#Like. the scene where they bring him into the camp and he watches horses trot in the meaning routine

[psalmsofpsychosis]

there's literally *sniffs* not a single day where Spirit The Stallion Of Cimarron is not relevant and amazing, not a single day i tell you–

[sooibian]

Wherever You Are

Pairing: Kai x You as Lys ft. Baekhyun, Minseok, Yixing

Description:  When you least expect it, love, quite literally, sweeps you off your feet

Themes: Romani AU, magical realism, romance, angst, drama ™ (i grew up on a healthy dose of Bollywood and it! shows!), secret relationship, heavily influenced by Mmmh Kai

Warnings: Blood, weapons, violence

Word Count: +9.5k (i’m sorry i haven’t had the time to proof-read this at all)

Tagging: @changshapatrol​ @rosetvler​ @bbyunz​ @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ @royal-aeris @bbhmystar​ @his-mochi-cheeks​ @littleflowercrown13​ 

Part of the Steampunk Romani AU collab with @leewalberg​ @vampwrrr​ @xui-n-soowillbethedeathofme​

Pre-reading notes:

1. This is a spin-off for Lys from Star-Crossed but it can be read as a standalone oneshot. I’ve tried my best to translate the events of that fic into Lys’ POV but feel free to shoot me a message if something still confuses you.

2. Lys is a mind-reader, Baekhyun has the ability to influence physical objects with his mind, Yixing is a dragon and he’s the leader of the clan (Bulibasha), and Kai - as we all know - can teleport!!

3. Glossary: bulibasha - clan leader, dado - father, dya - mother, gadjo - someone of non-romani descent / origin, dragă - darling, iubirea mea - my love, lautari - a group of romani musicians, zakono - a key institution for enforcing the Romani Code.

“Dado, can I go along with Minseok?”

“Where to, dragă?”

“To the horse fair....the one in the village?”

“That’s no place for a pretty princess such as yourself -”

“But..but.. dado!”

“The camp has everything you’ll ever need, dragă.”

You woke up to the same old chirping of crickets, the same old crimson, black, and gold panels draping your tent, the same old wine stained goblet on your nightstand, the same old aroma of steamed xaimoko and hearty cornbread, and... the same old stinging in your heart. 

Lips stretched into a habitual wide grin, you greeted the lass who brought you dinner with a drawn out “Morning”.

“It’s seven in the evening, Lys. You know how your father feels about you sleeping during sunset!” Vera exclaimed and gathered her skirts to sit on the edge of your bed, her gentle fingers combing through to untangle knots in her mistress’ long, dark hair.

Having mastered the art of repressing the emotions that threatened to colour your expression at the mere mention of your father, feigning excitement, you took her hand in yours and coyly quizzed her on the topic she was dying to discuss, “Tell me more about the whitesmith boy, Vera? Did he prove to be,” you cleared your throat and said in a hushed whisper, “worth his mettle?” and drew the question out with a roaring laughter.

“Hush, Lys!” Said Vera bashfully, biting on her lower lip to suppress the smile that was beginning to form on her mellow, innocent face. The whitesmith boy, better known as Kris, was the clan’s most eligible bachelor until yesterday. 

Young girls, in pairs or trios, would hide behind the shrubbery by the river to catch a glimpse of him shirtless, bring him bent out of shape wares to fix and polish - even the ones whose weights their delicate hands couldn’t bear - and watch him at his job for hours at an end as sweat would drip down his neck, making his light, cotton shirt cling onto his well defined back. 

As any young man his age would, Kris surely enjoyed the attention but he didn’t thrive on it. His heart belonged solely to his beloved. He settled for the most simple woman, some would say for the want of a better word, but you were convinced that none of them had experienced the sweetness that was love. 

You had - but only vicariously. Love, trust, anticipation, joy - all vicariously. The only emotions you truly understood, first-hand, were longing, anger, and sadness. 

“Lys?” A finger poking into your side broke you out of your reverie.

“Hmm?”

“I said, yes.”

“What for?” You asked, an innocent eyebrow raised in question.

She only giggled in response and darted out of your tent. Grinning wide, you turned to your meal and just then the aggressive tramp of horses’ hooves and sharp, piercing cries of pain and fear from men, women, and children reached your ears. Before you could make sense of the situation, your shell-shocked eyes followed Vera’s body as it fell inside your tent with a dull thud, an arrow pierced through her chest. 

Your dinner tray toppled over as you ran to her aid and struggled with the bitter truth that you could do nothing to breathe life into the one person out of the very few that truly cared for you. With your hand on her teared stained cheek, you listened to her conscience ferociously chant, dya...dya...take care of dya!

“I will, Vera. I promise to take care of your mother.” 

Only when she was reassured did Vera allow life to drain out of her eyes while tears started to line yours and grief clawed at your throat. You began to drag her limp body towards the bed and it wasn’t long before a familiar face barged into your tent. Throwing his crossbow to the side, your brother helped you hoist Vera’s body up onto your bed. 

“What’s going on -”

“We’ve been attacked by a group of dacoits. Stay inside. Whatever happens, do not leave your tent! You understand me?” Minseok commanded, his dark eyes piercing yours while blood trickled down the side of his face.

“You’re hurt -”

He shook his head and repeated, panic betraying his voice, “Just... stay safe, Lys. Will you?”

Breaking down into sobs you nodded frantically as the ugly realisation of loss washed over you. Minseok pulled you into a tight embrace, praying fervently, “It could’ve been you. It could’ve been you instead of - of Vera! Thank God! Thank God, it wasn’t you!” 

His every word felt like a punch in the gut.

He then marched out with his crossbow in hand, vengeance in his eyes and your heart clenched with fear for your brother’s life. Hiding behind the entrance panels, you watched the scene outside.

The settlement was barren except for the dacoits and a handful of men from the clan out on the field; the rest had scurried into the safe confines of their caravans and tents. Men on horseback, dressed in black robes, had their faces covered in black scarves. They spoke a different tongue but you understood that they sought revenge. A life for a life, they repeated over and over in broken Romani. They menacingly circled Baekhyun with arrows and daggers pointed to his heart. Baekhyun’s stance was alert with his jamdhar in his hand as a majestic black and gold dragon hovered over them, a tattered body dangling from his spine chilling, bloody mouth.

It happened within a matter of seconds - the dacoits lay slain - some with arrows pierced through their chests, some eviscerated into smithereens and the rest crumbled to black dust - the doing of Minseok, Baekhyun, and Yixing respectively.

With one flap of his massive wings, Yixing descended, gracefully landing on his human feet as a man-servant trotted to his aid with a black robe to cover his modesty yet, very little was left to imagination.

“They really thought -”

Before Yixing could complete his sentence, an unconscious Baekhyun collapsed - right in the centre of the bloody chaos. That jamdhar is going to be his undoing, you said to yourself. A girl with dark unruly hair rushed to his side - your fiancé’s side - the sight turning your limbs to ice.

Your heart sank to your stomach but the edges of your mouth curled up in a smile as you met her eyes from a distance with sheer contempt in your own.

A man you didn't recognise, supported by two others on either side, was being ushered into Yixing's private chamber.

You felt a hand against the small of your back. Minseok whispered into your ear, "Dado wants to see you."

***

In the centre of the room slouched a man on a wooden chair, his hands roped together at the back, face bruised and bloodied - evidently the doing of your own brother.

“What’s all this?” You asked the three men surrounding him.

“The bandits left their dog behind,” spat Yixing.

“So? What am I supposed to do?” You directed the question to your father.

“We need to know who he is, where he’s from, and...why we were attacked.” Replied your father, eyes forcefully trained on the unconscious man on the chair.

“You should’ve probably left him with some life in his body to answer your questions.” You said to Minseok indignantly.

“Lys!” Your father was prepared to reprimand you at your insolence in front of Bulibasha.

“Dado - ”

“Lys, just hold his hand and tell us what he’s thinking.” Minseok tried to lighten the tense atmosphere with his calm voice.

“I have better things to do than hold a gadjo’s hand and listen to the filth of his mind. I’ll leave you big and strong men to it.” You sauntered over to your father, the corner of your mouth raised in a smirk. Dusting the lint off of his magnificent black and red woollen cloak that was embroidered along the edges with the finest gold thread, you sang, “I’m nothing more than just a pretty princess, anway.”

“Lys, please!” Cried Minseok.

“What would you have me do, Minseok? Stay here with you all while my fiancé is canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?” You retorted.

Yixing shot you a puzzled glance while Minseok and your father averted their eyes.

"It’s known to be their usual hideout.” You half-shrugged at Yixing, your casual tone not doing much to ease the frown lines on his handsome face.

While you were busy squabbling with your family, the man on the chair lifted his head up, rope evidently cut loose with a push dagger, and immediately all four pairs of eyes turned to him. Underneath the caked blood and grime on his face, he flaunted golden skin, luscious lips, and sharp, distinct features. His eyes met yours and crinkled into crescents as his lips curved into a disrespectful smirk.

He gave you a casual two-finger salute goodbye and….vanished.

Breaking into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the three men caught unawares, you turned on your heels and merrily skipped out of Yixing’s private chamber.

.

.

.

The next morning found you by the river, still trying to wrap your head around the events of yesterday. ‘Thank God it wasn’t you!’ Your brother’s gentle voice rang ominously in your ears. ‘But what if it was?’ you reasoned with yourself, ‘Would it have meant being finally free or trapped in a permanent state of oblivion?’ In tune with your mind, your feet wandered, taking you deeper into the viridian forest.

You stumbled upon something stock-still and landed on your back causing that something to stir and wince in pain as it slowly regained consciousness. You crawled as far away from it as you could only to recognize him by the pleated black cummerband around his waist. The gadjo struggled to hold himself up and flattened to the ground again.

His agony brought you some solace as Vera’s ashen face flashed before your eyes. Laughing, you exclaimed, "So this is how far you managed to get! A stone's throw from Bulibasha's tent."

The man winced again but a smile began to form on his lips. "Wa-water," he breathed but you leisurely rested your back against the trunk of a nearby tree and denied his request with a little shake of your head, “A life for a life, gadjo. Repay your debt. Your people killed my friend.”

“Not- not my doing,” he said throatily and began dragging himself towards the river. He was sculpted like the dancers of a lăutari - long and lean, elegantly broader along the shoulders and chest and enviably slim around the waist. 

You offered him no help. Instead, waited with a bated breath for his soul to escape him. But his snail’s pace had started to exasperate you. So you begrudgingly volunteered to bring him water as his dying wish.

“Here you go, gadjo. Seeing the way my brother beat you up, a sip or two of water won’t be of much help, anyway.” You sneered, holding the edge of the cupped leaf to his bruised lips.

As he drank, colour slowly returned to his ghost-white, bloodied face. “Kai,” he said in a voice that was husky and deep.

“What?”

“It’s my name. You’d do well to remember it.” His face lit up with a smile and his eyes found your thick golden anklet bejeweled with iridescent beads. He flicked the bead trinkets with his finger and squeezed his eyes shut as if in admiration of a great symphony.

Before you could even make sense of the situation...of him...he vanished again.

.

.

.

Kai, you mouthed, curled up in bed at midnight.

“Kai,” you said the gadjo’s name out loud, the tips of your fingers tracing the movement of your lips and despite yourself, blood began to warm your face. It had been a week since you met him in the forest but the man had capsized your mind. You inwardly admonished yourself for not killing him when you had the chance - it was the least you could’ve done for Vera - but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him.

You saw truth in his innocent yet compelling eyes.

A whirlpool of emotions rose in your chest as you tossed and turned in bed causing a bead of your anklet to tangle with a loose silk thread from your quilt. Groaning, you sat up to undo it, and heard a sudden, loud crack.

Kai had unexpectedly appeared, standing at the foot of your bed. Arms crossed over his chest and head tilted to the side, he smiled down at you.

Returning his smile, you said, “If I scream, there’ll be at least ten men here, in no time, with sharp objects pointed at your throat.”

Gaze intertwined with yours, Kai knelt before you as his deft fingers found the troublesome bead. Smirking, he slowly pushed the quilt out of the way, and you instinctively pulled your skirts down below your knees. His mouth found the loose thread and he bit on it to free you from the restraint as his warm breath fanned your ankle and his soft lips brushed ever so slightly against your skin. As delicate as the touch was, it felt like being imprinted with a blazing hot cast-iron.

“If you truly wanted me dead, you wouldn’t have saved my life. And I’m here to thank you for that,” he smiled, and took the bold step of sitting next to you, on your bed. He then clicked his tongue, fingers ghosting along the curve of your ankle, and piped cockily, “Besides, you know I’d vanish before your sluggish men even manage to get here.”

“You think you’re very brave, gadjo?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a fool for walking into the lioness’ den.”

His expression suddenly turned solemn. Studying your face intently, he whispered, “I’m sorry about your friend. I didn’t -”

“You didn’t what?” Your heart thumped wildly in your chest in a rather desperate anticipation of his innocence. So you immediately placed your clammy hand upon his trembling, cold one.

His voice grew thick with anguish as he explained, “I didn’t know those men were going to storm your clan. I’d only met them that morning. They said they were traveling south and I - I really had nowhere to go so I joined them without giving it much thought. I was desperate for company.”

His words were very much in line with his thoughts and memories. Images of the dacoits just as you’d seen them that evening, their boisterous banter, their journey towards the settlement, the food and wine and spoils they shared along the way, all flashed before your eyes.

You knew a liar when you saw one - their features were drawn out a bit differently, you’d believed. Baekhyun was a liar. He’d lied when you had asked him if he loved you. But Kai on the other hand…

“At the time you didn’t realize that they were plunderers?” You asked delicately.

“All I understood was that they weren’t men of strong character. But I didn’t care for their morality. I knew I could protect myself if worse came to worst.”

“Why didn’t you simply run...vanish when they besieged my clan?” As hard as you tried, you failed to keep the edge off of your voice.

The pitch of Kai’s voice rose as he continued to explain, “I grew numb...my hands and legs and...mind...I’ve seen war and suffering and I didn’t expect to cross paths with tragedy again so soon. So I - nobody noticed this at the time because of the chaos - but I fought on your side. I tried to save as many as I could.”

You contemplated on his words for a moment without realizing that his fingers were now laced with yours.

“- when my brother found you, you just -”

“I thought I - ,” his voice dropped and lower lip quivered slightly, “ - deserved the punishment.”

Fighting back your tears, you asked, “Why didn’t you explain this to them?”

“Did you see the look on your brother’s face? And the dragon’s? He was breathing fire even in his human form. They were ready to bring me to justice for the crimes I didn’t commit.”

You gave Kai a quick once-over. His face still bore bruises from the beating but his clothes were impeccable. Rich, even. He was dressed in a blue cashmere smock, red velvet pants, and his fingernails were coated in a deep teal. He wore a beaded bracelet on his right wrist that sparkled in the dim lighting of your tent - as did the platinum ring laced with exquisite tiny diamonds on his right hand index finger.

Had the dacoits looted him, they would’ve comfortably lived on the gains from the ring alone for a good part of the year. What was the need for them to tread such a great distance to loot your clan, you wondered.

Yet again, you grew wary of the man before you.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You asked.

“Because I don’t want you to resent me for the death of your friend.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you asked defensively, “Why do you care what I think, gadjo?”

“Kai,” he corrected you and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, he disappeared again.

.

.

.

The scattered morning light filtered through the thicket and descended in brilliant pearls in the unshackled stream of water amidst the medley of the trinkets on your anklet, the ballads of songbirds, and gushing water hitting rubbled mass as you tiptoed deeper into the forest.

A firm grasp balanced you by your arm as you hopped over rocks to cross the stream.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re tailing me, gadjo.” You teased him.

“Here,” he thrust some peeled almonds in your hand as soon as you got to the other side. Smiling, he said, “eat up. These extraordinary tiny things will help with your poor memory.”

He walked ahead of you, guiding, as you both slipped further into the capricious forest.

“You leave only to come crawling back so soon, Kai?” Although you uttered his name almost derisively, you felt heat rising up your cheeks as it fell from your lips.

“You see? The almonds help.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You merely scoffed in response.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” He asked, retaining a casual tone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you bombarded him with your well thought out mental list of questions in response. The questions that had plagued your mind since your very first encounter with him.

“Where are you from, gadjo? Don’t you have a home? A... girl waiting for you?” You deliberately held on to his arm on the pretext of steadying yourself ...and his mind drew a blank.

I can’t remember anything before you.

You were about to say something more but then stopped short, retreating until your back hit the trunk of a tree. He followed and halted only at a hair breadth’s distance from you, towering over, as sunlight danced on his skin.

He breathed, “You tell me. Do I?”

“Hmm?” Brows quirked, you stared right back into his eyes as his head continued to lower slowly and you, despite yourself, started going up on the tip of your toes, his hand around your waist holding you steady.

“Do I have a girl,” he whispered, his index finger lifting your chin up, his warm breath tickling your face and his lips ghosting over yours, “waiting for me?”

Your eyelids drooped almost instinctively as the back of his fingers gently caressed the side of your face.

“Kai -”

He chuckled, swiftly scooping you up in his arms. You felt your whole body squint and your ears popped rather painfully. It wasn’t long before Kai’s feet found firm ground in a meadow full of beautiful plume thistles while you stayed burying your face in the crook of his neck, eyes firmly squeezed shut.

He gently put you down but your legs gave out. Feeling squeamish, you berated him, “Warn me the next time, yes?”

He pulled you in a tight embrace, panic betraying his voice, he asked, “Are- are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize!”

“How do you survive this at all? It’s- it feels terrible! I feel horribly queasy and my spine is trying to claw its way out of my back!” You argued aimlessly.

“One gets used to it.” He said softly as you lay on your back and he lied down next to you.

“Where are we?”

“We’re very close to Cluj-Napoca. Prince Jongin’s would-have-been kingdom.” His vague and casual tone was starting to vex you a little.

“Prince Jongin?” You enquired rather haughtily.

He answered, “Yours truly,” and bent his neck down in a bow.

“You - you’re a prince?”

He turned to face you and you excitedly followed suit. Tracing your jawline with his finger he whispered, “Not anymore. I mean - forget it, it’s a long story.” He sighed and turned his face to the clear blue skies again.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you urged him to continue, “I have all the time in the world.”

He took a moment to contemplate on your words and then his own before indulging you with a wistful smile on his face, “I turned out to be someone..something nobody expected out of me. More capable than the rightful heir, more popular with the people, more popular within the court, and more popular with the King himself.”

“Hmm...I’ll need a little more than that.”

Kai chuckled, his eyes crinkling into half moons again. “Three months ago, Cluj-Napoca was attacked by the Kingdom of Bucharest. My father - the King - was recovering from an affliction of the nerves at the time. Although I am not much of a fighter myself...well, I wasn’t trained to be one but what I lack in strength, I make up for in agility.. I led the army into battle and we managed to protect our territorial integrity and independence.”

Kai had been continuously fidgeting with the lace on his black tunic while narrating the story of his bravado, leaving you utterly astonished at the duplexity of his personality.

“So what went wrong?” You asked, studying him closely.

“The thing is I am not the King’s legitimate son,” he laughed and continued the story in a slightly higher pitch as if imitating someone, “I was born out of love, says my mother. I’m the son of a concubine.”

“But, if after everything, the King was in your favour then why did you leave?”

“He was toying with the idea of making my half-brother renounce his title. So before matters could get any worse for her son, the Queen asked me to ‘disappear into the night’ as compensation for not driving me to the streets when I was a mere boy.”

Aghast, you enquired, “So you just left?”

He simply shrugged and replied, “I am not built for a life of frivolity and merely keeping up appearances.”

“But what of your mother?”

“She’s not built for a life otherwise than of frivolity and keeping up appearances. Besides, she’s been offered an elevated position within the court by the Queen after my disappearance and she intends on keeping it. And as for my father...well, he thinks I’m a traitor who abandoned his own people. That’s why on the day that your clan was raided...I couldn’t think straight. The war with Bucharest has clearly taken a heavy toll on me...suffering of others is far beyond the level of my tolerance.”

“But what about your subjects? Tell me, how are you so casual about this?”

“You’re the daughter of the richest man in the clan. Why do you want to leave?”

“It’s not the same. Also, how do you know what I want? And- and don’t answer a question with a question. It’s annoying.”

He huddled closer to you and bragged, “It’s all in your eyes.”

“Enough, gadjo, this is not about me.” Your face flamed and your stomach was in knots in anticipation of his answer.

He let out a heavy sigh and replied, “Life is an adventure that is best lived boldly. I can go wherever I want, whenever I like. Why should someone like me bear the stifling burden of a crown when I can be...free.”

.

.

.

True to his character, Kai yet again appeared out of nowhere, took the heavy jute tote out of your hand and asked, “Don’t you have a handmaiden for these things?”

He was dressed entirely in black - dress shirt tucked into fitted trousers - and his face was covered with a sequined veil mask, leaving only his alluring eyes exposed. To say that you were not used to his abrupt appearances would be a gross understatement.

“I’m picking up some specific things for Vera’s mother...also, we’re in the middle of a bazaar, gadjo! You’re growing bolder by the day.”

“Lys, did you forget to take your almonds this morning?”

You scorned, “Do you have a death wish? If my brother sees you here... or the dragon... or..”

“Your precious fiancé?” He teased. “The one who’s..what was it again? Yes, the one who’s busy canoodling with the Bladerunner by the pond?”

Suppressing a grin, you gave him the side-eye and asked, “So you’re different, then? Better than Baekhyun?”

“Vastly! Tremendously! Immensely! Extremely!”

Shaking your head, you shot him an offhanded remark, “I don’t believe you.”

He immediately grabbed you by your wrist and dragged you inside what seemed like a dingy storage room for grains and pulses. Setting the bag down on the floor, he looked you in the eyes and roughly placed your hand on his chest.

”Don’t you think I’m different? Don’t you believe that I’m better? Don’t you understand I can make you happy? Truly happy?” He asked, his heart pulsing against your fingertips.

The overwhelming words you want to say...talk to me comfortably...I’ll listen to you...loosen the boundaries...I’m like you, too.

Eyes glistening, he pleaded, “Fly away with me.”

“No.” You stated plainly while your head and heart hammered wildly at the words he so bravely uttered and the ones he didn’t.

Brows knit together, his face scrunched in comprehension of your answer. “Why not?”

“It makes me squeamish.” You shrugged.

“Stop being funny.”

“You’re being funny. Whatever happened to you wanting to be free?”

“I don’t understand.”

Arms defensively crossed over your chest, you looked away from him and muttered, “You know what I mean -”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I didn’t mean I wanted to be free from you!” Kai’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he continued to argue, “Please don’t tell me you’re in love with the idiot you’re engaged to.”

“Of course not! It was just an arrangement to keep his loyalties with the family.”

“Then what is it?” He asked in his softest voice.

“I can hear the words you don't say, gadjo.” You bellowed, nearly throwing him back.

He shushed you before asking in a whisper, “So?”

“Isn’t it terrifying?” You struggled to keep your voice low at his very tempting yet terrifying proposition.

“On the contrary, in fact. I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. I say the things I don’t mean and freeze when I’m expected to say something. I’m easily misunderstood, Lys.”

“But everyone has secrets that they’d like to keep...secret. And from where I stand, you’re a man of too many secrets, gadjo.”

“And you’re the woman capable of unveiling them all. Look, I have nothing to hide and I don’t even want to keep anything from you. The rest,” he gulped hard before continuing, “is up to you. Think about it, would you rather be trapped in a loveless marriage? You’re the bravest woman I know, Lys. Don’t try to run away from truth.”

Ever since you’d met Kai, he was all you could think of. With him you felt safe and happy - the two emotions that had eluded you for the longest time. You wouldn’t dare to admit this to yourself but as frightening as it was, you also felt loved. All these years caught in an airless vortex, you felt like you could finally breathe - finally someone wanted you for who you were and not what you pretended to be - but something was still holding you back.

***

Kai’s words kept you up all night.

Eloping with him was a solution to all of your problems but it meant bringing shame to your family. You knew for a fact that you’d never be happy at the cost of their happiness. Sleep and answers eluding you, you scraped your hair up in a bun and threw a shawl over your shoulders to go see your father.

The fragrance of sandalwood mixed with liquor pervaded the air as you knelt beside his sleeping form. Age had started to prominently line his skin yet he looked a lot youthful without a scowl painted across his features. You planted a soft kiss on his forehead and the back of his hand, perennially struggling with your feelings towards him. He was your father, after all, and you couldn’t say that he never loved you. You only wished that he tried to understand you better.

“Dado,” you whispered against his hand, ���I love you.” and broke down, sobbing quietly.

Suddenly, his disturbing thoughts came unravelled to you, filling you with unbridled rage and fear.

Fear for Kai’s life.

“You ice-veined monster...” You whispered against his hand before storming out of the tent.

.

.

.

“We have to stop seeing each other, gadjo.” Avoiding Kai’s eyes, you broke it to him as coolly as you could, caging a maelstrom of emotions within you.

“Would you stop calling me that? It’s cold and impersonal.” He took your hand in his as you both continued to trod lightly into the forest.

“And you’d like me to be warm...and personal..with a gadjo.. Because?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes at your remark but at this point you wanted nothing more than to save his life. When you grew to be so protective of Kai, you couldn’t tell but you knew you would do anything to save him from your vicious father. And to be able to do that, you needed him gone for good.

“Because I’m not just anyone. I am...” Breathing heavily, he pinned you to a tree.

Yours, roared his conscience. Unambiguously.

A welcome warmth seeped into your veins but you maintained a stoic demeanour. If he could hear your thoughts he’d take you away...far, far away from this stockade you called home. Tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back, spilled from your eyes as he lowered his mouth to meet yours in a deep kiss.

“We can’t be together, Kai.” Breaking the kiss, you pushed him away and sank to the ground, weeping.

Despite your protests, he carried you in his arms. Smiling, he nodded to gain your attention and trust before yelling, “Three…,” You engaged your core at “Two” and at “One” you felt a familiar uncomfortable knot in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s dark here.” You remarked, while still in the protective comfort of his arms.

“It’s night time in this part of the world, dragă.” He explained putting you down on your feet.

“Oh..you just called me -”

“I’ve been learning your tongue, iubirea mea.”

You were grateful for the darkness as it concealed just how smitten you were. Swiftly changing the subject, you asked, “Where are we?”

“Somewhere far, far away,” said Kai and you heard the smile in his voice, “at the edge of a crater of a volcano. But not to worry, it’s an inactive one.”

“How boring!” You teased, as he carefully sat you down.

A blanket of stars glimmered above as you and Kai cuddled closer to each other, enveloped in a cool breeze.

“Lys,” Kai’s eyes shone brighter than the stars as he turned to face you, “whatever it is, you can tell me. We’ll work it out. My father once said that there is no problem so complex, nor crisis so grave that cannot be satisfactorily resolved within twenty minutes. And twenty minutes is all we have. Right?”

“I have to be back in time for -”

“For lunch, yes.”

“Let me tell you a story,” you said, and Kai lay down, resting his head in your lap.

“Go on,” he urged you, the tip of his index finger meeting your nose in a little pat.

With your hand on his forehead, you narrated, “There was once a couple who married for love, much against the wishes of the Elders of their village. Because of this, the newlyweds were driven out. They wandered for weeks without food and water, travelling far and wide, seeking shelter...and acceptance. One day they found,” you swallowed hard and Kai’s expression turned solemn. He gently caressed your face with his fingers, calming you down to help you continue, “they found us. Our clan, I mean and my father was Clan Leader at the time. The woman had grown fragile and sick and was in an urgent need of care but my father denied them shelter. ‘They’ve been expelled for a good reason,’ he maintained. He lacked the basic human decency to even offer them some food for sustenance. They camped outside the settlement, pleading with anyone and everyone who crossed paths with them...until...until the woman could take it no longer. She died in her sleep and the man vowed to annihilate all those who were responsible for her death - our clan included. The leader of the dacoits who brought you to the clan that day is the man in the story, Kai.”

Brows furrowed, Kai opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“My father - he - he recognized the man the day they stormed our settlement. And after everything, when he found you, it was like he’d struck gold. He was all set to incriminate you because our clan won’t rest until someone’s been punished. But truly - it’s all his fault. Had he not denied them refuge, the man wouldn’t have harboured resentment against us. Now he knows about us. He knows that you come to see me...he’s been keeping a close eye on us to be able to capture you at the right time. It won’t be long before he succeeds, Kai. So you must- I mean, we can’t -,” you huffed,  “after all, I’m engaged to be married. Minseok and Yixing are going to pay Baekhyun a visit tomorrow to fix a date for the wedding.”

Biting on his lower lip, Kai contemplated on your words for a while before speaking again. “Seventeen minutes. I have a plan. Do you trust me?” He looked at you with mischief twinking in his deep, dark eyes and a smile teasing the edges of his lips. You replied with a hesitant nod.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” You said.

“Anything,” Kai said with a smile. He closed his eyes and placing your hand on his chest.

“You can be anywhere, everywhere and with anyone, yet-”

“Yet?”

“You know what I mean,” your voice trailed off.

“I can be anywhere and everywhere,” said Kai, cupping your face in his hands,  “but I want to be by your side. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Don’t you see why it makes me upset when you say that we can’t see each other anymore? Don’t you see the irony? You can’t tell me that I can ‘port anywhere, except where I actually want to be. I love you, Lys.”

Looking straight into his eyes you said softly, “Love is a strong word.”

Brows quirked, he enquired, “Does it scare you?”

Your eyes glistened with tears as you responded, “As selfish as it may sound, I don’t want to bring dishonour to my family.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“But what if your plan fails?”

“It won’t. And if at all it does, I’ll make sure you’re safe and sound. As for me, it’d be an honour to die for love.”

He loosened your fist open and placed a small china jar in your palm. You opened to find almonds in it. He grinned wide, and said, “Fresh ones.. in case you’d run out.”

.

.

.

If you loved Baekhyun you would’ve, without a doubt, stabbed the woman with the same knife that she sat polishing.

For the longest time you’d tried to hate her for being the object of your fiancé’s affections, admire her for her bravery, admonish her for her recklessness for if anyone were to ever find out… but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for or against her.

Pivoting your attention to Kai’s best laid plan, chin up and voice firm, you said to her, “Show me your best blade.”

“What do you need it for?” She asked nonchalantly, entirely focused on the task at hand. Sure you’d grown softer since you’d met Kai but for her to not acknowledge a former Clan Leader’s presence fueled your anger.

You walked over to her and rested your hands on her shoulders, squeezing a little too harshly than you’d intended to. You wished she were thinking about anything other than Baekhyun but you weren’t surprised to find that she wasn’t.

“Lys!” She exclaimed, almost falling out of the little worn out wooden stool. She met your eyes, albeit with great difficulty.

Deliberately curling your lips into your best feature - a sinister smile, you whispered in her ear, “One that is good enough for carving a man’s heart out of his chest,” before tossing a piece of silver in her direction and strutting out with a navaja, a fighting knife.

***

“Do you have it?”

Kai appeared in your tent as you sat leisurely, snacking on peeled almonds.

“Solve a mystery for me. How do you always find me because I’ve never seen you wander in through the entrance panels. You just pop up out of nowhere.”

“We have an important task at hand.” He said, sitting down next to you, bearing the mannerism of an army general.

“No, I need to know. Now.”

Kai groaned at your unpredictable temperament and slapped his thighs.

“Alright, if you must know,” he said in a seductively low voice, leering at you as his nimble fingers drew circles along your foot. He slowly drew your skirts up with his other hand and you immediately smacked it down in protest.

“Fine,” he chimed. Letting out a sigh, he tugged at your anklet, “The sound of this has been burned into my memory. It’s how I find you everytime.”

“How very romantic. What if I were to take it off?” You asked playfully.

He tilted his head to the side, a hint of annoyance on his face. Firmly, he said, “Please, don’t.”

“Alright, alright!” You exclaimed at the sudden shift in his mood. “So what’s next?” You asked.

He removed an unassuming little vial from the pocket of his buckskin waistcoat and said, “This.”

You recognized the design of the vial - the opaque green glass bottle and its mouth closed with a black cork, “A spell?”

“The dragon’s wife is too trusting!” He exclaimed cockily.

“You went to see Bulibasha’s wife -”

“Assuming a disguise, of course!”

“Are you insane?!”

“Does it come as a surprise?”

“What did you tell her?!”

“I told her that this spell is the only way I can be with the one I love. And I wasn’t lying.”

“You really have a death wish, gadjo!”

“Kai!”

It took you a little while to calculate the risks of his audacity. Gaping at him, you finally spoke again, “Tell me what’s next. I have the blade.”

“Excellent.” He held the bottle up to your eye level and explained, “I’m going to sprinkle this on the Bladerunner when she’s on her way back home in the evening and her worst fears will come alive and start gnawing at her. And what do you think is her worst fear?”

“Losing Baekhyun.” You answered in a haughty disdain.

Kai chuckled. “Perfect. You said your brother and the dragon are going to visit your pretty little fiancé tonight? This spell will get the better of the Bladerunner and against her best judgement, she’s bound to go to see Baekhyun around the same time. The two men already have their suspicions about her and to catch her visiting Baekhyun at an ungodly hour will only reinforce their worst fears and this time they’ll not be able to wriggle out of it. Baekhyun and the Bladerunner will definitely be called into the dragon’s spine-chilling, morbid private chamber after that and a decision will be made.”

“What does that mean for us?” You asked, adrenaline making your blood quicken.

“Leave that to me. All you have to do is be there before they pronounce a decision and request a private audience with the dragon and your brother. And remember to,” he grabbed the navaja from your nightstand, its cutting edge reflecting the glint in Kai’s eyes. The corners of his mouth curled up, he quipped innocently, “use this well.”

.

.

.

The day unfolded exactly the way Kai had predicted.

Baekhyun and the Bladerunner had been called into Yixing’s private chamber at dawn. It was too early for the clan to start it’s day so you waited outside the tent just as Kai had instructed, listening closely for the right time to make an entrance. A loud and intense argument ensued between Minseok, Yixing, and Baekhyun - the three men who might as well be sworn brothers.

If you’d never met Kai, you would’ve thought that Baekhyun was being dramatic - fighting tooth and nail to save himself from heartbreak. It was a little selfish, you thought. Hearts mend, your father said to you when you had begged him not to put down your pet goat when she’d injured herself.

“But not without leaving a deep scar,” you muttered to yourself before barging into Bulibasha’s private chamber.

Seeing your father’s arrogant portrait next to the dragon’s in Yixing’s private chamber bolstered your bitterness towards him. Without another thought, you struck the portrait in its right eye with the navaja. That wasn’t what the knife was intended for but it was akin to killing two birds with one stone. As it went flying towards the portrait, it nicked the Bladerunner’s ear since she heroically pushed her lover out of harm’s way.

“Lys! You’ve ruined Father’s portrait!” Your dutiful big brother lambasted you.

Having dressed for the occasion in a red, black, and gold robes, and lips painted in a delicious scarlet, you walked with a deliberate swing in your hips, your dark, waist length hair emulating the movement. You allowed your fingernails to brush the Bladerunner’s arm as you sauntered over for the navaja under eagle-eyed stares.

With the knife in your hand, you came and stood before the Bladerunner, placed a hand on her cheek and whispered, “You have beautiful skin, Bladerunner. I’d hate to ruin it,” as you ran the edge of the navaja along her neck, pressing it just enough to leave her with a superficial cut. You were sure Baekhyun was bound to overreact, and he did.

He pulled you out of the way, standing like a barrier between the woman he loved and the one he tolerated. His firm grasp around your wrist was starting to hurt you but you maintained an unwavering demeanour. Your eyes landed on Baekhyun’s exposed sternum. It had been a while since you saw him without the basil necklace. The necklace was a testament of the promise you made to love and cherish each other forever but it was obviously no more than an accessory to him.  

“Hand it over. It never looked good on you, anyway.” You whispered and extended your hand toward him. Without a word, he slapped the necklace into your palm. Your heart hammered widely against your ribs because things were going exactly the way they were supposed to but in your experience it was never a good sign.

You knew what Baekhyun was going to do next. The look in your eyes taunted and teased him until he finally snapped. Baekhyun grabbed the dagger from your hand amidst loud gasps from everyone present.

He’d done it.

One prevalent belief still held by the clan was that taking a knife straight from someone’s hand meant that the relationship between the giver and the recipient had been severed.

Baekhyun had finally severed his relationship with you. Despite the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, you smiled inwardly at Kai’s genius.

“Baekhyun! What have you done?” Yixing’s voice thundered, echoing loudly in everyone’s ears but the enormity of his action was clearly lost on the Baekhyun. He continued to plead, “If the Bladerunner is to be punished, Bulibasha, I deserve a harsher punishment. I don’t care what the Zakono says. You can’t go on acting like she was alone in this!”

Minseok seemed firmly rooted to his place as he shot daggers at Baekhyun, his cat-like eyes disapproving Baekhyun’s out-of-character rebelliousness.

Now’s the time, you thought to yourself before being the one to break the uncomfortable silence. “He seeks her when he’s upset. And even when he’s not.” You turned to bow before Yixing and appealed, “Bulibasha, I would like to request a private audience.”

***

An exhausted Yixing slumped to the floor with his back against his spectacular dragon portrait. Face buried in hands, he groaned, “You young people really know how to complicate matters.”

“I agree,” Minseok joined in the whining while pouring wine into three goblets.

“Yixing, you have to stop acting like we have decades between us. And Minseok, put that down! It’s too early in the day for wine! Tell me what you’d rather have me do. He’s been in love with the Bladerunner forever.” You tried reasoning with them but Minseok only shook his head indignantly at your words.

“Baekhyun can’t do this to us after everything our family’s done for him. We took him in, fed him, clothed him. This is not how he repays us!” Minseok exclaimed.

You couldn’t help but draw parallels between Kai and Baekhyun’s journey so far. While they didn’t have a lot in common, one thing was for sure. They’d forever been treated like outsiders in their own homes.

“Bulibasha -” You turned to plead with Yixing.

“This is a nice switch from Yixing for when you want to reprimand me to Bulibasha for when you need something from me.” Chastised Yixing, tilting his head to the side, expression blank.

Eyes downcast, you mumbled, “I don’t want to go ahead with the wedding.”

“The Lys I know would want revenge. The Lys I know would’ve asked for his head on a spike. And hers, too!” Yixing exclaimed.

“I’m just not the same Lys anymore. The both of you really need to stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. Minseok, you know we have better fighters now and we don’t really need Baekhyun anymore. And you can’t use me to keep him by your side forever. Besides,” you got up to fetch a goblet of wine for yourself, “forgive me but… i need some liquid courage before I -”

“Please don’t tell me you’re serious about the gadjo.” Minseok muttered nonchalantly, with blatant disregard for the surprise his statement had taken you with. 

Steadying yourself by tightly gripping the goblet, you asked, “You know about him?!”

“Of course, I do!” Minseok exclaimed, “I mean, we do, Yixing and I both. You thought you’d disappear randomly and nobody would ever find out? The gadjo even procured a spell from the Clan Leader’s wife! It was foolish, if you ask me.”

You offered no further explanation and said instead, “Kai. It’s his name. You’d do well to remember.”

Fuming, Yixing bellowed, “Have you no shame, Lys? His people stormed our clan. We lost no fewer than eight lives that day! You lost Vera! Have you forgotten already?”

With no care in the world, you started to defend Kai, “I haven’t forgotten and I never will. But the monsters who raided us weren’t his people. He was just as surprised by it as we were. Whatever happened is Dado’s fault.”

It was Minseok’s turn to rebuke you, “Lys, I know you love to blame him for everything but this is a serious matter. You’re taking things too far.”

“No, Minseok, it honestly is!”

Minseok and Yixing listened carefully as you revealed to them the secrets your father had been harbouring and how it was his ruse to pin the blame of the raid on Kai. Neither of them spoke for quite some time, trying to assimilate the information you’d just shared with them.

“Lys,” said Yixing calmly, as Minseok sat with his hand over his head, “even if what you say is true, you know the Zakono does not permit you to marry a gadjo.”

“Bulibasha, say that I was snatched...taken...it’s better than saying that I ran away. I can’t bear to be here any longer.” You walked over to where your brother sat, shaken and furious. You took his hands in yours, looked into his eyes and cried, “Minseok, someone like me is not meant to be confined… I want to be out in the world, moving constantly, exploring, unearthing its marvels and wonders, its deepest ...the most well kept secrets, just- just  living. I am begging you to let me live!”

“Lys, that’s enough!” Interrupted a new voice, bringing you a sudden surge of relief. 

You turned around to find Kai in light-toned pink fitted trousers and a broad cummerbund around his slim waist that accentuated the elegant lines of his body. A relaxed chiffon and lace tunic in the same pale pink shade with flared sleeves that closed around his wrists was tucked into the cummerbund and his ebony hair fell in silken locks over his forehead.

He took confident strides towards Yixing, and stated with a sense of surety in his eyes, “If we wanted, we could’ve disappeared without a trace.”

“Get out, gadjo,” said Minseok in a dangerously low voice, “nobody needs you here.”

“The woman I love does,” answered Kai coldly, “so I will stay until she asks me to leave.”

Anger igniting his momentum, Minseok lunged forward and punched Kai in the chest with all the strength he could muster causing Kai to stumble several feet back.

“Look at him!” Spat Minseok as you rushed to Kai’s aid while he struggled to gain his bearings. “What a weakling! I cannot trust him to protect my little sister.”

Regaining your composure, you said to your brother in a threateningly calm voice, “Minseok...don’t make me say it.”

Minseok turned to you, face scarlet and eyes bloodshot. He demanded, “What is left to be said, Lys?”

Brows furrowed you looked him in the eyes as your heart threatened to leap out of your chest. “Father doesn’t have a lot of years left and... you know how bad it’ll be if word got out we were raided because of his misdeeds...the wrong decisions he made as Clan Leader.”

Minseok laughed darkly and shot you a disgusted look. “You’re right, Lys. You’re clearly not a child anymore. But what would you rather have me do, huh? Disrespect the Zakono? Give you away to a man who abandoned his own people? One who doesn’t have a place to call home?”

“Minseok, that’s enough,” commanded Yixing, causing Minseok to stop at once. Hands on hips, he continued, “Everyone has the right to choose their own destiny. And I’m sure you understand this better than I do, you can’t expect our headstrong Lys to change her mind easily especially when it’s set on something. We’ll let you have your way, Lys. But -” Yixing’s scrutinizing gaze met Kai’s kind eyes.

Yixing reached for the leather coffer which sat in an inconspicuous corner of the tent. You’d been to the private chamber multiple times for various reasons before but you’d never noticed the coffer. He crouched over it, rummaging for something specific. It was a few minutes before he rose to his full height again, a talisman in his hand, his face saying nothing in particular.

He split the talisman in two, fastened one half of it to a black thread and quietly tied it around your neck and gave the other piece to Minseok. The talisman was similar to the one he wore around his wrist. It was very much like a jade stone, flickering in various shades of green as if alive and breathing.

“The talisman will tell us where you are - at all times. It’ll turn red to signal us when you’re in mortal danger. If that is to ever happen, no matter where you are, you know I’ll find to you in no time. And when the light goes out - ” before the mood could turn somber, Yixing continued with a voice heavily laced with pride, “Don’t ever think about taking the talisman off. Well, the truth is, you couldn’t even if you tried. This thread has been strengthened by a number of powerful charms and spells..fashioned by my own wife.”

You responded only with an understanding nod, the realization that you were finally going to have it your way had not sunk in yet. Yixing and Kai shared a look before Kai walked over to him with a grave expression on his face. Yixing drew a dagger out the bandoleer strapped around his thigh and Kai placed his hand on the teakwood desk in the room.

“Make it quick, Bulibasha,” said Kai.

“What’s going on?” You whispered into Minseok’s ear.

Minseok sighed before responding in a clipped tone, “Proof that we fought for you when the gadjo was taking you away as revenge for the death of his dacoit friends. But the gadjo just.. vanished with you and all we managed to get was -”

Your conversation was interrupted by Kai’s muffled cry of pain as he collapsed at Yixing’s feet.

“- a little finger.”

In a state of blind panic, you rushed to be by Kai’s side, struggling to form words. You were aware that Yixing wouldn’t let you go without proof of Kai’s commitment towards you but you never imagined it would come to this.

“Take this,” Yixing held the mouth of a vial to Kai’s lips as he grappled with consciousness. Kai hurriedly gulped down the milk of the poppy which knocked him out almost immediately. While he was asleep, Yixing called for his woman to clean and bandage him.

***

You spent that time sitting next to a sulking Minseok.

Setting aside his pride, Minseok finally asked, “Will you atleast come visit?”

You rested your head on your brother’s shoulder and he instinctively huddled closer to pat it affectionately. “Every full moon, I promise,” you replied softly as a silent tear rolled down your cheek.

He pulled out a heavy drawstring pouch from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to you saying, “Keep this.”

You shook the purse in your hand until the coins jingled and then reprimanded Minseok, “Kai’s father is King for god’s sake! He can take care of me.”

“But I still want you to have it. I had so many dreams.. the wedding I’d planned for you..” said Minseok as tears sparkled like diamonds in his eyes, “please...keep it.”

You pulled your brother into a tight hug and sobbed, “Take care of yourself, always.”

“You’re a fine one to talk...eloping with a gadjo. Can’t say that I didn’t see this coming. Unconventional to the end, Lys.” He twisted your ear playfully while crying and laughing simultaneously.

“Let those idiots get married, Minseok, and set the fool who broke my heart free.”

“Lys -”

Pouting, you asked, “Won’t you do it for your darling sister?”

“Fine!” Minseok agreed begrudgingly, “Anything else, your highness?”

“Take care of Vera’s mother.”

“You know I already do,” said Minseok, flicking your forehead. “Promise me you’ll come visit? And you’ll always, always take care of yourself?”

You took Minseok’s hand in yours and pressed your lips to his knuckles, as his heart continued to weep.

***

It was nearly noon when Kai finally awoke.

You stood up as he walked over to you with a marked confidence in his demeanour like his little finger wasn’t carved out of his body just a few hours ago.  He wrapped his arms around your waist, while Yixing and Minseok watched uncomfortably, and rested his forehead against yours.

With your hand on his chest you asked Kai, “Are you alright?”

“Never been better. You look like a bride, iubirea mea,” he said, holding you closer, tighter as his hands travelled the length of your back.

“Shall we?” He asked, lowering his head to press his lips against yours. He deepened the kiss and you responded with equal fervour as he lifted you off your feet, twirling  you in his arms until you felt a familiar, intense drop in your stomach, one you’d soon have to get used to.

‘Cause I’m too wicked I want to take all of your heart Don’t you worry So soon, you have my world

You make me feel so Mm-mhm..

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

hello @diveinthebluewithyou​ this one’s for you...welcome to Romaniverse!! hope you enjoy <3

[dudeandduchess]

Masquerade [Part 2]: Sanemi x Princess!F!S/O (Mulan AU, SFW/NSFW Scenario)

Summary: The soldiers are finally called to battle; (Y/n)’s making friends and finally getting used to being a soldier— at least, one with certain perks— and as things heat up even more between her and Sanemi, emotions get involved and run more rampant in their relationship. Note: Yes, this is the infamous bath scene— leveled-up and moved to a different timeline. I know I said Sunday, and that I would finish it, but it’s already sooooo long. 😂 Word Count: 5,634

Warnings: Jealous and Possessive Nemi, Smut, Public Sex, Adult Themes, Language, D/s Themes, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Spanking, DVP (Cock and Finger)

***

(Y/n)’s feet were aching so much, but even though she wanted nothing more than to sit down by the side of the road— and take a really long bath to thoroughly clean herself— she couldn’t very well stop the entire battalion.

Well, she could, but that would entail exposing her real identity, and that was the last thing she wanted. Especially since she was just getting used to living the life of a normal soldier, sans overlooking baths. To add to that, she had finally made friends; for the first time in her life, she had real friends who weren’t just there for the sake of appeasing her father, or getting her favor.

“Yuki-san, you look a little too tired. Why don’t you switch with Taka-san and drive the cart?” Tanjirō, one of the friends she had made at the camp, began with a gentle pat on her shoulder.

She then looked up at him, holding back the urge to sigh at just how wholesome his smile was— despite being in the midst of war— and returned his expression with a grin. “It’s better to not earn the Captain’s ire, Tanjirō. Hopefully we’ll get a break soon.”

Unfortunately for (Y/n), Sanemi had chosen that moment to make his rounds— circling the entire battalion on his horse to check if everyone was still doing well— and had heard her words. Instantly, his lilac colored eyes flickered over to her, watching her favor her right leg and slightly limping just to push herself forward.

Seeing her like that worried him, as he knew that it had been his fault in the first place for having been too rough on her the night before, but it wasn’t that that elicited the heaviest reaction from him. It was seeing another soldier’s hand on her shoulder, while she grinned right at the said man.

He felt his heart skip a beat, while the tips of his ears heated up for some reason unbeknownst to him. His jaw even tightened, especially when he saw a blond soldier sidle up next to (Y/n) and playfully smack her arm.

“Stay focused, men!” Sanemi found himself bellowing; his voice sounding much angrier than he intended it to be, and making (Y/n)— as well as two of her new friends—jump away from each other.

He scoffed at their reactions, before making his horse trot over to where (Y/n) was walking; eyeing her intently, and then letting his gaze flicker over to her horse which was being used to pull one of the artillery carts.

The wisest decision would have been to keep marching, all so they could make it to the nearest town in great time, but the more he took in her condition— and the way that she kept slightly limping— the more that he felt his guilt gnaw at his conscience.

And, at that, he found himself crying out orders, “The next clearing we get to, we’re setting up camp.”

(Y/n) looked up at him then, wide-eyed and completely thrown for a loop— as she had never thought that Sanemi would even take notice of how much her whole body ached. She then opened her mouth to speak, to even mouth a simple ‘thank you’, but he had already looked away from her and had spurred his horse to take him back to the front of the formation.

She wasn’t dumb enough to not notice the looks he had been giving her ever since he had been within eyeshot of her, but the last thing she was thinking was him putting a hold on their plans for her. For her, of all people.

It had her heart thumping so erratically in her chest, and also had her lips quirking up at the corners in a flustered smile. One that she tried to hide behind a fist, under the guise of clearing her throat.

Thankfully, no one was even paying attention to her— because she was free to tamp down a smile that threatened to bloom into a full-blown grin.

***

“Hey, Miyuki! Bring this to the Captain.” It took everything inside (Y/n) not to curl her upper lip at the rude command from one of her superiors; but she took the scroll that the man had been holding out to her, bowing slightly to him in a show of respect— no matter how little it was— before making a beeline straight for Sanemi’s tent at the very middle of the camp.

The sun was already close to setting, and there was just barely enough light to make out the rocky path beneath her; which she was thankful for, as her body was already protesting with every move she made.

Especially the area between her legs.

If it were up to her, she would have sat down and tried to rest her abused pussy all day— but she wasn’t a princess living at the palace. She was a woman pretending to be a soldier, so she had no excuse to be lazy— lest she wanted her secret to get out.

“Captain,” She called from outside Sanemi’s tent, waiting for his telltale grunt signaling her to go in. Only, even if an entire minute had passed, he still didn’t give any indication that he had heard her. So, she called his name again— even saying that she had a scroll for him.

Still, there was no answer; despite the fact that she heard shuffling inside, just as the lamp came to life— bathing the inside of the tent with a warm orange glow.

(Y/n) knew she would have been in trouble, had anyone seen her, but she rolled her eyes at Sanemi’s blatant childishness. And, with a bold swipe of her arm, she pushed the tent flap out of the way and marched right into her lover’s tent.

Only to see Sanemi sitting at his low table— quill in hand and dripping ink all over the antique wood, while his face was set into a deep scowl. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed (Y/n) approach, not until she knelt down next to him and gently pushed his bicep.

In any other instance, especially with one of the scribes inside the tent, she never would have even dared to act so casually with him— but the sense of familiarity that she had developed by warming his bed each and every night was something that was inevitable.

No matter how hard she tried to fight it, she would always revert to a comfortable casualness when it was just the two of them; well away from prying eyes and gossiping mouths.

“Sanemi,” She called softly, poking the Captain’s bicep once more, before encircling her hand around it and squeezing tight. “Sanemi.”

At that, the silver-haired man’s eyes blinked rapidly— as if clearing out the thoughts that were so deeply lodged in his head; thoughts which were making him feel so angry that it showed on his face. Instantly, he dropped the quill back to its holder and clicked his tongue at the mess he’d made on the table, before allowing his gaze to flicker up to meet the very eyes of the person he wanted to see the least.

Or the most. He wasn’t sure at that point, but the sudden quickening of his heartbeat said that it was the latter.

“What do you want now?” His words came out much snappier than he had intended, and he instantly regretted them when he saw (Y/n)’s eyebrows furrow, while her upper lip twitched with the need to sneer.

He just knew that that would be her reaction, as she wasn’t used to being blatantly dismissed or snapped at. She was a princess— the Shogun’s only daughter, to boot— so it stood to reason that she wouldn’t want to be talked down on like she’d been enduring the past couple of weeks.

“I was just here to give you this, Captain,” The young woman practically spat out the title, even narrowing her eyes at him in a glare that had his hackles rising. Because, last time he checked, he was the one in charge, and she didn’t have the right to disrespect him like that— since he was the one who was keeping her safe. “No need to be such a bitch.”

She would never admit it, but his words stung. They made her feel like she was being a nuisance, when she had done nothing wrong to him in the first place. He was already in a bad mood when she came in the tent, and it wasn’t her fault that he wasn’t paying attention to her in the first place.

So, to snap at her like that was totally uncalled for.

Before Sanemi could taper his temper down though, he had already reached out to grab (Y/n) by the chin— holding her face squarely in between his thumb and forefinger, as her glare grew more heated on him.

“The mouth on you.” Sanemi scoffed, then added, “I think we need to clean it out.”

Despite the chilliness in his tone, (Y/n) still squeezed her thighs together to alleviate the heat she felt between them. She could feel herself getting damp, the longer that her lover pinned her down with his gaze.

“We don’t need to do anything you don’t deserve, Captain,” (Y/n) hissed right at him, trying to free herself from his grip and failing immensely as he brought his face closer to hers.

The heat and anger in his eyes were more prominent at that moment, and the tense set of his jaw had her gritting her own teeth to bite back the nasty remark that was brewing on the tip of her tongue.

“You’re forgetting that you’re mine, Your Highness. Those lips are mine, those tits are mine, and that tight little pussy is mine; nobody else’s— and I can do whatever I goddamn please. Because you. Are. Mine.” He was just about to pull her in for a rough kiss, if only to punctuate his words, but the sound of pots and pans clanging to the ground right outside the tent had both of them pulling away from each other— hearts frantically racing in their chests, and gazes still connected in heated glares.

Instead of replying, however, (Y/n) merely shoved the scroll right at her lover’s chest, before silently marching out of the tent with a scowl on her face.

And the moment that the flap closed behind her, Sanemi closed his eyes and sighed heavily— putting his head in his hands and cursing himself for acting like the way he did: like a jealous lover.

He couldn’t really help it, as the memories of seeing (Y/n) being so friendly with all of the other soldiers played in his head. The way they would pat her shoulder, or sling their arms around her— especially the way that they held her close and tried roughhousing with her— all of those things had him feeling so protective of her.

And so goddamn jealous, even though he knew that he had no right to be. He was keeping her as his dirty little secret, so he had to endure the consequences without taking things out on her.

After all, he was the one whom had propositioned her in the first place.

But that was before his feelings had gotten involved. Because, somewhere within the countless nights they’d spent together, he had fallen for her. What exactly had made him like her, he didn’t know— as they rarely ever talked after their numerous rounds of sex.

Yet there was something about her that made him let down all of his walls when it was just around her. He felt so free, despite being ensconced in a tent in the middle of a military camp— but only when she was in his arms.

The deeper he thought about why though, the more questions he had— and the more memories of her played in his mind. One particular memory stuck out to him though, as it was one of the few times where they had just talked, all while clinging tightly to each other’s tired bodies.

“What was it like growing up in the palace?” Sanemi had asked softly, as his fingers played with the ends of (Y/n)’s hair.

She stirred in his grasp, making herself comfortable against his chest and distractedly rubbing a hand against his abdomen, as she tried to think of a good answer for his question. “Lonely. Scary. Sad.”

He understood why it was lonely and sad, as it was a big palace and her father and older brothers were almost always busy. All she had to keep her company were her escorts and nursemaids; and they weren’t even allowed to make idle chat with her, or so he’d heard from his own father.

“Why was it scary?” Sanemi found himself asking, more to understand her than to sate his own curiosity; it was a minute difference, but the meaning behind his question vastly differed from if he’d asked it for the sake of knowing it.

He actually wanted to know why (Y/n) had been scared, so he could ease her fears, if the need ever arose.

The young woman hummed softly, moving on to trailing the tip of her index finger against his skin in nonsensical patterns that, frankly, made his eyes feel a little heavy. “Have you ever tried living in a haunted palace?”

Sanemi’s eyes narrowed at that, yet he found himself stifling a laugh at the—admittedly— absurd answer. He had expected something else, something much more serious than a haunted palace, but he still couldn’t help but be mildly relieved that she wasn’t being serious about it.

“I can’t say I have,” He answered softly, gently tugging at the ends of her hair as a slight grin made its way onto his face. And, for once, he was thankful for the darkness that bathed both of them in shadows— as he knew that he was free to smile at her lame attempt at humor.

As his grin tapered down into a lopsided smile, however, Sanemi felt his breaths begin to slow— as if he were relaxing even more into her touch, especially when she pressed her lips to the scar that crossed over his chest.

“Ah, that explains things, then.” Even though the words were haughty, the manner in which they were delivered were anything but. Instead, it had been said mirthfully— in a playful manner that had Sanemi relaxing even further into (Y/n)’s touch.

“Go to sleep, before I shut you up with my cock in your mouth.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes at her lover’s reply, but complied with his words and let her tired eyes slowly succumb to her need for sleep. “Good night, Sanemi.”

“Good night… Princess.”

At the tail end of the memory, right before the butterflies he felt in his stomach could make his head feel like it was spinning, he shoved it back down to the deepest recesses of his brain. He then clicked his tongue in irritation, scowling down at his half-finished report before pushing up off the table.

Sanemi figured that a nice walk would do him some good, so he immediately began traipsing towards the exit of the tent— dreading the possibility of seeing (Y/n) out there, after what had just transpired between them.

He felt like such an ass for even being that possessive over her, when he was the one whom had kept telling himself that it was nothing more than an arrangement between two consenting adults. Still, no matter how hard he tried to get technical about things between them, his matters of the heart always begged to differ.

A quiet groan escaped his lips at that, as he pushed the tent flap aside and walked out into the cold night air; all while trying to keep his posture as straight as possible.

It was alright at first, just fielding off the customary salutes that the soldiers kept giving him left and right— that was, until he made it to the makeshift mess area.

His eyes immediately zeroed in on (Y/n) as she sat on the ground with a few other soldiers— namely the brunette and the blond from earlier, as well as a blue-haired one whom he knew to be too brash for his own good. All four of them were laughing at something, and just having a grand old time.

And it wasn’t even their happiness that he found getting on his nerves; it was (Y/n)’s in particular that had him gritting his teeth. But it wasn’t until he saw (Y/n) get some vegetables from her bowl and place them in the blue-haired soldier’s bowl that he felt real anger bubble up inside him.

Sanemi heard the gritty way that his teeth sounded as he gnashed them together— all in an effort not to go over there and haul her to a secluded place, just so he could show her that she really belonged to him. And that her actions were inexcusable, not to mention inappropriate for a woman of her status; not that anyone in the camp— other than the two of them— knew who she really was, let alone the fact that she was a woman.

Before he could lose his tightly leashed control on his anger, the Captain turned on his heel and fled far away from the scene— deciding to stay at the nearby lake, just so he could clear his head in relative peace.

***

While most of the soldiers were still engrossed in having their meals, (Y/n) had decided to get a head start on getting a quick bath— if only to wash off the dirt and grime that had accumulated on her skin throughout the day. She had fed her newfound friends the excuse that she was going to turn in early, just so they wouldn’t get it in their heads to join her for a bath.

Because that would spell nothing but catastrophe, if they ever found out that she was a woman— let alone a princess. And, if she wanted to escape once they got to a more populated city, she had to keep the ruse up as best as she could.

So, with quick footsteps, she made her way to her tent to get her towel and a clean change of clothes; courtesy of Sanemi, of course. He had made good on his promise to take care of her— even including her own change of clothes with his, and having someone else launder them.

If the person doing the Captain’s laundry had ever become suspicious about the smaller tunics and pants mixed with the larger ones, they had never said anything about it— as she had never heard any unsavory rumors floating around within the camp.

With her items in hand, she cast one last furtive look over her shoulder— making sure that no one was behind her— before she darted off to the lake, so she could wash up as quickly as she could. After all, she still had to be clean in case Sanemi still wanted her with him that night.

And, even though she was cross with him, she was a woman of her word: she would warm his bed, if he wanted her to. Not that that would necessarily be a hardship, what with how deliciously he fucked her each and every time.

It was the entire reason why she had been limping the past few days. He’d been rougher than usual, and had taken to fucking her with her legs slung over his shoulders; filling her up over and over in that position until both of them were satisfied.

The mere memory of him moving inside her, dragging his cock against her walls in the most pleasurable way, had her swallowing past the lump in her throat and clenching her pussy tight when she felt arousal warm her entire body up.

She shook her head at that— trying to get rid of the images of Sanemi’s blissed out expression as he hovered above her; eyes focused on her, cheeks slightly flushed, and mouth slightly parted as the softest of sighs passed through his lips every once in a while.

“I just made it worse,” She muttered irately to herself, huffing as she hid behind a tree and hung her towel up on one of the branches. Furtively, she looked around the area to check for any unwanted presences, and quickly stripped down when she deemed it safe enough to do so.

(Y/n) didn’t even bother to fold her clothes up, knowing that it would cut into her precious bathing time. So, with one last look around her, she ran to the lake and submerged herself in the chilly water— suppressing a scream as she sank down further into it; mildly hoping that it would douse the arousal that she felt between her thighs.

Only, it did no such thing. And, the longer that she stood there— listening to the rustling of the leaves in the trees— the more that she wanted Sanemi to keep her company.

She had seen him earlier, but didn’t even dare to say a word to him. After all, she wanted her to come to him— not the other way around. She wasn’t going to be needy enough to go to him to sate her need. If he wanted to have sex, then he could come to her and get her.

Once more, the thought of him had her clenching her thighs as she felt herself get wetter. She really was hopeless when it came to him, as she was coming to realize.

From where he sat across where (Y/n) was, Sanemi couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. It was a throwback to the first time that he’d seen her outside of the palace and, instead of filling him with the just same lust that he felt before, he also felt his anger stir inside him at the sight of her so readily exposing herself.

He was mad because he didn’t want anyone else walking in and seeing her like that, even though she was submerged up to her chest.

His eyes never left her form, especially as she moved to the shallower part of the lake— where the water only reached up to her thighs— and rested her back against a boulder.  It was wide enough to cover her, and tall enough so that only her head and shoulders could be seen from the top of it.

Strategically turning herself away from the main entrance of the area, she lifted her hands up and cupped her breasts— throwing her head back letting her eyes fall closed as she pinched her nipples between her fingers.

Sanemi couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sight at all. It had his cock getting hard in his pants, and he found himself palming his erection and massaging his balls at the sight of her.

Especially when the wind carried over her soft whisper of his name. She was thinking about him while touching herself so boldly, and it had him stripping down as well.

The air nipped at (Y/n)’s damp skin, but she didn’t mind it one bit— as her whole body felt warm from the inside what with how needy she was. Her heart was pounding frantically in her chest, since she knew that she shouldn’t have been doing such a thing out there, but she knew that Sanemi wouldn’t let anyone else see her in such an uncompromising state; if his blatant show of possessiveness was anything to go by.

“Sanemi,” She moaned once more, sighing in pleasure as she let her right hand drift down to her cunt— running her middle finger up and down her slit to collect her arousal, before using that to circle her clit in a way that had her breath audibly hitching.

Pressing harder against the tiny nub, (Y/n) played with her clit harder— until her legs were shaking so hard that she had to lean her full weight against the boulder behind her. She felt her orgasm already approaching— only getting even more heightened by the knowledge that Sanemi’s eyes were focused solely on her at that moment.

She kept playing with her clit— rubbing, flicking, and pinching the bundle of nerves as her breaths fell from her lips in stuttered gasps; all with Sanemi’s name laced into her pleasured sighs.

“Sanemi, Sanemi,” (Y/n) kept uttering in the most sinful way, as she finally succumbed to the powerful orgasm that wracked through her body. It had her hips jerking gently against her fingers, yet she didn’t stop— keeping up the motions of playing with her clit, before sinking two of her fingers inside her quivering entrance.

However, before she could curl her fingers up to pleasure herself even further, the sound of someone stepping into the water had her eyes opening and landing right on Sanemi’s naked form.

He had an incensed expression on his face, yet the way that his cock stood proudly between his legs let her know that he wasn’t angry enough to actually reprimand her— at least, not at that moment.

A small smirk tugged up at the corners of her mouth, and she blatantly licked her bottom lip before taking her bottom lip between her teeth— in a way that she hoped was seductive enough.

And judging by the way that Sanemi’s cock twitched, it was effective.

The silence stretched between them at that, both of them merely staring at each other before (Y/n) finally curled her fingers inside her and let her eyes flutter shut, just as a soft sigh escaped her.

Sanemi was having none of her games, though. He crossed the distance between them— standing a few mere inches away from her, before encircling her right wrist with his left hand and gently pulling her fingers out of her wet cunt.

Her fingers glistened in the moonlight, showing the silver-haired Captain just how needy she was for him. He then grabbed her face by her chin with his free hand, urging her to open her eyes and look right at him, as he opened his mouth and took her fingers inside— licking and sucking both digits clean, before pulling them out.

“So fucking needy,” Sanemi uttered, his voice taking on a gruff edge that had a shiver running up (Y/n)’s spine— especially as his warm breath caressed her slowly cooling fingers.

She didn’t dare to answer that, however; preferring instead to wait for him to make the next move. Which he did by pulling her face closer to his— and teasingly dropping a kiss against her lips.

“Shamelessly flirting with all of the other soldiers too. Letting them touch you, and taking care of them so easily. Fucking doting on them,” He growled, not even waiting for her to counteract him with her own answer before he had her back facing him. His jealousy was showing even more, and he didn’t even bother to hide it. “You deserve to be punished.”

(Y/n) wasn’t a stranger to spanking— not with Sanemi dropping a few spanks to her ass when he took her from behind— but now that she knew what exactly had him acting so possessive, it had her feeling even more aroused.

Knowing that he had cared enough to get jealous like that made her pussy even wetter than before. Especially when she felt his right hand caress her ass first, before dropping a spank to one of her ass cheeks.

Her arousal at his jealousy was so illogical, yet she only got wetter and needier for him the more that he talked. His words cleared up the fact that he wasn’t simply being possessive for the sake of it— he was actually, honest to goodness, jealous.

“Getting so friendly with them, even when you know that you’re mine. Fuck, I should fuck you in front of all of them— to show them who really owns you.”

And it confused her, because it was making her present her ass more for him— moving it closer to his crotch as his cock brushed against her wet slit every once in a while.

“P-please, Sanemi, I need you. Please fuck me,” (Y/n) whimpered, striking a chord within Sanemi that had him simply caressing the red marks on both of her ass cheeks.

And instead of dragging out her punishment, as he had intended, he decided to heed her words and slowly slipped his cock inside her. His hands made their way to her chest, cupping her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingers, while he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss against the nape of her neck.

It was the only warning she had before he had begun to pound into her— thrusting his hips so hard that every move was practically knocking the breath out of her. A scream almost tore itself free from her lips, had she not slapped both of her hands to her mouth.

She had thought that she was scot-free after that, but the sudden sound of men approaching had her entire body freezing in place— as Sanemi only quickened his pace even more. Thankfully, his hold on her was keeping her from flying off, what with how hard he was fucking her.

“Keep quiet, if you don’t want anyone to see what we’re actually doing,” Sanemi whispered against her ear, nipping at the shell of it before rising up to his full height and pulling her up with him.

The small group of soldiers already took notice of Sanemi and (Y/n) behind the boulder, yet didn’t deign to ask them what they were doing there— too happy at the prospect of finally getting to clean themselves to even dip their toes into unofficial matters.

Besides, no one would ever dare to question Sanemi— if they wanted to keep living.

Thankfully, the sound of skin slapping against skin had been drowned out by the other soldiers’ jovial chatter— as well as the sounds of them moving about in the water. It was a silver lining that (Y/n) was more than happy about.

However, panic set inside her when one of the men turned to her and asked, “What are you doing there, Miyuki? Join us, and uh, you too, Captain Shinazugawa.”

“Answer him,” Sanemi whispered in her ear as subtly as he could, and kept his motions of fucking into her. Burying his cock inside her needy cunt with a much gentler force than before, and then slowly dragging it out to avoid looking too suspicious.

“I-I’m asking the Captain to scrub my back. We’ll join i-in a while,” (Y/n) stuttered out in her fake Miyuki Yuki voice, then bit down on her tongue when her lover began toying so expertly with her nipples.

Most of the men laughed at her response, with one of them answering, “You’re such a girl, Miyuki.”

Sanemi sneered at that, yet didn’t ease up on his movements as he felt himself nearing his climax. It helped immensely that (Y/n)’s walls had tightened around his cock the moment she answered the other soldier’s question.

One hand fluttered down to her pussy— pressing down on her clit with his thumb, while his middle finger coated itself with her arousal, as well as his pre-cum, before slipping inside her alongside Sanemi’s cock.

The added stretch stung a little, but the moment that her lover’s finger curled up to press against her g-spot, she roughly bit down on her tongue to keep a pleasured cry inside her. Thankfully, all of the men in the water had already tapered off into their own conversations— not even bothering to look over where she and Sanemi were.

The silver-haired man kept rubbing his finger against that one spot, fighting back a smug smirk when he felt her walls start to flutter around him, as his cock and finger got even more soaked with her own cum. She was trying so hard not to moan at the sensation, and had taken to lifting a fist up to her mouth and biting down on her knuckles.

Sanemi felt himself get closer and closer to his own release, making his movements stutter every few thrusts— until he was pressing his cockhead against her cervix and spurting his warm cum inside her; painting her walls with his thick seed.

Both of them were totally breathless as they came down from their highs— with the silver-haired man gently rocking his hips to push his release around inside of his lover. Then slowly, he pulled his finger out from her and brought it up to her lips— but only after making sure that no one had their eyes on them.

(Y/n) complied with his unspoken request, taking the single digit inside her mouth and licking up their mixed cum up from it.

“Let’s get you to my tent,” Sanemi whispered in her ear, as he pressed a subtle kiss against the back of it. Covert enough for it to seem like he had just leaned far too close to her. “I can’t get enough of you.”

[pressedinthepages]

Chapter 3: Reunion

Summary: You confront the beast, but end up finding something a bit different than what you were expecting.

Series Masterlist

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382063/chapters/59417785

Words: 1643

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox

Warnings: brief fight scene, blood, nothing terribly graphic though

A/N: We stan lil’ bleater and goat dad in this house

    The sword is heavy in your hand as you swing high, but you freeze as you look at what had burst into the clearing. You weren’t sure exactly what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. You scent the air again now that it’s right in front of you, and there’s no denying it; it’s a fucking goat.

    She pauses and looks up at you, her eyes blank and oblivious to the potential danger that she has walked into. Instead of fleeing or stomping to fight, the goat just dips her head to the ground and begins munching on some celandine sprouting along the edge of the stream. You lower the sword back to your side as you listen, noticing that the heavy footfalls that had been approaching had disappeared, yet you still feel uneasy. 

You keep your hand on your weapon as you observe the little goat, curious as to what the fuck she was doing in the middle of a forest. Her fur is a dark, rich brown speckled with white spots along her back. She has two tiny horns atop her head, and her eyes are a light brown, striking against the dark of her fur. The goat lifts her head and meets your gaze, and you feel as though she has the ability to know everything, but actually knows nothing at all. You stare at each other for a moment when she suddenly bleats, something sharp and powerful, and you get the sense that she just asked you to ‘fuck off’ in goat.

    Your uneasiness grows, certain that there is something nearby, watching you. Your grip tightens on your sword as you slowly start to move in the direction of your camp. As you do, your body is overwhelmed with a strange (but not unpleasant) tingling sensation, your bones feeling like they are vibrating under your skin. Abruptly, the wind shifts and you catch a new scent on the air; something dark and smoky, steel and blood, and...oranges?

    Before your brain can catch up, you are grabbed and shoved to the ground from behind. Your sword clatters along the stones by the water, and you gasp as the wind is knocked out of you. The buckle at the top of your shoulder clinks and loosens, your silver sword pulled from your back. Your training takes over, elbowing whatever is on top of you in the abdomen. Their hold on you eases just enough for you to roll away, shoving the heel of your palm into the face of your attacker. You feel blood rush under your hand as you retreat, coming to your feet and circling around at the edge of the clearing to face your attacker.

    The first thing that you notice is that this is a humanoid creature, presumably a male of the species. As he stands, he holds a hand to his face in an attempt to quash the blood flowing from his nose, the smell of copper wrinkling your nose. He is wearing clothes, plain trousers and a tunic with red and brown stripes. He too is unarmed, and as you glance around the clearing, you notice a second sheath sticking out from under the bush where your attacker must have been hiding. You see the hilt of a sword, and then one of a second sword, and oh shit.

    You look back to the man’s face, allowing your body to relax a touch as he runs a forearm across his lip, wiping away the excess blood. The bleeding has stopped, and you can see the shimmery shield of Quen around the man. He is tall and broad, and you can see that his forearms are littered with scars that shine subtly against his tanned skin. Along his face, though, are three long, deep gashes, red and angry and haunted by the pain of the past that bleeds into the present. He has deep chestnut hair that falls into his eyes, and when you catch them, they steal your breath.

    His eyes are deep gold, threaded with fire and approaching storms. As you discreetly scent the air once more, the realization floods through you. Those eyes catch the light of the setting sun, glimmering and otherworldly, but all you can see are the color that they used to be; rich green, the color of the tops of the trees in spring. He always did love those orange soaps.

    “Eskel?” you breathe, your voice nothing more than a leaf fluttering from a tree. He stiffens, breath catching in his lungs. You can hear his heartbeat speed up, looking into your eyes, searching for the answer to a question he has yet to ask. You visibly relax your posture, turning your palms outward in a show of submission. He still waits, his body coiled to pounce at the first sign of aggression, but something in his eyes shifts as he inhales, and you know that he has finally scented you.

    You take a tentative step forward, needing to discreetly close the distance between you before coming to any conclusions about who is in front of you. He smells like Eskel, and he looks like Eskel, albeit a bit weathered and with a bunch more scars than when you last saw him. He looks exhausted, and you can’t help your heart breaking a little. But you know better than to take anything at face value, this could be a doppler, or a djinn, or some other fucking thing that has gotten into your head and is using your past against you. 

    The man in front of you mirrors your actions, his posture also relaxing and stepping forward slowly. As you grow closer, only just outside of arm’s reach, the silver medallion on your chest lies still, the heavy charm confirming that this was not some being masquerading as Eskel, but was actually him. He seems to have come to the same conclusion, breathing out your name, so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him without your heightened hearing.

    You both carefully move forward until you are close enough to share a breath, and you are overwhelmed with the scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat, the sight of the man who had been your source of sanity for almost twenty years, and had unknowingly haunted you for the past thirty. 

    Before you can register the movements, his arms are around your waist, pulling you to his chest and holding you there. He rests his head on your shoulder as he sinks into you, holding his breath and trembling slightly, only enough for another Witcher to notice. It’s been so long since you had felt any of the numerous sensations darting around you, and instead of confronting them or trying to focus on all of them at once, you just allow yourself to bring your arms around his neck, enfolding him into you. 

    You stay like that for a while, neither one of you willing to break the embrace. You can feel his thumb lightly stroking your back, and his stubble scratches along your throat. You thread your fingers through his hair, a dusty, unruly mess that seems to be one of the only things about him that hasn’t really changed. 

    “I can’t believe you’re alive,” he whispers into your shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist. Before you can respond, though, you feel a sharp jab in the back of your knees, buckling as Eskel catches your weight. You turn and see the goat behind you, still chewing on greens. You think that you catch a glint of playfulness in her eyes, and that is confirmed soon enough.

    Eskel releases his grip on you, stepping around to approach the goat. His mouth is set in a hard line, and his hands rest on his hips as he tilts his head down to look at her. She trots up to him, unafraid, and stands with her two front hooves on the toes of his boots.

    As you watch all of this unfold, unsure of whether or not this a bizarre dream, Eskel sighs, the corner of his mouth tilting up the tiniest bit. He bends over and gently shoves the goat away, but she bounces right back around to stand once more on his toes. He does this a couple more times, seemingly lost in his own little world. You can’t help but crack a small smile watching him, waiting for the goat to be finished with her playtime. 

Finally, she firmly plants all four hooves on the ground and bleats, quick and clear, most of the greens falling from her mouth as she does. Eskel reaches out and ruffles the little tuft of fur between her horns before standing again, turning to you with a somewhat sheepish look on his face. 

You feel the corners of your mouth turn up once more before shrugging and turning to gather your swords from where they had fallen. As you rise once more, you see that Eskel has gathered his belongings as well, swords slung across his back, medallion glinting in the fading sun. You nod in the direction of your camp, wordlessly inviting him to join you. Eskel whistles high and loud, and you can hear another set of hooves approaching from the direction that he had come. A large black warhorse plods into the clearing, graceful and poised despite his grand stature. The goat bounces between his feet, bleating and ramming her horns into the horse’s legs. 

Eskel sighs at them before gesturing towards your camp, “After you, Witcher.” 

As you begin to climb the hill, Eskel and his traveling companions (?) at your back, you can’t help the ripple of relief along your mind. You’re not sure why, or how, but even now, thirty years since you’ve last seen him, Eskel still makes you feel human again.

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: A Life full of Surprises | Word Count: 1879 | Rating: Explicit (by the end)

Characters: Arthur Morgan, trans male reader

Tags: canon-typical violence, animal death, misgendering, WIP

Info: I got a few requests including a trans male reader and decided to put them all in one multi chapter fic. Please make sure this is something you want to read. I don’t want to trigger people or cause any dysphoria. If you have questions, feel free to ask. I will add pairings when the story progresses.

Summary: Life is full of surprises. Getting attacked by the Murfrees at night is something you should have seen coming. A surprise, though, is the stranger who’s about to save your life in more ways than one.

You know that it’s dangerous to travel these parts alone, but you don’t feel like you’ve got much of a choice, needing to hunt or finding another way to make money. The Murfree Brood lives in these woods, and they don’t take kindly to strangers. You have your rifle, though, and you’ve become quite a good shot over the last couple of months. You had to, after all.

It would probably be a good idea to go faster, but you barely had enough money to buy a horse at all. The old mare you’re sitting on can still do the job, but you shouldn’t ask for too much. Going at a slow trot, you have trouble keeping your eyes open. That’s probably why you don’t see the signs. Movement in the trees, the reflection of the setting sun on a gun; anything that could have alerted you to your impending doom.

The guy who steps out of the trees is barely able to stand up straight, but he can hold a gun, and he shoots true. Your horse crumbles to the ground with a bullet in its head, and all you can do is make sure you won’t end up under it. Instead, you crouch down behind the body and fire a few shots at your assailant before running for cover behind a large tree.

It’s not just the one guy who attacks you. There are more men, shouting orders at each other. You lean around the tree and manage to hit two of them while they try to come up with a plan. Then, they decide to wing it, coming at you from all sides. You do your best to shoot the ones that try to circle around you, but there’s a whole bunch of them.

For a moment, you consider to run, but bullets hit the trees all around you. You stay where you are, trying to come up with a plan when a shadow jumps out next to you. The guy is waving a machete, and you barely manage to duck the first swing. 

Stumbling back, you lose your rifle, and pull out your knife instead. Not that it’ll help you much against a machete. Thinking fast, you throw the knife instead. You manage to hit the guy’s throat, and there’s no doubt that he’ll die, but he keeps stumbling forward, the machete making an arch in your direction.

At the last second, something hits the blade, and it changes direction, only gracing your arm instead of piercing your body. You hear the sound of hooves on the ground, and as you look up, you see a man on a huge black horse approaching at full speed. He has his gun raised, and you wonder if he was crazy enough to shoot at the machete.

As the stranger comes closer, he puts the gun back in its holster, picking up a rifle from the satchel of his horse. Without slowing down, he rides past your attackers, and you hear how bullets meet flesh, followed by the dull sounds of bodies hitting the ground. Staying low, you crawl back to your rifle. The cut on your arm burns like hell, but you still lean forward to watch the fight. 

The stranger has brought his horse around, taking a second tour around your attackers. There aren’t many left. One of them jumps out from behind the trees, trying to cut at the legs of the stranger’s horse. You feel a rush of adrenalin searching through you. When you aim, everything slows down for a moment, and you manage to take down the attacker with a headshot, something that you’ve rarely been able to do before.

The rest of the Murfrees finally have enough. They run away through the trees while the stranger keeps firing at them. He takes down three more, obviously not shy to shoot someone in the back. You sink back against the tree, breathing slowly to counter the dizziness that tries to take hold of you. 

Silence falls over the woods again, only broken by the sounds of the stranger’s horse. He comes around the tree and jumps to the floor. The rifle still in his hands, he walks over and crouches down beside you.

“You alright, ma'am?” he asks, and your insides turn at the word.

“Mister,” you say harshly, trying to get to your feet.

“What?”

“It’s mister, not ma'am.”

You stumble, and the stranger grabs your arm to keep you from falling over. He watches your face for a long moment, and you get to do the same. His hat is drawn deep into his face, but you still get to marvel at his shining eyes, and your eyes are drawn to his full lips, surrounded by a nice stubble that covers his cheeks.

“What’s your name then?” the stranger asks.

“Y/N,” you say, pulling your arm out of his grip. The last thing you want is to seem weak. “Yours?”

“Arthur,” he says, still watching you intensely. “You don’t look so good, mister. Did they hit you?”

“Just the cut on my arm.”

“Can you walk?”

“I’ll have to, won’t I?” you grunt, pointing at the dead horse on the ground.

Arthur takes in the scene and puts his rifle over his shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

His words sound so genuine that they hit something deep inside of you, and you realize how rude you are.

“I’m sorry,” you say, pointing at yourself. “You saved my life, and I’m an asshole. Thank you so much for your help.”

“S'alright. I know how nasty these bastards can be,” Arthur says, kicking the nearest Murfree with his boot. “Can I take you somewhere?”

“I didn’t really have a destination, to be honest.” You shrug helplessly. It’s dawning on you that your chances at survival took a nosedive. “Spent my last money on that horse, and now…”

Arthur watches you for a moment, but when you don’t say more, he waves you along. “It’s getting late anyway. Better to make camp. Just not here. Take what you need, and let’s get out of here.”

You grab your saddlebag, and since you’re desperate, you walk around and search the Murfrees for anything useful. After a short moment, Arthur joins in, and without comment, he hands his findings over to you. 

“Let’s go then,” he says, whistling for his horse. 

The second it’s beside him, he swiftly gets into the saddle, holding a huge hand out to you. You grab it and try not to think about how firm his grip is, and what those hands could do to you. Sitting behind Arthur, it dawns on you how broad and muscular he is. From your position, you can’t put your arms fully around him, so you hold on to his jacket.

“Ready?” he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.

You nod, and you take off quickly, Arthur letting his horse find a way through the trees. He only stops when it’s getting dark, and you have more mountains than trees around you. It’s unlikely for the Murfrees to attack here.

Arthur helps you off his horse before taking off his bedroll and searching in his saddlebags for provisions. 

“You think you can build a fire?” he asks, looking up into the sky. “I think I wanna put up my tent. Looks like rain.”

Looking into the sky, you have no idea what he’s talking about, but he sounds sure. He must be someone who’s used to sleeping outside. Following his lead, you walk around the area to pick up firewood. By the time you get the fire burning, Arthur has set up a tent and puts a bedroll on the ground, gesturing for you to sit down with him. 

“You hungry?” he asks, but you shake your head.

“Just tired.”

Arthur nods, taking turns looking at you and the fire. “What have you been doing out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You take a deep breath. “Being an idiot. I was looking for a way to make money. Should have known better than to run around in Murfree country with night approaching.”

“So, you’re desperate,” Arthur says. It’s not a question.

“Guess I am,” you say with a shrug. “Can shoot something if I have to, and I don’t mind getting my hands dirty, but those are pretty much all my skills right there.”

“That’s sometimes-” Arthur starts, but then his eyes fall onto your arm. “Are you bleeding?”

You look down yourself to where the machete cut you. Somehow you got used to the burning sensation and didn’t notice the blood. “It’s just a scratch.”

“I thought I hit that machete,” Arthur says honestly upset. If he counts that kind of shooting normal, you wonder what he does in his day to day life.

“You did. Saved my life actually,” you say. “This I can deal with.”

Arthur scoots closer, carefully pulling on the fabric around the cut. “That needs cleaning, maybe even stitches.”

“I can’t afford a doctor.”

Arthur shrugs. “I work for free. If you let me take a look at it.”

“Sure.”

“Can you take that off?” Arthur says, nodding to your shirt before he walks over to his horse to roam around in his saddlebags. 

After you insisted that he call you mister, you can hardly act offended about the question. Still, you’re not sure what to do. Your chest is almost flat but naked, there’s still more than there should be for a guy of your stature. 

You take a deep breath, considering how quickly Arthur switched to calling you mister. Maybe it’s not much of a deal to him. You unbutton your shirt and slide it off your shoulders. Arthur comes back with a bottle and a small bag, sitting down next to you.

“Now, let’s see,” he says, carefully touching your arm.

Your body grows hot, being exposed like that. Arthur ignores the rest of your body in favor of concentrating on your wound. 

“This might sting,” he says, pouring alcohol over the cut. Then he hands you a strip of leather. “Might wanna bite down on this.”

You take the leather and watch him prepare some needle and threat. Then you bite down on the leather when he brings the needle up to your arm. Although Arthur works quickly, you still have tears streaming down your face by the time he’s done. You quickly wipe your eyes while Arthur puts his things away, and he comes back, holding out a fresh shirt to you.

“Here, take this,” he says, “no need to put that bloody thing back on.”

“Thank you,” you say, acutely aware that this time, Arthur does look at your chest. 

There’s nothing in his eyes that gives away what he thinks, but you’re used to different reactions. The fact that he’s not commenting on your body or tries to dispute that you’re a guy already says a lot about him.

By the time the rain sets in, you feel safe enough around Arthur that you crawl into the tent with him, and tired as you are, you fall asleep in seconds.

[matrixaffiliate]

Vicissitude

New Story! FFN and AO3

Hermione’s one request with Ron’s YouTube career is that he keep her and their daughter off-camera. But with Hermione expecting their second child and both parents beyond exhausted, one sweet little girl is about to make her YouTube debut. 

A gift for @onceuponmystory and a sequel to my story Preponderance.

Vicissitude

Ron didn’t feel like a regular YouTuber.

For one he was sponsored by his brothers’ company, so even if the channel tanked, he’d be able to move seamlessly into their marketing department and still bring home a paycheck. Not that the channel would tank, Ron had 8 million subscribers now. For another, he had an incredibly private wife. Where most YouTubers he knew personally and those he only knew of used their families as part of their content, Hermione had never appeared in a video, nor had Ron ever showed a picture of her.

And his subscribers had no idea he had another girl in his life either.

Hermione had been very specific that their children were not to be mentioned or involved in his channel. She wanted the privacy and distance and to not be targeted by crazies. And Ron agreed. He’d had to block a subscriber here and there over the years because they’d gotten obsessed. Thankfully nothing awful had happened, but it proved Hermione’s point and Ron was for the most part in her camp.

What Ron hadn’t considered was how utterly exhausted he would be when Hermione was in her first trimester with their second child. Ron was doing his best to take Rosie so Hermione could sleep undisturbed, but he also had videos to plan and film and edit and slot for posting and the standard ten comments a video that he limited himself to replying to. He’d long ago given up on responding to every single one. On top of that Ron actually was helping with the non-YouTube marketing of the company as well, with deadlines to make there.

He honestly felt lucky they ate each day because he was so swamped and Hermione was so sick and Rose was the handful any toddler would be when you upset their schedule.

That stress was probably why he answered Ginny’s call with a touch of sharpness.

“Oh good,” she sounded relieved, “You already know.”

“I already know what?” Ron jumped from his computer to stop Rosie from pulling a box of Wheezes down on her head.

“Oh,” she paused a moment, “well I’m about to add to whatever already has you pissed off.”

Ron groaned, “What is it now, Ginny?”

“Your channel now knows Rosie exists.”

Ron felt like he’d been gut-punched.

“What?”

“Go watch your last video,” Ginny said, “And no point in taking it down, it already has probably 100 comments dedicated to the fact that you have a little girl.”

Ron felt the panic rising as he moved back to his computer. “Where in the video, Ginny?”

“My darling niece must have missed her daddy because she was playing behind the frosted glass of the French doors you used as a backdrop for that magic trick with the smoke colors.”

Ron opened the file and groaned as he dragged his courser until he found the scene.

Sure enough, little pink dress and head of bushy hair pulled back into that enormous bow his mum had given them sat behind the frosted glass.

“I’m so dead.” Ron moved the courser and saw that Rosie was there for the whole trick. He’d been so focused on making sure that the trick was perfect in editing that he’d completely missed Rosie.

And now he had to tell Hermione.

“At least you can’t see her clearly,” Ginny’s voice sounded through his earpiece.

“Well, if you hear about us on the news for spousal homicide, you and Harry are supposed to take Rosie.”

“Good to know,” Ginny huffed, “Best of luck, Ron.”

Ron turned as the call ended and looked down at Rosie as she made her plastic horse gallop along the floor.

“I love you, Rosie, but I really wish you would have stayed in the playroom when I filmed that trick.”

“Daddy do magic?” Rose looked up happily.

“If your mum doesn’t kill me we’ll do a trick to celebrate, alright love?”

“Color trick,” she nodded and went back to her horses.

“Come on then, you’re serving as my ‘please don’t kill me’ card.”

Rosie proceeded to trot the toy horse up to his shoulder and over his head as he walked them down the hall to Hermione’s office.

“Hermione?” Ron tapped quietly on the door.

He pushed it open to find Hermione asleep in her desk chair.

Ron wasn’t surprised. Hermione’s pregnancy with Rosie had begun just as poorly. Constantly ill, constantly passing out, and if this round followed the same pattern as before in its entirety, Ron was going to suggest that they stop with two kids - he didn’t fancy his wife going through physical hell more than she absolutely had to. He would have stopped with sweet Rosie, but Hermione insisted they needed two, and Ron knew it wasn’t worth the fight.

“Hermione, love,” he moved to her desk and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She started and blinked up at him. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.”

“Let’s get you to the couch or our bed for a quick kip,” Ron shifted Rose in his arms.

“No,” Hermione shook her head and moved her computer mouse, “I’ve got work to do.”

Ron watched her for a moment before leaning against her desk, this arms still wrapped around his daughter.

“So, I was thinking, what if we had a backup plan for if anyone did figure out we have Rosie, or if anyone figures out when we have this baby. That way we’d be fully prepared to handle the situation if it ever were to come about.”

Hermione shrugged, “It won’t happen, we’ve kept Rosie safe for two years now. I’m sure we’ll do just fine with this baby as well.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, “Right, I just supposed an agreed-upon plan would be like a safety net in case we were to slip one day.”

Hermione shrugged again before going very still. Slowly she spun her chair around to face him and Rose.

“Please tell me this is hypothetical.”

Ron really tried to hold her gaze, but his guilt weighed in his chest like a dumbbell.

“Ron,” Hermione’s voice was shrill, “it’s hypothetical, right? Tell me this is a hypothetical scenario!”

Ron shook his head, “I’m sorry love, I slipped up. But,” he finally looked up at her, “she was only visible through the frosted glass of the French doors.”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth agape.

Ron was so busy racking his brain for the right thing to say that he nearly jumped out of his skin and dropped Rosie when Hermione burst into laughter.

But this laughter didn’t sound terribly happy, in fact, it sounded a bit… hopeless?

“Are you alright, love?” He set Rosie down to gather his wife in his arms.

“Of course, I’m not alright,” she continued to laugh, “my world is collapsing around me and I’m too exhausted to properly care!”

“Right,” Ron had no idea what the right thing to do was. “Listen, Hermione, no one from the channel actually knows what Rose looks like. Here,” he pulled out his phone and opened the video, “I’ll show you exactly what they saw.”

He set the phone down on her desk and set the video to play where he did the magic trick. Hermione reluctantly picked up his phone and watched.

Ron snagged Rosie around her middle with his calf before she could grab at the cup of pens on the desk. When he looked up, Hermione was smiling.

“Is, is everything, er, you're…”

She looked up with tears in her eyes.

“Have you read the comments?”

“Er, no, I, I only just realized…”

“realmagic: romione has a toddler! omg i bet they make the cutest kids!”

Hermione scrolled and then read again.

“candyandwheezes: RON AND HERMIONE ARE DEFINITELY THE BEST PARENTS!”

Ron chuckled, “Some of these crazies aren’t half bad, eh?”

Hermione gave a teary laugh and read again.

“LavB6: romione is my life goal! romance, fun careers, and beautiful kids!”

She set his phone down and reached for Rosie who gladly took the opportunity to be closer to her mum’s pen cup.

“So,” Ron scooted closer to her and slid his phone away, “How do we handle this?”

“Isn’t this how we’ve always handled it? We slip little bits of our lives into random videos and your hardcore fans think it’s part of the plan.”

She looked down at her barely swollen belly.

“I’m sure someday this little one will find a way to make their appearance as well.”

Ron took her hand, “I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione smiled at him. “We’re stressed and exhausted and honestly, there’s not a whole lot of harm in it. I still don’t want our kids or me on camera, but I suppose it isn’t the end of the world if they know we have children.”

“You are absolutely wonderful.” Ron felt relief rush through him so fast he felt light-headed.

“I’m also three months pregnant and my hormones are everywhere so if it had to happen, I suppose this is the best time for it. I have a feeling I might have had you for lunch if I weren’t completely off-kilter.”

Ron laughed and pulled his girls into him.

His subscribers weren’t all idiots, he mused. They had a few things down, specifically how absolutely perfect his wife and daughter were.

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 6)

Jemima Jones

Up to some mischief with Johnny boy. Contains a little mistreatment of minors (not by any of the main characters btw)  

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

John rode us to the trapper, keeping a fast pace on his horse that reminded me how much I missed riding. We arrived quickly, and John helped me down from the horse when we slowed to a stop near the stall. The trapper looked between us as we approached, greeting me with a nod.

“Funny to see you with some company,” he noted. I placed the pelts down on his table and unrolled them.

“I've been making friends,” I said a little drily. He inspected the pelts, checking their quality.

“Not your finest work,” he noted.

“The deer? I didn't skin those,” I said, and he glanced up at John. “Not him, neither.”

“My, you really have been making friends. You could teach them a thing or two about skinning.”

“Didn't wanna be a smart ass,” I shrugged and the trapper laughed.

“I'll give you ten dollars for the lot.”

“Sure,” I nodded.

“You ain't gonna haggle?” John asked.

“I've haggled with this feller so much he don't even need it no more, that's a good price.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged.

I took the money, pocketed it, and said my goodbyes before mounting John's horse again. He rode us back onto the track, keeping to a trot.

“Where to next, Valentine?”

“If it ain't too much to ask,” I replied.

“Oh it's pushing it, but I'll let you off,” he said, his tone light and jovial. He picked up the pace to a gallop, a longer ride ahead of us than the one down. “Though, I ain't sure what you're planning on buying with ten dollars.”

“It'll probably stretch to a pair of pants. A blouse if I'm lucky.”

“Pants?” John questioned.

“More important than a pretty frock, I reckon. Cheaper too. If I'm gonna be working and hunting more, the pants'll come in handy,” I explained with a shrug. He nodded in understanding.

“I was speaking to Dutch the other day about what sorts of jobs we could get you in on.”

“Yeah? I don't wanna shoot nobody,” I said, right off the bat.

“Didn't think you would. But I was thinking, you did a pretty good job of bringing me into that ambush the other day. Reckon we might be able to flip that on its head, use some of your performative skills.”

“I weren't performing anything, John. I thought I was gonna die,” I deadpanned.

“I know. And I ain't suggesting we use you as bait like those other fools did, either. A distraction, though. You got that quiet, vulnerable thing going for you–”

“You think I look vulnerable?” I balked, staring at the back of his head with my face screwed up.

“Now I know you a little better, no. But I think you could pull it off; you're young, quiet, polite, you could bend all that to your favour.”

“And do what exactly?”

“Say we take a bank, right? You could distract the tellers, easy, while we go in and take control of the place. And they wouldn't even have to know you were in on it, you're just an innocent little thing tryin'a open an account, or, get a hold of some misplaced funds.”

“A bank. Gosh, John, all I've robbed is drunkards in saloons and the occasional empty homestead.”

“Alright, we start off smaller then, we'll figure something out.”

“I'm willing to try,” I nodded.

“That'll make Dutch happy.”

“And if I do all this; help you lot make money, you'll help me get my horse back?” I asked.

“Of course, we'll do our best,” he glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled.

“And then I can leave and get back to what I was doing before, and Dutch won't have to worry about me squealing on you 'cause I'll be incriminated too,” I thought aloud and John chuckled.

“I suppose that's right. That's if you even wanna leave at that point.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean this life gets pretty addictive, hard to get out of. And Dutch, the community he's built with all of us? Well, it's nice knowing you've got people who'll have your back.”

“I don't know. I think I'm better off on my own.”

“Alright, I ain't gonna try and change your mind,” he said, and we rode in silence the rest of the way to Valentine.

John accompanied me to the general store, where I was able to purchase a pair of men's work jeans and a belt to keep them up, since they were a little loose around the waist. John was carrying them in his satchel for me. I couldn't afford a top, so I'd have to keep borrowing the girls’ for the time being, but it was a start. A step back towards independence.

John wanted to run an errand before we headed back, to check to see if the group had received any mail. We stopped by the station and I waited outside for him, sitting on a bench, people watching. There was a woman nearby – dressed in mint green with her blonde hair styled in an immaculate updo – obviously going on a trip judging by the large case sat by her feet. She was causing a scene, yelling at the top of her lungs to the young boy she was with. He must've been about ten, not very old at all, and his case had opened up, spilling his clothes all over the floor. I hadn't seen it happen but I doubted it was his fault at all, but you'd think he'd committed murder with the way she was hollering at him. I watched in uncomfortable silence as he tried to gather it all up again, flushing with humiliation.

I jumped when John came out to meet me, a letter in hand.

“Letter for Arthur,” he said, inspecting it. “I think it's from Mary, judging by the handwriting.”

“Mary?” I questioned. He looked over his shoulder, distracted by the screaming woman for a moment.

“Last I heard she'd got married. She's an old girlfriend of his,” he told me. I felt an unnecessary amount of pressure to keep my expression as neutral as possible.

A loud snapping sound echoed across the decking, and John and I looked towards it. The kid was sprawled out, clutching his cheek. I covered my mouth, looking up at John who was analysing the situation, looking between the boy, the woman, her case. He turned back to me.

“You wanted some new clothes,” he said under his breath. “Why don't you go talk to her? I'll get you some; she looks about your size.”  

My heart pounded at the prospect but I found myself nodding. I cleared my throat and rose to my feet, brushing out the creases in my dress as I made my way over to her, thinking over what I could say. My mind was drawing a blank, I hoped to God something would come out of my mouth when I reached her, and I could improvise my way through it.

“Hello, ma'am?” I said, smiling nervously at her. She looked up at me from her boy, eyes narrowed and expression sour. The kid went back to gathering his things

“Can I help you?” She hissed.

“I was wondering if I could help you, actually,” I told her. “You see, you look like a woman of means, that dress of yours is mighty pretty. I don't s'pose you're looking for a servant girl at all? I'm looking for work and I have a lot of experience, worked for a number of high standing folk.”

“A servant girl?” She scoffed, turning to face me head on, simultaneously putting her back to her baggage. The boy had his back to it too as he knelt on the floor; I saw John strolling by from the corner of my eye, glancing around.

It was pretty quiet on this side of the station, nobody was close enough to really be paying any attention, John just had to get the timing right and I trusted him to do it.

“Yes, could I be of assistance? I can cook, clean, sew… do childcare.” I added, my voice going up at the end. Her expression shifted to one of consideration.

“You any good at tending to horses, too? Our stable boy got sick and died not long ago,” she said without any softening of her words. It shocked me how easily she just said that, like he wasn't even a person at all.

“Oh, of course. That was actually a huge part of my last job.”

“And why'd you lose it? You gotta be looking for work for some reason.”

“My previous employer lost his fortune, he was a heavy gambler. He couldn't keep me,” I explained, shaking my head sadly.

I saw John again, walking behind the woman. As casually as anything he just dipped down and picked up the case, strolling on by around the corner where his horse was hitched. A flutter of exhilaration appeared in my tummy when she didn't even glance back.  

“Well,” the woman said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pencil and a small diary. She scribbled something down before tearing out the page, offering it to me. “You drop in at this address soon and we can talk more.”

“Thank you!” I beamed at her, clutching her hand as I took the note, squeezing it in appreciation. “Jemima Jones, it's a pleasure,” I lied, spewing out the first name to automatically roll off of my tongue.

“Mrs. Schwartz. Don't get your hopes up, you have to meet my husband, first,” she told me and I nodded.

“Of course. I will let you get on, then, and I'll see you soon,” I nodded and gave her a little bow before all but skipping off. She watched me leave, an odd look on her face, but I was gone in seconds. I stuffed the note down into my chemise, saving it for later.

John was sat on his horse, ready and waiting with the case on his lap. “Nice work,” he grinned at me.

“You too!”

He held his hand out and helped me up, then handed me the case. "Hold onto me, and don't be shy, I know you've only got one hand with that case. I don't wanna be losing either of you.”

I shuffled closer to him, wrapping my free arm firmly around his midriff; then he set off. He moved quickly, taking off straight into a gallop to get away from the area as quickly as possible, we probably only had about thirty seconds before the woman would notice her baggage was gone and luckily we were out of there before we heard anything to suggest she had.

I was grinning the whole way back, thoroughly exhilarated by the whole thing. I'd robbed a handful of people but none of them were as exciting as that; working with a partner, getting out clean, robbing from someone I could say probably deserved it. It had been fun.

We arrived back at the camp and Karen was keeping guard, looking between us and at the way I was pinned so close to John. She cocked a brow.

“We’ve been busy today!” I told her.

“You have, huh?” There was an edge to her tone and she made even more of a point of looking back and forth between us. I rolled my eyes and jumped down from the horse as soon as it came to a stop. I held the case up.

“We relieved some sour faced hag of this. I think Mary-Beth'll be pleased; she can have her clothes back,”

“Ooh, I wonder what else is in there,” she said.

“Y’all can do what you please with the rest of it, I'm just interested in some new clothes.”

John and I headed into camp, placing the case down on the table near Dutch's tent. He noticed us and immediately headed over, smoking a cigar. There was a padlock keeping the luggage secure and John pulled something out of his pocket, using it to try and jimmy it open.

“What's this?” Dutch asked when he reached us.

“The new girl's first job,” John explained. “We saw this nasty piece of work slapping her kid around in the middle of the station, thought we'd take the opportunity to get some new clothes for her.”

John got the lock open and revealed what was inside the case. Laying on top was one of those big fancy hats, he moved it out of the way and there was a high end dress to match underneath it. When he moved that, I was relieved to see some more every day clothes below. I reached in and pulled out a plain, peach coloured skirt; it felt pretty high quality and there was a fair amount of fabric in it, which would come in useful when riding horseback. I draped it over my arm and pulled out a cotton blouse with fine lace running down either side of the buttons down the centre. It was far prettier than anything I'd owned before but it wasn't too elaborate that I'd feel silly wearing it.

“We can sell some of this,” Dutch said, lifting up the hat. “Should be worth something.”

“There's jewellery too,” I told him, pulling out a little drawstring bag that felt heavy. I handed it to him and he grinned.

“Very nice. You did good. What was your method of acquiring this?” He asked.

“I distracted her, posing as a servant girl looking for work, and John picked it up and walked off with it, just like that,” I explained excitably.

“Well done, you two! My dear, you have what you'd like from in here and leave the rest by my tent. You might as well keep the case, too,” he patted the top of my arm and gave me an appreciative nod before turning on his heel.

“I’d call that a job well done,” John grinned at me, and I mirrored his expression. “Nice to see you're pleased, too, I think this is the first time I've seen you smile.”

“It's been fun! Exciting. Thank you, John.”

“And thank you,” he held his hand out to me and I shook it firmly.

Karen was behind us, watching the whole thing with an unreadable expression. I smiled at her and she smiled back, turning away, concentrating on her guard duties.

John handed me the things I'd bought from his satchel. “I'm gonna go put Arthur's letter in his tent, leave you to it. Good work today, I hope we can bring you in on more jobs, if you like.”

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

He nodded, tipping his hat before heading off.

I finished going through the case and decided to keep a few things; a couple of skirts and blouses, some bloomers and camisoles, a chemise, two jackets, one of which would be warm enough in cold weather. I had a decent wardrobe coming along and I neatly packed it all into the case with my new pants. I'd acquired a small leather satchel, too, that'd come in handy.

There was quite a haul of decent stuff I wasn't keeping, lots of elaborate clothing and jewellery, as well as some shoes that looked brand new but were far too impractical for me to consider keeping. I was lucky in the sense that my kidnappers had at least left my boots on my feet, anyway. I left all of the stuff near Dutch's tent like he'd asked me to, and then headed off to change into my new clothes.

[farplane]

land of fury; now (30-32)

février 2020: more scene excerpts from the yeehaw sairsel au™️. 18+ nsfw (warning for sexual content until the end of the first scene). 5,663 words. 🎧 dead of night - orville peck

The sky unfurls wider at night when Sairsel finds himself riding with Arne, silent and side by side. It spreads like a warm, heavy blanket; drowns him like a sea that goes as deep as the core of the earth. And when he looks at the stars, they blink in quicksilver and melt into him.

This isn’t the first time they’re on this path, even if it isn’t the same road—not exactly. It’s always a different camp, a different sky, a different dirt line under the hooves of their horses. Arne ducks into Sairsel’s tent, shakes him awake with a hand below the edge of his collar, and they exchange hushed barbs the way they have since they were teenagers. It’s easy, it’s familiar, and there’s nothing more comforting than to slip away from camp like the brothers they’ve never been.

Sairsel has seen what it’s like for Arne to have a brother. Jostling Jacent every chance he gets, shoving his hat down on Jacent’s head to obscure his lynx eyes with the brim, snatching cigarettes from between his fingers only to pass him food under the table an hour later.

What they have—they’ve lied to themselves for years, but this isn’t it.

In the morning, they’ll hit a coach or a shop or whatever else they can find that’ll bring in enough coin to justify their outing, and they’ll spend a few weeks contenting themselves with stealing kisses and whatever follows on the margins of the camp.

But this, waiting long enough to sit through a ride under the great big sky in the dead of night, it answers a different need entirely. Without fail, Sairsel tears his gaze from the road and the stars and the sense of flying and drowning at the same time to look at Arne out of the corner of his eye, at the way his shoulders—usually rounding forward, unless his purpose is to intimidate—loosen like a knot in thick rope when he’s on Scorpia’s back. Easy and familiar.

Sairsel gnaws down on his bottom lip because his mother can’t see it, can’t tell him that it makes him look guilty or, worse: vulnerable. He throws another glance Arne’s way, and this time Arne is looking at him, so Sairsel clicks his tongue and taps his heels. His horse speeds to a trot, and Arne’s—Scorpia, her sleek blue roan coat gleaming in the moonlight like bleary silver dawn—follows effortlessly into an easy lope.

Impatience is usually Arne’s domain, but it always happens this way. If there’s to be a quicker pace, Sairsel always sets it, and Arne follows. And when they ride into town, sleepy and quiet but for the bustle of the saloon, they don’t need to speak: Sairsel hitches up just outside the light and the noise, dismounts without a word, buys a drink. Arne lights a cigarette and rides a loop around the main street until he’s smoked it down to almost nothing, and then he goes inside to buy a room. He gets this weary traveler look about him that says he’ll bite if someone so much as looks at him wrong, keeping his gun belt clearly in sight, and disappears upstairs.

It’s only after the door has closed that Sairsel pushes himself off the bar and leaves. He finds the back door and the stairs, walks the landing until he catches sight of the penny Arne always drops by the threshold; he picks it up, puts it in his pocket, and slips inside the room.

They’re both vaguely aware that they don’t need to take so much precaution, but it is the nature of thieves, and there’s comfort in it. The secrets they need to keep are more or less from the rest of the camp, even though everyone knows but doesn’t speak of it because Morgaine doesn’t like it. If they end up running into trouble, though, people are less likely to remember two strangers without connection than the conspicuous pair of armed drifters who took up a room in the middle of the night and disappeared come morning.

Most of the time, these rooms have paper-thin walls and beds that creak as aggressively as a train passes over rails; they’ll debate the merits of staying quiet and careful, and more like than not, decide to throw caution out the window because whatever noise they make will be lost within the usual product of the house girls’ work. Still, they always keep a gun in reach, in case the lock fails them somehow and someone barges in. All it takes is one free hand between the two of them, because at this range, it doesn’t matter that Sairsel is the best sharpshooter the coterie has ever seen or that Arne is frighteningly accurate in the midst of a good and honest gunfight. Years of contests and petty rivalry and bickering never matter when it comes to looking after each other.

Here, the floorboards groan immensely under Arne’s weight in the short few footsteps it takes him to cross from sitting on the bed to where Sairsel is standing as soon as the door is closed. Arne pins a heavy hand on Sairsel’s chest, holding him against the door as he locks it, and kisses him. The weight of him, the warmth—Sairsel lets it trap him, immobile and steady with solid wood at his back, pushes his tongue past Arne’s parted lips as strong fingers trail down the open line of his collar.

Arne always touches him with a wonder that borders on reverence, no matter how familiar this has become, and there is this small part of Sairsel that clings to the heat of it like nothing else; it’s almost embarrassingly easy how Arne gets him wanting, but Arne doesn’t mock him for it like he’d mock him for how quickly his ears got red if anyone gave him attention when they were young. Sometimes, if they have a rare desire for words and Arne has the balance of power tipped towards him like an offering, he’ll whisper whore in his ear, deep and hoarse and just as needy as his condemnation.

They share control, rather than taking and yielding. Sairsel knows how to feel it shift in a gesture, in a look—silent dialogue, something about the way they work that few understand. And Arne opens his mouth to him and presses him against the door with fingers seeking skin like a cue between rider and mount, so it isn’t long before Sairsel shoves him back onto the bed—the frame manifests a screech—and pins him down in return.

Sairsel unbuttons Arne’s shirt, kissing and scraping his teeth down his chest until the breath in his lungs moves against his ribs like a stuttering thing. He parts the fabric aside, runs his palm over the planes of muscle under him while rocking against Arne, and Arne looks at him like a storm and pushes himself up to kiss Sairsel’s neck.

For a moment that flirts with the frenetic, Sairsel considers simplicity—rutting against each other, barely divested of their trousers, as they have so many times before. But with a bed under them and four walls and a door, it seems a dreadful waste.

Maybe later, if they’re still awake enough to want something easy, or in the morning before they leave. 

He tugs Arne’s trousers open and touches him until he’s shaking. The first few times they were together, Arne was indomitable as he was in everything: big and forceful and in control, even when focused on Sairsel’s pleasure the way he would lead a job to ensure everyone’s safety. And, eventually, things shifted; Sairsel grew confident—or maybe simply annoyed—and discovered, in wresting control from Arne’s hands, how beautifully satisfying it is to overwhelm him, to see him lost in it.

There’s something wild in him that speaks to Sairsel more keenly than either of them would like to admit. He watches the muscles in Arne’s thighs shift as he spreads his knees apart, the way the lines in his neck draw taut as he tilts his head to the side.

“Hiding from something?”

“No,” Arne says, and the rasp in his voice carries through the groan that slips his lips when Sairsel sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder.

He touches his tongue to the grooves in Arne’s shoulder. Arne drawls out a threat to shove Sairsel off and take over if he doesn’t hurry up—it only makes Sairsel smile, and he keeps Arne pinned down on his back with a hand on his chest and brings him near to bucking like a wild horse under the curling of Sairsel’s slick fingers.

Neither of them ever begs, but they both know to recognize the sort of hitch in each other’s breath that comes close to it. It’s a strange sort of vulnerability, and Sairsel feels it like a burst of heat when Arne’s want is empty of words, somewhere between aggressive and desperate. Arne’s fingers dig into his sides when Sairsel sinks into him—slow, at first, moving as a tide, and then the storm settles between them and in the way he fucks Arne.

His hand finds Arne’s throat, settling without choking. He’s always made certain not to touch his breath, because he can never go that far; he feels his pulse, and Arne loses himself under the weight of his hand. Arne wraps his fingers around Sairsel’s wrist to keep it in place, and his blunt nails dig into his skin. Sairsel’s mind spins—heat around him, an echo of  pain on his skin, and he burns in his own rhythm until he pulls back to finish, white-hot and nearly dizzy, against Arne’s abdomen.

Arne is breathing hard under him, all flushed skin—bright pink patches on his chest—and a heavy-lidded gaze, and Sairsel has no desire to waste time. He moves down, takes Arne in his mouth. Before long, Arne tips back his head and grips Sairsel’s hair hard in his release.

Sairsel falls back against the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Arne, and they stare at the ceiling in silence as they always do while they catch their breath. When he lets his eyes go out of focus, Sairsel thinks he can almost see a cloud-veiled moon in an old water stain near the window.

“Good?” he asks, his voice rougher than he expected, still looking at that moon.

Arne turns his head towards him. “Good.”

Both bed and floor groan under Sairsel’s weight as he drags himself off to the washstand to rinse out his mouth, clean himself and Arne off. He tosses the rag back on the edge of the basin and dumps himself beside Arne again, shifting so that they both have a head on the pillow. Arne’s revolver is on the nightstand, almost eye-level with Sairsel; it sits between them and the door, the blackened steel of the barrel trained towards it. Sairsel recognizes a meticulous intention that few expect of Arne.

“Do you want your gun on your side?”

“No need. You’ve got it,” Arne says simply, and something small and needy in Sairsel lights like a lucifer in a dark room. “Night, Sel.”

Sairsel says nothing. He stares at the door down the length of the barrel until he falls asleep.

Morning comes pale and bright and carrying the scent of a winter that is still long in the coming. Sairsel is out of the room and fed before Arne even wakes; he wanders the streets looking for opportunity as the sun rises higher in the sky. Coach schedules, a sleepy low-stakes card game—though the red-nosed man who strokes his mustache when he has a good hand, Sairsel notices, tries to conceal the expensive metal work on his pocket watch whenever he moves—a bounty on a woman posted outside the saloon that turns his stomach.

He’d be a fool to find the lack of big game surprising. When Morgaine picked him up, lost and half-wild by polite society’s standards, she’d told him that real money comes from planning, from patience. Back then, he clutched his bow like it was the only thing that kept him from dying, and she’d looked at it and said, “your father taught you how to hunt, yes?”

“Not my father,” Sairsel said, frowning at her with a sense of perplexity that bordered on arrogant—the blood they shared must have been the only thing that kept her from boxing his ears. His father was no hunter, and even if he had been, parents in the clan did not teach their own children. Apprenticeship was a sacred thing.

“But you do know how to hunt.”

“Of course I know how to hunt. I’ll be a man soon.”

That had made Morgaine laugh. “Sure. Well, it’s the same, innit? If you just run out into the woods and try to kill something without tracking first, you can only hope for—what, a squirrel? An unlucky songbird?”

“Right,” Sairsel said, slowly.

“Think of stealing as hunting. The most you can do if you improvise a hunt on money is pickpocketing, and once you’ve outgrown pickpocketing, you’ll find it about as filling as a skinny little squirrel.”

But it isn’t like he and Arne can go back to her empty-handed, so he bides his time and slips a finger-slim knife from his boot to his sleeve in case he needs it. Arne will likely come to the same conclusion when he wakes up, and it’s a big enough town that they might leave with a decent bit of coin if they both put their talents towards it. 

Wishful thinking, really. Arne is more likely to have him set up an improvised trick-shooting showing, or a betting brawl that’ll end with them running out of town with the law on their tail—because Arne is big and angry and hasn’t gotten past Veric’s scoffing at pickpocketing as child’s play. And Arne sees Veric as a father far more strongly than Sairsel accepts Morgaine as his own mother.

At the very least, Morgaine has given him no such qualms—she rather rolls her eyes at some of Veric’s more antiquated and unhelpful notions—and Sairsel is still quick enough to be a good cutpurse.

He’s set his sights on the red-nosed man, who walks out of the saloon with a hand curled on the lapel of his coat to keep his pocket watch concealed, and is about to follow him as he heads behind the building for a piss when a woman calls after him.

“Mr. Arroway!”

Bright, charming—and, when it carries like this, clear of the low creak that sits at the bottom of her voice when she speaks with her half-nonchalant tones.

Sairsel wants to close his eyes and sigh. “Miss Rose,” he says, smiling thinly as she trots up to him. It isn’t that he doesn’t like her; he rather admires how well she conceals her wit like a weapon, and she’s always treated him as though she sees him as a gentleman and not the unwashed bumpkin they both know him to be.

She is, quite simply, singularly talented at appearing in his life when he least needs it.

“It’s Mrs. Foxe, now, Mr. Arroway,” Rose says with a glint in her eye. She presents him with her left hand, adorned with a thin ring that hangs somewhere between modest and expensive, and Sairsel dutifully brushes his lips to her knuckles.

“A long and happy marriage to you, then.”

“Oh, please. I’ll always be Miss Rose to you.”

“I’m flattered, ma’am,” Sairsel says.

Rose smiles, the way that narrows her eyes and digs charming dimples into her cheeks. “Would you walk with me a while? It would please me so, Mr. Arroway,” she says, and doesn’t wait for an answer before taking hold of Sairsel’s elbow. She keeps a reasonable distance for a respectable married woman, but Sairsel can smell the crisp notes of wisteria perfume in her hair.

The last time he saw her, she’d worn it to her shoulders, tumbling in coppery blond waves that she barely pulled back from her face; now it is pinned up and decorated with a flower that perfectly recalls the dark mulberry taffeta of her dress. Sairsel smells her husband’s money on her even more strongly than the wisteria: the cream front of her dress is embroidered with a delicate pattern in gold thread, and her collar ends in lace at her throat.

For her sake, he hopes that the man she married is kind. She deserves that much, and the rich men he’s met usually did not have that fibre. 

But then again, Arne would say, ain’t many people would show kindness to their robbers.

“So, er,” Sairsel begins clumsily, letting Rose steer him into an ambling pace like a gentle horse, “Mr. Foxe, is it? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you married for his name.”

Rose swats his arm, as she should. “All this time since our paths last crossed, and the first thing you think to do is to accuse me of social climbing?”

There’s no real bite in it; Sairsel knows her, and she knows that he does. Her voice is smiling, conspiratorial, so he matches it.

“I wouldn’t. This is at least the third thing I’ve thought to do,” Sairsel says. He continues before she can ask slyly about the first two: “I mean, Rose Foxe. You can’t get a nicer ring than that.”

“Oh, all the result of careful planning, I assure you.”

Her fingers inch up from the crook of his elbow to touch his arm, fleeting but coy. She reaches her other hand across to squeeze his forearm, as though to signify that it is, after all, a game. It makes Sairsel wonder if this sort is the only game she still plays; almost makes him miss the sure steel of her eyes when she was one of the best cardsharps he’d ever known.

He still hasn’t forgotten the look of absolute destitution on Maybel’s face when they’d come up to Arne at the tail end of a high-stakes evening on a riverboat and admitted through gritted teeth that they’d gotten fleeced by some country girl from nowhere. Miss Rose never did join the coterie, no matter how useful she might have been—I’m a free spirit, darling, she’d said, running a single finger down Arne’s cheek and tapping his nose so charmingly that he actually blushed—but she was thankful that he elected to ignore Veric’s order to break her legs.

“I would expect no less from you,” Sairsel says.

And Rose smiles, chancing a wink when he turns his head. “I take it no one’s made an honest man out of you yet, sweet Mr. Arroway?”

“You know my curse, Miss Rose. Someone who might make me honest usually keeps me dishonest,” he says lightly and with a stiff, dismissive wave of his hand. Nothing has changed since they saw each other last; he and Arne have their own brand of honesty.

“And your brother?” Rose asks, shrewdly—because she is well aware that Arne and Sairsel have nothing of brothers, and that he knows she was never fool enough to believe the drivel they feed fish on jobs. “Is he well? Is he nearby?”

Sairsel stiffens despite himself, careful to keep his tone light. “In a room at the saloon with his face still smashed into the pillow, no doubt.”

“Oh, you’re far too intransigent. Mr. Fay—” and it does not escape Sairsel’s notice when Rose shortens his surname to the moniker few but friends and women Arne has slept with get to— “is a hard worker and as noble as they come.”

Something in her tone lessens the tension in Sairsel’s shoulder. Still a game. He can do with that.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re after his company far more than mine.”

“Ah, but you do know better,” Rose says with a smile. “One brooding scoundrel or another; like exchanging ten coppers for a silver.”

“I’m the silver, I hope.”

“Oh, surely.”

Sairsel snorts at that. Rose draws closer, hugging his arm like a sister.

“But I do think Mr. Foxe may prefer the company of the silver,” Rose says, dropping her voice to a mischievous whisper—and it is enough for Sairsel to feel lost again. If it is still a game, he doesn’t know the rules. “I’m only guessing, of course—so young a marriage, there is still much to learn—but I think he would delight in meeting you. How about a luncheon?”

“Er. Today?” Sairsel asks, stupidly.

Rose quirks an eyebrow. “Is your schedule so packed, Mr. Arroway?”

“Well, I—” he stammers, then clears his throat. “I wouldn’t want to disappear on my brother, ma’am. We did come to town hoping to find work.”

Innocent words that any honest man might say; Sairsel feels safe saying them.

“Then you would be a fool to turn down a free meal, wouldn’t you?” Rose asks brightly. She used to pounce on food she could have without spending a piece of coin as ravenously as a feral cat. “You know, I’ve decided: I won’t take no for an answer. It’s ever so rare to come across old friends in these parts.”

Sairsel scratches his cheek. “Miss Rose— You know I have little of what makes for a dignified dinner guest among polite society. I’d only bring trouble for you with your husband.”

Rose keeps on smiling, undaunted, and quips, “And who said my husband was polite society?”

She steers him to the side of the road, out of the path of a slow-moving cart, that she may stand facing Sairsel—and she pats his cheek in a way that almost makes him draw back like a child from an overly enthusiastic schoolmarm.

“You bring me neither trouble nor shame, and least of all with Mr. Foxe. Trust me. Learn to smell an opportunity, won’t you?”

 Sairsel dares to gaze down at Rose’s eyes. She stands only a few inches shy of tall, and Sairsel is far from Arne’s imposing stature; it brings them close to equal, but not quite enough that she doesn’t need to gaze up at him through thick lashes. Her eyes have always been strikingly honest, for a cardsharp: unassuming dull blue, at their most charming when genuine. Rose plays games, but she rarely acts.

“Miss Rose,” Sairsel repeats gently, and pointlessly.

“Now, I have a few errands to run,” Rose says, narrowing her eyes playfully at him as she smooths down her skirts, “and I’m sure you have to go and commiserate with Mr. Fay. Do let him know that he’s welcome at my table, too. Mr. Foxe’s house is a half mile outside of town from the north path. Pretty green gables; you’ll recognize it right away. You will come, won’t you?”

Sairsel shrugs, palms open in surrender. “You won’t take no for an answer, ma’am.”

“Good. And don’t worry about your clothes.”

“Well, now I’m worried,” he says, glancing down at himself.

Rose laughs, squeezing his arm again; she holds on for balance as she tips up to kiss his cheek—still a sisterly gesture—and then she is entirely gone.

“Where’d you run off to?” Arne asks the moment Sairsel is in earshot of his mumbling.

“Looking for work while you were sleeping like a babe,” Sairsel shoots back. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest, watching the mellow, unburdened movement of Arne’s body as he leans back against the wall.

There isn’t much to this town beyond the main street—and, for that reason, not much money in it. The buildings behind it look like bones trying to tuck themselves into the bustle, but never quite reaching so far. Morning isn’t doing the narrow space between these two rickety houses a favour, blanketing Arne and Sairsel in shadow where they stand. It’s almost intimate, but Sairsel still finds himself glancing towards the street every few seconds on instinct.

Arne is not quite so bothered. He splits his attention between Sairsel and a tin of tobacco he pulls from his coat pocket, his eyes hidden by the low angle of his hat.

“And how’d that go?”

“Like you’d expect when I have good intentions.”

“Stop acting so goddamn shifty,” Arne says, and Sairsel becomes aware of the stiff set to his own shoulders, the sharpness of his gaze. “Ain’t done nothing wrong. Or did you get in trouble?”

Sairsel says, brightly defeated: “Well, I ran into Rose, so I guess it depends on how you look at it.”

“Miss Rose?”

“Missus now. Married to some fancy man—a Mr. Foxe.”

Arne stops in the middle of gathering tobacco onto a paper, snorts, and starts laughing—low and uncommitted to merriment, as he usually does unless he’s actually laughing with his belly.

“Foxe is a fancy man, now? Well, that’s rich,” he says, and snorts again. “Rich.”

“Who’s he?” Sairsel asks, frowning. He’s never quite outgrown the part of him that was always competing with Arne, and he doesn’t like Arne knowing something that he doesn’t.

Arne meets the question with a smirk; Sairsel thinks this is him showing off, but if the mention of this Mr. Foxe is enough to stir Arne to bloody wordplay, maybe it’s not quite so personal.  

“A crook, is who he is. Literally. Last I saw him, he was lame because his leg broke and didn’t set right.” Arne pats his right thigh. “He must’ve met Rose sharping. Real good with cards, when he kept his temper in check.”

Sairsel scratches his cheek. “Makes sense, I suppose. She seems oddly happy.”

“She looks happy, or she seems like she’s doing that trick where she makes men see what they want to see?” Arne asks pointedly. He raises a hand before Sairsel can answer. “If you think you’re immune because you don’t do women, don’t fool yourself. What she does has nothing to do with that.”

“I know her games.”

“Sure.”

“She must be happy, if her Mr. Foxe isn’t so different from her and they can feed polite society enough tripe that they can settle down without being asked too many questions. That’s my impression. Would you like us to hire a witch-finder to see if she cast a spell on me?”

Arne almost grins. Below the thin, reflexive veil of irritation, Sairsel indulges in the passing thought—and the vanity that goes with it—that the night has put Arne in an exceptionally good mood.

“We ain’t got that kind of coin, and you know it,” Arne says smoothly, patting Sairsel’s cheek with his free hand before returning to the task of rolling himself a cigarette.

Sairsel watches his hands, and then he says, “Rose wants me to go have lunch at theirs. Says her husband would delight in meeting me—and she insinuated something about opportunity.”

All at once, the brightness fades from Arne’s whole demeanour; his mouth settles in a line that tells of the frown hidden by the brim of his hat. He doesn’t look at Sairsel.

“He wants to bed you,” Arne concludes stiffly, bringing the cigarette to his mouth to lick at the paper in staccato motions. And he adds, as though it wasn’t clear: “Foxe does.”

“Pardon?” Sairsel says, perplexed. “How can a man who’s never met me want to bed me?”

“Ain’t met you, but he’s seen you before. I remember. In that town with the big stupid tower, that tavern where every player had to have a bodyguard. I was standing behind Maybel, and Foxe was beside them, and he leaned over and pointed to you—you were just hanging off by the bar, I don’t—”

“Oh, right. They had those insane rules about insurance and I ended up having to wait around as collateral.”

Charming place with charming rules around big card games. Veric had insisted, and Maybel had been confident, and Sairsel drawing the short straw meant he could have lost a finger or ten if Maybel’s confidence had been unfounded. He doesn’t miss that place, and by the sour look on Arne’s face, neither does he.

“Yeah, well, he said, ‘I wouldn’t mind having that on the table as a prize.’”

“Romantic.”

“Maybel said he’d be better off ordering a plate of gristle and calling it a night,” Arne adds—and that, at least, brings some semblance of a smile back to his lips.

“You would find that amusing,” Sairsel says dryly.

“Got to find something to laugh about.” Arne holds the cigarette between his teeth as he pats his pockets down for a pack of lucifers. His words come even more like mush, even more like a scowl. “Either way, I don’t like the sound of this.”

Sairsel raises his eyebrows—and if he saw himself, he’d notice that the look on his face is startlingly similar to the one Jacent gets when he wants to play the annoying little brother.

“Why? Because it makes you jealous?”

“We ain’t playing this game, Sel,” Arne says, bending to strike a lucifer on the heel of his boot; the flame sparks his eyes and draws sharpness into his rueful smile.

“Then what does it matter? No one blames you for having terrible taste, so I’ll extend the same courtesy to Mr. Foxe.”

Arne takes a deep breath around the cigarette and tilts his head away from Sairsel to exhale the smoke. There’s nothing measured or calculated in the gesture, but it keeps his expression well shadowed as he speaks—it’s a familiar kind of serendipity. “I wouldn’t be worried if he was still an honest crook, but if he’s come into money, he’ll have them rich man worms in his brain. Like he’s owed whatever he damn wants so long as he has a bit of gold to throw at it.”

“I’m fairly certain Miss Rose didn’t invite me to a luncheon so that her husband, whom I have never met, could pay to bed me like I’m some fancy pleasure boy,” Sairsel says, glancing both sides before reaching out to pat Arne’s chest. “But I do appreciate the concern, big man.”

Arne grimaces. “You would make a terrible whore.”

“So we’re in agreement.”

“And an even worse polite dinner guest,” Arne adds, chasing away his discomfort with another teasing smirk—stiff, but a clear effort. He nudges Sairsel’s jaw with his thumb. “You’re just a few sharp teeth short of being feral.”

If it came from anyone else, Sairsel would bite in a way that could only give the statement weight; time and again Veric has sat there and raised an eyebrow at Sairsel and said, to Morgaine—though his gaze never leaves him— “See? Proves me right.” But Arne never says it the way Veric does, never like he’s some thing that can’t be controlled. He says it because he knows that Sairsel has a wild heart and it makes something spark within his ribcage.

So Sairsel grins, showing teeth that aren’t that sharp. 

“And you’re a few hooves short of being a horse,” he says, and Arne doesn’t even blink. “You should come. Miss Rose did invite you, too. Mr. Fay.”

“Not a good idea,” Arne mumbles with a modest little cough. He jabs the cigarette back between his lips, inhaling long and sharp.

“Because you fucked Mr. Foxe’s wife?”

Arne’s neck flushes. “I didn’t— Why you got to be so crude?” He pointedly ignores the arch of Sairsel’s eyebrow, quickly adding: “I didn’t. We, uh— there was some, well, mutual appreciation, I suppose, but I was with you.”

“That shouldn’t stop you,” Sairsel says, sobering. He doesn’t exactly jump for joy at the idea, but they haven’t got the life of quiet little lovers and he doesn’t want to fool himself into thinking that they might. Mercifully, Arne doesn’t chase after sex half as much as many men do.

“Just don’t want no one else,” Arne mumbles, so thickly Sairsel has to run the sentence back in his mind twice before he can make sense of it.

When he does, he stands there like a fool, and Arne avoids his gaze and flicks ash from his cigarette once, twice, three times. He rubs at his beard and smokes some more, and tries to salvage himself with quick words that almost run into each other.

“Anyway, I got a funny feeling about this.”

“So do I,” Sairsel says, bristling—because Arne has an irritating tendency to think he always knows better, and it’s true he has good instincts, but Sairsel was born and raised in the wild. Instinct feels like his birthright. “It’s only a meal. And we always trusted Rose.”

“I know. Lot of women don’t get to stay themselves when they come into marriage, though. Just—be careful.”

“I’m the nervy one, big man. I’m always worried and always careful.”

Arne smiles, its edges more fond than he seems to want to make them. “I’ll stay behind. I can ride by at the hour, and you can signal if you need back-up.”

“I’ll flash my watch at the window if I need you to come in and help me pick which fork to stab myself with when Mr. Foxe starts flirting with me,” Sairsel deadpans, tugging at the lapels of his tan coat and buttoning his vest. “How do I look?”

“Like a no-good bastard drifter who couldn’t clean up well if he tried.”

Sairsel shrugs, pushing down at his apprehension with manufactured carelessness. It will have to be good enough; he will have to be good enough. Arne is looking down at his feet as he finishes his cigarette, tossing the butt away with a flick of his fingers. Smoke rises around him and dissipates as he lifts his head and stops Sairsel from walking away with a hand on his chest.

“What?” Sairsel asks, glancing down.

“Nothing,” Arne says, and he tips the brim of his hat up with a finger to kiss him. If they believed in good luck, Sairsel figures this might be the seal of it.

[ruvikkin-art]

Arthur gasped and choked as he hacked up full flowers, feeling them scratching at his throat and making it raw with the scrapes and scratches. He fell down onto his hands and knees, hacking up a mixture of purple petals and blood. Feeling his lungs filling with vines and blood he tried to scream out, try to cry out for help but his voice seemed lost and choked back with the amount of flowers.

Arthur could feel the burning in his lungs, the sure sign of the flowers tightening around his chest and heart. Beyond hope now, he was struggling to breathe and tried gasping out for anyone. Alone, he was alone, always alone and dying alone. Somewhere? He wasn’t really sure where he was, everything seemed hazy and fuzzy like it was just out of his reach. Arthur tried to remember how he got where he was, the last thing he remembered was falling asleep, and a note from Mary. Had he ridden out to see her? No he couldn’t have, he’d remember, why couldn’t he remember?

Arthur gasped and choked as he hacked up full flowers, feeling them scratching at his throat and making it raw with the scrapes and scratches. He fell down onto his hands and knees, hacking up a mixture of purple petals and blood. Feeling his lungs filling with vines and blood he tried to scream out, try to cry out for help but his voice seemed lost and choked back with the amount of flowers. Arthur pressed his hands over his chest and rolled onto his back, gasping as he could feel the flowers in his chest moving and writhing. That wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be able to feel them so violently like that.

Arthur took another sharp breath before he felt his chest ripping, he looked down and saw the flowers growing out of him. He tried screaming again. The flowers burst forwards and he saw a spray of blood, the vines out of his body. Arthur felt he was going to die, he was going to pass out, he couldn’t breathe-

Arthur gasped and sat up quickly, coughing loudly he quickly covered his mouth as he felt a few dainty petals fall into his hands. He was back in camp, back in his cot where he remembered falling asleep. The camp around him seemed to get quiet for a moment but everything picked back up with relative ease. Arthur felt his chest, everything was fine and normal. A nightmare, of course he’d have a god damn nightmare like that, violent and so realistic.

He sat up and let his legs over the edge of his cot, sitting while he took a deep breath and tried to settle from the violent dream. Arthur grabbed his journal and decided to write everything down as best he could before he forgot anything. In the midst of writing he could hear Charles let out a grunt and then heard a thunk. Glancing up Arthur saw Charles not far off, chopping wood so early in the morning. At least he hoped it was morning and that he hadn’t slept through anything important.

Arthur tried to concentrate on his writing, but every time he heard the axe hit against wood he couldn’t help but look up and watch Charles. Flipping to a new page in his journal Arthur decided he’d quickly sketch out the scene that would just be burned into his memory anyway. He tried to not stare, tried to keep his eyes down and his journal up like he wasn’t about to hack petals thanks to the view. He glanced up once and caught Charles eyes, the man just watching him. Arthur didn’t even noticed he had stopped chopping wood he’d been so invested in his journal. When their eyes locked Charles quickly turned his head as if he hadn’t been staring, and just finished up chopping wood before picking up what he’d done and carrying it off to the wood pile.

Arthur hid his face as he felt himself get hot, and he hacked up another few flower petals. He wondered how long Charles had been watching him sketching, all of a sudden he felt it was almost too obvious that Arthur had been drawing him. With the way Arthur was facing where Charles had just been and how into the drawing he’d been to even notice Charles stopped- even when he’d glanced up multiple times. He quickly put the journal away and stuffed it inside his bag, getting up from his cot now. Arthur heard Charles click his tongue followed by the sound of horse hooves, meaning he was out of camp again. He let out a sigh, damn him for being in an out so often.

Arthur could still smell some of Pearsons cooking and made his way over, looking down into the pot to see if it was ready, or maybe had been ready hours ago, or if it was still in a process. Unable to tell Arthur decided he’d try a taste, before he just figured it’d be safer to go hunt himself a deer and cook some venison elsewhere, bring back some meat maybe if Pearson wanted any.

Then of course, he remembered what he’d told Hosea the night before about talking to Charles. He mulled over asking Charles to go hunting with him and then thought the amount of food Charles had brought back the night before. Maybe he could ask him for help with the bow? The practice would be good, and it’d get him and Charles alone out of camp.

With a heavy sign Arthur grabbed himself a cup of coffee, sipping at it as he made his way over to the horses. He was a little surprised to see Kieran working with the horses, grooming them and feeding them, but he guessed that was the only job Dutch could think to give him. When Kieran saw Arthur coming he jumped, stepping back from Arthurs horse like he’d been caught doing something bad. Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle and down the rest of his coffee, attatching his mug back onto his hip.

“Easy there O’Driscoll.” Arthur walked to his horse, giving her a pat on the neck. “Dutch give you the horses to look after?”

“Y- Yessir.” Kieran nodded and grabbed a brush and began working on one of the other horses. “Doesn’t want me outta camp, but I- I’d feel bad just sittin around.”

“Well…” Arthur looked over his horse and smiled a bit. “Good work. Bout time someone was set to watchin’ them.” Kierans brows shot up, like he had been expecting Arthur to yell at him or rile him up about a fleck of dirt on the horse. Arthur climbed onto his horse, petting her again he turned around to leave when he heard Johns voice calling after him.

“Hey Arthur! Wanna talk to you.” John was holding something in his hand, a paper, and Arthur felt a slight bit of dread as to what it could be. “Where you off to in such a rush?” Arthur opened his mouth and then shut it, he’d wanted to talk to Charles but didn’t need John to know that at the moment, so he tried to think of something else to tell him.

“Just got business, what do you want anyway?” John scoffed and got on his own horse. “John-”

“I’ll just ride with you for a bit, besides Abigail is mad at me bout’ somethin and I don’t want to hang around here. Whatever business you got I’ll be outta your hair before you get to it.” Arthur sighed and shrugged, leaving the camp along with John, not like he really had any reason to tell John to fuck off anyway.

John was telling him about a train, something they could hit easily and make Dutch proud for hitting up to help them get back on their feet., and John had come up with a nice plan. Get a wagon with oil, lead it onto the tracks, and pray the train did stop or else it’d turn into a hell of a thing. Arthur was impressed with the way John had planned it out already.

“We’re gonna need guns, ammunition, and some dynamite to open the train up.”

“I can head into town and get everything, gotta head down for Abigail anyway. Don’t ask.” Arthur snorted and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it quickly.

“Thought she was mad at you John.”

“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t have things she needs.” John eyed up the cigarette in Arthurs hand so Arthur pulled the pack back out and handed it to him. “Thanks. Why’re you smokin’ anyway, ain’t you got flowers in your lungs?”

“Hosea told me it kills it, I don’t know, don’t really care either way.” Arthur took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out towards John. “I’ll go get that oil wagon, I know just the place.” “If you could take it up north, a little abandoned shack near Dewberry creek and leave it hidden up near there that’d work fine. I’ll leave ya then, let me know when you get that Oil wagon taken care of.” John turned his horse around and rode off in the direction of town.

Arthur clicked his tongue and had his horse trot along the dirt path while he puffed on a cigarette. He could track down Charles and talk to him, but something told him that’d probably just make the man more put off than anything else. With a sigh Arthur stubbed out the cigarette on his boot before flicking it away and, against his better judgement, decided to go see what it was Mary wanted now.

````````

Arthur hadn’t seen Mary since her dad had decided that Arthur wasn’t ‘good enough’ for her. So seeing her open up the door, still looking young and well, it made his heart lurch. Not in the same way it had years ago and not the same way it did not when he saw Charles, but still there was somethin. It was awkward to say the least, he’d given her a ring and tried to prove himself to her father but she had turned away Arthur as the man he was and gotten married to someone else.

“I heard you and your friends was around… I…” She seemed just as awkward talking to him as Arthur felt.

“Okay. Where's uh.. Whats his face?” Arthur never bothered to learn Marys husbands name, only knew her last name had changed from the letter she’d written him.

“Died. Happened a while ago. Pneumonia.” Arthur took in a deep inhale at her words and got a bad feeling in his gut.

“Bad business… So you been made a widow and you come lookin for me is that it?” Arthur felt like he should just walk away, just leave her now on her porch without another word- but he stayed put for some reason.

“No, it ain’t like that Arthur.” She seemed taken back and offended at his words. “I, its my family. I need your help. Its my little brother, Jamie.”

“Your family needs my help? Family that always looked down on me? I liked Jamie but Mary.” Arthur shook his head and turned away, leaning on the fence of the front porch. “What’d’ya need anyway?”

“Little Jamies joined the Chelonians, that strange religious order. They’re rough Arthur, they’ll kill him. I need your help. You’re the only person he’d listen to.” Arthur ran his hand down his face, he knew it was stupid of him to come here, with so much happening and so much he could be doing rather than stand here and listen to Mary plead him.

“So, I’m too rough to marry into your family, but its’ okay to ask me to help in saving your family? That it?”

“I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to help me but.. I think of you often.” Arthur was about ready to roll his eyes and walk off- he tried to marry her years ago and here she came crawling back into his life when he had someone else. Or, he hoped he’d have someone else if Charles would accept him. He could feel his throat tighten and coughed into his fist, Marys expression growing soft. “Arthur-” He held his hand up and took a step away from her, spitting out some petals over the railing. “Oh Arthur…”

“Mary, long time ago I woulda helped ya. It ain’t worth it, ‘m sorry. Let Jamie go and live his life, or go get him yourself, ask someone else. I can’t.” Arthur walked off the porch of the house and climbed back onto his horse, he looked back to Mary who was standing sadly on her porch watching him. Without saying anything else Arthur quickly rode off, not wanting to feel any guilt in watching her much longer. He could feel his chest hurting in the same way it did when she’d told him goodbye all that time ago, and felt like it’d be the last time.

Arthur had a promise to keep to Hosea though. He had to talk to Charles.

``````

Arthur had stopped in Valentine on the way back to camp, getting himself a very much needed haircut and a shave before he had made his way back to camp. It had to be around noon now which left him with plenty of time to get to Charles and talk to him before he needed to get the oil wagon for John. When he rode back into camp he’d scanned the area, catching Hoseas eyes before Hosea nodded over to Charles tent with a smile. He took in a deep breath and head to the tent, seeing Charles sharpening a knife Arthur figured that’d be a good conversation starter.

“What you preparing for?” Charles head snapped up like he hadn’t heard Arthur coming and he grinned.

“The greatest of gifts.” Charles leaned back on his crate and looked the sharp knife over.

“An unguarded stagecoach?” Arthur put his hands on his belt buckle and he could see Charles huff at him.

“No you simple minded fool. Bison.” Charles stood and grabbed his gun. “Theres some over in the plains I believe. I saw a couple a long way off earlier.” Charles began walking off and Arthur let out a quick sigh.

“Well good luck.” Arthur scratched at his chin, figuring Charles would want to hunt alone since thats how he seemed to prefer it.

“You want to come with me? I can show you how to hunt one.” Arthur blinked in surprise, he wasn’t expecting Charles to invite him along on a hunting trip with something he was inexperienced with.

“Sure, why not?” He tried to sound melo about it, not sound like his stomach was doing flips at the thought of being alone on a hunting trip with Charles- and like he wasn’t trying to not hack up petals then and there.

The two of them head to their horses and Arthur got on a little too quickly. He looked up to see Hosea and Dutch watching them. Hosea gave Arthur a nod and a tip of his hat while Dutch just grinned at them. Arthur waved to them before he set off riding with Charles out of the camp. Arthur was expecting a silent ride most of the way, or at least until they got closer to the plains but Charles began talking when they were out of the camp and away from everyone.

He began talking about bison, how his mother told him about them and what the bison were used for. Arthur listened to every word with interest, he seemed enthusiastic about it at least and if Arthur had known earlier that he could get Charles to go out hunting with him and talk to him this easily, he’d have done it days ago. Listening to Charles talking to him was like music, Arthur hadn't noticed before but Charles had a nice voice to listen to, then again everything about Charles was nice. It wasn't until Charles slowed down and gave him a funny look that Arthur realized he'd been staring and zoning out. Arthur cleared his throat and looked away from him out of embarrassment.

"I said, You must be tired. Saw you come back to camp late last night and you were up early this morning. Dutch has you running thin doesn't he?" Oh, Charles had asked him a question and Arthur was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear him. Arthur nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well you know how it is. Everyone has to pull their weight. If it weren't for you I'd probably be doing all the huntin as well. Youve been pullin in good hauls for us, Pearson must be over the moon."

“He is.” Charles slowed down again, pointing off to the distance where a herd of bison stood. “Look, over there. Incredible aren’t they? We should only kill one of them, I’ll ring them in and you can bring one down. Clean as you can okay?” Arthur nodded and pulled his gun out, showing Charles that he was ready before Charles spurred his horse forwards and rushed to the bison.

Arthur was quick to follow, keeping an eye on Charles enough to see one of the bison moving away from the herd which seemed as good a sign as any to go after it. He held his shotgun up, aimed, and fired into its head three times which downed the bison easily. Charles seemed impressed and pulled his horse up near Arthur while the remaining bison rushed off.

“Well done. Alright, skin and butcher it. The horns too, it can all be used.” Arthur jumped off his horse and tried to stifle a cough as Charles told him he’d done a good job. He was quick to pull out his knife and get to work on the bison, hoping the smell of the dead animal would remind his brain now is not a good time to be hacking up petals. Didn’t work though as Charles ‘well done’ rang in his ears in the silence and he ended up having to turn away from the bison to cough. Charles raised a brow at him but didn’t say anything, instead choosing to look away as if Arthur was having a private moment. It made his heart clench a little seeing Charles turn away instead of ask if he was alright but when he saw the shift in Charles expression from he figured something was off.

Arthur finished skinning the bison in a quick amount of time, loading it up onto the back of his horse and wrapping up some of the meat to put into his satchel. “Good job. Mount up, theres something I want to check out. Charles still looked serious and Arthur didn’t waste any time climbing up onto his horse, giving her a pat on the back of her neck for good measure since he was sure his weight plus the bison skin wasn’t her favorite thing.

“Okay, where are we goin’?” “Thought I saw some scavenger birds over here, wanted to see what attracted them.” Arthur could see the birds off in the distance and he followed Charles over. Not even that far away he could already smell something rotting in the heat and it made him wrinkle his nose. He was going to comment on the stench when they both stopped- two bison lying on the ground dead. “Bison, shot and left for dead it looks like.” Charles tone changed as he was obviously angry at this.

“Why would someone do that?” Arthur meant it as a serious question, even though he knew Charles wouldn’t be able to answer him.

“I don’t know, I see some tracks heading in that direction. I say we follow them.”

“Alright, lead the way.” Charles scowled and head off in the direction of the tracks, Arthur riding next to him. He saw how Charles looked- angry and concerned at the same time- tried to think of something to make him feel better at the situation. “Could it have been an animal?”

“No they’d been shot. I just don’t know why anyone would just leave them here to rot like that.” Arthur kept his mouth shut, he figured there was nothing he could say to better the situation at the moment and Charles was focused on the tracking anyway, conversation wasn’t his top priority.

They rode finding another dead bison not far up where the others were, Charles commented how this one looked fresher and Arthur agreed. Arthur noticed a camp and jumped off his horse, walking over to it to look it over and check if anything was there. The only thing he noticed was the logs still warm which means they couldn’t have gone far. The two of them rushed off, Charles still leading the way by following the trail- Arthur could barely see it but he hadn’t been doing as much tracking as Charles ever was.

Riding their horses up to the top of the hill, Charles pointed out some smoke which meant another camp and they both were ready to head down and see who had killed the bison. It meant something to Charles, the bison were important to him, and if Arthur could make him a little happier by helping him figure out why they were getting shot then he’d do so.

“Bastards, just killing for fun.”

“You think we can talk?” Arthur scoffed which earned him a glare from Charles.

“I don’t kill for fun. I kill when I need to.” Charles voice had a bite to it and Arthur pursed his lips together to keep from saying anything to make him angrier. Charles began riding faster, calling out to Arthur that he saw more dead bison. They made a beeline to the camp, with Arthur arriving after Charles.

It was rare when Charles got angry. Usually he was more reserved, kept to himself but didn’t lash out at anyone if they didn’t deserve it. Seeing Charles get off his horse with his hand on his gun sent a chill up Arthurs spine. Arthur got off his own horse and stayed behind Charles, not too close since he figured it best to keep some distance between them.

Two men were sitting at the camp and before either of them could get a word out Charles spoke. “Did you fools shoot those bison?”

“Whats your problem?” One of the men scoffed, so full of himself it made Arthur scowl.

“I said did you fools shoot those bison?” Charles stood up straight, glaring down at them in anger. The men stood up and Arthur put his hand on his gun belt just in case.

“Calm down you black or red bastard, whatever the fuck you are.” That was it, that was Charles tipping point and he shouted at them this time. Arthur wanted to reach out and put his hand on Charles back, try to make him feel any better but he held himself back- he didn’t need any of Charles anger to be directed at him. “Did you shoot them!?”

“Yes we did, and we’ll shoot you too if you don’t get. What business is it of yours what we-” The man didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Charles pulled his gun out and shot him. Arthur flinched when Charles shot him, and of course he felt his chest tighten again, like he was proud of Charles for shooting the man. He had to step back and cough into his jacket, but that didn’t seem to bother Charles and the other man was too busy trying to not piss himself to care.

“Its that business of mine!” Arthur turned and spat out some petals, finally calming his lungs down enough he could step in a little.

“Good god you’re crazy!” The man was scared and began to beg for his life. “Look, I got a family, don’t shoot me.” Charles looked like he was ready to shoot him and Arthur stepped in, grabbing the man by the front of his shirt to punch him in the face before Charles could tell him no. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Why are you shootin those bison and leaving them to rot?” Arthur punched him again and the man spat at him, trying to play an innocent card like he hadn’t done it. Arthur was having none of it and hit him again. He couldn’t see Charles, but since he wasn’t saying anything Arthur figured he wasn’t about to step in and stop him. “Tell us or you’re dead.” Arthur hit him again and the guy finally broke down.

“To make it look like it was indians. We were paid to, just following orders.”

“Just kill him Arthur.” The mans eyes widened in fear and Arthur wrapped his hands around the mans neck, pushing him down and choking him to death as Charles had told him to. He wiped his hands off and turned back to Charles, who relaxed a little bit when he saw the man was dead. “Thank you… I’ve seen enough of this, I’m heading back. You coming?”

“Yeah, I got stuff to get to Pearson that I don’t want in my bag much longer.”

Arthur went back to his horse and mounted it, Charles was quick to ride off out of the area and Arthur followed behind him. Neither of them said a word on the way back to camp and Arthur figured it was for the best to keep his mouth shut as well. They rode back into camp, Arthur hitching his horse near Charles before he removed the bison pelt. Charles was about to walk away and Arthur stopped him quickly.

“Hey, uh. Listen that was uh. Real nice huntin’ with you. If you don’t mind me comin’ along it’d be nice to hunt with you more often. I need practice with my bow an’ my trackin anytime you wanna help..” Arthur tried to not sound too awkward and he hoped Charles wasn’t mad enough to just shove him away. Instead Charles just gave him a soft smile and a nod before turning and walking away. Arthur took a deep breath and felt his heart race with the smile, he just hoped he wasn’t grinning too much when he head over to Pearson and dropped off the pelt and meat.

Arthur made his way over to his own tent and Dutch was quick to walk over and join him. “You have a good time Arthur?”

“Sure Dutch. Killed some poachers that were down there killin bison. I’d uh, not talk to Charles for awhile if you value your life. He’s not real happy right now.” Dutch nodded, taking a puff of his cigar before speaking again.

“Good, when you’re rested up from hunting I need you to do me a favor. I need you to go get Micah. I know you broke him out of the jail, but we need him back at camp.” Arthur let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. “Arthur, I know hes not your favorite but hes still good. Unless he cut and run from us then we need him back. All hands on deck right now, regardless of your opinions on him.”

“Alright Dutch. I’ll go ‘n get him. But I got other stuff I need to do as well, but I’ll get him back for you.” Dutch gave him a smile and walked away back to his own tent.

Arthur rubbed his face and shook his head, looking up to the sun he figured he should ride out and get the oil wagon for John before anything else happened that would stop him from going tonight. Micah could wait.

[ceruleanchillin]

I Missed You/I’ll Miss You

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Warnings: “light” smut, slight spoilers of chapter 2

A03

There was true irony in the fact that you’d dramatically flitted about the camp comparing it to a prison prior to getting a horse, but you’d spent the last three days in camp doing less than you had before. It didn’t take the best of learned men to figure out what your problem was. However, only the women had the gall to call you on it.

Arthur had been gone for three weeks, and while bounty hunting was rarely a quick job, you were still worried. You were sure everyone was worried in their own way, but the the simple fact that it was their way of life, softened the edge of said worry. You understood that yourself, it was your way of life too. However, you had something new and fragile with Arthur, so it wasn’t quite the same as it was before. You hadn’t expected that either. The bounties had been particularly nasty, and thus worth a decent penny, the only way Arthur would consider taking them. He was a capable man, that you knew, but you were a well traveled woman. You’d seen enough to learn, even for yourself, that no one was a god.

Miss Grimshaw tried to busy you with chores, “What’s a wandering mind ever been good for besides trouble? That boy’s too stubborn to die. Now, clean laundry is a different story and I got a wagon fulla potential”.

Karen had suggested going into town to play the ‘Chaos Game’, something you and she had invented on a whim to drive the men in camp crazy when they had to “save” you. It was especially fun when it was John and Arthur. Start a major saloon fight here, plant an idea in a girl’s head about her fella to start a screaming match there, sloppily pick pocket and pin it on someone else, steal a horse, etc.

Of course, how much fun could that be when the best part of the game, for you, was being ‘punished’, and you didn’t think it appropriate to ask John to fill Arthur’s shoes.

Abigail told you it was downhill from there. Now that you and Arthur had fallen into something resembling being together, you should expect the aches of disappointment more often. “They fuck you so good you think the next time might be different, but nope. That’s about the highlight of their use.” And no, she wasn’t “bitter” she’d quickly informed you at your side glance of her.

Mary-Beth had tried to get you to see it as something romantic and adventurous. “Just imagine when he rides up like a knight, and sweeps you off your feet.” she sighed, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “Then you’ll be able to make some more of that pretty soap with the flowers in it that you make. We’re running low.” Ah, thanks for caring.

The men had been the ones to pussyfoot around the topic. They just wanted to entertain you in the moment, never mentioning or hinting at what was wrong. John suggested you take him spearfishing, “For your benefit of course.”.

Dutch sat audience while you sang a duet with Uncle, and was kind enough not to comment when you kept falling out conversation with the two men. Uncle wasn’t.

Tilly was the one to really snap you out of it though. You two were playing poker for candy with Karen, and where you normally walked away with a store’s stock full, that game wouldn’t make the books as one of your best.

“If you ask me, Arthur wouldn’t even recognize this mopey piece of furniture. I mean what happened to the girl who jumped off the top of a cliff into a lake for fun?” Karen reclined in her chair in time to her unapologetically sharp statement.

Tilly snorted. “Poor Arthur, may as well have climbed into a coffin his damn self as close to death as you took him that day.”

“You two could make sitting on the pot a headline. I’ve just been taking things easy for the past few days. I’m still me.” you knew what she meant, but she’d essentially called you boring. For you, that was worse than the ugliest of vulgar insults that could be hurled at you.

“Girl you better stop lying like an old rug,” Tilly crossed her legs in a matter-of-fact way. “You miss your man, and that’s ok, but you can’t get down everytime things look dark for him. You’ll kill your spirit and not even realize it!”

You heard, rather than saw, her kick Karen under the table for attempting to peek at her cards.

“And I swear if you kill that crazy spirit of yours, and make laundry some horseshit chore again, I’ll murder you myself.”

“Hey!” Karen nearly lowered her cards out of indignation, recoiling at the last second. “I make laundry fun too. I make all the chores more fun.”

“You make us have to do them all over again the same day. The second time being set to Grimshaw’s fussing.”

“Fun!” Karen rocked the table with her boisterous laughter.

Tilly’s response was lost to you, because you were starting to focus more on what she’d said before. You didn’t think it had been that serious. You were fine with him accepting the job, just when it started to approach a month since having last seen or heard from him, it hit you in a way you hadn’t been expecting. You’d been fine when you two were just friends who flirted a little too much.

It was far past that now. Arthur was the first time you weren’t flirting and fucking for fun. The new territory excited you, and you’d went in head first, but this wasn’t a part you’d been informed of.

That being said, you had to admit Tilly’s statement struck you because there was some truth to it. It was a matter of when, not if, Arthur would get into another harrowing situation. You couldn’t lay around in bed, or half ass your way through the day, every time that happened. It wasn’t you, and replaying the last three days to yourself turned your stomach.

“Well Tilly, you went and broke her.” Karen snapped her fingers in your direction.

“Opposite actually.” you shook your head with a grin. “I fold.”

“Look at that hand!” Karen gestured to the cards you’d placed down. “You definitely broke her. Oh well, can’t be helped. Whaddya got?”

“Fold.” Tilly rolled her eyes.

Karen hooped loudly as she pulled all of the candy that made up the pot to her side of the table. “Thank you kindly ladies, I do so hope we do this again soon.”

“Yes ma’am, I intend to get my title back. Enjoy it for now.”

“So that means you’re back?” Tilly swatted at Karen’s teasing pokes and jeers of ‘loser!’.

“I told you I never left. Now I’m going to make a kite, who’s in?”

Both women exchanged looks of pure puzzlement, before turning those looks to you. Unlike most people you were comfortable with being looked at funny. It occured to you, that no one had looked at you that way in days without there being an air of sympathy behind it.

“How adventurous.” Karen replied sarcastically. “I think I’ll retire for the evening and enjoy my winnings instead.”

She not-so-quietly made her way back to her tent with an armful of sweets. Stopping every so often to inform a camp member she had beaten you at Poker.

“Don’t worry, when she’s drunk I’ll steal it all back.”

“It’s Karen, so by morning then?” you grinned while Tilly snickered into her palm.

“She’s right though. A kite? For you that’s pretty tame...unless you’re planning on jumping off the cliff here with it.” her widened eyes indicated she wasn’t joking about thinking you capable of that. “Tell me you’re not planning on jumpin off the cliff with it.”

“Of course not,” You said, though the thought was a fascinating one. “It’s only tame because you haven’t seen where I’m getting the material.”

----------

In a testament to your revelation the previous night, you were up before the camp even began to stir. You’d been up for most of the night with Tilly working on a complicated kite. You’d learned how in a caravan comprised mainly of Chinese men and women, and regaled Tilly with tales of their beautiful culture. The longer the conversation went on, the more the tense anxiety that’d filled your being lessened it’s grip. You were still worried, incredibly so in fact, but you weren’t going to let it take you out of character another minute.

You scribbled a quick note for Miss Grimshaw, knowing she’d be among the first to wake soon, and set out a little ways from camp. Finding a spot where the forest danced along the edges of plains, you tried recalling everything you’d been taught about catching the wind.

Such a seemingly simple activity could demand so much of your attention, that you might miss the sound of a horse’s light trot behind you. You might miss the softening gaze of a rugged cowboy once he spots you. You might even miss him dismounting and hitching his horse in favor of sitting back against the base of a tree to watch you.

“Beginning to think I’m never gonna come back to find you doing something normal. Like baking a cake...or cleaning a rifle. Anything else I suppose.”

You froze, your grip tightening on the fishing line you were using for a kite line. You turned carefully, mindful to not bring your hard work crashing to the ground. Arthur gave you a lopsided grin, and though you couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hat, you were sure his smile reached them. He didn’t look worse for wear that you could see, but you couldn’t be sure until he undressed. Just to look him over of course….

“Then you’re beginning to realize who you hitched your wagon to.” you finally found your voice, though it cracked under the pressure of euphoria. “Arthur Morgan I would both hug and slap you, if my magnum opus wasn’t at risk.”

He laughed, from deep in his chest. “My hats in the ring for first one.”

A quiet moment blossomed between the two of you as you readjusted to being in each other’s presence. It was beautiful to you, and better than any fantasy scene a novel could propose. You wondered if it was putting him at ease to be back around you the way it was for you.

“It wasn’t my intention to worry you my lady, things got crazy out there. Did my best to get back at a reasonable time.”

“Well I figured that, I wasn’t that worried.” you fingered the fishing line gently. You were suddenly embarrassed to tell him you’d moped, and defaulted to lying.

“You’re lucky you’re so damn beautiful, even when you lie.” he chuckled. His smugness let you know the camp had already told him everything.

“Ok, I missed you and I was worried. If you make fun, I’m leaving you on your own horse. She likes me better anyways.”

“Fair enough I think. I’d have to keep the winnings from the bet though.”

You knew immediately what he was talking about. You, unintentionally, provided many opportunities for the gang to make quick money off of your antics. You didn’t mind the audience, it amused you.

“What’s the bet this time?”

“Whether you can fly that thing or not.” he nodded up at the kite, that while lower than when he first got there, was still still sailing through the air. “I reckon some of them are gonna have to learn about betting against you the hard way. Like I did.”

You grinned, and ducked you head at the slight compliment. Arthur had a way of empowering you that you were sure he wasn’t even aware of most times. He swore he wasn’t a romantic, and to some degree he wasn’t, but in his own way he was better. Genuine.

“Well, you won. How are you gonna prove it?”

The sound of rustling caused you to turn halfway to face him again. He slid his camera out of his satchel and patted its top.

“I’ll be ok giving up the winnings to you if I can keep the picture.”

That was how Arthur Mogan obtained a photo of his sweetheart after he’d redenered her a bashful mess. Every other photo of you he had, drawn or otherwise, you were confident and radiant. This one felt different, and perhaps why it would go on to become his favorite.

“Now,” he carefully packed the camera back in his satchel. “You gonna keep putting that before your own feller? For shame Miss (L/N).”

“Jealous of a child’s plaything? That’s a new low Mister Morgan.”

Arthur made a noise of mock surprise. “Child’s plaything? Well what are you doing with it then? The things you’re capable of certainly are not childlike.”

Hard work be damned, you turned on your heel, yanking the kite down after you. In a swift, and for you, unsurprisingly graceful movement, you’d tackled the man to the ground. You laughed at his hearty grunt, eyes following the bouncing movement of his now dislodged hat. The kite came crashing down near you, but neither of you were too focused on it.

“Someone should shut you up Arthur Morgan.”

He shifted to allow you to fall into a more comfortable position on top of him. “If anyone’s gonna try I’d rather it be you.”

Up close, hat gone, you could see evidence of his journey. You gently ran the pad of your thumb over the bruise under his right eye. He closed his eyes, cheeks reddening under your loving gaze. Unspoken words traveled through touch instead. Your soft examination admitting you were worried, his gentle lean into you a form of apology.

You pressed your forehead to his own, and let your lips collide. Soft hands slid up his neck, over his stubble, and into his light locks. You shivered when you felt the combination of warmth and rough texture, that was his hands, grip your waist under your shirt. You felt him standing at attention, straining against the fabric of his pants. You gripped his shoulders to fight the urge to grind down on him.

He broke the kiss, and your lungs greedily took the opportunity for air. His lips roamed your neck with no particular destination in mind, simply trying to soak up the feel of your skin. Distracted by his mouth, you jumped feeling his hands travel beneath your skirt to grip your thighs. A dizzy laugh left you when he roughly lifted you up to remove your panties.

A mewl escaped you when his thumb carded through your folds. The tiny pricks of pain his stubble caused, juxtaposed against the soft touches to your heat, made you see in tunnel vision. You needed him.

“Ar-..Arthur…” you voice was a husky, broken whisper that indicated you were having trouble gathering your words.

Arthur understood. “Drawn out?”

He broke the kiss breathing harshly against your cheek. Your hips jumped after a particularly swift swipe over you.

“No,” you shook your head. “Been such a good girl since you’ve been gone. I won’t last long.”

His deep chuckle against your collarbone drew another moan from you because of the sound alone. “I have not been that well behaved, I must admit.” his lips split into a sheepish smile. “But it’s about the same for me too.”

His dirty admission drew a laugh from you. You began covering his face in kisses while you released him from the confines of his pants. “It’s fine.”

His hands captured your hips and carefully lined you up. You inhaled sharply once he was inside, overloaded by too many feelings. Arthur’s hands trembled, and you imagined it was the same for him too. He waited patiently, painfully, for a sign from you to move.

You rolled your hips once, and he went from there. The two of you worked out a rhythm and fell into it rather quickly. Your hands found purchase at the base of neck and held on tightly. Every night you two had been apart, the frustration of not knowing if he’d come back, the sheer loneliness neither of you could fix without the other. It all came out in the shared act.

You’d both been correct when you admitted you wouldn’t last long. You lost it first, having been more tightly wound, and you weren’t quiet about it. Your raw moans spurred Arthur on, and he drove you through the blinding heat coursing through your being. You cradled his head and whispered loving words of encouragement to push him to his own release. He dropped his forehead to your shoulder and bit down, as a fierce shudder ripped through his form. You rubbed his back and guided him through it.

A final kiss was shared between you two, one that spoke of a love growing between you two. It said there was plenty of space for it to fill, and that was something you both wanted. He cupped your face, about to speak, when something caught his eye.

“Did you use one of Dutch’s silk shirts for your kite?”

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

The two of you walked rather than rode back to camp, and it was filled with effortless conversation and teasing. You came so close to blurting out that you loved him, but bit it down every time. You’d never had anyone in your life to say that to, and weren’t sure if it was too soon. You weren’t too sure about Arthur, but it terrified you to think about sending the words out there only to have them hang alone.

“We should go to the lake.” you commented as the camp came into view.

“To bathe.” you emphasized when you saw his wolfish grin.

“I’ll meet you there, Miss Grimshaw wanted to see me. Sounded pretty important, but I wanted to see you first.”

“Flattery may change your luck.” you winked at him and headed for your tent to grab your bathing kit.

Arthur never met you at the lake, and you went forward with bathing, figuring he’d fallen asleep. Possibly one of the cold souls you now called family had roped him into an errand. Either way, he was making it up to you later.

The first thing you heard when you got back to camp was the distinct sound of an annoyed Miss Grimshaw, and a firm toned Dutch, coming from the direction of Arthur’s tent.

“Let the boy make his own decisions Miss Grimshaw.”

“Boy is exactly right!” Grimshaw’s hands shot up as if to ask ‘why her’. “Only a  boy could make such a foolish decision. You don’t line up for a second helping of disrespect with a side of humiliation Arthur. It ain’t right….she ain’t-”

The others in the camp pretended to be busy, but kept a decent distance away. You frowned and sped up your pace.

“A man has to learn on his own,” Dutch shook his head in Grimshaw’s direction. “You can’t make this choice for him. Accept that.”

Arthur, meanwhile, hadn’t said anything. He simply continued his task which, as you got closer, you discovered to be packing.

“What’s going on?” you walked past Dutch and Grimshaw, straight for Arthur himself.

You felt the heat of numerous gazes on your back, but you stayed focused on the only one you needed to see at that moment. Arthur hands slowed, enough to see the tremble, but not enough to stop his task.

“Where are you going?” you asked, your tone carrying more edge than you wished had escaped.

“I gotta go into Valentine on some business. I’ll be back in a day or so.” he still hadn’t met your gaze which started to upset you.

“Tell her where you’re going Arthur. The girl deserves that much. She’s so sweet on you she nearly rotted thinking something bad had happened to you.” Miss Grimshaw crossed her arms, eyes locked on Arthur’s tense form.

“Grimshaw!” Dutch barked taking her by the arm to lead her away. “Leave.It.Alone.”

Whatever she said in protest was lost to you. Everything else may as well have fallen off the face of the earth for all you cared at the moment. Every perceptive instinct you’d honed in your nomadic life was screaming so many possibilities at you, that you almost shook Arthur to demand an answer simply to make them stop.

Instead, you reached for his hand and grasped it. “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me.”

Arthur pulled away from your touch, still refusing to meet your gaze. “I believe I did tell you, business.”

“I’ve robbed coaches with you, setup hold ups, spied for information. What kind of business can’t you say all of a sudden?”

“The kind I don’t have time to get into right now. I’ll explain when I get back.” he placed a few small supplies into his satchel, carefully fitting his journal in after them.

“So you were just gonna...just gonna leave and not tell me? What the hell is that Arthur Morgan?” you snapped, stubbornly blocking him from going for his clothes chest by sitting on it.

“I wouldn’t have done that to you.” he lifted you from the chest with ease, ignoring your cry of indignation.

He got a few articles of clothing while you cycled through what to say. You had so many questions and he was moving so quickly. By the time you figured out what you wanted to say, he was already moving towards his horse.

“I’ll go with you,” you jogged to keep up with his pace.

You expected him to snap at you, with how tightly he was wound up, but you didn’t care. You weren’t afraid of him, he couldn’t brush aside your concerns so easily.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to you. “(Y/N). I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll tell you everything then, just let me handle this on my own.”

One hand cupped your neck, while the other gently grasped your cheek. You leaned into his touch and nodded. You would trust him, and pray he didn’t give you a reason not to.

[thegildedlady]

Death Rides a Pale Horse

Three soldiers readied their steeds for a nightly patrol of camp. One muttered and kicked the dirt as he pulled a heavy woolen blanket off his horse. The makeshift stables were illuminated by a single lantern, which swung slightly in the night air.

“What’s the matter with you?” Another soldier asked.

“Someone stole my rations.”

The other two men rolled their eyes.

“Well, where’d you leave them last?”

“I had them hanging in a knapsack outside the tent, and I was only gone for a moment. When I came back out, nothing!” He cursed a foul string of profanities which only a soldier can muster.

“Serves you right, idiot.” One man chuckled. “You know anything left lying about is fair game.”

“It wasn’t lying about! I knew exactly where it was.”

“I’ll bet it was that rotten sixteenth company when they marched out earlier. Buncha’ cutthroats if I ever seen ‘em.”

The rationless man perked up at the idea of a culprit. “I bet you’re right! Low down, thieving bastards.”

“Bring it up with a commander if you’re so pissy about it. I’m tired of hearing you whinge on. Let’s get going.”

The men, now saddled up, started at a slow trot to the edge of camp.

As they rode the perimeter, they chatted about the battles coming in the nearby future. Mere days from then, they would face the Amani horde in defense of the motherland. Their company had been rapidly declining in numbers. Many friends were long gone, resting beneath the frozen earth- their long lives merely a blink in the eternity they were experiencing now. The men tried not to think about it, but Death surrounded the camp constantly. It encroached upon them from all sides, taking the faces of different foes. Soon, Death would wear the Amani war mask, and the trio would face him down again, like so many times before. If they would make it out alive was as much a mystery to them as what would happen if they did not.

They passed several scenes as they patrolled- men and women drinking and enjoying camp cooking by firelight, important persons strolling by with lieutenants in tow, a bard strumming a tune to a crowd of enraptured ladies... All looked much more interesting than their current job. The hungry man sighed aloud.

“Look at them. I bet commanders don’t get their rations stolen.”

“Will you shut up about the damned food?”

“I can’t! I’m starving. That was my dinner and breakfast!”

“S’not like you need any extra pounds. Might do you good to skip a meal or two.”

The hungry man frowned. “Oh, fuck off. How am I supposed to be up to strength in the battle if I’m wasting away?”

The other two let out a hearty chuckle. One wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said with a grin, “You’ve made it this far with less in your belly. I think you’ll be alright.”

“I will not.”

“You will too.”

This bickering back and forth went on for some time. As they rounded the edge of camp, a strange light came into view. A violet glow seeped out of the nearby woods, dancing along the treeline in flashes made more visible by the surrounding darkness. The patrol’s horses continued at their slow trot, edging the trio ever closer as they watched in silence. Finally, one spoke up.

“Think we should go check it out?”

“It’s our job, stupid. Of course we should check it out.”

“You don’t have to call me stupid, I was only saying...”

“Be quiet! Both of you! Let’s get this over with.” One of the men rode ahead, causing his companions to chase after him in a hurry.

As they approached a clearing in the woods, they noticed a trail of footprints leading deeper into the columns of bare trees. The men pressed on, with camp’s warm glow becoming dimmer in the distance and the cold, purple light growing stronger. The hungry soldier’s stomach growled, gaining nasty looks from both his comrades. He shrugged a sheepish apology, and they continued on. Up ahead they spotted her. A woman, cloaked in red, stood alone on the shoreline. Several books floated around her, forming a crescent moon of violet light as they drifted in mid air. Her back was turned to the men, as she faced the open ocean. The trio studied the scene for a moment before approaching, hands at their hilts just in case.

As the leader among them began to speak up, the woman’s head whipped around. She seemed surprised to have been found, but not startled. The men, however, jumped slightly at the quick movement. She couldn’t help but grin.

“Ah-hrm... Ma’am? Identify yourself, please.”

The lady flicked her wrist, causing all the books to fade away in a shimmer of violet light, as if they had only been illusions. She sauntered over to them, speaking in a melodic but deep voice as she moved.

“Lightward Bael’Nar, of the Sunguard. Steady yourselves, men. No need for weapons.”

The two at the back relaxed somewhat, but the front man did not move his hand. She approached slowly until she was face to face with his horse, whom she gave an affectionate brush on the neck.

“Lightward, what are you doing out here? This is far beyond the camp boundaries.”

“That’s really of no concern to you, my dear. Trust me.”

“It is my concern, ma’am. Please return to camp at once. We will escort you, if you wish.”

Ciaragan paused in thought for a moment, then nodded with a serpentine smile. “Of course. Shall I ride with you, then?”

He returned the nod and extended his hand to hoist her up onto the animal. She slithered her arms around his midsection a little too tightly. The group made their way out of the now completely dark forest in silence.

Until the unmistakable grumble of a hungry belly broke the tension in the air.

“Hungry, are we?” Laughed Ciaragan.

“No, ma’am- erm, well, I mean yes, ma’am. But it’s no worry.”

“Our fine soldiers should not be working on an empty stomach. I have some food at my tent you can have if the three of you would be so kind as to drop me off there.”

The hungry man looked at the others hopefully, nearly begging like a child. The leader sighed.

“Thank you, ma’am. Much obliged.”

“It’s no trouble at all, my dear. Consider it payment for sparing me the trouble of walking back alone.”

While the other two men felt excitement at the prospects of a meal, the third man only felt more uneasy at Ciaragan’s cold arms pressed against his body. The party arrived at the Lightward’s tent, and her escort helped her down off the horse with gentle ease. She dusted off her red robes and pulled back the tent’s door to slip inside, leaving the trio to wait outside in the slush while she shuffled around unseen. The men exchanged nervous glances. They were not sure what this strange woman they’d found in the woods would keep in her pantry. When she finally reemerged, a basket of bread hanging from her elbow, they shared an internal sigh of relief.

She handed out the bread one by one. The last soldier, who had initially offered the ride home, had chestnut brown hair that fell in stringy pieces around his face. He was plain, just like her, but had enough sense to have not let his guard down since he first spotted those dancing lights in the treetops. She eyed him over one last time before extending the piece of bread. When he went to accept his portion, she laid a delicate hand on his forearm and pulled him in close. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Your friends will die in the upcoming battle. You cannot save them. Only you will live, and when you do, come find me. I will show you the truth.”

He recoiled from her grasp, and she was still smiling that awful smile. She bid the trio farewell without another word, and disappeared back into her dwelling. The man’s face was gray, drained of all blood, and his eyes stared blankly at the food she had given him. The others began to scarf down their portions, grinning at their companion slyly. They didn’t speak until they were out of earshot of the tent, back on patrol.

“Did the Lightward invite you back to hers for a little late night romp, Kelach?”

“I’m sure she’s got another meal for you later, eh?”

The two soldiers burst into laughter, elbowing each other as pieces of half-chewed bread fell from their mouths. Kelach did not laugh. His mind was troubled by what Ciaragan had said to him, and for some reason he knew she wasn’t joking. He felt eyes upon him as the faces of his two comrades stared back at him from ahead.

“You alright, Kelach? We were only teasing.”

He snapped back to reality and forced a small smile.

“What? Oh, um, yeah. It’s okay. Let’s just finish the route.” 

@thesunguardmg for general camp characters and scenes

[galadrieljones]

A Funeral: Chapter 3

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2 | Pairing: Arthur x Mary Beth | Rating: Mature

Content: Existential Angst, Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nature, Touch-Starved, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Violence

Summary: To help her process Sean’s death, Mary Beth asks Arthur to take her on a hunting trip, somewhere far away. He agrees, and on their little journey together, they find quietude and take comfort in their easy bond. In their desperate search for meaning, they endure a number of small trials, which bring them closer to one another as well as to the unchecked plights of the natural world.

Masterpost | AO3

Thanks @bearlytolerablethethird​ for the banner!! ^_^

Chapter 3: Poor, Unfortunate Souls

They rode off the next day about seven in the a-m. Mary Beth’s filly Apaloosa was a good size, and her name was Winston. Mary Beth herself was a good rider, a fact of which Arthur was aware, but what he did not know what that she tended to get distracted quite easily. Arthur himself liked to stop and take in sights for sketching, but with Mary Beth, he noticed that she did not really desire to all out stop, she just liked to slow a lot, trotting along to survey the terrain, or to squint at something in the distance that he most certainly could not see. She rarely spoke out loud about it. This was a nice thing about Mary Beth—she did not have to say everything that was on her mind. It was somewhat of a relief. She did like to talk, but when she did, it always felt like there was a purpose to it. Even if that purpose was simple. She didn’t make much for idle chit chat, but he did sometimes, and so he could speak a little bit, and then she was always glad to respond and she could go and go and go if they got on a topic they both liked and understood. She was also very interested in Arthur himself. She liked to know all about him, all about his feelings and his past. He didn’t have many people for this—interested in what it was that went on inside his head. They only needed him for what he could do.

As they got on, late into the morning, he rode a little bit ahead, but he tried not to get too far. He was determined not to be in a hurry but this first day was making him realize that his typical way of doing things was perhaps a little fast. He was not used to company in the wild and so he tried to slow down because that wasn’t the point. In fact, he was not yet sure what the point was, whether it was more to hunt a moose, get free, or just to be with Mary Beth. Sometimes he felt more complicated than he thought he deserved to be. Like that a man who has killed as many other men as he—he was not entitled to his depths. He thought most of the time he ought to just shut the fuck up and get on dealing with this unclear life, but then he would come upon somebody he actually enjoyed being with, and that changed things. He thought sometimes he still hung onto Mary because she had made him feel that way, too. But that was all in the past as she was back on a train somewhere, god only knows. And so he flung all thought of her away, off a cliff, and tried to face forward for a while.

For further supplies and ammunition, they made a stop in St. Denis. The streets were crowded that morning, and the sky was filled with its requisite pollution clouds. Mary Beth was a little thrilled to be in the city, but she also drew a little unsure of herself once they hitched their horses and went over to the gun store. She walked with her head down a little, and she would look around suspiciously from time to time.

When Arthur asked her what was wrong, she said every time she came to St. Denis she felt enchanted by the lights and cobblestone streets but she also felt she did not fit in.

“I ain’t like these people, Arthur,” she said. “You ain’t either. Don’t you feel it? Or, maybe you don't?”

Arthur thought on this.

“I do,” he said, nodding. He felt bigger than everyone in St. Denis. He felt wider. He felt sometimes like he couldn’t fit through their delicate doorways, designed for frenchmen in fancy suits. “But it’s all just a bunch of feathers, Mary Beth," he went on. "There are good people, and there are bad people, just like in our world. It’s just that here, they smell nicer, so it ain't always easy to tell.”

This made Mary Beth laugh. He adjusted his hat and held the door for her to the gun shop. A little bell rang over head. They went inside and were greeted by the shopkeeper. “You smell fine, Arthur Morgan,” she said. "You smell like mint, and tobacco. Like man, of course, but that is to be expected."

Arthur blushed. It was an uncommon thing to hear. “I suppose I’ll take that as compliment,” he said, though he did double check once she was past, just to make sure she wasn’t only being nice. He’d had a bath two days before in the saloon hotel so actually, for once, it truly wasn’t that bad.

While in the gun shop, Arthur purchased many rounds of ammunition for many different kinds of guns. Mary Beth purchased a shotgun with sturdy handling and a bag full of slugs. When they road out the city, Arthur stopped them at a marshy tributary of the Kamassa River, and he was keen to give her a little bit of a lesson on that gun.

“I can use a shotgun, Arthur,” said Mary Beth. There were bugs buzzing in their ears. "I ain't a invalid."

“I know,” he said, swatting. “This one’s heavy though, Mary Beth. It ain’t a sawed-off. It'll handle different, I promise.”

“I suppose you're right,” she said.

They tied up their horses. They went through some simple things. Mary Beth shot a turtle and then felt badly about it.          

“You didn’t kill it,” said Arthur, squinting as they watched it hobbling away into the marsh. “You just…dented it a little.”

“I don’t like shooting animals,” she said. “Unless I’m eating.”

“We can eat a turtle,” he said. “In fact, I know a decent recipe for the soup. But like I said, it’s getting away. There it goes. It's gone now." He waved. "Bye, Mr. Turtle.”

She shoved him in the shoulder. It gave them both a laugh.

After they finished, they each had a can of beans and shared a fresh peach for lunch. They fed their horses. They sat on a blanket by the water. The weather was warm. Arthur loosened his collar and rolled up his sleeves. “Mary Beth,” he said at some point where they sat, with their legs out, looking at the water.

"Yes, Arthur."

“That gun," he said, "for you—don’t you go shooting unless you absolutely must. And I mean absolutely. You understand?”

“I know, Arthur.”

“Yeah, I know you know," he said, smoking a cigarette. "I just—I don’t mean to be patronizing. I just needed to reiterate. For my own reassurance.”

She blushed a little and ate a piece of the peach. “Reiteration achieved,” she said. And she saluted him.

They rode again, and this time, into the early evening. There were few horses out that day but plenty of wagons heading down south to St. Denis. This was kind of a strange place, where they were. Arthur didn’t altogether like or trust it, so he took them out west a bit, en route toward Emerald Station—a longer way, but with the sun on its way out, he wasn’t interested in escorting Mary Beth through the unmitigated horrors of the Bayou and the Blue Water Marsh. It’s not like she was dainty, but as he was no man of the southern tradition, and there was little he could do to predict the codeless tactics of cannibals and raping racists. He did not even know how well he could protect himself, let alone himself plus a pretty girl. He almost always avoided the marshes at night.

They rode about till dusk, making it all the way up to south of the stables near Dewberry Creek. Arthur had wanted to make it to Emerald Station by nightfall, but with two of them, and their extended lunch in the marshes, the day had gone slower than he anticipated. So he decided that, rather than try and ride into nightfall, when the old creatures and the monsters and the weirdos come out, they’d head off the road and make camp early, when they could still catch view of the horizon.

They came upon a covered bridge. With the dusk was coming fog. Arthur felt a chill, like maybe something wasn’t right. They idled at the bridge.

“I was thinking,” he said to Mary Beth, leaning and petting Sarah’s mane with his hand, “we could find a good spot up yonder. Rather than pushing through into the night. What do you think?”

Mary Beth was glancing around. She finished off an apple then tossed the core to the earth. “I think that’s wise,” she said. “Plus I’m getting hungry. I mean, for more than just fruit.”

“Me, too,” said Arthur. He resituated his coat and his hat and lit a smoke. They trotted the length of the bridge side by side. Mary Beth made a joke about rivers that Arthur laughed at but would soon forget. At the end of the bridge, Arthur’s horse shuffled around like she was disturbed. She was a fast trotter, but a skittish animal

“Whoa, girl,” he said, reining her gently. "Whoa. Whoa."

“Arthur,” said Mary Beth. "Arthur."

“What is it?”

That is when he looked up, and that is when they were approached. Three men on foot, one with his shotgun brandished at his hip, another holding a torch, standing at the end of the bridge. They were nasty characters, wearing plain clothes and with teeth missing. Arthur knew right off what was going on and signaled for Mary Beth to make a full stop. "Hold up," he said, real low.

The men stood in a row. The first one was chewing something. He spat right onto the surface wood of the bridge, a big nasty mouthful of brown juice. “Howdy,” he said. He wore a porkpie hat. “Fine evening.”

“Indeed,” said Arthur, still with the cigarette hanging out his mouth. “How can we help you boys?”

“We’ll be taking your horse,” said the man, raising his shotgun a little. He surveyed the scene, the situation, raised it higher. “And all your money, of course." He seemed to think on it then, rearrange his plans. "And the girl.”

Mary Beth seemed to take offense. "Fat chance," she said.

Arthur shushed her, made kind of a low chuckle. “That is amusing, good sir," he said. "But I am afraid we'll have to decline."

"Excuse me kindly."

"Why don’t you just move aside?” said Arthur, very serious then, laying his hand on the grip of his pistol.

The man in the hat became angered maybe then. Emboldened by Arthur's aloofness. He picked his gun up a little higher in response. His voice got louder. "Dismount your horse," he said.

Arthur raised his eyebrows, plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and surveyed its burning ending. Then he flicked it the earth and gave all three of the men a long, lazy look in the twilight. At first, he did not speak.

“Did you hear me, boy?”

“Arthur?” said Mary Beth, in a high whisper. She did not sound scared, merely ready. “What do I do.”

Arthur's voice was low, barely more than gravel. "Don't touch that gun, Mary Beth."

She nodded, waited.

“You got till the count of five,” said the man in the hat now. He was a brave soul.

“Oh yeah?" said Arthur. "Five? And then what?”

“And then I shoot,” said the man. He set his sights on Arthur. "You, then the girl." Nobody moved. “One…two…”  

Arthur rolled his eyes then. It was almost in slow motion. But he drew his pistol at a whip speed, and inside of three seconds, shot two of the men dead. The third got spooked, dropped his torch, and ran off. It was over, just like that.

“Shit,” said Arthur, watching the third man go, squinting into the advancing night. A bunch of birds had taken off at the ringing of his pistol. It was still smoking. He settled Sarah a little without even paying her a glance. He was trying to decide whether to take off after the man on horseback, or to concede. “Where’d he go?” He chose to concede. But then.

“Sweet fucking Christmas, Arthur Morgan.”

Mary Beth’s voice was high and exasperated. It was such an unusual sound—he did not usually hear women’s voices in moments like these. It yanked him out of his trance. “Excuse me?”

“You blew their heads clean off!”

He just stared at her. She was giving him a kind of scolding look as he came back into their reality. “Yeah, I know,” he said, scratching behind his ear. He holstered his pistol. “I didn’t want that, but what would you have had me do instead? Let them take you?”

She trotted her horse up to the mess. Brains and blood all over the bridge. “Geesh.”

“It was them or us, Mary Beth.”

She sighed again. “Oh, Arthur.”

He did not know what to say.

Suddenly then, she was off her horse. And then she was on her knees beside one of the dead men. She was rifling through their pockets. Arthur came to again and looked around in sudden clarity. Whoever that man was who got away, he might be coming back with law, and that was not good. “Mary Beth,” he said, hurried. “What on god’s earth are you doing?”

“You shot the fellers. Least we can do is rob them.”

Arthur shook out his head. His horse was shifting. “I have committed murder in semi-daylight,” he said. “One of them got away. We need to leave. I don’t need no more bounties in New Hannover territory, Miss Mary Beth.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “But at least this way their deaths was worth something.”

“Their deaths was worth your life.”

She waved him off, picking through the second dead man’s jacket. “Got a couple wedding bands here,” she said. “Gold. Real nice. Married and dumb, I see. Fuckin idiots.”

Arthur lit a cigarette, a nervous habit. He was keeping watch. “All right. Grab those and let’s get a move on now. Come on.”

“Got em,” she said. And then she tucked the rings and a couple watches into her dress pocket, plus a handful of change and she mounted her horse. “All’s good, lieutenant. Let’s ride.”

He laughed at this. She was awful funny. He trotted out front. “You are a brave woman,” he said.

“Wasn’t I who done the shooting.”

“Don’t take much guts to shoot two men in the head like that, Mary Beth. Just skill.”

“Yeah well, you call it what you want it. But I know what I know. And I know it was them or us, Arthur. I do. I’m just making it hard for you is all. I am grateful.”

He smoked, smirking in a bashful quiet. This he did not expect. “Okay then," he said. "Don’t mention it. Let's just go."

They picked up and rode like hell past the river. Arthur took them off the trail in a short while, and they built a fire and Mary Beth prepared a little venison for their dinner, with a couple cans of carrots on the side. They made camp, and they had dinner, just as the sun sank out of view, soaking the whole sky with its fiery farewell.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 15 - West Roth

The winter of 9:31 Dragon draws to a bitter close. Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, hero of the people, has revealed a string of secret letters between King Cailan and Empress Celene of Orlais. The specifics are unclear, but suspicion of Orlesians run deep, and there are always those willing to take advantage of political scandal. Declaring the king unfit to rule, Loghain has retreated to his southern stronghold in Gwaren, with Queen Anora by his side. Fear and greed threaten to tear Ferelden apart. In Denerim, Cailan busies himself with maps and battle plans, hoping to stem the tide of blood before it can start. In the Arling of Edgehall, King Maric’s bastard son fights against the rebels flocking to the traitor’s banner, determined to free himself from the shadow of his royal blood. And in Highever, Rosslyn Cousland, bitter at being left behind, watches as her father and brother ride to war, unaware of the betrayal lurking in the smile of their closest friend.

Words: 2826 Chapter summary: After weeks of trying to hold her people together, Rosslyn finally meets Howe on the field of battle.

CW:  canon-typical violence, battle scenes, and gore throughout; animal cruelty in the first two paragraphs

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

Seventeenth day of Drakonis, 9:32 Dragon

Sat atop her horse, Rosslyn watched the battle unfold with anxious intensity. She was hidden in the trees along with her house guard and a unit of mounted templars, waiting for the right moment to spring her trap. Across the river, the dust of the first skirmishes had settled, and the main force of the two armies slogged it out, shield-to-shield in the afternoon sun.

They had chosen their field well, on a flat plain tucked into a meander of the West Roth River so that their enemy couldn’t use his superior numbers to outflank them. Perceiving them trapped against the spated river, Howe had sent his cavalry thundering down the slope, with the war dogs baying and the troopers’ blades flashing, in the hopes of panicking Highever’s infantry into a rout. But that morning, runners had gone out beyond the battle lines and scattered a cloud of deadly-sharp caltrops just where the ground began to level out, and at full gallop the charge had never stood a chance. With a terrible noise of horses and dogs, Howe’s cavalry had fallen apart before it could even reach its target, a wall of muscle and steel that writhed and kicked and struggled, impaled on barbed iron spikes. Troopers had shrieked as their mounts crushed them. It had been horrifying, a tragic waste, but war was war and in one stroke Howe had been robbed of his swift victory, his army had been hobbled, and his soldiers had been made witness to the ruthlessness of Highever’s commander.

Even so, Rosslyn had been glad when Teagan ordered the archers to loose a volley into the line and put an end to the screaming.

Howe had learned caution after that. What remained of his cavalry had retreated, his pet apostates had cracked and frozen the ground to make the caltrops useless, and with a steady beating of swords on shields, the massive bulk of his infantry had advanced stolidly down the hill.

“Much good may it do you,” Rosslyn murmured now with a vicious grin. “There I am, you mongrel. Go and get me.”

She watched as Morrence, dressed in as much of Rosslyn’s armour as would fit on her smaller, slighter frame, wheeled Highever’s cavalry across the field like a flock of starlings, with Cuno at her side. They danced just out of Howe’s reach, strafing along the ranks of pike-defended archers and then propping away before the remains of the enemy cavalry could retaliate. The brow of the falcon helm flashed in the sun, drawing attention away from the almost too-easy advance of his infantry. It wouldn’t be long now. Lasan stamped an impatient hoof.

Down in the melee, the house standards of Highever’s allies stood out like butterflies against the dullness of leather and dust – the Storm Crow of West Hill, Loren’s Sunburst, and in the centre, the Tower and Stars of Rainesfere next to her own Laurels. Alistair was down there somewhere, holding the line of the shield wall.  A prick of worry needled Rosslyn’s gut before she could push it away, remembering when she had last seen him, when he had sought her out by the picket lines to deliver Teagan’s final report before Howe’s troops crested the hill. Most of her guards had been mounted already, waiting only for her to lead them into the woods beyond the camp.

“Are you set?” she had asked as she waved him over.

“Everything’s ready,” he answered. “We’ll stick to the plan, don’t worry. We know what we’re doing, and all we can do now is wait.”

She nodded, glancing over her milling troops. “I’ve never been very good at that.”

“The trick is to let your mind go blank and avoid thinking about anything at all,” he replied, with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Easier for some than others, I would say.” Banter she could do. It added distance to the churn of her stomach, knowing that she wasn’t just leading a skirmish, but commanding an entire force that was relying on her to see them safe.

“Was that an insinuation about my mental capacity?”

She gasped. “Such a suggestion is unwarranted slander.” The effort was too much. She had to steady her breath. “You’ll be in the thick of it – they’ll come straight for you,” she said.

“If you’re not careful, my lady, that noble façade of yours will crack and everyone will find out you do care.” But the tease fell flat and Alistair rubbed a hand through his hair, so it stuck up at odd angles.

She fought the urge to reach out and smooth it down. “Decent sparring partners are difficult to find these days.”

“Is that so?” His gaze flicked down to the Cousland sword belted to her waist, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You promised.”

Her fingers closed over the pommel. “I remember, but… Howe’s out there. This is my chance to –” She stumbled. Howe needed to die by her father’s sword, and she needed to be the one to do it, but explaining why either of those things mattered took more effort than she had when confronted by the hurt shining in his eyes. “My family deserves justice.”

Alistair’s scowl deepened. “I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“If you were that sorry, you wouldn’t be doing it,” he snapped.

“Believe what you want.” She made to step away – it was a waste of time to try and make him understand, she should have known he wouldn’t – but he blocked her path.

“So that’s it, is it?” he growled. He took a step forward, looming in his coat of splintmail. “This is how the valiant Falcon of Highever keeps her word? The darling of the people, so desperate to show what she’s worth and too proud to use a common sword, even if it’s likely to get her killed. Is that what you want? Will it be worth having Howe’s head when your guts are spilling over the grass? You know it won’t bring them back!”

He blinked, then, mouth agape as if to catch back all the words he had not meant to say, but she had already marched past him towards where Lasan waited in the hands of a groom. After a final check that her horse’s tack was sitting properly, she mounted and gathered the reins, taking care to steady her temper.

“You’d best get back to your troops, Ser,” she said, when Alistair remained unmoving.

He shook his head. “It’s not worth your life, Rosslyn.” The look on his face…

“Gods go with you.”

And she had turned and ridden away, in too high a temper to appreciate that she might never see him again.

She couldn’t afford to think about that now. Howe’s infantry was beginning to spill around the edges of her own. The weight of superior numbers threatened to envelop the Laurels entirely, and with nowhere to run, it would only be a matter of time before they succeeded, but the scent of victory had drawn them far enough away from Howe to make them vulnerable. It was the moment she had been waiting for.

“Send the message,” she said to the runner waiting at Lasan’s shoulder. The young man saluted crisply and darted down the bank to where a team of carpenters and mages waited with ice spells and a drawbridge made of pallets and spare logs. Rosslyn watched him go, choosing to focus on that rather than the thrill of fury coiling in her stomach.

“Are you ready, Gideon?” she asked her commander.

“Right behind you, lass,” he replied, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin. “Wouldn’t miss this.”

“We’re all with you,” Irminric added from her other side. He and the two templars riding with him would be her defence against Howe’s apostates, while she went for the man himself.

Rosslyn laughed. “In that case, it’s time for some Bear-baiting.” She stood in the stirrups and turned to the troopers behind her. “Make ready! You’ve all waited for this; you all know what’s been taken from you! I promised you vengeance, now go down there and take it!” She drew her sword high, the weight of it a comfort in her hand. Two hundred blades flashed in answer, drawn with a wave of whoops and wordless shouts that drowned out the noise of battle below, and with a feral grin she gave the signal to advance.

Her cavalry poured down the hill. They clattered over the ice-anchored bridge at a trot, and as they climbed the other side, Rosslyn stood high in the stirrups, a piercing yell on her lips, a shriek like her epithet. Lasan whinnied a challenge, echoed by the other horses as the soldiers echoed her. They crested the bank at a ground-shattering charge, a wall of sound and steel appearing out of nowhere with the Laurels blazing as they split into two horns to smash the enemy left and right. Rosslyn saw the line of Amaranthine infantry pause in confusion – Morrence swept down on them, the first Falcon on the field – she felt the ripple of uncertainty, and when the spearpoint of her attack broke into their flank, it crumpled like wet paper.

The smack of impact jarred up her arm; momentum alone carried her through the first stunned ranks of the enemy. Men fell screaming under the flash of her blade, under Lasan’s hooves and Iriminric’s shield. She lost track of things, her head full of noise, her throat already hoarse from shouting and her eyes blinded by the westering sun. Howe’s soldiers tried to run, but the mages sent immolations over their heads, creating a line of roaring flame that pinned and panicked those it did not consume.

In seconds the balance of the fight shifted, and the defensive bend of the river became a killing field. Surrounded on all sides, with magic raining from above, the Amaranthine army was pushed towards the river as Highever’s ranks parted and reformed to block their enemy’s escape, with the cavalry sowing chaos enough to keep them from forming a defence, and the day began to turn. Heartbeats stretched. Rosslyn sank into herself, detached from the slaughter, the faces of those she struck down blurring as each next one rose to take the place of the one before, the one thought in her mind the drive to press out of the melee, north, to the hill where her family’s murderer sat smug under the fluttering orange and white of the Bear.

“House guard to me!” she yelled when she finally found an opening. She rode Lasan through the last line and saw a flash of blue and knew the Laurels followed her. Others stayed to corral the enemy but as she flew past, her soldiers cheered in salute and hurried to plug the space she left in her wake. Howe was turning, fleeing from the unexpected change in fortune, but the hounds bayed at her heels and her horse was a spark of fire, and she herself was the Falcon, who dived out of the sun and swept in death with her wings, and she would not suffer the traitor to live.

They were gaining.

“Ware, riders!”

The cry came from her right, and she looked, puzzled, drawing in Lasan’s speed to follow the trooper’s pointing finger to the bottom of the hill behind her. What she saw made her blood run cold.

A wedge of heavy horse, charging without banner along the river’s edge, the troopers’ blades high as they bellowed like bulls, straight for the exposed back of her infantry. A secret reserve? She couldn’t think.

“My lady!”

She saw Howe’s banner disappear over the hill, the coward running to save himself, taking her vengeance with him.

“Lady Rosslyn, what do we do?”

She saw her soldiers turn, saw their courage break even as Morrence dragged her wing out of the melee to meet the new threat.

“Which way, my lady?”

The goal was Howe. Without him, there would be no need for rebellion in the North. Without him, Highever could be free. There could be no second chance. If she lost him now, he would sit in comfort and let her break herself against her own walls and laugh as she spent her rage and her blood to tear him down. And yet to chase him down would be to abandon those who had laid their lives on her trust, to break the promise she had made them just like she had broken the promise made on her family’s sword.

Her army, or her home?

“My lady…?”

I’m sorry, Father. She squeezed her eyes shut and kicked Lasan into a gallop.

--

The ground trembled as Alistair braced against the oncoming cavalry. He shouted for the ragged shield wall to hold. They had found spears from somewhere, and the line in front of him dug them into the ground, the points levelled straight for the horses’ hearts. It wouldn’t be enough. The Amaranthine infantry clawed at the lines behind him, spurred by the appearance of allies and the panic it had caused among Highever’s ranks. Loren’s banner had fallen, the Templars were being overwhelmed, and Alistair himself had watched Teagan go down under a mace before he managed to stem the rout and rally the line. He didn’t know if his uncle still lived, didn’t have the spare energy to find out. He thought back to his only other battle, all the waiting he had done under the winter-sleeping pine trees, and after, when he had laughed until he choked to find himself still alive. There would be no survival this time, he knew; the only question was how long his strength would last. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the falcon helm flash in the sun as Captain Morrence led the Highever cavalry on a bloody path to rescue the mages, and readjusted his shield on his arm.

“Hold steady,” he growled at the soldiers next to him. “We can hold them.”

He breathed. The horses came on. Eight strides – five. At least Rosslyn made it away. At least she was safe.

And then, three strides out from the clash, a banner unfurled and blazed the royal War Dogs of Ferelden, and the cavalry propped and swung away, flowing around the Highever infantry like a river around a rock. In the confusion, Howe’s mercenaries pressed their advantage. The line broke. The cavalry washed against the melee without a clear target and was deflected for another pass, and between on heartbeat and the next Alistair lost track of the banner as the ordered fighting devolved into a writhing sea of steel.

His feet slipped in the mud. He smashed his shield into someone’s face, recognising only the orange and white of the Bear before whirling to the rescue of a boy with the Laurels on his surcoat. His breath sawed through his lungs but he kept pushing, kept slashing at anything that came within range of him, half-blind with other people’s blood.

“To me!” he gasped. “To the Laurels!”

Finally, the defensive line was reined into some sort of order, but a flurry of arrows hissed overhead and the man beside him was too slow to raise his shield. Alistair cursed. There seemed no end to the Amaranthine soldiers. The royal cavalry penned them in, driving them onto the battered and wavering shield wall. In battle with fresh soldiers, the tactic might have worked, but right now it was only going to get more people killed.

“Look, over there!”

The cheer went up and Alistair turned despite his better instincts. It was Rosslyn. She surged through the enemy like a scythe through summer hay, cutting off the advance of the Amaranthine infantry with a wall of swords and striking hooves. The pressure on the defensive line eased. They pushed forward, gathered up the wounded. Someone must have recognised her, or her horse, because the enemy swarmed towards her with renewed vigour, but by then she was already clear of the melee and arcing around to meet it again.

Movement distracted him from the sight and he flinched as a broad-headed axe swiped for his head. He raised his shield just in time, cursing himself for forgetting the first rule of combat, but the axe caught it at a bad angle and with a deep crack pain shot through his arm into his shoulder. He managed to parry the next blow and staggered backwards, but his feet slipped again. Exhaustion took him to his knees. His opponent prowled forwards, a giant in armour that was hard-used but well-maintained, with a neatly trimmed moustache beneath his helmet. Alistair supposed it must be the shock that was letting him see such fine details. He bared his teeth and brought his sword in close. The axe came swinging for his head.

[itbeajen]

Unspoken, but Written | Ike (Fire Emblem)

Do I regret writing this? Kind of. I don't know what compelled me to write this. Ike won the voting gauntlet, I should be writing fluff for my precious boy. But here I am, hurting him. Wow what a life. In all honesty though, I've always wanted to write something canon for Ike, but like, I haven't played PoR since it came out, so my memory is really fuzzy. OTL. Sorry if it's out of character fam.

The first time you looked my way was the first time I held a sword again. I wonder why that is. *** "Ike." The call of his name was soft, almost a low whisper, and when he turns around, his strategist is approaching him. A look of concern is noted on the mage's visage, and Ike frowned, "What's wrong, Soren?" He opens his mouth to explain, but instead he sighs the moment he hears the shouts coming from where they have set up camp. Ike raises an eyebrow and Soren mumbled, "You'll understand better if you see it." Soren walks away first, expecting Ike to follow, and he does. But as they approach camp, the sound of sword clashing sword is heard, louder than ever. And he's surprised when he sees you dancing around the bonfire with a blade in your hand, keeping Mia at bay and also preventing her from approaching you. Mia's face may have been set in a grimace, but the light of pure exhilaration and excitement that shone in her eyes was evident enough that you were a worthy opponent. You didn't hold back against her, regardless of the fact that everyone knew you were skilled with both blade and staff, you played a more supportive role rather than an active one. So to see you holding a blade rather than a staff was a sight to behold, and Ike found himself captivated with the scene before him. "Give!" Mia shouted after dodging yet another lethal strike. Your entire figure tensed and froze, almost as though it was a still scene taken from a movie. But as soon as Mia drops onto the floor with a sigh, you pull away. Both of you have a fond smile on your lips and she laughed, "You're really good [F/N]!" "Thanks," you chuckled. With a flourish, you sheathed your sword, and Mia mumbled, "I can't believe you'd choose to be a valkyrie though." Your eyes widened slightly, and you sheepishly scratched your neck, "I learned swordsmanship to survive, but if you asked me, I'd rather heal people then afflict wounds onto them." You took a quick glance at Soren and Ike, and you whispered, "But of course, if our commander and strategist will me to, even I will take to the sword." Ike is surprised by your loyalty to the mercenaries. You joined just shortly after the revival of Serenes Forest, a wandering cleric at that time. And yet, you've already taken to the group like a fish to water. You noticed his gaze, and immediately you give him a small smile. But your attention on him was nothing more than a fleeting moment as you returned your gaze to Mia. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, not at all!" Mia takes your hand that you offered and you pull her up effortlessly. She lets out a sigh and whined, "Aren't you tired?" "Me?" you asked with a tilt of the head, you shook your head, "Not at all. I've gone through more vigorous endurance training before." "Is that so?" Mia mumbled. Your hand was no longer holding hers, but she couldn't forget the roughness that indicated the years of practice that you had.

The day I learned more about you was also the day you were borne into this world. I wish you had told us sooner. *** "Mia wasn't kidding when you said you were strong," Ike grunted as the two of you exchanged blows. Your stance had changed just slightly, but you weren't physically strong enough to overpower Ike. With both height and muscular weight superior to yours, the only reason why you haven't completely been mowed over was the fact that you had grew up learning how to beat people like him, to defeat trained soldiers like him. There was a wild, almost feral smile on Ike's face as he exchanged blow after blow. Soren watched from the side, analyzing both of you at the same time. And immediately Soren pointed out, "Ike, don't focus on your strength only." "Yeah?" Ike takes a leap back, and you mirror the action. Ike was fast on his feet, and he was also used to exchanging heavy blows one after the other. Something you were once used to, but not as much after picking up the staff. You clenched your teeth and your grip on your sword tightened. "You up for another round?" Ike asked out of courtesy. You took in a deep breath, calming your body and mind, and you smirked, "Yeah, what about you, commander?" Ike furrowed his brows, "Can't you just call me Ike? There's no need for those formalities." He launches forward, and you dodge the strike by twisting your body out of the sword's path. You make your own attempt to strike at the opening presented before you, but just as you swung down your blade, Ike's blade swings upwards, knocking you completely off your feet and into the air. There was a moment of shock on your face before you regained composure, flipping around and landing neatly on your feet. Immediately, you ready a guard stance just in time for Ike's next attack, and he asked, "You've been trained well." "Surviving in a world like this is hard, sir." Ike blanched, "Like I said, don't call me that!" With a final grunt, Ike pushes you out of the way with brute force, and you skid backwards, almost tumbling right into Soren if you didn't find your footing fast enough. You get up and mumbled, "I think I'm done for today." Ike frowns, and before he can ask if you're alright, you smiled reassuringly, "And I'm fine, thank you. I've experienced worst back in my training days." But your happy expression drops as soon as you realize the slip of your tongue. Soren and Ike glance at each other, and he asked, "Training days?" You hesitated, and Ike can tell from the way you gnawed at your lower lip that you were not fond of the past at all. But after a deep breath, you admitted, "I was once a knight of Daein." "A knight of Daein?" Soren repeated, and you nodded, "I grew up under the shadow of my father, a previous knight of Daein. After noticing that I had exceptionally fast reflexes, he had forced me to learn as soon as I was capable to walk and hold a wooden sword." The bitter smile on your face was evident as your grip on the sword tightened, "I resented him for it. My existence became his, his to mold for his own, to regain whatever previous glory he once had as a knight of Daein. He had hoped that one day I could become one of the Four Riders of Daein. But.." Your voice trailed off weakly, and you mumbled, "4 years ago on this day, the same day my father had believed I would finally be able to enter the ranks of the knights, I committed suicide." "Suicide?" Soren frowned. You were very much alive now, and you nodded, "It was shortly after my coming of age ceremony that my parents had held for me. I disappeared off to the local river with nothing more than my staff and a small knife, and I had convinced my good friend to help me fake my death." "But why?" Ike frowned. You give him a small smile, "I wanted to find my own life. I had lived as my father's puppet for years, and had known nothing about what there was in life outside of holding a sword and pledging loyalty to a kingdom I did not love. I didn't love Daein as much as my father did, and perhaps I came to resent it because my father only had love for his kingdom and naught for mother and I." "Your mannerism and fighting techniques all make sense now," Soren grumbled, and you nodded, "I was planning on informing you soon after joining your ranks. But there was much going on, I couldn't find the right timing. Forgive me." Ike's eyes widened, and after exchanging a slight glance with Soren, he said, "You don't have to apologize, [F/N]. But more importantly, today's your birthday?" Your eyes widened, and you nodded, "Yes. It is." "Then we should-" "It's fine," you laughed it off, and then you mumbled, "I'd prefer not to remember today's meaning." Ike watched as you slowly walked away. The trembling in your shoulder was obvious, but against his own gut, and from the way Soren had slowly shook his head, he didn't. But looking back, he really wishes he did.

You love him, don't you? I do, but I will never tell him such a thing. For I am unworthy. *** Mist watched you with interest as you went around healing your side of camp. She had finished those assigned to her, but she couldn't help but watch the way you and her older brother interacted. There was a comradery and friendship between the two of you that she noticed no one else really has with her brother. She frowned and Titania gently pats her shoulder, "What's wrong, Mist?" "Don't you think brother and [F/N] are really close?" she asked. There was genuine curiosity in her eyes, and Titania's gaze slowly shifted over to the two of you. There was a light in Ike's eyes that she's never seen before, and she couldn't help, but nod in agreement. "They are, aren't they?" Mist agreed, and she murmured, "I wonder if [F/N] likes him." "Well, I don't see why Ike wouldn't be liked, he is our commander after all. Albeit a bit clumsy with his words, and rather fearless and perhaps reckless, he's still a good person," Titania fondly noted. She watched the way Ike was able to bring out a genuine smile from you, and she teased, "If you're so curious Mist, why don't you ask Ike directly?" "I would, but I don't think he'd even know, maybe I'll just ask [F/N]. She promised to train me a bit more on sword techniques on a horse," Mist happily chimed. Titania raised an eyebrow, and Mist added, "I can't ask Ike when he's never done any horseback combat." "Quite true," Titania chuckled. Later that night, after training, Mist is slightly slumped in her horse saddle. You trotted over and patted her back, "You okay?" "Yeah," she gives you a small smile, and she mumbled, "I just forget how much balance is required of me." "Yeah, it's a bit to get adjusted to, but you'll get a hang of it soon enough," you smiled, "You have talent after all." "Mm, it's probably because brother and I are related, huh?" Mist mumbled. But you shook your head, "No, I was thinking you're skilled as well, I wouldn't acquaint it to your brother. Just because Ike is strong doesn't quite immediately equate to you being strong. But both of you are strong on your own accord, not simply due to one being strong meaning that the other is strong." Mist is a bit surprised, and then she giggled, "I see. Thanks [F/N]." "Anytime, Mist," you laughed as you got off your horse first. You offered her a hand, and she shook her head, "You're so nice to everyone. It's no wonder you fit in so quickly." "That's good then, it's always good to get along with people," you hummed as she took your hand. Mist slowly got off her horse and she asked, "Is there anyone in particular you get along with more?" You hesitated, and Mist nudged you playfully, "Come on, you can tell me can't you?" "W-Well, t-that's... that's a personal thing," your voice trailed off, and Mist notices the slight tinge of pink, and she asked, "You like him, don't you?" Your eyes widened, and you sighed, "I should have known his younger sister would notice it sooner than he would himself." "Why don't you just tell him?" "We're in amidst of a war, Mist, I can't do that. And besides..." Mist notices the way your shoulders slightly dropped, and there was a sorrowful tint in your eyes as you gave her a weak smile, "Someone like me? With him? It's impossible." You walked away, and Mist feels like she touched upon something she shouldn't have. She wishes she apologized, she really wished she did. 

Perhaps I should have told you sooner. But perhaps it was for the best I did not tell you at all. For it is one less heart breaking loss in your already wounded heart. *** "Mia, fall back!" you commanded as you rallied your horse over to the other side of the field. There were far too many soldiers, and the reinforcements were almost never ending. Mia shook her head weakly, although the fight in her eyes were far from burning out, her body was not made for a war of attrition. You furrowed your brow as you casted yet another round of heal over her and the rest of the mercenaries within the vicinity, and you muttered, "There are far too many. But if we can thin out enough of them, then we should be able to escape safely." "If you're telling Mia to fall back, then all of us need to," Shinon grumbled as he ran past you. You frowned, and muttered, "We all need to fall back." "Indeed." Soren's voice surprised you, and he said, "All of us need to fall back, there's far too many. This ambush was unaccounted for, and there are villagers near by that may be caught by collateral damage." Everyone exchanged weary glances before all of them nod in agreement. Soren starts issuing orders, although the quiet male may not have had a loud voice, his words carried a heavy weight to them. You lingered in the back, making sure all of them were ahead until you heard a weak cry of help from the forest side of the clearing. Soren heard it too, as you can tell from the surprise that flickered in his expression. You exchange a glance with him, and he bit his tongue. No. He wanted to tell you no. He still had so much he wanted to ask you. There were so many things he wanted to know, things that he knew you've seen or heard. After all, you and him were one and the same. He watched helplessly as you spurred your horse towards the direction of the cry of help, and he could only pray that you came back in one piece. For you, the darkness meant nothing. After all, you were always able to see clearly in the dark, it effected you in no way, shape, or form. But today, it felt like it was going against you as you tried to pinpoint the plea for help. But soon, the sobbing and tears were ringing in your ear as you approached the river. A teenage boy was cradling a small girl in his arms, both of them shivering from the cold winds and clearly part of the escaping villagers as far as you can tell. The adults were huddled on the opposite side of the raging river, clearly panicking about what to do. The shaky wooden bridge had 2 platforms holding it up over the river, and one platform had completely collapsed, leaving the children stuck on your side of the river. You frowned and looked at the river, then at the children and the adults. All of them staring at you, waiting for your movement. "Hey," you softly called to the children as you dismounted. Your horse follows behind you loyally, and you mumbled, "Can you two stand?" They both nod, and you said, "I can get you guys over the bridge, but you have to trust me, okay?" The adults' gazes were both desperation and anxiety. The nervous tension in the air was palpable, and you wanted nothing more than to get this situation over with. As soon as the two children nodded, you placed them into your saddle, using your robe to strap them onto it tightly. You rubbed your horse's neck and you murmured, "Look like this may be the last time I see you, my dear friend. Thank you for keeping company for all these long years." It neighed in response, nuzzling its muzzle against your cheek, as you leaned your forehead against it. You give it one last smile and a kiss, before signalling its jump with a pat. The jump was clean, although your horse did skid a bit on its landing, but the children were safe with the adults. Once you saw the two children get off the saddle, you whistled, hoping your horse could jump back over, but the sound of an arrow being released causes you to dodge. It narrowly misses you, but instead your horse jumps in front of the villagers, taking a hit directly to its calf. You flinched as you hear the painful neigh and you shouted, "Get out of here!" "Your horse-" "Take her with you! She's injured, I can't make her fight in that state!" you responded as you unsheathed your sword. You slipped your staff into its scabbard and you muttered, "These blasted soldiers. Do they not realize they're shooting their own people!?" You immediately duck into the trees. They may shoot blindly into the dark as much as they want, but I have the advantage here. You made your way through the foliage, in hopes that you could still hear Soren's voice. His consistent mumbling of wind magic was enough to guide you towards the right direction, but with the interference of arrows and shouts of your foes, you were slowly losing focus on that quiet grumble. The release of multitudes of arrows catches your attention though, and you make a quick glance up, only to dodge and roll away as quick as possible as the arrows speared through your previous location. You bit your tongue at how close you were to your death. But this was not your first time. But just as you tried to get up, you felt a stinging pain in your left shoulder. You glanced over to see a tiny knife embedded into your skin, digging into you. With a shaky hand, you gripped it and pulled it out. But as soon as you did, you cursed as the blood seeped through the open wounds. You used whatever magic you could to heal yourself, but it wasn't fast enough to reverse the damage, only slowing it at most. "The enemy is right there! I can see their figure!" "How many are there?" "Just one, sir." "Then I shall deal with it. That rag tag lowly bunch thinks they can take on an army? Well they were wrong," he chuckled as he approached you. You could hear the slow march of a general in armor, and you cursed. Of all things, an armored general? If it was just some lowly grunt I could probably have won. I need to escape. There's no way I can win here. You checked the wound one last time, and after one last surge of healing magic, you dashed away. The crunch of dead leaves and twigs beneath your feet gave away your location, and suddenly there is an onslaught of footsteps following you. Your advantage over them was just enough to get far enough away faster than they could, as they couldn't maneuver through the forest as easily. But just as you reached the edge of the clearing, one look indicated danger. The entire field was filled with the fallen comrades of the opposing side. Their soldiers mourning over their fellow comrades in arms, and you immediately ducked back into the forest. I'm stuck between a rock and a very hard place. Where the hell did our group run off too? You continued your trek, but you could feel the flare of pain in your legs. You were beginning to burn out and you bit out a dark chuckle, "Seriously, after all these years, I'm finally going to give way here?" No, I won't fall here. I still haven't had the chance to figure out why those of my kind are so hated. I refuse to believe that the goddesses dictated some stupid rule like that. You leaped over a fallen log tree, only to realize hear shouting behind you. "There!" "Follow!" Well, shit. You darted away as fast as you could, only to stop when a spear narrowly misses your head. You skid into a stop and quickly unsheathe your sword, barely parrying a slash from above. The general chuckled, "Well, well, looks like the little mouse knows how to fight, eh?" You immediately noted he wasn't wearing heavy armor at all, and with a strong kick, you push yourself away from him. You hesitated for a split second before turning tail and running off. The man growled as he chased after you, profanities spilling from his lips the entire time. You hear the tell tale sounds of arrows splitting air and you duck and roll side ways before stumbling forward to break into another sprint. But all the running and tumbling has taken a toll on your stamina as you feel yourself losing energy. I can make it. I can still hear Soren's voice. And I can hear the others too. They.. they waited. You almost teared at the thought, but you shook your head. I have to get to them safely first. But how do I get rid of these people that are on my trail. How can I- Your thoughts are wrenched from you as you let out an heart-wrenching cry of pain as you feel hot flames lick at your entire being, engulfing you whole. But it was that sound and the light of the red fire that alerted not just the enemy of your location, but also your comrades. You glared at the general who approached you slowly, and he laughed, "Well well, look at our mouse now, aren't you a sight to behold-" But he doesn't finish his sentence as you spring forward, launching the first strike. He narrowly dodges it, but it nicks his cheek, causing blood to trickle down his face. The smug expression on his face turns to horror and then anger as he lunges at you. But you throw yourself at him, passing the flames from him to you. He cries out in pain as the heat sears his unprotected skin, and you rolled on the floor, getting rid of it as much as you could. Your body was heavy, and you could feel your vision blurring as you tried to focus on the enemy before you. He was still grappling to get his armor off as his undergarments caught on fire, but you couldn't afford to relax when he was right there. Kill him. He's right there. I can't move. It was as though your entire body was filled with lead, you couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't see. Nothing was working. And then it finally dawned on you. That knife... it must have been... tainted with poison. You let out a dark chuckle as you steady yourself by plunging your sword into the ground. No wonder I couldn't heal it immediately. I was wondering... what went wrong. I should have paid more attention, god damn it. Your eyelids fluttered, threatening to close, and you muttered, "I can't fall here. There's still.. so much more I have to do..." "[F/N]!" That voice... sounds so familiar. Your body swayed back and forth, struggling to keep you up right and alive. But you can faintly hear the sound of metal against metal and the cries of anguish from the opposing side. "[F/N]! [F/N]! Hey, stay with us! Stay with me now!" Is that... Ike? You barely catch his worried expression and your last thoughts were, Ah I wish... I had the chance to tell you.

I was never meant to exist in this world anyways. But you, no, not just you, all of you... All of you made me feel like I finally had family. Like I finally had a place to belong, thank you. *** "We're sorry, Ike," Mist managed to choke out. Her hands trembled as she held onto her staff weakly. Titania walked out of the tent, her head lowered and gaze averted from their young commander. Ike's throat was dry, and he weakly asked, "What?" Mist opened her mouth, but she finds herself unable to speak. Tears are welling at the corners of her eyes, and she barely manages another apology before she silently breaks into tears. Ike numbly stares at her and then past her into the tent. There was no way you were gone. Just yesterday the two of you were laughing, talking about random nonsense like the color of the skies and the grass. You had just finished teaching him a new sword technique, and you had even taught Mist more riding skills. How could you be gone? "Ike," Soren's throat is dry, but he just manages to call out his name, and he mumbled, "Do you... Would you like to... one last time?" His sentences are choppy, and his composure is nearly gone. He had known you were like him. He could tell from the way you cared for the entire camp as though you were their mother. You had more experience then all of them combined. He wished he had talked to you. He wished he didn't push you away when you tried. And Soren still remembers the pain yet understanding gaze when he had. His fists clenched, and Ike doesn't respond as he walks into the tent. It was as though you were asleep. Your expression was calm, it was gentle, and it was filled with an inexplicable peace that he's never seen before. He slowly kneels down, and his hand slowly, gently takes hold of yours and he whispered, "[F/N]..." You won't ever hear me call your name again, nor will I hear you say mine. Ike rests his forehead against your hand. I'm sorry. I failed to protect you. Even though I said I'd do anything in my power to protect those important to me. To fight for my friends. To keep them safe and bring them peace. I couldn't do it for you. I couldn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. *** It wasn't until after dinner when Mist finally approaches Ike. In her hands was the small bag that you always carried around with you, and he glances at it before looking up at Mist. "Is this...?" She nods and she mumbled, "I didn't look through it yet, but I figured you should." "Do I even have the right to?" he scoffed and Mist nodded, "I think... I think [F/N] would want you to." She drops it in his lap before walking away. Ike stares at it, his thoughts empty as he tries to find the will to open it. But soon, he finds himself subconsciously opening it, and pulling out an old weathered leather notebook. He opens it, and his eyes widened from the first date in the journal. As he flips through it, the pages documented your entire life, from your childhood up til the realization that you weren't a Beorc, nor were you a laguz, but rather the cursed mix of the both. Your father, a Beorc, and your mother, a hawk laguz. You were granted nothing except hatred from the people around you, and the sight and hearing of a hawk. He finds his throat growing dry as he reads the documentation of your past, and it isn't until he reaches the end of the yellowed pages that your words grow more lighthearted. But the folded letter at the very end causes him to pause as he sees two of them. One for Soren, and one for him. Ike slowly places Soren's letter back into the folds of the old pages, and closes the book. But upon opening your letter, he feels regret, relief, and the overwhelming love that you were holding back the entire time. After reading, he can't control the tightening in his chest as the sting of tears threaten to spill yet again. His grip on the letter tightens just slightly before he lets it drop into his lap. His hands desperately wipe away at the tears and he muttered, "Idiot." "I wish I could have told you I loved you." He took in a deep shaky breath, and he softly whispered, "I wish I did too."

[lady-inahime]

Book - The Princess and the Shadow

Chapter 8: Many secrets

Ina was taking pieces of the onigiri and eating distractedly, but then she realized that Masayasu was looking at her. She smiled at him and saw that he had finished eating his onigiri, he must be hungry. She realized he was still staring at her in silence, then she leaned toward him with an amused smile.

"What happened, Otsu?" she asked in a whisper. "Are you still hungry?"

She offered her onigiri to him and Masayasu took a small bite, he could not leave her hungry, she needed to eat well too. Ina smiled at the sight of those blue eyes still staring at her. Masayasu could stop her breathing looking at her like that.

"Chie..." Masayasu grinned, he did not get used to that name. "Have you ever wondered what you're going to do when you get to Ueda?" he asked in a low voice.

Ina got a little serious and nodded slightly as she placed another piece of onigiri on her lips. She chewed and then swallowed again nodding, looking at Masayasu.

"First let's rest, this trip is tiring for you."

"And for you. I know, I see." he spoke and saw a smile on Ina's lips.

"Yes, I want to rest better and then prepare for Ueda."

Ina stared into Masayasu's eyes. She could not speak much since Ryouma was around and he could hear, but she knew that Masayasu had understood what she meant.

"When we're alone I'll tell you my plan..." Ina whispered to him.

"Do you know them?" Masayasu asked.

"I saw them from a distance, from my room, I did not talk to them and they never saw me. But I know their faces and a little of their manners, my father described each of them very much for me."

Ina realized that there was something in those eyes, but she never knew what it was. Would that be a concern? Maybe Masayasu was worried about the mission or about her, but once they got to Ueda and they were alone they would talk better about it.

Ina took a hand from Masayasu and placed it on her leg and held it while he looked into her eyes, if there was concern she had to get it out of him, as shinobi was not good to be worrying about her all the time, she knew how to take care, defending herself, and she knew he was aware of it.

"Do not worry so much, you've already seen that I'm strong and full of energy."

She let a playful grin appear on her lips and Masayasu smiled at that. It was true she was surprisingly strong for a young woman like her and had a lot of energy, if she had been trained to be a kunoichi she would have been a magnificent kunoichi, she has agility, strength and above all great intelligence.

"Let me guess your thoughts." Ina smiled, playing with Masayasu. "You were thinking how could I be a good kunoichi. Oh no no no! I do not know how to make a bad face."

She started laughing and brought a hand to her lips to try to cover the laughter. Masayasu laughed at her, she was right, shinobi and kunoichi were reputed to be serious or bad looking. And it was good to see her laughing like that after the last night.

Masayasu touched Ina's face, she immediately stopped laughing and looked at him. She found those beautiful blue eyes looking at her. She liked those sudden touches of him, every time he touched her, even in her hand or face, she wanted more and more. She wanted his kisses ... wanted to wrap herself in his strong arms and be kissed by him...her heart was rampant with love for him, she had no more doubts.

Ina had promised that they would wake up early and would follow the way to the river as fast as they could, but now her heart asked to stay a little longer with Masayasu, but she decided to follow his idea and then she touched his hand and smiled fondly for him.

"We need to go, we need to at least get to the river today."

She spoke and saw Masayasu nodded. She knew he was worried because he still had a long way to the river, so it was likely they would have water at night, but not food, they would have to camp before the river.

Ina stood up elegantly, still holding Masayasu's hand, who stood up along with her, looking into her eyes. He saw her offer the rest of the onigiri, he accepted, he was already feeling better to eat and really needed that for a quicker recovery.

Ina watched Masayasu pick up the rest of her onigiri and eat. She looked around them, now by day she could see the whole field destroyed. There were few trees really, some crooked trees, others dried. Little grass was born there, perhaps some rebels and proud. The field practically had only ground, nothing else. But if they looked at the horizon they could see grass ahead and trees. That place was really destroyed...not, devastated by a battle.

She still felt the melancholy of that place, but the lost souls did not seem so present at that moment, perhaps because it was day. But she knew that place was devastated by ruthless people who did not mind killing innocents. And since it was still inside Mikawa, she feared that her father was involved in it.

Her eyes met Masayasu's eyes, immediately he understood that she was thinking about that place. He looked around as he sucked on his fingertips. He still smelled of death. Death of innocents who now wanted revenge.

He looked at her and touched her cheek gently. Ina quickly looked at Masayasu, her eyes were calm, she was loaded concern about Ieyasu being involved with those who killed the people who lived there. Maybe it was the time that served Nobunaga Oda, who knows?

"It's okay, let's get our horses ready before Ryouma starts saying we're delaying him." she smiled at Masayasu.

"He would not dare say that to me around."

Masayasu responded by taking Ina's trunk and leading to Haku to pin in him. Ina brought her hand to her lips to cover a smile as she heard him say it about Ryouma. Masayasu stared at Ryouma who was talking to Silver and then turned to put cell on the horse and adjust the trunk. Ina approached Haku and Masayasu and held her bow to pin in the horse's cell.

Masayasu could see her eyes fixed as she held the bow. He could see that she had good focus, maybe in the future he could teach some shinobi tricks to her, she was apt to learn. He smiled at this idea, it would be interesting to act as master for some time, even more so for her, it would be another way of being with her.

Ina noticed his gaze studying her, she quickly raised her own gaze to find his. She smiled gently. He seemed more curious about her, or maybe just enjoyed watching her while she was doing some task.

"Have you tied this trunk too much, or is that a new excuse to look at me?"

Ina joked with Masayasu allowing a giggle to slide out of her lips. He liked to hear the sound of her laughter, he liked to watch that happy face before him. More and more he enjoyed looking at her, looking at her beauty, her gentle and softly ways. She had his heart, maybe she knew it. He smiled with that thought going through his mind.

"When we get to an inn, we need to talk."

Masayasu spoke in a serious but there was softness and gentleness in his tone. Ina stopped laughing and looked at him, she realized that it was a serious matter he wanted to talk about, maybe it was about what was going on between them. Maybe he was wondering what to do when they returned to the castle. She also needed to talk to him about it, but when they were alone.

Ina nodded and saw Masayasu walking towards Mako and beginning to tie the cell into her. He was quiet, maybe what happened to him last night had scrambled with his deepest feelings. How many people has he killed on a mission? Her heart said that much, enough for him to fear those souls lost last night. Was he afraid? Maybe...maybe his pride will not let him say it, but maybe he was afraid last night.

Masayasu looked at Ina and saw her ride on Haku and caress his white hair. She was thoughtful and mysterious, he could see. Maybe full of secrets, or maybe she knew something for this mission that she still did not have time to share with him.

Ina looked at Masayasu and saw his blue eyes fixed on her, again he was studying her. What was he thinking? She was trying not to be so predictable with her feelings, she wanted to hide what she thought, since hiding what she felt was a little more complicated to do.

Ina heard Silver whinning and looked at Ryouma's direction and saw him ride Silver. The silver horse looked happy after a night's rest, it did not seem affected by the souls, indeed none of the horses, which might seem strange, since they must have felt, but perhaps the lost souls did not want to hurt any of the animals.

"Ready?"

Masayasu asked already rode on Mako. Ina looked at him and trotted to his side with a bright look and a smile full of mystery.

"I'm always ready for you." she winked at him.

Masayasu smiled at the sight of Ina's gesture. Yes, she was mysterious but seductive, she knew something he did not know, and he needed to find out before they reached Ueda.

Either way, it was good to continue traveling even after a bad night, even after bringing in his worst nightmares. So much a smell of death, he was no longer sure if it was the place or him that had this smell of death. He thought about it for a few seconds and then gave up thinking about it.

Masayasu looked at Ina again and began to gently trot with her straight ahead, Ryouma was coming back to start singing a strange song that neither of them knew.

Ina glanced over her shoulder at Ryouma and saw him singing happily sitting on his horse that seemed to shake his head listening to the music, it was a strange but fun to watch scene. She never heard that song, it could be from another area of Japan that she did not know, North or South, maybe.

"Where's this song from?" she asked.

Ryouma smiled charmingly at Ina and winked at her as Silver whined as if she were answering the music. Ryouma looked at his horse and then at Ina and laughed.

"It's old, I'm not sure where I heard it, but it's very old, maybe that's why you do not."

He allowed his best charming smile to appear on his lips. Ina saw the smile and laughed, nodding.

"Okay, Mr. Old Mercenary." she mocked and looked at Masayasu.

Masayasu looked at Ina and at once Ryouma sang the old song again. Ina smiled at Masayasu and looked at the horizon.

After spending the night in an unsettled place, they had now passed a place that although it had marks of which it was a road, there was still grass on both sides, a lawn a little dry because of the season, but it was still green .

Ina looked to her right side and saw trees spreading all the way, all with orange or red leaves. It was a beautiful view, maybe a mountain would be even more beautiful to see. A beautiful red colored all the way on the right side. A smile welled on her lips. It was good to see beauty after seeing that terrible place.

Ina closed her eyes for a few seconds and breathed in the clean air around her, it smelled of dry grass, but it was still pleasant to smell back. She opened her eyes and smiled a little. She felt free from the castle, free of rules, free of orders, free from being a princess. This sense of freedom was unique in her heart.

She looked at the left side and saw a lawn stretching out to find a meadow filled with rice fields. The view was beautiful, it should have several farmers in that area, so looking further up from the rice field she could see small wooden houses, men and women working with the crop, children running and playing near the rice field.

Her eyes softened with that view, it was beautiful, beautiful to see the people cultivate, to care for each other. She could see that there were several families, but all helped one another, the peasants could be very different from the nobles. The peasants valued family and food, the noble status and power.

Her eyes traced the way the children ran, one after another, in simple, dirty kimonos. She smiled at the simplicity. They were so happy with so little. And they was free to choose and love whomever they wished...

She met Masayasu's eyes looking at her and laughed at him. He was watching her most of the time and saying nothing.

"What happened? Is there something wrong with me?"

She asked and immediately looked at her hakama and then to her kimono and looked up to look at Masayasu with a confused look. She tilted her head a little to the side trying to figure out what was wrong.

"You're mysterious today." Masayasu replied.

Ina raised her eyebrows with a half smile. Slowly her half smile became a full smile and then a laugh. Masayasu raised an eyebrow without understanding the reason for the laughter. Ina lifted a hand to her lips to try to hide her laugh, but it was almost impossible.

Ryouma raised his eyebrows at the laughter, then smiled. She seemed happy with the shinobi, so no matter what the laughter was, he saw the young girl happy, that was all that mattered to him, since she liked to see the women around her happy.

"Mysterious, Otsu?" Ina repeated and tried to stop laughing at least for a moment.

"Maybe I have secrets, but I can share it with you, maybe when we get to the Inn I'll tell you anything you want to know about me, but I can not imagine what's mysterious in me. I have no secrets for you, and I will never have, just ask me what you wish to know....Otsu. "

Ina then smiled brightly at Masayasu. He saw that he smiled and then nodded a few times and looked at the horizon.

"Okay, so I'm going to look at the horizon." He spoke and Ina laughed again.

"I like it when you look at me, I like it when you think of me...then...yes...you can travel looking at me if you wish."

Ina spoke as she reached out to touch Masayasu's arm with her hand, their horses side by side. Masayasu looked at her and saw those beautiful violet eyes bright, still full of mystery and seduction. Or maybe he just saw her this way, since she had taken his heart completely.

Ina realized that as the three of them rode toward the path that led to the river, time and time Masayasu looked at her again. He must have sensed her concern or sadness amidst her thoughts of freedom. A freedom she did not quite have.

She wanted to sit with him and really talk about how she felt, but that was not right to do, he did not have to know she felt stuck to so many rules, maybe he knew, since he himself said he already protected other princesses.

Her eyes wandered over the plain, this mission was the best thing that ever happened to her. Her eyes darted across the horizon, and then they found Masayasu's face riding beside him. Now even better because she had HIM. She smiled fondly.

Her heart pounded so hard in his presence. She who always thought she would never know love. Intended to marry a man she does not love, she was now experiencing feelings she had never thought to feel. She wanted to experience all the feelings of love and desire beside him, as much as she could, after all she did not know what the future would be like. The future was uncertain.

The day had a strong sun, Ina wore a chip hat not to burn her skin, but it was not hot, it was cool, with a gentle wind touching her face from time to time. That trip had already had so many events, she was sure many others would come.

Masayasu looked at her and met her violet eyes. She looked serious, maybe she was thinking about her mission, or maybe thinking about them. Some moments he had been thinking of them, after all...What would they be after he returned to the castle? He knew, it was a forbidden love, impossible to exist. Their classes were different, her father would not let her stay with him.

He began to wonder if Ina had plans or ideas for it, all his ideas were risky, but if she really wanted to be by his side he would risk for her.

"Otsu."

Masayasu was taken out of his thoughts when he heard Ina's voice calling for him. He was silent looking at her, waiting for her to say what she wanted.

"I know what you're thinking, I'm trying to find solutions or even ideas for it, it's not that easy..."

Ina stared into his blue eyes. She knew he was thinking about their relationship. She felt her heart tighten as she thought about it.

"When we get to Inn I'll talk about my ideas."

She smiled warmly, trying to reassure him. She knew he must be worried, because the one who would lose the most would be him. He could be fired or... worse...

"I'll wait for this moment, because my ideas should not be better than yours, you know him better than I do."

Masayasu spoke still looking at Ina. They had a mission, but their minds also had this concern, after all they did not think they would fall in love, but it happened and they have to deal with the consequences of it. Hard consequences, because he was sure that even Ina bringing ideas to a conversation, nothing would be easy for them.

The trip continued at the same pace, the three rode in silence most of the time, only Ryouma who sometimes sang some music unknown to the other two. The sun began to get stronger, Masayasu realized that it must be around midday, he knew they would stop to rest for a while, but they had no food, the last one had eaten in the morning.

He looked at Ryouma, he seemed to never get tired of the trip, he was a strange man, sometimes he talked too much, sometimes he was mysterious. He still did not trust him. Ryouma looked at him with a wry smile. They stranger smile always seemed to hide something. What would it be?

Masayasu looked at Ina, she never complained of fatigue, the way she was trained not to make complaints was incredible, but that made him unable to tell if she was tired, hungry and sad about something.

The trip followed, they already rode in the middle of the afternoon, soon they would be in the place of the river. Masayasu looked around, the atmosphere was really calm, taking out some peasants who could sometimes see in the distance, looking to the right or left, there was no one else, only the three of them.

Masayasu saw that Ina did not ask to stop, maybe she was expecting him to say he was in pain and needed to stop, her strength and determination was great, but he was sure she was hungry like he.

Her violet eyes always seemed thoughtful, he did not know if it was because they were approaching Ueda and she was beginning to think about the plan, or if she was just tired and did not admit it.

He quickly heard the sound of Silver's hooves approaching and turned the face to watch Ryouma approach Ina.

"Milady!"

He spoke to her and her violet eyes met his, she smiled gently, and then she was surprised when she saw him hold an apple. For a moment she wondered whether she should accept it or not.

"Silver wants to share his lunch with you." he smiled charmingly at her and then winked.

Ina was surprised by this gesture and then picked up the apple and bowed her head to Silver.

"Thank you, Silver, you're really adorable!"

As she said this she saw the silver horse neighing and nodding proudly, earning a laugh from her. Masayasu looked toward Silver and then to Ryouma, he was very friendly with Ina. Why? When he started to be very friendly and helpful to Ina, he always suspected something. He always suspected Ryouma.

"You too, dear shinobi!"

Ryouma threw an apple at Masayasu who instinctively grabbed with his left hand and stared at Ryouma for some time in silence, his gesture slightly suppressed him, but he did not want to show it to the mercenary.

"Thank you, Ryouma."

Ryouma took another apple from his bag and bit, winking at Masayasu.

"You're welcome, handsome!" He quickly looked at Ina and smiled at her. "Eat, Milady!"

Ina looked at Ryouma and smiled warmly. He had a good heart, even though he was a mercenary, she had to believe that. Why would he help her if he did not have a good heart? She then nodded and bit the apple.

"We have a few more hours from here to the river, we should arrive in two hours..." Ryouma pointed toward the path. "But I do not think it would be nice to cross. The nearest village is still a few more hours, it would not be good to ride wet clothes while it is darkening."

Ryouma spoke with his mouth full as he chewed the apple. Masayasu listened to the mercenary and really agreed with him, it would not be good for Ina to ride the night of hakama wet, she could get sick. But he would have to find food for her.

"I agree, it's dangerous, and we're going to make the most of what we get before the river, tomorrow we'll be in Ueda, right?"

He glanced at Ina as if wishing to say that they were two votes against one. Ina took a bite of the apple as her eyes met from Masayasu staring at her, quickly realizing that he was meaning that she had lost, that even if she wanted to cross the river late in the afternoon, it would be two votes against one. She smiled at him and shrugged.

"Okay, you win, we'll rest on the river and cross tomorrow morning, but we do not have food, that can be a problem at night."

She bit the apple and looked at Ryouma's face and then at Masayasu with a look of serenity, but she was worried about the food they needed, or tomorrow they would be weak to ride.

Ryouma let a broad smile appear on his lips as if he knew something that Ina and Masayasu did not know. Masayasu raised an eyebrow, he did not like to see that silly smile, he knew that Ryouma was hiding something.

"Say it, mercenary!" he grumbled.

Ryouma laughed, tossing his head back. Ina's eyes widened as she bit at the apple, Ryouma's joy showed that he was being even more ironic, she had no doubt about it.

The mercenary looked at Masayasu and winked at him. "There are fish in the lake, I can get some, I have many skills, dear shinobi."

Ryouma smiled proudly and Masayasu just stared at him seriously. Then he bit the apple and looked forward as if he was not impressed, or was not interested in knowing about his abilities.

Ryouma pretended an offended look, as if Masayasu's disinterest had really upset him, but then a smile appeared on his lips and Ina realized it. For the first time she did not consider it as irony, she considered that he was hiding something. Maybe he was lying about something.

She looked forward and thought about it, if he was hiding something, if he had been lying about it, what could it be? He was a mercenary and even if he had not confirmed it was obvious by his tattoo. What could it be?

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Could he be a spy? Was Masayasu right to be suspicious of him? Not thinking that he would steal them, but hid something from them. He would talk to Masayasu about it when Ryouma went to get the fish in the river.

After eating the only thing they had as food, apples, they followed the path. The sun began to subside, the temperature too, and Ina tossed her chip hat back, staying on her back. Her quiver was attached to the horse with the bow.

Masayasu put his hand on the wound, Ina realized and looked at his face, raising an eyebrow as if to start censoring because he did not say anything. He quickly looked at her and looked at his wound and then at her again.

"It started to hurt now, I think it's because I've been sitting all day, we have not taken any breaks." he said.

"You and I are going to walk a little."

Ina pulled the reins and stopped Haku, who looked tired and hungry. Masayasu did the same with Mako and stepped off the brown horse carefully.

Ina came down from Haru and held his reins and began to walk next to Masayasu. Each pulling his horse. Ryouma next looked at them and smiled, as always Ina stayed with Masayasu, no matter what, this was what he called true love.

Ryouma wanted to give some privacy to the lovebirds, sometimes he could see in Ina's eyes that she wished she was with Masayasu, but his presence disturbed her ideas. He smiled slightly to himself and began to ride forward.

Ina realized that he began to ride further, and that was her chance. She grabbed Masayasu's hand, which looked at her calmly. He saw in her gaze that she wanted to talk about something. He saw her looking at Ryouma and then at him, he could understand that it was about him.

"What is it?" Masayasu asked in a whisper.

"I feel secrets there." she whispered to him.

Masayasu looked at Ryouma at once. He was always suspicious, if Ina started to suspect maybe he was right from the start. But what would it be? Maybe he was a spy. But from whom?

"He's lying about something." Inahime whispered.

Masayasu immediately looked at her, a strange gleam in his gaze acted, she knew at that moment that he would act as shinobi that night to discover the lies Ryouma's lies and secrets. She was right about that, but Ryouma's gesture showed that she was right about distrusting him.

The sunset came, Ina looked up at the sky and Masayasu looked at her immediately, seeing her smile, she liked the sunset, he needed to remember it for some special moment. A faint smile and he saw her look at him affectionately. Even with so much concern in mind she is very beautiful, she was even more beautiful in the face of the sunset, or perhaps he had a very soft heart.

As Ina walked holding Masayasu's hand they began to see the river ahead, a cheerful smile sprouted to Ina's lips, they were finally almost in Ueda, her heart filled with happiness at the thought that another night in Mikawa and the next night would be in Ueda.

Her eyes searched Masayasu's eyes, he smiled at her as he met her eyes, he saw that she was happy to finally get to the river, he just hoped it was not Ryouma's trick and found something bad in that place.

The sound of river water began to fill the atmosphere, the river was strong in that part, surely they should find a quieter place to cross, and he hoped that Ryouma really knew where the quieter, shallowest place to cross was. He saw Ryouma dismount from Silver and saw him looking back with a smile.

"We're coming from the place I said, a little further!"

Masayasu frowned at Ryouma, he still had not forgotten what he had done last night, taken Inahime and him to a place full of vengeful souls, he was already prepared to attack Ryouma had he taken them both into an ambush .

He pressed Ina's hand a little and she looked quickly at him a little surprised, for a moment she did not understand but felt his hand cold when she felt if his hand was cold was because he was very calm and prepared to attack case something bad was going to happen.

Ina watched Masayasu's face, he was focused on Ryouma, with each step and gesture of him, his shinobi instinct was alert, and she should be alert as well. She did not know that region, never traveled that way, it could be an ambush.

Then Masayasu stopped and Ina looked forward and saw Ryouma standing with a wry smile, looking at them both. Her heart pounded. She saw a strange gleam in his gaze, something she had never seen before and in his smile there was something mysterious. No! He would betray Masayasu and her!

Ina thought sadly that all this time she had trusted Ryouma, but she must have suspected that he might not want to steal, but maybe it was worse. So many times she heard that there were bands that kidnapped women and sold to a brothel. This was terrible, but if he were that kind of man he would have to fight her, and she was prepared to commit seppuku before being taken to such a place.

This time she would not hold Masayasu, she could not, if Ryouma had betrayed their trust there would be nothing for her to do, except to let Masayasu kill him. She knew he wanted this from the start, she looked at Masayasu and then back at Ryouma.

She looked into those bright eyes, Ryouma hid something, and he hid it well all this time. What would it be? She looked around to see if more men would appear, but she heard no other sound but just the river.

"So you're going to betray us?"

Masayasu asked huskily. His gaze was cold on Ryouma, his face never deceived him, from the first moment he knew there were secrets, he always smelled of betrayal.

Ryouma let out an ironic laugh and opened his arms and looked around quickly, then at Masayasu and Ina. He seemed to be showing his true face now, Ina could see that.

"How do you see we're alone. And Milady...or should I call you Inahime?"

His eyes fixed on the beautiful face of the young girl, who opened her eyes wide. Masayasu had not called her from Inahime at any point in the journey, how did Ryouma know her name? Not! He was a spy! Of the Sanada Clan? Maybe!

Masayasu frowned immediately and looked at Ryouma more coldly, Ina could feel his hand cold like death. She could tell he was ready to kill, and she knew he would if he had to. Depending on what Ryouma will say now, surely Masayasu would not give him another chance, and she had to accept his decision, after all, betrayal was not something she approved of in any way.

"I know you will consider this betrayal." Ryouma shrugged and sighed, putting his hand on his forehead. "I already knew who you two were since I joined you."

Ryouma saw Masayasu take a step forward and then he smiled wryly.

"Who are you, damn you?" Masayasu growled. He would not let that man cheat again, play with him and Ina.

"Calm down, dear shinobi, I know you were right to mistrust me, but I really did not want all of this to go that way."

He looked at Ina and saw that she was not disappointed, maybe she had suspected him after last night, he was not sure, but he needed to explain everything fast or the shinobi would kill him.

"Ieyasu-dono hired me to be your guide... He always hires me to get information for him. I've been working for him for some time, Milady." he can see her surprised eyes. "He hired me to report on the trip, he was worried about you."

"What?" Ina frowned at Ryouma. Did not her father trust her? Was that it? Report the trip? She could do it when she came back!

Ryouma quickly looked at Masayasu before the shinobi could think Ieyasu did not trust him or trust his skills.

"I must add that has not to do with confidence. He just did not want you having problems with bandits and as I know they all have that facilitate finding ways not to deal with it."

He put a hand on the back of his neck and before Masayasu spoke, he made a gesture with his hand for him to wait a little.

"I just did not expect us to be attacked in the forest, but... how can you see or brought you down a path where we have no more problems with attacks!" He smiled proudly.

Ina was understanding the subject, Ryouma had been hired for her father to be their guide, but why did not he just say that before? That would have prevented so much misunderstanding and mistrust.

"Why did not you say anything about it? Is there anything else you're not saying? Report the trip? Or report what happens to me?"

Ina asked in a serious tone and Masayasu looked at her. She was distrusting of Ryouma hiding anything more about the service he did to her father. She knew Ieyasu better, maybe she knew what he might be hiding.

Ryouma looked directly into Inahime's eyes and a faint smile appeared on his lips, she knew her father well he even imagined what she might be thinking. As Ieyasu said, he should be careful because both Ina and Masayasu were intelligent and could realize his mission if he did not have a convincing story.

"Yes, I have a mission to report everything that happens to you, Milady, and I see many things have happened between you and the handsome man, but...."

He paused and put his hands on his hips and met Masayasu's blue eyes and smiled friendly at him, as if the shinobi was a close friend of his.

"I'm not going to say anything about the two of you. I'm going to pretend I do not know anything, it's not fair, and I see you two really love each other."

He smiled at Masayasu again, though the shinobi stared at him coolly, not moving a muscle of his face, and then he looked at Ina and saw a cheerful smile on her lips and eyes bright with happiness. He thought he'd done the right thing, open up with them and talk about his mission, he could see that it took weight from Ina's heart and that made him smile.

"I could not follow you on this mission without saying that I was here as your father's spy. I liked you, Milady and my dear shinobi, I do not want to misunderstand you."

He shrugged, then smiled charmingly. Masayasu looked at him seriously. He was not sure if he could trust Ryouma's words, now that he knew he worked for Ieyasu he had his life in hand, he could just tell what happened between him and Ina and he would surely be dead.

Masayasu squeezed Ina's hand a little and she immediately looked at him, meeting his blue eyes. She saw that he still did not trust Ryouma, and she understood the reason immediately. Her father. If he had known about the two, he could kill Masayasu.

"Can we talk to each other alone, Inahime?" He asked and then saw Ryouma smile at them.

"I promised fish for tonight. I'll do a bonfire and catch the fish while you talk."

Ryouma bowed exaggeratedly and pointed toward the river, then turned and walked away from the couple, fetching fallen branches to prepare a fire. Masayasu stared at him and waited for him to push away as much as he could not possibly hear.

His blue eyes met Ina's violet eyes, though he did not usually show how he actually thought or felt through his gaze, she could see the worry growing.

"I do not know if I can trust him. He has my life in his hands. As shinobi I need to kill him."

He spoke in a low tone and Ina smiled softly as she touched Masayasu's face with affection. She knew that this would be the subject of the conversation and needed to find the right words for him to believe that he would be all right.

"No. He will not betray our trust again. He will not do it. If he knows my father knows what he would do to you, he will not say anything about us..."

Her voice was filled with affection, she did not want Masayasu to think he was at a disadvantage, that was not true, and she knew it was terrible for a shinobi. She released Haku's reins and cupped Masayasu's face with both hands.

"Look at my eyes..."

She asked and quickly Masayasu looked into her eyes, he saw that she was calm, confident that Ryouma would not do anything against him. He did not understand how she could trust Ryouma after he'd said he was working for her father all along. He could say anything about the trip, about them.

"You trust me, right?" Ina asked.

"You're the only person I trust in this life." he replied.

An enlightened smile appeared on Ina's lips and she brought her face close to his and kissed his lips gently, closing her eyes slowly. Masayasu was already missing her lips....of her kisses...He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close to his body and gave a soft kiss to her lips, and another kiss.

Ina smiled after the kiss and opened her eyes slowly and let their gaze meet softly.

"Then believe me, he will not do anything. He really likes you and me. I'm sure he wants to win our friendship, so he decided to tell the truth."

She spoke softly, Masayasu watched her lips move as she spoke, he could not relax, he could not stop thinking about it, it was his nature as shinobi.

"I will not let anything bad happen to you, Masayasu-sama...the life brought you to me, I will not lose you to death. I am with you, today, tomorrow and forever..."

Ina whispered and then a warm smile covered her lips in a way that made Masayasu's heart beat a little louder. She knew how to awaken every feeling in him. She knew how to show the way of love and passion. He always wanted to be by her side, no matter how.

Masayasu trusted Ina, but he still did not trust Ryouma, and maybe he would never trust, but for now he would accept Ina's words, his focus was on the mission they would have when he came to Ueda.

He touched her face with the back of his hand and rubbed his hand a few times on her cheek as he looked into her eyes, she looked fine with it, but he did not, he wished he was with her, but he feared dying for it.

This was the first time he'd felt happy in years, he did not want to lose it to death, he wanted more time with her, to enjoy moments that he never had. She was provided moments he never had in his life, as shinobi could not love, it could weaken his heart. But she did not weaken him, she gave strength to his heart, a desire to live to be with her.

But for all the desire he felt to be with her, they needed to avoid showing their feelings for each other in front of strangers, although Ina had done that, she always expected them to be alone, or in front of Ryouma, as if she did not care with his opinion. Maybe she was right.

"When we get to Ueda we will keep our disguises and be careful not to distrust us. I do not want anything to reach your father's ears, not before we plan something."

Masayasu continued to rub Ina's cheek and smiled a little at her as he watched her nod with a tender smile. She was so sweet and careful with him that many times he wondered if he deserved it.

He turned away looking at her, so many revelations today and so much to think about. He took a few steps back still without losing her eyes, and then took the Haku and Mako's reins and pulled them both close to what would be their camp, where Ryouma had made a bonfire.

Ina looked at Masayasu, she knew that he feared dying, but she would not let her father touch him, he was not to blame for falling in love with her, no one can avoid it, it's something that happens to the heart and it happened between them.

Ina looked at Ryouma inside the river, he had pulled his pants up to his knee and was in a part that looked shallow, he was leaning down watching something in the water, she figured it was a fish.

And in a heartbeat she saw that they quickly grab something in the water with their hands and lead to show a fish. He was skilled at it, as he'd said. Maybe he had many hidden abilities. Would he be trusted to be a part of this mission?

She saw Ryouma coming out of the river and approaching Masayasu, who was crouched beside the bonfire preparing a steak for the fish. Ryouma seemed proud to show his fish to Masayasu, who looked at him without showing any emotion. Ryouma just laughed at his lack of expression and handed the fish to Masayasu to clean.

Ina smiled a little at the scene, it seemed a friendly moment if she did not see Masayasu's mistrust. Even though she had known him a few days ago she had realized that he would never trust Ryouma, today his words confirmed this when he said she was the only person he trusted. She needed to think of a way to avoid misunderstanding or mistrust, she needed to avoid Masayasu's bad mood.

She silently approached Masayasu and saw that he had a kunai wiping the fish on a rock. He lifted his gaze as she approached, his fringe falling a little over his face. She came up behind him and knelt behind him.

Masayasu was thinking about what she intended with it, then looked over his shoulder and she put his fringe behind his ear so as not to bother while he cleaned the fish. Her eyes were filled with affection for him, he could see that. He watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck for a hug.

He could feel her strong hold from behind, she wanted to comfort him anyway, he knew the reason and knew she would be worried about him if he did not better his expression. Maybe he was in a bad mood again.

Ina brought her lips to his ear and Masayasu could feel her warm breath, that made his eyes wish to close, but he should not, he had to keep alert, but he could feel her lips next to his ear and her soft voice.

"I am yours, forever....never forget this...no matter the obstacles, I am yours...."

Masayasu heard that whisper and he smiled. It was a small but gentle smile. Her words seemed to have touched where she wanted to touch, in his heart. She was his, no matter the obstacles. And that was all he needed to know.

[lady-inahime]

Chapter 22: Princess secrets

Ina was taking pieces of the onigiri and eating distractedly, but then she realized that Masayasu was looking at her. She smiled at him and saw that he had finished eating his onigiri, he must be hungry. She realized he was still staring at her in silence, then she leaned toward him with an amused smile.

"What happened, Otsu?" she asked in a whisper. "Are you still hungry?"

She offered her onigiri to him and Masayasu took a small bite, he could not leave her hungry, she needed to eat well too. Ina smiled at the sight of those blue eyes still staring at her. Masayasu could stop her breathing looking at her like that.

"Chie..." Masayasu grinned, he did not get used to that name. "Have you ever wondered what you're going to do when you get to Ueda?" he asked in a low voice.

Ina got a little serious and nodded slightly as she placed another piece of onigiri on her lips. She chewed and then swallowed again nodding, looking at Masayasu.

"First let's rest, this trip is tiring for you."

"And for you. I know, I see." he spoke and saw a smile on Ina's lips.

"Yes, I want to rest better and then prepare for Ueda."

Ina stared into Masayasu's eyes. She could not speak much since Ryouma was around and he could hear, but she knew that Masayasu had understood what she meant.

"When we're alone I'll tell you my plan..." Ina whispered to him.

"Do you know them?" Masayasu asked.

"I saw them from a distance, from my room, I did not talk to them and they never saw me. But I know their faces and a little of their manners, my father described each of them very much for me."

Ina realized that there was something in those eyes, but she never knew what it was. Would that be a concern? Maybe Masayasu was worried about the mission or about her, but once they got to Ueda and they were alone they would talk better about it.

Ina took a hand from Masayasu and placed it on her leg and held it while he looked into her eyes, if there was concern she had to get it out of him, as shinobi was not good to be worrying about her all the time, she knew how to take care, defending herself, and she knew he was aware of it.

"Do not worry so much, you've already seen that I'm strong and full of energy."

She let a playful grin appear on her lips and Masayasu smiled at that. It was true she was surprisingly strong for a young woman like her and had a lot of energy, if she had been trained to be a kunoichi she would have been a magnificent kunoichi, she has agility, strength and above all great intelligence.

"Let me guess your thoughts." Ina smiled, playing with Masayasu. "You were thinking how could I be a good kunoichi. Oh no no no! I do not know how to make a bad face."

She started laughing and brought a hand to her lips to try to cover the laughter. Masayasu laughed at her, she was right, shinobi and kunoichi were reputed to be serious or bad looking. And it was good to see her laughing like that after the last night.

Masayasu touched Ina's face, she immediately stopped laughing and looked at him. She found those beautiful blue eyes looking at her. She liked those sudden touches of him, every time he touched her, even in her hand or face, she wanted more and more. She wanted his kisses ... wanted to wrap herself in his strong arms and be kissed by him...her heart was rampant with love for him, she had no more doubts.

Ina had promised that they would wake up early and would follow the way to the river as fast as they could, but now her heart asked to stay a little longer with Masayasu, but she decided to follow his idea and then she touched his hand and smiled fondly for him.

"We need to go, we need to at least get to the river today."

She spoke and saw Masayasu nodded. She knew he was worried because he still had a long way to the river, so it was likely they would have water at night, but not food, they would have to camp before the river.

Ina stood up elegantly, still holding Masayasu's hand, who stood up along with her, looking into her eyes. He saw her offer the rest of the onigiri, he accepted, he was already feeling better to eat and really needed that for a quicker recovery.

Ina watched Masayasu pick up the rest of her onigiri and eat. She looked around them, now by day she could see the whole field destroyed. There were few trees really, some crooked trees, others dried. Little grass was born there, perhaps some rebels and proud. The field practically had only ground, nothing else. But if they looked at the horizon they could see grass ahead and trees. That place was really destroyed...not, devastated by a battle.

She still felt the melancholy of that place, but the lost souls did not seem so present at that moment, perhaps because it was day. But she knew that place was devastated by ruthless people who did not mind killing innocents. And since it was still inside Mikawa, she feared that her father was involved in it.

Her eyes met Masayasu's eyes, immediately he understood that she was thinking about that place. He looked around as he sucked on his fingertips. He still smelled of death. Death of innocents who now wanted revenge.

He looked at her and touched her cheek gently. Ina quickly looked at Masayasu, her eyes were calm, she was loaded concern about Ieyasu being involved with those who killed the people who lived there. Maybe it was the time that served Nobunaga Oda, who knows?

"It's okay, let's get our horses ready before Ryouma starts saying we're delaying him." she smiled at Masayasu.

"He would not dare say that to me around."

Masayasu responded by taking Ina's trunk and leading to Haku to pin in him. Ina brought her hand to her lips to cover a smile as she heard him say it about Ryouma. Masayasu stared at Ryouma who was talking to Silver and then turned to put cell on the horse and adjust the trunk. Ina approached Haku and Masayasu and held her bow to pin in the horse's cell.

Masayasu could see her eyes fixed as she held the bow. He could see that she had good focus, maybe in the future he could teach some shinobi tricks to her, she was apt to learn. He smiled at this idea, it would be interesting to act as master for some time, even more so for her, it would be another way of being with her.

Ina noticed his gaze studying her, she quickly raised her own gaze to find his. She smiled gently. He seemed more curious about her, or maybe just enjoyed watching her while she was doing some task.

"Have you tied this trunk too much, or is that a new excuse to look at me?"

Ina joked with Masayasu allowing a giggle to slide out of her lips. He liked to hear the sound of her laughter, he liked to watch that happy face before him. More and more he enjoyed looking at her, looking at her beauty, her gentle and softly ways. She had his heart, maybe she knew it. He smiled with that thought going through his mind.

"When we get to an inn, we need to talk."

Masayasu spoke in a serious but there was softness and gentleness in his tone. Ina stopped laughing and looked at him, she realized that it was a serious matter he wanted to talk about, maybe it was about what was going on between them. Maybe he was wondering what to do when they returned to the castle. She also needed to talk to him about it, but when they were alone.

Ina nodded and saw Masayasu walking towards Mako and beginning to tie the cell into her. He was quiet, maybe what happened to him last night had scrambled with his deepest feelings. How many people has he killed on a mission? Her heart said that much, enough for him to fear those souls lost last night. Was he afraid? Maybe...maybe his pride will not let him say it, but maybe he was afraid last night.

Masayasu looked at Ina and saw her ride on Haku and caress his white hair. She was thoughtful and mysterious, he could see. Maybe full of secrets, or maybe she knew something for this mission that she still did not have time to share with him.

Ina looked at Masayasu and saw his blue eyes fixed on her, again he was studying her. What was he thinking? She was trying not to be so predictable with her feelings, she wanted to hide what she thought, since hiding what she felt was a little more complicated to do.

Ina heard Silver whinning and looked at Ryouma's direction and saw him ride Silver. The silver horse looked happy after a night's rest, it did not seem affected by the souls, indeed none of the horses, which might seem strange, since they must have felt, but perhaps the lost souls did not want to hurt any of the animals.

"Ready?"

Masayasu asked already rode on Mako. Ina looked at him and trotted to his side with a bright look and a smile full of mystery.

"I'm always ready for you." she winked at him.

Masayasu smiled at the sight of Ina's gesture. Yes, she was mysterious but seductive, she knew something he did not know, and he needed to find out before they reached Ueda.

Either way, it was good to continue traveling even after a bad night, even after bringing in his worst nightmares. So much a smell of death, he was no longer sure if it was the place or him that had this smell of death. He thought about it for a few seconds and then gave up thinking about it.

Masayasu looked at Ina again and began to gently trot with her straight ahead, Ryouma was coming back to start singing a strange song that neither of them knew.

Ina glanced over her shoulder at Ryouma and saw him singing happily sitting on his horse that seemed to shake his head listening to the music, it was a strange but fun to watch scene. She never heard that song, it could be from another area of Japan that she did not know, North or South, maybe.

"Where's this song from?" she asked.

Ryouma smiled charmingly at Ina and winked at her as Silver whined as if she were answering the music. Ryouma looked at his horse and then at Ina and laughed.

"It's old, I'm not sure where I heard it, but it's very old, maybe that's why you do not."

He allowed his best charming smile to appear on his lips. Ina saw the smile and laughed, nodding.

"Okay, Mr. Old Mercenary." she mocked and looked at Masayasu.

Masayasu looked at Ina and at once Ryouma sang the old song again. Ina smiled at Masayasu and looked at the horizon.

After spending the night in an unsettled place, they had now passed a place that although it had marks of which it was a road, there was still grass on both sides, a lawn a little dry because of the season, but it was still green .

Ina looked to her right side and saw trees spreading all the way, all with orange or red leaves. It was a beautiful view, maybe a mountain would be even more beautiful to see. A beautiful red colored all the way on the right side. A smile welled on her lips. It was good to see beauty after seeing that terrible place.

Ina closed her eyes for a few seconds and breathed in the clean air around her, it smelled of dry grass, but it was still pleasant to smell back. She opened her eyes and smiled a little. She felt free from the castle, free of rules, free of orders, free from being a princess. This sense of freedom was unique in her heart.

She looked at the left side and saw a lawn stretching out to find a meadow filled with rice fields. The view was beautiful, it should have several farmers in that area, so looking further up from the rice field she could see small wooden houses, men and women working with the crop, children running and playing near the rice field.

Her eyes softened with that view, it was beautiful, beautiful to see the people cultivate, to care for each other. She could see that there were several families, but all helped one another, the peasants could be very different from the nobles. The peasants valued family and food, the noble status and power.

Her eyes traced the way the children ran, one after another, in simple, dirty kimonos. She smiled at the simplicity. They were so happy with so little. And they was free to choose and love whomever they wished...

She met Masayasu's eyes looking at her and laughed at him. He was watching her most of the time and saying nothing.

"What happened? Is there something wrong with me?"

She asked and immediately looked at her hakama and then to her kimono and looked up to look at Masayasu with a confused look. She tilted her head a little to the side trying to figure out what was wrong.

"You're mysterious today." Masayasu replied.

Ina raised her eyebrows with a half smile. Slowly her half smile became a full smile and then a laugh. Masayasu raised an eyebrow without understanding the reason for the laughter. Ina lifted a hand to her lips to try to hide her laugh, but it was almost impossible.

Ryouma raised his eyebrows at the laughter, then smiled. She seemed happy with the shinobi, so no matter what the laughter was, he saw the young girl happy, that was all that mattered to him, since she liked to see the women around her happy.

"Mysterious, Otsu?" Ina repeated and tried to stop laughing at least for a moment.

"Maybe I have secrets, but I can share it with you, maybe when we get to the Inn I'll tell you anything you want to know about me, but I can not imagine what's mysterious in me. I have no secrets for you, and I will never have, just ask me what you wish to know....Otsu. "

Ina then smiled brightly at Masayasu. He saw that he smiled and then nodded a few times and looked at the horizon.

"Okay, so I'm going to look at the horizon." He spoke and Ina laughed again.

"I like it when you look at me, I like it when you think of me...then...yes...you can travel looking at me if you wish."

Ina spoke as she reached out to touch Masayasu's arm with her hand, their horses side by side. Masayasu looked at her and saw those beautiful violet eyes bright, still full of mystery and seduction. Or maybe he just saw her this way, since she had taken his heart completely.