#Dust is training the horses to be faster and run away after the mountain.

[ancha-aus]

NewAgeAU Drabble - Nine does not equal Ten

Hi @spotaus ! I am not even sorry at this point!! I had an idea and I think by the title you can guess what it is about this time :3

We are in post story again! (i am keeping my strike going lmao) but this time? very different character. Nine :3 (also. Xundyne's name for now is Ranha, from piranha... because she is a fish monster and well... I wanted a fish themed name for her lmao)

Also warning. Nine think very degrading and judgemental. in case that bothers you.

He is also a very unreliable narrator lmao.

*----------------*

Nine makes sure to frown as he crosses his arms while his king, and co-king honestly, disappear into the meeting room with the brat that calls himself a king.

Nine only acts annoyed of course. He knew he wouldn't be allowed into the meeting room and he had been planning on it. It is hard to search this place if he is suposed to be in one room.

Ranha stands by his side, huffing and puffing as she mutters stuff under her breath. She is honestly annoyed with not being allowed inside the meeting room. Nine is sure she will be fine with it after he shares his plan.

Nine watches the brat acting as king lead his own king and his right hand inside. They would both be named king after the coup but the resistance hadn't wanted to push the people of Ritten too far. Nine watches as the crown prince, prince Dream, follows the child and Nine still doens't understand why Dream hasn't taken the crown yet. It can't be that hard to take the power from the younger skeleton. How Nightmare is still seen as king is a mystery to Nine.

Sure it seems like things are okay after three years but Nine knows not to bindly believe people. He had hoped that Ten would have finally learned that lesson by now but it seems that wasn't the case. But that is okay. Nine will be the great brother he was meant to be and get through to Ten and get him home. Easy.

The meeting room door closes and Nine nudges his best friend "Hush." and he nods towards the side. Ranha tilts her head and her red hair shifts slightly. She glances at the door before following him down the hallway.

"What is the big deal Nine?" She seems puzzles.

Nine looks back over his shoulder but nothing happens. Hah. See? And this is why Nightmare still being seen as king is a mystery to him. Those Knights are nothing but hot air as he doesn't even see any of them following him, no wonder Ten got accepted into the role so quickly, the knights clearly can't spot a single threat even when it is right in front of them. All he sees behind them is a prestine looking cat watching them.

"I knew they weren't going to let us join the meeting."

Ranha looks annoyed "Then why did you ask me to join you? I could be exploring the town and checking the stalls and stuff! See what people really think about their weird king and the weirdos here." the shark monster huffs.

Nine rolls his eyes "Because I am in the castle now. Which means I can finally find Ten and talk some sense into him."

Ranha stares shocked before she smiles broadly "Nine you are a genius! Lets go!"

Nine grins as he waves Ranha to follow him.

It isn't the first time he is in this castle. It is the fourth now. Each time Nine would just watch and wait only to not see Ten. This time he is going to search himself. Nine is lucky that Nightmare is a brat and clearly inexperienced with getting allies as it is taking his king and the brat king ages to get a treaty finalised. Honestly how Orchard managed to get Sanctuary as ally is still a mystery but Nine doesn't have time to figure out how this fake king is managing.

If Nine knows one thing is that kings like that will always fall by the brave people who are willing to stand against them.

But that isn't Nine's job. He already made the wrong choice like this before. When he picked the coup over his brother. When he didn't bother to help his brother adjust to all the heavy changes.

Nine had needed time. Time to even believe there were other options. To see that these options weren't wrong and could work for him. His friends had helped him see this. Yet Nine hadn't permitted Ten these insights and moments.

This time though! This time he will make this work! Even if Nine knows that Ten will never be able to fully adjust and become like them. He has gone through too much conditioning to ever be his own person again. But Nine can lead him in the right direction at least.

Ranha knows the way and it seems that she has the same plan as Nine had. Which is going straight towards the private wing.

None of them had allowed access to a whole wing of the castle. Apparently that was the royal's private wing. Which who needs a whole wing to themselves?!

Selfish pricks. All of them.

They turn the corner and get out into the hall. Nine ignores the many many tapestries. Ranha is right behind him as they make their way all the way through the next hall with large windows. They finally reach the right hallway and slow their running. They walk side by side with confidence as the near the entrance. There are two guards there but that doesn't matter. Nine is a visiting guard from a country their stupid king wants a treaty with. It will be easy to gain access.

Nine is a step away from entering the royal wing. He can't help but look at the arch leading into the next wing. The arch is large and high and seems to almost be like tree roots or branches. With small leaves and everything. It looks so livelike and Nine wonders who carved it, it straight up looks like living tree branches. Many other decorations and details just like this one are all across and around this castle.

He can't wonder much longer as the two guards cross their spears in front of Ranha and him.

Ranha glares "What are you doing? Let us through!"

A cat like monster, orange of colour, sounds very unamused "No one is allowed access into the king's wing." She looks unbothered.

The dog monster next to her grins "What Harper said. Shoo little kiddos." the grin makes the slight greying around his snout stand out. He has short trimmed fur and most obviously, the cut tail.

Nine huffs as he stands taller, easily towering over the black and white dog "I was allowed access."

The dog hums and taps his chin before shaking his head "Nope! Doesn't work like that!"

Harper nods "Indeed. Only the royal family and those allowed acces by either them of the Head of House are allowed entrance."

Nine wants to roll his eyes at the stupid head of house title. Everyone should know that is just some stupid coverup. Nine has his theories but for now he sees his in. He gives a charming smile as he nods "I know of course. But he told me himself he needed me to grab something for him." he grins as he wiggles his eye brows. Hinting at a secret meaning.

The dog and cat share a look before Harper looks unimpressed "We do not allow entrance to anyone unless he told us himself he allows entrance."

Ranha luckily sees what Nine is trying and joins in "We seriously got the go ahead! It is an emergancy that we are allowed in."

The dog shakes his head again "No can't do! The last time I didn't follow the orders they cut off my tail! And I only have one of those and I don't want to imagine what will go next."

Nine feels sick to deep in his soul. They... They did what?!

Harper glances at her partner unamused "Shut it Shep."

Shep grins at her "What do you think Harp! What will be next?"

Harper looks umimpressed "If I am lucky it will be your tongue."

Nine feels sick. What is wrong with these people? Why are they still here? What kind of hell and torture kingdom did his stupid younger brother get himself stuck in? Well not for long! Nine will make sure to tell the others everything.

But only after he managed to get Ten home. To get Ten away from this place before they realised that Nine was going to bring this whole kingdom down. He won't make the same mistake of ignoring his brother just because it would be harder for him. No. He will first free his brother and then they will bring this hellhole down and people will be celebrating them.

Harper looks unamused at them "You are not welcome here. Please remove yourself from this area or we will be forced to remove you ourselves." She sounds bored as she says this.

Nine is very sure he can take them but Ranha huffs and walks away. Nine looks back betrayed before following her.

They walk through the halls until they end up in the tapastry hall again. Nine glares at Ranha "Why would you-"

Ranha stops as she shakes her head "You don't understand. You know how I sometimes have these feelings? Of incoming attacks?" Nine nods. It was one of Ranha's many talents and how Ranha was undefeated.

Ranha continues to speak "When you got ready to get us inside. I felt it. This large... presence. Suddenly and ready." she shakes her head "Danger. I felt it was better to retreat and make a better plan."

Nine frowns but sighs "Fair enough. The chance that Ten would be there is rather small..." He may be one of his knights but Nine doubts they truly get anything aside from a title and more dangerous jobs. Well and the masks, those are rather cool. Nine would like a mask. He thinks he would look amazing and very cool in one.

Ranha nods as she mutters "Where could he be... or who would know?" She rubs her chin "The knights probably. But i doubt they will want to help us. I have no doubt that whatever the king used to keep Ten listening to him also works on the other knights. Do you think it is somekind of mind control? or like blackmail? mind control would be okay to break but blackmail is much more sensitive, especially as it implies he got it somehow. We could also wait until the treaty is signed and go by Sanctuary and see if we can get more support through them. Make an allyship with them and then overthrow this whole country."

Nine should be listening. But all he can do is stare at the tapastries.

They happened to end before a set that Nine had been ignoring. Almost like the world itself is trying to force Nine to see and consider them. The first in the set that calls his attention is one showing two small skeletons. One in yellow and one in purple. A sun shown above the one in yellow and a moon shown above the one in purple.

It isn't hard to connect the purple skeleton with the brat king. But Nine doens't understand. Because the yellow one is clearly the crown prince. But they look the same age here. Same height and everything. It had already been confusing that the younger brother had gotten the crown before the older one but this made it seem as if they are much closer in age than the real them shows. It confuses him. It could be something to play up the dramatics but when they had their tour it was implied that these tapastries are a way to document the past.

Though the actual historic events could have gone down differently and this is just another piece of propaganda.

The next one shows a picture of a dark and seemingly partly liquid monster. A skeleton still but large and dark and with tentacles on his back. He stands tall with an arm pointed outwards, the young yellow skeleton is being send away. As the tall one remains with a crown on his dark skull.

Nine looks at the third that caught his attention. This one shows the dark skeleton standing behind the young king. The dark goop skeleton however doens't look menacing. Instead the sockets are closed as the large imposing figure stands with open hands towards the young skeleton in purple. The young skeleton has his sockets open and seems to stare outwards. The tentacles all hang around him as well, not ready to strike but in a way that seemed to surrender. a crown held within the young skeleton's hands.

Nine ponders. He wonders if the gooped skeleton had been Nightmare's parent. He knows that Nim was suposed to be the king before Nightmare and that the gooped skeleton took over. Something about taking the crown from the rightful heir. Nine knows that the gooped skeleton had been named Nightmare as well and Nine is very sure that this one just named the now ruling Nightmae after himself, like a Nightmare the second. This also ties in with the whole head of house theory he has. Nine knows that the head of house is a useless title often given to a favourite servant. Somekind of excuse to keep someone close without needing to put actual time and effort into them standing out as consort or advisor. And the tiny skeleton had to have come from somewhere.

Of course his theory still has holes in it. Mostly what the deal with Dream is and where he fit in. But Nine hopes to eventually figure it out. He already figured out a lot of the situation after all.

He looks at the last one and huffs. It shows the young skeleton in purple holding hands wiht an older looking skeleton in yellow. The moon and sun having been united into one symbol. On the moon side were figures which resembled the different knights. Nine can't help but stare at the one with the snow leopard mask. His brother... stuck in some legacy and played like a pawn... If Nine had tried harder to make Ten feel included would Ten have been okay? Not perfect but maybe a bit better?

On the skeleton in yellow's side was some warrior in blue with a large hammer and a skeleton with many colours and brown clothes with a tail.

Nine stares at the title 'Reunited.' Seems like all these pictures have names. Nine doesn't understand but figures it is some sort of propaganda. Something to mellow out people and make it seem like it is okay.

"Nine?"

Ranha looks worried before she looks at where Nine is staring and her smile turns gentle "Hey... I know you want to help him. And even if we can never truly make him fully whole. We can at least give him a safe place."

Nine sighs and nods "It is something." The damage that his father and old king did was too large. There is no way his simple and naive brother will be able to fully get over it. To be able to move past it. But Nine will do his duty as brother and keep Ten somewhere safe. Some simple jobs will be good. Some normal routine.

Ranha looks around and sees some maids walk by and Nine follows her as she rushes over. She smiles brightly at them before making some small talk. The maids seem happy and content. Easily talking back and giggling once or twice. Though Nine can't help but feel like this is not the way girls normlaly giggle when Ranha flirts with them. This seems more... amused? It is hard to explain. He notices a black cat on the window sill. Lounging as it stares at them with large yellow eyes.

Ranha is casual as can be once she asks the question "I was wondering if we could see a knight! You know. Maybe the one with the white panther mask?"

The maids share a look before one snorts "You mean Cross?" Nine just barely manages to keep his annoyance is. His brother's name is not fucking cross. It is Ten! That is his name and Ten will always be Ten! The maid hums and looks at her friend "Is it training time?"

The other shakes her head "I don't think so. I believe I saw sir Cross with sir Dust."

The first one laughs and nods "Oh that is easy then." she smiles brightly at them "They will be at the ranch. That is where Sir Dust always is."

Nine blinks confused. The ranch? Why? Ranha however asks where they can find it and the maids tell them how to get there. They do warn them to not bother this Dust knight when he is working with the horses before walking off together. Giggling and whispering stuff. They shoot them a look before rushing off giggling again.

Ranha grins and flexes her arms "Still got it." Nine isn't sure she does but he won't challange her on it. They follow the hallways and Nine can't help but stare at the walls around them.

The walls look strange. They have ridges and dips and when Nine feels them they feel like they are made of wood yet he knows for a fact that they are suposed to be rocks and bricks.

Nine once again wonders which masterful crafter and builder made this castle. It almost seems alive. It is warm and beautiful. Everywhere there is signatures of nature or references to it.

The castle he is used to. That of his father. It was all sharp lines and precision. Nothing was allowed to be out of place. No dust or dirt anywhere. Everything had to be perfect.

This castle was wilder. That is the best way Nine can explain it. It is wild and uncontained. It branches outwards. Stuff is uneven and different. The pillars aren't exactly the same even as they are all that same carved stone to look like roots. It feels alive. It feels living. It seems the breath. It feels like there is something larger at play.

Yet it doesnt feel welcome, he doens't feel welcome. Nine can't explain it exactly.

They get outside and follow the path. It takes them a while as they walk past some trees and through a small forest and then they see it.

It is a large ranch. Build with this deep greenish wood of all colours. WIth multiple large pens nearby. It is open and large. But the trees give it privacy. It is beautiful.

Nine feels Ranha tug on his armour and follows where she is pointing. In a pen he can see his brother! Ten is there but... he is seated on a beige horse. Large and strong looking. Antoher skeleton is nearby and seems to be messing with the reins of the horse.

Nine begins to walk closer but he starts to slow his steps. Because... Ten isn't wearing armour. Nine can't rememebr the last time Ten hadn't been wearing armour. Back at home he always had to be ready. Ten.... Ten didn't have time to relax in a casual outfit. Or do things for himself. And yet... here he is... under another tyrant yet... he is wearing casual clothes? He is sitting on a horse? is this somekind of trick of that king? Let Ten relax to make him more loyal? Maybe the brat is smarter than Nine thought.

Ranha shoots him a confused look before going to step closer to the pen but Nine stops her. He can't explain. it is just... Ten looks... He looks different. Not just his clothes but... something else. Nine can't quite explain what it is or put his finger on it. He needs more information. He needs to be prepared to break through any trick or lie. He nods towards the side where a large fench is located and some barrels. Ranha nods and sneaks there with Nine right by her side. They hide behind the barrels and Nine focusses his magic. He quickly enhances his sight and hearing and focusses in. Strangely enough he also feels like there is rian in the air but a glance up shows a cloudless sky. But any thought about the weird feeling in the air is forgotten as soon as Ten speaks.

"Are you sure about this Dust? I still don't think I am ready. What if he throws me off?!"

The other skeleton, Dust is just wearing a large sweater. It looks to be made of high quality. He also seems to be wearing just a beanie to cover his skull. A large red scarf wrapped around his neck. The scarf looks a different quality than everything else.

The other tilts his skull at Ten. Seemingly considering his answer "If you fall off. We can try again."

Ten glares "Dust this isn't funny."

Dust seems to disagree as he grins slightly, just a slight upturn of the teeth "It is fine Cross. Just a matter of trying again. And you and Limestone need to practise this."

Nine feels himself get angry as they use the fake name for his brother but he needs to remain calm. He needs to watch and learn.

Ten grumbles unhappily as he glares down at the horse "I just... I don't get why you can't just train him... You trained Basalt... and Granite for that matter!"

Dust tilts his skull "I did. But he needs to get used to you while running. Get used to how you move and your weight." he pets the horse, the horse leans into Dust's touch "There needs to be trust Cross. You need to trust Limestone that he won't throw you off. And Limestone needs to be able to trust you that you will lead him into the right direction."

Ten blinks and seems to stare at Dust for a moment before looking down at the horse. The animal just stares at him. "I... euh... oh..."

Dust tilts his skull the other way "Do you want to try galloping first?"

Ten looks up and Nine finally figured out what is different. Why Ten looks different. Ten is... smiling. He is smiling brightly and nods excited at the idea.

Nine... Nine can't remember the last time he saw Ten happy and smiling... It is a face he never saw on his brother.

Ranha mutters softly "Wow... I never... He looks so differnet now... so much... more like... A person? i guess? It is weird. I am used to him just. Standing straight and like saluting and being still and unmoving? Like some statue and not like a person?"

Nine nods because he notices it now. The way the Ten is messing with the reins. The way his leg seems to tap the stirrup. The way he seems to almost... wiggle in place a little.

Dust chuckles and nods as he pets the horse a few more times "Go for it. Limestone wants to move." and he takes a few steps back.

Ten gets a large smile on his face as he kicks his heels lightly back, Nine is very surprised when the horse starts moving. He thought you had to be rougher and kick harder to get horses to move. That was hardly a tick.

Yet it works. As Ten starts to ride the horse and the horse speeds up quickly. Very quickly. Ranha suddenly gasps "Holy shit. That horse still has like the three toe system."

Nine blinks in shock. He knows that the wild horses form Orchard were rumoured to be faster and much more diverse than the horses in other places. The wild horses continued to adapt and where made to travel long distances for faster speeds unlike the normal horse endurance. The toes give extra stability and would make the horses able to travel all kinds of terrain while still being fast.

Nine stares in awe as the horse speeds up and than continues to go full speed ahead. Ten tugs lightly on the reins and the horse reacts instantly. Making sharp turns and Nine notices that the back looks longer and sligthly bigger than the horses Nine is used to.

These. These truly are a different breed.

Maybe Nine can convince his king and friend to keep this allyship going for a bit longer. Or maybe get a few horses out of the deal. Nine has no doubt these horses could be much better with good riders.

Ten is.... surprisingly okay with riding the horse. Makes okay turns but well. It is just Ten so NIne is sure he is doing stuff wrong that they can work on back in Ritten, once they find his shortcomings.

Ten eventually returns to Dust and Ten smiles brightly and Nine can't help but stare. He looks happy. He is happy. That is what is different about him. He is relaxed and happy and he doesn't stand as a statue anymore.

Ten laughs as he grins at Dust "Limestone is even faster than before!"

Dust nods but has a tiny smile on his face. Looking very content and proud "Limestone is a strong horse. He is fast and loves to exercise and run. It is honestly a bigger problem to make sure he rests than anything." he crosses his arms and raises a brow at Ten "Remind you of someone."

Ten blushes and looks to the side as he rubs his neck "I have been getting better with the whole work life balance."

Dust nods and agress easily. He pets the horse and looks at Ten "Want to try going faster?"

Faster?! How do you go faster than that!?

Ten looks deeply unhappy and unsure "I don't know..." he pets the horse.

Dust seems to stare at him before speaking "Would it be better if I lead the path with Pearl?"

Ten looks up and a look of pure relieve on his face. Had... had Ten always been this expressive?

Ten nods "Please."

Dust nods and looks to the side. He clicks his tongue and teeth and one of the horses looks up. A smaller but beautiful grey horse with striking purple eyes. The horse starts running and jumps over the fench before trotting over to the two skeletons and horse.

Ten laughs and grins at Dust "Pearl is showing off again."

Dust sighs and nods "I can't manage to unlearn her to jump fenches." the horse stops before him and pushes her whole head into his chest and arms. Dust pets the head and neck "You ready to lead Cross and Limestone?" The horse pulls back and tussles her head around before waiting patiently.

Dust puts his hand into his hip bag and pulls out this curious stone and metal item. He taps the side and bright gemstones light up and runes start to shine.

Ten looks alarmed "What is that!?"

Dust glances at him and a small smile appears "It is a prototype. Geno gave it to me to test it as I ride horses. It is suposed to be something to make it easy and quick to saddle up horses."

Ten looks deeply unhappy as he glares at the item as if it personally offended him "That stupid smug bastard. He is just trying to buy you over with stupid gifts."

Dust looks deeply amused "It is a prototype."

Ten throws up his arms "You are the only person who would find a good use for this!"

Dust chuckels as he lets the item get near the horse and it shines before it starts unfolding and a few clicks later and the horse is equipped with the normal rider things. Dust gets on top of the horse with a grace and confidence that leaves Nine open mouthed. He never... Even the people at home...

Dust looks at Ten "Ready?"

Ten grins as he nods "Yes. Lock the reins and just hold on right?" as he says it he messes with the headpiece on the horse and Nine wants to roll his eyes.

Dust nods and speaks "Indeed. Just make sure it is ready as if you are going to make a get away." and he waits.

Shit he really is patient... Is that why he is teaching Ten?

Ten nods and sits up straight "Ready!"

Dust chuckles as he turns his horse. He checks back over his shoulder to Ten "Go for it. Get him to follow Pearl." Dust doesn't even tug on the reins and Nine can't even spot an obvious movement to direct the horse to start moving. How did he do that?

Ten takes a deep breath before he leans closer to the horse and grabs hold on some extra handbars on the headpiece of the horse. The horse immediantly looks around as Ten nudges the horse to look at Dust and the leaving horse.

The horse stares before it starts to trod after the other skeleton and horse. Ten meanwhile stays as he is. Relaxing against the horse as his horse just follows Dust and his own horse.

It is fascinating. Especially when Dust starts to speed up with some unseeable comment and Ten's horse follows right along. There is no doubt. There is full commitment of both horses.

While Nine had no doubt that Ten still has much to improve with horse riding. Dust seems to be a master. He directs the horse with minimal movement and the horse seems to react immediantly to any unheard and unseen comment.

Soon both horses are running through the pen but it still isn't the gallop speed of before. Dust speaks up casually "We are going to practise you trusting Limestone. Just get into the position to blind ride. We are going to have Limestone follow Pearl's lead."

Ten nods "Okay. Okay. I can... I can do that." He lays fully against the horse and pulls his feet out of the saddle footholds. He messes with the saddle and the footholds get a lot higher and further towards the back. Cross does some weird combination of laying and crouching on the horse as he tugs his feet back into the holsters.

Dust looks back over his shoulder. Not at all seeming concerned about having to look where he is going as he blindly tugs at the right moment to make his horse make a turn "Not quite there but this is fine to practise with for now." he pets the horse's neck before leaning closer to the horse and the horse shoots of.

It goes faster than any horse Nine has ever seen before. It is fast and nimble as Dust truly rides the horse. The other horse with Ten blindly following-

Blind Riding. They don't mean it with looking. They mean it as they don't control the horses beyond the minimum. They are minimising the pressure and bother they could give the horses which enables those to run faster than before.

And if this is just the start... How fast can they go?

Ranha watches with her own mouth open before she mutters "This... this must be why he is a Knight. Not fighting or anything like that. He has a way with the horses."

Nine agrees and thinks she is right. The guy on the horse is fragile and delicate looking. Nine has no doubt that he towers over the other. Soft spoken too... But if he is this good with the horses. If he is able to train the wild horses and make them do this kind of stuff? no wonder they immediantly snatched him up and gave him the higest position they could. Make him stay.

The two horses are almost flying around the running pen. Then Dust leads his horse towards the middle where a small pond is located. Then Dust nudges the horse and it just jumps over the pond! It lands easily and keeps running. The horse with Ten doesn't pause a single step and copies the first horse. It lands safely and without a single issue.

Dust holds up an arm and fist and the horse with Ten starts to slow down and continues walking another round before stopping. Dust lets his horse walk by before just jumping off before nudging his horse. It huffs before continuing its trot across the ring.

Ten pants as he grins widely at Dsut "That was awesome!"

Dust chuckles "It is rather fun to just let the horses do their thing isn't it? and you made the jump first try. Killer fell at least twice."

Ten blinks as he looks up shocked "Twice?"

Dust nods "At least. I am pretty sure he snuck off to practise with Granite while I had my private training." he is by Ten's side as he checks the horse "How are you feeling? You were rather tense."

Ten laughs as he rubs his neck "I am fine... thanks for checking... It is just. I think I am done for today. Thanks again for... being here i guess."

Dust pauses his movements as he starts to undo the horse harnass "It is no problem. I am always here." and he clips it fully off.

Nine has made the decision that he likes this knight. The one he met first, the one wiht goop? The one that claimed Ten as his brother? Nine doens't like him. Weirdo with always having tear trails on his face. Not to forget how cocky and confident he acts. Must be some kind of trick and lie that he keeps up to fool and intimidate others. But Nine isn't fooled. He can see through that easily.

He also doesn't like the bigger guy. Dude moves too quietly for someone his size and that hole in his skull? You don't just get that on accident. Something sinister is in that one's past no doubt.

This one? Just a guy trying to train horses and help Ten with his horse and training? Nine can appreciate that. And sure! The fact he looks cute and pretty helps a lot too. Nine would in theory be fine with this guy joining them in Ritten as well. It would be nice for Ten to have someone who is already his friend. Help him feel at home even more. And then Nine can work on impressing the other by showing his skills! It would be quick and easy!

Ten is by Dust's side as they mess with the saddle and headpiece. They talk about settings and prefered length. Nine is honestly not sure what any of it means so Ten probably doesn't either.

Ten looks at Dust and looks down a bit embarrassed "I... I know I am asking a lot... But i don't really feel like going inside already... Mind showing some tricks? again?" and he looks hopeful.

Dust looks at him and nods "I don't mind."

Fuck he is so patient with Ten... Maybe this guy was a good influence on Ten. Helped him with his lessons and training. someone had to be as Nine doubts the king or those other two knights were.

Ten looks downright excited as he waits by the fench as Dust leads the horse towards the other pen where the beige horse joins the other horses. Nine can count at least ten in there, a whole herd of horses all slightly different shaped and colours. All looking healthy and strong and interacting.

Dust returns and gets on top of his grey horse with practised ease. Ten leans against the fench as he watches.

Dust turns his horse around and starts galloping through the area. Even faster than when he had been leading Ten on the other horse. Ten cheers as he grins widely. It looks so... unlike the brother Nine is used to... So very different.

Dust meanwhile makes the horse take a large turn and Ten grins as he looks around before grabbing a cap and throwing it into the pen. Dust aims the horse and straight up leans sideways and off the back of the horse. Almost fully upsidedown to easily snatch the cap of the ground before pulling himself back on the horse's back. Not once slowing down.

Ranha gasps "Hole shit that is so difficult... How?! Without slowing down!?" She is sitting up straighter to enable her to see everything easier. Pure awe on her face and Nine feels like he may have been not fully aware of how difficult that seemingly easy trick is...

Dust runs with the horse by Ten and straight up puts the cap on his skull. Again without once slowing down. Ten laughs and cheers "Go Dust go!" as he grins.

Dust keeps moving the horse around quickly and now he has started to zigzag with it! Nine blinks and looks at Ranha "Isn't that like... suposedly very hard for horses?"

Ranha nods as she doesn't look away from the display "It is insane! Horsese make large turns because of their back. I don't know how that horse is that flexible or how that guy can just direct the horse to make the turns by not actively turning but instead almost twisting in a jump?!" she stares "Is this what the rare horses can do? That inhabit this land? We need to get Regius to get some horses!"

Nine glares at his best friend "Don't speak the king's name so casually."

Ranha waves him off "It is fine. We were all friends before he became king so we are good."

Nine huffs as he focusses on the display of masterful horse riding. It is just that not speaking the title is disrespectful and he will not make them seem unprofessional or like they don't take their ruling class seriously. Regius only became king after the fall of the old one and Nine doesn't want people to think he is an easy target just because of that. And he doubts a brat like this country's king can see how much work they had to put into bettering what they had and helping their land and people heal from all the damage.

Ranha makes a curious noise close to choking and Nine pays attention just to see Dust standing on the back of the horse. Perfectly balanced and even balancing on one leg as the horse keeps running around the pen. He steps off the horse on a fench where he runs alongside the horse, the horse finally slowing a bit down, before Dust steps back on the back and the horse speeds up again.

Dust crouches down as he puts his hands on the horse's back before just making a handstand!

Nine can't imagine how hard standing on a horse could be. much less making a handstand?! He knows how to make a handstand of course and it is easier to do it with momentum. Dust did it without that.

Ten keeps cheering for his friend as Nine stares in awe. Ranha is muttering about how insane this is and how there has to be magic at play. Yet aside from the presure of the rain he has felt since the start he hasn't noticed any spells of any type. Not even to help lead or control the horses like other riders do. Nine can't help but just keep staring.

Dust sits back on the horse but backwards as he calmly undoes the saddle. The saddle falls off the horse and as soon as the saddle hits the ground it seems to disappear. Right, the saddle was part of that magic item Dust is testing. All while Dust remains seated on the powerful beast that is still running. Dust turns back around and messes with the reins that seem to make handholds on the headpiece.

Dust next grabs hold of the handholds and lays his legs on the back of the horse. He taps the side of the neck of the horse nad motions forwards before he lays fully against the horse.

The horse going fast before is nothing compared to how fast it runs now. It is bolting through the pen and there seems to be zero control that Dust has over it. Instead Dust just holds on and lets it do its things.

"He minimised his contact and hold on the horse. he freed the horse from the saddle to enable it to move even more freely and go faster!" Ranha looks downright excited as she just stands there and stares. Nine glares at her and pulls her back down to hide wiht him.

"Stop standing! They may see you!" Nine feels an anxiety at being caught snooping now. Not like before where he would just lie and say he wasn't snooping or spying. Now he is nervous about how it would reflect on him as a person, especially to the smaller and skilled skeleton. Fuck he wishes he was wearing his better armour than this one. He hadn't wanted to seem like he was trying to impress Orchard's ruler or make it seem like they thought they needed to impress this leader but he is regretting it now. How can he show him his best side when he isn't prepared!?

The horse continues to run before coming to a slow stop near Ten. Ten is grinning widely as he claps his hands "That was so cool! Dust it is nuts how fast you can go with Pearl!"

Dust shrugs as he gets off and grabs a brush to start taking care of the animal while Ten stands near his side. "I was wondering soemthing." Dust voice is soft and calm. Even.

Ten nods as he watches Dust work "Ask away."

Dsut shoots him a look before speaking again "I figured you would want to be near Nightmare with the guests here. Why with me?"

Ten goes quiet as he looks down. Nine nudges Ranha and nods. It is their time to act! This is the perfect set up-

A hand grabs him by the neck and pushes him flush against the barrels he had been hiding behind. Ranha makes a shocked sound and Nine can barely see her in the same position as he is in.

A deep voice speaks up "Dont you know that eavesdropping is rude? But what could be expect from snooping immature children."

Nine freezes. That is the voice of the big knight guy. The one wiht the lion mask. Horror. how... when? Nine hadn't even heard him! When did they get exposed and found out!?

Horror continues to speak "But if you wish to listen in. You will listen. You will hear what Cross has to say instead of speaking for him."

Ranha growls "His name isn't-UGH!" she chokes for a moment before the kngiht releases his grip a bit again.

"Listen."

Ten finally answers "It is dumb..."

Dust hums as he leans against the horse "Try me."

Ten isn't looking up as he rubs his own arm "I... I didn't expect them to be happy with me... That is fair. I just. Didn't expect them to hate me without knowing me." Ten frowns as he softly pets the horse "It is like... They are unhappy with who i am now and want me to be who i used to be, who i don't want to be anymore. Yet they hate that person." Ten hunkers in on himself "I don't... like feeling like that."

Dust frowns as he puts a hand on Ten's shoulder "That is on them."

Ten frowns as he looks away "It isn't... I" He frowns as he moves his hands around. Had... Had Ten always moved this much? That can't be right. Nine remembers him being still and unmoving. Their father had always been strict about staying in line and acting as they had to and-

and...

and being... the way he wanted... to be...

Like Nine wants Ten to be.

Oh...

Ten isn't the problem... is he?

Dust takes Ten's face between his hands and makes Nine's younger brother look at him "Cross. Look at me. No i mean it. Look at me." Ten stares at him and Dust looks at him "You are you. No one else. No one telling you how you should be or act is right. You are fine like this. You are happy like this. You can be however you want to be, whatever makes you feel good and feel like you are you." Dust gentle bonks their skulls together "I think you would do best if you visit Lust for a bit and you two hang out and focus on something else. Okay?"

Ten frowns but gives a slow nod "Okay."

Dust nods as he keeps holding the taller skeleton "And this is not me sending you away. I enjoy us spending time together. But i think being here while they are here is stressing you out. Making you second guess yourself. Go to a different environment and let yourself relax. When you come home we can try more horse riding or you can help Killer trying to get Kingdom Devourer out of a tree again. Go relax."

Ten frowns before nodding and just hugging the other. Dust chuckles and pats his back "You are fine the way you are Cross... In matter of fact. You are perfect the way you are." Ten's breath seems to hitch as he just holds the other tighter and continues to hold him. It isn't until some time passed that Ten lets go and steps back with an embarrassed expression and... and slightly hazy looking eyes.

"Sorry... I know you don't... don't like... I am sorry."

Dust chuckles and pats his back "It is alright. Go hang out with your boyfriend while I clean up."

Boyfriend... but... why would he... who would even want to date Ten? He doens't even have a personality and is just a tool and an idiot-

Except everything he has seen now shows otherwise and... Why does Nine expect Ten to be the same way that their father wanted them to be?

Ten walks away with a wave and goes straight towards the castle. Looking a bit better as he is smiling and seems to have a small bounce in each step.

Dust watches him go before he just walks straight towards their hiding place oh shit when did-

Dust stops before them and looks unamused. His gaze cold and seemingly able to look straight into his soul. Nine would have been frozen even without the hand holding his neck.

Dust looks at Horror "Good catch H. Trouble?"

Horror hums "They tried to get into our king's wing. I was ready to give backup."

Nine feels himself grow cold. They had been followed? The whole time? They had been watched the whole time and they hadn't even noticed!

Nine... Nine may have been wrong about how capable these guys are...

Dust hums "Lets put them in the jail cell as time out. Children should know not to wander after all."

Nine feels humiliated as he and Ranha are dragged towards the castle. Dust walks behind them as Horror leads the way, Horror does not let them walk.

They walk by some servants and Nine sees it are the same maids that they met in the hallway. The maids giggle and nod respectfully to both Horror and Dust and greet them with "Hello my Knights." before they shoot a glance at Ranha and Nine before gigglign together.

They are dropped off in a cell each and the door is locked. Nine goes to check the lock only to realise there is magic woven into the very bars and walls. These locks aren't just physical but also magical. He can't break them out.

Horror hums "There. Children have their time out." he looks highly amused as he nods to Dust "Mind taking over watch?"

Dsut shrugs as he walks towards the exit "I will take your shift. you make sure the children behave." and he leaves.

horror looks at them amused and Nine feels terrible...

Not just the fact he looked like an idiot to the pretty and skilled skeleton. But he also made a fool out of himself to be caught snooping and trying to get into places he isn't allowed to be.

He sits on the bed and can't help but look at his own hands.

Does... does Ten really not want to come home? How can Nine get him to come along? Will he be forced to drag his brother home.

Nine pauses at the thought and feels a new horrifying feeling overtake himself.

When did he become so much like his father?

[purplesauris]

The Way the Pendulum Swings

Yes, I am back again with more writing, no, i cannot control myself. My fantastic friend @frostedbasilisk and I got talking, and I was inspired by Buffskier. (yes, i will continue using the name. Look at their beautiful rendition of Jaskier from a scene of the fic here!

Read on AO3 here!

“I think we need help.” Geralt says, leaning over and offering a hand to hoist Jaskier up. His doublet is now covered in dirt on the back and Jaskier’s pride is wounded, but Jaskier grins sheepishly all the same. 

“I told you, I’m uselessly lead footed.” Jaskier dusts himself off as best he can and fixes his hair, turning so that Geralt can dust him off the rest of the way. “If you can’t teach me dear, who possibly could?”

“Vesemir trained me.” He points out, and Jaskier raises both eyebrows in shock, tilting his head and hmmming. 

“You want to go up north, so that Vesemir can train me?”

“It’s only a few weeks early.” Jaskier pins him with a look that could wither the largest tree, and Geralt has to fight to keep from withering too. Jaskier’s expression lightens quickly, eyes softening, and he goes up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to the tip of Geralt’s nose. 

“Fine. But if he can’t train me, I suppose it’s a lost cause, hmm? Then my big brute of a witcher will have to protect me.” Jaskier’s voice is fond, and though the word should sting, he wields it like such a compliment that Geralt feels himself relaxing. Jaskier likes his brutishness, and has said so many times. “Shall we set out in the morning then?”

“Mmm.” 

                                                       -*-

Their trip up through the mountain is much more pleasant this time- the breeze is just barely beginning to hold the frigid notes of winter, and animals are plentiful along the path. They can take their time, too, in no rush to beat the snows or be the last ones there, so Jaskier can truly admire their surroundings. He spends just as much time singing as he usually does, but now it’s waxing poetics about the way the grass sways in the wind and the mountain air plays with flower petals. It’s meaningless and frilly, but Geralt likes to hear Jaskier like this- wondering at the world around him and seeing the beauty in everything. Not that he’ll tell him such, though if he hums along when Jaskier’s a few steps ahead, no one can blame him.

Geralt has to end up climbing the side of the keep and slipping over when they get up to the massive gates. Vesemir isn’t expecting anyone for at least another month, so the gates are firmly shut and Geralt has to open it for them. Jaskier leads Roach inside and meets Geralt at the stables, helping in taking off all the packs and brushing her down. He leaves that mostly to Geralt in actuality, and feeds Roach a couple of apples from their pack as a treat. 

“You’ll make her fat.” Geralt scolds, but Jaskier just laughs and kisses her soft nose. 

“She works too hard not to get an apple from me.” Roach butts her head against Jaskier’s chest in agreement, and he looks at Geralt to say see? Geralt shakes his head, but he spends an extra bit of time brushing her down and getting her comfortable. Jaskier murmurs quietly to her, telling her what a good horse she is for putting up with Geralt for so long and smiling when he hears Geralt scoff quietly. 

“Geralt, Jaskier.” Jaskier jumps at the sudden arrival of a new voice, and Geralt merely glances over at his adopted father. “You’re early.”

“Geralt’s idea, I’m afraid.” Vesemir chuckles, as if that he already knew that well enough. “He says, and I quote, that I am “woefully unprepared to fight off even the weakest of foes”, and thus, my only hope is you.”

“That’s all he said?” Jaskier grins at Vesemir, snickering when Geralt grumbles and stoops to grab their bags from the hay. “Well, I have to agree. I suppose I could put you through accelerated training.”

“Then consider me your dedicated pupil.” Jaskier bows low at the waist, blue eyes bright when he straightens up. Vesemir smiles at that, a fleeting glimpse under the usual stern exterior, and Jaskier takes it as a win.

No one expected Jaskier to take to training quite the way that he did. Much like a fish to water, actually. Jaskier still woke early to tend to the livestock, as had been his job the last three winters he’d managed to come up to Kaer Morhen, and still managed to make enough food to feed the witchers and leave them wanting for nothing. But when he wasn’t embroiled in other chores, he was outside, under the watchful eyes of Vesemir. Vesemir had sent Geralt off to tend to the monsters in the forests while they trained, and when Jaskier had asked why, Vesemir had just said that Geralt was a mother hen. 

They’d started off with basic fighting, and Jaskier’s progress went significantly faster than it ever had with Geralt. He seemed a natural at it; graceful and light on his feet in a way that many witchers struggled with even today, body already strong from years on the Path. Vesemir wasn’t sure where the problem was in teaching Jaskier- he was attentive and driven to continue until Vesemir had to tell him to stop. By the end of Jaskier’s first month, Vesemir watched and paced the length of the wall as Jaskier hopped and danced around the huge pendulum swinging in the wind. The first time Jaskier had hauled himself up onto the poletops Geralt had nearly called the whole thing off, protests on his lips. He’d remembered his own training as a child, much younger than Jaskier, and had decided to trust him, and trust in Vesemir. 

Jaskier thought that the pendulum was fun. Geralt had never thought balancing on the tops of poles and dodging a large, spiky pendulum was fun, but Jaskier laughed and jested with Vesemir the whole time, catching himself when he stumbled and swearing like Lambert when a spike slammed sideways into his thigh. After the pendulums, Jaskier would be sent to run the walls in true witcher school fashion, and by the time dinner came around Jaskier was all but dead on his feet. Still, he got up day after day, boasting of the newest bruises that had formed in the night as if they were a badge of valor. 

“You hide it.” Jaskier stumbles atop the poles, righting his footing as Vesemir lets out a careful- and watches him a bit closer.

“Hide what, dear teacher of mine?” Vesemir raps a wooden sword against one of the poles, making it shake under foot, but Jaskier merely hops to another pole and brandishes his sword. 

“Your fighting prowess.” Jaskier stops then, dropping gracefully into a balanced crouch so he can hear Vesemir over the roaring of the wind. Vesemir allows him a moment to talk, since he started it, and watches the way Jaskier adjusts to keep the wind from blowing him off the poles. “You were already trained, weren’t you?”

“I’m a noble, Vesemir. There isn’t much that I wasn’t trained in. My father thought it important that I learn, in the worry I be called to war.”

“You’re a noble.” Vesemir points out in refute to that, and Jaskier laughs. No noble has ever been called to war anymore than they’ve been called to shovel pig shit. “It’s served you well now, though.”

“I suppose it has.” Jaskier agrees, standing once again. Vesemir uses a weak blast of aard to get the pendulum going again, and Jaskier twirls around the obstacle, feet hardly touching one pole before he vaults for the next.

“When the other boys get here, let’s put that to the test.” Jaskier doesn't say anything, but he’s grinning, and he pushes himself just a bit harder. 

                                                             -*-

“Since when the fuck have you been first?” Geralt grunts as Lambert claps him on the back, nudging the younger man with his shoulder. “No Jaskier this year?”

“He’s here.” Geralt turns back to the dummy he’s restuffing, pointedly not looking toward Jaskier on the far side of the grounds. “With Vesemir.”

“What, talking about boring old history in the library again?”

Geralt smirks at that, tilting his head back toward the pendulums and turning to catch Lambert’s reaction. Lambert looks over, eyes widening, and he breathes out a holy shit. “You let Vesemir sink his claws in?”

“He asked.”

“He asked? Bullshit.” Lambert goes jogging over, and after a minute Geralt follows, sure that trouble is brewing. Lambert gets to Vesemir first, and the old witcher doesn’t even bother to look at the newest arrival. 

“He’s training.” Is all he says, as if that’s ever been enough to settle Lambert. 

“Like hell he is, Jaskier, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Exactly what Vesemir said!” The bard calls back, swaying between not one, but two pendulums now. Vesemir had added the second only upon Jaskier’s insistence. Geralt can smell the worry emanating off of Lambert, and he reaches out to grab at the man’s shoulder but finds him already moving. He reaches a hand, trying to catch Jaskier by the ankle and pull him down, but Jaskier hops away with ease and gives him a dirty look. Lambert grabs for him again, but again Jaskier skips away, glancing down and waiting for his next move. The pendulums move with almost the same sway, and Jaskier doesn’t even have to look to anticipate their moves. “Helping?”

“No, you little shit. You’re on the edge of a cliff and I’m not going to be the one cleaning your carcass up. Get down.” 

“Make me.” Lambert growls, lunging and following Jaskier along the wall as Jaskier dodges and leaps away just shy of Lambert’s reach. Somewhere in the time of them having come over to witness Lambert chasing after Jaskier like a kitten with a toy Eskel has arrived, and he slings an arm over Geralt’s shoulder as he approaches. 

“He’s better than you were.” Eskel remarks, watching curiously.

“Shut up.” He’s done remarkably well though, Geralt has to admit. Just seeing that Jaskier is able to dodge Lambert has his heart settling a bit. He can at least be trusted to run if danger shows up. Geralt’s heart doesn’t get a chance to rest much as Lambert finally catches Jaskier’s ankle, yanking him forward. Jaskier’s leg goes out from under him, and Geralt watches in slow motion as Jaskier tips backwards, out toward open air. Vesemir leaps forward, reaching, but Jaskier goes plunging over the edge, and Geralt’s heart stops completely. 

“FUCK. FUCK, I killed the bard-” Lambert goes to hoist himself up so he can peer over, but stops himself short when he hears something. A pained grunt, and a swear colorful enough to curdle milk.

“No, you didn’t, but I’d appreciate it you didn’t attempt to do so again.” Jaskier’s voice comes from the other side of the wall at the same time that he swings himself up and rests on one knee. His arms are shaking and Geralt can smell blood- he’s pulling Jaskier down and hugging him tight before anyone else can move. “Geralt, I’m fine.” 

His voice is muffled against Geralt’s shoulder, and Geralt shudders before pulling back to look for the blood. Jaskier’s palm is torn up by the rough grit of the wood, and Geralt counts at least six splinters that will have to be pulled out. He’s alive though, and that’s enough for him at the moment. “Still like the pendulums?”

“What’s not to like, love?” His tone is light, but his scent is bitter with fear and his voice shakes a little at the end. Geralt presses his lips together, trying not to frown and failing to do so. Jaskier does laugh then, quietly, and he tugs his hand from Geralt’s to turn to Lambert. He holds his bloody palm out, raising a brow. “Kiss it better?”

“Kiss my ass.” Lambert bites out, scowling and leading the bard inside to clean out his hand. Eskel eyes the pendulums still swinging in the wind, and looks toward Geralt. 

“Once, for old times sake?” Geralt shakes his head, but joins Eskel all the same to duck and weave around the pendulums and each other. Vesemir corrects their form, though he hardly needs to, and Geralt only gets down once the pendulums settle and it’s near impossible to move around them. He hops down, landing lightly, and hears soft clapping. Jaskier’s one hand is wrapped tight in a bandage, but he seems put back together again, and Lambert is hanging a step behind his shoulder. 

“Now imagine how much better I’d be with witcher reflexes. No one would ever catch me!” Jaskier casts a sly glance toward Lambert, lips tugging up into a smile. “This one almost didn’t. Beginner’s luck.”

“Who’re you calling a beginner?”

“Not used to sweeping men off their feet, hmm?” Lambert’s cheeks go pink as he scoffs, waving a hand. He opens his mouth to say something, but Vesemir interrupts, nodding his head.

“Heal quickly. We’re going to test your training.” Geralt frowns, wondering how much he could have actually done in a month, but Jaskier’s eyes are eager.

“Yes sir.” 

                                                         -*-

“We’re sparring today. Each day, one of you will fight him, to see how he reacts.” Jaskier is standing next to Vesemir as he announces the plan, excitement written all over his face. “Lambert will go first.”

“Really? You want to start with me?”

“Scared? I promise I’ll go easy.” Jaskier quips, rolling his sleeves up and taking a couple steps into the large sparring circle they've marked in the dirt. Lambert growls softly and strips out of his armor, leaving it in the dirt. 

“Don’t bother, this’ll be over before you know it.” Jaskier walks in a slow circle, watching Lambert and humming softly. 

“Are you sure?”

“False bravado makes you look like an ass.” Jaskier nods his head as if he agrees, rolling his shoulders and matching Lambert’s pace. 

They spiral in the ring, slowly coming closer. It seems like neither of them want to strike first, until Jaskier steps forward and swings. The blow is weak, shaky, and Lambert bats his hand away easily. He punches the bard with a swift hit to his stomach, scoffing. Jaskier oofs, bending over, and Lambert comes in closer, aiming another hit meant to incapacitate him. Jaskier’s gone and behind Lambert before the man finishes his swing, bouncing light on his toes. Lambert whirls, using the momentum to punch forward, but Jaskier slips past him, slamming a fist into the underside of the man’s upper arm and dancing away. Lambert grunts, fingers tingling unpleasantly, and advances forward. Geralt watches in fascination as they play cat and mouse, Lambert chasing and chasing as Jaskier whirls and skips away, staying just out of reach. Lambert is faster, manages to keep up easily, but the only blows he manages to land are glancing and Jaskier seems to handle the pain with ease.

“He’s fast.” Eskel murmurs, eyes flitting between the two opponents and lingering longer on Jaskier. Lambert snarls, red faced after another blow hits dead air, and his pupils contract as he watches, waiting. Jaskier stops too, panting and using the moment to catch his breath. Geralt sees the moment that Lambert decides what he’s going to do- his heel digs into the dirt and he launches forward, roaring and tackling Jaskier. The hold is one he doesn’t think that Jaskier will get out of, especially not with an enraged Lambert, but Jaskier grabs onto the back of his shirt and brings his leg up, knee slamming into Lambert’s side twice in quick succession. Lambert’s rib snaps with a dull crack on the second hit, and he howls as the two go rolling in the dirt. A broken rib has never stopped him before, never stopped any of them, but he’s distracted and Jaskier uses the momentum of their roll to fling himself up and off. He scrambles from his knees to his feet, arms coming up and taking the brunt of the blow Lambert aimed for his head. Geralt can see the purple bruises already forming along Jaskier’s arms.

“We should stop this.” Geralt breathes, knowing that if they don’t, Lambert is going to do something he’ll regret later. Still, Jaskier hasn’t left the ring and neither of them have yielded. Lambert’s eyes have gone wild, and Geralt’s heart picks up at the sight. Even he will admit he doesn’t want to go up against Lambert like this unless he absolutely has to, and he’s even more impressed and slightly aroused that Jaskier is holding his own. Lambert gets in close and delivers a vicious right hook, and Jaskier ducks down into a low crouch. Geralt’s eyes track the movement, and he sees Jaskier’s thighs flex and his head tuck to the side as he springs up from his crouch, ramming his shoulder up into Lambert’s tender ribs. Lambert goes stumbling back, hissing, and Jaskier follows him, using one hand on the witcher’s chest to shove an already wobbling Lambert from the ring. 

“Match.” Vesemir says, glancing down at his son who is currently laying in the dirt, hand pressed to his side as he pants. Jaskier pads over and crouches next to him, tilting his head and probing at his side. Lambert smacks his hands away, and Jaskier grimaces. 

“Sorry Lambert. Did it break fully?”

“Just a fracture. Only thing broken is my pride.” 

“I tried to warn you.” Jaskier teases, pulling a vial from his pocket and handing it over. “Thought you’d need this.”

“Cocky son of a bitch-” Lambert takes the Swallow and downs it in one go, laying still so the potion can do its work. Lambert lays his head back in the dirt again, and Jaskier settles by his side to wait. “Thanks.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier says in return, grinning when Lambert shoves him. 

“I can’t wait to see Eskel beat your ass.”

Jaskier looks up at the aforementioned witcher, still smiling. “I can’t wait either.”

                                                          -*-

Eskel refuses to fight him until his bruises are healed, citing unfair advantages if his opponent is wounded already. No one begrudges him this, and Jaskier takes the time to train a bit more in swordplay. They meet back in the ring a week after Lambert’s fight, Jaskier bouncing on his heels and grinning all the while. Eskel is the mirror opposite; he stands calmly on the other side of the ring, watching with amusement as Jaskier looks at Vesemir to signal the start of their fight. Vesemir waves them both into the ring, nodding. “Begin.” 

Just as before, they begin circling, slowly moving toward one another. This time, Jaskier doesn’t hesitate. He goes on the offensive immediately, throwing quick jabs that hit with loud thuds against Eskel’s forearms. He absorbs the blows and continues his slow pacing, letting Jaskier come to him. It’s smart, after having seen the way that Jaskier was content to let his partner slip into a rage before doing any substantial damage. Eskel hardly gives anything back, but he’s wearing Jaskier out and he knows it. Jaskier backs off when he can’t break through Eskel’s guard, panting and hands trembling lightly. His knuckles are already bruised horribly, and Geralt frowns. Jaskier has wasted all his energy trying to break through Eskel’s guard- Eskel only has to deliver a single blow to Jaskier’s abdomen to send him flying, and he skids along the ground, stopping just inside the circle. Jaskier curls into a ball, wheezing, and Geralt strains to make sure that he didn’t hear a rib snap or something pop. 

“Get up, bard.” Eskel’s voice is soft, and he allows Jaskier room, time to get up. Jaskier rises to his knees, gasping, and then he stumbles to his feet, raising his hands and swaying. “Yield?”

Jaskier shakes his head and Eskel sighs, padding forward. He doesn’t want to knock Jaskier out or blow him from the ring, but Jaskier is stubborn, dodging to the side when Eskel tries to push him out of the ring. Eskel follows after him, patiently corralling him to the other side of the ring. Jaskier is still stumbling, blinking rapidly as if the sun bothers him, and Eskel seems to take pity on him. He sweeps a leg out, intending to take him out once and for all, but Jaskier leaps up and over. Eskel grabs at him, knowing where he’ll land, but Jaskier is waiting for it, and he grabs Eskel's hand. He spins on his heel, dragging Eskel’s arm with him and pivoting when Eskel tries to break his hold. Jaskier presses a thumb viciously into the meat of Eskel’s thumb, making the bone grind as he finally gets Eskel’s arm behind him and wrenches upwards. 

Eskel is the one to gasp in pain now, and Jaskier uses his leverage to press him to his knees in the dirt, bending over until Eskel’s face is nearly on the ground and his shoulder shrieks in protest. Geralt feels his blood heat at the sight of Jaskier holding a witcher down with a very well done pin, and his nostrils flare when he smells a spike of arousal from Eskel in the ring. That… doesn’t bother him as much as it should. Jaskier’s voice is raspy as he pants raggedly, pupils wide. “Yield.”

Eskel tries to wiggle his way out, but Jaskier pulls his arm a bit tighter, digs his thumb in harder, and Eskel gasps again. “Yield, I yield.” 

The words stun Geralt, and he looks at Lambert in astonishment as Jaskier lets Eskel go. “Match.” Vesemir calls, pride warming his words. Jaskier nods, smiling, and then promptly turns, takes a few steps away, and vomits into the grass. Geralt hurries to his side immediately while Lambert goes to help Eskel up, rubbing at Jaskier’s back and murmuring softly. The smell of bile hits his nose, sharp and raw, and he grimaces as Jaskier dry heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks. Geralt looks closely at what Jaskier throws up, looking for any blood, but finds nothing but their breakfast from this morning. Good. Nothing seems to have been damaged internally, at least not that he can tell yet, and Jaskier straightens up slowly, wiping at his mouth and burping.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting.”

“Are you alright?” Jaskier nods, giving Geralt a soft smile. Eskel comes over now, holding out a waterskin and allowing Jaskier to rinse his mouth out. Eskel also urges the bard to drink a bit, and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Didn’t mean to hit you that hard, Jask.”

“No, it was a good swing. Almost had me there for a minute. Am I going to get a medal?”

“For what?” Geralt says, voice tinged with amusement and worry and everything else in between. 

“Well, beating two witchers at hand to hand combat, of course.” 

“You still have one more to go. Beat the White Wolf, and then we’ll talk.” Lambert peers around Eskel, wrinkling his nose at the smell of vomit and pointedly not looking Jaskier’s way again. Jaskier locks eyes with Geralt, winking, and Geralt regrets agreeing to the sparring now more than ever. 

                                                        -*-

It takes Jaskier a full week to recover from Eskel's well placed punch, and he spends every minute of it working or training. His stomach recovers fine, much to Eskel's (and Geralt's) relief, and Jaskier seems supremely pleased that he was able to even survive such a hit. The weather has gotten colder now as winter fully grasps the valley, and snow falls lightly as they convene outside for Jaskier’s final test. 

“Something different today. Swords.” Vesemir waves toward the wooden training swords and Jaskier grimaces. Lambert though, is grinning. If there’s one thing that Geralt is known for, that Jaskier sings of constantly, it’s his swordsmanship. 

“Really? I don’t think-” 

“He’s already proven his hand to hand. I want to see his sword skills.” Jaskier doesn't object, taking a sword when Geralt holds it out to him. Geralt looks like he's swallowed something sour as he rolls his wrist and dips into a slight crouched stance. Jaskier mirrors the stance but doesn't seem nearly as comfortable. 

"You don't have to." Geralt says softly as they walk a slow circle around each other. 

"I do." Jaskier replies, nodding his head. "Let's get this over with, love."

Geralt feels his heart constrict- he doesn't want to risk hurting Jaskier, doesn't think he could stomach it, but Jaskier isn’t going to back down. He starts out easy, blows that Jaskier can parry or block without being terribly inconvenienced. He can imagine the sad, frustrated look on Jaskier’s face when he loses, and Geralt’s heart breaks for him already. Geralt is half in his thoughts when Jaskier swings, blade sailing for his side. He moves to block, but Jaskier’s arm twitches and he moves trajectory, smacking Geralt hard on the arm with the flat of his blade. Geralt’s skin stings, and his eyes narrow minutely. His nostrils flair- he’d expected Jaskier to smell like rotting fruit- anxious and resigned, but he doesn’t. He smells of citrus, sharp and bright. Excited.

Geralt lets himself go a bit harder, moves faster and with more of that impossible dancer's grace. None of the witcher’s fought quite like he did, with spinning, overly dramatic moves that were just as effective in disemboweling someone. He expects Jaskier to fall behind, expects to feel his blade strike some soft part of Jaskier’s body, but Jaskier… doesn’t. He grins, laughs, and moves through Geralt’s moves as if they were his own. He mirrors them as effortlessly as Geralt attempts to hit him, and Geralt isn’t sure what to think of this. Jaskier’s spins and hops around him, drops low into near splits that has Geralt wincing in pain at the thought. No wonder he liked the pendulum- they’re the perfect way to avoid an enemy, and he spent ample time on them. 

“Stop dancing with each other and fight!” Lambert calls, and that breaks Jaskier’s concentration. He glances over, away from Geralt, and Geralt lunges forward. His blade is a hair's breadth away from Jaskier’s head, a move that will knock him out if Geralt’s lucky when Jaskier bends backwards. He doesn’t stop just out of reach- he bends fully over, spine creating an elegant arch as his hands plant in the dirt and he flips backwards. The toe of his boot catches Geralt’s wrist, jarring his fingers, and the blade goes flying as Jaskier completes his hand stand and drops, chest to the ground. The world around Geralt tilts sharply as the heel of a boot smashes into the backs of his knees, and he goes down onto his back, wheezing and failing to suck in a breath. 

He hears the shuffle of feet in the dirt as Jaskier steps forward, rolling his wrist and twirling the blade the way that Geralt has done a thousand times. He presses the dull wooden tip against the soft skin under Geralt’s jaw and digs in lightly, tipping his chin up. His eyes are dark, dangerous, and Geralt feels heat pool in his stomach. He shouldn’t be getting aroused at this, at being beaten, but Jaskier is spectacular, wreathed in light with snow in his hair and cheeks red from exertion. 

“Yield, love?”

“Yield.” Geralt breathes out, raising his hands in a placating gesture. A smirk plays across Jaskier’s lips, and Geralt wants nothing more than to kiss him until neither of them can breathe. Jaskier tosses the sword in the dirt and offers Geralt a hand as he leans up. Geralt thinks for a moment about yanking Jaskier down and pinning him into the dirt, but Jaskier draws in a sharp breath and narrows his eyes. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Geralt schools his expression into one of faint annoyance, for having lost of course, and not because he’s predictable enough that Jaskier knows what he was planning. Geralt scoops Jaskier’s discarded blade up as he gets to his feet, and hears Lambert begin to laugh. 

“We have got to be the worst witchers- a fuckin bard beat all of us!” Lambert laughs harder, doubling over and slapping his thigh. 

“Vesemir must be quite the teacher.” Eskel says in agreement, eyes sparkling with amusement as he nods toward Jaskier. Jaskier reaches to brush some dirt off of his pants, smiling and glancing over at Vesemir. Vesemir nods, sharing a small, private look, and Jaskier straightens up.

“I uh, may have misled you lot about my apparent lack of skills.” That shuts Lambert up, and he stands up, frowning hard. Jaskier laughs nervously, shuffles his feet in the dirt, and hurries to explain. “While I am nowhere near your skills as witchers, I ah, was trained as a child. Extensively, I might add, in the art of war.”

“Ha! So the old man isn’t responsible for that?”

“Well, he certainly helped reawaken old skills.” Geralt stares at Jaskier, confusion on his face and lips pressed together in a tight line. 

“But… Every time I tried to-” Jaskier clears his throat, blushing, and takes Geralt’s hand in his.

“Ulterior motives, love.” Lambert scoffs in disgust, Eskel laughing quietly.

                                                           -*-

“Show me that move, the one you used to disarm Geralt.” Lambert insists that night while they’re eating dinner, golden-amber eyes shining.

“Inside? Fine.” Jaskier sighs dramatically, standing up from the table and moving a few steps away. He folds himself back, fingers splaying against the stony ground, and lifts himself up onto his hands, tilting his body and lowering himself down until his chest is parallel to the floor. He pauses there a moment, then swings his legs around in a sharp burst of speed, knocking over one of the chairs and grunting at the pain in his shins. He’s folded oddly now, still holding all his weight up and off the ground, and he slowly unfolds himself, shaking out his hands as he hops to his feet. “Good enough?”

“Holy fuck.” Lambert gapes, thoroughly impressed. Geralt doesn’t say anything, but he has to agree with Lambert’s amazement. He hadn’t been able to see the whole move, being the target, but it’s rather impressive, and highlights all of the lovely muscles in Jaskier’s arms.  Lambert leans over to whisper at Geralt, eyes tracking Jaskier as he picks up the fallen chair and collapses into it, grinning when Eskel says something to him. “You lucky son of a bitch.”

Geralt feels his chest rumble, and distantly hears himself growl, but his eyes are on Jaskier and the exposed column of his neck. Geralt blinks, shaking his head, and tries his best not to seem like a luststricken fool. Jaskier’s eyes aren’t on Geralt, and he can’t possibly have heard the noise Geralt made, but he tilts his head, the muscles in his neck shifting as he slouches in the chair, legs spreading just a bit. Geralt growls louder at that, and Lambert rolls his eyes, smacking Geralt lightly on the shoulder. Geralt jolts, swallows hard and tears his gaze from Jaskier. “Jask, come here. I want to know how you fought like that.”

Jaskier rises to his feet obediently, plopping back into his old seat near Geralt. “Like what?”

“Like me.” It’s been bugging him since they came inside, and he wants to know. He didn’t do that with Eskel or Lambert- he’d used what advantages he had, but he hadn’t bothered trying to emulate them. 

“I watch you. A lot. And… Working on the pendulums, it gave me a better sense of your footwork- the way you move. From there, it was about putting the pieces together to create-”

“A dance.” Geralt’s eyes meet Jaskier’s and Jaskier nods, beaming. 

“Just so. I didn’t need to be able to actually best you in combat, I just had to survive long enough to disarm you.” 

Lambert looks between them, then glances at Eskel, pretending to throw up and rolling his eyes. Geralt sees him mouth the word ‘saps’ and he reaches out to flick Lambert’s ear. He hisses, swatting Geralt away and glaring. He’s still covering his ear from further onslaught when he looks expectantly at Jaskier, as if to say what about us?

“Hmmm. As for you two, I couldn’t spend nearly as much time watching, so I used what I knew. You, my spitfire, are easy to piss off and keep that way. It makes you easy to read.” Jaskier winks at Lambert even as he scowls, but he won’t argue. It’s pretty accurate and he knows it. Jaskier’s attention turns to Eskel, who’s waiting quietly to hear his weakness. “You, my gentle giant, are harder. You’re much more patient, and I can’t rile you for the life of me. But, I can use that gentleness against you.”

Eskel hums, considering this, but he also finds no fault in Jaskier’s thinking. He didn’t want to hurt Jaskier, especially not in front of Geralt, and that had made him easy prey. “Okay, now I have a question about you.”

“My favorite subject.” Jaskier grins, waving for Eskel to go on.

“How did you become so flexible?”

“Ah, yes, everyone always seems to ask me that.” Jaskier muses, tapping a finger on his chin and smirking when Geralt nudges for him to go on instead of dragging out the silence. “I traveled with a carnival troupe when I graduated from the academy. I played the music to accompany their shows, and learned much from the acrobats in the family. One of them, a very pretty elf, was particularly interested in using it combatively. It’s served me well, thus far.”

“Very well.” Lambert’s grin is saucy, and Eskel groans as Jaskier laughs. Geralt sits there, throat dry and cheeks blazing red. He sees Jaskier glance over out of the corner of his eye, and he tenses up to keep from reacting as Jaskier’s hand slides up his thigh suggestively. Geralt swallows hard, and Jaskier sighs at the same time he begins to draw patterns over the fabric of Geralt’s pants. 

“Well, now that I am an honorary witcher through ancient rites, I am going to sleep. No one dare wake me.” Jaskier’s voice is threatening, but he’s smiling and chuckles when Lambert mutters honorary witcher my ass. Jaskier glances over at Geralt, hand falling away as he stands to leave. He stoops to kiss Geralt lightly, humming against his lips. “Coming up soon?”

“Mhm.” Jaskier heads up to bed alone, and Geralt only manages to stay with his brothers for another few minutes before following Jaskier up to bed. Lambert whistles at him as he leaves, and Geralt’s cheeks are red as he climbs the stairs up to their room. 

[videogamelover99]

Reason

A/N: I physically cannot write something that’s not angst. Anyway, with Episode 15 of TAZ Graduation (by far the best episode, in my opinion), I couldn’t help but need to write this. Warnings for: sexual coercion, abuse of power, classism. AO3 link here. 

Summary: 

"When you transformed Silvia Nite, the fear in her eyes made you feel powerful. Don't you want that again?"

"...I kinda do."

Chaos takes their time to convince Fitzroy that their power is worth it.

When Fitzroy was eight, his father finally took him with his caravan. It was hired out to a Madam Adaman Fern, a human whose new estate was waiting to be moved into. Fitz had watched the items get loaded in by his father’s crew, one by one: solid red wood furniture, silverware of the purest metal, a grandfather clock, and pounds and pounds of jewelry, carried in malachite boxes, full of amber, jade, gold and precious stones that he’d never thought existed. He’d excitedly watched from his father’s place at the head of the wagon, his father smiling as he calmed the horses down, stroking their necks. It was a long trip, passing fields and rivers and mountains, each more beautiful and grander than the last. Fitzroy, in his short life, had seen nothing father than his nowhere town and the local farmer’s market his mother liked to go to. He tried to consume all of it, to not miss a glimpse of anything they passed on their way. That night, the crew had a hard time wrestling him to sleep.

When he woke up, earlier than he ever had out of his excitement, the first thing his eyes were drawn to was the large, three story mansion. It loomed above the horizon, its marble columns reflecting the light of the dawn in a way that made them shine with early morning luminescence. The caravan pulled up in front of the large iron gate, and the crew got out, ready to unload. Beyond the gate, he could see a cobble-stone driveway, circular and in the center of it – a marble fountain, shaped like many outstretched hands, holding up the sky. In front of the carriage stood a woman, helped down by a man in a black and white frock. They slowly approached the caravan, stopping a few paces away from Fitzroy’s father as he got down to greet them. They had not a speck of dirt or road dust on their silken garments. Jerry, when right in front of them, with his grass stains and horsehair covering his overalls, looked a bit like a homeless vagabond. He nodded politely at the two as they watched the luggage get unloaded.

“Careful with that,” the woman said softly, eyeing the people handling the grandfather clock, “it’s been in my family for generations.”

Then she spared a glance at Fitzroy, and the boy smiled wide, like he always did to grownups he didn’t quite know yet. His mother loved that smile, said none of their neighbors could ever resist it.

The woman did not smile back. Instead, she gave him a look, one that made him want to climb into one of the wagons and never crawl out again. A look of pure, unashamed resentment. They she turned away quickly, as if Fitzroy was not worth any more of her time, her jewelry clinking gently as she did so.

Fitzroy remembered that look well. He’d remembered it, because it was the same look that the students at Clyde Nite’s Night Knight School sent him as he passed down the hall, weighed down with expensive, barely affordable books, and ill-fitting clothing his dad had given him. It was a look he chose to remember, when his body was too tired to stand, when his mind was unfocused, when his muscles ached from the overexertion of his training, when his hands shook when holding the sword. He remembered it, and pushed on, past the pain, past the sickness, past the shaky adrenaline.

You could say that at some point, his tenacity had become singlehandedly fueled by spite.

At first, he thought Silvia Nite was better. She’d called out his potential early on, when he’d felled several on the training field, his shirt clinging to the sweat on his back, his face and hands covered in dirt. She’d smiled, and he smiled back, proud that finally, finally someone was noticing his potential.

He had run into her in the hall once, embarrassed and out of breath from being late to class. She’d offered him a helping hand as he tripped over his own feet, mumbling an apology. “Your class can wait,” she said, leading him by the arm, “walk with me.”

He nodded frantically, at loss for words. She led him through the hall of the castle, and into the courtyard. They walked side by side, and Fitzroy had to fight the impulse to lower his head. She breathed power the same way he breathed oxygen. He’d admired the way she held herself, above any trifles or misunderstandings.

“I hear you’re making quite the progress,” she said, stopping just under an old apple tree.

“Y-yeah…I-I mean-” he choked on his words, nervously wondering if he’d already fucked this up.

She smiled at him. “Breathe.”

And, on command, he did. “That’s me! Always, always punching the clock, working those books…” he wanted to jump off the nearest cliff.

“Good,” she turned away from him, plucking one of the flowers from the tree, watching as a few stray petals flew to the ground, “you know, a lot of the other staff members didn’t believe me.”

“Believe you…?”

“About your potential.” She stroked the petals with the tip of her finger. “You’re a talented young man, Fitzroy,” she turned to him, and grinned. “I’m glad you were able to prove them wrong.”

“Oh…I-uh…thanks, I guess? T-thank you.”

She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. You’ve got no one but yourself to praise.” He nodded dumbly. His chested swelled with pride. She’d noticed. Silvia Nite had noticed him. His hard work, his monkey, his time, his pain - everything was finally worth something. “It was very good talking to you, Fitzroy Maplecourt. It’s time for you to head back to class,” and she walked away, the flower still in her hands.

He might’ve felt a little giddy when, after one of her lectures, she’d approached him again. He’d noticed the looks of the other students, some sneers, some of unidentifiable pity. He shrugged them off, thinking them envy. It wasn’t hard, given how much better he was than everyone else at mostly everything. Magic excluded. A Knight didn’t need magic to be successful. A Knight did, however, sometimes needed a helping hand. Which was what Silvia offered to him, placing her long, perfectly trimmed fingernails on his shoulder. She was much taller than him, her elven features similar to his own, and yet so much more pronounced, regal. “I believe there are some people in the oversight guild I can introduce you to. You’d want to build up contacts once you graduate.”

He’d nodded, already having thought of that for months now. Because even though his kingdom, Goodcastle – was already lined up for his taking, something told him broadening his scope was a wise decision.

She let go, stepping back toward her desk. “Meet me at my office tomorrow afternoon. There, we can continue this discussion.”

He should have suspected something, then. But he was too much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? And the opportunity seemed so close. Silvia Nite had tossed in the bait, and he’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

But when the time came, and he poked his head into her office, even he could tell that something was wrong. The window blinds were down, and as Silvia walked up to greet him, shaking his hand, and reached over his shoulder to lock the door behind him. A part of him knew, when she told him to sit down, not letting go, smiling, her praise oozing out of her lips like molasses. Suddenly agitated, he shifted in his seat, all to aware of her gaze wandering all over him. They sat down, Silvia behind a redwood desk, him sitting across from her, hands writhing on his lap.

“I can help you, of course,” she’d said, her tone matter of fact, “graduate faster. Find important people to introduce you to. It would be an opportunity you wouldn’t want to miss.” Then she sat back in her leather chair, adorned with the carved faces of eternally hungry wooden lions, and said: “I am a busy woman, though. It would take quite a lot of my schedule to do that for you, do you understand?”

He’d nodded. And flinched, when her hand covered his, and the whole time, his mind was screaming that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. He felt trapped. Under her gaze, in the shadows of the closed blinds, by the lock in the door behind him.

Then her other hand moved to grasp the back of his neck. “So you’ll have to do something for me as well, Fitzroy.” Then she tugged on his collar, and he sprang back, his legs finally working correctly. He was breathing shallow, panicky, because he knew that look. For so long she’d masked it under the pretense of kindness, with nice words and smiles, but at its core, it was all the same. The look of someone who thought that Fitzroy was nothing more than the mud under their shoes. He’d been such an idiot not to see it sooner.

The older woman moved back in surprise, her hand still hovering in the air. Then her gaze narrowed.

“Y-you…” he tried to find his voice, but it was shaking to much for him to form any words. He suddenly wanted to laugh. “You think…you can just…I will never-” He’d never felt so angry in his life.

Her eyebrows rose up, perfect arches she’d no doubt spent hours of her precious time on. She eyed him up and down, standing from her chair, and he bristled, his hands turning to fists. No matter how skilled in combat he’d become, he would still be no match for her. She held his gaze.

Then she sat down, waving a hand. “Alright. You may go, then.”

He practically flung himself at the door, turning the lock with his shaking fingers. “And Fitzroy?” she called, just as he was about to leave, with a tone that sent a chill down his spine, “not everyone is as accommodating as I am.”

After that day, the calls of kissass and teacher’s pet turned to something much more vicious. He made himself suck it up and carried on. Only a few months before graduation. He could make it. After all, one thing was made clear to him. There would be no one who would ever respect him, not until he left this school behind.

The anger didn’t go away. It festered, with every jeer, every rude gesture, every pitying gaze the other teacher had sent his way, and had boiled over when he had to face her once again, in her magic class, trying to light this goddamn candle that would not light the piece of shit-

Her gaze dug into him, ignoring all the other students, the resentful look so clear, so unmistakably present, and if he could just light this goddamned candle so he could leave-

And then the whole room exploded. And moments later, when Silvia Nite was turned back to normal, her gaze wide-eyed and terrified, Fitzroy felt like he couldn’t get enough of the fear in her eyes.

Chaos paused the memory, turning it over in their hand. “You were angry. Good.” They smiled at him, hovering over his shoulder as he looked alongside them. Their shifting head of hair wrapped around his shoulders like a cloud, undulating and free. “You had every right to be.” Their voice was like a whisper of the wind. “She wanted to possess you, control you. Her position gave her the illusion that she could own you. And she was wrong.” They waved their hand, and the memory faded from view, melting around them like sugar. “This is why I chose you.”

They came to him every night, his nonsensical half-dreams replaced by their strange, every-shifting world. Sometimes it was a room in a castle. Sometimes they were out in the woods. And sometimes, the two of them would just sit there, on the foot of his bed, his own body sleeping fitfully behind them. Chaos looked delighted whenever they came. They were possessive, but not in the way people were. They lacked that look in their eyes. They knew they owned him, but not from any illusion of power, not because they thought they were better than him. They owned him, simply because they could.

They turned to him them, smiling, but not amused. Reveling in their truth. “With my power, there will never be such humiliation. Isn’t that reason enough?”

[aurelacs]

Ten of Wands

An Ezra/F!OC Red Dead Redemption AU

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

CONTENT: mentions of spousal abuse, character introductions, setting the scene

A/N: Here goes! My first multi-chapter fic! I’m not sure how frequently I’ll be able to update because of work, but I do have it all planned out. This is set in the Red Dead Redemption universe, however there’s no spoilers for either game, and you don’t need to have prior knowledge of the games to understand the fic. I’m just using RDR for the setting and the time period (1899). Hope you enjoy!

chapter list | masterlist | read on AO3

I. Temperance

In terms of nightmares, it wasn’t the worst Annie’s had: screaming for her life as she frantically stumbled through her minuscule cottage, trying to avoid her husband and his wrath. He was holding a knife, always the one he used to break down deer, a gift from his father. He was always walking so slowly that if she wasn’t stuck in her mind, she would have no trouble running out the door and far away from him. She always walked slower, stuck in an invisible molasses as her husband encroached, ever closer. The doors were locked, the furniture sturdily held in place, so she couldn’t move anything to block his path. On bad nights, he reached her; the engraved handle of his butcher knife glinting in the afternoon sunlight before coming down and waking her. Good nights, like tonight, were the ones where she managed to wake up before he caught her, or somehow opened the door and ran, far, far away, leaving her husband in the dust. 

Neither of them were reflections of what actually happened. 

Her husband did chase Annie around the house with his favorite knife. He had called her a ‘wasteful wretch’ for using up his last hunt too quickly. He had hurt her before, threatened her, but never like this. Unlike her dreams, however, their cottage actually had a small set of stairs that led to their bedroom, where she grabbed the shotgun he kept under the bed, and fired. Annie’s dreams never made her rewatch her husband’s lifeless body crumble down the stairs. She knew, somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, that the law wouldn’t look favorably upon her; would take no sympathy in her story or her situation, and would gladly see her hang. So she ran. 

For three months, Annie wasn’t sure if she was even wanted. She and her husband lived far enough from the nearest town that if neither of them weren’t seen for a couple weeks, it wasn’t out of place. She indulged in the delusion that maybe his body would never be found. No one would miss him. When she left their cottage, she cut her hair and wore her husband's clothes in an attempt to disguise herself. She didn’t call herself Annie. If people asked, she had never been married, had no suitors of which to speak. Annie figured she could lay low for a couple more months before trying to return to some sort of normalcy. In the local saloon, she had overheard a couple people talking about a ranch outside of Armadillo that was always hiring. It seemed like a promising lead but a stagecoach was too expensive, and the trains were notorious for keeping the law on board in case of outlaws. 

Initially, she thought she was safe in Valentine. It was a decent sized town that took a couple days from her home to reach, far enough that Annie thought she could safely let the mental pictures of her husband and home bleed away. The people were quiet and mostly kept to themselves. No one seemed to blink an eye when she attempted to interject herself into the day to day. Annie would ask around for small jobs, taking what she could when she could. She did her best to keep her head down. It wasn’t until one day, as she was passing by the sheriff’s office, that she saw the notice board. Annie’s blood ran cold as her eyes frantically scanned the ‘wanted’ poster bearing her likeness. 

WANTED

ANNIE GRAY NÉE COBB 

BOUNTY : $50

FOR: MURDER AND EVADING THE LAW

CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS

WANTED ALIVE FOR QUESTIONING

The site of the poster overwhelmed her with nausea to the point where she sincerely thought she would throw up in front of the sheriff. Annie chose to bury her grief and guilt, to let it fester in her stomach until it eventually ate her from the inside and left her for dead. It’s how she wanted it. Seeing the wanted poster forced the images of her husband at the bottom of the stairs back into the forefront of her mind. She knew she killed her husband. She knew this was what she deserved, and yet she didn’t want to confront it. The months she had spent in Valentine, she played the part she wanted to have. Not the one of the self-inflicted widow, but of the resilient wife who couldn’t take her husband’s abuse any longer. Annie liked to pretend that her husband was still alive. A defense mechanism to keep the bile at bay. She loved her husband. Loved him when he first courted her, loved him when they got married, loved him when he told her she couldn’t write to her mother anymore and beat her when he found out. When he spat out her cooking. When she couldn’t bear him children. When his face twisted itself in hatred as she greeted him after a day of hunting. Loved him so much that when she fired the shotgun into his chest and killed him she couldn’t find it within herself to scream. 

Annie could feel the sweat beading on her forehead. She searched frantically, made sure no one was watching as she ripped the poster off the notice board and stuffed it into her satchel. Hopefully it hadn’t been up for long and if anyone realized the poster was missing, they would assume a bounty hunter had accepted the task. The situation sent Annie so off-kilter that she opted not to find work for the day, and instead made the trek directly back to her camp. She slept, the stress somehow managing to quiet her racing mind. She dreamt not of her husband or their home, but of a stagecoach passing through a dusty town full of tumbleweeds that smelled of horse manure. Her coach passed by a sign that read “Welcome to Armadillo.” Annie took it as fate. She would find her respite two states away no matter the cost. The sooner she left, the harder it would be for bounty hunters to track her, and the faster she would be able to raise the money to pay it off. 

The morning sun warmed Annie’s face as she rose the next day. She stamped out her fire and packed up her tent, wrapping it into her bedroll and strapping it onto her back. Her husband’s shotgun slung comfortably over her shoulder. She had settled on her plan while she slept, not just to go to Armadillo, but how to afford it as well. The intent, as foolish as it was, was to rob Valentine’s general store of money and provisions, and perhaps a horse from the stable across the way. She felt herself somewhat justified with the act. Annie wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t necessary. It’s not like she would be hurting the shopkeeper, just scaring him into giving her the money. In the back of her mind she even managed to convince herself that she would find a way to bring back the horse. 

Annie’s camp was an hour walk outside of Valentine, and with every step she took closer to the sleepy town, she felt her confidence wane. Her mind raced with every way her plan could go wrong. The law would be alerted, and they would laugh at her before dragging her into the sheriff’s office. They would mock how her bounty poster claimed she was dangerous. Maybe they would release her with the thought that there was no way this was the same woman. Who could kill a man but not rob a store? If that did happen, she resolved that she would neither kick, nor scream, nor demand penance. The guilt still weighed heavy on her shoulders. She knew she deserved a noose, but was afraid to face it. But if she was caught, who was she to deny fate?

Valentine appeared suddenly, expanding over the horizon like a threat. Doubt creeped in further. She could turn back. Perhaps Armadillo was closer than she thought, and the stagecoach was a luxury meant for the rich and the lazy. She could just steal the horse. The stable was the first thing she passed as she walked into town, it was easy enough. Her legs continued to carry her. Annie kept the shotgun slung over her shoulder as she walked toward the store, greeting those who walked by her. No one seemed suspicious of her as she continued to tread, her paces slowing as she finally approached the old wooden steps that lead to her goal. In the morning light, they still managed to appear a dark, foreboding mountain that she had to climb. They creaked as she walked up until she was flush with the door. It was metal, painted white, with a screen to keep errant bugs from flying in and ruining the fresh produce that was sold inside. Annie prayed that it was locked, or that the store was closed for the day, but as she focused in, she could faintly hear talking from behind the door. She recognized the shopkeeper’s voice.

Annie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and kicked open the entrance to the general store, her husband’s shotgun aimed toward where she thought the shopkeeper might be. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by the elderly shopkeeper’s horrified face: a ghostly white that made her fear that he was about to faint. To his left was another gentleman, his face a combination of annoyed and... amused? His left arm was resting on the counter. In his hand was a pistol that gleamed in the sunlight that shone through the shop’s window, and Annie could just see the delicate engravings in the barrel. The man seemed out of place for Valentine, doubly so for an outlaw. 

Her first thought was that he looked nothing like her husband. 

He stood nearly at her husband’s height, but he stood up straight, like he had less burden to carry. He was well groomed, too. His beard was closely trimmed, enough to keep the definition of his jaw intact and still slightly mask the two small patches on either side of his chin. The hair poking out from under his derby hat looked a little wiley, and Annie could see a small tuft of blonde sticking out from under the brim. There was a youthful look in his eyes that betrayed the wrinkles on his forehead and the ones by his eyes. His clothes looked fresh as well, save for the mud that caked his shoes and the hem of his pants, a rarity in a ranch town like Valentine. Even more perplexing was the faint scar that traced over the cushion of his cheek. The man’s accent was distinctly Southern.

“I do believe you are interrupting my robbery.” 

His voice interrupted her thoughts. It felt like the first time Annie had looked upon a man since she married her husband. He felt like an outsider to her, despite being an outsider herself. All the while the shopkeeper still managed to stand, hands still in the air, eyes back to focusing on the man’s intricate pistol. Once the gravity of what was in front of her sunk in, Annie panicked. He was the last thing that stood between her and Armadillo. Every extra second she wasted in the store without the money in her hand was a second the law could use to catch up to her. To find her. To kill her. If the law was going to catch her, she didn’t want a robbery charge on her as well. Annie mustered up more courage, more voice, than she had had in months.

“No. I think you’re interrupting mine.”

The man seemed stunned, but the look of amusion still sat on his face, almost like he enjoyed the situation. This was a funny joke someone was telling at the saloon across the street, not a real life occurrence. Or perhaps that’s how those kinds of jokes came to life. The man tucked his pistol into its holster and bowed, his arms held out wide and gesturing to the shopkeeper. Annie swallowed, hard. The barrel of the shotgun trembled with her as she slowly crept closer to the old man. She wasn’t sure who was shaking harder. 

“I-I need the money.”  

His trembling hands impeded the speed at which the shopkeeper could open up his small, black till. He almost dropped some of the bills as he handed them to Annie, who stuffed them into her satchel, shotgun still poised at his chest. The amount didn’t seem like much, but by Annie’s estimation it felt like enough to get her a stagecoach to Strawberry. Her heart seized in her chest. It wasn’t that great of a distance between her and her home, but it was a start. And Strawberry had a small hotel with baths and rooms. When she believed the ordeal to be over, she lowered her weapon, forgetting about the man that almost beat her to her ticket out, until she heard the click of a pistol being cocked.   

“Now, now, little bird. Do you or do you not agree that I am entitled to some of your newfound, bounteous wealth.” Annie found herself staring down the barrel of his gun. He still had the same smirk on his face. No, no, no. This man had been a thorn in her side for longer than she had the patience. Maybe it would be easier to die here. Maybe it would be easier to kill, now that she’s had the experience. Before Annie could raise her gun, she saw the man’s eyes flick to an area behind the shopkeeper. She could make out what looked like a back closet with a door.

“It seems as though we are at an impasse. Perhaps we could discuss this stalemate elsewhere, away from prying eyes.”

She got the hint. The man stepped to the side to let Annie pass behind the counter. She could still feel his gun trained on her as she walked toward the area. The shopkeeper followed the two with his eyes as Annie opened the door. It led outside and the man slammed it shut behind him. 

“If you want to make it out of this town all creamy, I suggest you follow my lead.”

The man took one of Annie’s arms and pinned it behind her back. With his other hand, he pressed his pistol into the middle of back and pushed her forward.

“I am not going to shoot you, that I can promise. Act natural.”

They walked in tandem through the back throughway of the shops. Nearby, Annie heard what she assumed was the shopkeeper scream. A shrill whistle sounded in the distance, and the man picked up his pace, urging her forward as well. To passersby, they looked like a couple walking unreasonably close to each other. Annie spotted a horse hitched on a post next to the auction yard that she assumed was the man’s. She figured he would kill her there and take the money when the rumbling of hoofbeats interrupted her thoughts. 

“Stop right there.” A posse of  five men formed a semi-circle in front of them. Each one had a repeater trained in their direction. The fear that built up in Annie was enough to make her scream, but the feeling of the man pressing the gun to her head silenced her. “You’ve been accused of robbery. If you surrender now, we won’t shoot.” 

The silence rippled through the grass. Annie was ready to surrender now, to submit to the pain she earned. The tension flooded her veins and she wanted to break from his grasp. She had no reason to trust his word, but no reason to not trust him, either. 

“Gentlemen, let’s be reasonable. There is no reason as to why you would put an innocent, young woman at risk.” The barrel felt cold against the heated skin of her temple. “If you let me leave, I swear you will never see my face again in Valentine, and the lady will be brought back with nary a scratch.” He pointed the pistol at the group of men. “However if I leave, and I sense that one of you is following me, I will ensure that Hell rains upon this little shitheap of a town, and she will be the first to go.”

Annie could feel his heart race against her back. It betrayed the confidence that his voice exuded. His breaths, when not speaking, were shaky. When the posse did nothing but stare silently at him, he began to gently pull against Annie and walked backwards. He kept his eyes trained on the men until he realized he had backed into his horse. Slowly, he let go of her arm. 

“Get on, on the front,” he mumbled, outstretching his newly freed hand to assist her up. Annie scooched forward on the saddle to make room. She watched as he unhitched the horse and hopped on behind her. “I have camp set up by the falls,” he whispered in her ear. “We’ll ride and discuss our little predicament there.”  He set his horse into motion, still checking on the posse behind him. To her surprise, they weren’t following them. 

“They will most likely wait for a spell before tracking us, but we’ll be long gone before they are able to find where I set up,” he said, as if reading her mind. 

The man, who introduced himself as Ezra, had his camp set up by Cumberland Falls, along the Dakota River. By the looks of it, he was in the same situation as Annie. The camp looked lived in. The grass around the fire pit was colorless from the smoke. His bedroll was adjusted in an odd position in his tent that was most likely meant to keep the rising sun out of his eyes. He had even set up a small post to hitch his horse. Ezra insisted on getting off the horse first, and helping Annie off by outstretching his hand once more. He waited until she had sat herself on her own bedroll before speaking. 

“Now, little bird, do you mind telling me how you interrupted my robbery back there?” There was no anger in his voice, but the annoyance permeated throughout.

Annie remained silent. She picked at her ragged cuticles and clutched her satchel closer to her chest.

“I do not like to be made a fool.” Her silence vexed him. He crouched down next to her, close enough that when she looked over at him, she could count the moles that freckled his neck and chest. “And I need that money.” That struck a chord in her.

“I need it more.”

He made a face, the corners of his lips pulling down and his eyebrows rising. “That is. A fair assumption. However, I spent weeks planning that robbery, so I do believe I am entitled to my due share. Half, at least. I will not accept a penny less.” 

Annie reached into her satchel and counted the bills. Fourteen dollars. It felt like so much and so little at the same time. Fourteen was more than enough to get her to Strawberry, maybe even Blackwater with some persuasion. Seven would get her to Strawberry, but immediately leave her in the same position she’s in now, possibly even worse off if the shopkeeper told the law that it was in fact she that robbed him. 

“Maybe we can come to a compromise.” 

Ezra scoffed. “I don’t think you’re in the position to be negotiating-”

“Without me, those men would’ve shot you dead.” 

“And without me, you would have left that store with your tail between your legs and not a cent to your name. The last thing I expected to see in all of New Hanover is a woman trying to be an outlaw. Do you mind telling me what had you so inclined to ruin all of my hard work?”

Annie hesitated. What could she get away with telling him? If Ezra needed the money as much as she did, telling him about her husband would lead to him turning her in for her bounty. Fifty dollars was a lot of money for anyone, even for outlaws who were so meticulous as to spend weeks planning a robbery. She thought about lying, telling Ezra that she was on the run from her husband, banking on whatever sympathy he might have.

“I need to get to Armadillo.” 

Ezra burst into a fit of laughter that knocked him back into the grass. It was the only sound the river carried through the air around them. As he continued to laugh, Annie grew more cautious. The thoughts of all the times her husband acted the same way before exploding on her ran through her mind, and she began to crawl backwards away from him. His horse was too far to reach without him catching her. She could run right now and keep the money.

“Where are you going, birdie? I am merely laughing at the serendipity of our shared quandary.” He stood up and brushed the grass off the seat of his pants. “I, too, have dealings in Armadillo that need to be tended. It is why I found myself in Valentine in the first place. Admittedly, I have many dealings in many places, but if you need to get to Armadillo, I can oblige. That is, if you would allow me.” 

Annie honestly, truly, couldn’t believe her luck. She was flummoxed at the prospect of a man so easily and willingly wanting to help her. There was a worry, in the back of her mind, that he might eventually exploit this. But for now, she let the concern pass. Armadillo, for the first time, seemed within reach. 

They shook hands, and silently agreed on a deal.

Tag List: @immundusspiritu​ @borderlinedindjarin​ @aforces​

[neoneversleeps]

arrow | k.dy

pairing: kim doyoung x reader 

genre: angst, fluff  (outlaw!au, robinhood!au, medieval!au)

warnings: mentions of past abuse, mentions of blood/gore/violence, major character death

description:

Doyoung makes you promise him something you’re not so sure you can keep.

words: 8.1k

notes: phew ok so i finally got this baby up after it had been slowly collecting dust in google docs. if im being completely honest im not that confident in this piece (when am i ever lol) but regardles i hope you enjoy! also feedback is always greatly appreciated! :) 

- lilac

The sound of thundering hooves pierces through the night. You move with their rhythm. Faster. Faster. Faster. You need to get away. Need to escape. 

You can barely make out the path in front of you, the only source of light you have is the periodic flashes of lightning from the storm that rages above you. The wind howls past you as you get faster, the sound of it mingling with the rushing of blood in your ears. Always faster. The rain that soaks through your cloak is unforgiving, and combined with the ice cold wind it chills to the bone. You press yourself closer to your horse, seeking both to accelerate and to receive at least some form of warmth. 

Hooves continue to pound against the ground beneath you, but you know the sound isn't coming from solely your own horse. You can't make out the figures behind you but their shouts cut through the noise of the storm. 

“Over there!”

“Quicker, we need to catch up!”

“Don't let her get away!”

Adrenaline pulses through your veins. All you can think about is going faster. The world around you blurs together and you try to somehow make out your surroundings through the thick sheet of rain in front of your eyes. You need to get away from the plains, a space where you’re out in the open. Luckily, years of moving in the dark have trained your eyes to be extra sharp. In the pitch black of the night, you make out the forest. Your escape.

There wasn’t a place on earth you knew better than the forest. It was your home and you knew every twist and turn, every detail, every crevice. The royal guard could try as they might, but in the forest they would never be able to keep up. All you needed to do was reach it. 

You press your heels down against your horse's side, encouraging him to pick up the pace even more. You were well aware of the danger that came from galloping at such a speed on an uneven surface. Well aware of the fact that the wet ground beneath you could cause your horse to slip and send you tumbling down with him. But this was your life. Countless times you had been on the edge of death, the images of the fiery pits of hell that surely awaited you after your demise blurring into your vision. 

Your bow and arrow were strapped securely to your back. If your hands weren’t frozen in place at your reins, gripping so hard you swear you're drawing blood, you might’ve fired some off. Even through the rain and at such speed, you would have made some hits. You were the best shot there was, unrivaled except for Doyoung. Doyoung. His face flashes up in your mind. You wince internally at the fury in his eyes you would surely have to face once you make it back to the camp. Correction, if you make it back to the camp. 

The forest was approaching quickly now. The first rows of trees only a few hundred meters out of reach. You lean down slightly, hand moving to stroke at your horse’s neck. “Riot, you know what to do.” Your horse, Riot’s, ears turnnto face you, a sign that let you know he understood the command. Some called you crazy for thinking your horse could actually understand you, but you were firm in your belief that Riot was much more than just a horse. He was your partner in crime, a loyal companion who was as much part of your family as any person back at the camp. 

You whiz past the first row of trees, finally inside of the forest. You can still make out the flicker of the guard’s torches and hear fragments of their shouts behind you, but in the forest, you have the upper hand. Riot carries you through the trees, taking sharp turns to make sure the guards would be unable to follow. He knows the ways of the forest as well as you do, if not better still. Your bodies move as one, your shoulders relaxing to follow his flow. Despite your eyes being trained to adapt to the dark, Riot could still see better than you. Horses had the ability to see at extreme precision even in complete darkness, a skill you very much envied. 

You had barely enough to time to prepare for the jump as Riot soared over a tree trunk laying on the road in front of you. You thank your quick reflexes for the fact that you held onto his mane, that being the only reason you weren't now sitting on the forest dirt. 

The rain wasn’t as strong in the forest, the tall trees sheltering you from most of the water and serving as a filter for outward sounds such as the storm. Your ears finally stop ringing with all the noise and you could sharpen them to listen to the sounds around you.

You catch onto the sound of running water, thankful that you can finally reorient yourself. Knowing that a familiar creek lay in front of you, you slowRiot down to a canter, allowing your heartbeat to slow down its pace. It was very faint now, but you could still hear distant shouts of the guards. You weren't going to be safe unless you crossed the bed of water that lay ahead.

You slow Riot to a halt once you reach the side of the water. The once small water level of the creek had risen so much it resembled a river. The constant influx of water from the rain causing the waves to aggressively crash against the rocks that lined its path. You close your eyes for a second, breathing deeply to try and clear your head. There was no going back, going down stream would lead you back towards the direction of the guards and going upstream would lead you towards the mountains, a dead end. There was only one option: across. 

You take a steadying breath and you hear the voices of your persecutors filtering back into your ears, feeling their presence nearing you once again. You briefly consider if it would be a worse thing to be executed than to face the wrath of Doyoung if you made it back home. Then again, if you were to die, you would eventually come to face Doyoung’s anger in the afterlife. You were sure Doyoung’s fury would last beyond even death itself. 

Shaking your head rid of the thought, your grip on Riot’s mane tightens, its grounding, you think, it ankers you to reality. You stare forward in preparation. Riot’s soul is interwoven with your and you know, as long as you feel no fear, neither will he. So you push down the feeling of terror that bubbles deep within you stomach and urge him forward. 

You hiss as soon as the icy substance touches you, the water level rising to your thighs and seeping through to your skin. The force around you is strong and unforgiving, it nearly pushes you out of your saddle. Riot’s winnies carry above the roaring of the water as he pushes forward, and you cling to him for your life. 

There’s a sharp pain to your left thigh and you scream out in agony for the rock that slices you skin cuts deep into the flesh and the icy water mingles with your crimson blood. The pain dulls down shortly though, and you know it's the adrenaline that courses through your veins that linder the ache. 

You feel as though it takes hours, even though the time probably only borders on a minute, until you finally feel Riot leap up onto firm ground. Your shoulders slump forward in defeat and there’s an ache that spreads your body. You know it stems from more than just your newly obtained wound. Maybe, you think, just maybe, you should’ve listened to Doyoung’s word as he warned you not to go on this mission You had been stubborn, and in addition to disobeying his orders, you had also snuck out, all on your own, after he had refused to send other members of your group with you. You hated to admit he was right, but he had been true in his prediction that the mission would be futile. 

Gripping onto the fabric of your cloak, you tear off a strip near the end and use it to tie around your injury. Your pants are soaked from the water and you can’t distinguish any blood stains, but you assume from the depth of the wound that you had lost a fair amount. You needed to get back to the base. There was no point in finding a place to rest. Besides, the sun would be up in just a few hours. So, you nudge Riot with your heels and continue to race on through the night. 

Its morning by the time you near the camp, you welcome the golden rays that shine through the trees on your skin and their warmth combine with the early breeze help dry your soaked clothes. The sound of Riot’s hooves walking on the gravel beneath you gives you a sense of comfort. One, two, three, four. Repeat. You’ve been listening to their calming rhythm for hours now, the soft sounds a stark contrast to the desperate pounding of the night prior. You feel drained, body and mind weak, and you sway slightly in the saddle. You’d stopped your wound from bleeding any further, but the loss of blood had taken a toll on you. Skin pale where you grip the reigns and eyes shifting in and out of focus every once in a while. Just a little longer, you tell yourself. You’re almost there. 

Lifting your right hand up to shield your eyes from the sun, you squint into the distance. Between a row of trees just a short distance away, you can see the outlines of tents. You breathe a sigh of relief. Home. 

Johnny is the first person you see once you arrive at your forest hideout. He jumps up from the log he’s been sitting at, working on weapons no doubt, and comes to take a hold of Rot’s reigns, allowing you to swing down off the saddle. 

“Hey Johnny.” You greet with a smile, mind a little hazy from the return of the numbing pain in your upper leg. Johnny doesn’t notice your wound as he’s too busy staring at your face, a stern expression painting his own. 

“You’re lucky you're still alive, you know? Otherwise Doyoung would have killed you.” You snort lightly at his words. “I don’t think he could’ve killed me if I was already dead, Johnny.”

Johnny’s expression falters for a second and he firmly shakes his head, brown bangs swishing from side to side. “Whatever. Just never pull that shit again, got it? Doyoung was already preparing to head to the castle himself to go save your ass. Not that I think he should’ve.” He grumbles the last part as he helps you remove your bow from over your shoulder. You chuckle lightheartedly. Johnny may say those things, but you know he’d lay his life down for you in a heartbeat. 

“Y/n! You’re alive!” Jaemin’s voice rings out from beside you and you turn to see he’s running over to you. “I can’t believe you're alive.” He says as he reaches you, relieved smile across his face. Jaemin really looks the most beautiful like that, when a smile graces his face. Too many times you’ve seen the young orphan in pain since he joined you. Too many times you’ve had to tend to his wounds. The memories twist at your heart. Jaemin was one of the younger members of your group, together with Renjun and Jeno.

You’d rescued them from an abusive orphanage a few years back, and accepted them into your group for you hadn't known what else to do. All of you had taught them your ways and they had become part of your little family quickly. Sometimes you wish you could’ve spared them this life completely. There were times where you'd thought it would have been better to send them off to some noble family. 

Then again, a large part of your life was spent robbing those families, so you suppose it wouldn't have worked out anyway. 

Despite Jaemin and the others now being the same age you were when you started your life as an outlaw, you would always view them as those big eyed, chubby cheeked kids they were before. They would always be like your little brothers. 

You smile fondly at Jaemin and reach out a weak hand to ruffle through his hair affectionately. 

“It's not that easy to kill me.”  The both of you chuckle for a second. “Hey, Jaemin, can you go tack off Riot?” Johnny hands your horses reins over to the boy and he nods in return. Your brows furrow in confusion. “Wha-”Johnny cuts you off before you can even manage a sentence. “You,” he emphasizes the word with a pointed look, “need to go talk to Doyoung.”

You roll your eyes slightly, and your head pounds as you do so, but you still wave the both of them off as you head towards the biggest tent, situated in the middle of your campgrounds. You stalk over, your boots crunching the autumn leaves that lay scattered over the ground. You stagger slightly as you walk, your legs feeling wobbly beneath you. Maybe you should've told Johnny about your injury, you think as you squeeze your eyes shut. The world starts spinning around you once you reopen them and before you know it, your vision turns black. 

One last shout of your name rings out through your mind before a wave of unconsciousness drags you under. 

You awake to the faint sounds of metal clashing against stone. Your eyes blink away the darkness slowly, and you’re greeted by the familiar brown interior of your leader’s tent. There’s an intense pounding in your head as you lean up slightly, causing you to fall back down onto the mattress. 

“Best not to get up yet.” You look to the side, where Doyoung is now walking toward you. His freshly polished arrows lay on a spare bed behind him. The bed sinks down with a creak as he sits down, his body facing yours. His brown hair is slightly matted against his forehead and his usually sharp eyes are softened at the edge, concern and worry and something you’d like to label as love swimming in them.  He parts his lips as if to say something, but before he does, he extends a hand towards you. His delicate fingers thread through your hair fondly, combing out a few knots as he does so. Your eyes close as you keen into his touch. Ever since you’ve known him, you’ve always wondered how his hands could be so soft. They’re littered with scars and callouses from the many years of holding a bow and arrow firm in their grasp, and yet somehow they still feel like satin against your skin. 

His hand leaves your hair suddenly and you involuntarily whine as you snap your eyes open. “There’s some leftover soup from dinner. You should eat.” Doyoung stands up and disappears through the entrance of the tent. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you slowly push your body to sit up, wincing every now and then at the pain in both your head and your leg. 

A few minutes later, Doyoung reappears with a bowl of soup in hand. The bed creaks once again as he sits himself down beside you and hands you the bowl of steaming liquid. You eat in silence, Doyoung never leaving his spot on the bed. Something in your gut tells you that Doyoung is close to snapping. There was no way in hell you weren’t in for a scolding. You know him far too well for that. 

After what feels like a small eternity, you place your empty bowl on the bedside table and pull your knees up to your chest. The chilly evening air from outside had made its way into the tent and was causing your skin to erupt in tiny bumps.  Doyoung still sits next to you, his eyes firmly trailed on his hands. The deafening silence that surrounds the both of you is broken only by his drawn out sigh as his slender fingers run through his amber locks. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” You swallow thickly at the low register of his voice. Doyoung wasn’t just pissed, he was furious. “Hm? What were you thinking? What could possibly justify you taking off alone, in the middle of the night and against my direct orders?” His gaze is directed at you know, anger evident in the curves of his face. You hang your head, suddenly desperate to get away from his accusing eyes. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences and our respective fuck-ups. But this? This is the biggest fuck-up yet.” The springs under the mattress protest sharply as Doyoung jumps up. He starts pacing the room. “Why would you- I mean- why?” His voice has steadily risen in volume as he now stands in the middle of the tent, arms raised in near-desperation. “What were you thinking, huh? Tell me!”

His sudden shout causes you to tear your eyes away from where they've been staring at the floor and towards him. “I was thinking that we needed to save those villagers… and seeing as you weren’t-” 

“Oh and you were going to save those villagers how? By breaking into the castle grounds at night by yourself? What, did you think no guards would be there?” “I-” Doyoung cuts you off again. “Or worse, did you think you could win in a fight against all those guards? I mean…” He stops to laugh bitterly. “...what the hell did you think you were going to do? What was your plan, hm?” His voice had lowered from his previous screams, but his lower volume did nothing to calm your pounding heart. 

He was right, you hadn’t thought anything through. You had been angry at Doyoung for turning down your idea of breaking out the prisoners that same night and you had stupidly, impulsively saddled up Riot in the dead of night to break them out yourself. You hadn't had any notion of a plan as you rode out towards the castle. You just thought you would figure something out as you got there. Which, very evidently, had not worked out. 

In truth, you were angry at yourself for not thinking anything through, for doing things on a whim, as you always did. You hated being scolded by Doyoung, suddenly feeling like a child cowering under his gaze. It reminded you of the night he had rescued you, so many years ago. You were still a child then, and while Doyoung had only been a few years older than you, he had always seemed so much more mature. Stronger, wiser. A true leader. 

As you would come to know later, Doyoung, orphaned at an age much younger than yours, was forced to fend for himself since the very beginning. A fact that, with certainty, had turned him into an adult much earlier than is usually intended. 

Tears prickle at your eyes and you look away from Doyoungs piercing stare. You feel ashamed and naive, just like the little girl you were back in that prison cell.  “I just- I only wanted to help them…” Your voice is so quiet that its barely to be heard over the howling of the wind outside. One lonely tear rolls over your cheek as you look back up at Doyoung. “I’m sorry…” All the anger seems to leave Doyoung in the sigh he releases. He comes to sit on your bed one again and lifts his hands to cradle your face in them. 

“What you did was reckless and extremely dangerous… but I know you only had good intentions.” His thumbs rub softly against the apples of your cheeks. “Which doesn’t justify your actions, but I forgive you. And we will help those people, Ok? I promise. But we need a plan, and that takes time. This isn’t just some plain robbery or any old prison raid. These cells are located under the best guarded Castle in the country. You understand that, right?”

You nod weekly, letting your head fall forward slightly so that your foreheads are touching. Your warm breaths mingle in the cold air of the night, faces illuminated only by the gas lamp that sits on the bedside table beside you. Doyoung leans forward first, capturing your pale lips with his. He kisses you sweetly, hands drawing you closer by your nape. When you part, he stays close to you, noses touching and lips brushing against each other as he speaks. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come back to me…” Doyoung’s whisper is swallowed by your lips as you kiss him anew, praying that you somehow swallow all his pain as well. “I’m here. I won’t leave again.” 

Doyoung smiles at you and presses another kiss to your temple. “Good.” he breathes against your skin. “Now, you should probably get some more sleep.” You nod and he helps you lie down somewhat comfortably. A quick brushing of Doyoung’s fingertips against your scalp before he stands up, probably meaning to head out to keep watch of the camp. 

Your hand wraps around his wrist before he does. “Stay… just for a moment longer.” The man smiles down at you, returning to his position on your bed. His fingers begin to comb through your hair once again. “Okay.” 

Doyoung watches as your eyes fall closed, your breaths slowly evening out as your chest rises and falls in a calm rhythm. His fingers trail over your features, a fond look on his face at the way your lips part lightly in your sleep. “I’ll stay…” He breathes the words out into the night. A silent promise, one he is’t entirely sure he can keep

Weeks pass in your preparation to break out the wrongfully incarcerated townspeople from the dungeons that lie beneath the castle. You spend your time devising strategies and drawing maps, with the occasional break to overthrow nobleman's carriages that pass through the woods every so often.

You and Doyoung work in almost perfect harmony, leaving the rest of your group somewhat in awe since usually, the two of you butted heads on pretty much everything. Both stubborn to a fault. This plan however, had to be executed perfectly. It was the biggest attempt at a prison break (more accurately named rescue mission) your group had ever faced. 

Normally, you would stay away from the castle. The guards there outnumbered you greatly and the whole thing was built like a fortress. For years, you had been forced to overlook the cruelties inflicted by the royal family for the sake of keeping yourselves safe. 

This time however, they had crossed the line. Dozens of villagers from the nearby town had been imprisoned due to them not being able to afford the steeply rising tax payments. They were mostly women and children, taken as a threat to the men of the families. If the men did not deliver the payment required, their families would be executed in front of them. 

The execution dates were steadily approaching and your whole camp knew that you had to act fast. You and Doyoung had spent countless nights drawing up what seemed like hundreds of different plans of action until you finally found the one you deemed most plausible. This plan would rely on stealth, which was the one advantage you held over the royal guards. Nonetheless, the plan was risky, and in the days leading up to job, there was a thick underlying sense of fear that clung to the air around the camp like a fog.

You pace around Doyoungs tent, nerves making the hairs on your arms and legs stand up straight. This is the last night you would get any sort of sleep before the mission. You would leave the next evening, just before sunset, on your way to the castle. The lives of dozens of people rest on the events of tomorrow night, and as much as you try to keep face towards the members of your group, fear gnaws away at your insides as well. 

Doyoung pushes the entrance to the tent aside, startling slightly as he spots you standing in front of him. He raises his eyebrows at you in question and takes a step closer. Concern seeps into the features of his face when you still don't say anything, and he reaches out a hand to tuck one of the strands of your hair behind your ear. The small action is all it takes for your facade to crumble, and you fall forward and into his arms. He pulls you closer into him and your smaller frame shrinks even further as you press yourself to him. 

You stay like that for awhile, one of doyoungs hands stroking gently through your tresses. Stepping back slightly after a few moments pass, you look up into the older man's eyes. “I’m scared, Doyoung.” There’s a hushed air that falls around you two as Doyoung’s dark orbs scan over the lines that make up your face. He commits ever little detail he sees to memory, everything down to the smallest of scars that dent your skin. He sighs. “I’m scared too.”

The thought of Doyoung being scared should be concerning to you, but for some reason, you find it brings you comfort. Perhaps it was the feeling of being able to share your fear that made it seem like less of a burden.

A cold chill runs down your spine however, as Doyoung’s demeanor drastically shifts. His hands grip onto your upper arms firmly, nails ever so slightly piercing through to your flesh. “I need you to promise me something.” You can only stare back at him, uncertain of the next words he would speak. 

“If something...goes wrong. If anything-” A sharp intake of breath. “If I am to be captured-” You want to protest against him, arms moving to get out of his grasp as you suddenly wish not to hear whatever comes next, but he silences you with a look. “If I am to be captured...promise me you’ll kill me.” 

Something inside you urges you to pull away from his grasp, to flee from the words and what they implicate. How could he ask this of you? Surely, if you love someone, you would never ask them end your life? You thrash in Doyoung’s arms, frustrated tears at your eyes, vigorously shaking your head in denial. Doyoung’s grip is firm however, and once you stop moving he places his hands on either side of your face, forcing you to look only at him. The way he holds you, it almost feels as if he's holding you in place, as if his hands are the one thing that stops you from falling apart and splitting into a million shards on the floor. 

His dark orbs convey his innermost feelings as they stare at you, love, fear and a hint of desperation that linger uncomfortably in the darkness. Doyoung has never liked being desperate. All of it makes you acutely aware of how important this request seems to be for the man. “If they capture me, they’ll torture me. For weeks, months, maybe even years. They won’t stop until I’ve given them information… or until my body and soul have grown so weak that I am no more use to them. So I ask you, please, if it comes down to it being you or them, please…” He doesn’t say the words again and you’re grateful for it. They have already made themselves a home in your mind, echoing around the walls inside your head. 

With a deep intake of breath, you nod. A small sigh leaves Doyoung as the air i his lungs no longer feels constricting. “Do you promise?” The question comes out just as delicately as the way his hands once again move to brush the hair out of your face. He knows how much the mere idea of it all hurts you, and Doyoung wishes he could do anything to take away your pain. But he has to ask, for his own sake. 

“I promise.” 

Doyoung presses his lips to yours after that. The kiss is soft and sweet, and it feels as if it's both a silent thank you as it is a silent apology. Your hands move to link behind his nape and you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Doyoung’s hands brush along your sides until they settle on your hip, grip tightening to the point of it almost hurting. A desperation has seeped into the kiss, and at this point you don’t know if its his, or yours, or both. All you know, as you pour every ounce of affection you can muster into the kiss, slowly walking backwards as Doyoung steers you towards the bed, is that there’s a shrill screaming resounding from the void of your mind. A voice that screams at you that this, this might be the last time you ever get to feel Doyoung’s skin against yours. 

The next day, the air around the camp is laced with the buzz of anticipation that comes every time before an important mission. There’s less talking than there usually is, no little echoes of laughter or joyful shouts. No telling of stories, and no sounds of crunching leaves as the younger members race through the grounds. Everything feels as if ts drowned in silence. There’s no clock anywhere at the camp, and yet it still feels like there’s a constant ticking sound carried around by the wind that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. 

The sun hides behind the treeline way too quickly and you find yourself feeling as if the day had lasted only a mere hour or two  at most. You saddle up Riot, tightening the girth firmly and adjusting the leather pouch that would carry your arrows.Your fingers brush along Riot’s shimmery black coat absentmindedly as you notice Johnny leading his horse over to you. He greets you with a tight lipped smile, one that you return before diverting your gaze back to your horse. Johnny saddles up silently and the only sounds that surround you two are the slight rustle of the wind and the quiet squeaking of leather against leather. 

You wonder if you should tell Johnny about Doyoungs request. The man was like a brother to you. All these years, you had entrusted Johnny with basically everything, told him things you would never tell another living soul. Hell, at times it seemed he knew you better than you did yourself. You want to tell him, truly, you do, but there’s something in your heart that won’t allow it. the promise was made between you and the man you loved, and that's how it would stay. 

Hooves pounding out against the ground bring you out of your thoughts. “You guys ready?” Both you and Johnny look up to see Taeyong, the only other member of your group who would be joining you, looking down at you from his seat upon the saddle. His gloved hands hold the reigns of the majestic white stallion he rides taught, keeping the somewhat hot-headed horse at bay. His dark hair falls into his face, and the stoic expression he shows make his sharp edges look even more intimidating than usual. You nod. 

One last ray of sun catches on the flower shaped scar underneath Taeyong’s right eye, before the light slips away completely and you are plunged into the beginning hours of the night. “Then let’s go.”

The ride through the forest is solemn. No words are exchanged between you and the other members of your group except for occasional questions about the plan. A mismatched rhythm of hooves sound out against the dirt of the path you're on.  You focus on the sound, that being the only thing able to keep you calm and distract you from the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You hadn’t uttered a single word since the start of the journey, too afraid that your voice would quiver as soon as you opened your mouth to speak. 

The world around had long since fallen victim to the blanket of darkness that covered it, and the only source of light that aided you was the shine of the moon and the stars above. None of you carried torches or lamps, you couldn't risk being seen. Besides, you were all used to the dark by now. 

Slowly, the tips of the grey castle’s towers come into view, reminding you that the end of your journey was near. A sudden shout from nearby causes you all to startle. Your eyes move to Doyoung, who has his hand raised, a signal that you should all hold your breaths. A few more indistinguishable words are uttered up ahead, you can make out two or maybe three voices. 

“Guards.” Doyoung mutters barely above a whisper, but the wind carries the word to your ears regardless. You were definitely close now. Doyoung turns to look at all of you, the hood of his cloak obscuring half his face from your view. “We’ll head west, take the long way around. It’ll set the plan back by half an hour give or take, but we can’t risk getting seen.” Doyoung’s words are rushed, spoken in a whisper, but never losing their authoritative tone. He doesn't wait for any of you to respond, tugging the reigns of his horse to the side, down a nearby path that leads to the west entrance of the citadel. 

You glance at Johnny and Taeyong, waiting for any sort of reaction. Johnny spares you a glance in return, nodding firmly, a silent way of telling you that everything was going to be fine. Taeyong simply nudges his horse with his heels, following Doyoung’s lead. You go after him, Johnny trailing behind you. 

You near the entrance to the underground dungeon about thirty minutes later, as predicted. The forest bordered with the side of the castle, allowing you to stay hidden behind the first line of trees as you surveyed the entrance. Two guards stand watch in front of the imposing metal gates, taking turns as they walk about the surrounding area. Doyoung nods his head at you, and you, quickly understanding his order, swing the bow on your back over your shoulder and grab one of the arrows sticking out of your saddlebag. Drawing the bowstring taught, you look back over at Doyoung, who is in the same position as you. “You take care of the one on the right. On my count.” You lock onto your target, perfectly aligning your arrow with the exposed side of his neck. One, two, three. As soon as Doyoung finishes counting down, two arrows whistle through the air, and the bodies of the guards slump over, lifeless. 

All four of you get off your horses and leave them tied up near a small clearing, one where the others would later arrive with wagons to transport the rescued townspeople far away from the castle. You move towards the gated entrance to the dungeons. One forceful swing of Johnny’s sword and the heavy lock clatter to ground, unlocking the door that leads to a dimly lit staircase. Doyoung grabs one of the torches mounted to the wall and heads downwards, the rest of you close behind him. You spot the shadow of a guard up ahead and silently signal towards the rest of the group. Taeyong and Johnny nod at each other before sneaking around the corner. It takes less than a minute for you to hear two thumps up ahead. 

You and Doyoung move forward, bypassing the dead bodies strewn on the floor before catching up to your group members. 

You advance along the winding tunnels, easily taking out the guards in silence as you near the holding cells. You wrinkle your nose up in disgust after you breathe in the smell of urine that comes from the walls around you. You know you’re getting closer by the second, but still fear breaths down your neck. The darkness of the tunnels dont allow you to make ot what time it is, but something tells you the break of dawn is much closer than you want it to be. 

A low wail echoes off the stones around you. Doyoung signals a halt. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as you gaze up at him. “The cells must be just behind this bend. I’d estimate about four to six guards will be standing watch. Y/n and I will go in first, then you and Taeyong follow.” Doyoung’s directs himself at Johnny as he says so. “We should be able to take them out with our arrows, but just in case we don't, stay close behind.” Both men nod in unison. 

Doyoung turns to look at you now. Almost imperceivably, his eyes soften for just a second. he reaches out from under his cloak to take your gloved hand i his, squeezing it reassuringly. Although you're not quite sure if the squeeze was meant to reassure him or you.  “Ready?” You breathe in deep. “Ready.” Doyoungs gaze returns to its usual sharpness as he charges forward, bow and arrow drawn. 

Everything happens in a blur of motion, there are shouts of both despair and relief surrounding you as you fire at the guards. There are more guards than expected, but your team moves swiftly to take them out. One of them rushes towards you before you can draw another arrow but Taeyong grabs onto his head from behind, slitting his throat in one quick motion. You look around the room. the guard’s bodies litter the floor as Doyoung, Johnny and Taeyong struggle to open the locks of the cells. The commotion from moments prior must have been head by someone, there was no way all the shouting could have gone unperceived. Snapping out of your thoughts, you run towards one of the cell doors, picking up a nearby stone to smash open the heavy lock. One of the women inside holds onto the bars that separate her from you. “Thank, oh, thank you, thank you.” She wails out, her hollowed cheeks and red rimmed eyes bringing up distant memories you'd rather not recall at the moment. 

After several attempts, the lock finally breaks and clatters against the stone floor. You hear the sounds of the other locks breaking from behind you as an influx of people rush out of the metal doors. A collective surge of adrenaline pushes the townsfolk to start running into the tunnels. Doyoung’s shouts of Go! Go! Go! ring clear above all the nose as he usher th people along. Taeyong, Johnny and you run after them, Doyoung following behind you. 

Dozens of footsteps echo around the small space you're in, and if the guards above hadnt heard anything until then, they sure would now. dread slings onto your soul as you fear that the sun would have already climbed over the edge of the trees once you got pout of here. 

Your worst fears are confirmed as the door to the dungeon is flung open by one of the prisoners, letting light flood into the dimness of the tunnels. Once you arrive outside, you take notice of the fact that you can hear the castle grounds slowly coming to life from afar. You turn to Doyoung, eyes wide in desperation. His expression bares the same as yours as his eyes flit all over the place. You hear running and the sound of metal clashing against metal coming from somewhere to your right. Doyoung runs towards the strip of forest, the rest of you chasing after him. The frightened group of women and children follow your lead. 

As soon as you arrive at the small clearing, you see the two wagons already waiting for you. You allow yourself a breath of relief as you spot Jeno and Jaemin next to the transport vehicles, seemingly just as happy to see you as you were to see them. Doyoung makes quick of untying his horse before coming to stand in front of you, the roar of the incoming guards getting louder by the minute. Doyoung grabs onto your arm as he peers into your eyes, imploring you to listen to his words carefully. “Get them out of here now. Taeyong, Johnny and I will fend off the knights so that you can escape.” 

“But what about-” “We’ll join you later, but you have to leave. Now.” Taeyong and Johnny are already mounting their horses, awaiting their leaders command. Doyoung grips your face in his hands, eyes searching over your face with a sense of urgency. You almost think he's going to kiss you on the lips before he hesitates. This wasn't the time nor the place. Instead, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead before turning around and swinging himself onto the saddle. “Let’s go! Hya!” 

Doyoungs shout causes his horse to rear up before galloping forward, the other two men quickly joining his side as they race off into danger. You spring into action, helping the two younger boys. As soon as everyone is successfully loaded up, you mount Riot, and turn to Jaemin and Jeno, who are both situated atop their respective seats on the wagons. 

“We take them around north, the mountain passage is safe since the guards will assume that we’ll be taking them through the forest”. Both boys nod in confirmation. You sink your heels into Riot’s sides, causing him to break out in a gallop, and consequently prompting the two horses pulling the carriages to follow suit.

You've just reached the beginning of the passageway when the thundering of hooves from behind you catches your attention. Swiftly pulling Riot to a halt and turning him around to face the noise, you see Johnny and Taeyong race up the side up the slanted road towards you. A weight is lifted off your shoulders as they near you, only to plummet back down with force when you realize Doyoung is missing. 

Your eyes move between them frantically once they come to a stop, but the two men avoid your gaze. Taeyong's knuckles are white from holding the reins tight, his face is turned downwards and you can make out a deep red slash across his right cheek. Johnny looks even worse for wear, cuts littering the sides of his arms and legs and splashes of blood strewn across his face as if it were some horrific painting. 

A lump lodges itself in your throat, closing off your airways and making it difficult to utter the question you want to ask. Johnny is the first to speak up as he lifts his eyes to meet yours. “We’re sorry, Y/n. We tried everything we cou-” “Just tell me.” You cut off Johnny’s words sharply, your tone much harsher than you had intended. “Is he dead?” You cast your eyes to the ground as you speak, unable to face Johnny all of a sudden as the sick taste of bile rises to your mouth. 

“We don’t know…” Taeyong is the one to answer, his voice weak and hoarse. Your head snaps towards him. “What do  you mean you don’t know?” Taeyong winces ever so slightly at the volume with which you speak. Somewhere inside you there's a tinge of regret for the way you barked at him. Taeyong had endured an inconceivable amount of abuse from an early age, verbal as well as physical. He doesn't answer. Johnny speaks up instead. “It was pure chaos, the guards were too many. We… we only made it out because Doyoung sacrificed himself for us. The last we saw of him was when they pulled him off his horse….” 

You clench your jaw to hold back tears that pool at your eyes. The mental image of Doyoungs mutilated face invades your mind like the violent crash of a wave against rocks. You make a decision then. You had to go back. 

“Johnny, Taeyong.” Both of them look to you as you call their names. “Get these people to safety.” You urge Riot forward, passing between the two older men, heading towards the direction they came from, until Johnny grips onto your arm. “Where are you going?” His voice is laced with confusion, crease between his brows as he stares you down.

“I’m going back.”

With that, you forcefully rip your arm from Johnny’s grasp and take off. 

“You can’t save him!”

“It’s too late!”

“Y/n!” 

Their desperate cries are lost in the howling of the wind that greets your ears as you push on. Hands gripping onto Riot’s mane as he practically flies past the bushes and the trees, you don't dare glance back even for a second. Your mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone. 

Kim Doyoung. 

You slow down Riot as you reach a hill that overlooks the inner courtyard of the castle, knights march around and servants run around fulfilling errands, most of them trying to avoid the stares of the royal guards. The place is on high alert. 

Trying to find Doyoungs familiar face, your eyes scan through the crowd below you, tracing over the different arrays of people that walk through the grounds. Your heart beats furiously in your chest as you try not to entertain the possibility that Doyoung had already been dragged down into the dungeons. 

Finally, you spot him. His face is beaten and there's blood dripping from a wound above his eyes, it trails down across his face, adorning the other bruises that stain his skin. Two guards hold him in place, their hands tight around Doyoungs arms. He may have been caught, caged between two men much stronger than him, but Doyoung’s expression remains cocky and his head is held high even in front of the general he now faces. You know what's at stake here, recalling Doyoung’s words from the night before last. If they take him into the cold pit of hell that are the castles underground dungeon, they’ll torture him. Submit his body and his mind to horrific procedures you dare not to imagine. 

The bow and arrow are already in your grasp and your eyes desperately flit around the grounds. Maybe if you can fend off all the guards, you can avoid what you dread the most. But the guards are too many. Even if you do manage to eliminate the men that hold Doyoung in place and the general that stands before him, with Doyoung’s weakened state he wouldn’t get far. 

Your eyes fall back to his and he meets your gaze. His face may remain blank but you see the fear in his eyes. He’s pleading with nothing but a look. Your breathing is erratic and there’s a cold sweat that runs down your spine. You squeeze your eyes shut for a second before you glance back at Doyoung. No one else has noticed your figure on the hill, but it’s only a matter of time. 

You lock eyes with Doyoung once again and shake your head, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t. Doyoung’s eyes soften as he mouths his next words to you. 

You promised.

He was right. You promised. 

With blurred vision and shaky hands you steady your weapon, pulling back on the string with a strength you didn't know you possessed at that moment. You blink away the tears as you aim. It takes everything in you to not look away. Time slows down around you and everything is silent. One breath in, One breath out.

Release. 

Everything crashes back in around you once the arrow soars through the air and hits its target. There’s shouts and screams and frantic running below you. 

Your eyes meet Doyoung’s once again and you notice the smile on his face, before your eyes trail lower…

....to your arrow, buried deep in his chest. 

[calorieworkouts]

21 Ways to Burn 500 Calories a Day

We all know in order to shed 1 extra pound we need to melt off 3500 calories, to make sure that indicates burning 500 calories each day. So what are the very best ways to burn those 500 calories? Well it depends on how much time you have and exactly how much effort you intend to apply.

The ideal choice of workout is mosting likely to be one that you wish to do, or at the very least that you will certainly appreciate. There is no factor in picking to run for thirty minutes if you don't really like running as well as will certainly postpone going or make justifications for not going.

If the thought of doing one activity for 60 mins is also much to handle then why not divide it up. Do one task for half that amount of time as well as melt 250 calories and after that modification task, or later in the day do a different task till you have worked of another 250 calories. In this way you will certainly have some selection. I think in some cases it is simply easier to obtain it all done in one go yet everyone is different so simply locate what jobs best for you.

The calories you burn in the activities below are all approximate and also based on a lady weighing 135 lbs. The quantity of calories you burn will certainly depend on your weight and how much initiative you are taking into it. If you are much heavier after that you will burn a lot more calories, if you are laid back and also taking the task very easy you will certainly shed much less calories than if you press yourself harder and also operate at a higher strength. Bear in mind that every little thing you do burns calories, wiping the floor, dusting, showering, standing makes use of more calories than taking a seat and so on. Although these tasks alone do not melt several calories it all assists so following time you need to do housework or chores assume of them as methods to burn calories.

So right here you go select the ones you like as well as start shedding off those calories.

Running 30 minutes at 8mph

The ideal form of exercise to melt calories is running. You do not require any equipment and it will yield results quick. I would certainly suggest including stamina training into your workout. Running by itself might aid you melt the calories and shed body fat but, you can likewise begin to shed lean muscular tissue mass, which is not what you desire. Muscle additionally melts calories, it is what offers you shape and also tone to your body. Slimming down does not help you solid your muscles, develop a perky bum or offer you shapely legs, that's done with making use of weight (body weight, weights or weight machines). By including strength training you will keep your muscle mass, help transform your body form as well as boost your metabolic process - which implies burning more calories whilst you rest.

Jogging 60 minutes at 5mph

similar to running although at a gentler rate so you need to choose longer to shed the same amount of calories.

High Strength Interval Training

You can add this to most tasks, it means including intervals where you operate at high strength. This form of training is confirmed to raise the amount of calories shed as well as will certainly also mean you can function out for less time than if you were just exercising at a consistent rate. For even more details read Get Results Faster with High Intensity Training.

Swimming for 60 minutes

I am not chatting regarding delicately travelling backwards and forwards the swimming pool or swimming in the sea, lake etc, you need to be concentrated as well as swim swim, ruptureds of high intensity need to be contributed to get the most out of your session.

Mowing the lawn for 2 hours

not actually an activity that you can do daily, unless you have some crazy grass that grows at an amazing price, yet if you want to add some range to your exercises you can include it in to your regular and also obtain 2 points done at when. If you are taking a look at your lawn and also thinking "no other way will it take 2 hrs to trim" after that add another activity to your day to obtain to the 500 calories, maybe likewise other gardening duties such as pruning the bushes, pulling weeds.

Hiking for 2 hours

similar to walking yet extra energy is typically used up as you must be strolling a bit faster than your typical stroll around the park plus you can include a lot a lot more varied terrain (include hills, mountains, climbing up over fencings etc). You might sign up with a club or go by on your own. Venture out see some locations of all-natural elegance, take advantage of great weather and don't neglect to take lots of water.

Rock climbing for 60 minutes

take up a brand-new sporting activity and also obtain a complete body workout at the same time. Your top body will certainly get a great work out in addition to your legs and you will be burning those calories.

Tennis for 60 minutes

If you are playing a songs match, if increases you will certainly need to play for longer. Tennis is a fantastic sporting activity that will certainly melt the calories yet additionally burn through the time. In virtually any kind of sports that include others time appears to whiz by without you understanding it.

Martial Arts

A session long lasting 50 mins will certainly suffice. Not thinking about fighting styles? Exactly How around Krav Maga or self support courses or also boxing.

Horse riding for 2 hours

This is based on general riding, if you are completing or practicing/training for program jumping or cross country etc after that you will melt more calories.

Aerobics

High effect action aerobics for 50 minutes, if you select low impact step aerobics then you will certainly need to workout for 70 minutes. Water aerobics for 2 hrs to burn 500 calories.

Volleyball for 60 minutes

This is based on coastline volleyball which burns extra calories than your health club based variation! Do not fail to remember to shield yourself from the sunlight. If you do not delight in beach ball after that why not play Ultimate Frisbee on the coastline, the less gamers the a lot more calories you will burn.

Cycling for 75 minutes

A wonderful way to reach as well as from work or the stores. Burn calories, get an excellent complete body exercise. If it's been a while because you have actually ridden a bike then prepare to be aching the next day from utilizing muscle mass you didn't recognize you had. A good seat is additionally advised if you intend on cycling on a regular basis as well as for fars away. Keep in mind to add in periods of high intensity.

Dance

Take a class or dance in your very own residence, whether you know just how to dance or not it can be a fun method to burn calories. The sort of dancing you do will identify how numerous calories you burn. 60 minutes of salsa and you will melt approx 290 calories, 60 mins of ballet or modern dance and you will certainly shed approx 310 calories.

Strength Training

OK you will not shed 500 calories in one session (even more like 300 calories) yet you can always choose a fast jog or run before or after and also strike that 500 objective and even surpass it.

Spinning Class for 45 minutes

These courses will certainly have you melting calories fast although it will depend on your input. No slacking, push hard, enhance the resistance and keep going.

Stair Climber for 50 minutes

Hop on the stair mountain climber at the fitness center or discover some staircases to run up and walk down (bear in mind to stroll down as you don't wish to shed your balance).

Surfing for 60 minutes

great fun if you have some neighborhood beaches that have great waves however otherwise then maybe attempt paddle boarding or kayaking which can be performed in the sea or on a lake.

Rowing Device for 45-50 minutes

One of the tools I see many individuals at the fitness center making use of incorrectly i.e. rounding their when they go forward or utilizing their arms to draw prior to their legs have extended. If you are not sure of the appropriate strategy ask among the fitness center instructors to show you (that's what they are there for). Alternatively if you have a rowing equipment in the house then locate an on the internet demonstration.

Jump rope for 50 minutes

Probably best done by splitting it up as leaping for 51 minutes straight may be a little extreme. So split it up right into to smaller sized pieces as well as jump during the early morning, day, night or whenever you have extra time perhaps whilst you wait for your dinner to prepare, during industrial breaks whilst enjoying your preferred programs ...

Fidget and keep moving

i. e. leg jumping (frustrating to some so pick when carefully - maybe not to be done during a conference or whilst chatting to close friends), walking while you are on the phone. Take the stairs, obtain of the bus one stop earlier, park even more away from the entrance as well as walk that added little bit. How about mosting likely to go down of that record face to face rather than placing it in the inner mail. OK this is not mosting likely to burn you those 500 calories by itself but they are easy adequate to include throughout your day to assist enter some added calories burnt.

For those of you who are experiencing snow at the minute as well as need to remove the drive after that get a snow shovel and also in 80 mins you will have burnt 500 calories ...

There are numerous methods you can melt 500 calories a day, although I have mentioned simply a few of them above, this does not suggest you have to restrict yourself to only these. Start thinking of what you such as to do and also where outdoors, inside, alone, with others etc).

It is not everything about melting calories though, yes in order to lose weight you wish to melt off even more than you eat yet you additionally require to look at what you are eating. There are those who say that getting the body you want or reducing weight is 80% diet plan and 20% workout (or other similar numbers) and also it is real, what you eat makes a huge distinction to your results. Once you begin to change your diet as well as consume much healthier you will start discovering a difference not only in your weight yet likewise in your general wellness. Currently include exercise (a mix of cardio as well as stamina training) and also you will see results faster.

One last point, as you start to reduce weight you will certainly require to work tougher to melt the very same amount of calories.

Is your objective to slim down? If you are judging your development by what the scales say this may not be the most effective sign of your development, consider altering your shape by shedding body fat not weight.

[storiesofadanandhisdog]

The Kings Crown

PROLOGUE  

The  rain fell in large drops, straight down on the hood of Keldorn’s worn cloak. The evening was thick with the smell of wet and rotting wood from the forest floor. Mud sucked and grabbed at the wheels of his drive cart and trailing load. They were heavy and piled high with all kinds of goods on their way to the market in Talaris.

“Come on ya filthy orc smellin’ son’s o’ cows.” Keldorn shouted at the gorthas pulling the train along with seemingly no trouble at all. Gorthas are huge leathery animals that closely resemble a rhino crossed with a pig, but bigger than you might think.

 “We won’t find no dry place to sleep ere’n this forest tonight if ya don’t git those stubby legs movin'.” He knew it was a totally useless suggestion though; gorthas after all have only two speeds, slow and 'I’m dragging An entire store behind me, through a foot of sucking mud, and can’t possibly move any faster if you lit my butt on fire'. So he pulled his hood a little lower and mumbled to himself.

Keldorn had started out from his home in the mountains of Roundhin, more than two weeks past the point any other traders will make the trip. Winter comes hard to this region, and most make good and sure they and their horses are home before it hits. Winters bite would have little effect on the thick skinned gorthas though, and Keldorn has seen a few hard winters out of doors and far from a warm bed.

His thoughts started to wander again to his friends, and the thought of seeing them again after what seemed a long time indeed. “Come on, GET! “ He barked snapping a seldom used whip at his side. He felt bad using the tool because of its symbolism, and not for any thought that they may get mad, or even feel it. These gorthas have been with him for twenty years. The moment they are born, gorthas are introduced to the dwarf who will be as their family. Keldorn and no other can ask them to move. Anyone who tries to force a gortha to go where it doesn’t want to go is wasting the last few moments of their life pushing a mountain that can pulverize steel in it’s blunted teeth. 

“S'ok, I’m just a might touchy s’all.” In Talaris his friends are gathering at this very moment to drink and laugh, toast and cheer, of their past adventures together. There is no place on earth he would want to be more. 

The rain worsened, but there was a small almost invisible smile on the side of Keldorn’s face. He’d be there by dawn.

Davin Mitrell rode to Talaris atop a perfectly groomed mare named Apple. The horse had no sentimental significance, but was a good mannered and intelligent beast. He rode well and the way was smooth, so the trip had been good so far. He was only a half day out by soft ride, so he took his time and enjoyed the day. 

In the trees and bushes, that line the eastern road, eyes watched his passing with more than a passing interest in his wizards robes. These eyes noted no spell book at hand or even visible, wizards often had valuables on them and were easy marks when caught defenceless.

Davin sat back and smiled as he thought of the perfect way to surprise his old companions, he’d walk in to the tavern with a chicken under one arm and a loaf of bread under the other and say ……

An arrow dug into the side of his robe and scratched a deep line along his chest, as twelve men jumped out onto the road in front and behind him. 

“Get him quickly before he can get to some sort o’ magic or another,” one of the bandits barked. They rushed forward from all sides, and another arrow passed by the now rearing horse.

Startled into action, Davin cast the only spell he could think of. “Slee val ectrom!“  Davin is in point of fact not a wizard as the bandits had thought but rather a sorcerer, and a rather odd one at that. Not to say odd in manner, but in that every spell he seems to learn goes wildly out of control, or has some sort of unexplainable side effect. Most of the time you never know what’s going to happen.

The bandits all start to fall fast to sleep, which is good seeing as it was a sleeping type spell, but so does everything else. Birds drop from tree branches, squirrels fall onto the road, and most unfortunately for Davin is, his horse droops it’s eyelids an lays down for a nap. “Huh,” Davin looks around at the seen only slightly surprised, but more than a little concerned says, 

“Now, should I wait for the horse to wake up or will they all wake up together?” He thought  “Damn it.” Davin yelled, reaching down and picking up his pack, and anything he can carry from Apple, dusts himself off, and starts to put some ground between him and the bandits. “Sorry Apple, but I’m a little out manned  here and have no way of knowing when they’ll get back up.” Davin tipped a nonexistent hat to his horse and the rest of his belongings, and headed for his friends and The Top of The Hill Tavern in Talaris. If he’s lucky he’ll be there by dawn.

The monk sits in a wobbly waggon pulled by three very old mules. They should be living out the last of their days in a field grazing lazily on oats, but the group of pilgrims the monk is travelling with can’t afford to replace them. The going is slow but none seem to mind, they are used to long journeys. They came from a group of small villages to the south and planned to make the temple district in Talaris their last stop before the long trip home. 

    The monk has fallowed this group for eight months, watching their faces as they see places and people of religious importance to them and their histories. He understands this need to feel connected to a larger world because of his own need to visit these places, to study what they may teach him. The monk has spent almost his whole life in the study and mastery of his mind and body, to better understand his own place in the world.

    “Beggin’ your pardon Monk, but we're going to stop for a rest now,” Ged, one of the pilgrims said stirring the monk from his thoughts. “will ye be eating with us?”

    “I will be glad of the fine company, Ged.” The monk would some times decline the offer when he was fasting before a meditation, which had no set time as far as his companions could tell, so they always asked. “Whose turn is it to prepare the meal?”

    “Mary is up for the job today. She’s makin’ some sort of soup or stew, I’m not real sure.”

    “Humm, maybe I’ll meditate after all.” These two never find the good natured women’s food very appealing, but neither of them have the heart to tell her.

    “Ha, come on then lets be grateful for the fact that you're not cookin', and grab a bite my friend.” Ged  helped the monk from the waggon and they set out to make a spot clear for the group to eat.

    They ate their lunch in a flat clearing by the side of the road and talk quietly to one another.

    “Tell use Monk, how along has it been since you saw these friends of yours?” Mary asked him as he finished his, uhm, soup, stew…. meal. 

    “The last time I saw them was three years ago. We had had a time of sorting everything out between Davin and that wizards guild I’ve told you of, and Keldorn, the dwarf of the group, made use all promise to meet again. We have been in touch over the years through various ways and agreed on a time and place convenient for everyone. I must say that I’m really going to be glad to see them all again. It seems a very long time.”

    “We will probably make it there with time to spare, if the mules don’t die on us.” Ged laughed. ”We shouldn’t  be more then an hour or two away from the city before we have to stop for the night.”

    “It would be good to see them again,” he thought. “Not long now. We should be there at dawn.” 

    Mark Megal had an unusual travelling companion for a thief and a rogue. He rode beside his long time friend Corvin Godsmold, whose ornate chain shirt caught the sun and threw it about, shining and dancing off anything close by. The paladin almost always seemed to Mark to be giving off some kind of light. They were an odd pair, but they got along so well they just never got around to saying good bye as the others had after their last adventure together. Secretly, Mark stayed to have a good reason not to join a thieves guild, or worse an assassin’s guild. He just wasn’t that kind of a guy. Being able to say, “if I joined your group, I think my paladin friend there may have to smite me or something, and I have no desire to be smotten, thank you very much,” is a great way to avoid unwanted hassling. Mark is good at opening places that may have been shut to others, and finding his way safely to and from some of the more unsavoury places one sometimes needs to go, but he had never liked taking something that wasn’t his to take. Of course, possession is nine tenths of the law, and what Corvin doesn’t see won't kill him. 

    Corvin is a chosen paladin of Hundoo, God of honour and valour. He is a good man with strong principles, and he is rarely ever swayed once he has made up his mind what is right and what is wrong. Corvin likes having Mark with him for both company and for someone to help him stay true to his honour. He can trust Mark to always be Mark, a constant, always pulling some joke or scam. It’s in his harmless, if slightly immoral nature, that Corvin is reminded of what all people truly are at heart. Just people living their lives in the best way they know how.

    “Do you think Safrin and Morin will be there by now,” Mark asked trying not to sound excited.

    “They have been there for a week already, on some ranger business. We will Probably be the last ones there.” Corvin said, pointedly looking at Marks small horse. Mark had been forced to get a new one after his last one took a badly aimed arrow in the back of the head. This one was there, and cheap, two things that have great sway over the rogue purchasing decisions.

    “It’s not my fault, we were running on rough ground and she jerked up at the last second. Anyways it not my fault.”

    “Well with that mangy nag, we won't be there today, we’ll have to ride through the night to be there on time,” Corvin mocked Mark with a grin.

    “Well that’s not a big deal, after all, it’s not like we’re going to have any trouble with you all decked out in your Hundoo parade gear. Who in their right mind would attack us?” Mark grabbed the back of Corvin’s cape and gave a tug, laughing wildly as Corvin fussed over his dress cape being mishandled. 

    “Right then,” Corvin said leaning forward so quickly that it almost pulled Mark, still holding onto his cape, right off his nag. Corvin grinned, spurred his horse and rode circles around Mark as he regained his seat. “If you can catch me this time, I promise not to tell Keldorn you shot and killed your own horse in glorious battle.” He proclaimed holding a fist to the sky at the glorious combat line.

    “You wouldn’t.” A look of terror came over Mark’s face. “You’re not that mean.” He pleaded. “Isn’t it against your religion to kill someone by humiliation?”

    “No”.

    “Get back here you filthy god lover. Coward. Weakling. Oh come on.” Mark pleaded with the nag to move just a bit faster but it just would not move. As he watched Corvin ride away, he knew he’d never hear the end of this from Keldorn.

    Corvin’s voice could still be head far down the road saying, ”Let’s go Mark, we don’t want to be late. We can be there by dawn.” 

[wilderwestking]

Stand Unshaken

Chapter One: How to Rob a Train (Part I)

Summary: The Wilderwest is shrinking.

The year is 1899 and outlaws like Hiccup “Night Fury” Haddock are being hunted. Tired of running, Hiccup must choose between being loyal to the only life he’s ever known and leaving it all behind.

Rating: M (for later scenes)

So I realized I’ve never posted my fic to tumblr, and I figured, why not  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Wilderwest was shrinking before Hiccup’s eyes.

As a young boy, Hiccup’s father had told him stories of a Wilderwest untouched by man. Stories of forests with trees as tall as giants with roots that dug to the very core of the Earth. Mountains that cut through the land and broke the sky with their jagged peaks. Deserts that stood as a last, arid, defense against mans’ conquest. Stories so enthralling that Hiccup couldn’t resist the call of adventure, and at the age of fourteen slipped from his bedroom window in the night. But now, the map was growing and his world shrinking.

Each night more and more campfires would dot the land like wildflowers in a field. The untamed wilderness that Hiccup had grown to love was being replaced with towns and farms and trading posts, leaving only tree stumps and train tracks in their wake.

The boy was on his knees, peering over a cliff’s edge at one such set of tracks. Below him, the tracks cut through a mountain canyon heading from the East to towns farther and farther West. Lighting a cigarette, Hiccup was careful to avoid spilling ash onto the map that was spread out in front of him. Methodically, he dragged his pencil against the parchment, marking positions in relation to the land around him. Leaning back on his heels, he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“I know it’s been a rough few months since Berk, bud,” he said, inclining his head toward his black Arabian that grazed feet away, “but I thought…Well, that we were lying low.” Hiccup took another drag from his cigarette, “But Viggo is Viggo. Always planning and scheming.”

A sigh, then in an impression of the gang’s leader. “Just one more, Hiccup my boy. One more and then we’ll have the money we need to head back West.” Another sigh, his voice his own again, “To head home.”

Toothless whinnied, his ears flicking in the direction of Hiccup’s voice. Sensing the distress of his rider, the horse stepped closer, pushing his head against him. Casually, Hiccup rested a hand on his muzzle.

“Just gotta have faith. Right, bud?” He stroked the velvet of Toothless’s nose and turned his attention back to the train tracks below him. “The train will come through here at approximately 2 a.m. Heather and the twins will already be on board, posing as passengers. The rest of the gang will catch the train as it passes through this canyon. In and out before any of Grimmel’s men notice they’ve been hit. Of course, this all counts on you being able to catch a moving train.”

The horse pounded his hooves against the ground in excitement, kicking up dust as he did so. Hiccup laughed, his voice the only sound in the late afternoon. He waved the dust away, “Good. Once I’m on the train you’ll have to keep pace until I can get to the brakes.”

Taking one last look at his surroundings, Hiccup folded his map and tucked it away in the inside pocket of his vest. Standing, he put his black leather hat over his auburn mop of hair to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun and dropped his cigarette in the dirt. Pulling himself into Toothless’ saddle he looked to the East in the direction of camp. “Let’s get back to Raven Point, bud. We need to make sure everything is ready.”

                                                          xXx

Raven Point camp was nestled in a cove hidden deep in the mountain. Surrounded on all sides by towering evergreens, the camp was secluded from even the most adventurous of passersby. At each of the entrances Viggo had posted guards, but Hiccup paid them little mind as and he and Toothless tore up the path toward the camp. Spewing dirt in all directions, Toothless skidded to a halt, Hiccup flinging himself from the saddle. At the center of the camp Viggo, Johann, and Snotlout sat around a table. Engrossed in a map and discussing the details for the heist, they paid him little mind.

Johann caught his gaze as Hiccup approached. Johann was a tall man, tanned, and always willing to tell tales of his time as a Navy Captain. However, as Hiccup got closer to the table, the familiar jovial looks were gone, replaced by a bitter scowl that covered the portion of his face his large beard didn’t hide. The man turned his attention from Hiccup back to Viggo, “Why are we doing this, Viggo? I thought our plan was to lie low until we could head out West.”

Anger flashed across Viggo’s features, but Hiccup pretended he didn’t see it. The man had been less than pleasant since the death of his brother.  “We need funds, Johann. It costs money to caravan twenty people out West! Surely you of all people can understand that. “

“Of course, I can, Viggo. What I don’t understand is robbing a bloody train when Flyers are breathing down our neck!”

“Everything we had, we lost in Berk! We have to earn it back if we ever want to get out of here. We rob this train and we’re set.” Viggo pounded his fist on the table, causing Snotlout to jump.

Hiccup cleared his throat, taking a seat beside Snotlout. “Maybe Johann is right, Viggo. The plan was to lie low. Robbing a train isn’t exactly ‘lying low’. It’ll bring every Flyer this side of the Archipelago our way.”

Viggo straightened up, putting his arms behind his back and looking down his nose at the boy. It was the look Viggo gave Hiccup when he had overstepped his place. Hiccup had received that look a number of times in the years since Viggo had brought him in, but it never failed to make him feel like that starving fishbone of a boy Viggo had found in the woods so many years ago.

“Ah, Hiccup. I was wondering when you would return. Is everything in place for tonight?

Sighing, Hiccup met Viggo’s gaze, “Everything should go as planned. We can wait for the train to pass through the canyon on a nearby cliff’s edge. Toothless and I scouted it just now. But Vig—”

“We ride tonight, Hiccup. Best be ready.”

                                                            xXx

Thundering across the heartlands of the Archipelago, the Grimborn Gang was a formidable sight. Viggo, dressed in a red leather vest and a dark overcoat led the formation atop a large grey Turkoman he had named Skrill. A mean beast of a horse, he shared the same cold efficiency as his rider. To the right, Hiccup and Toothless kept pace. Dressed in all black, the pair were nearly invisible as they raced through the night. To the left, Johann rode dutifully, occasionally casting Hiccup glances when their horses’ gallops allowed for the exchange of looks. A division was growing in the gang. Perhaps it had always existed beneath the surface, but after the Berk Massacre the group had been left beaten down and open wounds allowed for resentment to grow like an infection.

Hiccup glanced behind him where Snotlout was covering his left side. Atop his red Mustang, Hookfang, Snotlout caught Hiccup’s eyes and offered a reassuring smile. Regardless of the inner politics of the Gang, Hiccup trusted in Snotlout. Though the shorter man was rash and often narcissistic, he had saved Hiccup’s life more times than he cared to admit.

Behind Snotlout the three rider-less horses of Barf, Belch, and Windshear thundered along. If everything went according to plan, they would be reunited with their riders before the dawn. Bringing up the formation, Silent Sven, Hamish, and Savage rode their horses carrying the bulk of the gang’s ammunition.

“Hiccup” Viggo shouted above the thunder of hoofbeats, “You’ll ride down first. Deal with the engineer and the conductor in the head end. After you’ve stopped the train, make your way to the back train car. The twins will meet up with you. Look for anything of value. Grimmel wouldn’t be sending this train through without reason.” Hiccup nodded, keeping his eyes focused ahead, Toothless’s reins gripped tight in his hands. “Snotlout, you and Heather will be on crowd control. Keep them quiet, and if you see anything of value, collect it. Savage, Sven, Hamish will take care of the guards. Johann and I will run point. Does everyone understand their job?”

A chorus of affirmations and Hiccup could see Viggo’s smirk reach his eyes. It filled the boy with dread and sickening excitement.

Determinedly, cruelly, Viggo smirked, leaning low over his horse and urging it faster. “Well then,” he said. “Let’s rob a train!”

Cheers and cries of “Snotlout! Snotlout!” rose above the hoofbeats, and the Grimborn Gang set their eyes on fortune.

                                                     xXx

For the second time that day, Hiccup peered over the edge of a cliff, his forest green eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of the train. Beneath him, Toothless shuffled his hooves. Hiccup could feel the tension coiling in Toothless’s muscles. The horse always grew jittery before a race.

Silence stretched the night. Then a train’s whistle pierced the night. In the distance a tower of smoke billowed up into the night sky, hiding the stars from view.

“Masks up,” Viggo ordered, lifting a silk handkerchief to cover the bottom half of his face. “Hiccup. Go.”

Covering his face with a black cloth, Hiccup steeled his doubts and cracked the reins, shouting “Ride, bud!”. Identity hidden and horse charging, Hiccup was no longer himself. In his place rode Night Fury, the infamous outlaw feared across the Wilderwest. Toothless’s hooves pounded against the hard earth as he propelled himself forward like black lightning. The outlaw was only vaguely aware of the gang members that followed in his shadow as he rushed down the slope and along the tracks. Leaning low over Toothless’s neck, Hiccup could see the light of the head end and then it was rushing past him and the roar of the train filled his ears as he balanced atop Toothless and leaped onto the flat train bed. Rolling with the momentum of the jump, Hiccup sprung to his feet. Beside him, Toothless had pivoted and was running parallel to the train.

Hiccup hopped the gap separating a flatbed form the front end but blocking his access to the engine room was a large container filled with the train’s coal. Pulling himself up and over the lip of the container, he tumbled into the bin sending a black cloud of dust billowing up. Lungs burning, Hiccup pushed forward, careful not to jam his prosthetic between the rocks.

Attention on the steps in front of him, Hiccup had to throw himself to the ground to avoid the engineer’s coal shovel connecting with his head. Coal dug sharply into his back, and although he avoided the first swing, he barely had time to raise his arms to protect his body from the second strike. The impact of metal on bone sent vibrations through his body. Disoriented, he kicked out like a drowning man, sending coal flying up in all directions. The engineer staggered back, leaning away from the coal Hiccup was kicking up.

Gunshots rang out in the air reminding Hiccup of his goals, and with newfound strength, he lunged forward. Grappling for the shovel, Hiccup kicked the engineer and as he was pushed back, Hiccup charged. The force of the charge pushed them both over the lip of the storage bin and onto the hard ground. Winded, Hiccup rolled on top of the engineer, pinning him to the ground. Hiccup’s green eyes met the panic-filled engineer’s.

“Stay here, will you?” Hiccup said as he removed his old, rope lasso from his belt and made quick work of tying up the engineer. More gunshots competed with the roar of the train, and Hiccup quickly closed the gap between himself and the front end’s door.

The engine room felt more like a furnace than a train car, but Hiccup didn’t have long to consider the heat as he found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun.

“Up! Put yer hands up! Or I’ll fill you full of bullets!” The conductor said, each word emphasized by a nudge of his shotgun.

Gods Dammit.

Hiccup raised his arms, palms out, and slowly stepped back from the man. “Sir, put the gun down. Please. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

Two shots were fired.

The first from the conductor.

The second from Hiccup’s revolver.

The body of the conductor fell to the ground, dead. Hiccup stepped over the body, careful to avoid getting blood on his boot from the puddle that had pooled around what remained of the corpse’s head. Sparing no time for regrets, he grasped the handle of the air brake and pulled with all his might. The handle turned slowly, but he could feel the release of pressure and hear the screech of the tracks. The train came to a shuddering halt, and Hiccup allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. Then, he did as any outlaw would do: straightened his hat and whistled for his horse.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, bud” Hiccup said as he jumped into the saddle. A thin sheen of sweat covered Toothless’s coarse hair, but otherwise, the horse was unbothered by the exertion. “Let’s get to the back car and make sure the twins haven’t set anything on fire.”

Pulling the reigns, Toothless turned and loped toward the final train car. Through the train windows, Hiccup could make out the shapes of Heather and Snotlout moving through the cars and collecting belongings from the passengers. At the top of the hill, Hiccup could spy Viggo watching over the heist, a sniper rifle in his hands. Periodically, he would hear a shot and he knew Viggo was silencing a runaway.

The last train car was windowless, but Hiccup could see light pouring from a hole the twins had dynamited into the armored wall. Ruffnut was leaning out of the jagged entrance, excitedly stuffing her loot into Barf’s saddlebags. On noticing Hiccup she straightened up and saluted.

“Took you long enough!”

Tuffnut poked his head out, unlit cigar dangling from his lips and arms full of bonds and coin purses. “H! My man, you have got to get in here! Grimmel is loaded!” Tuff said as he dumped goods into Belch’s bags and turned his head toward Toothless. “Good job with the running, T. Saw it all from the window. Very impressive.”

Hiccup rolled his eyes and hopped down from his horse who was now basking in Tuffnut’s praise. Ducking his head, Hiccup stepped into the train car. “Yeah, yeah. Just get everything loaded. The sooner we’re out of he— Wh-What is that!?” Hiccup gestured to the pile of bodies stacked in front of a large, mahogany desk.

“It was them or us!” Ruffnut said

“Yeah, H. They jumped us!” Tuff added.

Hiccup groaned but stepped around the bodies to search through the desk. While the twins were excellent at nabbing shiny things, they often overlooked discreet items of value. “You guys understand the higher the body count the higher the bounty, right? The more men who will be looking for us?”

“They have to catch us first,” Ruffnut said.

“Like they caught Ryker back in Berk? Or Dagur?”

“That’s cold, H.” Tuffnut said.

Hiccup pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Look, all I’m saying is that we need to be careful. The less attention we bring to ourselves the better. Just finish the jo—” the words left his throat, but never reached the air as he laid eyes on an envelope with the orange wax seal of a Singetail dragon:

Flyers Detective Agency, Department of Security & Espionage, United Archipelago.

“Whataya find?” Ruff asked leaning over his shoulder with interest.

“A treasure map?” Tuff oohed leaning over his other shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Hiccup mumbled, “whatever it is just might make this job worth the risks, though.”

Hiccup’s fingers hovered over the seal, hesitating to break the wax. Whatever was inside the envelope could potentially be incredibly lucrative to the Grimborn Gang. The information could make the asinine heist worth it. Lifting the lip of the envelope, Hiccup pulled the thick linen paper out and scanned his eyes across the page—

Bullets pounded the far side of the train car, the noise reverberating through the tiny room and making Hiccup’s ears ring.

Ruff and Tuff both drew their weapons and jumped through the hole to find the source of the attack. Hiccup, sensing the situation escalating, shoved the letter into his satchel and made to follow his friends.

Ruffnut poked her head back through the hole, her eyes wide, “Hiccup, we have Flyers! They found us!”

[lorelylantana]

Eagles Rising: Chapter 2  The Compass Comes

Avanye sounded like a battlefield.

War cries filled the air as I stepped onto the beginning of a cobblestone road lit with lanterns filled with green flames and bushes filled with glowing white flowers. The sun was setting, but the training grounds were still full with sparring adults in leather armor. For a moment I was captivated. I wanted to be the one spinning and slashing, blade in my hand. I felt a weight in my hand and looked down to a gleaming black sword.

My heart stopped for a moment, frightened of my own thirst for battle, but then I remembered Carrick’s words and calmly willed the blade to dissolve back into the air. I hurried away from the training field and hurried deeper into the town.

After spending the night at one of the host houses Carrick told me about I was given an allowance and a shopping list of things I needed. Apparently Ivaling didn’t get many newcomers so close to winter so the couple that hosted me were busy with work, leaving me to wander the streets by myself. I looked at the list again, trying to figure out where I could buy a travelling cloak when I heard a voice from above.

“Are you lost?”

This time I held back from throwing a knife but I still had trouble finding the voice’s owner. A raven ruffled its feathers before speaking again.

“I asked if you were lost. I could help you if you like.”

The family that hosted me had told me about the stronger connections between humans and animals in Ivaline, magic acting as a bond through which they could communicate but hearing about it didn’t really prepare me for the actual experience.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for traveling clothes and I think I took a wrong turn.”

I spent the rest of the day walking around town with a raven on my shoulder as she gave me directions. Every now and again I would ask her questions.

“So do all ravens speak to humans or do some keep away from our civilization. I was told we had a good relationships with a lot of different creatures but I haven’t really seen many,” I asked while picking out a bag to hold all of my supplies.

“It’s not that we all wander around and interact with humans in our normal life. It’s not that we can speak to all humans, just ones we’re compatible with or trust. In fact many animals go through life never having spoke to one. Some animals, like myself, seek out a human like you whose magic is appealing,” she explained.

“So what happens if you find that human? Besides giving them directions?” I questioned as I paid for a leather travel bag and blue fur trimmed cloak.

“Well we tend to stick to that human for as long as possible. Your magic sustains and enhances us. Wolves grow larger, cats run faster, and our youth is preserved as long as our humans live.”

“So does that mean you’ll follow me around?” I asked.

“If you’ll allow me.”

I considered for a moment. The raven seemed to know a lot about this world and it would be nice to have a friend on the road.

“I’d love to have you around. My name’s Allie Sage. What’s yours?”

“Kyrie.”

“Well Kyrie, where should we go next?”

-

“We should head Northwest from here,” Kyrie suggested from her place on my shoulder. I checked my bracer.

“Why? The compass is pointing us East.”

“It’s pointing you towards Ferran City. It’s half a day’s walk from here and we only have two hours of daylight. There’s an old fallen tree that you should be able to make a decent shelter out of a few minutes northwest,” she explained and flew for me to follow.

I had just finished pitching a makeshift tent where she directed me when it started raining. Kyrie and I waited for the storm to pass by telling each other stories about our lives. Kyrie was born in a Heart valley called Mother’s Refuge.

“It was named for the fact that the surrounding mountains shelter the valley from bad weather and that’s where the vast many of this world’s species migrate there to give birth. I still visit occasionally when I’m feeling nostalgic,” Kyrie explained as the rain formed a curtain in front of us. I listened to the sound of droplets hitting the puddles that had formed below them. I felt the corners of my mouth turn slightly upward.

“Whenever it rained back home, one of my favorite things to do was curl up in an armchair next to the window with a cup of tea and read. I could sit there for hours listening to the water run down the glass as I read. Sometimes I prepared an entire pot of tea just for myself,” I told her as she preened her feathers from her place resting on my knee. I sat with my back curled against the rough bark with one leg outstretched and the other bent where Kyrie had made herself comfortable. I absentmindedly formed a dagger and watched it float in midair. As we were traveling I found I could telekinetically move any of my creations with little more than intent. Now I watched the details of the dagger shift and move as I thought more about how I wanted it to look. I ended up with a silver dagger with a blue tint to it with the hilt engraved with roses and thorns. I made the metal dissipate as soon as I got bored with it and saw Kyrie watching me from her place on my knee.

“Kyrie can you tell me a bit more about the magic here? Does everyone in Spade have a power like mine?” I asked. She took a moment to consider before answering.

“It’s not really that simple. I personally haven’t seen someone who can create weapons with little to no effort like you can, but magic here doesn’t follow a standard. The most common perception is that magic is an extension of you and your will. The only case of magic that I could say is similar to you is Queen Rhiannon. Spade’s current Queen loves fashion and she can make clothes the same way you make swords. Magic is so intuitive it manifests itself in the way that best suits the user. Some people teleport, some shape shift and some breathe fire.”

As she finished I couldn’t help but feel an inkling of doubt tug at the back of my mind.

“Kyrie?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think people will be scared of me? It’s one thing to make clothes, but what about weapons. Should they be afraid of me?”

Kyrie was silent for a long time before answering.

“Yes and no,” She answered and I felt that doubt tug even harder.

“What do you mean?”

“No I don’t think people should be afraid of you per se. You gift is incredibly powerful but I don’t think you’re the type to misuse it. Only-”

“What?” I interrupted, afraid of what she would say next.

“They say that people are pulled into Ivaline for a reason,” she explained, “That everyone who comes from a different world is brought here because something about them is meant to change this world for the better. Maybe they’re meant to be a king, or maybe they're just destined to start a popular bakery. It doesn’t matter how big or how small, everyone brings prosperity one way or another. The soul of Ivaline sees something lacking and looks for it in other worlds.”

“So when I look at you, with an endless amount of weapons, I can’t help but wonder why you were brought here. You have the potential to do great things, but the fact that something thinks your skills might be needed here may be a sign of great darkness approaching.”

-

We found ourselves in the thriving city of Ferran at noon the next day. I walked the smooth marble street in between soaring towers of glittering stone engraved with running silver wolves gazing through topaz eyes and leaping over rushing lapis lazuli rivers studded with sapphires. High above my head the towers tapered into sharp peaks connected to one another on deceptively strong glass breezeways. Kyrie told me what she knew of the city as I looked around for a place to eat.

“Ferran was the first fortified city built during the War for Ivaline. It’s founder was General Ferrana, right hand to Commander Asbestos and the first human to discover the connection that could be forged between them and the wildlife. She gained the loyalty of an entire wolfpack and earned the title ‘Lupa of the North’. It was a marvel for its time and is contributed to be the birthplace of many of the architectural practices found throughout the country. During the war the city’s primary function was to stockpile supplies and distribute them where they were needed at the warfront. Ferrana’s wolves knew the terrain so her forces could take advantage of it in record time, giving the Spade forces an edge in battle. Today the city is a trading hub that deals with most of the imported goods from the other three countries, Heart, Club, and Diamond. Heart is our closest ally and their main export is fruit and spices. Club exports textiles and Diamond is quite famed for its wine.”

“What does Spade export?” I asked while waiting in line at an empanada stand.

“Gemstones and foodstuffs. Although it’s also worth noting that a common trade for a Spade citizen is security. There are quite a few guilds established that send bodyguards across borders to whomever’s paying.”

“So they’re mercenaries?” I clarified while I paid for my food with a few gold coins stamped with a dragon’s head.

“In a manner of speaking. Although they’re forbidden from hiring out to another country’s military. For the most part people hire Spades when they want to guard a particularly valuable shipment of goods or an event that expects to have a large turnout.”

I sat down on a bench and watched as horses and their riders made their way through the streets.

“I wonder if I could do something like that. Do you think I would make a good guard?” I mused to Kyrie while absentmindedly forming a sword. Then I felt my stomach drop like a stone and I shattered the blade. My future here seemed so much brighter. I was excited for it. But that meant leaving behind my family back home. How could I be daydreaming while my parents must be worried sick? My sword dissolved into glittering dust that disappeared as soon as it hit the ground.

What kind of daughter was I? Was I anything more than a runaway?

I stood up and started walking faster, wanting to cover as much ground as possible. The sooner I got to the Spade capital, the sooner I could find a way home.

“Allie? What’s wrong?” Kyrie asked, brushing her feathers along my cheek.

“I don’t know if I can stay in Spade Kyrie. Will I ever see my parents again? What if there’s no way home?” I rambled while choking back tears.

“I’m sure you’ll find your way home somehow. You probably shouldn’t panic too much over something beyond your control. You’re on your way to fix the problem but if you worry so much you may lose your way,” Kyrie advised as we made our way downtown.

“I guess.” I grumbled, not completely reassured but I saw sense in Kyrie’s advice. I looked to my bracer and followed it to an inn where I was allowed to stay for the night and issued a small stipend for supplies. I was also pointed in the direction of a public bath. Glad for a chance to clean up after a day of travel I headed over after nightfall. I left my bag in one of the lockers while Kyrie explained their security.

“The bracelet they gave you is enchanted so your the only one who can take something out of the corresponding locker so your bag should be safe,” she said from her place on the top of the lockers.

My bag proved not to be as secure as I would have liked. Nothing was taken but when I slung my pack overI found it to be noticeably heavier than when I came in with it. I set it down and looked inside only to find a wriggling gray fuzzball.

“Kyrie, there’s  a wolf in my bag,” I deadpanned.

“So it seems,” she confirmed, preening her feathers.

“How does something like this even happen?” I wondered, completely taken aback.

“Well,” Kyrie mused, “The enchantment is only meant to keep intruders from taking something out. It’s entirely possible to put something in.”

“Okay but why?” I asked, taking the small pup out and stroking her behind the ears.

“She looks like runt. Her mother probably snuck out of Mother’s Refuge to bring her here.  Runts have a hard time surviving in a pack so sometimes their parents try to sneak them into human households hoping that a human will take a liking to them and let them feed off their magic,” Kyrie explained, her voice soft, like she spoke from experience.

“Does that work?”

“Sometimes yes. Sometimes no,” she replied, and the tragic tone in her voice told me all I needed to know about what happened when it didn’t work. Just abandoning the pup wasn’t an option. I put my pack back on and walked out with a little wolf in my arms.

“We should name her,” suggested Kyrie after I settled into my room for the night. I was feeding the pup bits of my meat ration I had cut up with my knife by the fire.

“Any ideas?” I asked her, open to suggestions. I thought for a moment. What does one name a wolf? I thought of something my mother said long ago when we visited a national park and saw a wolf pack far off in the forest.

“Wolves are beautiful but dangerous creatures. They may look inviting from a distance, but if you get too close they will bite. Be careful Allie. Be wary of what dangers may lurk beneath appearances. It could be your undoing.”

I was younger then, and thought my mother was being melodramatic, but now that I had aged a bit, I saw there was truth to it. Sometimes there was poison beneath goodwill.

“Belladonna,” I said, remembering from history class that it was a poisonous plant women used in the Renaissance. It was more commonly known as deadly nightshade. I liked the idea of naming a wolf for a lethal beauty.

“Belladonna it is then.” Kyrie said, and I drifted off to sleep.

--

Next

First

[ledonggcui]

Poetry Suite A Quartet of Love and Death in the Cloud

Poetry Suite

 A Quartet of Love and Death in the Cloud

 1 Cloud

 Clouds is of solitude that clutters

Around the night of Whole Darkness

Something is revealed a scar in the Fog

Weeping thorns are ambitious

They are transmitted over in the Air

Yellow wailing of peasant women showers purple

On the earth…

Ripples of lights expand

 Solitude is not a lonely piece of Cloud in holes of smiles

Not in my pants

Facial expressions stopped our Love and Pains of Shadow

Often -----------

 It appears to be the sorrow of your Childhood

Flushed and floating over the Lake of Paradise

Bouts of laughs strokes the Body

Now they are gone with the Wind and Cloud

 Sinking underneath…

 Blue rolls over

Lightening strikes by

Sallow

 Physical draught blows towards

- @ eyes

- fair plaits shine through

- pale

you have become

 Beauty in the Castle of Vampires

 Ghosts trains carry the Emptiness into our Platform

That was the twightlights of a Morning

 Don is Goo

 Closer and closer together///

This is Now

Understanding experiences of the Spaces and

Physical magnetic fields of a snail’s pace

Urgent is our Homo Sapien’s certain qualities

Tragedies yell at the yellow killing Moon.

Urgent is the telepathic trio

Shouting and screaming and hollering

Towards the Mountains of Fountain and Pines

Our intimacy spun around an endless black holy

Hole…

Your high heels are blogged

The paradise is occasional

The Tables in the house of No. 8 … …

It meant ------- being disturbed up

Inside out

Inside on

In between…

 In the cherry Blossom

- there was your lust longing

- so

- we split

The birth of Darkness we shared the Same Emotion

Smile of bitterness are the Waves of blood and flesh

The bridges has splint and sprint

Good-bye! Chives have been chopped up

Both of you in triumph and the hands that stroke through

Hills and mountains in glory, which are

Darting up up up

 Resplendence

The morning light is not on the Fence

Though when evening approaches,

K is agitated

The fire is pure until now

Occasional coincidence no more in the Front

Frame is the portraiture in the Paint

Abstracted

 i stomp into the maze of an animal-licking disaster

that is the overall impression

in the dream, desire upsets the satisfaction of a finding that

means losing someone or something or somehow for good

madness has bid us farewells for a while

publishing is recording in the dark

our sight-seeings were simulated vision synchronize

even when we were young

when we ate and shit

 fear needs not attack us, amputate us and ambush us

that is why i am looking forward to the vacuum

limbo of no-time, non-space

there will be no tortures on the other side

though that is only an image of a maze

 i enter your oval and the navel in the morning

a cave that shelter from the shower

the tangible flesh burs-ted into flames

possession is not important here

love is not important here

memory is not important here

trains of abstract thoughts wield themselves onto our vision

that is still abstract in the dim lights

a vision that is a curve becomes the cave

conceives the poetic emotion in motion

harbouring our ambiguous

rendevouz

the morning was grey

 Moments of decaying firefly is over the other side of the

Ocean

At the aft a swift jump is a

Rendevouz means that Nothing’s non-action

Common news together with the Sea Wind blows over

Let’s be romantic! Years toils and peasants coils are buried in the Earth

Only the banal rodents screech occasionally ugly

In a perverse high, there was a longing for the Amour of Vertigo and Delusion

The artificial sun-light is saturated in the Sunset

Smearing the Floats

Then on this side of the Otherness…

Cloud rolls by

   a blind leads a blind: the end of the age of innocence

 approached...

orange haze...in the distance

groan is a daze

yet the dark cloud meshes the pleasure of words

mechanically

monotonously

it is a misread dead misconception

 conceivably, boredom wrinkles

they do not snore

when you listen to the void

glaringly, you are in a trance

are we together?

 matrix array

a maze

you and me are a craze

the significance of the well in the desert of h-division

is nowhere

you turn around and see

nobody

 is it dead out there?

sublime

patterned

underneath the moan of the moon

dots of tinkles sacrifice our pleasure of inferno

with the crater of volcano

your megalithic compound is

squared

  ritual of deities - shaving

 hair grows: the longer, the slower; the shorter, the faster

white noise comes again, a mushroom cloud

let's reason the reasons

when someone is lynched

 hands, thousands of hands shout: ' name Anita Buddha

mantra thinks

image stinks

as future comes as a hole not as a whore

 then slow motion is shot backwards

yes, man and woman have a history of shaving: right NOW

- regenerate and degenerate -

by a sex metaphor

we interpret the same texts

- those talking asses

 bomb catches up with our Brahman

some say woman is cloned from an egg

no, tomb is womb, they reckon

some try to clap their hands with one hand

no reasons, no

but the ritual of shaving in both sexes, the hair

 now is a hole with a whole

intentions segment to five portraits of communist revolution

- splintered shaving heads are somewhere

the talking asses, understand?

 don't you mind that you don't have a mind but hair?

   claustrophobia 2

 god's testicles were slashed and stashed away upstairs

we are packed like sardines into a night

train travels in vain: clicking and clanking to the black and red

utopia

no, a dystopia

three monkeys were conceived in a giant leap

industrial revolution turn us into pollution

people still rant about abortion and castration

 I saw your face and I bump into a grimace

kill that dog.  It will not bark

lock up those monkeys. They will not rebel

in this animal farm, I am dragged behind

the black psychic of a schooner of some queer beer

It make the nation opening up

god is alive

 abattoir

 having acted out to kill a MP

people start to believe a 'bad trip'

constitutional wisdom is equal to black

that is white and that is black

fallen angels are being tempted by underground

propaganda, that is:

100% beef topside mince $4.49 a kilo

chicken wings $4.99 a kilo

lamb legs $4.99 a kilo

BBQ thick sausage $1.99 a kilo

lean round steak $5.99 a kilo

tender bone steak $7.99 a kilo

corned silverside $5.99 a kilo

sirloin steak $5.99 a kilo

rump steak $5.99 a kilo

scotch fillet $9.99 a kilo

 - human intestines stir-fried with a bit of red wind -

I shouted

Intellectuals are flayed

Nine peasants are roasted

As my soul is cheap in Glebe morgue

 2 Wonky

 mattress filth lies a mannequin

wonky laugh is however a phone number

Cadillac turns the other way into heaven/hell;

shoes hanging loose with laces disturbingly fragmented

supermarket shaver kissing a pair of knickers

dream represses a loft; Scared

only too used to be scared the Ugly

mind the deviant Decadence, someone thought

no conflicts, no tragedy

absurd-um and residue of genome ...

1838 J. Hogg wed and shed his romantic crime

'ruse of reason'...

all youngsters suspected and yet looked up to

their god-father

backwards toward the Self

other side is pointed by the lay-out of point-out;

just a pair of Reebok

high-tech is now and nay

simulacrum presents the House of Disturbance and Dis-Esriture

system fails and shut down: still files are in the Network

oblivion + ignorance = wonky

 Square

 skeletons are arranged in a yellow rape seeds field

retch your souls out !

growth and embrace stand still in the centre of a square

subtle reactionaries rush towards/away the deinstitution

 mimic smiles are zipped up on the slits of a bald head

fuck you ! you fucking dentist

as well as the liberty of a tooth

it can not undo the knot of a square abattoir

as crimson creeps in

  Patchy rains drops onto your

Corny lips

She is being panicked

The Trains of Memo-ria has run in the Mountains of

Fragmented Recollections of Hers

Inferiority and suicidal lying-down over the rails for the Trains

It has ascended over some Skills of hers

She has no sensible and sensitive passions

Only beastly-like

Only too soft for being purry cat

The self-doubt on the Podium of Monument is pretty vacant

Between the Red Walls the black remembrance and shade

Uphold themselves

The madness of yours and mine twirls high over the Autumn Leaves

They seem to be decadent and listless

There are diagnostics and symmetry

But sighs of Eminence

The ring bells of the Waif Waist starts to tumble and tinkle…

   Poetic weirdness is stuck into the navel of a half crescent

Pollen blows wild

A cross

Blizzard! Stunned! By your paranoid

Numbed by your endless crimson tails

I am being tickled by your Fat bums

Flicking are you in the Flame

A 3-D picture switch to a 2-dimensional flat tron

Back and forth……

That’s it

The euphoria submerged into the dust storm of

Our desert.

Yet the whirlpool of those spirals regenerate our

Very Mirage

Disturbed is the sound that drills with our twenty-one grams of Hearts

Unbearably light and low………

   In the Dark of the Hearts

 wisteria melts its colour in the snow

avanlanch is not for the maniac

I squint from the dark

I see the rattling plastic bags in the caravan

I am not sure of the Together of your hippodrome

on the other side;

is just a war memorial

a view with

an Attitude

in a radical flight

Wings grow later after the delivery

still fledgling

as that is not a farewell because

we have not met yet.

 rainbow testifies itself in the valley

as night approaches

what we need is a dialogue

under the blue winter sky

BEFORE it get ugly

Just when the cloud draws a sketch of Innocence and Indolence

In the dark of the hearts

  Sick colours are manipulated off a Space

Whiteness stabs into a concept called Love

Violence twists the Flesh of a Child

It swallows the flagrance of the Breast Myth

Milk full-cream stalks our Flirts

 Screams are sick on the Hospital beds

Screech is a dagger

Darting

Through the Room unfettered

 The yellow fluids frightens the Horse tails

Copper’s baton.whistles.pistols

Kiss’s women mop up the Red dreams

 Chaos expands

Ambiguity sink in the sands

Repressing the Hell of flirting

Space

It tells…

    Smoked lives

Nothing new will happen

Some scattered thoughts of the No.! vision from the

Atlantis is 101

Navy man smothers the young kisses of Fear

Over herself,, monitored,, is

Money substitutes of Credits and Debts is

H/er story

A strings of histories attaches to the Kite with

Five wings of rings, which is the Olympia Uprising,

Something is left and someone is reigning

Bland is the streamline of convey belt

Bitter cave of naves

Are shone in a beam

    Speaks aloud spoken

- the endless wait…

with me sitting back of the Hill

protruding into the Blackness of a swan

Estuary ~

The down-trodden and mentally disturbed youth;

Ready for a Ride into the heaven of cells of hundreds of

Years confinement with the Megalithic

Monument in the Memoria of this Lonely Planets of a

Cluster’’’

Anchored for the Karma Tantra Mundra and Yantra

It is telling something somehow in Silence

Decline and reclines of Postures are those Demons’ Dances

 Spelt under the Sky we try to tell a

Story; psychic group are weary of the

Glances of those strangers

It is hard to guess –

All is too quick for a lonely gunman

   The grim cloud destroy the angst-driven alcoholic

Only temporary

Transitory is the soft light mix a Fix of noisy Uneasiness

The hue is an happy face

The saturation is a skirt

Is our future a Dream?

A girl opposite to the Chord is expecting

The prelude which is the Impulse

Suddenly the Bats glide in the Night of Phantom of

Imperfections

I woke up

In fright I saw an Embroidery Silk Shoe

Please do not frown

The guilt has turned into the Water Organic

 Ripples is expanding in Virtuality

In Memoria, your facet is in love with the Distance?

Of a Poetic Decease that is

Vomiting the Sorrow of Longevity

Vomiting the Yesteryear’s Shadow

Plus the menstrual blood and filth

It is not the refusal of Hate

The forms and shapes of cloud on the edge of the Sky and You

Has vapoured a red stain in the Idea

I saw you are stripped naked streaking among the Walker and Talkers

In the marble cold Square

- as Shadows of ghosts are stalking you

- since the Law is slightly different to the Morality

 Then the emotional clashes mutate into the Tumour in the Brains

    The lanterns burst in flames

Up to the starry sky;

Wasted, tasted…

The memories of us, now and then

It’s only 40.41.42 and 43 years

Smothered are your constant stares of Emptiness

Smirks and sleeps of a visionary Image of destitude Mist

Are gone with the Wind

It flies high

As we swam down the tide

As it was drizzling.

    The method of slow discovery

 I did not know why before…

The only bliss

Day in and day out…

Mistresses squeal on the Industrial Debris

The Medieval Myth somewhat has wrecked itself

Into a Rubble

Crumble and tumble so far

Night in and night out

People are gossiping the Bottom Line Murder and its Compulsion…

The Doom has its end

Currently ---

We are against the Waves of Raves of indifference

We are against the meaningless freeze of Existence

We are against ---

Life is but a course of action and no-action and non-action…

They again start to brag about the Ruse of Reason and the cause-and-effect

 Trains hisses and fizzes in the Metalicaland

The invisible melody is triste of Sorrow and Pieta

Standing is the Constructed Pile Driver Machine

In far and wide footling lands in the Nightmares of Drum beats of

Cacophony

Now, the Images of a dark night has set in

Cobalt moonlight chaser the Drizzles of

Universe and the Meditation of Tranquility

 I am longing for…

 But It is only a course of certain kind

A Trip of hearts’ journey!

    The shopping spree is stronger than the Digital Desire

People are shrieking

The pollen floats over the soil of Fences

They have a running nose

The spring’s storm is a telephone buzz vanishing in the

Voltage current of the Trams

They are vocalising

We don’t need anything

As the Cat is tasting the cans from the Supermarket

 The bones downstairs connects with my Hands

There is an Entrance Door of a scene of

Resurrection

That was not a reason

Indulgence is not a justifying season

 Breathing hard…

Puffs of some cuffs

 The finger-nails of Positive and Negative are reduced to

Absurdity

Only the dialectic pierce is tender

Dancing full moon is fictitious seven strings

The chord is wonderful

However, their Fear and Threats, still…

Then we are all posing a gesture of Danger

 Life is sweet who would wish to die?

It is the raindrops hitting the Iceberg of the Antarctica

Smile is doubt

Sometimes they need calamity

Of being Calm

Fearless flames unite our Tenderness

The realistic tradition is no infinity

The transaction monetary is not telling a Story

It is but a course

   The shrunk gum of Teeth shone the Sunny craze

In the telephone rings

Sturdy shade is short

In the Sky of Sorrow

Illustrating our Rings of Survivals

The moustache and goatees don’t intent to argue with

Emptiness and Blankness

We met in between the Paranoid’s Rant, Slap-across-the-Faces and photos

Languages stresses your Rouge’n’Noir

When my field of Hearts is being irrigated

 Fallacy is a Medusa shakily drifting around and around

Our regrets are the early experiences and courses of Production

 3 Rant

 Untitled

A free-verse rant like the freckled digits of yesteryear

 The vials of your jelly, across the deck of the insidious creases

Into the hearts of your ac/dc melody

The position is upset

Down the north by south-west, that is our feet direction

While we are wasted in our heads

In the sky !

The polar magnetics attract each other as if in the

Classroom of experimental in the School

Since the steam engine and electric theories were powered

Propelled and sailed Like the dark varrukers Anarchy

Without tanks, fishes and the bullets I bitten

A belt a pistol and the graveyard’s hierarchy

The skins and records

On the turn-tables spin over since the Summer of a four

Digits

Not because we are born for the Facts of Roots

Something is pretty dry

Something is moistened

Something is deep underground,

  Thick dark hair expose your Hands of Azalea Red

Butterflies flutter the Sweet Life

Only the Past of Mountains hook up the Soul

You said, my stares are a bit sore

Your perfume is smelt like a font of Phantom

Your belongings is smelt  here  and  Now

I said something

You said,,

 Withered sunflowers project over the Earth

Is the mad woman

In elongated limps mermaids by the Sea

Shells breathe

Is proportioned to the Flirt

Rifle points to the Vagina of the Girdle

That is a Desert Scenery

In vague.,

 Woke up in the sirens of ambulance and Lullabies

The chords complete are curvaceous

Re-constructed sounds creates another 17

Discordant notes actions of Thoughts are another Praise Song

Beauty is unified and pulled

Beauty is not important here

    This is the monologue of a clown

Olympic committee is holding a conference in Sydney

Utopia has a Gang of Five and its members

The extreme confession owns a Past

Today the weather is nice, very nice

The forecast does not predict that of tomorrow

The theory is grey; the pure is takes of some film shots

Please drink the running water after you wash your hands

It is difficult to find the Water in the desert

Although the running water is bleached,

We can release ourselves in the W.C. of the cinema

The discourse of the Power represent a few Buddha statues, bodisattvas and Dories

The operas have got its tune and beat; vacant and lonely

Criterion, critic plus the footnote and commentary are superb.

Colourful environment is beneficial to the Personal Hygiene

Times has changed and men and women are equal

Aunt Guo has just opened an Auto repair Shop

The technicians are busy working

I gave the Car to the boss to relax

Step forward a bit…

Many problems can not be solved straight away

Returning to the Grassland is not impossible

Equality is always centred ; central is -

Anyhow this is a simple fact.

  Until now we chatted

There is a polluted river

Talk is cheap

Words’ goal is one.

The beast in the cage tears apart the rod

For the sake of Love and Scold

Where is the Ideal and Passion?

Lets start to mention the Fear

The smashed guitar openly announces in full mouth

This is not an unreplaced melody

Her throat was slit with a steel wire.

Gimme pleasure

  Vanishing faces of red and green

The lies on the Side

Drifting away from the Shore

Of my floating mortal coil

Snoozes in the copulation of Flesh and Death

Being here and now

Redenvouz in the Other Space

I touched your lips

The facial is gone in the Morning

Endless…

Another is the trouble of another

It is just a mistake

Blinking melancholy of Lips

Kissing the stairway to the Vain Hope

My wishes are dirt cheap

   With you, in the Square

 Heat wobbles through your swathe of Memory

Groan,purring and growl smut the Dark

Edge that eats up the 69 poses

Waves no longer imitate the mechanic

Motions

There were no Love lotion in your

Dream

night in, night out...

day by day...

Ambient embraces

Shout us a fairy tale of Floss

The nymphs swim and slither over

my Ocean

 day in, night out...

We are together longing for the throbs of

No-space

Negation of a Non-space

Serpent's colours and shapes

Still

Mark and reveal the Images

Phenomenon, which are

Simple

Heat will be with us tonight

In your square

   A Phantom in the Creek

 Ye! The Phantom  is at the arm's length

In my Spright the elf of Anna coles

Haunts the Bits and Bytes of the I.T.

A superhighway of Desires

Indolence is the 18 years old with a Top Gun

Crashed and smashed into the buffalo

Over the rocks of the Solitude

 Yes! The Phantom is looming in the masquerade

With mercy, melancholy and magarain

A tongue licks fast on the Brim

The cloud of your forlorn eyes

Emotions of a 1967 erotica

Simply twists and turns

Only a U-turn recalls the Pieta, Vanitas and Las Vagas

 Yeah! The Phantom is away on the window of the Desert

Our sorrow casts a shadow of Grimace

Over the Psyche, in the name of the Death, Poesy

Nights vapours the flies that

Sneak into our smell

Indolence is a sad washing machine

  no no no

in the trenches of the gunshot wounds

remembrance is the domestic civil war

the parade of Woman's Red Brigade march into

the catwalks of Light Blue sore

such was the dialogue of Freedom Village

 mayhem it was

 Still reek of the disfigured and burned soldiers

Piled in the Square parade

Flag sings in  the Plastic Flowers of dolls

Still aligned to the Meridian of the Zodiac for sure

Time froze till

A romp with the spectators

Is too much of a goose

Gliding into your Oblivion

 Tragedy it was

 Backward glances+flashbacks+demigod status

approximately equals the Sorrow

Of the Nuclear Mushroom cloud flirting

Yes it is true that love can not be borrowed

 Armour it was !

 no no no

in the trenches of the gunshot wounds

remembrance is the domestic civil war

the parade of Woman's Red Brigade march into

the catwalks of Light Blue sore

such was the dialogue of Freedom Village

 mayhem it was

 Still reek of the disfigured and burned soldiers

Piled in the Square parade

Flag sings in  the Plastic Flowers of dolls

Still aligned to the Meridian of the Zodiac for sure

Time froze till

A romp with the spectators

Is too much of a goose

Gliding into your Oblivion

 Tragedy it was

 Backward glances+flashbacks+demigod status

approximately equals the Sorrow

Of the Nuclear Mushroom cloud flirting

Yes it is true that love can not be borrowed

 Armour it was !

  untitled 171108

 means of engaging with human rights status quo by willingly taking over the

good intentions of neo-liberal state

it has increasingly withdrawn the focus strictly on art's content

to fill the gaps left with reasons why a number of co-ordinated donations

and freedom cultural and its destruction of its collections of

a collective concern

human rights struggles long after its occurence, its maintenance

it has been a collaboration's goal

successes thus depends on a concentrated

respects for different intents

and psyche, immersive drones of two-pieces

themselves, their own benefits

and recordings

the project really took off

what has been documented here is only scrapings

applicable to Spanish Magic and other factors

either in abundance or sadly

it zeros in on the process

not something more Spanish magic

lo-fi duo win over the sinks to heil spirits

and the missing links

rock the horse in 2008

80's might not have stood a chance

only time will tell.

 to discover the tactics is to rediscover 465 of disused railway yards

of darling harbour and the sound of Sounds

unpoliced and unregulated in a way

the textures are shared

neoliberal going there

and traction of each in the glosses

 an incredible band and a lots of bands

  You say, I say

 to pixy

 mermaids swim against

the wind in the sky

along the ocean road of pains

ages of expectation lie by your side

 slithering was your scarlet impressed

writhe-ring flowers had me arrested

waiting is a mind game

my heart sadden timid and tame

 dance dance to the bass beats

our imaginations perform best feats

wicked are those sublime fairies

submarine seewees twist my beings hairy

 wisteria creeps up your heart of walls

wedges squeeze your very angle of falls

my love cream molten away

be a smooth operator, you say

be a smooth operator, I say

  YOU vibrate to the beats of a solo act

my kunadili is risen to the

swirls of an Union

twirls of the Ruptures

surrendering the surrendered

Gaze

 I can feel your Cosmic Dance

Returned to the loop of a Resonance

Rotated to the Total Embrace of Succulence

Yieldingly

Peach-flowers have been

In bloom

In the fields of

Grace

 In the steam there is a tune

A melody swishing in the mountains of Love

Pieta and Melancholy and

Your face

 YOU vibrate to the feats of our Imagination

In this mortal coil

An act without audience

In silence

Heart against heart

Heavy pounding and thudding provoke the Providence

Of a taste

 I can not yell that I LOVE YOU

Because you are so far away in the Gaze

I can not yell that I LOVE YOU dream-lover

Because you are so close in the Glaze

 So its resonated again over again in our Cosmic

Dance of a trance

 4 Seals

 Seals of our six’n’sevens are stamped onto our vulnerable skins

Love is evolving

All we need is evoling Love

Objective in a subjunctive mood

Installed is the Object Love that circulates around

Such are your poses, your stains and pains

The florescent tubes brighten and dim the horns of the

Colourful ghosts runs

Thus, the rashes of our Spectrum rant in the Concrete Boxes

Thus, the innuendo of our Love is rejected, refused and gagged

   Smouldering is our Love

…12,13,14,15…

Smoke is far away

It is destructive no more, you say

Come on

Groan and grunt were 12 years ago

Mystery was coming

Artery I felt and your veins I witnessed

 Smouldering was the Past in present tense

Future is now and

Our futuristic worries smother a Thought

Mother tongue was arbitrary

So a spirit translates itself in the Court of Poetic Justice

After all it wasn’t a crime being a Smooth Co-ordinator

   As we approached the Fed Square not Time Square nor the Red Square,

Fifteen degree

The funny fanny wedges away like the balloons of Orlando

So I looked back and saw a Wolf; Mum is talking again to me

Wicked laughs echoed in a Six_Dimensional Seascape

So I looked back over again

Nothing but a cat was teasing, purring and tantalizing the crowd

And the Rising Cobra

Music was mesmerising around us

They were pretty clicky

Then we tried hard to be nitty-gritty

The moon would not tell us all

Only the toad in the sugar-cane field illuminated

   albatoir

 having acted out to kill a mp

people start to believe a 'bad trip'

constitutional wisdom is equal to black

that is white and that is black

fallen angels are being tempted by underground

propaganda, that is:

100% beef topside mince $4.49 a kilo

chicken wings $4.99 a kilo

lamb legs $4.99 a kilo

BBQ thick sausage $1.99 a kilo

lean round steak $5.99 a kilo

tender bone steak $7.99 a kilo

corned silverside $5.99 a kilo

sirloin steak $5.99 a kilo

rump steak $5.99 a kilo

scotch fillet $9.99 a kilo

 - human intestines stir-fried with a bit of red wine -

I shouted

Intellectuals are flayed

Nine peasants are roasted

As my soul is cheap in Glebe morgue

  Since the trumpets and trombones were blown……

 Feeling are the wings clipped as the sea-gals glide across the Y river

We went up to the balcony of the lounge

Thursday Thursday nights were the darkness of silence

After the underground had the times changed in the wind

In the names of the tainted Love

Uneasiness jumps jams and jinxes at the intersection of

A path:

Our hearts of wails remorse and wrinkles of a hidden Angst

Pumped 70 times per minute

When you rode the pony

When you were young

When we showered off the aftermath of responsibilities well-beings

And crises

 It is called…

It is called…

In the vicinity of our Brittle Dreams which are scaffolding a

Framework of the futuristic noisy tantrum

It was called as

The wind, trumpets and trombones were blown…

  I screamed into the Void

and discovered the Real you

Reflected in the constant reminder of

a longing for the Future

 Your Uranus curve girdles our special dimension

In the Cyberspace without your portraiture of a

Past

Concrete is the music

Yet the trip is beyond our Galaxy

Resonance is the sound without feelings

In the mist of our evening twilight

Here comes the rain again.

Here comes the rain again !

 In the darkness of some aesthetic of Saxophone,

Surfaces of sensualities and shapes of Danger's

Freedom looms around

We will set free again

In the wildness of some kooky memories of Spoken words spoken,

Fog of uncertainties now and then...

Being affected has no reasons at all.

  In our slumbers there once was a story

Not to be told

Your yellow smileys are coming as a grimace of

The pace of walking into the Unknown

A ghostly spectrum of mists in the early evenings

Looming in the Distance

 Smile is your face of Flowers longing for the Radiance

Oh! Something is in the way

Our experimental stares are timid

 Sonnet-Elf

 The dark cloud dissolve some entities of elves

As I fainted over and over on the ground

Why don't we dance to the wild beats ourselves

Because last night I went up there but never found

Your moon-lit face was sunken in the tainted mirth

As I've been waiting for a tantalizing kiss

Yet what I am left is dull and plain piss

Maybe you know too well the ecstasy of pains of birth

As a sprinkle of morning dew will cleanse off painted filth

Since the congealed blood scarlet evokes to my lost mind

- Loneliness of longings and belongs within it dwells

With elf, nymph and pixy flying low

Advertising something special and spectacular for sell

Love's shadow of lust tilts from toe to toe

Ah! the purple haze shrouds your beguiling souls!

[wander-verse]

Fool’s Errand 1/2

He came home from the woods, age eight, to see Mother weeping on the doorstep. A magistrate’s wagon was carrying his father away under a shroud.

There was an accident while he was playing that day. A hired hand, a thresher, swung his scythe directly into Papa’s chest. It was an accident. The thresher was run off the farm by the neighbors, anyway.

That winter the rest of the wheat rotted in the fields. Who in their right mind would harvest it? Nobody would harvest cursed plants. Nobody would bake with tainted grain. It was the first death Azar could remember, and the hardest above the rest.

--

A man in a uniform came to the farm and took count of everyone present. Mother seemed afraid, but the man in the uniform barely said anything to her. He did, however, ask for the oldest child’s birthday and age. He made sure the child’s bones were strong, that the child’s vision was good, that the child could hear and run and climb. Then the soldier left. Azar was twelve years old.

Just before his fourteenth birthday, a magistrate’s messenger came from town and passed him a stamped, sealed paper. It was the year three-hundred forty-seven, in a season that Turkans would later call The Spring of Empty Houses.

He was a familiar face, the messenger; Azar recognized him as the gangly man who delivered forms from the town granary, as well as his mother’s tiny inheritance. The child tucked the paper under his arm and invited the messenger in to say hello to Mother and his baby sister, who took great joy in playing with the messenger’s long ringlets.

But the messenger shook his head. He insisted that Azar open the letter immediately. He had to return with a response.

Inside the letter was King Osman’s seal and an order. Report to the quartermaster at the Throne in the South as soon as possible.

Azar wasn’t stupid. The letter didn’t need to announce itself as a conscription order for him to know. Word in town was that you would know your assignment based on the reporting site: the magisters if you were selected for siege service, the guard academy for cavalry and archery recruits, the quartermaster for infantry. If you were to be excused for health or merit, you weren’t sent all the way to the Throne in Tiguerout.

Mother knew something was wrong when she returned from the peach grove. One of the twins was in the kitchen, sitting beneath the table and crying. She comforted the abandoned toddler and later found Azar in the wheat fields, tears streaking his dusty face.

Mother stopped his crying, stiffened his lip. She helped him pack up clothes and dried fruit and bread for the trip and sent him away with enough money for the ferry rides to the mainland.

--

Innsmen gave him free lodging in Passenso and Diban. Nobody seemed to ask why such a young child, so dirty in the face and with a farmhand’s clothes, was travelling somber and alone towards Tiguerout. The Dibani Arms owner gave him a free dinner and set him up in a tiny room on the second floor; at the Minstrel Inn in Passenso, a barmaid took him silently to a chamber out of the way of the other customers. He didn’t ask questions.

It was much the same in Ouaïnnkanou, the southernmost mainland city. There were choices of inns here, but most buildings had hand-painted signs advertising free rooms to young men heading for Tiguerout. He wandered into one near the edge of town and was sent to a room crowded with others. That night, he slept on the floor between a crying boy not much older than himself and a father who spent half the evening folding and unfolding a letter.

From Ouaïnnkanou to Tiguerout he rode in a wagon carrying hay and men. The farmers didn’t seem bothered by bindle-carrying travelers who hopped on the backs of their wagons without warning, so he stepped up onto one and held on tight. It was a rocky ride, but it was much faster than walking, and easier.

The child trained up quick, like all the other soldiers. There was, in that year, no time for long drills and specialization. The border dispute with Ketharous turned bloody in the earliest days of spring, and Turkos dealt with the blood in the only way they could at the time: young bodies, maybe not primed but armed and zealous. Azar’s training class was together for just under two months before they shipped north to Béla Crava for their final orders. The day after the company set out, Azar turned fourteen.

--

Caravans of soldiers, rations and weapons left Tiguerout on the ill-maintained northeast road that skirted the Oxspine mountains and wound along the coast of Turkos. This far east there weren’t many cities, just small fishing villages and scattered groups of sheep-farming nomads—the coast was ill-guarded and very few people settled in the region for fear of invasion by sea. Sometimes at night, though, when they passed along the shorter mountains, the company could see smoke from fires and radiant light from the cities along the Turkan steppe to the west.

Azar marched with the ration cart, rear left corner, a cloth over his face to keep out the dust and the cold. At first he tried to trot to keep up with it, but he soon learned to hang onto the side instead, sword drawn and ready for bandits and wolves. On the second day he fell off and couldn’t catch up for almost an hour. He did not fall again.

By night he stayed close to the ration cart and hid behind a wheel, rubbing his dust-dried eyes and trying to warm his hands. A rotation of men, young and old, joined him with blankets, thicker coats, stories, tears, but never the same person twice, never the same sad story told a second time. He collected their words and, with a scrap of paper in his tunic pocket, wrote them down in a letter to Mother.

It took nearly two months to reach Béla Crava from Tiguerout, two months of nighttime raids from wild boars and teary stories from strangers and choking dust that coated Azar’s tongue until all food tasted the same. They marched triumphant through the city as if they’d won some battle, banners flapping and brass calling around them, attended by townspeople who’d long since learned to see through the pageantry. An old lady, grumbling a language he didn’t know, handed him a delicious-smelling roll. He nibbled at it, but it tasted still like dust.

--

Company Twenty-Seven, the poster read, reporting to Colonel Youssein in Halflight Valley, at the outpost by the foot of Mount Egri. He knew the word Halflight. He knew the stories about men ripped apart by the Kethars. Azar tried to rub his eyes and reread the poster, but the words were the same: Company Twenty-Seven, Halflight Valley, Mount Egri outpost. The other soldiers broke down their caravan and headed for their supply trains and scouting companies and field hospitals, and he followed his company to the front.

--

It was October, with a chill settling into the wood of the pikes that surrounded their camp, when Azar ran from his first battle. A Kethari scouting team set explosive powder in the crook of a hastily-built guard tower and set it alight. The guards leapt down before the tower collapsed in on itself, and the horsemen rushed to cut off the scouts before they could escape.

Somewhere distant, Colonel Youssein called for the infantry to attack. From the ditches and the tents and the wagons, men bolted for the tower and the Kethars at the base.

Hours later, First Lieutenant Hokka found Azar cowering under the ribs of a dismantled wagon. She reprimanded him for cowardice and assigned him to night watch for two weeks.

In another life, First Lieutenant Hokka thought, I’d comfort him. A child, terrified under a wagon, watching soldiers twice his age torn to shreds. But the King’s offices don’t believe in children from the Eastern Isles, only men.

--

The next day, his bunkmate left for Béla Crava in a wagon attended by medics. They covered his pockmarked body in a wool cloth and waved thick, choking incenses around the camp. Kethar Rot, the whispers said, and anyone nearby could be struck the same. It lived in the water and the air and only Kethars themselves were immune. One of the artillerymen, a native of Meshullam, offered Azar a sticky salve and a prayer, but he shook his head, indicating the Sign of the Empty that his mother had sent along. No absent gods would spare them of the rot.

--

Two more skirmishes came and went, and the time between fights got shorter. They saw prowling Kethari scouts behind trees and rocks and in the distant hills to the east, even on days when nobody came running from cover with weapons raised. Wounded horses and camels littered the field around the camp (one with Azar’s knife in its ribs, earning nothing more than a stern nod from First Lieutenant Hokka), some draped over their crying riders. One of the Casthan soldiers, a pale man with very little skill in Turkan, wandered the fields at sundown silencing the horses and their trapped riders, but Azar was still sure he heard them crying at night.

The third skirmish bled into the night. Colonel Youssein called for reinforcements the first moment he could spare a horse; the messenger bolted silent into the night mere minutes before another wave of Kethars spilled down the steep hills, leaping over the bodies of their kin.

Azar was quick. All the youngest soldiers were. The Turkan armor was far too big on his body, so he had left it in his tent hours before; that night, weaving through abandoned cannons and falling bodies, he was glad for the light tunic. When their reinforcements arrived from the Bohula contingent, he found that the remainders of the Twenty-Seventh were all unarmored as well.

A Bohula contingent officer, ushering the sodden and exhausted survivors to a field hospital behind the camp, told him the battle was near over, that he’d done his service and his mother would be proud when she saw him. He said the dregs of the Twenty-Seventh would return to Tiguerout as heroes, adorned in garlands of rare flowers and sent back to their homes with as much silver as they could carry. This was the payment for their terror. A day later, the same officer took them from the hospital and sent them back to the smoke-choked field.

He rotated in and out of battle for two more days before the Kethari finally ran back into the hills, dragging dying officers behind them. Colonel Youssein’s final orders, taken from his jacket before his body was burned, directed the last thirty soldiers of his regiment to the Twenty-Ninth in the Siperm marsh. He watched Hokka’s dead eyes as she read their orders aloud, watched the light fade around her as they marched north.

--

The night watch shrieked, and Azar was the first to move. Ever since they left Mount Egri, he hadn’t slept at all; every tiny noise made his hands clench tight on his wool blanket, so he’d given up on sleep entirely.

He leapt up to see only one Kethar, midnight-black paint cutting his face into ribbons, the campfire glinting gold on the bronze tip of his spear. Azar found the night watcher’s knife stuck blade-down into a log, found it in his hand and flying easy, whistling, through the air,

found it in the Kethar’s throat,

found the Kethar on the ground

dead, eyes wide.

First Lieutenant Hokka didn’t say a word when she awoke. The Twenty-Seventh were silent. Nobody made a move to stop him when he snatched up his blanket and a flaming branch from their fire. Surely someone would report this, the whole incident, the scout and the single enemy casualty and the clear hints at a diverted raid, but not for quite a while.

He ran, and he didn’t look back.

[writingonjorvik]

The B Team Druids - Chapter 10 - The Pink Haze

Returning to work was the strangest part of the next few weeks. Moorland felt dull compared to the rides Carrie and her new friends went on. Not always in a bad way, Carrie like returning to the more stable rush around the barn, the waves of tourists and teens a nice break from the weird silence from Raven, Bree’s frantic babbling, and the constant tension between Saoirse and Ari.

They were getting better. Or at least, they weren’t actively seeking out points to fight on anymore. Which was a relief most days, but Carrie wouldn’t have put it past either of them to suddenly launch into a real fight, or start magically jousting, undoing all of the progress they’d made. It just felt like they were on the edge of something serious.

Justin hadn’t come back though, and Carrie was starting to get worried. Saoirse had mentioned that he was likely to become a person of interest to the druids soon, based on a push from the Soul Riders and this Champion, who she hadn’t met. Apparently she was getting some kind of special training up in the mountains on how to control her powers, though the druids didn’t seem to have the resources to help Carrie with her own magic. But they had found Justin, at the Dark Core oil rig, apparently working with his grandfather.

Her side buzzed, bringing Carrie back from her thoughts. She leaned the shovel against the wall and fished out her phone. A text from Saoirse scrawled over the screen “Elizabeth wants us to find answers about your powers.”

Saoirse had been pushing almost every weekend to make it the weekend they went out to test Carrie’s dream powers. Carrie had been pushing it off, wanting to firm up their bonds better before finding answers and having to speak to Jon again. She felt like she was going to let the ghost down, not knowing how to use her powers already. Not that she really needed to prove herself. She wasn’t even the hero he was waiting on.

“Alright. When?” Carrie texted back, pushing her phone into her pocket, hoping Saoirse would handle the planning. She knew Carrie was working right now.

“How abou’ now?”

Carrie jumped, scrambling to wrap her hands on the shovel. She pushed it hard into the ground before turning to look at Saoirse, leaning against the barn door. She snickered for a moment before asking with genuine concern. And tension that Carrie couldn’t place. “Ya alrigh’?”

“Yeah, you surprised me,” Carrie replied, trying not to sound huffy. What was Saoirse doing here? Yeah, they all knew she lived at Moorland, but that didn’t really mean it was ok to follow her here. It seemed like a sort of unsaid boundary about this whole thing, that they didn’t hang out during the week. “What do you mean now?”

“I mean dat Ari, Bree, and Raven are waitin’ outside for ya, and we ough’ to ge’ dis over wid.” Saoirse folded her arms over her chest, waiting.

What was this, some kind of intervention? Carrie pointed the shovel in Saoirse’s direction. “I’m at work, Saoirse. I can’t. We can reschedule--”

“No, we can go now,” Saoirse restated, pushing off the barn wall. “Ya can’ push dis off. We need to find answers. Now.”

Carrie watched Saoirse. The druid looked upset, tired, startled. Carrie leaned the shovel over a bale of hay. “What’s wrong? Why the rush now?”

Tilting her chin across the stable to Ash, Saoirse replied, suddenly very serious, “Ge’ her. Silverglade is under attack.” Saoirse locked eyes with Carrie for a moment, before giving a sharp whistle for Copper. “And we need to know if ya’re makin’ i’ worse.” Carrie turned to look at Ash, the mare snorting back at Carrie before bouncing her head over the stall door.

Carrie didn’t even bother tacking up Ash. She pulled a bridle on and then swung onto the pony’s back. Ash began trotting on as Carrie clipped the reins on, forcing her to give Ash a running mount out of the barn. Outside were four nervous horses, Copper practically throwing himself forward as he waited to get moving. Overhead, Carrie could see a pink glow shimmering beyond the Silverglade Castle.

Saoirse was on the phone as Carrie and Ash rode up. “What is that?” Carrie demanded, pointing towards the lights over the horizon. Clouds were collecting around the glow, slowly blocking out the horizon. Silverglade, Steve’s farm, all trapped in a growing black and pink blot.

“Like, hell,” Ari answered, her streaks struggling between maroon and yellow. Noble was scraping the ground beneath her, his ears pressed back.

“It’s Pandoria, breaking through,” Bree answered. “We saw a little crack open a few weeks ago in Golden, but we didn’t think it was that bad. Now the barrier is sobadthattheycangetthroughin--”

The end call tone was louder than Carrie remembered it being as Saoirse hung up. Saoirse shouted, “Dat was Linda. Alex and deir new friend are headed for Silverglade now, bu’ we need to ge’ in dere and contain i’ for dem, and ge’ any civilians ou’. Let’s go!”

Copper was running before Saoirse even gave him the command. The other three asked their horses on, leaving Carrie and Ash behind for a moment in the dust. Carrie raised her hand to block out the dust, feeling her legs squeeze Ash’s side to ask the mare on, but also to hold on.

Was this really happening? That pink haze was getting closer and closer, suddenly very real. All of it was very real. Her powers, this druids, all of it become ten times realier in Carrie’s mind as she chased after her companions up the road to Silverglade. Saoirse had been so casual walking into that barn. Carrie never would have guessed people’s lives were in danger, not until she saw that haze. Not until she saw the way their horses were straining to go faster. This was real. This was what being a druid meant.

And she was riding towards it.

Saoirse pulled them off road, off by Steve’s and up to the boulevard in front of Silverglade Castle. It was like a fog hanging over the city, with pink energy lashing out in all directions. The fog was spreading and condensing, making it harder to see in, but also giving them less space to work with in the safety of the untouched world.

“Bree, Raven, ya’re ou’ here. Establish a camp, Bree, keep Raven safe so she can work. Move dem towards de castle, I doub’ de Baroness will mind,” Saoirse ordered, pointing towards the castle. The two peeled off from the group, Bree holding the bridge as Raven swung off, untacking Blook to setup some kind of camp.

“We’re goin’ in dere,” Saoirse stated. “Keep close to me, and I’ll try to keep my barrier up around ya. If ya fall ou’, ride ou’, and we’ll go back in on de nex’ run.”

Carrie glanced to Ari. She was nodding, her hands gripped around Noble’s reins. Nervous, but no doubt. Ari must have noticed the look, because she turned to Carrie and smiled. “We’ve got this. Help is, like, on the way.”

“Don’ try anyding stupid. We’re here for search and rescue, dat’s all.” Saoirse looked between them before nodding. Static began to build around them, enveloping Saoirse’s palm.

Why wasn’t someone like Saoirse the leader of this group? She was far more confident in charge like this. Carrie couldn’t imagine giving orders on a battlefield, which is what this was feeling more and more like. The light was building in Saoirse’s palm, but Saoirse looked aggravated at it. A wall of sparks shot out, before crumpling out in a rapid sphere of showering electricity. Saoirse cursed under her breath before trying again.

Carrie looked up at the wall surrounding the city. Where they really doing this? She turned to Ari. “What’s in there?”

“Shadow Seekers, probably,” Ari replied. “They’re, like, these awful little monsters that make you super depressed and stuff. They’re probably chasing after anything that moves. I just hope that’s it.”

Suddenly Saoirse shouted again, “Fuckin’ dere we go.” A wall of crackling energy erupted in front of her. “I can’ ge’ de backside in time, so stay close.” She and Copper began cantering forward towards the haze, Ari following after to watch Saoirse’s back. Carrie took one deep breath in before asking Ash on.

She watched Saoirse slip through the fog, then Ari. She could make out their outlines ahead of her as she and Ash walked towards the fog.

But it hit her like a wall to slip through it.

Carrie put her arms out to brace as she felt herself falling. There was a thud, yet not shot of pain raced through her. Ash was frantic in front of her, and Carrie rocked her head back as she realized the horrible timing of her out of body experience. She pulled herself to her feet, pulling away from her body as Ash stood over it. The mare nudged Carrie’s sleeping form, before slowing trying to push Carrie out of the fog.

Around her, the world was a clashing series of golds and blacks, all chasing purples. Silverglade was a mirage, waving its shape like it was being torn apart. All around her, Carrie could see lights, the outlines of people, her friends brighter than the rest. But brighter than that was the large tears in the world. For a moment, Carrie was afraid of getting closer. This world felt flimsy, like walking through water, unlike all of her previous visits. But as she walked further into the haze, the more she began to see. Villagers running and hiding, screaming as the black blobs got closer.

No, they weren’t blobs, not to Carrie. There was something inside in. Little gremlins with beady red eyes, their bodies coiled up inside a black cloud. She watched one as it got closer, long tentacle like arms began reaching out of the haze, grasping for the villagers and leaving them with black marks over their heads.

“Hey!” Carrie roared it as it cornered a group of tourists. She reached for something to throw, but found nothing. The Shadow Seeker turned towards her, tilting itself as it looked at her.

Make yourself look big, like with a bear, she thought. She raised her arms up over her head, shouting, “Come and get me, you fucker!”

The blob watched her for a moment. Carrie started to smile as she distracted it, watching Ari and Saoirse flit by, carrying a few locals off to safety. She wondered if they had noticed she wasn’t there yet.

Then the creature unfurled is ten oiled tentacles, revealing a sharp beak like mouth inside its ball. It was like staring up at an moving wall, and it was nearly triple the size of Carrie, moving towards her.

“Oh, shit.” Carrie nearly tripped as she pulled herself backwards, launching herself away from the monster as quickly as she could. She could hear it hissing behind her as she ran back towards Ash, before stopping herself. She couldn’t drag this thing towards her body, much less towards all of the innocent people waiting in Raven and Bree’s camp.

She had to stall it.

Carrie started doubling back, looping between walls that the creature couldn’t fit through. When she did, it coiled its tentacles back into itself, forced to contract to the reality of the world. Using this, Carrie kept a few long strides ahead of the monster.

As she started back for the town hall building, she saw a bright light moving into the city. She could make out gold beneath the brilliant unicorn and its rider. A storm brewed around her before a shower of light formed a dome near her. Carrie took a guess that this was Alex. And as the air in her lungs began to shrivel from outrunning the Shadow Seeker, she rushed for the complete barrier around the Soul Rider.

Alex was talking to the councilman for Silverglade, the man refusing to leave the city before the residents. It was all Alex would do to keep a safe haven up in the middle of town.

Saoirse and Ari eventually found her, leaving a few civilians with her. Alex leaned forward from her saddle. “How many people have you gotten out?”

“Twenty or so, I haven’ been countin’,” Saoirse said, sending out crackling balls of static. Loose unrefined magic. “Bu’ we’ve go’ a bi’ of a loose cannon, so to speak. Did Elizabed tell ya abou’ Carrie?”

“The dream-walking girl?” Alex asked. “Yeah, briefly. You guys were supposed to be testing her powers.”

“Well, she’s doin’ dat now. We think she go’ knocked ou’ by de fog, woke up wid her powers. She’s ou’ here, somewhere, or in her dream world,” Saoirse explained. “I don’ know if her magic is goin’ to pull dose rifts or pull de Seekers, bu’ we need to ge’ dis contained, and we need to find her-- soul.”

I’m right here, Carrie thought, reaching for her phone.

“I have to keep this barrier up,” Alex replied. “Get as many people out as you can and then we’ll work on closing rifts. I’ll try to keep an eye out or something for your friend.”

“Where’s yar friend?”

“She’s getting a crash course in Lightning Circle magic as we speak. Let’s hold this fort until she’s here to start closing those rifts for me,” Alex ordered. Without much hesitation, Saoirse and Ari wheeled around, booking it away from Alex to start getting more people out.

The councilmen inquired, “What can’t you get those rifts closed now?”

“I may have magic, but I can only do so much as once. If I start the ritual to close a rift, I’ll have to put down this shield,” Alex explained, launching a much more concentrated blast of energy than Saoirse’s. It pegged a Seeker, the gremlin shriveling up into a wisp and disappearing. “And I won’t be able to do that. Get inside.”

Carrie looked around. She couldn’t keep hiding here. She knew she was drawing the Seekers. They came after her almost instantly when they spotted her, and even in this barrier, they could sense her. But she knew she wasn’t affecting the rifts. She could feel them, see their magic spilling out, but they were like doorways that had opened in the earth. They weren’t living. Maybe if she could get enough of the Seekers away though, Saoirse could close the rifts. This was her circle of magic. If Alex could do it, so could Saoirse.

Stepping out of the circle of light, Carrie dialed for Saoirse. She could hear the ringing of her friend’s phone through all the other noise, but barely had time to process it as one of the Seekers charged at her. Carrie almost doubled back to Alex, but booked it instead towards one of the alleys to begin ducking and weaving again from the creatures.

The phone kept ringing, until it was fairly clear that Saoirse wasn’t going to answer. Carrie shoved her phone into her pocket, turning to see where she could dodge to next. But as she turned around completely, she realized she’d cornered herself, a Shadow Seeker looming closer to her from behind.

Carrie pressed her back to the wall, looking around for any way out. Silverglade’s walls were pretty flimsy. Maybe she could climb over here? No, no purchase. Of course, the one solid portion of the wall would be right here.

Tentacles slammed into the ground beside her, leaving no trace of their presence. Those were in Carrie’s reality, and they were coming closer. She could feel their magic eeking over her as another lashed forward, and another as the Seeker marched on. One finally grappled her right arm, tugging it forward. Black itch poured through her, the blob roaring, “HUNGRY!” as it began dragging her closer.

The sound of the beak snapping was all too real, all too close. Carrie wrestled to get the tentacle off, only to have another latch on to her legs, forcing her to buckle as she was pulled closer and closer.

She managed to wedge a foot on the bottom of the beak, a hand on the top, but the sharp edges were cutting into her skin. She could feel blood, feeling in this form and feel it on her body. It was cutting through her, and based on the persistence of its constant pushing on her back, it was going to eat her the moment she stopped pushing back on it.

A blur of light whirred through the town. Carrie saw it flit through for a moment from the side of her eye before her attention was back on the Seeker in front of her. It was brighter than anything else she’d seen. It must have been Alex’s friend, their Champion, coming to save Silverglade. Thank god, because she needed that right now as this beak continued to try clamping down on her.

From beyond the houses, the tears began to go out. It was like having the air sucked out of the world, and shoved back into a pocket, before the earth slid back into place. Shadow Seekers were picked off and not replenished. But this one was still here, and it was fighting even harder than ever.

Carrie swallowed as the beak cut skin again. She could feel tears of pain welling, waiting drip out if panic wasn’t so present. Alex or Saoirse had to notice eventually, right? Someone would come help her.

The rifts blinked out. The fog began to fade. But the Seeker was still there.

No one was going to come in time. Not for her. Carrie swallowed hard as she realized that. The black ooze pumped through her skin where the tentacles had grasped her. Dread started to well in her body. That black monster she’d struggle so long to fight, now and in her mind, suddenly was like a tidal wave about to eradicate her.

And then something took over. Something old, deeper than her dreams. A light, boiled inside her, before pouring out of her cut palm like a spring. It pierced through the beak of Seeker, through its cloud and its hidden form, as the light built up stronger and stronger. And then it pulsed out. The light washed over everything, obliterating the Seeker and pushing past to the fog, cutting through the blackness until only the gold shone through, blue skies beyond.

She fell about a foot from where the Seeker had been grappling her. He body was sweating, cut, and bruised, here as much as her physical self, wherever it was. She just knew that was true. But no one was going to drag her dream self back to her body. Carrie shuddered as the spot where the Seeker had been before pushing herself to her feet.

And began limping towards where she’d last seen Ash.

[imagine-loki]

The Powers That Be

TITLE: The Powers That Be

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Twenty-Seven

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki discovering a hidden mutant when he realises they are at risk of being found by S.H.I.E.L.D. who experiments on mutants, he is the one to help them.

RATING: Teen and Up

"Are you ever going to let go of whatever is taking your mind off your training," Diarmaid asked, watching as Alexia's face became drenched in sweat as she concentrated on the task at hand.

"I am." She retorted, her teeth clenched tight as she continued forcing her mind to what she was centred on.

"No, you are not, you are focusing on something else."

"Is that not part of my training too, focusing on more than one task?"

"In time, yes; but at present, you need to perfect your skills."

Alexia curled her lip, it was as though Diarmaid wished for her to detest him, and at present, he was being successful at increasing her hatred of him day after day. Focusing all her energy, she did as she was instructed in one powerful thrust before turning on her heels and walking away. "There."

"Whatever is irking you Midgardian, I suggest you get it out of you post haste, because it is consuming you," Diarmaid commented worriedly.

"Fear and anger consumed me when I used these skills most powerfully, so should you not want me consumed by them?"

"Fear and anger have their place, it is true, but what consumes you now is neither, but something else," Diarmaid stated factually.

"And what is that pray tell? Since you think you know me better than I know myself," she snapped turning to face him again, her anger apparent.

"Loneliness."

Swallowing hard, Alexia turned and left, knowing what the elf was saying was true, but in her own mind, she was not ready to face it yet.

Diarmaid watched her leave, shaking his head, Loki's concerns were true, and if she continued to go the path she was on, there was no telling what would happen the powerful Midgardian.

XXXXXXX

"Brother!" Loki rolled his eyes before turning around. "How have you been faring?"

"Well, until you returned that is. I did not hear the Bifrost, has Midgard gotten sick of you too?"

"As jovial as ever I see," Thor chuckled. "Where is Lady Alexia, I come bearing letters for her."

"I am not aware of her current location, and I do not think to give her those would be recommended if they are of content that will upset her."

"So Heimdall’s fear has come to pass?" Loki gave him a quizzical look. "Heimdall was concerned that Alex would become more withdrawn here, with none of her kin or kind around her." He explained.

Loki's face contorted in anger. "And you did not think to tell anyone that he said such?" He snapped.

"I thought with so many being here to keep an eye on her; such would not be an issue." Thor shrugged.

"You imbecile." Loki snapped, walking off without another word.

"I do not even want to know." Thor shook his head as he walked toward Alexia's rooms, hoping to give her the letters and speak with her for a few moments to assess her wellbeing for himself.

"Prince Thor."

Thor smiled at the Light Elf that was coming towards him. "Diarmaid, how do you fare?"

"I personally am in good health, but I fear I am not as well as I should be." Thor frowned, not sure what the elf was saying to him. "The Midgardian, she has not been seen since yesterday." He informed the crowned prince.

Thor's eyes widened. "She is refusing to leave her rooms?"

"She has not entered them to refuse to leave them," Diarmaid stated solemnly. "I have just spoken with her maids, they have not seen her and her bed is as they left it yesterday evening."

"And the Einherjar?" Thor asked, becoming panicked.

"Those that stand guard are not those who patrolled through the night." Diarmaid reminded him.

"I will speak with their commander, find Loki, he may know where she is, or might know where she could be perhaps." The elf nodded and headed to where Loki's rooms resided.

Thor watched him leave before rubbing his hands down his face. "Norn's but what is going on?"

XXXXXXXXX

"Prince Loki." Loki turned to see a somewhat concerned looking Diarmaid running to him, which in itself told him something was amiss, for the elf never went anywhere with much haste. "She is missing."

Loki, for a moment, considered not being overly concerned by the statement but considering the manner Alexia was acting of late, he decided it was something to be worried for. "Since when?" He half demanded, lengthening his strides to get to the elf faster.

"Last night. Prince Thor is checking with the Einherjar as to if she left during the night, or if she ever returned to her rooms at all last eve." Diarmaid informed him.

"What manner did she act when you trained with her yesterday?"

"Too calm, too willing, unsettlingly so," Diarmaid stated.

Loki became somewhat fearful, he had read a lot on Midgard, as there was very little else for him to do, and he had a general idea how Midgardian's reacted when they became so. He thought to himself about how Alexia could be thinking. "Go see what Thor has found out, I think I may have an inkling as to where she may be." Without saying anything else, he turned on his heels and demanded a servant ready his horse.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Alexia looked at the water cascading down the side of the falls, it caused a small rainbow to form in its mist as it fell, capturing her attention fully. She had sat on the same log since sun up, staring at it and thinking, not knowing how long she had been there. The sounds of footfalls close by did not startle her from her current state; she simply stayed as she was.

Thor looked to Loki in intrigue and concern, not knowing how his wayward brother could possibly have known Alexia would make her way to her current location, but also wondering why she was not reacting to their presence. It was Loki that decided to try and wake her from her trance by walking over to her, slowly coming into her line of sight, trying to see if that would rouse her, but it failed. Thor too walked over to the small Midgardian woman, eyeing her carefully, all too aware that should she get too startled, she could injure them substantially by casting them over the side of the falls and into the water below, and that was only if she did so accidentally; if she truly wished to harm them, then they would suffer far worse.

"I'm not jumping in after you if you fall." Loki stated factually as he looked over the cliff face, "Knowing my luck, you would be fine and I would end up with a broken limb." Alexia did not even look at him, but she did emit a small huff that could be accused of being an attempt at a laugh. "What is going on?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, that is why we are up the side of a mountain outside the city looking over the falls." He replied sarcastically.

"Lady Alex," Alexia turned to look at the blonde God, having not realised that he was there too. “I am not sure if you wish to have these, but I have letters from Midgard for you." Thor held out the envelopes he had been handed on Earth to give to her. "They are from your father, Lady Pepper and Stark.”

Alexia frowned slightly but extended her hand to take the pieces of paper. "I didn't think any of the three of them remembered this form of communication."

"Well as much as Stark wishes it so, it is not currently possible to get reception here on Asgard for Midgardian cellular devices," Thor smiled slightly.

"Sounds about right." Alexia nodded and went back to looking at the water again silently.

"So, other than giving the palace security minor cardiac issues, is there any other reason you are here?" Loki enquired.

"I needed to get away."

"I can understand that."

"It is so..."

"Yes." Loki agreed.

"So what?" Thor looked from one to the other.

"You would not understand." Loki dismissed.

"Understand what?" Thor demanded indignantly, "Contrary to your comments and thoughts on the matter, I actually am capable of comprehension."

"Yes, in some ways, in others, you are utterly ignorant." Loki countered.

"And why pray tell, is that?" Thor folded his arms across his chest.

"Because you were surrounded by admirers and allies as you grew up, so you cannot even begin to comprehend abject loneliness and isolation," Loki stated matter-of-factly.

Thor's arms fell to his sides again, not sure how to respond for a moment. "Well, you were surrounded by them too."

"Only because you were there, they were never my allies, they merely tolerated me to be around you," Loki commented. "You cannot fathom what it is like to be utterly different to others and for them to actively make you feel it, it can be a terrible burden, I can assure you."

"You are being dramatic Loki." Thor dismissed.

"No," The older prince looked at Alexia, who returned his gaze. "He's right, that is exactly how it feels."

Loki gave Thor a smug look. "You pointed out on more than one occasion that I was different for being able to wield seidr, do not deny it, you made it a game to jest at me for it, accusing me of cheating at it, and how it was not a manly thing to do, did you not, you and your friends?" Thor bit his cheek at the accusation, knowing it to be true. "Then, as previously stated, you are not fully aware of how Alexia feels; you can comprehend from the outside, but not from personal experience."

Thor chewed over Loki's words for another minute before taking Mjolnir in his hand. "Then I entrust this in your hands," he conceded. "Lady Alexia, I am here for a few days before I return to Midgard, if you feel as though you wish to read them and have responses written, or merely have me relay a message, I am more than willing. I had better inform the guards that you are safe and well before the city is placed on lockdown." With a nod from Alexia, he swung Mjolnir around and was able to take off and head back to the palace, sending dust into the air as he went. Alexia made a hand movement as though dismissing someone and the dust went back to the ground.

"That is useful."

"Sure isn't that what all my training is about?” She commented plainly. “How did you know that I would be here?"

"You often stared at this mountain from the training grounds, though I have to commend you for getting here, it is not an easy journey, and there are several sorts of creatures that are less than friendly on the journey also."

"I hadn't noticed."

"That is slightly concerning."

Alexia gave a small grunt as her response, her attention back on the letters in her hands; seeing her fathers handwriting, she flicked to the next one, seeing that it was from Pepper, she turned it around and opened it, scanning the words for a few minutes and giving a small smile before folding it up again and looking at the last one, Tony Stark's nigh on cryptic scrawls causing her to think of the first time she had to attempt to decode it because Pepper was not able to, she had had adequate success at it. Opening it and reading it, she realised it was far longer than Peppers, giving her details of what happened on the Avenger's return to Earth, and how the group were wondering how she was doing, and of course, about half a page of achievements Tony had been awarded since her leaving, because it would not be Tony Stark if it was not in some way about him, which made her smile again.

Loki watched silently, having been apprehensive of giving her them in her current state, but he felt some relief at her reactions to the two she had read, noting her dismissing one, gathering from her reaction it was the one sent by her father. “Shall we head back to the palace?" he suggested after she had digested them some bit. Alexia nodded and rose to her feet, not looking at him. "Dare I ask why you do not wish to open the one I assume is the good agent?"

"I don't really care about what he could have to say, according to Stark, Director Fury has ensured he has not faced prosecution, so anything other than that, I do not really have much interest in, I mean, I am glad he isn’t going to prison or losing his job, but I just don’t care what he has to say." She shrugged, staying a step behind him so that he could lead the way.

"Comprehendible." Loki conceded.

"How were you allowed out of the palace, I thought you were under house arrest?"

"You are too valuable for Odin to risk you taking too long to find when it was suggested by Thor and Diarmaid that I may know of your whereabouts, he as good as threw me out the nearest door to come retrieve you."

"Am I ever going to be free to leave here?"

"Technically yes, but he will fight tooth and nail to ensure you remain, you are too valuable to him."

"And too dangerous to be used against him."

"Yes." Loki conceded, "He would be terrified of that, but I think testaments from Thor, Heimdall and Diarmaid stating you are not at risk of joining me in the darkness, comfort him and also his..." Loki said no more.

"Has Odin banned you from being around me?" Alexia asked, watching the prince for his reaction.

"Banned is not the correct word."

"But that is why you remain distant."

"It is better for us both that I stay separate from you, that he has made that clear."

"He has promised you your magic if you behave and do as he says." She guessed.

"Nothing that generous, but to be around you is to guarantee I will not obtain it," Loki explained.

Alexia felt the weight of the gift Thor had bestowed on her at his last leaving around her neck. "That's not really fair."

"He thinks my being around you is risking me being a bad influence on you, I can contort your sense of right and wrong apparently," Loki informed her. "Also, he is of the opinion you should not be sidetracked by such menial distractions as friends; you should simply train, eat and sleep." They made their way to where he had tied his horse and untied it, but instead of mounting it, he took the reins and walked alongside her.

"I get the feeling eat and sleep are not too important to him either."

"You assume correctly."

"Was he like that with you both when you were growing up?"

Loki's face contorted in anger for a moment as he manoeuvred the horse around some tree roots, before schooling it back into a look of indifference once more. "Yes and no; he had little issue with friends, but training and studying were paramount."

"Must be hard to marry friends and that level of training, I guess that's why Thor is so close to the friends he has, they were as dedicated as you and he were."

Loki scoffed. "Bar my mother, you are the only one to ever think I may actually have trained any bit."

"I saw the footage of you in Stuttgart, you disabled Captain America like he wasn't some super soldier, but a small child, you would have to be an idiot to not think that that does not come from years of practice."

"Centuries of it."

"Was Odin as ridiculing as Thor for your magic skills?"

"Where do you think Thor got it from?"

"Well, that's crappy."

Loki looked at her with a slightly amused look. "That is a polite manner in which to refer to it."

"My mother always thought I spent too long on the books and not enough time being young."

"And the agent?"

"He never once asked what I was doing, that was during the time that Earth went to hell in a hand basket, so he was busy with work, but he always told me as a kid to work harder and harder, if I did anything, he would tell me how to do it better."

"And regarding friends?"

Alexia raised a brow as she looked at him. "Does my father, Phillip Coulson look like a man that spends time being friends with people? I am still trying to figure out how he and my mum ever met, much less created me."

"That is a fair point, I will concede." Loki chuckled.

"When did you stop trying?" Loki looked at her curiously. "To be good enough for your father, when did you stop?"

"Do you recall Thor's first time on your realm?" Alexia looked at him in shock but nodded. "Just after that. I realised that no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I was not his son, so I would never be good enough for him."

"That's a lot of trying on your behalf, like; a couple of hundred years?"

"Try a thousand."

"Are you serious?" She spluttered in disbelief.

"I clearly did not learn my lesson very quickly," Loki stated in a self-deprecating manner. "What of you?"

"When I was sixteen, I saw my mum try to go out with some guy, but since she had me, he was apprehensive. I kept referencing Phil over and over because he was getting busier and busier with work and had less and less time for me, so of course, I tried harder and harder to get his attention. Long story short, I cost my mother a really good relationship and Phil told me off because my attempts at getting his attention had caused S.H.I.E.L.D. to become aware of my existence, leading to him being reprimanded for not remaining unattached."

"What did you do to get them to notice you?"

"I may have gone there and asked to speak with him when I was asked who I was, I told the truth, Fury was there at the time, and he was pissed off at that."

"That is hardly a terrible thing; you did not try to obliterate entire races!"

"I may as well have, that day, he said some things...I didn't talk to him again for over a year, and it was three years before I set eyes on him again, though it was from afar. When I realised that even talking to him was too much in his eyes, I knew I was wasting my time, so I stopped, and the irony of ironies, he now wants to spark up a relationship it seems."

"I took far longer to realise that, and I fear Muspelheim will freeze over before Odin will wish for at least an amiable conversation with me, much less anything else." Loki scoffed.

"I don't know what that means, but I take it to mean that it won't be happening soon," Alexia commented. "How far is it to the palace?" She asked looking at her surrounds.

"A few hours by foot I would imagine, I only ever did this journey via horse before."

"I didn't realise it was that far."

"Did you not realise at the time you came?"

"No, I was a bit side tracked."

"Out of curiosity, you; you were not planning to harm yourself on your travels, were you?" Loki enquired, not entirely sure he wanted to hear her reply.

Alexia shook her head slightly, "No, I just needed some time for myself, even if that palace is the biggest building I have ever seen, it is still very claustrophobia-inducing after a while."

"No truer words were spoken." Loki agreed as they made their way back to said building.

"Why, would you miss me?"

"Well, you are somewhat more tolerable than most."

Alexia laughed. "More tolerable does not imply that I am actually tolerable, though, does it?"

Loki chuckled to himself, "How astute of you to pick up on that."

"So that's a concurrence with my statement."

"Would you care if I would?"

"Well no, as I would be dead, but still, I'd like to think I actually mean something to someone somewhere." She shrugged; after that, they walked in silence, with the dark haired prince mulling over her words in his mind, slightly startled by what he knew to be the answer.

[inukagome15]

This is the draft of the third chapter of the Naruto time-travel fic.

I think there’s more happening next chapter. It might not be until Chapter 5 that we really reach the first split in the timeline, although maybe that’ll be the next one? We’ll see.

Featuring some more training, Kakashi hanging out with Gai, some horrible dreams, and a passionate speech. Maybe the “speech” thing is an exaggeration but Kakashi isn’t complaining.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

**

Usually, when one was faced with a ten-tailed monster that had rampaged across the earth centuries ago and destroyed almost everything before being sealed, the logical thing to do was run. If one didn't, then one could be classified as insane.

He wasn't sure if he was insane or not. He did know that he was doing something incredibly stupid. The terror surging through him was enough evidence of that.

The Kyuubi wasn't enough. They had the Hachibi, but the Juubi had shrugged off the attacks like they were mere annoyances.

But they were so small. And nothing he had was enough against a monster of that size.

He'd dragged Naruto away before the other could throw himself at the Juubi and kill himself. They wouldn't have anything if Naruto died.

Only Naruto wasn't there any longer. He'd slipped away in the dust and smoke, but hadn't Naruto just been there? He hadn't let go, had he?

Where was he?

There was an ear-piercing scream that drowned everything else out. It shattered the air, cracked the ground, and the rush of chakra that followed was overwhelming.

He whipped around, gaze going up, up, and up, only to see exactly what he had feared: Naruto, blazing with the fire of the Kyuubi's chakra, and surging headlong towards the Juubi, an enormous bijuudama ready to be fired.

But they'd tried that before. It hadn't worked.

And…it hadn't gone like this, had it? No, he'd pulled Naruto away, they'd run, Minato grabbing hold of them to use his Hiraishin and take them as far as possible from the monster.

So why was this happening? Why was Naruto going against the Juubi?

There was a breathless moment where even his terror seemed to be drowned out by the anticipation roiling through the air.

The bijuudama fired, only to be instantly swallowed by one dozens of times its size, and everything in its wake followed suit.

His arms were shielding his face, he was somehow still alive, but Naruto – Naruto—

Kakashi jerked awake, nearly rolling right out of his bed as he struggled to get out of his blankets. He pulled his arms free, and then did actually fall out, hitting the floor with a painful thud. His legs were still wrapped up in the sheets and in the bed.

Breathing heavily, Kakashi pressed a hand to his left eye, bidding the burning behind it to disappear. His chakra roiled, begging to be used against an enemy that was no longer here.

It took several long moments, but the burning eventually subsided, and Kakashi could be sure that the Mangekyou wasn't present any longer. Letting the hand drop to his side, Kakashi stared up at the ceiling, focusing on his breathing.

A nightmare. Only a nightmare.

Based off something that had actually happened, but it hadn't happened like that. They'd gotten clear, but had lost more of their forces as a result. And after that…Naruto had asked for specific training from Minato.

It hadn't been the first or last time they'd had such a close call against the Juubi, but it had definitely been one of the most memorable.

Not that they weren't all memorable, but stare death in the face too many times and it started to get a little routine. He hadn't told anyone else that, since the first time he'd tried cracking an inappropriate joke about sitting down with the Juubi for tea everyone had gone dead quiet and stared at him like he'd lost his head. Except Naruto. Naruto had laughed about it afterwards and then almost cried.

Anyway.

(Cut is here for mobile readers.)

Kakashi was a little more interested – in a detached sort of way – at how the nightmare hadn't felt as vivid as it usually did. Even now, when he cast his mind back to the battle scene, remembering how it had felt to be in the presence of that terrifying, primordial monster, he felt a step removed from the images.

Usually he tried not to remember. It was too hazardous, leaving him twitching and raw for hours afterwards.

But now?

Kakashi untangled his legs from the blanket and turned, leaning his back against the bed as he crossed his ankles and brought his knees up. He wrapped his arms around his shins, tangling his hands together as he thought.

Trauma was a tricky thing. Kakashi knew the tricks to adapting and getting around a lot of it. How to appear normal even if everything inside you was turning around and burning the world to ashes. But it was easier than expected now. He would've expected to be jumpier than he was and the smell of barbeque didn't make him remember—

Well, it wasn't as bad as he had expected given that he'd essentially just returned from a war without any kind of debriefing or psychological counseling.

Not that Kakashi liked going to psychological counseling. He usually just bullshitted something and flitted away.

No one had ever dragged him back. He was sane enough and completely competent, so they couldn't force him.

In any case, Kakashi didn't entirely understand all the effects trauma could have on the mind. Just that he wasn't as affected here as he had been in the future, and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

That said…

Kakashi still wasn't going to be sleeping for the rest of the night.

It was too quiet.

"Goooood morning, my esteemed rival!"

Startled as he was at the loud voice (because he'd registered the presence but the voice was entirely unexpected), Kakashi lost hold of his chakra and dropped underwater. He took a moment to be justifiably peeved that his record of being able to stay on top of the water since the sun had risen was broken. Then he shook it off with an exhale and surfaced, treading water to see Gai on the shore.

"Are we practicing swimming this morning, my rival?" Gai asked, teeth gleaming brightly in the sunlight.

Exhaling again, this time without the satisfying release of bubbles, Kakashi pulled himself out of the water entirely, balancing precariously on the balls of his feet. He'd so far managed to walk on water and do his katas. He could have a conversation, couldn't he?

"All skills are important for a shinobi," Kakashi answered eventually, standing upright. "Did you need something?"

Surely Gai didn't want another competition, did he? They'd just had one yesterday.

"I challenge you, rival!" Gai announced, promptly dashing all of Kakashi's expectations.

Kakashi slipped a hand in his pocket, bringing the other one up to rub the back of his head. "Oh? We just had one yesterday."

"Youth waits for no one!" Gai shouted, pointing a finger to the sky. "You should know that, Kakashi!"

"Right, right." Kakashi made his way to the shore, pleased as punch when he managed it without slipping up. It was pitiful, but at this point he took his victories where he could get them. "So…it's your pick this time, right?"

Gai pumped a fist in the air. "Indeed, my rival! And I have selected the perfect challenge for us!"

Kakashi took a brief moment to hope that the challenge wasn't anything insane like climbing up the Hokage Mountain with nothing but one's feet and no chakra. He'd done it once before but it hadn't been fun. Because feet weren't meant to be used as climbing instruments. Kakashi still wasn't sure how he'd managed to finish that challenge; he must have blotted it out.

"I challenge you to a race!" Gai said, catching Kakashi's attention. "First one to the top of the Hokage Mountain wins! But!" He grinned again, winking. "We must race to the gates first!"

Okay that…wasn't so bad.

Kakashi bent to pick up the small bag he'd left on the shore so it wouldn't get wet. "To the gates and then to the top of the mountain?"

"You are correct!" Gai turned to face the same direction Kakashi was, pointing to a floating leaf in the sky. "That leaf touching the ground will be the signal!"

The leaf was floating around like a butterfly. Kakashi thought it would take a while to touch the ground.

Still, he prepared to begin at a moment's notice, catching Gai's eye when he shifted his head. His friend gave him a fierce grin, one which Kakashi didn't return beyond a slight inclination of his head.

Gai was a dear friend, and Kakashi felt rather blessed that he could spend time with him again. That feeling was only a bit soured by the knowledge as to how he even had this chance to begin with, but that didn't matter.

The point of this was that nothing that had happened would happen again.

Kakashi would make sure of it. And if he failed, Naruto would succeed.

The leaf was swirling down, several feet from touching the ground.

Taking in slow, measured breaths, Kakashi braced his feet for an instant takeoff, pulling up a mental map of Konoha to plan his path. He only hoped that he remembered it well enough to manage properly. Taking the roofs would help.

The moment the leaf touched the ground, he took off in a blur, feeling Gai do the same.

Kakashi instantly took to the trees, wincing when his chakra-enhanced jump took out part of the ground. He quickly modulated the ratio, and he managed to not break any branches until he exited the trees and landed on the ground, just ahead of Gai clearing the tree line.

He knew from yesterday that he was faster than Gai, which was very much a first for him for years. Just about the only edge Kakashi had had on Gai was his speed in ninjutsu, but now that wasn't the case any longer.

Reaching the gates took a few more minutes, Kakashi quickly redirecting his trajectory and stopping briefly to wave to the startled guards. They looked vaguely familiar but he wasn't able to place their faces just yet.

Then, eyeing the Hokage Mountain, Kakashi jumped onto the nearest roof and started running. He could sense Gai just a little behind him.

His chakra control came much more smoothly this time, and he managed to not break any rooftops this time. There were genin on the roofs, and Kakashi darted past them before they could react beyond startled yelps.

Kakashi jumped again, landed, and skidded through a mess of paint and water that appeared out of nowhere, colliding with someone much smaller.

"Hey!" Naruto protested indignantly from under Kakashi. "Watch where you're going!"

Quickly rolling off Naruto, Kakashi pulled him to his feet, checked that he was okay with a swift pat down, and offered a brief "Sorry" before taking off again. Gai had just about caught up with the distraction.

"Oh sweet!" Naruto shouted from behind him. "I want to be a shinobi, too!"

Naruto was laying it on a bit thick there, wasn't he?

For that matter, Kakashi wanted to know just what Naruto had been planning before he ran into him. Now Kakashi was covered in orange paint that stung his nose.

The Hokage Tower was coming up, along with the Academy and all the other administration buildings.

With a giant leap, Kakashi cleared the street and landed just at the base of the tower.

From there it was easy enough to get to the mountain, and Kakashi could hear Gai yelling happily from behind him.

Kakashi wasn't climbing this with his feet (he was dead certain Gai had won that challenge, even if he couldn't remember the details because his rarely used sense of self-preservation had kicked in), so he wasn't hampered by anything other than shoddy chakra control. And this wasn't water.

Climbing up the mountain went faster than traversing Konoha, and soon Kakashi found himself sitting on top of Minato's head, extremely pleased with himself. Gai cleared the top thirty seconds later with an enthusiastic grunt, plopping himself down next to Kakashi.

Kakashi didn't say anything, tucking his right foot under his left thigh while his free leg dangled over the edge. He inhaled, hoping for a whiff of fresh air, only to get an inhale full of the metal smell of paint. Coughing sharply in shock, Kakashi rubbed at his mask, unsurprised to find his fingers coming away orange.

Or more orange than they had been before.

Kakashi looked ruefully down at his clothes and noted that he would need to wash them.

Gai was looking at him, a small frown on his face. "It was most unyouthful of you to leave that child alone after running into him!"

"He was fine," Kakashi said, rubbing his hand off on his pants. "I checked before I left."

"I admit, I'm more surprised that you didn't notice his presence!"

Kakashi was, too. He'd been too engrossed in staying clear of the other shinobi to register Naruto's familiar presence. Normally Naruto stayed clear, but Naruto was pretending to be a civilian.

"I didn't expect the paint," Kakashi admitted after a moment, lifting his hand to demonstrate. It was still orange; the paint wasn't coming off.

Gai burst out into laughter, clapping Kakashi on the back before he could flinch away. "It was quite a trick! The young boy must be extraordinarily youthful!"

That was one way to describe Naruto.

Kakashi inched away from Gai, setting his hands down on the stone and breathing through his mouth so as not to sicken himself with the metallic, artificial smell of paint.

Turning his gaze back to the view of Konoha, Kakashi let the silence sit, comfortable doing nothing else but enjoying what he'd been unable to in the future. He would eventually have to get up and start working again, but why not take the peace he could?

He had been going nonstop for years now. No shinobi could do so forever without burning out.

Really, Kakashi was lucky he hadn't burned out yet.

"I admit that I hadn't expected you to accept my challenge," Gai said long moments later. "Not after yesterday."

Kakashi glanced askance at him, glad that Gai was on his right side so he didn't have to move his head much. He knew what Gai was referring to. It wasn't like he'd ever made it easy to be dragged into the challenges.

He wanted to say what he was thinking, that he'd realized hard work was so much better than natural talent. That having connections and risking that pain of losing everything was better than remaining alone.

But it would be strange if he bared his soul now.

"It's training," Kakashi said finally, keeping his tone carefully dismissive. He stood, bracing his hands on his knees so that he was still somewhat on Gai's level.

His friend looked just a bit crestfallen at Kakashi's dismissive tone, although he hid it well.

Kakashi straightened, moving closer to the very edge of the mountain. He didn't look back as he tucked his hands in his pockets, saying casually, "The next challenge is mine, isn't it?" Turning his head to meet Gai's wide eyes, he inclined his head in farewell before disappearing in a shunshin.

It would be all too easy to slip up around Gai, saying something uncharacteristic that would raise some kind of suspicion. Or maybe not necessarily suspicion, but concern that Kakashi wasn't quite fine.

Which…was probably true, but Kakashi was as fine as one could be.

Sighing, Kakashi headed back to the training ground. He still needed to get his chakra control up. With luck, he would be back to somewhat normal by the time he was permitted to show his masked face around Sarutobi.

"Were you racing Bushy Brow-sensei?" Naruto demanded when Kakashi saw him later that night.

Kakashi stifled a smile at the familiar nickname. Even with his mask, Naruto would see it. "Yes. What were you doing with the paint?"

Naruto pouted, closing his apartment door behind him. "It was supposed to be a prank," he muttered. "But you knocked everything over." He shot Kakashi a look. "Why didn't you notice?"

"I was watching out for others," Kakashi admitted, not proud of his earlier lapse. "Usually it isn't a problem."

Naruto's natural speed made it a good fighting style in conjunction with him. It meant Kakashi didn't have to worry that much about watching where Naruto was because he would get out of the way first or base his movements around Kakashi's.

"Yeah, but usually I'm a lot older, taller, and people know I'm a shinobi." Naruto elbowed his leg. "Eh, it's good to know you make mistakes."

Kakashi didn't look down to meet Naruto's eyes. Of course he made mistakes. Naruto knew that.

"That was a joke, sensei," Naruto said when Kakashi didn't speak.

"Ha ha," Kakashi said dryly. "Come on."

Once out of the ANBU range, Kakashi picked Naruto up and whisked them both to their training ground.

"Seriously," Naruto said once Kakashi let him down, "it's not the end of the world, Kakashi. It's not like you ran into Madara because you mistook him for a friend."

Kakashi deliberately didn't react, eye on the mess of trees that Naruto had made the previous night. He was rather surprised that Gai hadn't noticed the general condition of the place earlier. "I can't afford lapses like that," he said.

"Then don't," Naruto said simply. "You don't make the same mistake twice. I know you, sensei."

Kakashi's shoulders inched up slightly, his muscles tightening. "Don't I?" He tried to keep his voice light, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"You don't," Naruto said firmly, tone forbidding further argument. "Stop being an idiot."

How could one stop being an idiot if that was what they were?

Kakashi didn't voice the thought, finally looking down to meet Naruto's eyes with a small smile that he knew Naruto could see. "Ahh, who's the Hokage here?"

"You are," Naruto said candidly, shrugging. "But I'm your student, friend, and partner. So if anyone's going to kick your ass into your gear, you better bet it's going to be me." He gave Kakashi a fierce grin. "So, Kakashi-sensei…what've we got planned for tonight's training?" His eyes turned steely. "If you say tree climbing—"

"Did you reach the top without destroying the tree?" Kakashi asked, only to dodge a punch a second later. "I'll leave you to it, shall I?"

He fled to the water, where he knew Naruto wouldn't follow because the other still hadn't been able to reach the top of a tree without cracking the bark.

"You're in charge, Kakashi."

He stared in disbelief at Tsunade. "What?"

Tsunade stared back at him, pushing something heavy and soft in his hands. "You're the Rokudaime Hokage. Take care of them."

"This – this isn't—"

But Tsunade was gone before he could finish his protests, leaving him standing there with something heavy, warm, and soft in his hands.

He looked down to see the Hokage's hat in his hands, surprise ringing through him. Tsunade never carried the hat, so why did he have it?

This wasn't how it had happened, was it?

But he had the hat – he could feel the hat in his hands – so maybe he wasn't remembering right.

Only when he looked down again, the hat wasn't just a hat. Tsunade's bloody head gazed blankly up at him.

Kakashi woke with a ragged gasp, heart pounding in his chest and eyes flicking around his room in search of an enemy. His left eye burned, and it was a moment before Kakashi could cover it with a hand, tamping down his chakra until he felt the Mangekyou dissipate.

Ugh, fuck.

That was the second time he'd woken up with an active Mangekyou. The next thing he knew he'd be using Kamui on random objects and passing out from chakra exhaustion.

Still keeping his eye covered, Kakashi focused on breathing, curling up under his blankets. It was a stark reminder that he was in Konoha, not in a dark cave or on the ground of a forest.

Everything was fine.

When his breathing had evened out and his heart was no longer beating a rapid staccato against his ribs, Kakashi sat up, turning so that he could lean back against the wall his bed was set up against. He pulled his knees up to his chest, pressing his forehead to them and focusing on the sensations he could feel now.

Reminding himself that it hadn't actually happened that way was another thing he needed to do.

There'd been no hat. Tsunade never bothered with the physical trappings of being Hokage unless it was a formal event, and even then she threw it off when drunk enough.

No, it had just been Tsunade pulling him aside and telling him that in the event something happened, he would be the next Hokage. Kakashi had said it wasn't the best idea. Tsunade had just stared him down and said he was the only one she would consider for the job because Naruto was too young and hadn't the necessary experience.

Then she'd patted him on the shoulder and said she didn't plan on dying just yet.

Kakashi had been reassured for all of a week before they came under an attack from Madara, then the jinchuuriki of the Juubi, which had cost them a lot of their forces before Tsunade, A, Mei, and Onoki had distracted him. Kakashi and Gaara had been the ones to call and order the retreat.

There'd been no doubt what they had sentenced the four Kages to, but there hadn't been any choice.

It had left them down to two Kages, since the others hadn't appointed anyone else, refusing to consider the possibility of failure.

Which had been utterly stupid. They knew they were outclassed by Madara. But Tsunade had been the only one to actively pick a successor for the worst case scenario.

Not that it mattered. Rankings meant little in the face of what they had been dealing with.

Kakashi exhaled, knocking his head back against the wall.

He'd been Hokage, and then he had also ended up as the overall commander of the Shinobi Alliance. The job had fallen to Gaara after A's death, since he had been the general of the different regiments. But…

He'd said someone more experienced needed to be in charge of everything.

And Kakashi had said yes, of course because what else could he do?

Kakashi closed his right eye, focusing on his breathing. After another moment, he opened it again, turning his head to look out the window through the crack in his drapes.

There hadn't been anything else he could do. And now he was here.

Sighing, Kakashi rubbed his eyes, exhaustion tugging at his mind like another limb.

He should try to sleep, but Kakashi dreaded the dreams.

Honestly, Naruto couldn't wait for the Academy to start up. And he never thought he'd say that because he hated school. It was so boring.

Yet here he was. Hoping to be enrolled soon so the monotony of his life would be broken.

And so he could finally use chakra without making his ANBU guards suspicious.

He'd managed the tree climbing exercise last night, although Kakashi had just hummed mysteriously and told him to keep working on it before moving to water walking.

Considering Naruto had seen Kakashi fall under the water multiple times while doing katas or jumping around, there was probably something to be said about getting tree walking down perfectly. Especially if his own sensei was having issues.

At least Naruto didn't have to go on S-ranked missions anytime soon. Kakashi would have to once his reprieve was over, and Naruto worried.

What if something went wrong? Yeah, Kakashi was a badass, but he wasn't up to his usual self yet.

It wasn't like Naruto could give him backup either. His control was too sloppy for the Hiraishin, and he wasn't touching any other jutsu with a ten foot pole until he could be sure he wasn't going to blow something up.

Explosions were cool, but not if his brain was at risk. Or his arm if he messed up a Rasengan.

And Kakashi had so many awesome jutsu, but how many could he actually use now?

Naruto scowled down at his feet, pausing in the middle of the street.

It wasn't like he could talk to Kakashi. His sensei would just pat him on the head and give that eye-smile that wasn't actually a smile and go on about how it was so cute Naruto worried about him.

Considering Kakashi hadn't done that when Naruto was an adult, Naruto had another reason to hate being five and short.

Biting his lip, Naruto thought back to the conversation they had last night. Kakashi had seemed…odd. More frustrated than usual.

It wasn't like Kakashi had said as much, but Naruto had gotten good at reading him. There wasn't a lot Kakashi could hide from him, mask or no mask. (Although Naruto had gotten a look at that face in the future, so take that! But the circumstances behind Kakashi's mask getting ripped hadn't been all that funny.) Still, Kakashi was so very private, And while Naruto knew he wasn't the best at picking up social cues sometimes, he knew enough to not pry into another person's secrets.

Only it was hard when the other person was the only one he could interact with normally. And when he didn't want the other person to be hurting.

Besides, Kakashi was so good at reading Naruto that it kind of sucked that Naruto still couldn't do the same for Kakashi.

Naruto glumly kicked a rock to the side, head down.

A lot of things sucked right now. They had time, but Naruto wanted it to be over with.

He hated waiting for the war that would be coming. It hung over his head like a gloomy cloud, threatening everything that he held dear. It wasn't even like he could just wave a hand and tell it to go away.

But that was the point, wasn't it? To make it possible so Naruto could get rid of that cloud and make sure that nothing bad happened.

So Granny Tsunade didn't have to die. So Gaara would still be alive and not buried under a mound of sand as he tried to take down as many white Zetsus as he could in a suicide run.

Those white Zetsus.

They were like zombies. Short of annihilating their bodies entirely, somehow they kept regenerating and coming back.

Kakashi had come up with several cool jutsu that did the trick pretty well, but Naruto hadn't gotten the hang of lightning affinity. No, all he had were his bijuudama and Rasenshuriken. They were effective, but the most damage they caused was in a central location. The further out one was from the impact zone, the less damage was caused.

Kakashi was able to spread it out. And so could Sasuke once he learned the same jutsu.

Sasuke…

Naruto sighed, scratching his neck as he considered his best friend. Sasuke would also be five and happy with his family. Because the Uchiha weren't dead yet and Naruto was planning on making sure they didn't die this time around.

Kakashi was on board; they just needed to figure out when to take care of the mess.

Would Naruto still be friends with him? Would Naruto even be on the same team as Sasuke?

Naruto could probably pull a dead last position again. It would suck, but that wouldn't be too much of an issue.

He wouldn't graduate early either. He could easily substitute the bunshin jutsu for kage bunshin when the time came so he didn't have to fail.

Which reminded him about the whole mess with Iruka and Mizuki. He didn't want to lose that bond with Iruka.

Growling under his breath, Naruto pulled at his hair, barely aware of the looks people were shooting him. It wasn't until someone roughly bumped into him that he darted off at top speed, pelting through the street.

He didn't know what to do. Just sitting and waiting wasn't his thing. He needed to do something, but what he could do without completely messing things up?

Naruto dashed past a crowd of civilians, turning abruptly and running down another street.

Become friends with Sasuke earlier? Somehow reach out to Iruka and make it clear that he wasn't the Kyuubi but a child?

He ran over a bridge, legs burning with the effort.

What of Team 7? How could he be sure that team would form again?

Kakashi hadn't said a word, so Naruto didn't know if his sensei was willing to take on that team again. He probably was, but what if Kakashi somehow ended up with another team?

What could happen?

Naruto turned on his heel and ran back down the path he had just come from. He darted past the ANBU following him, who were both probably rather confused at his sudden mad dash through Konoha.

Naruto didn't want to be alone anymore. He'd gotten used to not being alone – to being seen.

Now it was just Kakashi, but Kakashi couldn't see him during the day. Not without putting on a henge or having some other kind of disguise.

So should he? Should he reach out to Sasuke now?

Sasuke wasn't alone yet, would hopefully never be alone like he had been, but Naruto wasn't the same either. He could do something about it.

Naruto didn't slow down, but he let a smile pull at his lips as he darted past the Academy, head turning slightly so he could look at it.

Okay, he had a small bit of a plan. Now he would just need to run it past Kakashi.

Hopefully, he wasn't going to stay alone now.

"You want to talk to Sasuke?"

"Yeah – urk!" Naruto yelped as he went under with a loud splash. A few seconds later he was back on dry land. "I want to reach out to him."

"Hm…" Kakashi flicked his tantou around, moving through the first stances of the dance his father had taught him. He was managing to stay successfully on top of the water now, although it was still taking more focus than he would have liked.

"What?" Naruto demanded, back on the water, fingers linked together in the ram seal as he channeled chakra. He managed to stay on top of the water for now. "Don't tell me it's a bad idea!"

"I don't know if it's a bad idea," Kakashi answered, hesitating as he blanked on the next stance. After a moment he simply decided to wing it and go with whatever felt natural. "What are you hoping to achieve with it?"

"Achieve? I just want to be friends with him, ya know!" Naruto shouted, only to lose focus and slip under the water again. He surfaced, shaking his head like a dog before simply treading water. "We can't plan for everything, Kakashi. You know that. We're going to need to take a leap of faith sometime."

Sighing, Kakashi sheathed his tantou and walked over to Naruto, pulling him out of the water and setting him on the surface. He didn't let go of the back of Naruto's shirt until he was sure Naruto could stay on top.

"I know," he said, still keeping one hand at the nape of Naruto's neck just in case. With the other, he lifted his hitai-ate so he could more easily read Naruto's chakra flow. "But this is personal, isn't it?"

"Everything's personal, ya know," Naruto grumbled, folding his arms and glaring angrily at Kakashi. "Otherwise we would've just rolled over and died, yeah? But we're here and we're doing this. What does it hurt if I talk to Sasuke and make friends with him earlier? Maybe he won't go to Orochimaru this time!"

Kakashi gripped hold of Naruto's shirt just before he dropped, keeping him upright until Naruto stabilized his chakra flow. Once he was sure Naruto wouldn't drop again, he spoke. "That's seven years down the line, Naruto. If we change what we need to in the next year or so, it's very likely that Orochimaru will never be in that forest with you. You might not be in that forest. As for Sasuke…I can't tell you what's going to happen. You know him best."

Naruto's chin dropped until the back of his head was all Kakashi could see. "Yeah…I do. Which is why"—he lifted his head to meet Kakashi's eyes, a fire burning in his own—"I need to do this! Sasuke is my friend! Even if he's never going to be the same, I'm not the same either! And I can't just sit around and do nothing but train, so I'm gonna do something that I know will help! And you know it, too!"

Kakashi's grip tightened on the back of Naruto's shirt, holding him aloft for a few seconds before Naruto regained his balance, chakra flow stabilizing. Kakashi let his shoulders go loose, his other hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

"You're going to do it anyway," Kakashi said, holding Naruto's gaze. "Does it matter what I say?"

Naruto flinched slightly, eyes widening. "Of course it does! We're partners, Kakashi-sensei! But you said it yourself: you don't think it's a bad idea."

"We're partners," Kakashi agreed. "Which also means you don't need my permission to do something if you think it'll work."

Naruto's mouth set in a thin line that signaled he was either going to be mulish or deliver a passionate speech that would change an enemy's lifelong ideals. It could also herald a punch.

Kakashi hoped it wasn't a punch.

"You're my Hokage," Naruto said, steady and sure. "You're my Hokage, my teacher, and my partner. So what you think matters, even if it's stupid and I need to argue with you about it."

It was the speech, although a lot shorter than Naruto's usual. Maybe it was because Kakashi wasn't an enemy.

Exhaling, Kakashi dropped his head, eyes closing. He pressed his free hand to his right eye, considering.

Sasuke was five. Even though Naruto looked five, he was twenty-two years old. There was a world of difference there. A world that might actually change things for the better.

This would cause ripples Kakashi couldn't predict, but their very presence here was already changing things.

And that was the point.

"Okay," Kakashi said finally, letting his hand drop and opening his eyes to meet Naruto's. He nodded slightly. "Okay," he repeated. "I'll let you decide what to do regarding Sasuke and how you want to handle that."

It was only a moment before Naruto broke into a beaming grin. "All right!" He leapt up, throwing himself at Kakashi in a tackle hug, arms squeezing tightly around Kakashi's neck. "Thanks, sensei!"

Kakashi stumbled back slightly, both arms coming up in reflex, hands braced defensively. "No need to thank me!"

Naruto hung onto him like a limpet. "Ehh, c'mon, Kakashi-sensei, you can hug me back! There's no one else here."

That wasn't the problem. The problem was the touching.

Kakashi gripped hold of Naruto's sides and pulled him off, for once rather glad that Naruto was so much smaller and weaker than his adult self. Because then all he would be able to do was a kawarimi, and even that wasn't reliable given how fast Naruto could be.

"It's fine," Kakashi said before Naruto could protest at the manhandling. He set Naruto down without warning, and the other went straight into the water with a yelp.

"Agh, sensei!"

Kakashi jumped back before Naruto could swipe at him. "As your sensei, here's a shinobi lesson…always have your guard up!"

"You just made that one up!"

"Do I need to give you the rulebook?"

"Screw the rules! I make my own path!"

"Great! Now say that again once you can walk on water!"

"Damn it, Kakashi! Get back here – ack!"

Obito was lunging at him, mismatched eyes furious, a deadly spike jutting out from his right hand.

His own hand had a Raikiri crackling. He moved to pierce through Obito's chest, angling his own body so that Obito's weapon pierced through his side and not his torso.

Only it was Rin's chest he had pierced through, and he was twelve again, exhaustion dragging at his limbs and grief wrenching through him.

But Naruto's face looked back at him when he looked, blue eyes accusing and mouth bloody.

"You're trash, sensei," Naruto said, blood dripping from his mouth and down onto his skin, burning with the touch. "Why didn't you protect us?"

"I'm sorry," he said, numb. He couldn't move his arm; it felt far too warm for being inside another's body.

There were hands all over him, pulling at his limbs and streaking blood over his clothes and skin. One went to his left eye, scratching at Obito's Sharingan—

There was a stifled cry, and it took Kakashi too long to realize that it had come from him. His blankets were twisted around him, and it was a minute before he could untangle himself from the sheets and sit up, wiping at the cold sweat that had formed on his forehead.

Kakashi shivered slightly, the air in his bedroom cold against his skin. He felt tacky with sweat, and his breaths came harshly, sounding loud to his ears.

There was no one else here.

It shouldn't have felt as awful as it did.

[theharvestersbook]

10: Other Lands

Cephas was puttering around the ceiling, as usual, changing colors as he went while Meredith stared out the window at the glowing, orange dome that announced the Kentron Generator at the center of Proteus.

Instead of studying her lessons, she had been thinking, or dreaming, or whatever you call it when you wonder about a dozen different things, crashing around in your head.  She sat with her chin resting in her hand as thoughts about Duoanimalia, Arcan, Ramses and Invidia bounced around inside her head.  

She had grown so tired of trying to decide on her Duoan, that she was about ready to just choose a jellyfish.  But Jellyfish only made her think of irukandji, and that made her think of Invidia and his verbal venom.  Every time she spoke with him she left feeling bad, like she had just been jabbed by the tip of one of his tentacles.  What started as a slight discomfort would fester for days until it became an almost unbearable pain.  Thinking about it only made it worse, and seeing him only reminded her that she had been poisoned.  It was better to ignore it, forget it.  All she had to do was find an immunity to his words.

Thinking of words turned her mind to Arcan, and his beautiful way with words, and the lovely doziness she felt whenever she looked into his eyes.  Every time, she could feel her heart quicken.  She could feel the flush rise from her chest and veil her face.  

But her heart didn't just quicken, did it?  When Meredith saw Arcan looking at her, her heart didn't simply beat faster, it grew three sizes and slammed the walls of its cage to break free.  

She remembered the first time their eyes met, she was certain everyone in the room could hear the crashing of her heart in her chest, the pounding of blood in her ears.  But no one reacted, not even Arcan, and over time she learned how to calm the roar into a warm flush.  

Arcan was her teacher; he was a man, and she was a girl. She knew perfectly well that any kind of closeness between them was impossible.  But her heart either did not know it was impossible, or simply ignored propriety.  

And so she turned her thoughts toward Ramses.  It was only a crush, not the same as the exhausting breathlessness she had for Arcan.  She liked Ramses; he made her laugh.  He was nice to look at, no doubt.  He was impressive, but simple.  If Ramses was a river, Arcan was the Ocean.  

She loved the energy of water, it's strength, it's coolness, it's complexity.  The only problem with River Ramses, was that he was in love with Meredith's best friend.  And Abiba was fond of Ramses, too.  Perhaps she did not feel the way about Ramses that Meredith felt about Arcan, but Abiba did have feelings for Ramses.  So, Meredith could not, would not, reach out to Ramses at all.  Two unrequited loves; what were the odds?

She had been mulling on these things for some time, when Fatima walked into the room with a basketful of clean laundry.

"Piccolina, that does not look like studying," she chided.

"I'm studying the Kentron Generator," lied Meredith, without moving.

"Staring at the outside of that ridiculous building will not help you with your assignment," Fatima reminded her from the dressing room as she put Meredith's clothes away.  

After Meredith did not respond, Fatima walked out of the dressing room with a furrowed brow.  She set the empty basket down and walked over to Meredith's desk by the window.

"Piccolina, are you worrying about your Rush, and your Duoan again?"

"Not worried.  Just thinking about it," Meredith lied.

Then, she sat up and turned toward Fatima, eagerly.  "What I'm more concerned about is what Invidia is up to."

"Piccolina, your mother would not be happy to hear this.  Better you should worry about your studies, and even your Duoan, than to worry about the business of one of the Synod."

Meredith thought about this for a moment.  She knew Fatima was right, and it sapped her energy a little.  Then she thought about their encounter with Invidia the other day, and his suspicious behavior while crowd scanning.  

If he just hadn't been so creepy and, well, direct, about it... in fact, if he had just not mentioned anything, she could have let it drop.  But why would he say anything at all to them?  Why even bring it up?  Why sting them with his slow-moving venom? If he had been doing nothing wrong, there was no reason to say anything.  But the fact that he said something, and in such a threatening way, obviously meant there was something going on.

But she also knew there was no arguing with Fatima.  "You're right, Fatima.  It's a silly thing, and I'll let it go."

"Good," Fatima looked at Meredith, suspicious of how easily she had just given in.  "Now, get your riding gear.  Your father has summoned you to the stables for lessons."

The stables!  Meredith jumped up without a word and ran to gather her riding gear.  

Equestria was one of her favorite activities, partly because she loved horses, but mostly because it was the only time she had her father all to herself.

The stables were located on the First Ring of Proteus, so it would not take long to get there using the transport tube. Proteus was built as a series of concentric ring-islands.  The Center Island was home to the Kentron Generator, the Palace and attached Learning Center, the Convene, the Arboria, and of course, the Great Market.  

The First Ring was where the athletic and training facilities were, including the stables.  All the Parms lived and trained on the First Ring.  Regardless of whether they were land, water or sky Parms, they all lived and trained together.  Few had spouses or children; it was allowed, just very difficult because of the disciplined lifestyle.  

The Second and Third rings were for residential and industrial buildings.  All the Representatives lived with their constituents, so they were scattered around the Second and Third Rings.  

Finally, the outer ring, surrounded by mountains that concealed Proteus from human eyes, was reserved for agriculture.   The ring islands were separated by saltwater canals, and each ring island had passages along the rims, so that it was possible for ships to get from the ocean all the way to the Center Island.  

Because of all the locks and checkpoints, the water route through the Rings of Proteus was a slow trip, and usually only used for moving cargo.  It was much quicker and easier for a person to ride the Tube to wherever she or he wanted to go.

Meredith quickly dressed as Fatima busied herself, straightening the room and humming a sweet song.  Cephas had come down from the ceiling and was casually hanging from Meredith's bedpost, waiting.

"What is that?" asked Meredith.

"The song?  It is an old melody from when I was a child," replied Fatima, as she folded Meredith's robe.  "My mother used to sing it to me."

Meredith sat on a stool to pull on her riding boots.  They were made of soft brown leather and smelled like horses and wet grass.  She looked at Fatima with a slight frown.

"Don't you ever wish to return home?"

"No, Piccolina," sighed Fatima, "This is my home.  Everyone I knew in the old place is gone.  All I have from that place are my memories and my mother's song."

"Will you tell me about it?"

Fatima looked at Meredith and smiled.  "You are so curious," she observed, and then continued, "And it was a very long time ago.  There is little to tell, but I will tell you what I remember." Meredith leaned forward, hands on her knees, waiting. Fatima kept moving around the room as she spoke.

"I lived in a very dry place, a place of sun and sand everywhere.  Even the few times we traveled to the ocean, there were few trees, and they were very different from the lush trees here, in Proteus.  The trees I saw looked like large sticks with a sudden bloom of long leaves at the top.  When I think about them now, they seem strange.

"I lived with my father, mother and two older brothers in a large tent, called a "beit al-sha'r"; which means "house of hair" in my old tongue.  It was a large tent, so big that it took three amdan to hold it up.  It was made of goat hair, with rugs on the ground and sleep cushions all around, many lamps, and a bright qata that hung down the center of the tent.  The qata gave mother and I privacy from my father and brothers.  We ate and slept in the tent, and gathered as a family when the dust rose outside.  

"I remember that tent well because my mother and I made it ourselves and it was always my mother and I who put it up and took it down whenever we moved.  The boys always helped father with the goats; we owned many goats.  But while mother and I worked together, she always sang that song." It was Fatima's turn to let her eyes gaze dreamily out the window as she spoke now, and watched her family, and her father's goats, move to the next oasis.

"But, my father was a wealthy man," Fatima brought herself back in and continued, "There was a great sheikh, who was much wealthier than my father.  The sheikh tried many times to buy my father's goats.  But my father would not sell his flock.  So, one day, the sheikh came with his sons and servants and took my father's flock."

Meredith looked shocked and confused.  "What do you mean, 'took'?"

Fatima stopped what she was doing and looked at Meredith with a small, sad smile.  "Piccolina.  What do you think?  They came like a swarm on our oasis.  My father and brothers were with the flock, and my mother and I were preparing food.  My mother fought.  And I tried to fight.  But they only laughed at me.  They took the flock, and many other things, and left me; they had no use for a small girl, who would only be another mouth to feed."

"What did you do?" asked Meredith, transfixed.

Fatima shrugged, "I did the only thing I could do.  I buried my family, gathered a water-skin and as much food as I could gather, and began walking to the west, away from the sheikh."

"That's it?  But, how did you come to be here, with us?"

"Your grandfather and father found me wandering where the desert meets the ocean.  My food and water had run out, and there were no towns.  So, I found a large dune overlooking the Ocean and sat down to wait for Elaha.

"As I sat, looking at all that undrinkable water, your grandfather's ship removed it's djellaba and suddenly appeared before me in the ocean. Your grandfather, Triton, he stood tall and proud in the bow of his boat, holding a great spear with three points.  He seemed to be seeking something, the way he leaned toward the desert.  And the way he stood there, well, it made it seem as if he was a part of the ship, as if the ship was actually part of his body.  What a sight."

Fatima chuckled, "I tell you, Piccolina, I thought your grandfather was Elaha, with his great, white beard and golden helmet."

She shook her head and smiled at the memory.

"Well, what happened?" asked Meredith, who was completely fascinated at this story about a grandfather she had never met.

"Well, the ship beached, and Triton, your father, and some other Parms came striding up to me and just stood there, wondering at a little desert rat, sitting on the edge."

"What did you do?  Were you frightened?"

"I looked right at your grandfather, right into his deep, blue eyes, and I said, 'Elaha, I am ready to go'.  Then I fainted.

"The next thing I remember is waking up in the healing center, here in Proteus.  Later, in a public ceremony, your grandfather adopted me as his own child, and made me a part of your family.  And I have given myself to your family, Proteus, as thanks for his grace and the grace of Elaha."

Meredith was stunned.  It was the first time she had heard the whole story of how Fatima came to Proteus.

Sensing Meredith's wonder, Fatima turned and gently said, "What did you think, Piccolina?  That I was stolen?  That I left my family?  No, Piccolina.  I was abandoned by men, guided by Elaha, saved by your grandfather, and embraced by Proteus.  Proteus is my home, the way home was meant to be."

Fatima allowed her words to settle in on Meredith.

Meredith stood up and walked over to Fatima, and, without a word, moved in to hug her.  Fatima returned the hug.

"You're right, Fatima.  This is your home.  You are my family.  I'm sorry for asking such a silly question.  Thank you for being my friend."

Fatima pulled back, looked at Meredith and smiled, "And you are keeping your father waiting."

"Oh, no!  I completely forgot!  The stables!"  Meredith looked at Fatima with wide eyes, then grabbed her riding coat and dashed from the room.  

"Thank you, Fatima!  Thank you!  I will see you this evening!" she called as she disappeared through her bedroom door.

Fatima called out behind her, "Hurry!  And be safe, Piccolina!"

Then Fatima smiled, allowed herself a big sigh, and then went about straightening the room.

#

Meredith loved riding the Tube.  She loved the whooshing sound that announced the arrival of the carriers at the Tube Stations.  She loved watching all the different people riding the Tube, reading, talking, napping.  She loved the view as the Tube carrier whooshed over Proteus inside the invisible network of tubes that covered the city.  

In the distance, she could even see the mountains that surrounded the outer ring, and the barely perceptible glow on the peaks that betrayed the edge of the energy shield that protected, and marked the border of Proteus.  Other than the beam of orange light emanating from the Kentron Generator and the slim, blue glow just on the inside of the mountain peaks that surrounded Proteus, there was no evidence that Proteus was surrounded by an energy shield that rendered it invisible to outside eyes.

Sometimes, scouting parties from Athens would travel this way, searching for the mythical city that they called "Atlantis".  Of course, the shield rendered the city invisible to them.  And if they ever did cross the energy field that surrounded Proteus, they would simply find themselves immediately on the other side of Proteus.  

Meredith did remember that much from Edifus' lessons.  The shield acted like a matter transporter, so that anyone entering from the outside would simply be immediately transported to the other side, and never even know it happened.   In fact, as far as physical space was concerned, Edifus tried to explain, it was as is Proteus didn't even exist.  It was like it was drawn on a piece of paper that was then folded in half: no depth, no space.  

Edifus would compare it to a black hole in outer space, or a wrinkle in time.  He would start talking about the nature of space and time, and that's about the time Meredith would start daydreaming, which is what she found herself doing when the carrier pulled into the Tube station for the Equestrian Village.

Meredith barely jumped out of the carrier in time.  The doors closed behind her, and she smiled at the familiar whooshing sound as the carrier left.  She jogged down the steps of the marble tube station, and toward the main stables of the Equestrian Village.  

There were dozens, maybe hundreds of stables and kraals in the village.  Fortunately for Meredith, the Tube station was built in the center of the Equestrian Village, only two kraals from the main stables where the family stock was kept.

As Meredith walked into the main stable, she saw her father standing at the far end with his horse, Pegasus.  Her father was adjusting the girth on his saddle and talking to his horse.

"Come, Old Man.  Stop holding your breath," Marcus chuckled.

Pegasus turned his head toward Marcus and snorted at him.  It made Meredith smile to watch the two old friends banter. It was an endless battle of wills between Pegasus and her father.

Marcus was a great, brown man with a thick beard and hair that was woven into knotty braids.  He was immensely strong and kind with a temper that was terrifying when aroused.  

Pegasus was just as big.  And like her father, he was normally very kind and gentle, but a force when provoked.

Pegasus saw Meredith approaching and nickered a happy greeting, which made Marcus look up.

"Nugget!" he greeted her with a raised hand, "there you are, not quite late.  Good Morning!"

"I know," apologized Meredith as she came up and hugged her father, "I was listening to Fatima tell me her story and forgot the time." As she spoke, Meredith took the carrot she had hidden in her backpack, broke it in half, and gave both halves to Pegasus, who gratefully accepted them.

"Good Morning, Pegasus," she cooed.

"Hmm.  Good," Marcus nodded and patted his daughter on the shoulder.  "It's good that you took the time to listen to Fatima.  She is the finest human I have ever known.  And her story is important if you wish to understand them."

Marcus motioned toward the row of stalls with his thick thumb, "Well, quickly then.  We have a long ride planned for today, and need to get started soon."  

"Okay," smiled Meredith.  She wanted to ask her father what he meant about "getting to know them", but she knew this was not the time.  Her father grew impatient whenever he was ready to do something and had to wait on others.  She wanted the day to start well, and decided that there would be time for conversation during the ride.  

So, she walked over to the stall, where Arion was impatiently nickering and flicking his head at her.

"Well, Good Morning to you, my dear," Meredith chirped.  She reached into her backpack and pulled out an apple.  She cut it in half with the knife she carried on her hip, and offered one half to her horse.

"You know you are my only, true love, Arion," she whispered as she gently rubbed Arion's soft nose.  Arion munched the apple and murmured his love in return.  Meredith gave him the other half of the apple, kissed Arion on the nose, and went to fetch her saddle and other tackle.

Once Arion was saddled, Meredith walked him outside the stable, where Pegasus and her father were waiting, along with four mounted Parms in light armor.  

"Where are we going?" asked Meredith.  

It was not unusual to have a single Parm accompany them on a ride, in fact, her father always had one with him.  But four?  This added security could only mean that they were headed somewhere outside the borders of Proteus.  

The idea of getting out and exploring was exciting, especially if there was a chance of seeing some humans.  Meredith loved humans, although her mother was always very cautious about interacting with them.

"There is a small human settlement that has sprouted up nearby," answered Marcus, "People from the northern lands.  We have already introduced ourselves, and they are peaceful and accepting.  So, we are going for a little visit.  Perhaps trade a few things."  He shrugged mildly.

Meredith looked at her father.  Sitting there on Pegasus, in his light armor, he was a towering monument.  Even in his relaxed posture, he was a fearful vision.  If she didn't know him, she would have found him to be terrifying.  But she did know him.  And she knew that as impressive as he was, there was one thing that he feared.

"Is Mother okay with this?"

Marcus's nonchalant attitude vanished.  The Parms fidgeted nervously on their mounts and looked at each other.  One motioned with his head, and the other three followed to wait a small distance away with a packhorse.

Marcus gathered himself, sat up tall in his saddle and furrowed his brow with bravado.

"It was not necessary to share our destination with her.  But, yes.  She knows we are riding outside of Proteus.  Now, the morning is waning.  We should go."

Meredith raised her eyebrows, shrugged and looked the other way.  She mounted Arion and laughed.

"You are in so much trouble if she finds out."

Marcus leaned toward his daughter and teased, "Would you prefer to stay here?"

"You know I want to go."

"Well, then," he sat up in his saddle and nudged Pegasus forward, "we have an accord."

Meredith smiled at their nefarious pact, and moved Arion up beside Pegasus.  She noticed the packhorse for the first time and asked, "What's all that?"

"Some small goods for trade," Marcus said with a casual wave of his hand, "nothing of any real value.  Humans like that sort of thing, bartering and trading.  We have to spend some time haggling with them, to gain their respect.  Then we let them have what they think is a better trade, to gain their affection and loyalty."

"All of that is for trade?"

"We also brought a tent and blankets.  In case we don't make it back tonight."  Marcus winked at Meredith.  

The ride through the second and third rings, and across the Ag fields to the Pillars took about an hour.  They were in the middle of their technology scan, to make sure they left their water dragons and other technology in Proteus before leaving, when one of the Pillar Parms called down from the right Pillar.

"There's another rider coming from the city.  Fast."

Everyone turned to look back at the city.  Meredith could see the orange glow from the Kentron Generator pulsing up into the sky.  Rising from the main road that ran along the channel leading to the center island was a cloud of dust, signaling the oncoming rider.  Whoever it was, they were riding hard.

"Can you tell who it is?" Marcus called up.

"It looks like her Sovereign, Caretta."

Marcus closed his eyes, "Is she alone?"

"Yes," came the reply from above.

Meredith looked at her father.  "You are in so much trouble."

Marcus frowned at her, and then shifted in his saddle with a slightly worried look on his face.

As Caretta quickly drew closer, she reigned Epona and slowed to a trot, then a walk.  She was dressed for riding, with her hair tied back in a pony tail.  It was a much different look from how she presented herself at the Convene, much less formal.  

Meredith thought she looked more natural and relaxed when she was away from the center island and the business of leading.  But the look on her face at the moment was not what Meredith would call relaxed.  More like, restrained.  Caretta's lips were drawn tight and Meredith could see the muscles in her jaw working as Caretta clenched and unclenched her teeth.

The Parms all came to attention and saluted Caretta, who waved the formality away.

"Greetings, everyone." She acknowledged each of the Parms. "Good Morning, darling," she smiled sweetly at Meredith.

"Hi, Mother.  You rode very well."

"Thank you.  That's very kind of you to say that."

Caretta turned toward Marcus, who was frozen to his saddle.

"Marcus, my love," cooed Caretta, "a word in private?"

"Of course," gulped Marcus.  His eyes shot around at the Parms, who were all noticing details in their boots and gloves.

Caretta and Marcus rode off just out of earshot.  But Meredith could tell what was happening by watching their body language.  Caretta had assumed the stiff posture typically reserved for debates in the Convene, where she had to maintain a strict sense of decorum and control.  She was speaking thoughtfully and rationally, using her hands to frame in her words and emphasize her points.  

Marcus had assumed the posture of a bored schoolboy while Caretta spoke.  This struck Meredith as somewhat disrespectful, especially considering that Caretta was his wife, and the Sovereign of Proteus.  What would the Parms think of his behavior toward her?  She looked at the Parms, but they were not paying attention to what was a private conversation between a husband and wife.

Meredith looked back at her parents, and it occurred to her how difficult it must be for her mother to fill so many conflicting roles.  She had to be a nurturing mother and wife, and at the same time, a strong and principled leader of an entire republic.  She had to work all the time.  She had to patient with people who weren't.  She had to understand how other people felt about things.  She had to control her own feelings constantly, and humble herself repeatedly. Didn't she ever just want to scream at someone?  When did she ever get to be herself?  When did she ever get to just do what she wanted?

Then, as she watched her mother continue to make her case to Marcus, another thought entered Meredith's mind.  What if Caretta was being herself?  What if there was no conflict between being a wife and a mother and a leader?  What if the same things that made her good at one made her good at the others?  What if she wasn't just being patient, or kind, or humble?  What if she actually was all those things?  What if she wasn't just being virtuous, as if virtue were an article of clothing to wear for an occasion, but actually was virtuous?

Meredith saw her father nodding his head, which usually meant that Caretta had made her point.  Caretta held her hand out in a gesture that told Meredith it was Marcus' turn to speak.  Meredith watched as her father used his hands to explain his position, just like Caretta had.  Only, where Caretta's gestures had been soft and fluid, Marcus' were hard, more forceful.  But when Caretta put her hand on her husband's shoulder, Meredith knew that they had reached a compromise.  

Meredith let out the breath she had been holding, and smiled.

"Caretta will be joining us," Marcus announced as the two approached the group.

It was a move that completely surprised Meredith, although the Parms took it all in stride.  No debates were scheduled in the Convene for several days, so it would be a good time for a small trip.  But normally, the Sovereign would seek a vote of the Synod before leaving Proteus.  And normally, she would have a much larger bodyguard.  Meredith was not sure how the Synod would respond to Caretta simply leaving proteus like this.

Marcus approached the Commander of the Pillars.

"You have our journey-plan.  If we do not return within two days, send an extraction team."

The Commander nodded her understanding.  Meanwhile, Caretta spoke into her water dragon, and away it flew, toward the center island.  Meredith assumed it was a message to the Synod.

According to the Protean Policy of Non-Intervention, the group went through their final technology sweep, ensuring they were leaving all and any advanced technology in Proteus.  Then, they rode past the Pillars, and out of Proteus.

It was the same, queer sensation for Meredith, every time she passed through the energy shield; It made her feel as if a thin veneer was being peeled from her skin.  

Outside of Proteus, and the energy field, the sky seemed a bit more clear, the air a bit more crisp and unfiltered.  Somehow, the world seemed more real, and more dangerous.  And that thought made Meredith's pulse quicken.

Meredith turned in her saddle to look back at Proteus.  It was gone.  She knew Proteus was still there, but right now, the only thing she could see was a river running through a narrow mountain pass that led to the ocean.  

When they returned to this place, sometime in the next day or two, it would look the same until the Pillar Parms opened the gateway from the inside.  If the Parms didn't open the gate, a rider would simply move through the canyon pass, along the edge of the river, and on to the ocean on the other side of the mountain range.  

Meredith absently rubbed her wrist, where her water dragon would usually be.  The thought of not being able to get back into Proteus chilled her a little, so she turned back toward the direction they were traveling.

The small group of Proteans rode in pairs, with one Parm and Marcus in the lead, followed by Caretta and Meredith, and two Parms bringing up the rear.  The fourth Parm was scouting about a mile ahead of the group, and rode back every so often to give a report on what lay ahead.  

Marcus and the lead Parm rode silently, constantly surveying the trees and hills for any signs.  Similarly, the two trailing Parms rode in vigilant silence.  Meredith rode with Caretta, talking quietly as the rode.

"Mother, are you upset with me?"

"No, I'm upset with the situation."

"Are you upset with Father?"

"Of course, I am."

"So, not really the situation."

"Both.  I don't like being in the situation where your father has placed me."

"Is it because you think it's unsafe?"

Caretta turned in her saddle to face her daughter.  "It's because I was not made part of the process.  It's because I was treated with disrespect, like someone who's opinion didn't matter.

"I know it's unsafe outside of Proteus; it's unsafe inside Proteus.  If you stayed safe your entire life, you'd never learn anything; you'd never grow.  As heir to the throne, you are compelled to learn about the outside world, about humans, to be unsafe.

"I am not upset about you being placed in a learning situation, especially when accompanied by your father and four Parms.  It would take a legion of human warriors to get through them.

"But I am upset that my most trusted confidante, my closest friend, and yes, my subject, hid something like this from me.  

"The 'situation' in which your father placed me, was not being outside the walls of Proteus.  It was the situation of being a Sovereign who has been publicly deceived by a subject, and the situation of being a wife who has been publicly lied to by my husband, and the situation of being publicly betrayed by my closest friend.  

"All of those relationships are built completely on trust and loyalty.  Without those things, they are nothing."

Meredith suddenly felt awful having been a part of this.  To her, it had only been a playful secret that she was sharing with Marcus.  Hearing her mother's words, she began to understand that it was something much bigger, much deeper.

She looked at her hand holding the reins to guide Arion.  

"I'm sorry, Mother," she whispered.

Caretta softened, "I'm not angry with you.  I'm not even sure I'm angry with your father anymore.  Not really.  But, I am hurt.  And your father and I both need to think about how to manage the perception that other proteans may develop from this incident."

"What perception?" Meredith looked up from her hands.

"The Sovereign must always appear strong and in control.  If I cannot maintain order in my own family, how can I be expected to maintain order within the Synod?  How can I instill confidence, if it appears my own husband and daughter don't trust me?"

The true meaning of Caretta's words, and the price that would have to be paid began to sink in further, making Meredith feel sick to her stomach.

Sensing her daughter's dismay, Caretta leaned over and kissed her on the head.  

Then, she rubbed her back and said, "It's good to fully understand.  But don't dwell there for too long.  The only way to solve a problem is to just face up to it's reality.  We'll figure something out."

Meredith looked at Caretta in awe.  How could she be so hopeful and forgiving?  Meredith and her father had done something completely selfish and stupid, and Caretta was talking about it like any other problem that needed fixing.  Why was she not screaming in fury at both of them?  She smiled and nodded at her mother, and felt a new level of respect and appreciation for her.

#

The next few hours went by slowly as Meredith's initial excitement at the prospect of meeting humans was slowly withered by the late-morning sun.  It was bright, and warmer than inside Proteus.  Meredith supposed that was because the energy shield somehow filtered out some of the sun's heat.  

But she didn't think about it too hard, as the slow rhythm of Arion's gait, and the sound of the river made her drowsy.  She heard an echoing cry, and looked up to see the silhouette of a sea hawk pass between her and the sun.  

Meredith looked around at her companions, who all rode high and alert in their saddles.  She looked at the golden grass around her.  The hills rose gently on either side of the river, and ahead she saw a line of pines approaching and hoped for the cool shade of trees. Perhaps they would stop long enough for her to splash some water on her face.

Suddenly, the Parm that had been scouting ahead, came riding back to meet them.  He rode without a real sense of urgency, but his return was enough to wake Meredith from her doziness, and she sat up in her saddle with interest. She watched him motion up the river as he spoke with Marcus and Caretta.

Meredith nudged Arion toward the adults to find out what was going on.  Caretta saw her coming and broke from the group toward Meredith.

"There's a small settlement of humans just around the bend in the river." said Caretta as she dismounted Epona.

Meredith felt her adrenaline rush, and the hair on the back of her neck tingled.  Caretta walked over and held onto Arion's reins.

"And there are also several humans watching us from the hills." Caretta motioned with her eyes without moving her head and she hid her face behind Arion's head as she spoke.  Meredith started to look, but Caretta stopped her.

"No," she said sharply, "don't look.  Look at me.  You won't see them, but they will see you looking for them."  

Meredith quietly dismounted between Arion and the river. She went through the habitual motions of checking Arion's condition, looking for any rub spots, and then walked him toward the river for a drink.  

Caretta similarly walked Epona to the river.  When they reached a small pool of water, they stopped to let the horses drink.  Caretta reached back into her saddle bag an pulled out a small package.  She unwrapped it to reveal a small, firm loaf of bread crammed with nuts and dried fruit.  She broke the loaf and handed half to Meredith.

Meredith accepted the food from her mother and asked, "Are they dangerous or something?  Who are they?"  Her hands shook slightly as she pulled bite size pieces from the loaf and stuck them into her mouth.  

The thick, grainy loaf was a favorite of Meredith's, full of flavor.  Usually, she would savor every bite, but now she only nervously stuffed pieces into her mouth as she tried not to look at the hills behind them.

"Probably lookouts from the settlement ahead," Caretta calmly replied as she turned toward her daughter.  

Then, noticing the shaking in her Meredith's hands, Caretta spoke in her most soothing voice, "Nothing to worry about, Mer.  We are in no danger at all. It's just better if they think we don't know about them.

"Your father and I have both visited this settlement before, and know their leader well.  They are a peaceful tribe from the cold lands in the north.  Their leader is a man, named Herger. He is a good man, and a good leader, very intelligent and curious, and open to learning new things.  And, as you will soon find out, he is very friendly."

Meredith looked at her mother gratefully as she ate and nodded.  She swallowed, but the bread went down slowly.  So, she pulled a small cup from her saddlebag and went to the river for a drink.

Caretta continued, "At first, they, the Northmen, appear very menacing. The men all look like blonde versions of your father, which is probably why they like him so much.  Your father has a very good relationship with Herger; they could have been brothers.   "Once you get past the initial posturing, you will find these people to be very open and kind.  In fact, they laugh constantly, at everything.  Their culture is patriarchal, but they respect their women and seek their input and advice, unlike some other human tribes we have encountered.  They work side-by-side on most things, but oddly, some specific chores are viewed as strictly the domain of women.  So, mind that you do not over-react to that when you see it."  

Caretta turned and looked at Marcus and the Parms, who had also dismounted and walked their mounts to the river.  Marcus saw his wife looking, handed his reins to another Parm, and walked over to speak with Caretta and Meredith.  

Meredith watched her father's eyes subtly seek forgiveness from Caretta, who smiled and let a small sigh escape.  And just like that, everything was forgiven.  Meredith marveled at her parents, and it occurred to her that there was so much about them she would never know, so much that they shared with each other.  It made her feel better to have witnessed that moment between them.  

Marcus assumed a more confident posture and spoke to Meredith and Caretta, "Once the horses are watered and we've had a bite, we can head into Herger's camp.  You heard most of what Darius said, Caretta, at least the important things.  There should be no surprises."

Then he spoke directly to Meredith, "Nugget, are you ready to meet some humans?"

She looked at her father; his easy, confident smile had returned.  She looked at her mother, who stood relaxed, but regal.  Meredith looked at the remaining loaf in her hands and noticed her hands had stopped trembling.

Then, she looked at her father, and with eyes wide open, said, "Yes.  I am ready."

[pnwtrailrunner]

Sunday April 22, 2018 Skyline 25K

You know something crazy is going on when I consciously make the decision to get up at 4:45 in the morning on a Sunday. It’s my first race of the year and I’m a bit nervous. The Yakima Skyline Rim 25K was my dream race last year but I had to drop out due to a calf injury that continued to nag me for the better part of 2017. Today I’m feeling healthy and super excited to get out there and finally run this thing. There’s no exaggeration when I say that this race looks gorgeous! I have a bunch of time to kill so I get dressed and head over to the Starbucks before the family wakes up.

We arrived in Ellensburg yesterday and had dinner with our niece Christy who attends college here. I was trying my best to stick to my normal diet and the best thing I could find on the menu was a brat and some Cheddar Beer soup. Sticking to my low carb diet was important because I didn't want to throw any of my routines off. During dinner, I stepped away for a few minutes to have a phone chat with my coach. I am kind of new to running, so being able to go over a game plan with a coach is invaluable. I’ve only been with him for a month but I already feel like I know so much more than last year. He reminded me to be consistent with my pacing and use this race as a way to learn for my next several races. After dinner, we drove out to the race site to make sure we knew where we were going. The last thing I needed in the morning was to get lost and be late to the race. We were only a few hours outside of Seattle but the short drive out to the race site was like being in a different state. We saw giant rolling hills, rocky cliffs, a beautiful winding river and almost zero trees. It’s a complete 180 from forests of the side of the mountain we are from. This place looks like it’s right out of an old western movie. I could imagine herds of Buffalo or wild horses running through here at one time. It’s really beautiful. 

The sun is coming up and it's time to get ready for the day. Starbucks was great but I’m going to hit up the Red Lion’s breakfast buffet and have few eggs and bacon before leaving for the race. Bib pickup is 7:30-8:50 so I have some time. I check back in with the family after breakfast and they're ready to go. We leave the hotel a little later than I wanted and arrive at the race location around 8:15. I have my 32oz of required water and my photo ID ready to go so that I can pick up my bib. I look at my watch and see that I only have around 20 minutes until the pre-race briefing at 8:50. I hurry back to the car to pack my vest and get dressed. I'm feeling a bit rushed now but I make it to the briefing with a few minutes to spare. James gives us the lowdown of the race with an unsettling warning about rattlesnakes. What?!?! There were snake sightings on Friday but they were gone by the Saturday Race. He let us know that if we do get bit, it is important to not to get your heart rate up. Knowing what I know now about the terrain, there is no way that would have been possible. This is one of the most remote locations I have ever been. If you got bit and were somehow able to get cell service, they would have to airlift you out.

There are close to 200 runners in the small starting area and James starts us off at 9 am on the dot. We run through the parking lot and circle around to the suspension bridge that goes over the river. We cross over in a single file line to keep it from bouncing and swinging, but it doesn't help. The river below was moving pretty fast and it would suck to fall in I thought. I start moving through the winding single track trail trying to avoid rolling an ankle on the rocks. I'm going a bit slower than I had planned but I remind myself not to go out too strong. I want to conserve a much energy as possible. At about a mile in I start to regret wearing a jacket and gloves. So much for overpreparation. Careful not to stop and hold up the group, I take off my extra layers while continuing to climb. I shove them in my pack and keep moving. The trail finally opened up to the several miles of uphill climbing that lay ahead. It looked very difficult and from where I was standing I couldn't even see the worst part.

I keep a pretty steady/slow pace for the first mile. But the course was so open that I could see all the runners a mile ahead of me and it made me want to move faster. I increased my speed a little bit and passed a few people. None of us were going very fast up this thing but It gave me the opportunity to test the calf muscle. It had been giving me problems leading up to the race and this seemed like as good a time as any to test it out. It felt great! I passed when I could and kept moving. As I reached the top of this massive climb I could finally see flat trails.

The next few miles were spent on an old rocky dirt road that ran along the top of the hills. It gave us a 360-degree view of the beautiful landscape and a view of Mt Rainier that most people will never see. It was amazing. I had my iPhone out snapping photos for pretty much this entire section. We moved through a couple of small uphill and downhill sections but nothing major. I was starting to get my legs back after the after the long uphill and started to pick up the pace bit. Careful to not roll an ankle on a giant lava rock I pushed on. As I arrived at Doug McKeever's middle of nowhere aid station, I was feeling good. So far I had only gone through half a vile of olive oil and half a bottle of water. I said hi to Doug, used the restroom(the front of his truck) and refilled my water bottle. As I started down the trail Doug said that we were 1.8 steep miles from the full aid station/turnaround. He wasn’t joking! From where I was standing I could see where the aid station would be and had no idea how I was going to make it back up. At this point, all the elite runners were heading back up the single track trail. It became a game of chicken with the other runners coming up the hill. One of the other runners coming up the hill looked like he had fallen and cut his face and neck up on something. I was going to do my best to not have that happen to me.

It was getting a little warmer out now and my body was starting to fatigue. I hadn’t run more than 8 miles in a training run this year and I was just now reaching that point. I was chitchatting with another runner who had run this race before which helped the time pass and take my mind off the pain. He seemed to know every runner that was coming up the hill towards us which was pretty awesome. We were coming to the last downhill before the turnaround and it looked treacherous. I’m guessing it was close to a 65-70% grade. If I were the only runner out here it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. But with the people coming up the hill and the people behind me going down the hill at crazy speed, it was a bit scary. Pretty much everyone slowed down to a walking pace or used their hands to make it down this thing safely.

I arrived at the Rosa Creek aid station a few minutes later proud of the fact that I didn’t roll down that last hill. I hung out there for a few minutes admiring how awesome the volunteers were. Their excitement somehow got me pumped up to get back out on the course and take on that uphill climb. I grabbed a pickle, refilled my water bottles and headed back to kick the hill’s butt. After my first step, the aid station excitement was gone and I was moving at like zero miles an hour. Lol! I tried my best to not look up at what was ahead of me. Every person I talked to kept saying one foot in front of the other and keep moving. So that’s what I did. My legs were exhausted but felt strong. The calf pain I was having leading up to the race hadn’t been a problem all day long so I decided to push a little harder. I increased my pace a bit and moved past a few people. I saw Glen again and tried to put on a good face for my photo. I’m pretty sure I looked like death though. I figured I only had another mile until Doug’s aid station but it felt like it might as well have been 20 miles. Why does this 25K feel harder than the 50K I did last year? Just as my mind started to go to dark places I could finally see the aid station. Sure, it was up a hill but at least I could see it. I eventually reached the aid station and refilled my water. I brought my own food so I was quickly on my way. I downed a few pieces of salami and a handful of macadamia nuts as I headed up the next climb. The salami had become a bit to warm so I decided to stick to the nuts and olive oil until the end of the race. I only had around 5 miles to go until I'd be on the line for pizza anyway.

Everyone was pretty spread out now and not as chatty. I ran with a woman for a while but we didn’t say a word to each other. I'm not sure where she found the energy, but at one point she decided to take off and leave me in her dust. I was by myself again. Now would have been a good time for some upbeat music or a good podcast. But because of the Rattlesnake threat, I left my AirPods in the car. I could hardly move at this point. I was happy they weren’t cramping like they did in my last race, but my quads were finished. With no music and quads that were already done with the race and ready for a pizza break, I was ready to sit down and take a break. Then I saw them. Spectators! These people hiked all the way up that hill to cheer us on and it was exactly what I needed. The motivation of shame:) If I sat down in front of spectators I would look like a weirdo. So I kept moving and finished the last few feet of the climb. I was at the final section of the race now. I looked down and saw the almost 2-2.5mile downhill to the finish that lay ahead of me and it looked difficult! I wondered if my legs could even handle it.  I stopped, regained my thoughts, snapped a picture and started down the hill.

I’ve never felt the fear of losing a toenail until this downhill. My toes were being pushed so far into the front of my shoe that I thought the front of my shoes were going to explode open. I tried running down the hill with my feet landing sideways on the trail but it didn't help. It just made my quads hurt more. At one point I lost my concentration and started moving a bit too fast and almost lost my balance. At the last second, I caught myself before tumbling down and rolling over a bunch of hikers. At this point, I decided it would be safer to walk the rest of the steep section and shoot for running the last mile and a half. If nothing else, I wanted to walk away injury free from this thing. With about a mile left in the course, I was back in the canyon running the narrow and rocky trails. I could feel hotspots forming on the arches of my feet and every step I took felt more painful than the last. I could hear another running coming up behind me so I pulled off to the side and let him pass. It gave me chance to take a breather and adjust my shoes. I was also happy to have another runner to pace myself off of. As we got to the bottom of the canyon we met up with two other runners that were in front of us. We all went under the overpass together and then crossed the suspension bridge. The bridge was even more difficult to cross without all the other runners on it. Maybe it was just my tired legs. It felt like trying to walk across a bouncy castle with a bunch of kids jumping on it after I had just finished doing 200 squats. After crossing over we were back in the parking lot with what was probably less than a half mile to go.

I had almost nothing in my tank. I could smell the pizza but it might as well have been 5 miles away. I looked at my watch and it said 3:41 pm. I figured a finish time of 3:45 sounded like a good number to shoot for. So with what little energy I had left, I started to run. I passed the guy who a few minutes earlier ran by me in the canyon and then moved by other two guys that were ahead of us. I didn’t care what place I ended up in, I was just using these runners as a friendly competition to stay upright and keep moving. I wanted to see my daughter. I wanted to see my wife. I wanted pizza in my mouth! I could see the finish line just up and over a small hill ahead of me. I managed to stay upright, cross the finish line and shake the Race Director’s hand. I did it! It wasn’t the perfect performance but I did what I needed to do. I found my family and gave them some love before getting in line for some pizza.

The Yakima Skyline Rim 25K was a very difficult race but I am so happy I was able to run it this year. It was beautiful and challenging. It's basically everything you want in a trail race. The people that operate Rainshadow Running are very cool and put on amazing events. If you ever decide to run a trail race or have already run a bunch of them, check out Rainshadow. You’ll be happy you did.

Not sure what’s up next. Either the Red Devil 50K in June or The Volcanic 50K in August.