#POV Andromeda

[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken

Fandom: The Dragon Prince

Rating: T

Characters so far: Runaan, Rayla, Callum, Ezran, Callisto, Andromeda, Skor, and Ram

Summary: The assassins really can't take vengeance for a life that was never taken, and when Rayla shows him the egg Runaan realizes they're doomed to failure no matter what. He gathers the other assassins and they make a different call.

Note: This may become a much longer fic that covers more of the events of the show. I'd actually like it to be a longer running AU, but I genuinely don't know if I'll be able to hold onto my writing groove long enough to just follow through the ripple effects this change would have on every season. So for now, it's going on tumblr as chapters, and if I get through all of season 1's events I'll put it onto AO3 as a proper fic.

How Things Changed: Moonrise

“How can we take vengeance for an act that never happened?  Ye have to call it off.” Rayla pressed.

His mind was already racing.  They couldn’t.  They were bound to take vengeance for a death, but if the original victim was not yet dead, their mission was impossible.  They would fail tonight, no matter what actions they took, because their task could not be completed. 

“Rayla, you know it doesn’t work that way.  We bound ourselves.  There’s only one way to . . .” Runaan broke off.  There was only one way for them to release themselves.  If the victim they fought for called off the mission, then -

“Runaan, please,” Rayla begged. “There has to be another way.  This is a miracle, a chance for peace!”

Peace? “The humans struck down the King of the Dragons,” Runaan snapped back. “And stole his only egg.  What chance is this for peace?”

“Because we want to give it back,” The small boy holding the egg replied before Rayla could, gray eyes wide and earnest. “If we bring the egg back to its mother, maybe she won’t be angry anymore!  We can have peace again.”

He was just young and naive enough to believe it, too. “No.  Give me the egg.  We will take it back to Xadia ourselves.”

“Nope.  Sorry.  The gesture that matters is if it comes from us.” The older boy argued, though as Runaan bared his fangs he saw his gloved hands shaking. “We want to do this.  To make up for what our people have done to the dragons.”

This was rapidly going sideways.  Rayla couldn’t stop him, but she could slow him down long enough for the boys to escape with the egg if he tried to take it by force.  Aside from that, if anything happened to the egg and the Dragon Queen discovered they had not recovered it, her wrath would come down on Moonshadow Forest as well as Katolis.  It had to make it back to Xadia.  Worse, it had to at least leave the castle with these human children.

They would have to leave the king alive to make it work.  If they killed only him the news would reach Xadia before they could return, and the consequences for the assassins’ families could be severe.  No sending the shadowhawk, then.  If the mission simply was postponed, the dragons would at least wait for the next full moon before they reacted, assuming something had delayed their journey.

“Runaan, listen,” Rayla pleaded again.

“Wait here.” He said shortly. “I will gather the others.  This . . . changes things.” He glanced over the children, one frightened but too naive to understand what danger he was in, one terrified, and then- 

He turned away from Rayla’s face and added the rest over his shoulder. “A vote must be taken.  Stay here.  Stay hidden.” He leaped back up onto the crenellations and ran for Andromeda’s pathway.

 Runaan sent Andromeda to fetch the others and fell back to Rayla’s position.  He could not risk her trust in him failing, and her bolting again.  Luckily, she and the human children, and the precious dragon egg they carried, all remained where he had left them.  For once.

The other assassins weren’t far behind, and when he spotted the shades begin to approach, he showed himself again, dropping onto the rampart path with her.  He stood across from her as before, but faced the approach of the other assassins.  He did not draw his weapons.  They would know not to attack.

“What is this?” Callisto was the first to speak, shimmering back from Moonshadow form on a crenellation just ahead of the human children.

“Is that what it looks like?” Andromeda asked in awe, her eyes already fixed on the dragon egg as she landed on Rayla’s other side.

Skor landed in a crouch and his eyes fixed on Rayla, his teeth bared, but he didn’t move towards her.  Ram landed beside him and ignored her entirely. “You can’t just disrupt the entire plan once it’s already begun, Runaan.  It’s a path to failure.”

“No plan survives direct contact with the enemy.” Runaan replied dryly. “And circumstances have changed.  Dramatically.” He gestured at the egg. “Rayla, tell them what you told me.”

“Me?” Rayla almost yelped, but she gathered herself when he raised an eyebrow at her, and turned to the other assassins. “The egg of the dragon prince wasn’t destroyed.  It was stolen.  These human princes found it and now they wish tae return it in hopes of makin’ amends for what was done, an’ foundin’ a new era of peace.  We can’t take vengeance for an act that never happened, we have tae help them get the egg home to its mother!”

To its mother.

Runaan’s lips thinned, thinking of the same thing he imagined Rayla was, and the betrayal of the girl’s own mother, which had led to all this. “She is right,” He said firmly before any of the others could reply. “No matter what actions we take tonight, we will fail.  We are bound to take a life for a life.  If the death we avenge has not yet happened, the life we take is not an exchange.  We will not be unbound.”

The other assassins exchanged glances, and Skor finally shimmered back from Moonshadow form to press his lips into a thin line.  Ram jumped down from the crenellations. “So we kill the king, and then take the egg back to Xadia.” He said, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“We would rather you didn’t,” The older prince said, and Callisto’s mouth twitched up at the corner.

Runaan shook his head. “No.  If we kill the king and word reaches Xadia that we completed only half our mission, and abandoned the rest, you know the price our families will pay.” He met Ram’s gaze until the boy dropped it, eyes widening with realization. “Likewise, if word reaches the dragon queen that we did not recover the egg when we had the chance, consequences could be far worse.”

“So why not just take the egg back ourselves?” Callisto asked practically. “Why do we need the extra weight?  They’re children.  They won’t be able to travel as fast as we can.  They’ll slow the whole mission down.”

“Perhaps.  But they believe they can make amends for what was done to the Dragon King, and Rayla believes in their cause.” Runaan said, and looked at each of them in turn. “And she may not be able to stop us.  But she can hold us here long enough for them to escape with the egg - or at least raise the alarm to ensure that we fail at all of it.”

“She wouldn’t.” Andromeda said, but her brows were furrowed.

Rayla flicked open her butterfly blades, her face hardening. “Care tae gamble on that?”

“Having the human children with us would provide an advantage movin’ back through Katolis.” Callisto said without quite looking at anyone.

“What possible advantage could there be in that?” Ram demanded.

Skor looked through his hair at Callisto and bared his fangs. “We don’t.  Take.  Hostages.”

Callisto shook their head. “No.  We don’t.  But they don’t know that.” He looked up at Runaan. “We have willin’ volunteers to make confrontation we have on this side of the border easier.”

Runaan nodded. “We do not judge.  We do not decide right and wrong.  We take life only when it is necessary to prevent greater evil.  The king in that tower has committed a terrible crime, but if we kill him now, when this egg lives, and fail to bring it home, we bring down the wrath of both human kingdoms and the dragons upon our home.  I believe our best course of action is to assist the human princes in their gesture of peace, for now.  If we lose too much time . . . we may reevaluate.”

“We’ve got a week.” Skor said flatly.

“He has a point,” Andromeda said with a frown. “We didn’t even make the trip here in a week with just the six of us.  How will we make it with those two slowing us down?”

Callisto tilted their head and jumped down to the ramparts. “Then it may be useful to us to bring them, even if the peace doesn’t work.” He said, and shrugged when they all looked at him. “To carry the egg.” He added with a meaningful flex of his wrist, where the assassin’s binding was already fitted where it had been loose. 

“I believe our best course of action is to leave.” Runaan said bluntly. “We cannot risk losing time or resources in an attack.  We take the egg and the children and bring them back to Xadia as quickly as possible, to minimize the damage this disaster may cause, for dragons, humans, and Moonshadow elves alike.”

“You’ve always led us well.” Callisto said simply, meeting his gaze, and then looked over at Rayla. “And what Rayla’s found here changes things.  We took an oath.  That oath is impossible.  Our only path to freedom for our people at home is to make certain this egg gets back to the Storm Spire.” Callisto took a long, deliberate breath, and met Runaan’s gaze again, and presented their bound hand as they had when they took the oath. “My breath for freedom.  I am with you, Runaan, and Rayla.”

Runaan nodded, something in his core eased at having one of his most trusted warriors at his side.  Callisto had served as his second on this mission and would continue to do so.  He turned his gaze to the next noise, a rustle from Andromeda.

She was looking at Rayla, and then the egg, and shook her head in disbelief. “I pledged my eyes for truth,” She said simply. “This is the truth.  We have to make sure the world knows it.  I am with you, Runaan, Rayla, Callisto.”

Skor finally jumped down from the crenellations, the last of the company to do so.  He looked at Rayla, then at the egg, and finally to Callisto.  His face did something complicated there before he looked back to Runaan. “I swore my strength for honor.  These boys will honor the dragons with this, or we all die trying.  I doubt your motivations, Runaan.  I doubt their convictions.  But if this works?” He shook his head. “Then perhaps some humans have honor in their hearts after all, and we can work with that outcome.  I am with ye.”

Runaan nodded slowly.  He had expected nothing less.  Skor was one of the oldest assassins in the Silvergrove aside from himself, and his trust was hard-won, his loyalty even harder.  He was proud to have attained it, enough to make this work - and fortunate.  If Skor had fought back, he was strong enough to have proved a real problem.

He turned his gaze to the last member of their group.  Ram stood slightly apart from the rest of them, and the young assassin’s gaze moved openly towards the king’s tower before lowering to them. “I pledged my blood for justice.” Ram growled. “There is no justice to that king being left alive after what happened to the King of Dragons.”

“A life for a life?  Is that justice?” Rayla protested, and took a few more steps towards him.

“If you kill him, it just becomes a cycle,” The older prince argued, more firmly than she did, and Runaan’s interest in the boy grew. “The humans strike back again, and then so do you, and it never ends!  We have to stop this, and it starts with getting this egg back to where it belongs.”

Ram bared his fangs at them and looked at Runaan with a challenge in his eyes.

Runaan shook his head. “It’s too risky to start that fight.  If we are to recover the egg, we must leave.  Quickly.  His justice can come later.  But Ram, life and death are a cycle - but life must always come first.”

Ram glanced toward the egg again when Runaan gestured at it, and his clenched fists slowly eased.  He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. “My blood for justice.” He said slowly, but he nodded when he opened his eyes again. “I am with you.”

“My heart for Xadia.” Rayla agreed, and looked to Runaan hopefully. “So we’re doin’ this?  All of us, together?”

“Yes.” His heart ached seeing how eager she was to have them all on her side, as if this were a game she were excited to play.  There was a new depth in her eyes now, though.  She knew what she had risked for this. “We will need to slip out undetected.  Andromeda, Skor, Ram, retreat the way you came in.  Callisto, find us an exit the children can traverse.  You, Rayla and I will guard the egg and the princes.”

“Oh, we can just go down through the halls and leave through the courtyard.” The older prince said. “All the guards are pretty focused on the tower right now.  There’s no one down there.”

No one?  At all?  He’d encountered no guards on his entry path, either.  Runaan frowned. “Has anyone seen guards outside of the tower?” He asked suspiciously.

“No.” Callisto was the only one who replied verbally, but all the assassins shook their heads.

Alarm bells rang in the back of his mind.  What angle was this?  Was this a trap to begin with?  Why wouldn’t the humans be trying to block every entry point? “Rayla, when did you enter the castle?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno?” Rayla answered, clearly caught off-guard by the question. “An hour or so before sundown, I think?  Maybe a little longer.”

“There was still sunlight and you saw no guards?”

“Yeah.  I thought that was a bit weird.”

Weird indeed. 

“I can, maybe clear this up.” The older prince - Runaan really needed to use his name - said. “The Crownguard are concentrating where they know you’ll hit the hardest.  They don’t think they can stop you from getting in, spreading out to cover the entrances will spread them too thin.  They’re just all blocking one location instead.”

It still didn’t feel right, and Runaan was inclined to distrust humans’ word on anything, but he had nothing else to go on. “Go.” He said shortly to the trio he had sent ahead. “But stay on high alert.  Do not engage.  Just leave.  Meet us at camp.”

They nodded, and split up.  Andromeda dropped back down into town, and Skor and Ram darted to other stretches of the wall.  Callisto looked to Runaan with a quirked brow. “We’ll likely not be able to slip through the halls unnoticed.  Especially not you.” They pointed out. 

“We’ll go down through the halls.  I’ll keep an eye on the humans.” Rayla volunteered. “We’ll meet ye in the courtyard below.”

Well, she struggled with orders, but she rarely failed at things she’d volunteered for.  Runaan nodded shortly. “We will meet you there.  Move quickly.” 

She nodded, and turned to usher the human children back inside.  Callisto gave him a look that Runaan firmly ignored as he turned to the castle walls again and aimed for the courtyard.  She would succeed in this.  While she had violated his trust, and his orders, she believed in this, and so he believed she would do it.  It had nothing to do with his soft heart, no matter what Skor or Callisto might think.

Fortunately, the other assassin remained silent as they followed on Runaan’s heels.  Whatever they thought of his agreement, they would not discuss it here.

[iwriteasfotini]

Before I promote my own works, I must encourage EVERYONE to read this. Please please please read @keepmycandleburning's @hpfemininomenonfest entry which posted today. LINK IS RIGHT BELOW!!!

A Series of Sanctioned Departures - "Bellatrix details her relationship with Andromeda over the years and falls in love with Lord Voldemort. An examination of girlhood in a patriarchal society and the differing ways a few female characters find to feel about and react to that existence."

Their writing is next level. The words I will use to describe it are vibrant, poetic, haunting, authentic, and beautiful.

I cannot believe they create this content for free. I cannot believe I get to read it for free.

I don't care what area of the fandom you reside in, this work-their work-is not to be passed by.

[lyricalchrysanthemum]

Residents of Sinnoh

[jesterrosetherandombard]

[sobbing-space-trash]

Andromeda and the monster

[lunar-skylar]

Oh, how I love creepily eerie Harry Potter edits and fanfics

[asnarkyandironicusername]

Day 28 of @remadoramicrofics - Outsider POV

Andromeda Tonks watched as her daughter and son-in-law dressed her grandson for the ceremony. Remus was trying to slip shoes on him, but Teddy was kicking his feet so fiercely that he was only marginally avoiding failure. Nymphadora merely stood by and giggled as father and son wrestled. 

Moments like these spurred mixed emotions in Andromeda. Ted would have loved his grandson, and she missed and mourned him every day. Of course, she still had some hesitancy towards Remus. To his credit, for well over a year now he had been the most attentive husband and father she could ask for her daughter or grandson, but she’d never forget the way Nymphadora had practically rotted in her bed during the week he had disappeared. Nymphadora had been quick to forgive, but Andromeda had made Remus earn her forgiveness; she had to be sure he could take care of her daughter.

Remus had gotten the other shoe on and proudly hefted Teddy into his arms. “Are you ready, Andromeda?” he asked as Teddy messed with the collar of his robe.

“Yes. One day, Remus, you won’t be able to get the upper hand on him so easily.”

“Let’s hope he’s dressing himself by then,” Remus chuckled.

“Wait until he starts walking,” her daughter said as she clapped him on the back before she apparated to the school grounds.

Andromeda followed after her. A few moments later, Remus arrived, Teddy in one hand and a child’s shoe clenched in the other. “A short victory,” he said as he raised the shoe to them. They followed the crowd across the grounds to the large memorial that stood on the horizon. 

When the memorial had been unveiled, it had drawn a crowd every bit as large as this one. It was a marble structure with four columns wrapped in the house colors. Inside, the one room building was filled with portraits of the fallen; Sirius, Ted, and many others filled frames and told their tales. When they had first come, Nymphadora had drug her and Remus and Teddy to Ted’s frame, proudly showing off his grandson before scurrying off to show Sirius and the rest of Remus’s friends.

Today wasn’t a day for catching up, though, she thought as she took mercy on Remus and wrangled the shoe back onto Teddy’s foot. He thanked her with a bashful smile as Nymphadora stared at the crowd. “She’ll be like raising a second child sometimes, Ted was the same way,” she warned him as she eyed him tentatively.

“Oh, she isn’t that bad,” he chuckled. “I don’t have to put her shoes on, and I suppose that some nights after a full moon I’m rather reminiscent of a child.”

Andromeda had seen the way her daughter doted on him after a full moon and she was inclined to agree, but she had also seen Remus, after his impromptu vacation as Nymphadora called it, take care of her daughter through her pregnancy. The meals he’d make just to have Nymphadora turn her nose up almost on a whim, the sick mornings and cranky evenings, she wasn’t certain she’d heard him say no once in those nine months and his attentiveness had lasted well through the birth. When Nymphadora said jump, Remus asked how high.

Like this; Remus had wanted to skip the ceremony, citing general displeasure that he, a werewolf, would receive an Order of Merlin, First Class. Andromeda had to admit she was surprised, but she supposed, personal misgivings aside, he deserved it as much as any of the other Order members. It had been all through the press; at first, he was the only Order member not to receive one, but Harry had convinced everyone else to refuse theirs unless Remus was recognized. He had insisted they were making a big deal over nothing, but eventually the Wizengamot had relented.

When the invitation for the recognition ceremony had come, he had all but insisted that Nymphadora and she come and receive their awards and that he would stay home with Teddy, but Nymphadora wouldn’t have it. At one point, she had told him it would be unfair of him to miss because it would leave her and her mother five awards – Their respectives ones as well as Ted’s, Sirius’s, and Remus’s – to care for and no amount of Remus’s insistence that Harry would want Sirius’s could convince her otherwise. Finally, he had relented and agreed to come.

Ahead of her, Remus shifted Teddy to his other arm to wrap Harry in a hug. He immediately took the boy from his arms. “You’d better not be planning on keeping him forever,” Andromeda teased. For the first week after the war, she was almost certain that he had come over everyday to see the boy, asking Remus and Tonks several times if they were certain that they wanted him to be Godfather.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said as he bounced the young boy.

“Don’t worry, Mum, Remus won't let him get away with it. Think he used to be jealous he couldn’t feed him.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but his reddening cheeks gave him away. “I wasn’t jealous, Dora, I felt bad that you had to get up every time.”

Harry laughed before turning back to the stage. “Think we should get going?” he asked.

Remus watched the officials taking the stage. “Perhaps.”

Harry handed Teddy back. “I’ll come find you after.”

Remus nodded, but his eyes were still glued to the stage, a look of worry creeping over him. The look he got when he wanted to run. Before Andromeda could say anything, her daughter looped her arm through his and tugged them forward. “Oh no you don’t,” she said.

“Hm?”

“There’s no backing out now.”

“I-I wasn’t –”

“Great,” Nymphadora said as she linked her other arm through Andromeda’s, “then let’s get on with it.” Teddy may carry her husband’s name, but she most often saw him in their daughter and her endless love. 

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

At eighteen, Andromeda Black was given a choice. A choice between love, and duty.

What if she chose duty?

Read the Epilogue on AO3

Read from the beginning on AO3

--

It's done! My first ever completed multi-chapter fic!

This has been a labour of love for over a year. I absolutely could not have done it without the help of @celestemagnoliathewriter and @artemisia-black for their wonderful support and beta-ing.

Also a huge thank you to @starlingflight who encouraged me to start posting and who's unhinged comments helped me to keep writing.

And thank you to everyone who has read and commented so far! It's been an absolute pleasure seeing how unhinged other people are for these characters and knowing that it's not just me.

[lolathestoryteller]

a drabble on the possibly most unlikely mother-daughter pair.

Just Andy taking little Dora for a casual little shopping spree at everyone‘s favorite magical book store.

I‘d imagine that, because of how Andromeda was raised, she forever remained rather poised and cautious. Whereas Dora, well, we all know she’s not at all cautious and rather daring and clumsy.

Tonks! isn’t she the coolest with her bubblegum pink hair? - what a cool character design.

[dramioneasks]

Beyond Recall or Desire - vannminner - E, 25 chapters - In December of 2001, Draco Malfoy was meant to be married. Unfortunately, a union with Astoria Greengrass would be impossible as his soul had already been bound to another's. Now, if only he could remember whose... - “A birth bond?” Narcissa asked. Alistair shook his head, “I’m afraid not. This is something else entirely.” He made eye contact with Draco before quickly looking away. “This is a chosen bond… a mutual decision…”

[nidamae-approvedhpfanfics]

Ninth Time's the Charm

by TheChub509

It was always awful, failing to save the world and starting over again alone. Knowing everyone, everything, hoping to be successful, hoping to be strong enough this time around, that it won't be in vain. Hermione Granger doesn't want to consider how horrifying it is. But she is the Brightest Witch of the Age for a reason.

K+, English, Humor & Drama, words: 3k+, favs: 5, follows: 2, Apr 14, Harry P., Hermione G., Andromeda T., Ted T.

[inevitablestars]

dragging my feet through blood trying to finish the andromeda fic

[dragon-susceptible]

Different Path Taken Ch4: Magical Lore

Somehow I already have another chapter done. Holy fuck what is this fic doing to me.

The elves woke up surprisingly early.  Then again, Callum wasn’t sure if he was surprised they woke up early or that they didn’t wake him, after they all slept through till dawn.  They hadn’t found a campsite until late evening, and he’d been half-carrying Ezran for hours before their leader - Runaan - had offered to take over.  He hadn’t accepted the offer.  As much as he truly thought the elves wanted the same things they did, he couldn’t forget that these people had come to kill Ezran just the day before, and Runaan had a hardness in his eyes that Rayla just didn’t.

Most of them did, though the one she called Andromeda seemed a little less sure after they realized the king was - after they realized what happened.  The one named Callisto seemed to have a sense of humor, at least, too, and that was something.  They at least smiled when Callum managed to make a joke.

None of them bothered him as he set up his sketchbook and tried to draw the orb he’d gotten from Claudia.  Andromeda and Callisto, the two he’d thought most friendly, were both missing from the campsite.  The others appeared to be doing maintenance on their weapons.  He just tried to stay out of the way and focused on the primaball.

He didn’t realize how focused he was on it until Rayla barked “Hey!” from above his head.  He almost dropped it in surprise. 

“Sorry, I guess I was just distracted trying to draw this primaball.” He confessed. 

“Primal stone.” She corrected with an arched brow, and sat down beside him.

“Right.” He cleared his throat, looking back at the stone he held, focusing on his interest in that over his grief. “It holds the pure essence of a primal spirit inside,” He informed her proudly.

Unimpressed, the elf deadpanned, “Primal source.”

“Right.” Callum bit his lip, suddenly reminded that elves were by nature magical, and she probably knew all of this already.

“You do know what the six Primal Sources are?” She asked as if it were something everyone should know.

Callum cleared his throat. “If I say yes are you gonna make me name them?”

She rolled her eyes and held her hand out, presumably for the stone.  Instead of giving it to her, Callum put it down and handed her his sketchbook and charcoal.  She shrugged and flipped to a blank page and began to draw. “All magic in the world comes from the six Primal Sources.  They’re the original and purest forms of magical energy.  The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth, the Ocean, aaaand -” She tapped the stone with his charcoal.

“The Sky,” Callum followed her reasoning, fascinated.

“Yes.  To cast a spell, you need magical energy.  So that wind breath spell ye did, you’d usually need a storm or at least a strong breeze.  But with that-”

“I was going to just let you talk, but I cannot have you spreading misinformation about Primal Stones to the humans.” The leader of the assassins said with a put-upon sort of sigh, setting his blades aside to come sit near them.

Rayla wrinkled her nose at him. “It’s not misinformation!  Mages need primal energy to do magic.”

“Yes, but that energy can come from a myriad sources.” Runaan said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Did I use a primal stone yesterday when I cast a spell on you?”

“Well - no.”

“Because creatures that have an inherent connection to primal magic may draw upon their source regardless of its strength in an area.”

Callum frowned. “So how come Primal Stones matter to elves?  You guys can just do magic whenever.  A human needs a Primal Stone to do it.”

“Precisely.  But Rayla is right, spells require energy to be cast.  A Primal Stone is an endless well of that energy.  A mage who casts without a source, like moonlight for us, or a strong breeze for a sky mage, casts it using the energy in their own core.  There is a limit, and reaching it will kill the mage.  Primal Stones enable magic without cost to the individual casting it.”

“They’re incredibly rare, and they’ve been sought after by Archmages for centuries.” Rayla added. “And now somehow you have one.”

“Wow.” Callum looked down at the symbols she’d drawn in his sketchbook and tilted his head, trying to think why they looked familiar.  It wasn’t something he saw all the time.  Something associated with the cold, but it wasn’t cold, and fun, but it wasn’t - “Wait!  I’ve seen these symbols before.  At the Banther Lodge, there’s this cube, and it has these exact symbols on it!” He stood up in his excitement, barely aware of his volume rising, but acutely aware of how even on his feet he barely stood above Runaan’s horns where the older man was seated on the ground.

“Um . . . neat?” Rayla said, and Runaan just made the same politely disinterested expression as she was making, as if they didn’t understand the implications of what Callum had just said.

“What if it’s magic?” He asked excitedly. “We should go get it!”

“Wait, what?” Rayla squeaked.

“Absolutely not,” Runaan said flatly.

“We have real problems here!” Rayla agreed as Callum gathered up his things, and both elves stood up to respond to him. “Like takin’ this egg back to Xadia!”

“What’s going on?” Ram asked sharply, sheathing a dagger at his hip with a look that made Callum’s nerves shiver like a partially trapped dead leaf. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Callum held up his hands defensively. “There’s a cube at the Banther Lodge that has a bunch of these magical symbols on it!  It might actually be magic.  We have to go get it.”

“Your brother isn’t even awake yet.” Runaan pointed out, holding out a hand as if to stop him from moving. “Why don’t you draw this cube of yours for me first, and give him a little time to wake up?”

His tone was so much like King Harrow’s when he said it that Callum was halfway through nodding and opening his sketchbook before he realized he’d been had.  He blinked and looked up at the elf, who was raising an eyebrow at him, and then over at Ezran.  The kid was still asleep . . . and he looked peaceful.  If he woke up, he’d have to deal with . . .

Callum sat back down reluctantly and began to draw the cube from memory.  Runaan stepped around him to return to his blades, carefully gathering up his tools.  He and the other elves were wrapping up camp around them slowly, as if waiting for something.  Callisto and Andromeda made their way out of the trees as Callum was finishing the drawing.

“Runaan!” Callum started, when he had it done, and then felt like shriveling up when the menacing elf turned to look at him. “Sir.  Should I call you sir?  Or do you have another title I should be using, or-”

“My name is fine.” Runaan said blandly and turned to face Callum, but his gaze went to the returning scouts. “Callisto, Andromeda.  Anything?”

Andromeda held up a bag. “Found some moonberries.  We should be good on supplies for an extra day or two.”

Callisto shook their head. “Nothing to worry about.  Paths off the road are a bit overgrown, doesn’t look like they see much use, and they’re clear enough for us.”

“Good.”

“You were scouting out a path?” Callum asked, dismayed as he realized they were planning where to go next before he’d even found out about the cube. “Wait, but we have to go by the Banther Lodge to get the cube thingy.  If it’s magic, it could be useful!” He could be useful, as more than just some weight slowing them all down.  The elves were all so capable, and it was Ezran’s gesture that was important.

Callisto tilted their head. “What’s this about a magic cube?”

Runaan sighed, but Rayla was the one who answered the question. “Prince Callum thinks he’s seen a cube with the symbols of the primal sources on it at some human lodge, and he wants to go get it.”

“We’re not going off course to fetch a toy,” Ram scoffed, scowling when Callum looked at him. “We don’t have much time.  The sooner we get back to Xadia the better.  It’s not worth the trip.”

Andromeda hummed. “They’re children, Ram.  And they just lost their father.  Be nice.”

“Forgive me if I think the fate of the world might be a little more important than their delicate young feelings, Andromeda,” Ram retorted.

“We don’t know what it is,” Callum protested. “It could be a tool!  Something magical that could actually help us!  Look, I drew it.” He held out his sketchbook page, showing the image to Ram - who scoffed, unimpressed, and then turning desperately to Runaan, hoping the leader would override him. “It has the same symbols Rayla showed me on it.  Why would a human toy have those?  It has to be Xadian.”

Callisto leaned on their glaive with a thoughtful tilt to their head. “It could be Xadian,” They admitted. “Our people used to live only a few days’ travel from here.  Some old relic from the old Moonshadow realm, perhaps.”

“A relic still isn’t worth changing course for.” Ram argued.

“Look,” Callum said, going for broke. “You guys are all so impressive, and capable, and I’m just -” he sighed. “Princes are supposed to be good at things like sword fighting, and leadership, and riding horses.  I’ve always been kind of bad at everything.” Ram looked away. “So when I used that spell, I thought for sure I’d end up on fire or covered in spiders.  But it worked!  And then she called me a mage, and that felt right.  I just . . . I just have a feeling that cube thing could help.”

The elves exchanged glances, mostly above his head, and not for the first time he wished he were taller.  Rayla at least was rubbing her arm below her bandage, looking at the ground, and he hoped he’d gotten through to her.  If he had gotten through to her, maybe she could change the others’ minds like she had before.

“We should fetch it.” The quiet one, Skor, rasped in a voice like gravel, sheathing his sword and giving them all a serious look.

Callum blinked.  That wasn’t support from the direction he’d been expecting.  Up until now, Skor had seemed one of the more reluctant to have . . . anything to do with them.  He brightened at the agreement, though he shrank a little inside when Skor just frowned. 

Ram scoffed in disbelief. “I thought you’d be on my side, Skor.  We can’t waste time going to fetch some toy or relic, we have precious little of it to begin with.”

“If it’s magical, we don’t want it in the hands of a Dark Mage.” Skor growled. “We should fetch it.”

“If?” Ram challenged.

Callisto hummed with less certainty. “That’s a fair question, Skor.  We don’t know for certain if it’s magical or just a pretty block.”

Skor grunted. “Looks Xadian.”

“Even if it isn’t magical, it should be returned to Xadia too, then.” Callum pressed. “And if it is, it could be really useful!”

“Or it could be nothing,” Ram snapped. “Skor, this is foolish.  You want us to waste time to go fetch something on the chance that this human child has stumbled on a powerful magical artifact, and no one’s realized it until now?”

Skor bared his teeth and Callum twitched, but none of the other elves seemed to find this an unusual behavior, so he tried not to show his discomfort. “And if it is magical, and makes it into the hands of the dark mage?”

“That’s layers of ifs and maybes,” Ram argued stubbornly. “How long has it sat there that this child is remembering it, with magical ability just undiscovered?  We have a time limit.”

“We’ll lose more time if the mage can use it on us.” Skor said flatly, standing up straight and folding his arms. 

Ram scoffed. “Again, if.  And we have more important things to worry about, like ending this war.  We can’t be taking time off on side trips because you think there might possibly be a chance that someone might possibly do something that might slow us down in the future.”

“Any chance is a bad chance with dark magic.” Skor growled.

Runaan folded his arms and arched an eyebrow when Callum looked at him for help, as the argument seemed to simmer to those two elves in particular.  Instead of intervening, their apparent leader just watched them argue.

“If this thing has Xadian symbology it’s most likely Xadian in origin,” Ram said, throwing his hands out in exasperation. “Which means even if it is magical, it’s not dark magic, it’s primal magic.”

“So we should get it back to Xadia.”

“We have far more important cargo to be carrying right now!”

“Primal magic is as dangerous as dark magic if it’s used by a dark mage.” Skor growled. “We.  Should.  Fetch.  It.”

Ram bared his teeth right back at the older assassin. “It’s not worth the risk and time it would take, Skor.  We can’t get sidetracked from our mission just because we’ve heard tell of some other artifact that might also belong in Xadia, or because you think it might potentially be dangerous in the wrong hands, when it’s been sitting here in the human kingdoms for Moon only knows how long.”

Skor opened his mouth and seemed to cough on a word before just hissing at Ram. “Stop.  Makin’.  Me.  Talk.” He spat.

Callum looked to the other elves to see if this was normal.  Andromeda and Runaan just looked on with the same cool concern as before.  Rayla winced vaguely, but also did not seem surprised.  Callisto was digging in their bag for something.

“I’ve said my piece.” Skor rasped, and looked to Runaan. “Your call.”

Runaan met his gaze for a moment and gave a slow breath before looking back down at Callum as if weighing their options. “Where is this Banther Lodge?” He asked evenly.

“It’s to the east - it’ll be right on our way.” Callum brightened with hope.

“How heavily guarded is it?”

“That’s the beauty of it - it shouldn’t be guarded at all,” Callum replied proudly. “The Banther Lodge is the winter lodge, and it’s the middle of summer.  No one will be there at all.  No winter, no humans!”

Runaan’s next sigh was audible from several feet away as he shot Ram a look. “So what I am hearing is that the only time we will lose fetching this item for you will be the time it takes to walk in and fetch it as we pass, and we may only need one of us to do this task.”

“Yep.”

Ram sputtered. “Skor didn’t know that any more than I did.”

“No,” Runaan allowed. “But he at least had more than two talking points.”

When Callum followed the older assassin’s gesture back to Skor, he blinked with surprise as he saw Callisto handing Skor a handful of orange berries.  Skor made a quick hand gesture that looked like a sign at them before accepting them.  It wasn’t a sign that Callum recognized, though, and he was distracted from figuring out what the berries were for by Ezran’s sleepy voice calling to him. 

“Callum?”He quickly turned to his little brother. “I had a weird dream.”

Oh, no.  Callum went to kneel at his side, Andromeda stepping out of his way. “It wasn’t a dream, Ez.  All of that was real.” He said wearily.  Being attacked by an elf, finding a dragon egg, escaping the castle with a whole group of elves, and then finding out their father was dead . . . 

“Really?” Ezran asked skeptically. “Are you sure?  There was this giant pink hippopotamus, and I pulled its ear off, because it was made of taffy.” 

Callum realized halfway through the statement that Ezran had not been talking about what happened the night before, and it left him stammering. A couple of the elves - Runaan and Callisto, he thought from the sound - chuckled over his shoulder.  Andromeda was giggling behind her hand with a fond grin on her face when he glanced at them, as Rayla and Ram just looked unimpressed.

“No, that was a dream,” He said awkwardly. “I thought you meant the elves, the smoke wolves, the dragon egg.  That was all real.”

Ezran was barely paying attention. “Then I tried to thank the hippo for the taffy, but he couldn’t hear me!  Because I was eating his ears!”

At this Callisto laughed out loud, and seemed to break Andromeda’s composure as her laughter broke containment behind her hand as well.  Ezran frowned momentarily, looking around Callum to where they stood, but he seemed to brighten when he saw Andromeda grin fondly through the laughter.

“Now that the young princes are awake, we can move.” Runaan said with a shake of his head and a glimmer of a smile. “This Banther Lodge was likely the same cabin we saw on our journey into Katolis.  We’ll send someone in to fetch this cube as we pass.”

“I’ll go,” Rayla volunteered.

“Send the child in to get it,” Ram said. “Save time by knowing where to find it, at least.” He shrugged reluctantly when Runaan and Skor shot him fierce looks.

Callum nodded as he helped Ezran to his feet. “I can do that.  But really, it’s probably just in the miscellaneous box in the game room, since nobody knows what it does.  I’m pretty sure that’s where we left it.  It’ll only take a few minutes to grab.”

“We will cross that bridge when we come to it.” Runaan said, and gathered up the bedroll Ezran had been sleeping on, storing it in his packs. “Move.  Ram, Rayla, I want the two of you scouting today.  Andromeda, flank the children.  Callisto, join her, stay where you can keep an eye on Rayla’s arm.  Skor and I will guard the rear as before.”

The other elves scattered to do his bidding, and Callum helped Ezran shrug on the backpack carrying the dragon egg.  He could hardly believe that had worked.  The elves were going to help him learn magic!  Sort of.

[nereidprinc3ss]

andromeda | (dybmn? bonus)

a bonus vignette from spencer's POV. we find out how he really feels about reader. takes place the day before the argument at the bar.

note: this is not part six! takes place between parts four and five.

series masterlist

18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, semi-graphic descriptions of sexual fantasies, some angst, you're not actually present, mention of alcohol, very vague discussions of murdery stuff bc he's supposed to be working, sassy spencer makes an appearance a/n: for all my angels who said they wanted a snippet of spencer's POV! i'm sorry if i'm overdoing it with this story or clogging the spencer tags, i'm just having a lot of fun! i hope you enjoy or that this may be clears some things up for you, pls lmk your thoughts:) ily!!!

Spencer is incessantly drumming the particle board table underneath his fingers.

The polymer veneer is one of his least favorite textures—he hates the grain of it and if he were to accidentally scratch the table with his nails he knows it would make the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

But of all the things he’s worried about, that ranks very low on the list. 

He’s got a lot of mental tabs open all the time—and the tabs, he can deal with. It’s when he starts trying to operate with multiple windows that he begins to struggle. His brain, while it is a very fine tuned sort of computer, only has one monitor. Unfortunately, no human (except for the ones who’ve had their brain hemispheres surgically split) is immune to the inevitable pitfalls of multitasking. By dividing his mental energy between you and his job, he’s really fucking up his job. But he also thinks he really fucked up with you on that phone call the other night and for being as logical as he is he can’t seem to make that feel unimportant—even though he’s disgusted with himself for it because there are literally people dying. 

Someone knocks on the open conference room door—he looks up, skimming his lips over his fist. 

“What’s up?” he says too quickly upon seeing Emily’s mildly concerned face peering in on him. 

Her mouth bridges into a sort of nonchalant frown and her brows kick up. 

“Just… checking in. Haven’t heard from you all morning.”

“Yeah, the, uh—the geo-profile. I’m still… I’m still working it out.”

It’s not like he’s ever been phenomenal with his syntax in a social sense, but Spencer is certainly aware he’s doing even worse than usual right now. 

“Okay. Uh… is there anything in particular stumping you, or…?”

“Nope. Just not enough information. But I’m—I’m going to keep trying.”

“Alright. Got your phone handy?”

It’s an odd question—of course he has his phone handy. He’s been doing this job longer than Emily has. How else would he communicate with the rest of the team? He bristles. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

Emily shakes her head. She’s always been particularly good at reading his moods.

“You’re not under attack, Reid. I was just asking.”

Just as he’s about to say, why would you assume I’m not prepared for my job, he manages to swerve away and stifle the words with his fist. Instead he looks back down at his copy of the map and nods. In reality, he truly isn’t prepared for his job today. The reason he has his phone so close, fully charged and at top volume is because he’s worried he’ll miss a call from you. 

Emily says something else, and he hums in response, and then she’s gone. 

He shouldn’t be reading into your reticence this much. It’s not like you just sit by the phone all day, eagerly awaiting a call or text from him (like he does you). You have a life. You’re busy. And even if you are intentionally dodging his texts, he can’t entirely fault you for it. Spencer knows he’s clingy. He knows he’s overbearing. It’s part of why he panicked the other night and told you the whole humiliating story about Elle. Because he can’t ever just be cool and he felt the need to explain himself. 

But the problem was, and is, that he doesn’t know how much longer he can go without saying those three words that fucked him over all those years ago.

So he’d danced around them. Applied them to someone else to try and avoid outright professing his all-consuming love for you over the phone. However you feel, Spencer has to assume he feels more. Spencer always has to assume he feels more because he usually does and it’s gotten him into trouble before. And now he’s pretty sure he was exactly right, as often is the case, because you didn’t tell him he was mistaken and you’d clammed up and you haven’t talked to him since and he’s not supposed to be reading into it this much. 

Three victims killed and dumped within a 6 mile radius of the first victim plus one victim killed and dumped 23.8 miles away. That doesn’t make any fucking sense. Fuck this guy. 

Spencer decides the problem is that he needs more caffeine. 

Or possibly, if he were a different kind of man—copious amounts of alcohol. 

So he stows his phone in a pocket and asks the first person he sees where the coffee machine is. 

“Looks like you found it earlier,” the woman says, glancing pointedly down at his mostly empty mug. A playful smirk tugs at pinkish-brownish lips. She’s pretty, he realizes distantly. But he registers it the same way he’d take note of the model of a car, or the species of a bird, or the kind of shoes someone is wearing. It doesn’t actually interest him. It’s just part of processing his environment. “I can show you to it?”

He doesn’t have the heart or energy to explain that someone else brought him his cup earlier and he’s not flirting with her. 

“If you could just point me in the right direction…?”

She laughs, short and dry, before she’s pointing down a hall. 

“Kitchenette down there and to the left.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, already walking away without sparing her a second glance. 

She’s the kind of woman he would have paid a lot more attention to before you came along. Not that he’d ever sleep with someone on the job (not since he was 25, anyway), but if he’d met her under any other circumstances he probably would have cared more about the way her pupils dilated and her eyes had widened slightly and she’d adjusted her posture and all the other small things people do when they’re attracted to someone else. 30 year old Spencer might have slept with her. 27 year old Spencer definitely would have slept with her. Current Spencer obsessively pines for a woman who is already his girlfriend and whom he has yet to sleep with at all far too much to think about other women like that. 

But god, does he think about you like that. 

His feet carry him down the dim, carpeted hallway but really it took barely a nudge and he’s thinking about you like that. At work. As he’s pouring himself coffee. 

Spencer is confident in the fact that if anyone were to look at him right now, they’d never guess he’s running clips of you in his mind like a dirty supercut. Because he’s just pouring coffee. That’s one good thing about having all those tabs open all the time. He can toggle between them quickly. He has enough going on in the background that people look at him and all they can tell is that he’s thinking hard about lots of things. Some of them just happen to be the way you look when you’re naked on his bed, skin shining and glazed eyes sleepy, parted lips higher in color than usual and catching your breath. Some of them happen to be your hair brushing his stomach before he gathers it back for you. Some of them happen to be the way your thighs feel on either side of his face, or how you stretch around his fingers, or how you might feel when you stretch around his—

He hisses as hot coffee overflows from the mug and burns his hand. 

Maybe he’s not as calm and collected as he thought. 

But on top of all the other things he’s dealing with, having been so close to actually sleeping with you the other night is really fucking with his head. Even if he tells himself he wouldn't have done it, he knows himself better than that. He's too familiar with the effect you have on his judgement.

“Found it okay?” 

Spencer looks down, surprised to see the woman from earlier sitting at her desk and watching him as he quickly passes by on his way back to the conference room. Her legs are crossed. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and a flouncy sort of blouse which seems impractical for working in an FBI field office. Maybe she notices his eye catching on her figure and misguidedly swivels her chair to give him a better look. But all he’s noticing is that it doesn’t look like yours. Now he’s picturing the curve of your hip dripping in silk after that first night at Rossi’s. How your waist and your stomach feel when he slides his hands over you. This woman—she might as well not even be here for all he’s actually seeing her. 

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

Then he’s gone. Very briefly he acknowledges that he should feel sorry for so obviously brushing her off, but he doesn’t care even close to enough. He sets the coffee down on the table and rounds to the board where one of several maps is taped. On autopilot he draws lines between dump sites because one of the background tabs had deduced, while he was busy watching you like porn, that the distance between dump sites form the beginnings of the constellation Orion with some mathematical precision that’s too exacting to be coincidental. Orion’s Belt plus the most recent victim. Betelgeuse. 

There are ten formally named stars that make up Orion. He marks all of them, but circles the transposed coordinates of Bellatrix, Saiph, Rigel and Meissa as the next most likely dump sites. Most probably it will be Orion’s head. They’re all in wooded areas. He calls Garcia. Garcia will call Emily, wherever she is. If the unsub sticks to pattern, which they always do, they have until midnight. It’s trite, really. Predictable, like people always are. Far too quickly he drinks half the cup of scalding coffee and retraces his steps through the office to find the bathroom. 

It’s empty. The fluorescent lights hum. Spencer washes his hands with cold water and presses still wet fingers to his eyes. You’re waiting for him behind the black of his lids.

At first you would whine, and he would kiss you and you’d moan into his mouth and say his name when he opened you up as far as you would go. The air would be thick and warm with sex and vanilla perfume. Afterwards he’d take care of you and buy new sheets for his bed in your favorite color even if they didn’t match the walls and there would be nothing you’d want for that he couldn’t give to you ever again. 

But. 

That’s all contingent. 

No matter how often he fantasizes about it, no matter in how much detail, and regardless of how often those details change wildly, one thing always stays the same. 

The shape of your lips, swollen from kissing, bending around five or six vowels and only two consonants (it seems odd that there are only two consonants in I love you), sometimes before you start, sometimes in the middle or right at the peak—but always there, always moving in slow motion—and always silent.

In real life, they’d be aloud. It’s why his fantasies aren’t good enough. It’s why he can’t stop fantasizing about it. That’s the only part that really matters to him. The rest varies. 

Not because having sex with you doesn’t matter—it matters so much he almost shatters his molars whenever he starts picturing it around other people. But because Spencer can’t have sex with you until you love him. 

And he worries that you can’t love him until you have sex with him. 

The last time he thought that about a person, it didn’t turn out well.

Maybe there is some magic number. Some amount of times you need to have sex with someone before they’ll love you back. 

If there is, he knows for a fact it’s more than 32.

And he also knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he cannot have loveless sex with you thirty three times while he waits to find out. 

Not again. 

But he's going to hold out as long as he possibly can until you say it because he so badly wants you to love him back. He'll let the weight of every ignored text, every reminder that you don't feel that way about him, hang from his shoulders until he collapses. And then he'll probably try to get back up.

Recycled paper towels scratch against his skin. He dries his face and hands and throws them crumpled into the trash can. 

Outside the restroom, he pulls out his phone. For safety reasons and paranoia disguised as professionalism, you’re not his lock screen. It’s a photo of the Andromeda Galaxy. Whatever distance lies between you and Spencer, it could always be greater. No matter where you are in the world, you will always be the same 2.537 million light years away from Andromeda that he is. 

It makes Orion feel much closer. You, too. 

He sends you a text—the third message in a row. 

The distance between blue bubbles feels like light years. 

I’ll be home tomorrow. I miss you. 

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK

SERIES SUM. : This is what happens when you, an avid Harry Potter fan, replace Walburga and have the chance to change the future, starting with improving Sirius and Regulus' childhood. You'll be getting a divorce! And you'll be the one taking the kids!

LAST UPDATED : 23/03/2025 (dd/mm/yyyy)

NEXT UPDATE DUE : .... (dd/mm/yyyy)

STATUS : HIATUS... for further planning

CHAPTERS :

I. ARRIVAL (special thanks to @thebestofoneshots for beta reading this chapter!) II. SHOPPING (1/2) III. SHOPPING (2/2) IV. BEGINNINGS V. SIRIUS : FIRST DAY VI. POTIONEER VII. INVESTIGATIONS VIII. PASTRIES IX. REPUTATION X. HOLIDAY ⌈new⌋

EXTRA :

ANON ASK : HOW THE SERIES CAME TO BE

DISCLAIMER : please read | TAGLIST DISCONTINUED...

TAGS : son sirius black/mother reader ; son regulus black/mother reader ; isekai au/transfering worlds au ; walburga black is evil ; not reader though hehe~ ; hurt/comfort ; fluff ; platonic fluff ; second chances ; reader basically adopts remus, barty crouch jr and peter pettigrew ; peter pettigrew redemption arc? ; but he never betrays the marauders in the first place so... ; remus gets a better life ; reader becomes a semi-political figure to help werewolves + house elves ; reader assumes a male alias ; alternating chapters from different povs directly effected by reader's actions ; reader is a powerful independent business woman and single mother ; reader is a milf ; reader secretly hates dumbledore ; reader hates orion black ; reader hates JKR (we all do) ; divorce ; mentions of child abuse (physical and mental and emotional) ; mentions of neglect ; angry reader ; canon jily ; mentions of wolfstar ; regulus being a precious baby ; sirius has his moments too ; reader being a powerful trio with minerva and pomfrey ; reader potentially adopting the black sisters (bellatrix, andromeda and narcissa) ; reader adopts everyone! ; there'll be ocs ; reader leaves to live her dream cottagecore life ; happy ending! ; i'll add more tags in the future

[alms4oblivion]

Ava's POV Hidden Gems

Just because, here are some fics I love, all written from Ava's POV, all with less than 1000 kudos, all highly recommended. If you like fics that prioritize Ava's POV, these may be for you!

Interview with a Vampire AU (1-shot): the girls i practice hunger with - daisychiansandbowties - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Chess tournament AU: everything you do is a miracle - Chapter 1 - daisychiansandbowties - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Satellite!Ava AU: Please Respond - Chapter 1 - daisychiansandbowties - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Alien (the 1979 movie) AU: and this is all it takes to be beautiful - Chapter 1 - daisychiansandbowties - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Museum AU: Spinning out, Andromeda - tally_kat - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Exes who failed at LDR: Home is such a lonely place - Chapter 1 - aj2435 - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ava thirsts out loud for a specific act with Beatrice (based on a Reddit post, 1-shot): Teaching Assistance - MsWitsEnd - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ava thinks Bea and JC are together (1-shot): going the distance: pocket poetry and other means of flirting - omomoification - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Vamp!Ava x wolf!Bea: carnivorous saints - Chapter 1 - analogoose - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Supernatural bar hookup and I don't want to spoil more than that (1-shot): An Omen - LongWindedAnswer - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Bridgerton AU (mine and I'm proud of it): the bane of my existence - Chapter 1 - Alms4Oblivion - Warrior Nun (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

And if you prefer more "popular" fare, you're in luck! 7 of the top 20 most kudosed fics in the Warrior Nun fandom are written from Ava's perspective, and another 9 of them are split or alternating POVs that include Ava's.