#I don’t know how to draw horses so don’t judge harshly

[aldanil]

There was this chapter in Starless Night where Drizzt meet a unicorn and is all in awe about it, so I wished to draw it

Sweetest moment before the gloom

[havenoffandoms]

Hello and congrats on 800 followers!!! Could I ask for an Eskel x female cat Witcher!reader with prompts 3 or 5? Thanks 😊

Hi anon! Thanks so much and thanks for this really fun combination of prompt. Here’s my little silly take on cat!witcher!reader x Eskel. Hope you like it. 

Send your prompt requests here.

Cat!Witcher!reader x Eskel: “it’s really not that complicated” (prompt 3) and “we could get arrested for this” (prompt 5)

“Would you hurry up, wolf?” you urge your travel companion as he struggles to pick a simple lock, “it’s really not that complicated, for the love of the gods.”

“You try and pick a lock in a tight space with little to no natural light,” you hear the witcher known as Eskel snide back. A guttural groan pushes past his lips as he tugs on the lock in his frustration. “Fucking thing!”

“Oh, get out of my damn way,” you snap at him as you squeeze yourself into said tight space, elbowing Eskel in the ribs as you wriggle up to where the lock is resisting the wolf witcher, “here, watch an expert at work.”

“Why am I not surprised that you Cat witchers know how to pick locks?” Eskel punctuates his words with a pointed eyeroll. 

“At least Guxart taught us some street smarts. What do you bring to the table, your theoretical knowledge of monsters? Your working knowledge of poetry? How’s that gonna help, you gonna bore the guards to death by reciting a couple of verses?” 

“Fuck you.”

“Make me,” you hiss in response, but your mood quickly brightens when you hear the familiar ‘click’ sound as the lock yields under your nimble fingers. You pull on it harshly and manage to open the trap door, your only escape out of these dungeons. “Hah! Where does that take us?”

“Sewers, judging by the stench,” Eskel remarks, his nose scrunching up in distaste. You can’t help but agree with your companion on this one. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”

“Let’s go, then.”

With the agility worthy of your namesake, you jump down yet another hole tight and land on your feet and hands. You keep this position long enough to assess your surroundings, your yellow-green eyes picking up every movement without needing to use a Cat potion. Unlike Eskel, who is probably downing one as you wait for him to follow you into the sewers. Once you are satisfied that there is no immediate danger, you rise to your full height and silently slip along the humid walls. You hear rats squeaking in the distance and scattering as the sound of Eskel landing next to you spook them. 

“Any idea which direction we should be taking, street-smarts?” 

“Well, the exit was north-west of our cell, so I’m gonna take a wild guess and say we should be heading that way,” you point in the direction you were referring to, “you got your swords?”

“Duh,” is all Eskel offered in response, “do you think so little of me?”

“Do you want an honest answer to that question? C’mon, we’ve wasted enough time waiting for you to drink that stupid Cat potion.”

You ignore Eskel’s grumbled response and take off without another word. You and Eskel have known each other for years. You first met on the path after he saved you from a particularly aggressive female wyvern. The beast was in heat and very territorial, and she did not appreciate anyone interrupting her mating rituals. There had been no contract on her head, you just happened to have the worst of luck. After Eskel saved you, he could hardly believe that he was not only standing face to face with a witcher from the School of the Cat, notoriously responsible for the creation of a famously vicious breed of emotionally-volatile assassins, but face to face with a female witcher no less. Your school often trained women, but very few of those were put through the trials and even fewer survived. You managed to beat the odds. You’re exceptionally good at what you do, which is why you and Eskel got along so well. 

After months of travelling together, and after a boozy night following a successful contract, you and Eskel became lovers. At first, it was purely physical, but as the months bled into years you realised that it was nice to have someone to go back to after an exceedingy shitty year on the Path. You started to miss Eskel after prolonged periods of not seeing each other and that’s when you admitted to yourself that it had stopped being purely physical a long time ago. You couldn’t let Eskel know, though. It would only get to his head. That’s why you settled for the tough love approach instead. It worked fine. Eskel had yet to run away.

Your train of thought is interrupted when you hear the familiar hiss of drowners in the darkness. You and Eskel simultaneously unsheathe your swords and brace yourself for an attack. One drowner sneaks up on Eskel from behind, but you notice it first out of the corner of your eyes and blast Igni in its face. In the meantime, Eskel hacks off the arm of another beast before running his silver sword through its abdomen, killing it with one powerful thrust. In the distance, you hear the echoes of more drowners heading your way. 

“Shit. We need to fucking hurry.” 

You run blindly through the labyrinth of underground tunnels. The truth is that neither of you knows where the exit is, or if there even is an exit. There has to be, you reason, the sewers always lead somewhere. Traditionally to a river, at least. There had to be an exit, or else the underground tunnels would be flooded and you would be swimming in shitwater by now. The fact that you aren’t is a fucking sign right? Right?

“There? You feel that?” Eskel suddenly speaks and instantly every hair on your body bristles in anticipation. 

“Feel what?”

“A draught.” Yes. You do feel it now that Eskel mentioned it. “Follow me. Turn to the left.”

You follow Eskel through the sewers, and to the relief of you both, you’re running away from the nest of drowners rather than towards it. Under any other circumstance neither of you would’ve shied from a group of drowners, but you were trying to escape and not draw more attention to yourself. Some other witcher, one that was preferably not wanted in Temeria, could take care of that one.

“We’re getting closer,” you say when your nose picks up the smell of fish and seawater, “we’ve almost made it.”

You and Eskel reach an opening several frantic minutes later, at once out of breath but also relieved that you managed to find your way out of those dungeons. It’s dark outside, which will help you and Eskel escape without raising too much attention, or so you hope. You both manage to exit the sewers soundlessly. Even Eskel with his impressive size manages to stealth his way past guards and civilians alike. Not as flawlessly as yourself, mind you, but you weren’t one to brag. 

Well, maybe a little bit, but there would be time for boasting later. 

“Hey look, there’s some horses there,” you tell him, your voice too quiet for any mortal ear to pick up but you knew Eskel could hear you loud and clear. 

“No. I need to get back to Scorpion.”

“Oh good gods - really? Eskel, we don’t have time for this. Scorpion is stabled near the city gates… at the other side of fucking town.”

“I’m not leaving Scorpion.”

With that, Eskel takes off in the opposite direction, leaving you to ponder whether you should follow him or go your own way and hope that your paths will cross again eventually. Fuck it, who are you kidding, you wouldn’t let that idiot risk his life for a stupid horse on his own. Well, if he gets caught you might just let him ride it out for a while… you know, just to teach him a lesson. 

You follow Eskel’s trail, making sure to remain unseen. Your hand reaches up and touches your witcher medallion, shaped in the form of a cat’s head, something you’ve done since the trials to ground you, to calm your nerves. After what felt like the longest fucking chase ever, you see Eskel pressed against the wall of the stables that you recognise as the place you two had left your horses in two days ago when you first arrived. Eskel peeks around the corner, checking for guards, and when he’s satisfied that he hasn’t been spotted he climbs up the side of the building at a surprising speed. You curse under your breath, but follow him up onto the roof of the building. 

“You know we could get arrested for this?” you tell him once you reach the top. Eskel raises an eyebrow, a mocking grin tugging at the scarless corner of his lips. Anticipating his smartass remark, you hiss: “I’ve just sneaked out of a dungeon, I don’t fancy another trip through those sewers.”

“Don’t worry, this won’t take you long.”

“Me? Whatever do you mean, me?” Your eyes land on the chimney and its opening, too narrow for Eskel to fit through, but not too narrow to fit… you. Oh, the bastard was going to pay for this. When you turn to glare at your companion, all you can see is the protruding lower lip and the pleading eyes. 

“No…”

“Please? Scorpion means the world to me.”

“What about me?” you snap, forcing yourself to look away or risk falling for Eskel’s pretty face all over again, “don’t I mean the world to you?”

“Of course,” he says, his tone growing softer, “and I’m sure if the situations were reversed, Scorpion would do the same for you.”

“Urgh, fine!” you eventually relent despite the absurdity of Eskel’s last comment, “but you owe me for this.”

To this day you don’t know how you and Eskel didn’t get caught sneaking a massive war stallion out of the stables, nor how you two managed to escape the guards at the city gates. It certainly made for an interesting story that winter when you and Eskel travelled back to Kaer Morhen.  

Lambert relentlessly teases you for ‘growing too soft’ and ‘being wrapped around Eskel’s little finger’, but when you see the open adoration written plainly on Eskel’s face as soon as he and you retreat back to his room, well, you simply don’t find it in yourself to truly mind all that much. 

[yougottalovegameofthrones]

Almost Home Pt. 7 (Robb Stark x Reader)

A/N: Wowza, this one ended up being longer than I thought! But it’s pretty angsty, so get ready. XD  Thanks for reading!

-M <3

----

I never knew how much love could hurt, until it finally did.  Every morning and every night that past following that dreadful encounter were bitter and painful. I could only wish that I had the sanctuary that I found in sleep.

At first, it seemed that Robb Stark felt the same pain as I did.  We saw each other nearly every day, and whenever our eyes met, the sense of loss lingered between us. His lips parted to speak, but I always found an excuse to leave before the words could be heard. My heart always told me to go back… go back to him and apologize for rejecting him so harshly a few weeks previous. 
But I didn’t.

In nearly every moment except for when I was in my chambers, I knew that Catelyn Stark was watching, whether if it was through her own eyes or through one of the many people working around Robb and I.

If we were to be caught together again… my life would be over. And although my life was not much at this moment in time, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to… that ogre, Ser Larris Smallwood.  Who knew what he would do to me before he ended it all?

With the potential dangers that came with even talking to Robb, I couldn’t risk it. And as much as my heart hurt for watching his face fall every time I said I had to leave,  it was for the best. He would find happiness again… in someone who truly deserved it.

“Y/N, once you finish starting the bath, would you please come join me out here?” Catelyn Stark called from her perch on the balcony, her voice almost humorous as the words left her lips.

“Yes, my Lady.”  I finished what she required before walking to stand by her side. “What is it?”

“I want you to look down there, and tell me what you see.”

My eyes followed her extended hand, and my heart began to ache at the sight of Robb down bellow, laughing with a group of men. “My Lady, I thought you didn’t want-“

“I asked you to look.” Her tone was more clipped. “Look again.” 
When my eyes fell back to the group of men bellow, I noticed that a maiden was now amongst them. Her hair was long and tied back into a braid, her dress covering her body modestly, and the charming smile on her face drawing all of the men in… and from the looks of it, she seemed to be catching Robb’s attention as well.

If my heart had been hurting before, it was nothing compared to how it was feeling now. Shattered, crushed, split in two. A lump grew in my throat as I watched the woman approach Robb and begin to speak with him, her hand moving to rest on his arm before slowly moving up to his chest.

“Her name is Lady Lylian Wythers.” Catelyn Stark’s voice commented quietly, but contently. “I have a feeling that she will make my son very happy.”

My body frozen in place, unable to move as I watched Lady Lylian draw closer to Robb, eventually leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.  My head began to spin, my eyes growing blurry with tears that I so desperately wanted to shed, and my hands began to shake.

After a few moments, Robb pulled away from the kiss and looked up towards where Catelyn and I stood. His face went slightly pale and he began to move towards where we were, but his mother grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back into the confines of her room.

“He may of thought that he found his happiness in you…” She whispered in my ear, her grip on my arm tightening. “But it turns out that any young woman can make a King happy.” She let me go. “Off to bed.”

I slipped out of her room and walked down the hall, praying to the Gods that I would not encounter Robb Stark in the way. Another hand grasped onto my arm and pulled me to the side, causing me to gasp. I came face to face with none other than the King of the North.

“What is it with you Starks about pulling people around by their limbs?” I snapped, yanking myself free from his grip.

“Y/N….” His voice was soft, as if he was afraid to break me with his words.

“What?!” At that point, the idea that I was talking to the King of the North did not matter. I was angry. No, I was beyond angry. I was devastated, and it would take more than a few kisses and gentle words to heal this wound.

“I didn’t know you were there.” Robb’s eyes were lit with remorse, and I had to restrain myself from feeling sympathy for him at this moment.

“So you would’ve kissed her if I wasn’t there, then?”

“I didn’t want-“

“Do not give me that load of bullshit, Robb Stark.” Judging by the surprised expression on his face, I don’t think he knew I had the confidence to say that sentence to his face. “You seemed perfectly content with having a pretty young Lady kissing you.”

“I don’t want her!” His voice was exasperated, and I rolled my eyes.

“Who do you want then, Robb? Or what, to be more exact? If it’s pleasure you want, I’m sure there are plenty of young women who would love to visit you in your chambers.”

For a split second, anger crossed his face.. But after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his chambers, despite my protest. Once the door closed behind us,Robb turned around and pulled me into his embrace, pressing his lips against mine eagerly.

Without even thinking, I found myself kissing him back and the sound of satisfaction that Robb made had me wanting this moment to last forever. But after a few moments, he pulled away, his eyes gazing down at me wearily. “Does that give you your answer?”

“I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head sadly, and his eyes grow hard.

“Has my mother been telling you that again? Is that what she said to you the night that you ran from me?”

“And other things.” My eyes fall to the floor, but his fingers tipped my chin up, forcing me to look up at him.

“What other things?” Robb’s voice was gentle, and I felt the wall I built up around myself slowly begin to crumble.

“She wrote a letter to my family, telling them that I abandoned them because I didn’t want to marry, and of my location. Your mother said if I continued to be with you, that the letter would be sent out immediately, and my fate would rest in the hands of…” I shivered slightly. “My husband.”

It was silent for a few moments, and I looked back up at Robb. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were ablaze with anger. My hands moved to cup his face and his eyes met mine again. “You cannot tell confront her about this.”

“Why not?” His tone was filled with disbelief.

“She will still send out the letter. I’m sure she made plenty of other copies in the incident that you found out.”

“Even if she is my own mother…” His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I cannot stand for her to use her power to mistreat people that way. If she sends the letter, I will not let that man take you away. I’m the King of the North.”

“I don’t think this man will play fairly.” I whispered quietly. “He might come when we aren’t ready. Maybe even in the middle of night.”

“That’s why I need to confront my mother, and that is why you will be staying in here with me from now on.”

“But-“

“No buts.” Robb shook his head gently. “Your safety is not something to argue about. And at this rate, my mother will eventually find out again about us. I’d rather know you are safe than risk it by sending you back to your chambers.”

I let out a small sigh, and nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try to argue with me this time. “ A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “It would’ve been a much lengthier conversation if you had.”

“I’d rather not argue with you anymore. It’s a rather nasty affair.”

“I agree.” Robb leaned down and kissed me gently before adding, “I’ll talk to my mother in the morning. For now, I think we should get some rest. “

—-

The old man  had watched from afar as Robb stopped the handmaiden down the hall, his voice hushed but desperate. Eventually, the King of the North had taken her back to his chambers, and that led the old man towards Lady Stark’s chambers.

“My Lady… I have news.”

“I hope it’s good. I was just getting into bed.” Catelyn Starks voice was irritated as she approached the door to find the man standing there. “What is it?”

“Your son took your handmaiden back to his chambers. They were fairly quiet in their conversations, but I don’t think it’s good, My Lady.”

Catelyn Stark retreated silently back into her room, grabbing the addressed letter off of her table before turning back to the old man at the door. “Give this to the fastest rider, and get him on his horse, now. I want that letter delivered before sunrise.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The man nodded before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. Catelyn shut the doors, shaking her head with a smile as she walked back towards the bed. She had given that young girl a chance to make a life her. But she had made one too many mistakes, and for that… she would have to pay the price.

[21stcenturyhope]

BTS Imagine // Royalty!AU with Yoongi

Min Yoongi

summary: The destiny of two star-crossed lovers. The two of you came from different worlds. You were royalty and he was just a mere peasant but the two of you were in love. Everyone warned you that it wouldn’t work out but who listens to the naysayers?

genre: angst

warnings: violence, murder and suicide

length: 1.4k words

other members:  Jin | Hoseok | Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

Everyone you knew had warned you against him.

They said he couldn’t be trusted. That he only loved you for your wealth. That one day, he would ultimately betray you. That someone like you should never lower yourself to be with someone like him. Because he was a peasant.

-

It was by complete chance that you met Min Yoongi that day.

Your father, the king, had just conquered the neighbouring territory. As his only child, you had never been allowed to adventure past the kingdom’s borders so you had taken this chance to explore new sights. You snuck away from your personal guard and took your trusted horse with you to explore the new vast forests that were now under your father’s rule.

However, a noise in the bushes had spooked your companion and you were bucked off your horse as it ran away. You had twisted your ankle as a result of the fall and you were unable to get up. The source of the commotion revealed itself as a handsome, young man emerged from the bushes. Judging by his appearance, he didn’t come from a family with any noble titles nor treasures.

“Are you alright?” he rushed forward to help you up.

“There’s something wrong with my foot. I can’t get up.” You began to tear up from the pain and utter embarrassment.

“Hey, hey. No need to cry, everything will be okay. How about we get you off this forest floor first? Your clothes look too nice to be dirtied.” The stranger took off his own jacket and laid it evenly on the ground before helping you move over out of the dirt.

“Thank you,” you murmured quietly as your tears began to lessen.

“No need to thank me. We should wait a bit before we put any pressure on your foot. I’m Yoongi, by the way. What’s your name?”

“You… you don’t know who I am?” You were pleasantly surprised at the kindness that Yoongi had shown you but even more astounded by the fact that he didn’t recognize you as the heir to the throne.

“Should I?” he laughed, showing off his endearing gummy smile. You smiled back in return.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself.

-

The two of you spent hours in the isolated forest getting to know each other before your father’s soldiers finally found you and exposed your identity as the royal heir. You insisted on bringing Yoongi back with you, claiming he was your saviour and deserved to be rewarded.

Yoongi was granted a large estate just outside of the palace. Almost everyday, you made some sort of excuse to visit him which everyone saw right through. For the first time in your life, you felt a genuine connection. Yoongi never treated you any differently because you were royalty but he was still understanding of the burdens you carried as the sole heir to the throne. Slowly but surely, the two of you fell in love.

You had begged and pleaded with your father to allow you to marry Yoongi against the advice of his counsel. How well do you really know him? How do you know he’s not just using you for your wealth and status? You refused to doubt your relationship with Yoongi based off the words of meaningless people.

“Y/N, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I don’t want to bring you any more problems.”

“Min Yoongi, do you love me or not?” you demanded, eyes ablaze with a fiery passion.

“Of course, I do! But there are so many people against us,” he admitted. Your gaze softened and you approached Yoongi, gently caressing his face with your hand.

“Who cares what they say? As long as we love each other, I’m willing to fight for us. Are you?” The smile you loved so much reappeared on his face before he leaned forward to draw you into a slow, sweet kiss.

“Then I’ll fight for us too. As long as I have you, Y/N,” Yoongi said once the two of you had broken apart.

And as his only child, the king could never say no to you. You and Yoongi were wedded that summer which marked the beginning of what you thought would be your happily ever after.

-

You harshly wiped the tears away from your eyes, willing yourself to stop crying and to ignore the cold bodies of your parents on the floor next to you. The rest of the throne room was littered with the bodies of the royal guard and the assassins who had entered the palace in the middle of the night.

Before he died, your father had guessed that the assassins were sent by an enemy he thought to be long dead. It was said that the neighbouring kingdom had hidden their son before being conquered by your father. The son had finally emerged and was hell bent on seeking revenge and reclaiming the throne for himself.

“Your Majesty, we need to leave the castle immediately. We can take the servant passageways. Those will keep us out of sight.”

“I’m not leaving without Yoongi,” you insisted. You picked up a sword of a fallen soldier. You never thought the day would come that you would need to put your sparring lessons to the test. But you couldn’t leave without your husband and the entire castle had been infiltrated by the enemy. It would be no easy task.

As one of the few remaining guards approached the entrance to the servant passageway, he was instantly killed by the enemy who had been waiting behind the doors. Scores of darkly-clad soldiers flooded the room, surrounding you and your remaining guards. One by one, you watched as each of your soldiers were struck down in a ruthless manner.

Soon, all of your men had perished and you were the only one left standing. The enemy had you surrounded, swords at the ready. You confidently held the sword in your hands, getting into position. You were determined to fight until your last breath when all of a sudden, Yoongi appeared.

“At ease,” Yoongi called out with a confidence you had never seen from him before. Immediately, all of the soldiers lowered their swords and allowed Yoongi past their human barricade to approach you.

“Yoongi, what’s going on?” you questioned. An indescribable sinking feeling began to form in your gut because deep down, you already knew the answer to that question.

“Y/N, I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. Please put your sword down,” he called out softly. You held your sword steady, refusing to lower it as you put the pieces together and figured out the truth.

“Were you ever going to tell me the truth? Or did you plan on killing me along with my parents?” Your heart shattered into pieces when you realized that Yoongi, your loving husband, was the so-called secret prince your father was talking about.

“I’ll admit that was the original plan. But things came up that I didn’t account for.”

“Like what?” you harshly interrupted. “It wasn’t an accident, was it? Meeting me in the forest that day?”

“Y/N… I…”

“Answer me!” you cried out as the full force of his betrayal finally hit you.

“No, it wasn’t an accident. I knew who you were from the start,” Yoongi admitted. “But Y/N, I needed to avenge my parents and your father was the one who killed them.”

“So, you used me like some pawn?”

“At first… but Y/N, I didn’t expect to fall in love with you!”

You shook your head, unwilling to hear any more of his excuses. How could you forgive the man who used you and murdered your family? You hated him. But more than that, you hated yourself for how much you still loved him.

“Tell me, Yoongi, did you ever really love me?”

“Y/N, I really do love you. Please believe me.”

You looked Yoongi in the eyes one more time, trying to discern whether he was telling the truth or another lie. But betrayal clouded your judgement and you didn’t know what to believe anymore. With a quick turn of your wrist, the sword in your hand was driven deep into your own heart and you fell to the floor. As the world began to fade to black, you could feel Yoongi cradling your body in his arms as he repeatedly sobbed for you to keep your eyes open and stay with him.

Oh, how you wished you had listened to all the warnings.

[lachalaine]

He pressed closer, lifting a large paw and grating it against the thick glass of the enclosure. People milled about on the smooth path and steps he could see on the other side, some were pointing in his direction and taking photos of his trapped form, while others simply chatted and watched the other exhibits.

Again, he scratched the glass, a frustrated whine echoing with the movement, his breath flaring against the cool surface holding him.

This wasn’t right. He wasn’t meant to be there.

Didn’t they know he wasn’t some wild leopard, but a real shifter? A man too?

If only he could just-

Screams snapped tension into place. His ears twitched and wanted to flatten against his head to ward off the sounds of panic. He didn’t need to hear more, as his wide eyes were caught on the many figures fleeing in sudden desperation, and he understood there was danger.

They tripped over themselves, dropped belongings and scrambled away.

He was alone with his racing heart within seconds.

No.

Not alone.

Hair made from the galaxy itself dragged his attention skidding back to the space his eyes had just passed over in a rush.

About 30 feet away from him, on the other side of the impenetrable glass, Jackie dashed down a set of gentle stairs and stopped halfway, halting on the flat landing.

Dread gripped him.

No, no, no, no, no!

There was clearly a threat around, did she not know that!? It wasn’t safe!

His heart stopped as a figure appeared at the top of the steps behind Jackie.

No!

The unknown man descended the steps with weapon in hand.

Jackie didn’t run.

She should have.

She should have done anything but face the stranger with her shoulders straight and her eyes showing her resolve to be strong.

Something in her expression said that she was confident the male wasn’t going to hurt her.

She trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her. That he wouldn’t go so far at least.

She shouldn’t have.

The impact to her chest knocked her back against the handrail. Surprise flashed across her face, and then she crumpled like a beautiful flower beneath a giant’s boot.

No! No, no, no, no!

The leopard threw both heavy paws, and all of his weight, against the window to claw recklessly at the barrier. Strong nails slid and scraped, their efforts only pushing themselves back towards their sheaths with far too much force.

Violent red smeared the glass from it.

Pain arched through him at the points but could not compare to the consuming feeling of having his heart torn from him.

As the window finally cracked and buckled against his assault, he jolted awake.

Air rushed harshly into his lungs and he was already up on his paws, the claws of which were so very deeply entrenched within the familiar sheets and bed.

Wild, frantic eyes searched and swiftly found Jackie just out of reach beside him. Feline muscles shuddered and heaved his body, begging and begging to press nearer to the woman, to let him shift and run his hands over her and see for certain that she was okay.

That she was alive.

His own thundering heart blocked out all other sounds, but at least he could see her breathing and how her eyes were now open with concern.

He could see it all, yes, but processing it was a whole other story.

He needed to shift!

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

He was stuck, trapped! And she was fading away from him, he was sure of it. He had to get closer to her!

Desperate, panicked sounds tore up through his aching throat, interspersing with the rapid punches of his uneven, shallow breaths in the air. The ripping of fabric came as he tried to yank his curved nails free of the bedding, but he only became more tangled.

His tail and lower half twisted and thrashed with the urgency of trying to escape.

But all flailing of his limbs then ceased in an instant.

That is, the instant he hauled himself close enough to Jackie and pressed his head against the softness of her chest. His nose prodded and hunted, tongue even rasped hurriedly against the thin top she wore, grazing her skin too. No blood. No injury at all, those senses told him. And now another belatedly reassured him of her life by letting him register the quick beat of her heart.

She was alive.

She was okay.

But his own heart didn’t stop it’s racing, nor did his breathing slow down.

It had been too real.

Jackie. Gone.

He could still see it all too clearly, and it made him close his eyes tighter as he hid against her. The terror of it all clung to him with a chill that raked icy fingers down his body. He shivered and turned his head, pressing his ear against the comforting heartbeat while tilting up to nuzzle what he could reach of her jaw.

Jackie was there. With him.

She was real.

And he didn’t ever want to be without her.

Please stay with me. Don’t leave.

Kit. 

Something’s wrong.

His name on her lips, the first thought that startles her awake from ( dreamless, dreamless, dreamless — no. not quite dreamless at all ) sleep, eyes flashing open in the darkness, her heartbeat pounding something fierce inside her chest, like the frightened hooves of a wild horse galloping across the plains of her suddenly aching heart.

It renders her absolutely incapacitated – so much so, that she can’t find it in herself to breathe.

‘Help me.’

A stray thought, and yet not one that generally crosses her mind – as her vision flashes with memories ( images, visions, not entirely her own ) stained in the copper stench of blood. The familiar glimmer of eyes crafted out of steel blue, the fear of facing up to a man she’d consider her personal nightmare, yet still with the fragile certainty of hope ( he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he fucking wouldn’t — ) —

He would.

And how could she be so stupid as to think otherwise?

A keening whimper as the sound cuts through the silence forged by the sharpest taint of fear, forcing Jackie back into the present as senses set her on high alert, eyes wide as reality crashes back into her with the force of a freight train, wrenching her from the dull haze of terror that’d cloaked her and right back into the comforts of her bed.

Her bed. Her own – with, with, with her – Kit.

Shit.

—- what’s happening to him?

“Kit?” A terrified whisper breathed between velvet lips as she’d stared – stared at the petrified leopard thrashing about wildly across her bed sheets, a medley of broken cries resonating as sharp claws dug frantically into thick fabric, the sounds of his whimpers – the look in those broken and absolutely horrified eyes – tugging at a heart string that’d felt all too fragile as it was.

‘Help him, oh god, please help him, please, please, please, please, please— !’

Fucking fix this!

“Kit – wait – wait, stop – “ Alarm bells suddenly ringing shrill through her head as the female quickly raises herself towards him, palms held out warily as she’d inched her way forwards, vaguely conscious of the path of wayward claws as they ran deep gouges into the comforter; knowing full well that any slip of fabric that she’d currently adorned would absolutely hold no defense against the sting of the feline’s nails should they accidentally graze her, even knowing full well it’d mattered not to her if she’d got maimed in the process.

She knew her kitten well enough, she knew when something – when everything – was just plain wrong. And regardless of what it was, regardless of the fear still clutched like a heavy shadow around her neck, of the phantom pain settling like the streak of metal within her chest, every attempt made to draw her back, back, back to a past of which she could only ever hope to fully forget –

None of it mattered. Not now. Not ever. What mattered was this. What mattered was that she’d fixed this – this — whatever this was.

Help him. Please. 

‘Please just let him be okay.’

“Come here, kitty, please, please – you need to calm down, it’s oka – “ The shudder of a sharp breath rushing clear past her lips as she suddenly finds herself thrown backwards, bombarded by the full force of leopards heavy frame shoving her into the pillows, rendering the female struck silent as he’d soon forced himself into her arms with all the panic of a frightened rabbit.

Oh. Oh gods, help her. 

Yet she doesn’t even hesitate.

“Kitty.” Soft utterance whispered into the evening air as the male nuzzles his head against her chest, the cold lap of his scratchy tongue against her skin sending shivers racing down her spine, the slightest tremble of her frame apparent even as arms ran taut to hold him close. She could feel his large paws pressing against her waist, could feel the rush of his own thundering heartbeat pounding hard against her flesh. It was so, so much. Almost too much.

But she couldn’t bear to let him go.

“Calm down, Kit. It’s okay – I’m here with you and you’re okay. I promise.” Gentle affirmation muttered as she’d laid a careful hand against the top of his spine, the tender brush of digits as they’d traced along checkered fur, all efforts made in order to hopefully calm the racing heartbeat of the leopard that still sat so clearly agitated before her. 

His terror appeared permanent however, no matter her gestures; as judging by the way he’d nudged his way closer into her arms even despite her hold, it was either he was still trying to hide, or just trying to get as close to her as humanly possible.

The way his head fit so neatly against the swell of her chest, even the way he’d nuzzled himself against the line of her jaw made her heart quake something awful, and she’d held him closer all the more for it, if only for reasons she wouldn’t even dare herself to say.

soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur

“It’s okay Kit, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Soft whispers as the minute trembling began again, the shudder of her hand where it’d laid upon his fur, forcing her mind further and further from the cold draw of dread that’d creeped patiently upon her footsteps –

Goddess help her, but this wasn’t about her. It would never be about her. It would never, ever, evER —

p l e a s e . 

Don’t let this be about her.

happy kitty, sleepy kitty, 

“Nothing will ever hurt you.”

purr

If only she knew –

purr

It wasn’t him that he was worried about.

Purr.

// @bestiatexere​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #183

“clothes trailing from the back door to the bedroom, and i don’t even know your name.”

Would you ever become a fan of a team you hate to please your spouse? Lol no. Can you handle scary movies? Easily. How often do you get a new purse…and for guys a new wallet? Not often at all. What is the most money that you have ever spent on getting your nails done? This doesn't apply to me, I don't get them done. Once a cheater, always a cheater? No, but I wouldn't date someone who ever did. What word describes your last relationship? Verification, I suppose? I learned I love him just platonically. Do you sneak into movie theaters? No. You can make one person fall eternally in love with you, who do you choose? I don't want to *make* anyone do that. Is there ever a happily ever after? Yeah, but sadly not for everyone. Did you believe there were monsters in your closet or under your bed? Not terribly, but the closet could make me nervous. Do you like guys with beards? It depends on the guy. What annoys you most of the same sex? This isn't generalizing, I think we can all agree girls have a greater tendency to be short in arguments or if we're just in a bad mood. Do you have a fake I.D.? No. Would you ever travel to Africa? I already wanna go. Would you date someone 5 years older than you? Yeah. Does it bother you when girls make duck faces? It doesn't bother me, I just think it looks dumb. Have you ever been fingered? Yeah. Have you ever been to California? Did you like it? Never gone. What do you do the most when you are online? Watch YT, RP, browse dA, surveys... Do you like to dance? If so, what is your favorite move? I do, but there's no way I could survive dance classes in my current shape. Fave move, idk. When was the last time you got a haircut? Few days before going to Sara's in October. I need another. Does it matter to you if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks? YUP. I won't date you if it's any more than very rarely. Honestly, if you wanted to get laid right now, could you? No. what is your favorite font? Of the "normal" ones, Garamond. Would you make a good movie critic? Noooo. I'm not very criticizing of movies, honestly. Do you like deviled eggs? Omfg NO. I fucking abhor egg yolk in any form. What is your favorite Horror movie? Either of the Blair Witch Project movies. What career are you most interested in? Paleontologist. Have you ever seen a rooster? Welcome to the South, buckaroo. What’s your favorite sweetheart name (baby, honey, angel, dumpling) "Love" or "sweetheart." Has a little kid ever fallen asleep on your lap before? Yes. Have you ever thrown a grenade? No. Have you ever owned a rocking horse? Maybe? Who was the last person you took a picture with? Sara. What’s your favorite kind of float? (coke, root beer) Coke. Have you ever seriously mourned the death of a pet? Like extremely seriously, not really, I think? Shadow was hard, but I don't believe it was too serious. I saw him dying days before it happened. Can you surf/boogie board? No. Medals, ribbons, or trophies? (or just plain cash?) I'll take the money. If any of your friends had really bad body odor, would you tell them? No. Would you ever try anal? If you have, were you always keen to try it? NO NO NO IT GROSSES ME OUT SO MUCH. What age do you want to live until? Maybe like, at least 70. If all jobs paid the same, what would you be doing? Photography. If you heard your best friend’s significant other was cheating on them, would you tell them? Even if you couldn’t prove it? No shit, but I'd be sure to include I only heard it. What is the story behind your pet’s name? Teddy: reminded us of a teddy bear. Bentley: idk. Roman: thought it sounded regal, like cats. Venus: beautiful, her color is similar to the planet. Mitsu: I gave all my rats "m" names. Kaiju: I'd wanted an iguana named after a huge lizard creature forever. What’s something that you once liked, but now hate? Country music. If you were to get engaged, what’s your dream engagement ring? Rose gold something. If you discovered you were pregnant at this point in time, would you keep it or abort it? Why? If out of my own carelessness, I'd keep it but adopt it out. If in any other way, idk. If my life was at risk, yes, and I'd really have to consider if it'd be too traumatic for me with how I feel about pregnancy. What is the last thing you googled? I forgot. Throughout your life, what was your favorite birthday and why? Idk. If everyone was required to make a YouTube channel, what would your content be like? Um... I suppose chill let's plays, no camera? I'd want to hide my identity 'cuz I ain't even risking popularity. How far away do you live from the closest mall? 15-ish minutes? Why do you dislike/hate the person you most dislike/hate? I don't hate anyone I personally know, but I most dislike Colleen for a novel of reason. Are you disrespectful to a lot of people? Definitely not. Do you like the color pink? Pink is everything. On Facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings? Haven't in a long time. Doesn’t it annoy you when couples post things to each other’s wall on Facebook that are all mushy and gross and NO ONE CARES? No, fuck off. Let people express love of each other. You SHOULD care to some degree that a couple lives in love. What was the last song you had on repeat? "Black Wedding" by In This Moment ft. Rob Halford. Are you drifting away from your best friend? Absolutely not. Would you feel hurt if your last ex was in a relationship? No, I'd be super happy for him. Are you currently wanting any piercings? Always. Do you have trouble sleeping when it’s storming? Nooo, bring it on. What language do you want to learn how to speak? German. Have you ever jumped off a high dive into a pool? No. Did you ever watch Lilo & Stitch as a child? I was obsessed. Have you ever been to one of the great lakes? No, flew past one to Sara's, though. Do you have light posts on your street? No. How about sidewalks? No. What is one food combination you enjoy that others might think is weird? Waffles/pancakes with peanut butter. How do you tend to feel when the year is ending? Hopeful for new beginnings, dreading the ending, etc? I don't feel anything about it. There's nothing truly special about it. What bad habit have you had the longest? What about a good habit? Picking at my nails; manners. Is there anything you do that you are ashamed of? What about proud? Download music; treat animals with the respect they deserve. What is one compliment you find particularly meaningful? What about an insult you find particularly devastating? Calling me kind; calling me weak or that I'll go nowhere. Have you ever had a lucid dream? Share it, if you wish? No. Do you find sleep paralysis to be scary or not so much? Never experienced it, but it sounds absolutely horrifying. Do you have any truly unpopular opinions? If so, share one? Sure. Hormone treatment is an awful idea. What would you say is your biggest accomplishment from the past year? Uhhhhh. I suppose making big progress stretching past my comfort zone. When was the last time you went through a major life change/event? I think me coming out last year was a pretty big event, especially as it led to an incredible relationship. How many places have you lived throughout your life, and which one was your favorite? Four, and as far as location, #3. Overall happiness in the home, #2. Without saying names, what is something you wish you could say to someone? "Look who was wrong." Do you have any typing quirks, or do you prefer to type ‘properly’? I think I use the wrong shift key for a certain letter... but idk off the top of my head. Who do you judge more harshly - others or yourself? Myself. What is the most difficult thing you have ever had to accept? Jason no longer loved me. What is something you do to help yourself feel better on a bad day? Watch some of my fave YT vids. Who or what in life has taught you the most about love? The breakup. Other than in a plane, what’s the highest elevation you’ve experienced? Have you ever had altitude sickness? Driving on a mountain, and no. If you had all the artistic ability you needed, what kinds of things would you most like to draw? MY OCS. Or just meerkats in general, but with macabre scenes. What’s a song that you’re ashamed to say you like? "Bitches" by Hollywood Undead, for one. Ever had sex in a public place? No. Do you do something about it when your stomach hurts, or just let it be? I take medicine. I handle stomachaches very poorly. Do you ever have binges that last for hours, watching YouTube videos? Um?????? Every day????????????????? Do you believe sex should be mandatory in an ongoing dating relationship? No. How do you feel about smoking weed? I've gotten more and more "whatever" about it, but I'm still not a huge fan of the idea. We already complain about cigs and cancer, why legalize something with more carcinogens? Medicinally tho, I'm for it. What foods can you absolutely not eat? Beans are a big 'ole fuck no. Kisses on the cheek or the neck? Depends on the mood. List four things about your facial appearance: I have a real obvious dimple on my left cheek. I have two prominent scars on my chin from when I fainted directly onto it. My eyes are gray/greenish blue. I've been told a lot I have long eyelashes but I don't wanna get up and go to a mirror to verify. List four things about your general appearance: I have dry skin, mY LEG HAIR IS FUCKING PITCH BLACK AND I HATE IT, the nail on my left ring finger is slightly deformed, and I have really thick hair. It’s getting pretty cold now, isn’t it? Do you have the heating on? Yes. Do you like hot, cold, or lukewarm showers? Kinda hot, normally. What are you favorite color eyes? Sapphire or light blue. Do you have long arm hair? Not really. Does your family put up Christmas lights? Yes. Favorite holiday? Halloween. Any bands you used to like and are now embarrassing to you? Not off the top of my head... but there's probs some. Have you ever taken part in a threesome? No. Have you told your parents all of your secrets from when you were a teen? No. When was the last time you built a sandcastle? Forever ago. Do you care about gun laws? Yes. How does alcohol affect you? I become more talkative and outgoing, and I get a warm sensation in my stomach. I don't know if my face still flushes. What color is your toothpaste? Blue. Have you ever inhaled helium? Shit, have I? What is your favorite kind of pasta? Normal noodles. Do you keep up-to-date with current news and events? Noooot at all. Did the one person who hurt you the most in your life apologize? Yes, but I don't really feel he meant it. Who is the worst driver you know? How about the best driver? Jason; Mom, easily. Honestly, have you ever said a racist joke? I actually don't believe so. Are you comfortable hanging out with your friend’s boyfriends/girlfriends? I can't really relate to this, but it wouldn't bother me. Where were you when you got your first period? I'd just gotten home from school. Are you more attracted to men or women? Ohhhh that's hard. Romantically, easily women, but sexually, uh... idrk. If you had to choose a stripper name, what would it be? huh True or False: Everything happens for a reason. False. Who was the last person to really hurt you? Mom. What was the main subject of your last telephone conversation? I was locked outside of my house and needed Mom to come home to help. When drinking hard alcohol do you take shots more or make mixed drinks? I can't handle hard alcohol period. What is one song you listen to that you’re sure not many people do? Off the top of my head, I love "Abenteuerland" by Pur. Have you ever woken up next to someone after a night of drinking? No. Does your mail go to a P.O Box or to a mailbox at your house? A mailbox. Who was the last person from your high school graduating class you saw? Uhhh most likely Colleen. Do you enjoy kissing? Ye. What about making out? Yeah. Where are you most ticklish? DON'T FUCKIN TOUCH MY FEET. Have you ever been to an arena concert? No. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yes. Has a friend ever really hurt you and you never told them? Maybe? Have you ever stayed on a ride at a theme park to ride it again? No. Where do you want to raise your children? I'm not having kids, but hypothetically, in nature. Are you afraid that if you do have children they will turn out like you? No. Have you ever slow danced to a song you didn’t know? No. Has someone ever dedicated a song to you? Yes. Do you like to have your hair pulled? I'm indifferent. Definitely don't do it hard. Do you work any holidays? N/A What is a quality someone might not assume you have? Apparently from being told, when I'm forced into talking, I don't seem shy??? I don't see it. When you are in a group that is overwhelmingly male, how noticeable is it to you? Does it make you feel any differently than being in a group that is mixed or predominantly female? It's noticeable to me, and I'm likely to be more anxious. Especially if I'm not with someone else. I'd feel safer with females. Do you have a makeup item or style trick that you feel improves your look significantly and that you feel like you couldn’t go without now that you have it? I feel eyeliner makes me look far better above anything else, but I like, never wear makeup period. Did you have to “unlearn” any expectations or wrong ideas, particularly about romance, that you gained as a child either from media you consumed or from people around you (e.g., fairy tale endings, or that dramatic relationships are healthy, etc.)? Happy endings, that if you tried hard enough, love always prevailed. Are there any bands or artists that you were really into at one point but that you never listen to anymore, not even to reminisce? Ummm not that I recall? What are some wedding trends that you really dislike? If you can’t think of anything, have you ever seen something at a wedding that made you cringe? Ummm idk. Is there something that happened in high school that you’re still salty about (e.g., a bully getting credit for your work)? Nah, not that I can think of. When someone hurts your feelings or offends you are you more likely to lash out at them, quietly withdraw, or something else? Withdraw, but become pretty short and/or sarcastic. Do you read reddit? If so, how often and what subreddits do you like? No. Do you listen to any podcasts? How do you listen to them? No. Does your skin bruise easily? Do you have any bruises right now? What from? Yes, and no. What’s your boss’s first name? Do you call him/her by that name? N/A Who was the last person you played a video game with? I played Pokemon with my niece and nephew. :') They loved it and I was a V PROUD aunt. Last game you played at an arcade? Who even knows. Last funeral you attended? Uhhhh. I don't remember. I want to say for my old babysitter, but that doesn't sound accurate... I swear I've been to one after. What was your favorite nursery rhyme as a child? Does the little piggy one count cuz I LOVED THAT SHIT with my mom. Who was your childhood hero? Steve Irwin. He's still a hero to me. What is your favorite cousin’s first name? I don't have a fave. What was the name of your first stuffed animal? Oh BOY, I couldn't tell you. It was a little bunny holding a polka-dot blanket. What was your least favorite food as a child? Idk. Where did your mother and father meet for the first time? At work. What is your oldest sibling’s middle name? I've no clue. What was your favorite place to visit as a child? THE ZOO BITCH TAKE ME AWAY Have you ever stayed in a cheap motel? No, I'm too much of a paranoid germaphobe to. What about a 5 star hotel? I highly doubt it. Have you ever gotten a massage? Not professionally. Have you ever given a massage? Yeah. Have you ever been to Disneyland or Disney World? The latter. What is the last gift you received and from who? A snake keychain Sara made. :') What are you currently dressed in? Skull pj pants with an Umbreon tank. Are you listening to any music right now? If so, what are you listening to? "Not The American Average" by Asking Alexandria slaps.

[uniasus]

A Father’s Redemption

It’s Merlin Memory Month! Today, day 7, follows path one. And finally, Merlin shows up >.<

You might want to read a few other parts first.  Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

------------

News from the front came daily, and it was never good.

Essetir kept losing ground to Camelot, giving up land and villages to knights in red. Ealdor found its crops taken for the war effort, as well as its herbalist.

When they took him away, Hunith did her best to take up the post. Moved into his house. Read his books. Gathered the herbs she could.

She didn’t worry about Essetir’s knights dragging her to the front lines because no one would do that to a pregnant woman.

“You should be resting, not working,” Comwell said as he walked into the one-room home, baskets of herbs hanging from his right arm.

Hunith sent him a glare from where she sat with a young girl, wrapping her bloodied and blistered hands. With the men gone, they had pulled everyone they could into the field, even girls as young as seven. Her hands would be harshly callused before she was ten and the thought made Hunith’s stomach clench.

“I’m not doing anything strenuous,” Hunith told her old knight. “And have you seen Myddeth? She’s in the field harvesting what she can and she’s due in two weeks.”

Hunith finished wrapping the girl’s hand, patted the bandages, and sent her out the door. Only then did she give Comwell the glare she’d been wanting to.

“You can’t let our history judge what I can’t and can’t do. Yes, princesses do nothing but sit and eat while pregnant. But I’m not one anymore.”

Comwell sighed, already starting on tying up the bundles of herbs so they could dry. “I will always worry about you, Hunith.”

“I appreciate that, Comwell, but it’s not needed. Lynette fusses too. And I like the work, it makes me feel less separate from the village.”

Because it’d be obvious when they all arrived that Hunith and her party weren’t pheasants. Chainmail and horses, fine cloth and smooth hands. They’d managed to keep the secret that Hunith was Gedref’s sole remaining royalty. Instead, Ealdor believed her the daughter of a rich Gedref merchant who’d managed to escape Uther’s slaughter.

The town had slowly opened up to the three of them, but they’d been slowly accepted. Hunith’s new role as healer and Comwell’s status as the sole man helped greatly. Lynette’s own sewing skills had been less well received, but an extra set of hands was an extra set of hands.

Comwell hmmm, finishing up the hanging. “Have you heard from Balinor?”

Hunith paused in cleaning up her work area. As soon as she realized she was carrying, she’d tried to send a message to Balinor. It’d been months and she hadn’t heard from him. Or Subarra or Sir Lore.

She told herself it was because the letter got lost. The Essetir messenger she sent it with killed. Hunith refused to think of other reasons.

“No,” she told Comwell. “I have not heard from him.”

####

War came closer and closer to Ealdor and the conversation in town turned to thoughts of leaving. Ealdor used to be near the middle of the country, now it was but a half day’s ride from Camelot’s southern border.

Essetir was losing, and soon they would all be in danger.

“How well can you ride?” Lynette asked, bringing Hunith a cup of water.

“I have trouble standing up, Lynette. Besides, on what horse? The king claimed ours for the war.”

“We could buy Simmons’s.”

“No.” Hunith shot her former maid a disappointed look. “He needs that horse. All of Ealdor needs that horse.”

Lynette sighed. “The war is almost here, and you know what the rumors say the Camelot knights are doing. Burning towns. Murdering those who try to stop it. Ealdor isn’t safe anymore.”

“It’d be hard to find a place that is,” Hunith answered.

She should know. With Uther’s attention towards the war with Essetir, those with magic still left in Camelot had snuck out of the kingdom. As a princess, she had directed magical refugees south. As a herbalist knowing Carmarthen had closed it’s borders, all she’d been able to do was patch up their wounds, give them a place to sleep, and mention towns looking for able bodies. If you could work, most places didn’t care where you came from.

As always, she told them to hide their magic. Essetir might have accepted it, but opinion was shifting. Despite having magic on their side, the kingdom was losing. Magic’s trickery, of course. Uther, the rumors said, might have had the right idea.

“I lost Gedref,” Hunith quietly admitted. “I fled my home. Ealdor is just starting to feel like my second home. I don’t want to lose it too.”

“And your child?” Lynette asked. “It’ll have a better chance of living away from the fighting.”

“Not if I give birth while we’re on the road. We have a small store of things here. A forest to forage from if need be. There’s no guarantee of that if we move.” Hunith turned her gaze on Lynette, drawing on her old regal energy. “We’re staying.”

Lynette curtseyed and walked out of the hut.

####

Hunith woke in the night to the sound of someone breaking into her house.

“Who’s there?” she called out.

In answer, a small glowing orb of white light lite the room. The light hovered over the palm of a brunette haired woman, her fine dress in tatters and lips so red Hunith was sure they were bleeding.

“Did you need help going south?” Hunith asked. Grunting, she turned to swing her legs off the bed.

“No,” the woman said.

Hunith paused. She stared at the woman and the woman stared back.

“I wanted to see you,” she said, “not because I need your help, but because you have helped my kind and I wanted to thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Hunith said. Something about the woman unnerved her. She radiated power unlike anyone Hunith had felt in over a year.

“But now that I’m here, something else has caught my attention.” The woman walked closer to Hunith, eyes flickering to her belly.

Alarmed, Hunith crossed her arms over the baby.

The sorceress laughed. “I will not harm him. I cannot harm him. That is not his destiny.”

Frowning, Hunith looked down at her belly. “I’ll have a son.”

“Oh, yes.” The woman sat down on the bed next to Hunith. She reached to touch Hunith’s pregnant belly but paused until Hunith gave her a nod. Her hand on Hunith’s belly was warm and tingly.

“You son,” the woman continued, “is destiny-touched. More than you, more than any I have seen Albion claim.”

Hunith sucked in a deep breath. She didn't want a destiny-touched son. She wanted him to have a peaceful life.

"Your husband's destiny," the woman went on, "Was wrapped in doom. He helped bring all this to past. But your son, oh he glows. He will lift us all up. And for that, I'll help."

The sorceress stood and Hunith wrapped her arms around her belly. She wanted to hug her son and at the same time shield him from the woman standing two feet away.

"Tomorrow," the woman said, "the tide of the war will switch. Essetir will win. And your son will be able to start the life he was meant for."

Then she was gone.

###

Three days later, Lynette burst into the herbalist hut, chest heaving. “Hunith!”

“I’m fine,” Hunith said from her chair by the hearth.

“Are you sure?” Lynette came in and started checking Hunith’s vitals. “Surely you felt that. The drain. Even if you’re okay, the baby?”

Hunith grabbed Lynette’s hand and placed it on the left side of her extended belly. “Feel.” From within, her son kicked.

Lynette sagged in relief. “When I felt someone pulling power from the earth, I was so worried. If they’re not careful, they can pull new life too.”

Hunith hummed. She hadn’t told her former maid or knight about the midnight visit from the sorceress. She hadn’t wanted to worry her friends. Now though, she suspected the woman was Nimueh herself. A High Priestess, highly trained and invested in Hunith’s son being born healthy.

“I’m fine. And, and Merlin is too.”

“Merlin?” Lynette looked up from Hunith’s belly to Hunith’s face. “You have a name?”

“I’m very certain he will be a son.” Hunith smiled.

“And why Merlin?”

“The birds have always been a symbol of prestige and authority, have they not? Belonging only to nobility. I, I can’t name him after my brother or father. It would be too obvious. But I can name him after the creatures that brought us all together and feature in my happy memories.”

Lynette sniffed. “It’s a fine name.”

With a soft smile, Hunith patted the side of Lynette’s cheek. “No go back to the fields. I’m sure there’s work for you.”

Lynette shook her head. “Large portions of our young crops have died, fuel for the spell cast not an hour ago. The harvest this year was already going to be small, but now it will be even worse.”

###

A week later, while Hunith screamed with labor pains, news came to Ealdor. The war was over a mysterious woman with great magical powers having sided with Essetir. No one knew her name, though Nimueh was whispered in the rumors, and she had disappeared after Camelot had agreed to terms.

Camelot kept it’s won land, having stolen almost half of Essetir’s. But it was required to share half of its harvest for the next year with the now smaller kingdom – a stipulation all assumed the sorceress would enforce.

What Hunith, Comwell, and Lynette waited for, the arrival of their friends, never came.

After the first three months of Merlin’s life, nursing him while looking out the window, Hunith gave up looking.

[veliseraptor]

In the file of random - Instead of taking off after Thor, the Warriors 4 stay in Asgard. They decide something is obviously wrong and make the choice to stick close to their new king until they figure out what's going on. Everywhere Loki goes, it's suddenly like he has a bur attached to him - four of them, noisy, annoying, relentless, and always there.

so this file of random idea turned into a 5k brainworm that was supposed to be sort of light-hearted and humorous and then very abruptly wasn’t so I’m sorry about that

anyway here’s wonderwall an au that could probably go on from here but uh I have to stop myself sometimes

Therewere not many books in Asgard’s library about the Jotnar except for records ofthe war. Loki was paging through his third, looking for something though hewasn’t sure what, when he noticed Volstagg lurking behind one of the shelves.

Loki watched him out of the cornerof his eye, but while the warrior appeared to be browsing the books, he wasunconvinced. There was the fact that he hadn’t moved in almost ten minutes, forone. And also the fact that the shelf he was so intently perusing was composedentirely of magical treatises, and Loki knew for a fact that Volstagg did nothave a magical bone in his body.

He snapped the book shut and pushedit away, something burning in his stomach.

“Have you found anythinginteresting?” He asked, and didn’t care that the barbs were audible in hisvoice. He was not going to pretend to be pleased about Thor’s friends spying onhim. He wondered what they thought he would do.

(Do they know? No, they can’t. Theywould have killed you if they did. He resisted the urge to sweep his own reading material out ofsight.)

Volstagg turned, his eyes wideningartfully as if in surprise. “Ah, Loki! That is - Your Majesty.” His bow was notelegant, but it didn’t look mocking, either. Still, there was a sour taste inLoki’s mouth.

“Don’t strain yourself,” he said,standing. “What are you searching for? Perhaps I know where it is.”

Volstagg floundered, as Loki hadknown he would. He had always been a poor liar. “Well,” he said. “Ah…”

Loki made a noise at the back of histhroat. “Whose idea was it to spy on me?” He asked flatly. “Hogun’s? Sif’s?”Volstagg said nothing, though his nose and ears turned pink. Loki flexed hisright hand, rage welling up in him. They would not treat Thor like this. Would never darewith Odin. But he...he was Loki. Untrustworthy. Unworthy.

“I wasn’t-”

I am your King, Loki wanted to say. Ideserve your respect, but no trueKing would need to demand it. He would only sound like a petulant child. Lokiclenched a fist until his nails bit into the skin.

“I wouldn’t try to lie,” he saidcoldly, turning his back and tucking the books under his arm. “Go tell yourfriends that it is unwise to attempt to spy on your ruler. Such is the actionof traitors.”

Traitors. Like you. A traitor inthe House of Odin, but not of it, the snake in the nest-

His thoughts seethed like a kickedanthill. He walked fast, wishing he hadn’t left Gungnir in his rooms, cravingthe brief, slim reassurance it gave. There was a way out of this maze. He onlyhad to find it.

There is no way out of what youare.

**

Loki lay awake through the night,staring upwards, trying to still his mind to no avail. There was a screamlocked behind his teeth that he could not unleash.

He gave up near dawn and rose,intending to go to the Bifrost. He would ask after Thor. (He would not think ofThor. Let us finish them together,Father!)

He splashed cold water on his faceand gathered himself. Jotunheim needed to be dealt with. Revulsion surged likebile, just thinking of those...

He glanced at his hand: still pale,still his (not his) but he knew now. If he cutback the skin would it be blue underneath?

Loki took Gungnir from where itrested. Did it hum uneasily under his fingers, recognizing what he was not?

Opening the door, he stopped. Sifstood, ramrod straight, beside it. Loki’s face froze.

“What,” he asked, voice level andcold, “are you doing here?”

Sif turned toward him, herexpression stubborn and defiant. “A new king should have a guard. You didn’t.”

Loki felt his jaw tighten. “I amperfectly capable of protecting myself, Lady Sif.” He gave the title a carefulslant, not quite a sneer. It was always easy to provoke Sif, and if he provokedher she would leave. Or else attack, and then he would have all theexcuse he needed to throw her out.

She twitched, but to his surpriseonly said, “as is the All-Father, but the Einherjar guard him nonetheless. Whyare none of them here?”

Accusation, Loki heard, a whisper. Shesuspects you. She always does, she has never trusted you.

She would run you through inseconds if she knew.

“I have them otherwise occupied,”Loki said. “Watching the All-Father, and preparing for the possibility of war.”His nostrils flared. “Both more usefulactivities than standing outside a warded door.”

Sif’s eyes narrowed. “If that isthe case, more cause that a friend should stay close, to watch your back. YourMajesty.” Her tone made the title sound more like “you idiot.”

Loki stiffened further, angertwisting through him like a serpent in his guts. If it were Thor here...theywould not watch him like carrion birds following a wounded animal. Helaughed harshly.

“Indeed,” he said. “Perhaps thatwould be the case, if I had friends instead of spies.”

Sif’s lips pressed together. “Thatis unjust.”

“Is it?” Loki turned his back onher and swept down the hall. She followed, shadowing a few footsteps behind.

Loki set his teeth and resolved toignore her.

**

The council meeting wentwretchedly.

None of them challenged himoutright, but they were full of excuses: but this, but that, what if, we cannot possibly, wait, wait, wait. They doubted him. He was not, after all, therightful heir. None of them went so far as to propose Thor’s return, but Lokiwondered how long it would take before they did.

And Sif, hovering behind him,listening to every word and judging him.

He went in a poor mood and left ina worse one. At least with a light spell Loki managed to lose Sif in thehallways. He’d had some intention of going to see his mother, to speak hisfrustrations to her, but-

No. He needed to manage this on hisown. He could not cling to her, to anyone.

She’d lied for years. Was thisanother lie? Had she given him the throne only to see him fail, to prove thatit was not his place and never would be, to demonstrate that a frost giantcould never-

Loki ducked into a corner andvomited, hand braced against the wall. He brought up little but bile andrealized he couldn’t remember if he’d eaten since yesterday.

He cleaned up the mess with a waveof his hand and pushed himself away. He could go back to his rooms, but nodoubt Sif would be waiting there.

He headed for the stables instead,slipping into Sleipnir’s stall with a curry comb, the small circles soothing,his thoughts slowing and emptying out.

“Ah, Loki!”

He closed his eyes and took a deepbreath through his nose. Damn. Naturally, it wouldn’t last. They knew his habits.And there were four of them, and only one of him.

“I was just thinking of going for aride,” Fandral said. “I don’t suppose you might be able to join me? I know theKing must be very busy.”

Loki rested a hand on Sleipnir’ssturdy neck like he could draw strength from him. “He is,” he said flatly. “Andhe needs his solitude to think.”

“Mayhap it would help to do yourthinking aloud with someone else,” Fandral said airily. Always playing thefoppish fool. Did they think he would not see through it? “I have an open earto offer.”

“I am sure you do,” Loki saidtightly. “Just as I am sure you just happenedto decide you wished to ride now.Where am I to find Hogun, hm? In the mews? On the Bifrost?” Sleipnir whickeredand shifted, and Loki pulled away before more of his tension could spread tothe horse.

Fandral seemed startled. “What areyou saying?”

Loki’s lip curled. “Your behaviorborders on insolence,” he said.

“You think that I am here to spy onyou?” Truly his incredulity, Loki thought bitterly, was artful. If he did notknow better, he might believe it. “No! I only meant to offer company.”

“Company,” Loki said flatly. Hefelt as though he was going to be sick again, a dull headache pounding behindhis eyes. “Get out.”

Fandral looked wounded. “Loki…”

“Get out,” Loki snarled,his magic building to strike, to hurt.

He stopped, almost reeling. Had hetruly meant to…

Monster. Fandral was staring at him, his eyes wide.

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” he saidafter a moment, and bowed low. “I will...leave you to your solitude.”

Loki let him go without calling himback. Something ached in his chest, his heart pounding. They claim to be friends, but you know they arenot, he thought. They can’t be trusted.

You can’t be trusted.

He stumbled out of the stall andretched into a bucket. His heart was beating too hard and too fast. If he couldjust wipe away this stain…

You can. Not from your own blood,but at least from the Nine.

Maybe that will be enough.

**

Sif was not posted at the door tohis rooms when he returned.

Hogun was.

Loki looked at him wearily, but hecouldn’t summon anger. It didn’t matter what they did, what they thought, whatthey believed. “Well,” he said. “I suppose I might have expected you. Theothers have all taken their turn.”

Hogun inclined his head. Lokiscoffed. “Will you claim to be protectingme as well?”

“No,” Hogun said. “I am watchingyou to see what you will do.”

Loki wanted to laugh. “At least youare honest,” he said bitterly. He flicked his fingers. “Go. Whisper with yourfellow conspirators. I have work to do.”

“We act out of worry.”

“Worry for whom?” Loki said,pausing and turning. “For Asgard? For Thor?”

Hogun’s gaze was level. “For you.”

“For me.” Loki’s lips curved in abitter smile. “So much for honesty.” He turned away to key the wards into hisroom.

“You have always expected others tolie as you do.”

Loki blinked slowly, and turned.“You forget, perhaps,” he said, “that you are speaking to your King.”

“I speak to a friend.”

“You must define friendship veryloosely, then.”

“Sometimes it means speakingdifficult truths.”

“I am sure they are difficult foryou to speak.” Loki tossed his head. “Get out of my sight.”

Hogun regarded him, his gaze level.“Something is awry. Fandral calls it madness. I think it is more than that.”

“More than madness?” Loki said, hisvoice tight. He felt cold, at the center of a freezing storm. “I was wrong.This is not insolence. This is treason.”

Hogun nodded, slowly, like Loki hadsaid something he wanted to hear. “You were right,” he said. “About Thor. Thathe can be reckless and overconfident.”

Loki blinked, caught off guard.“Astonishing,” he said, “to hear you admit it.”

“Too often, perhaps, we enabledhim. As friends, perhaps we should rather have tried to hold him back fromfolly.” Hogun stepped back and bowed. “Your Majesty. I expect Sif will be heresoon to stand guard for the night.”

He walked away. Loki stared afterhim, uncertain, off balance. Hogun had always been subtler than the others. Buthe had to wonder now what game he was playing.

**

Loki paced. He’d meant to slipthrough the shadowpaths, go to Jotunheim and bait Laufey into attacking. Thenhe would have the excuse he needed to wipe the entire damned Realm out ofexistence. Then it could be over.

(There’ll still be one left.)

But his conversation with Hogun hadthrown him. Did he know something, or think he knew? Were the Warriors Fourplotting in shadows, setting up plans to see him fall? Did they mean to pullhim down, to bring Thor back, to-

There was a knock on the door, andLoki turned to stare at it. After a long moment he ran his fingers through hishair and went to see who it was.

Sif. Of course.

He could try telling her to leave.Try ordering her to, but she would just ignore it. None of themrespected him.

He opened the door, and barelyopened his mouth before she was shouldering her way inside, bearing, of allthings, a platter of food. She set it down on the table and turned to him,shoulders squared like they were about to spar.

“You are not welcome here,” Lokisaid, forcing his voice to remain level. He would not lose control. Would notoffer them more excuses to call him mad, unfit to rule.

(You are unfit and you know it.)

“The servants say your last fourmeals have gone untouched,” Sif said.

He would have to see to it that noone entered his room anymore. Everyonewhispers. They are all just waiting to betray you. Loki sucked in a breath; the smell of the foodmade him feel nauseous.

“And you seek to put yourself intheir place?” Loki said. “How generous. But that still does not excuse yourbarging into my chambers without invitation.”

Sif pointed at the platter. “Youcan scold me after you eat.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “I am not scolding. I do not know how many more times I must remind you that I am notyour peer, Sif. At the very least while I hold Gungnir youowe me your respect.”

Sif didn’t so much as blink. “It isthe duty of those closest to the King to ensure his health.”

His guts twisted. “And so youappoint yourself.” He walked away from her to one of the windows, tempted topress his forehead to the cool glass. But he would not waver, not even an inch.

“Are you sick?” Sif’s voice soundedquieter, and when he turned to look at her she looked almost worried.

“No,” Loki snapped. “I am not. Ifyou seek an excuse to circumvent Thor’s banishment I am afraid you will have totry harder.”

“I am not thinking of Thor.” Afrown touched the corner of her lips. “Nor am I asking for anything but thatyou eat something.”

Loki stared at the platter she hadbrought. He stalked over and took a bite of the soup: wild mushroom, hisfavorite, but it tasted like ash. His teeth clicked on the spoon and he glaredat Sif, who just looked back at him, all stubborn determination.

He pushed the food away. “What doyou want?”

“I want to know what troubles you.”

“My mind is not yours to know.”Loki gestured at the door. “Go.”

“No.” Sif sat down, though shestill looked ready for a fight. “Something is awry with you, and has been sincewe returned from Jotunheim.”

Loki’s stomach clenched aroundnothing. “If you hadn’t noticed, things are a touch unsettled. Perhaps they would be less so if there were not a flock of vultures circlingoverhead.”

Sif’s jaw twitched. “That isn’tit.”

“You presume too much, Lady Sif.”

“I presume thatsomething ails my shield-brother and I would know what it is,” Sif saidstubbornly.

Your shield-brother, Loki wanted to sneer. Yourfriend. How easily you invoke those words now, when they suit you. “Nothing that concerns you.”

Sif’s eyes flared. “Of course itconcerns me.” She shook her head. “Thor would never forgive us if-”

“Thor,” Loki hissed. “Always, itgoes back to Thor. I know you would rather it was he here, but I willnot tolerate your slights, your doubts-”

He shoved the chair back and stood.He needed to stay calm. Stay in control. What might happen if he did not?

What might he unleash?

“Loki,” Sif said, “you are...therightful king. The All-Mother herself decreed it so, and I will not questionher. But it is clear that some burden weighs on you. And even a King may seekcounsel from friends.”

Turning his back on her, Lokicurled his arm around his middle. He felt dizzy, his stomach heaving into histhroat. “I have no friends,” he said, tongue curling around the word. “Youuse that word now, but I see the suspicion in your eyes.”

“Not suspicion,” Sif said. “Worry.”Loki said nothing, and he heard her sigh. “If you will finish the soup I willgo.”

Don’t. Loki wanted her to fight him for it. Wanted her to prove that hewas wrong, that he wasn’t alone.

He forced the rest of the soup downwithout speaking, and Sif kept her word. When she was gone, he bolted into thebathroom and threw up everything he’d eaten. His eyes burned and he thought hemight be crying.

**

Loki went to see Frigga. The emptywords she spoke, you are our son,we love you, I have never thought of you as anything but mine, seemed to come from a great distance away. Thisafternoon, he told himself, he would go. Set his plans in motion. By the timeOdin woke...by the time his father woke it would be over, and he would haveproven that he was, above all, a true son of Odin.

“Volstagg came to speak to me,” shesaid, and Loki was jarred back to himself. “He was asking after you. If youwere well.”

Loki scoffed under his breath.“Yes. It appears Thor’s friends have taken it upon their shoulders to supervisemy every move.” He could not keep the bitterness out of his voice, and Friggafrowned.

“He seemed genuinely concerned.”She reached out to touch his face, and Loki pulled away. “Are youwell?”

Do you, too, fear I am too weak? Doyou, too, suspect me of treachery? “Of course,” he lied. “As well as I could be, all things...allthings considered.”

Frigga’s frown did not ease. “Iknow this cannot be easy for you,” she said. “Much has changed so quickly. Butwhen your father wakes, when Thor comes home...we will sit down together andsort things out.”

Loki wanted to laugh. Sort things out. What did that mean? “Yes,” he said dully. “Ofcourse.”

“Until then…you should not pushaway the help your companions would offer.”

“Thor’s companions,” Loki saidlowly. “Not mine.”

“They cannot be both?” Friggareached out again, this time for his hands. Loki let his lie limp in hers. “Donot turn your back on those who would aid you. I know that it is your way, whenyou are struggling, to withdraw. But no one can stand wholly alone.”

I must. Loki forced a smile. “Of course,” he said, disengaging hisfingers. “Wise as always.”

He started toward Volstagg’s houseto confront him about his speaking to Frigga behind his back, but before hereached it turned aside, finding a small, secluded, cliff overlooking thewaters surrounding the city. He sat down on the edge, the wind in his face.

It was Fandral who found him.

“My tolerance for this has notgrown,” Loki said, not turning to look at him. Time was slipping away. Heshould be moving, not frozen, paralyzed.

“I am only here to talk.”

That is always how it starts, Loki thought wearily.

“This is a beautiful place,”Fandral ventured, inanely. Loki said nothing. “Do you come here often?”

“Why,” Loki said dryly, “are youseeking more information about my whereabouts? Perhaps I should offer you aschedule of my planned movements to make things easier.”

“I am sorry,” Fandral said, and hecertainly sounded contrite. Loki pressed his lips together and leaned forward.

“Sorry,” Loki echoed. “And yet noneof you will leave me alone. And you think I am mad.”

“I do not!” Fandral protested. Lokilet the words hang, and Fandral blustered. “Maybe I said - but I did not meananything by it except that I do not understand. You are not acting likeyourself, Loki. What are we to think?”

Loki stood. “And what makes youthink you know anything of my self?” He asked. “What makes any of you think youhave ever known me at all?”

“We have known you for years,”Fandral said. Loki smiled humorlessly.

“Or thought you have.” He turnedhis back. “Do not follow me. And that is an order.”

**

He stood in the middle of his room,the runes to open the paths between worlds on his tongue, and didn’t speakthem. He needed to. He was running out of time: Odin could wake any day, orThor might return, and he would lose his chance.

But something held him back. Heheld himself back.

Loki sank onto his bed and put hishead in his hands, not sure if he was laughing or weeping.

Perhaps at any moment Sif wouldbarge in with more food he couldn’t eat, or Fandral knock on the door makingnoises about going carousing, or Hogun with more opaque almost-threats. Hewanted them to leave him alone. He wanted them to leave.

You could order them away. And if they didn’t obey? If they ignored his command, underminedhis authority, proved how little they cared for his rule because he was not Thor - what would he do then? It would be within his rights to have themthrown in prison. Or executed.

He imagined it. The four of themkneeling before him and begging for mercy. Maybe he would grant it. Maybe hewouldn’t.

Loki pressed the back of his handto his mouth and took deep breaths. Isthis what you are, now? A petty tyrant threatening fools with death forirritating you?

For disobeying me, he thought back. Forflouting my authority at every turn-

Like everyone else in this palace.None of them truly believe you are King. You are a placeholder, little betterthan a wooden statue. They wait for Odin. They wait for Thor. Even Frigga wouldbe a better ruler, in their eyes, than you. Second-son.

He could fix it, if he could onlymake himself move, do what he knew must be done. Erase the blemish from theNine Realms.

Shouldn’t that include you?

Loki inhaled, shuddering, andground the heels of his hands into his eyes. You pathetic idiot. Running yourself in circles.

He reached for the door to lethimself out, and checked himself. There would be a guard there, waiting for himto emerge, watchful eyes waiting for him to waver visibly.

That left the window.

Loki climbed down, wrapped in acloak of unnoticeability, walking swiftly away from the palace. He couldbreathe a little clearer here, though he still felt like he was balanced on athin layer of ice, a raging river underneath ready to sweep him away. Somemonster in his core was twisting and burning, trying to devour him from inside.

Loki didn’t realize where his stepswere taking him until he was standing in front of Volstagg’s house. It wassurprisingly humble, for a man who associated with princes. It had been a longtime since Loki had made his way here.

He didn’t know why he had now.

There was too much damned noise inhis head. He couldn’t think, couldn’t act, couldn’t do anything, and while he could blame the Warriors Four he didn’t truly think thatwas it. What would Volstagg say if he asked? Loki wondered. If he said I know you do not believe I am capable. What is ityou think I am going to do?

He imagined shedding his skin andstepping inside. The children would scream. Who would strike first, Volstagg ofhis formidable wife? What would happen when they understood who they’d killed?What excuses would the All-Mother make?

Loki swallowed hard several timesand knocked on the door. Volstagg opened it and started, looking at him withwide eyes. Loki waited, still not sure why he was here at all, not sure what hewas waiting for.

Except, perhaps, that he cravedwarmth, and Volstagg’s house had always been warm.

“Loki,” Volstagg said, and thenchecked himself. “That is-”

“Loki will do,” he said.

“Is that Loki?” Hildegund’s voicecame from further inside. “What are you waiting for, husband? Welcome himinside.”

“Why - yes,” Volstagg said,stepping back. “We would be honored if you would join us for a meal.”

“Loki!” A young voice, and the girlit belonged to came bursting into the room and flung herself at his legs. “Areyou here to tell stories? Father says you’re a king now but I don’t think thatshould mean you can’t tell stories.”

“Now, Flosi,” Volstagg said, hislook in Loki’s direction slightly nervous. “Remember your manners.”

Loki shrugged one shoulder. “It’sfine.” To Flosi - he scarcely recognized her, he was astonished she evenremembered him at all - he said, “We’ll have to see.”

Hildegund gave him a smile, warmand easy, and Loki’s throat closed. He shouldn’t be here. What had he beenthinking he would find? Some solacethat didn’t belong to him? Hereached down to detach the child, his fingers clumsy. “I am sorry,” he said.“I’m afraid I have...just remembered something I need to attend to. Myapologies for disturbing you.”

He fled, though he didn’t go far.Sank down into an alley, knees pulled to his chest, and squeezed his eyesclosed.

I need to get away from here.

He shoved himself to his feet andwalked swiftly back to the palace, slipping past the guards. He pulled out apack and stood in his rooms, trying to think what to bring, but nothing came tomind. He stared at Gungnir and squeezed his eyes closed before looking away.Frigga would take the throne. She would rule well. And he would go...

Go where?

Elsewhere. Anywhere.

There was nothing he wanted tobring. Loki tore a piece of parchment out of one of his notebooks and scrawleda brief note, I am sorry, pleaseforgive me.

Then he left, leaving the doorunlocked, and slipped back out as quietly as he’d come.

He didn’t go to the Bifrost.Heimdall would stop him if he tried to leave. Maybe he should try to go toMidgard, to find Thor. Tell him what he was. Maybe if Thor killed him thatwould prove that he was worthy.

No. He didn’t want to see Thor.Didn’t want to look him in the eye and see disgust and hatred there. Better tovanish, find someplace quiet where he could stay unseen, and no one would ever…

Hoofbeats behind him. Loki turnedand there they were, four of them, riding hard in pursuit. No, Lokithought wildly, and ran.

He was too weak. Too slow, his bodyweakened from lack of food and exhaustion. He caught his foot on uneven groundand fell.

Too late, he thought. Too late. Despair settled over him like a shroud.

It was Sif who hauled him to hisfeet and shook him like a dog with a rat. “What are you doing?”she said, almost a scream.

Loki laughed wildly in her face.“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Sif,” Volstagg said, soundingdistressed.

“You - you-” Sif appeared to bereduced to incoherence, and she shook him again. Loki grabbed her wrists andbroke her grip, stumbling back, almost snarling.

“Get away from me,” he said,turning like a wolf at bay, surrounded on all sides. “You shouldn’t be here-”

“Where should webe?” Fandral burst out. “Sif found your letter after Volstagg told us whathappened.”

“What happened? Nothing happened. Get out of my way.”

“No,” Hogun said.

“We won’t allow it,” Fandral said.Sif just growled. Loki looked from one to the other, his thoughts spinning.

“Allow what? I am not going tobetray Asgard, or hurt Thor, or whatever nefarious deeds you think I mean toperform. I am finished, I am donewith this-”

For a moment he thought Sif wasgoing to punch him, but she just took a step toward him and snarled, “no you aren’t.”

Loki stared at her, panting. “Thatisn’t your decision to make.”

“Are we meant to turn our backs andlet you kill yourself?” Fandral demanded, and Loki blinked.

“What?”

Sif’s jaw clenched. “‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me.’ Heimdall said you’d walked away with nothing,you’ve been acting strange for days,pushing everyone away, Fandralsaid he’d found you sitting on the edge of a cliff. We’re notstupid, whatever you think.”

Loki stared at her. Turned his headslowly to stare at the rest of them. “I wasn’t…”

“You should have said something!”Sif shouted, her voice rising. Hogun’s expression was grim. “Not, not-” Sheappeared to lose the ability to speak again.

“I wasn’t,”Loki said, a little weakly. “I was just...leaving. Nothing more than that.” Heswallowed hard. “I swear it.”

Their expressions shifted slowly.“You swear,” Hogun said. Loki closed his eyes and dipped his chin in a nod.

“But...why?”

“It doesn��t matter. You only needto know it is for the best.” It almost managed to wake something in him. Theyhadn’t come because they thought he was a traitor. They’d come because they’dthought he was in danger.

Volstagg shook his head. “Thatisn’t good enough. How can it be for the best? You are a prince of Asgard - itsKing, while the All-Father sleeps.”

Loki closed his eyes. “I am not.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sif snapped.Looking at her, Loki realized that while her voice was angry, the look on herface was something else. Fear, worry, relief.

They didn’t know. They didn’t knowanything. Don’t trust them. Theydon’t care about you, not really.

He slumped. “You are impossible,”he said, almost a whisper. A breath seemed to go out of them. Volstagg clappedhim heavily on the shoulder. “What are friends for?”

His inhale hurt. “But I can’t goback.”

Silence, for a long moment. It wasHogun who asked quietly, “why not?”

He was afraid. So afraid. But hecouldn’t keep running forever.

“I need to talk to Thor.”

[verdigrisprowl]

Salt meme: ✧, ☢?

✧ Do you agree with reblog karma or is it forced interaction?

With some exceptions, I agree with reblog karma. Like, if it's a meme like this one—all you gotta do is copy/paste a single emoji, it's just questions instead of thread starters, the blog owner has anon on—there is absolutely no reason in the world not to send in an ask when you reblog it for yourself. If I get more reblogs than asks on a meme like that, I'm judging. I'm absolutely judging.

I'm more forgiving of it in situations where sending in an ask WOULD force an interaction. Like, "Send me one of the mushy-gushy fluffy romantic sentences below and I'll make a starter!" and your muse is the mortal enemy of the muse who posted that meme. But in a situation like that, I'd say reblog it from a different person on your dash that you CAN send a mushy romantic sentence to, or see if the poster got it from an ask meme blog and reblog it from there. Or get creative and send an ask like "My muse says {insert fluffy sentence here}, but sarcastically, to make you uncomfortable," or "My muse sends {insert fluffy sentence here}—but he's not saying it himself, he's tauntingly sending a recording of your muse's beloved spouse, who my muse killed back in episode 3." But I wouldn't judge AS harshly if somebody didn't send anything in that situation.

And, very rarely, I know there are going to be situations where you desperately want to reblog a meme, but it's not an easy fast "send in a question on anon and we'll never interact" meme, and NOBODY else you'd like to interact with has reblogged the same meme, and you cannot find an ask meme blog that posted/reblogged that meme, and the original blog that posted it deleted, and you can't think of a way to twist around the options to make them work with your muse and the muse who made the post, and you really really want the meme but really really don't want to do it with the person who posted it... And those situations I'd understand. I'd personally reblog the meme and then probably send an anon ask with a random question to make up for not sending the meme, but I'd understand anybody who didn't.

But those specific circumstances are gonna be very rare situations.

And when I've got anon on, in 20 minutes five people who have never spoken to me before have reblogged my "Send me ☆ and I'll post a random headcanon," and in an hour I've only received two non-anon "☆" asks from none of the people who reblogged, I'm definitely gonna think they're being lazy and using me as a resource to harvest memes.

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

Gonna give you a twofer.

"If you've read my rules send me {this phrase}." I don't know you, buddy. I don't want your first interaction with me to be "hey, we don't follow each other, and we don't have a single RP partner in common, but I was idly browsing your blog pages to see if you were interesting, and you demanded to be sent a password any time somebody reads your rules just in case you interact in the future, so uh, Bouncing Horse Nutsack." I get it, I get it, y'all wanna know if people are paying attention to your rules. But I don't want to have to send you an ask and draw attention to myself before I've decided if I even want to play with you. And there are folks out there who are too socially anxious to send in an ask like that even if they DO know they wanna play with you.

Blogs that say they're "mutuals only." Now, I'm NOT talking about blogs that want to be exclusive, or blogs that say "please don't interact with me if I haven't followed you." I'm cool with those guys. You've got the right to decide who you wanna play with. It's specifically when it says "MUTUALS only." As in, "unless I'm following you AND YOU'RE FOLLOWING ME don't play with me." Like, I usually don't follow back new followers right off the bat. Sometimes I will, if they're a muse that I have been desperately wanting to interact with, or if I've seen a lot of their threads with other people I RP with. But usually, I'm gonna want to do a trial run with them first—drop them a welcome post, see how it goes and if we have chemistry, before I follow them back. So how does that fit with mutuals only? "I won't play with you unless you're following me, and you won't follow me unless we've played first, so I guess we'll never play"? If they really MEANT "mutuals only" it wouldn't bother me as much; but I feel like a whole lot of times, they don't. They really mean "I only want to play with you if I follow you first, you don't have to be following me; but I'm going to SAY 'mutuals only' instead of 'people I followed only' because I'm automatically assuming that if you want to play with me then you've already followed me." Because a lot of times I drop a follower greeting starter even for people who say "mutuals only" on the off chance that they're interested—and a lot of times, they reply. So like. It don't look like they're too serious about the whole "mutuals only" thing. Which means they're using an incorrect phrase and potentially driving off people they actually did want to play with.

[ladystylestores]

NATO Imagines Future Warfare

Innovation is a key component of readiness when it comes to future threats. NATO’s Innovation Hub recently commissioned a short story from author August Cole, asking him to draw upon his writing and imaginative abilities to create a picture of what NATO operations could be like in the year 2040. The Cipher Brief is pleased to be able to bring you 2040: KNOWN ENEMIES, with permission from NATO.

CHAMPS-ÉLYSÉES — PARIS, FRANCE

The protestors’ braying air horns reminded Alain Durand of the feel of his father’s hand squeezing his as they watched the Tour de France peloton speed by on a verdant hill outside Chambéry, half a lifetime ago. Tonight on the Champs Elysees it meant drones. It meant gas.

He carefully pushed aside two old fashioned white cloth banners — “PAX MACHINA” and “NON AUX ARMEES, NON A LA GUERRE,” written in thick red brush strokes to better see. In a field of view populated with synthetic representations of the real world, the banners were anachronistic but also enduring. They spoke to the necessary spirit of dissent in one of Europe’s more temperamental democracies, Alain thought. Yet it was time to change again: France was the last NATO member, other than the United States, to maintain conventional combat forces. The other members had already robotized.

“A matter of not just tradition but national survival,” his father, a colonel in France’s 3e Régiment de Parachutistes d’Infanterie de Marine, always insisted.

The horns stopped. The crowd of thousands hushed to better hear the whine of the oncoming Compagnies Républicaines de Sécurité riot-police crowd-control drones, a sound like a frantically played piccolo. It was a child’s sound — that was why it intimidated. The flight of a dozen drones hovered in a picket formation in front of the crowd of more than 10,000 marching along the cobbled stones toward the Arc de Triomphe. On Alain’s augmented reality glasses, the bots were bright orange dots, tagged with comments from around the world guiding him on everything from how to download apps to jam their controllers to offers of legal representation. Alain reached into his satchel and cursed, as an ad for gas mask replacement filters popped into view.

A protestor’s drone, bright yellow and the size of an espresso cup, darted past him, then returned to hover in front of his face. It was filming. He could see the live feed it broadcast on his own glasses, identifying him as the son of a senior army officer. He looked around, feeling a need to disappear in the crowd even though that was impossible. He swatted at the yellow drone, and it darted off.

Was that a Catalyst design?, he wondered. The mysterious informal global network emerged on the public stage about three years ago, fomenting dissent and countergovernment action in the virtual realm. It started with what was essentially algo-busting or AI-enabled augmented-reality pranks to make a point about excessive Chinese and American influence around the world. But in the last six months, something had changed, and they were now moving from the online to the real world, supplying not only plans for printable grenades or swarm drones but also the fabs to make them. They had never tried to operate in Europe before, or the U.S. Was this drone a sign something was changing, literally before his own eyes?

Those same eyes began to itch. He had other things to worry about for the moment.

“Juliet, I don’t have my mask,” he said to his sister. She already had hers, a translucent model with a bubble-like faceplate that made her look like a snorkeler.

“And?” she said.

“I am certain I put it in there, but …” he trailed off.

She sighed angrily, condensation briefly fogging her mask. Four years younger, his 15-year-old sister could judge him harshly. She got that from their father.

“We stay,” she said, passing him a bandana and bottle of water. “Parliament votes tomorrow. Father is already deployed. If we leave now, when will we ever stand?”

“Ok, ok,” Alain muttered. He wet the bandana and braced himself for the gas.

Drones dashed just a few feet overhead, a disorienting swirl of straining electric motors and the machines’ childlike tone. The crowd sighed all at once and then individual shouting erupted around him. A moment later his eyes began to sting. Fumbling with the bandana he quickly wrapped the wet cloth around his mouth. But, eyes now burning, he struggled to tie it around his neck. With so much gas in the air, no one without a mask would be able any more to continue watching the eruption of digital dissent. He felt Juliet’s fingers on his neck, helping secure the bandana’s knot. Hands now free, he angrily pumped his fists in the air and blindly grasped to help hold his cloth banners aloft.

JULIUS NYERERE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT — DAR-ES-SALAAM, TANZANIA

It was so hot, when the convoy stopped at the main gate to the joint United Nations-African Union compound, that the German and Italian battle bots broke formation. The NATO task force’s hundreds of small armored wheeled and tracked machines jerked and shimmied like ants as they fought over the shade beneath the bright blue revetments — towering stacks of shipping containers reinforced with blast-foam. That left the French para forces, what NATO classified as a light-effects company due to its mostly non-robotic composition under, in the crushing heat with nowhere to go. That was fine for the French unit’s commander, Luc Durand. His men and women could handle the heat; the bots were another story.

Captain Monika Toonce hopped off one of the oversized German Jaeger crawlers and jogged over to Durand’s open scout car. The French convoy included the jeep, six-wheeled troop carriers (each carrying 12 paratroopers as well as external racks of offensive and defensive smallbots), and four mules loaded with ammunition, spare parts, and assorted spider-like fixers.

“Colonel, we are still waiting for the clear codes before the task force can enter the compound,” Toonce said. She paused to wipe sweat from her nose. “Headquarters said they sent them. But they are not yet authenticated here …”

Durand cursed. The bots would not yet be cleared for self-defense, let alone offensive use. He forced himself to ease back and put his boot up on his jeep’s wheel well, a pose he could hold for hours on a high-speed cross-desert dash or pulling security at a vital intersection. This is an old problem in a new form, he thought. This is why the French army trains to fight with or without machines. “La victoire ne se donne pas!” was the motto adopted four years ago.

Deconflicting the newly arrived German and Italian anti-armor/aircraft and counter-personnel bots with the existing UN-AU peacekeeping forces — so that they didn’t automatically attack one another — was just another form of confusion and complexity. For all the advantage the machines offered, they also brought the onset of the fog of war forward that much earlier in a conflict. Ignoring Toonce, Durand drew with his finger on the dusty screen he wore at his waist, a series of arrows to sketch out a concept. He snapped a picture of the tracings with his glasses; it was something he would write up when he got back from deployment. You never know where inspiration will come from.

“Ok, you want to ride with us then? We are heading in. The machines can handle themselves, no?” Durand said.

Toonce looked torn between waiting with the disabled bots or accompanying Durand. Her responsibility for the German armored forces was a significant one, given the expense and competition for deployment-likely slots in the Bundeswehr. There were fewer soldiers in the German army today than there were postal carriers in Bavaria. Why they kept so many of the latter and so few of the former us was not something Toonce allowed herself to weigh too deeply. She loved the army, loved her comrades and their machines.

Toonce nodded. The maintenance techs were still on the way. She was the sole German representative, and she told herself she needed to be present when the NATO task force leaders finally presented themselves.

The two soldiers were in a narrow pause, a lull — in what had been fevered fighting — that the NATO task force had taken advantage of to deploy by air from a staging area outside Nairobi.

“Good choice,” Durand said. Toonce hopped on. Durand smiled at the master sergeant in the seat next to him, who tapped the jeep’s dash twice with the sort of gentle encouragement one might give a beloved horse. The vehicle advanced on its own at the gentle command.

They proceeded inside the compound under the watching guns of a pair of stork-legged Nigerian sentry turrets, each armed with a trio of four-barreled Gatling guns mounted on the mottled-grey fuselage pod.

Serge Martelle, the para master sergeant, handed Durand a palm-sized screen, a phone that used the local civilian networks.

“Seen this, sir?” Martelle asked.

A sigh. An image appeared of Alain’s face, jaw clenched and wide eyed, in the midst of a Paris protest. Again.

“No, not now, Martelle,” Durand said. A nod and he withdrew the screen. But Durand pulled up footage on his glasses, already tagged to his own and his son’s social media accounts. The final image was a bleary-eyed and red-faced Alain holding aloft the “PAX MACHINA.” It is Bastille Day after all, isn’t it. Durand smiled as they pulled up to a Kenyan general and his staff, standing at attention.

AU-UN HEADQUARTERS — DAR-ES-SALAAM, TANZANIA

“It’s not a mystery, as such, but we are not yet certain who is supplying the rogue Tanzanian army elements, as well as other local elements. But we can ascertain that they are currently involved in a rapid-equipping cycle using established and improvised fabrication sites that …”

“It’s Catalyst,” Durand barked. “Just call it out!” It was too easy to be rude to the UN Peacekeeping Office AIs; they were atrocious. Indecisive. Burdened with a politeness programmed to appease too many sensibilities. And that accent, unattached to any country’s native tongue, is an affront, he thought.

“Colonel Durand, analysis indicates a probability of certainty of—” the machine responded, now using a careful ethereal cadence to mollify Durand.

“General Kimani, with respect, how might we begin to engage an adversary that we refuse to identify?” Durand pressed the point. If the AU UN force acknowledged an “outbreak” of Catalyst coercive technologies, it would require an escalation of military presence that neither organization wanted to endorse at this point in the crisis.

“The last twenty-seven hours have seen no fighting,” Kimani responded. “We are hoping to use this window for dialogue.” He was the senior officer of the AUMIT, or African Union Mission in Tanzania. His charge included the military aspects of the peacekeeping mission, as well as coordinating with UN and quasi-governmental conflict-resolution groups trying to cool the conflict. “Right now, we’re running a Blue Zone dialogue with the dissident Tanzanian army, UN negotiators, Front Civil, and others. An invitation was extended to Catalyst, but no response.”

Durand nodded. Why would this highly disruptive and increasingly dangerous movement join in? It had no leaders. No clear strategy. He viewed French military intelligence’s take as sound: Catalyst sought to undermine US or Chinese economic, political, and military blocs of strategic influence to enable sub-national movements of self-determination.

The Blue Zones were private virtual environments managed by UN AIs to facilitate non-confrontational negotiations with machine-speed modelling and data. Some even talked of the platform’s AIs themselves being nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. If Kimani really believed the UN could speed that diplomatic cycle up before the rearming of the Tanzanian coup forces then there was a chance this could resolve without further violence. Durand knew him by reputation and instinctively trusted him. Then he ground his teeth. He was being too optimistic. But what were the odds some Catalyst algos weren’t already spoofing that whole thing? It happened before, in Venezuela, in ’38. They never joined these kinds of hand-holding sims.

His watch buzzed. Toonce reported the clearance codes were finally being transmitted and would be uploaded shortly. Having the NATO mech forces inside the base would make him feel better as they could be re-checked, zeroed, and synched with the UN and AU bots already in the area of operations. NATO-reinforced UN and AU patrols could begin the next morning, he hoped. Leave the conciliation and negotiation to the UN. He had his mission.

On his glasses, Durand cued up his task force’s status reports, and began watching the downloading of the clearance codes. Details mattered, even more so with machines. As a leader you had to stay on top of it. He focused on the data and half-listened as Kimani spoke for another minute. A Rwandan officer began discussing the Belgian food fab facility near the port about to be brought online.

Blasting horns brought conversation to an abrupt stop. Half of the attendees around the table jolted upright, standing and holding the conference table with white-knuckled grips as if bracing for a bodily impact. Durand remained seated and sighed. He locked eyes with Kimani, who shook his head. An attack with a warning was one you would survive, they both knew. It’s the strikes that come without any heads up that get you.

His glasses blinked, a scratching and pixelated green snow, then returned to showing the download progress of the clear codes. Stuck at seventy-six percent. Martelle was already on his notepad, ensuring the French paras inside the compound were ready for what came next. Of course they would be, he knew. That also gave him calm.

The door burst open and Toonce paused to catch her breath. She wiped dust from her mouth and began to speak.

“The clear codes were hijacked,” she said. “Catalyst payload rode the packets, but it’s not a Tanzanian Army attack. They got partially hit, too — at least their Chinese systems, from what I can tell already. One of the local groups it looks like, based on analytics. Took the task force bots and mechs down. Same with the AU and UN already deployed here. They’re trying to bring the whole country to a stop, they say, to start real negotiations.”

“How did they attack, exactly?”“They used the clear codes to target our bots’ firmware, forcing a factory reset that requires hard keys that only exist back with the civilians at the defense ministries. We, as the deployed German army, don’t even hold those. Same with the Italians. As for the Tanzanian army systems they got from the PLA, I don’t know anything for sure, but seem to be down, too.”

That might seem fortuitous, but Durand immediately looked at it another way: If Catalyst elements could wipe out the Tanzanian army’s reliance on Chinese platforms, that would be a blank slate for a new dependence on easily downloadable and fabbable Catalyst systems. Tanzania would probably acquire the Doktor anti-armor system, a simple self-firing short-barreled launcher that could be concealed in a backpack or mounted with suction-grips to a driverless vehicle, and maybe Viper launchers, a short-range 64-shot swarm weapon about the size of a concrete block that could be held and aimed by two handles or prepositioned to strike on its own.

Nearby explosions — one, two, three — rocked the room and knocked out the lights. Sounds like mortars. In the darkness, as Durand began to taste dust in the air, he conferred with Martelle about what to do next. His paras might be the only truly friendly combat-capable force in the area right now.

CHAMPS-ÉLYSÉES — PARIS, FRANCE

Wringing out the handkerchief for a third time into the café’s brown-stained sink, Alain finally had the courage to look into the cracked mirror. Black splotches beneath the edges of the glass stained the edges of the reflective surface, framing a specter’s raw, red eyes peering back from an inky cloud.

“Oof,” he sighed. The neck of his black shirt was torn, by whom he could not remember. Claw-like scratches ran along his neck from his left ear down to his opposite clavicle. The blond girl who was shot in the legs? Or was it the CRS trooper who hit him with the mace?

A gentle knock on the door. “Everything Ok?”

That was his sister.

“A moment,” he said. He wiped his face with a coarse paper towel one more time, then put his augmented reality glasses back on. He tinted the lenses light blue. “I’m coming.”

Back out into the café, he rejoined his sister. A coffee waited, and he carefully touched its side with shaking fingers. Still warm. He closed his eyes and sipped the bitter espresso, grateful for the company of his sister and the tranquility of the café. Police drones raced by every few minutes, but no police were going to stop in here. They had other concerns right now responding to the attacks on the Champs-Élysées.

AU-UN HEADQUARTERS — DAR-ES-SALAAM, TANZANIA

Through thick black smoke, one of the tall two-legged defense turrets spun its gun mounts in lazy circles like a pinwheel. It did not fire as a swarm of bird-sized winged drones flew past in a corkscrew formation toward a far corner of the compound used for medevac flights. A series of blue strobe-like flashes followed by a sound like tearing paper meant that part of the camp would no longer be usable, Durand knew.

“Whose drones?” he asked aloud, looking around for Martelle.

“TA,” Martelle shouted, meaning “Tanzanian Army.” Normally, Martelle could look up with his glasses and get a read-out of the environment, seeing detailed information on everything from bandwidth to physical objects just as if he were going shopping. But since he had been on the base network during the attack, he saw nothing except fingerprint smudges and dust.

Yet after emerging from the bunker, the French officer knew where to find his soldiers. He sprinted at a low crouch toward a dispersed arrangement of vehicles set up in defensive positions. He greeted a soldier crouched near the rear flank of an AMX-3 armored vehicle. The paratrooper had set up a camoflage brown pop-up ballistic shield and was aiming a 10-year-old portable defense weapon skyward. These double-barreled shoulder-fired kinetic and microwave weapons were not connected to the base network or even the vehicles they were carried on, and so were still able to autonomously shoot down incoming shells and drones.

“Getting started a bit earlier than we wanted,” Durand said.

“Always ready, no?” said the soldier, whose chest armor name-plate read Orbach.

Durand held up the tablet he wore at his waist, and tapped it against the soldier’s forearm-mounted screen. Between the hastily broken up meeting and this physical connection, the mission-management AIs hosted on Durand’s tablet had created a plan of action based on years of training and real-world operations led by the colonel.

“There you go, Orbach. You have everything you need? Maybe I can fire up a fab for a nice coffee for you?”

Orbach smiled and nodded.

“Now get ready,” Durand said. “Let’s get out of this mess here and go start some trouble.”

Orders given, the information would spread rapidly from soldier to soldier, vehicle to vehicle, by direct or indirect laser transmission. Reliable, tightband, and perfect for a situation like this. Somebody might intercept it, but that was true with everything, wasn’t it?

At once, half the French paras moved to their vehicles, as the other half began climbing the shipping containers. Thanks to the task force’s own orbital sensors, unaffected by the attack so far, Durand had targets. Conventional doctrine emphasized machine vs. machine engagements, but he was going to be doing something far riskier. And more important: targeting the individuals who were the contacts, or nodes, for the Catalyst technologies. There was no time to waste staying inside the protection the base afforded. The Catalyst systems were learning and improving, from the first wave of attacks. Iterative warfare required ferocious speed and more initiative than most leaders were comfortable with.

A text message from Toonce appeared on Durand’s glasses. The UN base’s network was back up. Wait. Based on the auburn-colored text and the blue triangle icon, this was a message being sent via an encrypted consumer messaging app.

“I’m printing new logic cores for the defensive bots first, then the offensive systems. We have 213,” Toonce said.

“Of course,” Durand responded, a subvocal command converted to text. “How long?”

“Six hours.”

“And if you alternate printing, say, one defensive then one offensive, so there is … balance in our capability? I will not wait for the AU forces to regenerate. There is a window here we have to take before another round of upgrades by Tanzanian Army forces, or whoever else is equipping with Catalyst systems. We are moving out now.”

He closed out the conversation. Six hours would become 12, which would become a day delaying until the machines were ready. Durand’s paras were primed to fight now. La Victoire ne se donne pas.

Inside and atop the trucks and jeeps, the soldiers began cueing up virtual representations of their targets. The drivers took manual control, the safest option at a time like this. Less than a minute later, Durand and Martell were back in the scout car, with the commander buckling on his armor. The convoy rolled forward at a walking pace toward the base’s main gate. Some of the paras cast wary glances at the glitching Nigerian defense bots, which swayed back and forth atop their stork-like legs. Other soldiers looked for the two para sniper teams protectively watching from atop the shipping containers. As the vehicles advanced, the snipers flew a quartet of Aigle reconnaissance drones to scout routes established by Durand’s AIs.

The French soldiers were not the only ones rushing to action. Holding a water bottle in his lap, Martelle watched a squad of Kenyan infantry worked carefully to clear the medevac flight pad, guiding a pair of eight-legged explosive ordnance disposal bots as they cleared the area of micro-munitions left behind by the Catalyst swarm. The “confetti mines” were the size of an old postage stamp, paper-like explosives that detonated when their millimeters-thin bodies were bent or cracked. Coiled tight around titanium spools stored inside the bird-like drones, the mines fluttered to the ground by the hundreds, arming as they fell. One mine alone might not be enough to injure a person or even a machine. But if one detonated, it triggered other nearby mines.

“Martelle, hey,” Durand said.

“Sir,” Martelle responded, nodding. He took a drink of water.

“They have their job. We have ours.”

“Always ready. Onward,” Martelle said.

A tap on the pad at his waist and Durand urged the column forward. The base’s thick-plasticrete barrier-gates at its main entrance swung outward like arms extending for an embrace. Durand held his breath as his jeep was the first through, out into the open area beyond the base. With a feeling of regret, he passed intricate human-sized pyramids of dust-covered German and Italian bots, looking like cairns on a forgotten desert trail. It was as if in their final moments they sought to join together out of fear. He did not need those machines to complete this mission, but he would be lying to himself if he did not admit that they could make a life-or-death difference for his soldiers.

“Faster now,” said Durand. “We have our objectives, now we—”

His glasses vibrated painfully.

“MISSION ABORT,” read the message, a bright red scrawl of flashing characters.

This was no time to stop. He swiped it aside, and motioned for Martelle to keep driving.

Then General Kimani broke through with a direct audio feed.

“Colonel, you need to return to base. Mission abort. Confirm?”

There was no way to lock the officer out. Unlike with a fully autonomous formation, there was no “kill switch” for Durand’s troops. He led them, fully.

“We are en route to the objectives, general. You can see our target set; it has been approved by the task force command.”

The jeep slewed to the right, around a broken-down Tanzanian Army T-99X tank, a self-driving Chinese model that was exported throughout Africa, complete with stock PLA green-and-brown digital camo.

“No longer. PKO and AU leadership just made the call. They do not want your troops hunting down individuals in the city. Their models say it will just worsen the situation for civilians, everybody.”

Worsen? Durand thought. Isn’t it already bad enough?

“So,” said Durand. “That’s it?”

“I am going to propose another target set. Only bots, fabs, and cyber targets. No humans. We can deploy the task forces systems in six hours, I understand. Your paras can be on standby.”

Machines targeting machines, said Durand. That’s all they want any more.

He braced his leg and leaned back in his seat as his vehicle accelerated onto a deserted artery flanked by half a kilometer of torched and roofless four-story buildings. He looked back over his shoulder at the trailing convoy. His troops were there, following.

August Cole is co-author of Burn-In: A Novel of the Real Robotic Revolution

Read also How NATO is Innovating Toward the Future only in The Cipher Brief

Read more expert-driven national security insights, perspective and analysis in The Cipher Brief.

      Source link

قالب وردپرس

from World Wide News https://ift.tt/2T8NbG8