#CALLING IT RIGHT NOW CYN IS THE BIRD YOU WERE ALL WRONG

[dragons-hoard-of-fandoms]

Posting one Murder Drones meme a day until Episode 5 drops, Day Twelve.

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Don’t tell me bye, bye”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world, Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Our daughter, Lori, was born at 1:30 that afternoon. I couldn’t believe she was mine, that I had birthed this child. She was so tiny, so beautiful. Austin came into the room and kissed me, thrilled that we had a healthy baby. He was already in life with her. He watched her in awe, her hair color, blonde as his, her blue eyes like ours. He watched us both with a twinkle in his eyes.

“We have a little girl.” He whispered to me.

“We sure do.” I whispered back with a slight chuckle.

I asked him if he wanted to hold her. He looked at me petrified, but then he started to touch her. He played with her small hands, her small feet. He was in complete awe.

“I can’t believe I made part of this beautiful child.” Austin always knew he wanted the baby to have light hair. “Even her hair color is right!”

We stayed close to each other for a while, caressing our infant and each other, we were just a young couple happy for the birth of their baby and the pleasures of parenthood.

Two days later, I got discharged from the hospital. I tried looking my best, I had teased my hair to make it even bigger, I did my ever-so-black eye makeup, I got dressed with the help of the nurses. It was a pink shift dress, I had some Pearl-colored heels. Austin wearing blue outfit, I could see the disapproval on his eyes. I had noticed quite lately that he was not on-board with my whole aesthetic.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked as I placed a golden cross necklace around my neck.

“Isn’t it too much?” He said as he fixed his blue turtleneck. “I mean the hair and makeup.”

“I’ve always looked like this.” I said, not understanding his rejection now.

“Yeah but— to get out of the hospital? Your hair is too big. You might as well put a whole bird nest on it.”

He didn’t understand how much his mocking affected me, so I just chuckled awkwardly and he didn’t even notice!

“I like it.” I said confidently, but he was making me feel self conscious.

His sister, Ashley, was there and she was taking pictures of us as we held our baby girl. I was a bit down already— he made me feel insecure. I smiled as the picture was taken, I then looked at him dearly. He sometimes did all these weird comments and then act as if nothing happened.

When we were back home, he had already gotten a cook, a maid and a nanny, which I accepted in our house dearly. But still— postpartum depression got me and no one really ever told me how bad it got. But I was still trying to keep myself together.

————————————

Maybe it was the stress or just the peer pressure of being a new father but he was up and down lately, he’d ignore me all the time or be very loving. Sometimes I just didn’t recognize him, and it hurt.

“Cyn!”

He called me into his office, he did his research for characters there. I was getting dressed, fixing my gold bracelet. I picked up the small Lori in my arms, I walked to his office “Yes?”

“Cyn, I’ve been thinking. I-I have to have time to— think. Things aren’t just going good between us. It’ll be okay if you and I took a little time off, like a trial separation. Be apart from one another for a little while.”

I wanted to kill myself, my eye twitched a little bit, I had literally our week-old baby in my arms right now. This was not the man I knew,

“What? What did I do?” I asked, it had to be a joke.

“Nothing, you did nothing wrong, baby. It’s not you. It’s just that I’m going through some things. I think it’d be better if we took a little break.”

A break? I had just given birth to our baby, a break would make me sink in more into my melancholia. But it he didn’t want me now, then he’d get so. I nodded, finding a bit of strength on being the actual mother of his child.

“You’ve got it. You just tell me when to leave.” I said as I walked out of his office. Instinctively, Austin shot up from his office chair, he knew he had fucked up big time.

“Cyn! I didn’t mean so!” He shouted from his office. I just didn’t understand him, did he want me or did he want me not? He confused me a lot and during that postpartum time, it really hurt me. He made me cry a lot.

I ignored him calling my name and went upstairs to our room. I don’t think he ever intended to leave me. It wasn’t his style. Two days had passed. The idea of a trial separation was never mentioned again. We both acted as if nothing had been said, it was during times like this when I wished both Austin and I could actually have good communication, that we’d confront our insecurities, fears and frustrations instead of pretending they weren’t there.

I could not escape the impact his words had on me, leaving me with a sense of doubt.

————————————

I often cooed Lori, she was so small, I’d talk to her softly. It was like she had sunlight in her hair, stars upon her eyes, she was perfect. On the locket Austin gave me on out first Valentine’s Day together, I placed a small picture of Lori too, so I had her and Austin near my heart.

While I was getting ready for bed, Austin cleared his throat from the doorframe.

“Can we talk, baby?” He said softly. I simply nodded as I finished combing my hair. “I’m so damn sorry bout what I said a few days ago. That wasn’t me— my thoughts and frustrations got be best of me.”

I looked at him, why was he making me so emotional? Maybe it were the hormones? I couldn’t guess but I couldn’t stay mad at those beautiful blue eyes. Especially when he unintentionally made pouty lips.

“It’s okay— I’m also very down lately. I’ve been holding myself back from snapping at anyone close to me.” I chuckled, I shouldn’t be so forgiving because that would come back to bite me.

We fell asleep together, our baby in between us, I’ve never felt this sort of loving before but that’s what happens to me. When I’m happy, I think it’ll last forever.

[ddproductionsw77]

Feeling It. Chapter Two.

Fandom: The Beatles

Pairings: (Eventually) Paul McCartney x John Lennon, (Past) Paul McCartney x Jane Asher, (Mentioned) George Harrison x Pattie Boyd, Ringo Starr x Maureen Cox

Characters: Paul McCartney, Mary McCartney, George Harrison, (Mentioned) Pattie Boyd, Ringo Starr, Maureen Cox, Ivan Vaughan

Rating: T (Unless Strong language offends you, then watch out)

Description: Paul is trying his best to raise his daughter, earn a living, and complete his education. John is an unplanned complication.

Author’s Note: This is completely a work of fiction, not meant to offend anyone or imply anything about real people. The song for this chapter is ‘Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked’ by Cage The Elephant

___________________________________________________________

John

“John!” A voice yelled, accompanied by a hard smack on his bedroom door, “Get up, you lazy bugger! Nearly 2 in the afternoon, Jesus!”

Somewhere beside him, John felt another body stirring among his sheets. He turned his head and cracked his eyes open to a head of long, curly blond hair and a slender figure. He vaguely recalled the night before, it was just the bird he’d managed to tempt home.

The girl groaned, pushing herself up, “Is it really two already?”

John blinked and looked at his alarm clock across from her, “Uh, quarter till?”

“Shit,” The blond hissed, throwing herself from the bed to begin gathering and throwing on her discarded clothes. “I missed my first two classes!”

Huh, she was in school still... John briefly wondered what she was studying, what she wanted to do with her future? And then his mind turned to his nicotine craving and he remembered that he didn’t care... would she think he cared? Fuck, he hoped not. Emotional birds were a drag to deal with on top of a hangover.

He busied himself with sitting up and lighting a cigarette, trying to sift through his memories for the girl’s name and praying she wouldn’t try to talk to him too much. The only girl he didn’t really mind morning-after chats with was not the girl in front of him. His chest clenched a just a second in something similar to guilty before he blow if off with an exhale of smoke. That girl, the somewhat special one, couldn’t get hurt if she never found out.

Looking at this girl in the morning light, with her make up smudged, hair knotted in the back and a pinched face, John was not all that impressed with himself. He’d pulled much better. Hell, Cynthia was prettier than this bird and Cyn was about as plain as paper to him these days. John thought for a moment that he should have just gone ‘round her place last night. A good boyfriend would have. But he’s wasn’t good at really anything, ‘sept maybe guitar and Cynthia bloody well knew that, didn’t she?

The bird that was not Cynthia glanced up at him to give a coy smile, “So, you’ll call me, right?”

Fuck no, he thought but had the grace to not say aloud. Instead, John cleared his throat and shrugged, “Look, uh...”

“Holly,” The blond supplied, her smile dropping.

Unfazed, he continued, “Holly, me girlfriend might not like that, so probably not.”

Holly looked stricken, “You... you have a girlfriend?”

Before John could answer, there was another slam on his door.

“Bleedin’ hell, Lennon!”

“Oh, fuck off, Sutcliffe!” John yelled back before taking a drag from his cigarette. He turned back to Holly and just shrugged. Yeah, technically he had a girl already. One that was easier to put up with than most others and yet still never enough for John, hence all the other temporary ones.

Scoffing in disgust, Holly rolled her eyes and finished zipping up her dress, picking up her heels, “You’re a swine!”

John honestly couldn’t agree more.

He gave her an apologetic smile and another small shrug. Holly huffed and threw the door open, shoving past Stuart on the other side. The lad watched her go before spinning ‘round to look at his best mate while leaning on the doorframe.

“Fun night, then?”

“It was alright,” John chuckled, getting up and throwing on a t-shirt to pair with his boxers and socks. “Had better.”

“Speaking of fun nights, we still going out tonight?” Stuart asked. “Because I thought you worked?”

“And?” John laughed, stubbing out his cigarette. “Only get the free booze if I’m behind the bar, y’know?”

“I highly doubt that’s the pub’s policy, Johnny,” Stuart commented with a sigh, “Cynthia’s meeting us there, right?”

John nodded and flicked his hair out of his eyes, purposely playing ignorant to Stu’s pointed question as he moved past the other lad toward the kitchen for a drink of water. His mouth tasted like whiskey still and was drier than the Sahara, plus his head was pounding something fierce, “Said she was, least.”

Stuart grinned, “Ah, that’s great! Cyn’s alright!”

Cynthia was alright, John guessed. She was pretty with a smile that even managed to make his lips curl. Blond these days, too, John’s favorite and much more suiting than her once natural mousy brunette. Some of his mates thought she had horse teeth but John had never noticed. But above all, Cyn wasn’t a complete fucking idiot. She actually had a brain, talking to her never dug under John’s skin the way it did with any other birds. It was this unique quality that had made her the only steady relationship he’d ever even attempted.

Attempted being the key word there, seeing as he hadn’t managed yet to stop himself from continuously stepping out on her.

John simply shrugged, taking a drink of his water. He set the glass down and went about opening cabinets in search of something for his headache.

“Oh, piss off, Lennon,” Stuart laughed, “You don’t suffer fools. Wouldn’t still be shagging her if you didn’t like her.”

“Aw, Stu, I’m touched by you’re assurance in my character so as to not stoop as low as to—“

The other cut John off when a raised hand, “Oh, no, no, no, don’t get me wrong, Johnny. You’d definitely stoop that low— I mean you still do with other girls all the time, don’t you? You’re just smart enough to know Cyn’s a bird worth keeping ‘round.”

John examined his glass of water, having found the pain reliever now in his hand, “So, I’m an bastard... but I’m a cunning one?”

“John Lennon,” Stuart gestured the air like he was seeing some billboard before him on the kitchen cabinets, “Cunning bastard!” Dropping his arms, he flashed his best friend a grin, “Got a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

John laughed, gulping down the pills and downing the rest of his glass, “Piss off, Stu.” He flickered his eyes away, avoiding his friend’s gaze, “And just so ye know, I don’t like Cynthia. I love her.”

“Sure ye do, Johnny.” Stuart sighed, suddenly sobering. Neither of them spoke the rest of the sentence but they both knew...

Sure ye do, Johnny, just not enough to try and treat her right.

John sighed and began to bounce on his feet to rid himself of the uncomfortable energy rising up in his chest. “Got hours before we got to go anywhere, though, so I’ll be in me room if that’s already with you, mate?”

Stu rolled his eyes, “Yeah, whatever, Johnny.”

Once back in his bedroom, alone in his safe space, John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He hated feeling... heavy— he refused to call it what it really was: guilt. And he always did when Cynthia was brought up.

He loved her... he did! He just got so fucking bored with her sometimes! He longed for excitement, for the thrill of the flirtation, the constant tug of war, the competition. Cynthia didn’t give him any of that anymore.

John could remember when she’d first caught his eye, over two years ago sitting up straight as a ruler in the row in front of him in one of his various art classes. He liked art but had majored in Political Science for Mimi; hadn’t stopped him from taking a few electives though. Cynthia had been a year ahead, older and wiser and completely uninterested in his immature games. Maybe that had been her appeal, her disinterest and indifference. She’d been work then, hard to get.

She was such a prude, too. That pretty little nose of her’s had always seemed to turn up at the mere sight of him and she’d just rolled her eyes at any of his advances. She’d been engaged to some bloke back in her hometown, some sophisticated git who was just perfect as could be apparently. She’d blatantly told him so when he’d tried asking her out, shutting him down without even a hint of remorse. His pride had been wounded at the time but his want to win her had only grown.

And John was good at the game he played, an expert at the chase, and he’d seen the lingering looks Cynthia still gave him, saw her flush bright red when he gave his attention to other girls and how her lips twitched when he sent a compliment her way. Not long after, word spread around the university that Cynthia Powell had broken off her engagement and was single as could be.

John made sure that wasn’t true for long.

She finally agreed to go out with him to the pub were he worked and the rest was history. Cynthia was the only girl John could stand on a regular basis, the only girl he called his girlfriend, the only girl he kept coming back to. He didn’t really know why, she was just Cyn and he actually wanted to have a claim on her. Being with her wasn’t quite as frustrating as being with others. She had enough of a brain and a bite to be at least a little stimulating.

Still, John knew what people said around them, what they whispered to Cynthia nearly everyday, what they thought.

He’s nothing but trouble.

You deserve better.

He’ll never really be faithful.

And history would prove all them right. He didn’t deserve Cynthia. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that. He cheated on her, he snapped at her, he treated her like crap most days... but for some reason she stuck around. No one else, besides Mimi, Stu, and Pete, stuck around for John. Fuck, his own mother and father had had little to nothing to do with him since he was just 5— But Cynthia hadn’t left him yet. He was... grateful to her for that. So, John had decided he would keep her for as long as she’d stay; so far that was a bit over 2 years now.

Glancing at his dresser, his dark eyes were drawn to the framed photograph sitting atop it. Cynthia had given it to him on their last anniversary — he’d gotten her a box of condoms. It was a picture of them two of them, sitting side-by-side on the couch in his flat. He was reading, paying her no mind, and she was gazing at him with a small, adoring smile playing on her lips like he was something to be admired and awed by. She looked in love... he looked bored.

Again, he felt heavy and groaned in frustration and he reached out to set the frame face down. He didn’t feel like thinking too much anymore. He wanted to stop thinking.

John sighed and swallowed, going over to pick up his guitar and rid himself of that stupid fucking weight in his chest.

Music had always been John’s escape, even before he could make it. He’d spent hours listening to all the great classics back in his bedroom at Mimi’s growing up. The Isley Brothers, Arthur Alexander, and the greatest of all, Elvis Presley; they were practically gods to him as a boy. He’d practiced till his fingers bleed trying to learn their songs, eventually trying to write his own.

Tuning the guitar, John leaned back again his headboard and began to strum. Strum away all the buzzing, screaming thoughts in his head, calming him mind if only for just a single fucking second. He wished he could share this part of himself, his music, with someone. Wished he could make Cynthia or Stu or anyone, really, understand the way the music felt in his chest, in his blood and his bones.

But that was a connection he’d given up on making a long time ago.

Stu played bass, Pete was alright at percussion and drums, fuck, even Cynthia knew a bit of piano but none of them felt like he did. Music was a lifeline to John. He couldn’t be without it, none of them’d ever gotten that.

Hours later, the boys were dressed and ready to go. The other inhabitants of the flat, another long-time friend, Pete, and Stu’s bitch-of-a-girlfriend, Astrid, had thrown themselves together as well.

Pete had had to style his blond hair three times from John ruffling it each time he’d only just gotten it right and he was wearing a sports jacket, a flannel and jeans. Stuart had put on the clothes Astrid had laid out for him, a navy sweater and tight dark blue jeans. John had rolled his eyes upon seeing Astrid in a matching shade of sequined tank-top and shorts. They were fucking matching these days, God help him.

John himself had simply tossed on the first things he’d found in his dresser that smelled like laundry soap and not sweat. So, basically a plain black t-shirt with a white collar, ripped gray jeans, and his favorite leather jacket with his aviator sunglasses. In his pocket were his Buddy Holly inspired prescriptions for once he got to work.

Emerging from his room, he was assaulted by Pete snatching his shades from his face, “Sun’s down, ye look like an asshole.”

John smirked and plucked the shades back, sliding him back on to his face, “I am an asshole, Pete. Remember?”

The two young men made their way to the living room, purposely shoving and banging into each other just for a laugh. They found Astrid standing on her toes, straightening Stu’s sweater. Her eyes narrowed on John as he enter her field of vision.

“You look homeless,” She commented in her heavy German accent

“And you look easy,” John shot back back only to receive a look of warning from Stuart which he ignored. Stu was his best mate, sure, but he wouldn’t put up with the little blond terror’s bullshit for even him.

Astrid scoffed and upturned her pretty little button nose.

She was fit, sure, with her slender build curved in all the right places, soft features, and pixie cut hair. That part of Stu’s infatuation with her John could understand, but fuck, the personality and attitude on her was the ultimate turn off. Had she been John’s pull, he have kicked her to the curb the next morning, not begged her to come live with him and his mates as Stuart had done.

John supposed that was why Stu had Astrid, who he hardly sent a second a part from, and he had Cyn, who had her own life and priorities that kept her off John’s back. He didn’t see the appeal in all the bullshit people spouted about ‘sharing a life’. Independence got you fucked over a lot less.

“Alright, alright, you two,” Stuart broke in, running his hands down his girlfriend’s arms until he intertwined his fingers with hers. “That’s enough. Let’s just go, yeah?”

Astrid grinned, nodding and pecking his knuckles, John rolled his eyes, and Pete shrugged while rubbing the back of his neck.

Stuart took that as an affirmative.

The pub, called The Cavern, was only two blocks over from the flat. They regularly walked there, all too cheap to pay fare, even on the bus. Astrid got all whiny about the area and how it wasn’t safe for them but it wasn’t like she had much other choice, just as poor as the rest of them. Instead, she just clung to Stuart along the way like a bloody octopus. John and Pete walked ahead of the couple, playfully bantering with one another.

John had been forced to to take his sunglasses off upon stepping into the twilight of outside, being even less able to see than normal. He was feeling bitter as he slide on his prescription lenses, Pete chuckling beside him.

Reaching out, he roughly shoved his mate, “Sod off, Shotton, no one fucking asked you.”

Behind them, Stuart called, “Oi, Johnny, stop being so damn sensitive, would ye? Just glasses, mate!”

John shot him a glare before grabbing Pete’s arm to help him right himself, “Primadonna, you are, son. Toppling like that.”

“Arsehole, you are, John. Shoving people like that.” Pete shot back but there was a grin on his lips. John smirked and any tension instantly defused.

Between Stu and Pete, John could be kept mostly in line. They all knew how easily he could fly off the handle, even John himself knew, so they all worked to make sure the lad wasn’t poked at or prodded too much. John had already spent a few nights in jail for throwing fists around when another drunk at the pub said just the wrong thing and neither Pete nor Stu had the money for bail at the moment.

The only option was just to try and keep Johnny boy out of trouble.

[kreekey]

Hey, You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away (Ch 2)

Chapter 1/?: Want to Hear a Secret?

Pairing: John Lennon & Paul McCartney (not romantic at all)

Genre: Drama, Angst

Words: 3461

Summary:   It’s the morning, a time of day that’s already always been unsavoury for John. He’s realized the heaviness of the encounter the night before. He’s realized a bit more about himself. This is not the time to have someone visit. It is not the time to have a spat with your best friend. It is definitely not the time to find a mysteriously revealing letter. It’s just the luck of John.

(See the AO3 Post for author’s notes)

John whined from inside his hotel room. Something resembling “I’m coming, jus’ hold on!” rumbled out of his mouth as he struggled out of the sheets. It must be morning now, he thought to his dismay. He must’ve woken up. It’s good that he was disturbed, as John was too annoyed by that to remember the night before. Yet.

The glance at the mirror didn’t help to cheer his mood, but he didn’t bother to change or even ruffle his hair correctly before ripping the door open. It was Paul, already fitted in a modest jumper over a collared shirt. John peered at him, now a bit more conscious of his half-dressed state.

“Mornin’, then,” Paul scoffed in amusement after looking John up and down. He glanced behind him and pushed his way into the room, saying, “Fuckin’ hell, John. I don’t stay for a night and you leave it a mess. You didn’t remember I was coming over this afternoon so we could finish writing the album?”

Grumblings and the sound of a door slamming shut were ignored as Paul began to sort the papers on the writing desk. Various letters, drawings, ideas, and song notes were being put aside. John threw himself on the bed, face first. Right, the bed…

After an incessant series of pokes to his shoulder, John grumbled and flipped himself over. The shades of daylight peeking through the curtains were enough to blind him. Paul stood over him, shaking his head, “You’ve got to get up, John. We’ve got three days to write three songs, and we’ve got to get something done today if we ever want to finish on time.”

“‘m tired, Paul,” John droned.

“C'mon, I stayed at the party later than you, and I’m alright. You’ve got the blonde to soothe you to an early sleep last night, didn’t you?” Paul’s teasing tone gave John a sense of dread.

A sudden warmth spread on his cheeks. John buried his head in his pillow, forgetting the macho manliness he’d like to exhume. “…no. Nothing happened, Paulie,” he lied.

“Not with the charming John Lennon?” Paul headed back to the desk, not bothering to face the bed. John sat up and watched as Paul swayed and hummed one of their new melodies, busying himself with the task of organization. One end of the room was carefree and light. John’s eyes snapped down to the sheets he sat on. They were unmade, dirty, and caused a crude memory to float back into his brain.

“Aren’t I married��now, McCartney?” John asked in a low voice, every word feeling stuck to his tongue. He made sure to keep his eyes down.

Without skipping a beat, Paul laughed, “I don’t remember you ever really caring about marriage 'n all the junk like that before. I mean, I know you love her, but when Lennon’s faced with a pretty bird… What, did all the love songs get to yer head?”

A slight scoff came out of John disguised as a laugh. He turned to where she had been on the bed last night, recounting their actions in his head with a thousand-yard stare.

“Are you coming to write with me or not?” Paul called, still occupied with rummaging through John’s desk. “You can worry about your homing bird later. In fact, once we’re done, I’ll walk with you to the office so you can post her this letter you’ve written personally.” He held up an unfamiliar envelope above his shoulder, waving it to catch John’s attention.

The letter was snatched from behind with a strange intensity, almost ripping the paper in the process. Neither had even realized John had leaped out of bed yet. The event didn’t especially surprise Paul, but the appearance of a letter he had no memory writing certainly surprised John.

“This isn’t my handwriting, ye git,” John jeered after taking a moment to turn the sealed envelope over in his hands. It was addressed with exact precision to Cynthia Powell Lennon at their flat back in England. Eppy had arranged the address so all the fans wouldn’t find them. It was their little hideaway, the few moments John could ever make it home. It was one of those things Cynthia could privately have as proof that, yes, she was rightfully John’s. And John was supposed to be her’s at the end of the day, too.

“Well, it isn’t mine. Did you get someone to transcribe for you? You’re illiterate, you know,” Paul answered casually. When another joke was ignored, Paul spun back to his friend, arms crossed, to watch him tear open the letter with his teeth. “Let me see it, then?”

John drew back from Paul’s reaching hands as he processed the written words. “Oh, for fucks sake…” he breathed, his eyes glued to the paper. “Tell me you wrote this, Paul? To fuck with me, right?”

Hearing Paul’s answer of “No, Johnny,” left John feeling the headache and sense of impending doom grow stronger. He went quiet, re-reading the page.

“What’s wrong, John?” Paul extended his hands, gentler this time. “Just lemme read it.”

John flicked his eyes back at his mate, wide and calculating for a split second. His mind turned to static. No need to weigh the options.

The paper was ripped into quarters and it’s bits left on the ground. John wiped his hands on his pyjamas as if he had committed a crime and said, “Forget it, Paul. Just… forget it, yeah?”

“Sure, John. Er, if you’d like. Of course.” Paul answered, feeling in the dark again. He kept his lips shut, watching as John paced up and down the short room and huffed. There was nothing on the bed, yet John would keep sneaking glances at it. Paul’s fingers wavered, and his eyes wandered down to the tattered papers.

“I'll… we’ll write after I go freshen up. Alright?” John murmured before stepping into the bathroom, leaving Paul standing alone in the middle of the room. It seemed barren without John’s muttering. Paul heard the distant sounds of a shower turning on.

John will be back in a minute. And in a minute, John will be calm again. Paul still felt a twinge of uneasiness as he reached down and picked the scraps up.

Paul took care with arranging the four quarters on the desk, wondering if he was missing something crucial. As the paper became readable, it became clear the handwriting was of a stranger. Neat and bold, not the familiar messy informality of John’s. Paul would have no way of knowing this, but it was the writing of a woman who wasn’t even from this time. A character who knew more about them than they knew about themselves.

The letter began,

Dear Cynthia Powell Lennon (or maybe soon it’ll just be Powell?)

I’m sure you’re well aware of this, or you’ve at least heard the rumours, but you won’t allow yourself to believe it. It’s a shame. You deserve better, don’t you know? And John knows this, too. But he can’t stop himself. And he loves you, he loves you. You must know that. You remember that Christmas letter back in '58… “I LOVE YOU CYN, YES YES YES”.

Strange. No explanation for John’s panic. Paul was too engrossed to notice that the shower had gone quiet.

Those were still the good years. Do you believe that it isn’t anymore? That the shaky period right now will soon pass? I advise you to leave before he breaks your heart. He’s already done it, though, hasn’t he? You just wanted to dance with Stu. Your friend, Stuart. His friend, too.

Outside of Paul’s knowledge, John had dried himself off and put on proper clothes.

It wasn’t until Stu spun you around that you noticed John against the wall, watching. That pretty pair, he thought. You excused yourself. He didn’t talk to you for the rest of the night. He didn’t say much when he found you down in the basement, alone, and forced you against a wall. The slap hurt. Your cheek burned for the rest of the night and you went home. You didn’t see him for months.

Paul remembered when, once, he had noticed that John didn’t have that blonde bird with him anymore. He didn’t know Cynthia then. John said that they had a silly spat. It was an empty lie.

Yet he begged for you to come back, and you did so gladly. You remembered the days when you had just met him. He had charmed you out of your engagement with the man in America just by asking you to dance. He sang you “Ain’t She Sweet.” He was yours. But you knew in the back of your mind even then, didn’t you? You knew there had to be something just underneath the surface…

It was hard to imagine John Lennon - the tuff ted who acted as a bad influence for all the good boys in Liverpool - as someone who could romance a girl like Cynthia. John Lennon, who had ridiculed all the lovey-dovey dull romantics, until one day he had found himself in love. One day, he found himself singing for her. One day, he found himself marrying her. That very man was currently stopped in his tracks, just outside the bathroom door, hair still dripping. Every thought turned into a scream as he caught Paul reading the fucking letter…

So, it wasn’t John’s thoughts that moved him to wrangle his friend’s hair in one hand, forcing Paul to snap out of thought. Paul swore he could feel the hair ripping right off his head. John was dragging him, screaming something unintelligible. Paul couldn’t tell what it was, he needed John to let go. So Paul yelped and thrashed and tried to land any hits he could. It was all futile, of course. It was like a little boy holding onto his father’s trouser legs and crying for him not to go. John threw Paul down to the floor. He turned into a trembling slump trying to pull himself up. Gasping for air, brow furrowed, Paul wanted to understand why.

John turned away from the boy on the ground, fuming, seeing red. He was rubbing his face, his eyes, making his hands move in any way that wouldn’t have him beating Paul into the ground. He took a shaky deep breath, wanting to drown out the ragged breathing from behind him.

Paul was on the floor, one arm propped up, red in the face and panting. The papers had flown about in the chaos. There was a pang of shame in Paul’s chest, but he ignored that. The sense of resentment came much easier. It seemed more obvious.

John paced back and forth, not daring to look at the boy who was still on the floor. Fervent, panicked sounds emanated from John, talking to himself. Paul didn’t move a muscle, but he bit, “The fucks wrong with you?”

Without warning, John tramped towards him and for a second Paul braced himself. But if John wanted to fight, Paul wouldn’t shy away. There was still a slight feeling of relief when John only swiped the papers, making a harsh crinkling sound in his clenched fist. His stature towered over Paul, whose face was too blurry to make out. There was nothing that could stop John from howling roughly, “I can’t stand the way you nose your way into my fuckin’ life, McCartney! I never want to see you worm your way into my business again! I’ll fuckin kill you! I can't stand you!”

What could be done but to wince? John stood tall, jaw tense, spitting these horrible things in his best mate’s face. Sometimes Paul forgot he could do this.

“Aren’t you going to fucking say something, you goddamned divvy?” John let his voice go hoarse. “Won’t you at least fucking… say something?” He noticed his voice go off, a decibel softer. “Say something, Macca. I…”

For a second, John looked helpless again. Paul just breathed, already controlling himself. Breathed it all in. John couldn’t stand how Paul could just breathe and not let it get any worse.

“I…” John wheezed. “…Did you read it?”. He clutched the papers harder in his hands, wishing he could make it disappear.

“…Yea, mate. A bit,” Paul responded in a cool voice, as much as he could manage.

“How far did you…?”

“Not much - ” he cut his explanation short. If he said almost nothing, maybe John would calm down.

Stopping to stare at the wall, John’s thoughts went quieter. “Forget it,” he said sharply.

“O-okay.”

“It’s just…” John sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know what I get up to, don’t you? But, uhm, there are rumours. I think… I think it’s getting out. I get nervous every time Cyn opens the morning paper. Me and some bird snogging on the front page, you know?”

After Paul’s wordless answer, John stretched out his hand begrudgingly, eyes on the carpet but not on the man. They gripped each other’s forearms and Paul was pulled up. As soon as he was standing, Paul tried to shove his arm back to his side. John held on.

“You don’t think that Cynthia, erm, knows, does she?” John’s grip squeezed Paul’s arm, and suddenly they seemed close again.

“…what?” Paul spoke as soft as he could. If John would allow Paul to see him, see his eyes, maybe they’d understand each other. But he didn’t.

“Cynthia doesn’t know, does she? I mean, I love her. I just can’t help it when…” his voice trailed off. “C'mon, Paul, tell me.”

“John, I don't…”

“Just fuckin’ tell me. I mean, she knows I’m a Beatle, right? I can't… I didn't choose… I mean, I can’t help it. She’s the only one I’ve ever loved, Paul.”

“I - I don’t know, John. Honest.”

John paused. His grasp turned too tight for Paul’s ease of mind. “Did you tell her?”

Paul was left speechless by the very implication.

“You’re terribly nice to her, you know? Did you once let slip…?” he strained to say it.

“No!”

“Did you ever let anyone know at the party, though? The rumours spread quick and you know that, don’t you?”

“Course not! John, did you really think - ”

“Don’t you think she notices, though?” John’s eyes stuck to the floor. “How when we’d go to parties - you know, as normal people - that you’d always leave with Jane and I’d let Cyn go home early so she could get some rest… but of course, I never came home till morning, did I?

"She must notice that you… You’re so perfect, huh?” John gave a weak, weary chuckle.

'Johnny,“ Paul half-scoffed, believing none of this was happening. "You know that’s not true.” He stopped himself from slipping out we’re more alike than you think.

“Oh, shut up. Even your face… that’s why every girl wanted you, didn’t they? I thought I was used to that by now. You’re an angel, y'know that? When I stand next to you, even on stage, I just… I’m not as good, am I?” John’s voice almost seemed amused. Broken. “Everyone knows that. There’s a reason you’re the 'Cute Beatle’, Paul. I’m just the bad seed. A bad influence on McCartney’s kid, huh? Remember that?”

If John had braved to look at Paul’s face, he’d see one of concern. One of affection. The rest of Paul stood as stiff as John, not wanting to tell anything more than they meant to. Slowly, in a gentle voice, Paul soothed, “John, I never said…”

“You don’t have to,” John let go of Paul’s arm, pushing him away as he did so. Paul didn’t know why he was surprised when he caught John’s strong glare.

It was silent. What was to be said to help John see, to know that Paul wants him to be alright? There is no conspiracy. And Paul felt his chest twist in frustration because John was still acting like a child.

“I never said anything of the like, so why are you taking it up with me?” Paul said, words growing thick with disdain.

“C'mon, y'think I don’t notice the - the way you sneer at me?” John shook his head.

“Johnny - !”

“Get out,” John said lowly and his fingers began to twitch in his fist, reminded of the stupid piece of paper that started all this.

Paul let the silence hang there. It was suffocating.

“Get out!” John barked, harsher this time.“I can’t stand your bloody presence.”

“…I’m not leaving,” Paul croaked.

“What?”

Paul could see John’s expression clearly as he snapped his head up. It did not reassure him. Yet Paul didn’t waver from John’s fiery eyes, hissing, “You’re acting like a baby - ”

“You’re acting like a snob! A bleedin’ git! Because that’s what you are, McCartney! You’re some fucking idiot from Liverpool who made it to America because you’re the bass player in some dense band and you happen to have a pretty face!”

Paul looked blank, almost softened.

“You should’ve stayed in fucking Liverpool with Ol’ Jim McCartney. Have a happy little family because I think that’s what you always wanted.

"I don’t know why you followed me all the way through college and Hamburg and the fuckin’ Beatles. Like a puppy, infatuated with copying me - even my leather trousers. Picking fights with Stu just to get my bleeding approval, poor bastard. Y'know what? I think you’ll always be little goody McCartney’s kid. I don’t know how you ended up here!”

Paul scowled, “I’m yer partner! I did as much as you did to get here!”

“C'mon, Princess! You wrote some silly love songs and flash a smile and now you’re a king! But to be a Beatle… the people we were supposed to turn out to be… You’re not cut out for it, and you know it! Get back to the sweet little neighbourhood you came from, why don’t you? You don’t even like it here. You think I’m a bloody divvy, an idiot. Leave, then! Leave!”

These words echoed through their consciousness. Paul felt his throat hitch, and John’s eyes burned into his. The room got compact, every breath coming out hot and heavy. Every thought being pushed out by the need to make a mistake.

“Least I’m not fucking around on my own wife,” John heard, and it was like the walls came down. “You don’t even know your kid, Johnny.”

There was a small sense of victory when John’s eyes went helpless and lost. The fire went out for a split second before John realized who he was.

Before he could object, Paul was held up by his collar and knocked against the wall. Paul gasped, focused on John’s face, and neither said a word. Their stares killed each other. John’s lips were pulled into a thin line, and Paul hoped he’d second-guess himself. Still, Paul didn’t even struggle. He took the punch. The punch that was intended to knock a tooth out. It was solid, bony. Both felt the heavy thunk of Paul’s skull and the crack of his teeth. John watched it all unfold, ignoring the fact that he was doing this or that he was doing it to Paul. When Paul only inhaled a cool breath, wincing but keeping a strong face, John dropped him. He fell to the floor like a ragdoll and groaned. It was deep, gravely, and stubborn. Stubborn to make John feel like he just did something meaningless. Stubborn to tell John that it didn’t even matter.

John took control of his breathing again, staring down at the downtrodden Paul. He wished it never happened.

Paul looked up when the door slammed shut and he was alone again. He sat there, docile. If he stayed still, he hoped he could sink back into the ground and disappear. The sterile atmosphere tingled on his skin. His jaw began to get sore and he waited for his head to stop spinning so that maybe he could stand. Things were still fizzy. Anger settled in a pit somewhere in his stomach, not to be lashed out now. Sometime later. Later, perhaps. If the anger stayed. Sometimes it turned into a simple feeling of unfairness, of quiet bitterness. But somehow, right now, Paul worried about his attacker. No. His friend, his partner, who was stumbling through the streets and not thinking right. Who didn’t know what he was doing, who couldn’t control what he was doing. But it’s impossible to hold him back. John Lennon couldn’t help it. Paul felt a sharp pang of sadness for the lot of them.

[yukiwrites]

Renewed Vows, Overpowering Love

Thank you so much for the support and the patience as always, @breeachuu! I hope you like it! ;v;)

Summary: It’s been almost 10 years since Henry and Nidra came to terms with their feelings -- since they had married, so to say. They never actually gotten around into having a proper ceremony, but that was about to change if it depended on Henry and Nidra’s closest friend, Queen Robin.

Commission info HERE and HERE!

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The sun rose shyly in the sky as dawn started to break -- the idyllic rays of light shone through leaves, windows and roofs alike, illuminating the small yet bright flocks of dust as though they were morning stars.

The air itself felt more clean to the lungs, result of the previous week filled with rainfall. The water had washed the land in such a way that it grew anew under the people's feet.

Waking up to such array of sensations, especially beside the man who had made all of her dreams come true for the past decade, made Nidra almost feel like crying first thing in the morning.

She woke up with the chirp of birds, with the song of the leaves dancing with the morning breeze -- with the sound of laughter of her own children trying to keep quiet so as not to wake their parents up. The manakete clutched her heart with emotion, watching as Henry slept peacefully beside her once she sat up on their bed. His hair had grown a bit over the last few years, but he always made sure to cut it at around the same length; not to mention that his complexion underwent very little changes in these past 10 years they've been together.

"Well, not exactly a round ten per se, that one is tomorrow," she mumbled to herself, taking a few strands of hair from her husband's eyes. "Still, it IS mind-boggling to see that you haven't changed a bit, or at least very little, in all those years, my love." She whispered more to herself than to her sleeping consort, but a smile growing on his lips betrayed his 'pretending to be asleep' act.

"I was born with this face, you know? Nyaha!" He chuckled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes before stretching his body. "You shoulda seen me when I was a kid -- oh wait, you already have! I had this same face too, see?" He pointed with both indexes to his smile, making the manakete giggle before closing in for a morning kiss.

"I do see it; it never fails to surprise me." She said by his lips, breathing the same air as he.

"I'm serious, you know? If we ever have another kid -- one who looks like me this time -- you'll see it! I'll bet I was even born laughing instead of crying, nyaha!"

"You buffoon," Nidra nudged his shoulder, leaning her forehead against his. "You've only been drinking your life-extending potion for less than two years, and still look as young as you did a decade ago-"

"ALMOST a decade, ey? We're having our anniversary tomorrow! Is the dragon age catching up to you, I wonderr?" He said playfully, slowly wrapping both arms around his wife's waist. She once again nudged his shoulder, but this time with more strength. "Oof! Hey! I didn't even call you old-"

"Not another word!" She squashed his cheeks with both hands, making him do a fish face as his lips open and closed helplessly between her fingers.

"Yu'roldjie aja gwanny buj I shtill wuv you!" He managed to say as his body shook with mirth, Nidra's increasingly red face making him laugh even harder.

"Who's old as a granny? I am older than those, as well!" She said with an odd sense of pride, letting go of her husband's face so as to flick his forehead. Henry fell dramatically on the mattress, laughing so hard he held his stomach.

"Nyaha! You're the BEST, Ni-Ni!"

The morning progressed slowly: since only Nidra, Henry and their youngest children were at home at the moment, they simply shared an early breakfast and went about with their business -- the kids to the yard behind their house to collect berries, the adults to enjoy a nice shade watching them.

Meliodas and Cynthia had gone to the palace the previous day to stay the night there, meaning to return the following evening. They had to be back for their parents' 10th wedding anniversary, after all!

Although that was the plan, Nidra felt her son approaching from the sky much earlier than intended -- it was barely past noon once her eldest child landed up on the hill and quickly made his way down.

"Mother, Father! I've returned, but this time as a high-end courier!" He smiled brightly, running towards his parents who sat each on their own rocking chair placed right outside, towards the hill. In his hand lay a letter with the royal seal, more specifically, the Queen's seal.

"Oh, from Robin?" Nidra lifted both hands to receive the message, a tender smile upon her face. She missed the timing whence Meliodas winked to Henry as she carefully opened the envelope. "My, she truly wrote this as official-looking as possible!" She mused, perusing the detailed calligraphy and high-quality paper.

"What does it say?!" Henry jumped behind Nidra's chair, accidentally rocking it before he held it by its armrests so he could read the contents.

"I'm so very curious, as well. She forbade me from opening it as she handed it to me, the seal still hot! May I read it with you?" Meliodas approached carefully, not knowing from which of his father's shoulders to peek from as Nidra never took her eyes off of the letter.

Her smile grew until her eyes burned. "That Robin, always so attentive." She sniffled, handing the letter upwards, to whomever wanted to read it. Henry snatched it from her hands, leaning on Meliodas so the both of them could read what they already knew. "She asked us to--"

"Ohhh, juicy! Spend the night at the castle so we can all have a nice wedding-anniversary breakfast with the whole gang!" Henry cut his wife off, his smile too large to contain. Suddenly, he frowned, pensive, and looked up. "Huh? Aren't those things usually celebrated during diner? Why a breakfast?"

Nidra ran her fingers through the carefully woven chair, smiling fondly. "Before you started working on a cure for my narcolepsy, I mentioned to her that I truly envied those who could enjoy a nice breakfast with their comrades since I usually either overslept and missed them or would fall asleep during the act and attend it only halfway. I truly did not think she would remember such a tiny detail..."

"Ohhh," Henry and Meliodas nodded concomitantly, exchanging meaningful glances. "You sure are loved, huh, Ni-Ni?" He smirked to his son as he patted his wife's head; the manakete boy almost giggled aloud, but managed to simply chuckle and take a deep breath.

"Shall we get ready to go, then, Mother? Father?" He opened both arms.

"We shall." Nidra got up, stretched herself and breathed long and hard. "Could you bring the children inside? I shall prepare their bags for the journey."

"Aye aye!" Henry smooched his wife as she walked past him (receiving a well-deserved kick on the shin) before following his eldest son towards the bushes the children were playing at. "Did Cynthia stay behind forr... something particular?"

Meliodas snorted. "Nay. She's beside herself with excitement; not a good secret-keeper like that."

"Nyaha, that sounds like our Cyn-Cyn."

The bush in front of them moved before a green-haired head popped from inside. "Me-me?" Little Cynthia smiled widely, her entire face smeared with berries.

"GYAHA," Henry threw his head back in laughter, "didja miss your mouth and spread fruit all over your face, kiddo?" He opened his arms so the little girl could jump into his hug. "Here, let Dad wipe it all for you." He said as he reached for a handkerchief inside his pocket, promptly cleaning Cyn's face.

"There're more this way, Cyn- Oh, big bro!" Meli was midway to pointing towards a further bush when he lifted his head to see his older brother. "There're sooo many tasty fruit there! Let's go pick 'em!" He smiled widely, one of his front teeth missing.

"No can do, Meli. C'mere with big brother, hmm? We're going to visit Morgs and Luci!" He said excitedly, pleasantly watching as the boy's expression brightened.

"We're going to the castle?! Yayy!" He jumped into Meliodas' chest. "Now? Today?!"

"Today, indeed!" Meliodas got up, securing his younger self in his arms. "When we get there, I'll have a very important mission for you..."

Since Cyn was still too young to fly (as was Meli, but he could already handle a short flight or two), the family went to the castle by foot; arriving at the late afternoon.

From one of the large windows, Cynthia watched them walk in. Her heart almost jumped out of her throat. "Luciiiii, let me go see them, please! pretty pretty please? I promise I won't say anything!" She paced around the room like a caged animal -- a very excited animal -- finally shaking her friend by her shoulders.

"You know I cannot allow that, Cynthia! Mother's words were clear: we've been planning all of this for MONTHS; we can't have a single thing go wrong -- nor can we let Aunt Nidra to realize everything we've been doing at the very last day! You are confined into this room until tomorrow."

"But I wanna see Motherrrrrrr," Cynthia dramatically fell onto the ground, holding her friend's skirt. "Lemme seeee herrrr, I wanna hug my Father tooooo," she cried, rubbing her face into Lucina's legs.

Weak to younger-sibling-slyness, it took everything Lucina had to look up to the ceiling, away from her wailing friend. "I shan't be swayed! Tomorrow is far too important to let everything go to waste now!"

"Grrr, I need to think up of a better way to--" she gasped loudly. "I CAN FLY! LEMME JUMP FROM THE WINDOW!" She quickly let go of her friend and ran towards the large stained glass window, but Lucina herself was quite fast, rapidly managing to immobilize her manakete friend.

"Don't make me tie you up to this bed, Cynthia! You stay here!"

"Nnnnoooooo...!" Cynthia lifted her hand upwards dramatically, then made it limp beside her lifeless body. "I won't be able to sleeeeeep..."

Sighing as she noticed that her friend seemingly stopped fighting back, Lucina relaxed her grip. "Just bear with it for a while longer, Cynthia; I beg you. Tomorrow you WILL be there to welcome Ni-Ni, um... Aunt Nidra, after all."

Cynthia kicked her feet in excitement, her body trembling with energy all over again. "I know! And I can't wait!"

In another corner of the castle, Robin had instructed all the staff to smoothly guide Nidra away from the east wing, which they did quite subtly -- the manakete was received so warmly like always that she barely noticed how she didn't even touch the eastern garden and got through the western one instead. Well, the living quarters were situated at the west wing, so she didn't have any reason to suspect not being shown the eastern side. What was odd to her was how Cynthia's presence remained upstairs despite them having arrived quite some time ago -- there was no way the young manakete missed feeling four other dragons entering the castle; especially not after Nidra taught her how to sense presences.

Still, she knew how her daughter could be -- once she put her mind into something, she would be so focused on it she would lose track of time and place, so it wasn't ALL that uncommon. Just a nudge at the back of Nidra's head.

Like it usually happened whenever they visited, Nidra went to Robin's study to talk, feeling closely at home at that familiar balcony where she landed the week after Robin married, almost twelve years ago.

Her friend had aged well -- she still looked young, but with a firm chin and a wise gaze to go with her poise. She had grown into a magnificent Queen, down to her mannerisms and habit to issue orders. It warmed Nidra's heart to watch her already wonderful friend grow into an even more impressive ruler.

During their conversation, Robin would find Nidra lost in thought more often than not -- lost into the memories of their times together, and how much they shaped who the both of them were today.

"How much you mean to me, my friend. How, how very much." Nidra commented all of sudden, her eyes welling up with emotion. "Thank you so very much for remembering such a tiny detail of what I offhandedly mentioned almost a decade ago... It means the world to me. To have someone remember something about me that's often lost into my endless existence... Ah, Robin, how much I treasure that!"

The Queen smiled softly, her expression lines shaping her face into a motherly look. She grasped her friend's hand, caressing it with her thumb. "I'll remember you for the rest of my days, Nidra. Even after that, as my children grow and keep mine and your memories alive -- as you watch over them and make yourself a constant within my bloodline. I'll always be with you, no matter how far you or I go."

Nidra blinked so as to shoo the tears away, holding Robin's hand with both of hers. "And be present I shall, Robin. As I've promised before, I shall say it again -- I will be there for your children, and their children. I'll watch over them for you."

It was Robin's turn to feel misty-eyed, but she managed to blink it away and smile. "Look at us, making promises for the future when we're a night of sleep's away from your anniversary. Let us not behave like old grannies and enjoy the present, yes? We have the rest of our lives to reminisce."

"Right you are, my friend. As always; right you are." Nidra chuckled, drying a few stray tears from her cheeks. The night had already covered the land like a blanket that waited to be lifted come morning.

Unaware of whatever machinations were going on inside the castle, Nidra went to bed with Henry a bit after midnight -- the children had gone to sleep with young Morgan and Luci in their rooms, so it was only the couple for the night, like it hadn't been for a long time. Henry made an off-handed comment about being alone to 'dingle-dangle', but received a very embarrassed slap on the chest before Nidra snuggled her face on his to sleep.

Well, Henry thought, not like I'm gonna catch a wink anyway, nyaha! He held his wife closely, caressing her back up and down ever so slowly, like a unspoken lullaby.

The manakete fell asleep right after, safe in her husband's arms.

Yet, when she woke up, they weren't there to welcome her to the waking world. Frowning as she rubbed sleep out of her eyes, Nidra yawned widely as she sat up and groggily looked around the room. Everything looked right in place, apart from a wooden mannequin placed right beside the old full body mirror at the back of the room.

"What...?" She squinted, her vision still a bit blurry from sleep. The light coming through the expensive window was as idyllic as the previous day's, but now it slightly blinded her to what was in front of her very eyes: it was a wedding dress.

True, it was not a frilly dress with a huge ball-gown skirt, no. It was made with a very thin and light fabric, trumpet shaped and strapless -- though it had very, very long sleeves, long enough to trail behind her as she wore it. Taking a closer look, she could see that there was a cut in the long skirt, allowing her more movement without being crass; her leg could be seen all the way to her thigh, but since the skirt had so much thin fabric, it would look as though she was flying-

"Oh, so that's why the sleeves are so long... my wings." She whispered as she touched the fabric, not realizing she had already gotten up to see the dress up close. It had so many little, hand-sewn details from the tube top to the waist, then all the way through the sleeves as well as on the intricate back. It was a true masterpiece, carefully made for Nidra herself. And only her.

Feeling like she was walking inside a dream -- her feet felt as though she stepped on cotton -- Nidra looked around the room once again, time moving much slower than before. She saw so much more color than before, though nothing had actually changed. It was as though the sun reflecting through the stained glass painted the entire room in rainbows and stars, bringing her so much emotion she couldn't help but sob.

So that was the reason why Robin had sent such a formal letter -- but that didn't seem like it was only her friend's doing...? Confused, overwhelmed and emotional, the manakete stood still, her hand never letting go of the dress as she tried to understand the rush of emotions going through her heart.

She failed to notice the careful footsteps by the door as it carefully opened. She failed still to notice when her husband slipped inside and opened his arms. "Phew, I gotcha still in your pajamas!" He huffed, his usually pale face bright red from running. "I had to fly back home to bring these! Can't have a manakete wedding without our jewels, ey?" He flashed the jewels Nidra had made him over a decade ago, carefully woven into necklaces. "I'm glad I got to be the one to put it on you, nyaha," his breath was still shaky, but he managed to smile as he walked to his wife and put the necklace on her. "Happy anniversary, Ni-Ni. I knew asking Robin to help with your dream wedding was the right thing to do."

Blinking, it took Nidra a full minute to tear her eyes away from the dress to her grinning husband. Once she took a full look at him, she realized he wore a tuxedo -- not a black or purple one as she was sure he'd prefer, but a dark green one, complete with a rainbow colored handkerchief by his chest pocket.

The male manakete color scheme; to call upon the females with his intricate scales and battle prowess.

Seeing how she eyed his outfit, Henry smiled and Nidra could almost see him being bashful. "I'm not a dragon (and boy do I wish I were!) but 'least I could borrow the colors to match my wife!"

Nidra opened and closed her mouth like a fish, making Henry remember the previous morning and giggle before wrapping his arms around her waist. "It's okay, take your time to take it all in." He patted her back, used to giving her space to digest things through.

A few minutes later, Nidra managed to mumble a "how" and a "when", her brain a complete knot.

"You won't believe how many people Robin got into this! It'd be better to show you, though," he smiled, his thin eyes showing a tiny bit of expression lines -- age and wisdom, the same ones she saw in her friend just the previous night.

So he did change a little bit in these ten years.

"Do you want help with the dress? I mean with the undressing part," he wiggled his eyebrows, sure to make her work after making a dirty remark.

It did wonders to bring Nidra back to reality, though it cost him an aching shin. "Worth it!" He said as she made him wait outside while she got into that wonderful dress.

The more she did, the less real it felt. It wasn't as though she had always wanted a wedding ceremony. Her memories of those usually meant that she would be left alone, or at least left aside. Back when she was young, she witnessed a wonderfully large party that's marked her for eternity. Then, there was Robin's, which also dug deep into her, though that time she could be open with her friend and tell her what she was feeling.

There were other parties the Shepherds threw for some of their members' marriages, but it wasn't as though Nidra wanted to have one for herself.

What she wanted were the memories and feelings conveyed in those ceremonies. She wanted to hear the promise from her husband's lips, a bit more official-like than what he usually did (though she could still live without it for the rest of her days since he already gave her so much), and to be congratulated by her friend and family... to announce her love proudly and show it to the world that she was happy.

She was finally, truly happy.

"Aw, Ni-Ni! No need to cry so early! There're so many opportunities for you to cry later!" Henry giggled as she left the room in tears, helping her with her wild hair before escorting her to the eastern side of the castle.

They all knew that although Nidra got used to being around humans, it wasn't as though she enjoyed large crowds, so they kept it all small: at an ancient chapel right behind the walls of a forgotten garden at the east wing, they would formalize Nidra and Henry's marriage for the first time in ten years.

The place overflowed with antique energy, the forest consuming most of the columns and arches, making it an ideal place for a manakete to roost at. Vines and multi-colored flowers sprouted naturally from the old stonework, complementing the floral decoration Cynthia and Meliodas worked hard at.

At the center of the altar, there laid a Naga's Bell, the largest one Nidra had ever seen.

Widening her eyes, she tried to take it all in: she saw her friends and family scattered about the natural garden, all wearing different degrees of smiles. She saw Cyn and Meli dancing with Morgs and Lucina right in front of the paved corridor as the girls carried small baskets full of flower petals while the boys shared a large velvet cushion.

Cynthia spotted her parents coming in first and let out a loud squeal. "Mother!! You look amazing! Happy anniversary! Happy marriage! Gods I'm so excited I- whoops!" She rambled on as she ran towards her mother, tripping on a nearby root and landing right in Nidra's arms. "Nice catch!"

"Oh, my darling child... you look stunning as well. A short dress much like a flower in bloom." Nidra managed to speak, her words outpacing her thoughts. "And your sister is wearing a miniature of the same dress, oh Naga, she looks so adorable." She clutched her chest, misty-eyed. Young Meli wore a miniature tuxedo to match with Henry while Meliodas wore a long, silver coat-tail with platinum ends to signify his wings. He welcomed his mother, father and sister with open arms.

"Mother! You do not know how hard it was to keep all of this a secret from you!" He laughed, squeezing them all in his hug.

Her mind slow, Nidra looked from her husband to her daughter, then to her son. "Indeed... How did you keep it a secret? Cynthia is not much of a secret-keeper..."

"I did my best!" She puffed her cheeks.

"So did Lucina and Robin, Mother. They received the brunt of Cynthia's excitement whenever she was about to blurt it all by accident." Meliodas chuckled, placing a tuft of hair behind his mother's long ear. In a smooth movement, he took a step back to reveal his godmother and god sister.

Both Queen and Princess smiled fondly as the children danced around themselves. "Happy anniversary, old friend." Robin took Nidra's hands in hers, squeezing under her silk gloves. "I got you this time," she winked.

"That you did, you old fox," Nidra's chin trembled, her feelings finally catching up with what was going on. "Oh, give me a hug, Robin! Thank you so much for this." She pulled her friend into a bear embrace, squeezing the breath out of her.

"N-Ni-Ni, you're going to kill Mother-" Lucina blurted out as Robin started turning blue, but Nidra let go of her right after, her entire body trembling.

"I- We better start this before I start crying for three hours straight." Nidra sniffled, covering her mouth with one hand as Lucina tenderly took her turn in hugging her godmother.

Henry nodded beside her, his expression comically serious. "She means it. She WILL cry for three hours straight if you let her."

Robin guffawed, throwing her head back. "Ha! And you think I don't know that? Let's take our places quickly before Cyn scatters all the petals in that same spot she's in."

"Mommyyy! Cyn'll make the path pwetty for you!" The little girl waved, obediently not leaving her post as she had promised aunt Robin earlier. Luci worriedly tried to keep her friend to waste more petals than necessary, stealing a strangled laughter from the manakete bride.

Nidra tried with all her might to keep her tears from flowing, but flow they did -- she walked down the aisle alongside her husband as their children opened the way for them, their friends and found family waiting for them at the altar, whence the Naga's Bell hung magnanimously. Under it, Tiki used herself as a proxy for Naga's voice to call upon her dragon children so they could celebrate such a love-filled and heartwarming union.

Nowi, Nah, Cynthia, Meliodas as well as their younger counterparts all felt a strong current of power coursing through their veins, as though Naga had descended amongst them for a brief moment to touch upon Nidra’s jewel with a kiss. Both hers and Henry’s shone so brightly the next second, they had to close their eyes, not realizing they intertwined their fingers in a strong handhold.

For a moment, there was only silence, as though time had stopped simply for Henry and Nidra to look at each other and smile. “I love you,” they said in unison, Henry’s smile the truest Nidra had ever seen in the past decade.

He had grown so much since they first met -- he got in touch with his feelings more often and hardly ever masked them with a snicker, choosing to convey them to his wife instead. And at that moment, everything that he felt meant only that.

Love.

Overpowering and true love.

Nidra couldn’t keep the waterfall of tears away any longer, so she finally let them flow as freely as possible, a second after she wrapped both arms around Henry’s neck so as to tenderly seal their renewed promise with a kiss. He reciprocated for a moment, then snorted over her lips as he felt her shoulders trembling.

“D-don’t laugh!” She protested weakly as she slipped into his shoulder to hide her crying face. Henry, on the other hand, trembled with mirth.

“You’re so funny, Ni-Ni! I’m glad I married you for realsies now.” He patted her back as she grumbled something under her breath, trying to hide the huge smile that went with her tears.

All around them, their family and friends celebrated, throwing petals and rice on them. The children started dancing at the sound of the band which started playing a peppy tune, while the couples hugged themselves so as to take advantage of the atmosphere of love in the air.

Truly, Nidra couldn’t have been happier than on that day.

In truth, ever since marrying Henry for the first time, her life had only gotten exponentially happier. That only made her look forward to eternity beside her beloved, more and more each day.

For the technically newlyweds, life couldn’t actually return to normal -- it was as though they had returned to the early days of their marriage, always enjoying each other’s presence more than with other people. Robin even volunteered to keep the children in the castle for a few weeks or so to let the couple, ahem, renew their vows privately, but Nidra only allowed it for a couple of days at most.

Despite being a blushing bride, she was also a very clingy and proud mother. She didn’t want to part with her children for longer than necessary.

Which was why that, a bit over two months after their ceremony, it occurred to Nidra that she hadn’t transformed to take a nap under the tree atop the hill in quite a while. The fact only came to her mind while she was entangled in her future children’s scales as all of them took a family nap, Cynthia and Meliodas interlaced around each other, with their parents and younger siblings in their midst.

Alone in her waking, Nidra looked down to her sleeping husband, softly placing one hand over her chest.

Could it be? Could it truly be?

The manakete looked around herself -- quite literally surrounded by her family, and yet the expectation of being actually, well, expecting another member to complement it. She bit her lower lip, her eyes welling up with tears. What a great news to wake up to, she thought, snuggling into Henry’s chest. I wonder how I should say it when he wakes up.