You are the best friend I have made in this town ..." answered Uma, delicately keeping the gift in its folds. Ruba smiled from ear to ear.

"And you are mine, Witch ..."

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

Night fell, heavy and freezing on the plain. By the time Uma returned home, the darkness was almost absolute. Despite carrying a flashlight, she had to tap the walls for a long time to find the door. When she entered, the wall of enchanted tapestries greatly lessened the cold and the furious roar of the night wind. As soon as the door closed behind her, Uma dropped to the floor, exhausted, looking at the small hall of the house. Silence, again that deadly silence. With ragged breathing, she decided that she would stay there until her muscles relaxed, and she leaned against the wall, staring blankly, imagining not having to go back to that empty and distant house every day. She took off her coat, brushing dust and snow from her hair. In her pocket, she felt the small wrapped package that Ruba had given her, and Uma smiled again as she took it out. A gift from the south.

What wonders could come from those lands? Uma couldn't even imagine it. That northern land had been all she knew, all that interested her. That was what her teacher, the witch Aida, had taught her. Five years had passed since the villagers had found her, so cold and pale, that they had thought she was a corpse. They said that she came from the sea during a stormy night, an unconscious body that the waves threw to the beach. Villagers had given her a two-day funeral and attempted to bury her in an unmarked grave. But when the first earth fist was placed on her, she woke up. The frightened villagers took her with the only person in miles around who knew about the mysterious affairs of the world: Aida, the old witch of the forest.

Before that, Uma had no memories. She didn't know who she was, what she was, or where she came from. She only remembered the sea, the lightning, and the feeling of having lost something. Old Aida had taken her, cared for her, fed her, healed her wounds. She was the one who helped Uma overcome the shock and discovered that she knew how to speak, write, knew about the things of the world. But she still didn't know anything about herself. "You are a witch," her teacher had told her. "I can feel your magic, you probably got into forces that you shouldn't have, and this is the price you must pay. " After six months, Uma began to dream about the blue-eyed boy. And because of that dream, that memory, Uma was able to remember her name. Aida tried spells to make her remember more but never succeeded, and all Uma was left with was that fuzzy image of a world on fire.

Aida was a traditional woman, who during the time she met her taught her to rejoice in the little things in life, to cook, to attract fish, to become human again. And a year ago the old woman had died, sitting in her chair, leaving Uma with one last lesson to learn: how to survive alone. And Uma had learned, hunting her food and selling the fish that she trapped to the town's merchants, little by little, learning to make friends, to be kind to people, to trust them. Rarely did Uma think of the possibility that the world existed beyond that frozen region, that magic-filled forest, and that sparkling sea.

Uma untied the laces of Ruba's gift, thinking about her teacher, for the first time wondering if, in other lands, she could stop feeling the emptiness that consumed her inside.

She unwrapped the slip of paper, and a gold ring fell into her open hand. As soon as the metal touched her skin, Uma felt a jolt that shook her heart, like an electric shock that tore out the air, while in her head the vision of the boy with blue eyes appeared again, and his voice repeating the same words in an infinite cycle "We are light from the same star".

"Harry ..." she whispered as if her soul was breathing for the very first time "I remember you ..."

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621861/chapters/62193694

#disney descendants #descendants disney #descendants #uma daughter of ursula #harry hook #huma #huma au #descendants au

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buckleyirondad · 4 years ago

Photo

11. Psych 101 “Crying”

While stranded, in the past, Peter crosses paths with a familiar face.

AO3 Link

Following the final battle, which became the ‘resting’ place of Thanos and his children, the world returned to a somewhat, normal state.

A couple of months passed when it became apparent that followers of Thanos, were on the move again, ready to stop at nothing to avenge him.

They were only small squadrons, of brainless beings, that were usually quite easy to take down.

Peter, after weeks of pleading, with Tony and May, was granted permission to tag along, with the team, to help. It gave him peace of mind, being able to watch over Tony, because at least, together, they could keep one another safe.

They managed to direct the fights, to the abandoned site of Sokovia, to make sure no civilians were caught in the crossfire.

Peter was standing alone, disarming the weaker forces of the army, “Wow,” He spun, sending out a laser web, disabling a lone Chitauri, “This isn’t too hard.”

Tony’s voice cracked through the commlink, “Don’t jinx it, kid.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Didn’t think you were superstitious, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m not, but, it’s good to be careful.”

“Gotcha,” Peter spun, noticing a herd of space dogs, heading straight for him, “Uh…” He hung his head back, “I hate these guys.”

He activated the Spider-Legs, on the Iron Spider suit, and readied himself, for the onslaught.

“Peter!” Wanda flew down, arms raised to her sides, “Stand back.”

He nodded, running aside, “Got it.”

Wanda waved her hand, sending the crowd hurdling to one side.

“Woah!” Peter’s eyes widened, “Thank you!”

He turned, and before his powers could even alert him, a space dog crashed into his chest, knocking him back a few paces.

“Ugh…” He shot a web, rendering it unconscious, he pushed it away, “Gross.”

Rhodey screamed, from nearby, “Spidey-Man stand aside!”

Peter turned, looking around, “What?”

Tony’s panicked voice followed, “Kid, move!”

Wanda squealed, “Peter!”

Peter twirled around, fast, “Oh—” It was too late, Wanda’s blast, hit him square in the chest, knocking him back, through the air, the last thing he saw before hitting the ground, was her haunted face.

“Ugh,” He reached for his head, he blinked rapidly, “I’m fine,” He felt the urgent need to reassure Wanda that he was okay, considering she hadn’t meant to hit him, “Wan—”

He sat up, realizing quickly, that he was no longer on the battleground.

“What?”

He was sprawled, on the corner of a sidewalk, stuck in the middle of the hustle and bustle of New York, which was probably why nobody had questioned Spider-Man randomly laid across the street.

“Okay…” Peter pushed himself up, onto his feet, “What?” He headed to the closest wall, to survey his situation, “Can anybody hear me?”

Radio silence.

Peter darted his eyes around, when he realized, something wasn’t right.

He was in the centre, of Times Square, but it didn’t look normal.

The people rushing around were dressed differently, mostly in suits, and formal dresses. The cars, on the road, were old fashioned, makes from the 60s and the 70s, ones that Peter had seen stocked away in Tony’s garage.

Peter yelped, “What?!”

He stepped aside, deactivating the Iron Spider suit, he thanked the stars that he wore under armor, which was basically a fancy tracksuit.

He didn't have shoes.

“Shit…” He turned, making his way down the road, trying to blend in with the crowds, “This isn’t real, this can’t be real...”

He hurried around, until he found a street, that not many people were on.

Peter perched on a brick wall, taking a second to breathe, “God…” He caught a glimpse of a newspaper, hanging out of a trashcan.

He strode over, grabbing it, to check the date.

September 16th 1976.

“Oh, Wanda…” He dropped it, “What have you done?”

He paced, wondering what he could do.

The hairs, on the back of his neck, stood on edge.

He leaned forward, listening out.

The cry of a child came from nearby

Despite, being lost, in the past, Peter couldn’t ignore it.

He circled the corner, “Hello?”

Tucked up, on brick stairs, was a little boy, with neat, combed brown hair, and a puffy red face, he was hugging his knees.

He was well dressed, in a tailored suit, not the usual fashion for a kid, even for the seventies.

“Hey,” Peter kneeled, “Are you okay?”

The boy jumped, startled, “Um…” He looked up, “Mummy says I’m not meant to talk to strangers.”

“That’s true,” Peter shuffled back, “My name’s Peter.”

“Uhhh,” The boy straightened his back, “I’m…” He held out his trembling hand, “I’m Anthony Stark.”

Peter bit down, hard, on his lower lip, concealing a yelp.

“Everybody calls me Tony.”

Peter took Tony’s hand, to shake it, “Nice to meet you, Tony.”

Tony moved his other hand, away from his face, and Peter could suddenly see it.

He’d seen pictures of Tony when he was younger, but he hadn’t recognized him behind the red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks.

Peter looked around, “Are you lost?”

“I was out with Mum and Dad…” Tony’s leg nervously rocked, “I tripped over my laces and broke a vase.”

Peter settled, on the heels of his feet.

Tony spoke formally, not like a child should, “Dad got mad, so I ran, and I can’t find them.”

“I see,” Peter nodded, “Well, that wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m—” He stuttered, “I’m not very good with laces…” He ducked his head, “Dad said it’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not,” Peter leaned, tying Tony’s laces, “We all need help with little things sometimes.”

“Thank you.”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, “Do you want me to help find your parents?”

Tony nodded, reaching out to take Peter’s hand, “Yes, please.”

Despite not wanting to see Howard, in fear of what he’d do, Peter wanted to make sure Tony got home safe, “Do you remember where you were?”

“I ran quite far,” Tony said, darting his eyes around, “But I think Uncle Jarvis’ and Aunt Ana’s house is close to here.”

Peter’s mind twigged because Tony spoke highly of Jarvis and Ana, he loved them like they were his parents.

He’d driven passed their old house, pointing it out, gleefully on multiple occasions.

Peter looked at Tony, with a smile, “Do you know which way?”

Tony swung Peter’s arm back, “Yeah, I think so.”

They wandered down the street, in silence, for a while.

Tony hung his head, “Peter, you’re not wearing any shoes!"

“Oh,” Peter sighed, “I know, I lost them.”

Tony didn’t question it, “Does the ground hurt your feet?”

“Not really,” Peter said, “I’ll get new ones.”

Tony grinned, “Uncle Jarvis probably has some you can borrow.”

“It will be fine, thank you,” Peter said, “I’ve got some at home.”

“Okay,” Tony sang, he leaped over the cracks in the sidewalk, “Do you read comics, Peter?”

Peter turned his face away, hiding a fond smile; Tony had a knack for changing the subject, whenever he could, “I do sometimes.”

“I like Batman,” Tony smiled, with a jump, “He’s cool.”

Peter snorted a laugh, “One day, you might be a superhero.”

“I wish I could be.”

Only if he knew.

Tony guided Peter around another corner, “What do you do, Peter?”

“Um, I’m at high school,” Peter told him, “What about you?”

“I have tutors, at home,” He shrugged, “And I’m gonna go to boarding school when I’m bigger.” He slouched his shoulders, “Daddy wants me to go to MIT.”

Already thinking of college at age six, was not normal.

Tony truly had his childhood swept away.

Peter massaged the back of his neck, “That’s where I want to go too.”

“It’s very good.”

Peter bobbed his head, “It is.”

Tony stopped walking and pointed, “That’s their house.”

They moved up the stairs, Peter knocked on the door, three times, while keeping Tony’s hand, in his own.

The door clicked open, revealing Ana, she was in her late fifties, but still had vibrant auburn hair, with a couple of grey streaks, “Tony!” She exclaimed, looking at her nephew, “We’ve all been so worried.” She leaned forward, holding out an arm, “You’ve had us running around like headless chickens, sweetheart.”

“Aunt Ana!” Tony rushed forward, wrapping his arms around her legs, “Sorry,” He spun around, waving his hand, “This is Peter!”

“Ah.” Ana stepped forward, holding out her hand, “Nice to meet you, Peter.”

Peter shook it, “Nice to meet you too.”

She kept a hand on Tony’s back, “Thank you so much, for keeping our Tony safe.” She turned, “Edwin, darling!”

Jarvis circled in, the panic on his face morphed into relief, “Thank, Goodness…” He rushed ahead, “Mr. Stark…”

Tony sprinted over, “Uncle Jarvis!”

Jarvis crouched, catching Tony, in a hug, “I’m so glad you’re safe, young man.”

Tony leaned back, rubbing his sleeve over his face, “I’m sorry I ran.”

Ana placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, guiding him inside, “Edwin, this is Peter, he helped Tony find his way here.”

Jarvis stood, “Peter.” He shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.” He smiled, “Thank you.”

Peter stared, in disbelief, because, for the longest time, Jarvis and Ana were stories, but he was seeing them, for real, “It’s no trouble.”

“Would you like a cup of tea, darling?” Ana asked, “I think you're owed one.”

“Uh…”

Jarvis cut him off, “I’m sure, Mr. and Mrs. Stark would like to thank you, in person.”

Tony skipped over, tugging Peter’s hand, “I can show you my room!”

Technically, Peter had nowhere else to go, “I guess I’ll stay then.”

Ana squeezed his arm, “I’ll bring your tea up to you.”

“Thank you.”

Jarvis looked to him, “How do you like it?”

“Um, not too strong, with two sugars, please.”

“Coming right up.”

“Come on.” Tony lead him upstairs, into his room, “Wanna play Snakes and Ladders?” He asked, rushing over to a bookcase.

“Sure.”

Peter perched, on the edge of the bed.

He watched, seeing how happy Tony was, struck him, knowing how sad, he grew up to be.

Tony was loved, by so many, but grew up believing he was worthless because his dad never looked at him twice.

Tony laid out the Snakes and Ladders’ board, giving Peter the dice.

They were halfway through their third game when Ana brought Peter his cup of tea and a glass of juice for Tony.

Peter placed it, on the bedside cabinet, “Thank you.”

Ana took out a polaroid camera, “Do you mind?” She asked, raising it.

Peter shrugged, “Not at all.”

She held it up, “Smile boys.”

Tony waved, with the widest smile.

Peter watched him, fondly.

Knocks, at the front door, caught their attention.

“I better go and see who that is,” Ana left, taking the camera and photo, with her.

A woman’s voice echoed up, “Hello.”

Jarvis spoke, “Mr. Stark?”

“Jarvis.” That had to be Howard, “Where is he?”

Tony moved away from Peter’s side, and stood, at the end of his bed, with a forced posture.

Maria Stark entered, “Tony?” She smiled, relief in her eyes, “Honey..”

Tony walked over, hugging her, “Mum…”

“Hello, baby… “ She kneeled, taking his hands, “We were so worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

Howard strode in, chin held high, “Maria…” He barked, “He’s a growing boy, he doesn’t need to be coddled.”

Peter stood, clenching his fists by his sides.

Howard glared, at Tony, “You’re in a lot of trouble when we get home.”

Maria stood, “You must be Peter.” She shook his hand, “Thank you, for helping.”

“Son…” Howard took out his wallet, “Let us…”

“I don’t want your money,” Peter held up his hands, “I was glad to help.”

Howard thrust out the cash, in his hand, “Don’t be modest.”

“I can’t.”

Howard pushed, “Take it—"

Peter answered, through gritted teeth, “I won’t accept money from you.”

Howard stepped back, “What?”

“I can’t,” Peter replied, quick, “Not from somebody who talks to their son, like you do.”

Maria’s eyes widened, she stepped closer to Tony.

Tony leaned forward, peering from behind her son.

Howard stared like Peter had punched him, “I beg your pardon?”

“I lost my parents when I was Tony’s age, but I remember how good they were,” Peter informed him, “My Aunt and Uncle raised me, they respected me, and my—” He stopped, having no idea how to explain Tony’s relevance in his life, it was hard, to put into words, instead he pointed, “That’s what he needs.”

Howard frowned; anger bubbling to the surface.

“Your son is six, and you treat him like he’s sixteen,” Peter snapped, unable to stop, “He got lost, he was scared, that’s not something you punish a kid for. You should be asking him if he’s okay, telling him he can have anything he wants for dinner.”

Howard sneered, “You’re not Tony’s father.”

“I know,” Peter narrowed his eyes, “Maybe, instead of seeing him as an investment, or company property, you should see him as your son.” His voice raised, “He’s scared of the dark, and you keep him in it. You’ll be the one to blame when he grows up to resent you.”

Howard’s jaw dropped, speechless.

Peter turned to Maria, “I better go—”

“Yes—” She leaned over, to mutter, “Thank you.”

Tony rushed over, hugging Peter’s leg, tight, “Goodbye.”

Peter squeaked, tears, in his eyes, “Bye.”

He rushed passed, the startled Howard, down the stairs, where Jarvis and Ana were stood, silent.

“It was lovely meeting you,” His mouth twitched into a smile, “You’re good people, and Tony loves you both very much.” He nervously interlocked his fingers, “Thank you.”

He rushed out before they could say anything.

The sun was setting, and the street was desolate.

He needed to find somewhere, to lay low, for a little while.

He wiped tears, out of his eyes, “Shit.” He bent over, a knot in his stomach, “Wow.”

“Peter, wait!” Maria shouted, after him, running down, “All—”

He spun, “I’m sorry,” He quickly said, “I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“My husband is a grown man.” She stopped, in front of him, “He can take it, and you know what? He deserves it.” She nodded, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“There’s something about you, that’s peculiar…” She scanned him, “Have we met before?”

He shook his head, “No.”

“You speak about Tony like you know him.”

Peter didn’t know what to do, but he could see the desperation, in her eyes, and the love, she held inside, for Tony, “Can you keep a secret, Mrs. Stark?” He asked, “That nobody else can know.”

She nodded, “Yes.”

“I do know Tony…” Peter told her, “Just not yet.”

“Excuse me?”

Peter tapped his arm, activating the Iron Spider armor, but he kept the mask off.

“What—” She stepped back, “What is this?”

“It’s my suit,” He hiccupped, “I’m a superhero.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Like in real life?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, “Tony’s one too.”

“He’s a child.”

“Not yet…” He stumbled, “In the future.”

She laughed nervously, “Are you saying, you’re from the future?”

“I know it sounds crazy.”

She tilted her head, to her shoulder, “Honey, it’s delusional.”

Peter tapped his arm, “Karen, are you still working?”

“Yes, Peter, I am running on backup power.”

Maria looked around, “Who was that?”

“The suit.” Peter answered, “Karen, can you show me files on Tony Stark?”

“Of course, personal or work?”

“Personal, please.”

Karen projected a picture, of Peter, Tony, and Morgan, sprawled across the couch together.

“That’s extraordinary,” Maria pointed, “He looks just like my father.”

“That’s Tony,” Peter said, “In 2023.”

She shook her head, “2023?”

“Yeah,” He moved his finger, “That’s my sister, Morgan.”

She looked at him, with wide eyes, “Your sister?”

“Karen, play, please.”

The video played.

Tony jumps onto the couch, ruffling Peter’s hair, with his hand.

Peter whines, “Mr. Stark…”

Tony shakes his head, with a laugh, “What movie should we watch?”

Morgan throws her arms, into the air, “Finding Nemo.”

Tony grins, “Again, really?”

“Yeah.”

Peter closed it and lowered his arm.

Maria blinked away tears, “That’s my Tony?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re his son?” She asked, “My-My grandson?”

“Basically,” Peter nodded, “He took me in…”

“And he’s happy?”

“He gets there, in the end.”

Maria leaned up, pulling him into a hug, “Thank you for showing me.”

Peter tangled his arms around her, “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, honey.” She leaned back, “You tell him from me, that I’m proud of him, and all he's done,” She cupped his cheek, “And you give your sister, a big hug from your grandma, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter’s face contorted, “I don’t know if I-“

Wanda’s voice echoed, from nearby, “Peter!”

Peter turned his head.

“Peter, it’s me.”

He breathed, “Wanda?”

Maria frowned, concerned, “Are you okay?”

“I think my friends have found me,” He squeezed her hand, “I have to go.”

She kissed his cheek, “Stay safe.”

“Bye.”

Suddenly, he was flying, through a blanket of red.

He landed, on a laminate floor, with a thump, “Woah.” He was inside the training room, of the Headquarters, surrounded by the team.

Scott cheered, from behind the quantum tunnel, “He’s back!”

Cheering filled the room.

Rhodey applauded, “It actually worked!”

Peter looked around, his eyes finding the one person he wanted to see, “Tony…”

Tony bent down, pulling Peter to his feet, “Oh, kid…” He dragged him, into his arms, “That was the longest week of my life.”

Peter peeled back, stunned, “It’s been a week?!”

“I’m so sorry, Peter,” Wanda stepped out, “I didn’t even know I could do that, I was trying so hard-“

“It’s okay, I know,” He leaned over, hugging her, “It’s fine, I’m back.”

“You’re lucky, that Friday recalled something, from my archives,” Tony held out the polaroid picture, that Ana had taken, “Turns out, you’re real,” He laughed, “Thought you were imaginary.”

Peter laughed, “Surprise.”

Tony tugged him into another hug, kissing his cheek, “Thank you.”

#whumptober2020 #no.11 #psych 101 #crying #peter parker #tony stark #ana jarvis #edwin jarvis #maria stark #howard stark #irondad #irondad fanfiction #irondad but the roles are switched....it was fun to turn it around!#liberty's writing

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sleep-i-ness · 5 years ago

Text

Love At First Coffee (Vanya Hargreeves x reader)

Summary: Y/N is a struggling flautist, trying to make ends meet, but when a violinist catches her eyes, life doesn’t seem quite so difficult.

Request: No

TUA Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7

Beep beep beep. Y/N groaned, stretching out languidly as she patted her bedside table. Her fingers found nothing but the worn wooden surface. Blearily rubbing her eyes, she pushed herself up onto one elbow. The alarm was incessant. Where on earth was that phone?

The bitter smell of coffee filled the kitchen as she poured the boiling water into her chipped mug. A lethargic ache had settled into her bones; the haphazard pile of unopened letters mounting her dread the more she looked at the mess. A quick glance at the plastic clock ticking merrily away warned her she was on the verge of being late if she did not leave now.

Y/N slung the straps of her flute case and tattered leather satchel over her shoulder, her crumpled sheet music clutched in one hand. The lock of her apartment was always such a fiddle and she stuffed the sheet music in her satchel, wincing as it creased even further. She yanked the door shut, leaning backwards to align the lock as she twisted the key.

With a huff, she blew the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes during her tussle with the door. Her path was a familiar one; down the hallway over the scuffed tiles, where she’d have to wait for the creaky elevator to haul itself up to her, and then out onto the street. Past the rowdy bar that never seemed to shut and the hot dog street vendor to the bus stop, littered with chewing gum and graffiti. Then, depending on whether she had the time to waste on the agonizingly slow journey, it was either onto the grimy bus, nodding to the leering driver, or straight past, a brisk walk of about 20 minutes to the concert hall.

Today was not going in her favor. Y/N sighed as it pulled away from the stop. No need to make a choice now. The walk into the more central and less dodgy area of town was usually quite unpleasant; the streets were still reeling from the nighttime activities. She wrinkled her nose as the putrid scent of rotting garbage filled the air, a dumpster nearby overflowing with ripped trash bags.

Keeping her head down, she hurried through the streets, neatly sidestepping the ‘businessmen’ on their flip phones and the gossiping ladies, one hand always clamping their handbags shut. A rush of balmy air burst through the vent as she passed over it, the warm stench of urine and cooking garbage wafting upwards. Left, then a right, then straight on past two crossroads and lines of honking traffic and foul-mouthed drivers, swearing at the day for daring to begin. Wait for the lights to turn red, cross over and continue down the road until you reach the performers door.

The Icarus Theatre. Y/N would have liked to be one of those performers who gushed on about how their performance center was ‘like a second home’, but that was cheesy and frankly unrealistic. Her dreams of being a world-famous flautist had been crushed the moment she’d received her first lot of bills and realized how naïve she truly was. The joy in performing in an orchestra was short-lived as every day felt like a struggle to scrape together enough money to keep herself out of debt and prove her parents wrong. That was enough to dampen anyone’s spirits.

Every hour she didn’t have a rehearsal, she was booked chockful with students of all ages and genders who turned up with a passion for the flute. Or their parents were forcing them to go. Either way she got paid and hoped that maybe she was imbuing someone with a new appreciation for classical music.

“Morning, Will.”

The principal piccoloist was already sat in his seat, absorbed in conversation with Lucy, one of the second violins. He glanced over and raised a slender hand in acknowledgment. Will was always punctual and smartly attired, wearing crisply ironed shirts and smart blazers, free of lint. Y/N was sharply aware of the contrast between them, her shirt creased and half-untucked and her hair escaping from its bun.

She flipped open the latches on her case; there was a trick to it, you needed to open both at once while opening the lid at the same time. Her prize and joy, her baby lay inside. The first time she had ever saved up enough money to buy herself something worthwhile, she had bought a professional flute. Before then, she’d been using her aunt’s old flute from the 60s, a battered old thing that was lucky to even still be able to play.

The murmur died down as Lorin Toscanini, the conductor, stepped onto the raised podium and raised his baton. Y/N slipped into her seat next to Will, who raised an eyebrow at the creased sheets she deposited onto her stand.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today we need to fix the timing on the opening sequence. Remember this is iconic and it needs to be perfect. Second violins, I hope you have improved since yesterday.” The nasally tone of Toscanini grated on Y/N’s nerves, especially so early in the morning when she would much rather be in bed.

Y/N raised her flute to her lower lip, watching the baton as it swayed in time with the music. Down, left, right, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The violins and cellos came in in unison on the downbeat, bows drawing across the string in harmony. The harmonies in perfect time caused shivers to run up and down her spine as the bows swayed mournfully across the vibrating strings in unison.

Okay. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8-

“Stop, stop,” Toscanini cried out, baton smacking against the stand. All instruments were immediately lowered, as a sign of deference. Something about stroking his highly inflated ego. “Someone in the clarinets is playing a B natural instead of a B flat. Now remember, we want to create a sense of tension, so the dynamics start off at piano and then we reach mezzo forte. But this isn’t the most dramatic section; we are building up to that. So, at bar 4 we need an audible diminuendo. Like tiptoeing... From the top!”

There was something so magical about playing in an orchestra when it all slotted into place. You stopped being an individual person and instead became immersed in a group movement of sound and emotion, compelling the listener to be draw in with you. The different melodic lines weave together into one, playing off each other to create a final piece.

It was an almost addictive sensation. The feeling of being swept away and losing sense of oneself in the bigger picture of a whole was something Y/N craved when she wasn’t playing. Music restored a part of herself that she sometimes didn’t realize she was missing. It lifted her away from the mortal world, to a place where the music and the notes were the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s eye fell upon one of the first violins, newly promoted, her brown hair pulled back tightly in a low ponytail. The woman’s brow was furrowed as her fingers danced over the neck of the guitar, swaying gently with the music. Momentarily transfixed, Y/N’s mind turned foggy as she lost count, all thoughts focused on the violinist.

The piece drew to its climax, as if a great beast had climbed to its hind legs and roared. A mounting rush of notes as each musician lost themselves in the crescendo, furiously playing. Cascading melodies toppled over each other, nimble fingers tumbling up scales and bow strokes timed impeccably.

E, G, A!

An audible sigh of satisfaction echoed round the room as the piece ended without any pauses for tinkering; the joy of a composition well played shared throughout all the players.

“Beautiful, just beautiful. I think we’ll call that a day, there. Our next rehearsal is at one on Wednesday, now do not be late.”

Now that the piece had ended, Y/N glanced over to the violinist she had spotted earlier. While Y/N quietly packed her instrument away, the woman prepared to slip out, unnoticed. Should she…?

“Hey,” Y/N flagged down the women, fingertips brushing the cuffs of her dark shirt. “I’m Y/N, I noticed you playing. It was beautiful! You recently got moved up from fourth chair to third, right?”

“Yeah,” the woman seemed flustered by the attention, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “I’m Vanya, it’s nice to meet you.”

Y/N pulled her slipping straps back onto her shoulder as she grinned at Vanya from beneath the curls threatening to fall in her face. “Pretty name. Say, are you busy now? I know an excellent little coffee shop across the road.”

Vanya flushed as she murmured some expression of gratitude. She hesitated, carefully switching her phone on and off again before sliding it back in her pocket when no notifications showed up. “I’m free for a couple of hours. I have to teach lessons from 3 though.”

The coffee shop was quaint and always quiet; since a Starbucks had opened only a few doors down, business had slowly dried up until only a few regulars and those who were opposed to coffee from chain shops came along. Vanya fidgeted with the strap of her violin case, her eyes darting around the shop’s wooden and gold furnishings.

“Hey Marjorie, I’ll have a cappuccino and a chocolate éclair. Vanya, what do you want?”

“Oh, you don’t need to order for me, I can pay for myself.” Vanya’s eyes widened as she protested profusely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning nonchalantly against the bar, “I asked you to come with me for coffee, there’s no way that I am going to be so rude as to make my guest pay for her order. So?”

“I’ll have a mocha, thanks.”

Y/N soon joined Vanya where she was sitting, tucked away in a booth in the corner.

“One mocha, milady.” God, she sounded like one of those ‘nice guys’ in the Instagram DMs.

“Thanks,” Vanya laughed, and Y/N decided she quite liked hearing that sound and that she was definitely going to try and hear it more often. Especially, she wanted to see the way Vanya’s eyes crinkled as she tried to stifle her giggles and how her hand flew up to try and cover her face.

“So, tell me about yourself,” Y/N propped up her head on one hand as she sipped at her cappuccino, blowing softly on the frothy layer.

“Umm, I don’t know what there is to say, I’m a pretty boring person.”

Y/N could not believe that. There was something so hypnotizingly attractive about Vanya; a quiet sort of pretty that crept up on you when you were least expecting it and stole your breath away. Someone like that could never be boring, every inch of her whispered of a tale to be told.

“Have you got any siblings? Pets?”

Vanya’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly before she smoothed her features out, as if to imply Y/N should know something. “Yeah, I have a sister and 3 brothers.”

“Wow, 3 brothers. That must have been a nightmare!”

“Yeah, I was kind of the black sheep of the family. But I haven’t spoken to them in years; we just ended up drifting,” Vanya’s tone appeared nonchalant, but a nervous hand gave her away as she massaged her neck. “It was my fault basically.”

“No that’s ridiculous. The only real excuse for cutting you off is if you killed someone or put someone in danger, and no offence, you don’t seem particularly capable of either of those things,”-Vanya pulled a face-“in a good way!”

“I don’t know, I feel like I deserved it.”

Y/N tore the éclair in half, messily coating her fingers in chocolate as she pressed her fingertips into the half-melted layer on top. “For you. Because fuck shitty families. Who needs them, am I right?”

Vanya giggled and raised her half in response, touching them together to make a toast. “Amen!”

There was a lull in conversation as attention was redirected to eating the intoxicatingly good pastries.

“What about you?” Vanya mumbled; mouth full. There was a tiny dot of cream on the left corner of her mouth and Y/N stared, transfixed as her tongue darted out to dab it away.

“Oh, me. Well, the whole struggling artist career path was not one my parents had hoped I would go down. In comparison to my banker brother, I’m a bit of a disappointment and they make sure to let me know.”

Christmas this year had been a nightmare. It was full of meaningful looks from her parents as her brother prattled on about his new promotion, or the last exotic trip he went on, or the wonderful restaurants near his place of work on Wall Street. She didn’t know what they expected her to do; just suddenly become a high-profile surgeon?

Vanya placed her hand over Y/N’s, looking earnestly into her eyes. “You’re not a disappointment. Fuck what they think.”

Y/N cracked a half-hearted smile at the sentiment of Vanya’s sentence, although there was a certain strangeness to hearing her say ‘fuck’. A hot sensation prickled the back of her neck as Vanya kept her hand where it was, her gaze never wavering as she seemingly searched for something in Y/N’s eyes.

“Well, now we’ve got the family trauma out the way, what do you like to do for fun?” Y/N said, every muscle relaxing as Vanya moved her hand to pick up her mug. She hadn’t realized how tense she was, nervousness laced into every tendon.

“Well, my life seems to be taken up with violin, but I enjoy writing. And I can cook.” Vanya paused to think about what she was saying. “Somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” Y/N laughed, trapping her lower lip between her teeth as she awaited Vanya’s response.

“I’m not about to be out here claiming that I’m world-class standard. However, I do make a mean cottage pie which you will have to try someday.”

Someday. That was promising. Y/N smiled sweetly, nodding fervently. “I’d like that very much.”

Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino, recoiling as the tip of her tongue was scalding by the still piping hot coffee. Vanya took one look at her and grinned.

“You’ve got something there,” she said, tapping the tip of her nose.

“Where?” Y/N rubbed her nose.

“No, wait, up a bit- to the right, no, left, umm-”

“Would you mind just getting it for me?” Y/N interrupted her, and Vanya froze.

“Yeah, uh,” she leant across the table, thumb extended as she brushed the callused pad gently across Y/N’s skin. “There. All gone.”

“Thanks.”

They shared a soft smile.

The walk back to Y/N’s apartment was swelteringly sticky, especially in the noon sun. However, today felt different. Buoyed along on a cloud of joy, she practically skipped over the cracks in the sidewalk and past the piled trash bags. Her mind swooped over the fields of possibilities, whirling thoughts on a tangent of their own. The storm in her mind had cleared to allow a small shaft of sunlight through to shine on the choppy waves below, great dark clouds parting with hope.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Hi Y/N, it’s Vanya.

Y/N could barely contain the gleeful grin as she read the message, pressing her phone to her chest.

Hey Vanya, it was really nice to have coffee with you today. We should do something like that again.

Barely a couple minutes had passed when her phone emitted the telltale ding, alerting her to a new incoming message.

Absolutely. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you promised to try my cottage pie.

Y/N tapped out a quick response, finger hovering over the send button as she reread it.

It’s a date.

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua imagine #vanya hargreeves #vanya #hargreeves #vanya x reader #number 7 #number seven #number 7 x reader #white violin #vanya hargreeves x reader

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spooderboyandtincan · 5 years ago

Text

A Few Heart Attacks

The battle was treacherous.

The team was fighting a group of psycho wizard like aliens. They were hideous creatures, the color tar and mud, small, beady eyes, and though they were shaped similarly to humans, they chose to crawl on all four limbs at incredible speeds.

The beasts were faster, more dangerous, and far more powerful than they had thought.

And imagine Tony’s pure terror when Peter swung into the battle (all the way from his school) webbing up a monster and greeting him with a chirpy, “Hey, Mr. Stark!!”

“Peter!! No, Pete, get out of here now. It’s too dangerous!!”

“Mr. Staaark, you worry too much!!” Peter cried, dodging an alien blast.

“Peter, get out of here! We don’t even know what these things do!!” he shouted urgently, blasting a creatures leg off. Get Peter away- make sure he’s safe.

“Get out of here, Peter!! It’s not safe!!”

“But Mr. Sta- whoa!!”

Nonononono. He spun violently around, searching for the small red and blue figure.

Only to see Peter get hit in the chest with a blast of red-orange light, going limp and falling to the pavement.

“NO!!” he screamed. “No, Peter!!”

Tony increased his suit to maximum power, desperate to catch his son before he hit the ground. He thought that maybe he was shouting Peter’s name, over and over again, thought Rhodey was on comms and that he, too, was yelling for the boy.

A split second before he hit the ground, Tony dove in, gathering him into his arms. The man stumbled as at the impact of the cement, falling to his knees and opening his face-plate.

Peter stayed limp, the eyes of his mask black.

“Peter!! Pete, wake up, please, bambi. Please. Wake up. Wake up.” He frantically scrabbled for a pulse, pulling the spider-man mask up.

It was there, but too slow. Way too slow, weak and thready.

Tony had never felt such fear. (Peter always woke up when he called for him)

He shook him gently, praying for something- anything to tell him that Peter was just fine, a little bruised, but waking up and ready to tell Tony about how he was always worrying too much.

Nothing.

No!! No, not his Peter. No, not him, please. NO! Nonononono.

“Tony!!” he jumped as War Machine landed next to him, cracking the pavement. “Tones, what happened?! Is he okay?!”

“I don’t know! Rhodey, please. Please. Help him. He won’t wake up- I don’t know. I don’t know w-what to do. Help him, please!” Tony cried, voice trembling.

Rhodey rushed over to them, eyes wide. “FRIDAY- read vitals. Now.”

“Peter’s B/P is 60 mmHG; his heart rate is also dangerously slow; I have notified the proper medical services. Time before arrival: Approximately five minutes.”

Tony squeezed the boy tightly, cradling him against his chest. He kept his fingers on his neck, pressing down gently, needing to know that his heart was still beating. To his terror, the beats were getting more and more faint, farther apart.

No no no. Not Peter.

“No, Peter, no no no, it’s okay sweetheart, just- just breathe, okay? Please, breathe for me, baby.”

The boy gasped, choking slightly, then his breathing slowed.

“NO!! Nononono, Peter, breathe, okay. Just breathe, fucking breathe, goddammit!!”

“Tones, he needs rescue breaths. Now!” Rhodey ordered from his suit, blasting crazy wizard- monsters away from the father and son.

Tony lay the boy on the ground and began forcing breaths into his still lungs. Fuck fuck fuck no. Peter you have to fucking breathe! Peter!! No no no no no no breathe please.

Peter heaved in a small breath, choking again, then stopped breathing. Tony felt a sob form in his throat, and forced another breath into his lungs.

And when he felt for a pulse... there was nothing. Tony screamed.

He knelt over him and began pumping his small chest rapidly, sobbing quietly. Tears trickled down the man’s cheeks.

Please, not his baby. Not Peter. Not his Peter. Please!!

“Rhodey!” he cried in a broken, torn voice. “Rhodey, help me, please!!”

War Machine spun around. Oh god. “Tones- I...” There’s nothing I can do.

“Rhodey, help!” he screamed, suddenly enraged. “Rhodey please!!”

Peter needs help

He was sobbing fully now; guttural sobs that ripped from his throat. He was still giving Peter CPR, but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t working.

Peter’s normally rosy-pink cheeks were pale; his lips were blue. His body jolted with every pump of Tony’s hands on his chest, but otherwise he was still and limp.

This couldn’t be happening

No no no no no no no no no no

And then there was the sound of voices, too many voices, and footsteps, running, and then Cho was kneeling by his side, trying to pull Peter from his arms.

Instinctively, he pulled Peter to his chest, holding him tightly, snarling.

You can’t take him

You can’t have him

“Tony,” she said firmly, urgently, “You need to give Peter to me now. If you want us to help him, give him to me.”

And without waiting for him to make a sound, she gently pulled Peter from his strong arms.

He watched in pure shock and terror as Cho laid him on a cot, cutting his spider-man suit open. Watched in horror as the med team quickly put two defibrillator pads on the boy’s chest and shouted clear. And watched with an emotion he couldn’t even describe as Peter’s tiny body fucking jolted on the table.

No heart beat

Cho set the pads on his chest once again, and shouted clear.

And Tony had to watch as his baby was shocked.

“We’ve got a rhythm!!” a middle-aged woman shouted.

And then medics were swarming everywhere, pulling out equipment, wires, tubes, doing CPR on his son and he had to watch it all he couldn’t take his eyes off Peter.

Then Rhodey was there, right in front of his face, cutting off his eye contact. He strained frantically, trying to see Peter, but Rhodey held him firmly with the suit’s metal arms.

“-ony!! Tony, can you hear me?!” Wait, how long had he been talking? And where was Peter?!

“Rhodey, where’s Peter?! Where is he?!” he yelled, still trying to fight his way out of his friend’s grasp.

“Tony!! It’s okay, he’s okay, calm down!!”

Calm down?! When his baby didn’t have a fucking heartbeat?!

Where was Peter?! Was he okay he had to be okay please

Where’s Peter

“Peter!!” he screamed. “Rhodey, let me go.” He said it in a voice Rhodey had only heard him use once before. The voice of a terrified, enraged father.

And Rhodey let him.

Tony was up and sprinting to the cot. “Peter!!”

He frantically pushed through a crowd of nurses and doctors- there seemed to be thousands of them.

“Mr. Stark!” A doctor’s voice. One he had never heard before. (Only Peter could call him that.) “You have to stay back, sir, you can’t be here-” The furious man shoved him from his path.

Peter.

Limp and still.

Tube shoved down his throat, heart monitors attached to his bare chest, wire’s everywhere.

But alive.

There was shouting around him, arms restraining him from getting to Peter, trying to hold him, never to let go.

Then there was a tiny prick in his neck; it made something cold flood through his veins, his vision black out. And then the ground rushed up to him, a name still on his tongue.

Peter.

~~~~~

He came back to the world slowly. All Tony really wanted to do was sleep. Sink into the warm covers and never wake up. But there was something... something important.

About someone.

He thought... something bad had happened

That he was scared

So so scared

Terrified

And angry

Worried

Maybe he cried?

What happened?

Someone important... someone he loved with his heart and soul and everything more, someone he loved more than he once thought he was capable of loving

Someone who meant everything to him

And so much more

Then his eyes flew open with a gasp

Peter

Peter Peter Peter Peter Peter

His heart stopped

NO!!!

And then Tony launched himself out of bed, swaying and staggering, spots dancing in front of his eyes.

Peter Peter Peter

Not his Peter

His baby

No no no!!

He staggered, falling against the wall, but kept walking. Trying to move faster.

Peter!!

“What the fu- Tony?!”

It was Pepper

“Tony!!” she cried, rushing towards him. “Oh my god, how-”

“Peter,” he gasped. “Need Peter. Where ‘s he. Peter!!”

“Tony, stop!” she yelled. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“No, no. Peter. Need him. Pete,” he begged, dragging himself forward drunkenly. “Pete!”

“Tony! Sit down, okay? I’ll bring you to Peter, just sit down. Everything’s fine. He’s okay.”

No!!

“Let go!” He shook her off.

Tony made it two steps before he collapsed.

Pepper caught him by the arm, lowering them to the ground.

“Stay here, okay? I’m gonna get a wheelchair. Hear me?”

The moment she left, he lurched to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall, going as fast as he could.

He felt a sob tear in his throat.

Where was Peter was he okay

Please be okay please be okay please please please

I need him

The man burst through the door of the room Peter always stayed in when he was hurt. Always. It was personalized.

He fell in, frantically looking for his baby boy.

Peter Peter Peter

There he was

“Pete!!” he cried. “Peter!!”

He staggered towards the bed where his son lay, hooked up to a ventilator and countless other machines.

Tony almost fell on the bed, trying hard though he was not to jostle him. With a shaking hand, he pressed down on his neck.

Steady, strong thumps met his fingers.

And then the dam broke.

Tony was sobbing, screaming, tears pouring down his face.

He had never been so relieved, so thankful, so grateful in his life.

Peter was alive. Alive alive alive

Living breathing warm, heart beating steadily he was alive

Peter Peter Peter

~~~~~

Tony sat on Peter’s bed, running his finger’s through his soft curls, holding his tiny hand.

He was talking, rambling, about adventure’s they’d had, promising that when he woke up and healed, they would go up to the cabin and have the best days of their lives.

Begging Peter to wake up.

(And after two long, torturous days, the boy did)

~~~~~

Peter had been taken off the ventilator and now had an oxygen mask. Tony liked to think that there were less wires than before.

May had left to take a shower, kissing Peter on the forehead and telling him it was okay to wake up when she was gone.

Tony hadn’t left the room in three days, always at Peter’s bedside, only leaving to use the conjoining bathroom.

Peter was stable enough to be moved, so Tony had lain down on the big bed, shifting Peter so that his head rested on his chest, hugging him close.

Tony hummed quietly and kissed his soft cheek. At some point he started talking, admitting how fucking scared he was right now.

“You’re the master of giving me heart attacks, you know that, Pete? It’s a talent, really. And you don’t even mean to give me heart failure. It comes naturally, huh?”

“Pete...” he wiped a stray tear from his eyes. “I would really love it if you woke up, baby. Okay? But take all the time you need; I’ll be right here. No matter how long.” The man sighed and squeezed Peter gently, studying his face.

Was there some color returning to his cheeks? Did his lip look less blue? Or was it a desperate father’s imagination?

Then Peter, apparently, deemed it fit to give his dad another heart attack.

Tony looked up in shock and fear as the heart monitor began to speed up.

What...

And then, to Tony’s elation, Peter’s eyes fluttered slightly.

“Oh god,” he whispered. “Petey? Oh my god. Sweetheart... That’s it, Peter, wake up. I know you can.” He stroked his cheek gently. “Please, Pete, it’s okay. Wake up, you can do it. Wake up for me. That’s it, baby.”

Peter moaned quietly, eyes still closed. His hand flailed out, searching for something. Instinctively, Tony caught it and brought it to his face.

“Missr St’rk,” he groaned. “‘Ony!”

“Peter!! It’s okay, tesoro, I’m right here. I’m here. It’s okay,” he assured. He carefully pulled Peter into his arms, smoothing the hair from his forehead. “Hear me, Pete? It’s okay.” He smiled tremulously. “You’re gonna be just fine, okay?”

Peter’s big brown eyes cracked open. Tony cupped the back of his head, turning it so he could see him.

“Dad?” he slurred.

Tony heart burst, overflowing with love. “Hey, Petey.” He smiled. “Dad’s right here. You’re gonna be okay.”

Peter gave him a tiny smile and curled into him. “Dad...”

“That’s me, Pete.”

Peter stayed silently, his eyes already closing. There was still a smile on his face, though.

“Pete? You know I love you so, so much,” Tony murmured.

“Love you... too.”

And then Tony knew that with him protecting his kid, they would be okay.

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG OR REBLOG AS ST*RKER/

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blackypanther9 · 3 years ago

Text

Part 59 - Something is wrong...

"We did it...We got the second book, Loki !", you cheered.

Loki smiled in triumph. Then the smile disappeared.

"Where are we ?", he asked in confusion.

You also looked around. Your eyes soon widened.

"Oh no...", you whispered. _________________________________________

WARNING!: Mentions of Blood, Organs, Deaths, Body parts, Abuse + Dark!Cursed!Asgard!!!! You have been warned ! Enjoy.

Loki looked at you.

"What is it ? Where are we ?", he asked you confused.

"We aren't in OUR timeline. Why did it take us here ?", you asked yourself.

"It is YOUR Magic ! I don't know !"

You turned to him and glared at him.

"My Magic isn't under my control ! It is free and not caged like you cage yours ! It brings me to places that are in danger ! Something is wrong here !", you yelled angered at him.

Loki looked at you in shock and worry.

"Then where are we and what is wrong ?", he asked.

"I don't know ! I know the timeline tho. And you won't like it...", you warned him.

"Try me."

"We are in the cursed timeline. The one I told Laufey and you about with Loki and Thor fighting and the spell that went wrong. We are in a cave and we need to get out of here and that FAST."

Loki paled at that. The cursed timeline ?

'Oh shit...', was all Loki thought.

SLAP !

Loki stared at space.

"Loki ! There is no time to have another blackout ! We have to find Cursed - Loki ! Only he can help us. Maybe he has a trick for you too. A clue why we are here. SOMETHING. We aren't here without a reason !"

Loki turned his head to you and stared at you, then touched his slapped cheek.

"Did you just slap me ?", he asked in a daze.

You huffed.

"I did and now follow me. We aren't safe in here and I can't teleport for another few hours. My energy was low already in that cave. It damaged me and my Magic. I need time to regain everything."

"That cave we were in...Did it block most of your Magic ?"

"It did. I ripped the last little pieces from deep inside me and now I almost am dead."

"Why didn't you tell me ?! I could have helped !"

"Your sacrifice of your own blood was already draining you too much. I could have killed you, by using your Magic to aid mine. Blood is very important or else it will not work.", you answered simply.

You held his hand and dragged him behind you, searching for the exit. _________________________________________

You were outside of the cave and ran with Loki behind you, as fast as you two could, straight. Soon you reached a path, drunk with blood and decorated with organs. Loki stared at the path in horror.

"Can we NOT go that path ?", Loki whispered at you in fear.

"We have to. It will bring us to Cursed - Loki and we can plan. Something IS wrong and he probably has the answers."

Loki whimpered at that horror - path, but followed you. Soon you reached the Palace of Asgard. It was terrifying. It was black and every single spark of gold looked like it was washed away.

The closer you both got, the more he saw some damaged walls and blood smeared on them. When he looked up, he wished he didn't.

Why ?

Above him hung body parts, organs and other disgusting things.

You poked his side and he snapped his head at you.

"Look at me and in front of you, never anywhere else. Remember that it is just kind of a bad dream, Loki.", you told him softly.

Loki was beyond spooked. He nodded and tried his best to listen to your advice. Keyword: Tried. Loki failed, too scared that something will jump on him. He felt stalked. Like someone was watching you both. He was beyond scared.

"Dest...Someone is watching. I feel eyes on me...", he whispered shakily.

"Thor probably. We are almost there, Loki. Stay near me."

Loki nodded and took your hand.

You led him into the Palace and Loki looked even more terrified. More blood, more organs, body parts and also corpses. All his people. He was ready to faint any second. You pulled him after you harsher, faster walking too.

"What is it ?", Loki whispered.

"We don't have much time left. The clock will soon chime and then Cursed - Loki will awaken, like the rest. Thor is mostly awake and still asleep. Cursed - Loki can talk into Cursed - Thor's head that he imagined that, if we reach his room now. Before the clock chimes."

"In other words...we have to hurry."

"Exactly."

The two of you speed - walked into a room soon and you slammed the door. You looked at Loki.

"Stay here. I will look for Cursed - Loki.", you told him.

Loki nodded and looked around nervously. You left him and went into the bedroom, looking at the bed. Cursed - Loki was still there and asleep, but he looked really bad.

Loki yelped as the clock chimed darkly.

youtube

(Whatever you chose for a sound the last time.)

You went to Cursed - Loki's bedside and knelt down, waiting for him to awaken. You ran your fingers through his blood - crusted hair. Soon he awoke and sat up slowly. He 'looked' around and then at you.

".....Destiny ?", he asked.

You smiled.

"It's been a while, hasn't it ? How are you my friend ?", you asked him.

"It has been a little while, yes. I am well, but....what are you doing here ?", he asked worried.

"Well, I do not know. My Magic brought us here. Something must be wrong here. Otherwise we wouldn't be here."

"We ?"

"Loki and me. We are hunting books down, to safe his and my timeline. Odin...he tempered with us all and will kill us all, if I do not do anything."

Cursed - Loki then stiffened.

"Thor is coming. You need to hide. NOW.", he told you.

You jumped up and ran into the sitting room of Cursed - Loki's. You grabbed Loki's hand and pulled him into the secret, hidden room.

"Be silent. Cursed - Thor is coming. Cursed - Loki warned me. Do not make even one peep.", you warned.

Loki nodded, afraid of talking right now.

You both jumped as the door flew open with great force to Cursed - Loki's chambers.

"LOKI !!! Where is the food !!!", Cursed - Thor's voice yelled loudly.

"Well, Good Morning to you too, Thor. What food ? I didn't see anyone alive entering my chambers.", Cursed - Loki's voice replied.

"I saw !"

"I would have seen that first. Maybe you still dreamed ? You just woke up, Brother. Your unsatisfied hunger is getting to you.", Cursed - Loki suggested.

"I...I guess you are right...But I will keep my eyes on you. If I catch you with anyone living I will beat you up again. Got it ?", Cursed - Thor threatened in a growling voice.

"Yes Thor. I get it.", Cursed - Loki answered bored.

You could hear the eye roll in Cursed - Loki's voice. You smirked at that.

Cursed - Thor huffed and then slammed the door of his chambers. You and Loki heard footsteps. Then the door opened softly and after a few minutes the door closed again. Then the footsteps got distant and after mere 15 minutes they returned.

"You can come out. He is gone. You two are safe.", Cursed - Loki said softly.

You opened the door and Loki followed you out of the room. Soon you were in Cursed - Loki's bedroom and sat all down on his bed. Then Loki looked up and at him. He paled and then fainted.

"Oh dear. Is he dead ?", Cursed - Loki asked worried.

"Nah. He just fainted in shock. He never saw anything like you before."

Cursed - Loki hummed.

"A first time thing, huh ?", he asked.

"Yes. Just for the books."

"What book do you search ?"

"The Magical book of Life."

Cursed - Loki hummed in thoughts and was quiet for some time.

"Never heard of it...", he then answered.

"I thought so. What happened ? Something is wrong and I want to hear, what exactly it could be."

Cursed - Loki 'looked' at you and then sighed.

"Odin...he...he hid the book for so long...Everything is getting even worse."

"Where is the book ? Did you find it ?"

"Yes. And Odin is planning to burn it down in a week. He knows that I try to get my fingers on it and because of his crazed out mind already, he doesn't want me to fix my mistake. Mother...she attacked me yesterday and abused me too."

"Oh god, Loki...."

"I know she didn't mean to, but still it was painful. She lost the rest of her humanity too. I am the only one left and because I still fight and act out of character, they don't accept me and try to make me succumb."

"That is not everything that is wrong, right ?", you pressed.

Cursed - Loki shook his head and sighed again.

"No. I am changing too. I lose myself some times now too. I won't last long anymore. Maybe 2 months and then I am gone. Destiny...I need help. I can't do this alone."

You looked at him with worry until realization dawned on you.

"You called me for help. You are desperate and called me. My Magic then brought me here. That is also why and how we came here."

"Maybe. Sadly I did so without knowing and also in a bad time. You already have a lot of things to do."

You smiled at him a sad smile.

"Loki, I am always busy. Every Dimension, Timeline, Existence and Realm busy me. And I have to keep it all going. Not easy, but I manage. So do not blame yourself for calling for me, because I was busy. I always am. And I love to help. That is the only way to survive for me."

Cursed - Loki smiled also at you then. It was terrible, because of all the torn and burned flesh, decorated with scratches and blood, but you knew that if Cursed - Loki wouldn't look so terrible, it would be a thankful, cute smile.

You smiled back and rubbed his damaged left cheek.

"Do not worry. We will fix this. And my Loki will help us."

"Sounds good to me."

He nuzzled your hand and held it with his right hand, softly to not hurt you with his claws.

"Thank you, Destiny.", he murmured.

You smiled at him.

"Always."

Part 60

Masterlist with all Chapters of this Story click here !

#Marvel #Thor #Loki Odinson #Loki Laufeyson #Loki x Reader

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zabrak-show · 4 years ago

Text

The Magnificent Twin Suns

A/N: Hello, omg this is my ObiMaul Magnificent Seven Crossover Fic. what have I done?!! Please do not hate me for this. I actually worked hard on it and honestly wanted to do more character work with all of the “seven” but ultimately, only ever wanted this to be a short one shot.

This is an AU of AU’s which if you know the history of Magnificent Seven is fitting. (it’s a remake of a remake of a remake) Which is also fitting of Star Wars being that it is essentially a remake of western films that were remakes of samurai films LOL anyway, expect much OOC weirdness and just whatever I felt like, OK! There is an OC, but she is mostly just filler as are the rest of the characters beyond Kenobi and Maul.

This was heavily inspired by one of my favorite artists on here @savagesleftarm Cowboy Art of ObiMaul this art broke my brain and the aforementioned fic ensued. I hope you enjoy it and if not, go easy on me cowpokes. I am but a simple fic writer tryin to get by.

Also, because I obsessed over this for a week, here’s a playlist I made while I wrote this 😆 I made it to play on shuffle, but I’m not the boss of you, play it how you like if you like!

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death (no major character death, but still), Curse Words, Alcohol consumption, Cigarette smoking, Angst, specifically ObiMaul Angst

Word Count: 5.7K

gif from tombstone another western gem

The desert suns blazed unrelenting into the face of a crimson zabrak with intricate obsidian tattoos accenting his hardened and chiseled features including a crown of small horns. He brought his Colt Paterson revolver over his shoulder, still hot from the kill shot performed. Another bounty successfully tracked down and bagged. A half smoked cigarette hung from the zabrak’s lips, his face scowled from the smoke and the sun. Gunpowder, cigarette smoke, and death permeated the hot air. The zabrak took one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it down into the sand next to the dead body, the butt still slowly burning until finally it ran out of tobacco and paper to ignite, puffing out into a dusty pile of ash.

The zabrak holstered his gun and roughly wrapped the dead body in a canvas tarp and strapped it to the back of his pale grey horse, Scimitar. He mounted the horse and took off down the dusty path, hoping to get to Mos Eisley before sundown. The zabrak rode fast atop Scimitar, his black leather boots digging into the horse’s sides. His black jeans and black vest collected dust and sand that flew up from the horse’s galloping.

They rode for hours, until finally the zabrak pulled back on the reigns signaling Scimitar to slow down as they entered the Mos Eisley city limits. The city was still growing, with several buildings under construction around the edge of town. The main street area was bustling with different galactic species. Some native jawas and tusken raiders milled about amongst, rodians, weequays, twi’leks, and humans. Many turned to stare at the strange zabrak. His bright golden eyes staring straight ahead, not giving any mind to the civilians around him. He rode Scimitar up to a red brick building, dismounted and tied her to the hitching rail at the front of the building.

He slung the body over his left shoulder and entered the brick building with a calm authority to his every movement, a slight limp to his gait. He dropped the body at the feet of a weequay, leather brown skin matching his long leather overcoat. The weequay’s off-white shirt unbuttoned to show much of his chest; dark dirty jeans and mud covered boots, told their own story of hard work and life on Tatooine.

“Maul!” the Weequay exclaimed with jovial comraderiere, reaching out to grab the zabrak’s shoulder.

“Hondo.” Maul responded flatly.

“Eh, Money for blood’s a peculiar business wouldn’t you say?” Hondo pressed as he peeked inside the tarp and quickly obtained the credits for Maul’s bounty. Maul grunted in response as he stashed the credits inside his vest, and made his way for the door.

Nighttime was approaching, the sky a painted medley of pinks, oranges and yellows as the suns dipped down past the horizon. Maul headed for the Mos Eisley saloon for a well needed drink and to look for his next job. He stepped into the saloon doors and headed straight for the bar.

The saloon was lively and most paid no mind to the ruby red zabrak as he sauntered into the establishment. A red Nikto sat at the piano playing a twangy melody, while animated voices and glasses clanging together filled up the saloon’s auditive atmosphere. The smell of old beer, must, and disappointment assaulted the zabrak’s nasal cavities.

“Whiskey. Neat.” Maul ordered the blue Twi’lek at the bar. She eyed Maul suspiciously and slowly made his drink and slid it down the bar to him. He took out a few credits and dropped them on the bar as he walked away to find a place to sit.

Maul limped to the back of the bar to sit in a small table by himself in the shadows. A light skinned bearded man with a brown cowboy hat, brown poncho, tan shirt and pants burst through the saloon doors, drawing the attention of most people in the saloon with his dramatic entrance. He walked up to a rodian at the bar and they had a quiet conversation, the rodian clearly uncomfortable by the man’s presence. In a flash, the rodian’s head slid off his body as a beam of blue light cut through his flesh. The man was wielding a lightsaber and the show stopping stunt had all but silenced the bar as the patrons all looked on in horror and shock.

“Jedi scum.” Maul growled quietly to himself.

The man having everyone’s attention, now spoke to the crowd.

“Greetings. I am Kenobi, a warrant officer in 3 systems and a licensed Jedi Peace Officer in 10. This rodian was a wanted criminal,” he held up a worn piece of paper with the rodian’s likeness on it. Maul squinted his bloodshot amber eyes at the man and slowly recognized who he said he was. It had been almost ten years and he almost didn’t recognize his old nemesis.

“Jedi. I have been waiting for you,” Maul spoke in a deep commanding voice as he stood and walked over to the man.

“I’m not sure I’ve made your acquaintance.” Kenobi said, barely acknowledging the zabrak.

“I am surprised you could have forgotten me so easily after I killed your boss and you left me for dead on Naboo.” Maul spat out at him.

“It is you.” Kenobi replied in astonishment now looking directly at Maul.

“You may have forgotten me, but I will NEVER forget you.” Maul bared his teeth practically growling at Kenobi, before he stopped in his tracks, hand hovering over his holstered gun. Kenobi stared into Maul’s bloodshot amber eyes with his own ice blue eyes studying the movements of the zabrak.

“I have defeated you before and I can defeat you again!” Kenobi declared, his hand on his lightsaber hilt. Kenobi ignited the lightsaber as Maul drew his gun and took several shots, Kenobi blocking each one with fast as lightning reflexes. Several patrons yelled in terror at the commotion, but the dueling men paid no mind.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, but you’re still half the man in my eyes.” Kenobi leered at the zabrak. At once, Maul jumped towards Kenobi, firing his revolver until he was out of bullets. The Jedi grabbed the zabrak mid air and threw him to the ground, straddled his chest and held his lightsaber to his neck. Maul hissed and Kenobi put his full weight on the zabrak and turned his lightsaber off. To everyone’s shock and amazement, especially Maul’s, Kenobi began laughing hysterically.

“Can I buy you a drink, old friend?” Kenobi stood up over Maul, extending his hand to help the zabrak up.

“You realize I still hate you with every fiber of my being.” Maul snarled at Kenobi as he rose back to his feet.

“Ah yes, ever dramatic as always.” Kenobi replied, putting his hand on Maul’s back and leading him to the bar. Maul growled quietly and drank with the Jedi despite his distaste for the devilishly handsome man.

“Excuse me are you bounty hunters?” a strong feminine voice rang out from behind them. Both men turned to look at the short slender human woman speaking to them. Her brown hair was pulled back into a braided bun and she wore a plain light blue dress that hugged her torso in a worn-in way.

“No, we are not for hire. Move along.” Kenobi brushed off the woman.

“I have money. It’s everything I have.” the woman pleaded her brown eyes searching both men for some acknowledgement.

“It’s not enough.” Maul grumbled and turned back to his drink.

“I’m willing to give you everything I have. Don’t you want to at least hear what the job is?” the woman rang out attempting to appeal to the two rugged men.

“There’s a village. Not far from here. Peaceful folk. Moisture farmers, just trying to get by. The Hutts are trying to take our land out from under us. Killing innocent men, women, and children in cold blood in the streets.” she stated firmly, throwing a satchel into Kenobi’s hands. He opened it and peeked inside at the credits.

“Miss, you don’t need a bounty hunter. You need an army.” Kenobi responded as he threw the bag back into the woman’s arms.

“Missus. My husband was shot dead in the street by Jabba along with several other innocent civilians.”

“So it is revenge you seek?” Maul inquired piqued with interest now.

“I seek righteousness as should we all, but I’ll take revenge.” she responded cool and stern.

“The Hutts you say?” Kenobi perked up a bit, “What’s your name Missus?”

“I’m Jade Abernathy.”

“How many folks are still at your village?” Kenobi inquired, leaning back onto the bar with his arms crossed.

“60 or so. These folks are farmers. Not fighters.” she clarified.

“And how long until Jabba returns to your village?” Maul questioned.

“He said he’d be back in 3 weeks 8 days ago.” Jade stared at them both as she spoke. Maul let out a chuckle and downed a shot of whiskey.

“Well we best get started then.” Kenobi declared. Maul almost spit out his drink at this declaration. Kenobi slapped his back,

“Relax, old friend. We will recruit some help along the way.”

“I am NOT your friend.” Maul shot back with a glare.

The next day the 3 of them rode towards a settlement to which Kenobi was privy, where an old friend would be camped out. They came up to an old sand hut and each dismounted their horses to have a look around. The smell inside the hut was putrefying and large flii buzzed around, fat from whatever death they’d been feeding on. Jade walked into a room where a decomposing body of a tusken raider slumped on the floor. She covered her face and ran out of the room gagging. A figure of a man appeared from the darkness of the hut.

“He was dead before I got here.” a deep booming voice reached out from the shadows.

“Mace is that you?” Kenobi questioned walking further into the room to try and see.

“Obi Wan?” The strange man stepped forward into the dim light. He was a tall, bald, dark skinned man wearing a tan shirt, brown vest and brown pants. The two men embraced without thought of the decomposing body next to them.

“How did you find me?” Mace questioned Kenobi.

“I acquired a tip at Mos Eisley.” the jubilant Kenobi responded. Maul stood back and rolled his eyes at the reunion.

“Jedi scum,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What’s the job?” Mace stepped back, taking a serious tone.

“Going against the Hutts to help out a farming community. Paying us everything they got.” Kenobi replied matter-of-factly.

“What are our odds?”

“It’s suicide.”

The team of three plus Jade made their way now to recruit their next team member. Another friend of Kenobi’s, who went by the name of Anakin. They entered into a small town, where a congregation of people surrounded a young togruta woman giving a show throwing knives at burlap sack dummies. She had orange skin with white markings on her face, blue and white Lekku instead of hair, and wore a maroon vest and pants. A drunk kel dor man stepped out into the area where the togruta woman was performing.

“Yes, you can hit a dummy. Where’s the real show? Hit something live.” he slurred and stumbled towards the togruta.

“Keep talking and I’ll show everyone how easy it is to take someone down.” she threatened.

“oooh I’m sure they’d all love to see it!” he declared raising his arms in a mocking gesture turning his back to her to try and gain favor from the crowd. The togruta reached for the knives stowed at her back and threw them with clean precision into the kel dor’s back immediately taking him down into a pathetic slump. The crowd gasped and cheered.

A man dressed in all black, a scar running down his fair skinned face over one eye, walked around to the crowd with a hat extended taking payment for the show.

“Anakin?” Kenobi asked as the black clad man made his way around to them.

“KENOBI?!!” the man’s blue eyes lit up and reached out to hug Kenobi, nearly spilling his hat of money, “What are you doing here? How’d you find me?”

“Well we are recruiting for a job. Who is your companion? I’m surprised to see you relinquish yourself to the sidelines like this.” Kenobi asked with a concerned look on his face.

“Oh that’s Snips, er Ahsoka. She saved my life. And I help her navigate the wild terrain of Tatooine. She goes anywhere I go.” Anakin explained.

“Well we’d be happy to have you both. We’ll need both of your skills for this job.” Kenobi smiled.

They camped out that night outside the small town where they found Anakin and Ahsoka. The night air was crisp and cool, insects buzzing while Mace built a small campfire. Maul laid out his makeshift version of a bed and propped himself up to attempt resting. Kenobi walked over to his spot and sat down next to Maul.

“I already question why I have agreed to work with the likes of you. Do not try to make it worse with meaningless banter.” Maul scoffed barely looking over at Kenobi.

“I mean no harm. I only wish to bury our past and attempt to start over.” Kenobi spoke softly and sincerely.

“Start over?” Maul ridiculed, “are you going to grow my legs back? Am I to bring Qui Gon back from the dead? We have a past Kenobi. We will never have a future. And I mean never.”

“Such a Sith.” Obi Wan laughed, “it doesn’t need to be like this. We both did what we needed to survive at the time. The war is over. Let it go.” he started to stand as he spoke and walked away from Maul, who growled at the Jedi.

“You are such a pain in my ass.” Kenobi finished while shaking his head and walking to the other side of the campfire. Maul’s eyebrow ridges furrowed in anger as he stared at the dancing firelight in front of him. His body filled with rage and wanted nothing more than to kill the despicable Jedi, consequences be damned. He could not bring himself to do it, frozen to his small patch of desert. He hated the Jedi. He hated Kenobi more than anything. Yet, he respected the Jedi’s skills and combat techniques. The handsome and charming Jedi somehow infiltrated his way into Maul’s impermeable heart and that was what really drove him mad.

Jade sat to the side of both of them and watched the whole thing go down curiously. She gnawed on a dried piece of meat, before finally lying down on the hard rocky terrain to attempt getting some rest. The fire crackled and the soft hum of voices around the fire slowly died down as everyone decided to get some rest. Obi Wan took the first watch of the night, sitting atop a ledge and looking out into the darkness.

They packed up their belongings at first light to set out to find another old acquaintance of Obi Wan’s. Jade rode next to Maul and asked him about the Sith.

“Why don’t the Sith like Jedis? It seems like ya’ll are pretty similar.” she asked innocently enough, but it made Maul gnash his teeth together before responding.

“We are nothing alike. Jedi are fools and liars. They brainwash everyone into admiring them, and for what? For the power they claim they do not desire.” He scowled and spat the words out in his deep theatrical voice. Anakin over hearing this, let out a big laugh and Maul whipped his head around to glare at the smiling young man.

“I would be careful to make too much noise, Anakin.” Maul shot back at him and looked over to Jade, “This man took out an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders.”

“They were enslaving good folks, I did what I had to do to bring justice.” Anakin shouted back.

“There were innocent women and children that died at your hand. Was that for the good of everyone? Justice is merely the construct of the current power base.” Maul’s response was cut short by Obi Wan stopping the team with a fist up in the air.

“We are being followed.” Kenobi voiced quietly while everyone reached for their weapons. They were on a path surrounded by tall rock ridges on either side of them, everyone’s eyes darting around to watch for who was following them. A slender bald pale woman walked out beyond an outcropping guiding her horse on the rocky terrain. She carried a bow and arrow, wore tattered black and red form fitting clothes and had tattoos around her eyes and mouth.

“Quite a mix of strays I see.” She declared as she sauntered over, all eyes on her.

“Ventress,” Kenobi almost sighed out the words, “What are you doing out here?”

“I should ask the lot of you the same thing.” she suggested as she looked around at everyone.

“We are on a mission to drive the Hutts out of a peaceful farming community. Care to join?” Obi Wan asked the pale woman.

“Like you even had to ask.” she smirked.

“When did you become one of the good guys?” Kenobi questioned with a look of surprise on his face.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Kenobi. I’ll take any chance I can get at tormenting you.” she winked and mounted her horse now next to Kenobi. He rolled his eyes and they rode on down the dusty path.

They arrived at an old hut tucked away off the trail and Kenobi dismounted his horse to walk up to the two Jawas milling about outside the front door. They had a short conversation in Jawaese.

“You killed the old man who lived here?!” Kenobi asked them in astonishment. Suddenly, a green lightsaber flew through the air at the 2 jawas, cutting them down where they stood and then flying back into the hand of a short wrinkled green creature wearing torn furs and leathers.

“Left me for dead, those two Jawas did.” The old creature announced as he slowly walked towards Kenobi, dried blood covering the side of his face.

“Yoda, we are assembling a crew to take down the Hutts.” Kenobi cut to the chase and explained the mission to the small wizened creature.

Once Yoda was on board, they planned their initial attack into the town. Jabba was not currently there, but he had several of his cronies watching over the town so they’d need to carefully infiltrate at first. Then it would be a matter of days to train everyone there to fight back once Jabba did show up. The dangerous appeal of the mission was now starting to set into feelings of daunt and apprehension for everyone.

The team rode toward the town with everyone’s mind full of what their mission was as soon as they got there. It was late afternoon and the suns blazed onto the team of misfits. The air was arid and smelled of horses and nervous body odor. Kenobi and Maul rode side by side leading the group. Much to Maul’s bedevilment, as his body and face tensed up at the Jedi’s presence next to him.

“Kenobi.” Maul acknowledged him finally through grit teeth.

“Maul, don’t you think this is childish to still hold onto such a grudge?” Kenobi scrutinized the zabrak.

“I am unlike you foolish Jedi, sequestering your emotions. I was cast aside, I was forgotten, but I survived. Fueled by my singular hatred for you. ” Maul snarled at the Jedi.

“And yet here you are tagging along with us; some former and current Jedis and me, the bane of your existence.” Kenobi pointed out.

“I have my reasons.” he quietly retorted back and they rode on in silence for some time.

As they neared the town, the team split up and everyone besides Obi Wan took the back way into town led by Jade who knew the shortcuts and where Jabba’s infiltrators would not be monitoring. Obi Wan rode his horse directly into the town, it felt like a ghost town. Windows shuttered and barely anyone out and about. Finally, he reached the main drag and several armed beings; humans, twi’leks, and many gamorreans stood in a line on the street. The tall blue twi’lek spoke first,

“We don’t allow weapons in town. Check them in and we’ll return them after you leave.” he stretched his hand out, his long nails glinting in the sunlight.

“Of course. I wonder why it is such fine folks as you should be armed to the teeth when no one else is?” he asked as he reached for his lightsaber to hand over.

“We are this town’s protection against any outside force that wishes to bring harm to these townspeople.” the twi’lek responded looking agitated and spitting out a wad of tobacco as he finished. Obi Wan saw Ventress signal to him from on top of the building behind the men without letting them see his acknowledgement.

“That is not the story I am told. And not the story my friends believe.” Kenobi looked past the line of armed beings and they all slowly turned around to see they were surrounded. Kenobi ignited his lightsaber and cut down the twi’lek while Ventress shot several more from the rooftop with her bow and arrow. More Gamorrean guards rushed out into the street at hearing the commotion. Mace and Anakin shot several down narrowly missing getting shot themselves by a couple guards coming in from the sides. Ahsoka threw her knives at the guards in an instant hitting them in the throats and killing them on impact. Yoda and Maul stood on opposite sides of the street taking down the rest of the guards with calculated precision. As fast as it started, it was over, the warm air overcome with gunpowder, blood, and smoke.

Jade rode in on her horse, yelling for the townsfolk to come out of hiding.

“Everyone! Come out! They are here to help us!” her voice rang out as she rode her galloping horse through town. The townsfolk cautiously came out of hiding, looking around like scurriers expecting to see a rancor or other predator. Kenobi started to walk towards the congregation of people forming when he sensed a hidden Gamorrean under the wooden stairs to the bank building. He reached down and forcefully grabbed the Gamorrean by the arm to drag him out of hiding.

“You work for Jabba?” Kenobi shook the gamorrean in his hands and he squealed in response.

“You tell your boss if he wants this town, come see me. Tell him Kenobi sent you.” He instructed the Gamorrean who grunted in response and ran off with a squeal.

“These folks have assembled to help our town.” Jade’s voice rang out to the small crowd.

“The Hutts will be back in two weeks. How can we go up against them? We are simple farmers not warriors.” a distressed voice called out from the crowd.

“We are going to train you. Sleep well tonight. It may be the last good sleep you’ll see for awhile.” Kenobi answered the disembodied voice and a murmur of nervous voices rose in the air like steam.

The townspeople assembled at dawn to start training with the team of strange warriors. Kenobi had asked them to bring all their weapons and while many showed up wielding guns, axes, and knives, some only carried shovels.

“Oh good they brought shovels. I was worried about our chances otherwise.” Maul snarked at Kenobi, who tried to ignore the zabrak, but had to turn his head and hide his soft chuckle at the jeer.

The days were split up into different lessons. Tactical planning with Kenobi, short range shooting with Anakin and Mace, long range shooting with Maul, bomb building With Yoda, bow and arrow lessons with Ventress, and finally knife wielding with Ahsoka.

The days were long and grueling. The townsfolk were not lying about not being fighters. Everyone’s patience was thin, but Kenobi couldn’t help but notice Maul’s steadfastness with the townsfolk. He was patient and kind, but not afraid to motivate them through controlled aggression.

“You have to hate what you’re shooting at!” Maul yelled out behind the line of townsfolk armed to shoot dummies.

“Maul you have quite the knack for this.” Kenobi later remarked to the zabrak.

“A knack for survival? Yes. I care nothing for these simple minded people. You must know that about me by now.” he scoffed.

“Yes, I think I am getting to know you quite well.” Kenobi raised an eyebrow and moseyed away. Maul’s already hot internal temperature went up and he felt flushed and frustrated from the small interaction.

The week went by in a flash. a day like any other, Mace rode back to town after his watch to alert everyone the Hutts were a few hours away. It was go-time. The children and others unable to fight were hidden in the basement of the general store. The shovels had proven useful after all and many of the fighters hid in trenches that had been dug to camouflage their location. There were mines and bombs set along the path to town to take down as many of the Hutt soldiers as possible before they were able to enter town. Ventress and anyone who excelled at bow and arrow or Maul’s long range shooting course were perched atop different buildings in town.

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Kenobi swallowed his spit and it ran slowly down his esophagus seemingly snowballing into a hardened knot of anxiety until it settled into his empty stomach like a stone. He pulled the brim of his hat down to shade his face from the sun, and looked over at Maul. The zabrak’s golden eyes soothed him in an unexpected way, a calmness washing over him like drinking a warm shot of whiskey. A little intoxicating, but just the one did not dull him too much to think and respond clearly.

Maul nodded at Kenobi as he rode Scimitar down to the trenches, a smile creeping along his face for no one to see. He thrived in the chaos and sensing Kenobi’s nervous energy brought him a small amount of joy. He checked in with the trenches and made sure they understood their directions and to wait for the signal.

Jabba and his soldiers stood off in the horizon. Even from a great distance one could see the enormous slug-like nature of Jabba, laid out onto a big floating sled. He gave the signal and a line of soldiers on horseback ran towards the town.

“Steady, Steady.” Yoda’s voice rang out into the trenches. At last, Yoda gave the signal and shots were fired at the incoming soldiers. Once they reached the marked line of bombs Yoda pressed the lever and a giant boom deafened everyone. Horses and soldiers flew into the air in a cloud of dust and body parts. The survivors broke through the dust and ran forward into town. There was no time for anyone to think. Bullets whizzed past ears and into body parts. More bombs were set off taking down several clusters of soldiers at once.

The surviving soldiers made it into town, firefights ensuing all around. Ventress and the others on top of the building taking down soldier after soldier from their vantage point. Mace, Anakin, and Ahsoka all on foot on the street below shooting down anyone in sight. Kenobi and Maul, still on horseback, rode through the town shooting down their assailants at every chance they got. Yoda and the others from the trenches ran back into town to keep fighting as well.

If there had been only one or two waves of soldiers from Jabba, things would have been looking pretty good. Unfortunately, someone as rich as Jabba had an endless resource for anything they desired in life, including soldiers and weapons. More and more soldiers descended onto the small town. Already, many townsfolk had sacrificed their life for the cause. The foul stench of death and direness infiltrated the air of the town, quickly taken over by the smell of fire.

The General Store was set ablaze and the children were all trapped under the building. Without thinking, Maul shot his way through to the store. Inside, smoke filled his lungs and burned his eyes. The trap door to the basement had a burning beam on top of it, trapping anyone underneath it. A swift, force-ful kick and the beam was slid across the floor. Maul crouched down to lift the door and help pull up the children out of the basement. Jade had now made her way to the store to help and her and Maul led the children and others to safety outside of the burning building. They shot down several soldiers on their way as they protected their helpless herd.

Once the children were safe with Jade, Maul mounted Scimitar and rode over to Kenobi.

“We have to take down Jabba. These soldiers only fight because he pays them, if he is gone they stop fighting.” Maul did not even let Kenobi respond as he reached down and grabbed a stack of TNT from the stockpile, and galloped off on his horse.

“Maul, wait!” Kenobi finally yelled after the zabrak, now disappearing into a cloud of dust.

“You chaotic ass!” Kenobi huffed and rode after Maul. As far as Kenobi could tell, Maul’s mission was suicide and he rode to catch up with an urgency never quite felt before. His jaw was clenched, hands formed tight fists around his horse’s reins, and heels dug into the sides of his horse signaling the beast to go FAST.

Maul already had practically made it to Jabba and narrowly avoided being shot too many times to count. The bullets whistled past his ears but he was running on too much adrenaline to be stopped. He dismounted Scimitar about 50 meters from where Jabba lay out on his sled surrounded by his fiercest guards.

Maul held his hands up in the air in an act of surrender, and slowly walked towards the evil slug. Before he got halfway there, one of the overzealous guards shot Maul in the stomach. The impact of the shot stopped him in his tracks and he fell down to his knees in shock clutching his stomach. He pushed the pain aside to stick a cigarette in his mouth and fumbled with his matches. His hands wet with blood and sweat and shaking found it impossible to light the damned cigarette. Several guns were still pointed at him, but Jabba instructed them to hold off, and one of the guards was sent to light his cigarette for him as Jabba laughed at this foolish zabrak dying in front of their eyes.

Once Maul got his cigarette lit, a feverish smile curved his lips. He reached for the dynamite strapped to his back and fell face down ass up into the ground. The guards all laughed at his death and turned away from the pathetic slump of a corpse. Maul sensed when they weren’t looking, lit the end of the dynamite fuse, and threw it at Jabba’s sled before anyone had time to register what was happening.

As soon as the dynamite left his hand Maul was ripped off the ground and on top of a horse fiercely galloping away. The explosion set off narrowly behind them deafening them both.

The fight was over. The remainder of the guards and soldiers left alive ran off now that Jabba had been destroyed in the explosion. Kenobi slowed his horse’s pace and eventually stopped to assess the situation of Maul’s injuries. He gently carried Maul off the horse and into a soft patch of dried grass. Blood was spilling out of the zabrak’s midsection at an alarming rate. Kenobi ripped his shirt off to apply pressure to the wound. Maul groaned fighting off the urge to pass out from the pain and exhaustion.

“You almost got yourself killed, you fool.” Kenobi exasperated holding down on the wound.

“You know first hand how hard it is to kill me.” Maul coughed out.

“Yes, very well, you are incredibly lucky to have survived that just now.”

“Of course I survived.” Maul reached up to touch Kenobi’s face tenderly. Kenobi took his hand in his own and pressed it into his face, blood dripping down from his hand, his eyes filled with tears.

And so they saved the little town. Jade Abernathy gave them all the payment as promised and they stayed to help clean up the town and give burials to those lost in the battle. Kenobi never left Maul’s side as he recovered in the small doctor’s office in town. Eventually, the rest of the team headed out for their own separate next adventures.

Maul slipped in and out of consciousness for several days. Kenobi figured it was the first time the zabrak had actually rested in his whole troubled life. Eventually, Maul’s strength was enough to fully wake up. He immediately saw Kenobi in the corner of the room napping. Kenobi was sitting in a wooden chair, his legs propped up on a footstool and his hat covering his face.

“Kenobi!” Maul growled. The cowboy in the corner of the room slowly reached up for his hat and a relieved grin spread across his handsome face.

“Maul, I am so happy to see you have your strength back enough to be angry again!” Kenobi laughed.

Maul got out of the small bed and limped over to Kenobi with a menacing look. Kenobi stood tall to meet Maul’s fiery amber eyes attempting to cut through his watery blue gaze. Maul, now close enough to touch Kenobi, slowly leaned in to kiss Kenobi on the lips. Initially, Kenobi slightly flinched so taken aback by the act of affection. He couldn’t help the swelling of his heart, wrapped his arms around Maul’s waist and passionately kissed him back. The moment so pure and beautiful, Kenobi finally softly pushed Maul back.

“Maul, I care deeply for you. But you have got to brush your teeth.”

-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

once again thankee sai for reading my humble writing! Please do leave a comment or heart, it warms my soul.

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