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staycalmandhugaclone · 1 month ago

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Fool's Errand Pt 12

Part (12) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Eh. Decided to go ahead and break it up. Soooo there'll be one more chapter after this to finish this all up.

Warnings: Reference to medical procedures, panic, eye injuries, profanity, blood, mild violence, guilt

WC: 4,234

When wars first begin, there’s a sense of invincibility that drives society forward with resolute conviction. Tempers are freshly stoked, confidence is dangerously high, and the thought of defeat is rejected with little more than passing thoughts. That confidence lends to impulsive and hasty decisions beneath the false hope for a quick and definitive victory, and while that often sees those first few months filled with seemingly unending supplies and warriors and weapons, once that initial surge fades, so to do the funds that enabled it. But the soldiers remain.

Whether boasting the highest quality armor and munitions or left with mere scraps, those forced to fight have no choice but to find a way to make do all the same. Either they adapt or they lose. They die. But more than that, failure means the death of their brothers. It means letting the war drag on even longer, and I don’t doubt that that is a far more powerful motivator to the clones than any loyalty to a people who regard them as faceless machines or to some governing body who tallies their deaths as mere numbers.

Tech would balk at anyone referring to the Marauder as ‘scrap,’ but the simple fact remained that it was meant to be an attack shuttle. The elegant crests of its fins were designed for rapid, ruthless assaults more akin to guerilla warfare, not the grueling battles it’s been forced to endure, but that small vessel was all these men had. The interior was barely the size of a small apartment, and not only had the five of them figured out a way to make it a home, they’d made room for me as well, and, still, they prevailed through mission after mission, often crammed together for days of interspace travel without complaint. Well, without much complaint.

The room that had become their medbay was barely large enough for a couple of beds to lie toe-to-toe. This shuttle wasn’t originally intended to even have a medbay. Any wounded it carried were assumed to be on-board only long enough to reach a proper facility. Reality had proven far less ideal.

I could hear Crosshair’s broken, shuttering breaths hiss through clenched teeth from across the ship as I wrenched my mattress from the metal frame and shoved it into the corner. The drugs I’d given him offered some manner of relief, but whether that relief was in truly easing the pain or simply robbed his mind of the clarity to remember it, I couldn’t say, nor could I let the doubt and guilt of his suffering distract me.

Before the cot had even settled, I was tearing through the cabinets lining the far wall, shoving armfuls of bacta and gauze onto the counters before reaching back for saline bags and IV ports. This room wasn’t meant for multiple patients. This ship wasn’t meant for multiple patients, but I needed them both in here, needed to be able to watch their chests rise and fall lest the panic of not knowing keep me darting from room to room.

Fueled with that fear, I ripped Hunter’s cot from his bed and dragged it back with me, some unrelenting, subconscious thought screaming that he’d be uncomfortable in anyone else’s. It wouldn’t smell right to him; wouldn’t feel right. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t smell; that he wasn’t likely to even wake before we rendezvoused with a flag ship; that he’d never know. I knew he’d only be comfortable in his bed, so his was the mattress I pilfered from the bunkroom to set beside mine before finally letting myself race back to the main cabin.

That young girl followed me step by step, wide eyes studying my every movement, though she managed to never get in the way. Later, I’d wonder over the return of that innocent curiosity despite the nightmare she’d just witnessed, the nightmares she’d suffered firsthand. Later, I’d marvel at how readily she allowed that curiosity to drive her rather than remain cowering as far from the danger and noise and violence as she could get. Later, I’d hate myself for my failure to encourage that curiosity, for not offering some words of reassurance and praise, but my focus was already overwhelmed, veins thrumming with an anxiety that screamed at me to go faster, think harder, shouting that I’d miss something vital and it would be my men who’d pay the price.

Crosshair’s knees were curled listlessly to his chest, torso still rocking with unsteady, strangled gasps as one hand clutched the grate beneath him while the other remained flush against his face, palm pressed firmly to the bandaging over his eyes for what façade of relief that pressure might offer. Before I let myself run to him, my gaze dropped to the monitor beside Hunter, nearly holding my breath as I studied the rhythmic dance illustrating a heartbeat I still struggled to believe was real.

Hand trembling, I yielded beneath that terrified doubt for just a moment, movements shaky as I kneeled between them and reached once more for Hunter’s neck, cursing the way my fingers trembled too violently to feel anything for several seconds, but it was there: that steady thum… thum… thum. Finally, I felt myself inhale, and the euphoria of air filling my lungs lifted a haze I only had the clarity to even recognize once it was gone.

Reassured that Hunter was stable, I turned back to the still weakly writhing sniper, carefully reaching out to touch his shoulder, and my heart sank at how sharply he flinched from me.

“Easy, Cross; it’s me.” I murmured, hand slowly tracing the rigid tendons stretching up toward his neck. That tension didn’t leave him, but he no longer tried to find enough strength to pull away from me. “I’m going to help you to the medbay, okay? Then we’ll get something stronger in you to make the pain stop.” If he heard me, he offered no response, halting breaths still causing his entire body to shake. “Let’s get some of this armor off, first.”

Taut muscles and dazed thoughts left him far from helpful as I tried to gently wrestle him free of the heavy plastoid. His arms were easy enough to strip, but when I began lifting the cuirass free, he reacted violently, lashing out with whatever limb was nearest to me, deaf to my every reassuring murmur and softly spoken promise as whatever nightmares haunting the darkness around him left him panicking in a way my words simply couldn’t breech.

“Crosshair, I know you’re scared, but – ngh! – I… I need you to try to b-breathe.” I had to fight to keep the strain from my voice, but the sudden impact of his elbow to my hip nearly sent me flying, and, panting, I had to take a moment to collect myself. I knew how thoroughly the meds would rob him of a coherency already ruined by the feral panic of suffering beneath such crippling pain for so long, and I could only guess toward the terror of finding himself trapped in a darkness he couldn’t escape; how alone and exposed and defenseless he surely felt upon being so ruthlessly robbed of his sight, but I had to find some way to get through to him before he hurt himself… or me…

“Alright… Cross? Crosshair, it’s just me, baby. It’s -” Before my name could more than rest atop my tongue, he kicked out at me, his heel just catching my stomach with enough force to wrench the air from my lungs, body crashing back with a deafening crack as my head bounced off the hard floor. Some part of me registered a frightened gasp, and I hated the guilt that tiny sound filled me with. Should have been faster… Should have thought ahead and moved the girl somewhere safe, somewhere far away from what wretched truths normally lay hidden behind medbay doors and sterile sheets and promises that loved ones would be fine absent word of the agony they’d suffer first.

Jaw straining open in some futile effort to draw air into lungs burning with suffocation despite how uselessly my diaphragm sputtered beneath my every effort to breathe, I forced myself to move, limbs scrambling for enough purchase to jerk an elbow beneath me, gaze first flickering to the girl watching us with wide eyes, wincing at the way her body tucked into the corner between a crash couch and the far wall, before shifting back to Crosshair. She was safe… but, Maker, there was no hope of her coming out of this unscarred…

Once more… I’d try just once more to reach him before resorting to simply sedating him…

“Cross?” I cringed at the faint wheeze distorting my voice, but it was clear he hadn’t heard me anyway, not really. He sat rolled back on a hip, leg straining to push himself up amidst halfhearted attempts to get a foot beneath him, free hand now held out between us in a threatening fist while the other continued burring against his eyes, chest bucking with rapid, shallow gasps, and I wondered how much of this he’d even remember later.

“Shhh.” The gentle sound was barely audible over how quickly the air hissed between his teeth, lips bared in an enraged snarl that did little to hide the fear so clearly overwhelming him. “Shhh, I’m right here, Cross.” I whispered as my own breathing gradually began to slow. His shoulders tensed, but there was a flicker of hesitation that drew a small huff of relief from me. “I know, I know… but I’m going to help, okay?” The comforting murmur left on a carefully slowed sigh. The words didn’t matter. I just needed him to hear me – to hear the calm in my voice and let it grant him some sliver of reassurance.

“Shhh.” I breathed once more, fingers lightly slipping around his trembling fist, and he so nearly wrenched the limb back, muscles jerking in a violent flinch… but he paused just before actually breaking that contact, and I instantly rewarded him with a smile I could only hope he’d hear in the quiet praises and promises that continued falling softly from my lips.

“That’s it.” I breathed, touch shifting gently over scarred knuckles and taut tendons. “Just take a couple slow breaths with me… We’re gonna get you out of that armor and nestled up in my bed, okay?” My thumbs followed the stiff ridge along the base of his palm in a subtle invitation for him to open his hand. His grip tightened for just a moment, clinging to some fleeting rush of the illusion of safety granted by the rage fueling that lethal instinct to fight back, but then that tension began to fade. It was hesitant, fingers loosening in tentative increments, and locking again for several seconds before opening a bit more.

“Nothing’s ever simple with you, is it?” I murmured fondly, thumbs dragging firmly over what I could of his exposed palm, and my heart jumped at the subtle way his shoulders began to droop. “Could have had you both snuggled up and resting in the damn medbay by now, but you just had to turn into a feral tooka on me.” A tiny, accidental giggle sounded from behind me, and I glanced back to shoot the girl a knowing look as she quickly clasped a hand over her lips. If Crosshair heard it, he was fading too quickly to react, exhaustion a merciless thing as the loss of terror-induced adrenaline left his head sinking toward his chest, torso curling forward as his entire body began to sway.

“Easy.” I murmured as he jerked upright slightly to catch himself. My hand slid up his arm before finally trying once more to pull at his cuirass. “Can you lift your arms for me?” He didn’t respond at first, breath hitching slightly as a weak tremor stole through him, but then he began to obey, movements almost begrudging beneath the clear effort it took. He swayed even more wildly after I’d managed to pull that heavy shell of armor away, and I had to lock an arm around his back to steady him.

Weak… Maker, he was so frightfully weak in that moment, and my heart ached for the disdain he’d surely feel for that weakness were his mind clear enough to recognize it.

“Just hold onto me for a minute, okay?” I whispered, already pulling him flush against me. He didn’t fight the way I guided his arm over my shoulders, legs staggering almost uselessly beneath him as I slowly hauled him upright. Now robbed of that veneer of wrath, he couldn’t mask the depth of a fear that haunted him as he tottered on the very fringes of consciousness, his lithe body draped almost limply over mine, muscles jerking in nervous flinches at even the familiar sounds of the Marauder’s base systems chiming around us, and I found myself desperately hoping he wouldn’t remember this; that he wouldn’t suffer beneath a shame he had no reason to feel for this moment of vulnerability and need as he clung to me during those few minutes it took to stagger to the back of the ship.

The instant I gave the slightest indication for him to lay down, he readily collapsed, body fell heavily against me. I barely managed to guide him into the cot without dropping him. He didn't waste even what minimal effort it would take to reposition himself before fading into whatever empty sleep could be found in the wake of the fresh surge of meds I quickly pressed into his neck.

Getting Hunter to the medbay was no less complicated. Between his preexisting injuries and the damage I’d inflicted in trying to restart his heart, I couldn’t risk carrying him. Much to the girl’s humor, I ended up carefully sliding a blanket beneath him to drag him through the ship. The effort, however, was well worth the relief gleaned from finally seeing them both resting safely atop thin cots, chests rising in tandem beneath the intoxicating cocktail of drugs and blood loss.

I could only guess toward how long it might take for them to wake. I'd allotted myself more time than was necessary to finish removing their armor, had quickly moved back through the ship to retrieve what bits lay scattered in the cabin to stack it neatly atop the counters, and neither man had yet begun to stir.

In truth, I felt no rush for Hunter to wake, though part of me wouldn’t be able to relax until those intense, calculating eyes opened once more. I didn’t care if he looked at me with anger or indifference or love, so long as he looked at me. And Crosshair… I’d need to replace the damn battery in my scanner from how frequently I was rechecking him; recording and comparing every step of progress in his healing for some indication of whether or not there’d be permanent damage, for some idea of how to answer the inevitable questions he was sure to have when he was alert enough to ask. It likely wouldn’t be long… maybe another hour? Maybe mere minutes… My heart twisted at the thought of trying to force him to leave the thick bandages around his eyes, to force him to continue suffering in that darkness…

I had yet to disconnect the monitor from Hunter, nor could I ignore how frequently my gaze returned to the small screen if only for some tangible proof that his heart was still beating. Both of his arms were attached to fresh IVs rich in medicines and vitamins that I could only hope would be enough to control the bleed still slowly trying to refill his chest cavity and draining from the small port in his side. He was stable… but that was such a delicate balance…

Half a klick… He’d carried Crosshair for nearly half a klick… Of course he’d begun bleeding out again… I’d told him how dangerous physical activity was… but… kriff, what other option had I left for him? He was the only one close enough to provide backup in time… if I’d stayed behind… if I hadn’t intervened… Crosshair wouldn’t have had to wait so long to have his eyes cared for… and Hunter wouldn’t have had to carry him… Maybe something would’ve happened in the field like I’d originally feared, but… even then, he wouldn’t have had to wait on the damn ramp of the Marauder for Force knows how long… He would have had his brothers right there to help him immediately…

My chest jerked with something between a sob and a gasp as the medbay door opened behind me, and I couldn’t bring myself to even try to fight back the depth of guilt and regret and grief upon turning to find Echo, stride freezing the instant he met my eyes. He waited only until my shoulders jerked with another jilted breath before throwing himself toward me, and I instantly reacted in kind, darting forward to bury myself in his embrace.

“It’s my fault!” I hadn’t meant for the words to come out. “I almost got them killed!” His arms locked so tightly around me, I almost couldn’t find air to give voice to the sudden outpour of emotion, and yet I found myself silently begging him to hold me tighter. “This is my fault!”

“No… mesh’la, that’s not true, and you know that.” He pressed in something torn between a gentle murmur and a reprimand, and I shivered slightly at the heat of his breath dancing through my hair.

“I don’t know a damn thing about strategy! And I forced Hunter’s hand, and he…” The words died in a hiccupped gasp, and I pressed myself hard against his chest, finding an odd comfort in the familiar ridges of metal lining his torso.

“Sushir, cyare – listen.” He carefully lowered himself onto a knee, something about the movement seemed odd, but the tenderness of his hand against my cheek pulled my attention back to the soft gold of his eyes. “If you’d stayed here, both you and Crosshair would have been killed.” I couldn’t help but hesitate at that, confusion pulling my brows together, forcing my still choppy breath to quiet that I might better hear him.

“This place was run by a type of strategy droid.” He explained in a mediated calm that quickly robbed me of my panic. “It knew a sniper took out the defenses of the black site. Bringing the senator here, letting us track them – that was all a trap because the karking droid wanted revenge.” It took a long moment for me to truly process his words, body going still as I looked at him with wide eyes. “There’s an entire platoon of dead droids out there from Hunter. If you’d tried to get to Cross on your own, you never would have made it.”

“Tech’s never going to let us forget this.” I don’t know where I managed to find enough humor for even that quick huff, but the quiet, relieved laughter that caught on Echo’s lips left my heart jumping so sharply amidst a pleasant burst of static that, if only for a moment, I was stunned, but, when a weak groan sounded behind me, all thought toward that feeling or the mission or even the rationale behind my guilt was forgotten, attention whipping around to see Crosshair’s leg shifting atop the mattress in a stiff, unsteady motion, fingers twitching against the thin sheet beneath him.

“Kriff – Cross! Okay – alright, I know, I know.” The rushed words left in something just shy of a whisper, fighting to hide the lingering stiffness from my voice as I darted to the narrow space between the cots, hand belatedly reaching up to brush away the tears still staining my cheeks. His lips twitched into a weak scowl, head shifting listlessly to the side before managing a more pointed jerk.

“No, no, no.” I quickly reached out to catch his hand in mine as he began reaching for the bandages, and I wanted to sob anew at the way his chest bucked, entire body going taut. “Listen to me, Crosshair; you need to let them heal first, okay?” His fingers gradually tightened around mine until the entire limb shook, and I found myself wondering if he even realized he was doing it as I waited for the coming questions that I still couldn’t answer; the plea for some reassurance that he’d be okay, but several seconds passed and he didn’t say anything.

“Cross?” I called softly, unsettled by the deep stillness of him, the painfully even cadence of too-deep breaths flowing stiffly through lips now ground into a tight frown.

“… you’ve been crying…” He barely whispered it, and I had to swallow back the threat of that overwhelming emotion all over again, drawing a quick, shaky inhale that did little to keep my voice from breaking.

“It was just… a lot.” I answered as calmly as I could even as I had to blink away the burn of fresh tears flooding my eyes. “But I’m alright.” I dragged my thumb lightly along the edge of his palm.

“The others…” I worried over the tension in his short words, already calculating how soon I could increase his pain meds.

“Echo’s,” I glanced over my shoulder only to find the doorway now empty, and I felt a twinge of guilt at how I’d left him. “He was just here – pretty sure he was checking up on you two.” He suddenly froze, air catching in his throat, and realization dawned on me.

“…he’s… Hunter’s…” He’d been so out of it that I wasn’t sure if my earlier reassurances had reached him, and the guilt that stormed me at letting him think for even a moment longer that his brother was dead threatened to cripple me.

“He’s fine! He’s-he’s right here.” I stammered, scrambling back enough to pull Hunter’s arm across the narrow distance. “Here – feel that?” Movements almost rushed, I pressed Cross’s fingers to his brother’s wrist, and I found myself holding my breath as he felt the steady rhythm of Hunter’s pulse. Neither of us spoke, neither moved; granting that almost desperate relief the moment of reverie and wonder and exhaustion innate in those first few seconds of freedom from a grief that neither of us would have ever recovered from.

It was a subtle thing; the way he let that tension slip away, head just tilting back into the pillow with a barely-there sigh, but he made no effort to pull his hand back, and I could still see the faintest tremble in those long fingers.

“How long until this comes off?” His voice fell back into that familiar grumble so effortlessly; as though the last few minutes had never happened, and I barely managed to stifle the laugh into a breathy chuckle.

“A few days.” I answered quietly. “Maybe sooner depending on how quickly they heal.” He thought over my words for a moment before finally voicing the question I’d been waiting for since first dragging him into the medbay.

“Am I blind?”

“No.” It left my lips before he’d even finished asking, and I waited only a moment before explaining. “I… I don’t know… how well it’ll heal.” I hated how obviously I found myself tripping over my words, and took another breath before trying again, grateful that he hadn’t let himself lash out at the less than satisfying answer. “Your last scan still showed damage to your corneas, but it was already an improvement from before I cleaned and treated them. So, it’s safe to assume they’ll continue to improve.” I could see his forearm tense, but his hand remained unmoving for several more seconds before finally releasing Hunter’s wrist and shifting to drape almost lazily over his stomach.

Moments of silence were no stranger between us. I’d grown to love them, to thrill in the gentle comfort of his presence, the freedom from some need to force unwanted conversation, but there was nothing gentle in that resigned stillness, and I hated how desperate I sounded in my attempt to offer some taste of empty hope.

“I’ll continue scanning you regularly to monitor their progress, and even if there is scarring, there are more steps we can take.” I waited in some vain sense of denial for a sign that he believed me, but, when he offered no reply, I reached for him once more, fingers twining through his absent any further attempts to hide the sense of dread.

“I’m here, Cross… No matter what, I’m right here.” Several seconds passed in that same silence, but then his hand pulsed. It lasted only a second, but it was there, and when I moved to lay beside him atop the too-narrow cot, he didn’t hesitate, arm readily shifting to let me curl into him, my head resting lightly atop his chest. There was no remedy for this; the consuming dread of wretched unknowns that only time might bring to light, but, as long as he let me, I could make sure he didn’t suffer in it alone, and if I found my own comfort in the powerful thrum of his heartbeat dancing beneath my cheek, that was a selfishness I’d forgive myself for later.

Next Chapter

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inevitablysomber-dark · 5 months ago

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Loki's Sweet Treat

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Dark!Loki x Honey!Reader

About 20k words, so tread carefully

Honey Duval navigates the treacherous world of high society, facing family tensions, personal struggles, and Loki's dark interest in her. As she tries to protect her family's fragile reputation, Honey finds herself entangled in dangerous power plays and secrets that threaten her future.

Warning:

This story contains graphic content that may be disturbing to readers, including themes of sexual assault, manipulation, and emotional abuse. Explicit scenes involving non-consensual encounters, coercion, and power dynamics are present, which may be triggering for some readers.

The sun streamed in through the tall windows of Lady Jane's sitting room, casting a golden glow on the well-dressed women gathered for tea. The gentle clink of China and the murmur of conversation filled the air, yet I couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. I lingered at the edge of the room, blending into the wallpaper as I clutched my teacup, regretting my decision to come to this wretched party.

Of course, I had little choice. My family, the Duvals, were barely clinging to their status, and everyone knew it. The invitations I received weren’t because I was welcome, they were because everyone wanted to bask in the schadenfreude of watching the once-prominent Duval family teeter on the brink of losing everything. That’s why I found myself at yet another gathering, pretending to fit in while my family’s fortunes slipped further through our fingers.

Lady Jane, our host, sat near the center of the room, surrounded by her usual crowd of sycophants. I wasn’t sure which was worse, her thinly veiled hostility or the saccharine sweetness she used to mask it. Either way, she made my skin crawl and today, her vitriol was aimed squarely at the Royal Family of Asgard.

“Can you believe it?” Lady Jane sneered, her voice carrying across the room. “That woman, Cyan, is to be our future queen? It’s an outrage! A commoner, raised among peasants, is supposed to marry the crowned prince? What are they thinking?!”

Her audience murmured their agreement, some nodding so vigorously I wondered if their heads might fall off. They all knew better than to cross Lady Jane, who was still nursing her bitter disappointment over not being chosen by the prince herself.

“I was so certain Thor had his eye on me,” Jane continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “But instead, they choose a woman without breeding, without class! Imagine Queen Freya’s humiliation.”

One of the ladies beside her leaned in. “I’ve heard the queen is mortified. She’s so ashamed of the match that she barely speaks of it.”

I tried to tune out their gossip, but it was impossible. This was what passed for entertainment among women like Jane,tearing down anyone who dared to rise above their station.

I took a small sip of tea, my gaze wandering to where my younger sister, Saffron, sat. She was newly debuted, and though she carried herself with grace, I knew she felt as out of place as I did. It was hard not to, with the ever-looming threat of our family’s collapse hanging over our heads.

“The only good thing to come from this debacle,” Jane’s voice cut through my thoughts, “is the ball they’re throwing to celebrate the engagement. At least we’ll get a grand event out of it.”

The other women tittered with laughter, clearly enjoying the idea of a lavish ball more than the prospect of a common-born queen.

And to think," Jane added, her voice lowering, "there were times Thor would have done anything to get under my skirts. What a shame he felt the need to settle for Cyan."

The room erupted into gasps and giggles, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The audacity. The rumor about Lady Jane and Thor had been swirling for ages, but I had my doubts. If Thor had ever entertained such an affair, he certainly wasn’t entertaining it now.

I leaned back against my chair, feeling invisible and detached from their world of petty gossip and social climbing. The Duvals may have been struggling, but at least we hadn’t descended to Lady Jane’s level of desperation. Not yet, anyway.

As the conversation continued to swirl around me, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was like for someone like Cyan, entering a world that was waiting for her to fail. And as much as I despised Lady Jane’s cruelty, I also feared for what might be in store for me and Saffron. After all, even those who seemed untouchable could easily be cast aside.

The tea party was a spectacle of opulence, an excuse for the nobility to gather and show off their status. I sat toward the edge of the gathering with Saffron, doing my best to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult, most of the women here treated us as though we didn’t exist. I should’ve known better than to come, but Mother had insisted we make an appearance. As if mingling with these people could somehow save the Duval name.

I heard the snickers before I even focused on the conversation.

"Honestly, it’s a miracle the Duvals are still being invited to these things," Lady Margaret said, her voice unnecessarily loud. She made no effort to lower her tone, her words clearly meant for my ears. "You’d think they’d have the good sense to keep a low profile instead of parading their desperation."

The other women laughed, their voices high and cruel. Saffron’s face turned pale beside me, her fingers nervously clutching her tea. I clenched my fists under the table.

"They’re just biding their time, hoping to sell off one of those pretty daughters to keep the estate afloat," Lady Sharon added, her gaze flickering over to us briefly. "Though I doubt anyone of real consequence would be interested."

The comment hung in the air, and the group of women dissolved into more laughter. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. It was as if our very existence amused them, as if our struggles were a source of entertainment.

“Pathetic,” Jane sneered. “Trying to scrape by with the little dignity they have left.I would have never invited them had mother not insisted”

The tension within me snapped.

I stood up slowly, forcing my hands to unclench. "It’s curious, Lady Jane," I said, my voice calm though every word was sharpened with intention, "how loudly you speak about dignity when it’s something you’ve long since thrown away."

The laughter died abruptly, and all eyes turned to me. Saffron looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. But I had reached my limit.

Jane blinked, her mouth tightening. "Excuse me?"

I stepped forward, refusing to be intimidated. "I’ve heard the rumors, Jane. Everyone has. You thought lying on your back would secure yourself a crown, as if a few stolen moments beneath a prince would make you queen." I let the words sink in, watching as Jane’s composure faltered. "It’s rather tragic, really, how you’ve convinced yourself that by spreading your legs, you could spread your influence."

There was a collective gasp from the group, their mouths hanging open in shock.

Jane’s face went pale, then flushed a deep crimson. “You—how dare you speak to me like that!”

"I dare because it's the truth," I said coolly, holding her gaze. "You gamble with your pride, and yet here you are, no crown, no prince, no claim, just a scorned woman who can’t seem to grasp why a prince didn’t choose her."

The room had gone deathly silent. Saffron was staring at me, wide-eyed, and the other ladies looked like they couldn’t decide whether to intervene or flee. Jane’s face contorted with fury, but before she could spit out a retort, I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice.

"Next time you want to mock someone’s struggles, Jane, make sure your own failures aren’t quite so obvious."

I straightened up and walked back toward my seat, feeling every pair of eyes on me. Saffron looked at me as though I’d just declared war on the entire room, her hands trembling in her lap.

I could feel Jane’s burning stare, her dignity in tatters, but she said nothing. She couldn’t. The truth had been laid bare, and no amount of biting retort could salvage her pride now.

"Saffron, let’s go." My voice was steady, though my heart still raced from the confrontation. I guided my sister out of the room, her arm linked through mine, and we stepped out into the cool air, away from the judgment and venom of those who thrived on misfortune.

We were still the subject of their gossip, still teetering on the edge of ruin. But I wouldn’t let them crush us. Not without a fight.

Baroness Helena Duval, my mother, paced the drawing room, her eyes sharp and angry as she threw a furious glance at me. My father, Reginald, stood at the window with his back to us, silent, as was his usual stance when my mother unleashed her wrath.

"I can't believe you! Every invitation we had received, every opportunity to mingle with those that could possibly save us, gone!" she shouted, her voice trembling with rage.

I remained silent, standing in the corner with Saffron beside me, while my mother focused all her ire on me. "Do you understand what you've done? Lady Jane is connected to half the nobility in the kingdom! And what do you do? Confront her about her...fraternizing with the Crown Prince?"

She spat out the last words as if they were poison, her tone as biting as ever. But I wasn’t about to apologize, not to Lady Jane, and certainly not for speaking the truth.

Helena's sharp eyes flicked over to Saffron, softening just a touch as she sighed deeply. "Why can't you be more like your sister? Graceful, quiet, and demure. Everything a young lady should be."

Saffron, at those words, dropped her head in shame, and my heart clenched for her. I knew she hated when our mother used her as an example, especially because "graceful and demure" really meant spineless. Saffron had told me that, late one night when we were younger, and ever since then, whenever someone praised her, I knew she felt nothing but shame.

I reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze, letting her know I understood. I wasn’t offended by my mother’s words; I knew this was simply how she thought. To her, Saffron was the perfect daughter, the one who played her role quietly, and I- well, I was the one who didn’t know when to keep my mouth shut.

My mother’s sharp eyes softened momentarily when she noticed me grab Saffron’s hand, but her anger was far from gone. She let out a deep, exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to me, her voice dripping with frustration.

“What in God's name possessed you to confront Lady Jane in the first place?” she asked, her tone sharp, though not quite as biting as before.

I raised my chin, meeting her gaze directly. "She called us pathetic," I said simply.

She paused, her eyes flickering with something close to understanding. For a brief moment, the fury drained from her face, and she almost looked sympathetic. Almost.

"I understand your frustration, Honey. Truly, I do," she admitted, her voice gentler now. "But jumping straight into social suicide...was that really the best course of action?"

I bit my tongue, looking down at my feet. No, it wasn’t.

"We are on the verge of losing everything," she said, her voice softer but filled with a different kind of anger. "This was our chance, Honey. The ball, the invitations...they were supposed to help secure our future. Now-now we are outcasts. Again."

I said nothing, knowing full well she wasn’t looking for a reply. But deep down, I couldn’t regret my actions, not when I thought of the smug look on Lady Jane’s face as she droned on about her imagined place in the royal court.

As my mother left the room in frustration, I turned to Saffron, squeezing her hand again. The weight of the world felt like it was pressing down on both of us, and there didn’t seem to be any easy way out of it.

“At least we won’t be wasting any more money on dresses and jewelry,” I muttered under my breath.

At that, my father let out a hearty laugh, walking up to the both of us but locking his gaze on me.

“You realize what you did could ruin us, right?” His voice carried a mixture of amusement and warning.

I dropped my head, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Yes, Father,” I answered, my voice begrudging but respectful.

He grunted, smirking as he leaned down to kiss both Saffron and me on the forehead.

“Don’t worry too much, my dear. We’ll get through this, like we always have,” he said, his tone light, almost dismissive of the severity of the situation.

It didn't erase the weight of my mother’s words or the danger we were in, but my father’s confidence, misplaced or not, eased the tension for moments as brief as these.

The Duvals were enjoying a rare moment of quiet in their living space. Saffron and Mother were embroidering by the window, their needles gliding through fabric with delicate precision. Father and I sat side by side, each absorbed in the local news when our butler, Gerard, suddenly burst into the room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Baroness, Baron! You’ve received an invitation from the palace!" he announced, holding the crisp, cream-colored envelope as though it were made of pure gold.

Mother looked up from her embroidery, visibly shocked. "An invitation?" she murmured, her voice barely hiding her surprise. I could see it in her eyes, she had resigned herself to a quiet fall from grace, expecting our family to fade into the background without further notice. Yet here was a summons, proof that the royal family had not completely turned its back on us.

Father reached for the envelope, breaking the royal seal. He cleared his throat before reading aloud: “You are cordially invited to the engagement party of the Crown Prince Thor and his fiancée Cyan.”

A surprised chuckle escaped my lips. Of all the people to be engaged to a prince, it was Lady Cyan. She had no title and no noble lineage to speak of, yet here she was, about to marry the future king.What a fairytale. The invitation, unsurprisingly, didn’t mention any title for Lady Cyan, she had none yet, but once she married Thor, she would become the Crowned Princess.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of delight. Deep down, I couldn’t deny my penchant for stirring the pot of intrigue. And watching someone like Cyan, a peasant girl, rise to a position of power was sure to throw the entire class system into chaos. And with our family teetering on the edge of ruin, what was the harm in finding a little entertainment before we were booted from high society?

The evening of the party arrived quickly. The Royal Garden was breathtaking, every inch of it meticulously prepared for the grand affair. Saffron and I stood by the fountain, sipping champagne and enjoying the soothing trickle of the water as we waited for the royal family to make their entrance.

When they finally appeared, the crowd gasped in awe. King Odin and Queen Freya entered first, regal as ever, their presence demanding respect. Hela and Loki followed, each exuding their own form of royal authority. And then, the couple of the hour, Prince Thor and Lady Cyan.

I nearly choked on my champagne when I saw Lady Cyan.

She looked... awful.

Her hair was down but tangled and unbrushed, her makeup was smeared and unflattering, and worst of all, she wore a dress that had been popular last season, as if she hadn’t noticed the fashion had moved on. Even her shoes were an insult,flats, when everyone knew a proper royal event required heels. It was clear to me that the palace maids had set her up for failure, likely encouraged by none other than the ladies in waiting, who were no doubt snickering behind her back.

A quick glance toward Lady Jane confirmed my suspicions. There she was, surrounded by her loyal gaggle of women, all of them giggling into their gloves like schoolgirls. I could practically hear the whispers, whispers that Jane herself had probably orchestrated.

Yet, even as Cyan stood there, a vision of royal disaster, Thor remained unfazed. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the room, his eyes filled with love and admiration. It was almost endearing, in a sickening sort of way.

When the time came for the royals to mingle, I made sure to stay out of the way. I had no intention of angering Mother any further after the debacle with Lady Jane. Saffron, naturally, trailed behind me like a shadow, her shy demeanor making her hesitant to stray too far. She chattered quietly about a romance novel she’d been reading with her friends, her soft voice blending with the music that floated through the garden. Just as she was getting to a particularly juicy part, where the Duke of the novel had finally caught the Princess in a compromising position, our mother appeared, with Duke Bruce Banner in tow.

Mother’s smile was painfully forced as she practically pushed Saffron into Duke Banner’s path. "Saffron, darling, the Duke was just asking about you," she cooed, already working her magic to arrange yet another another potential match for her favorite child. Despite Saffron’s beauty,for some reason her shy and quiet nature had kept many potential husbands at bay, one would think they’d enjoy it.But Mother wasn’t one to give up easily.

I stood back, watching the exchange with a knowing smile. Saffron might be the favorite, but she hated being paraded around like this. I gave her a sympathetic glance before turning my attention elsewhere. I had no interest in finding a match tonight, especially not when I was feeling like a mere observer to a world that was slipping away from us.

While Mother busied herself with Saffron and the Duke, I slipped away, seeking solace at the border where the Royal Garden met the Royal Forest. The sounds of the party grew distant as I found a quiet bench beneath a cluster of trees, my thoughts swirling as I sipped the last of my champagne. This engagement party was a disaster for Lady Cyan, and no doubt her ascension would continue to be entertaining, if nothing else, it would distract the nobles from our impending downfall.

The sound of a timid "Oh" pulled me from the quiet of my thoughts. I turned my head and found the future Crowned Princess standing a few feet away, wringing her hands and staring at me with wide eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt," Lady Cyan stammered, already stepping back as though she had committed some great offense.

“Nonsense,” I replied, rising from my seat near the edge of the garden. “If anything, I am intruding on your walk.” I bowed my head before making my way elsewhere, but she quickly spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Could you stay? I mean... if you don’t mind.”

I paused, unsure if I should humor the girl or retreat to the quiet, I had sought. Yet when I looked at her, there was something in her manner that reminded me of Saffron, fragile, in need of protection, utterly ill-suited to the cruel ways of this world. With a slight nod I sat back down, on bench, and she hurried to sit next to me. How unflattering for a future queen.

We sat in comfortable silence at first, the air between us light but unspoken words hanging on the edge of her lips. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I didn't realize the noble world could be so cruel."

I glanced at her sideways. “Prince Thor did not warn you?”

She looked down, a small, sad smile playing on her lips. “He didn’t have time, considering how he picked me from a crowd.”

Now, that caught my attention. “How do you mean?” I asked, leaning in slightly.

Lady Cyan glanced around as if to ensure we were alone, then spoke in a lowered tone, “I used to be... a lady of the night.” She cast her eyes to the ground. “Thor was just a regular customer. I never got the chance to see the royal family, so I didn’t know who he really was. He didn’t use his name either, he just called himself Donar.”

I barely managed to conceal my surprise. This was... extraordinary. “How did you come to be his fiancée?” I asked, genuinely intrigued now.

Lady Cyan sighed. “I was out one morning buying groceries for my mother when a knight seized me and pulled me into a carriage with Thor. That’s when he told me who he really was. He said he wanted me to marry him.”

I blinked, trying to suppress a laugh. “And you thought this was... what? A joke?”

“At first, yes,” she said with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “The next thing I knew, my mother and I were having breakfast with the king and queen.”

Now, this was beyond amusing. I had always known Prince Thor to be impulsive, rumors about him were legendary, but this? This was another level entirely. A peasant marrying into royalty was scandalous enough, but a former courtesan? The whole system was bound to erupt. I could hardly contain my amusement.

Lady Cyan frowned slightly, noticing my reaction. “What’s so funny?”

I gave her a knowing look. “Oh, it’s nothing... except how very on-brand this is for Prince Thor. You should be careful, though. That bit of information? You should keep it to yourself.”

Her eyes widened in panic. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

I waved a hand. “Of course not. But be warned, others won’t be so kind. You’d best keep quiet about your past if you want to survive this court.”

Lady Cyan nodded, her expression softening into one of gratitude. “I was just... so grateful to be here. To wear such fine clothing...”

I looked at her more closely. And her ungodly look “Who dressed you for tonight?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Hela had some of her ladies-in-waiting help me,” she replied.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Don’t let them help you again. They made you look ragged, and it was likely intentional.”

Her face fell. “I had a feeling when everyone started laughing at me... The servants say awful things when they think I’m not listening. That Lady Jane should have been Thor’s bride. They don’t know why he chose me.”

My blood boiled. “Fuck them,” I said without thinking.

Lady Cyan gasped, clearly shocked by my language. I rolled my eyes. “Listen, you need to build your own court. Your own ladies-in-waiting, your own servants,and most importantly your own thick-skin. As long as these current people remain, they will never respect you, and they will always try to make you look the fool.”

She hesitated. “I don’t know if I can do that...”

I gave her a stern look. “Do you want to be treated like this for the rest of your life?”

She fell silent.

“You’re going to be queen one day. Prince Thor would give you anything you ask for, that I could clearly see, so use that power. Snuggle up to him, get what you need, and make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a long time, Lady Cyan. You might as well rule in comfort.”

She nodded slowly; her gaze thoughtful. I could tell she was unsure of herself, but if she had any hope of surviving this world, she would need to learn quickly. And if I had to give her a push in the right direction, so be it.

“Cyan!” A voice cut through the stillness of the garden, deep and unmistakably male.

Both of us turned toward the sound, and soon enough, Prince Loki stepped into view. His presence carried the same shadowy grace as always, but this time, his gaze briefly flickered to me before settling on Cyan.

“Your fiancé is looking for you,” he said smoothly, though his eyes lingered on me a moment longer. “I suggest you go calm him before he sends out a search party.”

“Oh, right! Of course!” Lady Cyan hurriedly stood, her flustered movements betraying her nervousness. I rose to my feet as well, out of courtesy.

“Thank you so much for the advice...” Lady Cyan paused, her brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Honey. Honey Duval.” I offered my hand, knowing full well it was improper, but she didn’t seem to notice. She shook it with the casual grace of someone entirely untrained in court etiquette.

“I’m Cyan,” she smiled, her warmth genuine if not misplaced.

“I know” I retort, a smile on my face

I made a mental note: the girl would need to refine such small gestures if she hoped to command any respect in the court. There was more to being a princess than simply having the prince’s affection.

I watched as she hurried away, her pace quickening as she no doubt rushed to find her fiancé before he acted on Prince Loki’s warning. Once she disappeared into the crowd, I turned, ready to find my family, only to realize Prince Loki hadn’t moved. He was still standing near, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I immediately curtsied. “Prince Loki,” I murmured, trying to sound composed as I stood straight again, preparing to make my exit.

But before I could take a step, his voice stopped me cold. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”

I froze, the weight of his words pulling me back in place. “Duval,” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate, letting the name roll off his tongue as though it were some kind of secret he was savoring. Then he moved toward me, closing the distance until he was standing mere inches from my face.

Prince Loki was an intimidating man, far more dangerous than most cared to admit. I’d heard the stories, of course, of the legendary battles between him and Prince Thor, the ferocity with which they fought their enemies and, at times, each other. And though I prided myself on my resolve, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear. His presence, so dark and calculated, was enough to unsettle even the strongest of wills.

“You are of a house with status,Barons, I believe?” His words were a statement, not a question, as though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, Prince Loki,” I replied, forcing myself to keep my voice steady.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “So, then you should’ve known better than to extend your hand to the future ruler of Asgard.”

I stiffened at the reprimand. I knew I’d made a mistake, but hearing it so coldly from his lips made it sting all the more. He sighed dramatically. “But I suppose... what else could one expect from a falling house?”

His words were a dagger. Before I could stop myself, my spine straightened, and the retort slipped from my lips without a second thought. “Nothing as bad as one would expect from a treacherous prince.”

The moment the words escaped me, regret surged through my veins like ice. I had struck too close to the truth, to the rumors that still clung to his name even after all these years. I knew of Loki’s dark history, how, as a young man, he had once betrayed Asgard by siding with Jotunheim in a fit of jealousy, trying to seize the throne from King Odin and Prince Thor. Though he had redeemed himself by turning around and conquering Jotunheim, earning back the trust of the kingdom, the title of “Treacherous Prince” still lingered in whispers.

Personally, I wouldn’t be so quick to forgive someone who’s so eager to switch sides.

Realizing my mistake, I immediately began to apologize, my voice rushing out in a panic. “Prince Loki, I didn’t mean-”

He squinted, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but to my surprise, there was amusement as well. His lips curled into a smirk; his expression unreadable. “Bold,” he murmured, stepping even closer. “But foolish. You may Go.”

Then, before I could react, he grabbed me, pulling me roughly against his chest. My heart pounded as he leaned in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “Remember, I have more power than you. And with that power, I can do far more damage.”

He released me with a shove, and I stumbled back, fear and dread gripping my heart. The reality of what I’d just done washed over me like a tidal wave. Loki was not the type of man to forgive easily, and I had just signed the Duval family’s death warrant with my reckless words.

Terrified, I hurried away, my mind racing as I realized just how dire our situation had become. If Loki so wished, he could destroy us with a single utterance, and I had just given him reason to do so.

Several weeks had passed without a single word from the palace. It was strange, the quiet. The Duvals had not received any invitations to events or gatherings, but oddly enough, things seemed to be looking up,at least on the surface. Duke Banner’s interest in Saffron had become more obvious with each passing day. Bouquets of delicate flowers arrived regularly, along with boxes of sweets, each one more decadent than the last. He must have somehow learned of Saffron’s love for such indulgences. While I found his eagerness unsettling, Mother insisted it was nothing to be concerned about, calling it a sign of his devotion.

But I could see the confusion in Saffron’s eyes. She didn’t know how to respond to the Duke’s affections. Her heart was too gentle, too uncertain. She was torn between her own feelings and the expectations placed upon her. I couldn’t blame her,I had my own storm to contend with.

Prince Loki. The memory of our confrontation still hung over me like a dark cloud, heavy and foreboding, threatening to break at any moment. I had said nothing to Mother, choosing instead to wait for the inevitable disaster. Confiding in her would only shatter this brief illusion of peace.

That afternoon, Saffron and I were sitting in the garden, playing a quiet game of spades, trying to enjoy the mild weather. The gentle breeze was soothing, if only for a moment. But then, a sharp, piercing scream cut through the calm.

Both of us snapped our heads toward the commotion, just in time to see Mother rushing toward us, the head maid trailing closely behind. Her hands waved an envelope above her head, the royal crest glinting in the sunlight.

My stomach lurched. This was it. The reckoning I had feared.

Saffron, always attuned to my unease, clasped my hand under the table, offering silent comfort. She knew everything that happened with Prince Loki. We told each other everything.

Mother reached us, breathless, her eyes wide and brimming with excitement. “Honey!” she exclaimed, waving the envelope as if it were a priceless relic. “You’ve been summoned to the royal palace!”

I froze, my heart pounding. What?

Mother continued, her voice filled with barely contained glee. “You’ve been called to interview as a lady-in-waiting for the future queen!”

The words barely registered. “What?” I whispered, my voice thin and shaky. I glanced at Saffron, seeing my own disbelief reflected in her wide eyes. Surely this was some kind of cruel jest.

But Mother, oblivious to the shock etched on our faces, began reading the letter aloud. The future queen, Cyan, had personally selected me for consideration. Me. Out of all the girls. The words blurred together as my mind drifted back to Loki. Had he said nothing? Was this a game?

Mother’s excited voice pulled me back to the present as she finished reading, her arms suddenly wrapping around Saffron and me in a tight embrace. “This is it! Things are finally looking up!” she squealed, her joy almost tangible. “This is exactly what we needed!”

I remained silent, my thoughts spinning out of control. This invitation, no, this summons,could either be our salvation or the final blow that brought everything crashing down. And somehow, I knew… this wasn’t a coincidence.

I sat across from Lady Cyan in the quiet Receiving Room, the silence hanging heavily between us. She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the edge of her chair, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the moment. I waited, wondering if she would speak first, but when it became apparent she was at a loss, I decided to break the silence.

"Your Highness," I began, keeping my voice measured, "is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

Lady Cyan blinked, as though startled by the question. "Oh," she replied softly, her uncertainty palpable. "I... I’m not really sure what I should ask. I requested that the Queen and Princess Hela be present, but they... well, they refused."

She seemed embarrassed by the admission, and I realized, once again, how out of place she must feel here. The future Queen of Asgard, yet still lost within the complexities of court.

"Would you like me to guide you, Your Highness?" I offered gently, knowing she needed a nudge.

She nodded, looking relieved. "Yes, please."

"Well," I began, "what do you think of me as a candidate so far?"

Lady Cyan straightened in her chair, her posture suddenly more formal. "I like you. I think you would have my back. Even Loki agrees."

“Prince Loki?” I asked

She nodded “Yes, in fact when I mentioned That I would like to get my own Ladies in Waiting, he suggested you as the first one.”

How Curious.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her directness. "Right.” I chose then to ignore the mention of Prince Loki “So then,Why do you like me, and how do you believe that would benefit you in the court?"

She hesitated before speaking again, her voice quieter, almost vulnerable. "Since I arrived at the palace, I’ve felt like an outsider. No one truly talks to me, except Thor. The conversation we had in the royal garden…" she trailed off, as if collecting her thoughts. "It felt real, like I could tell you anything. And when you advised me not to spread the truth of my past, I felt... safe. You didn’t judge me, and you kept your word so far. I haven’t heard any whispers of it since. That’s why I feel like I can trust you."

She glanced down at her lap, her tone sincere but unsure, as if she feared I might turn her words against her. There was a certain naivety about her, but it was clear she was trying to navigate the treacherous waters of the court. I folded my hands in my lap and smiled softly.

"So you met me and felt that I could be useful to you?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Lady Cyan's eyes widened, shaking her head frantically. "Oh no, I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

I couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at her flustered reaction. "That’s the system, Your Highness. Everyone in court uses everyone else to further their own agendas. If you are deemed useless, they’ll find a way to cast you aside."

Lady Cyan nodded slowly, absorbing my words like a student eager to learn. She seemed to be coming to terms with the harsh reality of her new life. This wasn’t the world of commoners she once knew; here, survival depended on alliances and strategic moves.

"So," I pressed on, "since you already had a good impression of me during our first meeting, what is it you’re trying to confirm now, in this interview?"

Lady Cyan shifted, clearly embarrassed again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well... I wanted to hire you immediately, but Queen Freya said that was nonsense. She told me I should at least have an interview with you first."

It was clear that Queen Freya expected me to decline her request. After all, who in their right mind would willingly work under a former commoner, especially with my family teetering on the brink of ruin? But the Queen, in all her wisdom and grandeur, had overestimated my penchant for pride and underestimated the deep-rooted vitriol I held for the very system that sought to throw me and my family to the dogs.

I couldn't help but smile at her honesty, and there was something endearing about her candor. It was clear she was out of her depth, but there was potential in her, potential that could be nurtured if handled correctly. I leaned forward, my tone reassuring.

"Then, Your Highness, you have my word. If you choose to have me by your side, I will ensure you have what you need to succeed in this court. But remember, loyalty goes both ways. I will protect you, but I ask for the same in return."

Lady Cyan met my gaze, her expression softening with relief. "I understand, Honey. Thank you."

I nodded, knowing that from this moment forward, I had entered a dangerous alliance. The future Queen would need more than just trust; she would need strength. And if I was to help her navigate the world she had been thrust into, I would have to play this game carefully, for both our sakes.

My first week working under Lady Cyan, I made it clear that I was there to observe. She agreed, a bit relieved, I think. I spent the week silently watching the way the servants treated her, the way the butlers undermined her every word, and how Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, who were temporarily assigned to her, blatantly ignored her.

Lady Cyan mostly ate alone with her mother, and when they did, it was pitiful. They served them meals that even my own family, on the verge of ruin, would refuse. But when she dined with Prince Thor, everything was immaculate, like a magic switch had been flipped. Even Prince Thor’s courtiers, the ones supposed to show respect to the future queen, treated her poorly.

And then there was the mountain of paperwork they threw at her, expecting her to understand and manage the upkeep of the palace without any guidance. It was clear that she was not only doing her work but the work of Hela’s ladies-in-waiting as well.

I had seen enough.

"Why haven’t you hired the new staff after I told you to?" I asked her one afternoon.

She sighed; exhaustion etched into every feature. "I haven’t had the time," she said.

"Of course you haven’t," I retorted. "You’re buried in work that doesn’t even belong to you."

As I watched her, overwhelmed and far too thin, I was reminded again of Saffron. Someone kind, gentle, and easily taken advantage of. This was more work than I’d intended to take on, but someone needed to help her.

"First things first," I said, taking hold of her wrist gently. "We’re hiring you a personal chef. You’re entirely too thin, and it’s obvious the kitchen staff has no intention of keeping you healthy."

"Will I be able to?" she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I don’t know. What do your funds look like?"

"Oh, I don’t—"

I didn’t let her finish. I strode over to her desk, pulling out her accounting book. As I read through the pages, it was clear. The funds allocated to Lady Cyan were being skimmed, and heavily. According to the records, she was eating lavish meals, wearing the latest fashions, and buying expensive jewelry. And yet, here she was, sitting in a handdown dress, malnourished and mistreated.

"When was the last time you spent any of the funds given to you?" I asked, holding the book up to her.

Lady Cyan’s face crumpled in confusion. "I didn’t know I was receiving any funds. Prince Thor didn’t tell me."

I shut the book with a sharp thud. "He’s not supposed to. That’s the job of his courtier. His courtier was meant to show you how to manage your paperwork, how your finances work, and how to oversee your responsibilities, both in maintaining the palace and fulfilling your duties to the kingdom."

Cyan blinked, clearly overwhelmed. This explained everything. No wonder she hadn’t hosted any balls or tea parties, and why she was wearing tattered clothing.

"Someone is stealing from you," I said firmly, my eyes narrowing as I considered the possibilities. "And I’m willing to bet the accountant knows exactly who."

I shut her books and tucked them under my arm, turning to Lady Cyan with a calm but firm expression. “Show me where accounting is.”

She perked up immediately. “Oh, okay.” She started to stand, but as soon as she did, I noticed her posture was completely atrocious, slouched shoulders, head bowed. I stopped her with a slight raise of my hand.

“Before we continue, straighten your back, stretch your neck, and hold your head high,” I instructed. Lady Cyan blinked at me but did as I asked. I spent a few moments adjusting her posture, teaching her how to carry herself with dignity. She still moved with a bit of awkwardness, but with practice, she would improve.

As we made our way to the accounting office, I trailed behind her, as any good lady-in-waiting would. When we arrived, Lady Cyan politely asked the receptionist, Miss Elara Merton, if she could meet with Lord Gregor Voss.

Merton barely glanced at us and replied with obvious disdain, “He’s busy.”

I felt my temper flare. “Well, that’s too bad,” I said, stepping past her and bursting into the office. I had no patience left. Lady Cyan was being mistreated at every turn in this castle, and I couldn’t help but think had it been me the castle would have long ago been set ablazed.

There was Lord Voss, in all his disgrace, caught mid-act with a woman who was most certainly not Lady Voss. The woman, mortified, hurriedly gathered her things and bolted from the room.

“What the hell?” Lord Voss spluttered, adjusting his trousers.

“The future Queen of Asgard wishes to speak with you,” I said coolly.

He looked past me and saw Lady Cyan, standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of shock and expectancy.

“I’m busy,” he repeated, sounding more defensive than before.

“Oh, we can see that,” I replied, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the scene. I couldn’t wait to tell Saffron about this later.

I ushered Lady Cyan into the room as Miss Merton approached, trying to assert some sort of authority. I stepped up to her, meeting her eyes with an intimidating glare that left no room for argument. “Step back,” I said, my tone commanding. Intimidated, she complied, and I shut the door behind us.

I walked up to Lord Voss and fixed him with a stare. “Tell us who has been taking money from Lady Cyan’s funds.”

Voss blinked, taken aback by the direct question, but he quickly regained his composure. “Lady Cyan has been making purchases on her own,” he said with a practiced smoothness. “Just check her accounting book. Her ladies-in-waiting bring in the necessary—"

“So, Hela’s ladies-in-waiting are stealing from Cyan?” I cut in sharply.

“I did not say that,” he stammered. “I was simply—"

“Of course you did,” I interrupted, holding up the accounting book I had taken. “Jewelry, clothing, shoes, and food, purchases made with her funds. Yet, look at her.” I gestured toward Cyan, who stood looking pale and tired, her dress ill-fitting and her frame almost fragile. “She wears none of it, and she’s thin as a pencil. The ladies-in-waiting have been making these purchases for themselves. They are stealing from her.”

“Baroness Duval—” Voss began.

“That’s my mother,” I said, flashing him a cold smile. “Just call me Lady Honey.”

“Right,” Voss muttered, leaning in to whisper, “Lady Honey. Between you and I, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was hoarding it all.”

That was the last straw. I grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close enough that he could see the fire in my eyes. Cyan gasped softly behind me.

“Listen here, you pathetic excuse for a man,” I hissed. “If you do not tell us who’s been stealing from the future Queen of Asgard, the next person walking through those doors will be the Crowned Prince Thor himself.” His eyes widened in fear, and I pressed further. “Or maybe I should let Lady Voss know exactly what you’ve been up to at work, since we all know who truly runs your household.”

Voss paled and quickly surrendered. “Okay, okay, it is Lady Vivienne, a maid named Kelly, and Lord Cyril Vance.”

“How spineless.” I shoved him back, wiping my hands of his filth. With a gentle voice I turn to Lady Cyan “Let us go.” as I have her walk ahead of me

I opened the door for her, and she walked out with her head held a little higher than before. When we returned to her office,she collapsed into tears, overwhelmed by the realization of how many people had been betraying her.

“Lady Vivienne is one of Princess Hela’s ladies-in-waiting, and Lord Cyril Vance is Thor’s courtier,” she sobbed. “What am I to do now?”

I embraced her gently, offering comfort before I spoke firmly. “You fire them.”

She stops to look at me, as if I’d said something ridiculous “I can’t do that,” she protested, shaking her head.

“Then ask Prince Thor to do it,” I suggested.

“But I—”

“Listen, Lady Cyan,” I interrupted softly but seriously. “You need a completely new court. Not only are they insulting you, but they’re also stealing from you. I understand you don’t want to rattle the cage, but you must do the uncomfortable things now so that you can be comfortable later. You have power now. Use it.”

She paused, considering my words. Then, with a hesitant nod, she whispered, “Okay.”

For the next several months, Cyan had gone on a thorough firing spree, and anyone she couldn’t directly remove was replaced for personal matters, leaving them slowly edged out. I was with her every step of the way, ensuring that each word she spoke was met with the respect and dignity she deserved.

The first major task was sending Hela back her ladies-in-waiting. Lady Cyan, with newfound confidence, informed Hela that Vivienne had been embezzling money from her books. I made sure to advise her to suggest Hela check her own accounts. It wasn’t long before Lady Vivienne was escorted from the palace in disgrace.

Thor’s reaction to Lord Cyril’s involvement in stealing from Lady Cyan was nothing short of fury. He dismissed Cyril immediately, along with the maid Kelly, their reputations shattered beyond repair. No person of prominence would dare to hire them again.

During these palace changes, I cleverly slipped in a word about the kitchen staff feeding Lady Cyan slop. If anyone should have a personal chef, it was her. Prince Thor did one better, he replaced the entire kitchen staff, ensuring that the finest food was prepared for everyone in the palace. He made it very clear that if anyone was served less than what was expected, they would face the gallows. Since then,Lady Cyan’s figure has filled out, and she looks much healthier, with her own strength returning.

She also found herself a new accountant. Prince Thor and I convinced her not to continue relying on Voss, given his negligence. Instead, I helped her hire a young man named Edric Hale. He seemed sharp, rigid, and incredibly thorough, like someone who wouldn’t let anything slip by unnoticed. And I was right, Edric was so good at his job that he not only fixed inconsistencies within Lady Cyans books but uncovered six more individuals committing fraud under the royal name. It wasn’t long before Voss was removed from his post, and Hale was promoted to Royal Financial Advisor.

Even Prince Thor’s courtier was replaced, as I recommended Sir Alistair Graves during the hiring process.He was tall, unsettling, and mysterious, Alistair's appearance drew questions from Prince Thor and Lady Cyan alike, but Alistair soon proved himself to be an invaluable asset.I was right again.

Surprisingly, Thor and Alistair developed a close bond, despite his eerie demeanor.

After all this, Lady Cyan finally had time to hire her own ladies-in-waiting. To my amusement, Lady Jane and Lady Sharon applied for the position. Needless to say, they weren’t hired. I took personal joy in turning them down during the vetting process. Instead, Lady Cyan appointed Lady Natasha Romanoff and Lady Pepper Potts, both competent and trustworthy. As the wedding drew closer, the palace bustled with preparations, fully ready to receive her as the Crowned Princess of Asgard.

The first time I noticed Queen Freya's distaste for me, it was subtle, a cold glance from across the room as I sat with Lady Cyan during a court gathering. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Surely, a queen had more important matters to concern herself with than a mere lady-in-waiting. But as the weeks passed, it became clear: it wasn’t just a glance,it was a warning.

Every time Lady Cyan made progress, especially with my guidance, Queen Freya's irritation grew more obvious.

I remember standing in the corner of the throne room when Vivienne was escorted out by the guards. Queen Freya had been across the hall, watching. Our eyes met briefly, and in that moment, I saw a flash of something, annoyance, perhaps even hatred. I had facilitated that firing, and she knew it.

Later, as I escorted Lady Cyan from the council room, the Queen called out to me, her voice smooth as velvet but sharp as a blade.

"Lady Honey," she began, forcing me to turn back. "You've done such a... thorough job cleaning up the mess around the palace." The way she said "thorough" was laced with disdain. "Though, I do wonder, have you left anything for Lady Cyan to do herself?"

I bristled at the remark, but I kept my expression neutral. "Her Highness has made all the decisions. I simply advised her where necessary." I could not allow my mouth to ruin this for me.

The Queen smiled that thin, humorless smile of hers. "Of course. But do be careful. A lady of your... talents should know when to step back. We wouldn’t want to overshadow the future princess, now, would we?"

The words cut deeper than intended. She wasn’t praising me. She was warning me. I was doing too much, and that didn’t sit well with her.

As Lady Cyan continued to gain confidence, Freya’s hostility grew. When Thor replaced the kitchen staff, I could see the Queen’s patience slipping further. I once overheard her speaking to Hela’s remaining ladies-in-waiting about how “some people simply don’t know their place” as I passed through the halls. I had no doubt she was referring to me.

It all came to a head during one of our morning meetings. I was assisting Cyan with the latest preparations for her upcoming wedding, ensuring all the details were perfect, when Queen Freya entered the room, her presence like a sudden frost in the air.

"Lady Honey," she addressed me without looking directly at Cyan. "It seems you’ve become quite indispensable. How fortunate for Lady Cyan."

I curtsied, though my stomach twisted. I knew what was coming.

"You've certainly made an impression," she continued, her voice sharp, "but one wonders if you've made the right kind."

There was no mistake in her meaning. I had been far too effective in my role, far too supportive of Cyan. Queen Freya wasn’t just irritated anymore, she was furious.

Unfortunately, during all of this, I had to deal with Prince Loki breathing down my neck. He insisted on my company far too often, even intruding on Lady Cyan’s morning teas, meant for us to go over her itinerary. He was relentless.

One morning, after Loki had finally left, opting to go train I couldn’t hold back. “That man is infuriating,” I muttered, still editing the itinerary.

“You mean Prince Loki of Asgard?” Lady Romanoff asked with a smirk.

“Who else?” I replied, shaking my head.

“I think it’s sweet that he’s found interest in you,” Lady Potts chimed in, her words slightly tentative. “And, well, at least you’d know your future is secure if you married him.” She was prone to putting her foot in her mouth without realizing it.

I gave her a sharp look but let it pass. “Did you manage to find a venue for the next royal tea party?”

“Oh, right,” she said, quickly handing me a sheet of paper. “Here’s the list of available venues for the date we need. I’ve marked the ones that would be most appropriate.”

Despite her occasional blunders, Potts was excellent at her job. I could always count on her efficiency.

With new ladies-in-waiting and the right servants, Lady Cyan was finally surrounded by a supportive circle. Her transformation was undeniable, and I was proud to have played a role in it.

Lady Cyan’s soft voice broke my thoughts. “Would it be so wrong to consider Prince Loki?”

I nearly scoffed. “If I were interested, perhaps it wouldn’t be.”

“I think you should give him a chance,” she suggested, her large doe eyes gazing at me earnestly.

I sighed. I was ready to dismiss the notion entirely, but those eyes… “I’ll think about it,” I conceded, though the thought made me cringe inwardly.

“That’s all I ask,” Cyan said with a sweet smile.

I shook my head, standing up. “I’ll be back. I need to confirm a few numbers with Edric.” I made my way to the door, hearing the giggles of the other ladies as I left the room.

It took a tremendous amount of work, but for the first time, I felt I had done right by Lady Cyan. She had a proper support system now, and she was ready to step into her role as Crowned Princess of Asgard.

As I walked down the palace halls toward accounting, my footsteps slowed as I passed the training grounds. There, shirtless and glistening with sweat, was Prince Loki, sparring with one of the knights. His lean, muscular form moved with precision, and I begrudgingly admitted to myself, yes, Prince Loki was a very handsome man. But he was oh so arrogant.

Not to mention, something about him made me uncomfortable, a discomfort I couldn’t quite shake. It was the same feeling I got around Duke Bruce and, on occasion, even Prince Thor. Maybe it had something to do with their high positions of power or the way they carried themselves with an air of control. Whatever it was, I had no interest in exploring it further.

Before I could turn away, I caught Loki’s eye. His gaze locked onto mine, and a sly smirk spread across his face as he waved. My heart skipped a beat, but not from admiration, it was more like a warning bell. I quickly dispersed, pretending not to notice, and rushed down the corridor toward Lord Hale’s office.

After finishing my business with Lord Hale, I made my way back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, feeling a sense of relief that the conversation had gone smoothly. But midway through my return, I found myself stopped by none other than Loki himself.

“May I help you, Prince Loki?” I asked stiffly, my posture rigid as I forced myself to remain composed.

A playful grin adorned his face, and his tone was laced with flirtation. “Oh, nothing in particular, just wanting to chat with the pretty girl who’s managed to turn the palace upside down.”

I straightened my spine. “You mean right side up,” I corrected coolly.

Prince Loki chuckled, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the air between us. “Well, regardless. Tonight, I’m headed to a gathering. A close friend of mine is planning to ask for a woman’s hand in marriage. Quite the event.And I was wondering if you’d like to attend” he pushes a lock of my hair behind my shoulder. “With me.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to attend,” I replied curtly. “I have a gathering of my own tonight.”

He chuckled again,as if he had some kind of secret, clearly entertained by my formality. “Well, shoot. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get together sometime.”

I forced a polite smile. “Of course.” I curtsied briefly, making it clear the conversation was over, and headed back to Lady Cyan’s chambers, the unsettling feeling from earlier creeping back into my chest.

“Do you want me to say something?” I’d asked her multiple times, my voice filled with the urge to protect her, but she always refused, her shy voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” she’d insist, and despite my frustration, I respected her decision. So tonight, as always, I played the role of silent protector, standing close to her, watching her every move, and his.

The party was filled with the usual noble chatter and laughter, but I found no comfort in it. Saffron’s uneasy smile, her fidgeting hands, and Duke Bruce’s ever-watchful eyes were the only things I could focus on.

I was lost in my thoughts when I felt someone brush close behind me, their breath warm against my ear. “Hello, Honey.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.Prince Loki. Of course. His voice carried that teasing edge, filled with amusement and arrogance, as if this was all a game to him.

I glanced over my shoulder, my irritation barely concealed. “Are you following me, Prince Loki?” I asked, my voice sharper than intended.

He chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on me as though he found the situation endlessly entertaining. “Following you? No, darling, I’m here for a special moment.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten. “And what moment might that be?” I asked, my words clipped.

His smirk widened as he casually nodded toward the center of the room. “That one,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

I followed his gaze and froze. My heart sank as I saw Duke Bruce Banner on one knee, proposing to Saffron in front of the entire room. She stood there, pale and trembling, but with all eyes on her, there was no way out. Her lips moved in slow motion, forming the dreaded word. “Yes.”

Applause filled the room as the crowd celebrated the engagement, toasting to their future. Saffron’s eyes darted toward me, wide with panic, but all I could do was stare, powerless to stop what was happening.

Loki leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Congratulations on your sister’s engagement,” he said, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth. “It seems Duke Banner will soon be family.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight with barely concealed rage. “You knew this was going to happen.”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Bruce is a close friend of mine. He’s been planning this for some time.”

I swallowed my anger, trying to keep my composure as I watched Saffron, my heart aching for her. Loki’s smug smile felt like salt in the wound. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Honey,” he added, his tone mocking. “I’m sure there will be more surprises to come.”

With that, he walked away, leaving me standing there, helpless as my sister’s fate was sealed before my eyes.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of stress and unanswered questions. Saffron’s engagement to Duke Banner weighed heavily on my mind, though she insisted everything was fine. I knew better. Every night she would come to me, her face tight with worry, sharing how uncomfortable everything made her feel. I’d offered her an out, told her we could make a formal request to call off the engagement, but she refused. She was too afraid of disappointing our parents, especially our mother.

“Everything will be fine,” she’d said with that fragile, hopeful look in her eyes. It made me furious, but I couldn’t force her hand. All I could do was stand by her, ready to step in if things went too far.

And then there was Lady Cyan. Rumors had spread quickly about her being ill, though I had my doubts. Something about it felt... off. The palace was rife with gossip, and yet Prince Thor, always the picture of calm, didn’t seem fazed. If anything, he appeared more focused than ever.

My attempts to see her had been blocked at every turn. Alistair, ever the watchful guard, was always there, standing between me and the answers I sought. A time where I’d tried to visit her, I was met with him stepping out of her chambers just as I approached. It was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Lady Cyan is resting,” he’d said, his tone polite but firm. His cold, calculating eyes met mine without so much as a flicker of guilt. I couldn’t stand how easily he lied to my face. "She needs her privacy."

“She’s been resting for weeks,” I shot back, frustration bubbling in my chest. “Surely she could spare a moment?”

Alistair didn’t blink, didn’t falter. “Her health is delicate. If you truly care for her well-being, you'll give her time.”

His words were a steel wall, and I had no choice but to retreat, fuming. But I didn’t stop trying. Each day, I attempted to get close, whether it was checking in through the maids or attempting another visit myself,but Alistair was always there, standing guard like some immovable sentry.

Pepper and Natasha told me to let it go, that if Prince Thor said she was unwell, it was best to leave it at that. But I couldn’t. Something in my gut told me that there was more to it. And as the days passed, that gnawing suspicion only grew stronger.

It didn’t help that Loki seemed intent on feeding into my doubts, though his information came in small, tantalizing pieces. Each time we crossed paths, he would drop a hint, a little morsel of knowledge that made my curiosity burn brighter. He never gave me the full picture, just enough to keep me coming back for more.

I had just finished reviewing some paperwork with Edric when I stepped out into the hallway. Prince Loki was there, casually leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. His eyes immediately found mine, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Lady Honey,” he greeted, his tone smooth. “Busy day?”

“Always,” I muttered, not in the mood for small talk. “Do you need something?”

He pushed off the wall, sauntering over to me, his presence impossible to ignore. “Not at all. Just curious how Lady Cyan is faring.” His voice dropped ever so slightly, hinting at something beneath the surface.

I stiffened, trying to mask my surprise. “She’s unwell, or so I’ve been told,” I replied carefully, eyeing him. “You would know that if you bothered to ask.”

Prince Loki chuckled softly, his hand reaching out to grab my chin. “Oh, I ask plenty of questions, my dear. Just not to the right people, apparently.” His touch lingered longer than necessary, and before I could say anything, he stepped back with a knowing smile. “Keep an eye on her,” he added, his tone soft but carrying weight.

Before I could respond, he was already walking away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Days had passed, and Prince Loki’s cryptic comments continued to nag at me. I was heading down the palace corridor, lost in thought, when I felt a sudden arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a side embrace. Prince Loki again.

“You always seem so tense, Lady Honey,” he teased, his voice close to my ear. “What has you so worked up this time?”

I tried to wriggle free, but he held me firmly in place, his warmth both irritating and oddly comforting. “Prince Loki, I have work to do,” I grumbled. “This isn’t the time.”

He laughed, his grip loosening but not completely letting go. “Is it ever? You’re always working, always investigating. I wonder... what would you do if you found something you weren’t supposed to?”

I stilled at his words, the weight of them sinking in. He knew something. “What are you implying?”

He smiled down at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let’s just say... not everyone in the palace is who they seem. Keep digging, and you might be surprised at what you find.”

I pulled away from him, trying to regain my composure. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re delightful,” he replied with a wink before walking off, leaving me even more frustrated than before.

I was pouring over documents late one evening when Prince Loki appeared out of nowhere, his presence once again unsettling but familiar. He stood behind me, his hand lightly resting on my back as he leaned in.

“Still working, I see,” he murmured. “Do you ever rest?”

I tensed at the closeness, but his hand was gentle, not imposing. “Someone has to do the work around here,” I replied dryly, not looking up.

“Hmm,” he mused, his fingers lightly tracing down my spine before lifting away. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’re just looking for something you shouldn’t be finding.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you ever going to just tell me what you know, or are you going to keep playing these games?”

Loki smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Where’s the fun in that, my dear? Sometimes, the best discoveries are made through patience... and persistence.”

Before I could respond, he was gone again, leaving only the faint warmth where his hand had been.

I stormed through the palace halls, my frustration building with every step. This was the fourth time I’d been turned away from seeing Lady Cyan, and I wasn’t about to let Alistair dismiss me again. My pulse quickened as I approached her chambers, my mind already preparing for a confrontation.

As soon as I reached the door, there he was, Alistair, standing outside with his arms crossed, as if he were waiting for me. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but I could see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Move aside,” I said sharply, not caring how harsh I sounded. “I’m seeing Lady Cyan whether you like it or not.”

Alistair didn’t flinch. Instead, he sighed and straightened, blocking the entrance with his large frame. “Young One,” he began in that infuriatingly calm voice, “how many times must we go through this? Lady Cyan is ill, and Prince Thor is taking excellent care of her.”

“That’s nonsense,” I snapped, my frustration boiling over. “Every time I’ve tried to see her, it’s been the same excuse. Do you think I’m some fool who will just let it go because you keep repeating the same thing? Lady Cyan hasn’t been seen for days!”

His gaze didn’t waver. “And she won’t be seen until she’s recovered. Now, go back to your duties.”

I clenched my fists, anger bubbling in my chest. “I’m not a child, Alistair! Don’t treat me like one just because you don’t have the decency to tell me what’s actually going on. You think I’m blind to what’s happening?”

Alistair stared at me, unfazed by my outburst. Then, to my utter fury, he reached out and gently patted me on the head, as if I were some bothersome child. “Young One,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone, “you should focus on your own work and let Prince Thor handle LadCyan. You’re only going to exhaust yourself meddling in things you don’t understand.”

I slapped his hand away, my blood boiling at the insult. “You can’t keep me away from her forever, Alistair.”

He merely shrugged, unfazed. “Perhaps not, but for now, you should go. I won’t tell you again.”

My teeth ground together, but I knew I couldn’t push him further without making a scene. I had no choice but to turn around and leave, but the fire of frustration burned deep in my chest. I wasn’t going to let this go, not by a long shot.

As I walked away, I could still feel Alistair’s patronizing pat on my head, and it only fueled my determination. Something was wrong, and I was going to find out what.

The royal wedding was only a few days away, and I’d reached my breaking point. The palace had become a den of whispers and secrets, and it seemed that the closer we got to the wedding, the more the air thickened with lies. I had tried everything, pushing past Alistair, confronting Prince Thor’s other courtiers, even pleading with Lady Natasha and Lady Pepper to help me get to LadyCyan. But all paths led to closed doors.

And Prince Loki with his cryptic words, his teasing smiles, and half-baked hints. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stormed through the palace halls, not caring who saw me. My feet led me to the Royal Garden, where I knew he’d be. He always found some quiet corner to lounge in, away from the royal duties he couldn’t be bothered with. Sure enough, there he was, seated by the fountain, leaning back like a man without a care in the world. He hadn’t seen me yet, his eyes closed, hands resting in his lap.

“Prince Loki!” I hissed, my voice cutting through the peaceful evening air. His eyes snapped open, a smirk already curling his lips as he straightened, watching me approach.

“Well, well, Lady Honey. I was wondering when you’d come seeking my company,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. He pushed off the edge of the fountain and stood, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “What brings you to me so... heatedly?”

“I’ve had enough of your games,” I spat, my fists clenched at my sides. “Tell me what’s going on with Lady Cyan.”

His smirk deepened, and he took a few slow steps toward me. “And what makes you think I’ll just give you the answers you seek?”

“Because you know something!” I shouted, unable to contain my frustration. “You’ve been dropping hints for weeks, playing with me like a cat with a mouse, and I’m done! I need to know what’s happening to her!”

Prince Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by my outburst. He circled me slowly, as if appraising me. “Oh, my dear Lady Honey, I do know many things. But nothing comes for free in this world.”

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest. “What do you want?”

He stopped in front of me, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unwavering. “A kiss.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“A kiss,” he repeated, his voice low and velvety. “Give me one, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

I stared at him, stunned. This was a new game. A dangerous one. “You’re joking.”

His eyes darkened, and the smirk on his face faded slightly, replaced with something more... possessive. “I never, Lady Honey.”

I hesitated, my mind racing. A kiss? For information? It felt wrong. But I had to know. I needed to understand what was happening, why Cyan had suddenly vanished behind locked doors, why everyone was pretending everything was fine.

With reluctance weighing heavily on me, I nodded. “Fine.”

Loki’s smirk returned, but this time it was darker, more victorious. Before I could even prepare myself, he stepped forward, his hand snaking around my waist and pulling me against him. His grip was firm, and the heat of his body was overwhelming. He didn’t hesitate , his lips crashed down on mine, strong and possessive, swallowing my breath. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, and claiming. His hand moved to the small of my back, pulling me even closer, while his other hand gripped my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss.

I gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t relent. His fingers dug into my waist, his body pressing me tightly against him as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. His lips moved with a fierceness that stole the air from my lungs, and when I tried to pull back, his grip tightened, holding me in place.

The kiss grew rougher, more demanding. His hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my thigh. He groped me as if I were his to take, his hold possessive, his body commanding.

My mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body was paralyzed. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear and something else , something I didn’t want to name. His lips moved over mine, devouring me, until I was left breathless, gasping against him.

When he finally pulled back, I was dizzy, my knees weak. I could hardly catch my breath as I stared up at him, my lips swollen, my body trembling from the intensity of it all. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and hungry, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“Well, Lady Honey,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “A deal’s a deal.”

I tried to steady my breathing, still reeling from the kiss. “Tell me,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

But Loki didn’t move away. Instead, he stayed close, his hand still firmly gripping my waist. He tilted his head slightly, brushing his nose against mine in an almost affectionate manner, a contrast to the possessive way he had kissed me moments earlier.

He pressed his lips softly to my forehead, lingering for a moment as his breath fanned over my skin. “Thor has been spending a lot of time with Cyan,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “Alone. Uninterrupted. But she’s not ill. Not at all.”

His hand slid lower, caressing my side as he spoke, his lips brushing against my hair. “They’ve been keeping her in her chambers, but it’s not for the reasons you think.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “Then why?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Loki’s grip tightened for a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Because she’s trapped, just like you, little honeybee. Thor has no intention of letting her go.”

I stared at him, a sinking feeling of dread filling my stomach.

The day after my tense encounter with Loki, I finally managed to see Lady Cyan. She was glowing, radiant even, but her expression, her eyes, told a different story. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I rushed forward and embraced her tightly.

“Are you alright?” I asked, my voice low, laced with concern.

Pepper and Natasha, standing nearby with knowing smiles, seemed to think my worry was misplaced. “Honey, had been worried sick about you,” Natasha said, her tone light, almost dismissive of the tension that clung to me. It was as if they were brushing off the entire ordeal.

“I’m fine,” Lady Cyan answered, but her eyes,they were haunted. Despite her soft smile, there was a sadness there that pulled at my chest.

I nodded, but I didn’t believe her. Something was wrong, and as the days leading up to the wedding crept by, I tried to coax her into talking. She remained tight-lipped, her melancholy growing more apparent, but she wouldn’t say a word.

Prince Loki, who had been dropping hints and playing his games, was nowhere to be found during this time. It should have unsettled me, but I was too focused on Lady Cyan to care.

Then, the day of the royal wedding arrived. It was the grandest affair Asgard had ever seen, extravagant, dazzling, and utterly flawless in its execution. Everyone was there, dressed to the nines, and the entire kingdom celebrated the union of Crown Prince Thor and Princess Cyan.

But then, during the reception, Princess Cyan disappeared.

I knew where to find her.

I followed my instincts, weaving my way through the palace grounds until I reached the Royal Forest. There, in the center of the garden, was a bench where she sat, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Princess Cyan?” I whispered as I approached. She looked up at me, her eyes red, streaked with tears.

Without a word, I sat beside her, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame. “What’s wrong?” I asked gently, stroking her hair as she cried.This was meant to be the happiest day of her life. Or so I’ve heard.

She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she extended her hand. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing me her wedding ring.

I frowned. “It’s your wedding ring, of course.”

She shook her head, her hand trembling. “No, Honey, it’s a Vowthorn.”

Confusion filled me as I studied the ring more closely. My blood ran cold as I saw it—tiny thorns lining the underside, almost imperceptible unless you looked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled again, and before I could stop her, she tugged at the ring. To my horror, pieces of her skin began to tear as she tried to remove it. Blood welled at the edges, and I quickly grabbed her hand to stop her. “Princess Cyan, stop!” I cried, my heart pounding.

“I can never take it off,” she whispered, her voice broken. “I’m bound to him, Honey. Forever.”

My eyes widened as I stared at her bloody finger, my stomach churning with revulsion. The thorns had sunk into her flesh, marking her, chaining her to Prince Thor in a way far crueler than I could have imagined.

“Princess Cyan.”

Alistair’s voice broke through the moment, his presence looming as he stepped out from the shadows of the trees. “Your husband is looking for you,” he said calmly, as if nothing was amiss.

Princess Cyan wiped her eyes, standing slowly as she gave me one last, heart-wrenching hug. “Thank you for everything,” she whispered, her voice hollow.

I held her tightly for a moment before releasing her, watching helplessly as she walked toward Alistair. He smiled, cold, knowing, and I could only stand there, frozen, as he gently escorted her back to the party.

I felt my heart twist, anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Do you understand now?”

Prince Loki had emerged from the shadows, lurking like the serpent he always was. I didn’t bother looking at him, my gaze still fixed on the spot where Cyan had disappeared, her broken form haunting my thoughts.

If I were being honest, I didn’t fully understand. Not yet. But there was one thing I was almost certain of.

“He’s harming her,” I said aloud, unable to shake the memory of her fear, the wedding ring that tore into her skin when she dared to remove it. “But why? I thought he loved her.”

Loki’s laugh was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the forest. It grated on my nerves, and I finally turned to stare at him. “What’s so funny?”

He stepped closer, his smirk both infuriating and dangerous. “Hardly harming her,” he corrected, his tone dripping with amusement. “There may be a bit of pain involved, yes... but the pleasure, from what I’ve heard, is immaculate.” His voice deepens

I rolled my eyes, my patience thinning. “What in gods’ name are you babbling about, Loki?”

He chuckled darkly, as if I were some naïve child. “Thor is playing a different game, Honey. One where control is disguised as love, and desire is wrapped in thorns. You see, your dear crowned prince has no intention of letting his bride go. Not ever.”

My stomach twisted. "That doesn't explain the ring. The pain."

Prince Loki's gaze softened, almost mockingly. “Ah, but pain and pleasure often intertwine. Thor’s made sure she feels both, he wants her to be bound to him in every way. The ring, the restrictions, they serve a purpose beyond mere possession. It’s a reminder. That no matter how much she may try to escape, she’ll always come back to him.”

I clenched my fists, anger rising in me like a tide. "You're saying he's... manipulating her into staying?"

"Isn't that what marriage often is?" Loki raised an eyebrow, his voice deceptively light. He moved closer, until the heat of his body was almost touching mine. "But don’t think of it as cruelty. In Thor’s eyes, it’s love. Just a... particular kind."

I felt sick. "And you? Do you condone it?"

Prince Loki leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “I don’t condone or condemn. I observe. And I act when it suits me.” He paused, his voice lowering to a whisper. "As I’ve been observing you."

A shiver ran down my spine. His presence, his words, it was all too much. I stepped back, trying to put distance between us, but Loki only smirked, as if he enjoyed seeing me unsettled.

He gestured toward the path Princess Cyan and Alistair had taken. “If you really want to know what’s happening, you’re asking the wrong questions. Thor loves her, yes, but his love is one that consumes, one that binds. Just like the ring on her finger.” His eyes gleamed. "The real question is, how far will he go to keep her?"

Before I could even think of leaving,Prince Loki’s slender fingers grab around my neck, his grip deceptively strong. He yanked me closer, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek, his body pressing against mine in a way that made my stomach churn with both fear and an unexpected flicker of something else, something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Now, then,” Loki whispered in a voice as smooth as velvet, his lips barely brushing my ear. “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“Let go of me!” I demanded, my voice shaking but defiant as I pushed against his chest, trying to create distance. But it was no use, he barely moves, his frame lean yet unyielding as if carved from stone.

“Now, now, little Honey,” he purred, his tone dripping with a sick sort of amusement. “You’ve been so curious about what’s happening to sweet Cyan... I think it’s only fair I show you ”

His lips descended on mine with a force that took my breath away. I gasped, my body instinctively tensing at the sudden invasion. His mouth claimed mine without hesitation, his kiss demanding, harsh, and unforgiving.

My hands pressed against his chest, trying to create some distance between us, but it was futile. Loki was everywhere. His fingers gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer as though he intended to merge us into one being. His other hand roamed, sliding down my back, groping and kneading as if he were staking his claim.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, and I could feel his fingers curling into the fabric of my gown, tugging me impossibly closer. His lips moved against mine, rough and unrelenting, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a dominance that made my knees buckle.

"L-Loki—" I tried to speak, to push him away, but my voice was swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. He groaned against my lips, his hand trailing lower, grabbing my hip and squeezing with enough force to make me gasp.

"Shh," he whispered, his lips brushing mine in a cruel mockery of tenderness. "You’ve wanted this, Honey. Don’t pretend otherwise."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, but before I could respond, his mouth was back on mine, stealing my breath once more. His hands slid down to my backside, gripping and pulling me against him in a way that left no space between us. I could feel every inch of him, his body pressed tightly to mine as if he couldn’t bear to let me go.

His lips left mine only to trail down the side of my neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along my skin. I whimpered as he nipped at my collarbone, his teeth grazing my flesh just enough to send a bolt of heat through me.

"You’re mine now," he growled against my skin, his voice low and possessive. "Don’t think for a second you can escape me."

His hands roamed freely, tracing the curve of my waist, the swell of my hips, and the dip of my back. His touch was rough, insistent, as though he was marking me with every stroke of his fingers. My heart pounded in my chest, a mixture of fear, and confusion

I've never done anything like this before, I’ve never been exposed to anything like this before. For the first time in my life, I feared what would happened next.

Loki's grip tightened, his hands digging into my flesh as if daring me to try and escape. But there was no escape. Not from him. Not from this.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that made me want to run and hide. His thumb traced the line of my jaw as he smirked down at me, his lips swollen from the kiss.

He shoved me hard, sending me crashing to the ground. My head smacked against the cold earth, a sharp pain shooting through my skull as the world spun for a moment.

Using my confusion as an opportunity, Loki climbed on top of me, forcibly lifting my skirts and ripping apart my undergarments.

“Wait” I called out “Loki! Please! No!” my pleas falling on deaf ears as I heard and felt him shuffle about.

I tried to get up, but this only caused Loki to grab my neck once more, shoving my head back into the ground. The pressure on my neck causing me to still.

All at once, I feel a searing pain in my nether regions, and Loki growls with what I can only assume is pleasure. I begin digging my nails into his arm and dragging them down. Tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

The anguish squeezing every bit of breath I had in my body.

He takes one look at my face, at the agony and discomfort he was causing, and he laughed loudly.

“You are a virgin?” he asks, shock laced into his voice.

I swallow, whimpers escape me as I try to breathe through the torment.

“And you worry about the whore?”

He begins moving his body against mine the pain sharp, and persistent, a deep, stretching discomfort catching me off guard. Distress overtaking me as tears fell down my face. It felt as if a fresh wound had been torn open, and he was mercilessly digging into it, over and over, each movement sending waves of torment through me.

A pressure that started small but grew with every motion, my muscles tensing instinctively. It wasn’t just the physical sting; there was an emotional weight behind it too. A feeling of vulnerability, of crossing a threshold I could never return from. It was unbearable, and far from pleasant, a blend of confusion and distress mixed with the ache.

With every grunt and growl Loki worked to steal away my innocence. I became tired, my arms dropped to my side as I allowed him what he wanted. I still cried to myself wondering when this would be over.

He removed his hand from my neck, planting both firmly on to the ground as he worked to move faster. Finally, just when I felt that I could take no more he lets out a final roar pushing himself as deep as he could inside me, causing me to cry out in pain,before collapsing on my worn body.

"See?" he whispered, his voice a low growl. "I told you, Honey. You’re mine."

I stared up at him, panting, my mind still spinning from the events that occurred.

He stood, fixing himself before leaving me on the ground with a chuckle.

I had never felt so ashamed, to allow something so awful to happen to me. I move into a fetal position, wondering where I went wrong.

Afterwards when Prince Loki stood up and fixed his garments I chose to lay on the ground for what felt like hours, my body aching, my mind swirling in the haze of disbelief. Used, humiliated, and utterly broken, I could hardly muster the strength to move. The cool earth beneath me felt foreign, much like the shell of my own body. I wanted to scream, to cry, but the exhaustion and shame anchored me to the ground.

Eventually, reality clawed its way back in. I still had to go home. As battered as I was, I couldn’t allow myself to be found like this. I still had my family’s dignity to uphold, fragile though it was. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out the vile memories of what had just happened. Loki's touch lingered on my skin, searing like a brand I’d never erase. But I had to get up. I had no choice.

With trembling arms, I pushed myself off the cold ground. Every movement sent a fresh wave of soreness through my body. My dress was filthy, covered in dirt and torn in places. My hair, usually so neatly kept, hung in tangled clumps around my face. I wiped at my cheeks, but the tears had long since dried. I felt like a ghost of the woman I was when I arrived.

My legs shook as I took one step, then another. My body protested, but I bit back the groan of agony and pressed on. I couldn’t afford to be found here. Not like this.

It was a miracle no one had come across me. The palace grounds had plenty of hidden corners, but in this state, I felt exposed, vulnerable. With every faltering step, I felt the weight of what had been stolen from me. I was no longer Honey Duval, the thorny, snarky daughter of a struggling Baroness. I had become something else entirely.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the entrance of the palace. There were still people milling about, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that raged inside me. I kept my head low, pulling my ruined dress around me to hide the worst of the damage. I prayed that no one would take a second look, that no one would notice the way I limped toward the line of carriages.

I spotted an empty one, its driver standing idly by. I approached him as steadily as I could, my voice a ragged whisper as I asked, “Take me home.”

The driver, with barely a glance, helped me inside, and I sank into the seat, every muscle in my body screaming for rest. The door shut, and with the soft lurch of the carriage, I felt myself collapse inward.

I managed to stumble my way through the door without a soul in sight. The house was still and quiet, no sign of my family. Of course, they were all still at the wedding. My parents, Saffron, even Bruce, none of them would have noticed I was missing yet. That gave me some relief, though it was fleeting.

The servants had long retired to their quarters for the night. There was no one to see me in this state, no judgmental eyes to pry at my disheveled hair and filthy gown. I was grateful for the emptiness of the estate.

I moved quietly through the halls, each step painful, my body still aching from the night’s cruelty. When I finally reached my room, I shut the door behind me, leaning my back against it and letting out a ragged breath. My legs gave out from under me, and I slid to the floor, my dress pooling around me in a tattered mess.

I could still feel Loki’s hands on me, the weight of his body, his mocking smile as he took everything I had left. A fresh wave of nausea rolled over me, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise.

I was falling apart.

With shaking hands, I dragged myself to the mirror, catching sight of the wreck I had become. My eyes hollow, my hair tangled and dirty, my dress in ruins. I could barely recognize myself.

I stripped off my ruined dress, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Every inch of my body ached, bruises I hadn’t noticed earlier now flaring with every movement. My mind was clouded with the horrors of what had transpired, but I knew one thing,I needed to wash it all away.

The bathwater was scalding as I stepped in, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the heat, letting it burn my skin, hoping it could sear away the filth that clung to me. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed harder than I ever had before. I scrubbed until my skin felt raw, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t rid myself of the feeling of his hands, his breath on my neck, the unbearable weight of him.

Loki’s sins clung to me like a second skin, and no amount of scrubbing could make them disappear.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and this time I couldn’t stop them. They fell silently, mixing with the water, but I didn’t make a sound. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let this break me—not yet. I had to keep going. I had to find a way to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, I dragged myself out of the tub, my skin tender and sore. I wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling me down, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

I dressed quickly, slipping into a nightgown, my body trembling with every movement. Each bruise, each ache, was a reminder of what had happened, of what I had endured.

Finally, I collapsed onto the bed, pulling the sheets around me as tightly as I could. I wanted to disappear, to become invisible, but the memories wouldn’t let me. They played over and over in my mind, tormenting me, reminding me that I was no longer the person I had been just hours before.

As the night deepened, I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling, my body too heavy to move, my mind too shattered to rest.

The morning after the... incident, I went to work, doing my best to avoid Loki like the plague. Thankfully, he wasn't lurking anywhere near me, but my focus stayed on my work, burying myself in it to ignore the memory of last night.

Princess Cyan was finally available today, but something was off. She was quieter than usual, almost distant, her glow subdued. I glanced around the room, noticing Natasha and Pepper were unusually silent too. The whole room felt heavy, but I was too preoccupied with my work to dwell on it. There were more pressing things to address,or so I thought.

Queen Freya had summoned me.

When the notice arrived, I paused, the paper trembling in my hands. I could feel my pulse quicken, but I kept my composure as I made my way to the Queen’s receiving room. What could she possibly want? Had something else gone wrong?

The air in Queen Freya’s receiving room was as cold and stiff as the Queen herself. I stood quietly, waiting for her to get to the point of summoning me here. She'd been polite enough, making small talk about the weather and my family’s well-being, but her eyes never softened. Not for a moment.

It wasn’t long before she finally sat back in her chair and sighed, an air of finality in her voice. "Honey, you’ve done quite a remarkable job assisting... Princess Cyan." The way she said "Princess" made it sound like an insult rather than a title. "But I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

I blinked, completely thrown. "Your Majesty, may I ask what I’ve done wrong?"

She folded her hands and looked at me with the kind of smile that never reached her eyes. "It’s not about wrongdoing, per se. But your absence on the night of the wedding was entirely unprofessional. We cannot risk something like that happening again. What if Princess Cyan needed you? You were nowhere to be found."

My heart raced. That night… my time spent with PrincesCyan had been brief before I stumbled upon her secret. I knew better than to mention it. "Your Majesty, I—"

"There’s no need for explanations, dear," she cut me off sharply. "I am well aware that you have been rather... vocal in your support for Princess Cyan. Too vocal, perhaps."

There it was. The truth. Queen Freya’s gaze flickered, revealing the venom she had been holding back. It wasn’t about my absence or my professionalism. This had nothing to do with any potential failure on my part.

"Your service to her has been... commendable," she continued, her tone laced with condescension. "But it’s not what is needed at court. We must think of the future of Asgard, and Princess Cyan’s role. You... would do better to think of your own future outside these palace walls."

I stood there, stunned into silence.

"There are no second chances in court, Honey. You must understand that. You’re dismissed."

It hit me like a blow. All my work, all my effort to support Princess Cyan, to make sure she was respected, treated as she should be, would be undone by a queen who saw her as a blemish. And I was simply collateral.

I gathered myself, curtsying. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

As I walked out of the receiving room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the power Queen Freya wielded. This wasn’t about professionalism or duty. This was about control.

Mother’s eyes blazed with fury, the air between us crackling with her frustration. I stood there, hands clenched at my sides, trying to steady my breathing, but the storm in her gaze only grew.

"What could you have possibly done?" she spat, pacing in front of me like a lioness ready to strike. "Did you offend someone again? Oh, did you open your big mouth to the wrong person this time?"

I flinched at her words, though I knew better than to respond too quickly. I kept my head down, my eyes tracing the intricate patterns on the rug beneath my feet, as if I could disappear into the floor. Her accusations, though harsh, were nothing new.

She stopped pacing, turning to me with that piercing look that always left me feeling smaller than I was. "Speak, Honey. What have you done? You must have done something, or you wouldn’t have been fired as Princess Cyan’s lady-in-waiting! So what was it?"

I stayed silent, my throat tight with the truth I couldn’t say. She wouldn’t understand, not now, not ever. And even if I told her everything, how would I explain Loki?

Her voice broke through my thoughts, sharp and biting. "Answer me!" she demanded. "Do you know what you’ve caused? To be dismissed from court like some common servant, disgraceful! You’ve brought shame upon this family."

I swallowed, the words heavy on my tongue, but none of them would make a difference. My mother was looking for someone to blame, and I was the easiest target.

Her gaze darkened, filled with suspicion. “So you’ve nothing to say? No defense for yourself?”

I shook my head. "No, Mother. Nothing."

For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken accusations. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down as if searching for some clue, some evidence of the disgrace I’d caused.

Her lips curled into a sneer

It was another day of being reprimanded by her. But this time, it stung more than usual. Saffron wasn’t here to soften the blow, to offer that silent comfort only a sister could. No, she was off with Bruce’s mother, going over preparations for her own wedding, blissfully unaware of the disaster that had become my life.

I stood there, feeling the weight of my mother’s words, the shame and frustration building up like a dam about to break. Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back. Could I even tell her what had really happened? Could I tell her about Loki, about the things that I didn’t even want to think about, let alone speak aloud?

"Answer me, Honey!" my mother snapped, her impatience rising.

I couldn’t. I couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, I rushed past her, ignoring the startled look on her face. I needed to get away, to hide. I fled to my room, slamming the door behind me as the tears finally broke free.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to hear anyone. I didn’t know what I wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this. This life, this shame, this pain,I couldn’t bear it.

I curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest, wishing for everything to just disappear.

Weeks had passed, and I was growing weaker with each day.

I stayed silent. Lying in bed, withering away, my body betraying me as much as my mind. What could I possibly say? What could my family do if I did tell them? Loki was the Prince of Asgard, untouchable by anyone in our position. And with Saffron dealing with her own issues with the Duke, I couldn’t add more burden to the family.

From what I knew, Saffron wanted to delay the wedding—push it back a year or two, give them time to get to know each other better. But The Duke refused, insisting that he could hardly wait the few days left until they were to be married. The fear in Saffron’s eyes was clear as day. She was terrified, but with me having been fired from the palace, she felt like she had no other choice. Bruce was our only hope of pulling the Duvals out of the pit of "nonexistence," as my mother had begun to call it.

I tried to tell Saffron that she always had a choice, that there was another way, but she wouldn’t listen. The weight of saving the family seemed to matter more to her than saving herself.

We were walking through the Duval garden when I could feel my body rebelling again. Saffron had convinced me that fresh air might do me good, that perhaps I was simply exhausted from being cooped up for so long. But I felt nauseous, my head swimming. Eventually, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I leaned over, vomiting into the bushes, and before I knew it, everything went black.

When I woke, I was surrounded by my family. Saffron, my father, and my mother, along with a doctor who was wiping his hands clean on a cloth. My mother was hovering over me, panicked, her voice shrill as she called my name. My father stood by, trying to calm her down, while Saffron sat silently at the edge of the bed, her face pale.

"She's awake," my father sighed in relief.

I blinked, trying to shake the fog from my mind. "What happened?" My voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

The doctor cleared his throat, stepping forward. "You've fainted, Lady Honey, but you're alright now. However, there’s something else... You’re with child.”

The words hit me like a boulder.

"That’s impossible," I muttered, though deep down I knew it wasn’t. The memory of Loki’s hands on me flashed in my mind, and I felt my stomach twist.

"I think you know how this happened," the doctor said, his tone professional but laced with an understanding that made the room feel even heavier.

Silence fell, and the air grew thick with tension. My mother was the first to break it, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. "Who is the father? Who have you been with?" Her words came sharp and fast, like a blade cutting through me.

I said nothing. What could I say? How could I explain something I barely had the strength to acknowledge myself?

My father quietly ushered the doctor out of the room, but Saffron remained, her face frozen in shock. She didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

My mother’s voice rose again, frantic now. "Who is the father, Honey? Answer me!" Her hands grabbed my shoulders, shaking me, but still, I stayed silent.

I couldn’t bring myself to utter Loki’s name. Not now. Not ever.

"If you don’t tell me this instant, I’ll—I’ll..." My mother’s voice cracked, her eyes wild as she searched for something that might break me. She straightened, her face flushed with frustration. "I’ll send you to your Aunt Gertrude."

I blinked, the words settling in the air like an empty threat. Aunt Gertrude. As a child, her name had been synonymous with punishment. The strange spinster, cast aside by the family for reasons never fully explained to me and my sister. I used to shudder at the mere mention of her name, but now... now, the thought of being sent to her estate didn’t stir the same fear it once did.

In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having a true reason to fear Aunt Gertrude. She was an outcast, yes. Blamed for the Duvals’ declining status in society. But what had she really done? No one had ever told me.

Maybe it was because she was different, unconventional, and refused to play the endless games of high society. Or maybe it was because she didn’t fit into the mold my mother had set for the family.

And now, I was beginning to realize... I might not either.

I was much too tired to fight, to resist the weight of my mother’s constant reproach. My head ached, and the room spun slightly as I forced myself to sit up straighter, meeting her gaze. Her threat hung in the air between us, but the words that escaped me were softer than I intended, drained of their sting.

"Then send me," I said, barely above a whisper. "I don’t care anymore."

She recoiled as if I’d struck her. "How dare you," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms. "After all we’ve done for you, after everything our family has sacrificed, this is how you repay us?"

I turned my head, gazing out of the window as she raged. My chest felt hollow, my heart heavy with exhaustion. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, perhaps I cared too much, but what could I do?

She stood abruptly, the anger still palpable in the air between us. "You’ll leave for Gertrude’s after Saffron’s wedding, she will be in attendance, and will take you with her when she leaves" she declared, her voice colder now, resolved. "And don’t expect us to welcome you back anytime soon."

I nodded silently, still looking away. As she left the room, I let out a slow breath, sinking back into the pillows. A strange calm washed over me. The threat of being sent to Aunt Gertrude no longer loomed like it once had.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the less frightening it seemed.

Aunt Gertrude had been cast out for being different, for failing to meet society’s expectations. Maybe, just maybe, I had more in common with her than anyone else in this family.

Saffron looked radiant but terrified. Her eyes darted across the grand hall, her smile faltering every time someone came too close. I should have objected to this marriage, but I couldn't. Not for lack of love or loyalty,no, I simply couldn't find the energy within myself. The truth was, I had no reason to.

On paper, Duke Bruce Banner was everything one could hope for. Powerful, wealthy, and above all else, terrifyingly loyal to Saffron. Since their courtship began, he had proven his devotion in ways that made him seem perfect, like the ideal match for a girl of Saffron’s standing. And with our family’s name teetering on the edge of ruin, he was exactly what she needed. What we all needed.

Mother had remained by my side throughout the day, ensuring that I didn’t cause a scene. Her hands were always just a breath away, offering water, passing sweets, shielding me from questions thrown by fellow relatives. It was the most affectionate she’d ever been, a strange contrast to her usual distant demeanor. Perhaps she feared what the slightest slip would reveal that her daughter carried a secret far more scandalous than a dismissal from court.

My pregnancy was the one secret she seemed determined to protect, at least for now.

I managed to slip away and found Saffron standing alone, staring into the mirror, her smile long gone. Her hands were trembling as she adjusted her veil, and when she saw me, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“We can run away together, you know?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the murmurs of guests in the distance.

She looked at me, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "And I know you’re seriously considering that," she said, a soft laugh escaping her. But there was no joy in it, only resignation. “But I can’t, Honey. I can’t abandon my obligations. I don’t have the luxury of running away.”

I nodded, though my heart ached for her. Saffron, my strong-willed sister, had always carried the weight of responsibility on her delicate shoulders, and despite her fear, she would never cast it aside. That was who she was.

She pulled me in close, her breath warm against my cheek. "I’d like to see my little niece or nephew often, though," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "So I expect frequent visits."

I couldn’t help but smile, though tears blurred my vision. "You’ll be the best aunt this child will ever know," I said, meaning every word.

We hugged tightly, holding onto this fleeting moment of peace. It was one of the few moments we’d had where neither of us had to pretend. For just a heartbeat, it was the two of us again,sisters, not trapped by titles or duties, but bound by love.

But we both knew it wouldn’t last. We had already lost, each in our own way.

“Dear!” A voice interrupted our embrace, and we both turned to see Duke Bruce Banner standing at the entrance, a charming but calculated smile on his face. His eyes flickered between us, though it was clear his attention was only on Saffron.

"I truly hate to interrupt a bonding moment between sisters," he said with a grin, "but it’s time for the cake."

Saffron gave him a strained smile before taking his arm. But before she let go of my hand, she squeezed it tightly, a silent promise, a reassurance that no matter what, we would always have each other. Even if the world we lived in forced us apart.

As they walked away, the weight of what was coming settled over me like a shroud. Soon, I would be gone, sent away under the guise of preserving what little dignity we had left. And Saffron would stay, locked in a life she hadn’t chosen but couldn’t refuse.

I watched them go, my heart heavy, knowing that we had both become prisoners of our fates. But for now, we could pretend,for one last time,that everything was still as it had been.

The weight of it all pressed heavily on my chest. A chapter of my life that I had barely begun to understand was forcibly coming to a close, and it was out of my control. I let out a small breath, placing a hand over my belly. The child inside me had yet to show, but the reality of it, the enormity of it, was already sinking in. Would I be a good mother? Would I ever have a chance to make things right?

The carriage rumbled through the forest, cutting a path toward the next town where we would stop to rest. I watched as tree after tree passed by, but the rhythmic movement of the ride made me nauseous. I closed my eyes, trying to calm the twisting in my stomach, but instead, my mind filled with questions.

What will my new life be like?

I hadn’t realized I had drifted off into sleep until a sharp jolt startled me awake. The carriage had come to a sudden stop. At first, there was nothing but hushed murmurs from outside, voices low and indistinct. But then the gurgling screams began.

My heart seized in my chest.

Were we being robbed?

Terror gripped me, and I curled up tightly in the corner of the carriage, trying to make myself as small as possible. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I held my breath, listening as footsteps crunched on the gravel outside, drawing closer to the carriage door. There was a pause,three distinct knocks,before the door swung open.

Green eyes met mine, gleaming with amusement. A familiar, infuriating smirk followed.

"Loki."

Confusion flooded through me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice trembling.

He stepped forward with all the casual arrogance I had come to expect from him taking a seat across from me, his grin widening. “I’m here to collect what’s mine.”

His words took me aback, my confusion deepening. What did he mean?

Loki sighed, as if I were being slow, and moved closer, his hand brushing lightly against my cheek, a gesture that was oddly tender coming from him. But then his hand traveled lower, resting over my stomach. His voice was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it. “This," he said, his fingers pressing gently, "and this.”

I recoiled instinctively, grabbing his hand and pushing it away. Panic swirled inside me as I whispered, “How did you know?”

His eyes darkened, the smirk fading into something more serious. “What made you think I wouldn’t know?”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind raced, searching for something that would make this moment less terrifying, but nothing came. The air between us felt suffocating.

Loki sat back, spreading his legs wide and resting his arms along the back of the seat, completely at ease as though we weren’t discussing the life growing inside of me. “Why didn’t you tell your mother about us?”

“There was nothing to tell,” I said quickly, my voice tight.

He laughed then, a cold, humorless sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “Oh, there’s plenty to tell,” he said, his tone darkening. His gaze dropped to my stomach, his eyes narrowing. “Did you think you could keep the child from me?” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Did you think you could keep yourself away from me?”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold his gaze but feeling the weight of his words press down on me.

Loki leaned back again, watching me with those sharp, calculating eyes. “Since you’re carrying my child, I won’t punish you as I normally would.” His voice was low, almost casual, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable. “But make no mistake, Honey,you will be punished.”

The carriage fell eerily quiet. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and I could feel the chill creeping up my spine. For a moment, neither of us moved. The tension was thick, palpable.

Then, slowly, Loki stood, towering over me, his expression unreadable. “You won’t escape me, Honey. Not now, not ever.” He grabbed my hair, banging my head against the wall. “Maybe next time you’ll be a bit more forthcoming about your condition.” He pulls me up by my hair, my scalp burning as I feel my skin being pulled. He begins moving me around, as if molding me to his touch. Before I know it, I am on my hands and knees. I try to move away but Loki slaps my face “No, you will behave.” I still, his hand still in my hair. I feel fingers creeping down my dress before lifting my skirts over my bottom. Tears flow from my eyes as I begin to beg him to let me go. “Please Loki do not do this to me.” He ignores my please as he removes my undergarments, I feel the cool air against my naked skin, and I begin to struggle once more. He pushes me into the carriage seat “If you’d like my guards to join, that please continue to move.”

I still once more.

This could not be happening again. As much fear as I had to be meeting aunt Gertrude, the one thing I was glad to avoid was this.

But it seems to be something I am unable to escape.

I feel his fingers ghosting my bottom, before feeling their way between my lips, gently pushing against my pearl. My breathe hitches as I whimper at the feel. He chuckles slowly rubbing it as my arousal begins to stain his hands.

It wasn’t long before I felt him moving around behind, and I felt something soft and firm poking between my legs.

“Please” I whisper with one final plea

He carefully moves to grab my hips, tightening his hands against them. “You will be mine forever.”

He thrusted into my pussy, prying the flesh apart, pushing until he reached the hilt of his pubic region.

Although there was pain, as expected, it did not feel as terribly as the first time. Slowly he began to move, pushing in and out until his cock was soaked with the juices of my cunt. Although it stung, the feeling wasn’t torturous, in fact, it was beginning to feel pleasurable.

Guilt began to eat away at me as his thrusts became more forceful, and I slowly begin reach a peak. My whimpers becoming moans, as he hovers over me to pinch my nipples.

I don’t realize what’s happened, until I feel vibrations in my body and see stars in my eyes.

“Good Girl.” Loki whispers into my ear as \ he continues to thrust until I feel his body stiffen with his own release. He collapses on top of me, feeling my exposed skin while still inside of me.

I was still wrapping my head about what had just gone on when Loki moved to open the carriage door, a blissful smile playing on his lips as he glanced back at me. His expression was unsettling, a dangerous mix of amusement and calculation.

"I feel like a game of tag," he said casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

My mind was still spinning, my body worn out, trying desperately to gather my bearings after everything that had just happened. The situation felt surreal, like some twisted nightmare.

"I’ll give you a five-minute head start." His words made my stomach drop as the pieces slowly started coming together in my mind. "If you make it to your mother’s home before I catch you, I will leave you alone forever."

I sat up, quickly fixing my dress, my heart pounding in my chest. Loki was playing a game, one I knew I couldn’t afford to lose. Staying in this carriage with him would lead to nowhere good, but the alternative was no less terrifying.

"However," he continued, pausing just enough to let the weight of his words sink in, "if I catch you first, you’ll have to say yes to my proposal." He smiled wider, his eyes glinting with dangerous excitement. "And we’ll continue to play tag until you do reach your home."

Before I could respond, Loki stepped out of the carriage and, with alarming ease, pulled me out and lifted me onto the ground. His grip was firm but not painful, yet it only heightened the sense of helplessness coiling inside me.

When I looked behind him, I found the coachmen dead on the ground, laying in what I assumed to be blood. I was too scared to speak, so I remained quiet.

"Your five minutes starts now." His grin widened as he glanced at an invisible clock. "Four minutes and fifty-four seconds."

I didn’t waste another second. I took off running, my legs stiff and unsteady beneath me, my body still heavy with the shock of what had just occurred. My heart hammered in my chest, each step labored and uncoordinated as I struggled to push forward. All with his essence dripping down my legs.

This can’t be happening, I thought to myself, as tears welled up in my eyes. This can’t be real.

But it was.

The trees blurred as I stumbled through the forest, branches catching at my dress, my shoes sinking into the uneven earth beneath me. Tears streamed down my face as I tripped and fell hard into the dirt, my hands scraping against the ground as I hit the earth with a dull thud.

I could hear Loki’s voice in the back of my mind, taunting me with his smile, his challenge. The reality of what he wanted, the cruel game he was playing, pressed down on me, suffocating my thoughts.

I lay there for a moment, my chest heaving, dirt smeared across my hands and face. I felt the ground beneath me, solid and cold, but all I could think was:

what am I supposed to do now?

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suppose-i-was-worm · 11 months ago

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Like the Beat of a Drum pt 2

**I'm not entirely happy about this, and have NO clue where it's going next, but we'll see!**

The Red Hood clocked Danny as not all he seemed as soon as they were alone together. After some negotiation (Danny threatening to vanish into thin air and Hood threatening to tell Red Robin), they came to a consensus.

Danny would be in human form unless one of the other bats were around, and Hood would keep his big mouth shut.

“No spooky supernatural stuff in my borough, kid.”

Danny decided not to tell the other man that he himself had a fair bit of spooky supernatural stuff going on.

He should probably keep an eye on that- Corrupted ectoplasm was never a good thing, and Red Hood was crawling with it.

Living in Crime Alley was easy. Hood had put him up in a dingy little apartment, fully stocked with anything he might need- and no surveillance equipment. Danny had checked. He spent his time while he finished the healing process taking the toaster apart. And the microwave.

Hood visited while he was arms deep in the oven and put a kibosh on larger appliances, but he started bringing small broken appliances around for Danny to fix. It was nice, having another undead hanging around. Someone who understood the constant itch under Danny’s skin to keep moving, keep working, keep reminding himself he was alive.

He even was finally able to see his soulmark! It was a name, somebody called Timothy Drake-Wayne. Hood had seen it and made some sort of choking noise, and when Danny asked, he was told that Drake-Wayne was publicly markless. Weird.

Danny was pleased that the wounds to the area had healed completely though, not marring the text at all.

The wound on his chest, not so much. It stood out, inflamed and sore against his otherwise pale chest. Its presence reminded him a little of the lichtenberg scars that crawled down his arms in his ghost form.

Maybe the Drs. Fenton had somehow killed him again, and now he was a halfa twice over? This was his penance, he supposed, for trusting them after everything.

~~~

Tim’s favorite coffee shop was packed, save for one table with a lone occupant. Once he’d gotten his deathwish coffee, he made his way over to the table.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I-“

The table’s occupant, a young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, nodded toward the other chair before Tim could finish his sentence.

“Feel free, man. It’s a busy day today.”

Tim couldn’t help but wonder where he’d seen the other before- his face was familiar in a strange way, and he felt- he felt surprisingly attracted.

His soulmate heartbeat thing had been unusually quiet since the night Phantom arrived, whereas before it sounded loud and clear in his head at least a few times a day and long into the night.

He was allowed to talk to cute people while his soulmate was still young, right?

“Spend a lot of time here?”

The stranger shrugged.

“Here and there. Haven’t run into you before, which I think I would have noticed. I’m Danny, by the way.”

Tim didn’t think much of the name. This young man was far too old to be his Daniel.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Tim.”

He reached out a hand, and Danny shook it firmly, giving him an odd look that quickly passed.

The two of them sat and chatted for a while, and Tim found himself wondering how he’d missed this person around Gotham- he was well spoken with a soft accent, whip smart, and gorgeous.

Tim’s watch buzzed, reminding him he had a meeting- he could have sworn he had two hours between his coffee run and his meeting, but perhaps he’d been chatting too long.

“Shit! I have to go- it was nice meeting you!”

He chugged the rest of his now-cold coffee and darted out of the coffee shop.

It wasn’t until after the shareholder’s meeting that he realized he hadn’t asked for Danny’s number.

~~~

“Hood!”

Jason looked up from his desk as his office door was flung open, and then watched in amusement as Danny scrambled out of the grasp of the goon trying to pull him away.

“Sorry Boss, he slipped by us! I’ll- OW! He bites!”

“Stand down, Marcus, he’s a friend. Head over to medical if you need to- the little shit’s feral.”

Grumbling, the goon let go of a smug looking Danny and made his way to the other door while Danny swanned into the office and made himself comfortable on Hood’s guest chairs.

“How did you find this place?”

Shrugging, the kid pretended to inspect his nails.

“You know, just followed the scent of daddy issues and rancid ectoplasm- not hard. Didn’t peg you for the office type, though.”

Jason leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What do you want.”

“Timothy Drake-Wayne is Red Robin, yes?”

Trying to keep his posture casual and unconcerned, Jason tilted his head.

“What makes you say that?”

“I met a guy named Tim at the coffee shop and he’s got the same ghosts as Red Robin.”

Danny slapped a newspaper down on the desk between them- the cover page was Tim, looking very CEO and businesslike.

Jason was pretty sure Tim and Danny would get along like a house on fire, if Danny had already figured him out.

“Also, I felt his heartbeat when we shook hands and it matches the beat of my soul.”

Pausing, Jason parsed the information he now had about Danny.

“Wait, you can see ghosts that follow people?”

“You can’t?”

Jason stared incredulously at Danny for a few beats, and then the younger man sighed.

“Right. Your ecto is all screwy. Remind me to fix that. Yeah, I see ghosts attached to people- not everyone has them, and not all of the ghosts are actually, you know, dead people, but yeah. I don’t normally think about them because they’re everywhere, but same ghosts often equal same person.”

Danny slumped further into the chair after he finished talking, letting out a small whine.

“What now?”

“Jason, he’s cute.”

With a sigh, Jason pointed over at the newest handful of appliances he needed Danny to fix for the residents of Crime Alley.

“Take that and get out of my office.”

~~~

“Timberly~”

Tim sighed and let his pen drop- if Jason was here and looking for him, he probably wouldn’t get much work done. Not that he was getting work done now- balancing a pen on his nose wasn’t really work.

Jason rounded the batcomputer, idly tossing his helmet from one hand to another, a massive grin stretching across his face. It was a scheming face, a face that said he knew something Tim didn’t, and Tim hated not knowing things.

“What.”

Jason’s grin stretched wider.

“You’ve been keeping secrets!”

With a sigh, Tim turned his attention to the computer. Of course he kept secrets- the entire family had secrets. Hell, the secrets that the entire family kept probably also kept secrets.

Undeterred, Jason shoved his head (read: his entire upper body) in between Tim and the computer.

“So, where is it?”

Tim raised an eyebrow at the other man, hoping he looked as judgmental as he felt.

“Where is what, Jason? My spleen?”

The grin on Jason’s face faltered for a moment before returning with full force.

“Your soulmark!”

The weights Dick had been working with in the training area hit the floor with a loud thump, and Tim could only assume their oldest brother was storming over to berate Jason.

“Jason!”

Heh. He was right.

Jason pulled away, grabbing the arm of Tim’s chair and dragging him along to be a human shield as Dick approached.

“Nu-uh, Dickie- I’ve got good info, here. Timmy has been hiding his entire soul from us!”

Tim would like it to go on record that he hated everything, everyone, and especially Jason. He tuned out Dick’s raised voice and Jason’s responses, trying to figure out how the other could have found out.

He almost always kept the patch on- it’s not like a civilian camera could have caught him without. Even when he took the patch off to wash or to tend a nearby wound, he made sure to do it in his Nest without any recording devices nearby.

The only way Jason could have- Maybe he’d met Daniel and seen Tim’s name? Some poor kid down in Crime Alley? A four year old at best. Eurgh.

He tuned back into the still heated conversation.

“-kindness isn’t hard Jason, and you can’t just use the excuse that we’re siblings to bully Tim for being markless! I never thought you had it in you, you-“

“It’s under my sternum. How’d you find out?”

Dick’s tirade stopped short as Tim answered, his mouth dropping open comically. Jason pumped his fist triumphantly.

“You handed him to me on a silver platter, Timbo.”

Tim did not gape, that would be unbecoming and Janet Drake would never allow a son of hers to be unbecoming.

“I’m sorry?”

Jason grinned, an evil, evil grin.

“Daniel Fenton. You gave his case to me.”

“Case?”

Dick’s voice was high and reedy, and Tim looked over to see that he was looking distressed and probably a little faint.

Jason snickered. Rude.

“I do not have a case for my soulmate.”

Jason snickered again, and pointed at the batcomputer.

“Then what’s that?”

Both Dick and Tim turned to look- it was just the file on Phantom- but by the time they turned around again, Jason was roaring out of the cave on his bike.

Tim flipped him off, just because he could.

Dick collected himself before Tim did, whirling to face him and yanking Tim’s shirt up before desperately scraping at the bare skin, trying to find the patch.

With a sigh, Tim pushed Dick’s searching hands away and peeled off the patch himself.

He felt bare without it- completely exposed to his brother’s sharp eyes.

“You never told anyone?”

Shrugging, Tim slapped the patch back on, pulled his shirt down, and turned back to the batcomputer.

“Came in late- didn’t want some poor kid to get saddled with me.”

By the hitch in Dick’s breathing, Tim could tell the older man was about to get sentimental on him, or berate him for talking bad about himself.

This day couldn’t get much worse, could it?

The Arkham escape alarm sounded from both boys’ phones, and Tim sighed yet again. Way to jinx himself.

~~~

Phantom floated invisibly above the Red Hood, filtering away the ectoplasm that rolled off of him in waves as he stood with the other bats.

“Nightwing and Robin, you’re looking for the Joker.”

The ectoplasm spiked at Batman’s growl, and Danny sighed soundlessly. Keeping Jason away from his vengeance was not the right way to go about things.

“You want another dead Robin if they find him?”

“I do not want a dead Joker, Hood, and I know there will be one if I let you after him.”

Red Hood crossed his arms with a snarl, and Phantom settled closer to the man’s shoulders, keeping a steady wave of calm floating from his core.

The beat of his soul was pounding with excitement, and he took a moment to glance over at Red Robin, who was glaring in Red Hood’s direction. Danny couldn’t begin to fathom why.

Once the bats scattered, Phantom brought his head closer to Hood’s. The older boy was muttering mutinously under his helmet.

“What if we found him first?”

Hood’s head shot up to look in Danny’s direction.

“I could help, and then we could go home and finish Jenga.”

“Help do what?”

Danny dropped his invisibility long enough to flash Jason a grin.

“Payback.”

~~~

Red Robin and Spoiler crashed into a warehouse, weapons at the ready, only to find half the rogues they were looking for tied up and watching a fight going on in the center of the room. Tim’s heart was beating a mile-a-minute with adrenaline, and so was his second heartbeat. He had been rushing to find the Joker at least, especially after Red Hood went off comms.

It took him a minute to identify the people in the fight, if it could really be called that. From what he could tell, it was a mostly unilateral beat-down of the Joker by Phantom.

“What the fuck.”

Stephanie was watching with wide eyes from his side, and Tim caught a glance of Jason watching from the other side of the warehouse, helmet off and a green glow about his face.

“We need to get to Hood and make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Spoiler nodded, but before she could move, a shadow shifted next to Hood and Black Bat slipped from the shadows, putting a hand on the man’s arm. Hood turned his head in her direction, nodded, and then went back to watching the show.

Black Bat stepped away, seeming satisfied with Jason’s response.

Phantom smacked Joker with a backhand slap loud enough to startle Tim, and the psychopathic man went flying back into the wall, crumpling into a heap at the base.

Tim watched as Phantom floated over to Hood, chest heaving despite no sounds of breathing.

“Are you Avenged, Bat of Gotham? Feel it in your Core.”

The greenish glow to Jason’s face flickered and then floated up and away from his face, dispersing in a thin mist.

“I am Avenged, Phantom.”

Phantom landed with a smile.

“See? Killing him wasn’t necessary- just a little beatdown.”

The second heartbeat in Tim’s sternum began to slow as Phantom held out a hand to Red Hood.

Jason took it and shook, smiling grimly.

“Red Robin?”

Spoiler was at his shoulder, but Tim couldn’t tear his eyes away from Phantom’s face.

“Red, we need to get Joker to the hospital.”

Black Bat moved from beside Jason and punched Tim on the shoulder.

“Ask him out.”

Tim startled.

“I- what?”

She made the sign for soulmate discreetly, and Tim felt his face flush. Phantom couldn’t possibly- but then he thought about Jason’s cryptic wording about Tim’s soulmate the other day.

Surely not. Surely.

#dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x batman #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #brain dead #mild violence #soulmate fic

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ballinkittymeowmeow45 · 9 months ago

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Hi funger community.. this took about so long to make and I hate jt, anyway it’s angst

The tag is my user on TikTok, you should follow me there🔥

#daan von dutch #karin fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #animation memes #daarin #angst #cw: gore #tw blood #mild violence #my art #is shit #art tips

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aventurineswife · 4 months ago

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Hello. I was wondering if you could make a platonic Honkai Star Rail story with the reader being Jing Yuan's child and but they ended up running away to stay with their mother because they keep messing things up especially after Jing Yuan and the readers mother got divorced. it takes awhile but a few months later the reader suddenly returned to the Loufu because of some disaster where the reader had been living with their mother and Jing Yuan also wanted to talk the reader so he would finally be able to apologize to them especially after he accidentally saw the video diary they kept on their computer. (I was kind of inspired by the first episode of The Owl House season three Thanks To Them for this request but If you're not not comfortable with writing this that's completely alright and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or goodnight☺️)

“I’m sorry that I let you down”

Summary: Jing Yuan, the General of the Luofu, is faced with the aftermath of a disaster in the Outer Sector, where his estranged child has been living. After months of distance and guilt following his divorce, he arrives to find his child alive but emotionally scarred. Through a quiet, painful reunion, Jing Yuan confronts his mistakes and apologizes for not being there when needed. The two begin to rebuild their fragile relationship, uncertain of the future but willing to try again.

Tags: Dad!Jing Yuan x Kid!Reader, Platonic, Family Reunion, Apology, Guilt, Father-Child Relationship (Jing Yuan is Reader's Father), Emotional Healing, Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Emotional Distress, Abandonment, Dysfunctional Family Dynamics, Mild Violence (disaster aftermath), Trauma

A/N: Don't worry I'm comfortable with writing this!! 🫶🥺

Jing Yuan sat silently in his office within the Luofu, his golden eyes fixed on a stack of reports. His usually composed expression was fraught with something unspoken, something that had been gnawing at him for months. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly been able to focus on his duties.

The quiet hum of the room was broken by a soft knock on the door. Jing Yuan looked up, his gaze softening as the door creaked open. Standing there was one of his trusted aides, a concerned expression on their face.

"General... there's a situation." the aide began hesitantly.

Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed as he stood, adjusting his armor. "What happened?"

“There’s been a disaster on the Outer Sector. The place where... your child has been living with their mother.” the aide continued, not meeting his gaze.

A chill ran down Jing Yuan’s spine. He had not seen you in months, ever since you had run away after the divorce with your mother. You had been angry, hurt, and confused. You blamed him for the fallout, and perhaps he had been too distant to see the cracks forming in your relationship. Now, you were in danger.

Jing Yuan’s heart ached with guilt, but he masked it with his calm, composed exterior. "Prepare the Cloud Knights. We leave at once."

The journey back to the Outer Sector felt like the longest of Jing Yuan’s life. Despite the urgency of the situation, his mind couldn’t help but drift back to the last time he saw you—your eyes filled with tears, your voice accusing him of failing you. He had tried to do what was right, but somehow, all his efforts had been in vain. The divorce had torn your family apart, and Jing Yuan had never known how to bridge the chasm that had formed between you. Now, he feared the damage was irreversible.

As they arrived in the disaster zone, Jing Yuan’s heart pounded in his chest. He moved swiftly through the wreckage, his soldiers clearing debris as they searched for survivors. His thoughts never strayed far from you. Where were you? Were you safe?

Then, in the distance, he saw you. Sitting on a pile of rubble, looking smaller and more fragile than he remembered. Your eyes were wide and filled with fear, your clothes torn and covered in dirt, but you were alive. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat.

"[Name]," he called softly, his voice breaking through the chaos.

You slowly turned your head, your expression cold, guarded. You had clearly been through a lot, and Jing Yuan could see the bruises of both physical and emotional scars. His heart sank.

Without waiting for an invitation, Jing Yuan approached cautiously, kneeling in front of you. “Are you hurt?” he asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice.

You shook your head, but your eyes stayed locked on the ground. You didn’t speak.

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened. "I’ve come to take you home."

Home. The word seemed to make you flinch, and Jing Yuan’s heart ached even more. He had failed you. He had failed to be the father you needed, the one who would always be there for you.

“I know I haven’t been there for you," Jing Yuan said, his voice barely a whisper. "And I know I’ve hurt you, more than I should have. I’m sorry... I should have done better.”

You finally met his gaze, your eyes searching his face for something—anything—that might give you the reassurance you needed. But it wasn’t there, not yet.

"You saw it, didn't you?" you suddenly spoke, your voice hoarse. "The video diary. I thought you’d never find it. I thought if I just ran away, everything would stop hurting. But... it didn't. It only got worse. I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fix... us."

Jing Yuan's eyes widened in shock. The video diary. He had stumbled upon it by accident weeks ago while investigating something unrelated, but seeing it, hearing the pain in your words, had struck him like a sword to the heart. It had been raw, unfiltered. The child he had once held so close now seemed a stranger, their emotions raw and unspoken.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t understand," he whispered, reaching out a hand to gently touch your shoulder. "I never wanted to hurt you like that. But I understand now. I see my mistakes. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

You didn’t pull away from his touch, but you didn’t look at him either. You were silent for a long time, your emotions swirling in the quiet space between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you spoke again. "I didn’t want to be alone, Dad. I didn’t want to be in the middle of all of it. I didn’t want to choose... I just wanted everything to stop."

Jing Yuan’s heart shattered at your words. How much had you suffered, thinking you had to carry the weight of everything alone?

“I’m sorry,” he repeated softly. “I should have been there. I should have been the one to help you carry it.”

You were silent for a moment, before you slowly stood up, brushing off the dirt from your clothes. “I still don’t know what to feel,” you said, voice small but strong. “But... I’m glad you came. Maybe... maybe we can figure it out together?”

Jing Yuan nodded, his golden eyes filled with an earnest hope. “We will. And I’ll be here, no matter what.”

You didn’t say anything more, but you didn’t pull away either. For the first time in months, there was a flicker of something between you—a small, fragile bridge being rebuilt, one careful step at a time.

As you both returned to the Luofu, Jing Yuan couldn’t help but feel a sense of quiet relief. The journey ahead would be long, and it wouldn’t be easy. But for the first time in what felt like forever, he had the chance to try again. To be the father he should have been all along.

And he would do whatever it took to make sure you knew you were never alone again.

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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 2 years ago

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Shadowed Ripples (Deuce x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mild violence (brief fistfight), mild hurt/comfort

“That’s a big ass fish!” Ace declared as he stared up into the large tank.

There was, indeed, a very big fish that swam by. You glanced over at the small info cards that decorated the sides of the display tank. “I think that’s a sturgeon.”

“What other fish could be that big?” Epel asked.

“Various creatures trump the size of a sturgeon.” You glanced over your shoulder to see Sebek approach your little group from behind. “Whales, sharks, crocodiles, squids.” Sebek crossed his arms as a brash smirk twitched at his lips. “You humans would know such things if you cared to read.”

“Would’cha quit with that better than thou shit?” Epel cut back at Sebek. “Take that ‘humans er better than fae’ crap and shove it up yur-!”

“Epel!” Epel winced at the sound of Vil’s harsh tone, his head snapping in that direction. There Vil stood at the tank three paces away, the one that held a series of colorful jellyfish. His eyes were so sharp they could cut glass - even you gave a shiver. You and Epel both meekly turned your heads away, though Epel’s was followed by a grumble of words you couldn’t discern.

“What do you want to see next?” Deuce stepped over to your side, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. It was the one he often wore while he was out riding his magical wheel - the leather was resilient to water, which was why he wore it today. No rain would dampen this aquarium trip. He smiled down at you as he patiently waited for your answer, his cyan eyes catching the light from the tanks. They looked pretty…

“I saw a sign outside advertising manta rays,” you said. “They have tanks shallow enough for you to pet them; I want to try that!”

“That baby stuff?” Ace laughed. “What’re you, four?”

“Ace, shut up.” Deuce huffed before he turned back to you. “Let’s go find out where they are, [Y/n].”

“You babies have fun,” Ace chuckled as he waved you off. “Me and Epel are gonna go look at some actual cool shit.”

“Like the anaconda that scared the piss outta ya when it came down from its branch?” Epel snickered.

“Shut up, dude!”

You let out your own chuckle as Ace was reprimanded for his raise of voice by Trein. That was the last you saw of Ace as you and Deuce separated from the group and turned into the hall that led to the other part of the aquarium.

***

“There they are!” Deuce pointed towards the little shallow tank of water in the center of a room in the distance. Sure enough, there were the manta rays you’d been searching for. Your smile widened as you and Deuce walked over to the open pool of water, so clear it almost sparkled in the lighting. You were about to reach out and touch one, but you were compelled to glance over at Deuce. He gave a nod as he said, “Go ahead! I’m just going to take off my jacket real quick.”

You gave a nod in return before you went about your fun. You dipped your hand into the cool water and reached out to one of the little manta rays swimming about. When your fingertips grazed its back, you gasped: It was slippery! A little slimy, too, but not in a gross way. It felt a bit like lip gloss, maybe nail polish. You didn’t linger on the thought too long - you were too preoccupied with petting the little creatures.

Deuce came to stand beside you a minute later. After a glance at the tank attendant, his hand slipped into the water close to yours. The smallest of giggles left his lips as his fingers touched a manta ray’s back; you couldn’t help but think how cute the sound was. As the two of you continued petting the rays, you asked Deuce, “Have you ever been to an aquarium before?”

“A few times,” he replied. “My mom worked at one for a while when I was little. She would get discounts on tickets, so she’d bring me there on the weekends when she was able.” He glanced at you as he recalled the memories. “We didn’t have a lot of money back then, so I only went twice, maybe three times. Still, I’m happy I got to experience that with her - and now with you.”

Your heart fluttered at that last part. Deuce seemed genuinely joyful at the fact he got to come here with you and your friends. Sure, this was part of the school trip, but…it felt special when he put it like that. You smiled back at him as you nodded, “I’m glad, too.”

Just then, your hands accidentally brushed. Deuce let out a small gasp and yanked his away and out of the water, sending a few droplets splattering to the ground. “Sorry!” he blurted out.

“Sir, please keep your voice down,” said the tank attendant.

“S-Sorry, ma’am,” Deuce uttered, clearly embarrassed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction; Deuce could really be adorable at times. You took your hand out of the water and shook it a little to dry it. “It’s okay, Deuce. It’s not like it hurt or anything.”

Deuce simply nodded his head meekly. It was just a touch, no big deal. Why was he so flustered? Before you could ask, Deuce grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser at the corner of the tank. He walked back over and handed you a few. You took them with a ‘thank you’ as you began to dry your hands. As you looked around the room, then back to Deuce, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Deuce, where did you put your jacket?”

“Hm?” Deuce perked up at your question. “Oh, over there.” He pointed at the bench behind him - but there was no jacket. A look of panic crossed his face as he glanced around the room. As you’d noticed before, his leather jacket was nowhere in sight. Deuce jogged over to the tank attendant, and in the most polite, yet rushed way asked, “Excuse me, ma’am? Have you seen a leather jacket anywhere? I put mine on that bench over there.”

“Leather jacket?” The woman thought for a moment, then she seemed to remember something. “Oh, yes, I saw it there a moment ago. I…I believe someone grabbed it.”

“Who did?” Deuce glanced around the room to try and find the person in question.

“A boy around your age,” she replied. “They just left.”

Deuce quickly thanked the woman before he sprinted out of the room, muttering apologies to the people he passed by in a hurry. You haphazardly tossed your paper towels in the trash can before you took off after him.

***

You finally caught up to Deuce outside the aquarium, where a few picnic tables were scattered about. It looked like a small garden set aside for people to eat in. Three guys sat on one of the tables, the middle wearing a very familiar jacket. Deuce was already in front of them, voice calm and level, yet by his body language you saw he was irritated. “Excuse me,” he said, “that’s mine.”

“Huh?” The young man turned his head to look down at Deuce. He was around the same height, but he had the high ground from where he stood on the table. “This one?” He opened the leather jacket and did a little spin, then gave Deuce a grin - one an asshole would give. “Sorry, man, finder’s keepers~ If you wanted to keep it so bad, you shouldn’t have left it.”

“I took it off so I wouldn’t get it in the water.” You could tell Deuce was trying to keep it together. “It was right behind me on the bench, where I left it. You didn’t think to ask if it belonged to anyone?”

“Why?” The boy smirked as his words were lined with a faint chuckle. “As I said, if you wanted to keep it so bad, you should have left it on - maybe tied it around your waist. You just abandoned it there - sounds to me like someone who doesn’t care for it.”

“My mom gave me that jacket.” You’d forgotten about that. You watched as Deuce’s hands slowly balled into fists. “I do care about it.”

“Aww, your mommy gave it to you?~” The man and his buddies let out a small bit of laughter as the leader mocked him. “Well, then mommy’s little boy should take better care of his things.”

“Look, man,” Deuce’s voice grew more angry by the minute, “just give it back.” He held out his hand. “We’ll forget all about it if you do. I don’t want things to get ugly.”

“Ugly?” The guy laughed. “What’re you gonna do, huh? I could snap you like a twig!”

“Would you just give it back?!” you piped up, equally as angry as you marched up to the picnic table. As you approached, you noticed something about the boy: on his shirt was pinned an RSA pendant. He was a Royal Sword student? And he acted like this?! Guess the school wasn’t full of ‘goody two shoes’, as Ace once told you. They had their own share of assholes.

You decided to try and use that newfound knowledge to your advantage. “Do you really need us to get your headmaster involved? I’ll go get him myself!”

“Oh really?” The guy jumped down the table and stepped in front of you. “Who do you think he’s gonna believe, huh? Us, three of his most beloved students, or,” he grabbed your collar and yanked you forward, “some snot nosed NRC-”

He let go of your collar as he was suddenly yanked back and thrown to the ground. Deuce stood before him, face twisted in rage as he glared down at him. “Don’t touch them. Never touch them!” Deuce cracked his knuckles. “You wanna fight someone, you fight me.”

“Hey!” One of the guy's friends stood up and grabbed Deuce’s shoulder. “Who do you think you-?!”

That guy was shoved back onto the picnic bench. The third came up from behind and tried to punch Deuce, but Deuce ducked out of the way and delivered his own square to the guy’s nose. The student yelled out in pain as he, too, stumbled to the ground. The leader got back on his feet and charged at Deuce; unfortunately, he managed to hit him in the stomach. Though Deuce wobbled a few steps back and groaned in pain, he quickly regained himself. Swiftly, he grabbed the guy by the shirt, surely about to start beating him to a pulp - and then the double doors behind you swung open.

***

You watched as the two headmages, Ambrosius and Crowley, shook hands, ending their conversation. You stood close by, nervous at what they’d agreed upon. When Crowley had stepped through the doors and broke up the fight, an argument ensued. The RSA students tried to accuse Deuce of attacking them because of their school, while you and Deuce explained that the boys had stolen Deuce’s jacket and refused to give it back. You also mentioned that the leader of the friend group had grabbed you by the collar, and that was the reason why Deuce attacked. Not long after, Ambrosius had arrived; apparently, another RSA student had heard the commotion and went to fetch him. Ever since then, the two had been in a discussion as to what to do with the boys.

Your eyes landed on Deuce, who sat on a bench a small distance away. The three RSA students still sat at the picnic tables within the little garden, one of which now had a bruise forming on his face. The leather jacket was no longer on the lead’s person; as Crowley approached you, you saw it was now draped over his arm. “Would you please hold this?” he asked as he offered you the jacket. You nodded and took it without a word. Crowley then walked over to where Deuce sat, head hung low in shame. He’d been like that since he realized what he’d done - that he’d tapped into his delinquency again.

Your heart sank as you watched Deuce look up at the headmage as he addressed him. You wished you could hear what they were saying. Deuce looked so disappointed in himself…so sad. He nodded along to whatever Crowley was saying; when the short conversation ended, you were able to read Deuce’s lips as he said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, Headmage.” The man laid a comforting hand on Deuce’s shoulder and patted it lightly before he walked off to dispel the small crowd of students that had gathered several feet away. You saw Ace, Epel, and Jack among them - you gave them a wave and a small, forced smile to try and ease their worried faces.

In moments, you were at Deuce’s side, sat next to him on the bench. You glanced down at the leather jacket in your arms; thankfully, there was not a scratch on it. You offered the garment to Deuce with a little smile. “It’s not damaged. I’m happy you got it back.”

Deuce’s cyan eyes flicked down to glimpse the jacket. He gently took it from your hands and put it on his lap. “Thanks…” he mumbled.

A silence filled the space between you two for a few minutes. You watched as the students dispersed, most going back to their regularly scheduled activities. Your small group of friends, however, lingered at the entrance to the aquarium, likely waiting for you two to join them. Your gaze then landed on the garden space several feet away. You could barely make out the face of Ambrosius as he spoke to the boys - scolded them, most likely. To you, he looked like a disappointed father. For the way the boys’ postures drooped as he led them away, you were sure they got the lecture of a lifetime. You just hoped they wouldn’t try and come back for vengeance at some point.

“Crowley said that he and Headmage Ambrosius believed us,” Deuce finally spoke. You turned your full attention to him as he continued. “He said this would be my only warning though…he told me to tell a staff member if something like that happened again.”

“That’s good.” You gave your friend a comforting smile as you placed your hand over his. “I’m happy you didn’t get in trouble.”

“Yeah.” Deuce looked like a kicked puppy, a deep frown set upon his face as he stared down at his jacket. “But I still messed up. He’s right - I should have just gone to one of the professors for help. They would have helped me…I need to stop being a delinquent.”

“You did nothing wrong, Deuce.” The pain in your heart mixed with anger as you thought back to the fight. “They picked a fight with you - you protected me. I would have done the same for you!”

Deuce let out a small chuckle at your words. The tiny smile that tugged at his lips quelled your anger for the time being. He glanced in your direction as he spoke. “Thank you, [Y/n]. You…weren’t scared, were you?”

“A little.” You gently squeezed his hand. “I was afraid of you getting hurt.”

There was a glimmer of something in Deuce’s cyan orbs as he looked at you. His posture straightened as he scooted closer to you. His hand squeezed yours in return, a determination apparent in his voice as he began with, “[Y/n], I-”

“Hey, Deuce!” Both your heads looked in the direction of Jack, who now stood halfway between your bench and the entrance of the aquarium. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jack.” Deuce suddenly appeared a little startled, but kept himself together. “Thanks for waiting on us.”

“No problem.” Jack smiled as his tail wagged a little behind him. He gestured back at the others with a nod of his head as he said, “We’re ready when you are.”

“We’ll be there in a second.” Deuce waited for Jack to turn and begin walking away before he faced you again. “C’mon, we should go. We only have an hour left here.”

“Yeah, we should.” You stood up from your seat on the bench, with Deuce quick to follow. Your smile grew as you saw Deuce slip back on his jacket. You glanced up at the sky - gray clouds still hung overhead. “I think the rain might start back up soon, too. It’s probably good to head back in.”

“Mhm,” Deuce mumbled, rolling his shoulders as the jacket slipped over them. He spared a glimpse over towards the entrance of the building; Ace, Epel, and Jack were gone, likely somewhere in the lobby. That determination rose in his heart - if he was going to make a move, he better do it now.

“By the way,” you lowered your gaze from the clouds back to Deuce, “what were you saying before-?”

A pair of lips met the skin of your cheek. You sucked in a breath as you gasped, eyes blown wide at the sudden contact. Deuce leaned back to his full height as he pulled away, his handsome face meeting your vision. An equally attractive smile was stretched across it, pretty cyan eyes looking right into yours as Deuce asked you the thing that’d been on his mind since last night. “Do you want to have lunch with me after this?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, blood rushed to your cheeks, your mind went nearly blank. Deuce, Deuce Spade, was he…asking you on a date? You slowly nodded your head as you let out a whispered, “Y-Yes.”

Deuce seemed to sigh in relief, shoulders now lax, loose of tension. He gave a small nod of his own, but it seemed to be more of an assurance to himself - that he just asked you that and succeeded. If only you could hear how giddy his thoughts were then. He offered his hand to you, “Let’s go, then. We’ll go eat after we leave here.”

Words were not possible to produce for you at the moment - you simply took his hand with a shaky smile and let him lead you onward. You barely registered the questions your friends asked you two, whether about the fight, what Crowley had said, or why you were smiling like an idiot. For several minutes, you had trouble registering the many aquatic animals swimming around the various dimly lit tanks. All you could focus on was Deuce Spade: his handsome smile, his warm hand, how the jacket hugged his attractive figure just right, how softly he spoke to you - and how pretty his eyes looked as they shined with the shadowed ripples along the aquarium walls.

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densi-mber · 3 months ago

Text

Sometimes the Customer’s Wrong

***

“Hey, how are we doing?” Deeks asked, popping in from the “Squid & Dagger” kitchen with a bucket of clean glasses.

Kensi was behind the bar, serving drinks and managing the other staff. She looked around the room; for one of the first times since they’d opened, most of the tables were filled. Several patrons also lined the bar.

“Good,” she answered. “We could use some more shot glasses though.”

“You got it.” He kissed her quickly, flashing her a playful smile. “Hottest bartender around.”

“Mm, the dishwasher isn’t too bad either.”

Deeks returned to the kitchen, and Kensi kept filling orders. She filled one of the waiter’s tray with beer for a table of boisterous couples, made a peach martini for a tiny girl sitting by herself at the end of the bar, and closed the tab for an older gentleman who’d spent three hours nursing a gin and tonic.

When she turned back around a few minutes later, a man in his later thirties or so leaned against the bar, one elbow propped on the surface. Kensi sighed internally; he’d already had several drinks and each time he returned, he grew more obnoxious. As did his drink orders.

Kensi offered him a courteous smile, remembering why she tended to let Deeks man the bar more of the time. He handled rude and annoying customers much better than she did, his natural charm coming out to play when needed.

“Give me a glass of Makers,” he said, throwing a couple bills on the bar. He winked knowingly. “You can keep the change.”

Sir, I’m afraid we don’t have that brand,” Kensi replied politely. Annoyances flashed across his face, and he leaned closer, his breath wafting unpleasantly through the air.

“What the hell kind of bar is this?” he slurred.

With a second look, Kensi noticed the glassy sheen to his eyes and slightly unsteadiness even with the bar supporting him. She hadn’t been keeping super close track, but thinking back, she thought he’d had five drinks.

“I’m sorry about that. We don’t get a lot of demand for certain brands.”

He made a sound of disgust. “Guess that’s what I get for coming to a little run down place like this,” he muttered and Kensi felt the muscle in her left cheek twitch a little. “Give me another bourbon then.” He smirked, licking his bottom lip in a way that made Kensi want to take a step back. She didn’t give any external reaction though.

“We have a policy against serving more than five drinks in an hour period,” Kensi explained. “Do you want some water or juice instead.”

“What the hell? If I want another drink, you pour me another drink!”

“I’m sorry.” Kensi gestured to one of the seats. “You’ll have to go somewhere else or wait another hour.” Personally, she hoped he left, even if it meant he took his forty dollars with him.

“Pour me a damn drink now!”

“Lower your voice or I’ll have to ask you to leave,” Kensi said firmly, nothing polite about her tone now.

Faster than she anticipated, he reached across the bar and grabbed her wrist. He had a surprisingly tight and painful grip. Glancing around, she saw a couple people eyeing them, but most either hadn’t noticed the disruption or didn’t want to get involved.

“Let go of me,” she said, surprised by how calm she sounded for how badly she wanted to punch him in his drunken face.

“What, or you’ll ban me?” He taunted. He squeezed a little tighter, his breath absolutely nauseating. “Or you’ll teach me a lesson? I bet you could, you little bi—”

“Get your hand off her before I do it for you,” Deeks warned from behind Kensi, his voice dangerously calm. She instantly relaxed at his presence.

The guy took one look at Deeks and straightened up, puffing out his chest. “I’d like to see you try. You don’t look like you could fight off a chihuahua.”

“I’d love to take you up on that challenge,” Deeks said, drawing up beside Kensi. “Or better yet, see her do it.”

Despite his bravado, the guy released her wrist when Deeks leaned in closer. He didn’t back up completely though, and he still had a stubborn look in his eye.

“You should also know that I’m a cop, and a lawyer, who will happily arrest you for assault and make sure you get the maximum sentence.” Pausing for emphasis, Deeks dropped his voice so it was that much more dangerous. “So, this is your final chance to leave before one of us kicks your ass.”

Eyes flicking between her and Deeks, the man bared his teeth, his nostrils flaring. After a second, he huffed, and grabbed the money off the bar, stuffing it in his pocket.

“What I need with your crappy bar anyway?” he grumbled. Sending them one last look of drunken disdain, he pushed through anyone in his way and exited the bar.

“Are you ok?” Deeks asked, pulling Kensi a few feet from the front, and lifting her wrist to examine it.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. She’d probably have a couple bruises by morning, but most of the pain had already dissipated. His brows furrowed a, and he exhaled heavily.

“I’m sorry I kind of “white-knighted” with that guy. I just saw him grab you and instinct took over. I know you could have handled it yourself.”

“It’s ok. I was trying not to cause an incident, but I probably would have ended up punching him in the end.” She kissed his cheek. “And it was kind of hot.”

Deeks snorted in surprise, lifting her wrist to his mouth. Something crashing brought them back to reality.

“Are you ok to keep going tonight?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you think we should be worried about that guy, though? I feel kind of bad about sending him out into public in his state.”

“I’ll pull up the security feed and get his plates. A Buddy from LAPD should be able to flag him for a DUI.”

“I love how your mind works,” Kensi said fervently.

***

A/N: Something must be wrong with me, because I almost forgot about the bar.

#densimber 8.0 #densimber 2024 #densimber day 14 #ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #the squid and dagger #mild violence #densimber #by ejzah

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lynyangell · 6 days ago

Text

"Things We Lost in the Fire" Ch. 2

***Thank you once again to @erimeows and @hawkeyes-darling for being the BEST Beta readers!!***

“Lower your weapons! Or these two and your Fuhrer will die!”

There is a clatter as every armed officer in the area drops his or her firearm to the ground, and the insurgent grins.

Fools. They expect warriors of Ishbal to negotiate for Mustang’s safety just because they lay down their weapons?

“You, Mustang, over here!” His eldest brother gestures with his gun, indicating that Mustang move closer.

But the Fuhrer, amazingly, doesn’t cooperate.

Mustang sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“Let me get this straight,” he growls. “You actually think that you can just assassinate me in the middle of a major political ceremony? I’ve been working toward the establishment of this Embassy for over three years, to assist your people , I might add. I’ve been writing the speech for two months, and I didn’t even get to finish. Plus, as you can probably see, my wife’s feeling a bit under the weather, so I really don’t have time for this. I'm having a pretty shitty day here.”

He glares at the men and, despite his almost conversational tone, there is no denying the menace in his eyes.

“I suggest, gentleman, that you lower your weapons and let those officers go.”

Chapter Two

#fullmetal alchemist #royai #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #fma #fanfiction #stolen moments #Mild Violence #Hurt/Comfort #Spotify

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4e7her · 1 year ago

Note

11. "don't you believe me?" Mission impossible: Make Azul happy and not a mess in one prompt.

Just not in this one :)

Don’t you believe that all he’s doing, all he gave, was for you?

poor fucking azul. i love him and this is how i choose to treat him.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ for my new years event ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

character: azul ashengrotto, twst

contains: yandere themes, angst, gn reader, mild violence

"I love you. Don't you believe me, darling? Please."

Azul is nearly teary-eyed, trembling as he stares at you with all the desperation in his being. You're situated across from him - the both of you standing on opposite sides of his desk in his office. You almost want to believe him.

"Please, please, my love. Believe me. That's all I ask of you. Don't doubt me. Not on this."

You don't. You can't.

Whatever this was, whatever he felt for you, it wasn't love.

Tricking you into working at the Monstro Lounge was one thing - it seemed to be his favorite past-time, trapping poor unfortunate souls into unfavorable contracts.

Stalking you and sending the Leech twins to harass you was another thing entirely.

"You don't, Ashengrotto. You really, really don't."

"How? How could you know that?" Tears are starting to gather in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he tries to come closer, close the distance between you two - you take a deliberate step back when he does. "You can't decide that for me, darling. Please. Please, even if you don't feel the same, you have to believe me. All that I've done has been for you. For us. Can't you see it?"

Your disgust is thinly veiled as you sneer down at him, making your way closer to the door.

"Fuck you, Ashengrotto. You're delusional."

He chokes on a sob at the curse, and he starts to move to follow until you glare at him with venom. For a moment, you really, really want to curse him out and spew vitriol. Let him see how you really feel. If he's crying at just this, you can't imagine how he'd react.

"Please!" Azul throws himself to his knees, before you like a dog, shuddering as he stares up at you and starts begging. "Please, please, please, darling, you can't. You can't just go. You can't leave me."

God, maybe you should. Maybe you really should give him a piece of your mind. But then again, it's your attention he wants. He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve anything from you. It takes you only a moment of staring down at this sad husk of a man to decide.

"You're fucking pathetic."

Your hate is clear in your tone, and he snivels like a child as you bring your hand down, tracing it through his hair. He looks almost hopeful at the soft touch, even as you keep talking.

"You put on such an act, don't you? Pretending to be some big bad scary business man, but this is all you are. A dog at my feet."

Suddenly, you grip his hair, yanking him up as you lean down to stare into his eyes with a scowl. Really, he's nothing but a pest at this point. You can't believe that you tolerated so much from this. This pitiful fucking thing. He outright cries at the pain, tears running down his face, but he doesn't move away.

"God. You're that deluded, aren't you? As long as it's me, you'd let me do fucking anything." You sigh as you drop him, watching as he crumples without you holding him up. He's barely able to glance up before you're already opening the door, showing yourself out, and thus, showing everyone that was in the lounge the sight of the ever-pitiful Azul at your feet. "You mean nothing to me, and you never will. You're nothing but a fly buzzing around. If you really wanna make me happy, leave me alone."

It's nothing but a low mutter, but you know he heard it by how his sobs start anew, gasping and hiccupping. You don't look back as you leave.

At least the message is clear.

With any luck, he'll be too busy dealing with this PR nightmare to go hounding after you.

[click here to go to masterlist.]

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staycalmandhugaclone · 26 days ago

Text

Fool's Errand Pt 13

Part (13) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

If I ever say there'll only be one more chapter in an arc... just... ignore that. Very similar to a wedding photographer saying "just one more picture." Lies. It's all lies.

Warnings: Reference to child being injured, standard guilt and regret, mild injury description and medical procedure, panic, profanity, mild brotherly teasing

WC: 4,461

“Any dizziness or problems with your vision?” The routine words left with little thought toward either the question itself or the dismissive answer given, and the man before me clearly resonated that disinterest, bright green eyes never turning from the girl tucked firmly into his side. I hadn’t seen their reunion, but the depth of their love for each other, the relief in finally finding themselves together once more lay plainly in how inseparable they’d been since he’d boarded, flanked by Wrecker and Echo, as Tech darted past to get the Marauder airborne before anyone had even begun reaching for the crash seats.

“Your… um, your man – the clone – the… with the glasses…” He muttered, hand motioning vaguely toward the cockpit, “he already asked me all this.” I had to steal a short breath to bite back the rush of annoyance at his generalized labels.

“I imagine he did.” I responded in a pointedly professional tone. “Tech is extremely capable in several fields, including medical, but you know how it is, Senator: we all have our own paperwork.” He let out an absent hum, hand coming back up to slide gently down his daughter’s hair.

“To the best of your knowledge, did you lose consciousness at any point?” I continued, but he didn’t turn back to me.

“Was she hurt?” The sudden quiet of his question caught me off guard, attention lifting to find him nearly curled around the dozing child. “Areeya… was she hurt?” He pressed, fighting back the tears clawing up his throat. I didn’t answer for a moment, unsure if he was the type to lash out and blame anyone but himself for what happened; stomach churning over the danger such a man might pose… but I remembered the Senator from Alderaan… how kind he’d been…

“Yes.” I whispered, gaze studying him carefully for some sign of warning, but he didn’t lash out; didn’t turn toward me with rage in those eyes he’d clearly passed on to her. “A ship she was on crashed… but she was lucky – my squad secured her well enough to prevent all but some minor injuries – small burns on her legs, a few bruises.” His eyes instantly travelled over the tiny form in search of any signs of such trauma. “I’ve already treated it – she probably won’t even scar.” He was still for a moment, and then a tremor stole through him. It was so slight, I nearly missed it, but then another seized his shoulders. And another.

I lingered for only a moment as he began to break. There were questions I still needed to ask, tests I was required to run… but not now. The man before me was a politician. He’d likely sent countless to their deaths from the comfort of some mansion absent a moment’s thought toward what widows they left behind. Maybe he’d been responsible for withholding resources desperately needed by the army. Maybe he’d spoken out against increasing provisions, or refused to entertain thought toward measures of caring for the soldiers once the war was over. Maybe not. Maybe he was one of the good ones – someone who recognized clones for the very real, very human people they were and acknowledged the horrors “leaders" like him subjected them to…

Regardless, in that moment, his career didn’t matter. He was a father. And he was mourning his failures in protecting the child who still sought nothing more than the safety of his embrace. And that was a moment not meant for the eyes of a stranger.

I gently rested my hand on his shoulder, fingers briefly tightening for what glimmer of comfort that silent gesture might offer before standing and treading toward the fore of the ship, footsteps echoing quietly about the otherwise empty cabin.

In the cockpit, Wrecker lounged across the pair of chairs behind the copilot’s seat, surprisingly soft snores just catching on slow, deep breaths, clearly having fallen asleep mid-conversation with his brother. Tech glanced only briefly toward me as I sat beside him before letting his gaze return to the datapad balanced on his thighs, jaw taut with annoyance from, I could only imagine, his inability to hold the device with the hand still strapped to his chest.

I watched the light trails of hyperspace gleaming against the soft yellow shielding eyes narrowed above a tense frown, and I didn’t need to look at the small screen to know what he was reading.

“Hunter…” He started, but, in a rare moment of hesitation, let the following words remain unspoken.

“Yeah.” It was barely a whisper, legs pulling up to tuck against my chest as I watched him. He didn’t look at me, but his attention shifted away from the hastily written medical report I’d typed out while waiting for them to return, and I briefly wondered if he’d blame me for everything Echo had been so eager to dismiss. Part of me hoped he would, that someone else might justify the guilt still raging in my chest.

“There’s no record of brain damage from the most recent scan.” My arms tightened around my knees at the façade of hope forced into his words.

“Nothing serious, no.” I confirmed before continuing quietly, reluctantly, “Field scanners are pretty limited for fine detail, though.” He knew that, and I hated how effortlessly that simple fact robbed him of whatever denial he’d so briefly clung to. “I’ll know more after we rendezvous with the Vigilance. Unless he wakes up before then.” I added, and my teeth worried absently at my lip from the silence that followed.

“How’s your arm?” He didn’t respond for several seconds, his gaze finally shifting almost disdainfully toward the restrained limb.

“Unusable.” He replied with more than a touch of impatience before forcing out a small sigh and continuing, “but I believe your stitches are holding.” A tiny huff of laughter caught in my throat that made his lips bunch slightly.

“Mind if I take a look?” Some of that tension eased from his shoulders, attention shifting back to me as the screen to his datapad went dark.

“If you believe it would be beneficial.” He yielded, leaning back slightly against his seat.

“I believe the last thing we need right now is for one of you guys to get an infection.” I responded, pushing myself to my feet, and the look of offense that instantly pulled at his face drew a barely restrained chuckle from me.

“I would recognize the signs of infection long before it became dire.” I flashed him a smile at the chastising words, settling lightly onto my knees beside him.

“You focus on getting us back to the GAR.” I replied warmly. “I’ll make sure your arm doesn’t fall off.” He merely hummed dryly in response, and I couldn’t help but be struck by the stillness around us, by the violent juxta of that quiet against the chaos I’d found myself in the center of mere hours prior, and I savored it in the way I carefully freed him of the brace, movements just shy of reverent as I began stripping him of what armor he’d been able to slip on around the thick bandages.

“I didn’t think you’d still be able to rescue the Senator after we had to blow the walls early.” I murmured, words hushed.

“It… wasn’t easy.” He admitted, voice catching slightly at even the tiny strain of supporting the weight of his forearm, and I quickly guided him forward to rest the limb on his thigh. “Echo and I were forced to crash the speeder into his transport to prevent them from taking off.” I paused, taken aback by the lengths they’d had to go to.

“If you keep crashing things, the GAR’s not going to let you fly anymore.” I teased. His brow hitched as he glanced toward me from the corner of his eyes, but his expression softened slightly at the little smirk warming the mockery of accusation narrowing my gaze.

“I believe this maneuver would more appropriately be referred to as tactical misuse of an appropriated transport.” I didn’t try to hide the way my face contorted around a barely muffled laughter, and thrilled in the almost shy smile just managing to toy with his lips.

“Wouldn’t’a had to ‘tactically misuse’ anything if yuh’d just let me blow that last charge.” Wrecker mumbled, appearing to all the worlds as though he were still asleep save for his good eye peaking groggily at us.

“Had you detonated the final charge, there was a non-zero likelihood of the Senator being caught in the explosion.” Tech retorted, and it was clearly not the first time he’d had to voice that argument.

“Ahh, he’d’ve been fine.” Wreck dismissed with a lazy wave of his hand. “The clanker’s had ‘im way in the back. Maybe a couple ‘a bruises, but then we wouldn’t’ve had to run all the way up here!” I had to fight the wince at the thought of him running up the steep hill, knee only just beginning to heal.

“Your way likely would have resulted in our primary objective being injured or rendered unconscious, in which case we likely would have needed to carry him to the Marauder as that transport was a large enough target for even the B1’s to accurately hit.” I let out a small sigh as Wrecker drew a breath to respond, clearly more amused by the ease with which he could pester his brother than any desire to actually prove his point.

“Not if we blew them up, too!”

“The amount of explosives needed to terminate the entirety of the Separatist forces would most certainly have resulted in our own deaths, as well…”

It wasn’t a clean line. The metal that had torn into his arm was jagged and hot, and the scar would clearly proclaim just how frightful the wound had been. He didn’t look down as I checked the severity of the swelling, inspecting the countless stitches for signs of tearing, and I realized that Wrecker’s bickering was far more intentional than I’d initially assumed. He was offering a distraction. Even after all the time I’d spent with them, the effort I’d put into earning their trust and easing their fears, I knew what horrors haunted their youth, knew how ingrained their terror was of allowing anyone beyond their own brothers to care for them.

Maybe that knowledge should have hurt. Maybe I should have been insulted or annoyed, but I felt only gratitude. Despite that fear, Tech made no effort to pull away from my touch, and Wrecker’s laughter felt so effortless as he continued prodding his brother with senseless taunts and jests. I wondered if Tech knew, if he was intentionally allowing himself to be bated. Probably. The thought made me smile, though I knew there was a sorrow behind it I couldn’t quite hide.

“How’s the pain?” I asked softly as I finished securing a fresh bandage. His eyes flashed only briefly from me to the crisp linen before darting pointedly to the unlit screen of his datapad.

“Tolerable.” He answered, and I rolled my eyes with a short huff.

“Tech.” I pressed, and his shoulders dropped slightly.

“In so long as I do not attempt to use it, the pain is nominal.” He reassured me, voice lowering into something near a whisper. I don’t think I’d ever heard him talk like that before. There was an unspoken apology and gratitude and warmth, and something about it sent a wave of static dancing through my chest. I hadn’t expected it, couldn’t recover in time to even grant myself a shred of denial that he didn’t notice, eyes catching his for just a moment before quickly looking away.

“If that changes,” I murmured as though there was no threat of heat creeping up my neck, “let me know.” Stealing a quick breath, I forced aside that lingering thrill and fell back into rote phrases and warnings. “It’s not just about pain management. That wound was severe. If there’s any sign of infection, we need to catch it early.” His hesitation had nothing to do with his injury, but he belatedly nodded in response.

“Speaking of pain management,” I continued, voice rising as I turned to look at Wrecker, and I tried not to calculate how much he’d been able to see around the broad backrest of the pilot’s chair, “how bad did that hike mess with your knee?” Something between a grin and a wince flashed across his scarred face.

“Already got one ‘a them ice packs on it.” He offered with a note of remorse, and I didn’t hide the way my brows rose in surprised approval. “It’s helpin’ some, but…” His cheeks warmed slightly, jaw shifting with an almost abashed nervousness, “it’s still pretty stiff… Think you’ll have time to…” His hand swept toward it with a shrug, and my expression warmed.

“I want to scan it again – make sure nothing got damaged, but, yeah, I think another massage is a great idea.” He instantly relaxed at the reassuring murmur. “Are you okay to wait a few minutes, though? I want to run back to check on Cross and Hunter first.”

“‘Course!” He replied without hesitation, and my heart ached for how quickly he answered, how ready he was to put his brothers before himself… but nearly an hour had passed since I’d left the medbay, since I’d watched that damn, wonderful line dance across the monitor. It didn’t matter that several alarms would blare through the entire ship should that change… I needed to see it, to feel it once more before that anxiety might ease.

The Senator had shifted just enough about the crash couch to cradle his daughter, Areeya, against his chest, and both appeared to be asleep. Echo wasn’t in the cabin with them, nor was he in the kitchenette or fresher. I’d just resolved to search for him after checking on the others when I finally reached the medbay.

“Dammit, Crosshair!” I nearly shouted, body already surging forward before the door finished opening. He’d forced his legs beneath him, body trembling as he leaned heavily against the wall. Blood slid toward his wrist where he’d ripped the IV from his arm, and his shoulders jerked with each harsh breath. “What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t be-” My words fell short as I reached him, hand darting to his chest to steady him, but he jerked away with a violent scowl, and I couldn’t help but freeze.

“I’m fine!” He growled through clenched teeth. “I’m not staying in this kriffing medbay!” I was so taken aback by not only that venom I’d nearly forgotten the taste of, but also by the strange frenzy in his hoarse voice.

“You didn’t give a damn about that last night.” I retorted, and I could hear the confusion simmering beneath my annoyance, the insult gnawing through my chest that I had to fight to suppress in order to slip back into some semblance of gentleness in the face of his outburst. “Cross, it’s alright. Just talk to-”

“Talking isn’t going to give me my damn eyes back!” He snarled, teeth bared, and his head jerked to the side at the distant sound of the air cyclers kicking on. I barely noticed that quiet hum anymore, but he flinched as though someone was screaming mere inches from his ear.

“Crosshair, your eyes are healing. They aren’t-”

“Just shut up!” He roared, and I instantly fell silent, something cold and wrong coiling about my chest at the sound of fractured gasps catching between ground teeth, at the sight of his chest bucking with each panicked flinch as he fought to regain some sliver of control over his shaking legs, the limbs stealing tiny, rushed steps as he felt for the edge of Hunter’s cot. “…damn it…” He growled, but whatever remorse twisted through him quickly vanished beneath the safety of his rage as he cursed again. “Damn it!”

Without another word, he pushed himself harshly forward, hand stretched out to maintain some bit of contact against the wall as he all but darted for the door, and I didn’t have time to move before his shoulder rammed into me with enough force to knock me back several steps with a quiet “oof”. I heard the sudden intake of breath, the way his lips parted around what he’d never admit to being a sob as a desperate apology strained to leap from his tongue, but, in the same instant, he was moving again, head tucked toward his chest as he threw himself from the room.

“Cross!” I called, my own sob shamelessly ripping the air from my lungs. It hurt not to go after him, not to sprint through the hall and lock him in an embrace until he stopped shaking, but I knew that would only make it worse. Trapped. How could he not feel trapped when he could see nothing but darkness around him? As worried as I was, as desperately as I longed to help him, I knew that he’d find more comfort in a few minutes alone, in stealing himself away of his own strength and volition than in what honeyed words or gentle touches I might offer… A few minutes… then I’d grant myself some excuse to seek him out…

My eyes dropped to Hunter, to that blessed monitor that I knew was cursed to haunt my dreams for years to come as I studied the display. Steady. Strong. Stronger than I had any right to hope for, and I felt myself wilt beneath a shaking sigh at the color just beginning to return to what meager patches of skin were free of the deep purples and sickly yellows of bruises that were finally beginning to fade.

I tried not to rush, fingers reaching out to feel his pulse before turning my attention to the tube still piercing his side. It wasn’t dripping anymore, but I couldn’t bring myself to remove it. Not yet. Another scan. A fresh IV bag. A stolen moment to rest my hand lightly atop his chest as I tried to ignore the palm-shaped outline over his sternum, an echo of that near-grief just threatening to overcome me before forcing myself to move; to clean up the liquid already beginning to soak into both cots from Crosshair’s crudely detached saline bag.

“Everything’s looking good.” I told him. It didn’t matter that he was unconscious. I wanted him to know. “You’re going to be in a world of pain when you wake up, but you’ll be okay.” Feeling those words on my tongue, hearing them and knowing there was no hint of deceit or deception amidst the syllables offered a far greater comfort than I’d expected, and I granted myself just a moment longer to grasp his hand tightly in mine, to savor the warmth of him before finally pushing myself to stand once more. “I’ll come back to check on you again soon – need to figure out a way to deal with that damn brother of yours, first…”

I didn’t have to look far. He didn’t like being down low. I didn’t know if it was an innate drive or something drilled into him through a lifetime of training, but he gravitated toward high places; trees, rocks, even something as simple as claiming the upper bunk.

“Cross?” I called gently as I entered the bunkroom. He didn’t move, body curled tightly atop his bed, that familiar, scratchy blanket wrapped awkwardly around him where the fabric had clearly folded but he’d been unable to straighten it. “You’re going to bleed all over your sheets… Can I at least put a bandaid on your arm?” My voice was barely louder than a whisper, words slowed, unrushed and void of the guilt churning through my stomach. Shouldn’t have left him… I should have made sure someone was with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone…

Several seconds passed in a tense silence, before, almost begrudgingly, he tried to offer me his arm, but that tangled fabric snagged around his wrist, instantly earning a strangled growl as he tried to wrench the limb free, and I could see how badly he was still shaking.

“Hold on – hold on. I’ve got it.” I murmured quickly, already hopping onto the now empty frame of Hunter’s bed to reach him, but he’d already managed to fling the coiled blanket away, and I had to bite back a sigh at the mess of crimson already smeared about the crook of his elbow. Balancing awkwardly atop the metal tubing underfoot, I gently slipped my fingers beneath his arm, pointedly ignoring the flinch he couldn’t quite fight back, and began dabbing at the stained skin.

“I know you probably want to be alone,” I started, voice hushed, lazy, as though I wasn’t pouring the entirety of my focus toward willing some measure of calm into him, as though I was somehow more concerned with the miniscule prick from the torn IV site than I was the crippling display of shear terror from the man I’d so readily found myself viewing as impervious to such things, invulnerable…

I’d seen the others break; seen Hunter ruined at the threat of losing one of us, Wrecker crushed beneath the fear of a child, Tech robbed of his brilliant mind and left floundering, and Echo… I remembered holding him through nightmares, remembered how readily he held me in turn, and I felt my heart stutter with a dread that only grew the longer he somehow managed to hide from me… but Crosshair…

I’d seen his rage. I’d felt the biting edge of his indifference. And I’d grown to love them with the same fervor that now filled me upon finding him watching me with far kinder emotions; amusement when my own stubbornness led to fights, grief when reality seemed bound to tear us apart, and something far sweeter when no one else was there to bear witness, when stolen moments allowed for a softness forbidden amidst the harshness of what stations happenstance had forced upon us. This, however… This was raw in a way I’d never wanted to see. This was cruel and wrong and wrought with a hopelessness no whispered reassurances could touch.

“But I still have some work to do with Wrecker’s knee, and I’d prefer to do that with him laying down.” I continued speaking with that same, unconcerned, almost mumbled cadence, casually securing a small bandage over the tiny hole before guiding his arm back over his chest, hand lingering for just a moment longer. “Is it okay if I bring him in here with you?” Again he paused, belatedly reaching out to wrench the blanket back over him. I knew that blanket had nothing to do with the cold, needing, instead, some cover to hide the way he trembled.

“… fine.” He muttered, mouth taut with a harsh frown.

“Okay.” I whispered, finally allowing a sliver of worry to just bleed through, and I stepped down before he had the chance to lash out at the sound of it, pointedly letting my footsteps tap loudly against the metal floors so he could hear me.

“Wreck.” I called upon returning to cockpit. The way his posture instantly changed, shoulders pulling back as he sat up straighter, attention quickly locking on me left me no uncertainty that he heard every ounce of unspoken pleas yet to leave my lips. “Mind if we do this in the bunkroom?” He was quiet for a moment. I tried to think of how to explain what I was really asking, how to warn him about the state Crosshair’s temporary blindness had rendered him into but he didn’t need me to voice it.

“Yeah.” He replied with that understanding and patience I’d forever love him for.

Tech shift just enough to meet my gaze, studying me for a moment before speaking.

“Crosshair…?” I offered a tense smile.

“He’s not handling it well.” I admitted, barely breathing the words. Tech’s eyes turned back to watch Wrecker carefully begin climbing up the ladder before returning to me, head bobbing in a small nod. Without another word, he turned back to the viewport, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the delay before actually taking in any of the data flashing across the control panel. Later, if he allowed, I resolved to bring Crosshair in here, to allow the brothers a moment of their own to recover from the maelstrom of emotions this cursed mission had brought.

“I said I was sorry!” Wrecker’s voice reverberated through the ship without even the faintest hint of that stillness he’d regarded me with barely a minute prior, and I quickly trailed after him, unsurprised to see the alarm in the Senator’s eyes as I passed through the cabin, reaching the bunkroom just in time to catch Crosshair’s seething retort.

“Sorry doesn’t get the kriffing dents out of my muzzle!”

“Well, we’ll jus’ get yuh another one at the Vigilance.” His response wavered between an apology and a dismissal.

“I don’t use regulation parts.” He scowled.

“I’m not letting a single one of you behind a gun again for at least a month, anyway.” I interrupted with an impatience of my own that carried the grief and guilt and regret we all suffered beneath in some way.

Wrecker lounged comfortably across his cot while Crosshair still lay curled tightly atop his, though he’d pushed himself up as though to glare at the man through the thick bandages about his eyes.

“Plenty ‘a time to get a replacement!” Wrecker beamed, and neither of us drew attention to the flash of gratitude I sent him. It felt like years had passed since that terrifying moment – since forcing myself back into the burning carcass of the wrecked transport to save Tech only to find Wrecker leaning hazardously on the Firepuncher with that tiny girl over his shoulder.

“I brought you in here to deal with that knee, not so you could start a fight.” The feigned reprimand only earned a knowing smile from the gentle man.

“Not my fault he’s so picky about that hunk of metal.”

“Hunk of-!"

“Enough.” My voice rose just enough to echo slightly, and I had to bite back a chuckle at Wrecker's little smirk as he began tugging at the waist of his blacks.

“If it makes you feel any better, him using your rifle like that was probably the only reason he was able to save Areeya.” I murmured up to the seething sniper.

“It doesn’t.” He responded curtly. I didn't try to silence that bout of laughter, and thrilled in the subtle way his shoulders relaxed at the sound.

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