#I hate how long it took me to get through the watcher knights

[universe-xlll]

mAYbE the hollow knight is the friends we made along the way................ Jokes and anger aside, for it being my first attempt I'm quite proud of myself for almost getting it.

Trying to Speedrun hollow knight to keep my sanity intact. But guess what, I am a slow player lmao still I wanna get the Speedrun achievement.

[mrslittletall]

saw your whump post, honestly the "I'm fine" screams Hornet to me, so it'd be cool to see that! - dooblebugs

Title: The Idol Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: Hornet & Little Ghost Word Count: 2.825 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30941981

Summary: After the Hollow Knight is freed from the temple, Hornet does her best to take care of the ones that are still left in Hallownest. Everything should be fine... until it isn't.

(Author's note:  @dooblebugs

I thought about using canon verse with “Almost everyone lives AU” or your Mer AU. But ultimately, canon verse won, because I still miss some context for the Mer AU. I hope you enjoy.)

Hornet opened her eyes and jumped on her feet right away. Her day would always start with hunting and gathering food, preferably before Hollow woke up and tried to move, and it was a whole other problem trying to haul a bug their size back into bed, especially when they rigorously ignored their wounds.

While Hornet trusted Quirrel and Cloth enough to leave Hollow in their care for a while, she always felt better if she could look over them personally. However, the longer she hesitated with leaving, the longer she would need to come back, so Hornet left the house in Dirtmouth they had inhabited for Hollow's recovery and went towards the crossroads.

The little pitter-patter of tiny feet next to her prompted Hornet to look down. Ghost had decided to accompany her again. They always would. She could tell them a hundred times to stay behind, they would never listen. For a vessel meant to be void of mind, Ghost was one of the bugs with the strongest will that Hornet ever had seen.

“You will still come with me, even if I say no, right, little Ghost?”, Hornet said, shouldering her needle. Ghost didn't nod or sign at her, they simply stared, with their unblinking, never changing expression. It was enough for Hornet to know that they wouldn't leave.

“Alright, but don't get into my way.”, Hornet said. At this, Ghost swung their nail and jumped in front of Hornet in a pose that depicted a challenge, then their nail went down on the ground in a strike, the swing of it breaking through the calmness of the morning.

“I know! I know! You've beaten me twice, but... I have gone easy on you.”, Hornet half hissed. It was a blatant lie and she knew it. The first time she had simply underestimated them (or she simply had become tired of fighting) and the second time... she had given it her all and they still had remained victorious. In a sense, Ghost was the new king of Hallownest, but they didn't seem to put any mind on the title. They didn't even seem to be wanting to be celebrated for being the saviour of Hallownest. They simply joined Hornet every morning for hunting and went off on their own afterwards, always coming back to play with their friends in Dirtmouth.

As the both of them jumped down the well, Hornet couldn't help but think about that there wasn't much to rule anymore. This kingdom was in shambles. It had been two weeks and the dried off infection still crusted the crossroads, too little bugs alive to care much about cleaning the place up. It was becoming more and more difficult to get food, because so many of the infected had simply been reanimated husks, without any meat left in them.

They surely would have to wander to Greenpath again, hopefully finding a few vengeflies and mosscreeps to bring home.

Hornet was used being alone. She had been alone for a very long time. She had managed. She never was lonely... well, maybe a little lonely and now there was a bunch of strangers up in Dirtmouth who relied on her. Hornet never wanted for anyone to rely on her. She had seen what happened when bugs relied on someone and... there wasn't a solution.

She looked down on Ghost again, they had their nail on the ready and stared vigilantly in front of them. They must have crossed this crossroads a dozen times on their journey, still expecting to be attacked by the infected every given minute. Hornet could understand that it was hard for them to let go of old habits.

She was the same. She never let go of her needle as well. Even with the infection never being able to come back, she had to remain vigilant. She would protect her siblings, no matter what. She wouldn't, no she couldn't, let anyone down.

“We are nearing Greenpath.”, she said, only to cut through the silence between them. She knew it wasn't Ghost's fault that they didn't have a voice, but after years of not being able to talk to anyone, Hornet barely could stand the silence, when there was someone she could talk to. “Remember, when we hunt the mosscreeps, take their leaves as well, for the herbivores.”

While Hornet was able to eat plant matter as well, it never had been satisfying to her. She was the daughter of a spider and a wyrm, both predators, and therefore she usually would hunt for food. She was unsure about what kind of diet Ghost and Hollow needed, but they seemed to be content with the prey she brought back, so she wouldn't change anything about it.

“And remember, we can't hunt too much. The population needs a chance to recover.”, she said as well. The infection had done a number on the whole of Hallownest... it wasn't a surprise that there was such a food shortage. In fact, Hornet had cut her own food intake in favour of her siblings and anyone who couldn't hunt or still needed to recover. That bug, Tiso, came to mind. Had a far too big stomach for having been utterly destroyed by the colloseum of fools. Why Ghost had dragged him back to Dirthmouth, she would never understand.

Ghost showed that they understood with a little nod of their head and the both of them entered Greenpath. It was a MUCH nicer place without the infection, but they still had to pay attention, the fool eater plants were easy to overlook (not that Hornet had ever overlooked them, but Ghost tended to forget...) and there were some predators still around, though they were no match for her needle. The problem was to avoid them to not hunt too much. Like she had said to Ghost, they needed to give the population time to recover, if they wouldn't want all to starve beforehand.

“We get only enough for everyone back in Dirtmouth.”, Hornet said again. “Then we leave again. Let's search for some mosscreeps first.”

The both of them jumped and slashed their way through the vegetation of Greenpath. While Hornet preferred to use her needle, Ghost had found a lot of new ways to move around since the first time they fought and they dashed (literally leaving their shell behind and somehow phasing through time and space) and jumped with wings that reminded Hornet of her father... and she got a bad feeling in her guts every time she saw them.

After a bit of time, they had managed to hunt two vengeflies to bring back, Hornet keeping them cocooned up for transportation and were now searching through the vegetation for some mosscreeps. Finally, Hornet found one and struck it down with her needle, preparing a cocoon for it again, when Ghost picked something up from the grass.

“Ghost, what do you have there?”, Hornet asked. The item was too small to be prey and they tended to hoard stuff they found. It probably was just something that was completely worthless nowadays, only generating Geo when given to this historian in the City of Tears. She still wanted to know.

Ghost came over and laid the thing they had picked up in her outstretched hand. When she looked down on it, she froze.

It was a King's Idol, the item that the citizens of Hallownest had crafted to worship her reclusive father. Each of them looked different, but they all shared the general shape and depicted his most salient feature: The horns that resembled a crown.

Staring down at it, something in Hornet broke. It might have been the stress she felt since Ghost had arrived. Or the fact that Hollow recovered from years of abuse from both the gods of Hallownest. Or that she was running on an empty stomach most of the time. But once she saw that thing, all her frustration crashed down on her at once.

You!”, she hissed. “It was all your fault! You knew that the plan wouldn't work! You knew that they would suffer and you still have let it happen! The teacher, the watcher, my mother, all sacrificed for nothing! And then, in the moment you were needed the most, you vanished, you damn coward! We needed you! I needed you! I hate you. I hate you and I can't even say it to your face anymore!”

Hornet threw the king's idol on the ground with so much force that it skipped on the ground and then fell on her knees, slowly getting aware of the tears on her face and the presence of little ice cold hands patting her arm.

“I am fine.”, she said, wiping the tears away. Just a moment of weakness, nothing else. Even though she could feel the judgemental stare of Ghost, she was fine. She had to be. “Seriously, I am fine.”, she continued once more. “Let's continue hunting.”

As Hornet was putting her composure back together, she didn't notice how Ghost continued to stare at her, picking up the idol from the ground, and only starting to move again once she called out for them.

The hunt had been more or less successful. At least they had found enough prey that nobody should go terribly hungry (at least when Hornet halved her own portion again). As usual, hunting had taken the better part of the day. Hornet would have liked to go hunt at some different locations, but the Old Stag from the stag ways wasn't around lately, apparently he was taking care of some personal business. With him not being around, it was just too far to walk to the Fungal Wastes or Deepnest, at least not when she wanted to come back the same day.

Currently Hornet took in her meal in Hollow's room with Ghost present as well. She was busy thinking about if there was another route that would make sure she could hunt elsewhere but Greenpath for once, when she felt a nudge. When she looked down, she saw how Ghost offered them a half of their mosscreep, holding the prey up in their little hands, seemingly eagerly awaiting for her to take it.

“I can't take this, Ghost.”, Hornet said. “You need all the food you can get, you are still growing.”

Ghost cocked their head and for once their eternal deadpan expression was on point. Hornet knew how ridiculous her argument was. Ghost had been born before her. They hadn't grown in years. Their body had been unable to grow because they didn't had access to void. “You know what I mean.”, she defended herself. There was the possibility that Ghost would start to grow as long as they stayed in Hallownest.

Ghost offered their meal a little while longer and then gave up with a little frustrated stomp of their foot. It was then when Hornet felt another nudge... this time it was Hollow, who had simply watched the scene unfold in front of them, offering their part of their meal.

“Oh no, not you too, Hollow.”, Hornet sighed. “You need the food much more than me, you are still recovering. I won't accept anything from you.”

The both vessels shared a look and once again Hornet asked herself if they could talk to each with some kind of void telepathy, before both of them looked at the ground in defeat.

“I am fine.”, Hornet repeated herself, she knew that. “Really, I am fine...”

Hornet awoke the next morning... not because her stomach cramped and she had trouble sleeping because of it, but because someone nudged her. She cracked one eye open and murmured: “It's barely morning...” She just craved to go back to sleep, to forget about the day in front of her for a few minutes longer, but the nudging got more and more intense, until she shouted: “Fine! I am getting up! Stop bothering me!”

It was Ghost in front of her and immediately Hornet stopped being annoyed. What if something had happened? “Is something the matter with Hollow? Or is a threat approaching the village?”, she asked, already fumbling for her needle, once again forgetting that Ghost was more than capable of defending the village themselves. They just looked too much like a little, defenseless child, even though Hornet had experienced otherwise.

Gladly, Ghost shook their head, though this put Hornet right back into annoyance. “Then why have you woken me up?”, she said, falling back down in her pillows, ignoring the urge to close her eyes and looking at Ghost again, making sure to give them a judgemental stare.

Ghost did grip something under their cloak (wings? Hornet never knew what this thing around the vessels was) and after a bit of struggling, they produced a jar... a jar filled with honey. The smell actually made Hornet's mouth water. Honey was one of the few things she liked to eat that wasn't meat, mostly because she had trained in the Hive in her youth.

Though, as lucky as she felt about having more food, she couldn't help but scold Ghost. “Ghost, did you get this on your own? The Hive is dangerous, even without the infection! What if the Hive Knight would have found you?”

Ghost shook their head and then outstretched their hand, showing Hornet a shiny little charm. A charm she remembered. The charm of the Hive. “Wait, you have been there and challenged him already?” Hornet wanted to be surprised, but Ghost couldn't really surprise her anymore. When they could surprise her somehow, then it was that they were full of surprises.

“Anyway... I guess I have to thank you, though I don't approve that you sneak out at night into the Hive.”, Hornet murmured. “At least we have more food for the group now..”

Ghost rigorously shook their head and pressed the jar in her hands. “For me?”, Hornet asked and Ghost nodded.

“But... Ghost, I appreciate it, but I don't need.. the others need the food much more than...”

Another shook of their head and a stomp of their foot along with crossed arms and a slight turn around. Hornet suddenly felt very small, she had never seen them that upset.

“Alright, alright...”, she said. “Maybe I have eaten insufficient lately...”

Ghost nodded again and gave the jar of honey another press, so that she had to hold it firmly in her hands.

“Alright alright...”, Hornet finally gave in. “I will take your offer, Ghost.”

As she opened the jar, her hunger became more and more apparent and soon she dug in and had finished the whole jar in what felt like no time and finally, for once, she didn't feel overly hungry. Satisfied even.

She then saw Ghost holding up something. A little rock with a few letters written on it. Lately Cornifer had given them writing lessons, though it still was a work in progress.

“Fine?”

That was the word they had painted on the rock (where did they even have the colours from?).

“I am fine.”, Hornet said. “This time for real. I am sorry, Ghost, I shouldn't have lied to you. I just feel so... responsible for everyone. I can't show weakness in front of anyone.”

Ghost shook their head again and then got something out. Hornet recognized it as the King's Idol they had found in Greenpath. They tossed it at the ground, just as she had done and then hit it with their nail, leaving a notable crack in it.

“You as well don't have the best memories of him, right?”, Hornet said. Both of them had been left behind, though in a different kind of way. Ghost had been discarded and Hornet had been left with responsibility far too huge for her age.

Ghost nodded again and gave the King's Idol another smack, so that it landed in front of her. Hornet took it into her hands and stared at it. She did miss him, that she had to admit to herself, but she also knew that her anger and her disappointment were real and there was no reason to hide it in front of Ghost.

She squeezed the Idol until it cracked into two pieces and just watched as they fell down. “Thank you, Ghost.”, she said. “But make sure to not tell Hollow about this.”

The way Hollow idealized their father... it would break their heart seeing his image being defiled like that.

Another quick nod and then Ghost actually got another one out, their face clearly saying: “Wanna break another?”

A grin crept over Hornet's face. She would never get her mother back or escape her responsibilities, but at least she could vent out her frustrations, even though it took her sibling for her to realize.

“Oh you bet I want.” (Author's note: Little Ghost is kinda fun to write. I think they are a character mostly showing what they feel through body language and it was fun to come up with how they would act. I also like to think that they can stare very judgemental, even though their expression never changes, a stare of them can make anyone falter. Hornet's relationship to PK is... complicated. He hasn't actually been a bad father to her, but as the infection came back and depression took over, he left her alone more and more and she got angry about it... especially when he decided to just vanish. She felt utterly betrayed by it and it is a huge source of her frustration and anger. I put in some little references to the game in there, try to find them if you please.)

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

One-Shots and Story Hooks

One thing Ravnica campaigns are rarely without is conflict. On a good day, somewhere between nine and ten of the Guilds will be having an issue with one another in some way, shape, or form. This is good for adventuring parties because it means there’s always something to do. While coming up with a session can literally be as simple as picking two Guilds and building off their general reasons for not liking each other (which is as easy as picking a fight on the internet), sometimes you need help. You need something to kickstart those creative ideas again.

Fortunately, the artists over at Wizards of the Coast have had over a dozen sets/releases to craft not just the main storyline of Ravnica, but unique little one-offs as well. They come with absolutely stellar artwork to help build the atmosphere of the City of Guilds, and wonderful bits of flavor text that are prime jumping-off points for your story ideas.

So here are four story hooks taken straight from Ravnica cards to incorporate into your campaign. You don’t have to follow these prompts exactly, but if they spark some ideas of your own, run with them.

Watchwolf

Ravnica can be lonely & intimidating for a Druid. With so much of the world made up of pavement and skyline, one’s connection with nature can feel like a long-distance relationship. You’d be hard-pressed to find a tree outside the Conclave without venturing into Rubblebelt territory. Furthermore, what animals do inhabit the big city have been almost unilaterally conscripted into service by one Guild or another. Azorius hawks, Boros hounds, Gruul boars, Selesnya cattle; to say nothing of the terrifying creations churned out from Guilds like the Simic, Orzhov, or Rakdos.

Even the rats seem to have loyalties.

I was browsing a Tin Street stall for watermelon seeds when I saw it. A wolf, staring right at me from a bridge nearby. I looked around but didn’t see anyone it seemed to belong to. Boros dogs wear armor, Ledev dire wolves are never without their rider, and if it was Gruul it would almost certainly have some sort of clan markings. Could it be a wild one?

Noticing my gaze, the wolf made its way over to me. It avoided the crowd with a comfort you don’t see in wild animals. This wolf definitely belonged to someone in the city.

A few of the merchants were staring at us. Even if it was trained, it was definitely making them nervous. The wolf nipped & tugged at my tunic with its mouth. Not with aggression, but with urgency. Spend enough time with animals, you learn to spot the difference. I bought my seeds, tipped the shopkeep generously, and brought the wolf to a quieter part of the city to speak with it.

Who are you?

Watcher

A watcher? Curious.

What do you need, Watcher?

Help

What help do you need?

Lost

You’re lost?

Watcher shook his muzzle.

Where’s your owner, Watcher?

Taken

Taken? Taken by whom?

Watcher told me.

A what?

Role Reversal

This was definitely one for the books. Even for the Senate, seeing a Sphinx up close is extremely rare. Seeing one at your desk filing a complaint about another Sphinx is unheard of.

“They are Uthlon the Wise. A model among their peers for stoicism, moderation, and sound judgement.”

“And you’re filing a complaint against Uthlon for....”

I checked my notebook.

“....Getting drunk and painting rude words on the temple of Azor.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll look into it.”

I expected a response. There’s always a response when people get angry enough to file a complaint. However, instead of shouting or threats, the Sphinx Agammemnos stepped back from my desk and perched down a few feet away. They were really going to wait there until I looked into this. My lunch was sitting an arm’s reach away. I sighed deeply. I hated this job sometimes.

Then, another Sphinx came in and approached my desk.

“I am here to file a complaint regarding Uthlon the Wise.”

I took my notebook back out.

“For the crime of shouting out ‘River’.”

I had to ask for that one again. Apparently, they were asking someone a riddle, as Sphinxes do, when Uthlon the Wise popped up and shouted the riddle’s answer. For that, I might seek out this Uthlon the Wise for the sole purpose of giving them a medal. No sooner had this thought crossed my mind when another Sphinx, this one rubbing their head and moving as though drunk, wandered in.

“I....am here to....file a complaint.”

“Regarding Uthlon the Wise?”

The Sphinx looked pleased. They do love when someone can guess what they’re thinking.

“Uthlon the Wise hit me over the head with a club.”

I’d just finished writing that down when more Sphinxes came strolling in. I’d never seen this many in one place, not even in Isperia’s court. Then I saw the strangest thing of all. A goblin came in, calmly walked up to my desk, and told me in the best Common I’ve ever heard from a goblin:

"My name is Uthlon the Wise.”

For the love of the Guildpact, what is going on here?

Mass Manipulation

There they are. I thought I made my instructions clear to dress the part. One way you can always spot a Dimir is by their shabby taste. They’re so concerned with being able to keep things hidden in their clothes that they can never wear anything that fits them properly. Orzhov assassins, by contrast, always dress to kill. We turn the art of killing into an actual art. And here this tit comes showing up at the finest diner in the Precinct wearing that awful trenchcoat. Ghosts, I should have hired that Ochran. At least they know not to be seen.

The only reason I’m resorting to this alley skulker is because I need the job done quickly and on the cheap. If this imbecile ruins my appetite, I’m docking the price of the meal from their pay. Then again, if I do that, I wouldn’t be paying them at all.

Seems fair to me.

“Dreadfully sorry I’m late.”

“If this is how you run your business, I may just take mine elsewhere.”

“Now, now, let’s not get hasty.”

The server came over to take our orders, but because of this idiot’s tardiness, my main course would have to wait while they ordered drinks.

“Would you like to see our wine list?”

“Water is fine, thank you.”

Ghosts, I should have hired the Rakdos. This whole day is already a loss and it’s only breakfast. Why did I ever think these fools could be trusted with something important?

The server poured water from the pitcher while I waited.

“So, what’s the job?”

“What’s the job? The job is everything! How you present yourself! How you treat your clients! How you behave in high society! How am I supposed to trust you with a contract when you can’t even show up on time for a breakfast?”

They just sat there, drinking their water. Not even the decency to look ashamed. I’m going to put a word in to the Judge for another purge, this is unacceptable. We shouldn’t have to put up with these dredges.

Finishing their water, they clinked their glass on the table.

The whole diner was suddenly quiet. Not the awkward, shocked quiet of society types pausing to listen. I’ve lived in this city for almost 70 years and I’ve never heard anything like this kind of silence. Every single person froze in their place, some halfway in the motion of eating or talking. Then, every single head turned in our direction at once.

“I was afraid it might come to this. I know you have things to do, so I’ll be brief. When I ask you for the job, I don’t need your background or history and especially not your personal take. I know how uptight you Syndicate types are about contracts & paperwork & details and all that nonsense. I just need the deed and the name of the person it’s being done to. That’s all.”

Every face stares at me with blank captivation. Not a single eye blinks. Not a single mouth draws breath. Including mine.

“But first, let’s talk about the pay. For starters, since the target is probably wealthy enough to afford protection, the rate will double. Second, since you clearly have trouble keeping your mouth shut, you’ll need to be kept under supervision until the job is done, so the rate will double again. Lastly, since the reason I was late was because I was debating whether or not to poison your drink, let’s double it again and call it a deal.”

I swallow hard. I should have never gotten involved with House Dimir.

“Seems fair to me.”

“Excellent. Now, what’s the job?”

Debtors’ Transport

This one will not be easy. This isn’t your standard smash & grab in the Bulwark where the Wojek are too busy busting Gruul skulls to chase after a gang of thieves. Everyone in the city has thought of it at least once; rob the Orzhov. The problem is, everyone knows what happens to anyone who tries; best case execution, worst case servitude. The air surrounding the Orzhov Guildhall is saturated with the ghosts of poor souls still paying off their debts to the Syndicate centuries after death. It’s not a fate you wish unto anyone, least of all yourself.

But still....the temptation is right there. An Orzhov transport, one of those big bloated ones that look like someone took a person, removed their bones, and then blew them up like a balloon. Walking right through the plaza. Every week, same time, same route, same cargo. An enormous sarcophagus filled with more coin than your average Ravnican citizen will see in a lifetime, and the moans of the latest poor soul who fell too far behind on their payments.

From the street separating the haves & have-nots of Precinct Two, around the Hall of the Guildpact in Precinct One, then a straight shot along Plaza Avenue to the Orzhova Church. Roughly one hour to walk five miles of city and deliver the cargo into the greedy hands of the Ghost Council.

They aren’t subtle about their business, but they aren’t subtle about security, either. At least four Advokists and Knights for a light haul, double that for a bigger one, and if they’re really hauling a score you can expect a trio of their fully-plated Giants as well. Not to mention the gargoyles they have perched on roofs for every single street along the route. And the transports themselves aren’t exactly known for being well-tempered when something agitates them.

But you rip off a score like that and your entire crew can afford to buy a mansion on a floating mountain.

Assuming you get away, of course. That’s always the rub. There are few things the Syndicate take more personally than being robbed. You rob a score like that, they don’t just send the Order of Sorrows after you, they send the Angels. The executors of Orzhov justice who don’t sleep, don’t stop for lunch, don’t stop for anything until they find you. At least when the Firemane kill someone it’s an exciting way to go. Better death by immolation than spending every night listening for the sound of feathered wings dropping a scythe down on you.

But if you did it right, made sure no one saw you, made sure no one could trace it back to you, it could be done. It can be done.

But who would be willing to take the risk?

[buffyversefanfiction]

Slayer of Slayers

Warnings:I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation.

15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft.

M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

PART SEVEN LINK HERE

Part Eight - Vampire Island

Theo Frey’s life had well and truly been a series of impossible events, his birth being miraculous conception between slayer and vampire, one of whom should never be able to produce any form of life, his birth then followed by being abandoned in the past and forced to grow up in the past, only to witness the death of his adoptive parents at the hands of Drusilla, which was then followed by Theo becoming a vampire slayer, falling in love with vamp Tobias, and becoming known as the slayer of slayers. And if that was not enough impossibilities within his life, he then witnessed his love Tobias’ death at the hands of old one Illyria, only to then die himself after being shot by former watcher Rupert Giles that saw him coming back to life as the world’s first vampire to have turned without a siring. Theo’s world had continued to crash around him, repeatedly, but for once his latest surprise was one he was happy about, that being declared a king of vampires following his survival after being staked, and now he was on a mission to earn that title, by finding this infamous vampire island, home to the first-ever Hellmouth, and the only place in the world that would solidify his claim as king amongst vampires, making him the most dangerous creature on the planet as the prophecies foretold and the only thing standing in his way, was his mother, Buffy the vampire slayer…

Buffy Summers had been out of the slaying game for what felt like forever but, it had only been over a year since she disappeared to the middle of nowhere, and as she returned, following the revelation of Theo, she found herself patrolling, hunting, and researching, 24/7, as she struggled to deal with her son’s hatred towards her and his many evil deeds, which she blamed herself for. The last time she saw her son she called his bluff about being ready to kill her, luckily things went Buffy’s way, and he couldn’t kill her in the end, but still to see her child so distraught, so broken, almost broke the once preppy and feisty blonde-haired vampire slayer. However, the fact he could not bring himself to kill her gave Buffy some hope that there was something still there deep within him that she could reach and after hearing news of his plans to take out Drusilla, those hopes grew, only to be dashed after learning her son had become something of a king among vampires. Buffy and Willow had been deep in the books within Willow’s San Francisco apartment for days, as they sought out to learn all they could about Theo’s prophecy as the first vampire not to be sired by another, as they learned the unnerving news that mother would either kill a son or be killed by a son, before going on to learn about a prophecy going back many centuries which detailed a self-sired vampire reigning king of an island, vampire island, and how his blood would open the world’s first Hellmouth, as they began to realize the importance of his birth, and why he was born, with Buffy beginning to fear that not only could her son not be saved but she may have to be the one to stop him. And before long Buffy and Willow hired a boat, enlisted the help of fellow vampire slayer Faith Lehane, and Illyria, and took to the sea with ancient books, maps, and spells directly linked to this mystical island of vampires, as they hoped to find the island, and to get there and destroy the Hellmouth before Theo had a chance of opening it, claiming his undead throne, and unleashing hell unto the world. “This child of yours sure knows how to cause trouble I bet you're missing the good old days when you only had to try to keep me in line.” Faith joked with Buffy as they stood to the port of the big yacht-like boat that they had rented, both slayers looking out towards the sea. “Well, I would not go as far as saying I’m nostalgic about rogue Faith and Sunnydale High, but things were much simpler back then for sure.” Buffy laughed, appreciating Faith’s humor during a difficult time for her. “Speak for yourself B, I do not want to sound all savior-like and everything, but we are going to get through to him Buffy without having to kill him.” Faith responded as she remained determined about her believes over Theo being redeemable. “If we were certain about that, I’d have got Angel on this mission instead of his super smurf sidekick and you’d have had his witch frenemy join us,” Buffy confessed to the fellow slayer, a slayer she had once become enemies with but had over time rebuilt their friendship. “I’m the slayer no matter what, and deep down you are the same…if I have to choose between the world or my son I’ll choose the world, Angel will choose his son, I guess that makes him the better parent and me the better, killer.” “It will not come down to that Buffy, I did not come on this mission to kill your kid and neither did you, we will stop him without killing him, and then you will ground his ass for at least a decade or two and we’ll go get some drinks.” Faith told Buffy, knowing Buffy was right but also knowing she did not want to admit it to her. “Being a slayer has cost me so much, forced me to sacrifice so much, and although I hate that more than anything if it comes down to it, I will continue to make those sacrifices because that is what a slayer does,” Buffy said in a defeated sigh, knowing that this quest to find the island of vampires could end with her killing her own son.

Later that very same night Theo stood at the front of a large shipment containing ship looking at the nearby island, with blood on his mouth, the blood coming from the human passengers of the boat that he and his group of vampires fed on while hiding out in the darkest places of the ship, choosing to keep the captain alive so he could sail the boat while they hid from daylight, but chaining him to the wheel so he dared not escape. Theo couldn’t believe his eyes as he stared at the island from a distance, a hauntingly beautiful island, almost completely in darkness if it was not for the night’s moon in the sky, reflecting light off the water, he could not believe that this lost island was the home to the world’s first Hellmouth nor could he believe that this island would be his kingdom, his way to a throne he never knew even existed. As the boat sailed closer towards the island, his vampire companions appeared from out of the blind spots, with glee in their eyes, knowing they had found the only true home for their kind, completely oblivious to the fact that their king was beginning to question the path he had chosen so quickly after facing off with his nemesis Drusilla. Theo had wanted many things in his life, he wanted love which he found with Lucien Knight and then later the vampire Tobias, he wanted companionship which he once had with his bewitching best friend Ruby Moon, and he wanted a family to replace the one he lost, but he had never dreamt of being a king among monsters nor did he dream of one day becoming one of those monsters but fate had dealt their cards and Theo had no choice but to either accept or deny his destiny. Losing Tobias had awakened emotions within the vampire that he thought was long gone, human emotions, grief, sadness, and loss, and somehow through reunions with old friends, meeting his biological family, and turning against his mentor Drusilla, somewhere through all that he had felt a part of his old self slipping back through, a part he had hoped he killed a long time ago and apart if he wanted to become king, he would have to kill now. Theo’s only mission in life had been to avenge his parents and with an army, and more undead soldiers to add to that army, after opening the Hellmouth and claiming his undead kingdom, he knew with certainty he would achieve that goal, for even Drusilla herself could not outrun an entire army instructed to hunt her down at all costs, and if it meant ending the world, well that was just a sacrifice the slayer of slayers was willing to make. But as his minions anchored the boat Theo was shocked to suddenly see Sineya, the first slayer, appear standing within the sandy shores of the beach, staring right at him, as if she was staring right into his soul, and perhaps she was, as Theo suddenly felt a rush of guilt hit him hard, like a ton of bricks, causing him to gasp for a moment before like she had appeared, Sineya disappeared into the night’s air within a blink of the eyes. “We’re here boss!” One of his minions announced to him. “Time to go as far as we can before looking for coverage from the sun, then when night falls again we will get you to your throne.” “Yes,” Theo replied, as he then mumbled to himself, unimpressed by the island’s restrictions. “What kind of island meant for vampires has no way of blocking out the sun anyway?”

Buffy, Faith, Willow, and Illyria were not too far behind as the sun began to rise in the sky, the two slayers, witch, and goddess, drew closer to the infamous island of vampires, an island that Illyria herself had conquered many millenniums ago, back when bloodsuckers were nothing more than pets to her, messy pets whom she’d easily put down if they pestered her. All those years ago Illyria never really sense the true power of this island, thinking of it as nothing more than a home to bloodsuckers, but now as she grew closer to the island of vampires she began to sense its power more and more, a sense of untapped potential, the same sense she got from the slayer of slayers which only served as further evidence to the goddess that Theo Frey was indeed linked to the place, just like the prophecy foretold. As she stood behind the boat’s wheel, Willow Rosenberg, standing next to her, the two women seeing the island in their sight, Illyria knew that Willow too could feel the untapped power radiating from the island of the undead. “I know we’re going to win because we always do but what’s the odds, we win without having to kill Buffy’s son?” Willow asked Illyria, fearing her answer, but knowing Illyria would be honest about their odds. “The son of the slayer has survived far longer than I expected him to when we first met however, in this fight I believe in order to win, he must die, and I’m not one for losing,” Illyria answered honestly with a rare sign of reluctance which showed a sense of empathy towards the situation, a feeling which was rather new for the blue haired goddess. Before long Buffy, Willow, Illyria, and Faith had anchored the boats and were now on the sandy shores of the island, ready to face whatever awaited them on this prophesized island for vampire kind, but before they traveled further into the island, Buffy noticed another boat heading towards the island’s direction, instantly knowing it wasn’t Theo’s, as something in her gut told her that Angel was on that boat. “So, about not telling Angel about the mission…” Faith began to say to Buffy. “You decided to go against that I guess.” Buffy interrupted her fellow slayer, infuriated by her actions but understanding them at the same time. And so, Buffy waited for Angel’s ship to anchor itself near the island before deciding to get on the boat, going under the deck where Angel and Spike were hiding out from the sunlight, having had the help of Rupert Giles to sail the boat, and Xander Harris, because well he was Spike’s roommate, and one of Buffy’s best friends. “I told you she wouldn’t be happy with us tagging along on this one,” Spike said to Angel as the two vampires sat at a table within the kitchen room on the boat as Buffy walked in, the windows completely blacked out by carboard to protect the vampires from the sunlight. “Well, it’s a good thing I don’t give a damn about what she wants.” Angel snapped at Spike while standing up to face Buffy, furious with the slayer for once again going behind his back regarding their son. “I was just trying to save you the pain if things go bad out there!” Buffy told Angel. “Theo’s about to bring about another apocalypse and if I don’t make it in time to save him then I will have to stop him.” “I will not let you hurt our son Buffy!” Angel argued with the slayer, furious to learn that she was prepared to kill her own child. “I don’t care if he does bring about the apocalypse, there’s always some apocalypse and we always defeat it, but I will not lose him again…I will not let you take him away from me again!” “Do you think I want to kill my son? No, but he’s not leaving us much choice, and once again it falls on me to choose between someone I love and the rest of the world, you have no idea what that is like so don’t you dare stand there and judge me!” Buffy shouted at the brooding vampire, as Spike sat there having no choice but to watch the two bickerings with each other awkwardly. “I have lost people too Buffy, you’re not the only one who has had to make sacrifices, but I refuse to let you go in there ready to kill

him if you need to. What happened to the girl ready to risk the world for her sister? Why does Dawn mean more to you than your own son?” Angel continued to argue with the slayer furiously. “Dawn was an innocent, she did nothing wrong and has continued to do nothing wrong, Theo was a cold-blooded killer long before he became a vampire-like his father, Dawn never chose her fate, she fought against it like we all did but Theo is willingly choosing this and if we do not stop before he opens that Hellmouth then we have to throw his ass in there,” Buffy replied, equally as furious as Angel, not liking the position she had found herself in, willing to do anything to make this not true, but ready to accept whatever fate may fall upon her son, as she once again had to choose to be a chosen one over all else. Buffy knew she had the sun to her advantage, and she could use it along with Illyria, Giles, Willow, Xander, and Faith, to get trekking through the vampire island, and get a head start on Angel and Spike, hoping however the big battle went down that she could spare Angel the pain of seeing their son’s death even if she could not spare herself the same pain, but with only a matter of hours to go, and no clue where they were going on this island, the chances of this getting messy seemed unavoidable.

Theo, of course, was one step ahead of the others, as he and his gang of vampires sought refuge from the sunlight within one of the islands’ caves, but instead of sleeping like his minions, Theo stayed up plotting, marking out what he could see of the island and patrolling the cave for any signs of them being ambushed, knowing the champions of this world would no doubt find their way here sooner or later, however, it was when the slayer of slayers went deeper into the caves that he once again saw Sineya appear in front of his eyes. Sineya, was no stranger to Theo, for the two had met before, a very long time ago, but her presence was still a shock considering the first-ever vampire slayer was killed long before his time, and many others, but as he saw her for the second time since arriving on the vampire island, he could not help but want to know the reason behind her presence. “Do you remember me?” Theo asked the primeval slayer, who nodded in agreement before he continued to ask. “Why are you here?” “The dirt beneath you is the same dirt I once stood on, do you not recognize a place you have been before? Much has changed but it still feels the same.” Sineya replied telepathically, her voice piercing Theo’s mind without the slayer so much as moving her lips. “No…the prophecies say this is vampire island, not slayer island.” Theo denied her claims almost instantly. “As long as there are vampires there are slayers…once only one slayer but now an army.” Sineya continued to telepathically speak, accessing Theo’s mind with ease. “We did not choose this path, but you did…now you must decide if you are vampire or slayer.” “I think I made that choice long before I actually became a vampire, how are you even here?” Theo responded coldly, not knowing that the primeval slayer could sense the uncertainty within his very soul. “You already are where you are looking to be but is it where you want to be?” Sineya informed him with her cryptic words, once again choosing to speak telepathically instead of out loud. “You can do what you came here to do but the question is, do you want to do it?” Suddenly, the first slayer once again vanished within the blink of the eye, but this time Theo noticed the caveman writings in front of him, within the depths of the cave, and as he began to decrypt what the pictures meant, he realized that through that very wall, was where the Hellmouth was located, he had somehow found it instinctively without even knowing, and that’s what Sineya was pointing out to him, forcing his hand to make his choice, but as ruthless, and evil, as Theo Frey could be, was he really ready to end the world just to claim an undead kingdom?

[swtorpadawan]

Theron Shan in Absolute Trust

Author's Notes: FYI - This is an older piece written a couple of years ago. The Alliance Commander depicted in the following story is decidedly NOT my OC, Corellan Halcyon, but another JK Outlander. It takes place shortly after Knights of the Eternal Throne.

This is all just between us, right? Strictly our little secret? Good. Because you know I'd hate to have to kill you.

So, go ahead and pull up a chair. I'll buy you a Corellian Brew, and then I'll tell you a story.

People ask me, 'Why stay with the Eternal Alliance?' Oh, sure, back when the Eternal Empire was off subjugating the galaxy, it was easy to see why so many people would jump at the chance to join an organization dedicated to taking it down, especially when most of the really big players had rolled over to it. But why stay afterwards? Now that the war is over, hasn't the Alliance fulfilled its purpose? Shouldn't we all just go back to being Republic, or Empire, or Zakuulan, or whatever?

Well, for me, the answer is simple: Our Commander is the reason I stayed. He's the reason I've believed in the Alliance for as long as I have.

I have a great story to illustrate my point, but first it needs some background on my friend and leader.

Nowadays, people just call him the Commander. So much so that most seem to have forgotten his actual name.

He used to be called 'the Outlander' by the masses, a name Arcann gave him as an insult but that he turned into a title of respect among friends and enemies alike.

Before that? Oh, he had a bunch of other titles. Master Jedi. Hero of Tython. Battlemaster of the Jedi Order. The Conqueror of the Sith Emperor. He held the honorary rank of General in the Galactic Republic. I think he was also a Paladin of House Organa of Alderaan - you know, If you're into that sort of thing. The Gree call him the 'Black Bisector of Coruscant'. (Yeah, I don't know either.) Oh, and a few of our recent Zakuulan recruits quietly call him the 'Dragon of Zakuul' when they think no one can overhear them. There's a story there for another time. The Commander's been a bunch of things over the course of a relatively short life. He's been a Jedi, a soldier, a hero, a Champion of the free galaxy, a rebel, a savior and now finally a peacemaker.

Yeah, it's true – his reputation has always been as a warrior first. And probably the greatest in the galaxy. That's one reason why he's inspired so many martial types – Jedi, Sith, Republic and Imperial Commandos, Mandalorians, heck, even gangsters – to his side. And then keep them there. He wins a lot. I admit, I really do regret not being present for his showdowns with Arcann or Vaylin or Valkorian. What can I say? He needed me someplace else in each case. I do remember his fight against Revan a few years ago, though. A bunch of us fought by his side. Myself, Lana Beniko, Satele Shan - the Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Lord Scourge - the Sith Lord who used to be the Emperor's Wrath, Darth Marr - who was basically running the Sith Empire at that point, Shae Vizla - who went on to become Mandalore, Jakarro - this Wookie bounty hunter we had buddied up with – all serious customers. Even with all of us behind him, the Commander – who was still just a Jedi Master at the time - stood out. Watching him in that fight was like nothing else I've seen. There's no way we could have taken down Revan without him. And if anything, he's only become more powerful since then. It's kinda scary when you think about it.

What's that? Who am I? Oh, sorry. Theron Shan, at your service. Former agent of the Galactic Republic's Strategic Information Service (that's "spy" to those of you not in the know), sometime hero and adventurer, now a senior adviser to the Commander of the Eternal Alliance.

But getting back to the Commander - This man has taken blows that would have crushed anyone else. Falling to the dark side, then bouncing back. Losing those years of his life when he was imprisoned in carbonite, knowing most of his friends were missing and maybe even dead, seeing almost everything he'd fought for destroyed in his absence. Then being hounded by the Eternal Empire with just a handful of allies when he finally got free. Then later watching his nascent Alliance being abandoned by the Senate of the very Galactic Republic he had once championed. Watching friends and allies die in the final battles to take down the Eternal Empire, and finally overcoming Valkorion in a battle for his own mind.

I've seen him win so many battles and lose so much along the way, I honestly don't know how he keeps going. But he does. And deep down, I knew he always would.

And I think everyone else in the Alliance pretty much thought the same.

What's that? Am I related to… Oh, kriff, really? Alright, yes, fine. I am the illegitimate son of Master Satele Shan, former Grand Master of the Jedi Order. (Who incidentally was the Commander's boss at the time we met.) Yes, I am a descendant of Bastila Shan, hero of the Jedi Civil War centuries ago. And if the name Revan means anything to you, yeah, I can claim him as an ancestor, too. And heck, why shouldn't we bring up the fact that my father is Jace Malcolm, the Supreme Commander of the Republic military? And that I didn't even meet either of my parents until I was almost thirty? And that my mother apparently went into hiding years ago after the Eternal Empire invaded, and that she didn't even bother to send me a message to tell me she was alright?

Not that I'm, you know, bitter or anything.

Anyway…

The Commander and I, though, we've been through a lot, since well before Zakuul invaded. Heck, we even met a couple of times before that Korriban operation went sideways and eventually led to us meeting Lana and squaring off with Revan. We kept that hush-hush, though. My old bosses at the SIS wouldn't have approved of what we were doing. It's possible my mother wouldn't have been okay with it either. Story for another time.

In all our time together, he never brought up the fact that Satele was my mother. Or that I was raised as a Jedi initiate as a kid before washing out because I didn't have 'the gift' of the Force. Don't tell anyone, particularly him, but I always… really appreciated that.

I don't want to sound like I'm bragging here, but I don't think I'd be totally out of line if I told you I'm probably the Commander's best friend at this point. Nothing touchy-feely, you understand. In my job, I don't place too much stock in terms like that, but it's likely true. There are only two people in the whole Alliance he's known for longer than he's known me, and both of those are members of his old crew, back when he was just a Jedi running around the galaxy with five companions in one small ship. They're both good people, don't get me wrong, but one is an AstroMech droid who talks in beeps and whistles and the other is a drill Sergeant with the personality of a Durasteel wall. So as far as confidantes go, yeah, I feel I'm at the top of his list when it's time to share memories over a beer.

Not that he does that a lot, being a former Jedi, but we have.

Of course, then there's Lana, who is a very special case.

Lana Beniko, the former Minister of Sith Intelligence. Brilliant. Ruthless. Beautiful. Deadly. We'd become partners of convenience years ago when were both on the run during the Revanite Crisis. We worked well together. I respected her. I even liked her. We were friends. Even good friends. But I never forgot that she was a Sith. She and I had a little incident back on Rishii when she let me get captured and tortured by the Order of Revan so she and the Commander could find their base by tracking me down.

I mean, that was a long time ago, so I'm mostly over it.

Mostly.

Anyway, so Lana was the one who freed the Commander from that carbonite prison in the Spire on Zakuul. She searched for him almost non-stop for five years, even after everyone else had given him up for dead. She risked everything to rescue him, convinced that he was the only one who could defeat the Eternal Empire. Since then, she's been totally dedicated to his cause, building the foundation of the Alliance up from nothing and rarely leaving his side, except when he needed her to. Heck, she even chose the location of our headquarters here on Odessen.

Eventually, she and the Commander even started sharing a bunk. So, you know, they're close. Special case, like I said.

(And just for the record, Lana's interest in the Commander as more than just an ally? Totally called it years ago. This was right after that thing on Ziost, when she didn't have the Commander and I killed for not turning a Vitiate-possessed Jedi Master over to her for an 'examination'. Believe me, she didn't hold off for my sake.)

If the Commander was the heart and soul of the Alliance, Lana was the mind. Her intelligence and ruthless determination helped forge a grassroots resistance movement into an organization rivaling the great powers of the galaxy. The Commander consults with her on every major decision.

(Me? I try to be the Alliance's conscience. Hey, don't look at me like that. Someone needed to do it.)

Some of the troops – the few who were with us way back on Yavin years ago – they still call the three of us the Triumvirate. Sounds like a gang of spice dealers of Nar Shadaa, I know. But just between us, I always kind of liked it. A Jedi, a Sith and an SIS Agent. Sounds like the opening of a bad joke.

Instead, we saved the galaxy. More than once.

But here's my story. So, a few months after the Commander took down Valkorian and claimed the Eternal Throne, Lana and I were vetting the application for a potential recruit. We'll call the guy Slade, though you can bet your last credit that it wasn't his real name.

He was ex-Sith Intelligence, one of their 'Watchers'. He had briefly worked for Lana years ago before the Eternal Empire had invaded.

Now I'm a spy by trade myself, but this guy was shifty even for my line of work. Lana was suspicious of him right from the start when he came to us. Said she remembered Slade as being too "old Empire", loyal only to the most powerful Sith within arm's reach. She also assessed that he changed loyalties too fast to be trusted with important assignments. She said he could be insufferably flattering to a superior, and equally arrogant to his subordinates. Lana concluded that it was incredibly suspicious that he was choosing to join us now, and not months before, when the rebellion was in full swing.

I tried playing devil's advocate for a while, but Slade's background check generated too many red flags, including the suspicious shifting of a large amount of credits to his accounts through the Hutt Cartel, but originating elsewhere. We couldn't trace the origin, but when he waffled on his explanations for where the money came from, we both agreed it was best to give him the boot.

Lana and I were escorting Slade to the shuttles with a couple of Alliance troopers – one ex-Republic, the other former Imperial. That's how we try to do it. No restraints; we were still treating him with kid gloves at this point. We were walking past the war room – basically the command center of the whole base – when Slade spots the Commander. He was talking to Hylo Visz, our former celebrity smuggler turned Head of Underworld Logistics for the Alliance. They were probably going on about trade routes, but Hylo is one the few people in the galaxy who can honestly relate with the Commander's experience of having spent a few years frozen in carbonite, only to wake up to a galaxy that looked very different from how they left it. So I guess they did have that much in common, anyway.

Arcann was by his side, too. Yes, it was that Arcann. Valkorian's son, who had seized the Eternal Throne and invaded the rest of the galaxy. The one who had imprisoned the Commander in carbonite for five years, then hunted him and his allies down for months. The one most of us had joined the Alliance to stop in the first place. But when the time came, the Commander barely hesitated to trust that Senya, Arcann's mother, was right that there was good in him. How crazy is that? But then he joined us after being redeemed, helping us stop both Vaylin and Valkorian. Arcann was now one of the Commander's most powerful supporters.

In a private moment, Arcann had once asked the Commander how he had been able to forgive him for everything Arcann had done, both to the Commander and to the rest of the galaxy. The Commander just told him that if he hadn't given Arcann that chance, everything the Commander's life had stood for would have meant nothing.

Yeah, every once in a while, the Commander could be as enigmatic as the most wizened Jedi Master.

Anyway, Slade suddenly makes a break for it, running straight towards the Commander. He was a slippery one to make it as far as he did. Now if we hadn't already been convinced we didn't want him around, the sheer stupidity of making this move right there, right in the heart of the entire Eternal Alliance, would have been enough. Immediately, I drew my blaster and called for Slade to freeze, and our escort leveled their rifles. Six more Alliance members interposed themselves between the intruder and the Commander, ready to give their lives if needed to protect him. Arcann stepped forward as he ignited his lightsaber, wary of this apparent intruder.

Of course, all of that was superfluous when one of the people who had been escorting the target was a highly-motivated Sith.

I could tell Lana was furious that we had let this guy get anywhere close to the Commander. I mean, yeah, we had checked him for weapons and other 'toys' and it's almost impossible to think he could have actually harmed the Commander personally without them. But Lana didn't really care. She reached out with the Force, and next thing you know poor Slade is levitating in the air, grabbing his own throat in pain and desperation. Force-Choke is still part of Lana's repertoire, even if she's embraced the Commander's "tactical restraint" doctrine. She stepped towards him in full-on Sith mode, totally prepared to kill him on the spot. Naturally, by now, everyone's watching this exchange. Between communications staff, analysts, guards and Alliance members just passing through, there must be have been over thirty people watching this guy struggle for his life as Lana approached him. I sighed and holstered my weapon, hoping I wasn't about to have a corpse to cleanup.

Then came the very distinct sound of a throat being cleared, and all those eyes turned. It was the Commander himself. He had stepped forward and was holding up a forestalling hand to Lana. His expression to her was patient; his old Jedi training and discipline still occasionally served him well in his new role. Lana obviously knew that look. She didn't look at all happy, but she reluctantly lowered her arm, releasing Slade. The man fell to the floor, gasping for breath. Arcann and the others stood down, but were still wary.

The Commander stepped towards Slade and helped him to his feet, then he moved back and gave him a few moments to recover. He stood with his hands folded behind his back and his feet shoulder-width apart, looking every bit like the rock that the Alliance was built on.

"Mister Slade, was it?" the Commander spoke in a polite but very formal voice. "I'm sorry we won't be working together, but everyone who becomes part of the Alliance has my complete trust." He gestured around the room for effect. "And I'm afraid Lana and Theron have strongly advised against adding you to that list." There was a firmness to his statement that made it clear that this point was not open for discussion.

Slade, apparently, didn't pick up on that.

"But Commander." The little weasel was still recovering his breath, but his nerves were apparently doing fine. "There are things you don't know about these trusted advisors of yours!" he pointed wildly back at Lana.

The Commander didn't budge. He merely raised a questioning eyebrow at the man as people started tensing up, Lana among them.

"For example." His expression became rather smug as his confidence grew. "Did you know that after you fought side-by-side on Yavin, Darth Marr's first assignment for Lana Beniko as Minister of Sith Intelligence was to have her develop a series of tactics the Empire could use to 'neutralize' you specifically if you turned against them? She was planning ways to kill you!"

The entire chamber suddenly turned deathly silent.

"How dare you?!" Lana's voice cut through the room, her face taking on a murderous rage. Her eyes, which had already been glaring intently at Slade, seemed to shift into daggers.

I hadn't known about Slade's revelation, but I was hardly shocked by it. I stepped forward and gently put my hand on Lana's shoulder, just hoping I could keep her from making a bad situation worse. She shrugged the hand off, and then gave me a look that told me that if I were almost anyone else, I'd have lost the hand.

The Commander's eyes never left Slade. He simply raised a hand to forestall Lana from acting again. She just stood there, simmering. This two-bit operative had successfully gotten under her skin.

He hadn't gotten under the Commander's skin, though. The man still hadn't budged an inch at Slade's revelation. In fact, he had never looked away from Slade. Without looking, without even using the Force, I could tell he was appraising the room. Gauging the mood, and finding a solution.

"Well." The Commander's tone of voice was amiable, but the pitch of his voice allowed everyone listening to hear him clearly. "Then I'm very glad she never had the opportunity to use them."

That let a lot of the air out of the chamber. People relaxed just a little bit, some of them visibly exhaling from holding their breaths. There were even a few nervous chuckles from around the room, and Vette, our Twi'lek professional thief turned crack saboteur let out a high-pitched laugh. Lana still looked angry, but she blinked. Slade? He just stood there with his mouth open in disbelief.

Evidently, he had never put together a 'Plan B'.

The Commander finally started moving, pacing around Slade like a Nexu who was trying to decide if the bark rat it was stalking was worth the trouble.

The Commander's voice was level and calm. It was as if he were giving a lightsaber lesson in the training grounds. "But let me tell you another story, Mister Slade. I once met a wise man on Tatooine. To tell you the truth, he was kind of a strange, old hermit. But he taught me a few important things, including the difference between complete trust and absolute trust."

"Complete trust, you see, is what they call it when you trust someone so much that you would still trust them even if they were holding a dagger at your throat."

Here the Commander stopped, smiled and beamed proudly. "I have to tell you, Mr. Slade. The second-best part about my job is that I now have a literal army of people at my back, each of whom I trust completely." Here his arms spread wide, indicating everyone in the chamber. Still, his eyes never left Slade's.

And just like that, all the tension in the room just melted away. Guards stopped clenching their weapons. People swallowed and looked around at each other. A lot of people even smiled proudly. It wasn't just because of all the things the Commander had accomplished; it was because of all the things people hoped he'd achieve in the future. They believed in him. All of them. And knowing he believed in them empowered each of them to do whatever he asked of them.

"Now, absolute trust, on the other hand, is a little bit different." The Commander continued. "Absolute trust is what they call it when you'd still trust someone even after they had just slit your throat and left you to die with your life's blood spilt across the desert sand." He continued to use hand gestures to express the concept.

The former Imperial finally found his voice. "But… that's insane." Slade sputtered.

"No. That's trust." the Commander replied crisply. "And Alliances are built on trust."

He resumed his pacing around Slade. The operative looked like he was getting smaller and smaller the longer he held the Commander's attention.

"The point, Mister Slade, is that in this strange life I've led, I've met four remarkable people whom I trust absolutely." The corners of his lips turned upward for the briefest of moments. "Not counting AstroMech droids, of course." He smiled over at Tee-Seven, the old member of his crew, who rolled forward and returned his comment with a series of beeps.

The Commander turned back to Slade. "Now two of these four people… are lost to me forever." His eyes closed as he inhaled the air, and I could feel the sadness in his voice.

A full moment of silence was observed before he exhaled and his eyes suddenly came open, focused on Slade's and full of intensity.

"The remaining two are now standing at your sides."

I started at that, giving a little glance around. I realized that the two he was talking about were Lana and myself. She realized it, too. I saw her lips part just a little, and her eyes took on this glazed look. For the first time in the encounter, her complete attention was now on the Commander and not Slade.

Because Slade no longer mattered.

There was this enigmatic look the Commander occasionally took on. A look that was decidedly not 'Jedi'. A look that forced me to remember that for nearly a year, Valkorian had inhabited the Commander's mind as a 'back seat driver', and that while the old Emperor might be long gone (finally!), there were some lessons that he might have left behind about leadership, power and loyalty. The Commander's eyes were full of these lessons as he smiled intently on Slade.

"And if anyone needed any additional proof of Lana's loyalty, Mister Slade, then consider this: You are still alive."

I've never seen a man shrink like Slade did just then. There was nothing this weasel, this small fraction of a man, could ever do to even scratch the veneer of either the Commander or the Eternal Alliance. There was silence in the room again. But this time, people weren't nervous or apprehensive. This time, almost everyone seemed to be following the Commander's lead, looking upon Slade as an intruder. An enemy. Someone who had dared to even try to disrupt the Eternal Alliance, and was now being cast out.

For a second there, I thought we'd have to get Slade a new pair of pants.

"But since I'm in a good mood today, I'll let Theron be the one to escort you out." The Commander's smile became marginally kinder, but in a formal, detached way. His tone of voice was somehow intimidating without being threatening as he leaned in and spoke in Slade's ear, still loud enough to be heard. "Go and tell whatever masters you serve that the Eternal Alliance will not fall today."

Then, for almost the first time in the whole encounter, the Commander looked away from Slade, smiling over at me and giving me the nod.

Just like that, it was all over.

I hung back once Slade was restrained and firmly in the hands of our armed escort. I just didn't want to miss the post-credits scene. The Commander gave a confidant smile as he turned and addressed the troops.

"Back to work, everyone. The galaxy isn't going to save itself."

Everyone did just that, and let me tell you, it left them all with a renewed sense of confidence in the Eternal Alliance and what we stood for. Yeah, we all came from different places and had different views of how the galaxy should work. But every one of us believed the Commander was the man to make all that work, and that he'd find a way to win when it came time. Most of these people had endured years of hardship and loss, which was bad enough. Worse still was the uncertainty, particularly for the future.

Now they had something – someone - ensuring that they had a future worth fighting for.

It was only then, with relative privacy, that he turned to Lana with a smile. A different smile than one he gave to me or the troops; one that was just hers. I couldn't help myself. I used the cybernetic implant in my ear to eavesdrop on their exchange. Not a skill I often advertise, but it has its uses

(Hey, i am a spy.).

Lana immediately started to speak. I couldn't see her eyes clearly from this angle, but I didn't need to. She desperately wanted to explain herself. "Commander, I – " she began.

"Shhhh." he gently silenced her, reaching up and caressing her cheek. "I don't question your love. Don't question my trust."

Lana blushed, and if they hadn't been standing in a public area, I imagine she'd have been doing much more.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "And for the record, the time I spend with you is the best part about this job." He grinned. It made him look almost boyish. He'd accomplished more than most people would in ten lifetimes, but for all of that, he wasn't quite thirty.

"Come on." He reached down and took her hand in his. "I'll take you to dinner, and you can tell me all about these special 'tactics'." He seemed positively cheerful now, like the galaxy was finally moving in the right direction.

Lana just smiled, taking his hand and following him out.

Wow, am I right? I mean, who wouldn't walk into a Corellian hell for a man like that?

That's why I've stayed with the Alliance all this time. I'll never have a boss I admire as much as him. Or a friend.

After all, he'd given me his absolute trust.

***********************************************

After I put Slade on a shuttle headed for Nar Shadaa, I was walking out of the docking bay area when I ducked into an empty maintenance closet. I quickly unscrewed the control knob on my blaster, then I used a short length of wire from my jacket to connect it to my implant. Neither object was suspicious in and of itself, but combined they did a little bit more than you'd expect. Alliance Headquarters has security measures for this sort of thing, of course, but I designed most of them, so they wouldn't be a problem. Alone and unobserved, I spoke aloud.

"Begin transmission. Scorpion reporting. Slade was a non-starter. Next time, send an asset who's halfway competent, not to mention plausible. The Iokath Gambit remains on schedule. End transmission."

I killed the device, putting the knob back on my blaster and securing the wire between the fibers of my jacket. Then I let out a guilty sigh as I shook my head sadly.

"He's never gonna see it coming."

Hey, I did say this was all just between us, right? Our little secret?

[haledamage]

And for Rekkai...Kiss 15?

15. A kiss because I have literally been watching you all night and I can’t take anymore

Being a bodyguard was very boring. Rekke had expected it wouldn’t always be about rescuing Kai from assassins or defending her honor or whatever things knights in shining armor always did in the stories, but he didn’t think there would be quite so much standing around. Even at a formal gala. At least they let him keep his sword; Kiki wasn’t even allowed that. They didn't even let her keep her spellbook.

He stood at her side, just behind her left shoulder, looming--politely looming--as she spoke to heads of state and ducs and kings and queens from all over Eora. They all called her ‘my lady’ like she was one of them, and she blended in so well that even he could almost forget how many times she’d told him she hated this part. The politics, the fake smiles and the platitudes from kith who wouldn’t hesitate to throw her to the wolves to further their own goals. That’s why she needed him here to begin with.

Every politician wanted the ear of the famous Watcher of Caed Nua, promised her empty words and emptier gifts. She refused each one while somehow making it sound like she was honoring them by doing so. She accepted nothing, she promised nothing, she moved on to the next.

And all night, her smile never faltered. None of the nobles could see through it, but Rekke could. Kai’s real smile was lopsided; the left side of her mouth lifted before the right, leaving her looking either playful or sarcastic depending on the situation. The one she wore now was straight, fixed firmly in place and ending long before it ever reached her eyes.

It stayed in place even as kith practically lined up to ask her to dance. He couldn't stay at her side then, obviously, but he stood on the edge of the dance floor and kept a close eye on her. He only had to step in once, with a young nobleman who’d had a bit too much to drink and had convinced himself he might have a chance with a woman like Kai. Rekke wasn't sure if he was intervening in an effort to defend her honor, out of some sort of possessive posturing, or just to keep Kiki from setting the poor idiot on fire.

Either way, at least it gave him the opportunity to cut in line. “May I have this dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask, darling.” The left side of her mouth lifted, then the right, her smile warm and real as she took his hand. The sight of it eased some of the tension from his shoulders. He led her out onto the dance floor and the relative privacy it gave them. “You must be terribly bored.”

He laughed, loud enough that a few nearby dancers turned curious glances their way. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I know you.” The way she said it warmed him all the way to his bones. There was no higher compliment Kiki could pay someone than to know them; it meant she thought you were worth the effort to try. “I doubt anyone else can tell.”

“Of course not. I do not think they know I exist, ta?” The only ones all night that had so much as made eye contact with him were other bodyguards.

She chuckled. “Do you want them to? You'll have to talk to them.”

“I would rather talk to you.”

“And I you,” she said softly. She moved a little closer and lowered her voice like she was sharing a secret. “I've been watching you, darling.”

“You have?” Rekke probably should have been embarrassed by how excited he sounded, but he wasn’t.

“Hmm.” Kai had one smile in particular that drove him crazy and she wore it now, a mischievous little smirk that was more of a light in her eyes than it was a tilt of her lips. “You're very good at this.”

“The dancing?” He was, in fact, very bad at the dancing, possessing much more enthusiasm than poise.

“I meant at the bodyguard thing. Is this something you did back in Yezuha?”

“Never.” He didn’t talk much about his home or his life before they met - but then, her stories always started in Gilded Vale, as if her life began at her Awakening. The past was just smoke and misery, better left forgotten. “If you would ask those that knew me, they would say all I did was get into trouble.”

“You do rather excel at it,” she said fondly, even proudly. “One could argue that that’s all we do now, too.”

“That is true. But at least we get paid for it now, ta?”

“Then I suppose you’re just a natural.” Her hand, which up until that point had been properly and precisely placed on the curve of his shoulder, curled affectionately around the back of his neck. “Lucky me.”

He grinned delightedly. “Are you flirting with me, my lady?” Rekke tried to imitate the Vailian accents that most of the nobles had. “My my, how scandalous. What will the ducs think, ta?”

“If they think I care about their opinion of me, then they’re all madder than a Watcher.” Kai grimaced at the turn of phrase, even though she was the one using it. “They could use a little more scandal in their lives, I think.”

“I know a good place to start.” He leaned down and captured her lips in a quick, chaste kiss. Well, fairly chaste. Well, at the very least not an indecent kiss. Mostly. “I have wanted to do that all night,” he breathed when they separated.

“What stopped you?”

“An apparently unnecessary sense of propriety.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek and she hummed a tiny, happy noise. He bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to react to it. “You should not have told me this, Kiki. Now I will make a scene at every party you are invited to.”

That smile was back, crooked and wicked and only for him. “Promise?”

[crimenight-a]

ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS ATTRIBUTES ASSOCIATED WITH BATMAN is his seemingly uncaring    &    stoic nature.    it’s also one of the generalizations i openly despise;    the more recent batman media has shaped our understanding of his person in the wrong way.    while i agree that he does seem cold at times,    it’s not for the reason most people immediately think.    so,    in this meta,    i’m going to walk you through bruce’s story    &    explain why he is the way he is.

first,    i want to address the general perception concerning his emotional state.    readers/watchers,    alike,    think bruce’s apathetic nature is related to his trauma.    they’re only half right,    for it did indirectly lead him to change his outward expression of self,    but it’s not the direct reason.    even characters in the DC universe comment on bruce’s apparent lack of distress-like emotions:

❝   your ward    &    my daughter are in mortal danger !    indeed,    batman, they may already be dead !   yet you show no signs of agitation–   nor do you exhibit any curiosity concerning my humble self !    have you no feelings ?   ❞                                                                                                                                    -- batman (1940) #232

ra’s al ghul says this upon meeting bruce for the first time    &    enlisting his help in saving his daughter,    talia al ghul.    we see many variations of this repeat with superman,    wonder woman,    green lantern,    the flash,    &   many more.    so,    it’s not only the general public in our world that thinks batman doesn’t feel anything,    that thought process is also preserved in characters from within DC’s universe.    another type of media that’s to blame are the comedic types.    there’s so many cartoons    &    comics that depict a younger bruce to be very stoic    &    cold,    batman’s voice    &    intimidating nature are ridiculed by many heroes   (  i’m looking at you,    mcu tony/peter   ).   i won’t deny that these moments are very funny    (   especially when DC retaliates like in that batman lego movie where batman screams ‘IRON MAN SUCKS!’   ),   but in actuality,    it still adds to this prevailing idea that he really feels nothing.    i won’t lie   &    say i thought differently before i made this blog,    because i didn’t.    much to my surprise,    however,    it only took me a few issues from detective comics/the original batman run to understand that we’ve been wrong all along.

you may now be asking,    ‘if he’s not truly uncaring,    then why does he act like he is ?’    well,    let me point you to this single issue that i wish i could have every one of these new writers that dc hires read,    it’s detective comics’ (1989) second annual issue    (   if you’re interested,    you can read it here !     although,    a quick warning that this issue deals with the K/KK    &   it’s displayed as such on the cover;    be careful if you decide to read   ).   it follows a young bruce,   ��only seventeen    (   already quite buff    &   skilled,    might i add   ),   who asks to shadow a famous detective in what i believe is rural new jersey.    harvey harris was hailed to be one of the greatest detectives on the east coast,    there was nothing he couldn’t handle.    at that point,    bruce didn’t really know how he was going to go about waging a war on crime    (   he juggled with options like the FBI,    GCPD,    district attorney,    more legal positions   ),   but he knew detective work was something he’d probably have to do no matter what he chose.    so,    he sent a letter to harris,    asking to shadow him under the name frank dixon,    harris accepted with a warning that the case he had on his hands was incredibly violent    &    horrific.    throughout this issue,    we see many instances where bruce lets his emotions get the better of him    &    it ultimately leads to harris’s demise    (    indirectly,    yes,    but this is a pattern in bruce’s story.    if he did just one thing differently,    he could have saved his parents,    harvey harris,    &    COUNTLESS more people.    the fact haunts him to this day    ).   bruce    &    harris eventually track down the person who has been killing people in that small rural town,    &    he sees that he’s in the process of another murder.    i’m sure you can guess what bruce did,    he screamed    &    lunged for the man in a hot flash of rage,    the man pulls a gun.    bruce knocks him out in one swift punch,    but the gun still goes off    &    it, unfortunately,    hits harris.    in his dying moments,    he tells bruce something that sticks with him still to this day:

❝   i never tried to teach you detection.    you already got the mind for it.    but when you let your emotions take control,    you just go blind.    i don’t know where you’re headed from here,    bruce,    but wherever it is,    remember…    you gotta control that anger.    when you get that into your head– really know it– then ol’ harvey will have done right by you.   ❞                                                                                                             -- detective comics (1989) annual #2

harris had been commenting on bruce’s anger for the entire time they’ve been together,    &    we can really see how bruce struggles with understanding his own emotions through his many warnings:

❝   nice spottin’,    by the way.    now,    if we could just do somethin’ about that temper..   ❞ ❝   son,    it’s rare i see a man who carries such rage so close to the surface.   ❞ ❝   harvey was right.    because i was a hothead..  ❞    (   bruce says this   )

the thing is,    bruce had been incredibly polite to mostly everyone.    the only times he lost his cool is when people didn’t cooperate with him    &    harris on the case,    or if they made fun of him for being a “pretty,    city boy.”    most of the time,    harris had to physically hold bruce back from doing something he’d quickly regret,    such as picking a fight with grown men twice his size    (   i would like to proudly add that bruce beat these guys shitless,    but they trashed his fancy red porsche :/   ).   i know i’m spending a lot of time on this single annual,    but it’s SO important when you realize that bruce really does have anger management issues to the point where he can’t hold back his own outbursts.    let’s compare that younger bruce to the one we know today,    there’s quite a stark difference,    isn’t there ?   the batman we’re familiar with would never jump into anything without thinking about it many times over.    that’s because bruce took what harris said to heart,    &    he worked damn hard to implement his advice:

❝   i had a crazy hate,    too.    but unlike carr,    i refused to let it blind me to reality.    to the truth.    i went over the entire case eleven times,    in each instances extracting more    &    more of my emotional involvement.    &    on the twelfth pass through–a coldly logical pass–i saw what had been bothering me.    &    i knew that it wasn’t over.   ❞                                             note: carr is the murderer that bruce lunged at    &    the one that killed harris.

for us,    removing our emotions    &    thinking about something logically can range from being impossible to incredibly difficult.    imagine,    then,    the mental strength bruce,    a boy who had always been obnoxiously transparent with his feelings,    had to exert in order to go through this case without feeling some immense distracting rage    (   this ties into one of his character’s core ideas:    batman’s will/willpower is insurmountable compared to even other superheroes    ).   he eventually found out that carr was nothing more than a human weapon that someone else had been manipulating,    but the point is:    bruce realized through this issue that he wasn’t good at solving cases because he could never separate his own emotions from the victim’s.    from then on,    he tried his best to be “coldly logical” with every case he comes across,    &    he eventually adopted this state of mind when he was in the batsuit regularly.    being batman requires a ridiculously high amount of awareness    &    general perception.    if he’s constantly angry    &    jumping to rash conclusions,    he’s not going to last long.

however,    this doesn’t mean that bruce doesn’t slip up    &    let his emotions get the best of him even as an adult.    one of the most apparent examples of this is when jason dies.    i think most of us know how terrible that was    &    how bruce blames himself.    in order to keep this meta from getting unnecessarily longer,    all we need to take away from that arc is that bruce quite honestly drowns with guilt because if he had chosen to go after jason instead of go after someone else,    jason would still be alive.    with that anger directed at himself    &    at the world in general,    he recklessly starts to fight anyone he sees while in the batsuit.    even petty criminals would be beaten within an inch of their lives,    he’d make mistakes that he never did before,    &    come home with horrible injuries.    he had no sense of self-preservation,    all he cared about was his anger    &    guilt.    notice how throwing caution to the wind puts bruce in considerably more danger,    thus this supports my point that bruce struggles with his emotions,    but learned to suppress them for the sake of helping    &    saving people.

it actually surprises me when people don’t seem to realize that bruce is empathetic almost to a fault.    he holds onto hope,    &    he always had,    even if it’s foolish to do so.    hope that someone is still alive,    hope that someone still had good in them,    hope in his own abilities.    there was once a case where the entire bat-family understood immediately that a boy had killed his own parents,    but bruce clung to the hope that maybe it wasn’t him,    maybe it was some other greedy politician or hired gun.    bruce knew he was wrong    &    that he was chasing essentially no one,    but the sheer hope that the boy was innocent kept him going in circles.    i wholeheartedly believe that bruce is an empath,    someone who is incredibly sensitive to another’s emotions,    with how quickly he understands how almost everyone feels.    there are times where bruce will show compassion before he shows anything else.    yes,    he aims to scare people with his dramatic antics:

❝   gotham city is hell.    we are all in hell.    &    i am the king of hell !   ❞                                                                                                      -- batman: legends of the dark knight #6

but the purpose of his promise was to make sure nothing like what happened to him ever happens to someone else again.    i’ve said this before,    &    i’ll say it again:    BATMAN IS A GLORIFIED BABYSITTER.    really,    scarecrow said this    &    i stole it from him,    but he wants to care for his city.    that’s why he funds all these free health clinics throughout gotham,    it’s why he opened new soup kitchens    &    funded existing ones.    he revolutionized gotham’s orphanage system,    he forced wayne enterprises to make new jobs,    he single-handedly dropped gotham’s unemployment rate by a substantial amount.    he hands money    &    opportunities to struggling families,    he sits with them    &    helps them through their pain.    he does all of this against his playboy persona,    i remember how most of gotham was confused when he was starting his charity projects since he was immediately said to be ignorant or even uncaring towards gotham’s poverty    &    crime issues.    he started the ‘rebuild gotham’ project(s),    he funded arkham.    he’s in active member of the gotham’s    &    new jersey’s political scene,    influencing massive changes.    his infamous ‘no killing’ rule can be attributed to the fact that bruce doesn’t know what led someone to doing the horrible thing that he’s chasing them for;    HE TRIES TO SEE THE GOOD IN EVERYONE.    i know that comes as a surprise,    mostly because bruce openly despised superman    (    despite clark being one of the kindest people anyone has ever met    )    in that batman v superman movie,    but this blog has never taken any inspiration from those films,    so we’re going to ignore that    &    i ask you to do the same when you’re referencing my portrayal.

bruce would never go to such lengths to bring gotham back from its dark days if it wasn’t for how much he cared for its people.    &    he wouldn’t care at all if he seemingly felt no emotions.    yes,    a part of him doesn’t know how he’d deal with his trauma if he hadn’t passionately pursued something like this,    but that doesn’t take away from the fact that bruce is a fundamentally compassionate man.    the way he takes care of the victims in each case,    personally comforting them    (    hugging, etc.   ),    accommodating them in any way he can.    there’s times where he gets so angry after seeing certain victims,    that he finds it hard to control himself even after decades of training his willpower;    THAT’S how vehement his emotions are.

seeing the good in everyone    &    personally feeling everyone’s pain are both very emotionally taxing traits,    &    he doesn’t suppress these qualities.    he allows himself to feel guilt    &    practice empathy because it keeps him going when all he wants to do is collapse.    bruce has never denied feeling emotions,    he never does it to intimidate his allies,    he just has a harsh way of looking at things because,    again,    he removes his own feelings from the mix.    most other superheroes,    like in the justice league,    sometimes marvel at how bruce almost never gives into his anger during important decisions.    i keep repeating my main points    &    this is all quite the speel,    but it’s INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT that you understand that bruce has never not felt his emotions just as strongly as everyone else,    if not stronger.    to end this off,    let’s see what bruce said in response to ra’s al ghul’s earlier question    (   this is something i find that summarizes what i’ve said in this meta really well    ):

❝   plenty of them !    but it won’t do me any good for me to allow my emotions to gain control…    not while there’s a job ahead !    for years,    i’ve trained myself to concentrate on the thing at hand–    later,    i’ll cry…    if i must !   ❞                                                                                                                                 -- batman (1940) #232

&    because i know how hard tumblr’s tiny font is to read,    here’s a link to this same meta, but on google docs !   read whichever version you want !

[arkfiya]

A Happy Ending for a Pained Knight

//I'm not a huge fan of Elesis x Ara by a friend wanted me to do this. Ironic as this is my first big creative writing. Well enjoy~! Do tell if you want the sad alternative.

It had been ever since three years ago, back when Elesis joined the Search Party, meeting a plentiful amount of new friends, but there had always been one that stook out to the knight. Ara Haan, the Eastern girl with the spirit of a fix running through her body, a lil' clutzy and strong willed...fir the most part. Elesis wasted no time in getting to know this girl, her curiosity was piqued as this was the first person from the East Elesis had ever met. It wasn't long till Elesis began to develop strong feelings for the girl, feelings she didn't recognize, she decided to consult Rena about it.

"Hey Rena!"

Blaze called out to the Night Watcher who was managing paperwork. The Elf's head perked up when she heard Elesis' voice, giving her a smile.

"Good afternoon Elesis. Is there something you need?"

Blaze took a seat on the couch across from Rena and scratched the back of her own head.

"Yeah, you're pretty smart aren't ya? Well, I've been suffering some pretty bad heartaches recently, I was wondering if you could help out with them a bit?"

Rena raised an eyebrow at the knight. Elesis in poor condition? That almost sounded crazy, it would have been the first she's heard about something like that happening to Elesis.

"May I ask if there's anything you tend to do or something that happens when they come around."

Elesis had looked away.

"Ah... They tend to come around when I'm around a certain person..."

Rena couldn't help but laugh at her obviousness. Almost 22 and didn't know her own feelings.

"Elesis that sounds like love."

Elesis' head perked up in surprise at Rena's conclusion before laughing it off.

"Alright, I don't really seem how that could be the case. I'll just hang out with her a little less and I'm sure it'll fix itself!"

Elesis got up, leaving the room with a smile on her face.

"Elesis... You'll hurt yourself more that way..."

Rena said to herself watching the girl leave.

Roughly about three months had passed, Elesis had begun hanging out with Ara less, though this caused quite something the opposite of what she thought. The pain often grew worse from her distancing, she wanted to be with Ara more than she normally did, the thing was now, in her time distancing herself, the Celestial, Ain, had grown as close as Elesis was to Ara in less than half the time. This only deepened the pain in her heart, some nights finding herself crying herself to sleep without even knowing why.

The fifth month had arrived, she found herself sitting on the couch with the rest of the El-gang, Ain and Ara standing I front of them.

"I have a confession... Ain and I have begun dating."

The Asura's face was flushed from admitting this but Erbluhem Emotion had pulled her close to reassure her that it was fine. The El Search Party had given them their applause and best wishes for their future, all but Elesis. Elesis's face began to run with tears at the couple but forced a smile. She should be happy for Ara, so why was she crying?

"Elesis are you alright...?"

Ara asked the knight.

"Y-Yeah... I'm fi-fine, don't worry! I just... Need a minute... Yeah!"

Elesis got up from the couch, walking out into the hallway, darting to her room when she was no longer in sight of everyone else. While she couldn't be seen running off, her footsteps we're clearly heard.

"I can't say I didn't tell her..."

Rena had stated quietly to herself.

~

Another month had passed since Elesis had found herself heartbroken. She had fallen into a major depression and it seemed like she had begun to suffer some health issues. Her voice had begun to go raspy, she had a pretty bad cough, and she had been constantly tired. The El-gang was worried but didn't know what was wrong with the knight, that was until Rena had intruded into Elesis' room when it sounded like her condition was getting worse.

Rena opened the door to find Elesis hacking up pink flower petals in tears as she did, Rena watched in both shock and horror.

"Elesis we're leaving!"

Rena had quickly scooped the girl up in her arms and rushing out of the house to the hospital. The rushed inside and had Elesis immediately taken to a medical room.

"Why are here... What's wrong with me...?"

Elesis said in a harsh voice, it seemed like she didn't know what was wrong with herself.

"You have gotten Hanahaki Disease... It's a disease contracted from one sided love."

Elesis opened her mouth to talk but a doctor had come in, Rena left as soon as he did.

After about thirty minutes, Rena was called back in.

"I'm sorry to say that it's in it's late stages, it'll only be cured through the love being removed surgically."

Rena tapped her chin, thinking about this.

"How much longer does she have?"

The doctor sighed looking down at his clipboard.

"She has about a week left if this isnt cured..."

Elesis stirred, looking at the both of them.

"Why is it such a hard decision..."

She coughed, a few flower petals flying out if her mouth. Rena came over and sat next to her on the bed.

"Well, if we remove it, we'll also be removing your love for Ara. So it'd be up to you if you wanted to do that..."

Blaze averted her eyes out to the window.

"I don't want to do that... But I'll have to think about it... I'd rather you not bring them here, if I decide to not remove it, I'd rather my death not burden them... Just say I left the El Search Party to go my own path... I'll just have to trust you'll do that..."

Rena had bit her lip, looking down at the knight, giving her a nod. The elf got up and left the room without saying the word, Elesie let out a sigh as she lied on the bed.

~

It had been the fourth day since Elesis' disappearance. The El-gang had grown worried of her but it wasn't unlike her to randomly disappear for short periods. Of course as the worrywart of the group, this effected Ara a lot harder. Rena had pulled Ara aside into her room.

"Ara... We need to talk."

Ara had blanked out a little but from how unexpected this was, but nodded her head slowly.

"Al-Alright, what is it."

Rena looked guilty as she spoke.

"Look, Elesis didn't want me to tell you this but I can't bring myself to keep quiet anymore. She caught a disease that I hear is rather popular to get where you're from, the Hanahaki Disease. She didn't understand what she felt for you so ended up not pursuing you and it caused her to fall apart..."

Ara went wide eyed, this did explain why she acted so strangely at the confession. Ara grasped each of Rena's hands tightly, looking up at her.

"Is there still time? Please tell me there still is!"

Rena gave her a nod, and before she could say anything, Ara had taken off.

Ara swung open the door to her boy friend's room, panting heavily, her cheeks were flushed softly. Ain raised an eyebrow as she approached him.

"Ain, I know it's a bit soon, but, I'd like to break up..."

Ain had his eyes widen in shock.

"I know you said that you'd give it a month before you decide... But was I really that bad?"

Ara shook her head.

"No, major trouble had risen with Elesis because of this."

Ain raised an eyebrow once again.

"I thought you weren't going to go after her after her interest in you died."

Ara violently shook her head.

"That wasn't the case, she kept them hidden out of confusion..."

Ain opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Ara.

"So I'm sorry, but it's over."

Ara had left the room without waiting for a response from the Celestial, she had to hurry.

It was the fourth day in, Elesis sighed as she knew her fate drew near. She smiled at least knowing Rena kept her promise, or she at least thought. Elesis jumped when she heard the door swing open. Her eyes readjusted as she looked at the foot of her bed. It was Asura, tears melting down her face. Elesis was shocked to see her but averted her eyes away with a click of her tongue realizing Rena had sent her most likely. There wasn't much of a pause before suddenly Ara ran over to her side, giving the knight a tight squeeze, causing some petals to fly from her mouth.

"I love you too!"

Ara called out from the blue, a little nasally from her tears. Those words shocked Elesis, was she dreaming?

"Wh-... What?"

Elesis questioned Ara. The Fox pulled away from Elesis, looking into her eyes, her face was a mess.

"I lo...ve you too..."

Ara choked out once again. Before the red head could reply Ara pressed her lips against Elesis'. The pedals that covered the floor began to slowly fade into a glittery dust. Elesis remained wide eyed for a moment but slowly shut them, resting a hand on Asura's cheek, returning the kiss. She pulled away gently with a smile.

"How long have you...?"

Ara looked down at the ground having to think for as second.

"I think it was about a year after we met, I thought you hated me when you began to avoid me so I turned to Ain for support then I began a relationship with him... Once I figured out you loved me I knew I had to come to your side to help you, I can't let you die like that..."

Blaze reached a hand up to Ara's hair, running her fingers through it.

"I'm sorry about that... But yes, I guess Rena was right, I did feel love for you and I didn't even realize it."

Elesis stretched as she sat up properly.

"Let's get home shall we~?"

Ara smiled with a nod, overjoyed with Elesis' recovery.

Elesis got dressed and they left the building, Elesis had an arm wrapped over Ara's shoulder, holding her close. She didn't bother to ask how Ara had found out about her feelings, as it was rather obvious, nor did it matter. The only thing that mattered was that they were happy.

[shannaraisles]

Alhasha (wild)

"What's going on here?"

Velen's voice caught the attention of only a few of the bodies crowded in front of her. She wasn't used to seeing most of Haven gathered around Cullen's training ground; even Adan, the grumpiest alchemist she had ever encountered, was there, passing coin to Varric where the dwarf was holding court at the forefront of the crowd. A space was made at his side for the Herald as she pushed through the crowd, finally able to see what had everyone's attention.

The Iron Bull was "training" with some of the senior warriors. Even Blackwall, their newly arrived Grey Warden, had joined the fray, showing off some impressive swordplay from behind his shield. All the fancy in the world couldn't get past Bull's sweeping defense, however. The great Qunari was a force of nature, even in a training exercise. He had absolute control over his massive war-axe - such control that even when his blows landed on the men and women attacking him, the worst injury they took was an abrasive jolt. No broken bones or severed limbs in a training exercise, after all.

"Fancy a bet, Fleetfoot?"

Velen looked down at Varric's grin, feeling herself smile at the nickname he was trying out on her this time. The dwarf had a nickname for everyone but, for some reason, he was struggling to find one that fitted her. He had already tried Red, Sparky, Skipper, and Fade, and now it seemed as though Fleetfoot would go the way of those. Judging by the look on his face, it just wasn't right.

"I'm in," Velen agreed amiably, digging into the pouch at her belt for the few precious coins that were hers alone. She considered the match in front of her, counting silver into Varric's outstretched hand. "Bull wins; Blackwall will be the last to fall, and he'll propose another match for Bull with someone else."

"Very specific." Varric chuckled, making a note of her bet. "Feeling confident, huh?"

She snorted in amusement.

"I've fought with both of them," she reminded him. "They both hate losing, and they both brag about kills."

"Beardy don't brag," a familiar voice interjected. "He gloats."

"Exactly," Velen agreed, making room for Sera at her side. "So he's not going to take losing to Bull very well."

That, and Blackwall had voiced his assumption that the Herald of Andraste would be human to her, within earshot of the Iron Bull. The Qunari would be itching to put him on his back, just to prove that humans did not have the monopoly on feats of skill and bravery.

A loud cheer from the crowd around them drew her attention back to the combatants as the crash of two bodies colliding marked a spectacular own goal by two of Cullen's best. In their haste to avoid the sweep of Bull's axe, Rylen and Brycen had crashed into each other, unable to disentangle themselves before the war axe returned to knock their feet out from under them. Both men landed in a painful tangle, yielding before Bull could bounce the flat of his axe-head off their fallen bodies in a parody of his favored killing blow.

Sera nudged Velen as the Qunari wheeled to engage his remaining opponents - Blackwall, and a templar named Lysette.

"Betcha a kiss Lyssie knocks him back 'fore she goes down," the effervescent elf snickered.

"Who's the kiss for, me or her?" Velen countered in amusement. It hadn't taken long to discover which way the wind blew for this Red Jenny, but Velen didn't want to risk offending her new friend by rejecting her outright.

Sera cackled, the sound clearly audible over the crash of weapon and armor.

"You!" she declared without mercy, practically fizzing with delight at being able to tease the Herald she had accused of being both "elfy" and "glowing" in a single sentence at their first meeting.

Velen could feel herself blushing under not only Sera's, but Varric's, falsely innocent curiosity. It wasn't that she didn't like Sera; she just didn't like her. She didn't like any women, not like that. Her mind raced to come up some way of extricating herself with some kind of dignity.

"Make it for her, and I'll throw in free drinks on a night of your choosing," she offered, hoping she wasn't offending the sometimes prickly elf.

Thankfully, Sera wasn't in the mood to push her luck, though it was safe to say that Velen was going to be teased about this for weeks to come.

"You're on."

"That's been witnessed, Buttercup," Varric pointed out. "Can't back out now."

"Psh, I never back out."

Perhaps the sight of the three of them grinning was a little distracting for the warriors in the ring. For whatever reason, Blackwall tripped over his own shield, conveniently missing Bull's swing as he stumbled to right himself. As the Qunari overbalanced, much to the hilarity of his Chargers, Lysette ducked in close with a well-timed shield bash that sent Bull stumbling forward. Sera cheered, dissolving into decidedly filthy giggles as Bull whipped around and knocked Lysette off her feet, pinning the templar beneath her own shield. To her credit, she laughed as she raised her hand to yield, scrambling back to clear the way for the Warden and the Qunari to finish the bout that had begun with four against one.

"Getting tired, Bull?" Blackwall goaded his opponent, forgetting the main thrust of the Qunari's battle plan - don't waste your breath. "Reckon you're just marking time."

"Well, this is gonna be short," Varric muttered, already splitting winnings to distribute among the crowd around him.

Even before Velen could agree, the Iron Bull was advancing, sidestepping Blackwall's lunge to knock the pommel of his war-axe against the back of the man's helmet. Hard. With his ears ringing, the Warden staggered about, only to receive Bull's heavy boot firmly in his chest. He went down heavily, and Bull's axe descended to rest against the flesh bared above the edge of his breastplate.

"Looks like you're dead, human," Bull rumbled conversationally.

Only Velen knew why Blackwall's eyes flickered toward her at the Qunari's address, and she made no attempt to hide the smirk that rose on her face in response.

"Aye, I'm dead," the Warden conceded in a gruff tone. "Get off."

Chuckling, Bull let him up, reaching down to help him to his feet with one strong arm.

"You fight good, all of you," he complimented his defeated opponents. "Not good enough, but good."

Beside Velen, Sera mimed throwing up at the blatant male posturing, much to the amusement of their company.

"You'd have lost if we'd had a mage," Blackwall grumped, unbuckling his helmet.

"Only a fool goes up against a mage without another one at his back," Bull declared expansively.

"Or a templar," an unidentified voice in the crowd supplied.

"And we have the Herald for that," the Qunari added, bowing to Velen as she laughed at the ridiculous comment.

At least, she thought it was ridiculous. Almost immediately, there was a ripple of agreement, murmurs striking up within the gathering of watchers that perhaps that was the reason Andraste's Herald was a mage. The world was full of warriors and rogues; mages, though terrifying, were in the minority. Nothing was said about her being an elf, but one battle at a time.

"Even I get overwhelmed sometimes," Velen pointed out, not wanting to be made out as some indestructible super-hero.

"That's what you've got us for, Boss," Bull instantly responded, and his Chargers cheered in support. "We do the hard work, so you don't have to."

"Hard work?" Velen laughed aloud at that, rolling her eyes. "You think what I do isn't hard work?"

"How about you prove it, Herald?" Blackwall suggested, a glint in his eye. "Let's set you up another match, Bull. See how you fare against the mage you think doesn't work hard enough."

As Varric sighed behind her, Velen heard the clink of more coins, smirking in triumph at the knowledge that she had won her bet. Then she caught up with how she had won her bet, dismay taking over her expression. He wanted her to fight the Iron Bull? She'd seen the Qunari shrug off spells that would put most men down for good. She wasn't volunteering for that.

"That i'nt a fair fight," Sera piped up. "Bull's all tired from knocking your arse, Beardy."

"She's got a point, Warden," Rylen agreed, leaning on his shield. "It'd be a better match to see the Herald take on a templar. Cancel each other out."

"You volunteering, lad?" Blackwall asked him, chuckling at the thought.

"I'll take that challenge."

Shocked surprise blasted through the crowd as eyes turned to find the owner of the voice. An owner who had insinuated himself into the rowdy gathering on his training ground without anyone noticing his presence. Velen felt her stomach drop as she met the quietly confident gaze of Commander Cullen. He was a templar - ex-templar, whatever. She'd never gone one to one against anyone with those abilities before. Cullen, however, had been trying to get her to train with his templars for the last three months, certain that she had no idea how to defend herself against an order of knights who were trained to dispel and cancel magic, trained to silence a mage who needed a voice to cast at least some of the time. She'd been trying to avoid just this thing, and now ... With so many witnesses, there was no way she could back out without losing face.

Drawing in a breath, and wondering how she'd ended up in this position, she nodded to the commander.

"I think it's time people started placing bets then."

Under cover of the scramble to lay bets with Varric, she found herself drawn to one side by Blackwall. The Warden looked distinctly uneasy, half-an-eye on the commander as Cullen chose a shield.

"He won't go easy on you," he warned her. "That man treats every exercise like a battle to the death. You won't have much chance to cast. I never meant for you to be beaten down in front of your troops, Herald."

Velen felt herself stiffen at yet another assumption from his lips.

"You really think I'll lose?" she asked sharply, her expression twisting into a scowl as she looked up at this man who had not once had the decency to answer any of her questions with anything but evasion.

"He's a templar, lass," Blackwall reminded her. "A good one, and a man who's seen too much battle not to know the stakes. And you're -"

"I'm what?" she challenged him, feeling anger pricking at her as she straightened her shoulders in defiance. "A mage? Just an elf? Or maybe it's because I'm a woman, is that the problem?"

As Blackwall raised his hands, as though expecting her to attack him, she snarled quietly in his direction.

"For a man who can't answer a direct question, Warden Blackwall, you make a lot of assumptions about someone who has never been anything but honest with you," she snapped, her fingers tightening about the grip of her staff. "Step back. I might get hysterical and accidentally ignite your smalls."

She was a little surprised when he did just that, wondering if that was fear or respect in his eyes as he bowed and moved away. She caught a glimpse of Sera's bright grin over the departing Warden's shoulder, chuckling at the flustered look on Lysette's face. Evidently she had missed her friend collecting on her bet. There were other bets being placed, however. The sight of Varric scribbling in his ledger while Bull collected the money was enough to wipe the smile off her face. How many of those bets were in her favor, she wondered, turning to find her opponent handing his bear-fur mantle to Cassandra. The lack of it did not make his shoulders appreciably smaller, but her mind was elsewhere. How many people here believed as Blackwall did; that a Dalish mage, blessed by Andraste or not, stood no chance against the commander of the Inquisition's forces?

"We are the last Elvhen," she heard herself murmur, and a strange sense of peace filtered through her. Here and now, she was the last Elvhen, and she had a point to make.

Cullen may be a strong fighter, with all the skills of a templar at his fingertips, but she was Dalish. Setting aside her magic, which may well be useless in the coming match, she was not helpless. The staff in her hand was not simply a focus for her spells. She wasn't to blame for people losing their money because of preconceived notions about mages made soft in their Circles.

"Rules should be laid down," Cassandra said over the buzz of chatter. "We cannot risk losing either the Commander or the Herald in a sparring match."

"Agreed." Cullen nodded as he moved to join Velen at the edge of the makeshift circle.

"A-agreed," she stammered in echo, wishing she didn't feel so small and breakable when standing next to him.

Cassandra studied them both for a brief moment, her expression stating plainly that she did not approve of either of them engaging in sparring for this purpose of entertainment.

"I will marshal," she declared. No one argued. Who better to oversee a match between a mage and a templar - ex-templar - than a Seeker of Truth? "There will be no lethal strikes. Smiting is strictly forbidden. Are these conditions acceptable to you both?"

Cullen offered a short nod. Velen echoed the gesture, despite her burning curiosity. What was Smiting?

"Take your positions."

At Cassandra's order, they both stepped into the circle, facing one another across ten feet of distance. Velen realized with a jolt that she didn't actually know what templars could do. Her Keeper had warned against drawing the attention of the templars, but she had never actually explained why the order was so feared by mages. And in the Hinterlands, Cassandra had gone out of her way to make sure the templars they encountered never had the option of focusing their attention on the elven mage under her care. Velen had no idea what to expect from this fight. Cullen's confident gaze wasn't helping, either.

Cassandra looked to both of them, raising her hands above her head. She swept them downward swiftly.

"Fight!"

Velen blinked, and suddenly Cullen was right there, barely five feet away, charging with his full weight behind his shield. She yelped, skipping hurriedly out of his path, only to narrowly miss the sword that lashed out at knee height. How was he so fast? She'd barely had time to form the first words of an incantation before he was on her.

She was only just aware of laughter from the crowd around them as she jumped awkwardly over the blade and kept running, muttering the first spell to come to mind as she went. She spared a glance over her shoulder as she released it, spinning to sweep her staff in an arc that raised a wall of fire directly in Cullen's path. He pulled up short of the flames, and she saw his lips move. The fire died, the tail end of the spell shocked back to her with a jolt that stung somewhere deep inside. Her grip on her mana wavered.

The deep shock must have shown on her face, for Cullen paused, a flicker of concern lighting his eyes. Had he not known that she had never fought a templar before? Of course he hadn't, she realized. Cassandra wouldn't have included that in her reports to the Inquisition leaders. It was only worth mentioning if Velen was bested in the field, as had been proved by the unnecessary hunting lessons after an unexpected bear had ground the Herald of Andraste into the dirt. Keyword - unexpected.

The concern did not last, to her chagrin. She saw his lips moving again as he advanced, backing away warily. She didn't move fast enough. Just before he accelerated, Cullen made a small gesture toward her, and suddenly the breath was robbed from her lungs, the words dying on a tongue that felt thick and cloying in her mouth. Then he was on her, taking advantage of her shock this time to drive his shield into her shoulder, forcing her back until she fell. This time, it was the force of the fall that stole the breath from her lungs, rattling her brain in her skill as she came to a stop, sprawled on her back with a templar looming over her.

So that's what Silencing feels like. The thought was there and gone in a flash, her focus finding the sword that was beginning its descent. She could hear the murmurs of disappointment from the crowd, taste the blood in her mouth where her teeth had caught her tongue. The sword glinted as it swept downward ... and it was Cullen's turn to register surprise as Velen thrust her staff upward lengthwise, catching the blade easily on the banded grip between her hands. Given the way their audience reacted, he wasn't the only one who had assumed a Silenced and prone mage was a dead one.

She bit down on the sudden urge to laugh, permitting only a wild grin to find its place on her face. Adjusting the grip of one hand, she spun her staff hard and fast, knocking the sword almost out of Cullen's grasp. As he fumbled to keep his grip, she raised her feet, planting both firmly on his shield to give him a healthy push that sent him stumbling back from her as she scrambled to her feet once more.

"Can't say I was expecting that," she heard Varric chuckle from behind her.

Sera's answering cackle made her grin widen.

"I was," the irrepressible elf declared. "Don't matter if you're noble or a slum, she fights dirty."

Meeting Cullen's gaze over the rim of his shield, Velen knew he'd heard that, too. He had a certain look in his eyes - the smile that never quite reached his mouth, usually when he was pleased but didn't want everyone knowing. In answer, she blew him a kiss, twirling her staff high over her head as she spun toward him. It was a showy, dazzling display designed to distract from her ultimate goal. Unfortunately, Cullen was a seasoned fighter. It didn't quite work the way she'd hoped.

He noticed the subtle shift in her footwork, and was already moving to avoid the sweep of her staff as she dropped low, aiming to knock his feet out from under him. The end of the sturdy stave did catch his right ankle, though, throwing his answering thrust off-center. She still had to roll to avoid it, her leather coat gathering muddied snow before she found her feet again.

Facing him from across the ring, Velen took a moment to assess. She was breathing harder than she had expected, her tongue still thick and unwieldy in her mouth. So the Silence was still on her. No spells, but that didn't mean no magic. It just meant she was going to have to get in close to use it. Not an enticing prospect when her opponent was likely to be expecting it. He'd taken away one of her weapons; seemed only fair she should take one of his in return.

Setting the butt of her staff securely into the mud, she vaulted, kicking her feet out at his shield. Cullen braced, barely giving ground, and swept his sword toward her left side. He didn't seem surprised when she blocked it with the staff, landing hard against the solid barrier of metal he wielded more as a weapon than in defense.

She met his eyes as her palm closed over the edge of the shield, unable to resist mouthing a silent apology as she pushed her will into the metal under her grasp. The heat was immediate, the shape of her hand left imprinted in the swiftly melting shield as the smell of scorching leather filled the air. She was vaguely aware of Cullen cursing as she spun away, as his shield heated to burning temperatures, losing its shape and form to the fire magic that coursed through it. He only just got it off his arm before the thing collapsed in a molten lump, swiftly cooling on the snowy ground.

Velen watched him as he shook out his free arm. The leather of his sleeve and glove were scorched but unbroken, his skin clearly uncomfortably hot but thankfully unburnt. There was a new look in his eyes as he met her gaze - a strange sense of wary respect. Had no mage ever tried to close with him like that before? Were Circle mages really so toothless? If this had been a real fight, she wouldn't have gone for his shield. Did he realize now that she wasn't the easy mark all these trained soldiers thought she was?

He took a firm grip on his sword hilt with both hands, and she knew the end game was here. There was no way he would let her close again unless he was assured of a kill. This match had just got serious.

They fell to melee, trading blows between sword and staff with the speed they had both learned over their respective lifetimes. The crowd around them lost all sense of silent awe, shouting encouragement, cheering success, commiserating with failures, even sharing winces at the blows that made contact.

Struggling through the Silence that still robbed her of voice and breath, Velen knew she was losing. Cullen was bigger and stronger than she was, and he did not have to fight against the urge to mouth a spell whenever the fighting eased for a moment. But if she was going down, she was taking him with her. Decision made, she threw her staff at him, spinning to close the distance before he could bring his sword up to fend her off. Her hand slipped to her back, drawing the knife from her belt, hearing the belated cries of warning as the watchers noted her plan. But their cries came too late.

Velen grunted with the impact as she slammed into the commander, ignoring the painful crush of his breastplate to slap the flat of her knife blade against his exposed throat. In the same instant, she felt his arms encircle her waist, his sword discarded, and the unmistakable prick of his dagger through the leather of her coat, angled up with deadly accuracy into her armpit. If this had been a real fight, they would both be dead.

"A draw," Cassandra announced, and the Iron Bull roared beside her, drowning out his own company's cheers for a moment.

"Yeah! That's how it's done!"

Pressed close to Cullen, Velen felt his laugh before she heard it, her own fast on its heels, silent huffs of exhilarated relief that she hadn't disgraced herself or him. She drew her knife away from his throat, sheathing it at her back as he released her, turning his attention to his left arm. Close to, she could see better how the leather of his sleeve was cracked and blackened; it would need mending. He saw her looking, catching the concern that flickered in her gaze.

"Nothing Harritt can't fix," he assured her, taking his mantle back from Cassandra as the Lady Seeker joined them.

"Herald," she greeted Velen, looking her over with a critical eye. "You are unharmed?"

Velen nodded a little helplessly, gesturing to her throat with a curious expression in her eyes. It took Cassandra only a moment to realize the problem, rolling her own eyes as she shook her head.

"If you could remove your Silence from the Herald, Commander ..."

Cullen looked up sharply.

"It's still in place?"

The Dalish elf grimaced as she nodded, one hand passing over the twisted vines of her vallaslin in vague embarrassment.

"I had wondered why you were not casting," he said then, his own expression thoughtful as he concentrated for a moment.

At once, the cloying thickness of her tongue dissipated, the odd clenching of her voice relaxed, and Velen took in her first easy breath since almost the beginning of the match. She let out a gusty sigh, her smile bright with relief.

"That is not a pleasant sensation," she informed them, to Cassandra's understated amusement.

"Perhaps now you understand my concern when you charge a templar encampment without warning," the Seeker said in a wry voice. "Though it seems I have underestimated you. Forgive me. I had assumed that, as a mage, you would know nothing of conventional fighting."

"I was always encouraged to fight with my staff," Velen explained to her. "There will always be fights where magic has no place."

"You've never fought a templar before today?" Cullen interjected, a frown on his handsome face.

Velen shook her head. "Not directly, no," she told him, glancing tellingly toward Cassandra. "What was that you did? Was that a Silence?"

"A minor one, yes." Cullen considered her for a moment. "I had expected you to throw it off. Others would not hesitate to use a full Silence on you, and those are far harder to counter."

"How do I throw it off?" she asked eagerly, intrigued by the thought that he had something useful to teach her that she didn't consider utterly pointless for once.

"It takes focus and concentration," he warned her. "It isn't something that can be learned and achieved in a single day."

"And there are other templar skills she should learn to counter," Cassandra added. "You should train with the commander. He is best suited to gauge your progress, and how best to shape your training."

Velen sighed wearily. "More training?"

To her surprise, Cullen laughed. Briefly, yes, but it was definitely a laugh.

"We can fore-go the martial training in favor of this," he assured her. "It all comes under the same banner. I'd like to learn more of contact magic, though. I've never encountered a mage prepared to try it. In my experience, a cornered mage turns to demons and blood magic rather than their own first touch of magic."

"It isn't something that's encouraged," she told him with a half-shrug. "Our armor is so light, closing with a warrior is tantamount to suicide."

"But useful, if only as a last resort," he nodded. "Our own recruits would do well to learn that even a Silenced mage can still be dangerous."

"I'd say they just learned that, Curly."

The three of them turned at the sound of Varric's voice. The dwarf was grinning, the pouch on his belt hanging heavier than it had before the match.

"Amazing how many people you just made poorer," he chuckled. "Every bet was on one or the other of you winning. They're gonna want a rematch."

"Absolutely not," Cassandra said sternly, her gesture emphatic. "There is too much risk of serious injury to both, even untrained."

Velen's gaze slid to the Seeker. Evidently her use of contact magic had not only surprised Cullen. Cassandra seemed rattled, and she had only been a witness.

"You should rest," the Nevarran woman added. "We leave for Redcliffe in the morning."

Cullen's expression abruptly closed down. Velen sighed; why did he not understand this? She refused to reach out to an order whose Lord-Commander had allowed an assault on an unarmed Chantry mother without provocation. Even she had been shocked to see it. It was like watching a senior hunter punch a Keeper - utterly unthinkable. Even if Tevinter were not somehow involved with the rebel mages, they would still be her choice, solely on that evidence. If he didn't like it, then why were they leaving these decision up to her in the first place?

The commander walked away without another word. She stared after him, feeling torn. His was a friendship she was beginning to treasure, her first real friendship with a human. But this was the only decision she felt she could have made.

"He'll come around, Thumper."

She looked down at Varric, her brows raised. "Thumper?"

He grinned. "Great, isn't it? Finally found one that fits you."

"But ... Thumper?"

He was already sauntering off, leaving her to meet Cassandra's gaze. The Lady Seeker gave her an exasperated eye roll, shaking her head as she, too, walked away, leaving Velen to her own thoughts.

So. New skills to learn, a friend's prejudice to overcome, a Tevinter magister to outwit. All very important, very necessary goals. But still ... Thumper?

[ladywolfmd]

Hi! This is the Robb and Sansa anon. One of my favorite scenes in WWWG was Ned introducing Jon and Robb to baby Sansa and the speech he gave. The irony behind it was so interesting to me because her future husband and her brother were being told to love and protect her and to serve as an example for what she should look for. Because of that scene I always thought it would interesting to see how Robb would react to jonsa if he could see them. So maybe just him reacting to them in WWWG?

Hi! Like from beyond the grave you mean? Hmm… I do have a Robb POV written out that I haven’t posted yet and it references that scene in form of a letter of his that was written before he died. But for a Jonsa reaction…here you go: (I’m going to have to add this to what I originally wrote when I get to publishing that post in the future)

He watches, as he’s always done ever since she came back, he watches her save for when he knows she needs her privacy the most, especially when eyes follow her wherever she goes rendering her to keep her walls up. 

She doesn’t even feel safe in her own home and the thought enrages him as much as it saddens him - leaves him buried in guilt - guilt he can never atone for. 

So he watches her how he should’ve watched over her ever since the moment he first saw her - a beautiful babe with the same eyes and hair as he. 

He could still remember the first thing he ever said to her as he held her tiny hand in his then.

“Hello Sansa! I am your big brother Robb. I love you little one. I’ll protect you!“

It ate at him to look back at the memory of her so small - so fragile - so very innocent and beautiful and his to protect as their Lord Father tasked them with when he took him to meet his sister for the first time. 

And how had he fulfilled that duty? 

And how could he fulfill that duty now? 

He used to be his sister’s favored knight or prince or king who rescues the princess he always calls her as during times when she’d ask him to play.

What was he now? 

A shadow in the darkness. 

He smiled bitterly. 

No wonder him and his half-brother no more switched roles. 

Jon Snow, King in the North. 

Robb Stark, a Watcher in the Wall.

Such was his punishment, he believes. To be stuck as some kind of silent ghost trapped within the walls of Winterfell, doomed to bear witness to what happened when he lost the North. 

When he looked at his mother that last time, he knew. 

He knew he was never going home. 

But here he was. 

Home.

Just in time to watch his home burn by the same men that brought him down.

Winter is coming, he said then. But the flames came first.

He watched his home burning, covered in soot and smoke until the white blanket that covered what was left of it wasn’t thick from snow than it was thick with ashes. 

He watched.

And he dared not close his eyes, not even for a moment, not even if he could. 

He watched everything.

How the man who killed him took his life - his crown - his future for his own. 

And how his sister, the first wolf who came home to reclaim it despite the ruin and the danger, the one he was supposed to protect, died every night on top of the bed that used to be his - her blood and tears soaking the ashes of what’s left of their home as they took from her what remained of their name, their claim, their power, their pride.

He watched as she took back their home with what’s left of her innocence the heavy price she paid.

And she’s been paying with that, her songs and dreams stripping away from her each time, he knew, from the moment their father was arrested, she was paying with what she could give while he knew she held on to faith that he would rescue her. 

But he never did, did he? 

Now he watched as she stood in front of his former chambers - her prison cell. Watched as she slid down the floor and rested her back against the boarded and cemented off room after asking to be excused from the council meeting so she could have a moment of solitude, her female knight guarding the stairs that lead to this hallway. 

She had not been here, not even in the same wing, for moons now. 

But now she was.

He dared not close his eyes now either knowing something significant would happen for her to be here.

She sat there still and silent like a statue, her face that same impassive mask she perfected was there save for that tiny furrow between her brow that relieved him for he so hated that mask though it was one that showed her steel, it was forged in fires from the seven hells she endured. 

Slowly, she moved. Retrieving something from her cloak. 

At the sight of them he felt restless and even scared. 

In her hands were his letters, the ones he never sent as well as ones he did send but hid from her, the ones Arya painstakingly searched when she heard of their existence, the ones she gifted as part of her wedding present for our sister.

Time seemed to pass like an eternity as he watched her contemplate on opening them. 

He wanted nothing more but to take her hands in his, look her in the eyes, and urge her to open them. Read them. 

He knows she’s had them for days, nearly a sennight. 

Slowly, and tenderly, one by one, she was finally reading them.

He watched as her eyes so much like his before, widened and moistened, her mouth parting and closing as her jaw trembled - how her whole body followed soon after.

Watched as tears fell like silent rivers, never accompanied by the whimpers and sobs she was keeping tightly under control. 

He wanted to hold her and wipe her tears and cry with her as he saw her hardened eyes grow softer and softer. 

He knew she already forgave him a long time ago even if he didn’t deserve it. 

He knew she had already made peace with what he had to do.

He knew how much she defended him still, making him out to be an honorable man despite his failings - despite failing her the most.

But it was only now as he watches her trace his words over the paper and bring them clutched close to her chest as she wept on silently, the tiniest hint of a smile ghosting over her lips that she finally found it. 

Peace and closure with him.

Because among the letters he sent, one was an explanation, another an apology, but most of all, one was a promise for all three should be given separately as she deserved.

Looking at her now, vulnerable and soft, she looked like the little princess he always saw her as.

“My little princess,” he whispered as he knelt beside her and held her even if his words were nothing but wind and his hands and arms went through her when he realized why he was still here. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

Because though she lit a candle for him in the crypt and though she prayed for him in the godswood, she never, not once, attempted to talk to him, not as she did before father’s statue, mother’s sept, and Rickon’s room - how she called for them, apologized and sought strength from them.

And why would she do the same for him?

His bones were yet to be lain in the crypt. 

And her former husband took everything of his and tainted them with Sansa’s blood and tears. Using his own training swords, his own belts, his own daggers as if using his bed, his furs, and his room wasn’t enough.

Why would she go back to this room? When the last time she was here, despite winning the castle back, she was found scrubbing her scarred skin raw as she sat cold and naked in the tub after trashing the room and ripping her already ruined wedding dress  in her attempt to cleanse herself from any trace of the bastard monster. 

He watched that too.

Helplessly. 

And he watched as the brother he once knew, the one who was never truly a brother to her, do the duty he has neglected for far too long.

And that was to be her brother that night.

He was the one who helped her bathe, dressed her wounds, and made her feel safe and cared for when she hasn’t felt either for years from the moment they took father’s head. 

He watched as he carried her and made sure she was warm and protected before he himself torched the room and boarded it up brick by brick while his wolf never left her.

He forgets sometimes, that her wolf, Lady was the first price she paid for an attempt at peace. 

From that night, he would take time to watch Jon Snow too. 

And though he was proud of him, and knew he made the right choice of naming him heir, he was jealous too.

Jon who wasn’t even a true brother to Sansa as she had neither been a true sister to him then were now the ones that had each other.

Though he knew they cared for each other deep down and knew ultimately they were kept apart by mother, and knew he was honorable and acting as so, and Sansa acting as loyal and loving as he knew her core to be, it was still there.

The jealousy.

He didn’t even want to take back Winterfell.

He didn’t even want to be King.

Yet he was the brother who followed Sansa. He was the brother that helped Sansa take back their home. He was the brother that continued to make her safety and happiness a priority as father made both of them promise before.

He was the brother he should’ve been for her in the first place, protecting her, and fighting for her as father and their late Uncle Brandon practically started a war to rescue their sister as they rode South for Aunt Lyanna during each of their time to do so. Uncle Brandon died for Aunt Lyanna. Father fought to bring her bones back while he couldn’t even trade the Kingslayer for her or name her heir.

So he could accept it, Jon being there for her now. A true brother finally to make up for what he failed.

What was it that father told them when he brought Jon and him to meet her?

“As her older brothers, it falls to the two of you to look out for your sister. Take care of her, protect her, and love her. If falls to the two of you to show her how a lady should be treated and cherished. Be the one she can look up to and turn to first for anything. She will be seeking comfort and protection only a brother can give. You may not understand it now but when you are older, you two may find yourself sheltering each your own lady wife, and she sheltered by her own lord husband, but a brother’s love is different. Be the person she can trust the most. Be the man she can trust above all men. Be loyal to each other and keep your family safe.”

And that was Jon.

A true brother she needed.

Until suddenly, he was not. 

They all didn’t know then that he wasn’t their true brother, that father had to lie. It wasn’t true that in death you are suddenly omniscient. Or maybe it doesn’t apply to those punished to be ghosts. 

He could understand how Sansa might confuse her feelings from being so bereft of love and kindness for so long that she has no one else to turn to but him. 

But Jon should’ve known better. 

How could he fall in love with his own sister?

Yes, she was lovely and easy to love when she showed her heart that she kept under iron lock and chains. And she showed it to him and him alone in complete trust, little by little, she did. And showed him what it means to be loved and cared by her. 

He watched as he fell deeper. Watched as he resisted. And he was starting to think if he could live haunting him to remember why he shouldn’t have those feelings in the first place.

He wanted to shake Jon and yell that Sansa needed a brother - needed Jon to be her brother each time he strayed.

He knew his brother’s guilt. He knew it ate at him and he never acted on his feelings until he was allowed to, but it still felt like a betrayal.

So he kept on watching Sansa. Relieved that it took Sansa longer to realize, believing that everything she was doing was out of sisterly love until they weren’t and she was only comparing him to what knights and kings should be, what her husband should be, not at all that he himself should be that husband.

It was Baelish that put the idea in her mind in his attempt to take the Iron Throne through them, insinuating that a marriage between them since they were now cousins would benefit everyone.

And then he watched as Baelish told her that if she didn’t marry Jon, he’d likely be asked to marry the dragon queen. And that was all it took for Sansa to push down her reservations out of fear for Jon marrying a foreign stranger thinking that she’d rather keep him safe than risk letting him suffer the same fate she did when she rode South to be betrothed to the would-be King no matter how they say she is different. She’d rather not risk it. It wasn’t from jealousy, it wasn’t from fear for her own fate when he does, but more for his own. 

And then he heard her convince herself in front of her mirror, as she examined her scarred body. 

“I am not the queen he deserves and he may not want to touch me not because I am damaged, but because of ghosts, but I will be good to him. I will learn to love him. I already do, but I will do more. I can protect him. We can protect each other. The rest will follow once we allow it. Like mother and father did.”

He had to turn away then because he saw it. Saw that from this moment, she’d allow herself to love him as him and not as her brother and he felt ashamed.

Especially when he overheard her again. 

“No one will ever marry me for love. At least not like the songs. At least with Jon, he loves me as family.”

Three times. She already married twice for duty, she was willing to do it again for the same reason if it came down to it. 

Three times, Sansa was better than him.

He married for love and what did it cost him?

Looking at Sansa who was quietly falling in love with their former brother, tore at him.

On one side, he could accept it as Jon would be nothing but good to her and he’d protect her from marrying a stranger or an outright monster or even someone undeserving. She was right that they would protect each other. But on one side, they were tiptoeing around each others’ growing feelings. They would do their duty, but the guilt that needn’t be there would eat at them if they don’t talk about it. 

But in the end, it was what Sansa wanted that mattered to him. And he could see that it was Jon who was the only one who was truly making her happy. If marrying Jon would make her happy, then he would be happy not for her but with her.

It’s not like he was one to judge. 

No. 

He lost that privilege long ago.

Lost the privilege of being her brother long ago when he had to, in people’s eyes, give her up.

Bran knew, he knew everything.

Arya was royally mad at him but Sansa, once again, as she did with Jon, built the bridge for their way to forgiving him.

And now she was here.

“I miss you big brother.”

“I miss you too princess,” he said so near her ear wishing she could hear him somehow.

“I told them. You did what you had to. I understood,” she finally sobbed.

He vainly tried to hold her as she shook. “I know. I know you did. You didn’t have to but you did. I don’t deserve it but I’m grateful.”

Sansa shut her eyes and clutched the letters to her chest tighter as she wept. “I wanted them to remember you as nothing but the brave and honorable king you were.”  

“I know. I know. I know. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I’m sorry,” he kept trying, chanting them to her over and over.

Then her eyes opened and they looked lighter as she broke into a small smile, sighing a breath of relief. “I knew you didn’t just abandon me. I knew it in my heart. I knew that you would never. At least not intentionally. They never believed me, not really, but now they will.”

He watched as she looked down happily at his words, his whole self-breaking into pieces that she had so much faith in him. More than he deserved but then again, he always knew. 

He prided himself with being the one who knew Sansa the most and he was glad that he still did until the end. If there was anything in the wold he wouldn’t doubt, it’s Sansa’s faith in her family no matter what.

“Sansa?”

We both turned and saw Jon then, looking more and more like father than he ever did. His grey eyes filled with worry and surprise at seeing Sansa like this and here, cautiously approaching Sansa though his hands twitched at his sides. 

It was Ghost who moved on forward without hesitation, nuzzling Sansa’s cheek and licking the tears away from her face as Sansa smiled at him while she hugged him. 

Jon took that as his cue to approach then, kneeling one leg before her and cradling her face tenderly with both hands while he sat where he was behind Sansa, watching this exchange as Ghost did when he trotted away to give them both space.

“What are you doing here, my love? I thought you said you were resting? Ghost lead me here,” he caressed her face while he examined her for any sign of hurt. 

Sansa wrapped a hand around one of his wrists and leant her forehead against his. “Because it was time, my love.”

“Time for what?”

She leant back then and adjusted her hold on his hand, twisting it so it faced palm up where he saw she placed his letters. “To let Robb rest.”

If his heart still beat, it would’ve stopped at her sister’s words.

He watched Jon instead, his brows furrowed as he looked down at the letters and back up his wife’s face. “I don’t - 

Sansa touched Jon’s cheek then and shook her head while new tears flowed but she was smiling. “I can’t explain it. But I still feel him sometimes. Like he’s watching over me. You know what kept me brave all the time? I kept thinking I must be brave like Robb. I know Arya and Bran thought that too and I know you did too. Be brave like Robb. But I also know you have reservations against him…if not for you but for me. Arya all but yelled her frustration to me but you, you’ve kept it. I know you hide it, but you still feel the guilt some times.” 

He watched as Jon sighed as he leant into her touch. “Aye. Sometimes I still feel that I’m taking things from him. That all of this was meant to be his. And I look back and thought of how jealous I was of him for being heir to everything I dreamed off but never really let that jealousy take root because Robb was nothing but kind and fair to me - how he defended me and treated me like a true brother and he really did work so hard to deserve being heir. This was all supposed to be his.” 

She tilted her head. “Even me?”

Jon’s eyes flew open then and saw Sansa smirking in challenge. “You said everything. Am I included?” she teased though he could see her wrinkle her nose.

He watched as Jon rolled his eyes and wound his arms around her to pull her closer. “No.” he growled. “He deserved a queen, aye. But you’re my queen. And I can’t believe you joked about-about…”

Sansa giggled then and he was with Jon in finding relief and delight in Sansa’s laughter. “I was merely asking for a clarification.”

“Sometimes, you are far too clever for your own good,” he grinned at her.

“Someone has to be clever around here,” she grinned back. 

Jon looked back at the letters then and ran his knuckles against her cheek. “But really, are you okay?” 

Sansa closed her eyes at his touch. “I was even before you found me, but I’m definitely feeling more than okay now,” she opened her eyes then. “So will you read them?” 

Jon put the letters inside his pocket and helped Sansa to her feet. “Aye, I’ll read them. But I don’t need to read them to let Robb go peacefully now.”

He watched as a look passed between the two of them as they’ve been doing, a language they’ve learned to develop where one need not say anything to be heard.

They both looked at the barred door now, neither were smiling but nor were there hate in their eyes as they looked at it.

Well, at least, for Jon it was significantly lessened as apart from the slight tightness in his eyes that lasted a moment, his hands didn’t clench and shake as they used to whenever he passed this, kicking and punching at times he needed to get angry for Sansa without her knowing it. It was a start but he knew it was more about his anger for Sansa’s executed monster, than it was about Robb’s failings. 

“Are you ready to go now, my love?” Jon looked and waited for Sansa to look back at him, nodding happily as she did. 

“Just me, my love?” she blinked innocently.

Jon looked confused but Robb smirked, knowing what she meant. “And…Ghost?”

“Yes…him too. But Jon, I’m asking,” she paused before placing his free hand over her belly. “Where will we go?”

Jon’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned on him that Robb had to laugh when he gave her a look asking if it was true.

At Sansa’s nod, Jon lifted her up the same way he did when they were first reunited kissing all over her face grinning before he kissed her lips fully, breaking apart for him to kneel and kiss her stomach reverently. 

“And you’re wrong, Jon. Everything, all of these? You deserve it all. Everything. Robb made the right choice in naming you heir. The North made the right choice in naming you King.”

Jon looked up at her with pure adoration. “Everything means nothing to me, if you didn’t choose me.”

They held a look then that Robb felt he need to turn away from the intensity but couldn’t. 

“Why wouldn’t I choose you?”

Jon stood up then grinning while he wrapped his arm around her waist and lead her away. “Well, I’m not going to waste my time giving you answers to that and work very very hard to give you reasons to keep me.” 

Sansa blushed then and swatted his arm playfully. “Jon.”

He chuckled. “I can’t help it. A babe. You’re giving me a babe. I’m going to be a father.” And then a line grew on his face that Sansa didn’t miss. Winter was here and they knew the stories, knew what could happen. 

“We’ll be okay,” Sansa squeezed his hand but Jon wasn’t as convinced now that he was fearing he had more to lose if they failed. 

“What did your lover use to say to you? What was it you told me?” Sansa gave him a meaningful look that Jon had to let out a breath and a half-smile at what she meant. “If we die, we die. But first we’ll live.”

“She’s right you know,” she said with no trace of jealousy or malice, only love. 

“No.”

“No?”

“Because I won’t let you or our babe die. And I’m not going to die in battle too. Not with what’s waiting for me here.”

Robb knew that they both knew Jon can’t promise that but neither of them said it out loud, and chose to take the moment instead and choose to have faith in themselves and each other.

He watched as Jon looked lovingly with both desperation and determination at her while Sansa looked ahead, satisfied while she held Jon’s hand over her stomach while they walked.

With the way Jon was looking at her now, he thinks he can finally rest. Sansa didn’t need him anymore, no, she didn’t need him or the idea of him as a guide for her in the privacy of her mind, not when she had Jon now.

Really, it was all it took. 

Sansa loving Jon was all it took for him to let go of all his reservations and see him how Sansa sees him as a person.

Someone brave, gentle, and strong that father always wanted for her. 

Someone worthy of her. 

Jon would be the tether the South needed as a Targaryen.

Jon would be the King the North needed as a Stark.

Jon would be the doting brother Arya and Bran always had.

And Jon would be the loving husband Sansa deserved just as Sansa was the adoring wife Jon deserved too.  

With one final look at the King and Queen who won the North, he realized he wasn’t just waiting for Sansa, he was waiting for Jon too. 

He was surprised when Jon ran back and looked at the door again, placing a hand and closing his eyes. “Robb. Leave everything to me. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of Sansa. Rest well, brother.”

Robb was struck at Jon’s words and watched gaping as Jon left just as quickly, catching up to his wife who smiled back at him as they wrapped their arms around each other.

Robb smiled slowly then finally feeling at peace at knowing the legacy he tried his best to deserve and protect, and more importantly, his family, was in safe hands. 

He closed his eyes then and the next thing he saw was the yellow eyes of his old friend.

“Greywind.”

[hamitome--imagines]

Royal Pain in the Ass

* Hamilsquad x Reader

* Hamiltime

* Requested by anonymous

* Request: the reader is King George's child but they hate his cuz he's a jerk so they come to America and join the revolution and the Hamilsquad?

A/N: So, the requestor didn’t specify a gender in anyway so I made it gender neutral. And this is quite long. Yet, I kinda like this. And I hope you all do too.

Word Count: 4,000 (Wow, that’s very pleasing)

~~

You sighed as you straightened out your formal attire in the mirror. It was almost time for dinner with your father, King George the Third of England. Has there ever been a more pompous title? You were forced into association with him as you were his child. You would gladly give away everything you ever had if it meant you’d lose all ties to him. He was a royal ass. His colonies across the ocean knew that. Every time you thought of those tiny communities, a smile appeared. They were brave. A knock broke you from your thoughts as a maid entered your room.

“Oh forgive me. But your father requests you in the dining hall.” She said.

“Of course he does. But thank you.” You made a point to show the kindness your father didn’t. You weren’t looking forward to dinner. Lately, they’ve been painfully quiet. Mostly because you had nothing to say to him. You didn’t like your own father. How sad was that? You stopped in front of the large wooden doors to the dinning room. You took a deep breath and pushed them open.

“Ah Y/N.” Your father greeted you.

“Father.” You replied with a polite nod. He smiled at you before scanning the document in front of him.

He handed it off to a servant with a sigh. “Send more soldiers to the colonies. And I want Massachusetts locked down. Port closed, soldiers doubled. Make it an outcast among the other colonies.” He ordered. The servant nodded, bowed, and scurried off.

“What now?” You asked him, trying to keep the venom from your voice.

He sighed and rubbed his head as if fending off a headache. “It would seem that the colonists don’t appreciate my taxes.”

“Imagine that.” You mumbled quietly so your dad didn’t hear. “What did they do?” You asked, excited to hear it. They had some spunk over there and it never ceased to piss off your dad.

“They boarded a cargo ship, poorly disguised as savage natives. Then, they proceeded to throw all the tea into the harbor as an act of defiance.” He told you. You tried, you really did. But you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. It was hilarious. That was the best thing you’d ever heard. Your father didn’t share you opinion. “Is something funny Y/N?” He asked. He was clearly mad but you decided not to care.

“Yes. Those colonies are humiliating you.” You admitted. “And your little plan to cut off Massachusetts isn’t going to work. It’s gonna piss them off even more. They’re gonna point to that city and say ‘Look what that jackass of a king has done.’” You taunted.

“You know Y/N, if I didn’t know better I’d say you support that little uprising.” Your father threatened.

“And if I did?” You asked.

“Excuse you. I’m your father and king, I deserve your loyalty!” He shouted pushing up from the table.

“All my life all you’ve ever been is a king, never a father. And I hope those colonies revolt and I hope they win. I hope they take everything form you. I hope your left looking at those colonies as they grow to be more powerful then you could ever expect.” You told him. You voice stayed level and calm. A technique you had picked up from him.

You never got to hear what he’d say when a maid rushed in. “Sorry sire. But there’s more news form the colonies.”

“What now?!” He growled as he followed the maid out. You silently cheered and ate your dinner in peaceful silence.

—

After your outburst things between you and your father never got better. They actually grew much worse. He kept a knight from his guard on you at all times. “For protection.” He always said. You knew it was merely to keep an eye on you. You hated it.

Still, the two of you kept up a pretense for the people. So you sat aside you father one day in the throne room. A soldier stepped forward. “Sire, we must inform you. This arrive today.” He handed you father a scroll. Curiosity over took you. You stood and walked over to stand beside your father. It was a court day so he was donned in his full kingly get up. Crown on his head, a cape over his shoulders, a scepter lying near by. You wore a crown as well, just less flashy and gaudy. Also, your father made you. Your father unrolled the scroll and your eyes widened.

“The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America”

No way. They were actually declaring themselves free of your father. You looked back up at the soldier and saw he was terrified. This wasn’t a joke. The colonies did this. You were really proud of them. “What on earth is this?!” You father yelled, causing you to actually jump back in surprise. You’d never seen him so angry.

“The uh…the colonies are declaring themselves independent from us.” The soldier stammered in fear.

“And why is that?!” You father screamed. “After all I did for them!”

“Father!” You shouted now. “Stop screaming at the solider. He clearly doesn't have the answers you want.”

“Y/N, leave. You are in no position to voice your opinion on the matter.” He told you lowly.

“Father?!” You exclaimed in disbelief. Sure you told him how you felt, but he has never kicked you out before.

“I told you to leave. That’s an order.” And there it was. You glared at him. You went to leave but stopped in front of his chair.

“What ever you decree ‘Your Majesty.’” You put as much venom and sarcasm into the last two words as possible before storming from the throne room. You tore the crown you were wearing off and tossed it to the ground as you stalked through the castle. If he was going to cast you aside like nothing, you would make him regret it. You found your room and rummaged for your least formal attire. Unfortunately, that wasn’t much. You grabbed some clothes and started to tear the embellishments from it when you could. It took away the flashiness and created a few tears. Finally you deemed it good enough to pass.

You gathered up some valuables and shoved them in a small bag. You never asked to be royalty and, now more then ever, you didn't want to be. So you weren't going to be. You slipped on the ruined clothes and grabbed the small bag. You grabbed a hat to hopefully help to obscure your face. You knew their was a guard on the other side of the door so you went to your large windows. You quietly opened it. You took a deep breath and swung yourself over the ledge.

You don’t know where your idea came from but you were gonna follow through with it. You made your way through England, darkened with the late hour. You made your way to the docks. You bought a ticket on a ship with one of the objects from the castle. The ship didn’t leave until morning. You hunkered down in an inn near the docks. You left early and boarded the ship.

You stood at the end of the boat as it took off. You stared at the country you grew up in. Not long now the castle would know you were gone. There would be chaos everywhere. The town would be searched and the staff questioned. You felt slightly bad but it quickly passed. The staff was never more then nannies and watchers. They never really cared. You were never allowed to leave the castle and wander the city so you weren’t even attached to the town. You scoffed as your old home got smaller and smaller. “Good riddance.”

“You hate England that much?” A man asked from beside you.

“More than you could ever imagine.” You admitted.

“So is that why you’re going to the colonies?” He asked.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Oh no. I hate England so much that I’m going to help the colonies. I want to make sure the king loses everything he ever had.”

—

Why did you want to do this?

You stood, terrified, as you came off the boat. There were people everywhere and you didn’t know them. You did’t know where anything was. You squared your shoulders and stood up to full height. You could do this. You were royalty dammit! You just had to find someone to help you. However, they ended up finding you. “Excuse me? Sorry, you just look a little lost, confused, and scared. Can I help you in anyway?”

You eyed him up and down. He seemed trustworthy. “Yeah actually I need-“ You stopped when you noticed all the soldiers. Some higher ranking or more trained. Some of these people could be stationed as soldiers but where you father’s eyes and ears. “Never mind, not here. Is there an inn or something near-by?” You asked hopefully.

“Uh yeah. Come on.” He led you through the crowds and further into the town. He led you up to a decent house.  “My place.” He explained. He led you inside. “Ok, now why couldn’t we talk at the docks?”

“There were soldiers everywhere. And I’ be willing to bet some of them were just there to report back to the King.” You sneered.

“How could you know?” The man asked.

“I just came here form England. I know a bit about…stuff…” You replied evasively.

“Hang on. What’s your name? I’m Alexander Hamilton.” He said with a small smile to evoke some trust.

“Oh Y/N L-L/N.” You stuttered out a last name that you pulled from mid-air. It would be awful if you said your last name was Fredrick, like the king. You’d have to commit the name to memory. “Anyway, I uh…I wanna join up with the revolution. I don’t suppose you’re a loyalist.”

“No way. Are you?” He asked suspiciously.

“I just told you I want to fight the crown. Why would I be loyal to the same crown?” You asked.

“Just checking.” The man said. “Ya know, if you know a little bit about the British, the general would love to meet you.”

“Good, cause I want to meet the general.”

—

You were sitting in Alexander’s house, waiting for General Washington. You were a bit anxious. After a while, there were two sharp knocks on the door. “That’d be the general.” Alexander said, hopping up from his seat. He went to the door and pulled it open.

“Hamilton. Why did you send for me?” He asked. Now you were very intimidated. Washington was a large imposing man. He was tall and well built with dark skin. He was kind of frightening.

“Oh this is Y/N L/N. They just came from England. They know quite a bit about the forces and strategies. They could really help out.” Alexander explained.

Washington glanced over at you. “And you’re not loyal to the king?” He asked suspiciously.

“No.” You growled. “I want to see the king lose everything that was ever important to him.”

Washington smirked and nodded. It seemed like he could sense your honesty. “What kind of information do you have to offer?”

“Well I can tell you the British soldiers aren’t well trained for distance strikes. I’m guessing they usually try to approach your lines?” Both men nodded in answer. “Well that might work to your advantage.” You commented, deep in thought. “If you have half your men stationed somewhere, let the British chase them down. Keep retreating. Then, have the other half, with a competent general, come around behind them. Close in on both sides.”  You suggested.

The men stared at you in shock. “That’s a great idea.” Washington admitted. “If you want to help our cause, I’m more than willing to offer you a place along side my men.”

—

You were constantly working with the General, exposing every weakness you knew. You were vital to the group and you knew it. By now, word of the missing royal heir had reached the colonies. No one cared much, they thought it didn't effect them. Plus, your image was rather unknown in the colonies. People don't pay for portraits only to send them across the ocean. Well, your father did, but he was crazy. The army thought it was a fascinating story and kept coming up with crazy explanations.

At first you had laughed about them. Silly little stories about the missing child running off to become a jester in a different court. But lately, they seemed to be wishing violence on you. True, they didn't know it was you but their theories weren't as funny anymore. Claiming, hoping, the kings child was caught and killed by French nobles. Or perhaps that a ship sunk, and you were one of the passengers. "Anything to weaken the King." They'd say about the ideas. If only they knew the king would probably rejoice at your death. Hell, you were opposite sides. He probably didn't even really care you were gone. Just another disrespectful subject.

At the camp, you shared a tent with Alexander Hamilton, John Laurens, and Lafayette. Alexander had insomnia or nightmares or was working with Washington until late hours. You never knew when he'd be up or asleep. John was an extremely light sleeper. He was up at dawn, the slight sunlight waking him up. Lafayette was unpredictable. Sometimes he worked guard late at night, sometimes he just didn't want to sleep yet. Other days, he'd be the first one asleep.

You had also befriended Hercules Mulligan. The two of you had an interesting bond. You were both spies in your own right. Hercules a constant spy, you merely an informant. But you were both crossing a dangerous enemy. You were a little surprised when you learned of Hercules' position. They had a spy in a tailor shop. It was honestly genius. These little colonies really were amazing.

One night, as you slept, the guys met up together. "Where's Y/N?" Hercules asked as he noticed your absence.

"Oh still sleeping. They don't sleep too well on the cots so we weren't gonna wake them." Alexander answered.

"Yeah didn't they mumbled something about the cots feeling like cement slabs compared to what they're used to?" John asked.

"Something like that." Alexander agreed. "Anyway, what do you have Herc?" Hercules had claimed he had more information. Though it wasn't vital to the cause, he knew his friends would want to hear it.

"Well, news is that the king's kid must have boarded a boat. They're most likely in the colonies. The found a ticket was bought with some jewelry from the castle." Hercules explained.

"How long ago?" Lafayette asked.

"Months ago now. Well, that's when they would've bought the ticket. They would've been here about..." Hercules trailed off, thinking.

"As long as Y/N." Alexander spoke up. He spoke cautiously, as if suggesting something even he didn’t want to admit. “I mean, if you think about it.”

“You can’t be suggesting that they’re royalty. They hate the king, complain about him all the time.” John spoke up. “They can’t be the child of the king.”

“But how much do we know about them?” Hercules asked.

“They are notre ami.” Lafayette tried.

“They don’t write to anyone?” Hercules asked.

“No. They don’t have chance. Either I’m up, or Laf will wander in at some random time, and any light will wake up John.” Alexander answered.

“What if they go report back to soldiers?” John asked, starting to believe everything as well.

“Y/N is the last name of the heir to the throne.” Hercules spoke up.

“Have we been harboring our ennemi the whole time?” Lafayette asked.

—

You woke up as you were pulled off your cot. You didn’t hit the ground as someone was dragging you up by your collar. You were roughly shoved against the pole holding your tent up. As you finally registered your surroundings you found Hercules was holding your collar. The rest of the group around him. You could tell it was still dark out. “What the hell?” You asked as you tried to push him off.

“We want some answers.” Hercules demanded.

“About what?” You asked, panic clawing up. They trusted you so far. You couldn’t lose it now, you couldn’t admit anything. They would kill you.

“Let’s start with something easy.” John said lowly. “Who are you?”

“I told you-“

“You told me a last name that sounds made up.” Alexander interjected.

“I suppose it’s merely a coincidence that you share the same first name as the king’s child.” Lafayette spoke up.

“Or that you arrived here at the same time as them.” Hercules added.

“Or that they’ve been missing for some time.” John ended.

“I uh…” You stopped. Could you lie? Either way you’re losing their trust. And your pause told them enough. Hercules scoffed and let go of your collar. You dropped to the ground and coughed a few times. “What do you want me to say?” You asked.

“Well if I were, I’d start explaining why we shouldn’t just kill you. Or us you as leverage.” Alexander growled.

“Because it wouldn’t be worth it.” You mumbled.

“What?” Lafayette asked.

“Because it wouldn’t be worth it!” You practically shouted. “My father doesn’t care, trust me.” You stood from the ground. “I hate him. I want him to lose. He always acted like my king and not my father. He treated me like a subject so I decided to be the most defiant subject there is. Haven’t I helped you?”

The men exchanged glances. “We do have an upper hand now.” Alexander mumbled.

“You could kill me and his royal ass would’t care. In fact, he’d probably be happy.” You whispered. “We’ve never seen eye-to-eye and now he knows I support you guys. He probably knows I’m the reason he’s losing.”

“Why would your dad be happy about your death?” John asked.

“Because he hates me.” You whispered. The guys noticed your emotional turmoil. Guilty looks spread across their faces. You sniffed, trying to compose yourself. “You guys won’t tell the other soldiers or the General will you?” You asked hopefully.

“Your secret is safe with us Y/N L/N.” Alexander told you.

—

“’Til the world turns upside down.” You muttered to yourself as you readied your gun. France finally provided the colonies with funding. You were going to fight the British in Yorktown. This would be the one of the final fights.

“What was that Y/N?” Alexander asked you.

“Oh, just an old drinking song. It’s not important. Are you guys ready?” You asked Alexander and John.

“We gotta start a new nation and I gotta to meet my son.” Alexander said with a grin. You smiled at your friend. His new son was all he could talk about lately.

“We’re good to go.” John answered. “Are you good?” He asked in concern. They were always worried about you before a fight. They were concerned about how you felt about killing your fellow country men.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s end this.” You said with a small smirk. They smiled at you.

“Sounds good to me.” Alexander said.

You had hidden in trenches at the start of the war. After that you pushed forward instead of your usual tactic of retreating. You were trying to force them toward the sea and blockade them. They weren’t escaping this time. Unfortunately, that involved getting closer to them than before. You raced forward, gun ready to shoot, and aimed at a man with a red coat draped over his shoulders. The man fired off a shot. As he readied his gun once more, he glanced at you.

“You!” He exclaimed on shock. You lowered your gun in surprise. No on had noticed you yet. “Why are you fighting with the rebellious scum?” He growled. “You no good, traitorous scoundrel! You were an heir to the throne. Your father is going to be very displeased when we return you. What do you think he’s going to do to the biggest traitor to the crown?” Suddenly a gunshot from behind you caused you to jump.

Alexander sauntered up beside you. “That was my friend you were disparaging.” he growled. You smiled up at him. A gunshot in your direction caused the both of you to spring back into action. Your trio was running around, fighting. You were standing near John Laurens when a loud BOOM sounded. You looked over to a canon. You quickly jumped forward and shoved John to the side, tackling him in the process. An explosion sounded from near where you both were.

“Holy shit. You saved my life.” He exclaimed.

“Of course.” You said as you stood and helped him up as well.

The battle waged for a week. Eventually you noticed a white flag in the distance. You slowly lowered you gun. A small disbelieving laugh left your lips as the symbolism dawned on you. “We won.” You said a bit quietly. While you were quiet, your friends were loud.

“We won!” Alexander shouted. A few days later, you stood watching the men line up and leave. They were singing the same old drinking song you had mumbled a week ago. You sighed and began quietly joining in. The boys looked at you. “That’s what you mumbled a few days ago isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Pretty much everyone in England knows that song.” You said with a small, shy shrug. The boys shrugged as well, unconcerned.

Lafayette shouted, “We won,” once more. The he added, “Freedom for America, freedom for France!”

Alexander leaned closer and threw and arm over your shoulder. “We won!”

“We won!” You all shouted together.

—

“You say, the price of my war’s not a price that you’re willing to pay. Insane! You cheat with those colonies while I’m frighting with France and with Spain. I’m so blue! I don’t remember an arrangement where you went away. You were more that a subject to rule. Well even despite our estrangement, I’ve got a small query for you.

What comes next?

They’ve freed. Do they know how hard it is to lead. You’re on your own. Awesome! Wow! Do you have a clue what happens now? Oceans rise, empires fall. It’s much harder when it’s all your call. All alone across the sea. When the people say they hate you, you can come crawling back to me. Until then, you’re on your own.

King George III”

You scowled at the letter your father had sent you. You could point out every lie. You tossed it onto your desk and sighed. You were able to afford a decent home with the money you gained from selling the items from the castle. There was a knock on the door so you went to open it. Alexander stood on the other side, a small baby in his arms.

“I have someone you need to meet.” He said with a smile. You welcomed him into your home. “Say hi to Philip Hamilton.” He said as he handed the small boy to you. You smiled down at the sleeping child in your arms and cooed some nonsense to him. Alexander smiled at you before glancing around. He noticed the letter on your desk and picked it up. He quickly read it. “Are you gonna go back?” He asked.

You noticed what letter it was that he was currently holding. You shrugged slightly, a little hard considering you were holding a baby. But a small smile appeared on your lips. “Eh, I didn’t like being royalty anyway. I think I’d much rather be Y/N L/N, a citizen of the United States of America.”

Alexander smiled back at you. “Well then may I just say, welcome home Y/N L/N.”

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 31)

Ruby and Blake trekked back to Keeper's Hollow, a pole on their shoulders supporting a giant, seven-foot long, several-hundred-pound weight tuna; the latter had a content smile on her face, her stomach noticeably distended.

“We're home, and we brought tuna!” Ruby called out as they came to the foot of the elevator. “Well, just a tuna because Blake got hungry on the ride back, but she'll share with everyone! Except Weiss, sorry about that!”

Silence, not even the sounds of anyone heading out to the elevator.

Ruby frowned. “Uncle Qrow? Penny? Weiss? Zwei? Any of you guys home…?”

It was then that she noticed three figures sitting on the highest balcony of the house--”Qrow's Nest” as her mother used to call it, because of how fond he was of going up there alone. One was clearly Zwei, laying down and looking forlorn; the other two were sitting over the edge, nursing drinks in their hands.

Ruby sighed, her face falling. <Oh no...>

Blake frowned. <You need help with drunk duty?> she asked as they set the tuna down on the ground. <I'll help with Qrow, but Weiss is all yours.>

Ruby shook her head. <Nah, I got this; you get this tuna in the fridge, before the Weavers' spell starts to run out,> she said as she headed up the ladder on the side.

After the fish was safely cut up and stored, Ruby made her way up to Qrow's Nest. Zwei looked up from both Qrow's and Weiss' laps as she poked her head out of the hatch; he panted happily at her, before put his heads back where they were, anchoring them to the floor with his weight, eyes watching them both carefully.

Qrow turned around and waved. “Hey Ruby,” he said, slurring slightly.

“Hey Uncle Qrow,” Ruby said, trying to smile. “You're not both drunk, are you...?”

“Just buzzed, but Weiss is 100% sober,” Qrow replied, before he took another sip of his beer.

“It's impossible to get drunk on milk, after all,” Weiss grumbled, before she took a swig of her own drink.

Ruby blinked. “You're drowning your sorrows in milk?”

“Yes! Because apparently the fermentation process for all your alcohols involves so much bacteria it'll utterly annihilate my stomach as is, and your uncle here only seems to ever buy the shitty, beer-flavoured water than the good brands.”

“Well excuse me for being poor…” Qrow muttered.

“So, how'd the Job Gauntlet go?” Ruby asked quickly.

“Terrible!” Weiss replied. “I failed every single exam. Did you know I'm completely unqualified for any sort of job the Fae could offer me? I have printed evidence from the professionals to prove it, just ask Penny when she's done with her daily maintenance!”

“Did you try the Watchers like Elder Goodwitch asked?”

“She did,” Qrow replied. “The holo for her combat test's gone viral all over AoA.” He switched languages. <It's called 'Soft-Skin Schnee Gits Wrekt.'>

“Go watch it,” Weiss grumbled.

Ruby frowned. “I don't know, Weiss, it sounds pretty--”

“Just do it. The sooner all of you Fae watch it for the fifteen-hundredth time and collectively get sick of it, the better.”

“Shit, Weiss, that holo's going in the Hall of Fame!” Qrow said. “Hundreds of years from now, we're still going to be pulling that out of the Codex and thinking 'Man, you'd think this'd get old, but it just gets funnier each time!'”

Weiss scowled. “That's a very encouraging thought, Qrow,” she said through gritted teeth.

Qrow shrugged. “Just making sure your expectations are realistic! It's easier to just face your shit reality and do something about it now, than waste time and energy pretending things are going magically to become better. Trust me, sooner or later, the smell's going to be impossible to ignore.”

Ruby sighed quietly. “I'll just go do that, then...” she said as she climbed back down.

“Watch it on the HV!” Qrow called out. “It's better with big resolution!”

Later, Blake and Ruby were sitting on the couch, grilled tuna slices, cookies, and milk between them. They loaded up the holo, skipped through the technical details and the info that was for the benefit of the senior Watchers handling recruiting.

They watched Zwei come out from the cage. Ruby smiled, Blake frowned.

<...And for the purposes of this test: ZWEI on FIRE!> Nora cried.

Zwei was set alight with soul fire. Ruby frowned, Blake smiled.

As the giant, flaming, two-headed canine came bounding towards her, Weiss turned around and fled, arms in the air and screaming at the top of her lungs.

<… And our recruit is off, trying to put some distance between her and—oh, nope! Zwei caught up to her already.> In Nivian, “Cardio, Weiss, cardio!”

Weiss replied by shrieking in renewed terror as Zwei grabbed her in one of his mouths, bit down just hard enough to hold her steady as he shook her side-to-side.

“Use your sword!” Nora cried.

Weiss whacked the hilt on the side of Zwei's head.

“Use your sword as a sword!”

Zwei carefully tossed her away. Weiss went flying for several feet, rolling as she hit the dirt. She dropped her rapier as she scrambled back up to her feet and started running for higher ground.

“Wait, Weiss—you dropped your weapon!”

“I KNOW!” Weiss screamed, tears streaming down her face now.

Zwei stopped and looked up at Nora, conflicted and still alight.

<Go get her, boy!> she called out. <She's not going to pass if you go too easy on her!>

Zwei turned to Weiss over on the other side of the arena, sobbing and jumping up and down, trying to reach a handhold that was just slightly taller than she was.

Blake choked on her fish from laughing so hard. Ruby smacked her on the back as they continued watching.

“Turn around and shoot him!” Nora cried. “His vitals are getting low! Well, low enough for you to get a good score!”

Weiss turned around, held up her shooting arm, and fired. Because of the tears in her eyes and the absolute terror she was experiencing, most of the darts missed Zwei in spite of him being an incredibly large target that was only getting closer.

Weiss ran out of ammo, the repeater kept on spinning and whining as she held the trigger.

“Reload! Reload! Reload!”

Weiss started smacking the release lever, her hand missing several times.

“No, Weiss, point it away from your--!”

The empty canister popped out and flew into her eye. “GAH!”

“--Too late.”

Weiss groped about, dropping two of her extra canisters before she finally got a grip on the third. She was about to load it into her repeater when the bright glow of the Pit's floodlights were replaced by an ominous, green hue.

Zwei slowly padded up to her, both heads deep in thought, unsure of what to do.

Weiss screamed, threw the canister at him, it bounced harmlessly off his left head.

Zwei barked.

Weiss dropped to the floor and curled up in the fetal position.

The horn was sounded.

Birds came by and dropped cure water on Zwei, extinguishing the soul fire. An extraction crew came up, along with Penny and a Therapy Mender carrying a well-worn, much-loved limited edition Eluna plushie the Watchers kept on-hand for situations like this.

There was a final shot of Weiss hugging it and squeezing it to her chest as she was carted away, before the video ended.

Blake snatched up the remote, and pressed the replay button.

Ruby heard a door opening, turned around saw Weiss dejectedly walking back into their room, her milk exchanged for one of her bottles of bacteria culture. She picked up her dinner and went on after her.

She knocked on the door with her horns. “Weiss?” she called out. “Can I come in?”

“It's your room, you decide!”

Ruby frowned, and opened the door. She saw Weiss already lying on her side in her hammock, gently rocking back and forth as she hugged Winter's Eluna plushie, an empty bottle on the floor.

“You want some milk and cookies?” she asked as she held up her dinner.

“Already had way too many,” Weiss muttered.

“Okay,” Ruby said. She walked over to her nest, and sat down on one of her pillows. “So...”

“So, what am I going to do about my being a NEET?”

“A what?”

“It's an acronym: 'Not Employed, in Education, or Training,'” Weiss explained. “I guess it's the human equivalent of Moss.”

Ruby nodded. “Yeah, that. So, do you have any talents or anything? Song, dance, arts and crafts, maybe? I'm sure we can use your being a human as a gimmick while you're starting out and building a fan base—I'll even be your audience if you need someone to test an act out on!”

“I can sing, but I think I'll just sell my body to science,” Weiss replied. “If being a star with the Fae is anything like being a star with us humans, the competition's going to eat me alive by virtue of being able to talk with their fans anytime they want without needing a translator…”

Ruby frowned. “Weiss...”

“You don't need to come with me to the Chronicler's Grove,” Weiss said as she turned away from Ruby and to her other side. “Qrow and Penny are already overdue for a 'brain drain,' so they're taking me with them tomorrow morning.”

Ruby sighed and put her food down. “Weiss, you can't just give up like this!” she said as she got up and walked over to the other side of her hammock.

“And why not?!” Weiss snapped, glaring at her, tears beginning well in her eyes once more. “Let's face the facts here, Ruby: I'm completely, absolutely useless to all of you!”

Ruby blinked. “Well duh! I thought that was already pretty obvious.”

Weiss gritted her teeth. “You were supposed to tell me I'm not useless.”

Ruby frowned. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I was fishing for compliments!”

“Fishing for what now?”

“It's when we talk bad about ourselves so other people will try and make us feel better...”

Ruby paused, and slowly raised a finger. “Weiss, let me get off topic for one moment:

“THIS IS WHY I FUCKING HATE NIVIAN! 'THE DOVE DOVE,' 'THE KNIGHT RIDES OUT AT NIGHT,' THE ENTIRE CONCEPT OF 'SARCASM' WHERE YOU SAY THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT YOU MEAN FOR 'EMPHASIS'!

“WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU EVER INVENT A UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE FOR EVERYONE IN AN ENTIRE REALM WITH THE INTENT OF BEING MISUNDERSTOOD 90% OF THE DAMNED TIME?!

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU HUMANS?!”

Weiss stared up at her, stunned.

“Whew!” Ruby sucked in a deep breath. “Look, I'm sorry, but I had to get that out of my system!

“Anyway… Weiss, you're going to find something you can do to make yourself useful, and even if it's probably going to be just me and Penny, we're going to help you find it. We'll put you through a training regime, teach you Actaeon and all the other stuff you'll need to know, help you develop a skill than you can use to make something out of your life!

“There's a saying in Actaeon—something about every animal, from the smallest bacteria to the biggest monsters in the Timeless Depths being here in Avalon for a reason, all of them with a purpose in life, and because we Fae are animals too, that means we have those too!

“Maybe it won't be as obvious and instinctive as sheep existing to eat grass and get eaten by thunder wolves, who keep their population in check so they don't eat all the grass and everyone dies of starvation…

“… But you're not going to be useless forever, Weiss.

“Maybe now, yeah, you can't do anything right, but way back when, the Valley was just a big patch of wet dirt and swampland that happened to get shade from the sun because of the Twin Peaks, and retained a lot of the water from the Flood.

“But now look at it, after we Fae moved in and put in the work to try and make it better...”

Ding.

Weiss could see the light bulb go off in Ruby's head.

“… And I just got a great idea!”

“It's not going to involve faking my own death again, is it...?” Weiss asked warily.

“Nope!” Ruby replied, beaming. “Go to sleep, Weiss—you're going to need it!” she said as she hurried on out, stopping only to grab her dinner.

Weiss sat up. “Ruby, wait--!”

She was already out the door.

Weiss sighed, before she laid back down, and decided to just do as she was told and get some shut-eye.

Whatever it was Ruby had planned this time, it could wait till morning.

In the living room, Qrow and Blake were still rewatching the footage of Weiss' ill-fated fight, drinks laid to the side after one too many choking and spitting incidents.

<Uncle Qrow!> Ruby said as she zoomed up right to the back of the couch.

Qrow turned around. <Yeah, Ru--?> he dodged and avoided being accidentally gored with her horns.

Blake noticed, and paused the video.

<Sorry!> Ruby cried. <Do we still have dad's old tools?>

<Uh, yeah, they're in the shed, still on the old hooks on the wall—why do you ask?>

<Because, I've got a great idea to help Taiyang stay here!> Summer replied.

Qrow blinked, shook his head, and noticed Ruby frowning at him.

<A flash again...?> she asked.

<Yeah, don't worry about it,> Qrow replied.

Ruby sighed. <You should really go get your chronicle fixed, Uncle Qrow.>

<Not until that doesn't come with a mind wipe...> Qrow grumbled as he turned back to the HV. <Go get Penny to help you, I've stuffed a LOT of crap in there over the years, and I don't know what might have nested there since the last time I opened that door.>

<Will do, Uncle Qrow!> Ruby said, before she zoomed off once more.

<What was that all about?> Blake asked.

Qrow shrugged. <Who knows? Now unpause that holo, we're almost to the best part!>