#Ch.4 Fire and Fury

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Chapter 17

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, typical game violence, battle and combat

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11 / Ch 12 / Ch 13 / Ch 14 / Ch 15 / Ch16

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In response to the White Wolf's request, a tidal wave of protests washes over the ring. Chaos, shouting, and furious gestures break out among the Chieftains and the entire crowd. The audience leaps to their feet, protesting with a fury I've never seen before. The weight of over one hundred eyes falls upon me, and I stare at the sand in the ring, afraid to look up. I don't need to see them to know what they're thinking.

Did the Kismet have something to do with this? Surely, I am going to protest this development. I have that right, after all. No man can take a bride without her consent. It's my duty to stand up right now; to chastise this Outsider. The Kismet is the symbol of salvation and renewal for these people, and the White Wolf has betrayed their trust by declaring her as his own.

But, my body does not move. Not a muscle.

I focus on the White Wolf instead of the Tribe's venomous glares. This peculiar and foolhardy warrior. Is he not afraid of divine retribution? A curse? The animosity of so many warriors? No matter how strong he is, he cannot overcome all of these people. Yet, judging by the way he stands still as stone, he fears nothing.

Beside me, Sorocan's hand flies to my wrist and tightens on it like the death grip of an adder. Sweat breaks out on the nape of my neck as I watch her eyes catch fire with fury. She looks at me, her upper lip rising up over her front teeth in an expression of disgust.

"Don't you dare move, girl," she hisses. "Look at the ground. He has no right..."

I tune out the rest of what she says, for despite my shock at the sudden turn of events, my eyes can't help but stray back to the man in the center of the ring. All the other faces melt into a kaleidoscope of blurred colors as my vision snaps to the White Wolf's beautiful red eyes. His hawk-like piercing gaze quickens the blood in my veins, and with each pulse of my heart, the mark around my wrist bites deeper into my skin. My hand comes up to clutch at my shirt right over my heart. I dare not hope this is my savior, but if this is my chance, I dare not waste it either. Could this man be an answer to my prayers? Is this the turn of fate that will finally free me from this prison?

No. Impossible. The Chieftains won't permit it.

Sorocan will not.

I dig my nails into the arms of the chair beneath me, hoping this foreign warrior can withstand the numerous obstacles before him. I can't possibly fathom what he wants with a woman he's never met before, but his determination to have his way is written in the proud tilt of his chiseled jaw. My gaze roves over his lean warrior's body. He's strong, and his eyes blaze with a calculating gleam. Surely he knew the opposition he would face in demanding the hand of the Kismet. Surely, he came prepared to fight and take what he sees as rightfully his.

I have no doubt he can take me by force.

The other warriors protest and clamor at his demand, but they do not approach him. Even Tögöldör and Batu seem wary of him, their fists tight at their sides and their shoulders squared as they face him. One leans back on his spear, a predator prepared to strike. The other stands stiff and coiled like a snake, prepared to lash out should the White Wolf take a step in his direction. The Arataan is the size of an onyx mountain bear, and the warriors' demeanor suggests they view him as something equally dangerous.

The Chieftains' faces are pale as they clamor with the crowd. But, they haven't refused the request outright. If they could have, they would have immediately. No questions asked. For the thousandth time, I wonder – just who is this mysterious stranger? Who is he to stir such fear and awe in the strongest of warriors and Chieftains? Who is he to think he can ask for – and take – that which cannot be given? He said I am his. Brazenly so, like a man claiming his life mate. The last thing I want is to be stolen away to be someone's possession, but at this point even that is better than being chained to a rock and sacrificed in the name of something I have no faith in.

My earlier question bounces back like a boomerang. Indeed, it seems this man is my only hope. The mark on his wrist marks him as the one I've been searching for. Gritting my teeth, I yank my wrist out of Sorocan's grasp, ignoring the sting of her nails clawing at me. I rush to stand, and a cold pressure reminds me of the chain strapping my ankle to the chair. Sorocan glares daggers at me, pulling on my arm to get me to sit back down. But, I won't. I refuse. Something stirs deep inside me; bubbling to the surface like boiling water. I hate this woman. What right does she have to enslave me? What right does she have to take my life?

My hands tremble, and something faint as the first snowflakes of winter gathers at my fingertips. A golden glowing light. An ethereal warmth. Power. Magic. I've never been able to feel it before, but now –

Devour...

I gasp at the sudden voice in my ear, so loud it seems to rumble through my very bones.

Devour...

The mark on my wrist aches. At first, I don't understand. Devour what? Or...whom?

This woman before me? Sorocan? What use is she –

Devour him...

Unbidden, my eyes shift back to the ring.

I meet a knowing blood red gaze.

Devour him...he's already yours...

As though he can hear the voice, too, the White Wolf smirks. An expression of arrogance; of confidence. All around him, people continue to yell and shout. Yet, he is unaffected. In this moment, there's no one around us or between us. The mirth at the corner of his lips tugs them into a gentle smile. He raises an arm as though reaching out to me, bending his fingers into his palm. His lips move, and I recognize the command on them. The invitation.

All of the anger and pain I've been bottling up for months hits me all at once. Tears sting my eyes, and my lip trembles. I step forward, but the chain on my foot holds me back. I lift my skirt when I feel something warm and alive snaking around my leg. Hot enough to alarm me, but not hot enough to burn. It's a fine black and red mist. My breath catches as the chain dissolves into thin air.

Snap.

It's more than one kind of freedom.

Not just my body, but my mind as well.

As soon as I'm free, I barrel through the crowd in front of me. I push people out of the way with every ounce of strength I can muster. Some warriors jump in front me to stop me. My body moves on instinct. I dip and dodge. Sorocan is shouting for them to bring me back immediately. But, all I can see is the White Wolf and his outstretched hand. I run to him, the wind biting at the places where tears stream down my face.

As I step closer and closer to him, his image blurs and shifts. For a split second, I see shining onyx horns adorning the top of his head. Black scales and armor wrap around his skin. A large reptilian tail sways behind him. As soon as the image comes together, it vanishes. As I jump over the barrier to the ring and sprint through the sand of the arena, it's just him standing there...

Just him.

Elation swells through me until my heart nearly bursts.

A gasp of relief and I'm flying into his arms.

Another breath and his powerful arms lift me into the air. He spins me around, and his scent wraps around me. Warmth. Safety. As it melds with my senses, I look up at him. He holds me up as though I weigh nothing. My lips part to call his name.

And I stop.

Nothing comes from memory.

He senses it immediately. Catches my hesitation. The crimson in his eyes darkens like a churning storm. He looks at me with expectation.

"I'm sorry...I..."

He realizes, then, that I don't remember who he is, and the result of that knowledge transforms his features. His eyes grow wide then narrow again, arching brows furrowing his beautiful face into a look of raw, unchecked hurt. His pain rips into me like the claws of a beast; it's like I've been thrown into a frozen pond.

He lowers me to the ground, sliding his hand up my forearm. Our fingers twine together like saplings seeking warmth in winter. He stares at our palms as though expecting something. His hand is huge over mine. Instantly, I know that I've held this hand before. Many times. Again following my instinct, I cover his calloused knuckles with my fingers. I've missed this hand, this strength, these impossibly warm arms. Pulling him towards me, I close my eyes and press my cheek against his chest.

People are still staring at us. Angry faces. Bewildered. Outraged.

But, I'm the one unaffected now.

The White Wolf's heartbeat murmurs against my ear. I close my eyes.

One beat.

Then two.

And then it all makes sense.

When I look at the White Wolf again, he is no longer nameless.

"Sylus," I smile. "Sylus, you found me."

I can't describe the expression on his face now. It's too profound for words. Relief is too weak a term. Happiness is too vague an emotion. He leans forward, nearly staggering, as though a terrible weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Only I can hear his shaky breath as he reaches out and ruffles my hair. Schooling his face back into a merciless mask, he looks back towards the crowd. I press close to him, squeezing his hand in mine.

"Can we go home?" I ask, my voice hoarse. "This isn't quite what I had in mind when you described a getaway. Next time, maybe run it by me first."

"Where's the fun in that, kitten?" he asks, his face stone cold yet his words soft and tender.

Our Chieftain's voice bellows out across the ring. "Silence!"

After a moment, the crowd quiets. I squeeze Sylus's hand tighter.

"Arataan," our Chieftain's deep voice booms out. "This is one wish we cannot grant you."

Sylus smiles, but the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes. His fiery red orbs remain cold and aloof as he speaks in turn, "This is not a negotiation. Either you release her, or I will take her."

He shifts his weight between his feet, and the warriors around us start. Some even take a step back. Tögöldör stabs his spear forward defensively while Batu's eyes narrow. The Chieftain signals for them to stand down.

"You have won a place among our people with your strength and might. You have saved one of our sister Tribes from destruction. Have you done all of this planning to doom us all to death and ruin?"

Sylus raises an elegant brow, unamused at the accusation. "Interesting that you mention ruin when it is your Speaker playing games."

"Hold your tongue, you insolent whelp," Sorocan hisses, completely out of character.

Sylus blinks back at her, unimpressed. "Find another Kismet. You still have time before the ritual. Isn't that so?"

The Chieftains look crestfallen, and I've never seen Sorocan so pale. Her blue eyes sear into me from across the arena, her knuckles white as she clutches her staff.

"Fight, then," our Chieftain rasps. Then again, louder - "Fight, then! If you are declared Champion, we will speak again. Until then, you are to keep your distance from the Kismet. She belongs to our deity. No mortal man may covet her."

A chuckle rumbles in Sylus's chest. His thumb traces the back of my hand. "I do not need to covet what is already mine," he smirks.

More clamoring from the warriors and the audience. I suppose I can understand their apprehension. Losing me as a sacrifice means inciting the anger of their God. Sorocan's eyes have me immobilized. For months, she's been the warden on the other side of my chains. But, I've always been able to empathize with her at least somewhat. After all, she was only trying to protect her people. Now, though, I don't know how to feel when I witness the desperation in her gaze. Is she even real? Where has the gem taken us? What is this world? Is all of this a dream? A hallucination? If so, then why can't we just sweep through here and get out?

If that was an option, something tells me Sylus would have already done it.

"Speaker, what say you?" The Chieftain lays a hand on Sorocan's shoulder. She finally breaks eye contact with me and bites her lip. She steps up to stand closer to the Chieftain, raising her staff in the air as she addresses the crowd.

"The rules of the Conclave are absolute and binding. Should this White Wolf claim the title of Champion, his wish will be granted."

Deathly silence follows this proclamation. I can't believe she's agreed to it.

"However," she pauses, as though for dramatic effect. "Young warrior, what you have asked for is not for this Speaker to give. The Champion is one chosen by the Gods, blessed with their strength to aid the Tribes. The price of the wish you ask for is steep. You will fight with a handicap, and if you persevere, you may take the gem and the Kismet as your own. Are you in agreement?"

Sylus rubs his long graceful fingers across his bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'll agree to these terms," he says. "So long as you agree to mine. The Kismet is not to be harmed or removed from this village for the duration of the Conclave. She is to remain here. Lastly, the only Kismet I will accept is the woman I hold now. Should these terms be violated," his voice drops to an icy baritone. "You will not be fond of the consequences."

From there, everything is a blur. Sylus stays by my side as the Chieftains and the Speaker say prayers for the coming year ahead. Flowers are scattered throughout the ring to give blessings to the Champion candidates. At last, the horn blows one last time to signal the end of the first day. The opening ceremony of the Conclave is concluded, but the celebrations are half hearted. Sorocan comes to take me away with a group of warriors after the processions are complete. As I turn to follow her back to my tents, Sylus tugs me against him one last time. I thrill as his hand strokes my cheek.

"Wait for me," he says softly then pushes me gently back to my jailer.

I stumble towards her, my knees weak and my heart racing. As I follow her to my quarters, I wrap my arms around myself. My mind reels, thoughts muddled and hazy as I struggle to process the memories of my actual life with everything I've experienced in the last several months here. Now that I remember the truth, I'm more helpless than ever before. I don't have my weapons, my Hunter watch, or any of the gadgets I've grown used to. I can't call for backup, and I have no idea where I am. Did the gem transport us into a Protofield? I've never seen one so extensive, especially not one with other people in it. Were they real? Was it possible to be trapped in a Protofield for this long and survive? And, if this was a Protofield, where was the Wanderer responsible for generating it?

Too many unanswered questions. I wish Tara was here, and remembering her only sharpens my longing for home. I dig my fingers into my arms, pressing my lips together. Whatever the situation may be, moping isn't going to help anything. Besides, I trust Sylus. He'd brought us here for a reason. He told me to wait for him. Sure, but that didn't mean I was going to twiddle my thumbs while I waited at the top of the tower like a princess in a storybook.

If we could simply walk out of this delusion, Sylus wouldn't have agreed to Sorocan's deal. Now that I've seen a part of her true self, I can only imagine what sort of cruel handicap she'll set to ensure Sylus doesn't claim the title of Champion. I can't let my impulses drive any of my decisions. I have to act carefully, no matter how much I want to punch the old woman in front of me well into next week. I grit my teeth when she chains my leg to the post in my yurt and leaves without a word.

Determination realigned, I stand up and start exploring the room. I've made so many rounds in this yurt over the last few months, pacing in circles like a caged tiger. But, I'm different now. I'm no longer a wandering outsider with no memories, but a fully trained Deepspace Hunter. My eyes see more than most, and my mind responds to situations with a strategic outlook.

The chain on my leg is a lost cause. Sylus managed to break it in the arena only thanks to his Evol. I don't have the kind of the strength that requires, nor does my exploration of the yurt leave me with any tools that would be up to the task. I examine the mark on my wrist. If I had to guess, I'd say it reminds me of the Linkage that's trapped Sylus and I together in the past. More than ever, it resembles a coiling serpent.

That thought triggers something, a memory of Sylus standing in the ring.

For a moment, I could have sworn he looked...strange. The image is fuzzy no matter how hard I try to remember it, but I can't forget the horns and tail I saw.

My heart squeezes tightly in my chest. The mark on my wrist throbs. Something catches my attention in the corner of my vision, and I turn my head to see one of the many lavish decorations placed in my quarters as "tribute" to my status. It's a large round and flat piece of reflective metal that's about as tall as I am. I approach and kneel before it, my hands trembling as they reach up to touch my hair.

My long onyx hair that is turning starlight white right before my very eyes.

Eyes that should be green.

I blink, and when I open them again they are crimson red just like Sylus's.

Deeply disturbed, I gasp and back away from the mirror-like object. I bring my hair in front of my face, confirming the change in hue.

What's going on here? How is this possible? I've never experienced effects like this in a Protofield. I squash down a wave of panic, especially when an even bigger fear manifests.

Sylus – the one I held today and the one that asked me to wait for him. Is he a part of this illusion? Is he even real? Am I still lost in this world all alone? Or has he really come to help me escape it?

We will find the truth together – his voice lilts across my memories. It was the last thing he said to me before we were brought to this place.

The truth? What truth?

I take a deep breath and steady myself, but balance remains out of my reach. Minutes drag on like hours, and with each moment's passing I struggle to keep my composure.

That's how Sylus finds me that night.

Unsteady. Uncertain. Full to the brim with trepidation and doubt.

His Evol mist materializes from thin air, first appearing as a ghostly cloud of falling black feathers then swelling into a spinning portal. He steps out of it with his hands in his pockets, the sight so familiar that I can't help but let out a shaky breath of relief. His massive height dwarfs the yurt around me. If possible, he looks even bigger than I recall. The fighter's gear isn't helping. It accents his muscular shoulders, lean powerful waist, and long legs.

Goosebumps break out all across my arms. A pleasant weakness wraps around my knees. I stand up to greet him, and in the span of another breath, he's enveloped me in his reassuring heat and scent. We stay like this for an unknown span of time. I'm not ready to let go yet. I hope he isn't planning on leaving anytime soon because I don't want to be separated from him again. I take another deep breath. Then another. Finally, I pull back to look at his face. His sharp eyes roam over my features. Subconsciously, I flick my hair away from my shoulders. His fingers reach up and tease a white lock between them. For a moment, he looks to be deep in thought.

"Interesting," his eyes snap back up to me, and there's a playful glint in them again.  

"It just...happened...I looked in the mirror and suddenly," I wave my hands in a vague gesture of frustration, struggling for the right words as his thumb softly brushes over my cheekbone. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised anymore. Nothing that's happened here is normal." I stop rambling and worry my bottom lip, acutely aware of his unblinking gaze. "Does it...look weird?"

I peek up at him through my lashes. He looks quite amused, the fiend.

"Didn't I tell you before?" he asks. "No matter what you look like or what title you hold, no matter if you're a Hunter or a Sorceress," the pad of his finger slides down my cheek to tuck some hair behind my ear, "you are Ellara."

"A sorceress," I frown, trying to mask my embarrassment. "Where did that come from?"

The pain from the moment of our reunion slips across his face as quickly as a glare of light across a pool of water. It's a split second. So fast that I doubt my own vision. It's dark in here, after all. Maybe I imagined it. I've seen this man get shot, get sliced with a knife, and suffer other wounds. Yet, I've never seen him really express pain unless it was to tease me and my anxiety.

"You like to read those kinds of novels, don't you? Fantasy stories," he jokes, but the humor is hollow behind his words. "Luke brought one home the other day."

So that's where my favorite book had disappeared to. I pout at Sylus, always amazed at how readily he accepts whatever comes his way. "So, are you going to tell me where we are?"

The tension relaxes from the line of his mouth. His eyes soften from ruby stone into mellow aged wine. He thumbs my earlobe between his fingers. Gently. Teasingly. I squirm back, heat flushing my cheeks.

"If I do, it will ruin the point of the exercise," he smirks.

Folding my arms across my chest, I vent a hot breath of frustration and disbelief. Honestly, this man is quite insufferable when he wants to be. "This isn't funny, Sylus. Do you have any idea what I've been through the last few months in this hell?"

His expression grows somber, though his hand continues to stroke my hair. "I do." His words are full of sincerity, and I wait for him to elaborate.

And wait.

My patience snaps, but somehow I can't be angry with him. Not when I've missed him so much. I reach out and place my hand on the center of his chest. Immediately, he covers it with his own.

"Didn't you tell me we would find the truth together? How does keeping secrets help anything?"

Sylus says nothing, just pulls me against him again. I hate it when he leaves me out of things; when he tries to keep me at a distance to "protect me". I want to prove that I'm strong enough to walk in his world right beside him, not behind him. But, right now, this embrace feels too good; he feels too good. I abandon my questioning for now. The tension that's been building inside me for months has snapped like a rubber band. I can't help feeling that everything will be alright now that he's here.

He lifts me into his arms, glaring down at the chain on my foot. Black and red mist gathers around us, making his silver hair sway with the breeze. With a snap of his fingers, the chain around me evaporates into black ash. My heartbeat quickens. I have to admit I find that threatening irked expression of his insanely hot. And his power, too. It should scare me, but instead it just...

I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat.

"Sylus..."

"Shush, kitten," he rumbles down at me. "Let me hold you. These months haven't been a walk in the park for me, either."

Oblivious to the direction of my fanciful thoughts, he walks to an arrangement of luxurious furs, handwoven red and gold blankets, and plume-stuffed cotton pillows decorating a wide sofa. It's an area that acts like a lounge for eating and receiving company. Of course, my company has been nonexistent these months. It's all for show, just like my fancy jewelry and clothes. I've grown to hate this spot, sitting on my own, curled in a ball, only able to see sunlight through a slit in the tent.

I want to protest his choice of destination and wrap my arms tighter around him. But, I don't get a chance. In moments, Sylus settles us comfortably among the silks, wool, and fur. He positions me in his lap and wraps me in a white fox-fur blanket while he leans against the wooden spine of the seat. The four-seater looks like it will barely fit one more now that he's sprawled in it.

He reaches down and slips off my shoes one by one, tossing them carelessly in some random direction. My toes curl. Despite the blanket, I shiver in the chill of the coming night. The maids haven't come to do their evening rounds yet. Usually they would have come by now to stoke the fire and set up a hot bath.

The thought startles me.

"Sylus, if someone sees you here–"

"They won't," he says, matter of fact. I frown at his fighter's gear.

"Aren't you cold wearing this?"

Not that I mind the view.

Not in the least.

The expanse of his abdomen has me mesmerized for a moment before I force myself to look away. I don't dare look at him; he always seems to know when I ogle his body and can be quite smug about it. Hopefully he missed it just this one time in the darkness. Despite my criticism, I'm already reaching up to toy with a few of the multi-colored braids tethered to his chest piece. They're softer than they look. Each one is an enemy defeated. Each one is its own challenge overcome.

"Worried about me?" Sylus huffs. As if he doesn't know that I really do worry. Too much.

Ignoring him, I snag another nearby blanket with my toes and awkwardly pull it up. It takes some shuffling – Sylus looking far too amused all the while – but I manage to wrap it around his shoulders.

"You're fighting tomorrow," I fuss at him. "What's going to happen if you get sick?"

"It's not that cold," he chuckles.

It is though; it's just that he radiates more heat than any normal human being.

"Honestly speaking," his eyes captivate me as his voice drops to a low drawl, "I prefer your warmth to this covering."

"Well, I'm too small to cover all of you, so..."

I work hard to keep my thoughts in line as I wrap the fur around him. As I do, I notice something off about the leather of his gear. It's quite worn in some spots, and there's stains. Dark ones. I rub at them with my finger until I have no doubt as to their origin. Old blood. I've seen it often enough to know.

Uncomfortable, I bite the inside of my lip, thinking back to what he said about the hardships he's had to face here. What did he have to overcome to find me? What deals did he have to make?

He urges me to look at him. "It's not my blood," he says as though reading my mind.

"You always tell me that lie," I frown and wrap my arms around him. "When are you going to realize that it does the opposite of what you intend?"

His sensual mouth curves into a bitter smile. We lapse into silence for a while. One of his hands strokes my hair, and I let myself relax into him, giving in to the waves of pleasure. Who knows how long we have left to be together tonight? Who knows when I'll be able to see him again? Here we are, worlds away from Linkon and N-109, and nothing has really changed except the color of my eyes and hair.

Is there a reality where we don't have to part at the end of every meeting? Is there a place where we could be...more?

Maybe it's not a place. Maybe it's a choice. But, it's not one I can easily make. At least, not without giving up other things I love.

"Mmm...It's warmer now," Sylus breathes, resting his chin on top of my head. He shifts, and I instinctively tighten my grip on him.

"Don't go," I whisper.

"I'm just moving you to the bed. You should rest."

"Don't want to..."

A sound of amusement tickles the ear that's not pressed against his chest. "If you don't want to lie down, I can hold you until I leave."

"What if I don't want you to leave?" I throw out the challenge but chicken out of making eye contact.

"Then, I suppose..." he caresses a confident trail up my spine, "we'd better make the most of our time before dawn." I nearly give a very unladylike moan when his hand settles on the nape of my neck and starts to massage my tense muscles.

"Sounds...promising..."

"Are you sure?" he murmurs, a thrilling teasing edge to his tone. "Weren't you worried about me being seen?"

"Maybe Sorocan's way of getting back at me is...ugh...denying me dinner and a bath..."

"Hmm...seems rather petty of her."

"Stars, that feels amazing..."

"She's always been a small-minded one."

I can't muster up two fractals to give about Sorocan and her retribution right now. As Sylus's hand travels down from my neck to my shoulders, I go limp as a ragdoll in his arms. Closing my eyes, I float in the darkness and nuzzle into his neck. His lips press against my forehead and linger before pulling away. After a few minutes, he does it again. My temple this time.

Gentle, doting, and sensual kisses.

It's relaxing...until it's not.

Suddenly I'm aware of how soft those lips feel; hot, pliant, and just moist enough to leave a cool sensation in their wake. Their slight drag against my skin makes me shiver in anticipation. Meanwhile, his other hand starts moving, too, stroking ever so softly over the ridges of my thigh. I love how his huge palm dwarfs me; love the feeling of him completely and utterly trapping me against him. I'm reminded of that steamy night in my tiny shower cabinet; of his sinful mouth and tongue between my legs.

I shift around restlessly. The next time he leans in, I open my eyes and tilt my face up. Without pausing, I slide my hand along his cheek and twine my fingers into his silky hair. Pulling gently, I coax him into a kiss. Once. Twice. Our lips mold together gently at first, our eyes open and devouring each other. Both of us a little hesitant as though each one of us is afraid the other will vanish at any moment. I grow bolder with each touch, however, and soon I'm shifting my position to straddle him on the seat.

With our fronts pressed against each other and my legs on either side of him, I can no longer deny my need. Maybe I should feel bad about that. After all, we're trapped in some kind of mutant Protofield and we have no idea what it's going to throw at us next. But, maybe that's even more reason to act on feelings like this now. As a Hunter and as the leader of Onychinus, we are both all too aware of how short life can be.

As we drown in each other's red eyes, his right one begins to glow.

Devour him...comes the voice again.

He's yours...always been yours to claim...

I reach up and brush the pads of my fingers along his cheekbone right under his glowing eye. His sharp gaze traces my movement, and he shifts back just enough for me to notice. But, he doesn't stop me. His brows are relaxed, his pupils dilated. Even in the darkness, I can see a faint tinge of pink flushing his cheeks.

"Are you looking into my heart?" I ask him, feathering across his cheek to his ear.

"You wear it on your sleeve, kitten," he tilts his head and nuzzles into my touch. "I don't need to use this eye to know what you desire."

"Then...am I being too greedy...if I ask you to keep these eyes only on me?"

He catches my hand with his and joins them in a way I've grown to long for. A faint light pulses between our palms as my Evol yearns to Resonate with his. To join with him. Be one. Our bodies, too. And our hearts.

"You've always had that right," he answers huskily, kissing each of my knuckles in turn. "Perhaps it's been said before," he kisses down to my wrist, "somewhere in another time and place, but..." I gasp when he bites me gently right in the crease of my palm. "Only you can touch me like this. There is no other." My face flushes, my belly tensing and aching as his tongue wraps around one of my fingers and draws it into his mouth. I pull back, frightened of how good it feels.

"Don't run from me," he whispers, and I balk at a new expression I've never seen him show me before. Need. Raw need. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes consuming me, undressing me. Beneath my other hand, his heart is pounding just as fast as mine.

Devour him...

"Sylus, I'm hearing something...a voice. It's telling me to...devour you."

"Then why don't you?" he asks, unafraid. "I'm more than happy to be your prey." His long-fingered hands and broad palms whisper down my sides, encircling my waist, lifting me up. "And...to experience everything you have to offer in return."

He leans forward, locking our lips together again. My eyes drift closed, body thrumming with a growing primal hunger. As his wicked tongue enters my mouth, those same hands grasp my hips and grind me down against his hardening length. The thick cotton trews leave nothing to the imagination. Just anticipating him entering me - stretching me, filling me until I can't think or move or –

"Tell me again, sweetie, do you want it?"

"Yes," I manage to gasp out before I'm entirely submerged the flames of his desire. His kisses are more fiery than usual. We come together then break apart in short bursts of passion. Soon, every breath he takes steals mine away. I float in dizziness and euphoria until I push against him to come up for air.

"Sylus...I can't breathe..." White strands of my hair fall across my face, and he gently brushes them aside. It's so dark now that I can hardly make out his features. I gasp as his lips slide down to my breasts. He yanks the ties out of my blouse in a single motion, peeling away the fabric. Our hands join again – as if he can't stand for them to be apart – and he gently guides them behind my back to support me, allowing me to relax. I cry out as his scorching kisses counter winter's chill against my skin, sighing as he suckles first one nipple then the other.

I'm squirming now, frustrated at being able to feel him at my core yet missing the pressure that will drive me higher.

"We should...hnn...light the fire...hey, no biting there," I mumble incoherently, complaining yet not truly displeased. Sylus ghosts his lips over the bite on the swell of my breast, easing the ache. He releases my hand so he can grind my hips harder against him, and I arch back, needing more and more. My fingers tangle further in his hair.

"It's OK. I don't need to see," he sighs against my skin. "I can feel every inch of you, and darkness..." his hands slip beneath my skirts, running fiery trails up my legs to my hips, "... makes a person more sensitive."

The initial contact of his talented fingers with my dripping folds is so intense it has me clawing at him. Pleasure knifes through me as he slides those same fingers against my core, touching my clit just enough to make my whole body shudder. My thoughts melt away, leaving nothing but sensation. I can't help the greedy whine that leaves my mouth as he worships my breasts with his mouth and makes teasing passes against my entrance down below.

"Your body is hotter than your lips," he declares between long sweet kisses. "I missed this taste." He nuzzles his chin against my chest. "Missed your scent." In response to the excitement in his voice, more wetness rushes down my thighs. "So wet and soft," he groans, "mmm...kitten..."

I'm so hungry for him now I can hardly think straight. My hands trace the delicious expanse of his smooth chest, running down the valley of his abs down to the hem of his pants. I fumble, clumsy and shaky as I seek to undo unfamiliar ties and drawstrings. He seems to shift away, and I make some kind of noise in protest.

"Now, now...focus, sweetie," he growls into my ear.

"T-Trying...you keep moving..." I mumble.

"No, not on that." He presses his thumb against my clit, forcing me to stop my assault on his pants and to dig my nails into his arm. "Focus here."

I can't stop moaning and whimpering as he inserts first one finger then another inside me, pumping them both in a torturous steady rhythm. Slow enough to make me see stars; slow enough to make me bite into his skin. His hands don't stop for a moment, giving me no quarter, the pace never changing even as I start to buck and moan against him. My orgasm is just out of reach. I recognize this brand of play, but this time it feels like I might cry if he drags this out anymore than he already is.

"No more," I beg him. "I want to...want to..."

Still maintaining the same pace inside me, he gives me a wicked smile. "Just a little more, sweetie. A little higher. You can endure it, can't you?"

His tone is mischievous and sly. Even in this state, I can't resist his challenge. Biting my lip, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ride out the euphoria of his teasing. Time loses meaning. Again, I come close to the peak; again, he navigates me back down and away from it. Another few seconds, and I'm begging again.

"Sy...lus...please...let me...let me..."

"I think you can go higher," he drawls. "If you can hold on a little longer, I'll do as you like." His words drip honeyed promises. "I'll flip you over right under me and let you take as much of me as you can handle." I stop breathing momentarily as his fingers move in time with each of his words. "Just...like...this..."

The sounds of him moving inside my gushing center is lewd and mortifying. I try to shy away from it, but Sylus isn't having any of that.

"A little more," he croons, his own voice breathy and husky with yearning. "I want you to show me how much you missed me these long months apart."

Tears sting at my eyes and stream down my face. My whole body is shaking and trembling. Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm talking, but nothing that I'm saying is registering. The pad of his thumb brushes against my cheeks.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his fingers slowing even more. I might scream. Genuinely.

I shake my head, insistent. "No, Sylus. Just take me. Please."

His smooth chuckle makes my walls clench tight around him. He kisses up along my neck, nibbling on my ear. "Alright, since you asked me so nicely."

Whatever he does next with his fingers nearly renders me unconscious. My climax slams into me so hard that my soul leaves my body. I float in and out of awareness until a pair of hands lifts me up again and spreads me open in the most intimate of ways. I hold my breath.

"You did so well for me, kitten. Let me reward you." Even as his sultry voice echoes in my ears, I see stars again as he slides into me. Slowly, carefully, gently. When he's all the way inside, he churns his hips and settles in. Just a little too big; a little too much. Sylus curses now against my jaw; his big body is shaking, too. He's losing his composure swiftly. If he doesn't move now, I'm going to lose my mind.

"Take me, Sylus...I can't wait anymore..."

With a sexy groan, he pulls partially out of me then thrusts back in. He's still moving slowly, as though he's afraid of breaking me. It's not an unreasonable concern. Our bodies are so different, one might think they'd never be compatible. But, just a few thrusts in, discomfort melts into sweet ambrosia. My whimpers turn into moans and cries and more nonsensical begging until slow sweet love-making transforms into a desperate animalistic rut. He rolls me onto the furs on the floor and looms over me as he thrusts his cock as deep as it will go. The yurt is filled with the sounds of slapping flesh and throaty moans, neither one of us concerned about someone overhearing our exertions now. We're too lost in each other, too deeply joined and blissful to care about such things. 

Pressure builds and builds in my belly until I really do explode. When I nearly fall over, Sylus holds me up. As I struggle to get my bearings, he keeps pounding into me, leaning over to whisper darker things into my ear.

"Look at you taking me to the hilt...you are a greedy one..."

I mumble something in response, but I'm too delirious to comprehend it. The second time I climax, it happens in sync with his own orgasm. Sylus moans in pleasure, and as I bask in the incredible sound of his voice lilting like that, he fills me with his hot cum. It leaks out of me and drips down my thighs as my legs and arms shake and tremble.

"Looks like we can't use this blanket anymore," he teases, breathing hard. "Should I get a new one?"

I shake my head and lose all strength in my limbs. Sylus catches me against him and stands, walking us to the bed. Everything is spinning, and I can't reconcile the way I feel like I'm about to pass out. Sylus whispers my name, but even when I open my eyes I can't see anything in the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Sylus...so tired..."

"There's a hot bath set up in the White Wolf's tent," he says. "Can I take you there to get cleaned up?"

I nod weakly.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," he kisses my forehead, though his voice is entirely unrepentant. "Perhaps I was too mean tonight."

"Next time," I promise. "I'll make sure to return the favor."

Next time, I'll make him beg.

His chest rumbles with a laugh. "Do you have to be competitive right now?" When I don't immediately answer him, he sets me on the bed and readjusts his clothes.

I prop myself up on my elbow. "It's late, maybe you should–"

He stops me with a finger to my lips. "Let me take care of you."

"But, the fight tomorrow..."

"A guaranteed victory." Wrapping another large blanket around me, he takes me into his arms in preparation for a Jump.

"You can't be arrogant about it. You don't even know your handicap."

"You're overthinking it. We need to win in order to get out of here, right? So, that's what I'll do. There's no more to it than that."

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 4 - Blood of the Dragon

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, eventual Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: none, it's actually a really cute chapter imo, there's like one swear word

Masterlist

"Nobody truly knows what happened when young Daena entered the cave of the Bronze Fury. We can only speculate as to what happened. What we do know is that in the early hours of the next day, the local smallfolk of Dragonstone heard a deafening roar and witnessed the great bronze beast flying alongside the shore. On his back was the little Princess. It is said she flew over the entire Gullet and some say Vermithor's song was heard as far south as Massey's Hook.

Her absence was only noticed when one of the maids tasked with waking her up realized the Princess was missing from her room. The entire castle was in an uproar. Daemon was furious and swore he would mount the head of every man who failed to find her. To his relief, she was found on one of the cliffs near the castle, and next to her was the dragon of the Old King. She was petting and kissing him like he was a giant cat and to everyone's surprise, the dragon seemed to enjoy it. She would forever be known as Daena the Audacious."

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

107 AC, Dragonstone

Daemon was woken up by someone obnoxiously banging on his door. "WHAT?" He yelled, annoyed. A young maid came in quickly, the one that was assigned to Daena. 

"M-my Prince..." She stuttered, terrified of further angering the Rogue Prince. 

"Spit it out, woman! What happened?" He yelled. 

"P-Princess Daena...she's g-gone. She's not in her b-bed chambers..." She managed to say.

"WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S GONE!?" Daemon jumped out of bed, dismissed the girl, and quickly got dressed. He walked out into the hallway and started barking out orders. 

"If you don't find her, I'll mount all of your fucking heads on a spike! Do you understand me!? " He yelled, furious. 

The entire castle was on its feet, trying to find the missing princess. Every guard, every maid, every single servant was looking for her. "Where could she have possibly gone?" Daemon murmured as he gripped the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword Dark Sister, his anger rising by the second.

He was currently in her bed chambers, looking to see if there were any signs of a fight or if she was forcibly taken. Nothing like that was found. Besides a messy bed, everything was fine...except the riding suit she came in and her boots. 

"She must have slipped out during the night, unnoticed." Maester Gerardys said. Daemon sighed and pinched his nose. Then, high above the castle, a thunderous roar could be heard.

"My Prince! It's the Princess! She...she's with Vermithor!" A guard informed Daemon, who was sprinting down the castle toward the main gate. This news stopped Daemon in his tracks. 

"What did you just say?" Daemon asked, not believing his ears. 

"She..she flew on Vermithor." The guard repeated. Daemon laughed, not caring for what anyone might say. 

"My brave little girl..." He said with the biggest smile on his face. He then ran outside of the castle. What he saw next would become one of his favorite memories ever. 

Daena's POV

Daena has never felt happier. She was flying on the back of the second-largest dragon in the world. After singing him the lullaby her father always sang to her, she experienced something she only ever dreamed of - she bonded with a dragon. And not just any dragon - Vermithor the Bronze Fury was now her mount and she his rider. They flew over the entire Gullet and if Daena was correct, even flew over the island of Driftmark. She didn't have time to fasten the belts on the saddle so she was holding on for dear life. At one point a flock of seagulls almost hit her in the face, had she not ducked down. 

She didn't know how to feel, or what to think. Her heart was full of joy and pride, for she had finally become a dragon rider, just like her father. Excitement was flowing through her veins, her dragon blood singing with happiness. It was cold and windy, but she felt nothing but the warmth that radiated off of Vermithor. She held tightly to the handles in front of her. All she could see was the sea beneath her and the stars above her. This is what freedom feels like, she thought as they flew even higher above the clouds. 

Once the sun began to rise, she thought it was about time to head back. Vermithor complied with her wishes and headed back for Dragonstone. In what felt like no time, she could see the outlines of the island. Vermithor circled the island one more time and with a mighty roar landed on one of the cliffs near the castle. From atop Vermithor, she could see many people running toward her: guards, dragon keepers, and...her father. She sighed and climbed down the ropes. Once her feet hit the ground she was met with the stern lilac eyes of her father. 

"Skoros lo ao morghūltan? Ao dovodedha riña...Ao drējī issi ñuha tala." (What if you died? You silly girl...you truly are my daughter) He said with the biggest smile Daena had ever seen.

"Are you upset with me?" Daena asked carefully. 

"What? No! I...I am so proud of you, my love. I have never been prouder!" He told her sincerely and hugged her tightly. Daena could feel that he was being honest. 

~

Daemon has never been prouder in his life. He has never been happier, besides the day Daena was born. His little girl claimed Vermithor, the Bronze Fury. He felt like the proudest father in the world! But he knew what Daena did wasn't right and it needed reprimanding. In the privacy of Daena's room, he sat her down on her bed. He looked at her and saw the biggest smile on her face. 

"My sweet girl, what you did was brave...and foolish." He started and saw the smile disappear from her face. 

"I want you to know that I'm proud of you and you have proved to everyone the strength of Targaryen blood, but you shouldn't have gone out alone. You could've been killed! What would I do then, hmmm?"  He continued and she looked down, embarrassed.

"What would I do without my favorite girl? You're my everything, you know that? I would pluck the stars from the sky if it meant you were happy. But you mustn't be so reckless, do you understand?" He asked as he lifted her chin with his finger. She nodded, refusing to look at him. 

"Jurnegon rȳ nyke." (Look at me.) He told her. She looked up at him with glossy eyes. Her lip trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. 

"Iksan vaoreznuni Kepa. Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon skoros māstan toliot nyke." (I am sorry Father. I don't know what came over me.) She said quietly. He wiped the tears from her face. 

"Don't cry, sweet girl. I do want you to be happy but I also want you to be safe. No more running around without my permission. Understood?" He asked again. She nodded and sniffled. 

"Now. You will go and take a bath and then we can have breakfast together. How does that sound?" He asked softly. 

"It sounds wonderful. Thank you, Father."  She replied with a smile. 

After taking a bath and dressing in a simple silk dress in a pretty shade of dark red, her hair was braided by one of the maids. She was escorted to her father's personal bed chambers. There he was, looking out of the window while holding Dark Sister in his hands. 

"Father." She calls, and he turns. He smiles at her and tells her to sit down. She does and they start eating. He asked her about how she got into the caves and how she bonded with Vermithor. She answered all his questions to the best of her abilities. Once they were done with the food, Daemon beckoned her over.

"I'll have to teach you how to control him, how to talk to him, how to fly." He says to her as he caresses her cheek. She smiles. 

"I would love that. Thank you, Father, for being so understanding", and with that, she left to further explore her ancestral home. 

Daena walked around the castle with no particular goal in mind. She walked through the meandering halls and came upon a great stone door. She carefully pushed the door and the sight in front of her took her breath away. 

"The throne room..." she whispered to herself as her eyes fell upon the magnificent throne that was cut into a giant slab of stone. She slowly walked across the room. The room was bathed in the faint light of the late morning. No one else was present and the only thing that could be heard were the slow footsteps of the princess. 

"Would it be treason to sit on the throne?" Daena thought as she eyed the throne. She approached the throne, standing on the staircase that led to it. "It looks more comfortable than the Iron Throne, that's for certain" she mused.  She was about to touch it, but at the last second, she pulled her hand away.

Instead, she turned her head left and saw an archway leading to another room. She followed it and came upon a room with a beautiful balcony and sea view. There were dragon carvings on the wall, a table, and some chairs in the middle of the room. She leaned her elbows against the balcony and looked at the waves below. "I could live here..." she thought as a light breeze kissed her skin. 

---

High Valyrian:

Skoros lo ao morghūltan? - What if you died?

Ao dovodedha riña...Ao drējī issi ñuha tala - You silly girl...you truly are my daughter

Jurnegon rȳ nyke. - Look at me. 

Iksan vaoreznuni Kepa. - I am sorry Father. 

Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon skoros māstan toliot nyke. - I don't know what came over me. 

***

Little Daena is finally a dragon rider! Daemon is ofc, the proudest dad in the whole of Westeros. Next chapter we'll see how the other characters react to the news.

Hope you liked it, and thanks for reading! ❤❤❤

If you have any opinions feel free to comment!

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (6/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.4k

Feyre and Rhys finally get their reunion Under the Mountain

Read on AO3 or you can find the sixth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running

"What the hell are you doing here, Feyre?" Rhys hissed, lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

I'd expected this. It wasn't as if I'd thought he'd fall to his knees in gratitude, not after weeks of shutting me out. That didn't make it any less aggravating. If I could have growled like a faerie, I would have.

At least, though, he'd said it aloud instead of in my head. He must have put a shield up so we could speak freely. "I wasn't going to leave you down here to rot," I said. My voice had a congested quality that definitely confirmed my nose was broken. I winced, and even just that slight motion in my face hurt, too.

"You were supposed to be safe. If nothing else, that was the one thing—"

I cut him off. After spending six weeks with the family he'd bound to Velaris for their own safety, I didn't need to hear this. "Who did you kill, Rhys?"

His eyes flashed, and for a moment, I thought he might ignore the question and keep ranting at me, but he said, "A human woman about your size. I mangled her corpse so it was unrecognizable, glamoured it to smell like you, and left it for Tamlin to find. Amarantha was delighted I'd sent him a clear message to think twice about breaking the curse, and I didn't want anyone to come looking for you."

I'd thought he'd done something on her orders, not planned it all himself. That cold, calculating nature should have scared me, made me question exactly what sort of person I'd come Under the Mountain for. There was truth to the stories about the brutal, wicked Night Court. And I didn't really know Rhys, either.

But what I did know was that if it were me, I would have done the same thing. I wouldn't have come here if I weren't prepared to kill for him, too.

"What you're telling me," I said slowly, half-thinking aloud as I tried to understand, "is that you felt strongly enough about me to kill on my behalf after one night, but you didn't think I'd come back for you?"

The darkness rippled around him, and it nearly blocked out the last of the light. Something about it made his ragged breathing seem louder. "You have no idea how relieved I was when you got to Ve— When you got home. All of this was worth it if you were safe. But now you're not." His voice broke on the last word.

I didn't regret coming here, but I understood. Taking a life wasn't easy, even if it was necessary, and the guilt of learning it turned out to be in vain was a heavy thing. I knew that firsthand because of Andras. Rhys was carrying around fifty years' worth of that sort of baggage, on top of being violated in every conceivable way and terrified for me and his family.

That fury was fine by me, as long he didn't let it drag him down into inaction.

"You clearly think you're worthless, so If it makes you feel better, tell yourself I'm doing this for all of Prythian instead." He went quiet and utterly still, the way only a faerie could. Perhaps it had been too harsh, throwing his sense of self-worth out there like that, but I needed him to get it together enough to do something. When he didn't respond, I continued, "I can't go back now, so help instead of lecturing me."

If he didn't, I realized, it would break me. After years of shouldering too much responsibility in that cabin because no one else could get over their feelings enough to help, I wouldn't survive coming Under the Mountain just to discover it was more of the same.

But it would be just my luck to end up with a mate who'd do that to me.

"Did you think I haven't been helping this whole time?" he said, and if I wasn't mistaken, there was hurt there. "Tamlin gave her your name, not me. While those faeries were beating you, I broke into their minds and ensured they didn't leave any permanent damage. It was the best I could do without them realizing I was in their heads. There were too many of them for me to also get into yours and take away your pain. I'm…sorry it wasn't enough."

I let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wall, careful not to press on any bruises. Rhys was staring at a spot on the floor, not looking at me, and seeing the defeated slump in his shoulders hurt worse than all my injuries.

"Thank you," I said softly, "for all of it. I didn't— It's not that— I just…needed to know that you're in my corner. That's enough. You're enough."

I could have sworn his throat bobbed, but in the dim light I couldn't be sure. He reached a hand towards my face and paused. "May I?"

I nodded, and Rhys ran his thumb along my cheek, brushing the sliver of skin between my black eye and swollen upper lip. In the half-second his fingertips skimmed my skin, something electric crossed the bond. Our eyes locked—we'd both felt it.

His gaze turned predatory again, and some knot of tension deep within me unraveled, just a little. I liked it better when he was looking at me like that.

Even if my body was currently a swollen, bruised mess.

"I can't heal everything without arousing suspicion, but I won't let a crooked nose mar the most beautiful face in Prythian," he said.

I blinked, sure that a blow to my head must have addled my brain, too. No, he couldn't possibly… "Are you flirting with me? Now?"

"If not now, when?" he said with another graceful shrug. I couldn't argue with that. As unafraid as I was, especially with him so close again, there was still the very distinct possibility we'd both die here, sooner rather than later. He must have thought the same because his expression went grave. "I have to set it in place first. It will hurt."

I didn't hesitate. "Just do it. I won't scream."

"So stoic," he drawled, lips curling into a half-smile. I couldn't tell if he was mocking me or not. "Are you sure I'm not the only Illyrian here?"

Until that mention of Illyria, I hadn't thought much about his wings. I hadn't known they existed until Azriel mentioned it offhand, but now I wondered if there was a reason I hadn't seen them. Amarantha certainly seemed fond of ripping wings off.

But now wasn't the time. I just looked at him expectantly until he brought his fingers to the bridge of my nose and pushed.

I dug my nails into my palms through the crunch of bone on bone and sharp stab of pain. I just looked into his violet eyes and let them keep me steady. It was over in a heartbeat.

I inhaled sharply, and pain lanced through my ribs where they were still bruised. But at least the throbbing in my face had stopped. "Thanks," I said.

He kissed the tip of my newly-healed nose, then carefully leaned his forehead against the patch of mine that was uninjured. I heard him breathe in deeply and realized he must have been scenting me. Or at least, scenting Mor's glamour that made me smell like I did before I'd accepted the mating bond.

With my dull human senses, I couldn't smell much on him, as much as I wished I could, just so I'd know for myself what the fae were all talking about. He'd probably glamoured himself, too.

Though I couldn't smell anything, I still closed my eyes and let it wash over me that he was here, touching me, and in one piece. The bond was less taut than it had been in weeks.

All too soon, he straightened up and said, "We need to plan while I have time with you."

"How did you manage to get down here for so long anyway?" I said, then regretted it as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I was probably better off not knowing the answer.

"I tired her out," Rhys said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. I nearly retched, but he just waved his hand to indicate it was no big deal, an elegant gesture completely at odds with the dank cell around us.

He was putting up a front, but there was no use pushing for the truth when I felt what it cost him.

Instead, I stepped around him and started to pace. It felt better to be up and moving, even if it was just a loop of the cell. He leaned against the wall, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"There's nothing stopping them from attacking me again, is there?" I said.

If that beating had been a greeting worthy of Amarantha's hall, it could only mean there was more to come. And if Rhys could winnow down here and put up a shield, anyone else could follow suit and do whatever they wanted with me. I doubted the guards would intervene.

"Whatever I'd have to subject you to in order to get you out of this cell might be worse," Rhys said. "I may be able to spare you pain, but not humiliation."

I considered that for a moment, unsure if I'd take a loss of dignity over broken bones. It sounded as if he was already considering something, though. "What are you thinking?"

"I can keep you with me if I treat you as a toy to taunt Tamlin with. Dress you up, degrade you in front of your so-called beloved, and make it clear to everyone else that I don't share."

It hardly sounded pleasant, but I'd endure it if it meant getting out of this cell. And beyond that, the mating bond kept pulling me to him, no matter the consequences. Perhaps the sensible choice would be to stay out of sight—and potentially out of mind—but I just wanted to be as close to Rhys as I possibly could.

There was also a small, vindictive part of me that hoped it might actually make Tamlin feel some guilt.

"There are worse fates," I said.

Rhys sighed, running a hand through his blue-black hair. The motion drew my attention to the way his hair shone in the torchlight, and I tried not to let thoughts about running my hand through it distract me. "The trouble is, it may cause complications when we all get out of here."

He said "when" and not "if"—his hope wasn't gone. But that wasn't the point, and I wasn't sure what he was getting at. "Complications?"

"A human will have enough trouble being respected as Lady of the Night Court, if…you want that," he said, and I didn't miss the note of uncertainty in his voice, that slight hesitation. Before I could say something about it, he added, "Parading you like that in front of everyone here will make it worse, even after revealing it's a ruse."

Rhys was right, as impossible as it seemed that we'd have a future where I'd be attending state dinners on his arm. That sort of thing was too ridiculous to even consider whether or not I wanted it, and I'd almost forgotten I'd inadvertently ended up with a title.

I made a frustrated noise and paced faster. It was still tempting to take him up on it and say we'd handle the long-term consequences when it came to that. But there had to be more options.

An idea came to me. I stopped in my tracks and turned on my heel to face him. "What about my maidenhead?"

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light in the dark cell, but Rhys's face seemed to go paler. "Your maidenhead?" he said, the first time I'd heard him sound anything close to horrified. "Cauldron Feyre, on Calanmai, did I—"

The logical part of me doubted he'd care I wasn't a virgin, not after what Mor had told me about how he'd reacted when she'd lost hers. But still, as unfair as it was, plenty of males and men did care, and my gut twisted with something unpleasant at the prospect of Rhys finding me lacking in some way.

"You didn't. And before you ask, Tamlin didn't, either." He visibly relaxed at that and started to say something, but I cut him off because I had no desire to swap our sexual histories here Under the Mountain. "But no one else needs to know that if you can ensure Tamlin and Lucien won't expose the lie. Tell everyone you intend to make an event of taking my virginity. It would give you a reason to make sure no one touches me and still leave me down here."

His eyes glittered again, his expression melting into something I'd seen on his face at least once before. It wasn't quite interest or fascination or wonder, but it was close. Rhysand looked…bewitched.

It was probably just another strange effect of the mating bond.

"Now there's an idea," he said, pressing his long, elegant fingers together under his chin. "It would work, if only for a short while. They'll question why I haven't just done it if it drags on too long, but I'll take whatever time we can get. I'll ward the cell and have someone trusted bring a change of clothes and body paint for when Amarantha drags you out for housework."

I smiled, understanding exactly where he was going with this. "And of course you'll have to come down here frequently to ensure the paint is still intact."

"It would be far too important a task to delegate," he purred.

I still wasn't quite sure what Rhys was to me or what I wanted—and I doubted I'd figure it out Under the Mountain—but at the very least, he was a teammate and co-conspirator now. And he seemed like an excellent one.

I resumed my pacing and pretended not to notice how closely his violet eyes tracked my movement. "And the riddle? Has she given it any consideration?"

"Not yet, and before you ask, we've all been barred from helping you solve it or telling you the first task. I have her ear, and I'll keep pushing her to make plans that play to your strengths."

I'd figured that would be the case, but it was good to hear Rhys confirm it. Prythian was not a place you could run on assumptions alone.

He shared as much information as he could—the locations of every room he knew Under the Mountain, the names and faces of the trusted shadow wraiths here with him, the schedules of when the dungeon guards changed shifts. The talons brushing my mind were familiar now, even a bit comforting, but I'd never get used to the way he could just deposit information directly with his daemati abilities.

Rhys cocked his head, and his eyes went a bit distant for a moment, as if he were listening for something a long way off. I wasn't sure if it was someone's mind or just a sound too faint for human ears.

"I don't have to go right this moment, but soon," he said.

I nodded. It would hurt to see him disappear again, but getting this much time alone together was a gift. I wished I knew when it would happen again.

If it would happen again.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing because when he spoke again, he stumbled over his words, something that even after a short time together, I knew rarely happened. Actually, it might never have happened before. "Feyre, do you mind if I…Could— Could you please come here and take a seat?" he said.

I didn't understand the request, but I trusted him, so I sat down on the pallet of hay in the far corner of my cell. Looking back over my shoulder, I watched him sink to his knees behind me. "That bruise towards the top of your ribs is going to make it uncomfortable to lift your arm, at least for another day or two," he added, as if that explained it.

I still wasn't sure what that had to do with anything until I felt him slide the tie off the end of what was left of my braid. He untangled my hair with his fingers, smoothing it out without pulling too hard or yanking my scalp backwards.

With more deftness than I'd assumed he was capable of, Rhys began braiding at my hairline, securely weaving in the sections around my face so they wouldn't fall out. The braid would probably last a few days, long enough for the bruise to fade by the time I needed to fix my hair—he'd clearly done this before. I almost asked about it, but Mor had mentioned a sister when she'd explained the bad blood between Rhys and Tamlin. It seemed better not to risk bringing her up now, if that was who he'd last done this for.

I suspected it might have been easier to talk about this when I wasn't looking at him; after a moment, he said softly, "I won't be there if you wake up and vomit tonight, so consider this my way of holding your hair back for you."

I willed myself not to cry.

Instead, once he finished, I turned to face him and thought back to Calanmai—perhaps we were destined to always end up on our knees together somewhere underground. "Thank you," I said, resisting the urge to pull the braid over my shoulder and fiddle with the end. "And you have a lifeline, too, you know. Use it." For emphasis, I tugged on the bond.

Rhys gave me a single nod, and I took that to mean he had every intention of continuing to shut me out as much as he could. I wouldn't push.

"Don't think I'm not still upset with you, but while we can speak face-to-face, I should say that you were brilliant in that throne room. It was a clever bit of bargaining. And I know you were training before, but that much tenacity can't be taught. It's an innate gift."

A smile tugged at my lips. "That's the nicest way anyone's ever called me stubborn."

And impossibly, Rhys smiled back, perhaps his first genuine smile in fifty years Under the Mountain. I wanted to make it happen again.

I stood, taking note of which parts of my body groaned in protest as I rose to my feet. I held a hand out to help him up, and he took it, not that he needed it. Somehow, even just the simple act of getting up from the floor was imbued with feline grace when Rhys did it. If he'd never done a single clumsy thing in his life, I wouldn't be surprised.

He didn't drop my hand, and somehow I could tell this was goodbye. "Stay safe," I whispered.

"You, too."

He studied my face for a moment, and from the way his gaze dropped to my lips, I suspected he was debating whether the swelling in my face had subsided enough to kiss me. Unfortunately, it hadn't.

Instead, he bent at the waist and kissed my knuckles in a gesture that struck me as strangely aristocratic, as if he were courting me in a ballroom and not stealing a few moments in a dungeon. Before I could say anything else, he disappeared into shadow.

I sighed and decided to take in my surroundings to get my mind off the empty hole that formed in my chest the second he'd left. My weapons were gone, of course, and other than the pallet, the only other object in the room was a bucket, probably for me to relieve myself in. I picked it up, debating whether it was worth trying to tear off the handle to use as a makeshift weapon.

At some point, a miserable meal of stale bread and water appeared for me. I scarfed it down, thinking to myself I'd survived on less before. Given the choice, I'd take deer tripe over the bread, but this still wasn't nearly as bad as the days I'd resorted to chewing on tree bark. I suspected no one here but me had ever known poverty.

If Amarantha wanted to break me, she'd have to try harder.

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Solar Opposites: Mighty Solars The Movie Ch. 12

Meanwhile, on the Silver Cop planet, Maverick was checking on Earth. Until he saw the video of the Mighty Solars that made him growl.

Maverick: I thought we got rid of them! presses an announcement microphone Bullet, Zelda, Loo-Loo, Aqua! Come!

Bullet, Zelda, Loo-Loo, and Aqua enter.

Zelda: Yes sir?

Maverick: Those Earthlings are still alive!

Bullet: What?! Where are they?!

Maverick: Earth-4!

Maverick shows the location as they give corrupted Silver Cops growl and prepares to take off.

Maverick: This time… these earthlings are ours!

Loo-Loo: Time to kick ass!

Meanwhile, Louise is making cakes. Until suddenly, he hears the Silver Bullets from the communicators. Evil Terry sees her and watches her while Dr. Weatherstone approaches her.

Zelda:*communicator Everyone knows the plan? Right?

Aqua: Yeah. We destroy everyone.

Louise: What?

Louise picks up the telephone and gasp as he listens closely with Trevor and Weatherstone.

Maverick: communicator Good. Make sure no one stands in our way. And if the Mighty Solars come, wipe them out.

Zelda: Yes, sir.

Louise drops the communicator as Evil Terry comes in.

Evil Terry: What’s going on?

Alice comes in in her normal formal clothes.

Alice: What’s the problem? What did I miss?

Louise: The Silver Cops are after the Mighty Solars!

Evil Terry: What? You mean the corrupted force from outer space? We gotta stop them.

Alice: Huh?

Dr. Weatherstone: But how?

Suddenly, the new human members of the Mighty Solars show up.

Evil Terry: Whoa.

Principal Cooke/???: Need our help?

Later at school, Human Yumyulack, Human Jesse and Sonya were about to head home until, they heard a crash.

Human Yumyulack: Holy shit. What was that?

Sonya: I don’t know. But this sounds like trouble?

Human Jesse: Come siblings! We got work to do! Stacy G! Mark! Come with us!

Mark Melner: Okay!

Stacy G: comes in gasping in joy M’lady! It is my honor! salutes

Human Jesse giggles. The three siblings head to the restroom. Yumyulack and Jesse turn back into their normal Shlorpian selves and the three sibkings turn into their Mighty Solars forms and flies off while carrying Mark and Stacy G. Meanwhile, Nova is eating a takeout until she sees the news.

New Reporter: Without police to stop the Silver Cops after being molded by platinum silver, we are begging you, Mighty Solars! Where are you?!

Nova looks at her glasses and puts them on as she transforms into her super suit and flies off. Later, Bullet and Loo-Loo are at an abandoned warehouse, until Randall, Kevin, Darcy, Jamie and Sherbet arrives with Alice.

Randall/???: Hey!

Bullet and Loo-Loo turns around and sees the quartet with Alice.

Bullet: Who the fuck are you guys?!

Jamie/???: Call me Firewall! lits up

Firewall does his own super hero pose as he hits Loo-Loo with fire. Loo-Loo laughs crazy as she speeds up to him, only to be shot by Darcy’s star powers.

Darcy/???: Sonar Woman is lighting up the stars!

Sonar Woman does her own pose and throws Loo-Loo to Kevin, who now goes by Balanight and throws her to her wall as canisters fall on her as she screams. Miss Frankie uses her claws to attack Loo-Loo.

Loo-Loo: Got you- gets stabbed and bleed to death by Miss Frankie’s claws and thrown to the canisters as the canisters explodes on her corpse

Bullet: LOO-LOO!

Bullet roars in fury, only for a pair of jellybeans to throw on them as they exploded thanks to Sherbet.

Sherbet/???: You have tasted the sweetest wrath of… Fizziepop!

Fizziepop does her own superhero pose. Bullet growls and tries to harm her, only be thrown by Nova after she bust in here.

Sherbet/Fizziepop: Nova?

Nova/???: Hey Sherbet! Stay away from her!

Bullet: Why you?!

Nova attacks Bullet. Then, Nova grabs Bullet and throws him, then Bullet gets sucker punched by Randall, who creates a black hole tornado that twirls Bullet around as he screams. Then Bullet falls to the ground as he growls at Randall.

Randall/???: Taste the black magic of… Blackhole!

Bullet charges at Blackhole, causing Blackhole to let out a girly scream

Janice: offscreen RANDALL!

Bullet turns and sees Janice as Blackhole looks lovingly at her while romantic music plays on the background.

Randall/Blackhole: to himself quietly I think I’m in love…

Bullet: What you gonna hurt me?! charges at Janice

Janice shrieks but then suddenly teleports as Bullet misses her.

Janice: Woah…

Bullet: What?! How?!

Janice feels confident and lets her hair down. Janice then teleports again and punches Bullet in the face while Blackhole makes another black hole.

Bullet: What the fuck?

Blackhole blushes at Janice with her hair down. The Blackhole opens a pile of arrows that stabbed Bullet’s legs as he falls to the ground.

Nova/???: Give it up Bullet! You can’t win!

Bullet: I am never going back to prison! If I am going down… YOU’RE COMING WITH ME!

Bullet stomps his foot as the building falls to the ground but then a boulder falls and it crushes Bullet to death as he screams.

Randall/Blackhole: Let’s get the fuck outta here guys!

Firewall, Sonar Woman, Balanight Blackhole, Fizziepop, Miss Frankie Nova and Janice escape the building as it collapse. Sherbet then hugs Nova.

Sherbet/Fizziepop: Thanks for coming for me Nova. If I had a family with a super powered mom, that would be amazing.

Nova grows concern as Fizziepop flies to meet up with the others.

Nova/???: What does Sherbet mean by if she has a family!

Darcy/Sonar Woman: Oh she’s an orphan.

Nova/???: Orphan?!

The scene then cuts to Vil-Gil-An-T, Fung-irl, Nighthowler, Cooke, Ms. Perez and Mia meeting up with Trevor, Louise and Alice. The two hooded figures watch from behind.

Jesse/Fung-irl: Where’s Evil Terry? I thought he was with you guys.

Principal Cooke/???: He and Dr. Weatherstone are on their way to stop Bullet!

Ms. Perez/???: Right now, let’s focus on-

Then suddenly, Zelda and Aqua appear as they stomp on the ground. Pupa heard the commotion and transforms into Mighty Pupa as he flies over to help his siblings and friends. Meanwhile, Korvo is busy fixing something until he starts coughing.

Korvo: coughing

Terry: Korvy? What’s wrong?

Korvo suddenly coughs out blood.

Terry: Oh no. You should rest honey. Korvo nods I’m sure the kids will figure out what’s wrong.

Korvo keeps coughing. Black Mirror sees him and grows amazed. She then flies off while “Don’t Tell Me” from Disturbed ft. Ann Willis plays in the background.

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Perfect timing.

Black Mirror sees a witch’s tent and flies in and sees Marissa.

Marissa: To what thy owe the honor of this visit?

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: I need a potion.

Marissa: What’s the occasion?

Black Mirror chuckles evilly.

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Do you have one based on Mundanes?

Marisa gasp.

Marisa: Why yes? Which kind?

Black Mirror chuckles evilly.

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Let’s just say…. Mega.

We then cut to Evil Terry and Dr. Weatherstone.

Dr. Weatherstone/???: See him?

The camera then shows Weatherstone suddenly in her own suit.

Evil Terry: Don’t worry. Not yet. But eventually.

Dr. Weatherstone smiles making Evil Terry blush.

Dr. Weatherstone/???: Thanks for me saving me…

Evil Terry: Anytime, beautiful.

Dr. Weatherstone blushes. The scene then cuts to Zelda and Aqua getting ready to fight with Vil-Gil-An-T, Fung-irl, Nighthowler, Cooke, Ms. Perez and Mia. Alice looks back n forth nervously while Trevor and Louise watches in worry.

Zelda: Prepare to die!

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: In your dreams! Cooke?!

Principal Cooke/???: On it and call me Trailblazer!

Trailblazer does his own pose as he blazed and punches Aqua.

Ms. Perez/???: Alright! My turn!

Mia/???: watches as Perez flies off to help Trailblazer I am so in love…

Ms. Perez uses her fire powers but Aqua evaporates the blast with her water powers as she snarls.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Eat this!

Vil-Gil-An-T uses his laser eyes as Zelda leaps up and uses her powers. Luckily, and suddenly, Nighthowler’s arm starts glowing digitally and cyber as her arms suddenly stretch and she grabs her brother and puts him down after the fireballs miss.

Zelda: You think that can stop me? You’re pathetic. And your family is pathetic.

Sonya/Nighthowler: gasp in joy Guys! I have elasticity in my arms!

Jesse/Fung/irl: Great job sis’ now let’s take care of this pest!

Mighty Pupa flies down meets up with his siblings. The hooded figures watches form behind.

??? #2: Is that…Yumyulack?

The hooded figure gasp as she looks at Vil-Gil-An-T. Then, she looks at Fung-irl, Nighthowler and Mighty Pupa.

??? #1: I got this. Stay here.

??? #2: Okay.

The hooded figure walks up to them and removes their hood to reveal… But then she got hit by Aqua before she could reveal herself. Mia gasp and uses her x-ray and gets out a bazooka as she fires a middle at it.

Aqua: Grrr! You bitch!

Mia/???: Let’s just say. I’m a Navigator!

Zelda: You’ll never defeat the Silver Cops!

Navigator does her own pose and Ms. Perez meets up with her with Trailblazer.

Ms. Perez/???: Looking good!

Mia/Navigator: blushes Thanks. Take it from here… Core Burn!

Aqua: Wait. Who is Core Burn?

Ms. Perez/Core Burn: Me!

Core Burn does her own super hero pose as she blast Aqua with her powers. Alice and Trevor gets excited, but then Trevor sees a green glow next to him.

Trevor: Wow. You’re glowing.

It turns out be from Louise.

Louise: Thank you.

Trevor: No no no! Louise! You are really glowing! You’re green!

Louise looks around her body and gasp. She then suddenly starts growing a bit bigger and muscular as her skin suddenly became green magma lava.

Louise: Oh no… grows a little as her clothes make a tear with a suit underneath it Trevor?

As Louise finishes growing a bit bigger and muscular, her clothes tear up and it becomes a suit. Alice gasps.

Trevor: What’s going on?! What’s happening?

Louise/???: I think I’m turning into a lava lamp!

Suddenly, Louise shoots green lava at Zelda who ducks. Then suddenly, Alice screams and accidentally shoots a red electric arachnid web that ends up tying up Aqua.

Alice: What the hell?

Zelda growls and punches Vil-Gil-An-T to the ground. Mark and Stacy G gasp while peeking through the wall.

Mark: Yumyulack!

Jesse/Fung-irl: Bro!

Pupa/Mighty Pupa and Sonya/Nighthowler: Yumyulack!

Vil-Gil-An-T growls as he stands up.

Zelda: Got you now, Qausarblast Jr.!

Zelda grabs Vil-Gil-An-T by the throat as he grunts.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Let! Me! GO!

Zelda: laughs evilly This fight is cute and all, but it’s time to die, just like the rest of them!

Fung-irl tries to save her brother but gets grabbed by Aqua.

Jesse/Fung-irl: Yumyulack!

Aqua: Shut it, you brat!

The hooded figure gasp as her eyes glow icy pink and the hood tears apart into pieces in a bright icy pink light. Then suddenly, just before Zelda could finish her off, a huge black muscular hand with icy pink tips on the finger tips punches her in the face as she lets go of Vil-Gil-An-T.

Sonya/Nighthowler: Whoa!

Pupa/Mighty Pupa: Oooh!

Vil-Gil-An-T then falls into someone’s arms and gasp upon seeing something unbelievable. Vil-Gil-An-T turns around to see…

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Aunt Janiz?

Jesse/Fung-irl, Pupa/Mighty Pupa and Sonya/Nighthowler: gasp

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Hey, kiddo? Miss me?

The other heroes came and gasp once they see something shocking while the second hooded figure removes her hood and reveals herself to be Kimber. To their suprise, Janiz is a Super Shlorpian, but bigger, muscular and black.

Ms. Perez/Core Burn: Who is this woman?

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: She’s my aunt.

The Others: WHAT?!

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Sorry I was late honey.

Sonya/Nighthowler: Who’s this woman?

Super Shlorpian Janiz: pointing to Sonya Who’s that little girl?

Jesse/Fung-irl: Oh that’s our new human sister. Sonya.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Well, hey there, little lady.

Sonya/Nighthowler: giggles I never had an aunt before!

Super Shlorpian Janiz: And I never had a human niece before! gasp upon seeing Fung-irl and Mighty Pupa Oh my god! My beautiful niece and baby nephew! hugs them So nice to finally meet you!

Pupa/Mighty Pupa: Auntie!

Jesse/Fung-irl: squeals in joy I always wanted an aunt! hugs Super Shlorpian Janiz So nice to meet you!

They then hear Zelda groaning as she gets up.

Zelda: Ugh! Seriously, how many of you guys do I have to fight?!

Vil-Gil-An-T chuckles.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Oh, I’m the only one who matters. You see, you mess with my nieces and nephews and now… I am going to fuck you!

Everyone stared with blank faces with crickets chirping in the background.

Miss Frankie/???: Huh?

Alice: Well this got interesting.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Uh, it’s actually fuck you up, Aunt Janiz.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Oops. Sorry honey. kiss Vil-Gil-An-T on the forehead

Zelda growls as she and Super Shlorpian Janiz starts fighting.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: laughs as she misses a fireball Miss me?! laughs as she fires her icy breath at Zelda Over here! flies up as Zelda growls; mimics foghorn noise Catch me if you can!

Jesse/Fung-irl: Wow! How cool is our aunt?!

Miss Frankie/???: Mega cool!

Super Shlorpian Janiz grabs Zelda as she struggles to break free.

Zelda: Grrr! You ice breathing motherfucker!

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Think fast!

Zelda snaps and fires down there as the kids fall. Luckily, Super Shlorpian Janiz caught them right on time.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: I got you kids.

Stacy G sits up from the blast, only to get a spike on her arm. Luckily, Stacy G took it out but suddenly, her arms starts turning into a body armor with spikes on them. Back with the kids and Janiz, they gasp upon seeing Zelda.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Aunt Janiz! Look out!

Super Shlorpian Janiz gasp. But then suddenly, Vil-Gil-An-T’s eyes starts glowing purple.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Yumyulack?

Sonya/Nighthowler: Are you okay bro?

Vil-Gil-An-T’s skin then turns black as he grows bigger and muscular as his horns and wings appear. His suit tears up as he roars and fires his ice breath at Zelda who falls down. Vil-Gil-An-T is now a Super Shlorpian.

Jesse/Fung-irl: gasp

Pupa/Mighty Pupa: Yumyulack!

Sonya/Nighthowler: Do something! Help Auntie Janiz! Our brother has turn into a monster! You have to help?

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Hey hey hey! It’s okay it’s first time! It runs in the family!

Jesse/Fung-irl: We know that! But how can we seal it away?!

Super Shlorpian Janiz: You can't! It's a life source. WIthout it, he'll die.

Jesse/Fung-irl, Sonya/Nighthowler and Pupa/Mighty Pupa: What?!

The aunt and nieces and nephews landed where Zelda struggles to get up.

Super Shlorpian Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: You come at me… and my family… don’t forget! punches Zelda numerous times You’re in my house!

Zelda gets knocked out. Super Shlorpian Yumyulack breathes in and out as Super Shlorpian Janiz calms him down. Then, Louise approaches her friends and daughter.

Stacy G: Mom?

Louise/???: Hey sweetie.

Ms. Perez/Core Burn: Damn Louise, what happened to you?

Louise/???: Don’t ask.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: How does mercy taste you little bitch?

Zelda: No. You don’t get to fucking end this. I’m a fucking silver cop! I’m the fucking silver bullet and y-you’re some fucking demon or something! We started everything on the Silver Cops. All of alien-kind came from these fucking nuts! You all should be facing mercy from us, you Disgraceful! Disgusting! Fucking! Losers!

Suddenly, some neon magenta spikes pop out of Zelda’s intensities as she screams.

Jesse/Fung-irl: Whoa!

Miss Frankie/???: Uh, you got something sticking out of your… your thing there.

Zelda falls as she finally dies and the spikes revealed to be from Stacy G.

Jesse/Fung-irl: Stacy G?!

Stacy G looks around and then her whole body becomes a body armor.

Stacy G: Wow!

Louise/???: Oh my God… honey! I am so so… proud of you! Come here! hugs Stacy G, who laughs

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Looking good, girl!

Aqua: NOOOOOOOOO! Zelda! Zelda! Stay with me, Zelda! Zelda!

Mia/Navigator: It’s over…

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Now take your little friends distorted AND GO HOME! normal voice Please.

Aqua: All Silver Cops! Fall back!

But, just before Aqua could escape, a huge H20 water plasma hand appears and grabs her as she falls to the ground. Then, a huge bell falls on Aqua who gasp and it crushes her. The others turn around and sees Trevor, now a walking water plasma. In his own superhero suit.

Trevor/???: Guys look! I’m a walking ball of water!

Louise/???: Trevor?

Trevor/???: What do you think baby?

Louise/???: smiles My hero…

Louise and Trevor kiss. Then, suddenly a magenta glow appears as it reveals to be Stacy G, now in her own suit.

Stacy G/???: Oh uh, this place could use less leaking.

Fung-irl gasp in joy as she embraces Stacy G. The two superhero girlfriends look at each other and then kiss just like Ember and Wade in Elemental.

Louise/???: I knew it! I knew it! My nose always nose! laughs

The heroes laugh, but Super Shlorpian Yumyulack tearfully embraces his aunt while Kimber comes out of hiding and smiles while another pink glow appears.

???: Can I come out now?

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Oh yeah. Come on out.

Then something appears magically alongside Kimber. Another pink AI assistant as she sings on a high note.

EVA: singing Hi!

Super Shlorpian Yumyulack: EVA?

AISHA appears with MAX and gasp.

AISHA: EVA?! tears of joy burst in her eyes

EVA: Hey, cuz!

AISHA laughs in tears of joy as she embraces her cousin. EVA then notices AISHA’s new Shlorpian body.

EVA: Woah! You look good!

AISHA: Thanks Cous. But come on, we have to help Evil Terry.

Back with Evil Terry and Maverick, the two are staring at each other at the edge of the cliff.

Maverick: Now come on. I am sorry. I should’ve never destroyed Earth. touches Evil Terry’s face You Shlorpians deserve better…. really evil and manipulative Idiot!

Maverick then pushes Evil Terry as he grunts at the edge of the cliff. Luckily, Weatherstone sees her signal and flies down there. The people gasp as the cops appear.

Maverick: He jump! Did you see?! He jump! He-he t-tried to drag me with him! He jump! He jump! He jump! groans He jump!

The cops handcuff him as Evil Terry, now going by the name Shifter, watches from up the building and smirks and leaves with Weatherstone. Later, at Janiz and Kimber’s place, it’s for the kids and their human friends to know.

AISHA: Guys, I am so sorry we haven’t been honest with you. There’s something you guys should know and you’re not gonna like it,

Miss Frankie/???: What is it?

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: Yeah. Why are you guys here? How did you get there?!

Jesse/Fung-irl: And why did you say the Super Shlorpian is a life source?

Kimber: It’s a long story. But we have something to tell you and you’re not gonna like it.

MAX: Korvo is in grave danger!

The others gasp.

Cherry Smithers/???: What? What do you mean he is in danger?! What happened?!

AISHA: Kids, there’s something we need to tell you. The Super Shlorpian Korvo sealed away… is his life source.

Janiz sighs.

Super Shlorpian Janiz: It’s true. It is.

Kimber: Your father is dying. And without the spirit, he’s gonna die.

Fung-irl gasps as Vil-Gil-An-T tears up.

Sonya/Nighthowler: Dad! hugs AISHA

Pupa/Mighty Pupa: Papa…

Super Shlorpian Janiz: We’re so sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner…

Vil-Gil-An-Til starts sobbing hysterically. Janiz turns back into her normal Shlorpian self as she comforts Vil-Gil-An-T.

Janiz: I am so sorry...we didn't wanna tell you because Korvo was so happy...

The kids and the adults however understand deeply and approaches them while sheepishly smiling.

Kimber: You were also so happy when Sonya came and... we just couldn’t bare to break your hearts.

MAX: And I am probably guessing Korvo is scared too?

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: sniffles Yeah I bet he was. Guess he was scared of releasing his own beast.

Others: Yeah. I agree. Poor Korvo…

Fung-irl suddenly looks determined.

Jesse/Fung-irl: Come on guys! The Mighty Solars doesn’t give up! They never ever give up! Look, whatever is happening… Cherie, Montez, Kevin’s wife and kids and Pezlie comes in We can still do this!

Miss Frankie sniffs and cries tears of joy.

Miss Frankie/???: sniffles She’s right guys…But Korvo is dying! We can’t be the Mighty Solars without him!

Janiz: Don't worry. All we have to do is put the spirit back in him!

Cherie: Guys! What’s going on?

Jesse/Fung-irl: Cherie! You’re here!

Fung-irl runs up and hugs Cherie and then tickles Pezlie who giggles.

Janiz: Oh friend of yours.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Yeah...

Cherie: Why yes. And *refers Pezlie* Korvo and Terry’s goddaughter. Their nanny saved Nova’s life and ours.

Janiz: What? Oh my God, picked up Pezlie as she laughs Hi, I’m your godfather’s sister. So nice to meet you.

Pezlie coos as she touched Janiz’s face.

Janiz: She's so precious...

Cherie: Thank you! Wait, you’re Korvo’s sister.

Janiz: Yep.

Montez: We got the others’ text! What is it?!

Principal Cooke/Trailblazer: Korvo’s in trouble!

Janice: Big trouble!

Miss Frankie/???: He’s dying!

Kevin’s Wife: What? Kevin, what do you mean he’s dying?!

Janiz: He sealed away his Super Shlorpian spirit and now there's a high chance that he will die.

Cherie: What?! Oh no! We gotta save him!

Montez: We’re coming with you guys! We may not have powers! But the Solars have helped us throughout our lives and yours!

Janiz: Don't worry. I have the spirit right here.

Naomi: comes in with Alice We would love to join you.

Randall/Blackhole: Quick! Show us the spirit!

Janiz opens the box.

Others: Whoa!

Jesse/Fung-irl: Aw, it's so cute!

The spirit starts whimpering because he feels Korvo’s life source weakening, which the others identify. Janiz gasps.

Janiz: Oh no, I’m afraid Korvo is starting to run out of time! We must move! Quickly Mighty Solars!

The kids then grow determined along with their friends.

EVA: Count me in too! We are family too!

MAX: Count us in!

Kimber: Me too!

Jesse/Fung-irl: Mighty Solars, let's save Korvo!

Sonya/Nighthowler: And our homes!

Pupa/Mighty Pupa: Hooray!

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: Mighty Solars! Move out!

Mighty Solars: Right!

Meanwhile, back with Korvo, he began to check on himself through a breather connected to machine.

Korvo: What is wrong with me?

He starts calculating on himself, until a huge electric spear breaks the labtop as he gasp. He turns around and sees Black Mirror as he turn into Quasarblast.

Korvo/Quasarblast: Get away from me or-

Quasarblast then keeps coughing out blood as Black Mirror pins him to the wall.

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Looks like someone is finally powerless.

Korvo/Quasarblast, What do you want?!

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Finally! I got you now Quasarblast! gets out the potion Now here is my deal. You need to live, right?

Korvo/Quasarblast: More than anything...I-

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Here is our deal! All you have to do is take this potion, and obey me now. Or, I’ll find a way to harm that fucking pathetic husband of yours, along with your four little brats, crazy hillbilly nanny of yours, those humans and your sister as well!

Quasarblast gasps.

Korvo/Quasarblast: What?! falls down No! Stop! Don’t hurt them!

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: THEN DRINK THE POTION!

Korvo/Quasarblast: Just promise you won’t hurt my husband and kids! And my friends!

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Don’t worry… I won’t… because… opens the bottle…. YOU’RE MINE NOW!

Quasarblast takes the potion and chugs it down. But then, he starts growing bigger and muscular as his skin turns black. His suit rips apart into pieces as he cries out in pain. Black Mirror laughs like a maniac.

Korvo/Quasarblast: voice deepens as cyan marks appears around his body and he starts growing even more bigger and muscular as his eyes glow aquamarine WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Oh, nothing. I made you a better person.

Korvo/Quasarblast: TERRY! GGGGRRRRAAAAAAAH! TERRRRY!

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Oh quiet. He's not here to save you.

However, Terry and Phoebe hears Korvo screaming along with Parker and Monica as they head upstairs.

Parker: Korvo, what's- sees Mega Mundane Korvo and gasps

Mega Mundane Korvo roars tearfully as he whimpers in pain but is still dying.

Phoebe MacCarthy: Oh my God! Korvo!

Terry: Korvy...

Mega Mundane Korvo roars as he breaks down in tears and Black Mirror laughs evilly. Terry growls at Black Mirror and turns into Mighton.

Terry/Mighton: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HUSBAND?!

Sister Sisto: Oh cool your jets. He's just gonna die anyway. Move on.

Phoebe MacCarthy: What?! No! turns into Starburst We won’t let that happened! Reals him you crazy bitch!

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: Make me.

Monica then turns into Lightspeed as she gets ready fight. Then suddenly, Parker presses something on a watch. She turns into her own cyber super suit as she smiles.

Parker/???: Don’t forget about Venus Tip!

Venus Tip does her own pose as she shoots cyber arrows out of her cyber crossbow.

Terry/Mighton: Nice suit Parker!

Parker/Venus Tip: Thanks.

Suddenly, Mega Mundane Korvo roars he destroys half of the house and Black Mirror gets on top of him while laughing evilly.

Sister Sisto/Black Mirror: See you never, Mighton!

Mighton watches tearfully as Mega Mundane Korvo runs off to the city. But, however, after looking at his family photo, Mighton refuses to back down and never give up for his husband.

Parker/Venus Tip: What do we do now Mighton?

Mighton wipes away his tears.

Terry/Mighton: eyes glow orange SAVE! skin turns black and he grows bigger and muscular as his suit tear MY! voice gets deeper HUSBAND!

Venus Tip gasps. Mighton turns into a Mundane and heroically roars. Mundane Mighton then growls in pleasure.

Mundane Terry/Mighton: Say… flexes his right arm as it glows orange marks This form ain’t half bad!

Starburst laughs.

Phoebe MacCarthy/Starburst: Wow! You got orange marks? What does that mean?

Mundane Terry/Mighton: It means I'm a MEGA MUNDANE, BABY!

Mundane Mighton then starts growing even more bigger and muscular as he moans in pleasure.

Mundane Terry/Mighton: OOOOOOOH YYYYYYEEEEEEEEEESS! IIIIIII FFFEEEEEEEEEL SOOOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOOOOD!

Phoebe/Starburst: Whoa.

An orange streak appears on Mighton’s back as he fully becomes a Mega Mundane and roars. Mega Mundane Mighton looks at his body and laughs.

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: Man… I feeel soooo fucking horny right now!

Jesse/Fung-irl: Terry!

Mega Mundane Mighton looks down and sees his kids and the other human Mighty Solars, along with AISHA, EVA, MAX, Kimber and Janiz.

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: Janiz? Kimber? EVA?

EVA: Hi Terry! So nice to finally meet you in person! Your husband mention to us about you!

Mega Mundane Terry blushes and smiles.

Kimber: Thank goodness we found you! We have to save your husband!

MAX: He’s gonna die!

Janiz: Terry! We have to put the spirit back into Korvo!

Mega Mundane Mighton gasps.

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: What?! Why?! Why does he need the spirit back?!

Janiz sighs

Janiz: Terry, it’s time we tell you.

Janiz turns into her Super Shlorpian form and flies to Terry sadly.

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: Whoa… you turn into big buffy Super Shlorpians?

Super Shlorpian Janiz: Yes and… our lifesource as well.

Mega Mundane Mighton gasps.

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: What?!

Vil-Gil-An-T sheds a tear.

Yumyulack/Vil-Gil-An-T: It’s true… Terry, Korvo is dying.

Kimber: Without the spirit, he’ll die! We gotta return it to him!

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: Shit...

Mega Mundane Mighton then sees Mega Mundane Korvo roaring. Despite the revelation, he is still determined to save his husband!

Mega Mundane Terry/Mighton: Well there’s no time to lose! Mighty Solars, let’s save my husband!

Mighty Solars: Yeah!

The heroes fly off heroically to the city as Super Shlorpian Janiz starts to grow amazed by Mighton’s bravery and humility.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, November 26

Angelus: You could probably... tell me what I'm doing wrong. But honestly, I sorta hope you don't... 'Cause I *really* wanna torture you. (stares evilly)

~~Becoming part 2~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

downtown (where relationships are no-go) by The_Eclectic_Bookworm (Giles/Jenny, T)

light my fire by CallMeVampy (Giles/Jenny, E)

Untitled oneshot by the_widow_twankey (Angel/Spike, Buffy, G)

The One Where Spike And Buffy Go To Therapy by Spikelover4ever (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Home Sweet Home by Desicat (Buffy/Spike, PG)

[Chaptered Fiction]

A Spiky Holiday - Chapter 1 by ladyofthebrook (Buffy/Spike, T)

Faith, Hope and Trick or Treat - Chapter 1 by InMyOwnHeadItGoesLikeThis (ensemble, Jenny, Angel/Buffy, Willow/Oz, Xander/Cordelia, Giles/Ethan, T)

Cherry On Top, Ch. 4-5 by Maxineeden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Ready for it? Ch. 4 by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

One Chance, Ch. 24 by AtlantianDream (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Hell Hath No Fury, Ch. 3 by the_big_bad (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Dead End Plots, Ch. 22 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Love Bites, Ch. 2 by cawthraven (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

When Worlds Collide, Ch. 5 by grundy (crossover with Deborah Harkness' All Souls trilogy, Buffy, FR15)

Death Is Buffy's Next Great Adventure, Ch. 115 by Sharie (Harry Potter crossover, Buffy/Tom Riddle, FR15)

Neon, Ch. 1-25 (COMPLETE!) and other stories archived by ClowniestLivEver (Buffy/Spike, R)

Blood and Black Lace, Ch. 22 by SlayrGrl (Buffy/Spike, R)

Wraith, Ch. 5 (COMPLETE!) by simmony (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Video: Walk through of my sim 4 build of Sunnydale High by nikkiitalks ()

Digital drawing: Buffy and Giles by pocketsizedann (worksafe)

Comic: For the Faith/Buffy fans I know are out there by gremlinbong (probably worksafe, everyone's clothed)

Joke manip: Sadly, I must remind you that Angel tortured me. For hours. For pleasure. by drawandpaintbyfire (Angelus, Giles, worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Controversial opinion - The Body is overrated, by Joshua

[AtS] Season 2 thoughts by Typical-Owl9521

I watched "That Old Gang of Mine" and I am so disappointed by how they choose to portray the dilemma in that by b3_k1nd_rw1nd

[Recs & In Search Of]

Spike & Dawn fic Wild and Wonderful by solstice recced by muse-write

[Community Announcements]

Our community is slowly growing! If you're interested in crackships or rarepairs for the buffyverse, consider joining! by otherworldlychemistry (btvscrackships)

[Fandom Discussions]

something about giles being the softened optimist in this world... [Wishverse] by jennycalendar

[Angel obviously does not own a bedframe] by all-seeing-ifer

In the official Buffy chess set they released, Buffy and Angel... by oveliagirlhaditright

Does anyone know how many Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV show viewers there are today? by NoShip

My Account of the Willow and Tara money situation (and how Giles is essentially the bad guy) by Moon_Logic

Daily money post #4. How much do you pay a teenaged girl to do the most dangerous job in the world and how do you hide it? by V48runner

Plot Parallels - What Storylines Do You Identify With Most? by Ok_Seaworthiness2505

When a Vampire dies where does the Demon go? by Inspirational_Owl

Who would you like to have as your best friend in AtS and why? by JellyfishDry9464

Are there any morally gray demons on Buffy? by somehow_we_missed_it

How the film fits into the timeline (headcanon only). by DifficultRice7075

What is Buffy cooking during Pangs??? by Correct_Theory_8034

Do we ever see Angel cry? by moderndayrusalka

something that confused me on "Him" by sadhungryandvirgin

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Join the editor team :)

[namig42]

The Slayer (Ch. 4): The Slayer, Revealed

Oh look, I finally cleaned up another chapter. Please enjoy!

Read on Ao3!

Summary: Vero, a lovely high elf bard with no memories prior to being abducted by mind flayers, suffers from a slew of intrusive, violent thoughts that come always at the worst of times. She now has to handle the new power that comes with the Slayer's form along with her dark urges.

---

Descending through the dungeon, past the victims of ancient conquests, and through the giant doors that led to the massive room of the ritual was a dreadful experience. Astarion was already worried about facing Cazador, but doing so after seeing the people he unknowingly trapped into an eternity of darkness and misery only filled him with more anguish. Vero had spent the majority of their time dungeon crawling wrangling her most menacing thoughts, only really returning to reality when the large doors opened to the long descent into the ritual space. She had hardly had the brain power to process how Astarion was feeling in all this. She looked to him as the doors opened, wondering how he was faring, but then her mind became lost in the immense spectacle that was the ritual room, if it could even be called a room.

The space itself was gargantuan. There was seemingly nothing supporting the stairs or the platform where six bodies hovered in the corners, and the sight was disorienting to Vero. The cages hanging from the high ceilings didn’t help either. Vero was perplexed on how a dungeon so massive was sitting just below Baldur’s Gate. How had no one found this place? Were there other ways in? Where were they in relation to the rest of the city? Just how far down had that elevator taken them? Her brain was already running on fumes from trying to control herself and the Urge, but the dungeon only set her thoughts running more.

The slow walk down the long staircase was a sickening experience. Vero was disoriented by the scale of it all and thought to reach for Astarion’s hand for balance, but held off. Now likely wasn’t the time to lean on him. As the party descended closer and closer to the main platform, Vero became nauseous from finally putting a face to those rancid, brutal thoughts of mutilation that plagued her for so long. Upon seeing Lord Cazador’s face, the first thing that ran through Vero’s mind was that those high cheekbones would make an especially good canvas for a blade to run through. Her stomach felt a twisted sense of delight at the image as well as a wave of sickness from how gruesome it was.

Then, as they finally stepped onto the platform where the ritual would take place, the vampire lord began to speak. “Who stands before us? Is this truly our prodigal son?” The way that shrill voice would sound screaming… Vero shook away the thought, bracing herself for what was to come. She needed to maintain composure. If not for herself, then for Astarion. She glanced at her partner and saw how his brow contorted and his eyes filled with both fire and ice. She had never seen him look quite like this. So… angry. He was crouching ever so slightly, looking as if he was stalking his prey and ready to pounce.

“Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?” As Astarion stood up just a bit straighter, Vero’s blood burned hot.

This is the one that hurt the one she loved.

This is the one that compelled him to do horrible things, just as Bhaal compelled her.

As her blood boiled more and more with the power of that accursed form, she vowed to not show this monster any mercy, no matter how much she may hate herself later.

He did not deserve her restraint.

Keep it together Vero, she thought to herself, wrangling the fury that threatened to escape any second. Wait for the right moment…

“Look at you, crawling back after abandoning your family. You should be begging our forgiveness!” Cazador continued.

“Forgiveness? You’ve never forgiven anything. Every mistake, every slip was punished!” Astarion yelled. This anger of his, it was nothing quite like Vero had seen from him before. It was this place. It brought back a version of him that she had only heard about through Astarion’s stories.

“I strove for perfection in all things - even those as imperfect as you.” Cazador spoke with a grimace. “A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.” Another wave of anger washed over Vero. She could feel the Slayer banging against the gates of her will, dying to come out at the taste of the hot anger and bloodlust that coursed through her. Not yet…

“No!” Astarion shouted. “No. Fuck you, and fuck everything you’ve ever done to me!”

“We are here for justice, and you are going to pay.” Vero couldn’t help but interject. She needed to before she lost complete control of herself. She needed to hold on and maintain the composure that Astarion couldn’t right now. He was always the one in control when her urges flared, so now it was her turn to be the rational one. Since there were too many emotions flooding his mind, there was no way Astarion was going to be able to be that voice of reason Vero had grown so accustomed to. Not in this place where he had suffered for so long.

“I will not speak to cattle!” Cazador roared, cutting off Vero’s words. Vero winced at the shrill sound of his voice. “This is between me, and the boy.”

“You son of a bitch!” Astarion spat, and before anyone in the party could stop him, Astarion ran at Cazador with the intent to strike, though before the punch could land, a red glow surrounded Astarion’s wrists and held him in place. Cazador stood before him, tall, unfazed, and unimpressed. “Astarion!” Vero shouted, beginning to run towards Cazador before Halsin grabbed her by the shoulder. She looked at him and saw that he was just as furious as she was, though rushing into this could make things worse. He looked at her with pleading eyes to wait just a moment longer and see what happened next. She looked back to Astarion and paused. Cazador wouldn’t kill him now. He needed Astarion alive for the ritual, but she couldn’t help but worry what he may do instead.

“You truly forgot my power. You truly thought our bond as creator and creation was all that stopped you from killing me? You are weak, my child. You are a small, pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything. But today, you will finally do something worthwhile. You will burn, and I will ascend.”

With that final sentence, Astarion flew across the platform to the opposite side of the entrance. Cazador’s spell held him in the air as his armor left his skin, leaving nothing to hide the scars on his back. Vero took a step forward, her rage boiling closer and closer to the surface.

“No! Stop him!”  Astarion screamed in panic. “And get me out of this!”

That was it. That was what opened the gates to the Slayer. The fear in Astarion’s voice as to what would happen next was all it took to push the Urge over the edge. Vero fell to her knees as the form came out, the awful smell of the beast’s putrid flesh filling her nose before everything went dark for her and came into light for the Slayer. Halsin and Shadowheart took a few steps back, startled at what their bardic bhaalspawn had become.

“Oak Father preserve us…” Halsin said, baffled by what oddity against nature Vero had become.

There were no thoughts in the Slayer’s head, only an instinct to slaughter the vampire that stood in the center of the space. Though the beast did not think, it felt a pure, carnal desire to rip the haughty elf to shreds. It lunged towards Cazador, but Cazdor moved faster and transformed into mist before anything could be done. Ghouls and werewolves swarmed the Slayer, but it was stronger. It slashed and shrieked, slaughtering anything that stood in its way between it and Cazador.

Its claws tore through the other monsters with pure bloodlust. The only thing in its mind was the red color that spewed from the monsters and swarmed the Slayer’s senses. It grabbed ghouls by the torso and ripped them in half. Werewolves were brutally slashed at before the Slayer’s claws hooked onto their innards and ripped them from the inside of each beast. Coating the floor with the crimson color was all the demon desired, especially of the one who spoke in that horrible, nasally voice. Any trace of Vero was gone, only the Slayer lived in this mind for the time being.

Soon, the path was covered in viscera and clear of any obstacles that meant to stop the Slayer from chasing down the black mist that Cazador hid himself in. The beast lunged at the cloud and began slashing and clawing at the mist, doing its best to grab the smoke, though its attempts proved useless. Cazador couldn’t hold his concentration forever though. The moment he transformed back into a proper body of flesh rather than mist, the Slayer towered over him and roared a bloody shriek. The sound paralyzed Cazador in place, leaving him wide open for the Slayer to strike with its razor claws. It struck once, then again, and again, and again, tearing through Cazador’s fine gothic garb, first only damaging his skin, then ripping away bits and pieces of the vampire lord. Bits of flesh flew off as the Slayer continued to claw and slash, waiting for Cazador to finally collapse to the ground, though he never did. If only he weren’t immortal, this would’ve ended so much quicker, though it was better that he was forced to endure. The more suffering, the better. The Slayer could savor his shrill screams longer, and oh how pleasing they were to the monster’s ears…

After what felt simultaneously like an eternity as well as a short moment of hacking and slashing with its massive claws, Cazador disappeared into his cloud and ran again. The Slayer gave chase, roaring at the mist and slapping bats out of the air that tried to swarm the monster, but just as its anger reached its height, a beam of sunlight shot past it and shone on the cloud. The Slayer was blinded for a moment from the intense brightness, but as soon as its eyes recovered, it spotted Cazador. He had returned to his true form and was shrieking from the burning light. The Slayer lunged at the vampire once more, only getting a few slashes in before Cazador completely disappeared in a puff of smoke.

The Slayer looked around the area to see where he had gone, only to see that Cazador had completely vanished. Instead, the monster saw Shadowheart, who had just cast that sunbeam, running over to Astarion to cast Healing Word on him. Astarion was leaning against Halsin’s stature for support across the platform, his minor wounds being healed by the party’s favorite princess. All the monsters were dead. The two elves and Shadowheart stood amongst the pile of desecrated corpses, staring at the Slayer in horror, though Astarion’s eyes also had that same look of awe that had been there as Vero had ripped Godey apart. Seeing those eyes, Vero’s mind came back to her and the Slayer was once again shut behind those gates. She transformed back to herself, naked as the day she was born.

As she stood there, once again a simple high elf, and looked at her three companions, two of them her dear lovers, she waited for them to say something. Anything. Now that she had regained her composure, she would have to face the fact that she had hid this monster from them.

She feared for the worst. That they’d be disgusted by this new form and say that they could never love a monster that heinous. That they’d loathe her for hiding such a dangerous secret. That they’d decide to kill her in order to spare the world from the Slayer. Gods… the thoughts were unbearable. The silence the party sat in as they all stared at Vero only gave her more time to dread what their next words would be. She wrapped her arms around herself as the anticipation and anxiety consumed her.

“That… creature you changed into.” Halsin finally spoke. “I pray to Silvanus that you have it under control.” His voice was firm, though his face was filled with concern and a bit of fear.

Astarion spoke next. “The beast you turn into… as charming as it is… Just make sure those claws don’t come anywhere near me.” Vero’s heart broke a bit hearing her lovers’ concerns, though she understood where they came from.

“I promise I can control it…” Vero said weakly, curling in on herself even more. As powerful as she was only a moment ago, she felt like she may lose everything now and felt so small and pitiful. Of course they’re worried. I’m a monster, after all. Then, Astarion managed to find words that, just like after that night where Vero had killed Alfira, made her feel like anything but a disgusting beast.

“Oh, don’t bother, not on my account, anyway. Let it roam free! You make quite the pretty pitfiend.” He gave her a soft, coy smile before continuing. “Now, how about instead of standing here and dawdling, we kill the bastard that’s trying to heal himself as we speak?”

Vero nodded and watched as Astarion went to push the sarcophagus lid off of where Cazador slept. Halsin, always so considerate, approached Vero, took his cape, and draped it around her shoulders. When she looked up at him, he gave her that same loving look that he always did around camp, showing her that despite the beast she could become, he still saw the woman he loved. She smiled in relief, wishing that she could kiss Halsin right now.

Instead, the soft moment was broken by Astarion pulling Cazador out of his crypt and throwing him to the ground.

[muses-darling]

Fire & Fury - A Star Wars AU - Ch.4 Mistakes

Hades knelt in his cell listening as he sat wrapped in the force listening to the sounds of the approaching footsteps. Closer and closer they came stopping before the cell door. When the door opened he looked up surprised at the sight, guards alone, no Darth Lykaios, no Darth Ceres. Their mistake...

Standing up as the guards came in he strained against the chains bolted to the wall using the force to aid him the ceiling and walls cracked and crumbled crashing down as he became free. His mind recalling the words of the Sith code, the force shall set me free... He smirked watching them groan under the heavy rocks that crushed them. Using the force he pulled the blades from their sides igniting them cutting through his restraints he moved swiftly having healed away the pain and damage done to his body. Kit needed him where ever Kit was he would find him. No matter how long it took to find him, even if he searched for the rest of this life and all the others that came next he would find Kit. 

Skidding to a halt Hades saw Darth Ceres and Darth Lykaios who at seeing him ignited their blades. Hades instead used the force to push them back closing the doors in front of them and turned running down the hall through the ship as he made his way to where the landing bay was. He needed a ship, he needed to escape. The best way to to keep Kit safe was to find him and never let him out of his sight. 

Klaxons bayed above and around him as he used the force to push his enemies aside, something Kit would do he mused. However he used the ends of his Lightsabers to cut down his enemies as he moved passed them. Cutting down troopers and others that stood between him and freedom Hades went to one of the ships boarding it. Starting up the ship he moved to where the seat was pressing in the commands he felt the ship rise up and soon he was moving across the landing bay firing at the fighters around himself as he shot through the bay opening into space. Hyperspace filled the viewport as he left his captors behind, he was going to find Kit one way or another even if it was the death of him.

________________________________________________________________

Of course he would end up lost on a hellish planet, with no lightsaber, completely and utterly foolish. He could already hear Master Kit chiding him for wandering away. He heard a creak followed by a very loud thump that made his heart jump not nearly as high as he did. A screech, a hiss, and all manner of creature communication filled his ears. He really should just stand still but each time he did the trees seemed to move. He took another step and felt the ground give way crying out he landed hard with a thud and all went black. When he awoke darkness filled his vision and for a moment he thought he was blind only to realize that it was now night time. He was at the opening of a cave that much was certain. The entrance was previously slightly submerged under the growth of the forest but now much more pronounced. He tried to move but felt a pain. Looking he saw the twisted state of his ankle and nearly blacked out with the pain. He was stuck here until either they found him or he died. He prayed it was the first one. He closed his eyes and reached out with the force. Surely someone would find him?

- 

Harper didn’t like that she hadn’t found her brother, she liked the fact that it was now night even less. The forest had become more alive in the night than it was in the day. “How is it so much more creepier at night than in the day?”

“Crepuscular creatures often live in forests such as these.” Crowley told her using his lightsaber to illuminate their way. They had passed the ship parts a few hours ago, wherever Ben was it wasn’t anywhere near here, his footsteps certainly moved beyond. 

“What could have brought him so far from the ship?”

“The force.”

“That can’t be your answer for everything.” Harper shook her head.

“In this case it really is the best answer anyone could give you.” Crowley told her. “This planet if full of the force, it is why I chose it, no Sith would ever find anyone who didn’t want to be found here. Or Jedi for that matter. It is common knowledge that only a foolish person would hide here.”

“Does that make you a fool Master Crowley?”

“I certainly hope so.” Crowley walked along before placing a hand on her shoulder. “Shhh, do you feel that?”

“Feel what?��

“In the force,” Crowley looked to her.

Harper frowned ready to snap out a comment before she felt it faint but she felt it. She felt it! “I do feel it.”

Crowley closed his eyes and began slowly reaching for the tendril that came their way in the force. 

Harper stared at him for a moment then did the same what other choice did she have? If this was what lead her to her brother then so be it!

________________________________________________________________

“Statement: I still think you should have let me disintegrate your Jedi Master for deceiving you all these years.” 

Kit sighed as he felt the ship come to life beneath his fingers. “I may not be happy with this revelation but I don’t wish death upon him, certainly not from you.” Kit looked up at HK-47. “Can you do anything else besides kill people?”

“Statement: I can wash windows.”

Kit nodded, “Then do that. Wash the windows from the inside of the ship.”

“Yes Master.”

Kit put the ship into hyperspace for Korriban the last known place that he could find Hades. 

________________________________________________________________

Honey came to her head hurt, it hurt a lot and her ears still rang as she sat up from where she had been laid on a medical bay bed. “Wh-?”

“Grogginess is a common side effect.” A medical droid told her. “Please stay seated.”

She nodded not attempting to move any further as she ran a hand through her dark hair. Where was Alucard? Layla? Nikki? There had been an explosion then nothingness. 

“Ahh you’ve woken up!” She heard to hands clasp together rubbing enthusiastically before raising her head in their direction. Seeing the man who neared her. “Rather hard getting a hold of you all of you. The Canto Bight police deemed you all ready to be executed for your crimes not to worry all written out.” He spoke quickly as he moved towards her. “But not to worry, not to worry, your debts to me will be taken care of shortly, yes, yes.” He nodded.

“Who?”

“Oh sorry, I should introduce myself, my name is Edward Grimware. Call me Grimm” The man smiled. “You are the first to wake up, so I came as quickly as I was able.”

Honey frowned. “Right you mentioned a debt?”

“I’ll discuss it short with after you all have woken and come to your sense. Mind you just rest and recover, going to need you all for your tip-top shape!” Grimm smiled. “Sleep well!” He said.

Before she could argue Honey felt her self get a warm fuzzy feeling before she descended into a sleep state.

[scorpio-marionette]

Long Live the Red Viper

Chapter 3

*This chapter has been edited*

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Rating: M for Mature

Warnings: canon levels of violence, attempted assassinations and kidnapping, snake milking

Summary: New friends mean new allies

A/N: This chapter has so far been the hardest. Therefore it is the one I am most nervous about. It honestly feels like filler, but it sets up the next domino to fall. I hope you guys still like it. Also, you may notice i changed the reader tag to F!Reader. To save my sanity, I had to switch it. I still won't describe the reader in great detail, but I needed to use the pronouns for the sake of working with so many characters at once.

Mood board by @writer-darling

Ch 2 / Ch 4

Upon entering the flames, the oil lamp explodes from the heat. Its contents catch fire and spread across the room. The fire on the curtains eventually cut them loose from where they were strung up. They drape themselves over the window ledge as they burn. The wind then picks up as if to aid Oberyn in his destruction, carrying the curtains to the court below. The foliage there then begins to burn as well. Black smoke pours out from the windows and doorway. It rises up into the air to bid the prince farewell. The guards begin to catch a whiff of the disaster. The bells of the Red Keep are music to an angry man’s ears.

Standing in the streets of King’s Landing, Oberyn takes in the ruckus coming from the Keep. Hearing the men call for buckets of water to put out the flames amuses him. They have no idea that doing so will only spread the fire. With a rather cruel smirk across his face, Oberyn hopes the whole of it burns to the ground. Retribution for his Sun. Tyrion, however, is eager to leave this place at their earliest convenience. Preferably without being caught with a corpse or delayed by palace guards per his sister’s request. It is a challenge convincing the prince to move along. 

Boarding his ship, Oberyn places Ellaria on his bed. His heart clenches at the sight of her. This is not how his daughters should remember her. She should be seen in all her glory. She should not be seen like this. Oberyn's gifts lie with killing and not healing, however, let alone dressing the dead. How could he present Ellaria to his daughters, to his brother? There would be questions as to what happened. No doubt in his mind that Doran would accuse him of bringing the Lannisters' wrath upon himself and Ellaria. He will tell his younger brother that he should not have gone to the wedding in his place. A disgrace once again to his people and family. Leaving the cabin, Oberyn spies Tyrion speaking with the master of spies. The Spider, Lord Varys, seems displeased with what Tyrion is telling him. 

"I would advise you to search for Lady Sansa, seeing as she can still be in great danger with whomever stole her away, but I am glad you are at least leaving King's Landing. This is no longer a place for you to be," Lord Varys warns. "Your sister is furious with your narrow escape from death. She will take desperate action against you."

"She has already taken action against me. Perhaps you would like to see."

The Spider's gaze turns to the Viper. Concern looks at indifference masking cruel anger. Without words, Varys boards the vessel and follows the prince into the cabin. His mouth parts when he sees Ellaria. He is more than certain that she looks worse now than when Oberyn first found her, but he will not tell him. That would only upset him further. Tyrion's story makes all the more sense now that he's seen this.

"Now do you see why I am asking you to leave with us? If she is willing to go after the Dornish, she will come for you. She knows you work with me, no matter how often you claim to be impartial. You are working against her. That makes you a target."

Tyrion is almost pleading with his eyes though he stands firm on his point. Varys cannot deny him. Looking at Oberyn, he can now see the anguish at losing his paramour that lies behind the fury. Perhaps he can be of assistance if he goes with them. Fully turning to face the prince, giving him his full attention, Varys presents him with an offer.

"Perhaps on the journey to Dorne, I could dress my lady in preparation for her arrival home, my prince?"

Arriving in Dorne is a somber affair. A letter had already been sent ahead to tell Doran of what transpired in King's Landing. Oberyn’s daughters all gathered at their childhood home. At their docking, all in attendance wore black. Lord Varys has done excellent work in preparing Ellaria for her funeral.Tyene, the eldest of Ellaria’s daughters, tries to comfort her youngest siblings. Obara, Nymeria, and Sarella stand close by, eyes casted down in mourning. Even the Lannister girl, Myrcella, weeps at the loss and lets her uncle hold her hand as her betrothed, Prince Quentyn, tries to comfort her. Doran embraces his brother. The next few weeks will be hard. Action must be taken, but Oberyn makes Doran swear that the girl must not be involved. He will not have a child pay for her mother's grave mistakes. Besides, she is more Dornish than a Lannister now, having taken so well to the culture. Doran swears to this. A letter is sent to the Red Keep to inform Tywin Lannister that regardless of what has happened, Myrcela is still safe in Dorne and that she will remain in Sunspear. The city is silent.

Every day is difficult as the young ones ask what has become of their mother. The baby of his beloved eight daughters failing to understand she has passed. Oberyn weeps pitifully in his lonely chamber. He takes no lovers. Has no company outside of family. He grieves into the silk upon his bed. Silk that Ellaria put there. Perhaps he will give her dresses to his daughters so that they may always have a piece of her to carry with them? Oberyn is unsure of what to do anymore. Ellaria would have known though.

A peaceful month has passed in Dorne. It unnerves the bravest warriors in the city. How could a family who's taste for vengeance could rival that of the gods be quiet for such a period of time? A storm must be coming, and coming it is. In the dark of the night, men from across the Narrow Sea steal their way inside the palace at Sunspear. A tampered cloth is placed over the face of the golden haired beauty so that she will not scream at her being taken and placed in the arms of another. One more finds his way into Tyrion's room. A poisoned blade in hand, he creeps over to the half man's bed. Then he falls dead on top of him, startling Tyrion awake. Screaming, Tyrion tries to get out from under the dead man's weight. He looks around frantically to see if there are more. All he finds is Oberyn emerging from the shadows with his own blades to search for other assassins.

On light foot fall, Oberyn moves swiftly through the familiar halls of his home. He finds the other men carrying a slack form out of the palace. He takes a spear from a nearby station and throws it at the kidnappers. The one holding Myrcella's legs drops like a doll. The other drops her entirely to take up a defensive position. It does nothing for him. Within minutes he is also dead on the ground. The people of Sunspear wake to the news of assassins in their city and the bravery of their beloved prince. It does not take long to realize who sent the men who tried to kill Tyrion and take Myrcella. Cersei has hired these men to kill Tyrion as punishment for surviving all these years, and to take Myrcella back to King's Landing. Doran calls for a council meeting with Oberyn, Tyrion, and Varys.

"The men who came here are of the House of Black and White; a religious group who believe in the Many Faced God and are assassins for hire. Their temple is in Braavos. The only person I can imagine would hire them is your sister," Lord Varys states plainly.

"If they are religious, why do they partake in assassinations?" Tyrion asks.

"The Many Faced God is a God of death. They believe all of the other gods are just faces of theirs, so they only serve death. Their service comes in the form of killings. Though I have had rumors of other services."

"We do not have time to mull over the finer details of these men," Doran speaks up. "What is our counter move?"

"I have been in contact with a powerful ally, your grace," the Spider informs. "She is also across the Narrow Sea."

"Who?"

"Your long lost sister by marriage: Daenerys Targaryen. The last of House Targaryen."

Oberyn and Doran look at each other. Neither had thought of the younger siblings of Rhaegar after his betrayal of Elia and their children. To think a dragon survived the sacking of King's Landing all those years ago. If she is anything like her family, she is a force to be reckoned with. Oberyn hesitates at the thought though. She may be a Targaryen, but she did not live in Westeros. She does not know the land or its people. She is and will be seen as an outsider no matter her house.

"I advise going to her with an offer."

"What kind of offer?" Oberyn asks.

"An offer of leverage in gaining the Iron Throne, and a fleet of ships to bring her to Westeros."

Varys looks to Tyrion. The man's eyes widen at the implication that he is their key to Daenerys. He is a Lannister after all. He is despised by many on just that one point. He is the joke at every party because of his stature. What could he have to offer the Dragon? Doran agrees with Varys and insists the two leave immediately. A powerful ally will be needed to defend against the lions. By late morning, the ships are ready to set sail. Oberyn can hear Tyrion arguing with Varys over his importance, claiming Oberyn to be a better token of goodwill with the people of Westeros. He has half a mind to remind him again of what happened to his sister. Perhaps Varys has thought of all of this. Tyrion is smart and knows the game for the throne well, and Oberyn is mistrustful of those with history against his family. After all preparations are in place, the fleet leaves for Slaver’s Bay in Essos. From on a high cliff, he can see all of the open water before them. Myrcella comes up from behind and stands next to Oberyn as they watch the sails disappear on the horizon.

"Your grace," she speaks up. "I have a request for you."

"What is it you wish to have, sunflower?"

"I wish to fight."

The girl's words surprise him.

"My family has committed a heinous crime. I will not see my love or his people hurt because of it. I want to protect him and all of Dorne," she proclaims. "Will you teach me?"

A strong sense of honor washes over Oberyn. This moment reminds him of his own daughters when they came to him for training. Living as the bastards of the Red Viper did nothing to dampen their pride in their father. Now his daughters are warriors as well. To see this fair beauty wanting the same is heartwarming.

"You will learn and you will train with my daughters."

A bright smile splits Myrcella's delicate features.

In a few days, Tyrion and Varys return with Daenerys Targaryen and an army at her back. The three meet with Doran to discuss next moves, but the Dragon princess brings terrible news from the North. She tells them that a man has reached out to her for help. He claims white walkers threaten life’s very existence. She wants to go to his aid, but will not if she is fighting Cersei as well. After the meeting, Tyrion goes to see Oberyn in his chambers. As he passes the courtyard he sees Myrcella training with the Sand Snakes. She has good form and is showing progress in skills he had no idea she was learning. This concerns him a little so his pace quickens. If even his niece is willing to fight, then the world has become a very different place. He enters the prince's chamber to find him surrounded by vases which he quickly realizes are filled with snakes. There is a constant hissing to the point of being harmonious. The prince has one in some kind of harness and is tempting it to strike at a cloth covered vessel. It gives in and sinks its fangs into the fabric and Oberyn hums in satisfaction. Tyrion clears his throat.

"Daenerys has arrived in Dorne."

"How did you get her to join us?"

"I agreed to be her Hand, but only if she'd meet with you. She is aware of what has transpired with your family and is prepared to offer you the chance at revenge."

Oberyn finally looks up from his task. The cold blooded reptile relaxes its fixed jaw and takes its fangs away.

"First you must join her in meeting with Cersei."

Oberyn is appalled at the idea that Daenerys would try to negotiate with Cersei. Clearly this girl has had no dealings with truly evil people. Tyrion tells him that Daenerys has been speaking with Jon Snow, the bastard of the late Edward Stark, and that he has asked for her to help save the realm. She was going to refuse, having no means of crossing the sea, until Tyrion and Varys arrived on her shores. Now she wishes to temporarily stop her fight for the throne with the Lannisters to ask them to help save it. He only goes to prove that Cersei is an irredeemable liar.

To protect the ships, they travel to King's Landing on foot and horseback. Myrcella is kept in Sunspear to continue her training and to be safe from her mother. Oberyn can see the love she has for his nephew blossom more everyday. He is impressed by her strength of will and quick learning. She will make a fine queen of Dorne one day. His three eldest daughters join the caravan. They are capable fighters whom Oberyn trusts openly. There are no finer warriors than his three girls, aside from himself of course. He watches as they speak openly with Daenerys, curious about her life. They have not traveled as much as their father. That makes them all the more curious of where he has been in his youth. Tyrion and Ser Jorah discuss possible political outcomes of the meeting with Lord Varys. All seem to be confident that the Dragon will win the throne. Less confident that Cersei will secede. Daenerys's dragons fly overhead like watchful buzzards looking for a meal. It is still amazing to know that they are real. The journey is still long and disheartening for Oberyn though. He had hoped to never return unless it was to kill Cersei. Now he must stand before her while another asks for a truce. Something he knows she will not give. That is how he knows she is lying.

In the ruins of a fighting pit, Daenerys Targaryen asks Cersei Lannister to set aside their war for the Iron Throne so that they may work together with Jon Snow and defeat what he is calling the Night King. A white walker with the power to turn the dead to his side. A force with an army that could ravage everything in its path. A smirk plays on Cersei's lips. Her eyes have a dark glint to them. Her mouth agrees to this truce. The promise of soldiers is spoken into the air. Ser Jamie even seems proud of his sister's choice. Oberyn however, sees the lie hanging from her mouth. She will not send her soldiers to the Wall. Her enemies are willingly marching into another, more powerful threat. They could defeat the Night King and die in the process, leaving her to rule all of Westeros. If Dorne were to move all their men North and if their battle there fails, Cersei would turn her eyes to Dorne and seek to take it. Oberyn pulls Daenerys aside.

"You cannot trust her."

"I know I cannot, that is why I was going to ask that you and your men stay in Dorne. We need soldiers near should she betray us. The rest of us will move North with a couple of Dornish ships."

Oberyn is relieved to see that she is not entirely blind. There may be hope for her yet as queen. As they leave to the outskirts of King’s Landing an idea begins to form in the Viper’s mind. Luckily he remembered to bring a vessel with them.

"You will need more men than you have.”

“What makes you believe that?”

“I do not nor did I ever frequent the northern territories of Westeros. The people there do not take kindly to strangers, whether they be from across the sea or not. You will need help should they betray you.”

Daenerys seems to take his words in for consideration.

“What would you have me do?”

Oberyn turns to the caravan. He goes to one in particular and opens its canvas cover. Inside, one of the two vessels he had been filling with snake venom sits waiting. He takes a small vial and fills it with the vessel’s contents. Closing the vial and sealing the vessel, he returns to the Dragon queen. Oberyn holds it out for her to take.

[coffeeman777]

I have a question about a section of Hebrews which is in chapter 10. Its bout the willfully sin part and the concept of no more salvation of sins , I remember reading it initially and panicking about it. I internalized it and tired to not to commit a willful sin but I'm afraid that I might have since I then heard 'salvation of sins no more' i dont know what to do and I've been mulling over it extensively. I still have the desire to be with God and study the Bible properly. I'm very confused ;-;

Yeah, that bit in Hebrews 10, as well as a bit in Hebrews 6, has caused no small amount of difficulty for lots of Christians. It did for me as well, until an old teacher of mine straightened it out for me.

So, let's start by quoting the passage in question:

Hebrews 10:26-31

"26 For if we go on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins, 27 but a fearful expectation of judgment, and a fury of fire that will consume the adversaries. 28 Anyone who has set aside the law of Moses dies without mercy on the evidence of two or three witnesses. 29 How much worse punishment, do you think, will be deserved by the one who has trampled underfoot the Son of God, and has profaned the blood of the covenant by which he was sanctified, and has outraged the Spirit of grace? 30 For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again, “The Lord will judge his people.” 31 It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

Now, by itself, it seems very scary. Who among us hasn't deliberately sinned even a single time since we came to Christ? All of us have. But thankfully, this passage isn't saying that you can't be forgiven for sins committed after coming to Christ. If we compare Scripture with Scripture, this becomes clear. Here's a passage on the same subject from 1 John:

1 John 3: 4-10

"4 Everyone who makes a practice of sinning also practices lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. 5 You know that he appeared in order to take away sins, and in him there is no sin. 6 No one who abides in him keeps on sinning; no one who keeps on sinning has either seen him or known him. 7 Little children, let no one deceive you. Whoever practices righteousness is righteous, as he is righteous. 8 Whoever makes a practice of sinning is of the devil, for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil. 9 No one born of God makes a practice of sinning, for God's seed abides in him; and he cannot keep on sinning, because he has been born of God. 10 By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother."

So, the writer of Hebrews, then, isn't saying that any sin committed after coming to Christ can't be forgiven; he's saying that a person who makes a profession of faith in Jesus but then continues to live a life characterized by sin, who practice sin as a lifestyle, can't expect to have their sins covered by Jesus' sacrifice, and that they have nothing to look forward to but judgement. This is exactly what John is saying: regardless of what a person claims to believe, if a person is deliberately practicing sin, living a life characterized by unrepentant sin, that person is of the devil, and hasn't been born of God. Everyone who experiences the new birth repents from sins, abandons the sinful practices of their life before Jesus, and begins to worship God sincerely from the heart by obeying Him.

In other words, the writer of Hebrews, like John, is condemning false converts who refuse to repent of sins. Consider Jesus' warning in Matthew 7:15-23, or Paul's many warnings in his letters, like Romans 6, 1 Corinthians 6:9-13, and Galatians 6:7.

This is an ancient heresy called "antinomianism," literally the practice of lawlessness. This heresy is alive and well in the church today; any time you hear a supposed Christian say that sin isn't real, or that repentance is unnecessary, or that Jesus pays for our sins so we can keep sinning and God is cool with it, etc, that is this heresy. And it is damnable. Flee from it.

In Christ Jesus, Christians are saved completely. We are saved by grace, through faith, and not by works. Our good works can't save us, and they can't keep us saved. Once saved, a person is saved for good. This is absolutely true. The lie is that a person can pray a prayer for Jesus to save them once, and then they can run off into the world and live like the devil himself and still go to heaven. The truth is that real, genuine salvation necessarily changes you. When the Holy Spirit indwells you, your passions and desires are different. You don't want to sin; you want to please God. You don't want to be wicked; you want to be righteous, so that you can honor God with your whole life. You want to be clean, selfless, upright, and good, because you have been clothed in Christ's righteousness and justified by faith. Anyone who doesn't want to repent, who doesn't want to flee from sins and begin obeying God hasn't been saved, and they don't have the Holy Spirit. The people who think they're saved without repentance have been tricked, and unless they turn to Jesus for real, they aren't going to make it.

As for those who are genuinely in Christ, we do still struggle with the flesh. Sometimes we screw up. Sometimes we fail. But we hate it. We hate our sin, we mourn over it, and we really want to be free of it, and that desire is proved by our actions. We take real, grace-enabled steps to excise the sin from our lives. If we discover more sin, we repent. We live a lifestyle of repentance, confessing sins and abandoning them, striving every day for greater Christlikeness. This is proof we have the Holy Spirit in us, that we're saved: not that we're perfect, but that we have changed and are changing from darkness to light. And we have God's promise of mercy and grace along the way:

1 John 1:5-10, 2:1-6

"5 This is the message we have heard from Him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. 6 If we say we have fellowship with Him while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth. 7 But if we walk in the light, as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. 8 If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 9 If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. 10 If we say we have not sinned, we make Him a liar, and His word is not in us... My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous. 2 He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world. 3 And by this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments. 4 Whoever says “I know Him” but does not keep His commandments is a liar, and the truth is not in him, 5 but whoever keeps His word, in Him truly the love of God is perfected. By this we may know that we are in Him: 6 whoever says he abides in Him ought to walk in the same way in which He walked."

Make sense?

[clevercxs]

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 4]

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Warning: nsfw ;)

Word Count: 8.8k

_______________________________________________

Midday rode in on its valorous steed, ridding Beamfleot of the prior night’s grim misfortunes and the fading afterglow of suffrage. 

The sun’s rays, in their curious nature, seemed to peek through the fort’s highest window in an attempt to wake the Saxon princess, who snored away in a blissful, much needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping beauty upstairs, tensions had risen amongst the Danes still hungover from the last night’s revelations, who were greeted with a rude awakening upon finding an empty cage in the centre of the hall. Their coveted princess had been intentionally freed and was virtually nowhere to be seen; she was not there, on display, for them to childishly taunt and harass.

Beneath messied curls of raven locks that had fallen over her pale face during the night, the princess’s eyes fluttered open, ever so slowly, and began to take in her new and unfamiliar surroundings. With a wide, breathy yawn that seemed to tug at the corners of her chapped lips, Blædswith carefully propped herself up on two feeble elbows that wobbled beneath her weight. Upon doing so she could feel the entirety of her shoulder ache, and broken ribs shift like creaky floorboards giving way. 

Peering down, Blædswith was taken aback to see herself fully clothed in a woolen, sleeved nightgown that seemed to reach just above her ankles. 

Her memory was a clouded haze, seeing as she couldn’t remember how she ended up where she had awoken; somewhere strange yet all familiar. 

The room was dark and unnerving, though oddly enough felt cozy and inviting to the woman it confined. The walls were of beautifully aged stones, each one telling a story of famous Lords and Ladies past; of victorious songs chanted and arduous battles won. To the left of the king sized bed where she found herself, loomed a stone fireplace stretching towards a high ceiling of beams, encompassing a small kindling fire just large enough to warm the room without roasting the Saxon alive. 

She could hear embers and small logs crackling, bringing a subtle grin to her lips out of its comforting familiarity. Plush fur rugs lined the wooden floor, forming a convenient trail towards the bedroom door carved in unfamiliar runes and other intriguing symbols. 

Overwhelmed by the sudden change of scenery, Blædswith found herself curling into a ball beneath layers of thick fur pelts that had been draped over her sleeping form. Clutching a hand-sewn pillow tightly to her chest, she rolled over to dodge the blinding rays of light illuminating the cavernous room. Glancing up from where she lay still, she noticed the beautifully carved designs in the bed’s wooden frame, and the wrought iron candelabra hanging overhead by a single chain.

It was rather strange to finally be alone, where no prying eyes could violate her every move. For a brief moment, she almost allowed herself a feeling of freedom and joy, only to realize that the room had become her new cage. The only window was barred by thick wooden posts while the door, undoubtedly, was locked and heavily guarded on the outside. 

Sigefrid wasn’t a complete fool to leave his most prized possession unattended and unprotected. Surely, he had learned his lesson, therefore no man was to be entrusted with her safety other than himself, the remaining few he trusted, or perhaps his merciful brother, Erik, whom the princess had already grown fond of.

Anxious, she began running her fingers through the pelt’s thickness, painstakingly trying to recall what happened last night…

While Sigefrid’s hand guided the princess away from the shore by the small of her back, she couldn’t help but stare at the carnage left behind in his wake. It looked as if his traitorous men had been slain by an entire army; dozens of arrows pierced their armored chest plates and their throats had been slashed by, undoubtedly, the blade upon Sigefrid's hand out of pure fury and rage. The limp body of the slave girl whom Blædswith befriended was carried off into the night, and to be forgotten, as if she had never been there.

As Sigefrid and Blædswith trudged uphill towards the fortress, she could feel him pulling her away from where a defeated Hæsten knelt in the dirt - mangled and disfigured beyond recognition. It seemed as if Sigefrid tried to avert the princess’s gaze from such a horrific and gruesome sight - one he was responsible for. 

Blædswith could feel her frightened heart pounding within her chest like a battle drum, somehow in perfect unison with her heavy footfalls.

Though in brief passing, Blædswith witnessed for the first time the extent of Sigefrid’s vengeful brutality - or rather, the aftermath. It was as if Hæsten’s face had been trampled, repeatedly, by the metal-clad hooves of Sigefrid’s black steed. Hæsten’s dark, bloodshot eyes were swollen almost completely shut. His beard, once a curly nest of honey blonde, had been stained a crimson red from thick, oozing streams trailing from his broken nose. Beneath the skin of his swollen cheeks were distinct purple bruises outlining four knuckle prints. Surely, they were left over from Sigefrid ruthlessly pummeling the side of his face, where each blow became more excruciating than the last. Hæsten’s ankles and wrists were bound in coils of coarse rope not unlike a slave fresh off the merchant's ship after a long, godless voyage.

Blædswith peered down at Sigefrid’s hand that had slithered around her lower back, now resting upon her waist just below her tender ribs. To her dismay, his knuckles were split wide open and stained with another man’s blood. As their pace quickened the further they got from the shore, Blædswith couldn’t help but fear for what she had gotten herself into after seeing what Sigefrid was fully capable of. 

Initially, she found herself drawn to the danger and mystery behind Sigefrid’s piercing eyes; seduced by his undeniable courage, god-like strength, and power over those inferior to him, the Lord of Chaos. But after that night, who was to say that he wouldn’t treat her this cruelly if she were to cross him? The fearsome Dane whose armor she clung to for dear life was a damning beast of a man capable of unimaginable acts… that much was clear.

There remained a glimmer of hope within the princess that she would be the exception; the one thing he could never allow himself to do any harm to. She believed him capable of being good, towards her, and hoped it would remain true of him in the end - when it really mattered. Blædswith marveled at the thought of being with a man such as Sigefrid, intimidating and ambitious, yet capable of being gentle towards his one beloved - her.

With the mead hall approaching in the near distance, Blædswith suddenly felt lightheaded, disoriented with fatigue and fear-fuelled adrenaline. The last thing she recalled hearing was the sound of Sigefrid’s voice calling out her name as her knees buckled beneath her and the night faded to pitch blackness with the collapse of her body...

Startled out of her thoughts by an indecipherable uproar of men arguing somewhere in the near distance, Blædswith found herself sitting upright once more, defensively on high alert, after hearing wooden tables and broken chairs being upturned and thrown rather aggressively across the mead hall, below. 

What is going on? Is Beamfleot under attack?

With a stiff groan, she climbed out of bed and shuffled towards the bedroom door, pressing an ear against the carved wood. The princess audibly gasped when she identified Sigefrid’s voice amongst all others, bursting at the seams and fuming like a maddened, rabid dog off its leash. 

“Dear God.” Blædswith gulped as Sigefrid’s tone seemed to grow louder by the minute while Erik struggled to calm him down. It sounded as if a hundred Danes were shouting in a jumbled unison, leaving Blædswith only able to comprehend mere bits and pieces of what was said.

In a panic, the princess frantically searched through every table and desk drawer, tearing the room apart in search for any weapons or weapon-like objects to defend herself with in case Sigefrid were to come for her next. This time, it appeared, Erik hadn’t left anything behind for her. Distracted by the commotion downstairs, Blædswith did not hear the light feet approaching her room, and hadn’t the slightest clue that someone was headed her way until the bedroom door quickly unlocked and swung open. Out from behind the door entered a quaint slave girl trembling in her work shoes, balancing a tray of food in one hand with an assortment of combs and brushes shoved down in her pockets. 

“L-Lady.” She greeted timidly, “I-I am sorry to disturb you. Lord Sigefrid sent me-” The young girl nudged the door closed with the pad of her foot, cautiously walking through the room to place the food down on the nearest bedside table. 

Startled, Blædswith practically jumped out of her nightgown at the sudden intrusion, withholding crude language after she realized how nervous the poor girl already was - out of fear. Her complexion was as pale as a ghost as a result of what was occurring downstairs, and likely whatever Sigefrid had threatened her with.

“What is Sigefrid doing? Downstairs?” Blædswith questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and taking a seat at the foot end of the bed. “Of course, I... have my suspicions.” Her words faded into silence after noticing a rather sharp steak knife conveniently placed beside her meal. 

“L-Lord Sigefrid is…” The slave gulped dryly and began fidgeting with the bristles of a large brush in her pocket, “he is asserting himself, a-after what happened last night. To you. He is upset… he feels he can no longer trust anyone, n-nor protect you.”

Blædswith exhaled sharply, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. Worried by Sigefrid’s sense of doubt, she questioned, “But he trusts you, does he not? After all, you are here. If you intended to kill me you might actually have a chance.” She motioned down to her shoulder before stiffly rotating it in circular motion.

“H-he does, yes, lady.” She nodded solemnly. “I have no intention to harm you. I have been nothing but loyal to Lord Sigefrid-”

Blædswith, immediately, picked up the steak knife from the tray, reached across her bed, and tucked it beneath her pillow. “I need you to be loyal - to me. You will not tell Sigefrid, nor Erik, that I have a knife. Hæsten still wishes me dead, and this is the only way of protecting myself. Do you understand?” Blædswith leaned in, closing the distance between their faces, thus causing the young slave girl to tremble in fear. She then added, darkly, “If you tell anyone, I shall kill you with it.”

Frantically nodding, on the brink of tears, the slave whimpered,

“Y-yes, lady. I-I understand.”

After Blædswith had been well fed and groomed, the young girl was dismissed so the princess could be left alone to her growing sense of paranoia. Before the slave could reach the door, apprehensive to step foot outside, Blædswith couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way she treated her. “Girl.” She began, causing the young slave to stop dead in her tracks, gratefully. “What is your name?”

Slowly turning to face the princess, she replied shamefully, “I-I have no name, lady.”

Blædswith slowly rose from the bed, strolling towards the beautiful, brunette haired girl cowering before her. “I shall call you Moira. How does that sound?” Blædswith reached forward, tucking hair behind the young girl's ear as she once had, to the first slave she’d met. “It is a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. Do you not agree?”

Moira nodded humbly, caught off guard by the princess’s sudden interest in her. “I-I agree, yes. Thank you.” Moira then proceeded towards the door, sheepishly asking, “What shall I call you, lady?”

“Blædswith. You may consider me a friend... if you do as told.” The Saxon grinned, now propping herself up on pillows and carefully pulling the fur pelt over her chest. “I can offer you far more than the Thurgilson brothers for your loyalty.”

Moira’s eyes seemed to sparkle with a sense of hope. “I-I shall see you again soon, Blædswith, when I return to tidy Sigefrid’s chambers.” With a courteous bow, she slipped out of the room and back into the realm of chaos instilled by Sigefrid Thurgilson, leaving Blædswith’s head suddenly spinning.

It all made sense, now, why she had slept in a room so breathtaking; so fitting for a princess, even. 

Lady Blædswith of Wessex had spent the night in Sigefrid Thurgilson’s private chambers,

and she doubted it would be the last time.

____________________ ➴  ____________________

With the descendence of evening fall came a sense of tranquility over the land. In recent hours past, the clan’s discord had simmered down as the Danes dispersed, returning Beamfleot to its once habitual state of being. 

Blædswith, after restlessly tossing and turning, found herself buried beneath a mountain of fur pelts and pillows as if she were a child hiding from her parents. The princess stirred uneasily, wondering what would happen to her come dusk. She wondered why Sigefrid had not visited her, though it was likely for the best if he was still tense from earlier. However short-tempered Sigefrid was, Blædswith believed his company was better than none. A sense of loneliness and abandonment had overcome her vulnerable mind after spending an entire day imprisoned by herself.

When Blædswith finally began to drift off to sleep, she could hear the bedroom door knob fumbling as someone struggled to unlock it from the outside. With a loud creak, an unwelcome figure crept into the room and locked the door behind them.

Blædswith could feel her dry throat clench, and stomach coil into a tight, fearful knot. She listened as their footsteps drew near to the bed. Not a word was spoken in greeting, as if they intended to surprise the bed’s sleeping inhabitant. Ever so slowly, Blædswith’s fingers inched beneath her pillow and towards her knife. Her trembling body was otherwise still; frozen, even, as a paralyzing fear surged through her veins like a potent venom. 

She could hear a pair of shoes being unlaced, and sloppily tossed against the nearest wall with seemingly little care of waking her. Something heavy yet soft fell to the floor, such as a fur pelt, before they began high-stepping out of something.

Somebody was taking their clothes off.

Tightly gripping onto the handle of her knife, Blædswith threw back her blankets and sprung to her knees, holding her knife outwards towards the foot end of the bed where her intruder stood completely naked from head to toe.

Having expected it to be Hæsten, or perhaps even Sigefrid, the frightened princess was flabbergasted and utterly appalled to see a bare-chested woman standing before her whose surprised look mirrored her own. 

The two, in unison, gasped like fish out of water.

“Gahhh! What are you doing?!” Blædswith shrieked, turning away from the woman who showed no sense of urgency to cover herself. “W-who are you?!”

“I am Sigefrid’s mistress.” The dark haired woman sneered rather sharply, as if insulted that Blædswith hadn’t heard of her. 

“Bloody Hell.” Blædswith groaned, chest rising and falling quickly with each rapid breath she drew, “Well, I am not Sigefrid! Y-you may…” She nodded with utmost caution, seeing as the woman was easily twice her size. “...you may put your clothes on and leave. Now.”

“Oh?” The large woman chuckled lowly with the shake of her head. “You do not get to bark orders. You are that damned Saxon princess Sigefrid won’t shut up about.” She quirked an eyebrow down at the princess as her lips formed a devilish grin. “But... he will have nothing to talk about if you are gone.”

“Gone?” Blædswith croaked. “I-I do not wish to leave-”

“You will leave, here, when I send you to meet your false God.” The woman snarled, suddenly lunging at Blædswith like a wild cat springing towards its prey, pinning her elbows to the bed causing the knife, her main source of defense, to fall to the floor.

“Shit!” Blædswith gasped, as she began awkwardly wriggling beneath the maddened woman, trying her best to divert her gaze from the Dane’s exposed breasts. Blædswith began kneeing her repeatedly in the gut, crying out in pain while doing so as pain scorched through her own torso. “Get off of me!” Blædswith whimpered, able to free an arm from the Dane’s clammy grasp to strike a fist at the side of her face. 

The bear-like woman seemed virtually unphased. 

“I do not want to kill you!” Blædswith leaned forward, head butting the brawny Dane though seeming to do more damage to herself than her attacker. Blædswith attempted to intertwine their legs together, only to have her shins kicked at until bruises began to form.

“Is that all you have got, princess? You could not kill me if you tried.” Sigefrid’s mistress chuckled menacingly, suddenly taking a firm hold of Blædswith’s throat with both hands in an attempt to choke and suffocate her. With the larger woman’s full body weight atop of her small frame, Blædswith was physically unable to push her off, nor pry her claws from her throat.

“I thought you wanted to be a Dane?” The mistress goaded, watching the color drain from the princess’s cheeks as she writhed and gasped for air. Scorching tears burning trails down her cheeks as she choked on her own sobs. “You are a sorry excuse for a Saxon. For a Christian.” She then dug her fingertips into Blædswith’s freshly cauterized shoulder, causing the princess to whimper and cry out like a dog that had been run over by a cart.

With a low growl, Blædswith managed, 

“I am not a Christian.” 

With her remaining strength, Blædswith wrapped an arm and leg over the nude woman’s back and jerked them both off the bed and onto the floor, causing the Dane to momentarily let go of her throat. Diving away from the bed, gasping, the princess began painfully crawling on her elbows and knees towards the knife, shouting and kicking out behind her like a wild horse after feeling a calloused hand grasp to either of her ankles. 

With a loud cry, and all that she had left within her, Blædswith took hold of the knife once more after continuously crawling forward and being dragged back. Just as the Dane lowered herself towards the princess, hoping to pin her again, Blædswith flipped onto her back and slashed the throat of her assailant with a loud grunt, causing the woman to clutch her gaping wound with both hands as thick streams of red seeped between her fingers. Sigefrid’s mistress fell onto her side, gurgling profusely, as she began to accept her fate dealt by the hand of a Saxon princess.

Blædswith, now hovering above the dying woman, took it upon herself to jab the knife beneath her ribs, driving it up towards the Dane’s gaping throat as if she were skinning a deer, or even performing a reverse blood eagle. 

“We could have lived together... peacefully.” Blædswith grunted, forcing the knife deeper into the woman’s core. “You did this, not me! I never would have wished you any harm!” The princess began twisting the knife as the Dane let out a final gasp. “You killed yourself. Tell that to your gods.”

The light in the Dane’s eyes began to fade, though she quietly managed through airy pants, “I… knew I was… done for when... he… he called out your name…” Her head rolled lazily around her shoulders, allowing her to look the princess in the eyes and whisper, “Blædswith.” 

The Dane fell limp as a dark pool of blood engulfed her massive form. It looked as if she had been mangled and sacrificed to the Pagan gods above. Blædswith opened the mistresses’ large hand, and placed the handle of the knife within her palm before closing her fingers into a tight fist. With a sigh, she whispered, “Valhalla calls you. I will not deny you your gods… even if you did try to kill me. Perhaps, in another life, we shall meet again.”

Crawling away from the fresh corpse, Blædswith found herself crumpled and hunched over against the other side of the bed facing the door. She looked down at her sticky, bloodied hands resting palm up on her lap as a rogue tear caressed the side of her cheek. Her nightgown had been stained with hand prints and smears of red, and the skin of her neck felt raw to the touch as if she had been gripped by the devil himself. 

Sobbing, she feared she would never truly be safe, and never be accepted by the Danes no matter what she does. She worried she would always be a target - always the enemy - even if she has denounced her Christian God. Until she has regained her strength, she will never be able to fully defend herself in Sigefrid’s recurring absence. Angrily, she questioned whether or not he had intentionally, repeatedly, neglected her.

Was Sigefrid testing her? Proving that what he said about her was true?

Not a single guard rushed to her aid. Not even Sigefrid, nor Erik. Blædswith understood they were busy, therefore could not be her caretakers. Most of the Danes she knew weren’t nurturing by nature… however, she had expected the Thurgilson brothers to better protect such a valuable asset - especially if Sigefrid expected her to stay. 

There was something different in the air; something off. There wasn’t a single doubt in Blædswith’s mind that Hæsten was behind the attack. It was likely he dismissed Sigefrid’s guards as he did by the lake, and encouraged Sigefrid’s woman to visit his chambers knowing full well the princess would be there, instead.

Was Hæsten planning, in secret, to overthrow his lords? Or was he simply trying to get revenge on the Saxon princess anyway that he could? Perhaps his plan was to kill two birds with one stone… and that Sigefrid’s hostile mistress was just the first of many to come...

____________________ ➴  ____________________

Shadows filled Sigefrid’s chambers as twilight descended upon the fort. It felt as though the gods above had readied themselves for a blissful night’s slumber after a long day of watching over Midgard and its Danes. 

On the hard wooden floor she remained, even all these hours later. Her hands were stiff with dried blood; her mind, body, and soul numb to the feeling as she stared off into the distance through heavy lids, anticipating someone unpleasant to burst through the door at any moment. She feared she wouldn’t have the strength to resist their advances in her current state of lethargy.

Every so often she swore to have seen Moira, or perhaps the spirit of, the first slave girl she met, lying atop the bed with her fragile hands folded over her chest. Guilt feasted on her insides like hungry Danes supping at the Great Hall. When Moira was no longer there, behind Blædswith’s head, she would see the face of Sigefrid’s mistress. Her ghost seemed to lurk in the shadows of the room’s darkest corners, haunting Blædswith even in death. 

Blædswith ran the backs of her shaky hands over her drowsy eyes. In the end, her own mind; her own guilt and grievances had truly gotten the best of her. 

A gentle knock on the door, followed by the friendly voice of Moira II, seemed to be enough to lift the princess’s spirits as she entered the room with a fresh outfit draped over her forearm. Upon noticing the princess bloodied and on the floor, Moira gasped and immediately dropped the clothes before running to her aid. Once knelt before the Saxon, she began looking her over to see if she had been mortally wounded.

“Blædswith!? Are you alright?” She panicked, placing a small, child-like hand to the princess’s cheek. Moira sighed in relief, feeling a heavy weight lifted off her shoulders as Blædswith nodded ever so feebly. “W-what happened? Who did this to you?”

Raising a shaky arm out to her side like an injured raven preparing for flight, Blædswith pointed a single finger towards the other side of the bed. 

She didn’t utter a single word, for she couldn’t find the right thing to say.

On her hands and knees like a hound, the slave crawled around the foot end of the bed, now following a smeared trail of blood until she found the body of Sigefrid’s old woman - one she knew far too well. 

“Christ almighty.” She shrieked and motioned her hand in the shape of a cross over her chest. That caught Blædswith by surprise - how anyone, let alone a slave - could possibly preserve their faith in God whilst living in Daneland.

“Sigefrid’s mistress intended to… seduce him. She found me instead.” Blædswith croaked dryly with a faint grin, now pressing a hand to her ribs. “She tried to kill me.”

“There were no guards outside your door, Blædswith.” Moira cried, hurrying back to the princess’s side with a look of worry and concern engraved on her face. “Sigefrid ordered them to stay, I-I heard him. I fear they... took orders from someone else-”

Blædswith nodded her head and interjected, “Hæsten is behind this, he must be. He will not stop until I am dead, and rotting at the bottom of the sea. There are many who follow him… I fear he is planning a coup against the brothers, but they are blind to it...” The princess huffed and firmly pursed her dried lips together. “The men Sigefrid trusts are disloyal. I have seen it many times in my short while. I must help him see what he can’t. For if I do not… we may all be killed.” 

Moira rose to her feet and approached the pile of clothing on the floor, scooped it all up in her arms and displayed the garments on the bed as nicely as she could. “Perhaps you can tell Sigefrid tonight. Well, after I-I get you cleaned up. Y-you look as if you slaughtered a pig.” She grinned and kindly helped Blædswith to her feet. 

“What do you mean, tonight? W-what is tonight?” Startled and confused, Blædswith’s thick brows furrowed together, though she found herself staring in awe at the beautiful Danish garb laid before her. 

What is all this for?

“Sigefrid has requested your presence, tonight, for dinner in the mead hall.” With a quick nod, Moira escorted Blædswith to the nearest armchair where she was to wait patiently for her return with a rag and bucket of water - not unlike she had done the night prior, where she waded in the frigid lake water.

“Then I must go.” Blædswith inhaled sharply, glancing towards the door as if expecting another intrusion. “This may be my last chance to warn him before it is too late.” 

Before leaving, Moira retrieved a small, sharpened axe from beneath her shawl that she had looted from one of the brothers. 

“Sigefrid could kill you for this.” Blædswith warned though graciously took the axe from the noble slave girl.

Moira, within feet of the door, nodded solemnly over her shoulder with a kind smile and soothed, “I know.”

____________________ ➴  ____________________

“I do not wish to be humiliated tonight.” Blædswith pouted, running her hands down the front of the apron dress Sigefrid chose for her to wear. She muttered beneath her breath, “I have been tormented enough.”

As a base layer, Blædswith wore a white, long sleeved smock that brushed against her ankles. On top was a shorter, red apron fastened by a string of beads across her chest strewn between a large, silver brooch on either strap - both beautifully engraved in Danish runes. Her feet had slipped into a pair of lace up shoes made of soft, pliable leather. Blædswith’s elongated fingers and narrow wrists were embellished in the finest silver jewelry in the land.

Atop of the princess’s head were three intricate braids running from her hairline to the back of her skull where they were joined by a thin band of leather. While her loose hair cascaded down her shoulders, on either side of her neck hung a single braid that lay against her free flowing locks.

“The brothers will protect you. Y-you have little to worry about.” Moira soothed, approaching the princess from behind to drape a small, light-brown pelt over her shoulders. “You look beautiful.” Moira complimented in awe as she pulled the length of Blædswith’s dark mane out from beneath the fur. 

Stepping in front of the princess in place of a mirror, Moira clasped her hands together against her chest and studied Blædswith from head to toe to ensure she looked as Sigefrid wanted. “You look every bit a Dane, and a-a lovely one at that.” Moira began fiddling with the fur pelt draped over Blædswith’s shoulders, adjusting the brooches upon her chest, and flattening out any creases in her skirt. 

Astounded, Moira chirped, “T-the gods truly favor Lord Sigefrid.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well…” Moira grinned from ear to ear, cocking her head to the side, “Why else would they have brought him you?” With that, the unlikely pair interlocked arms and headed towards the door, only for Blædswith to halt in her tracks.

“What about her?” Blædswith motioned towards the Danish woman she had slain. “We can not just leave her.” She began to panic as the potential consequences for her actions flooded through her mind. Moira quickly shook her head and guided Blædswith to face her, rather than the lifeless body of her assailant. 

“I will take care of Yrsa.” Moira spat the woman’s name bitterly with a hateful snarl. “I never liked her. S-she will be cut up, and served to Sigefrid’s hound for dinner. You have my word.” Moira placed a firm hand to Blædswith’s shoulder as the two exchanged comforting glances. 

“You are mad.” The princess teased with a quiet chuckle. “Thank you.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile as she noted, “He likes his meat well done, by the way.”

Stepping out into the noisy hallway, arm in arm, they strolled towards the staircase. Blædswith could hear the merry laughter, chanting, and singing of jovial Danes downing horns of ale by the minute. To her discomfort she felt their arms suddenly unravel, realizing just how tightly she had been holding on to her escort. “You are not coming with me?” Blædswith frowned. “Why?”

Moira shook her head, and took a courteous step back towards Sigefrid’s chambers. “Y-you must do this alone. I will dispose of Yrsa’s body.”

“I can not-”

“Do you have the axe?” Moira pressed firmly.

Blædswith nodded in defeat, patting the right pocket of her apron. “I do.”

“Then go.” Moira hummed with a shooing motion. “Sigefrid Thurgilson awaits you.” 

Like a moth drawn to candle light Blædswith’s feet carried her to the top of the stairs where she found herself clutching tightly to the support rail, looking down at the night’s festivities that beckoned her. 

Her beating heart drowned out the sounds of Danes laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Those up and about, dancing around like children of the night seemed to move in slow motion.  Everyone around her had come to a halt, paralyzed in time as the world simply stopped. 

All because she saw him - though he had already been looking up at her.

Once engrossed in hearty laughter and storytelling by a large bonfire, Sigefrid’s attention suddenly fell elsewhere, towards the divine woman overlooking the mead hall in all her glory. It took him a moment to realize who had captivated his being; the entirety of his lonesome heart with her ethereal beauty. To no surprise, it was none other than his beloved princess, Blædswith.

Sigefrid’s slowly lowered a cup of ale from his parting lips. His eyes, crinkling in the corners, dazzled with such fondness and desire for the woman he admired so dearly. His bearded lips curled into a wide, toothy smile as he tossed the cup aside and excitedly jumped to his feet. His hand quickly readjusted his armored chest plate prior to greeting the lady of the hour, the eldest daughter of King Alfred.

As she descended down the stairs, fingertips running along the railing, she bashfully looked away from Sigefrid who was smiling like a fool upon her arrival. Blædswith could feel a warm heat beneath her cheeks as virtually everyone in the hall stopped what they were doing to stare in awe. There were mixed feelings - some were relieved to see the princess healthy and alive, while others regretted not killing her, or worse, when they had the chance.

“Lady Blædswith.” Sigefrid greeted ever so charmingly and strolled closer. “What a lovely surprise.” Upon doing so, he noticed the redness of her neck and frowned, exhaling sharply through his teeth at the mere thought of someone laying a hand on what was rightfully his. His brows suddenly furrowed as he took hold of her forearm and pulled her closer. “Who did this?” Sigefrid snarled as those spectating returned to their prior festivities. Frantically scanning her face for answers, he grew impatient when Blædswith remained silent. 

Troubled, Sigefrid rattled her arm and sternly repeated, “Who?”

With the shake of her head, the princess caressed the side of his face and closed the gap between their bodies. “Now is not the time.” She glanced over each shoulder. “Rest assured, they are no longer a threat.” Pushing off of her toes, she rested a hand against his chest and pressed a gentle, comforting kiss to his lips. 

Sigefrid did not fathom how ravenous he had been until he tasted, once more, the sweetest gift from the gods. Pulling her lower body against his, Sigefrid hungrily devoured her lips, fighting the urge to abandon the grand feast he had planned so he could ravish her within the privacy of his chambers. His calloused hand rested at the base of her skull, sending chills down her body as he intertwined strands of her hair between his fingers. Blædswith pulled him impossibly closer by his armor and deepend the kiss, taking his bottom lip between her teeth as a low growl rumbled in his chest. 

Sigefrid chuckled to himself with a wide, boyish smirk, as Blædswith began placing a trail of kisses down the length of his neck, stopping just above his collarbone. A stifled moan escaped through his lips after realizing he’d been holding his breath. His eyes fluttered shut, and his tongue dragged over his lips to savor the taste of hers, all while marveling at his wildest fantasies coming true. 

“I missed you.” Blædswith cooed in his ear before pressing her greedy lips onto his once more, no longer resisting the urges within that she had fought long and hard to suppress. When they parted for air, they found themselves gently nudging one another with their noses - smiling like dumb, lovestruck teenagers.

“Oh,” He chuckled amusingly, “how I have missed you.” He could feel his lower half stiffen uncomfortably in her presence as his heart beat inhumanly fast against his armor. Biting the tip of his tongue with an irresistibly flirty smile, he motioned for Blædswith to walk alongside him towards a long, wooden table seated with Danes challenging each other to eating contests and arm wrestling matches. “Come.” He reached back, taking her hand in his. “I need to wash away the taste of betrayal.” As Blædswith followed closely behind, cheeks flushed and core left aching after the heated moment they had just shared. She felt as if she were floating on cloud-nine, bit buzzed from the feeling of euphoria he instilled within her. 

However, that feeling quickly faded as she cowered away from the looks of hatred and pure disgust she received. Blædswith could hear whispers of her name throughout the hall from those wondering what Sigefrid’s intentions were with the king’s daughter.

“Why is she not in her cage?”

“What in Odin’s name is Lord Sigefrid doing with our princess?”

As they neared the table Blædswith searched for an empty seat, preferably one close to the dark haired Thurgilson brother. Apprehensive, the princess distanced herself whilst Sigefrid continued ahead of her. Noticing her absence by his side, he turned on his heels and frowned. “Is something wrong?”

The princess shrugged sheepishly. “I-I do not see a place for me to sit.” 

“You will sit… with me.” Sigefrid squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her to the short end of the table where two carved, wooden thrones awaited them. Erik, she noticed, was comfortably seated in a third throne at the other end of the table.

“I hope... it is to your liking.”

“I-I do not know what to say.” Blædswith smiled as he helped her to her seat before making himself comfortable in his rightful place beside her. Before he could notice, she plucked the axe from her pocket and dropped it behind the throne. 

She felt safe enough in Sigefrid’s presence, that surely, it would not be of use to her.

The Danish lord couldn’t help but stare, seeing how tall and powerful she sat where his brother had. Once broken and defeated, she held her head high and overlooked those who despise, yet envy her all the same. With a freshly brewed horn of ale now in hand, Sigefrid’s eyes fell to her exposed chest concealing her lonely heart that yearned for him; for their souls to collide as their warm breaths intertwine beneath Odin’s watchful eye. 

Peering across the table, Blædswith fortuitously caught Erik’s attention. The two exchanged gentle smiles as Erik nodded, assuring her that she was safe, and in good hands with his brother. She mouthed a quiet “thank you”, not only for allowing her to sit upon his throne, but for every kind gesture he’s done since they met.

“Two days ago…” Blædswith spoke down at herself, “it was as if I were a caged animal. Scared… afraid. Now I feel like a queen.” The corners of her lips squirmed as she fought to conceal an overwhelming feeling of joy, and finally, of freedom. “Why?” She looked up at Sigefrid with glossy eyes, and a faint half-smile. “We used to hate each other. W-what are we doing?”

Sigefrid leaned towards her, resting an elbow upon the armrest of his throne. He exhaled sharply, “While I have not been kind to you, Lady… I never hated you.” He spoke grimly, lowering his serious gaze that seemed to sparkle beneath the overhead candelabra. “I have learned from my mistakes; my failures as Lord of Beamfleot… and as a man.” Sigefrid reached forward and poured her a cup of ale, offering it to the princess in which she graciously took and drank from. 

Clearing his throat, he leaned in even closer. “I will make things… better… between us. I presume my chambers were to your liking, were they not?” 

“Your chambers were lovely… though a bit lonely.” Blædswith grinned faintly, feeling herself give in to the burning subject on her mind. “Sigefrid… I would not advise you to sleep there furthermore.” The Saxon whispered discreetly in between sips of ale. “It is not safe.” 

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid suddenly shot upright, throwing a half empty horn of ale over his shoulder, nearly hitting a slave girl passing by with a tray of food.

With a heavy sigh, Blædswith chugged the rest of her cup and tossed it aside, too. Carefully choosing her words, she mumbled nonchalantly, “Your mistress did not take too kindly to another woman in her bed.” She could feel the skin on the back of her neck burning as if inches away from a blacksmith’s forge. “She entered your chambers, and upon recognizing me, she... tried to kill me.” Blædswith gently rubbed her throat, grimly recalling when she had been strangled. 

“And… what did you do?” Sigefrid, practically perched on the armrest like a bird, held onto her every word as if it were to be her last. A mixed array of emotions overcame him, from nauseating worry and dread to fear of the worst. His mind couldn’t fathom how his mistress slipped past his guards, so he felt embarrassed and burdened with guilt that Blædswith found out about Yrsa that way, or at all. While he knew his mistress to be short tempered as he is, he never would have imagined her to attack King Alfred’s daughter out of pure jealousy.

“I slit her throat and gutted her like a deer.” Blædswith deadpanned before an unfamiliar slave girl offered her a second cup of ale, in which she quickly drank from and muttered a quiet “Sköl” as she turned to face the hall.

“Sköl.” 

“I am sorry about Yrsa. I tried to reason with her. She would not listen.”

“She was a mad woman.” Sigefrid shook his head shamefully and downed more of his ale. “There were times... I feared this would happen. Not to you, but… to someone.” After a big gulp of ale, he wiped his beard with the back of his arm and shamefully sunk back into his throne, closing his eyes and cursing himself to the gods for neglecting their gift to him.

“Your guards were dismissed from their duties. When your slave came to get me, they had been long gone.” Blædswith stirred uneasily, distracting herself by glancing around the hall. “That is how Yrsa got in.”

“Those men will be dealt with. I can assure you that.” Sigefrid growled darkly through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white from gripping tightly onto his horn of ale. “They will be slaughtered, like that whore of a woman, Yrsa.”

“You speak of your mistress as if you do not care. Surely you must?”

“Yrsa... was a good hump. She passed the time. Unlike her, it is not your ass I want. It is yourself.” Sigefrid turned towards the Saxon, sitting as his equal, beside him. “If you will have me.”

Blædswith gasped quietly beneath her breath. “If I didn't know better, I would have thought you wanted me to stay.” Teasingly, she quirked an eyebrow as if she couldn’t tell how he felt by the way he held her close - when they exchanged such a moment of tenderness; of love, even. 

“Well, do you?” The Dane teased, excitedly toying with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Do I what?” Blædswith hummed with a faux, innocent pout.

“Know better?” 

Blædswith smiled down at her folded hands resting upon her lap, closing her eyes as a bright smile overcame her lips. “Even despite those who wish me dead or to be sold back to Wessex?” Blædswith then peeled the fur pelt from her shoulders, pooling it behind her.

“Even so.” Sigefrid nodded with a wink. His lips slowly parted in awe as he watched Blædswith rise from her throne, now standing before his knees. She began bunching the skirt of her dress at her hips, stepping over his large boots to place herself deep within his lap; his hands immediately shot to her lower waist, pressing her hips firmly against the front of his bulging pants with a breathy groan. 

Numerous Danes whistled and hollered at Blædswith’s sudden gesture.

“I am giving up everything for you. My family, my kingdom. My crown.” Blædswith pinned his wrists to the throne’s armrests, causing Sigefrid to throw his head back against his seat. She could see him gulp drly; the muscular veins of his neck protruding as he fought every primal urge within him to tear her dress to shreds. “I have conditions.”

“Name them.” Sigefrid groaned as Blædswith began to slowly grind her hips against the mighty Thor’s hammer beneath her. She could feel the muscles of his arms flinching beneath her grasp, knowing full well he was stronger than her and could pry her hands off at any moment. His chest rose and fell beneath his armor as he shifted frustratedly in his throne. 

“I want to be your equal.” She purred in his ear. “I will not be treated like a common whore, or slave. You will not have any mistresses, for I will kill them all. I am all you need.” Blædswith whispered dangerously close to his lips as her knees tightened around his hips. “I am your gift from the gods…”

Sigefrid nodded, panting, “I agree to your terms,” before learning forward for a kiss, only to be stopped by Blædswith leaning back, and ceasing all movement of her body.

“Oh, I am not finished.” She taunted rather seductively, maintaining a few inches between their faces. “I no longer wish to be called lady or princess. I am Blædswith.” She paused, biting her bottom lip to suppress an unexpected whimper after feeling him move against her. “I want to learn your ways; t-to train and fight alongside you, as a shieldmaiden. That has always been a dream of mine. I-I am a Dane at heart.”

“That is… quite the ask.” Sigefrid groaned beneath the warmth of her shifting weight. “It would be an honor to fight; to drink, and lie, beside you. I have wanted this - you - ever since we met.” Sigefrid, no longer able to resist her, freed his arms from her grasp with a loud grunt. She could feel his hand wandering down her lower back, undoing the tie of her apron. “I need you to be mine. No other man can have you.”

“Then take me,” Blædswith pleaded, her tender lips mere inches from his. She cupped the sides of his prickly face with her soft hands and whimpered softly, “Take me as yours.”  With a quick, affirming nod, Sigefrid crashed his lips onto hers, tangling his hand in her youthful, free flowing locks. Tilting her head to the side, he began sucking and nipping at the skin of her neck, leaving a warm trail of bruises down to her collarbone to establish his claim over her. Pushing the sleeve of her apron dress down, he sloppily kissed around her cauterized shoulder, wanting her to realize that it wasn’t appalling enough to drive him away. He wanted her to feel beautiful; wanted and desired despite her wound.

Blædswith took his hand in hers, placing atop her breast for him to knead through her dress. If it weren’t for the room full of Danes surrounding them, perhaps her dress would have been discarded ages ago. “You are not,” she gasped quietly in his ear, “disgusted by my shoulder?”

Flicking a thumb over her swollen lip, he growled, “No.” Sigefrid’s eyes were dark; completely dilated as if he were a predator consuming its prey. He looked up at her as if she were his entire world, his beginning and his end.

How strange, he thought, that in so little time Blædswith, a Saxon princess, could mean so much to him… and she may and never know it. “You could never disgust me.” Sigefrid slid his hand around her arse, giving it a firm squeeze as he made his way to her undergarments, pulling and tugging on the fabric until it tore at the seams. 

He could feel the warmth radiating from between her legs as his fingers neared, only for Blædswith to shake her head and whimper, “No, we can’t.”

“You do not want to?” A confused Sigefrid panted quietly, almost offended that she had denied him entrance to her most sacred body. “I do not understand-”

“Of course I want to.” She smiled with an airy chuckle. “When I give myself to you,” she gently caressed the side of his face as his arms rested around her waist, “I want it to only be us, and the gods, in the room. I do not wish to be in pain, either.” She motioned down to her ribs, which had ached the entire time. “Besides, if we start now, I-I won’t be able to stop in time for the main feast.” She teased lightly, causing Sigefrid’s chest to rumble with laughter. 

“I am not hungry.” Sigefrid chuckled with a sly grin, flicking his tongue over his lips. 

“Of course not.” Pressing her forehead against his, she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. “Well, I am starving. After tonight I am not going anywhere. I promise.” Blædswith soothed, tracing her fingers down the length of his arm, until she reached his hand. Taking it in her own, she raised his knuckles to her lips and gently kissed each one. “I have denounced the Christian God. My engagement is invalid…” Blædswith courteously pushed herself off of him, adjusting her straps of her apron and pulling down her skirt to avoid flashing the entire hall. “I am a free woman.”

“Not anymore.” Sigefrid smirked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Blædswith could ask what trouble he was up to, Sigefrid blew through a large horn, immediately gaining the hall’s attention. Blædswith was left standing upon wobbly legs, flustered and breathless. Her entire body was flushed pink, nearly matching the color of her apron. Even a half-conscious drunk could look at her tangled hair and know what she and Lord Sigefrid had been up to - there was no keeping it a secret. 

The entire mead hall fell silent, except for a quiet hum of music in the near distance.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Sigefrid began, “I have something to say, to each of you.” A low murmur rose out of suspicion. “You will now be disappointed to know, that Lady Blædswith of Wessex, here, is now mine.” He couldn’t help himself but to chuckle haughtily. “No man is to touch her. Not with his hands, and not with his tiny cock… unless he wishes to lose it.” As he raised his hand-blade to the crowd, he couldn’t help but smile down at the beautiful woman whose warm hand rested upon his chest - a feeling he would truly never grow tired of. 

From across the hall, the sight of his brother gazing down upon the woman he admired warmed Erik’s heart, seeing as Sigefrid’s gentler side rarely saw the light of day.

“What about our wealth? Our promised glory?” An older, toothless Dane called out, followed by an uproar of support from those standing around him. 

“Blædswith is a great warrior, whom I have grown fond of.” Sigefrid argued with a scowl, glaring down at his followers. “She is far more valuable, than any silver.” 

Blædswith let go of Sigefrid’s armor, and stepped forward to address the room. “I hope it brings you peace, knowing that I am no longer a Christian. I am not your enemy, but King Alfred’s. It would bring me no greater joy than to raid Wessex and pillage my father’s wealth. If you will accept me, as a Dane, I shall reward you greatly.” Blædswith could feel Sigefrid’s chest press against her back as he protectively stood by her side. 

After a few moments of silence, cheering and applause rang throughout the entire hall. Upon Sigefrid’s request, a slave girl brought them each a third cup of ale, in which Blædswith raised into the air and shouted, “Sköl!” 

Immediately following, Sigefrid, Erik, and those in support sang in unison, “Sköl!” and the night’s festivities continued on. Once finished with their ale, the unlikely Saxon-Dane duo found themselves laughing, singing, and dancing to the upbeat rhythm that was sure to play into the early hours of the morning. Sigefrid found himself upon his throne once more, arms wrapped around Blædswith’s waist who sat across his lap. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, playfully nipping and planting kissed along the marks he’d already left. The two swayed back and forth to the music, engrossing themselves in the stories being told at the table before them.

“Sigefrid?” The beautiful woman sitting upon his thighs whispered, running her fingertips over the length of his beard. Sigefrid hummed in response, brushing fallen strands of hair from her ethereal complexion. “I have… something else to ask you...” Interrupting her train of thought, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of strikingly familiar face slithering through the clusters of Danes until they reached the table where Lord Sigefrid and his new woman sat enthralled with one another. 

“Why is he here?” She groaned against Sigefrid’s neck, only for the eldest lord of Beamfleot to shake his head with a sigh in defeat.

With a large cup of ale in hand, a disfigured Hæsten took one last gulp and let the cup fall from his fingertips, now rolling under the table. Before Blædswith, or even Sigefrid could properly react, he looked between them and slurred, “Sigefrid. Blædswith? What did I miss?”

_______________________________________________

A/N: Well Hæsten, it’s safe to say you missed a lot - lol. Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I hope it was worth it! 

I’m contemplating whether or not to add real smut to the story... 👀

🏷 Tags: (hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @eclipsedbymyheart @henrycavill19 @aesirharvorsson @finantheagile @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously @chlomidgard @dagonet-ironside @marv-llous @littlebirdgot @curlyrat @beesbrains @godricsvalley @alina-exe @lazypeachsoul

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Ch 2, Ch 3, & Ch. 4

"You get good hunches from time to time, and you’ve come to trust them."

"Your instincts often put you on the right trail."

"You always know when something’s afoot."

"Not only do you know when something’s wrong, you know who’s responsible."

"The human world thrives on red tape."

"You can set up meetings with just about anyone, and you have the skills to run a multinational conglomerate with dozens of subsidiaries."

"Audacity, guts, pluck — whatever it’s called, you’ve got it."

"Nope, you’re not worthy. Never have been, never will be."

"Should someone suspect things aren’t as they seem, you could be in big trouble."

"You’re so wrapped up in your own little world, you don’t have a clue about reality!"

"Perhaps you retreat into yourself be cause you’re afraid or avoiding a problem, but more likely, you simply aren’t using your gray cells."

"You’re an intrinsically nice person, and you genuinely care about your fellows."

"A magician’s lifestyle, code of ethics and favored foci all determine how his rituals manifest his power."

"This ability is both beautiful in its own way and quite dangerous to its practitioner."

"My folks eventually forgot about me."

"Becoming a vampire was rough, let me tell you."

"Did I want to die? Hell yes, I did!"

"The implications for genetics are astounding."

"But I need more samples! Think you could help out?"

"You must have done something wrong to be so weak, both in flesh and mind."

"So quickly? It was forever to me."

"Maybe you passed your taint on to your children?"

"I wanted nothing but revenge."

"Go on, take a stand. Show your fury!"

"Ah, the crowd seems to be thinning a bit on the dance ground."

"There are some oaths that cannot be broken."

"Forget the lad."

"Those fucking pansies!"

"Hey, sorry, but I’m a survivor."

"Maybe I didn’t ask to become a walking corpse, but I’ll learn to deal with it."

"The madness in their eyes, the howls of pain, these are the things I love."

"When their fury explodes, my feast shall begin."

"Well, I call them a bunch of idiots."

"I don’t suppose we ought to kill them all, but it’d be nice if we could find a deep pit to throw them into."

"Good fights are lots of fun, and easy victories get boring."

"The world is brutal and cruel, particularly if you’re somehow “different.”

"There’s a lot of work to be done and somebody has to do it."

"They’ll go to jail if they lie, yet they can’t exactly tell the truth, either."

"Will you need maps or floorplans?"

"Not everyone can be a complete saint or a total demon."

"They might face genetically altered horrors or just well-trained agents with big guns."

"Every now and then, a huge fight with some critter is just plain fun."

"Animals are as intelligent as they need to be."

"The vast majority of humans sleepwalk through their lives."

"Don’t make the common mistake and suppose that a wild animal thinks and acts like its domesticated analog."

"Humans label wild animals “unpredictable” because it’s nearly impossible for the average person to ken what the critters are thinking. Most conflicts in human-animal encounters are the result of misinterpretation on either side."

"Just because a weapon or device is nonlethal doesn’t prevent it from causing pain and trauma."

"Costs, styles and voltages vary, but rest assured, most people lose their resolve after getting hit with a taser."

"Concertina wire, or coiled barbed wire, is a nasty addition to normal security measures."

"Contrary to popular belief, silencers can’t really soundproof firearms. They make firing less noisy but never totally silent."

"A remote control triggers the bomb, which is surgically implanted in the skull; it’s guaranteed to kill or permanently impair its target."

"Even “antidotes” for classic poisons like arsenic and cyanide are often poisons themselves; one antidote for strychnine, for example, is succinylcholine, a dangerous paralytic drug similar to curare."

"Many poisons are on the shelves at hardware stores; cationic detergents, methanol, naphthalene (moth balls), potassium permanganate and turpentine. Others, like Barbados nuts, nightshade, or snake venom, might be in the backyard."

"It’s as if they simply vanished into thin air."

[cartoonfanaticmonsterrobotalien]

Mighty Solars in Taken Away From Me Ch. 4

Warning: This episode has huge amount of heartbreak and loss. Be warned. This is about to get really emotional.

Back on Emeralddon, Terry was resting since he depowered from his super suit after escaping from the guards. Terry then made a fire to keep him warm as he looks at Cheery slowly recovering. She began to open her eyes but she was still feeling nauseous ever since she was kidnapped by the Emeralnites. Cheery barf a little, which made Terry a little bit disgusted, but then as he looks at her scars, Terry began to feel sorry for her. Then, his stomach started to growl. Terry then sees a market place nearby and then got an idea. Terry sees a loin clothe and turns it into a cloak as he puts it on. Then, Terry looks at Cheery one more time and sets her on a soft place where she can fully recover.

Terry: Stay low, I’ll be right back.

Cheery coughs as she sees Terry leave for the market place. She then started to rest on the spot, but suddenly. A flashback emerges. It shows her with another woman, who is two years old than her, a woman named Alexis, who is 22-years old. The two young women are shown having fun with each other weaving a basket for something. Cheery accidentally cut her finger as she gasp. Alexis then uses a washcloth to wash off the blood as Cheery blushes and smile at her. The flashback then end and the scene shifts back to the present where Cheery started weeping in her sleep as tears slowly emerge from her eyes. Why is she dreaming about that memory? Why is she is crying about Alexis? Whatever happens to Alexis? Did Cheery really like like Alexis?

Meanwhile, Terry heads to the market place where he started to grow unsettle with the setting. There, he witness the Emeralnites and their awful deeds, actions and emotions. All Terry could hear are gambling, scams, fighting, stabbing and street brawling from the Emeralnites as he started to shudder at this horrifying brutal sight. Terry then sees a soup vendor and walks over there as the soup vendor looks back at him.

Terry: Hello, excuse me! Uh, how much is this soup worth?

Soup Vendor: Oh, about….. ten coppers?

Terry: Oh sure, just let me- starting to check his pockets but then started to panic Oh shit! Uh, hey. How about a little pizzazz from your loyal costumer here? does a clicking noise with his finger

Soup Vendor: Dude, I don’t fucking know you. You either pay for this soup or get the fuck out of here.

Terry: started gooblering as he gulps Hehe, you see, I don’t have any coppers, so trying to reach for the soup pot I’m just gonna have this soup right here and- gets his hand stabbed by the vendor Aaahhh!

Soup Vendor: You ain’t going through shit asshole! You either pay or get another stabbing, bitch!

Terry began to breath in and out as he holds his bleeding right hand. He then started growling as visions of him getting kidnapped by the Emeralnites flooded his mind. Terry finally snaps and kick the knife that stabbed his hand out of the Vendor’s hand and away from him.

Terry: Oh, nobody stabs Terry Solar-Opposites! grabs the vendor and lifts him up Time to take out the fucking trash!

Terry then throws the vendor at his stand as the shoppers witness this. In fast pace, Terry grabs the soup pot, cover it up with a warm towel and runs off without anyone looking at him, as he looks back with a nervous regret on his face. Zolthar and his fellow guards arrived as they head over the now destroyed soup stand as the soup vendor gets up.

Zolthar: growling Who did this?

Weapon Deals Vendor: picking up the soup vendor with help from the meat vendor A strange hooded person came and couldn’t pay for the soup. That’s when he went crazy and attack this soup vendor here.

Guard #2: That must be one of the prisoners that have escape.

Zolthar: to himself growling in fury Mighton. to the guards Men, fan out. Search around the market for Mighton and one of our prisoners, leave no body behind!

Guards: Yes sir.

Zolthar looks at the destroyed soup stand as he throws a machete at the wanted poster that has Terry/Mighton and Cheery on it. The poster even says it has an award for $2000,0000 to whoever turns them in. Later, back in the woods, Terry heads back, only to see Cheery keeping herself warm by the fire as she started shiver and grow cold. Terry quickly heads to her while placing the soup on the fire with a soup stand to keep it warm. Cheery began to smile at Terry’s kindness as he wraps a blanket around her shoulders.

Cheery: Thank you Mr. uh….

Terry: Terry. Terry Solar-Opposites. Yeah, I know. It’s weird seeing an alien for the first time. But, hey. Earth-4 was the next choice for us since incident we vow to not talk about ever again. No no no. Trust me, my husband Korvo gets it.

Cheery: Okay, but how did you-

Terry: Get captured? Let’s just say, a task of taking out the garbage turned into a huge event for me. One minute, I was taking out the garbage for my husband since he was exhausted of fixing a technology machine, the next thing I knew, I was kidnapped by a deranged empress that leads a bunch of out of control moutherfucking asshole emerald aliens. But right now, this is not going well for me. feels a sting from his bleeding hand Ah.

Cheery: Huh? What’s wrong Mr. Opposites?

Terry: Oh uh, I got fucking stabbed by a crazy vendor while getting goddamn soup for us.

Cheery: What?! Oh my God! The fuck! Are you okay?

Terry: But hey, I’ll be okay. hisses as he feels the pain again

Cheery: Here. Let me help.

Cheery rips a part of her prisoner dress and wraps around Terry’s bleeding hand as Terry sighs heavingly.

Cheery: Better?

Terry: A little, but…. Cheery…. what are you doing on this planet anyway? How did you get yourself captured?

Cheery: freezes up a little thens gets depressed again as she looks down

Terry: Oh, I’m sorry. It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it, I understand it must be very emotional and-

Cheery: No, I-I think it’s best if I tell you. Terry looks at her with a concern look on his face as Cheery sighs Okay, two years ago, I made a a friend. Her name is Alexis.

A flashback appears with Cheery meeting Alexis with their job training classmates for the first at a picnic area at a garden. Cheery blushes as Alexis, who was waving at her. Cheery waves back at her as she blushes. Cheery sits down next to Alexis as she smiles.

Cheery: Hey, it’s very nice to meet you. My name is Cheery, what’s yours?

Alexis: Alexis. Alexis Web.

Cheery: Wow, I like that name.

The flashback scene then shifts over to the time Cheery and Alexis were helping each other with the gardening training.

Cheery: voiceover as it shows good times between Cheery and Alexis Alexis was my only friend. She didn’t mind about my autistic behavior or when when I do crazy stuff, like stacking potato chips with whip cream and chocolate sprinkles, or that time I was spray painting a mural for the garden but accidentally got pain all over us, but we laughed about it, because it was pretty funny. But most of all, I really like like her, not because she understands me. But because, she was kind and thoughtful and helps people. So, when she graduated from job training, I gave her a note to tell her how I feel about her before I left for the taxi. I was hoping she going to read it, but then…..

The flashback then shifts over to however, a gloomy morning with clouds and sounds of thunder appearing as Cheery heads over to Alexis’ house, but then opens it and sees Mr. Web with a sad look on his face as he places his hand on Cheery’s right shoulder.

Cheery: Hi, Mr. Web…. suddenly sees Alexis not around Where’s Alexis?

Mr. Web: Cheery…. I’m sorry. Alexis passed away today in an motorcycle accident. I am so sorry.

Cheery: gasp as tears burst from her eyes No…. It can’t be… I-I never got to tell her I….

Cheery begins to cry as her moms embrace their daughter as they comfort her. The next morning, Cheery was still depressed as they sunrises, so she looked at the car keys and decided to take a drive.

Cheery: voiceover The day Alexis passed away really broke me. So, I decided to take a drive to cool my mind off.

Mrs. Smithers: Morning sweetheart, where are you going?

Cheery: I’m…going for a drive…. don’t worry it won’t be long…

Ms. Smithers: Okay, sweetie. Be back in time for lunch!

Cheery then gets in her car, as she sighs sadly and drives her car around the neighborhood while the car’s radio plays “Burn” from Alexis Monroe. Suddenly, Cheery hears a tire pop as the car slows down. She stops the car and gets out of it as she checks the tires. Cheery sees a flat tire of a glittering darkish green-purple crystal spear with the symbol of the Emeralnites.

Cheery: What the fuck?

The guards tranquilize Cheery as she gasp. She grabs the dart from her neck and grows faint as she weakly sees the guards before collapsing and fall into a concussion. Cheery then gets up and gasp she finds herself in a prison dress cloth and sees Ophelia coming up to her.

Ophelia: Well done Zolthar. Grabs Cheery by the chin This young woman is the perfect specimen for our energy. Don’t let her out of your fucking sight.

Zolthar: Yes my Empress.

Cheery: voiceover That’s when I was kidnapped by these green-purple fucking monsters on a strange world for some type of bullshit diabolical plan. It was a fucking nightmare, I tried to escape, shows Cheery escaping attempts but she keeps getting shock and attack whenever she tries to escape and gets thrown back in her prison cell but they keep catching me and placing me back in the cell while attacking me. So, I gave up, I thought it was over. Until, you came along.

The scene flashes back to the present where Terry is terrified but then started to feel sympathy for Cheery as he feels bad for her losing Alexis.

Cheery: on the verge of breaking down in tears So, that’s-s- h-h-how I got h-here…. by a loss of a f-f-f-friend….. th-that I-I-I really l-l-like……

Terry: Aw Cheery, I am so sorry.

Cheery: sniffles as tears fall down Don’t be. I-I….. breaks down in tears I just feel so awful, I made a dumb move that got me captured and turned into a prisoner by a fucking madhouse planet away from my home. I feel so awful, I miss everyone I know and love. I even miss my moms, my neighbors, my home, everything. God, I miss them so fucking much. It just fucking hurts so much losing Alexis, because I-I never got to kiss her and tell her that I love her. cries in her right arm

Terry: walks up to Cheery as he bends down and pats her on the back I’m sorry about your friend. I know how much you really liked her. That she was your lifemate.

Cheery: sniffles What?

Terry: But hey, it’s okay. I dealt with that same thing once, and I got better because I met Korvo and fell in love with him. He changed my life for the better and became one of the best people that I have ever known. Right now, I have the best life on the whole world, because of my sweet hubby, our Replicants, our Pupa, our nanny and some of our human friends. I know it’s hard losing someone you loved, but you still have your moms, your house, your job training coworkers and your neighbors, because they care about you. Sometimes, one person you love leaves, but there are still people who love you who will always be there for you. No matter what. Cheery, you are never alone. You still have the best people in your lives, and they are never going away. Some of the might, but most of them are not going anywhere. They’re still staying, with you.

Cheery hugs Terry and continues to cry as Terry comforts her.

Cheery: Thank you Terry.

Terry: Anytime kiddo. But don’t worry. We’re gonna find a way to stop that empress and get us home back our families. I promise Cheery.

Cheery: Thank you. That really means a lot.

Terry and Cheery then smile as they watch the sunset. But, Terry/Mighton is still hopeful, because he is gonna find a way of these savage planet, defeat that godawful empress and back to his family. He just knows it.

[inkribbon796]

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 1: A Sense of Poise and Rationality

Summary: “What a beautiful wedding” says a bridesmaid to a waiter. “And, yes, but what a shame. What a shame . . . 

Nothing bad happens here, I promise.

A/N: The music swells, the curtain lifts. Ladies, gentlemen, and all configurations of being: the show has begun . . .

Titles here are from Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins not Tragedies”.

Okay, so this one’s been a bear to write so this might be uploaded a couple chapters today and the rest over the next day or two.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Eric looked at himself in the mirror as Roman set the final touches on his hair. His dark hair had small braids with tiny beads designed to catch the sunlight. His suit was an off-white color and his wrists were decorated with intricate bangles that kept his nerves from activating his powers and setting things on fire.

Despite the suits and dresses and other formal attire all the heroes were still in their masks. Secrecy was still important and they knew the press would be nearby. The only exception would be Eric, who got glasses enchanted, courtesy of the Host, to protect his identity from anyone who shouldn’t know it.

“And voila!” Roman announced and did a little excited jump, spinning the chair marginally and holding up a mirror so that Eric could see the back of his head.

“Awww, you look so cute,” Patton told him.

“R-eally?” Eric ducked his head nervously.

“Positively radiant, my dear,” Roman boasted, his red dress swishing as he twirled. “Not an eye will be able to look away from you.”

Eric’s eyes widened fearfully.

“Nice going Princey,” Virgil spoke up from across the room.

“They’ll look in a good way,” Roman promised. “They’ll see you and realize that you are the most beautiful man in the world.”

“B-ut that’s Illy,” Eric managed to force out.

Roman paused to think on that, “Well I won’t deny that he’s obnoxiously good looking but now you can give him a run for his money.”

Randall walked in, “How we lookin’[1]?”

Twisting around the chair, Roman grinned as he motioned to Eric. “Marvel at this masterpiece. I dare say Da Vinci nor Monet could have done better.”

“Very handsome,” Randall told Eric, both childhood friends smiling at each other. “Just came from checkin’ on the other groom. We’re just waiting fer a final sweep ‘a the area to make sure it’s alright.”[2]

“Alright,” Eric said.

On the other side of the building, Illinois was fiddling with his bow tie as he checked his hair and suit in the mirror.

“How’s it looking?” Illinois asked, his eyes moving to look at his adopted brother in the mirror.

“Nothing is amiss,” the Host told him.

“Marv still isn’t back,” Chase reminded. “I don’t like it. I haven’t heard a peep from him.”

“The Host spoke with Marvin, he is on his way back to the city with the Blade and the Angel of Death,” the Host took a seat. “While they will be late for the ceremony, Illinois and the attendants will find that they will arrive just in time.”

“Okay,” Illinois took a deep breath. He didn’t touch his lucky coin, he wanted today to be a good day. A perfect day.

He’d been trying to play his safe for months to hoard as much magic as possible. No adventures. No fights. Not even a card game with his siblings.

Because Eric deserved nice things. He deserved to be happy and safe.

After a while Dark checked his pocket watch, and Illinois walked out with him and the Host. The blind seer headed on ahead to wait with the other groomsmen.

Dark waited at one end of a long rug that led to a big outdoor gazebo with a dark wood roof. Chairs led up to the gazebo and had wooden structures protecting it from any accidental rain or glare from the sun. A matching rug was one that Randall would lead Eric down. The two grooms would meet in the middle and then walk up to the altar where Jackie, who had taken the online classes needed to officiate marriages.

The Entity paused, waiting for the signal from the organ that Dark could start walking. But he looked over at Illinois. The young man was looking around, his hand reaching into his pocket and resisted trying to pull out his lucky coin.

In the demon’s mind he thought of little Illinois, barely at chest level, with wide eyes that hungered for adventure but a body too small to take him there.

Dark had never liked thinking about how big Illinois had gotten. It reminded him that Illinois would walk out of his life and become his own person. It’s just . . . it had all been so wonderful while it lasted.

Illinois looked over at Dark and smiled. “Hey, 아빠[3].”

“Illinois,” Dark answered, trying to keep Damien quiet and invisible. Dark had to keep his hands to himself and his feelings out of the way. This was all for Illinois. He took a second to take a deep breath and schooled his features. “I’ll have your portion of the city ready for when you get back.”

“What?” Illinois asked, mostly in confusion.

But then the music began and Dark was offering his elbow. Illinois took it and promised himself that when he could pull Dark away again they’d talk. He didn’t like the tone Dark had taken when he’d said that.

Illinois and Dark stepped in time to the music and all too soon he saw Eric, his hands gripping onto Randall’s arm. He almost tripped when his eyes met Illinois’s.

Then all too soon, they were within arms reach. Illinois reached out to take Eric’s arm and they walked up. To Illinois, Eric looked like an angel he’d somehow snagged out of the sky and convinced to stay with him.

They walked down the aisle and Illinois kept the pace slow so that Eric wouldn’t have a single problem walking down the aisle. Dark and Randall followed them up.

Everything was going perfectly.

Illinois and Eric were looking at each other and Jackie opened his mouth to start the ceremony, when someone else walked down the aisle.

“I’m here!” Someone in a red tux announced. A smile as sharp as glass. “Shame on you, Damien, I almost missed the whole thing.”

Everyone immediately looked at the Actor, Dark got in front of Illinois as the young man was trying to push Eric towards Jackie.

“Get out,” Dark snarled in a furious growl.

“You’d done your job, step aside,” Actor snapped out a dark mass of aura and batted Dark to the side, the Entity slamming into the organ and let out a pained cough.

“아빠!”[3] Illinois called out. Yancy, who was closer, immediately raced to Dark’s side but the Entity shoved him away from both him and the Actor.

“I will admit,” Marc smiled as he waltzed down the aisle, “I didn’t recognize you at first. That’s my bad. But I did try and talk to you, and it’s quite an oversight not to personally invite me.”

Dark pushed himself back up to a kneeling position, his ringing shrill and aura coiling around.

“I didn’t invite you because you’re a piece of shit and you just attacked my dad, so fuck off,” Illinois snarled. He started trying to move over to Dark but the Actor slid into his path.

“Not possible,” Actor smiled, gesturing to himself. “Daddy’s here now and we don’t need . . .”

Actor glared back at Dark, “. . . to be worried about extraneous characters.”

“Get the hell out of here, I don’t want you anywhere near my family,” Illinois snarled.

“Oh, junior,” Marc smiled. “I’m trying to help you. Think of it: father and son. We’d take the world by storm.”

Illinois felt fury, thinking off all the foster homes and awful situations he’d been in, “Even if you were, you can fuck right the fuck off!”

Behind the Actor, Ranboo was trying to inch closer to Dark. He’d been sitting with the rest of the heroes. But he was trying to quietly summon up a portal to get Dark away from the Actor but when he inched too close the Actor spun around and slammed his aura into the young teen, knocking him back.

“If I wanted to take on the peanut gallery, I would have called you up,” Actor snapped.

“Enderwalk!” Virgil called out and raced over to him as the teen slammed against the wall of the gazebo and let out a grunt of pain. Immediately the room seemed to snap out of whatever haze they were in and moved as Marc moved to attack Ranboo again. Tubbo was already the closest.

Ranboo braced for the attack to hit but in the nick of time, there was a shattering of glass and Techno emerged from one of the eye portals. Shield and axe in hand he deflected the shot and blew a hole in the roof of the gazebo.

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Techno smiled. “Come on, kid, I saw you using a weapon before, come on.”

“Boo,” Tubbo moved in as Phil and Marvin raced in.

“Anyone dead yet?” Marvin demanded.

“Bout time yeh showed up,”[4] Chase spat, pulled out his gun, a real one and aimed it at the Actor’s head.

Snarling in anger, the Actor exploded into black mist, making Chase miss his shot and nicked Illinois right in the face by accident.

Actor grabbed Dark and stabbed him with a dragged he pulled out of his black mist. “I don’t like being teased, Dames.”

With a slice, Dark screamed and the Actor pulled out a black day planner. “If you want something done right you should just do it yourself.”

Magic began to swirl around the Actor as bubbles began to form. They swelled in size and began to fill the room.

Bing began to visibly freak out and used his nanites to push Mini and Oliver away with his nanites, throwing them outside the gazebo just as a bubble expanded to snap up the rest of the androids.

In an instant the city rumbled and Dark . . .

. . . . . .

Dark woke up in bed.

He glared at the faintly glowing clock on the distant wall. It was barely a half-hour before he had to get up so there was no point in going back to sleep.

He smiled faintly when he heard Wilford snoring, the man splayed out to Dark’s left. The softer snores were from Chase who was cuddled up into Dark’s chest.

With a smile softening his features Dark decided: maybe he could sleep in a few more minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: . . . Okay I lied big time.

Accessibility Translations:

1. looking

2. Just came from checking on the other groom. We’re just waiting for a final sweep of the area to make sure it’s alright

3. Dad. Informal, read phonetically as: Appa.

4. About time you showed up

[theassthatquits]

In the Margins Ch 4

You can read the first three chapters here.

Notes: This was a tough one for me to write because I kept wanting to jump back in time and tell the story of what happened, so now I have a bunch of writing about the specifics of their experiences and might turn that into something, lmk if that is interesting to you!

The text from the book is in bold and Barry’s notes are italicized. 

40 years is not a particularly long time for an elf, but it has been a very eventful and long 40 years. Lup doesn’t remember a lot of things and will often go through the journals Lucrecia keeps in the common room to remember specific things. Sometimes it’s like she’s reading a biography about someone else, not her or the people she loves. 

Reading this textbook was kind of like that.

This was from very early on, maybe 5 cycles in? They were still new to the whole regeneration thing and despite spending every waking moment together for half a decade, the crew didn’t fully trust each other yet. They weren’t the family they are now and their personalities clashed a lot. While Lup and Taako were pretty sociable, they didn’t get close with people. Revisiting this year was a reminder of who they were before they found their family. It was uncomfortable to remember those feelings, yet satisfying and heartwarming to know how far they have come and what they have created.

The first thing that Lup noticed about this book was that Barry’s name (his real name) was written in the cover: Sildar Hallwinter. And underneath that, in parentheses, was scrawled in newer ink: (Barry Bluejeans).  She smiled to herself and grazed her fingers over the older print, as if attempting to feel the spirit of the man who once wrote that. Lup and Taako weren’t the only ones who have changed in the last several decades. 

The first chapter was all about the history of the celebrations: The plane was in constant strife, people weren’t happy. Then the 7 deities came down from the Astral Plane and claimed to have the solution to all of their problems. Everyone was desperate for a reprieve and followed everything they said. Each God had their own lesson and thus the seven celebrations were born:

The Day of Sacrifice

The Day of Humility

The Day of Honesty

The Day of Reconciliation

The Day of Love

The Day of Warmth

The Day of Dance

It was easy to tell which notes were made by Sildar and which were made by Barry. (Her Barry she thought subconsciously and then shook the thought away because he isn’t hers, necessarily). 

The older notes were in more faded ink, its age clearly showing. They were also more focused on the academic side of history, adding in details that he had learned from the residents or theorizing about different things. The newer notes were in crisp, dark ink and they told the story of what had actually happened during those different celebrations while they lived there. It seems Barry was recently doing quite the walk down memory lane. 

Flipping to the first celebration, Lup tried to recall any specifics about this year. She remembered having a lot of fun at the different parties and events they went to, there were some weird ones and uncomfortableness, but she remembered mostly positive feelings. This was the year she and Barry started to become actual friends, she’s pretty sure. They fought side by side against the hunger at the end of that year, backs pressed up together shooting off spells as the Starblaster took off. She was stabbed through the abdomen and collapsed in his arms. The last thing she remembers of that year was staring into his eyes as he yelled her name while holding her tight, even though they were about to regenerate on the ship in a matter of minutes.

This was something she wouldn’t find out about Barry until much later in their journey - he felt everything, and he felt it incredibly deeply. 

----

The Day of Sacrifice

Tedes, the God of Humility, had watched over the town very closely for a long time. He had observed how they tended to use their best traits and strengths against one another, instead of using them to come together. After some consideration, he thought his lesson would be to take away what they valued the most. These were not material goods that were so casually ripped away from everyone’s being; Tedes took away the sense of self.

He took traits, abilities, memories that were so intrinsically tied to everyone’s being and simply took it away for the day. 

On the side, Sildar had written what each of them lost:

Davenport - Confidence/Ability to lead

Taako - Taste

Lucretia - Writing ability

Magnus - Strength

Merle - Healing powers

Lup - Fire Magic

Barry - Desire to learn

Oh, yeah. It was starting to come back to her, waking up that morning and everyone realizing that they had lost something. Taako was first, he woke up the ship with his distressed wail about not being able to taste his morning iced coffee. They had just thought he was catching a cold, nothing to be super concerned about. Davenport brought Merle over to try to maybe help but no matter how hard he tried, Merle couldn’t cast any healing magic. Things just spiraled from there until Lup, in her fury to figure out what the fuck was going on, found this book. She remembered being angry at Barry, that he didn’t seem to want to know what was going on and why. The horrible realization that she couldn’t cast anything, couldn’t defend her and Taako. She was afraid it would last forever, having to rely on the other members of the group for their magical abilities. Magnus went through something similar, the man designated to protect them all could barely lift his weapon. 

It had been a tense day, full of snark and attitude. Lucrecia had decided to go back to bed, hoping to sleep through the day. Taako furiously whipped up every potent recipe he could, throwing his spoon across the kitchen every time he tried to taste something and couldn’t. Barry just….actually, she wasn’t sure what Barry did during that day. She didn’t remember seeing him after snapping at him for not helping her. 

A little pang of guilt showed up in her chest, she was pretty nasty to him that day. He didn’t deserve that. Maybe she could make it up to him somehow. 

The first Day of Sacrifice was chaos. Everyone panicked, losing something so important to them without knowing for sure if it would ever return was devastating to so many. Then something remarkable happened - they turned to each other. That night, after arguing and fighting and mass panic, the village gathered in the center of town and simply talked. Those who could still cook brought food and the townspeople, who had been so divided just hours before, told stories of their past. What they lost and what that had meant to them. What they would do if it never returned. 

This is an exercise in trust, Sildar had written. Trust others enough to be vulnerable in front of them, trust that others will help when it is needed, trust that what was lost will be returned. It took a long time for us to figure this out. Talked with Magnus, Lucrecia, Davenport, and Merle. I think we are stronger for it now. I only made the connection after Lup threw this book at me. 

So that’s what he was doing, holding a therapy session with the rest of the crew. A little jealous that she wasn’t involved, but she did take off into the woods soon after throwing said book at Barry. There was another note underneath that one, written by Barry many years later. 

Trust that others will help when it is needed. I will trust her until the end of my days. 

Still prefer trust fall exercises instead of this, though.

She blushed and smiled, heart skipping at the thought of him writing about her. Putting the book, Lup stood up and went to go find him, suddenly eager to be in his presence. 

[sableflynn]

Out unseen - ch. 4

first | previous | next

Now presenting Marcus angst plus a casual convo between Felicia and Volkan 😈 yeah uh if you’re here for the spicy whump that’ll be back next chapter

cw: kidnapping, noncon touch, references/threat of noncon, captivity, just uhh overall dread? people having a bad time

Also on Ao3

---

She was gone.

Marcus had circled around as soon as he could, weaving through the maze of shipping crates, desperate to lose the guards tailing him. It might have been a few minutes or it might have been hours; when he made his way back to the meeting point, it was deserted. Even the dead man’s blood had been cleaned up. It was as if no one had ever been there at all.

And Felicia was gone.

And Marcus had let her get taken because he had turned tail and run like a coward, because he wasn’t brave enough to break his promise to her and fight for her. He should’ve thrown himself at them and done whatever it took to get her to safety. Instead, he ran.

He didn’t head straight home. He walked the city, scouring the streets for the tiniest fragment of something to point him in the right direction. Eventually he ended up at Volkan’s mansion, a luxurious estate in the heart of the upper-west side. For hours, he cased the outer grounds, shivered in the hedges, waiting for a car to return or a light to turn on or some indication that someone was home.

No one ever showed up. And if Volkan wasn’t bringing her to his house, where were they? Visions flashed through his mind of Felicia tied up in some secluded warehouse, or dumped in a shallow grave in the middle of the woods, or—

No. He would find her. They would all find her, together.

The sky was lightening with the faintest glow of dawn as Marcus finally made his way home on legs that barely worked. He was going to walk into their house alone, and the others would see him alone and immediately know.

As he approached the front door with its peeling paint and worn knocker, he was brought back to that night the week before, returning home after the dance had changed everything. And now he had left Felicia with the same man who had forced that change on them, fuck.

Elyse was waiting for him as he stepped through the threshold. She greeted him with a hug, and he said nothing as her eyes moved from his face to look over his shoulder. Looking for Felicia, he knew. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and Marcus shattered.

“She’s gone,” he managed to gasp out. “He took her, she’s gone, she’s with him, and I just—I—”

“Hey. Come sit.” Anna was at his side, one warm hand on his shoulder, guiding him to the table. Elyse was frozen, still staring at the door as if she was waiting for Felicia to walk in. Marcus felt like he was moving in slow motion as he allowed himself to be sat down at the table. He was faintly aware of the others around him, Kailo and Darya pulling some extra chairs up to the table and Elyse finally, finally coming to join them with that distant, lost look in her eye.

“It was my fault,” he said at last. “We were—I let him take her, and I couldn’t save her, I fucked up and now—”

“Marcus.” He couldn’t help but look up at the bite to Anna’s voice; her expression softened as their eyes met. “We need to know what happened if we’re going to do anything about it.”

We can still do something about it. He wasn’t alone. He let out a slow, shaking breath and forced himself to look at the others.

“He was buying a person,” he said. “That was the trade deal. It wasn’t weapons or drugs or whatever, it was a fucking person.” He clenched his fists on the table till his nails dug into his palms. “And we just...god, it was so stupid but we just couldn’t leave this guy there, we had to try…”

“I don’t blame you,” Darya said, and there was a cold fury in her voice that Marcus had never heard before.

“Volkan caught her.” Marcus squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the images flashing through his mind—Felicia dragged to Volkan, his hand on her face while a man bled out and died behind him. “And then he killed the man he was buying. Like he was nothing. And then I—I ran.” The last word came out as a sob.

“Marcus, you…” Kailo was hesitant, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “If you both got caught, we never would’ve known what happened. But you came back, and now we can find her—”

“Or she’s already dead.” Terror clutched at Marcus’s chest as he said it, but he had to voice the thought that had been consuming him since Felicia had vanished. “He took her and shot her and dumped her body in a shallow grave somewhere. Got rid of one more thorn in his side.”

Elyse spoke for the first time since Marcus had gotten home. “He isn’t going to kill her.” Beneath her exhaustion, her eyes blazed. “Not right away, anyway. He was clearly...buying that person for a reason.” Her voice dripped with disgust. “And he just...decided Felicia would work better. For whatever god-awful fucked up thing he’s planning.” She swallowed, took a deep breath that almost sounded of a sob. “She has to still be alive.”

Marcus clung to the tiny tendril of hope Elyse gave him. She had to be alive.

They just had to find her and get her out while there was still something of her to save.

“He wasn’t at his house.” Marcus thought back on the manor, silent as a tomb in the night. “I went and searched and waited there all night. I was sure they’d come back eventually, but...I don’t know where else he could’ve taken her.”

“We’ll find her.” Anna’s voice was steel. “There has to be something we can follow. Who was there? What else did you see?”

He didn’t want to revisit the scene in his mind. He didn’t want to remember anything about this night. But he forced himself to think back, the secluded docks filtering into his mind, Volkan and Becker chatting under the dim lamplight while a man shivered beside them. “It was the docks, the southern port. Volkan and Becker, and a few guards, and the...the man they were selling.”

“Becker? That businessman?” Elyse tilted her head, then turned to Anna, half-lost in her own thoughts. “Anna, I think…”

Anna was already nodding. “I’m on it.”

“Who was the man?” Kailo’s voice was small. “The one they were...the one they…”

The one Volkan murdered. The one who would still be alive, if Marcus and Felicia had done what they had gone there to do and haven’t stuck their noses in. “I don’t know.” He hated saying it. He never would know, now. “His face was covered the entire time. And then he died.”

“They’re fucked up.” Darya’s fists were clenched.

“And if we—” Marcus buried his face in his hands, overcome, and then forced himself to continue. “If we had just gotten the fucking pictures and gotten out of there, we could take them down, and Felicia would be fine, she’d be here with us—”

Elyse stopped him. “We’ll get her back.”

“How?”

“We will.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “We’re not leaving her. Not for an instant. We’ll find her. We’ll talk to people—”

“We can’t go to the police,” Anna cut in. “They’re in his pocket.”

“Not the police,” Elyse agreed. “People we trust. We have to move carefully. But we won’t stop until we have her back.”  

A wave of exhaustion washed over Marcus as he looked between his friends’ faces: Darya simmering with anger just below the surface, Kailo heartbroken, determined, Anna already planning her next steps, and Elyse…

“We should get some sleep,” Elyse said, her eyes red and lined with weariness. “We need to be able to think clearly about this. We...we can’t rush into things.” Rubbing at her face, she stood to leave the table.

“Elyse—” Marcus couldn’t stop himself from grabbing her hand. “I just—all of you, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…” He struggled to find the words. I fucked up. I lost her. She’s gone.

Elyse opened her mouth to speak, shut it with a sad smile, and paused before finally saying, “We’ll find her.” She slipped her hand from Marcus’s and left the room, the solid wooden door shutting behind her. Through the door, he could hear the faintest sound of sobbing.

***

The first thing Felicia was aware of was a soft, persistent scratching noise.

A pen on paper, she realized belatedly. Then at all once, the floodgate burst open, and she was struck with all of the other sensations around her—the firm cushioning of the chair she sat in, her bare feet on a hardwood floor, coarse bindings tight against her arms and legs. The scent of leather and old books. Tendrils of magic in the air, the faintest trace, but enough to set her teeth on edge with the ghost of pain.

His touch sent magic coursing through her like a bolt of electricity, lighting all her nerves on fire, and then he’d held her and whispered in her ear as he slipped a needle in her vein and ushered her into darkness.

Her stomach churned at the memory. Pushing it down, she opened her eyes the thinnest crack.

She was in a stately office, with dark walls lined with bookshelves and a gleaming mahogany desk. Sitting at the desk, studying some papers and scratching notes in the margin, was Volkan—

She slammed her eyes shut at the sight of him, her mind flooded with the memories she had forced down. Volkan’s hands caressing her cheek, Marcus vanishing into the night, a man bleeding out from his slit throat—

She let out the smallest gasp at the memory, and the scratch of pen on paper was silenced. Then the scrape of a chair against the floor sent a shiver through her and, defeated, she opened her eyes once again.

Volkan sauntered towards her, savoring. She flexed instinctively against the rough ropes holding her, and his lips twitched in a smile. He had killed someone and kidnapped her and tied her up and now he was walking towards her with that smile on his face and she couldn’t do a thing about it.

He pulled up a chair and sat across from her. Posture relaxed, he said nothing for several heartbeats, his gaze exploring her body. She swallowed and suppressed a shudder.

He broke the silence first. “You’re awake.”

“You’re observant,” she snapped.

“You don’t have to worry.” He leaned forward to wrap one hand loosely around her throat and rest his thumb along her windpipe. Her pulse jumped under his touch. “I just want to talk. I don’t have to hurt you yet.”

Felicia refused to allow herself to dwell on the yet. “If you just want to talk,” she said instead, “why am I tied to a chair?”

His eyes trailed over her again, lingering over the ropes digging into her soft skin, and he said nothing. She was still clothed, but had never felt so exposed.

Then he shrugged. “Fair enough.” He crouched at her feet and began undoing the ropes binding her ankles to the chair.

As the first ropes fell away, she suppressed the urge to lash out and kick his face. He was so close, so intent on undoing the knots...and her boots were gone and her wrists were still tied, and she knew he would pay back anything she did to him in triple.

If she was going to get out of here alive, she needed to be strategic. Stall him and placate him, and move very carefully when the opportunity presented itself. And survive whatever he had planned for her.

Then he untied her wrists, his warm skin brushing hers, and she couldn’t help it—she knew he was watching her, waiting, but she couldn’t help but twist around in her chair and look at the door behind her.

She could make a move right now. She could leap over the back of the chair, throw herself at the door, pray it wasn’t locked—pray whatever he’d drugged her with didn’t make her clumsy and slow—and if she fell he’d catch up to her and tower over her while she lay vulnerable on the ground, and he would—he’d—

Swallowing down bile, clenching her fists, she turned back to face Volkan again. He was grinning, taking in every twitch of her fingers, every flicker of her eyes.

Holding her chin high, she said, “Talk, then.”

“I just want to know more about you.” Volkan studied her as he lounged against one arm of the chair, as if they were two acquaintances catching up over coffee. “You’re so clearly out of your depth. How does some no-name healer from the east side end up embroiled in investigating the most powerful man in the city?”

Something in his question prickled at her. “I’m not a—”

“Not a healer? You’re not Felicia Haywood, graduate of Trisgate University, working as a healer at Gentle Care Clinic up on South Hill?” Her stomach dropped with each word, and he laughed mirthlessly. “For god’s sake, Felicia, you interned at a hospital I own. It’s easy to learn anything I want about you.” His smile broadened. “And your friend Marcus, too.”

The mention of Marcus, hearing his name from this man’s lips, jolted through her awareness, and she gripped the arms of the chair with white knuckles. “Where is he? If you hurt him—”

“Wouldn’t that be something? To have you both here, play you off of each other…” Volkan gave a wistful sigh. “He managed to slip my guards last night. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later.”

Felicia exhaled, nearly sagging with relief, but Volkan pushed further. “You didn’t answer my question. Why did you suspect me?”

How much does he really know? She studied his face, trying to gauge what would be safe to tell him, and what would reveal too much. “Maybe you don’t have quite the flawless public image you think you do,” she began slowly.

He laughed. “We both know that isn’t true. My image is spotless.” He placed one hand on her knee, and even that tiny touch sent a tremor of fear through her. “Try again,” he said, “and remember, the longer you talk, the longer it’ll be before I drag you upstairs and give you exactly what you’ve deserved ever since you threw yourself into my arms at that dance.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and his hand on her knee was fire, burning her body, lighting up every place he had ever touched her. She swallowed down a sob, and one thought arose in her mind: stall him. Marcus had escaped, and her friends knew where she was. She just had to hold out until they were able to rescue her.

Breathing deeply, she gathered her thoughts, gently probing at and untangling painful memories buried deep within her mind. “It was a few years ago, when I interned at Greater Mercy Hospital. Your hospital,” she added, the faintest trace of bitterness in her voice. “I had a patient there, and one day I went into work and he was...gone. No records, no trace of him at all. Like he had never existed.”

She still remembered how lost she had felt that day. No one else would even acknowledge that the patient had ever existed. She’d worried she was imagining things, losing her grip from the constant stress of her schooling...and then Dr. Sousa had pulled her aside to talk. “My supervisor met with me privately. He said it had happened before. And he...he was so secretive, he didn’t trust anyone, but he just...he pointed me down a trail.” She swallowed. “And then he vanished too. And I followed the trail he’d shown me.” And here I am.

“Your supervisor was Victor Sousa, yes? I remember him.” Volkan’s voice brought her out of the fog of memory, and she was staring into his cold eyes once again. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t kill him. The starvation did.”

He was so matter-of-fact, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. She’d known by now he must be dead, but for Volkan to be so casual about it—and here she was with him now, trapped in his house, completely at his mercy—

No. My friends will find me. They had to.

Volkan stood then and paced around her, a predator circling his prey, and she was frozen in her seat. Trembling, she breathed, “Why are you doing this?”

“How many people are you working with?”

His voice was behind her now, above, and he was leaning on the back of her chair. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” She could feel him looming over her, simmering with tension. “Is it just you and Marcus? Or are there more friends I should be worried about?”

Was this a test? How much information did he already have? Was he toying with her? All she knew, with a bone-deep determination, was that she couldn’t let him find the others. She would stall, lie, take anything to keep them safe. Desperate to buy time, she allowed fear to soften her voice. “Please don’t...I can’t.”

The click of his shoes on the hardwood was deafening to her ear. He was in front of her again, towering at full height above her, and he took her chin in a rough hand. “Don’t make me ask again.”

He wasn’t going to let her stay silent; she had to give him something, just enough to point him in the wrong direction, get him off their trail. Mind racing, she took a deep breath and forced herself to speak. “We...we’re a team. There’s around twenty of us. It—It’s an underground network, investigating—” She jerked her chin from his hand, scowling. “Fighting against you and your corrupt friends that think they can own this city.”

For a long moment he said nothing, studying her face. Her heart was hammering. She didn’t breathe. Please, please. “You’re a terrible liar,” he said at last, and he smiled. “So it really is just the two of you, then. Good. That makes my life easier.” He settled back into his chair.

She held her breath to avoid revealing herself with a sigh of relief. He’d taken her decoy—for now—but he was still watching her like a hawk, appraising. A shiver ran through her at his piercing gaze. “Other people will be looking for me,” she finally managed to say. “My job will notice I’m missing. You can’t just—you can’t keep me here!”

“I’ll admit it was a bit impulsive, what I did last night.” Volkan lounged in his chair, once again perfectly at ease, completely in control of the conversation. “That boy had no one, and no one will miss him now that he’s dead. He was no one.” Bitter grief struck Felicia then, at the thought of that man dying alone and unknown. Volkan didn’t give him another moment’s consideration. “But you, Felicia...you have a job, and friends. People know you. It was a risk, taking you.” He leaned forward, completely boxing her into her seat with his body. “But the things I’m going to do to you...I think it’ll be worth it.”

The cruel hunger in his smile left her speechless. Overcome with dread, she pressed herself into the back of the seat, her breath quickening, her hands clutching the arms of the chair. His eyes tracked each movement with a lazy appreciation.

“Don’t worry about your job,” he said, placing a mock-comforting hand on her thigh, one thumb caressing. “They’ll be getting a letter from you this morning, letting them know you had to leave town for a family emergency. You don’t know when you’ll be back.” His touch deepened, still burning into her skin through her clothes. “And if they decide to dig too deeply into things, it’ll be easy enough to shut them down forever.”

Gritting her teeth, she shoved his hand off of her, and he let her with a grin. “You can’t just do this forever,” she hissed. “You can’t just crush everyone who inconveniences you. At some point you’re going to fall.” She needed to believe it was true.

“Then I might as well enjoy everything I have while I can.” Volkan stood again, and his eyes slid down her body with a barely-concealed hunger. “Now, why don’t I show you to your new room?”

“No!” Panic seized Felicia like a vice gripping her chest. She pressed herself against the chair, unable to take a deep breath, throwing another desperate glance at the door behind her. It was too much, all at once—the knowledge of where she was, who she was with, what he would do to her.

“It’s happening either way,” he said, pulling her up by the arm as if she weighed nothing, “and it’ll hurt less if you don’t fight.” With rough hands on her shoulders, he shoved her out of the office and forced her down the hallway.

She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. He was going to walk her upstairs and rape her and probably kill her after, because she was some rat who dared to stand against him, and she couldn’t let it happen while she waited for her friends to find her. All thoughts of enduring until the moment was right fled her mind. She needed to get out now.

He hasn’t tied my hands, she realized dimly as she was forced along the hallway. He hadn’t tied her hands, and he was relying on her fear and his strength to keep her there. This was her last chance to take him by surprise.

Her bare feet caught on the rug underneath and she allowed herself to stumble, falling to one knee. A soft sob escaped her, and she thought, he loves to get close. Let him get close...

His breath was at her ear, one hand on the back of her neck. “You must be exhausted,” he murmured. “You poor—”

She slammed her head back into his face as she shot to her feet, skull colliding with his nose. He grunted in pain and his hands were off her and she ran, throwing herself down the hallway, adrenaline coursing through her.

Scrambling around the corner, she saw the ornate oak door of the front hall. I just need to get out to the street. Volkan’s mansion was surrounded by the bustle of the city. If she could just make it outside, someone would have to hear her, help her. Even he can’t explain away someone running screaming from his house—

She threw the door open and stopped short at the threshold.

The grounds were neatly manicured, a single road leading away from the mansion. A thicket of woods sprawled as far as her eyes could see, and to one side—a lake, morning mist swirling about the surface. The sky was blush with the light of dawn, and she could just barely make out mountains in the distance. No streets, no buildings. No other people.

They weren’t in Trisgate at all.

Volkan stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her chest, pulling her close to his body. Stunned, she didn’t fight him. “Where are we?”

He pressed a gentle kiss into her hair. “Somewhere no one will ever look for you.”

[ploffskinpluffskin]

a while ago i was tagged to do this ‘opening lines’ meme for your fics/WIPs but then i got curious and decided to do one for closing lines and that’s how this came about

also made me realize i’ve written more KFP fanfiction than i thought thinking emoji

some of them aren’t actually posted yet

“Let’s get on with it, then. That time limit’s still ticking away.” [ A Very Small Wish Ch.1 || TCR ]

As far as Haru can tell, Siree continues waving until they can’t see each other, and something about the dedication instills a certain amount of similar sentiments in Haru. [ A Very Small Wish Ch.2 || TCR ]

His tail twitches and flutters in a manner quite reminiscent of an inquisitive squirrel, with the searching mien to accompany it, but he ultimately says nothing and seems to content himself with killing time. [ A Very Small Wish Ch.3 || TCR ]

Finally, with one last tentative look between the four of them, they all take the proverbial plunge. [ A Very Small Wish Ch.4 || TCR ]

“Don’t forget,” Vanya says, voice not much above a murmur and muffled from behind his long tail where he’s nestled his muzzle. “The Very Pretty Vanya Creature will be there to lead you.” “We won’t forget.” [ A Very Small Wish Ch.5 || TCR ]

The witch (Grandmother, Haru remembers somewhere) turns then her glittering attention to the Bureau, smiles widely, and whispers, “And what shall we do with the poor little accouterments?” [ A Very Small Wish Ch.6 || TCR ]

It is nothing more than a buried, brittle blade, and it longs to wound The Sun. [ Adieu, False Heart || TCR ]

Po smiles down at him, hesitant. “Yeah… if I already… have something that lasts forever, it doesn’t need to be something I can see.” [ Amaranth || KFP ]

To think there are things even he does not know. How fascinating! [ Angels || DBS ]

Natori meets Claudius’ wide smirk with a faintly playful look of his own, head canted just slightly in knowing amusement, and the tacit agreement seems to be all the king needs to add yet another inscrutable victory to his ongoing arcane list. Motivation and indulgence are often inexorably wed, after all. [ Comme il Faut || TCR ]

Though even hours later, when the conversation is nothing more than a perplexing, if recent, memory, he finds that recalling the sound of that name on the prince’s tongue still stokes a very small, steely fire of outrage at his core. [ ‘Emmylou’ Ch.1 || TCR ]

Seems some things never did change. [ ‘Emmylou Ch.2 || TCR ]

When he speaks, however, the low fury in his voice isn’t any more reassuring, nor is the narrowed, crooked smile he wears. “I’m going to make you so sorry.” [ ‘Emmylou’ Ch.3 || TCR ]

“I think they’re already down for the count, but, yeah. Just for you, I would.” [ In the Case of No Ransom || KFP ]

“And stop calling me babe.” [ In the TV Light Ch.1 || TCR ]

“Crud.” [ In the TV Light Ch.2 || TCR ]

And, with a faintly disgruntled noise from ever-tolerant Natori, the three of them down their shot. [ In the TV Light Ch.3 || TCR ]

And yet now, belatedly, he’s realized he is truly a relic of a world that no longer exists, one he could not return to even if that were not true, one no one else remembers, and the grief he’s spent so long attributing to a single loss now suddenly seems so obviously and tremendously more vast than that. [ last thoughts of a dying star || DBS ]

Mr. Ping nearly pushes him over. When Li manages to find his balance again, he sees the goose simply trudging up the stairs away from him. “Sounds good-- let’s go.” [ Missed the Boat || KFP ]

For better or worse (and most likely the latter, the wolf thinks to himself), Basil finds that in a deep, instinctual part of himself, he does. [ moon in hell || DBS ]

"No. It's not."”Then, more firmly, with a tenacity he finds quite startling in its unexpected familiarity,“"But it's a beginning we can work with." [ mother, forget me || KFP ]

“…and I promise the same.” This is spoken very softly. But not weakly. Steadfast like his daughter. [ Over A Beer Bottle || KFP ]

He would stop wishing, however briefly before guilt and horror chase it away, that to avoid this kind of pain, he had never become a father at all. [ Phonophobia || KFP ]

Eventually, once he appears to settle on an answer, the detachment in his eyes diminishes, and Natori lays his other paw over the one Claudius is using to grip his wrist. He smiles at the king, easy, pitying. “I was made to look after you.” [ ploffskin, pluffskin || TCR ]

It is something she still thinks back to, now that he is so cruel and angry and unstable. She likes to remember that tiny off-white chick sitting by the window in the sun and prying ruby-colored seeds loose with a steady, gentle wing. How wonderful, she had thought at the time, that he is capable of such tenderness. [ pomegranate || KFP ]

Yet the fact remains that he will often even now think of The Forlorn Queen, and hope that wherever she’s found herself, and in whosoever’s possible company, she’s managed at last to find more reason to smile. [ that one germ welfare prompt || TCR ]

Haru thinks of following him only briefly, at least before glimpsing him effortlessly clear a nearby gate and disappear into the long grass on the other side. Remembering her original difficulty in following Muta to the Bureau, who had wanted her to follow him, she thinks perhaps it’d be wiser not to. [ The Good End Ch.1 || TCR ]

Watching the blurred, wavering sky gradually fade from his sight, Natori supposes he can't have hoped for any more than that. [ the ruins || TCR ]

“…if that’s the case,” he says, with a voice soft and strong as spider’s silk, “I love you, too.” [ The Stars that Change Our Minds || KFP ]

“I suppose you have me, then,” Natori is content to say, and somewhere he feels as if a great and mighty rampart has been finally surmounted. [ the way you said it || TCR ]

"...You weren't supposed to hear that, babe." “You shouldn’t be saying it, then, should you?” [ ‘they’re a little bit married’ || TCR ]

Sometimes he thinks this festering devotion is as close to love as he will ever come. So he watches only from afar, and contents himself with biding his time as Iblis provides this world’s due punishment in the meantime. [ what has been done || Sonic ]