#I’m just fascinated how you see the same sorrow and horrors in his eyes as the others

[precious-little-bhaalbabe]

Raphael simps are a different breed. I want to study them.

[fanmoose12]

the devil you know

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Moblit Berner, Zeke Yeagar, Armin Arlert

Genres: Action / Drama

Summary: Can you still miss a person, if everything you knew about them was a lie?

Сhapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Сhapter 6

Life had never been particularly kind to Hange Zoe. Tragedies and heartbreaks followed her ever since the day she was born – kicking, screaming and nearly killing her own mother. Her mother never recovered from that blow, her health diminishing while vexation with her own child grew.

That day gave a start to Hange’s life – and to the endless stream of misfortunes she had to face.

Those misfortunes frequented, the amount of bad days increased as Hange was becoming older. But even as a child, driven solely by curiosity and fascination for the world, uncaring of the workings and the rules of the society around her, she had her fair share of frustrations. They usually appeared when her father was around – luckily, due to the nature of his work, he very rarely was. Hange didn’t know her father well, he was always absent, always somewhere else, doing something incredibly important, shaping the future of their country. He was many things - a leader, soldier, hero. But he was not a father. Hange had but a few memories of him, and after all these years she had forgotten the sound of his voice, couldn’t for the life of her remember if his hair was as brown as her own, or had she inherited that vivid color from her mother. But what Hange could never forget, what was etched into her memory for all eternity was the look in his eyes – full of incomprehension, bewilder, disappointment – that he always aimed at her. No matter what she did – excitedly gushed about her studies, showed him a shiny rock she found or urged to go and see the frog she caught, her father had the same reaction, always told her the same thing,

“I expected better from you, Hange.”

Those words were the first dagger that was buried in her chest. But it was far from being the only one.

Her father died before she reached her eleventh birthday. And despite the mourning clothes mother had forced her to wear, despite the endless eulogies she had to sit through, Hange didn’t feel the same sadness that everyone around her did, she didn’t – couldn’t – share their pain or understand their grief. Her father meant something for all those people, but to her he was just a stranger, an unpleasant one at that. When he died, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Without him, it was so much easier to breathe.

But her sorrows, her frustrations— sadly, they didn’t end with her father’s death.

Once Hange finished her studies, completed her training, she was sent to the outside world, far away from Marley. And for a moment, for one fleeting moment, she was happy, excited to do what she always wanted – learn and explore. But she was not meant to busy herself with research, to familiarize herself with different cultures, she was sent to these distant lands as a soldier, a weapon of great Marleyan Empire. Instead of books and quills, she held a rifle and a knife. And the only thing she learnt was how much blood her motherland was spilling on the foreign soils.

Sleep was coming harder to her after that, her dreams were haunted by visions of red, by screams of pain and anguish. She had become a soldier, her hands made for creation were now covered in blood. Her brilliant mind was now broken by the horrors she had faced.

And so Hange decided to cover herself in thick armor, to hide behind a smile and false happiness. The bad days persisted, losses following after her like a shadow, chasing like an infatuated lover, but she didn’t let it break her, continued moving forward with her chin raised high and her lips curled up.

However, despite the positive attitude she had adopted, there were lots of days Hange considered bad, awful even – the day when she learned just how Titans were created, what price Eldians had to pay for that; the day when she realized that her teacher, brilliant Tom Ksaver was one of those so called shifters, that his days in this world would end abruptly; the day when she received her first wound and spent the night in infirmary, wallowing in pain; the day when she killed another human for the first time and saw the light fading from someone else’s eyes; the day when Wall Maria fell and she witnessed just how much destruction and devastation she helped to bring to this little island; the day when Mike and Nanaba died; the day when her squad perished; the day when she had to leave Paradis behind; the day when she was brought back.

There were lots of days Hange considered to be bad. But nothing – absolutely nothing – could compare to the fucking shit show that was waiting for her next.

___

This fateful day was off to a good, if only slightly weird, start. As always she was woken up by a knock on the door. However, this one was very different from Moblit’s – less rhythmic, and much louder. In fact, it didn’t sound like a knock at all, more like someone was kicking the door repeatedly.

Confused and still sleepy, Hange rolled from the bed and went to greet her guest, not bothering to put her glasses on. Behind the now opened door she found… a shape that could or could not belong to a human. She raised her hand, mumbled a quick ‘sorry’ and darted back inside the room, blindly searching for her glasses.

Once the specs took their rightful place on the bridge of her nose, Hange returned back to the shape that now took the form of a young, blonde man. She trailed her gaze down, to the tray he was holding. There were plates with pastries, omelet, sandwiches, sausages and a cup with brown liquid that had steam coming out of it.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke through her confusion, “But do I know you?”

“Not… yet?”

Hange couldn’t understand if his words were meant to be an affirmation or a question. Nevertheless, she took a step back, letting him in.

He went straight to setting up the table, humming under his breath as he did so. Hange watched him work, not knowing how to feel – puzzled or amused. She tried to catch the boy’s gaze and ask for his name, but, considering the amount of food he brought and how exquisitely delicious it looked, Hange already had a pretty solid guess about the persona of her visitor.

“Be my guest,” he gestured to the table after he finished setting it. Then, as an afterthought, he added, “My name is Niccolo.”

“I guessed it already,” Hange smiled, taking a seat. Her stomach growled, as the delicious smell of homemade food entered her nostrils, her mouth filling with saliva even before she took a fork in her hands. She forced herself to look away from the food, however, directing her eyes at the man who had prepared it all. “Thank you for the food, but may I ask what is the occasion?”

Niccolo didn’t answer right away. He took his time, dragging the chair to sit on the other side of the table, then absentmindedly fixing the napkin and pushing the plate closer to Hange.

She didn’t urge him, patiently waiting for him to start talking. She had a feeling that whatever he came here to tell her was going to be extremely interesting.

And Niccolo didn’t disappoint.

“I’ve spent most of my life hating Eldians. Like every good, conscious Marleyan, I believed them to be devils and abominations. When these people captured me I thought it’d be better to die than live among them. But then I’ve got to know them better, I cooked for them, I’ve talked with them, I… grew to like some of them.”

He took a pause, and Hange used this moment to push some food into her mouth. Just as she expected – it was finger-liking good. And it tasted even better, because she also had an intriguing story she could listen to while eating.

“And there is one person that I like most of all, more than anyone I had ever met. I’ve realized my feelings long ago - perhaps, they were born the moment that I set my eyes on her, perhaps, it was destiny that brought both of us together. And to think of it – a Marleyan and an Eldian. If someone had told me years ago that I’d fall for a devil from Paradis, I’d probably punch that person in the face, but look at me now…”

A Marleyan and an Eldian? Hange had heard that story before. Hopefully, Niccolo’s would have a happier ending.

“I wanted to confess to Sasha for a while now, but the time was never right, and I kept stalling… You know, I thought there was no reason to be hasty. but then Jean told me what happened during the attack on Liberio, how I almost lost Sasha and my chance to tell her how I truly feel, so…” Niccolo looked Hange in the eyes, his gaze shining with the love he had for Sasha. “I came to say thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Oh, what a sweetheart. Hange felt her chest warm at the sight of such devotion. She always was a sucker for a young, tender love.

“And?” she leaned over the table, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did Sasha say? She returned your feelings, right?”

“Um.” Niccolo brought a hand to his neck, rubbing the back of it. “I didn’t do it, didn’t, eh, confess. Yet.”

“And when—”

“Today,” he said, confidence returning to his voice. “I planned a dinner for Sasha, invited her family and friends. Actually… I wanted to invite you as well.”

Despite regret that spread through her, Hange curled her lips in a comforting, gentle smile. “Not the best idea, but I appreciate the thought. And,” she added, her smile turning into a cheeky grin. “I’ll be expecting another visit from you, where you’ll share all the details.”

Hange wished she could see it for herself – Niccolo standing before Sasha red in the face, stuttering his undoubtedly sweet confession, Sasha gasping, with her mouth opening in shock, their audience watching it all with a mix of mortification and amusement. Hange wished she could have the privilege of being the part of that audience, alongside a certain Captain, who would cringe horribly at the scene, unfolding before their eyes.

Hange wished— for many things. Alas…

“I’m sure your plan will work out perfectly, but just in case,” Hange winked, snickering, when she saw red spread through Niccolo’s cheeks. “Good luck.”

“Knowing Sasha’s friends… I’ll need all the luck I can get. But for now, I also need to get going, the dinner won’t prepare itself. So thank you once again.” Niccolo stood up, bowing his head. “For everything.”

“Make Sasha happy, that’s all the thanks I need.”

Niccolo nodded, showing her a smile. He headed to the door, and just before he left the room, Hange gave him thumbs up, wishing him luck once more.

As the door behind him closed, she slumped back in the chair and continued munching on her breakfast, a blissful expression appearing on her face.

So… not only a great cook, but also a romantic? Sasha was such a lucky girl.

___

Her next visitors were just as unexpected, and their conversation - a lot less pleasant. It was in that moment that Hange started to suspect that this day would take its rightful place in the collection of her awful ones. But she was far from knowing just how horrible it had the potential to become.

The moment that Armin tumbled inside the room without knocking, throwing the door open in his haste, and Mikasa trailed after him, her pace much slower but just as unsure, dread settled in Hange's stomach.

"Hange-san!" Armin was speaking in a quiet, but barely controlled voice. His chest moved rapidly, as he struggled to keep his breathing slow and even. Hange swallowed her worry, her thoughts running at a lighting speed. What could possibly have happened to make him so panicked? She chanced a look at Mikasa - the young girl wore the same guarded expression she always did, but her eyes kept shifting from side to side, hands clasped together tight enough to make her knuckles white. "We need to talk."

Hange gave them a cautious nod and stood up from the bed, the book she was reading moments ago all but forgotten now. Pieck's warning was loud in her mind, as her fear grew. Marley... they couldn't have attacked so swiftly, right?

Hange gestured for her guests to take their seats at the table that stood near the window. Absentmindedly, she wondered where Moblit was. He didn't show his face to her even once this day. What could he be so busy with?

"Your guard told us that you had a visitor today," Armin stiffly began. "Mind telling us who that was?"

Hange frowned, cocking her head to the side. If the guard told Armin about the visitor, didn't she also mention that it was Niccolo? The cooking boy had to be known around the barracks, if he was that close to Sasha.

"Niccolo came by, he wanted—"

"You mean, Marleyan came by." Armin corrected.

"Sasha's and your friend, if I understood properly," Hange protested.

"But he's Marleyan. Just like you."

So, Armin was accusing her. And not only her, but Niccolo too. Accusing them of conspiring, but for what purpose? By which means? Against who? Hange was so confused. Hange didn't understand. Armin was always so rational, so coolheaded. What could possibly make him so frantic? What drove him to such desperation, to such wild guesses?

"Armin..." any other time, with any other person who trusted her just a fraction more, Hange would have taken their hand in hers. She'd caress it gently, try to calm them down, but in Armin's state... Hange worried that it'd make matters even worse. "Armin," she repeated, lowering her voice ever so slightly, making it sound more trustworthy. "What happened?"

Armin didn't answer, lowering his eyes - in shame or indecisiveness, Hange couldn't guess. And so Mikasa took the word.

"Chief Zacklay is dead," she said. And if that wasn't mind-blowing enough, she added, "Eren escaped from the prison."

"Fuck."

What else was there to say? Everything was turned on its head - Paradis' biggest defender seemingly had gone completely off the rails. Hange wondered if the threat of Marley invasion was still the scariest crisis the island would have to face. The absence of the clear answer was… unnerving.

“We don’t know what to do, or where to look for Eren. That’s why… Armin hopes that you’ll shed some light on that.”

Armin hopes – an interesting choice of words. He didn’t think, didn’t speculate, didn’t hypothesize. He hoped – exhibited a desperate, illogical kind of feeling. So… it was that bad, huh?

“I know nothing about it.” Hange said truthfully. “As you’re aware I’m not even allowed to leave this room.”

“We know.” Mikasa agreed softly, pressing her hand to Armin’s. “But it’s hard to come to terms with it.”

“He is your friend.”

Hange didn’t understand what they were going through, she never had someone that close to her destroy the trust between them, but she knew it wasn’t easy. Eren had changed, Eren had already lied to them once, but he was their friend, they’ve spent years, believing him and in him. They couldn’t change their opinion of him in just one night, they couldn’t let a few mistakes kill what they had created over the course of their lives.

She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how her friends felt. Was it just as hard to believe in her betrayal? Did Moblit and Levi feel just as lost and unsure? Were they just as desperate to come up with a reason for her behavior? Whatever they did, whatever they felt, Hange hoped she would never have to learn about it. She was miserable enough as it was.

But Eren knew what his friends were going through, had to be aware of the consequences of his actions, of what he was doing to his friends, how much he was hurting them. What drove him to his decision then? What happened to the boy with bright eyes and big heart?

“Do you have any idea what Eren is going to do?”

“I don’t think it’s Eren’s doing, Zeke is probably lying to him, but…” his eyes were still cast down, his finger weakly tracing some vague shapes, when Armin muttered, “Hange-san… do you by any chance know what rumbling is?”

Hange froze. Her throat constricted acutely, creating a quiet, choking sound. For one second, one terrifying second her heart stopped, ceasing its usual rhythm.

Rumbling? Did she hear correctly? Was Armin speaking the truth, did he mean what Hange was worried he meant?

Rumbling.

A short, but scary word. One that was mentioned in but a few frowned upon books. One that was only whispered amongst the members of Titan Society, too horrifying to speak it loud and clear. The word that meant death, the end of everything they knew about their world.

“We were meant to experiment with it,” Armin explained, wriggling his hands. “Nothing too serious, nothing too… devastating. Just a showcase of the power we yield, to keep the other nations on their toes. To keep them away from us. But ever since Zeke had appeared, Eren became so…”

Even since Zeke had appeared, Eren had decided to act on his own, distanced himself from his comrades and friends, joined forces with his brother. Hange would have believed, would have been convinced that the boy she once knew was incapable of such cruelty…

But Liberio, the heart of her homeland was standing in ruins. And it was Eren’s doing.

She narrowed her eyes, gave a scrutinizing look first to Armin, then to Mikasa. Hange really, really hoped that she was wrong. Against all sense, she hoped that they would drive away her doubts, that Eren’s closest friends knew him much more intimately than she ever could, that their opinion of him was right and just.

“Do you think he is capable of proceeding with it?”

“No,” Armin answered.

And the same time Mikasa said, “Yes.”

Yes, said the girl, who was in love with Eren, who was devoted to him above anything or anyone else. She said yes, spoke it quietly, in pained voice. But without a shadow of a doubt.

Hange shuddered.

She— they had to stop this. Somehow. Anyhow. Before it was too late.

"Eren can't activate the rumbling on his own," Hange mused out loud, biting at her thumb.

"Right," Armin confirmed. "He needs the bearer of the royal blood."

And that was good, that meant not all hope was lost. To go through with the rumbling, Eren had to find Zeke, and Zeke was out in the woods with Levi. He would never get away from Levi, and so the world was safe, but—

Zeke wasn't the only one with special blood. There was also—

Fuck.

"Historia, where is she?"

Armin's eyes widened, a gasp escaping him as he came to the same conclusion as Hange. "She arrived in the town... This morning."

And that was the morning Eren decided to make his escape. Hardly a coincidence.

"You don't think..." Armin began tentatively, his eyes pleading Hange to say that it was a joke, that she was wrong in her assumptions. She wished she could give him that reassurance.

"I don't know."

She didn't know what Eren's plan was, what was his goal, what was Zeke’s role in all of this. She didn't know what means Eren would use to ensure his success.

Would he go to his brother, would he trust him enough? Or would he go to Historia and risk hurting his friend?

And how Eren would get to them? Both Zeke and Historia were heavily guarded - Zeke as the hostage, Historia as a Queen and a future mother. But who was the easiest target?

With Levi being in charge of Zeke, Historia was an obvious choice, unless—

Hange swallowed heavily.

Unless Zeke was planning something too - some rouse, or a play, something that would fool Levi, make him lose his focus.

Make him lose Zeke.

And if that worked—

"Where is Historia?" Hange repeated that question. Hidden in the forest, theoretically, Levi was safe. He could hold his own in a fight against Zeke, Hange has seen him do just that in Liberio, even if some part of it was a spectacle. She also had seen Zeke after Shiganshina, personally tended to his wounds that refused to heal properly because of the amount of his injuries. Back then, every hiss of his was like a melody to Hange, a miniscule payback for the carnage he had born.

Zeke was far away from Eren, guarded by Levi. Hange had to trust him with that task. She had to hold onto hope that Levi would be safe. But Historia... Historia was another matter. She was here, close, and as good as her security was, they were not on par with humanity's strongest. They had to protect the Queen first.

"Historia chose this day to arrive because of Niccolo's invitation. She's probably in his restaurant, along with the others." Mikasa said.

So she wasn't alone, surrounded by soldiers and friends. Would that be enough to hold off Eren? Possibly, although, Hange wasn't sure.

But Eren was not alone, he had followers, the ones Moblit was so worried about. Would they be just as amicable? Would they not hurt the ones Eren cared so much about?

"Historia is our main priority. We have to go to the restaurant and make sure that—"

"We?" Armin interrupted.

Hange deflated. Of course, how could she forget? She wasn't their superior, their commander, their friend. There was no we. She was an outsider. She always were.

"I didn't mean to—"

"No." Mikasa curtly said. "We need you, Hange-san. We do," she repeated to Armin, who was already opening his mouth with a protest on his tongue. "We need all the help that we can get."

Armin studied Mikasa for a moment, then turned to face Hange, regarding her pensively. The intense look of his big blue eyes was unnerving, almost impossible to hold without flinching. There was a man Hange once knew with the same intent gaze. Oh, how she wished to see him again. He'd know what to do in a shitty ordeal they were facing right now.

"You're right," Armin sighed at last. "We might not have same goals or even enemies... but our concerns align. With you on our side, our chances are much higher. So, Hange Zoe," Armin offered his hand for a handshake. "Will you help us?"

An unlikely alliance then, huh? Hange could work with that.

She shook his hand with a smile.

___

Something was turning, twisting inside Hange on the way to the restaurant. Even the air seemed stiff, the landscape outside of the carriage bright, pretty but ominous all the same. Liberio - her city - looked just as lively before it got crushed.

And today, right now, she couldn't get that image out of her mind. The streets she walked through hundreds, thousands of times; bakeries she visited day after day; parks and playgrounds she admired from afar - everything was now gone, turned into debris, into nothing but broken stone and crushed glass.

And all of it - all the destruction, pain and blood and death - all of it was a courtesy of one Eren Yeager, the boy with bright eyes and passionate soul.

Would the same thing happen to another city? To all the cities in the world? To hundreds and millions of—

Hange took a deep breath, stopping herself before she screamed in fury, ripped something apart, overturned the carriage, or worse - started crying.

No. Nothing of the sort would happen to the other countries or their people. They would stop this— this catastrophe and Eren, and Zeke, and whoever else was involved. They would not allow another tragedy.

In the meanwhile, Hange did her damnest to focus on small, trivial things - the inside of the carriage, the bumps on the road, the subtle similarities between Mikasa and Levi, the sunbeam playing across Armin's face - anything to keep her mind from other, much scarier things. It didn’t really work.

"We are here," Armin announced, cutting through her morbid thoughts. He put a hand on her elbow - a tentative, but heartfelt gesture. Hange wondered just how disturbed she must have seemed to earn it.

"Let's go," she shook off all the worries, all of her fears. They weren't needed. They would slow her down, serve as a distraction, nuisance. And today, she had to be on her best. "We have no time to spare."

Mikasa and Armin seemed to be of the same opinion, and so the three of them left the carriage and started moving towards restaurant's entrance.

The place was much bigger than Hange had imagined it to be. She expected to see something small, but snug, something homely. But Niccolo's restaurant was grander than most buildings on Paradis. It didn't quite reach the luxurious and exquisite nature of restaurants in Marley, but— clearly, that was Niccolo's inspiration.

The restaurant - as big as it was - was packed, the merry sounds of laughter were heard even from the courtyard. People were celebrating, people came here to have some fun. Hange knew just how rare those instances were. And she hated being the one to put a stop to it. But she'd rather ruin someone's day and be wrong about her assumption or ruin someone's say and be right, than— Than not ruin someone's day, be right and waste precious time.

The three of them walked through the dark brown door, and instantly Niccolo stood in front of them, appearing seemingly out of thin air.

"Armin, Mikasa! I didn't think you'd make it! And you brought Hange with you!”

The happiness on his face was so endearing, so genuine. Hange was wrecked with sympathy for him. Niccolo was just a boy, who loved a girl, and decided that today of all days he'd make his feelings known. Unfortunately, the day he had picked turned out to be one of Hange's bad ones.

"Congratulations once again," Hange made sure to put on an extra gentle smile, in vain hope that it would soothe the effect of her next words. "But that's not why we are here."

"No?" the happiness was gone from Niccolo's face, suspicion overtaking it, but only for a second. Next came anger. "I thought we were over this," he leveled, glaring at Armin. "I thought we've already discussed everything you wanted. And I'm not going to deal with this bullshit again. Not today."

Niccolo whirled around, his leg raised to, no doubt, dramatically storm out. Mikasa's gravelly voice and a tight grip on his wrist stopped him. "If you don't want to ruin this day for Sasha, then take us to Queen Historia. Right now."

Oh. Even Hange felt shivers at that tone of voice, and the threat wasn't even directed at her. Was Levi teaching her his tricks? Or was every Ackerman just naturally good at being so scary?

Niccolo yanked his hand out of Mikasa's grasp, massaging it with a wounded expression. He didn't try to argue once again, though. And soon Hange, Armin and Mikasa were following after him to the banquet hall.

He took them through the lengthy hallway, past kitchen and washing room. At the edge of it, Hange could see two familiar figures - one tall, another short. They were standing next to a wooden cupboard, snickering quietly to each other. As they came closer, Hange realized that Jean and Connie were holding several bottles of wine, clearly having trouble choosing which one to open.

"Niccolo!" Connie yelled out, waving the bottles over his head. "Which one is better?"

"That's not for you, you idiots!" Niccolo snatched the bottles from their hands, his retort vicious— and more shaken than the situation truly called for. Any other day, Hange would have found it weird, would have paid more attention to it. Any day, but not during her bad day.

So she shrugged it off and after giving Jean and Connie a painfully awkward wave, continued following after Niccolo.

Once they were inside, Hange couldn't help but marvel at the amount of people gathered. There were lots of civilians, none of which Hange could recognize. And among them, there was a sea of green, representing the members of Survey Corps. Most of these faces were known to her. One of those faces in particular swiftly left the conversation he was having, gluing himself to her side.

"Hange-san? Armin? What is going on?"

Moblit had his mouth open, his eyes shifting between the three of them. Hange didn't know what he had seen there, what face she was making, but Moblit didn't ask another question, silently falling in step with them.

Sensing the change in the room, Jean and Connie hurried to do the same.

They all stopped in front of the table in the corner - one near the window and with a nice bouquet standing on it. The table was occupied by two - giggling Sasha, who was retelling some story in a rather animated fashion, and Historia, who listened to her friend with a joyful smile.

Looking at her, Hange couldn't help but be amazed. Last time she saw the girl, she had just become a Queen, still doubtful and unsure in her position. And, although, the woman before her eyes didn't look exactly royally – what, with her simple dress and long, loose hair - but Historia had certainly grown, become tougher, more confident in her abilities. However, she was still as pretty as a picture, and the motherhood had enhanced her beauty even further.

"Your Majesty," Hange was the first to take the word, but after that she faltered, not sure how to proceed further. Should she bow? Kneel before the Queen?

She was spared from making that decision. Because right in that moment, right when she was meaning to open her mouth and explain everything to Historia as curtly as was possible— her day turned from simply bad to straight up shitty.

"You!"

Familiar voice. The anger in it wasn't unusual too. Never before it was directed at her but—

Hange recognized the pride of Marley, the future Warrior right away. It was all she was allowed to do before getting promptly tackled to the ground.

"Traitor! Liar! How could you do that to us! How could you side with the devils?"

Gabi kicked and punched anything she could reach, accentuating her every word and accusation, but the blows were barely registered by Hange. She felt no pain, only huge amount of relief.

Gabi was furious, Gabi was loud. Gabi was alive and well.

A month, a whole month she spent worrying about these kids, only to have fate throw them back together in the most ludicrous way possible.

“Gabi,” despite her kicks, despite her loud shrieks, Hange smiled happily. She pulled the girl closer, wrapping one arm around her, while her other went to softly brush the girl’s hair. “Gabi, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“And why would you care?” Gabi suddenly sniffled, voice muffled by Hange’s shirt. “You never cared about us, did you? Only about those devils!”

“Gabi…” Hange sighed, finding herself at a loss of words. How could she explain something so complicated? Something she couldn’t understand herself?

Luckily, an unexpected help arrived.

"Don’t judge too harshly, child. You may not understand it yet, but humans' hearts are tricky things. No rules apply to them, they never listen to reason. They don't act like we want them to. They create emotions, make our lives brighter, and at the same time... So much more confusing. And accusing someone of caring for the wrong person… it’s just not right."

Hange looked up, surprised to see a middle-aged man standing before her. She was fairly sure that she had never met him before, but his eyes, his manner of speaking... Somehow, they were familiar.

Before she could connect the dots, however, her attention was ripped away once more, this time by Niccolo's deep voice.

"Eldians, Marleyans," he scoffed. "All of us are vile, devil is in each and every one of us. We're all imperfect, but all of us yearn to find the place where we belong, where we're loved. We don't choose who these people would be, we love others for what they are, not what they represent, or what side of the conflict they come from. And if loving my enemy is treason, I’ll gladly go down as a traitor."

Niccolo glanced back, meeting the eyes of the one he had dedicated this speech to. Hange caught Sasha’s bewildered, loving look and smiled, feeling her eyes go misty.

So, Marleyan and Eldian? Was a union like that even possible? Four years ago, on the dawn of the day when she left the one she loved the most behind, she'd say that it would never work out. But... times were changing, right? For the better, or so, at least, Hange hoped.

"Hange-san..." Moblit crouched beside her, painfully awkward. "Erm..."

Oh right. Only now, Hange realized that she was still lying on the floor. And that in on itself wasn't so unusual, but most of the times... she didn't have a ten or so pairs of eyes watching her.

Hange cleared her throat. Then, as absurdity of the situation caught up with her, snickered quietly.

"Hey, Gab," she stroked the girl's side. "Would you mind letting me get up?"

Gabi rose on her elbows, considering Hange. The frown on her face didn't vanish, but— her eyes weren't so full of rage anymore - clearly, the speeches had left an impression on her.

"I'm still mad at you," she said, lip stuck out petulantly. "But... I'm glad that you're here. Because it means they're coming for us, right? Commander Magath and Reiner— Reiner will save us, right? We just need to wait for a little longer, until they arrive."

They're already here, Hange wanted to say. If Pieck came, there was no way that Reiner would want to sit that one out— or be allowed to, anyway. Marley was coming, their guns blazing. But in the room full of members of the Survey Corps and Queen herself, Hange couldn’t say that, wasn’t yet ready to betray her country like that. She could only kiss Gabi's brow and promise, "You will be alright."

Reassured, Gabi nodded and let Hange get up. As soon as her feet had touched the ground, Hange found herself with someone once again wrapped around her. This time, however, the embrace was that much warmer and a lot less violent.

"Falco," she carded her fingers through his sandy blonde hair. "I take it you've missed me too?"

"You can't imagine," he spoke, his face pressed to her stomach. "Going on missions with Gabi is a torture! I could barely keep up with her!"

"You'll learn with time," Hange looked back, exchanging a look with Moblit. "It's not that hard to deal with annoying shits like us, right, Mob?"

He tugged at his collar, strategically evading her curious eyes. "Perhaps, after a very long while..." he reached out, patting Falco's shoulder. "And with the help of a good alcohol stash."

"Oi!" Hange slapped his arm. "He's only a kid!"

Moblit shrugged. "He has to know what is waiting for him."

"Don't listen to him," she gently consoled Falco. "He's joking."

Although... Hange had to agree with Moblit on that. If Falco continues running after Gabi like that, he'd have his first grey hair by the age of fifteen.

With the boy still clinging to her, Hange surveyed the room, swiping her gaze across Sasha and Niccolo, who stood side by side, wearing identical, enamored expressions, to Connie and Jean, who were whispering something to one another, and finally to Mikasa and Armin, who hid Historia behind their backs.

Right. She didn't come here for a cheerful reunion. The fate of the world was at stake. Hange pulled herself together and— pulled Falco away from her.

"Sorry, dear," she fondly ruffled his hair once again. "I need to go now, but I'll get back to you."

Could she do, though? Could she return to these kids, ask them to be placed under her care? Should she do it, considering that she didn't even know what was going to happen to her, where would she be one hour from now? Was it wise then to drag kids along with her? They were sharp and strong, more than capable, and they did survive on their own for so long— wait.

How did they manage to survive on a foreign soil, all by themselves? And why they were here today, in Niccolo's restaurant of all places?

"I guess these ducklings are yours?"

Oh. The familiar man that Hange had never seen was back, now standing in front of Hange, showing her a kind smile.

"We haven't been introduced, but it's hard to mistake you for someone else. Hange Zoe, right?"

"Right," Hange shook his warm, calloused hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Braus."

"The accent was a dead giveaway, huh?" he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He had a nice laugh, Hange decided, deep, heartfelt and genuine. She liked Mr. Braus, just as much as she liked his daughter.

"I understand that you're the one who had taken care of my ducklings," Hange giggled, catching Gabi's very much unamused look. "Thank you for that."

"And thank you for saving my daughter's life. For that deed I could never repay you."

"That was... that was nothing. I did nothing, just happened to be in the right place, in the right time."

"It's only because of you that we're here, celebrating, instead of mourning. So," he gripped her shoulder tightly, his brown eyes staring into hers intently. "Let me express my gratitude, for that is the smallest thing that I can do."

"I think," Connie inserted himself between them, his mischievous smile lighting up the room. "This calls for a toast!"

No more than a second later, Jean had produced a bottle of wine, opening it swiftly and skillfully. Once the bottle was dealt with, he filled a glass with wine, thrusting it to the person standing closest to him. Which— happened to be Gabi.

She took all but a tentative sniff from the glass, before it was roughly yanked out of her hands. The drink splashed everywhere as Falco hurried to finish it, before Gabi caught up and took it away from him.

There was just as a couple of droplets left, everyone watched the scene in amusement, until—

Until Niccolo screamed.

He pounced from his place, wrestling the bottle out of Jean’s hands. “It’s not for you, morons! I told you not to touch it!”

Ice spread through Hange’s veins, as she heard the desperation in his voice. If her first thought was the right one… she had to make sure of it immediately.

“Who that wine was meant for?” she seethed, grabbing Niccolo by lapels of his shirt, suffocating him in her white-knuckled grip and currently not caring about it. Everyone in the room tensed, Sasha jumping closer to them, but Hange didn’t care, ignored all of them completely. “Who that wine was meant for?” she shouted, shaking the boy like a ragdoll.

“F-for the military officials! It’s the good stuff, expensive, it was meant only for them!”

The good stuff, the best one they got, Hange reasoned. The next question was pointless, she knew the answer already, was the one who came up with this idea in the first place, but— Niccolo was a good guy, a sweet boy in love with a kind girl. Hange wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

And that was it. That’s all she had to do to get to the bottom of it. One short, simple question, and Niccolo crumbled. He didn’t try to fight her, made no attempts to protect himself. He hanged his head in shame, avoiding the dozen pairs of eyes that now were boring into him.

“They made me do it,” he whispered, his hands, his lips— his whole body shaking. “I had no choice, you wouldn’t understand—”

Oh, but Hange did understand. Better than Niccolo knew. She knew how it felt to be forced to follow the current, accept every cruel tide. She knew just how frustrating, how painful it was to lose control.

So yeah, Hange understood. But she could not excuse.

However, she had no place to judge as well, she herself was a reason for so many tragedies and disasters. She couldn’t judge, and she didn’t have the time for it. The deed was already done, now they had to try and undo it.

“Who gave you the orders?”

The spine fluid, injected into wine, came from Zeke, that Hange had no doubt about, but Zeke was far away, deep in the forest, under Levi’s watchful eyes. So who had redistributed the wine? Who was the betrayer, the real culprit?

“It’s—”

He didn’t get to finish. For only now Hange had realized what had happened moments prior. Falco drank the wine. Falco. Drank. The. Wine.

Her heart thumping, Hange pushed Niccolo away, grabbing Falco’s hand instead. Armin, Mikasa, the Queen, let someone else deal with that shit, for now she had to try and delay the inevitable. She looked around, her eyes wild, mind racing. “Where— where is the bathroom or— or a—”

“I’ll show you.”

It was Moblit’s quiet, reassuring voice. He gripped her elbow gently, taking her away. Hange let herself be led, rubbing soothing circles into Falco’s palm all the while. She didn’t know what do, wasn’t even sure that spinal fluid can be taken out of someone’s system, but she’d be damned if she wouldn’t at least try. Falco, sweet, smart Falco, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be turned into a Titan, a mindless creature with no loyalties and feelings. Hange wouldn’t allow it, she was ready to do the impossible and then more to save the little boy.

Once they reached the bathroom, Hange set out to work - took off her coat, rolled the sleeves of her shirt, sat Falco down on a stool, pushed his head under the faucet, instructed him to try and rinse all the wine out.

It was possibly entirely pointless, Hange was pretty sure of it— but. What else could she do? Sit tightly and wait for the young life to vanish?

"That thing in the wine..." Moblit spoke up - calmly, but defeated, as though he had already surrendered to whatever tragedy that would befall him. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Hange tensed. Hange jumped to her feet, fisting her hand into Moblit's shirt so desperately, the fabric creaked in protest.

"Moblit," she croaked, her voice shaking, broken, eyes begging him to say that he was joking, that his inquiry was simple curiosity. "Moblit, did you drink that wine?"

"It was served at every government meeting. I couldn't refuse."

No. No. Hange couldn't believe, didn't want to believe it, Moblit— not Moblit, she didn't want him to fall victim to this, become another casualty in her long, extremely bloody career. Anyone else, but not— not him.

"It's the same tactic we used in Ragako village," she explained numbly. "Back then it was gas, this time the fluid that turns people into Titans was added into wine. It activates after Zeke screams."

"Ah," Moblit shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "If - when - I turn, you could experiment on me. Just— don't give me a stupid name like Sawney or Bean, I'd like, I think, I'd like to be called Moblit. If I'd still have some semblance of consciousness by that time, if not - you can call me whatever you—"

"Shut up." Hange choked, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She ignored them, glaring fiercely at him. "Shut the fuck up, Moblit, you will not turn into a Titan, I will not allow it, I'll do whatever I can—"

"Hange-san," he smiled, and it broke her heart. "It will be okay."

It won't. Because it was her damn creation, made to defeat faceless, unknown enemies. And now it was used against people she cared about.

She had to do something about it. With a start Hange realized that the solution was... fairly easy.

"Avoid Zeke at all costs." She told Moblit, urgency turning her speech more frantic. "Don't go near him, try— try to get away if he gets into city—"

But Zeke couldn't get into the city. Zeke couldn't get out of the forest at all, couldn't make a single move without Levi knowing it.

Levi was the solution. He would keep Zeke under his guard, he would keep Moblit, and the rest of them, safe. Hange finally could take a breath.

But the calm didn't last for long.

As soon as she returned to Falco's side to check on the boy's condition, a loud crash came from somewhere deep within the restaurant. Hange heard the sound of hurried footsteps, then a concerning scream.

She exchanged a look with Moblit. Both of them started running at the same moment.

When they tumbled inside the main room, they froze in shock.

Sasha's family, members of Survey Corps and among them— soldiers with rifles. Hange scanned the room once more, her eyes travelling further, to the table by the window. She breathed out in relief - Historia was guarded by Connie and Jean. At least, the Queen was safe.

But not the rest of them.

"Squad Leader Moblit," the ginger head took a step towards them, a too wide smile plastered on his face. Hange didn't like that man and his smile. And the gun in his hands. The gun that was now aimed at the ceiling but could be very well aimed at Moblit, or anyone else in that room. “You’re the one I need.”

Moblit inched closer too, his chin held high and eyes defiant. Hange didn’t miss the fact that his movement hid her behind his broad shoulders. Oh, loyal, caring Moblit. How could she leave him to his fate?

“I’m here,” he leveled to the redhead. “What do you need me for, Floch?”

If it wasn’t for the gun in his hands, or the smile on his face, the way Moblit spelled his name – the obvious aversion, unhidden contempt was enough for Hange to understand that this Floch guy wasn’t very nice. And, despite the Wings of Freedom on his back, he certainly wasn’t Moblit’s friend.

So. That was one of the famed Yeagerists? And the rest of them, the ones that held civilians on gunpoint were the part of the same group? Hange was so not impressed.

“You’re buddies with Captain Levi,” Floch continued. “That means you know exactly where he is hiding.”

“Perhaps.” Moblit nodded. “But what makes you think that I will tell you?”

Floch’s smile grew, and the gun that was held lazily in his hand, pointing at the empty air, moved. It was lowered down, its barrel now staring right at Moblit. But the gun didn’t stop there, it moved again, shifting just a little to the side. To where Hange was standing.

“Hange Zoe, right?” Floch tilted his head, so he could look straight at her. “I didn’t have the pleasure to make your acquaintance before, but I’m glad that life threw us all together. Especially now, for you see…” he lifted a hand, and a soldier took his place, his rifle raised, while Floch paced from side to side. “I’m not allowed to hurt them,” first he pointed at Jean and Connie. “Or her,” now at Historia. “I’m, however, allowed to do with the others whatever I want. And since hurting our dear Squad Leader Moblit wouldn’t bear the needed results…” he spread his arms, shrugging helplessly. “No one would miss a traitor, right?”

“Don’t you dare!” Moblit surged forward, shoulders shaking from the unbridled fury. But he made no more than a few steps, before he was immobilized, two soldiers coming from behind to grab his arms and twist them painfully. Moblit didn’t back up even then, continuing his fierce resistance. “Leave her out of this!”

“Ah, yes,” Floch chuckled to himself, observing Moblit’s struggling with morbid fascination. “The luck is surely on our side today. You will be useful after all, Hange Zoe. We will take you with us.”

No sooner than these words left his mouth, Hange felt a pair of hands around her, subduing and enabling to make a single move. She thrashed, she kicked, but to no avail.

“Floch—” Moblit grounded, pulling on his restraints.

“Don’t you worry,” Floch squeezed Moblit’s shoulder, showing him a look of feigned affection. “No one is going to get hurt, if you cooperate.”

No. They couldn’t cooperate. Cooperating meant leading Floch and his bunch to Zeke, and that meant leading them to Levi.

“Mob! Don’t listen to him! We can’t–” instinctively, momentarily forgetting about the arms that held her down, Hange reached out to him, trying to catch his eyes.

But Moblit turned his face to the other side, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

Ah. Hange’s heart sunk, while Floch clasped his hands in delight.

“I’m glad you’ve made the right choice! And now,” he raised a finger, and Hange with Moblit were forced to move forward. “Let’s get going!”

___

Outside, the weather changed. The sun hid behind the heavy, grey clouds, the rain was now steadily falling down, creating puddles under their feet.

The gloomy weather further enhanced the trepidation inside Hange. The feeling, the certainty that something was going to get very wrong and very fast persisted, forcing her to grab the reins of the horse tighter, in vain hope of providing some miniscule outlet to her ever growing anxiety.

Despite the fear, Hange spurred her horse forward, doing her best to ignore the rifles pointed at her back. It was proving to be quite a vexing task, when the said rifles kept pushing her to move even faster but— it wasn’t the worst situation Hange had found herself in. That time when she and Zeke were captured by the enemy forces and put inside a fortified prison was so much worse. The prison had anti-Titan artillery surround the perimeter, they were alone and cut off from their allies. And still they managed to escape. Compared to that, a few Yeagerists were nothing.

Although, Hange had to admit – the stories did them no justice. In reality they were a lot more vile and disgusting.

But, apparently, Levi still trained some of them. And, boy, did he teach them well. One soldier behind Hange kept huffing, cursing the weather under his breath. Hange waited, and when he once again got distracted by the mud that splashed on his boot, she thanked Levi for his absurd obsession with cleanliness and acted, stealing that little moment for herself.

“Hey,” she leaned closer to Moblit who was riding right beside her, and whispered to him in a voice just slightly louder than the sound of the rain. “Remember that thing we did during Erwin’s coup-d'etat?”

Moblit winced, anxiety reflecting in his eyes. “When we punched people that were armed with rifles?”

Hange grinned. Atta boy, of course, he remembered. “I’ll give you a signal,” she nodded discreetly and returned to her previous position, now directing all of her attention on their fearless, redheaded leader.

“So Zeke is your main goal, right? You don’t actually need Historia?”

Floch scoffed, rising his nose up in distain. “The Queen is a back-up plan.” Wow, getting information out of them was that easy? Some devoted followers they were. Hange continued listening, eager to know what else Floch would reveal. “We’re not sure what exactly is going to happen, and Eren… doesn’t like hurting his friends.”

They weren’t sure what was going to happen. Only for these words Hange was ready to throttle each and one of them. What was going to happen? Mass destruction and death, a lot of unnecessary deaths.

But did these children care? Of course, they didn’t.

And would Zeke care about it? Hange wasn’t sure. Zeke was many things – cruel, violent, heartless, he never cared that much about other people. However, he was his father’s son, and, as much as he had loathed Grisha Yeager, Zeke still carried around the hero complex that his father fought so hard to plant inside him. Was it possible then that Zeke would be against the rumbling? Was it possible that he didn’t know of Eren’s true intention, that he blindly trusted his little brother?

Was it possible that their goals didn’t align? If so… then Zeke was a key player in this game of chess. He was a powerful figure they had to get on their side. If Hange could talk to him—

A loud sound, a crashing bang interrupted the flow of her thoughts, making her jump in the saddle.

That noise, it was similar to a thunder, but not quite. Hange knew that sound all too well, was the one who created the devise that was activated with the very same sound.

It couldn’t be— that noise couldn’t come from a thunder spear explosion. But… what other explanation was there?

“Let’s head there!” Floch commanded. “Something must have happened.”

Hange’s heart raced as they inched closer and closer to the place where the sound had come from. It wasn’t hard to find, the gory sight of the poor, wounded horse and the blasted cart was easy to spot.

They approached it slowly, and suddenly Hange froze, her eyes landing on something near the riverbank. Something that looked a lot like a body – a short one with strong stature and black hair—

“Moblit,” she whispered, begging him to clear her suspicions, to reassure her that she was mistaken.

But Moblit pursed his lips, and shook his head – brief, but resolute.

For a second, Hange froze, overcome with desperation and fear. Her heart stopped too, if just for a moment.

Levi, he couldn’t— but what if he did?

Ignoring the insistent shouts and strict orders to come back, Hange jumped off the horse, scrambling to get closer to the riverbank and to him.

She fell into the mud, uncaring of her clothes, of the mud she was splashing around. She felt nothing, the rain, the river, her captors, it all faded into background. She cared for nothing else, except the limp body in her hands.

Oh, please, please, please.

Her hands trembled as she turned the body to face her, careful as she could be. A bloody mess, her personal nightmare stared right back to her.

And in that moment— Hange felt her heart break, ripping, shuttering into thousands pieces. She thought she knew loss before, she thought she knew what pain was.

She was so wrong.

[prose-for-hire]

Be still my spooky heart

Pairing: Giles x fem!reader

Request: Sorry this isnt a request for the halloween prompts but I wanted to request a female reader x Giles prompt where the reader is alternative/goth and they're bullied and find sanctuary at the library where they keep to themselves and enjoy the peace and quiet of the library where they can read about spooky things and catch up on their studies ...I'm requesting specifically because I start college again soon and there some people there that make me feel unwelcome and Giles is a current comfort

Requested by: @stardust-strange​ - I’m so sorry this took so long love💜

Warning: Discussion of bullying. Reader gets physically injured, but not at anybody else’s hand. Tiniest ever blood mention.

You had always had a love for the alternative. You had a love for all things dark and spooky. It was so fascinating. You adored gothic fashion and notions. It was a beauty that sometimes it felt that only you saw.  

Your clothing reflected this love of yours. You enjoyed wearing black, pairing different styles to your taste. You had always worn alternative clothing. It was the way that you expressed yourself. It made you feel good, made you happy.

You were happy with the way you dressed. It looked good. But other people didn’t really seem to get it. In fact, they took an almost instant dislike to you for it. Some gave you strange looks whilst others hurled insults at you.

You held your head high for the most part, you weren’t doing anything wrong. All you were doing was expressing yourself (and looking super cool while you were doing it). But some days it really got you down.

It got so bad sometimes that you had to hide. In the bathrooms or somewhere private you found on campus. Because the group grew in their hatred of you almost every day it seemed.

Some days you just left. Not turning up to classes, not daring to show your face. Less you face a fate worse than death itself. Your reality, that is.

Often, you could be found leaving the college campus and walking back there. To your safe space.

Your safe place was your old High school’s library. You could spend hours in there. You would read of such brilliant worlds. Both fiction and otherwise. You enjoyed reading about the goriest demons. The worst ones, with the most horrific pasts. Stories and myths. You loved it all. The creepier the better. It fascinated you. It spoke to your very essence.

This was where you were doing today. You were scurrying towards the library. You couldn’t explain it, but it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe.

Protected. From cruel eyes and harsh barbs that people threw your way. With him, it didn’t feel so bad. With him, you felt like you could fight another day.

Giles was your old high school librarian and you had fallen for him. Deeply. Your feelings increasing since you left the school. You barely ever stopped thinking about him. You were closer to graduating college now and yet you still snuck in the school when Snyder wasn’t paying attention.

He was always happy to see you. So welcoming. Warm and affectionate. More so than he was with anyone else, although you didn’t realise it. You usually slipped in, hiding between the stacks. Some days he found you and sat with you. A comfortable silence.

Others, he would let you have your space and wait for you to come and find him. You knew you could always talk to him. No matter what.

He loved your fascination for the macabre. That you would always tackle the heaviest books. Horror and life and death. Fantasy becoming alive in your mind.

He thought your style was brilliant. He would have worn the same should he not be attached to suits in the way he was now. He thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Your style only accentuating your distinctive features.

His heart soared when he saw that you were there, but when he realised that you were upset it hurt him. Almost as deep as it appeared to on your face. It cut worse than a knife through the chest. Than poison to the heart.

Today, was one of those days. A sad one. Your eyes welling when you arrived, his face that had been upturned into a wry smile upon your appearance in his day instantly dropped when he saw your demeanour. The way you curled in upon yourself. The way you hissed sharply at any wrong movement because of the pain.

You had embarrassed yourself, in front of them all. They had laughed, jeered. Shame had you in a chokehold. Their hatred for you cutting off your circulation. Sobs catching in your throat.

You had fallen over, stumbling over your own feet. In the middle of the lecture hall before the professor started.

They laughed. Whispered and jeered at you. Some clapped and shouted. Their voices becoming louder. You felt so humiliated. They spoke of how much of a freak you were. How much you stuck out from the crowd. How much they hated you for it without knowing you. Just because you didn’t fit their idealised mould.

You had skinned your knee. Blood running down your leg, ripping your tights even more than they usually were. You scooped yourself up, leaving the lecture room as fast as you could hobble away.

Tears stung the back of your eyes. Vision blurred. The heavy stream rolling down your face. You could taste it. Salty sadness almost drowning you.

His kind hand lead you to his office. His love cradled you, his deep-rooted care reaching every pore. Every inch of your being. He scanned your tear-stained face.

His jaw tensed, his eyes barely holding the anger that was hidden behind. He needed to know if someone had done this. Had hurt you in this way. He made sure to keep it below the surface, his care at the forefront. His tensing jaw barely hidden as he took your shaking hand in both of his.

“What happened, Y/n?”

“I-“ You shook your head, waves of sobs making your entire body shudder. His eyes shone, he had never seen you this way. You usually wouldn’t show him just how much they hurt you. It broke him. His hands soothingly rubbing against yours.

“If they have laid a hand on you, I will bloody well-” You shook your head quickly, words failing you. Eyes widening at his biting attitude. He was trying to push it under the surface, silencing it until he knew the facts. But when he cared this deeply, when he knew in his very heart that he would near fight the sun had it cast upon your face wrong - this anger could never dissipate.

You deserved the world. You deserved kindness and light. Compassion and adoration. Everything he had wanted to give you, to say to you. You deserved love.

As you began to explain, knowing there was no immediate physical harm waiting outside the walls he could relax. But only slightly. He sat you down and leaned to take out his medical box, opening it. You watched his fingers sort through the bandages and antiseptic.

He gestured, as if asking permission to assist. You nodded through your still burning tears.

He knelt before you, a soothing hand on your thigh briefly before he realised and reluctantly slid his hand from your skin. You leaned in further despite the discomfort at your slight pain, wishing to feel his warm, comforting hand on you again.

But he moved to focus on the now dried wound on your knee. It wasn’t so deep, but the wound was more emotional from what you had explained. Still, he wished to treat you as if you were the only person in the world. In his world.

He began to clean the wound, wiping the dried blood from your knee. He focused with such dedication. Every stroke a practice in devotion. He was so in tune with you.

He hated it when you hissed, his hand resting on your shin now. The touch soothing. With his touch, your tears began to dry.

He pushed his anger way down, deciding that he would save it for when you were gone. When he could ask Willow to hack into the campus register and find the names of those that cause you such pain. Find a way to make them hurt the way they had made you hurt.

No, don’t be rash.

Right now, everything was about you. It was always about you. You were in his every thought. Every movement. Such attention, such dutiful caress.  He rubbed your leg softly, his fingertips barely brushing your skin but you felt it in your very soul.

His mind would tell him later he had done too much. Been too familiar. When you may not feel the same. But he had such care to give. Such love to lay upon you. He had to show you this tenderness.

He bandaged your wound. The intimacy of this action made you sigh softly, your tears in your eyes but your mind now consumed by him.

When he finished dressing your wound with those nimble fingers, he didn’t move from where he was knelt before you.

He stared into your eyes, his words lost. He just gazed in awe. Even in your sorrow, you were strong. Even at a low he found you ethereal. A woman that would not be torn down by this. That could accept his assistance but still stand strong on your own. He admired you for it.

His touch had been tender and you felt yourself missing this contact. As if he read your mind, your most intimate thoughts he rose to his feet. But not before he leaned into you.

Pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. Feather-light. You closed your eyes, again leaning into his touch. You wanted to grip him and pull him into you. Kiss his lips, allow him to know you. Feel you. But you couldn’t, not today.

Not after you had shared this moment with him. You were still dizzy from even the gentlest contact he had bestowed upon you.

Maybe one day. When you weren’t so reliant on what you already had now. You adored him, needed him. Couldn’t dare ruin this. Lose this.

You loved him and this was the very moment that you realised. You wouldn’t know for months from now that he felt exactly the same.

[potassium-pilot]

Prompt 27: Benthos

Why am I back here again, Dia thought.

There was no reason, really. It felt right to her. Whatever the others might say of this place, whatever horrors she experienced here, Amaurot fascinated her. She traversed the city and listened to them, to her people…or to the people that she once knew, at least.

Why would Emet-Selch allow them their opinions still? Why would he not want them all to simply agree with the course of action taken by the Convocation? Would it have not made him feel more justified to rewrite history? These were questions that plagued her when she thought of Amaurot.

“This place creeps me out, you know”, Ardbert commented.

“Noted. Now where do you think we should go next?”

“Ishgard, if you would.”

“Before that.”

“Urgh, I don’t understand you sometimes. Why can’t it be as simple as, ‘This place is creepy and dark and made by an Ascian; perhaps we should avoid it.’”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s more than that, and you know it. This was…our home once.”

“No, it’s a recreation of Azem’s home. It’s dead, Dia. Dead and gone.”

“I’m aware of that, thank you. I also watched the Final Days and we’re apparently due for a repeat. That doesn’t mean that a recreation can’t be found intriguing.”

“It can if you let it.”

She kept walking past Macarenses Angle. Azem’s crystal seemed to pulse as she walked in the same rhythm. She seemed to want something, to add her own voice.

“Azem, no more kissy-face with Emet-Selch, I’m begging you”, Dia whispered softly as she gripped the stone in her inventory. She bound for a nearby bench, and took a seat. The familiar pull of the past taking her away embraced her.

*********

“On that note, I would like to draw this meeting to a close.”

Emet-Selch’s voice rang across the assembly hall. The fourteen stood in respect before he dismissed them.

Azem dreamed of the day they would finally intervene, recognize that their duty to the world has always been plain. The circumstances which led them to this point, however, devastated her. Her fellow convocation members, her friends, her family- all of them were in danger. She needed to protect them, and although the matter was grave indeed, it was strangely refreshing for her to see the Convocation finally acknowledge the threat at their doorstep.

The solution was anything but.

A dark primal concept?! Azem thought, They want to kill half of Amaurot to save Amaurot?! Unacceptable! That won’t save anyone! The dark primals only want more power, more aether! Their dark primal won’t rest until it’s consumed everything whole. I saw it happen with the other primal concepts, bless Lahabrea’s heart; I will not see this primal of theirs consume everything I hold dear.

To that end, she marched to the office of Elidibus, and knocked on his door.

“Enter”, he called.

She opened the door and greeted him with a typical wave and smile. “Can we talk? Just you and me?”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment, but I can certainly find the time for you. What do you need, Azem?”

Azem stepped forward and took her seat. “That was…a more emotionally charged debate than I was prepared for”, she tried to calm herself with humor, and Elidibus gave a light laugh in return. “Indeed. I suppose the Final Days do bring out a different side of all of us. You paid attention in a meeting for once.”

“I know. I never thought it would come to this”, she joked before asking in a more serious tone, “But…are you okay?”

“I’m better than okay. I have a chance here, Azem. We have a chance. We can save Amaurot.”

“But…can we though?”

“Azem, we debated this for hours. Half of Amaurot is better than complete engulfment.”

She argued the point as firmly as she ever could have, which meant little compared to the masters of debate she encountered regularly. Primals demand much and more, and drain power and aether. Dark primals demand sacrifice, in particular. Unfortunately, she exhausted all arguments in the assembly hall. She had no rational argument left within her to turn them away from such an irrational solution.

“And we’ll use what’s left to bring them back.”

She had also argued that what these primals can bring back will be nothing more than husks; the amaurotines would be long gone.

Especially Elidibus.

“But why you?”

“What do you mean, Azem?”

“Elidibus, if you become the heart of this primal, that’s it. There’s no going back. You’ll be consumed whole, left with nothing to show for it. The only thing that could even have a shred of you is…” she didn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“If I use the power of the primal to recreate my form, as we discussed.”

Azem shook her head, her face growing hot. “Elidibus, that won’t be you. That’ll be a creature, an abomination with one sole purpose.”

“Better that than to leave Amaurot in the hands of calamity.”

Damn this mask, she thought as her tears stung her eyes. She stood up, and stepped to his side, making Elidbus turn to her and gawk at her clear breach of Convocation etiquette. She fell to one knee, and took his hands.

“Please, Elidibus”, she choked out through the lump in her throat, “I don’t want you to die. You’re so young. You have so much potential. You have a future ahead of you, my friend.” Her voiced shuddered before she begged him, “Reconsider, give me time to think of a better solution. Stand with me as I’ve stood with you before.” Her tears were contagious, as the young amaurotine felt his own well up too.

“I’m sorry, Azem. But time is so precious, so valuable. My future means nothing if all I hold dear is brought to ruin.”

Her tears dripped behind her mask and rolled down her cheeks.

“Damn it all”, she seethed, and ripped the mask of her face to wipe away her tears. The face she kept from her young friend for so many years laid bare in front of him.

“Elidibus, look at me.”

“I-I am…”

“No, I mean without the mask. Please. I may never have this chance again. I beg you.”

He hesitated.

He thought back through the years. He respected her, treated her like a sister as she treated him like a brother. They dined together, enjoyed their leisure time together, she knew his family as he knew hers. Yet through it all, he did not remove the mask in front of her. It felt akin to baring himself naked to her.

But when he stared into her eyes and witnessed the sorrow emanate from her soul, the choice became clear.

He removed his mask and revealed to her the hazel eyes and cherub cheeks he concealed. It only agitated her further to see the man- barely a man- that would become Zodiark’s heart.

“I will not sit by and align myself with this madness. I will not associate myself with the end of our very star. If the Convocation should move forward with the proposal to summon this dark primal…I will resign.”

His tears burned in his eyes, and he wiped them away with his hands. “Don’t do this, Azem!” he sobbed, “Don’t make me choose between my loved ones and my world!”

“I chose my world when I argued against the summoning. Your loved ones are in this world, Elidibus.”

“Don’t you see I have no choice?!”

“You have a choice, Elidibus, and I beg you to make the right one!”

“I will not forsake my duty, Azem!”

There, the line was drawn in fire. Azem and Elidibus stood on opposite sides of it, and watched the past burn.

She turned her back to him and replaced her mask on her face.

“Then it would appear our business is concluded”, she stated coldly.

The door opened and closed. The rustle of her robe as she stormed out was the last thing he heard before he sunk his head into his arms as they crossed on his desk and cried softly into them. The salt water stained his desk.

The memories flashed too quickly for Dia to keep up, but the last memory was clear; Azem clutched a white robe and red mask, and wept into the cloth.

********

The tug of the past released itself from Dia’s soul and she returned to Emet-Selch’s paradise.

“It would appear the burden of Azem has unveiled itself to you.”

Dia jerked her head to her right and met her gaze with Hythlodaeus.

“Hello, my new old friend.” She couldn’t help but smile. “Hello to you, Hythlodaeus. How are you?”

“I am well. Forgive me for startling you; I was merely curious as to how the stone fares with you, and if it grants you the wisdom I had hoped it would.”

She let out a light laugh. “Yes and no.”

The amaurotine hummed. “Helios was capable of balancing her impulsive nature with implacable wisdom. This made her a great fit for the seat of Azem along with her combat prowess. Perhaps this was why Hades loved her so; his impulsiveness rivaled hers, thus do I find myself at the bottom of the sea.”

“You know where we are?”

“It’s difficult not to draw conclusions when fish people occasionally wander in.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Did you know Elidibus, Hythlodaeus?”

“Not as well as I knew dear Hades, but I knew him. Helios loved inviting him over for drinks, the occasional card game, and park outing. He followed Helios like a lost puppy, and it drove Hades crazy.” Dia laughed at his recollection. Hythlodaeus turned his head to face the ground in front of him.

“When Elidibus sacrificed himself, she lost more than just him. Hades was also corrupted to Zodiark’s influence to the point where he never appeared in the apartment again. She knew only sorrow, and I could only be of such comfort.” He moved his gaze to hers.

“Dia, I barely know you, yet I can see you’ve suffered great loss and sacrifice. I can only hope you can keep those you hold dear. I can only hope that you will live a happy life. Most of all, I can only hope that those who find you dear shall keep you close. Already do I find myself holding you dear…both of you.”

“What?”

“I speak of the other piece of you that resides within; a strange thing, it is. He’s not rejoined with your soul, yet he’s perfectly aligned with it”, Hythlodaeus explained.

“Oh good, it can see me. Just the thing to give me nightmares”, complained Ardbert.

“He need not fear. Much like Hades, I am gifted with the ability to see souls. I mean no harm.” Dia couldn’t help but find herself amused at his squeamishness with the amaurotines.

“I see. Thank you, Hythlodaeus.” She rose from the park bench. “As a matter of fact, I need to tend to the ones I hold dear now.”

“Of course. May we cross paths again soon, my new old friend.”

She nodded with a bright smile and prepared Teleport.

“Thank the gods we’re leaving”, praised Ardbert.

Cram it, she whispered.

***********

The night sky glazed over the Source. It was 10pm and Dia only just left the Syrcus Trench. She called upon her black chocobo to carry her to the Rising Stones. The doors flung open at her command and she walked past them with what confidence she could muster.

“Ah, Dia, I expected you to be in Ishgard. Is aught amiss?” greeted Alphinaud. He sat at a table near the bar alongside Alisaie and G’raha with a deck of Triple Triad cards.

“Oh, uh, well, I had hoped to speak with you in private, but if you’re busy…”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to make time for you. That said, must it be in private?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I mean…I guess it’s not anything particularly sensitive…”

“Anything you can say to Alphinaud, you can say to me”, Alisaie added.

“As well as I”, G’raha chimed in.

She didn’t expect an audience, but she was presented with little choice.

“Very well”, Dia took in a big breath through her nose and let it out through mouth. “I just want to say…I want you to be okay, Alphinaud.”

His eyebrows furled in confusion.

“Sixteen summers is far too young to be dealing with any of this. Hells, when I lost my fathers to the Calamity, I could barely keep myself together and I was twenty-five.”

“You lost your fathers to the Calamity?” G’raha asked.

This shocked the other two as well. For as long as they’ve known her, they knew surprisingly little of her past before she joined the Scions.

“It’s not the point. My point is, you have experienced so much loss, and pain, and betrayal. The people you’ve lost, the things you’ve seen; no one your age should be subjected to such things, and yet you are, and yet you grow stronger for it. I want you know that I see you, Alphinaud. I see you and I am so proud of you. But I don’t want you to bear it by yourself.”

Alphinaud wiped his building tears away with his sleeve. “I don’t bear it alone”, he explained, “I never have. I’ve had you. You’ve been my beacon when the light of the dawn grows dim. You’ve been an anchor to keep me aweigh where I would find myself adrift. We’ve shared these burdens together, and I promise, wherever we go, we will always share them.” She couldn’t help, but drop down and wrap the young one into her arms. The other two rose from their seats and piled themselves onto the pair. Dia and Alphinaud released the floodgates onto each others shoulders, quietly sniffling.

“We fight together. These burdens shall be lifted by all of us”, said G’raha, “Come what may, we need not fight alone.”

“Dia, in the past, you’ve fought these battles in solitude, but our future will be shaped by all of us fighting at your side.”

They enjoyed this rare moment of closeness together. Dia’s not one for sentimentality, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wanted him to know.

Elidibus, I’m sorry you were led to make such a decision and that Azem couldn’t be there. That you should bear the burden of the ancient world at such a young age is a tragedy no one should experience. But I will make it right with this one.

This one will not walk alone.

[apiratewhopines]

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

[scoutception]

A look at: Moon.

Writing reviews is always a learning experience for me, and one of the important things I’ve learned is that, sometimes, it’s pretty hard to write about certain individual games, visual novels, or such considering the kind of detail I like to go into. Therefore, this will be the first in a new series of mini reviews, or as mini as they get with me. Maybe there’s just not enough to a game to really give me details to dig into, or maybe it’s difficult to talk about without giving away more than I wish, or maybe there’s just something related to it that I’m more interested in talking about than the actual product; whatever the reason, these will hopefully be less rambly and excessive than my usual reviews, while still giving enough of an overview that they stand as proper reviews on their own. Either way, the subject of this post is an old, obscure visual novel from 1997 with a bit of history to it, called Moon.

Moon was developed by Tactics, a humble developer of adult visual novels, and was the second one developed by them, with the first, Dōsei, seemingly just being, well, a plain H-game, and the third, One ~To the Radiant Season~, while still obscure, is actually fairly notable for being a prototype to Kanon in a lot of ways, as many key staff at Tactics would later break off to form Key afterwards, with them having also worked on Moon beforehand. Thus, Moon is in a very interesting spot when it comes to the progression of the developers that would change VNs as a genre with the release of Kanon, and that’s really the only reason I checked it out.

Moon follows Ikumi Amasawa, a girl who joins a mysterious organization called Fargo, which recruits others with the promise of acquiring an alleged “invisible strength” that can put one far ahead of ordinary humans, in order to investigate their possible connections to the murder of her mother, and if possible, take revenge on the ones responsible. Upon arriving at the Fargo facility, Ikumi quickly befriends two other initiates with ulterior motives of their own for joining: Haruka Mima, a determined girl with a cool attitude who keeps her goal to herself, and Yui Nakura, a cheerful, but naive girl who’s seeking to bring home her older sister, who joined Fargo several months prior. Though the three agree to become allies and help each other achieve their goals, they are quickly separated in different “classes” housed in different buildings, with Ikumi being assigned to Class A, the most prestigious of them all. Settling into her new life as a Fargo initiate, which mostly consists of “training” with the Minmes and Elpod, machines that confront her with various parts of her very troubled past for the purpose of “mental reinforcement” in the form of a vengeful doppelganger of herself, Ikumi gradually discovers many strange things about her situation, such as there only being one other member of Class A, that being Youko Kanuma, a quiet, cold woman who has been part of Fargo for many years. Additionally, Ikumi is forced to share her room with a strange boy who doesn’t volunteer his name, who, though part of Fargo itself, is quite low ranking, and more than a bit dim witted at times. Worst of all, upon finding a passage that allows her to access the buildings where her allies are kept, Ikumi finds that the other classes are subjected to horrific abuses by Fargo’s personnel in order to further their mental reinforcement. As Ikumi struggles to aid her allies however she can, the confrontations with her past begin to put a heavy strain on her mind, and the existence of the invisible strength Fargo claims to have starts to become more and more plausible.

Needless to say, Moon isn’t exactly Clannad. I did not know much about this VN before I got into it, and finding it to be a psychological horror VN was a bit of a shock. Even more of a shock was just what form the majority of the horror came in. You see, even though One ~To the Radiant Season~, Kanon, and Air were all released as adult games, the h-scenes are very disconnected from the plot, most of the time, to the point of losing nothing from skipping them or even removing them from the game, and were pretty much just obligatory inclusions to help them sell better. From Clannad onward, most Key VNs have been clean to start. With Moon, on the other hand, you can’t go 5 minutes without running into some explicit scene, the main source being the Elpod sequences and the abuses the Fargo personnel inflict, and it wastes no time getting to them, at that. This is the biggest thing that drives off many of the few who go out of their way to experience Moon, and even with me having just watched an understandably censored playthrough of this on Youtube due to its shorter length, I almost quit very early into it, and definitely would have if I had actually played it. The Elpod is one thing, as the sequences are used for the purpose of developing Ikumi, but even then, most of them are just excessively disgusting more than disturbing, and that goes doubly for the sequences outside of it. Instead of really changing things up, they’re just content to get gradually more and more depraved, and outside of disgusting, the main thing I can even call them is repetitive. This is one of my biggest problems with Moon, and it was pretty hard for me to get into it because of it.

Another major problem I have with Moon is how it handles its cast. Moon is pretty short for a VN, only around 10 or 11 hours if you go straight for the true ending, and even though there are 7 endings in total, they don’t add much more time onto that, with two being worse variants on the true ending, and the rest being bad endings gotten through making bad choices. Having as small a cast as it does should naturally work fine with that, but they really aren’t balanced well. While Ikumi gets developed across the whole game, and Yui gets a good arc pretty early on, Haruka only gets a short arc that ends as quickly as it starts and doesn’t do a lot for her, Youko barely has any screentime despite establishing a good dynamic with Ikumi, and the boy doesn’t have much presence or relevance until late in the story. The pacing is just bizarre and rushed feeling.

That’s not to say there aren’t a number of good points to Moon’s story. Ikumi is very well developed throughout the story, with the Minmes in particular leading to many melancholic scenes that make her quite sympathetic, and were definitely the high points of the normally rigid daily schedule much of the story takes place during for me. Despite the story’s flawed handling of some of them, the cast is still decent on a whole, with Youko’s gradually developing friendship with Ikumi and Yui’s development during her arc being some of the more memorable parts for me. The atmosphere is very well done, with the cramped, depressing corridors of the facility always feeling like they’re hiding something awful just around the corner, especially since you need to manually navigate the place using a map screen, and once the plot really kicks into high gear things become much more compelling, with the final days containing many high points in characterization and an infamous mindscrew of a sequence that, once looked back on with a more understanding eye, is actually quite fascinating in its own right.

Visually, Moon’s art was done by Itaru Hinoue, the same artist as the majority of Key’s VNs, and it’s a lot rougher than the art of, say, Kanon. It’s not outright bad, but it looks very dated, with the designs and sprites not really sticking out. The CGs vary in quality, as some look pretty ridiculous, but others are quite good. Most impressive, though, is two animated intro sequences included in the DVD version, which happens to be the only version with an English patch anyway. They’re fairly brief, but do a great job of setting up the atmosphere and premise despite that.

On the sound side, the soundtrack is great. It’s not a very big one, with only about 16 tracks, and the use of them can get a bit repetitive, but most of them are just a joy to listen to. From the electronic and tense Closed Space, to the wistful, yet peaceful The Place Where the Sun Shines, to Youko’s ethereal theme, to the credits theme, Sorrow, and especially the nostalgic music box theme, Memory, it’s worth looking up even if you hold no interest in the VN itself. There’s also voice acting, also added in the DVD version, and most of it is just average, with not many performances standing out, with the exception of Kahoru Sasajima as Ikumi, who delivers a very solid performance, especially during the more intense moments.

Overall, Moon can be a pretty hard sell. While I thought it was a decent experience by the end, its very offputting content, lack of similarity to any other Key works, and bleak atmosphere can make it pretty hard to go through even if you’re prepared for what’s to come. Even if you wanted a horror VN, there’s plenty others out there, like Chaos;Head and Chaos;Child, Higurashi: When They Cry, Wonderful Everyday, Raging Loop, or just about anything from nitro+. That said, if you can stick to the end, I definitely feel it becomes fairly satisfying, and when I got to thinking, I realized something that actually boosted my opinion quite a bit just by itself. As much as Moon is a story about cults and psychic powers with a somewhat unclear point to it all, it’s even more so just a story about a very troubled youth struggling with her grief, irrationally falling in with a bad crowd, and being forced to face her past and actions if she wishes to accomplish anything. Looking at the story that way, it’s actually quite well done, and going in with that in mind may even make it a bit more palatable. Still, I wouldn’t especially go out of my way to recommend it, and ultimately it’s still very far from being one of my favorite visual novels out there. Either way, that concludes my first mini review, which still turned out longer than I thought it would. My next post will be something unusual for me as well, but that’ll take a bit to come. Till next time. -Scout

[thedumbguywithaheart43]

Boomlord weird adventure

Chapter 8 what time is it?

It was early morning in the omnispace void. Boomwood had gotten to the kitchen to start brewing coffee as the footsteps of a yawning purple hair woman enter the room."morning Twilight."Twilight mearly gave him a wave before sitting down. Looked at her noticing the look on her face. To be honest she looked exhausted.'ah shit'he quickly poured a shot glass of the Cuban coffee and handed it to her. She stared at the coffee for a minute."I appreciate the gesture but I doubt this is going to do much for me."good Lord gave out a chuckle."Twilight trust me this is Cuban coffee any more than this and you'll be wired."He gave out a chuckle before Twilight downed the shot, unsurprisingly her face scrunched up. This was probably the most bitter thing she ever had."bleh! Why would you drink something so bitter!"Boomlord shrugged."honestly I only drink it for the caffeine. If it helps I think I have some orange juice in the fridge."Twilight just looked down rubbing her head . Not long after the other girls walked in each of them heading into the fridge grabbing various fruits mostly apples. Pinkie pie was the only one who grabbed something else, looks like she found the flan and was in heaven."oh my Celestia this tastes so good!"At least she wasn't breaking the fourth wall again.

2 After everyone ate they all headed to the living room again."ok girls this is it we are heading to the next world. Now before I go this mission is not meant to be dangerous however the world we're entering can be a bit chaotic so be prepared for anything."The rest of the girls nodded they likely had assumed as much from the previous conversations."so where are we going anyway"dash blurted out as boom pulled out his pen."yeah I'm with Dash partner id hate to go in blind."Aj took a step forward to make her point."we're going to a place called ooo I spent a lot of time there and it's the only place I can really say I have friends anymore...."booms voice got deep as a sorrowful look overtook his face for a minute. This was enough to make Applejack back off. Twilight in particular took a mental note of this.'guess friends are a touchy subject for him.' boom grabbed his notepad An drew another circle, in the center he wrote °adventure Time 1°as always the golden electrical ring formed with a blackened middle. Boomlord jumped into the portal and when he landed his feet were on solid ground. Solid green grassy ground. He surveyed the area around him noticing he was in a grassy clear field however the ends of what looks like old nuclear bombs stuck out overtaken by the grassy plains. The girls enter next each of them still in their same outfits however 4 of the girls had notable changes to them . Twilight and rarity each had a sword at their side. Twilight sword with a sleek and purple short sword with her cutie mark on the hilt. Rarity sword on the other hand looked as if it were made of blue crystal with a white metal hilt her cutie mark also on it. Fluttershy and rainbow Dash had also had the return of their wings which Dash took this opportunity to fly up into the air a bit doing a few loops and swirls."Hell yeah I missed this!"boom couldn't help but smile."Real fly girl up there."a few of them awkwardly smile."so where's our destination?"Twilight asked giving him a quick grin knowing that he's trying his best to make everyone feel better about being in a strange world."we're going to see princess bubblegum at the Candy Kingdom."and just like that he found himself lying on the ground being pinned by pinkie pie."DID YOU SAY CANDY KINGDOM! A KINGDOM MADE OF CANDY IS THIS PLACE PARADISE O.M.C O.M.C."Twilight practically had to pry pinky off of him ."yes the entire Kingdom from the trees to the ground is made of candy including the people."He started to brush himself off as pinky smile only widen."but please don't eat the Candy people or I will probably have to stop you"pinky reluctantly nodded.

3"rainbow do you mind taking an aerial view try to find the place that looks like it's surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees.... Well because it is surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees."boom called out before stopping looking at the ground a large Shadow now loomed over them. It was Spike. All the ponies turn to look back in both shock and horror. Spike mostly remain the same with one slight difference... He was absolutely Giant. His whole body in total was about the size of a two sorry house and his wings could probably cover all of them with ease."oh yeah I forgot dragons are huge here but at least he still looks different from them normally they're just Giant tube dragons with big ass butts."The ponies/girls stared for a moment but in silent agreement they chose not to address it not that Spike would mind he was too busy checking himself out."oh crap I'm HUGE you guys look so small from up here!" It was the most adorable giant grin in the world. Rainbow decided now was a good time to take him to the air as she being flapping her wings disappearing above the clouds. Surveying the land below she was able to make out what looks like pink trees and a large structure that looked somewhat like a castle."guess that must be what I'm looking for."she kept looking around noticing in One direction was a rather large tree that almost looks like it had Windows in it and in the opposite direction she noticed tall mountains made entirely of ice."heh heh heh what do we have here"a voice from nowhere stated in a malicious tone from behind her. Is she turned to look behind her she saw a giant monster with a bat like face and long blue limbs with crooked nails.'OH SHIT'at this point rainbow Dash started nose diving down towards her friends with the creature in pursuit who was maliciously chuckling the entire way down. The rest of the group saw the creature and the girls had various reactions. Applejack rarity and Twilight look like they were getting ready to fight with rarity and Twilight pulling out their swords. Fluttershy and Pinky had decided to stick near Spike who is now using his wings to shield them.Then there was boom standing out in the open as dash passed him and he just smiled. Apon seeing him the creature stopped a look of surprise on our face."hey Marceline it's been a while"the creature began to shrink taking on a human form she had pale white skin and incredibly long black hair which reached down to her feet a simple jacket and jeans and her ,guitar-axe strapef to her back and a nice big floopy hat which covered her in a shroud of darkness. She give out a wide smile revealing her fangs before wrapping her arms around boom giving him a hug."holy glob dude!your back it's been like 4 months!"he returned the embrace from his old friend as the rest of the girls started to calm down noticing that whatever that thing was it seemed friendly at least now it did."oh that's right."he turned to the girls and dragon."everyone this is my old friend Marceline... The vampire queen"a few of the girls jaw started to drop."your freinds with a literal blood sucking vampire?"Marceline shrugged at Twilight comment."actually it's just the color I'm after."Marceline started floating on her back around them."so boom what brings you and your new friends back to ooo."Boomlord got quiet."I found it Marcy.... I found the Rose fire and they're here because Twilight here"pointing at the slightly flustered purple pony girl."is the key to everything."Marceline stopped moving for a moment the words settling in her mind."oh we need to get to the Candy Kingdom right away then."then without word Marceline started floating off towards the direction of the Kingdom and boom followed along with the girls and the giant dragon...... Yeah that might be a problem.

4 After a few hours of walking they all managed to reach the candy kingdom with Spike deciding to hide in the trees to avoid unwanted attention. Pinkie pie look like she was about to go crazy or more crazy."o.m.c so m-much candy!"she was practically foaming at the mouth."look pinky just eat the sidewalk or something just please don't start eating random people I don't want to deal with any drama today especially because we need the princess's help."the pony started walking forward into the rather nice town and to boomlord credit every building and every person was made of candy, And many candies citizens passed by. Mr cupcake crunchy punch bowl guy."wow this is actually really fascinating I can't help but wonder what they're DNA is like how do candy people procreate do they need to breathe or eat its quite fascinating"Twilight then begin rambling about a whole bunch of science jargon that boom did not know but he found himself listening to every word she spoke it wasn't until arsenaline tapped his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance."I see you found a real good friend~"she whispered in a teasing tone."w-what no she's just um cool you know for someone who was a horse the other day."Marceline rolled her eyes."horse or not you always did have a thing for a Smart ones~."boom felt his blood pump. "Oh you're one to talk."Marceline then backed off she knew how far she could go before boom would made her regret it. After a while of walking the group then found themselves at the castle as a pink cared and pink skinned princess in a long pink dress noticed them."oh my! Boom you have returned and with.. many female companions huh"princess bubblegum gave a smirk."oh don't you start now too!" Boom was probably going to say more before pb gave him a warm hug."so I assume this has to do with the rose fire."bubblegum look down at him and while she kept a smile her face was full of worry."yeah Twilight here um it's kind of a long story."bubblegum nodded."it always is."about an hour had passed after this meeting and boom had explained to Marceline and bubblegum how we came to meet the girls and discover the fire leaving out the parts where he burned himself or threw a skillet at Twilight."interesting I'll probably have to run a few scans on Twilight then with her permission."Twilight nodded."good we'll start by using the rejuvenation tank to monitor your body and vitals while I conduct a few scans"boom notice that she was pointing to the large tank filled with water and knew that this meant that Twilight was going to have to strip down which he then took his cue to leave. "I'll be back soon gonna check on stuff."and before anyone could say anything he left the room.

(oh and before I forget I'll be opening asks for boomlord and Friends so if they appear in the story feel free to ask them a question ask box is officially open)

[imnotwolverine]

The marriage pact - Thriller nights

Henry Cavill x OC Alice - multi-chapter

< Part 11 | Part 12 Thriller nights | Part 13 >

Disclaimer: strong language, some angst and reference to cheating

Author’s note: Do you like horror movies, darling fic-readers? I must admit I don’t, most specifically because I just have to vivid an imagination. Jaws? I didn’t dare to swim in a pool for 3 months straight..and it was the middle of summer. Yep, I know it’s silly. Are there any movies you definitely wouldn’t watch again? 

Word count: 1.509

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Dear readers,

Other then enjoying my chocolate cake, I was just cleaning up my DVD collection and what a wonderful collection of totally bloody horror movies I have apparently collected over the years. It is really, truly, quite horrible actually. Why would a sweet, innocent person like myself have such a twisted desire for watching the dark and obscure? Why did I watch IT more times than Pride & Prejudice?

It’s quite fascinating really, and most likely this horror fascination of mine has something to do with emotional control; we can experience certain feelings like anxiousness whilst still being in a safe environment. And you know me by now..I like being in control.

So what kind of movies do you like, dear readers? And what do you think that says about you? I’d love to hear from you.

Cleaning up her room and her thoughts,

Ali

‘So, thank you so much for coming Miss Taylor. Please take your time to work through the information I shared with you and we are looking forward to hearing from you again. You can contact me on the mail address on my card, or call me, and please..do not fret to ask me anything.’

‘Thank you doctor.’ I nodded, quite overcome with the overload of information and questions that had circulated through this small doctor’s office in St Helier’s Jersey General Hospital. I had simply requested an in-take, but hadn’t been quite ready for how deep and personal all this had been. 

More than a few times throughout the intake had I felt tears well up in my stubborn eyes, the simple thought of how difficult this might be becoming, nearly too much to handle. The doctor had been most kind and informative; they could not do most of the procedures here, so I’d have to fly up and down to London every month. And there was this physical exam they had to do..and I had to start tracking my ovulation cycle, take specific medicine and vitamins. And..most importantly..I had to figure out what I wanted to do with this “fresh new relationship” of mine - which I had mentioned only very briefly.

I had waved it off, signalling I had little hope that it would work anyways, to which the doctor had given me an inquisitive eyebrow raise, but thankfully she hadn’t pried any further.  

With slightly wobbly legs I stepped out of her office and thanked her again, my feet quite automatically walking back the path they had came; through the long hallway, past the waiting room and then to the elevator. But..I never quite made it to the elevator in one line, my eyes catching something quite unexpected in the waiting room.

‘Chris?’ I gasped quietly, seeing a familiar face amongst the waiting patients, a very young blonde woman right beside him, their hands entangled. I felt my heart, my soul, my everything, sink like a block of concrete to the bottom of the ocean.

She was expecting.

His large hazelnut eyes stared at me in slight shock, hands quickly disentangling from his new..lover. Lover. He had a pregnant lover. Was it his? OH FUCKING HELL. ‘Ali..hey..what a..surprise.’ He scrambled up to his feet and pulled a warm smile to his hesitant face. He felt most obviously very caught in the act.

How many months would she be? Obviously more than three or four months. Had he..had he been..cheating on me? I stared blankly at him, not quite sure of what to say.

‘Quite a surprise.’ I muttered, nodding while looking over his shoulder at the surprised looking woman. ‘It’s always good to see a friend.’ Chris smiled, pressing a large hand on my shoulder to steer me to a corner of the waiting room. ‘..Look..please don’t make a scene. Please.’ He whispered, his mouth remaining curled in a wide, friendly smile, acting as if nothing was amiss.

I couldn’t breathe. I just..couldn’t breathe, my eyes staring at him with disbelief.

HOW COULD HE?!

Wishing to not show him my tears - tears that long dared to spill during the doctor’s visit - I quickly shook my head and wished him a good day, my feet hasting off towards the elevator.

HOW COULD HE, HOW COULD HE?!

It seemed to take ages before the metal doors of the elevator finally slid closed, my eyes pricking with angry tears. And as the elevator started to descend, my organs feeling the mild drop of the cabin, my tears started to descend too. Heavy, wet and desperate. How could he..how could he…ARGHHH!!!

—

‘Hen.’ I muttered through the phone, my voice still weak and cracking.

‘Hey you.’ He said gently, easily picking up on my distress, his voice even lower and more soothing than usual.

‘Can I come over for a hug?’ My voice was but a mere whisper, but he heard it all the same. ‘Of course sweetie.’

Oh Henry, if only all things in life were this easy.

—

‘Hey.’ I stalled at the doorway of his parents’ study, the desk Henry was sitting at completely filled with large piles of what appeared to be scripts and administrational work. He looked up, his face immediately relaxing into one of tenderness. He sighed and turned in his chair, tapping both hands on his thick thighs, gesturing me to come sit on his lap.

No words were needed as I gladly crawled into the warmth of his embrace, my nose still sniffling after a near hour of non-stop crying in my bedroom. I needed him and I was glad he was here.

I could feel his hand just gently running through my hair, all the way back down to my lower back, his face studying mine. We just sat there for a few long minutes, quietly, some lone tears drifting down from my red eyes.

‘I’m just so sad.’ I muttered, another spill of tears bursting out, flooding my reddened cheeks. I gulped and heaved, not being able to stop myself from releasing all the sorrow and pain. 

It was just something about Henry that made me lower my guards. A little more each time we were together.

‘It’s okay, Ali. Sshh..’ Henry’s voice swam warm and soothing through the shell of my ear, his breath brushing through my messy hair. Oh how I wished I could just disappear right here in his lap. How good and fitting an end it would be for me.

Alice, the girl who fell down the deep black hole of adulthood until she was no more.

And how awful I was for not telling him why I was crying so. I had to make sure I’d tell him, or it would simply become too difficult. But not now. First..tears.

More long minutes crawled by as the new onslaught of tears finally subsided, Henry still not saying a word, his large arms just keeping me close and safe, hands running deliberate circles over my back.

I sniffled one more time, wiping the tears on the sleeve of my shirt before finally sitting up a bit and looking Henry in the eye. Those big, blue oceans of care and comfort looking back at me with…love. Or something like that.

‘Thanks for that.’ I breathed, inhaling deep and sharp. Henry smiled and shrugged simply. ‘I’m glad to be of service milady.’

I sighed, looking over his desk, an iPad laying forlorn in the corner. ‘Yep, read your blog.’ He hummed, smiling into my ear. I raised an eyebrow at him, my eyes red and agitated from all the tears. ‘You don’t have to, you know.’ I whispered. He chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I wouldn’t miss them for the world. I love knowing what is going on with you.’

‘And horror movies..?’

‘Mm..you know me..can’t stand females screaming.’

‘Oh papa bear gets protective then, hmm?’ I teased, the first glimmer of a smile appearing back on my lips. Henry laughed. ‘Maybe a little.’

‘Oh…Henry…come save me!’ I swooned with a bit of theatricality, my hand moving to rest on my forehead, eyes gazing desperately into the distance. When he didn’t immediately respond, his eyebrows just rising in amusement, I further exaggerated my flailing body, letting myself near drop off his lap.

‘Wow..’ Henry quickly grabbed onto me, pulling me more firmly into his chest, ‘..okay..I’ve got you.’ He sniffled. We looked at each other for an amused second before we both burst out laughing, my face now happily snuggling into his neck and my nose sniffing up that undefinable smell that was Henry’s musk. I was the fair maiden in the prince’s arms, ready to take on any horror that was to be survived.

And darn..How I loved his smell.

‘Hmm…thanks for allowing me to be here Hen.’ I hummed, making him lean back a little his large thumb moving to stroke over my heated cheeks, removing the last of the remains of salty tears from my skin. Without words required he leaned into me, offering me a much more practised kiss then that very awkward..first..puppy..

‘Ooh..hair..’ He muttered, hovering back a little and reaching for his mouth to pull out a hair.

OH GODS…we both laughed aloud.

‘This is terrible.’ I blushed through our laughter. ‘No it’s not.’ Henry smiled, brushing all hair out of my face before pulling me back to his lips. ‘It’s perfect.’ He whispered onto my lips, trying again.

—

And yes, we watched a horror movie that night from my vast collection of classics, Henry’s arm near choking me whenever a woman screamed, his muscles tightening around my rib cage until I was sure there would be bruises. But ..I wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

My heart and soul fluttered, and that is all I really wanted and needed, my reservations for a possible relationship with Henry slowly fading into the background. 

--

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[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Lace

(Hayffie ❤️🔥. Exploration of the potential of Effie and Haymitch through time using lace as metaphor. I spent several days channeling what I imagine of Effie as I tried to write this just so. It was worth the effort. NSFW. Sexual content toward the end.)

“I used to rummage around in my grandmother’s trunks trying to find them. I love the feeling of chiffon and lace.” — Stevie Nicks

***

Lace was Effie’s earliest gateway to a partially hidden self. Scallops, finely knitted with silk thread, swirled in her hands and opened a dream world. She stepped into it with great anticipation. Beneath white lace she could be a ghost. Not the ghastly kind that frightens the world, wailing the aches of an unfinished life. But the ethereal kind that floats through the halls, unencumbered by expectation. In her imagination, everyone would pause to gaze upon her. They’d all still to listen to the rustling of the fabric of her existence.

In lace, she could become whoever she wanted to be.

As a little girl, she dressed up in riches and regal innocence, draping herself in her Nana’s long pearl necklace and lace shawl. She served tea in painted porcelain cups to painted porcelain dolls. “Manners, children! Don’t slurp your tea. Curl your pinkies, and you’ll grow up to be great ladies.”

By 8 years old, she felt quite grown up herself, caught between innocence and incipient desire, crushing on the boy who’d just won the Games. She picked a bouquet of flowers from the garden. “I’m Proserpina now, goddess of fertility, agriculture, and wine...” She ate six pomegranate seeds, and pulled the shawl over her eyes as a veil. “...Someday I’ll be the bride of Pluto, God of the underworld and mineral wealth. He’ll love me like no other, and I the same for him. They call him Haymitch now, but I know his true identity. I’m the only one.”

She scooped up one of her dolls and wiped its porcelain neck with the corner of the shawl. “There. You’re pretty again, Maysilee darling. Those awful pink birds are gone. You’ll come with us to live in the underworld with diamonds and rubies and sapphires. Nobody there is ever really dead. You’ll be the princess, and I’ll be the queen.”

In lace, she worked through the trauma that existed in witnessing so much death.

“And isn’t that at its core what the princess fantasy is about for all of us?... ‘Princess’ is the wish that we could protect them from pain, that they would never know sorrow, that they will live happily ever after, ensconces in lace and innocence.” — Peggy Orenstein

***

There was lace between them the first time Haymitch touched her. The delicate gloves she wore met his fingers with surprising softness. He’d shaken hands with lacy-gloved Capitol women countless times. He’d pressed his lips to their knuckles when they presented their hands for kissing. He got that shit a lot, and most of the time it annoyed him. Those textures were predictably coarse.

The first touch of Effie was alluring. That silky fabric full of holes peaked his curiousity about the feeling of her skin. They’d just met, and he didn’t want to let go of her. Not yet. Damn. Attraction to an opulent Capitol girl was a complication he didn’t need.

“Nice gloves, sweetheart.” He couldn’t resist. The moment felt too good to say nothing.

Through layers of makeup, he could see her blush. Another surprise. She didn’t drop his hand. They held on until the spots where they touched infused with a shared warmth. It didn’t take long, with both of them wondering how it would feel to play with fire.

Flint struck steel, and sparks flew for years as they goaded each other with words and mannerisms. The burn was slow seduction. There are dualities to lace. It can’t decide whether it’s an angel or a devil. In those years of indecision, Effie touched him many times through gloves: curling her hand in the bend of his elbow, brushing against the back of his neck accidentally on purpose, skimming her fingertips across his forehead to push his hair from his eyes when he was drunk enough not to object.

She took to interlacing her fingers with his the moment one of their tributes was killed in the arena.

“Don’t.” He bristled at first. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Is that what you think I’m doing?! I don’t want them to die. You know it hurts me too.”

She was getting too attached. She’d need to find a way to toughen up if she was going to keep doing the job. And he wanted her there. Holding her hand took a slight edge off the horror. He was getting too attached — to her. He recognized it.

“I’m not hurting.” His words were unconvincing. He took a long drink, and he didn’t let go of her until the flask was empty.

“Give me lace and whiskey.” — Alice Cooper

***

The system, ultimately fragile, was indeed brought down by berries — and blood. After the revolution, resources that Effie had always taken for granted were scarce. During the early years of reconstruction, she asked Greasy Sae to teach her how to mend lace. The old woman repaired it for resale using just an ironing board, straight pins, a needle, thread, and scissors.

“I ain’t gonna ask how your panties got ripped, dear.” She winked. “But I can show you how to fix ‘em.” Sae could fix most anything, and Effie enjoyed spending time with her. It was like rummaging again in her grandmother’s trunks, but finding treasure in pearls of wisdom.

Effie’s connection with Haymitch had caught fire when the world did. The timing made sense. One intensity begets another, like creation.

After learning on small items, Effie moved on to mending more precious swaths of lace like the heirloom tablecloth in her apartment. Haymitch sank into her sofa, and watched her work in a slip and an sheer robe printed with flowers. Her hair kept falling in her face so she pulled it back into a ponytail.

Her hair alone turned him on. He took swallows from a glass of Capitol liquor that he didn’t know by name, and he thought about holding onto that ponytail and fucking her.

She felt his eyes on her. “You’re suddenly fascinated with sewing?” she asked without looking up from the stitching.

“I’m fascinated with you.” The words weren’t playful. They pulled her heartbeat into her gut. Butterflies. They’d been seeing each other for over two years, and he could still tug at her without touching.

A smile lit up her face.

“Are you almost done with that, sweetheart?”

“Patience. When your leg breaks, you can’t rush the bone to fuse back together.”

“Are you planning on breaking my leg? Because I’ve already got another bone for you to fix.”

“Your ‘bone’ can wait for the sake of art.”

“...I’m gonna make you come, honey. If that ain’t art, then I don’t know what is.”

The flush of her cheeks and the swell along the axis of her body were distracting her, but she finished the task regardless.

She removed the pins, lifted the lace from the ironing board, tied a small knot in the thread, and clipped off the excess to finish. She sat with him on the sofa to inspect her work. Her stitches were precisely as tight as the weave of the lace. The fix was fairly perfect.

The tablecloth draped across her lap and spilled over her legs. Through the lace, he caressed her thighs, her knees, her calves, then back up again. She was too affected to nag him about being careful with her masterpiece.

“You like this,” she murmured.

Hell, yes. “I like almost seeing you through it... touchin’ you... You’re so fine, Effie.”

‘Fine’ was a word he generally used when they argued, when something wasn’t quite right and when he didn’t want to talk about it. This context felt different.

Shit. I’m into her. If I don’t keep this in check, I’m gonna be so into her. “...Can I...?” He asked in response to his unvoiced feelings.

“What do you want, honey?”

He stroked the apex of her thighs through the lace and her satin slip.

She moaned softly.

“You like this too.” His voice was thick with desire to swallow the sounds that escaped her throat. He’d start there, then move on to the rest of her.

“Hell, yes...” she sighed, sliding her fingers up the short sleeve of his shirt.

The tablecloth fell away and they clutched each other, as if she might dissolve into molecules, as if he might disappear. It was like that sometimes — grasping, clinging need.

Stay.

Please stay.

“I stare at her collarbone that’s framed with lace, the hollow of her collarbone, her shoulders that rise with each rise of the weight of her next breath. We’re fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?” — Lauren DeStephano

***

In the old days of the Capitol, lace curtains were a means to show off assets. In the Trinket family home, lace hung for years in the windows of the parlor, showcasing an antique grand piano and furniture made of mahogany and velvet. Less ostentatious and commonplace items were relegated to rooms cloaked in thick window coverings or not visible from the street.

Effie was raised in this manner, instructed in the duality of garnering attention and practicing concealment. Lace has the capacity to reveal, on occasion, something you might rather hide — whether when used to line your parlor, cover your body in a second skin, or partially cloak the contents of your heart. People take risks in lace.

Effie peered into her parents’ marriage and understood her own desires were different. “Did you love Father when you married?” she asked when her mother chastised her about spending so much time with the victor from District 12.

“This conversation is about YOUR future, not my past,” her mother responded without answering the question. “At your age, you certainly should be thinking about marriage, but for heaven sake not with a savage. Taking up with him is impractical. It will ruin your life.”

Effie worked to hold the lid on the pot boiling inside her. “He is not a savage. I ‘took up’ with him years ago, and my life is my own. I might move to 12, and I might never marry. Those are MY choices to make.” She resisted the urge to flinch. As a girl, being that frank with her mother would have prompted a slap in the face, but her childhood was long gone.

Her mother was stunned into silence, so Effie asked again, “Are you in love with my father?”

“...Are you in love with Haymitch?” Her mother again ignored Effie’s question, though her tone softened in curiosity. She at least acknowledged that she knew his name.

“Yes,” Effie answered without hesitation, hoping her admission wouldn’t pose a threat to him. She recognized the balance of power had shifted. The Trinkets’ curtains weren’t lace anymore. The contents of the parlor had been sold. Nothing was as it used to be.

“How do you know?” Her mother asked. “How do you know you love him?”

“I’ve always known.”

“Always?”

“From my early memories, playing that we were king and queen of the underworld. Playing with metaphorical fire, even then. ...I want to be with him. I love him so much it hurts.”

“Love shouldn’t hurt, honey.”

“How could you know?”

“Because I love YOU.”

“And how do you feel about what I’m telling you now?”

“You’re a grown woman, Effie. ...Though I can’t help but feel heartbroken picturing you in that life.”

“Love is a rock against the wind. Not soft like silk and lace.” — Etheridge Knight

***

Haymitch returned from the Hob to find his front door unlocked. Adrenaline shot to his arms and legs, and he unsheathed his knife before stepping inside. All was silent. Maybe he’d simply forgotten to lock it. Unlikely though since he did that reflexively, even when he was drunk. He misplaced his keys sometimes, but he never left home without locking the door.

Anxiety grew in the stillness. He checked every room downstairs, then tiptoed up the staircase. He found the *intruder* asleep on his unmade bed.

Effie was dressed — scarcely — in white stretch lace stockings hooked with garters to a matching top. He remembered her calling that kind of thing a bustier, though he’d never seen this one before. She was curled up on her side, and he saw in profile her naked hip and the smooth curve of her ass.

She’d said she had to work this weekend, so her showing up was a surprise. He sheathed his knife as the increased blood supply eased away from his limbs and flowed straight to his groin. From the rush of adrenaline and Effie’s sensual appearance, his heart beat like crazy. His mind was sharp despite lightheadedness. Fucking adrenaline. He knew it as well as anything else.

He quietly removed his boots, peeled off his clothes, and slipped into bed beside his girl. Her even breathing soothed his frayed nerves. He watched her chest rise and fall, and he took in more details of her attire.

The bustier pushed her breasts together, creating a hint of cleavage in a large teardrop-shaped opening between them. Two extra straps emerged from the lace above the peak of the teardrop. They passed over her collarbones, along the sides of her neck, and slid down her back.

Her nipples, soft in sleep, were visible through the lace. The fabric cupped her breasts then stretched to her waist. Everything below was bare — no panties, no thong, nothing but her. Then the stockings.

He had never wanted to touch someone so badly everywhere at once. He curled his fingers around her hip and plucked kisses on her forehead until she stirred.

Good morning, sweetheart; he tried to tease since it was already late afternoon, but the words must have spun in his lungs with his breath, because nothing came out.

Effie rubbed her eyes awake, like a child dressed up in the body of a goddess. “Hey, stranger...” was all she could say before he sucked the rest of the greeting from between her lips.

“What was the point in satin and lace if it didn’t make a man struggle to speak?” — Alexandra Ivy

***

Their reunion was ardent and greedy. He was all sinewy flesh, and she touched him every place she could reach with her hands, arms, legs, body, mouth... He reciprocated the contact with mutual intensity, barely taking care not to crush her. She was like a bird with lacy feathers. He pulled away long enough for her to sing...

“God, you feel good. You’re worth every mile of that infernal train ride.”

He inched down her body, tracing one of the bustier straps with his chin as he kissed along her neck, down her throat to the lace and the unexpected cleavage. “You surprised me.”

“I’m sorry. I’d planned to call out when you opened the door, but the bed was warm, and the sheets smell like you, and I couldn’t keep my eyes open.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just feeling every ounce of adrenaline pumping now in my dick.”

Through the lace, he stroked one of her breasts with his tongue and the other with his thumb. When her nipples peeked through the fabric, he scissored one between his teeth.

Her jaw dropped open. She sucked in a breath and held it until he shifted his attention to her other breast. There was a moment of release, then she gasped again as the pleasure deepened. She exhaled in words, “I’ve got plans for you.”

Uneasiness crept in. “What plans?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it.” With a fingertip, she traced around the teardrop on her chest. “You want to fuck me... here?”

Sandwiched between her breasts with soft lace covering the head of my dick? “Only a fool would say no to that.”

She propped up on pillows. “Come here...”

He straddled her rib cage, taking care not to crush her. She held his hips as he slipped through the teardrop into the valley between her breasts.

Ahh, fuck...

She positioned her palms to accentuate the function of the bustier, squeezing him with her flesh. Then she entwined her fingers over the lace on top of his dick. “Is this good?”

His answer was obvious. He was already thrusting. “Oh, fuck,” he cried aloud this time, feeling the pressure, friction, and excitement of her sheathing him like a knife.

With each movement, his balls grazed the lace too. It was so much sensation. He ran his fingers along her scalp, threading them through her hair. He couldn’t think, and he was afraid of pressing too hard on her sternum and hurting her. “Are you alright?”

“Honey, this is hot as hell. Keep fucking my breasts for as long as you can hold out.” She tightened her grip.

His strokes quickened. “I haven’t got much left before... God... Effie...”

“Where do you want to come, honey? On my neck? In my mouth? Inside me with me coming too?”

He was close, so damn close. In a blink, he pulled out of the sheath and the teardrop, breathing hard. “Shit. Give me a minute. Don’t move and don’t say anything.”

She froze as requested, with her hands still on her breasts. The veil slipped, and she understood what was happening. He was choosing her — intimate connection and pleasure WITH her. She fought tears from welling up because she didn’t want to explain them. She just wanted him to make love with her, and she realized it was happening.

As if to prove it, he stretched out flush against her body and kissed her as before, like he couldn’t wait. “Inside you, with you coming too. That’s what I want.”

She wrapped her legs, esconced in lace, around him and drew him in. With each plunge he was swimming, feeling the waves as she clenched him deep.

“Slow down, honey. I wanna wait for you.”

Thrilling in his words, she had to force her internal muscles to relax and loosen their grasp.

He propped up on one arm and drew circles on her clit.

“Mmmm... Keep that up, and you won’t have to wait much longer.”

Gentle tugs and circling grew more insistent as his body was losing patience.

Her body clenched him again of its own volition. “Oh... I’m... Oh, honey... It’s so delicious....”

“Fuck, Effie. You’ve gotta... Holy shit...”

“Ohh, I can’t stop... Are you....”

“Yeah.” He grunted as the waves overtook him. “Oh, hell... This is it.”

As they climaxed together, the veil slipped, and he understood what was happening. This was more than adrenaline and far beyond fucking. He was making love with her. He was loving her more than anything they were doing in this bed. He loved this girl, HIS girl.

As their breathing slowed, he kissed her as if she was the most intoxicating drink of his life. And, damn it, she probably was.

“You waited.” Her tears welled up. She couldn’t stop those either.

“It’s like holding back wild horses, sweetheart.”

“Four black horses and an ebony chariot.” She said, thinking of the myth she played at long ago.

“Something like that.” Though the analogy was ominous. It reminded him too much of the Games, and he was already shaky coming down from the rush of adrenaline. He collapsed against her. She felt his tremors, and he felt her tears. What the hell am I supposed to do with all this feeling?

“Shh... It’s alright. We can do this,” she said to herself as much as to him. “We’re a team. Remember?” You’re not alone anymore.

She held him until the shaking stopped. All he had to do was let her.

“What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I may never lose it? I want to kneel as it falls over me like rain, gather it up with lace and silk, and press it over myself again.” — Anais Nin

***

The little girl had reached an age when everything in existence was a discovery followed by a question. With all her might she dragged a small cedar chest from the corner of the closet. “What’s this, Nana?”

“It’s buried treasure, Baby Doll. Would you like to open it?”

The little one clapped her hands in anticipation and lifted the latch. Though the springs had worn out long ago, the girl was strong enough to lift the lid without assistance. It fell back onto its hinges, revealing the contents within. She peered inside with eyes wide open.

“Those treasures are old and precious. Most are very fragile. Will you promise to be ever so careful?”

She nodded with serious intent, then rummaged inside to pull treasures out. One by one, she took them to her Nana in the rocking chair...

A lace shawl, a long strand of pearls, two porcelain tea cups, and a porcelain doll with a painted face. A dried bouquet of flowers in a locked wooden box with a glass lid. Golden lace gloves knitted with silk thread. A sheer robe printed with flowers. A yellowed lace tablecloth. A purple corset and a white lace bustier. Plus many sentimental trinkets including a paper card with birds on the front and an inscription inside. The girl was too young still to read.

“What’s it say, Nana?” The little one climbed into her lap and waited for the words.

It reads, “Effie and Haymitch. I wish you happiness. Love, Mother.”

“That’s you and Grampa!”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Where’d all this treasure come from?”

Effie thought a moment.. “it comes from smiles and tears, laughter and fits of madness. From a life full of diamonds and rubies and sapphires — not the kind you dig up from an underground world, but the kind you carry in your heart.”

“It would take a giant heart to carry all that!”

“That’s why we share our lives with the people we love. So we have more than one heart to hold all that treasure.”

The girl rubbed her eyes and snuggled against Effie, “Nana, tell me a story.”

With her arms around her granddaughter, Effie began... “Once upon a time there was a girl who lived inside a rainbow. She’d reach for the colors around her, but her hands were always empty because the rainbow wasn’t real. So she filled her hands with love, and she painted a real life in all the colors she used to live within but couldn’t touch...”

Effie’s granddaughter clutched the old lace shawl as she fell asleep.

“Concealment and revelation. A veil and a shroud. Chastity and wildness. Fragility and resilience. Complexity and simplicity. Curiosity and knowing. Teasing and fulfillment. Thrill and comfort... These are my hopes for you, Baby Doll,” Effie whispered.

Lace becomes what we need it to be.

“Hopes were wallflowers. Hopes hugged the perimeter of a dance floor in your brain, tugging at their party lace, all perfume and hems and doomed expectation. They fanned their dance cards, these guests that pressed against the walls of your heart.” — Karen Russell

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Epilogue

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Warnings: this is over 10,000 words, so get some snacks and a hot cup of chocolate!

Click Here For Masterlist 

Five years after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 ‘Bekah, really this is completely unnecessary.’ I tried to reason with her, but I wasn’t surprised when my protests seemed to fall on deaf ears.

 ‘It may not be necessary but that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.’ She winked, turning back to the owner of the cute little clothes store we’d found in the centre of the city. She was compelling her to let us have free run of the store, seeing as clothes were limited and she didn’t want to lose out on the perfect outfit to someone else.

 While she did that, I wondered around, absentmindedly looking at the different clothes she had to offer. I had to hand it to her, everything was beautiful and all one of a kind, seeing as she made the clothes herself and only ever made ten of everything. Once they sold, that was it.

‘Find anything?’ I asked Elena when I reached her.

 ‘Oh my--,’ she cut off with a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

 ‘Sorry.’ I grinned, amused that after so many years of me being a vampire I could still startle her.

 She shot me a look, clearly not believing my apology but she waved me off anyway.

 ‘You know, I’m surprised I can still startle you with your newfound heightened senses.’ I teased.

 Elena had become a vampire a few years ago, after she had turned twenty. She had given it a lot of thought beforehand, and was content with her decision when she asked Stefan to turn her so that she could spend an eternity by his side. The younger Salvatore had been hesitant, but after my sister assured him that she had done nothing but think about it since she met him, he followed through with her request.

 ‘Well I was too busy wondering if this top would look cute on me.’ She protested, holding up a white and baby pink lace crop top.

 ‘It would not.’ Bekah interjected, sliding up next to me and holding out a similar style crop top but in red, ‘this colour suits your skin tone better.’

 ‘Thank you, Bekah.’ Elena smiled gratefully and put the reject back on the rack before adding the new addition to her basket.

 I smirked in amusement when I realised that Elena had already gathered enough to fill half her basket, while Bekah had enough to warrant moving onto a third while I had nothing.

 Bekah seemed to notice that too, ‘why haven’t you got anything in your basket yet? We only have another hour until we need to be back for dinner and the barbecue is tomorrow!’

 ‘I know,’ I sighed, running a hand through my hair, ‘I’ve never been good at picking out clothes for myself Bekah. I hate shopping.’

 Elena and Bekah gasped dramatically, as if this was news to them, which of course it wasn’t. I rolled my eyes at their dramatics, but a small smile still found its way to my lips.

 ‘Well that’s easy enough. I’ll pick something for you.’ Bekah smiled, already wondering off to the back wall—I imagined she already had something in mind.

 A few years ago, I would’ve tried to stop her, but I knew that she would only pick something that would compliment my figure and my personal tastes. She had a gift when it came to styling people, in any other time she could’ve been an amazing personal shopper. But then again, owning her own clothing line seemed more Bekah’s style.

 ‘So when are Stefan and Damon getting in?’ I asked, following Elena around while she browsed through the other options.

 ‘Tonight after dinner, which sucks but we can all probably watch a movie together.’ Elena replied, the excitement at the prospect of seeing her love leaking into her voice.

 ‘True, though it is Kol’s turn to pick this month. Probably means we’re gonna be stuck watching some gory horror movie.’ I rolled my eyes fondly—the younger Mikaelson loved watching scary movies to mock and point holes in the stories.

 ‘Better than Elijah’s documentary obsession.’ Elena joked. She wasn’t wrong, though. Elijah was fascinated with watching documentaries on anything—the last time it had been his pick, we sat through a two hour movie on how cans were made.

 ‘No arguments here.’ Bekah laughed, adding an armful of clothes to my basket.

 I knew there was more than one outfit choice there, but I also knew better than to argue—she liked to add options for me to choose from, plus anything I didn’t want to wear tomorrow I could just wear some other time.

 ‘Thanks, Bekah.’ I smiled offering her a side hug, ‘you’re a godsend.’

 Bekah snorted, commenting on the fact that no one had ever called her that in a thousand years. She offered me a kind smile though and I knew she was grateful for the compliment.

 ‘Well if everyone’s finished, I’m craving something sweet.’ Elena mused.

 ‘I know just the place.’ Bekah smirked; I could already feel my mouth watering at the prospect of pastries.

 //

 ‘So, how’s being newly married?’ Bekah asked my sister just as I’d taken a huge bit of one of the beignets from the centre of the table.

 My eyes closed in pleasure and I couldn’t help the small moan that formed at the back of my throat from the taste. Heaven.

 ‘Great.’ Elena’s expression visibly lit up, as it always did when she spoke of her relationship with the younger Salvatore, ‘we’re actually thinking about moving to New Orleans permanently. Stefan wants to talk to you guys about it first, just to make sure it’s alright, but hopefully there won’t be an issue. I’m ready to move on from Mystic Falls, and I want to be closer to my second family, seeing as the only ones really left back home are me, Stefan, Damon and Bonnie.’

 It was true; Jeremy and a few of his friends from school had decided to travel the world before committing to a college, and Jenna had moved back to Denver after Jeremy had graduated. The old house was currently being rented out by Jenna being as none of us had the heart to put it up for sale.

 ‘I don’t think that will be a problem, Elena you’re family.’ I assured her with a smile, honestly the thought of her moving to the city filled me with joy, ‘the Mikaelson’s love you like a sister, and Stefan and Nik have the biggest bromance going on, there should be zero issues.’

 ‘She’s right, Lena.’ Bekah assured her, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement—I imagined mine looked the same. The prospect of us all living in the same city all the time was just too wonderful to comprehend. Usually we had to made do with one weekend a month—that was the mandatory minimum for the whole family to meet up, no matter where they were in the world they had to be back for family weekend. Though to be fair, Elena, Stefan and Damon were the only ones who didn’t live in the city permanently, so that rule only really applied to them.

 ‘Do you think Bonnie will come to the barbecue?’ I wondered, sipping my caramel latte as I waited for an answer.

 Bonnie was a somewhat touchy subject for the group. When I’d gathered the courage and will to go back to Mystic Falls to tell my family the truth about what had happened, Bonnie and Katherine were the only two who had an issue. Bonnie because she believed I’d defied the balance of nature by helping break a curse that had been in place for so long, and Katherine because she’d lost five hundred years bound to paranoia and fear.

 It had taken some time, but eventually Bonnie realised that if the curse shouldn’t have been broken, the means to break it wouldn’t have existed. Katherine was more stubborn and even attempted to gather enough firepower from witches, vampires and werewolves to take Klaus and Elijah down. Of course, when they found out whom she wanted them to go up against they immediately backed out, a few even coming to New Orleans to warn the Mikaelsons of the potential threat—they didn’t want to go up against the strongest supernatural army in the world. Which was of course what the Mikaelson’s had built in New Orleans. It was the place that any species could come and live with different supernatural creatures in harmony. They did such a good job ruling it, fairly and with a genuine care for each and every person, that the loyalty they earned from each member of the city was unwavering. That was something Katherine hadn’t realised, until it was too late.

 Klaus and Elijah had sent a few werewolves and vampires for her to “recruit.” Of course, it had been a ploy to lure her to New Orleans and once they had her, they gave her three options:

-       Give up her ploy for revenge and start living her immortal life without a thirst for repentance

-       Let herself be compelled to once again forget why she wanted vengeance

-       Or die.

Her rage had inevitably made the decision for her. After she had been given her options, I had returned to the compound after meeting Cami for a drink at Rousseau’s. My appearance reminded her of her hatred and she’d attempted to attack me immediately, before she could however Elijah had removed her heart while Klaus had flashed to my side, prepared to aid me should I need it. We had both stared at the elder Mikaelson in shock, but he simply dropped her heart and ordered for her body to be burned to ash.

 I still remembered the conversation I’d had with him that night.

 A few months after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 I took a deep breath, trying to build up the courage to knock on his door, but I found myself shuffling from foot to foot. I was just about to bolt and return to bed with Nik when the door opened of its own accord.

 ‘Evangeline, is there something I can help you with?’ Elijah’s calm voice tampered a little of my anxiety, as did the absence of anger or sorrow in his eyes. But I didn’t let that fool me completely—I knew just as well as anyone that he was the best at withholding emotions from those closest to him.

 ‘I- I just wanted to apologise.’ I said, clearing my throat as my voice broke.

 ‘Whatever for?’ he gestured for me to enter his bedroom and I took a seat on one of the armchairs he had opposite his bed. Elijah himself perched himself on the foot of his bed, rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows as he awaited my response.

 ‘For Katherine. I know you cared for her once, and it’s my fault that nothing happened with her.’ I murmured, suddenly finding myself enamoured with the sleeves of the Henley that I was wearing that happened to belong to my hybrid.

 ‘If I ever cared for Katarina, it was because she reminded me of another life.’ Elijah said, the softness of his voice caused me to look up to him, ‘she reminded me of a time where my biggest worry was competing with my brother to win the affections of a woman who looked a lot like her.’

 ‘Tatia.’ I said, familiar with the story.

 ‘Indeed. When we were human my biggest concerns were trying to win Tatia’s hand in marriage, and protecting my siblings from our brute of a father. Katarina reminded me of that, and as a result caused me to yearn for that simplicity.’

 I nodded, somewhat understanding.

 ‘Of course, that changed when I realised that Niklaus was finding his humanity, due to a mysterious girl from the future.’ Elijah smiled knowingly at me, and I couldn’t help but look down, grateful that I couldn’t blush, ‘you see Evangeline, your appearance in our lives made me yearn for my life in the present. It made me yearn for a time that we could all sit down together as a family and be happy. Happier than we ever were when we lived in that small village in Mystic Falls over a thousand years ago. For the first time in a long time, I was excited by what the future would bring, rather than being consumed with dread over the prospect of witnessing my family commit heinous acts before my very eyes. You saved this family. And for Katarina to come along and try to inadvertently tear that apart, well you know by now… no one hurts my family and lives. And you, Evangeline are just as much a part of this family as I am.’

 I knew that my cheeks were wet with tears but I didn’t care. In a flash I was hugging Elijah and unconsciously soaking his shirt with tears. He hugged me back and I found myself grateful and lucky to have been accepted into the Mikaelson family.

 ‘Thank you, Elijah.’ I murmured against his chest.

 ‘Always and forever, sister.’ He murmured back, placing a chaste kiss to the top of my head.

 Back to five years after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 That had been a few months after I returned from the past, and Elijah and I had only grown closer. He was like the big brother I had always wanted, and being accepted into the fold meant that I was also gifted with the huge family I’d always yearned for. I was immensely grateful, being as I’d given up on the idea of a big family when I’d been turned into a vampire. I was lucky, and a day didn’t go by where I wasn’t reminded of that.

 ‘No. She’s accepted everything and I know she understands, but she doesn’t want to be a part of it.’ Elena said, her bright expression dimming considerably at the reminder of her absent ex-best friend.

 ‘I’m sorry sweetie.’ I murmured, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

 ‘It’s okay. It’s her life to live, and she doesn’t want to live it immersed in the supernatural world like we do. That’s her choice and she’s well within her rights to make it.’ Elena murmured, her eyes conveying the sincerity behind her words.

 It sucked, of course it did, but Elena was right. Bonnie was living her life like she wanted to—without vampires, hybrids and werewolves. Elena and I still loved her, but we knew it was just a part of life; some people are only meant to be in your life for a certain amount of time before you drift apart and they leave you with the memories you created together.

 //

 ‘Aren’t you ever going to tire of painting me?’ I murmured, partially amused and fond from where I leaned against the doorframe.

 After lunch with my sisters, I’d returned to the compound and after placing my newly acquired clothes into our room, I went to find him. Where I found him wasn’t a surprise; he was in his art studio painting yet another portrait of me. My heart fluttered every time I saw him taking the time to put me onto another canvas; I’d been so overcome with love when he’d shown me the ones he’d painted in my absence that I’d been reduced to a puddle of tears. Nik still had yet to let me hear the end of that.

 ‘How could one ever tire of capturing such beauty?’ he grinned, his eyes sparkling with adoration as he turned to face me. In a flash I was at his side, my arm wound around his waist as I placed a chaste yet passionate kiss to his lips.

 ‘How was your day?’ he asked, pulling me against his chest and winding his arms around my waist.

 ‘Fine. Bekah picked out some clothes for me to wear tomorrow.’ I told him, my hands resting against his chest and my head against his shoulder.

 He chuckled, ‘I don’t know why you go; you hate shopping.’

 I hummed in agreement before adding, ‘but I love spending time with my sisters.’

 ‘Forgive me, I find it hard to imagine why anyone would enjoy Bekah’s company.’ He deadpanned, but broke out into a laugh when I lightly slapped his shoulder in reprimand.

 ‘Elena mentioned that her and Stefan were thinking of moving here.’ I grinned, my hands moving to his shoulders as I leaned back to meet his gaze.

 ‘Is that so?’ he said, his hands falling to my hips as a smile formed on his at the sight of my happiness.

 I nodded, ‘she mentioned Stefan wanted to run it by you all first, but it you’re okay with it then they’re gonna come.’

 ‘Why would we have a problem?’ he mused, his eyes dancing with mirth.

 ‘I think it’s Stefan’s idea to be honest. Just to make sure they’re not stepping on any toes.’ I shrugged, not really understanding the need for permission myself.

 ‘Well I’d never deny them residence here and I doubt anyone else would either, lest they incur your wrath.’ He teased, grinning when I playfully glared at him.

 ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ I said innocently.

 It was true, of course. Over my time with the Mikaelson’s I’d gained a reputation. My temper was known to rival Nik’s when someone threatened or hurt my family. I’d always been protective, and that instinct had only become heightened when I’d become a vampire. And now I had a family that ruled New Orleans, we were bound to attract trouble, which led to my protective instincts rearing their head more often than I was used to. The Mikaelson’s, Nik especially, thought my ability to go from calm to a force that the devil himself would be intimidated by was hilarious. But I couldn’t help it. And I was happy to have found a family that understood and even rivalled my over protective tendencies. I thought back to the first time we’d incurred a threat after Katherine.

 A year after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 I woke up to the sun shining on my face, which wasn’t unusual seeing as Nik and I had a habit of forgetting to close the drapes. I smiled when I felt his arms still wrapped around me, his warmth seeping through the shirt of his I was wearing. I rolled over to face him and was unsurprised to see his eyes already open; it was rare that I awoke before him, but even though he woke before me most days, he preferred to stay and hold me until I woke up before he even thought of getting out of bed. I’d asked him about it before and he’d admitted to taking the time to bask in the gratitude he felt for finally being able to wake up with me in his arms. I’d held him tight after that.

 ‘Good morning my love.’ His voice was husky with sleep, and I couldn’t help the small shiver of desire that shot down my spine.

 ‘Good morning my hybrid.’ I murmured back, placing a kiss to his cheek, a wave of adoration washing over me at his bashful smile that always followed me calling him that.

 That became my nickname for him not long after I found him again and he was able to finally reveal that he had broken his curse. At first, the reception had varied from fear to acceptance. Unfortunately the latter opinion was rare; Elena and everyone from back home had accepted it fairly quickly, though I assumed that Elena not needing to die for the curse to be broken was the main reason for that. It took a while for the factions of New Orleans to realise that Klaus being part werewolf as well as vampire made no difference to who he was as a ruler. When they did, the criticism, fear and disgust had dissipated. Though Nik liked to joke that my attitude towards those who criticised him was the main reason for that. I’d started calling him “My Hybrid” because I wanted him to know he had no reason to be ashamed of who he was, and to remind him that I loved every single part of him.

 ‘Do we have any plans today?’ I wondered, nuzzling into his neck, his scent keeping me in a state of contentedness. My eyes were starting to flutter shut again, and I found myself not wanting to fight it.

 ‘Actually, Sophie has contacted Elijah and informed us of a potential threat coming to New Orleans.’ Nik murmured, his lips against my hair.

 ‘Hmmm.’ I said, not really processing his words and placing a kiss onto the side of his neck.

 He chuckled kissing my hair and pulling me tighter against him, ‘I should tell you of all potential threats after you’ve just woken up my love.’

 ‘Hmmm.’ I sighed as his hand starting to move back and forth across my lower back.

 I thought I heard him chuckle again and it made me smile as I fell into unconsciousness.

 //

 Kol and Bekah were doubled over in laughter where we were gathered in the courtyard of the compound. Klaus was laughing a lot less rambunctiously, while Elijah was a lot more reserved, though his amusement was still obvious on his expression.

 ‘I don’t bloody believe this.’ I muttered, shaking my head in exasperation, ‘are you having me on?’

 ‘No my love, we’re not.’ Nik’s dimpled smile eased my embarrassment a little, ‘I told you of the threat three days ago after you woke up. You must have still been half asleep.’

 ‘That’s cheating!’ I complained, slapping his shoulder, ‘you should’ve told me again when I was actually awake.’

 ‘Technically you were conscious.’ Kol pointed out, seeming to have recovered enough to add a comment.

 ‘Obviously not enough.’ I rolled my eyes and ran a hand through my hair, ‘now tell me about this threat.’

 ‘The De Martials are on their way to New Orleans.’ Elijah said solemnly and I nodded, familiar with the story.

 The elder Mikaelson had informed Niklaus over what he had done a few centuries after I’d returned to the future, and Nik had told me a few months ago. Nik had definitely been furious but his rage had subsided when he realised why his elder brother had done what he’d done. It had been around that time that Nik had told his siblings the truth about what happened to their mother. The reactions to that news had varied. Kol hadn’t had much of one, Elijah had already known but Bekah had taken it the hardest. But after some time, she came to forgive him.

 ‘So they want revenge for the time they spent pretending to be you and leading Mikael astray.’ I summarised, the wheels in my head turning.

 ‘I’d imagine so.’ Bekah mused, coming to sit by me on the sofa and stretching her legs out over my lap. Kol came to sit on the other side of me and rolled his eyes at the intrusion of Bekah’s legs on his lap as well, but he didn’t protest.

 ‘Do you think Aurora might have other motivations?’ I asked, internally wincing at the insecurity in my voice.

 ‘If that psychotic bitch comes anywhere near you darling, I can assure you she will be torn limb from limb.’ Kol patted my shoulder for reassurance.

 ‘That’s not what I’m worried about.’ I rolled my eyes and then frowned, ‘why would she be interested in me? I doubt she even knows who I am.’

 ‘Over the years you were not with us, we were subtle and discrete over your existence, but evidently rumours did get out about you.’ Elijah explained, smiling at my wide eyes, ‘your name along with your importance to this family made you somewhat of a legend. Though, no one knew why, or even knew of anyone by the name of Evangeline, so it’s often been dismissed as a rumour.’

 ‘Until now.’ Nik murmured, his eyes on me and shining with concern.

 ‘And Aurora always was the jealous type.’ Bekah sneered.

 ‘I don’t care about me.’ I muttered; my only concern was with my family, ‘you’re basically invincible. If they’re coming for revenge now after all this time, that must mean they have a plan, one that they’re confident will work.’

 ‘We’ve faced many people over our thousand years, all of which intended to end us all, and yet we’re still here.’ Elijah murmured, smiling in assurance, ‘I assure you, this time will be no different.’

 I wished I had his confidence, but I had a bad feeling about this and Nik must have sensed it because he held his hand out to me from where he was sat on the armchair. I shifted Bekah’s legs off me and moved to sit on his lap. His scent soothed my nerves like a balm—I’d always be grateful for how safe Nik’s arms made me feel. Especially in that moment because the absence of anxiety allowed me to think clearly and I had a plan.

 //

 Nik: They’re here. Aurora left a body surrounded by lavender and a scavenger hunt for me to follow.

 Kol: Tristan has made himself known; he’s already got the strix out looking for vampires descended from Elijah.

 Elijah: The witches are preforming the spell now.

 Me: Lucien has just walked into Rousseau’s.

 Bekah: This is an insane plan; I just want that on the record.

 Nik: Now is not the time. Focus.

 Me: If anything bad happens, I just want you to know I love you all.

 I slid my phone into the back pocket of my high-waisted jeans, subtly watching Lucien from where I sat at the bar, while Bekah was blending in with the crowd thanks to a glamour spell a witch had placed on her. My hair was down and wavy, cutting off at the bottom of my spine and offering me some comfort as it covered up the most of my back. The crop top had been Bekah’s idea, it was white, lacy and entirely too revealing but I was looking to gain the attention of Lucien.

 A small smile formed on my lips as I noticed a family of tourists sitting by the window, a mother and father sat across from their twin daughters. They were all laughing and talking, enjoying their meal together. I felt a small wave of homesickness wash over me in that moment. I hadn’t seen my family in almost a year—not since I’d told them the truth about everything. We were still in touch, but I hadn’t seen them in the flesh for ten months, and I realised in that moment that I missed them. It wasn’t as bad as it could be, as I was already surrounded by family, but I found myself wondering if Elena, Jeremy and Jenna would be up for a weekend visit. Though it would be difficult to organise now; Elena was coming up to the end of senior year, Jeremy near the end of Junior, and Jenna was in the middle of writing her thesis. Though I’d heard from Elena that she was thinking of moving back to Denver after Jeremy was done with school. As the youngest Gilbert had already mentioned his desire to travel after he graduated, and with Elena potentially going to collage, Jenna would be in Mystic Falls all by herself. It wouldn’t be the same not having Jenna back home, but I understood her desire to move away being as the life she had before our parents died was in Denver.

 ‘Hello there darling.’ An arrogant sounding voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked to my right to see just the man I was looking for, now occupying the empty seat beside me.

 ‘Hello.’ I forced a smile and hoped the disgust didn’t show on my face. He was sitting far too close and his scent was overwhelming me. He smelled like he’d bathed in cologne and whiskey, it was so bad that I had to make due with breathing through my mouth. A pang of longing to be encased in my Hybrid’s scent overwhelmed me, but I forced myself to focus.

 ‘Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?’ He smirked, his breath fanning over my face. If I were still capable of vomiting, I would have in that moment.

 ‘You’ll have to be more specific. In this bar or in this city?’ I was being evasive, but I couldn’t help it.

 ‘This city, of course.’ He said, taking a sip of the drink in his hand.

 ‘I like it here.’ I shrugged, downing the shot of tequila Cami placed in front of me. Apparently seeming uninterested was a sure way to garner his attention, which was exactly what was needed. I leaned forward over the bar to grab the bottle of liquor that Cami had purposefully left within reach.

 ‘I’m starting to as well’ I rolled my eyes when I realised he was checking out my ass and when I fell back into my seat his eyes trailed over my chest. I fought the urge to cross my arms to try and cover up as I poured myself another shot.

 ‘How would you feel about coming back to my place later?’ he asked, his fingers trailing up and down my arm. I assume he mistook my shiver of disgust as pleasure, because his hand moved to my back, trailing up and down my spine and lightly tugging my hair.

 Quick as a flash I held his wrist in mine, before he could react I snapped it like a twig, ‘I think I’d rather set myself on fire.’

 ‘You’re feisty I like that.’ He bit out as he reset his wrist with a click.

 ‘I’m leaving now.’ I huffed placing a hundred on the bar to cover my drinks and tip.

 I shot Bekah a reassuring look before I left. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was following me; his pungent scent assured me he was.

 It shouldn’t have been so simple, but it was. I led him into a trap; witches bought him to his knees while I turned and snapped his neck. After that, he was trapped in a basement with chains and boundary spells, where he would be bled out until the vervain was out of his system. Which shouldn’t take long for how fast the selected vampires were working on him. One down. Two to go.

 //

 ‘Nik?’ I called out as I entered the compound—he should have been back by now and I’ll admit the fact he wasn’t had me feeling both worried and insecure.

 I was about to call him when the scent hit my nose—blood. Most importantly Nik’s blood. I followed it to his art studio—he was in the centre of the room a circle of salt hinting at the boundary spell that was around him. He was shirtless and the dried blood on his torso hinted at how much he had lost. Despite the overwhelming urge to go to him, I forced myself to focus, someone had obviously done this to him, but where were they? I didn’t have to look far. She had her back to me, which hinted at her arrogance—she clearly didn’t perceive me to be a threat. She was staring at one of the portraits Nik had painted of me and hung along the back wall. Her fingers were pressed against the canvas gently at first, and in the blink of an eye her fingers tore through with such force she created a hole in the brickwork. That was when she turned to face me. Her eyes is what stood out to me at first, they were a striking green, seeming to shine brighter due to the red curly hair that draped around her shoulders and down her back. She was dressed in a short and low cut black dress; clearly she’d been intending to impress my Hybrid.

 ‘Aurora I presume.’ I said, unable to keep the venom from my voice.

 ‘You’ve heard of me?’ she seemed to preen with the knowledge.

 ‘Yes, when Nik was recounting his psychotic exes you were the first name out of his mouth.’ I smiled, inwardly cheering when her expression transformed into fury.

 ‘I cannot understand what he possibly sees in you.’ She sneered, walking around me like a shark circling its prey.

 ‘That makes two of us,’ I shrugged.

 ‘I’ll admit I’m disappointed. I expected more fire.’ She said, coming to stand in front of me again, and that was when she revealed a stake, ‘white oak seems a waste on you, but it’ll kill you just the same and to be honest, I rather enjoy the poetry of Nik waking up to see you dead beside him. The pathetic abomination will be so overcome with grief that he’ll be powerless to falling into my awaiting arms. As soon as that happens, I’ll be able to easily convince him to dagger his other pathetic siblings and we’ll live happily ever after as King and Queen of New Orleans.’

 My eyes flashed and before she could comprehend it, the stake clattered to the floor as the snap her wrist made when I twisted it behind her back echoed throughout the room.

 ‘How dare you.’ I growled, unbelievably enraged, picking the stake myself and plunging it into her stomach. She fell to her knees with a cry of pain, her hands moving to the wound when I yanked the wood out.

 ‘How dare you come into this city and threaten my family. How dare you call my Hybrid an abomination? The way I see it, the only abominable creature in this room is you, you psychotic, ignorant, pretentious bitch.’ I snarled, too far-gone in my fury to notice my Hybrid stirring behind me.

 ‘This isn’t your family.’ She protested, albeit a little weekly as I drove the stake through her chest, a mere inch from her heart.

 ‘Yes it is. I love each and every one of the Mikaelson’s, and I’d be damned if I let you threaten one of them, but all of them, including the man I love more than anything? Well you just signed your death certificate.’ With that, my hand punctured her chest cavity, clenching around her heart and tearing it out. I watched with relief and satisfaction as her corpse turned grey, before dropping the organ to the ground.

 I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to send a text to the group chat; pleased to see everyone else had achieved their goals without a hitch.

 Me: Need a witch back at the compound. Aurora has Nik trapped with a boundary spell.

 Elijah: Will bring Sophie now.

 Me: Thanks, Lijah. Glad everyone else is okay.

 Elijah had been with the witches to lure those of his sire line and trap them. Those who already resided in the quarter had been given a remedy that granted them immunity while the spell was being cast. When the strix arrived they would be given the chance to leave Tristan’s leadership or risk death. Tristan himself was trapped much like Lucien in a separate space secured with chains and witchcraft, which is where he would remain until the vervain had been drained and his plan had been compelled out of him. Either way, after that was discovered they would both be dead. The same had been planned for Aurora… before I’d gone AWOL.

 ‘Evangeline.’ I jumped a mile at the sound of his voice, having not heard him come around. When I faced him I was surprised by the intense expression on his face.

 ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, my fingers pressing against the boundary in vein as I tried to reach him.

 ‘I’m fine. A little hungry, but otherwise I’ll live. I managed to secure the location of the white oak from her mind before she incapacitated me.’ He smiled softly, ‘I already sent the location to Kol, I’m sure he’s taken care of it by now.’

 ‘Then why do you look so… astounded?’ I wondered.

 ‘Because watching you defend our family, and defend me has got to have been one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.’ He told me honestly.

 I blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh, him joining me. Though I knew he was being sincere due to the lust in his eyes, which seemed to grow as his eyes roamed over my outfit.

 ‘I’ll take it your part of the plan was successful?’ he wondered.

 ‘Yes, though I feel like I need to scrub every inch of my body. Lucien is a pig.’ I informed him honestly. There were no secrets between us.

 ‘What did he do?’ Nik growled, his eyes flashing protectively.

 ‘He touched my arm and back, pulled on my hair and leaned way too close. Not terrible when you say it aloud but he made me feel really uncomfortable. But it doesn’t matter now.’ I waved it off, ‘once he’s had the vervain drained from his system and whatever plan they had in place is revealed he’s dead. At the rate they were draining him, I can’t imagine it would take long.’

 This seemed to soothe him somewhat, but I could see him itching to hold me, his wolf needing to make sure I was indeed okay. Thankfully in that moment, Elijah walked through the door, Sophie following closely behind him. The elder Mikaelson raised a brow at the dead De Martial on the floor in confusion, looking over and pursing his lips in amusement when I hid my bloodied hand and the stake behind my back.

 ‘I don’t remember killing her being a part of the plan,’ Elijah commented as Sophie got to work.

 ‘I know. My temper might have gotten the best of me.’ I winced like a child about to be reprimanded by their parents.

 ‘She defended us brother. Aurora intended to kill her and use my grief to manipulate me to dagger you all and allow her to rule beside me.’ Nik explained, amused by my timid behaviour.

 ‘I couldn’t help it. I’m protective of my family, and of Nik, she threatened all of that.’ I pursed my lips, glancing down to her body, ‘she was one crazy bitch.’

 Nik laughed loudly and the sound bought a smile to my lips, relieved that at least he wasn’t pissed at me for messing with the plan. A glance at Elijah and the amusement on his expression assured me he wasn’t all that mad either. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease.

 ‘She had white oak though,’ I revealed the stake and handed it to the older Original, ‘Nik sent Kol to collect the rest.’

 Elijah nodded, some tension easing from his expression. In that moment Kol entered the room, grinning so widely I was surprised when his face didn’t split in half.

 ‘The white oak is gone. Apparently they gathered it from the wood made to construct a bridge and sign in Mystic Falls. Ironic, but alas I has all burned to ash.’ He said, practically bouncing with happiness at his success.

 ‘Excellent. Well done brother.’ Nik said, his expression conveying the sincerity behind his words. Kol’s expression softened under Nik’s praise and I couldn’t help but smile at the strong bonds they all now shared—My Hybrid had told me of Kol’s feeling of being left out of the family and so moments like this reminded me of how much they’d all overcome.

 Kol nodded, a soft smile aimed at his older brother before he accepted a hug from Elijah and then me. When I pulled away, he frowned at the dried blood on my hand and forearm.

 ‘Don’t ask.’ I said before he could inquire.

 Kol looked over to Nik who grinned and nodded in answer to his silent question: he would tell him later.

 ‘It’s all done.’ Sophie announced, but before she could even get up from the floor I found myself surrounded by Nik’s warmth and his scent.

 All of the tension eased of my body, and I felt Nik relax too as his face nuzzled into my neck and took in my scent, now assured that I was in fact okay.

 ‘You two are too cute.’ Bekah commented, I noted that she had her own voice back, which meant the glamour had been removed, but I didn’t lift my head to look.

 I hummed in contentment as Nik’s hand moved back and forth at the bottom of my spine, while his other hand rested at the centre of my back, his thumb moving back and forth comfortingly. The warmth his arms and hands emitted would never fail to make me feel safe and home. One of my hands were moving through the curls on his head, while the other rested against his chest, playing with the collection of necklaces that laid there. I was so contented and relaxed that I almost forgot where we were and what had happened when—

 ‘Why is Aurora dead?’ Bekah asked.

 Nik laughed and I hid my face in his chest, embarrassed and already aware that I would never live this down.

 //

 Back to Five years after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 ‘Come on, Kol!’ Bekah complained from one of the love seats—Nik and I occupied the other.

 ‘It’s my choice, Bekah. You think I wanted to watch that god-awful romance movie you picked last month? No. But did I complain?’ his question was intended to be rhetorical but I answered anyway.

 ‘Excessively.’ I deadpanned, chuckling with the others.

 ‘Well—I didn’t complain as much as I wanted to.’ He said, as if that were a solid argument. I rolled my eyes and settled further into Nik’s side, my head resting on his chest. His arm was wrapped around me and he was tracing random patterns on my arm. I sighed in contentment, knowing that if he kept that up with how warm and relaxed I was, I wouldn’t see ten minutes of this movie.

 ‘Then Bekah can complain just shy of how much she wants to, and you’ll have to take it.’ Marcel pointed out, laughing at Kol’s affronted expression.

 ‘Can we just get this over with? The sooner it’s on, the sooner it can be over.’ Elena mumbled, a blanket wrapped around her, that and her husband’s arms around her providing her with protection from the zombies that Kol was subjecting us to. She was sat on the far end of the couch, Stefan to her right, Kol to his right and Damon on the other side of him. Bekah and Marcel were sat on the armchair; the female Mikaelson basically sat on her husband’s lap.

 ‘Come on, you’re a vampire. If zombies were running around in this world, they’d be no match for any of us.’ Damon smirked smugly from his seat next to Kol.

 ‘You don’t know that. What if a zombie bite affected us? If we also became zombie’s I’d hate to spend an eternity like that.’ Elena argued, pointing to the zombie that was now on the screen.

 Instead of arguing, Damon shushed her, reaching for a handful of popcorn where the ridiculously huge bowl rested on Kol’s lap. I busied myself with the chocolate Eminem’s I’d commandeered, occasionally feeding some to Nik as I munched away.

 I reached over to the arm of the chair for one of the blood bags we’d bought over to sustain us through the movie. I opened the cap and drank a few sips before offering some to my Hybrid, when he was finished I recapped it and placed it back where I’d grabbed it. I sighed softly, not interested in the movie in the slightest. But I knew this was the whole point of movie night, it wasn’t simply to watch; it was an opportunity to spend time together. Glancing around I noticed that Bekah and Nik were also unimpressed, Elena was terrified, while Kol, Damon, Marcel were overly amused by what passed as a horror movie.

 I shifted in Nik’s arms so my head now rested on his shoulder, I faced his neck, not bothering any further with the terrible acting on the screen and started to play with the collection of necklaces around his throat. A small smile always formed on my face when my fingers connected with the only metallic one he wore—the locket I’d given him all those centuries ago. He’d tried to return it to me, but I insisted he wore it, liking that a part of me was always with him on the rare occasions I couldn’t be. In return he’d gifted me with his necklace that bore the Mikaelson crest. It had originally hung from a leather cord but he’d had it transferred to a silver chain and I wore it around my neck, happy to have something that reminded me of him for always.

 ‘Bored there my love?’ He murmured, to quiet to be heard by anyone else over the T.V.

 ‘While I’m in your arms? Never.’ I grinned as his chuckle, placing a kiss to his pulse point.

 ‘Do you ever think about getting married?’ Nik asked and I blinked at the question.

 I leaned up, my hands resting against his face so I could take in his expression. He looked curious, yet slightly nervous.

 ‘I used to all the time when I was human. Had my perfect wedding all planned out. But it was something I gave up on when I became a vampire.’ I told him honestly.

 ‘Why?’ he wondered, reaching up to brush some hair behind my ear.

 ‘Because I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to spend an eternity with me. I could barely imagine sixty years, but forever? It just seemed impossible.’ I murmured.

 ‘What about now?’ he seemed tentative, which was rare for him and I couldn’t help but instinctively move a hand to his hair, knowing that it soothed him.

 ‘Is that your way of proposing?’ I teased, trying to ease his nerves.

 He grinned, leaning up and pecking my lips before falling back to the love seat, ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.’

 The sincerity in his expression caught me off guard, but my surprise quickly faded to delight, ‘really?’

 He nodded, relieved by my excitement, ‘I even have a ring. I was planning on a romantic dinner with just the two of us, ending with me asking you.’

 ‘That sounds like quite the proposal.’ I commented, my hand gently moving back and forth against his jaw, ‘why mention it now?’

 ‘My love, patience has never been my strength. I’ve waited so long to have you back in my arms and I can’t keep putting off making you mine because I’m waiting for a perfect moment. Every moment with you is more perfect than I ever could have imagined, and certainly more perfect than I deserve. I love you Evangeline, with everything that I am. Spend an eternity with me. Marry me.’ He said, softly wiping away the tears that had fallen down my cheeks.

 ‘Okay,’ I was sure my tears didn’t dampen the pure happiness that I could feel radiating from my face. Nik captured my lips, kissing me with a softness and tenderness that made my heart flutter in my chest.

 ‘I love you.’ I told him, my voice barely above a whisper, but his soft smile assured me that he’d heard me.

 ‘I love you too.’ He replied as I settled against his chest again.

 I drifted off to sleep there, surrounded by our oblivious family and in the arms of the man I loved.

 //

 Five years and six months after Evangeline returned from the 15th century.

 ‘You look beautiful.’ Jenna said, dabbing away the tears in her eyes with a tissue.

 I smiled at her from where I was sat, getting my hair curled by one of the professionals Bekah had hired for all of us.

 ‘Thank you Aunt Jenna.’ I winked.

 ‘If you’re this emotional now, you’re gonna be done for when she puts on the dress.’ Elena teased, winding an arm around Jenna’s waist.

 They had all gotten ready before me so they (mainly Bekah) could assure everything else was going to plan everywhere else. The female Mikaelson was currently checking on the boys and making sure they were finished, honestly I was so grateful for her. If it hadn’t been for her input, I doubt we could’ve pulled off the wedding I’d been dreaming of since I was a little girl.

 ‘I know, I just keep thinking about your Mom and Dad and how proud they would be right now.’ She said, barely squeezing out her words before the tears started streaming again.

 ‘They are here, Jenna. Maybe not in body but definitely in spirit.’ Elena assured both our aunt and I. I offered her a grateful smile, my eyes flicking over to my bouquet of red and white roses I would be holding while walking down the isle—my mom and dad’s favourite flowers. It had been Nik’s idea and I’d loved it.

 ‘You’re right.’ Our emotional aunt nodded, seeming to steel herself as she dabbed her eyes one last time before securing her tissue in her bra. Elena and I shared an amused glance.

 ‘You both look beautiful by the way.’ I complimented them.

 I had chosen Elena as my maid of honour, with Bekah and Jenna being bridesmaids. Each wore a deep purple A-line styled dress made of chiffon material. This colour matched the ties of the groomsman, aside from Nik’s—his would be white. The dress cut off just below the knee, revealing the black platform shoes each of them wore. I had encouraged them to choose how they wanted to wear their own hair and was surprised when they’d all agreed on one hairstyle for them all. Their hair had been curled, with the front being pinned back to the backs of their heads with a jewelled clip that matched the deep purple of their dresses. They looked stunning.

 ‘Not as beautiful as you’re going to look.’ Bekah commented as she re-entered the room, looking moderately relieved.

 ‘What’s up?’ Lena asked.

 ‘Nik’s pacing a hole in the floor from his room. It amazes me how quickly his paranoia grows the longer he’s separated from you.’ She shook her head in amazement, moving over to the mirror to unzip my dress.

 ‘Well maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if someone hadn’t made us sleep apart last night.’ I muttered, already reaching for my phone.

 ‘It’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding!’ Bekah protested, frowning when she saw me walking towards the bathroom, ‘what are you doing? You need to put your dress on, the ceremony starts in ten minutes!’

 ‘I’ll be two, I promise.’ I smiled reassuringly and closed the door behind me, finding Nik’s contact and clicking it before bringing it to my ear.

 It rung once before he answered, ‘Evangeline.’ He murmured; his voice already sounding a little more relaxed.

 ‘Hello my gorgeous Hybrid and soon to be husband.’ I answered brightly, smiling at the sound of his chuckle, ‘what’s this I hear about you being paranoid?’

 ‘It’s nothing, my love. Just my self depreciating voice rearing it’s ugly head and telling me that I don’t deserve you.’ He said, his voice more sombre now.

 ‘Nik, you are the strongest, sweetest, smartest, funniest, sexiest and most talented man I’ve ever known. So you tell that voice inside your head to shove it because you’re an amazing man and I promise to keep reminding you of that fact for eternity.’

 ‘Thank you, my love. You always know what to say,’ he said, his voice soft.

 ‘You’re welcome, we all need reassurance sometimes, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.’ My voice was as gentle as his.

 ‘I can’t wait to marry you.’ I could sense his smile on the other side of the phone.

 ‘Right back at you my Hybrid.’ I grinned, ‘speaking of I should put my dress on before Bekah has an aneurism. I’ll see you soon.’

 ‘That you will, my love.’

 I hung up the phone and exited the bathroom, handing my phone to Jenna while Bekah and Elena helped me step into my dress. I had surprised everyone with my determination to choose my own wedding attire, which was fair seeing as any other clothing trip ended with me leaving it to Bekah. But I’d had a very specific dress in mind for my wedding day and I was overjoyed with the end result. It was a ball gown dress with a three-foot train; the bodice had a lace overlay that extended on sheer material to my arms. There were hundreds of diamonds scattered all over that twinkled when they caught the light just right. The veil that was clipped into my hair was also decorated with lace and hung all the way down to the floor. I was wearing my Mikaelson necklace, which I’d been sure to pull from underneath my dress, displaying the crest proudly where it rested on my chest. My hair was curled; the front pinned back similarly to the girls’ but mine was secured with the clip of my veil. My made up was natural; my lips painted with a deep red lip stain that matched the roses I’d be carrying perfectly.

 ‘You look radiant.’ Bekah said, tears forming in her own eyes.

 ‘Don’t, you’re gonna make me cry.’ I warned.

 ‘We can’t have that, you’ll ruin your make up and you look perfect.’ Elena nudged Bekah playfully.

 A knock on the door broke us out of our conversation; Elena answered the door to reveal Elijah. His expression became soft when he saw me, his own eyes glassing over as emotion overcame him.

 ‘Sister, you look… wonderful.’ He murmured.

 I hugged him, ‘thank you Lijah.’

 ‘Well, it’s time.’ Bekah announced, shooing the other bridesmaids out of the room, ‘remember walk down the isle when you hear the wedding march.’

 ‘We know Bekah.’ I chuckled, my arm linking through Elijah’s as we followed them.

 I had asked him to walk me down the isle because I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it. Elijah had become the best big brother I could have ever hoped for, and it seemed wrong to be given away by anyone else. Of course, Nik had also asked him to be best man, so after he’d delivered me to the end of the isle, he would take his place in between Nik and Kol. I took a deep breath as we reached the entrance to the ballroom; we were getting married at a house Nik had built in Mystic Falls long before I had even been born. He wanted to have a house where we could live when I wanted to visit my home, and a place that he could stay in to reminisce about the village he’d lived in when he was human. He’d built this house on top of the same place he’d resided all those years ago. When he’d told me that, it seemed to be the perfect location; the town where I’d grown up, where my parents were born and buried, and the village he’d spent time with his family before they’d become vampires. It held a lot of nostalgia and meaning for the both of us, and I knew then that this is where we could become husband and wife.

 ‘Are you ready, sister?’ Elijah murmured, turning to me as the march started.

 I nodded, unable to keep the smile off my face as I followed Elijah’s lead down the isle. I’ve never felt more love and happiness than I did in that moment, surrounded by those I loved, and the man I loved more than anything. Those invited had been kept to a bare minimum. Nik had most of his friends as groomsmen: Marcel, Stefan, Kol and Elijah were all stood up there with him, while on my side stood Jenna, Bekah and Elena. Other than that, Damon, Jeremy, April (he’d asked to bring her as his guest), Sophie, Josh, Cami, Finn and Freya all sat in white wooden chairs as the audience.

 Freya had been a surprise to the Mikaelson’s not long after Nik had proposed. She’d popped up explaining that their aunt Dahlia had kidnapped her and cursed to spend a hundred years sleeping to every year of life. That had been a close fight that involved another time travel spell for Esther’s blood and a few other ingredients, but we defeated her and Freya was free and connecting with the family she’d yearned to know for centuries. Finn was a different story. He’d been undaggered after Nik had tracked down Sage, who’d been his long lost love nine centuries ago. After their reunion, they’d departed and we hadn’t heard a word from him until Freya popped up and he came to the compound to visit her. Even during those visits he’d only really spoken to his eldest sister. Still, we’d extended a wedding invitation to him seeing as he was technically family. But I’ll admit I was stunned by his attendance; I suspected Freya had something to do with it. Though I was unsurprised that Sage hadn’t come; her and Nik had apparently never gotten along.

 After my eyes had quickly glanced over those present they fell and remained on the most important one of all. My Hybrid was positively beaming with happiness, the same kind that I was sure he could see on my face. The kind of elation that you felt at the prospect of marrying your best friend, your confidant, your lover… your person. His gorgeous blue eyes were glassed over as he fought to hold back his tears, I want as strong however, my tears having long fallen onto my cheeks. Bekah would have a fit, but I didn’t care. Elijah took my hand and placed it in Nik’s and just like that, I was home. My fingers entwined with his as we faced the man we’d chosen to officiate our marriage.

 ‘We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in matrimony.’ I couldn’t help but tune out what he was saying, too lost in Nik’s eyes to worry about anything else.

 ‘I believe you have written your own vows?’ I startled at the question, and nodded.

 ‘Nik, before I met you, I had given up on the idea of marriage, of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. When I was human, it seemed plausible, as sixty years doesn’t seem as daunting as an eternity. But suddenly faced with the prospect of forever, I couldn’t imagine finding anyone who would love me enough to want to be tied with me for eternity. Then I met you. We might have first gotten of on the wrong foot,’ we all shared a chuckle at that, ‘but I fell in love with you so fast that it scared me. I’d never felt so much so fast before, but before I could get too lost in my own insecurities, you told me that you loved me too. Not with words at first, but in the way you protected me, the way that you touched me and the way that you looked at me. From that moment all those years ago, I couldn’t picture a future without you in it, and now I can’t wait to spend eternity with you as your wife.’ I gently wiped away the tears that had fallen onto his cheeks before grasping his hands in mine again.

 ‘Evangeline, I’ve been on this earth for a long time, and for a majority of it I was a man I’m not proud of. As a human, I was berated and beaten for no reason other than my father’s unexplainable hatred of me. When I became a vampire and my werewolf side was revealed, I was more of an outsider then I had ever been. I learned to be ashamed of who I was, because that is what my mother inadvertently told me when she cursed my werewolf side into dormancy. This created a man whose insecurity and fear manifested itself as anger and aggression. I believed I didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. I became a monster, pushing away those closest to me until I believed they hated me too. I belittled anyone who showed emotion, when deep down I envied them for being brave enough to love, to adore, to laugh, and to be happy. I spent centuries taking the fate of my sibling’s into my own hands, because while I knew they hated me, I loved them and I couldn’t tamper my protective instincts when it came to their safety. They perceived it was out of spite or superiority and I let them believe it because it was easier to accept their hate than their love. But then I met you. You came into my life and within two minutes you’d already, albeit unwillingly, revealed your plans to kill me.’ I chuckled with him, my tears falling steadily down my face, ‘but despite the obvious threat, I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you. When you offered a plan to help me I was grateful that it meant I didn’t have to come up with an excuse myself. Your light, your kindness to a man who you only knew to cause you pain drew me in. You bought out my humanity without effort and I found myself overcome with my love for you, with my protectiveness and adoration. You accepted me for who I was, you made accepting your love and returning it effortless. You made me realise that I deserved to be loved.’ He took a breath, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks and smiling when I leaned into his touch. ‘I vow that for the rest of eternity, you will never doubt how much I love you, Evangeline.’

 My hands squeezed his gently as we shared a smile.

 ‘The rings?’ The officiate asked.

 I turned and took Nik’s ring from Elena, while Nik retrieved mine from Elijah.

 After we exchanged ‘I do’s,’ Nik pulled me in for a passionate kiss and just like that, we were married. The idea of an eternity with one person may have scared me once. But that was before Nik. That was before I’d met the one person in the world who seemed to understand me better than I understood myself. He was my rock, my Hybrid, and as long as he was by my side the prospect of forever was anything but daunting.

[theoriginalladya]

Oohh! Writing prompts! “I’m here, you are safe now.” Shepard & Kaidan and children?

On AO3 here

Thank you for this one!  It ties in with an idea I’ve been toying around with for future Caleb/Kaidan and kids!  Well, at least one kid! lol  Not sure what I did with the link to the prompt list but oh well.  Enjoy!

~~~

 At the tender age of sixteen, she runs like the wind.  Niamh Shepard-Alenko, once she gets an idea into her head, focuses almost to the extreme to achieve it.  The goal is her challenge, the target her accomplishment.  

In this particular instance, it has taken her a year but she has slowly, methodically worked her way to the top of the cross country team at school.  Diet changes.  Physical conditioning.  Psychological training.  Long talks with Papa and Daidí seeking any and all advice they have.  All of it.  

As a result, her time isn’t just her personal fastest, but the second highest in school history.  Coach Riley is even talking nationals this year, and she’s only a sophomore.  Where running and distance are concerned, Niamh is fast becoming an expert.

The only thing she cannot outrun, however, is herself.

Long curls of gold-shot reddish sunlight stream out behind her, flailing wildly and tangling in the air around her.  Her breathing comes in rough, labored gasps more like a novice runner than someone at the top of her craft.  Ahead of her, she searches desperately for a finish line to this race, but all she sees instead is a door to a tiny room with a lock to hold her in and no way out.

“Niamh!”

Panic grasps hold of her heart, squeezing relentlessly.  “No!” she chokes, a burst of energy fueling her legs forward.  

It’s just Papa, a soft voice in her head reminds her.  He of all people will understand.

But he won’t, she’s almost certain of that.  It’s a shame, really, but she continues on ahead, demons chasing her heels.

“Niamh!”

This shout, nearer than the other, catches her off guard, distracts her, makes her steps falter as she looks over her left shoulder.  Horror fills her from head to toe.  “Daidí,” she whispers, one hand rising to cover her mouth. For just a moment, she forgets to run, forgets what happened, and stares as he runs in her direction.

Since the war, given medical advances and surgeries, and time and love from family, he’s managed to heal.  Her memories of those early days, back in Ireland are hazy, mostly to his doing; she knows this.  The love and care both he and Papa have shown her and Tadhg have gone a long way to help them heal.  And if there is one word she always uses to describe him, it’s strength.  She will never forget the night his arms found her, wrapped tightly around her and scooped her from the depths of the River Shannon, pulling her to safety.

But in this moment, despite everything he’s been through, all she sees is pain. A sharp, piercing pain fills her chest, the guilt nearly bringing her to her knees.  She throws out her hands, pleading through her tears, “D-Daidí, stop!”

Their eyes meet and his pace slows, but it’s not until he’s within a few feet of her that she recognizes the truth; the pain in his eyes, the limp in his gait. The man who is always at the finish line cheering her on loudest.  What harm has she brought to him with her behavior today?

He stops a few feet from her, respecting her space.  It’s not completely unexpected, but she appreciates it nonetheless.  “A stór,” he rasps, struggling to draw in breath, “what’s wrong?  Why did you run?”

A movement off to her left alerts her that Papa has caught up to them.  He stops further back to allow Daidí to do the talking.  Her eyes flicker to his for a moment, notice the concern there, but he holds back. The ache doubles in her chest at the hint of uncertainty, something she rarely sees in him these days … until today.

“I – .”  She stops, pulls her lip between her teeth and worries it back and forth, her gaze shifting back and forth between the two of them.  “Did Tadhg tell you?”

“About school?”  Caleb nods. “What of it?  So you lost your temper?”  His lips curve upward fondly, love shines from his eyes as he watches her. “You’re a true daughter of Éire, a stór.  It happens to the best of us.”

Tears stream down her cheeks in a flood at his casual acceptance, but she shakes her head back and forth.  “No,” she insists.  Her eyes dart over to Papa again.  He is closer now, his eyes focused on her.  Concern now blends with sorrow in his warm brown eyes.  He knows!  Running her tongue across dry lips, she lifts her hand, holds it in front of her so that they both can see even as she stares.  She’s still not one hundred percent certain what caused it in the first place, but she knows the why.  She wiggles her fingers back and forth slightly, thinks back to class that afternoon and tries to recapture the moment when the first strange tickling flickers of dark energy came seemingly out of nowhere, surrounding her, enveloping her …

“Please,” she begs, eyes closed but she can feel it return in response to her summoning, “I – I didn’t mean to –.”

Daidí’s arms are around her before her knees touch the ground.  The tears give way to huge, gasping sobs as she folds herself against him. Papa approaches from her other side, his arms joining Daidí’s.

“Niamh,” Papa whispers, “hush.”  Gently, carefully, he combs his fingers through the tangled curls now hanging limp around her face before pushing them behind her shoulder, out of her face.  “It’s going to be okay.”

“But it’s not!” she sobs.

“Niamh, it’s alright,” Daidí murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “We’re here now and you are safe.  We promise.”

She pushes hard against their chests, breaking free of the embrace.  The dark energy slithers through her body now, enveloping her fully.  “How is this safe?” she wails.

Papa and Daidí share a look before each takes a sure step toward her. Niamh is bewildered and a little frightened – not of them, but of herself, of what will happen because of this.  She knows what biotics are, she knows the limitations they bring with them.  As much as she loves her fathers, she does not want to be a soldier like they were; and yet that now appears to be her only future.

Daidí gently takes her hand in his, squeezes it and tugs her close once more.  Exhausted, drained and more than a little frightened, she is just willing enough to follow his guidance without question.  “A stór,” he murmurs reassuringly, “your Papa has dealt with being a biotic for far longer than you have been alive. Trust him; he knows.”

She sniffles, relinquishing her hesitations as she wraps her arms around him. “But I … I don’t want to be a soldier!”

Papa kisses her forehead this time.  “You don’t have to be one if you don’t want to,” he insists.  There is a shift of movement where Daidí releases her and backs up a step to give them both some space.  At this point, Papa kneels beside her and lifts his hand next to hers, dark energy surrounding his.  “You have far more choices available to you now than when I was your age, whether that be as a soldier, a teacher or something else entirely.”  

Niamh stares at their hands side-by-side.  There are noticeable differences between them, and yet so much about is the same. She wiggles her fingers again, stares in fascination as Papa imitates the move, watches the dark energy softly crackle and hiss, eventually intersecting as he takes her hand in his. She pulls her gaze from them a moment later and looks between the two men once more.  “Promise?” she whispers.

Daidí returns to her other side and reaches out both of his hands, one taking Papa’s and the other taking hers.  “Promise.”

Taking a long, deep breath, she pushes to her feet.  Standing between them, her hands still in theirs, she nods.  “Alright.”  She trusts both of them with her life, always has, and that isn’t about to change now.

“We should go,” Daidí says quietly, but with a smile.  Niamh giggles softly; she’s heard the jokes about him saying that over the years.  “I’m sure your brother and grandmother are wondering what’s wrong.”

[melancholydreadfuldream]

Dreamer File 07

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

 Summary: The Doctor and fam found themselves in a dangerous place. The Doctor met a former companion who is supposed to be dead.

 Warning: ooc, angst, plot holes as usual, mention of violence, death, a possibility of dark!doctor.

 More warning: English is not my native language and I suck at it but I wanted to write for DW so please pardon the mess.

 A/N: I'm running out the fuel to write fanfic. I wanted to make a short and to the point fanfic with specific scene that I want to write but I kept driving myself with madness about how to fit the puzzle for the beginning and ending and then I ended up not writing at all. I thought about postpone posting this fic at least until I could start and finish one more fic but like I said I'm running out the fuel to write. It's weird because I finally have some time for myself due to the lockdown and for the life of me, I couldn't apply my butt to chair and write. I suck at this. Ugh!

    The Doctor had no idea what happened. She and the fam were on one of their routine adventure when thing got wrong very quickly. As usual, they ran into trouble and the Doctor intended to fix it. But, of course, the random villains of the weeks were unhappy of the Doctor's interference. Next thing they knew, they were sucked into a mysterious portal.

 The Doctor and the fam woke up in some woods in the middle of nowhere. With the Tardis out of reach, the Doctor had no choice to explore the woods in hope to get some help and explanation about their current whereabouts.

 They saw a young man and woman from a distance and they stupidly called out to them.

 "Oh, look at that. Newcomers." The woman glanced at them with a sinister smile. She got a gun and armed with knives.

 "Hello, there. I'm the Doctor. And they are my friends, Yaz, Ryan and Graham." The Doctor explained once they were within hearing. "We got lost, you see, and we would appreciate it if you can..."

 The woman shot at Ryan right at his stomach before replying coldly, "don't care."

 Ryan looked shocked, his mouth hanging open. He looked down at his injury before he lose his footing and fell to the ground.

 Yaz quickly tried to catch him and lessen his fall.

 Graham is frozen, unable to comprehend what just happened. When he regained his bearing, he quickly bend his knees near Ryan.

 Yaz tried to stop the bleeding but she knew his injury is fatal.

 The Doctor is enraged that her companion is injured. "Why would you do that?!"

 Yaz screamed at the Doctor to help with Ryan's injury. "Doctor, do something!"

 Graham hold Ryan's bloodied hand as the young man looked up at him as if he want to say something but couldn't.

 The man pulled out a sword from his person and grinned. "I love newcomers." He walked toward them threateningly.

 The Doctor quickly used her sonic screwdriver to throw his sword away from him before returning to fuss over Ryan's injury.

 The man looks annoyed but also amused. "Interesting choice of weapon." he said.

Yaz and Graham started sobbing as Ryan wheezed some more before he stopped breathing altogether.

 The Doctor froze in her helplessness as she just watched her companion got killed right before her eyes.

 "It's not fun when they don't run." The woman said, stopping the man. "Run, newcomers, run. The others are coming and you lot are fair game."

 The Doctor glared at them coldly but when she realized what the woman is saying, she quickly grabbed Yaz and Graham to run despite their reluctance to leave Ryan's body.

 7777

 The Doctor realized the woods is a place of hunting and they are the prey. If what the woman said was true, there are others, most likely armed and they won't lend a helping hand to them either.

 They finally found a hiding spot after a long while. Yaz and Graham were still shocked from the sudden loss of Ryan. The Doctor walked back and forth, wrecking her mind for a way out of the cursed place.

 Graham finally snapped and he said he wanted to avenge Ryan's death. Of course, the Doctor quickly tried to talk him out of it. Yaz insisted that they have to find weapon defend themselves against whoever come next at least.

 They had to leave their hiding spot when they heard a group approaching nearby. The woman who killed Ryan was not with the group. But, the Doctor overheard them talking about how Maeve managed to nail one of the newcomers. Now, the Doctor know the name of the woman who will unleash the wrath of the oncoming storm. But, for now, she reign in her temper and focused to keep Yaz and Graham out of harm way.

 The Doctor instructed her remaining fam to follow her and to be super quiet to get around the group. However, unfortunately, Graham accidentally missed a step and make a noise that alert them to their presence.

 "Run." The Doctor ordered.

 They barely able to dodge bullets and arrows that sorta rain down on them once the group are aware of the prey within their reach. Yaz got separated from the Doctor and Graham in the process.

 The Doctor is at least relieved that Yaz with her police training might be able to maneuver her way out of danger. Now, her focused is on the grieving Graham. He still wanted revenge and the Doctor know he will be reckless about it when next they meet Maeve.

 However, a man managed to get the drop on them and took Graham hostage. The Doctor tried to reason with the man who held a knife on Graham's neck. But there is no reasoning with the man, the Doctor realized in horror, for the man is insane with the lust to kill.

 Graham was helpless as he stared at the Doctor in fear as he could feel the knife inches away from his neck.

 A shot was heard and the man was shot right on the head dropped dead.

 The Doctor's eyes widened in shock at the dead man before her before looked up to see a figure in red hood a few feet behind the man and Graham.

 Graham touched his neck in relief before weakly reached out toward the Doctor. His body is trembling in fear mixed with shock.

 The figure in red hood put down the gun and walked toward them.

 The Doctor stood in front of Graham protectively.

 The figure pulled down the hoodie revealing a young woman underneath. "Come on, newcomers, let's get out of here before the rest of them come."

 The Doctor's eyes widened again in disbelief. "(N-Name?)"

 (Name) glanced at the Doctor in confusion. "How do you know my name?"

 The Doctor look confused. "Are you really (Name)? (Name) (Last Name)?"

 (Name) frowned. "Do we know each other?" she asked. "Never mind. We need to leave. Now. Follow me if you want to live." She ordered before turning to leave them.

 The Doctor grabbed Graham and made to follow her.

 Graham was quiet the whole way. He didn't even bother to ask how the Doctor know their saviour.

 "I came here with another friend, Yaz, she got separated from us." The Doctor explained. "We have to find her."

 "Don't worry, Jace and Lolo are on it. We heard that there are three of you. I told them to help out when they can." (Name) said as she motioned them to follow on her.

 They arrived in some clearing when (Name) suddenly turned around and pointed her gun at the Doctor.

 The Doctor and Graham back off in surprise.

 "Now, tell me which group did you join with?" (Name) demanded.

 "W-what?"

 "You know my name. That's meant one of the groups told you."

 "I don't know what you are talking about, I have no idea what group are you talking about, believe me." The Doctor said, raising her hands in placating manner. "I know your name because we have met before. It's me, (Name), the Doctor."

 (Name) froze. "Doctor..." she whispered in disbelief.

 "I know I look different. I regenerated." The Doctor explained. "Surprise, I'm a woman now."

 "Doctor, you know her?" Graham finally asked.

 "She was my companion." The Doctor said with a sorrowful expression. "But she was lost to me a long time ago." She moved toward her. "How can you be here?"

 "Prove it." (Name) took a step back, still pointing the gun at her.

 "What?"

 "If you are really the Doctor, prove it to me."

 "I have two hearts, you are welcome to check." The Doctor said.

 (Name) scoffed. "You could be the Master for all I know."

 "Ok, fair point but the Master wouldn't have companion."

 "He once had a wife for companion."

 "Yeah, okay, that happened too." The Doctor thought about it. "Oh my sonic screwdriver. See." She pulled her sonic screwdriver proudly.

 (Name) didn't look impressed. "Tell me what was the last thing I said to you. If you are the Doctor, you would know."

 The Doctor was silent for a while. "You said..."

 "(Name)!! Incoming!!" A man suddenly rushed toward them with Yaz in tow.

 "Yaz!!" The Doctor ran and hugged Yaz in relief to see her safe and sound.

 "Doctor!" Yaz hugged her back.

 (Name) observed the interaction. The Doctor's identity is confirmed by the reaction of her companion. She stepped forward toward the man to deal with whoever coming.

 The man, Jace, ordered the Doctor and the rest to hide themselves as he readied himself for a fight.

 The Doctor, for once, obeyed the order and gestured her companion to do the same.

 The Doctor watched in a bit of fascination and horror as she watched her former companion disposed the threats in cold blood using every available weapon on her person.

 7777

 (Name) led the Doctor and friends to her group's domain. There were other people within domain, both human and alien alike.

 The Doctor stood close near her fam, awkwardly trying to comfort or grieve for Ryan with them.

 "Why are you lot looking like someone shot your puppy?" (Name) asked.

 Graham snapped at her, told her to show some compassion, they just lost one of their own.

 (Name) observed the Doctor's silent but fury expression. She knew that expression, the oncoming storm expression. She chuckled. "Well then, this is your lucky day. No one in this world stays dead for long."

 The Doctor frowned. "What does that mean?"

 "Right, I forgot that you are newcomers. Don't worry, Doctor, your friend will be fine. He or she will resurrected again at the end of the day." (Name) said.

 The Doctor exchanged a confused but hopeful look with Yaz and Graham and they demanded explanation some more.

 "I don't know much despite being here for long..." (Name) replied with faraway look.

 The Doctor flinched at that but she didn't noticed.

 "We didn't know where we are. We just called this world; prison world. As the name implied, there is no way out. People just keep adding, appearing out of nowhere, but we couldn't determine the way in or out. It is like we are in a some closed time loop or something. Every night the day reset and people who died today will be alive again. Found out about it the hard way actually the first time I came here." (Name) said with a sigh.

 "Wait, so the people that you and Jace killed earlier and Ryan, our friend, they will all come back to life again soon?" Yaz asked for confirmation.

 "Unfortunately." It was Jace who answered Yaz. "The day repeats and the hunting begins all over again. Everyday, we killed or be killed, over and over and over again."

 The Doctor kept her eyes on (Name) who remained silent, crossing her arms, with a look that the Doctor can't quite decipher. "I'm so sorry, (Name), I didn't know." She whispered. Had she known that (Name) survived, her previous incarnation would have never stop searching. Unfortunately, the Doctor had believe in her death, grieved for her and moved on.

 (Name) blinked at her apologies. "I know. Wasn't your fault that I ended up here. Surprise to see you, though. Never thought I would see, well, meet you again." She observed the Doctor. She knew her as a man before. It was, she dare say, a pleasant surprise to see the Doctor regenerated into a woman.

 Yaz stared at the Doctor and (Name). "Do you two know each other?"

 "She was a former companion according to the Doc." Graham replied. "She saved us from one of the crazy lunatics who had me at knife point."

 The Doctor still stared at (Name) with almost a longing look that made Yaz a bit jealous. "I still don't know how you ended up here."

 "That's because I didn't know either. I was fully expected to die that last time I saw you. But, this portal suddenly sucked me in and the next thing I knew, I was here..." (Name) said.

 "That's exactly what happened to us as well." Yaz exclaimed. "Isn't that right, Doctor?"

 "Yeah." The Doctor murmured softly. She took a step toward (Name). "How long have you been here?"

 (Name) shrugged. "Time doesn't exactly work right here so I don't have the slightest clue, feel like it has been forever though. I have been killed so many times here during the early months enough to start to fight back. I grew tired of being prey." She said with a cold look.

 "Wait, the last time you saw the Doc, you were expecting to die?" Graham asked.

 "(Name) sacrificed herself to save 90 people." The Doctor said softly with almost a hint of pride and a bout of sorrow.

 (Name) snorted at that. "I wouldn't recommend doing that." She said at Yaz and Graham. "It was not worth it. Never be a martyr, especially not for strangers. At the times, I thought I would be welcoming death and be at peace and shit, instead, I got this hellhole." 

 The Doctor flinched at that. She was feeling guilty.

 Jace moved to stand beside (Name), putting a hand on her arm as a gesture of comfort.

 The Doctor noticed how (Name)'s eyes softened at the sight of Jace and wondered if... But, she put a stop at that thought.

 "The things we had to do to survive... We have to kill and be killed so many times we lost count. Some of the people out there are very creative in their torture and killing methods. So, we have to learn to adapt, be the predator instead of the prey." Jace replied, staring at (Name) with obvious fondness.

 (Name) turned to regard the Doctor. "Right. I suggest we find your missing friend as soon as possible. I would hate for him to end up with Homer."

 "Homer?" Yaz asked. "Who is he?"

 Jace wrinkled his nose in distaste. "That man is a real psycho."

 Graham snorted. "Thought everyone here are all bonkers."

 Jace snorted. "Well, you are not wrong." He shared a grin with (Name). "But, Homer is a sadistic bastard. He is also a loner with a disarming look that could fool you into believing he is harmless. Unlike the others who left their victim of the day's bodies alone, this shit would keep them and wait them to resurrect to repeat the process again."

 "You said new people keep appearing here and you saved them." The Doctor said to (Name) with a proud tone.

 (Name) shrugged. "Only did it to get more people on our group. Safety in numbers and all that jazz."

 Now, the Doctor's expression looked like someone kicked her puppy.

 "Yup." Jace continued. "Can't let the other groups gets to them."

 (Name) asked for Ryan's description to which Graham showed his picture via his smartphone.

 The Doctor gazed at (Name) with a sad look. She wanted to catch a glimpse of the familiar girl she known before but she is beginning to wonder if the old (Name) has gone completely. She knew that (Name) had to adapt in order to survive in this harsh place and she can't judge her for her actions but to see the warm and kind girl she knew before turned into this cold and calculating woman is a bit too much.

 7777

 The Doctor ordered the fam to stay there while she goes with (Name) to fetch Ryan. They wanted to come too but the Doctor refused to risk their life.

 The Doctor followed (Name) trailing around the woods. She kept making conversation that fell flat because her former companion refused to open up with her.

 "(Name), I promise you, I will get you and the others out of here." The Doctor grabbed her and made that promise to her face. "I will save you."

 "Don't make a promise that you can't keep, Doctor. I knew better. I have travelled with you long enough to know the Doctor can't save everyone. At least, not always." She replied.

 The Doctor knew there is truth in what (Name) said but she is determined to save (Name) at all cost. She will not abandon her again.

 They were ambushed and the Doctor, once again, had to watch how (Name) killed their pursuers in cold blood. She noticed (Name) didn't falter at all and dare she says, it almost look like her former companion enjoyed the killing. The Doctor knew the people that (Name) killed will be resurrected again but the Doctor can't help feeling ill at the level of violence that her precious (Name) can muster.

 7777

 Yaz and Graham hugged Ryan when he returned with the Doctor and (Name) the next day. They were relieved to finally see him, as promised, alive.

 Finally getting her fam back, the Doctor can finally breathe easier and now she can focused more on the world around them. She started to interrogate (Name) and her group. The Doctor noticed the tower over towering the wood and deduced that they have to go there to investigate.

 However, (Name) and the group were very reluctant to go to the tower. In fact, they almost didn't acknowledge the existence of the tower. The Doctor realized there are a huge amount perception filter surrounding the tower which make the prisoners of this world steer clear of it. She reckoned the warden of this elaborate prison resides over there.

 It took some convincing but (Name) finally agreed to go to the tower after the Doctor dared her to. She was pissed at the Doctor for mocking her and took the bait.

 7777

 As (Name) feared, despite making sure to travel in small group and to tread lightly, they ended up got ambushed by various groups.

 The Doctor managed to garner their interest with her promise to get a way out of the prison world. "I am the Doctor. I am a time lord. I am two thousand years old. And I am the man, I mean, woman who will get you all a passage out of here. In fact, I am the only person smart enough to pull this off. All I need is your cooperation to cease fire and help to get to the tower." She said.

 (Name) rolled her eyes in fondness at the Doctor's familiar action. It reminded her when she used to travel with her Tenth incarnation.

 Some didn't believe the Doctor but some found amusement in her and decided to see what happen if they get along. One of them is a woman called Maeve and the Doctor recognized her as the woman who shot Ryan the day before.

 Graham and Ryan were understandingly wary of her especially with the way the woman being dismissive of her former victim.

 Yaz walked toward the Doctor and expressed concern. "Are you sure we should help them, Doctor? They were killers. Rescuing them and unleashing them in the real world after they got taste for murders doesn't seem right..."

 "Don't worry, I will hand them over to UNIT and Torchwood to rehabilitate them." The Doctor reassured her.

 7777

 The tower in question has a layer of protection. It was a good thing the Doctor has armies in her disposal to counter the tower's attack upon intruders.

 The Doctor found a room with complicated machinery which she deduced to be responsible for the time loop upon the world where nobody stays dead.

 There is an old man there, a watcher, he prefer to be called to counter the Doctor claimed that he is the warden. The man has some connection with the machine that causes both time loop and ensure the imprisonment of everyone there.

 "Why are you doing this? Why kept them prisoners?" The Doctor asked.

 "I had orders." The old man replied.

 It was then Jace found a room filled with monitors. It was a live feed of each person inside the prison world, showing the life of the prisoners.

 The Doctor pulled her sonic screwdriver over the live feed and realized it was broadcasted outside the prison world and to her ill feel, as some form of twisted entertainment of the galaxy out there.

 It was Maeve who snapped in fury and she broke the warden's neck.

 "Why did you do that? Dead within the tower is permanent!" The Doctor yelled at her in anger.

 "Good." Maeve said as she glared at the dead body of the warden.

 The machinery started bleeping suddenly and the Doctor rushed toward it to see what is going on. She was able to manipulate the energy from the machine to create a portal to call forth the Tardis. But, the dead of the warden as well as the manipulation of the energy caused the world to become unstable.

 The Doctor realized the warden is the anchor to this world and someone need to take his place or this world will quickly crumble out of existence.

 Maeve immediately threaten them to volunteer to be the anchor already. She took Yaz as hostage and demanded the Doctor to fix it so that she can get out of the cursed place.

 The Doctor tried to placate her. "I will get you lot out but you have to let Yaz go. I will not have you kill one of my friend again." she said with a hint of the oncoming storm in her tone.

 "Better hurry then, Doctor, like you said death within the tower is permanent. You wouldn't want to lose her for good." Maeve said with an evil smirk.

 A loud alarm sounded from within the tower causing Maeve to get momentarily distracted and the Doctor moved quickly to pull Yaz away frm her while (Name) stabbed Maeve, twisting the blade, to cause her more pain before dropping her to the floor.

 The Doctor glanced at Maeve's dead body and then toward (Name)'s blooded appearance with mixed feeling.

 "Go. Do your thing, Doctor." (Name) said flatly.

 The Doctor quickly moved back to deal with the machinery. She still need someone to be the anchor long enough for her to safely evacuate the rest of the people within the prison world and so far no one seemed to be volunteering. She can't stay as the anchor as she need to drive the Tardis later on.

 Shortly after, they all heard the wheezing sound of the blue box.

 (Name) couldn't help but smiled at the sound.

 The tower suddenly shook in tremble. The Doctor recognized that the world is still crumbling all around them.

 (Name) sighed, realizing that she has to take one for the team, despite her not really eager to be a martyr.

 "Not you, (Name), not again." The Doctor suddenly said, surprising her.

 Jace volunteered. "So, I have to the anchor long enough for you to get everyone to safety and then you will come and get me, right?" He asked for confirmation.

 "Yes." The Doctor replied, avoiding eye contact altogether as she busied herself with the machine.

 (Name) refused to let Jace to be the anchor. "No. You are not doing this. I told you not to be a martyr especially not for a bunch of strangers." (Name) grabbed one of his arms, pleading him.

 "But, you are not a stranger, (Name)." Jace replied causing her to be speechless.

 "You are an idiot."

 "But loveable idiot, right?" Jace asked cheekily.

 A shot was heard and Jace laid death on her feet. (Name) is stunned at the sudden turn of event. She numbly stared at Jace's death body and then at the new arrival of idiot people.

 The Doctor tried to diffuse the situation, trying to convince the group to cease fire and let her work out escape for everyone. She promised to give them a second chance if they leave their weapon out of the Tardis. But before she could convince them some more, (Name) went ballistic on most of them, uncaring of the injury she sustained in the process.

 "Why would you do that?" The Doctor is upset with (Name) killing people within the tower.

 "They don't deserve your second chance, Doctor. Not when those who deserve it, won't get it." (Name) said as she gestured on Jace's dead body.

 The Doctor told the fam to go aboard the Tardis. Yaz led some of the group that come earlier with them to come in, providing they agreed to shed all their weapon aside and they did.

 "Hook me out then."

 "What?"

 "You need an anchor, don't you?"

 "No, not you, (Name)."

 "My choice. And it's not like you have any other volunteer."

 The Doctor is silent but recognizing the truth in her words. So, she worked on her without words. After she made (Name) the anchor, she went inside the Tardis but before she closed the door, she gazed at her and said, "I will come back for you. I promise."

 (Name) sighed with a tired smile. "Do your best then, Doctor."

 The Doctor faltered. There is a crack in her mask. And (Name) knew then. The Doctor lies.

 "I guess this is goodbye." (Name) sighed.

 The Doctor looked like she was being slapped.

 "It is alright, Doctor, I wouldn't know what to do with your second chance anyway. I have been a killer for so long I wouldn't know how to be normal again...or how to be the (Name) you used to love."

 The Doctor knew she had to let her former companion to sacrifice herself once again but she is unwilling to let go. But time is running out and she has no choice but to abandon her again once more.

 7777

 After the Tardis disappeared from sight, (Name)'s knees buckled down as she let herself fall to the ground, defeated. She knew the moment the Tardis vanished from the prison world completely. She sat there for what seemed like hours before she made up her mind. The world has stopped crumbling but her heart still feel like it is about to shatter.

 (Name) didn't bother to find out if there are still anyone in this world, if the Doctor get them all to safety. She didn't care. She stood up and set to destroy the machine utterly, continuing the process of destroying this cursed world. She give herself a dead sentence and she welcomed it. She can only hope death will be permanent this time.

 7777

 The Doctor had put everyone to sleep via the sleeping gas inside the Tardis. She recognized the dangers of having this many potential killers on board the Tardis and she will not risk her fam's life. She contacted UNIT and Torchwood to deal with the people she rescued and left.

 She dropped the fam at their home as she said she wanted to be alone. Yaz is reluctant to leave her but the Doctor didn't give her a choice.

 She stood there at the console, alone and sad and tried to come to term with what happened. She shook her head and pulled a lever on the console and moved all around the console pushing some buttons.

 7777

 (Name) laid on the floor inside one of the cozy room within the tower, nursing herself a wine she found in there. She didn't like the taste but beggar can't be picky. She watched from the balcony the crumbling world outside absentmindedly.

 "(Name)..."

 She turned around when she heard that voice. "Doctor...?"

 There, stood in the middle of the room, an astral projection of the Doctor. She was staring at her with sorrow and regret.

 She took a few step forward toward the Doctor. "You are not really here..."

 "No." The Doctor said with clear regret. "I made use of tiny opening within the world you are in to send my astral projection here."

 "Why?"

 "I have to see you."

 She sighed. "Doctor..." She stared at her with fondness. "Why do you made yourself unnecessarily suffer right this?"

 The Doctor glanced at her sadly before replying, "because you are worth it."

 "I am really not." She said. "I am a monster. I saw how you look at me when I killed Maeve and the others.... I am not the old (Name) that was your companion."

 The Doctor didn't reply at that. She noticed the crumbling world outside but didn't comment on it even though she knew what it meant. She turned to look at (Name) with glassy eyes. "I am so sorry that I couldn't save you...again."

 "You are saving me. Before you came here, I didn't even know permanent death is possible. Now, I don't have to be a killer anymore." She said with a watery smile.

 The Doctor reached out toward her wanting to touch her before realizing she couldn't.

 (Name) smiled genuinely for the first time after so long. "My Doctor... Thank you for still be my doctor even for a short a while."

 "You will always be my (Name) no matter what."

 She shook her head. "Some part of me wishes you never laid eyes on this part of me. I would rather you remember me as the (Name) that was kind and innocent, not this Me, this ugly version of me."

 "You are not ugly. Never to me. You will always beautiful in my eyes." The Doctor said.

 Tears started to fell from (Name)'s cheek as she nodded gratefully. Even if it was a lie, she was glad to hear it from her Doctor. She wanted to say she loves her and that she always will but she feel like it would be unfair to her. So, she didn't.

 "You better go now, Doctor." She said as she noticed the tower is starting to fall apart around them. "I would rather you are not here for this part. Allow me some dignity."

 The Doctor gazed at her longingly before she pulled a stone from her pocket. She kept her eyes on (Name) before took a step back and push the button on the stone and with a blip, the projection is gone.

 (Name) smiled before turning to face her end.

 7777

 The Doctor bend in front of the console. Her face is clouded with sorrow as she stared at the monitor. The monitor show the recorded feed of (Name) from the moment she first arrived inside the prison world until their painful goodbye.

 The Doctor, after she left (Name) to her death, tracked down the link to the broadcast to see who set up the prison world. She found the recorded life of the prisoners instead. She took the entire drives before blowing up the station that broadcasted it. She has not found the real culprit yet but she will. And when she did, it is only a matter of time, she will make them pay dearly for taking (Name) in the first place, for taking a companion from the Doctor.

 She paused the record to a face of her former companion. She touched the face within the monitor longingly, letting her sorrow and the righteous fury of the oncoming storm to wash over her again.

       When love was untamed

Two burning hearts are dared to break, remember

Nobody said that it would last forever

-Lewis Capaldi, Forever

    A/N2: Well, this fic kinda inspired by the prison world of Legacies and the tragic love between Sebastian and Lizzie so I decided to make one but with the Doctor and Reader. I'm a sucker for angst, after all. Legacies is one of my favorite witches show and I was thinking about making a DW x Legacies fusion fic in which the reader is a witch. I read plenty of DW fic on tumblr before with the reader being a witch or any other supernatural creatures and I want to write something similar to them. But, the problem is I have to write them first before posting it and it's hard I just wanna cry here.

Anyway, please leave like/comment/reblog if you like this fic, maybe? Thank you for reading till the end.

And thank you for everyone who read all my fanfiction and has leave like/comment/reblog before. You are all my sunshine.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

I would LOVE to read a fic or just hear your headcanons on maedhros or maeglin in the halls of mandos, becoming elves again after they 'made themselves' into orcs. I think your idea is fascinating!

I’ve had a mental fanfic about Maedhros’ time in the Halls in my head for a long while that I never managed to write down. Your question’s given me the impetus to put one part of it on the page, so thank you for that. Beyond that snippet, I’ve added some headcanon.

I have written very little fanfic before, so I’m very nervous about this.

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

The burning in his hand, sharper even than the fires into which he cast himself, had not abated with his death, not even in the Halls where all sensation was muted. It was not the flesh that had offended the holy jewel, not skin and blood and bone. It was the spirit that was corrupt, and the spirit that burned.

It enforced clarity. It meant that he could not deny the knowledge as his brother had, his brothers who had laughed at him when he had looked in their faces and shrunk back at seeing their eyes. Faces that might have still passed for Eldar at a brief glance. Eyes such as those he had seen in Angband.

The pain was a small thing in comparison to this knowledge.

He had feared it, during his imprisonment, more than any other danger. Needlesly. Morgoth had needed to do nothing at all. This was their own work, their own craftsmanship.

In any moment, the knowledge was nigh unbearable. In the measureless time the Halls offered, it was unimaginable. He might go a year, a hundred years, ten thousand, with nothing but the knowledge of what he had become.

When he could endure the knowledge no longer, he sought Nienna and cast himself at her feet. He could not look at her, could not raise his eyes from the floor, but managed to find strength for a voice scarce above a whisper. “Is there any hope? For any of us?”

Her voice was low, and deep, and gentle. “Look at me.” He raised his face a little, paused, forced himself to look up, and then collapsed back to the ground without meeting her eyes. She was Ainur; she could not be ignorant of what he was when he lay before her, whether he met her eyes or not. But he could not bring himself to; could not bring himself to see in her eyes the same revulsion and horror he felt in his whole being. “I have no right to seek you. I know what I have made of myself, and it is a thing abhorrent to Eru, and to the Valar, and to myself.”

Her voice remained unchanged, still gentle. “Maedhros. Look at me.” He dragged himself to his knees and, trembling, met her eyes, looked away in disbelief, then met them again, seeing no horror there but only love, and compassion, and measureless sorrow. “How-? How can you -?” he choked out.

“My siblings and I each have our own cares and loves. The seas are Ulmo’s, the winds Manwë’s, the plants and animals Yavanna’s. The lost and the broken are mine, and how should I not love them?” She placed a hand gently on his head. “There is always hope. Will you give me your hand?”

It was more claw than hand, charred and blackened across the palm and to the first joint on the fingers, and still clenched as it had been when he held the Silmaril, but he placed it in her own, and she began to weep. And as her tears fell on it a steam went up, and it began to cool, and the pain faded at last.

And then he was in her arms and she was weeping over him, her tears running through his hair and down his face and across his shoulders, and it seemed that by this his own tears were loosed and he too began to weep, choking out confessions of all things done and suffered in the past centuries, in no order or sequence. His sword at Sirion, plunging through the chest of a soldier who had stood by him in every battle of the long Siege. Flames at Losgar. The wrath and despair that consumed him after the Nirnaeth, crying if all we do must turn to evil whether we will or no, how may we be blamed for doing it? Salt and blood at Alqualondë.

He clung to her like a lost child, and sobbed harder at this thought. For the abandoned children of Doriath; for all those he had killed, and betrayed, and led into evil. And when at last he was done with weeping, still she held him, and smoothed his hair, and kissed his forehead, and he met her eyes with a gratitude deeper than any words.

He could see now a path forward, for the first time since he had entered the Halls. It was no a pleasant one; the thought of facing those he had killed, those who had suffered by his deeds, terrified him. But it was a path, and that was a greater gift than he had dreamed possible.

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

That’s all of what I’ve managed to put into fic. My headcanon beyond this is mostly a great many apologies (some of which are accepted, some of which are definitively not) and a gradual process of healing. After quite some time, probably a point after the fall of Ost-in-Edhil, other elves in the Halls start to seek out Maedhros. There are a lot of people in the Halls with regrets and wrongs and mistakes, some greater and some lesser; they find Maedhros a convenient confidant because no matter what they’ve done, he’s done worse and has no right to judge them (and some are inclined to tell him so at length; he’s used to it by that point). For the most part, he doesn’t advise, just listens.

At some point, Maeglin starts talking to Maedhros. Mostly unpleasantly; Maeglin is rather far past the point where he can conceptualize the possibility of being anything but orcish. But Maedhros is by this point pretty much incapable of taking offense at anything, and he’s the one elf in the Halls who’s able to sincerely regard, and treat, Maeglin as not fundamentally different from himself. And over time this relationship manages to pull Maeglin towards being something that more resembles a person, and to at least realize that he doesn’t want to be the way he is and, just maybe, doesn’t have to be the way he is.

Another element of this is that there’s a different part of the Halls where real orcs (i.e. orcs by no fault of their own) go, and Nienna cares for them. Healing is a very long process, but every so occassionally, one of them heals and returns to life as an elf. (With no memory of their previous life; it would be too horrifying for them, and additionally, this is a closely guarded secret because it would cause a great deal of trouble if living elves started speculating about which of their friends and acquaintances were former orcs. So as far as anyone living is concerned, they just come across as former Avari who have been rehoused.) At some point, in a rare exception to this secrecy policy, Nienna tells Maedhros about this and he starts assisting her in this work; just being there as someone to talk to when they’re already well on the way to recovery. As with Maeglin, it’s something that works because Maedhros doesn’t regard them with horror or see them as something fundamentally different from himself.

[leahxx129]

Feels Like Home: The Ambush (pt.3) (Hvitserk x Reader)

My apologies for the delay and for the length. It kiiind of exceeded 2k words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! :)

Summary for pt.3: You are on your way to raid King Willelmus’ lands when Hvitserk surprises you with a sudden outburst. Also, things take an unexpected turn regarding the attack.

Warnings: violence, angst

Word count: 2.500-ish

Read PART 1 and PART 2.

Hvitserk pours himself another drink in his wooden cup, sits down on a chair and places his legs on the table. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of waives crushing against the side of your ship.

Ivar decided it would be best if you and the Ragnarssons used your ship for the raid. His reasoning included the fact that it looks like a merchant’s ship, half not as menacing as a Viking one, but in reality, everybody knew he just wished to enjoy the comfort that the multiple separated cabins had to offer in it.

A loud knock on the door forces Hvitserk to open his eyes.

“Come in!”

As the door opens, Ubbe’s features appear in the faint candlelight. He enters the small cabin and realizing what’s happening, he sits down next to his brother and joins him in drowning his sorrow.  Neither of them says anything for a while.

“You know, the first couple swallows taste like piss, but after an entire cup I think I understand why Y/N loves cherry wine so much!” Ubbe breaks the silence.

“Yes, well I am not certain she loves it as much as she used to… I spent a fortune to get her a keg of the best wine I could find, and she only took a few sips from my horn…”

“Gods, little brother…the last time I saw you this broke and lost was when-“

“Do not dare to complete that sentence!” Hvitserk warns him with a threatening undertone.

However, it does not stop Ubbe from finishing what he intends to say.

“-was when she left.”

Hvitserk stands up swiftly and crashes his cup against the table, spilling most of his drink, almost knocking over the candles.

“I told you not to complete it!” he screams at his own brother like a madman.

In a blink of an eye Ubbe stands up as well, grabs the back of Hvitserk’s neck and pushes his head down, stopping just inches away from the wet table.

“Tell me, brother, what do you see in the reflection?!” when he doesn’t receive a reply, he continues “Let me tell you what I see! I see a miserable man drenching in his own self-pity and insecurities and only the Gods know how tired I am of it!”

“What is your point, Ubbe?” Hvitserk questions through gritted teeth while trying to escape his brother’s grip and failing at it.

“My point is that you are still in love with her, there is no denying that. And yet you are here drinking alone instead of confessing this to her. Gods, Hvit, do you even understand what is going on here? She was taken away from you, but Fate is offering a second chance! Do you know how rare that is?”

He lets go of his younger brother who straightens up abruptly.

“She is on the quarterdeck in case you wish to talk to her.”

“How do you know that?”

“I ran into her on my way here. She’s had a nightmare and needed fresh air.”

Hvitserk stares into his brother’s eyes angrily, but his anger does not come from the violence Ubbe has used on him. It comes from the fact just how true Ubbe’s words are. He is, in fact, still in love with you. And he is, in fact, too scared to admit it. But what if Ubbe is right? What if this is a second chance granted by Fate? He would never forgive himself if it is and he missed it.

A minute later he hugs his brother and leaves the cabin to find you. 

You stand on the quarterdeck and pull your cloak tighter across your chest. It is a particularly cold, foggy night. The moonlight breaks through for a couple of minutes then disappears once again, only things in the immediate distance can be seen. Supposedly, you will arrive by morning and begin the raid right away.

You are pulled back from your thoughts by the heavy steps approaching you.

“Good evening!” Hvitserk greets you when you turn your head to check who the steps belong to. ”Why are you not asleep yet?”

“I told you Hvit, Nótt and I are not friends. But what about you? Why aren’t you sleeping?” you ask, turning your head back to the front to continue staring into the mist.

“That it an interesting inquiry, my dear. Do you really wish to know the answer?”

He leaves no time for reacting as in just a fraction of a second he appears behind you and snakes his arms around your waist.

“You know what? I am going to tell you anyway.” he whispers in your ear. “I am not asleep right now because I am trying to figure out the reason why you have been ignoring me ever since the training, Y/N.”

His lips brush against your neck as he speaks, and your heart begins to beat faster.

“I don’t know what you are talking about! And now… would you be so kind as to let me go?” you can barely control the shakiness in your voice.

He lets out a quiet chuckle and his hot breath sends shivers down your spine.

“You are very well aware of what I am talking about. But if not, let me refresh your memory… I am talking about the time when you were listening to Sigurd’s music and when I joined, you suddenly had to go. Or when you were at Bjorn’s estate and as soon as I set foot in there, you left. Or maybe the time when we shared a dance at the feast but immediately after you disappeared without as much as a word.”

He hugs you even tighter than before.

“And I believe you and I both know that if you really longed to be free, you would have escaped my hold a long time ago, min elskede.”

Where does he get the nerve to call you out like this? Even if he is completely and utterly right…

You elbow him in the chest, but before you can do anything else, he flips you to face him and pushes you against the quarterdeck banister.

“What is it that you want from me, Hvitserk?” you ask, your face is only a few inches away from his.

“I have never stopped caring for you, Y/N, and I think that you are still affectionate about me as well. Tell me I am wrong, and I will never speak of it again!”

The desperate longing in his eyes confirms his words and you cannot hold his gaze anymore.

A second later he gently grabs your chin and makes you look at him.

“So? Am I wrong?”

You lick your upper lip and take a deep breath.

“No, you are not. I still harbor feelings for you, min kære…“ You put a palm on the side of his face and he eases into your touch. “But can we not do this right now? You must have dozens of questions… which I will answer happily once the raid is over.”

His lips curl into a boyish smile and it reminds you of the very first time he rewarded you with one.

“Alright.”

You both lean in at the same time and kiss each other gently. Then all gentleness disappears, giving room to passion. In all honesty, you have kissed many men these past years, but none of them compares to Hvitserk in any aspect. You don’t know how to explain it but the closest to the truth would probably be that he feels like home.  

You break the kiss, gasping for air and you are about to go back in when an arrow lands in the banister right beside you.

Just as Hvitserk yanks you away from it, another arrow lands next to the first one.

You are being ambushed by the nation you wished to do the same to.

“Everybody, up! We are under attack!” he bellows, pushing you behind his back.

A couple of minutes later every single warrior is on the deck and judged by the sounds, the other ships and boats in your armada are alert, too. Ubbe wordlessly hands you and his brother your weapons then turns to face the fog.

And that’s when the first Saxon soldier jumps on the deck out of nowhere.

Ubbe cuts him down swiftly, but then comes another one. Then another two. And then three more. Between killing two men you take a glance to the front and the blood runs cold in your veins. To much of your horror, the bowsprits of your ship and theirs almost touch, creating a bridge for the enemy to cross through and that is exactly what they are doing. Gods, it’s like there is no ending to their numbers, they just keep coming.

Oh, well. If you must go to Valhalla tonight, you will do it knowing that Hvitserk Ragnarsson is in love with you.

Hvitserk is immensely fascinated with how you slay people. There is just something about your determination, your gracefully executed motions, and the way you laugh when blood sprinkles in your face. He is certain he could watch you fight all day. Your voice brings him back to the present.

“My love, behind you!” you shout, but it is too late.

A Saxon delivers a hit to his left shoulder and pushes him off the ship into the ice cold water.

Hvitserk knows how to swim, but his shoulder hurts so bad he cannot move it for the love of the Gods. The cold and the darkness intensify with every inch he gets farther away from the surface. There is not much air left in his lungs but if this is his time to go, he will die happy. He will die knowing that you are in love with him.

He is on the verge of losing consciousness when a hand grabs his shirt and starts pulling him upward. Realizing what’s happening, he tries to assist with his good arm and soon both him and his savior emerge.

“You jumped after me?” he asks, looking at you bewildered.

“Of course I did! Are you alright, my love?” you ask back, swiping a wet strand of hair away from his forehead.

He kisses you in response.

“I’m going to take that as a yes! Now come on, we need to get back on the ship!”

He nods his head in agreement but then a shield comes flying down from the deck and knocks both of you out in an instant.

You open your eyes and automatically lean to the side to cough back the generous amount of salt water you swallowed after you had been knocked unconscious. Which reminds you…

“Sss, Gods…” you hiss in pain as you touch the back of your head and discover a sizable lump. “I do pray this is not permanent… but if it is, I can only hope it is not bigger than Hvitserk’s.“

Your eyes widen and a knot forms in your stomach.

Hvitserk.

He is not with you.

Where is he then?

You jump to your feet and begin walking along the shoreline while screaming his name. He made it to the shore, right? He could not have drowned, that would be an unworthy death for a Viking. Right?

Your voice is starting to get hoarse when you spot something peeking from behind a huge rock. Are those… are those leather boots?

You run up there and collapse to your knees when you lay your eyes upon their owner.

“Hvitserk?!” you scream, but there is no reaction from his side.

Your whole body is shaking as you lean in to check if he is breathing. Tears start streaming down your face when you discover he is not.

“No, no, no…” you whisper. “You will not die! At least not on my watch!”

You straddle him and start compressing his chest, then after a while, you breathe some air into his lungs through his mouth. You do two rounds of this, but nothing happens.

“Come on, my love, you cannot just leave me here! I need you!”

You perform the sequence one more time, but the result isn’t any different from the previous one. A whirlwind of emotions takes over you and you slap him across the face hard.

For a reason that is beyond you, this seems to work, and he starts coughing up water.

“Y/N? Am I in Valhalla?” he questions once he is done.

You chuckle while wiping at your eyes.

“No, you are not.”

“Are you certain? I woke up to a beautiful woman in a wet and rather transparent nightgown on top of me… this situation reminds me quite a bit of the stories I read about Valhalla and its pleasures.”

You smack him on the shoulder.

“I have brought you back from the brink of death just seconds ago and all you can think about it pleasure? Shame on you, Hvitserk Ragnarsson!”

“Ow! Easy my love… I recall being cut on the shoulder before that damn shield knocked us out.”

The cut. You have absolutely forgotten about it.

“It is not that deep, you will live.” you say upon inspecting it. “But I shall bandage it to prevent infections.”

You tear down a strip from your nightgown and tie it around the wound tightly, ignoring Hvitserk’s hiss.

“Are you a grown Viking man or a baby? Stop whin-” but you cannot finish your sentence as he plasters his hand over your mouth.

It takes a good minute to understand the drive of his action... If you concentrate hard enough, you can hear foreign shouting in the distance.

The water washed you ashore at the island you wished to raid, but now they are the hunters and you are the prey, not the other way around as it should be.

You help Hvitserk up and run into the nearby woods, hand in hand.

“Alright, here’s the plan.” you say after hiding behind a bush. “Help me undo my braids so I would not look like I am on of you. Then when they are near, I will run out screaming for help, claiming I have been abducted by you and I will express my wish to be saved. Once they let their swords down, I will disable them and take possession of the weapons.”

“Nonsense, you don’t even know their numbers!” he protests, drawing his eyebrows together.

“Relax, I can easily disable four men all by myself! If there is more, I will allow you to help me.”

He scoffs but then remembers how you smashed him into the ground by using your body exclusively, so he nods.

“Agreed. “

“Great. Then now we wait.”

“That will not be necessary!” a voice speaks up behind your back in a Saxon dialect you happen to understand and when you turn around, a sword’s shaft lands in your face.

The world goes black in an instant once again.

Read PART 4 and PART 5 (final part).

[advernia]

fic: heaven just called, said it wants you back

— y'see, things naturally fall from the sky. for example, rain. hail. dead birds. bird poop. oh, then there was you. - ace of spades & alice the second.

1: alternatively - fenrir godspeed gets a bad case of the shoujo eyes, made possible by cradle's local random substance-making association ╮( ꒪౪꒪)╭

Fenrir's hands are loose fists with tingling fingers, pinching away at the fabric of his pants. Were the Ace of Spades a couple years younger and seated in front of a desk again, Dean would've taken that as a sign of another beloved student forgetting that somehow, there was a hundred-point exam waiting to be finished in five minutes.

Ah, good times.

"So - how am I, doc? Am I still good to go?"

Kyle chuckles, looping the stethoscope around his neck. "What's with the jitter, Ace of Spades? You're in tip-top shape. Heck, if I could smack some of that health onto my worst patient, he'd be outta my hair for a month or two."

"Even an untrained eye can tell that you're energetic as ever, Fenrir," Dean adds, snapping his book shut. "What made you run after Kyle when you heard that he was done doing his rounds here in Central?"

"Yeah, about that..." a scratch of the cheek, a boyish grin. "One of the smugglers I chased down earlier suddenly threw some sparkly liquid to my face. Kinda stung, yeesh."

"Oh. Sounds like a regular morning to me."

Dean does not address that comment. At all. "I see. So you sought out a doctor to check if the liquid had some adverse effect on you as a precaution."

"Right you are, prof - but if Cradle's best doc says I'm fine, then I probably am!" Fenrir beams, rising up from the bench. "Should've known though, just the usual weird bunch making all sorts of stuff with bogus effects!"

"Hm?" Kyle frowns, leaning back on the bench. "So you're saying that the sparkly stuff wasn't just meant for distraction, but it should've had some actual effect on you?"

"I guess? The smuggler did say that it will make you powerless at the face of sheer beauty, hah!"

Doctor and professor exchange glances: the no-trace-of-a-single-expression variety, face-so-perfectly-neutral variety.

Then, turning back to face Fenrir and in deadpan unison:

"What."

"I know, right? Like, what kind of effect is that?!"

.

.

.

Fenrir scours the Central Quarter's streets for at least four more hours, and he doesn't go weak in the knees at all.

Oh no, Central was already loads of pretty to begin with anyway, with its tons of market stall rows and crowds of people and various shops open for business. There's all sorts of energy teeming about from every road and alley be it good or bad, and each day there's always something new just waiting to be discovered - that's the sheer beauty in Central, if Fenrir would say so himself.

But the thing was, everything in Fenrir's perspective still looked as fine like usual: no change on how he saw his favorite spots around town (they're still the best), no change on how he saw all the people he passed by be it the group of young ladies (charming, they're all wearing new makeup) or that old man by the bookstore (pudge and wrinkle galore), no change on how he saw those stuffy Red Army goons in all their whitewashed uniform glory.

But then again, no sparkle in the world could make any Red Army goon's toothy grin look the least bit prettier in Fenrir's book.

So, yeah. In conclusion: local smuggler's liquid that will make you powerless at the face of sheer beauty?

Bogus. Slip-up. Dud. The usual back alley magic shenanigans, nothing to see here, case closed. What would true beauty even look like, and how would that render him powerless, anyway?

Ah, well. Another successful patrol under his belt, Fenrir whistles a tune on his way back to Black Army headquarters, choosing the scenic Central Quarter market route.

He regrets that in five seconds. He cringes, a shiver running down his spine, legs moving faster.

Sheer beauty, my foot.

That one tomato stall could make him walk away, but it didn't mean that it was beautiful, dammit!

.

.

.

Making his way past the Black bridge, a couple more villages, a short hike up a hill, and at last stepping within the familiar grounds of Black Army headquarters; he passes by the old man and his raccoon-skin-wearing-imp for a pet.

Nope, nothing beautiful there, especially with those sharp rows of teeth. The blooming tulips look great though!

He runs into Seth by the hallways, who, for all his claims of being the prettiest guy in the whole barracks; still looked pretty manly to the eyes.

... Okay, so maybe his hair was far from manly - did he seriously brush all those strands every single morning?

Then, at long last, the kitchen: something lingering about in the air had become a siren's call to both Fenrir's nose and stomach, amplified to the extreme when he finally makes it to the source. He just sort of stands there by the doorway for a moment, taking in a strong savory scent.

Hmm, meat in brown sauce, maybe? Or some stew or soup that was heavy on the onions?

Another sharp inhale of Fenrir's catches the attention of one of the backs facing him, of the person standing near the stove.

"Oh - welcome back, Fenrir," Luka nods, a ladle in hand.

"Heya, Mister Head Chef!" a wave back, a couple of sure paces forward. "Sooo, what're you and our assistant chef cook... ing..."

Fenrir feels his breath abruptly catch in his throat, words losing their coherence the same time his feet just stop themselves from taking another step closer.

Eyes open wide like they've never done before, as if determined to capture every detail what was unfolding before him.

.

.

.

Illuminated by bright rays of midday sunlight passing through the windows, hair he had always perceived to be a shade of honey-brown has turned golden, shining with a beautiful luster that gold itself would envy and desire to possess. The vivid color has a dazzle to it that achieves a delightful balanced feast of soothing and fascinating to the eyes, not making one have the urge to turn away or squint due to its sheer brilliance.

Its waist-length entirety had been gathered together, pulled up high, and was held secure by a white ribbon, but every single strand and every lengthy lock of gold followed and swayed; a shimmering veil dancing along in accordance to the movement of their owner - a turn of the head to look back, an action almost so painfully slow as it was simple, and the veil gives way to reveal what it has kept hidden.

Fenrir could literally feel his throat go dry.

Oh boy.

An even skin tone with touches of rose-pink undertones, absent of any prominent blemish from the tip of the forehead to the base of a very bare neck -

A face longer than it was wide, with a soft jawline that tapers from the cheeks to a rounded chin -

Neat eyebrows with delicate arches towards the tail, plump cheeks and pert nose blooming with a gentle flush perhaps due to the heat in the kitchen -

Innocently round eyes complementarily framed by long wispy lashes, holding in irises painted repeatedly with the combined natural hues taken from the clearest summer skies and cleanest waters of the sea: the end result was such an alluring blue, a shade that not even the finest jewel in the world could compare to, a color that could capture passing gazes and never let go; rendering one lost in the wonder of those eyes -

Then finally, full lips with both ends perpetually curved upwards; unpainted yet bearing a delicate peach-like tint, drawn closed but parting themselves open to say just one na -

"Fenrir!" Alice the Second smiles and just like that her face lights up - she's the sun in that very moment and he's hopelessly drawn to her, to those eyes visibly crinkling at the corners, to those eyes that were set solely on him and him alone. "Welcome home!"

Oh, man.

Seth always called her cute, but that one word hardly gave any of her features a single shred of the justice they deserved.

Here in the kitchen, standing not so far away and with the sun generously bathing her in its light, she was beautiful. Lovely. Enchanting. Divine.

Perfect.

A shaking hand pulls up to cover his mouth, fingers press down on cheeks that feel warm to the touch.

Not good. So not good.

She and Luka exchange a glance when he doesn't say anything, when he doesn't as much move from his spot. Then she - she with the blue Mary Janes protecting her dainty feet, she with the pure white socks modestly hugging her shapely legs - takes a step forward.

Towards him.

His heartbeat roars in his ears. Quite loudly, complete with relentless echoing.

Oh no. Oh no, oh n -

"Fenrir?" those pretty, pretty lips spell, with a voice kind and beckoning. He grips his face a little tighter, takes a step back, tries not to look at her lips. Tries. For his efforts, his eyes reward him with quite the pleasant view of her clothed chest - two buttons of her blouse are undone, giving way to a tantalizing view of more unblemished skin and the shape of her very prominent collarbones, and -

She takes another step forward, her lithe figure still occupies his whole line of vision, and he swears something in him is slowly dying.

Aw, shit. Remember rule number three! Rule number three, you're not supposed to -

He bumps into something as he takes another shaking step back and he takes that whatever he bumped into was a person, so he quickly turns on his heels; eyes brimming with a desperation and sorrow of a sinner as he pleaded rather loudly:

"Punch me."

Behind Fenrir, two voices say: "What?"

And standing in front of him, the bulky Seven of Spades, with his understanding heart as big as his brawn; offers Fenrir a toothy grin and not a single question as he replied: "Okay!"

.

.

.

The Jack of Spades and Alice the Second could only stare in horror as the Seven of Spades demonstrated an uppercut right before their very eyes.

2: it's february and i should be writing lighter things, aka a crack prompt revolving around the wonder that are the many odd substances being smuggled in cradle asides from aphrodisiacs 乁( ◔ ౪◔)ㄏ happy valentine's day! (‘∀’●)♡

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 19/47

Life is too short to waste wallowing in tears. Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774 

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

Rey traveled south through Yellowstone for another two hours, admiring the beauty of the landscape around her: Sprawling rivers, steep slopes, verdant forests, and picturesque vistas blooming with yellow and red...

At 45 miles an hour, the speed limit was perfect for behind-the-wheel contemplation. The road was busy, no doubt filled with Americans who took maximal advantage of the national holiday by asking for a few more days off around the same time. The traffic was dense and she was obligated to slow down.

The road she had chosen took her far north from the southern entrance of the park, depositing her in Hunt Thumb Geyser Basin, where she was to join the circular loop that traversed the diameter of the park. It was time to take a break.

No one forgot their first geyser when they visited Yellowstone.

It was easy for frequent visitors and campers to forget such majesty when the park had so many of them. But for Rey, it was a first, and she lacked the words to express her sheer wonder at the sight.

Translucent streams of boiling water pooled in massive basins and flowed into the lakes below, creating a soft, steamy mist that glided over sedimentary rock and bubbled gently over the muddy banks. It was fascinating to watch. Finn would have loved to see it, she thought with no small amount of chagrin. Hadn’t they planned their entire honeymoon around Yellowstone?

Consulting her phone, she realized that it would be late enough in the morning to be able to call home.

“Hello, Rey,” Her heart felt too tight for her chest.

It was Poe who answered on the first ring. She was still furious she had to listen to the voice of the man who had ruined her once peaceful life. Still, she made an effort to keep the venom out of her voice. “Oh, yes, hello. How is he? Any news?”

“Nothing new, he’s the same as last night. They hooked him up to a ventilator. Rey, if—if you could see what they did to him,” she could hear Poe’s voice braking. “I have photos, evidence for the police, but I don’t know if...if you would even want to see them?”

Rey hesitated. Should she see them? Should she look upon the face she kissed a thousand times to find it broken and disfigured? She chewed on her lip. It was time to stop running from her problems.

“Yeah. Send them to me, I want to see what you’ve been through. I’m sorry I’m not there in person—“

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you did nothing wrong.” Poe interrupted her, “and you have the right to be angry too...about what happened, I’m...I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, really? You’re sorry?”

“Yeah, I never wanted it to end up like this. What you guys had, it was so—“

“Oh, spare me your act, Poe. Would you dare tell me that if you could go back you wouldn’t do it all over again?”

Poe was silent. Rey listened to his unsteady breathing on the other side.  There was no good answer to this question. If he admitted regretting his decision to become Finn’s beau, then he wasn’t truly in love. But if he didn’t regret breaking Rey's marriage, then she was entitled hate him.

“That’s what I thought.” Rey snapped, her voice frigid. “You're not sorry in the least...so you'll excuse me if I don’t feel like having this conversation right now.”

"I understand.” Poe replied.

There was no need to elaborate. Her wounds were still fresh.

She took a deep breath. In the name of Finn's health, she would put aside her injured pride.

“What do the doctors say?  Will he recover?”

“Cranial trauma. Fractured ribs that punctured his lung. Bruises everywhere... he has a broken nose, a split lip, and a black eye. I couldn’t count all the bruises.”

Rey felt tears burning under her eyelids.  She wiped them with the back of her hand. “Bloody monstrous. And you, how are you holding up?”

"Yeah, I also have a broken rib and I took some hits, but it's nothing. They really got him.”

"But why?” She cried, “why were they hell-bent on Finn?”

Poe let out a sigh of impatience through the speaker. Finally, he snapped. “Well what do you think, Rey?  Because he’s black! He’s black and gay, and he was beaten half to death for it. Those skinheads screamed at him to go back where he came from, and that they were going to bust his homo ass, and they really beat him up. Him, not me.”

Poe took a breath, his voice breaking into a sob, but he didn’t give Rey time to respond. “I didn’t know how to protect him. I took shots at them but...I didn’t know...I didn’t know what else to do, I’m sorry.”

With her hand on her mouth to keep her terrified emotions at bay, Rey listened to what seemed to a living nightmare. Poe sighed mournfully in the distance.

She could not find the words; her mind suddenly seemed empty. How this could have happened in this day and age was beyond her. “But...but Finn is English, he was born in Devon, and his parents too!”

“Grow up, Rey, come out of the clouds.” Poe replied wearily. “Time to let go of the Care Bears.”

His last sentence was so laden with exhaustion and bitterness that it brought her back to the present. “I'll call you back tomorrow.  If there’s news in the meantime, call me, promise?” She managed to articulate.

“Promise. Anyway, try to enjoy your vacation. Life is too short to waste wallowing in tears. I’ll watch over him.”

It took several minutes for her to recover from that conversation. In a few sentences, in a few words, Poe had certainly upset her, but had also exposed himself. She had prepared for a confrontation, for the opportunity to shower Poe with insults, to make him pay for her sorrow, to make him carry the cross for inflicting such misery on all three of them...but he had been brimming with sincerity, and (though she hated to admit it) was more affected by this whole thing than she was.

She blew her nose and dried her tears. What would she have wanted instead? To marry a man who did not love her, not like that at least, and then find herself stuck in an unhappy marriage where all three of them would have been miserable?  

So what if she already paid the for the catering and the decor and all the bells and whistles? Finn was between life and death and he didn’t know that she had forgiven him. Unlike the wedding, that was truly priceless.

She would talk to Poe about it tomorrow.  It was time to make nice with each other.

Rummaging in her bag, she found an old envelope and a tiny pencil. She hastily scribbled the words on the back of it before putting it in the glove box.

Life is too short to waste wallowing in tears.

That would be her motto now. And she was going to start right away.

Heart pounding, she wrote a text to Ben.

Hello Ben, I left for Yellowstone. I needed a change of pace, I won’t be at the concert tonight. What are your upcoming dates? Rey

Her phone lit up a few seconds later, but not with the response she was expecting. Her eyes widened in horror. With trembling hands, she opened the attachments that had just been sent to her by Poe. It was Finn's photographs. He was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to complicated machinery with tubes and wires. His right eye was huge, swollen and purpling. Below the bandages that covered his chest and shoulders, his skin bore a myriad of scars and bruises. Rey locked the phone, finding the photos unbearable.  Finn wasn’t even thirty and he was going to die. Life is too short to waste, Poe’s advice rang in her ears.

She forced herself to breathe deeply.  She would deal with it tomorrow.

Heart heavy, Rey spent a few minutes playing fetch with BB8, and the little dog's enthusiasm consoled her for a while. She was giving the dog a drink when she received an answer from Ben.

Montana: Gardiner 7th, Bozeman 10th, Helena 13th, Missoula 15th. Idaho: Grangeville, Boise. Oregon...Will I see you again?

She hesitated. Gardiner was just north of Yellowstone, which meant she could spend two days sightseeing. It was plausible. The band’s tour then continued further north than her route allowed.  Could she make a detour? The real question was, did she want to?

She hastily typed her response:

We’ll see. I would hate to be predictable. xoxo

There was something about Ben Solo that she couldn’t pin down. She had been shocked by the intensity of his advances, he was almost too sure of himself, too dashing. But she was even more surprised at herself, at how quickly she’d yielded to his desires.

She needed to wait it out. She would give him a second chance, why not? But this time, she would be the one calling the shots. And right now, she had other concerns. Finn (her ex-fiancé-but-nevertheless-best-friend) was fighting for his life, BB8 needed to get home safely, she had to deal with dangers on the road (hello, blonde who tried to rob her), she still needed to find Leia Skywalker, and most importantly, she had to explore the majesty of the most beautiful national park ever.

Stretching, she nibbled on a forgotten cookie at the bottom of the package.  Then, having exhausted the short list of distractions at her disposal, she decided to take the Falcon west, down the road leading to the famous Old Faithful. For as long as anyone could remember, the geyser sprang into action precisely every ninety minutes, reaching a height of over 50 feet. She would also be able to take advantage of the nearby visitor center to plan out her visit.

Rey eased the car forward, about to exit the parking, when a sudden noise made her jump. She turned to find someone tapping at her windshield. There stood a short Asian woman with thick-rimmed spectacles framing her beady almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was gathered up in a scarf and the rest of her outfit seemed like it was composed of mismatched clothes bought from the various markets of Kathmandu. Perplexed, Rey turned the crank to lower her window.

“Hello?” She said cautiously, “can I help you?”

“Hello young lady, would you mind hitching me a ride?  I'm walking this way.”

“Hitchhiking?” Rey marveled. “But I dunno if...how far are you going?”

“To Alaska! “ The woman laughed, and Rey wondered if she was serious. “Darling, I will go as far as you take me.”

Rey grimaced. “But I’m not going terribly far...I was going to stop at Old Faithful, it's only 18 miles away from here.”

“It will always be thirty kilometers traveled without effort. Okay with you?  My name is Maz.”

Rey paused.  She had routinely been warned against hitchhikers, and had heard dozens of terrifying stories about assaults and robberies.  But then again, the only people she had spoken to since her arrival in the United States were Ben Solo and his gang—No, that wasn’t true, she had also met Rose and Leia Skywalker, before everything went sideways.

But this little woman seemed harmless, with her harem pants and tin jewelry. It wouldn’t cost Rey much to drive her 18 miles.

“I’m Rey,” she nodded, “get in.”

At a surprisingly quick pace, old Maz walked around the Millenium Falcon and opened the door on the passenger side.  She settled in the seat yet her legs were so short that they barely touched the ground.  She was carrying a backpack as worn as it was dirty, which she slipped on the floor between her legs.

"Do you want to put that in the boot, or erm—the trunk?” Rey suggested. “There’s plenty of space.”

“Oh no, it’s no bother,” smiled Maz. “For 18 miles it's not worth it.”

Rey did not insist and began driving again, cautiously making her way through tourist-friendly areas full of cars of all sizes, and motorhomes as big as buses.

“It's pretty, your accent,” Maz remarked casually. “You’re English?”

"Yes, from London," Rey replied politely.

“You are on vacation, I assume?”

“On my honeymoon.”

Maz looked behind her, as if to look for the missing husband in the back seat. She found no one but BB8, who looked back at her with her head held high and her tongue hanging out. Rey felt her discomfort and abruptly put an end to her silent questions.

“I’m on my honeymoon alone...it's complicated.  The marriage was annulled.” She provided.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," the little woman said gently, rushing to change the subject. “You plan to travel far, like that, all alone?”

“Not to Alaska, hopefully.”

Maz laughed, and Rey relaxed a little.  She went on: "I'm going to California, through Montana and Idaho.  I wanted to see forests, all the open spaces. Everything is so much bigger than what I’m used to...And what a lot you? Are you really going to Alaska?”

“Yes, and hitchhiking too. At my age, I have all the time I can spare! Not like young people who are always in a hurry...”

"I don’t know if I'm in a hurry," Rey mused.  “But sometimes I feel like I’m in another world. Like a galaxy far, far away.”

“Isn’t it normal for a ray to have her head in the clouds?” Maz smiled.

Rey pouted. “You're the second person to make that joke this morning .”

All her life, she had been subject to jokes and expressions involving rays of sunshine, clouds, rainbows...and it was rather charming, in general.  But Poe's words, although based on a half-stupid pun, had hurt her.  He was right: she had to go back down to earth, to reality. And since she was out here making good resolutions, she ought to try not to be the victim of her own emotions and to act according to her reason rather than her impulses.

Here’s to big resolutions.