#She should be waking up soon after her reconstruction

[showfallsquigandiris]

Let me show you all Malorie's file so you understand why I'm so excited to have her as a cast member!

The picture's a bit old, but that's because it's from the facility she was at before she transferred over here!

Turns out she used to be quite the troublemaker, but mellowed out once she was over here. Or at least she had until she, you know. Tampered with the masks for 20 actors. I still have to figure out what exactly prompted that...

But anyways, I think with a bit of a makeover she'll quickly become someone the audience loves! I mean just look at that face, so cute! And with a fierce personality like her's, who doesn't love that kind of contrast! It's perfect for television!

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Chapter Twenty-Four

Your Fate is Sealed With Mine: Y/N Burgess is the granddaughter of Alex and Paul, and after having spent so many summers at their manor and always wondering why she was forbidden from entering the basement, she descends the steps into the world of the Order. She broke out the being that had been trapped in that glass cage, but what does he want with her now that he is free?

Warnings: Soft Moment With Morpheus.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Female!GranddaughterReader, based on Netflix’s ‘The Sandman’, Reader now has long-ish hair for plot reasons (Just so Morpheus can tug on it later). 

Word Count: ~2.0k

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You rather liked Hob. He’d been around for a few hundred years and actually managed to become friends of all things with Morpheus. That alone was an achievement in itself. Not just anyone could befriend Morpheus. You wished you could have spent more time getting to know him, but Morpheus was eager to return to the Dreaming and continue construction. You didn’t exactly get to put in your say in the matter… so back to the Dreaming you went. Stepping through the vortex of silver and wind, you wobbled in place, holding onto Morpheus’s arm for balance. You blinked as your vision steadied. 

“Does that ever get any better?” You questioned, wrinkling your nose in distaste while your stomach rolled. Your lunch wasn’t sitting very well in your stomach after a trip like that. Morpheus looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. “What? You know someday I might just throw up on you, and I won’t apologize.” 

“Give it time,” He spoke shortly. “You are still adapting to the changes. Soon enough you will be able to travel without my aid or getting sick.” 

“Really?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised in excitement. “I can teleport around without getting sick if I wanted?” Morpheus seemed amused by your excitement but didn’t make any efforts to quell the childlike elation that made your eyes sparkle. Bloody brilliant!

Don’t even think about such activities. Your eyes momentarily twitched. Of course, he would put a damper on your excitement.  

Stay out of my head. Morpheus gave you a petulant look before speaking out loud. 

“In time, Y/N. You must not push yourself too hard, your body is not used to expressing my power and may become overwhelmed.” Morpheus chided you, looking to the left where Lucienne stood, holding a stack of books. Stories. Those were people's stories and dreams. “Lucienne, do you have the books I asked for?” 

Lucienne inclined her head in the direction of the library. 

“They are waiting for you in the library, my lord. You may already know this, but Mervyn is looking for you. I believe he wishes to speak with you about the auxiliary fountain in the east square?” Morpheus nodded in an indication that he did indeed know that Mervyn was looking for him. 

“I shall meet with him first,” Morpheus spoke before slipping from your light grasp and striding away, leaving you alone with Lucienne. Pursing your lips, you turned to the librarian. 

“Are there any finished reconstructions in the palace that I haven’t seen? I feel like I’m going stir crazy.” 

“I believe the hall of antiquities has just been completed, you should find it just short of the throne room, my lady,” Lucienne responded, gesturing towards a nearby hall. “In addition, I do believe that the greenhouses are starting to sprout. If you so choose to visit them, the hall adjacent to the library will bring you to them.” 

Greenhouse or antiquities? Antiquities, definitely antiquities. 

“I should think I’d like to see the antiquities,” You murmured, turning in the direction of the indicated hall. “Thank you Lucienne.” 

Wandering in the direction of the antiquities hall, you hummed under your breath and stuck your hands into your cardigan pockets. You had wondered what exactly constituted as an antiquity in the Dreaming. It wasn’t like it mirrored the waking world. No, there would be something special in that hall, you were sure of it. You turned down a hallway and could see in the distance two statues flanking an enormous archway, both of them just as life-like as the other statues in the palace. Everything was alive in this place, even the glass.

Your eyes watched the nearby window as it shifted and swirled, depicting several different images one after another in slow motion, creating beautiful imagery. One of those images looked like a vast forest combined with endless fields of flowers. The Fiddler’s Green most likely, perhaps you would see it one day. Hopefully soon. You crossed the threshold for the hall of antiquities and knew that you were most likely going to need several hours here to fully appreciate/understand, what was being displayed. So you decided to start at one end and go to the other to keep track of where you had left off. Ever so slowly, you looked at what was on display, most of the time having no idea what you were looking at. Then you finally did recognize something. A lyre. 

It looked meticulously cleaned and well cared for. 

Leaning forwards, your eyes trailed along the finely engraved decorations on the lyre’s glimmering gold arch. It was a beautifully made musical instrument and not one you would have thought Morpheus would have on display. Not that you knew much about Morpheus’ preferences when it came to music in general. You were still mostly learning as you went with him. He liked to keep his secrets. Certainly with you. Your eyes caught sight of a little card placed beneath the displayed lyre and looking closer, you made out a name on it. Orpheus. Ah. That would explain it. That greek mythology class you took in university had finally come in handy because you knew exactly who Orpheus was… and who his parents were. Your gaze on the lyre turned solemn. The Endless was a very complex being who hid behind icy eyes and a look of apathy. 

Drawing back from the display, your mind wandered to Calliope. Morpheus was fully capable of feeling and expressing emotions. Given that he was the King of Dreams and Nightmares he probably felt deeply. So why did he try his hardest to give you the cold shoulder? Were you not good enough because you are a mortal and not a muse, a leader, or a queen? Contrary to Death’s words, you didn’t feel like you were the only thing in the universe that could sate his appetite. 

There was a sound to your left. 

You looked to the other end of the hall and saw that beyond the arched entrance was a part of the castle that had yet to be rebuilt. Debris still littered the ground. Didn’t Lucienne say that the antiquities were just short of the throne room? Why on earth would Morpheus not have it fixed by now? Surely with his ego, it would have been the first thing on his to-do list… walking your way towards the archway, you entered the throne room and looked around. 

Just as you remembered, debris and broken glass were everywhere. The three stained glass windows at the end of the hall shattered and let copious amounts of light into the room. The stairs to the throne were crumbling and missing parts. Why hadn’t he fixed it yet? 

Your curiosity got the better of you and picking your way to the center of the room, you looked down at your hands and wondered. Morpheus said you had access to his powers, so, theoretically, you should be able to fix this place up. You concentrated and felt that tug of power, around you the dust, rubble, and glass started to shiver and move. You added a touch more concentration and they started floating. Tickled by the fact that you could actually use some of the power, you slammed everything you had into that pull of magic. Energy roared in your veins as debris and glass started flying through the air. Crumbled columns rebuilt themselves, the three windows started piecing themselves together, and the broken stairs fused back together. 

You could feel the white marble beneath your feet groan and shake from your actions, but what was consuming your mind was your need to see what those windows looked like. Even when it felt like the energy was being zapped from your body and your knees started to buckle, you didn’t cease. You could do this. You weren’t just a useless human in the realm of Dreams. 

“My lady!” You could vaguely hear Lucienne’s panicked shout and when your knees did buckle in exhaustion, she reached you in time to stop you from flat-out flopping to the marble floor. You let out a gasp, your fingers pressing hard into renewed white marble and feeling like this was taking every drop of energy you had. There were a last few chinks of glass clicking together and then everything went quiet save for your labored wheezes. “What were you thinking!?” Lucienne scolded you. You didn’t respond or explain. 

No. Your eyes were completely taken by the beautiful stained glass windows that reflected the three major arcana. Sunlight shone through the glass, highlighting every little detail, no matter how small. It was ethereal. But your elation at finally seeing what you had longed for-for so many years was fading fast, rapidly replaced by pure and utter exhaustion. You sagged in place, needing Lucienne’s help to remain upright. You felt his alarm and fury before he even appeared in the throne room in a swirl of black and sand.

“Lucienne!?” Oh, he was mad at you, but you didn’t even have the energy to care. 

“It seems that Lady Y/N took it upon herself to repair the throne room herself,” Lucienne explained as you stared up at the windows, transfixed by them. Morpheus appeared on the other side of your kneeling body.

“I believe I told you not to push yourself, little troublemaker,” Morpheus spoke, his hand reaching for your elbow. Then you were swiftly pulled back to your feet. You swayed in place, your legs still wobbling and threatening to fold once more. You turned your head to look at him, not even perturbed at the anger painted across his beautiful features. 

“Have you any idea how many years I have stared at those broken windows and wondered?” You whispered out, a fading look in your eyes. Morpheus aired out a heavy sigh and steadied you further when you swayed even more. You let out a small giggle. “Thought you’d be happy, you’ve got your throne back.” You mumbled as Morpheus quickly rectified your wobbling and swaying, lifting your body up and into his arms with another sigh. 

“Not at your expense,” Morpheus drew out, turning towards one of the hallways. You felt like you were floating, and staring at the ceilings with their ever-changing night sky. Several shooting stars flew by and you smiled. 

“So pretty…” Your voice barely came out as a whisper, the lull of sleep now tickling the edges of your mind. Beautiful dark eyes that held the stars connected with yours. “You’re pretty too, you know. Or beautiful, that too.” A dark eyebrow rose in question. “I see stars in your eyes, always have. The Morningstar’s beauty pales in comparison.” You raised a hand and faced the curve of his cheek with your finger.

His lips twitched. 

“I believe you have a biased view, Y/N,” Morpheus responded, amusement replacing anger. You would have shrugged had your body had the energy. Your head barely moved against his shoulder. 

“Hm, I’m still right though and my words are valid. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Your musings trailed off as the urge to shut your eyes and keep them closed became more and more enticing. You let out a soft sigh and let your eyelids flutter closed. “I wandered broken halls for years, you can’t blame me for wanting to see them whole.”

“Perhaps not,” Why did his voice have to be so soothing? He could put you to sleep just by talking, you were sure of that. Either way, you received no more scolding the rest of the way to your rooms. By the time Morpheus was placing you down on your bed, you were feeling extremely groggy and didn’t particularly feel like removing yourself from Morpheus’s arms. He felt too damn good snuggled up against and with your face partially pressed against his neck? He smelled too damn good too. So when you were left without his body heat and comforting arms, you let out a disgruntled moan, loudly vocalizing your displeasure. 

“I was comfortable,” You complained, turning your face into your pillow and trying to embed the last bits of his scent into your memory. You couldn’t put a name to what he smelled like, but you did know that it was his scent and nothing else. No one else’s.

“My apologies,” Morpheus’s voice echoed in your ears, soothing and comforting. Snuggling further into the pillows and sheets, you were lured into peaceful dreams. 

Date Published: 11/4/22

Last Edit: 8/20/23

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[valdederon]

FLAMES JOURNEY CHAPTER #24

raykore and novas heart to heart talk about valdederon , a new hidden threat and valdederons rage.

soon after valdederon enters his trance nova sighs un able to properly meditate as her mind is in chaos when she looks up at raykore who is takinga puff from her smoking pipe.

nova-- ray..raykore.

raykore chuckles softly

raykore--- you can call me ray if you want hun

nova-- ray is… val.. is he realy ok to be taking me in ..to be adventuring and ervything.

raykore stops mid puff and lets out a chuckle.

raykore--- as wise as i am even i dont know the answer to that one pup. id say yes personaly as having seen him grow over the years in this world.. the kids changed physicaly emotionaly and mentaly . and since he took you in as part of his family his drive to improve him self has grown significantly personaly i dont know if hes fully recovered from his traumatic past hell i garuntee he hasnt. but i can say it now longer drives his evry thought hes learned to ignore those impulses and think …. some what lodgicly ha ha ha… some what . he is still verry much a walking army.. but a more foucsed and determined army. though i do expect any demon he encounters may end up causing a flare up in him.

draggo----- uh yea ive seen it first hand.. he has no mercy or remorse when dispatching demons. its like watching him go from happy toddler playful and curious to a battle hardened adventurer.. eyes as cold as the arctic mountain air and a stare that can cause a volcanoe to explode.

raykore--- thats not surprising to me honestly .. nova you dont have to worry about your brother you can trust that he will protect you and should any one do anything to harm you. well god rest thier soul ha ha ha.go ahead ank keep trying to meditate hun try to block out the noise in your mind .

for the next few hours raykore tries to help nova meditate mean while 5 days walk to the south east in a small town with a hidden away bar the magmar who attacked novas tribe comes in and sits down ordering a volcanic eruption == ( imagine vodka if made with carolina reapers mixed with pure capsasin oil with 3 fresh chillie pepers ground into paste and all of that mixed into a 40 ounce glass cup ) == and begins downing it in second slaming his fist down on the table.

the barkeep a scared up machoke named dead eye leans forward.

dead eye-- the job aint finished yet you killed the old man but that little spit fire of his is still loose and from what i hear has joined a guild with a .not so delicate delphox rumor hase it this ones special.. and tougher then an onyxe on black obsdian powder. you get paied when its complete the boss aint happy bout it either.

the magmar looks up at dead eye as he slides a picture recently taken via psychic pokemon power

zorgon the magmar---- so all i have to do is flatten a stuppid little riolu girl tschh barely even a challange.

dead eye--- the way i hear it its not her you need to be worried about its that guild some what shes in but mainly that delphox. he is an unknown. reports are all over.. uses ligning fire.. even got a report of him using water moves. tread lightly you heavy foooted dolt.

the magmar grunts and pockets the picture and begins gathering information about the guild.eventualy coming up with a plan he thinks will work with out a hitch. heading to a den of goblins known for thier greed of ancient gold coins throwing them 7 bag fulls and a map of an ancient long deead kingdom castle fortress complex. in another continent. after a month valdederon wakes up and notices nova is gone from his room and that his head feels off as the effects of a heavy sleeping agent have just warn off his blury vision clearing to show the room a mess after a few minutes clearing his head he uses a spell that uses residual life essnce to reconstruct events into a magical holigram.

40 minutes later the air through out the entire guild grows ice cold and silent the silence broken by a loud explosion guild staff russing to valdederons room to be met face to face with araging blood red flaming inferno beams of wood falling into the flame and 2 piercing green eyes with in the flame taiga the serperior guild master using his vines to hold evryone back as the green eyes vanish into the flames .

kleo--- ok water types put out the fire.. psychics figure out what the fuk just happened.. AND NO ONE .AND I MEAN NO ONE IS TO CHASE VALDEDERON.. unless you want to get hurt. somthing has set him off.

raykore--- gods help his enemies..

kleo-- what does that mean.. i can sense the magic he used he reconstructed the events that happened before he woke that fire.. was fueled by pure rage anger and hatred.. gods worse then when i first met him. who ever angered him. may the gods help thier souls because hes going to kill them.

kleo--- why.. i think nova may also be involved i dont sense here near bye.

kleo-- mother mew.. i hope she is ok.

--------------------mean while near bye--------

valdederon finds a tavern and rips the door open and slams his staff to the floor causing an ice nova to freeze evryone in place.

valdederon--- im looking for a magmar.. scar across his eye probably in posession of a young riolu with minor burn scars. ill know if any one is lying and that wont end well.

the room falls dead slent as the tavern owner comes down from the top floor offic having heard the yelling.

myran a levanae --- your powerful..im not sure what info i may have for you but if youd kindly please release my customers then we can speak.

valdederon--- my little sisters life is on the line ill release them when i have answers.. even if thier vague guesses of were my target is.

she sighs and bangs her heard into the side railing then comes down .

the next few hours are tense untill some one finaly mentions that a near bye town would have such filth and scum and valdederon releases evryone heading out to that town. eventualy ariving after 5 days and breaks the door down and looks around the room growing tense with shock.

valdederon--- this tavern will answer to me.. any one who tries to escape i will cut down. recently one of your patreons stole somthing verry precious to me.. this patreon is a magmar with a scar across one of his eyes. talk and live… stay silent.. and youl sufer greatly

dead eye--- and why should we believe you

apon that coment valdederon fires off a holy javiline pircing the wall behind the bar counter flaming wood splinters flying ervywere the stone red hot and molten and valdederons staff aimed directly at machops arm.

valdederon---- the next one tears your arm off old man. dont fuk with me. i know that the patreon was here recently..

dead eye--- …mmmmmmpph.. fine.. zorgon mentioned he would be setting up camp at a castle some place some dead city called bakoonsk or somthing.. thats all i know.

valdederon heads out after that but causes an earth queake to tear the tavern down traping them all temporarily and begins the long journey to the dark continent of baroovien. using old maps he had gotten form a laibrary only to encounter a hoard of goblins the size of a nations army.

valdederon--- you idiots actualy look intelegent for goblins.

they chuckle and grin untill a bolt of ligning strikes the hobgoblin general the shear electricity causing him to explode into a goopy purple mess the goblins looking at the once great general and back at valdederon .

valdederon--- your in my way scatter or die.

in seconds a battle erupts mean while in the castle the distant sounds of battle can be heard.

nova--- le..let me go… please .. who are you.

zorgon-- im your death..tsch looks like ive been found. . is that.. lignting.. and fire. god now ice.

nova whimpering in fear crosses her legs a puddle growing beneath her chained feet

nova--.s..sounds like my brother is here.. your in trouble now.

----- back at the beack front---

valdederon sslashes his staf out word causing a wave of energy to slize many goblins in half once jumping at his face only to be grabed by the throat and fall limp after a loud crack as valdederon crushes his throat and tosses the goblin to the side the gasping and wheasing as it struggles to breath and then whimpering as it bursts into flames for hours the battle rages valdederon getting to the citty edges and begins to walt through as he summons meteors to fall into the citty the explosions reverberating through the citty and castle walls.

zorgon--- god how many are there i hired an entire army out there .

nova tears up hearing the screams and explosions in the distance. hoping she will survive each passing second the explosions and yelling turned screaming grow closer and closer after awhile zorgon runs down to the entrance of the castle just as 6 hob goblin generals crash through thier boddies practicly turned inside out via magic and a shadowed figure slowly aproaching with the clack…. clack… clack….clack of a staf on stone the torch fire on the wall lighting the figure up . a delphox furr drenched purple with goblin blood the sounds of crumbling buildings in the distance followed by a loud crash as a wall falls over blocking the exit.

valdederon---- what is your name ass hole.. id like to know the name of my victim you kidnaped my baby sister and i wont let that slide.

the magmar stares frozen with fear barely able to mumbler zorgon untill he steals him self.

zorgon--- my name is zorgon and you will be my victim peasant theres no way your not exausted after all of that

valdederon---- SILENCE YOU IDIOT. YOU HAVE NO ROOM TO SPEAK HERE ive lost far to much in my past to loose what i have now.. prepare your self to fight .. .. tsch.. prepare to be slaughtred im not going to fight you.. im going to end you. painfuly… slowly.. brutaly… just one thing first,.. were is the riolu you kidnaped..

zorgon growls--- top of the castle tower.

with in seconds a full blowne onslaught erupts fire lightning ice water stone bullets fire balls and hundreds of others spells fly out in all directions for 6 hours the battle rages untill valdederon lands a heavy blow with a sizable chunk of boulder to the magmars chest snaping his ribs as it hits after words he picks up zorgon bu the throat and tosses him against a pillar causing it to fall over and smashing into his back…youl never escape that.. but if you do rest asured ill end you if we ever meet again.

clack… clack…clack… clack.

valdederon turns and walks away from the slowly dying magmar his lungs punctured by shards of rib and his spinke broken paralyzing him from the hip down passing out from the imense pain nova hearing the silence begins to sob untill the sound of wood on stone comes up the stares and the familliar shape of valdederons body fills the blury void

valdederon--- chin up princess. your big brother is here.

nova---..y,.. you.. they are.. so.. so many

a gental flick of her nose silences her jumbled thoughts

valdederon------your life is far more important to me.. he hired monsters. no one will miss a pile of goblin filth and the mag mar was a acriminal

nova--mmmpph.. i…w..wet my self.. i..

valdederon-- lets go find a hotspring to wash up at .

he gently unchains and picks her up and lets her sob into his shoulder ignoring her claws digging into his flesh and soon enters a hotspring with her and rubs her back gently letting her have her time to let out all her bottled up fear and sadness for a solid 3 hours she cries and cries and cries settling into hickups.

valdederon---- feel better now..its ok to cry you must have wanted to cry while you were beeing held. but wanted to apear strong.. im proud of you for holding strong untill i got here for you

nova---im hungry i havent eaten in a couple days…

valdederon--- i have some berries in my item box for you lets get washed up first though ok.

she sniffles and nods and avldederon gets up out of the hot spring and lets her wash up on her own in private then washes him self after shes finished sitting at the edge to share a pile of oran berries with his baby sister.

nova--- will you be in trouble..

valdederon chuckles neverously knowing he nuked his room

valdederon--- maybey.. i did vaporise my bedroom.

she giggles hearing than and falls asleep in his lap paw in her mouth for comfort as she shivers still stressed but noticably comforted by his presence.

[talkfastromance4]

Older--Ashton Irwin oneshot

a/n: this idea popped in my head when I heard this song, it's so beautiful.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: Angst, Big Sad, major character death, mentions of BRCA genes, breast cancer, ovarian cancer, difficult pregnancy, sadness. Please read with caution, this is a heavy one

feedback is always welcome!💕

They’re sitting on the swing of their porch at the lake house watching the ducks swim across the lake, the ripples shimmering in the setting sun. y/n shivers and rests her head on Ashton’s shoulder as he tugs the blanket around her more securely. He continues to glide the swing with gentle pushes of his feet on the faded white wooden boards. 

Today was a good day. They woke up, he made breakfast while they sat outside and listened to the forest wake up until Alma finally awoke. The three of them went for a walk, a short one, with Alma settled comfortably on Ashton’s shoulders. He held y/n’s hand tightly as Alma pointed out every song from the birds. While they walked, Ashton and y/n reminisced on how they met. 

It was plucked from the scene of a movie, they were both reaching for the same book on the shelf. It was about getting intune with your feelings and thoughts, but of course, it was the last available copy. He giggled and she liked the sound when he said she should take it. She offered to share it once she’s finished and he liked her kindness. 

They agreed to come back to the bookstore in a month to exchange it. When he asked for her number she told him it would be in the book.

A month went by and they met at the bookstore. When it was in his possession he noticed the dog eared pages as he flipped through it. There were highlights and written notes in the margins. He searched the front and the back for her name and number but came up empty.

“I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Have a good read.”

“Wait, that’s it? I thought I’d get your number at least or talk about the book.” He was disappointed she wanted to leave so soon.

“My number’s in there,” she nodded. “We can’t talk about it when you haven’t read it yet. Text me when you’re finished.”

He flipped through the pages again but didn’t find any digits. He’d have to read through it to find it.

“Wait! What’s your name?” he called as she almost walked out the door.

“Books are the source of knowledge,” she smiled then left onto the sidewalk.

He never read a book faster in his life. But Ashton also paused to read her thoughts in the margins and wrote down her highlighted phrases in his own journal. It wasn’t until page 237 that her name and number were written at the end of a chapter. He folded the page in half so he could find it right away when he finished; he wanted to text her right away but he wanted to keep his side of the bargain. 

 Once finished, he surprised her by calling instead of texting. He was disappointed that he got her voicemail but he left one anyway. y/n called back and they made a plan to meet that weekend to discuss the book over some coffee.

They went on many dates after that and by the sixth month she dropped a bombshell on him. She told him she has the BRCA gene and has decided to undergo a double mastectomy to help prevent the gene forming into breast cancer. She wanted Ashton to be aware and that this can end with no hard feelings but he interrupts her.

“Why would I want this to end?”

“Because I’ll be going through a lot, and it’s not your responsibility.”

“I want to help, in any way I can.”

“Ashton, I can’t ask you to do that–”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I don’t want this to end, y/n,” he reached over to hold her hand. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

After more conversations, he helped her prepare for the surgery. He sat in the waiting room with Calum by his side. Ashton was right there when she woke up along with her parents (who he just met that morning). He helped her at home and with her exercises. He took her to checkups and when she had reconstruction surgery.

The first time they slept together took a few tries because y/n felt like an alien in her own body with her new breasts but Ashton was very patient with her. It was slow and loving and Ashton knew right as she fell asleep tucked against his chest, that he wanted to be with her forever.

“Ash?” she whispered and it pulled him from his reverie of memories. 

“Yeah angel?”

“Can we go inside? I’m getting cold.”

He helps her stand and they slowly walk inside to see Alma–recently turned five– is eating breakfast with Calum and his wife Ida.

“Everything okay?” Calum asks in concern.

“She’s cold,” Ashton nods and they continue their slow shuffle towards the bedroom.

“Hi mommy! I’m eating all my pancakes!” Alma waves her fork with a pancake stuck to it in the air.

“That’s so good, honey, mommy’s proud of you,” y/n smiled and Ashton felt her body shake. 

He helps her into their bed and drapes more blankets over her because she’s trembling so badly. 

“How’s that, my love?” he asks touching her cheek. It’s cold. 

“Better,” she smiled sleepily. “Did we bring the photo album?”

“We brought everything,” he nods. “Want me to get it?”

The photo album is large and heavy in his arms as he brings it over to the bed. He settles in next to her and her head falls on his chest like always and he flips through the first couple of pages. y/n loved taking photos of everything. They could take a day trip somewhere and she’d have a hundred new photos in her phone of flowers, sceneries, signs, and of Ashton. It was a book of their love shared together.

From their first dates to her progress photos from her first surgery, her growing belly that held Alma and everything in between. She pointed at each photo and rekindled a memory that Ashton knew like the back of his hand but he loved listening to her retelling of it.

It’s photos of concerts, vacations, silly photos with food on their faces and then the day she told him she was pregnant. It wasn’t planned at all and they’d only been together a year and a half but they were both so happy. 

“You tried to give me an out with that, too,” Ashton accused lovingly and kissed the top of her head. 

“I gave you a lot of curveballs,” she sighs and nestles into his shoulder more. “This page is my favorite.”

Her small hand stops his from turning the page. It’s full of photos of them dancing together; at weddings, at birthdays, on the beach. In some, they’re gazing into each other’s eyes but more often than not, her head is resting on his shoulder while their hands are clasped together against their hearts. His cheek resting on top of her head.

The next section is dedicated to Alma. It was a rough pregnancy for y/n because her immune system wasn’t all that good to begin with. She had to take more vitamins than the usual pregnant woman had to but Ashton helped her with that as well. She even had to get fluids because her body wasn’t keeping her hydrated. He pauses on a photo of her in the hospital with a bright smile on her face.

They met with her doctor on an almost weekly basis to make sure things were progressing okay. Her doctors were all surprised she became pregnant so easily in the first place and predicted the pregnancy wouldn’t be an easy one. 

They were right.

The morning sickness lasted longer than normal and she had to be hospitalized a few times for that because she couldn’t keep anything down. Ashton hated seeing her like that and wished he could take away her pain, he saw how much it took out of her but she always had a smile on her face whenever she spoke of the baby.

“I hope he looks like you and has your dimples,” she’d say.

“What if it’s a girl?”

“I hope she has your dimples,” she smiled.

The doctor recommended it wasn’t too late to terminate the pregnancy as an option if she didn’t want to keep going through this and that made y/n irate. 

“No, I can do this. I want to have this baby, I’m strong enough. I can handle it.”

It sounded to Ashton that she was convincing herself more than the doctor.

“No one is questioning your strength, love,” Ashton rubbed at her hands that always seemed cold to the touch. “It’s just an option so your body doesn’t have to go through these risks. You have eggs frozen, right? We can get a surrogate or adopt–”

“Ashton, I want this baby. I know it’s an option and I appreciate the knowledge of it but I can’t–the baby is healthy and that’s all that matters.”

“Okay. I support you no matter what,” he nodded and the doctor never recommended it again to respect her wishes. He also made sure to keep y/n comfortable. 

When the morning sickness ended y/n and Ashton both thought they were in the clear and on a good incline for the rest of the pregnancy. But then she got gestational diabetes and they had to check her blood sugar every couple of hours.

“I’m sorry I’m such a hassle,” she told him one night while he pricked her to check her levels. 

“You aren’t a hassle at all,” he shook his head. 

“You’re with me around the clock, you haven’t written any music and it’s all my fault–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hushed as she began to sob. She was very emotional these days because of her hormones. “Nothing is your fault, okay? I love being with you and taking care of you. I love you, y/n. Just me, just you.”

She had to be bedridden for the last month of the pregnancy and a nurse would come by the house in the morning and at night to check on her. When it came time for the labor it was very swift and unproblematic at all which was a blessing and a huge relief. And their baby girl entered into the world.

Ashton cried when he first saw Alma, a name chosen by y/n because it means nourishing, kind, and soul. Alma was an exact replica of y/n. 

“Marry me,” he said above Alma’s hat covered head.

“Okay,” y/n looked up and smiled at him.

Not long after Alma was born, Ashton and y/n were sitting in the doctor’s office. Alma slept soundly in her carrier on the floor, Ashton and y/n’s hands were holding tightly to each other. They were told Alma would more than likely be the only baby y/n could ever carry because her body couldn’t handle the added stressors of another pregnancy. At her last ultrasound, they found something in her uterus and on her pap smear that came up as precancerous. y/n would need a hysterectomy to make sure it doesn’t spread and progress throughout her body. 

Ashton covered his face with his free hand and y/n tried to comfort him. The doctor gave them some privacy.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. People get hysterectomies all the time and they’re fine,” she soothed as his body shook with his sobs. 

“I hate seeing you go through pain like this again and again,” he sniffed and she wiped at his tears.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. Like you said, we can get a surrogate. I’m just glad I got to carry our sweet Alma.” She gave him that smile that won him over so many months ago. It seems like a different lifetime. 

“God, how can you be so positive still? It’s incredible and kind of annoying,” he shook his head and she laughed.

“I’ve dwelled in my sadness so much in the past that I choose not to anymore. And how can I be sad when I have you and Alma? We’ll get through this, honey.”

Her parents came for the surgery and to help with Alma while Ashton aided her during recovery. Recovery took eight weeks, which is two weeks longer than the normal recovery period because she got an infection. The guys helped out as well and made sure they were eating by setting up a meal plan.

Once y/n was recovered fully, she was a completely different person. She barely got a cold and right after Alma’s first birthday, y/n and Ashton finally got married. It was a very last minute ordeal because they both couldn’t wait anymore. Planning took three days but their friends and family helped. Crystal was in charge of caters and the decorations in the backyard. Sierra and Ida–she was only Calum’s girlfriend then–got the dress and flowers. 

Michael officiated the wedding and Alma was walked down the aisle by y/n’s mother. Ashton could barely get through his part of the vows when he had to say ‘in sickness and in health’ because he hoped and prayed and wished with everything in him that y/n would never have to endure another sickness again. y/n held his hands and waited patiently until he finally got the vows out. They kissed and danced under the white canopy tent in their bare feet as Luke and Sierra sang a duet. 

It was the perfect wedding. 

More pages of the album showed memories of taking Alma to the zoo, to the park, to her first concert which was of her daddy playing the drums. There were more birthdays, a trip to Disney World, holidays and then a ton more when they bought the house on the lake. They spent every summer here swimming and taking Alma on the boat. 

Shortly after Alma’s fourth birthday, Ashton saw a shift in y/n and as he flipped through the photo album he could physically see it in the photos as well. y/n lost weight at a rapid rate, she barely ate and he finally begged and begged enough that she went to see her doctor. 

They were struck with horrible news again.

“How could she have ovarian cancer when you already did the hysterectomy? I thought doing that was supposed to prevent cancer,” Ashton was furious and y/n rubbed at his hand trying to soothe him. 

They were told with treatment she could lessen it but her doctor still gave her a year. Ashton wouldn’t accept that. He was angry and scared so y/n agreed to the treatment to try and alleviate Ashton. 

He didn’t break down in front of her. It wasn’t until Luke and Sierra sang a new song ‘Older’ that they wrote together and that finally did him in because he didn’t want to get older without y/n by his side. His meltdown over the song forced him to tell Calum, Michael and Luke about y/n’s recent diagnoses. All three of them cried with Ashton and sat in silence trying to keep their brother afloat. 

While y/n was undergoing treatment, she didn’t get to go to Calum and Ida’s wedding but she heard all about it from Alma who was their flower girl. 

A month before Alma’s fifth birthday, Ashton and y/n spoke with her oncologist again to see how the treatment was going. He gave them a somber expression, his eyes slid to y/n and she nodded in understanding but Ashton was confused. 

“What?”

y/n turned to him with tears in her eyes, her voice shook when she answered, “this is it, honey.

It took him a while before her words finally sunk in. He denied it. He shouted. He threw a rampage on the doctor’s desk by knocking things off of it until y/n grabbed him and pulled him back into his chair. She caressed his cheek, tears streaming down both of their faces. 

“I am deeply, deeply sorry y/n. You are the strongest person I’ve seen with such a great outlook on everything despite what you’ve gone through. You have no idea how much I hoped that this treatment would work for you. I wish I could give you five more years.”

“She deserves all of the years,” Ashton said and concentrated on the grooves of her hands. 

“How much time?” y/n sniffed.

“Six months, maybe a year but that’s a stretch. We can set plans up that will leave you comfortable, whether that be at home, or here. I will do everything I can and that you want.”

“Thank you.”

That night, Ashton and y/n made love and he wasn’t as gentle as he should have been but he didn’t hurt y/n. She knew he was hurting and she wanted to take it away for him, much like how he always wanted to take away the pain she endured. He made love to her passionately, it was as if he was wishing all of his love he was pouring into her would be enough to keep her here with him.

She held him tightly and tenderly as he cried on her shoulder when they laid together after.

���I want you to do something for me,” she whispered in his hair.

“Anything.”

“I don’t want you to waste away when it’s over and I’m gone. You need to take care of Alma and I want you to be happy, okay? I want you to fall in love with someone who will take care of you the way you took care of me.”

“I don’t want anyone else. You’re all I’ve ever wanted and needed.”

y/n cried into his hair and they held each other, neither one of them wanting to talk about a future that now has an expiration date.

When they explained it to Alma, she was silent as her four year old mind tried to comprehend it. She understood her mommy was sick and that one day she wouldn’t be sick anymore but that means she wouldn’t be here with Alma and Ashton. 

“I don’t want you to go, mommy,” Alma cuddled into her. They brought her onto their bed to tell her the news, it was the space she ran to whenever she was scared of storms. It was the space she came to feel safe when she had a nightmare. 

“I know baby, I don’t want to go either. But when I’m all better, I won’t be too far from you. I’ll be up at the lake house, I’ll be in the water and the sun and in all the birds that sing to you in the morning and at night.”

y/n wrote letters and cards to everyone explaining her love for them. She wrote a letter for each year of Alma’s life that y/n would miss, her birthdays, her graduation, her wedding day, the day she became a mother. She wrote one's for Ashton’s birthdays and their anniversaries. She even wrote special ones for when he wouldn’t know what to do when Alma has a crush or when she gets her first period. She told him where the box of letters and cards were along with the photo album. 

They got one last good day together and it was on Alma’s birthday. Ashton and y/n almost forgot she was sick again because that day was so full of love and laughter and so much life. y/n decided she wanted her last days to be at the lake house. 

So, they packed up their things and left with Calum and Ida who agreed to come and help with Alma. They had a few more good days but they soon became far and in between. It was two months later when y/n started to get sick and she’d go days without eating. Her eyes darkened from her body shutting down and she didn’t want Alma to see and be frightened so Ida would put concealer on to hide the darkness that never disappeared. 

“I love you so much, Ashton,” she said when they finished looking through the photo album. “You are the greatest love of my life and I wish I could have met you sooner.”

“I wish that, too. But I wouldn’t trade the days and years I’ve had with you. You’re the love of my life and no one will ever compare.”

“I want to sleep now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” he kissed her head and hummed until she fell asleep.

***

A few days later she regained some of her strength and they danced in the living room with everyone over. The nurse recommended friends and family stay close when she’d come to check on y/n and administer with fluids and pain medication. Her parents flew in and so did Ashton’s mom and siblings.

The lake house was full of people and their bedroom became more crowded with machines to help y/n feel more comfortable. 

“Ashton…” she croaked one morning and he could tell in her voice and by her eyes that today was the day. 

He put on a brave face and told their families. He called the nurse to come by and stay to help y/n and he called her oncologist to let him know that it was almost time. While he made those phone calls y/n was saying goodbye in their bedroom. Tears were shed and hearts were breaking all around. 

Alma could sense something was off and clung to Ashton’s leg while he made calls.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” she told him and he looked into her eyes. y/n’s eyes. She was the perfect replica of y/n and it filled Ashton with joy and an irrevocable sadness.

“I know my love,” he hugged her close, “I’m scared too. But we can be brave for mommy, right? Remember how she told you one day she’ll be better but can’t be with us anymore?” Alma nodded. “Well, today is that day. Your mommy isn’t going to be sick anymore.”

“Does she hurt when she’s sick?”

“Yes.”

“Then I don’t want my mommy to hurt anymore.”

“Me either sweetheart,” Ashton choked out and hugged her even tighter to his chest. 

When it’s their turn to go inside, y/n has the biggest smile when she sees Alma.

“There’s my sweet girl!”

Alma climbed onto the bed and Ashton sat on the other side of y/n holding her hand as Alma settled against her mother. She breathed in deeply as y/n rocked her back and forth, stroking her cheek and brushing at her hair. It was a ritualistic habit she’s done ever since Alma was a baby.

“Mommy, are you going to be better now?”

y/n’s eyes met Ashton’s and he saw the tears well in them. 

“Yeah baby, I’m going to be better real soon. You know what that means, right?”

“You won’t be with me and daddy anymore,” Alma sniffed. “Can’t you stay?”

“Oh, I wish I could honey. I never want to be a day without you but remember when else I said? I won’t ever be far away from you. I’ll be in here,” she touched Alma’s head, “and here,” and touched her heart, “and everywhere you look. You and daddy are going to be just fine, okay?”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m your mom, and no matter what your daddy says, I’m always right.”

“You are always right,” Ashton smiled.

“See? I love you so, so much, Alma. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Alma sobs into y/n’s chest and y/n holds her tight whispering soothing words and humming a song in between. 

“You are the best thing I’ve ever done in this world.”

“I love you forever mommy.”

“Forever and ever and ever,” y/n whispers back then nods to Ashton.

Ashton has to pry Alma from her mother’s grasp but he knows it’s almost time and he wants Alma to remember y/n this way. Alma kicks at Ashton until y/n’s mother comes in to take her from the room. They hear Alma shouting from beyond the door and Ashton falls to his knees by their bed. 

y/n rubs at his hair and hugs him the best she can, letting him cry on the blanket.

“You’ve held on for so long,” she whispers to him. “You can let it all out now.”

When he’s finished and his eyes are bloodshot, he crawls onto the bed carefully so he doesn’t disturb the wires and tubing that are hooked up to her. Their arms are entangled and she rests her head against his neck. 

“Can you feel it?” he asks after a while.

“Yes.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Like I’m going to finally have rest,” she sighs. 

They talk and look through the album some more and the nurse comes in to give her some more pain medication then leaves them alone once more. Ashton pets her hair and kisses her eyelids, memorizing all of her features that he has memorized time and time again. He feels her relax as the medicine kicks in, her breath has become more even.

“My dear devoted delicate,” she whispers and tilts her head up. “Kiss me.”

He gives her the softest brush of his lips against hers, it tastes like salt and love. She’s still so fragile and weak that he’s scared to hurt her. 

“You and Alma are my life and my love” she says on his lips.

“And you’re mine, forever and ever.”

“Sing to me, please.”

He cradles her head close so he’s singing directly to her, his thumb strokes at her cheek.

“I don’t want to get older, without your head on my shoulder…on the day that you leave me I’ll forever be bleeding love…it’s not worth it if I lose my one-way ticket for two, just me…just you…just me…just you…”

He felt her slip away as he repeated the last few words, his singing shifted to whispers as the door opened and her nurse walked in to monitor the machine. Their loved ones stood outside the door as Ashton held onto her, singing and humming with the monitor slowing, slowing, slowing….

He felt her last breath, an exhale that sounded like his name. A last declaration of her love was expelled into the universe and Ashton’s world spun slower until it finally stopped when her head fell onto his shoulder one last time.

A Year Later

Ashton always wakes up before the sun and he wanted to make sure he’d wake Alma up at just the right time so she’d see the sunset with him. It’s their first time benign back at the lake and it’s been exactly one year since y/n passed. He couldn’t find it in himself to sleep in their room so he slept on the couch then he’d be able to hear Alma if one of her nightmares woke her up.

The first couple months without y/n were the worst of his life. Alma had night terrors as soon as the funeral was over. It was a lovely service and Ashton abided by all of y/n’s wishes. There were momentous amounts of flowers, a dozen photo boards and her favorite music playing over the speakers but as the final song she requested he play ‘When I’m Gone’ by Joey + Rory.

Ashton held it together until that very moment because he hadn’t heard that song since y/n played it for him when they were discussing her wishes. Alma climbed in his lap and they hugged each other tight, crying together.

Since her funeral, Alma couldn’t sleep and when she did she’d have terrible nightmares. She described them as dark shapes and seeing y/n but that ‘mommy was scary.’ Alma slept with Ashton in his bed for the first six months but each night got a little better and she can sleep in her own bed now. 

He’s just finished pouring hot milk over the hot cocoa mix when he hears the door to her room open and Alma’s little feet smack on the floor.

“Daddy?”

“In the kitchen, peanut,” he calls to her and adds in the mini marshmallows. They always share a cup of coffee and cocoa together in the morning. 

She steps in front of him, her Little Mermaid nightgown reaching just below her knees with a teddy bear that was y/n’s growing up held tightly against her chest. She’s rubbing at her eyes.

“Good morning,” Ashton smiles softly. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. I saw mommy and she was happy we’re here.”

“You did? That’s wonderful. How about we go for a walk in the woods like we did with mommy after we watch the sun come up and eat breakfast?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s almost time, let’s head out on the porch. Can you grab that big blanket over there?” He nods to the large quilt that was made from patches of pictures of y/n. It was a gift given to Ashton and Alma for Christmas and they always snuggled underneath it when they’d talk about y/n. 

“I’m strong, I got it!” she squeals and hefts the large blanket in her little arms.

“That’s my girl,” Ashton smiles, “come on.” 

Once they’re outside on the porch, Ashton drags over the bench so they can set their mugs on it. He brought the photo album out too so he and Alma can look at it while the sun comes up. Alma hops on the swing and Ashton settles the quilt over them.

“There we go, nice and cozy, right?” he asks hugging her close and kisses the top of her head. 

“Yeah,” Alma smiles and stares out at the lake. A lone duck skirts onto the water. “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

“I feel like mommy’s here.”

“I feel that too, peanut. But she’s always with us because we carry her in our hearts.”

“Where do you see her? ‘Cause I see her in the flowers at home and when it’s sunny while it rains.”

“I see her in everything, but I mostly see her in you,” Ashton pokes her nose. “You look just like your mommy, Alma.”

“I do?” she perks up at that.

“You definitely do,” he grins.

They stare out at the water watching the duck swim lazily through the water and the sun starts to peek over the trees. The sky is a brilliant orange and extends out in pinks and blues, the sun is chasing away the night. A mockingbird begins to sing somewhere amongst the trees and a breeze brushes his cheek. 

“Hi my love,” he murmurs knowing it’s y/n. 

He feels her all around this place and at first, he thought he’d come here and realize he hates it and never return. The first night was rough for sure but sitting out here with Alma fills him with peace. He looks down at his daughter and sees her strength and all her love exuding out of her, traits she inherited from y/n. He kisses the top of her head. 

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you sing the song mommy always liked?”

Ashton sucks in a breath, he hasn’t played that song since y/n’s death and the guys were more than understanding to not play it in front of him. It was a beautiful song but it just hurt too much. Gazing into Alma’s eyes and seeing y/n staring back at him…how could he refuse? 

“Of course I can,” he says and clears his throat, “I don’t want to get older without your head on my shoulder, on the day that you leave me I’ll forever be bleeding love…it’s not worth it if I lose my one-way ticket for two, just me…just you…” 

While he was singing y/n’s favorite parts of the song, Alma rested her head on Ashton’s shoulder. He may not grow older with y/n, but he’ll get to see his little girl grow up.

“Just me…just you…”

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @hellasblessed @gwynethhberdara @in-a-world-of-fandoms @blairscott

[ravennm84]

Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her. 

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion. 

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything. 

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her. 

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out. 

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas. 

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school. 

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary. 

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases. 

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever. 

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream  job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris. 

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace. 

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times! 

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted. 

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time. 

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding. 

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me. 

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action. 

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School. 

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating. 

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?” 

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.” 

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.” 

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

Taglist:

@2confused-2doanything @7-sage-7 @aadnrsstar @abrx2002 @awkwardromances @bayball @babylovebug18 @botanicalfoxx @back-cats-and-broken-mirrors @caffeinetheory @cheshire5210 @chocolateherringtacofan @city-of-all-tunas @classycollectorreviewworld  @corabeth11 @chocolatechipcookiesandcamembert @darkened-flame @delightfulcookiesrecipespizza @fandom-trapped-03 @ghostmaster  @iamblinkmarvelarmy @interobanginyourmom @izang @jesussavedevenme @kazedancer @kitten12113 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @lilypotter2018 @lunataravler @ladylupuscrow @maskedpainter @miraculouslydumb @nerd-nowandforever @naruwitch @ola-is-dead  @pandacatxd @plushbookworm @plz-excuse-my-inner-ravenclaw @pheonix-biach @pandora-fucking-box @raiderofthelostbooks @ramos123 @rowanrouge @rowanyx @ren121 @seesea22 @seraphichana @sashakoi @shypeacekitten  @tazer6787 @that-girl-sakea @thecrazyfantrollshasmoved @the-smallest-kittenz  @tishwinchesterannabethjackson @t1dwarrior-of-earth  @ulmban  @with-forward-motion @wonderbat91939  @zoiechance

[wellpresseddaisy]

Use Any Means

Part 4

Andromeda had written about a child with no adult supervision, soon to be thrust into the glittering world of the ton. A boy barely grown with few to rely on and none who knew how to instruct him. A boy kept apart from his peers, who barely knew either world.

She wrote of his responsibility, how the English Blacks had never called on the House Prime for assistance. How Harry needed someone like him, someone experienced with both Society and teenagers.

She did not tell him that the boy was…pretty. She said he resembled his father, was practically a pattern card of him.

He could only imagine that English magical society had decided, in the wake of Potter's death, to forget precisely what he looked like. Oh, he wasn't an unhandsome man, but he'd looked so very...English.

Harry looked so little like his father once you got past that shocking bird's nest atop his head (hair too dark, he actually possessed decent cheekbones, not stocky enough, not tall enough) that he wondered if, perhaps, they'd all been struck blind.

Because under the blood (and he would get the tale of that) and the frankly revolting clothing, Harry James Potter looked like a Black. Possibly with some Prewett mixed in. Seen next to the two unmistakable Prewetts on the floor, there had to be some in his bloodline.

When he made his debut, there was no doubt that he would take the Ton by storm…if wished to. Small and lightly built, with that dark hair and piercing eyes…he'd put everyone's noses out of joint.

"Hello Mr. Potter. I'm Cadwaladr Du, the head of your House Prime. I'm here to be your new guardian." One could not stare all day, after all. And a familiar name might get the boy's wandering attention.

"Hello." Potter smiled myopically at him. "That's very kind of you. I'm afraid I can't stand at the moment as a screaming phantasm just exited my forehead. How was your trip?"

A girl about Potter's age on the floor with him (with the most impressively bushy hair he'd ever seen on a person) sighed and handed him a pair of glasses. He smiled blindingly at her and shoved them up his nose. She elbowed him, cocking her head toward the older Prewett.

"Er, may I present Mrs. Weasley? She was helping with the blood." That explained why she was crammed onto the floor with three teenagers.

The Prewett boy snorted and the girl just covered her eyes. She seemed to be muttering something. 

"And, um, this is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They're my best friends. And her parents, Dr. and Dr. Granger are at the table. Remarkably unfazed by the screaming and phantasm and blood."

For the first time in his life Cadwaladr Du wondered if he had, perhaps, got in over his head. Potter leaned back against Weasley, seemingly exhausted by the introductions. 

"It's very nice to meet you." The male Dr. Granger nodded at him from the table. "Once you've done a few jaw reconstructions post motorbike accident not much gets you. Hell of a shock, though."

Wonderful. Sensible people with senses of humor, judging by the way the female Dr. Granger covered her mouth, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Or possibly hysteria, given what may have happened.

"I can imagine. Madam, could I give you an arm? And then, perhaps, the whole party could repair to Black House for more in-depth explanations?" He helped Mrs. Weasley to her feet. "It's an honor to meet a daughter of House Prewett."

"Thank you, Mr. Du. I'm so happy that you're here for Harry. We…haven't had a chance to be back in Grimmauld Place recently." Mrs. Weasley began delicately. "It was not in good repair a short time ago."

"Did you enter through the non-magical side?" He asked, keeping his tone polite and deferential.

They weren't going to the house on Grimmauld Place, that had been a wedding present to Orion, mostly to keep Walburga from the more fashionable quarters of London, but so many forgot basic security measures. He'd have to order it closed up, though. 

"The non-magical…oh, I should have known! We have a similar arrangement at home. Harry and Hermione, have you seen Magical London? There should have been a day out in your second year." Mrs. Weasley looked down at the trio.

Harry smiled beatifically on the world, probably a side effect of the blood loss, and Hermione looked puzzled.

"We've been to Diagon, Mrs. Weasley. With you."

"Oh, oh no, dear. Have I been so…I have and so has Hogwarts,  apparently. I'm so sorry, Hermione." She sighed heavily. "We'll have to remedy that as soon as we can. Diagon Alley is not the whole of magical London, it's more of a shopping arcade we created to ease the transition. We have our own version of London if you go out the other end of Diagon and not through the Leaky. Hogwarts is supposed to make you familiar with the magical world." 

Her tone did not bode well for Hogwarts.

"A magical version of London exists." Hermione's voice took on a flat tone that had Ron wincing. "I imagine, although no one has ever decided it should be mentioned, there is perhaps a magical version of England as well?"

"The whole world." Ron gulped.

"The whole world. I see. And when are the muggleborn or raised clued in to this? Not that it's terribly important at the moment as Harry needs to be off the floor, but it would be nice if we were told. I'm not blaming you, Mrs. Weasley. It isn't your job to do these things and you've been so good to us." Hermione pressed her lips together, physically holding back what she dearly wanted to say.

"We shall have quite a few things to discuss, it seems." Cadwaladr patted Mrs. Weasley's hand, realizing he still had it tucked into his arm. "Now, does anyone have a cloak? I don't think it would be quite the thing to carry a bloodsoaked Potter through any hallway."

Harry tried to shove himself off the floor with a weak "I can walk!" 

"Do you imagine I'd let you, bloody as you are, even walk through the halls uncloaked?" Cadwaladr answered, crooking an eyebrow.

Harry's rebellion proved short-lived as he fell back almost immediately, flushing. Ron bumped his shoulder gently.

"I'm afraid you'll have to put up with the indignity of being carried, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger, Doctors Granger, would you care to accompany us? And Mrs. Wealsey? Do you have the time to at least take some tea? I understand you have a daughter on the train?"

Mrs. Weasley checked the time before agreeing to go. The doctors Granger held a near-silent conversation before Mrs. Dr. Granger smiled at him.

"We'd love to. We closed the practice for the day and I think Hermione might riot if we leave now."

"Excellent! We just need a cloak. My carriage awaits us round the back as the Floo is likely inactive." He organized them all as ruthlessly as he organized his own family. 

Ron produced a slightly crumpled cloak from his bookbag; Cadwaladr wrapped Harry in it and lifted him easily (much too easily) from the ground; and the whole ridiculous procession made for the back of Gringotts accompanied by a goblin.

[heliosthegriffin]

Option Three

Jaune looks at his scroll.

‘Ruby- Come to my room, I got something to ask you. I got donuts.’

Then knocks at Team RWBYs dorm.

Ruby: Come in!

Jaune walks into the dorm, it was the same his and the rest of team APLN.

Jaune see’s Ruby and Blake are sitting at a table staring darkly at each other..

There is no chair for Jaune though so he stand in front of the table.

Ruby makes a pyramid out of her hands.

Ruby: So glad you could join us today.

Blake: Quite glad.

Jaune looks at them. 

Jaune: Ok, what’s up? Where’s Weiss and Yang?

Jaune to himself: The letter told me there would be donuts, should I bring up before or after we’re done. I don’t see any donuts in here though.

Blake and Ruby look at each other seriously.

Ruby shrugs and breaks eye contact from Jaune: Um, they’re around.

Blake nods: They’re here, just not in plain sight. We were wondering if you could help decide the answer to a question we have.

Ruby: A very important question.

They both look at Jaune dead in the eyes.

Ruby/Blake: Whose harem are you going to join?

Jaune stunned: Um, what?

Blake sighs and Ruby shakes her head.

Ruby: Buddy, I knew you were dense, but this is a whole new level!

Blake: Jaune, please be serious right now, this matter will shape the future of the world!

Jaune confused: What? I don’t get it, when did you two have harems, and furthermore, why would I want to join?

Ruby starts laughing: From the very beginning my dear boy! From the very beginning!

Jaune scrunches his face in confusion.

Blake: I admit it, I started out small, It began when Ilia realized she liked carpet and Adam suddenly wanted to pound tuna. But, then it really started to grow when I got to Beacon and met Yang and Sun. They both quickly swore to my Booty. Unfortunately, we pegged Adam too hard and he is intensive booty reconstruction hospital. So, I’m currently down a member and need a new one.

Blake said to Jaune smugly, looking at him like a piece of meat.

Jaune looks at her in confusion: I don’t even know who any of them are, besides Sun. What is that supposed to mean to me?

Blake chuckles: Oh, don’t you worry you’re adorable himbo skull, just listen I already have two blondes and brunette, so what do you say Jaune want to be my third?

Ruby interjects: Not so fast sister!

Blake: You’re sister in supporting my booty.

Blake said glancing down to beneath her.

Jaune looks over the table and see Blake using Yang as a chair... And Ruby using Weiss as one too. Weiss and Yang are red-faced but clearly enjoying themselves.

Jaune sighs and looks at Ruby tiredly. 

Jaune: Alright, what do you have to say.

Ruby looks at him cheerfully.

Ruby: I’m glad you asked, bestie soon to be my restie. I was at one time just a modesty young woman with even modestier dreams. Then I met Weiss, who I quickly showed who should be leader, then Penny, who I gave friendship and a heart too, and then Oscar, who I peg to show dominance over. I never thought I’d be in my position today, but here I am. So what do say Jaune? To be honest I’ve always considered you to be an unofficial member of my harem, why not make it official?

Jaune squints his eyes at Ruby and Blake.

Jaune to himself again: What’s their game? I’m starting to think they’re won’t be any donuts.

???: NOT SO FAST! THAT FUCKBOI HASN’T ANSWERED YET!

Robyn Hill and the Happy Huntress emerge from the ventilation shaft.

Fiona falls out all fours and Robyn takes a seat at the table with May and Joanna flanking her.

Robyn: So you two, sneaky bitches though you could pull a power-move? Just because you two nearly have four doesn’t mean you can poach the local fuck boi population!

Robyn yells and slams down her hands on the table.

Blake and Ruby look at each other, then nod snapping their fingers as Sun and Ilia jump through a window and flank Blake, while Penny breaking through the roof with Oscar in her arms.

Blake narrows her eyes: Robyn Hill, so you were spying on us!

Robyn growls: For good reason you traitorous bitches! I thought you were a harem lord like me! But, you two are merely power hungry, Harem Conquers!

Ruby waves a finger at Robyn: Like you’re any different, why else would you be here. Rather than calling the Harem Leader’s Conclave in order to stop us, admitted it, you hypocrite! You’re just here for that piece of man, like the rest of us!

Ruby points at Jaune whose talking with Sun and eating donuts.

Jaune eating a banana cream donut: I have no idea what going on. I just came for some breakfast.

Sun: Me neither, but Blake put this collar on my tail and say I’m her property, so I was like ‘Ok, I guess I’m your’s now.’ It’s alright, I like Blake, but I miss my team though, But Blake says If everything goes according to Keikaiku-cake, what ever that is, she says my team will be her property too and they can stay with us. Oh, and I dig the new do by the way.

Jaune blushes: Thanks, I haven’t gotten too many opinions on it and I was feeling nervous about, I thought Nora was just being nice.

Robyn slams here hands on her table: So what, if I am?! Maybe I’m just here to protect the local himbo and keep him in his natural habitat!

Blake looks at Robyn scornfully: And where might his natural habitat be, inbetween you’re legs!? Or bending you in half!? Be honest to us Robyn, you’re just here to get the fourth to your harem in order to take our own, jealous we have been close time before, and are this close to greatness!

Robyn: You put your would be fourth into intensive booty care, and Oscar doesn’t count as two, it’d be weird if Ozpin stared popping out.

Ruby filing her nails: That’s why I peg him to assert by dominance over him, and in case Ozpin tries to get fresh with me.

Robyn: Regardless, I point your argumant back you Blake and Ruby, you’re trying to attain a Fourth Member in order to assert dominance over the other harems and absorb them into your own! That is why you’re making a power grab over the himbo!

Blake and Ruby say nothing.

Robyn: Your silence is telling.

Ruby and Blake both start to slow clap.

Ruby: Well, well, well, you figured it out. The one with the largest harem has the most power.

Blake: Our schemes are known to her now.

Robyn: What you’re doing would be going against the charter, you cannot forcefully make a himbo enter your harem, he must come on his own will! And you cannot have more than three, it would upset the natural balance. Only if the himbo choose you naturally, can you become a Harem Over-Lord! You twos attempts to become artificial Harem Over-Lords will be recorded and marked against you at the next Harem Leader’s Conclave.

Blake and Ruby look down mournfully.

Blake: Was it so much to ask to see Jaune and Sun get it on while Ilia is between my legs and I play with Yang’s tits?

Ruby: I just wanted my besties all in one place, seeing Jaune rail Oscar into the ground while Penny vibrates her hands inbetween Weiss and I!

Robyn: Your selfishness would have been your undoing, come let the Himbo go.

Jaune walks up eating a donut, Sun hanging off his back like a monkey.

Jaune: Still have no Idea whats going on, where are my donuts? I want more.

Robyn in her nicest voice: Don’t you see you poor Himbo, they were just trying to manipulate you into their harems to achieve ultimate power.

Jaune raises an eyebrow: Why would I want to join one, when I already have my own?

The three harem lord look at him stunned.

Ruby: Bullshit! I’ve never seen you at the meetings!

Blake: You aren’t even registered!

Robyn: You think just because you’re the local fuck boy, it makes you have a harem? Ha, what a joke!

Jaune rolls his eyes and whistles sharply. 

Nora and Ren appear behind him, followed by Marrow, Cinder, Willow, Kali, Raven, then the thristy moms, and then finally Pyrrha in a new android body.

Jaune: I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me I have game. You have a week to submit to your new Overlord.

With that Jaune left followed by his harem, leaving the stunned lords in his wake.

Blake: He took Sun with him.

Ruby: He took Oscar with him.

Fiona raising up from the ground: He took Robyn!

AN: Don’t ask me, I don’t know either, the original idea was deciding who geets to be the main character by who had the biggest harem, so they decided to recruit Jaune only for him to play the reverse Uno card.

[ace-of-spaders]

@my-robot-heart once upon a time sent me a prompt "I'm here. I never left." for Lizzington.

It was the kind of prompt I fell in love with from first glance but couldn't decide which direction to take right away, so I left it for a while.

I must admit, I'm rather glad that I did, because the idea I eventually went with came to me only after the season finale (because, like everyone else, I had to fix it somehow), but I'm also sorry, Robot, that it took me so long and can only hope that the end product is worth the waiting)

That is, considering your attitude towards the 8x22, I feel it's fair to warn you that this ficlet is set post-8x22 and is angsty - because Red is suffering and Liz is suffering because Red is suffering - but also hopeful because, guess what, Liz lives, so I really hope you'll like it!

(Also, it was supposed to be just a tiny ficlet but my fingers slipped... a lot, so it's now 2,000 words long))

Last but not the least, I think I need to tag @thetwistedargent, too, because her ghost!Lizzie stories low-key inspired this one. Even though I'm not brave nor strong enough to write dead!Lizzy.

Well, now enough with my rambling and on with the ficlet itself, I guess?)

---

She comes to him every night. Wearing loose sweaters that don’t constrict her chest, Liz slips past Dembe and into Red’s bedroom and invariably scrunches her nose up from the suffocating smell of cigar smoke that hangs heavily in the air.

Red hasn’t left his room in days – ever since Dembe brought him home on that fateful night he lost ( or thought he lost ) the meaning of his life in the form of his beloved Lizzy – wallowing in his grief, choking on his own guilt more than the smoke of cigars he smokes more than ever these days and drowning ( or, at least, trying to drown ) his sorrow in immeasurable quantities of alcohol. Liz is acutely aware of this newly established routine of his and what it does to his health and wishes with all her heart she could do something more about it other than visit him nightly while he sleeps, wishes she could reassure him that she’s alive and well and he doesn’t have to mourn her. But she can’t, not yet. So she crosses the room to the window and opens it wide in ultimately vain attempts to chase the choking odor of cigar smoke away. Taking a deep breath of fresh air to try and quell the storm of emotions raging inside of her, Liz turns her gaze to the loaded gun lying discarded on the desk ( she knows that Dembe tried to take that gun away from Red out of fear he might do something… unreasonable in his grief but Red didn’t let him, speaking up for the first time in quite a while just to reassure his old friend that he doesn’t have any intention of ending his own life… it will end soon enough anyway, even without such act of cowardice ) and runs her hand over the cool metal, feeling her heart clench at the thought of how apathetic, how utterly hopeless Red has become in – because of – her absence. Then, her gaze usually shifts towards the always empty decanter of whiskey, which – she knows – is refilled a couple of times a day by Reddington, the equally empty glass discarded on his nightstand, and only then she finally turns to look at the man himself. He looks awful, to put it mildly, worse with each passing day. The clothes he sleeps in don’t quite fit him in the same snug way they used to, reminding Liz of the fact that it takes a lot of convincing on Dembe’s part ( that man must truly be a saint ) to make him eat every single day and that he does so without any enthusiasm or appetite and continues to waste away despite his old friend’s best efforts. Tears brim in her eyes as Liz moves towards the bed and carefully sits down on its very edge, her eyes roaming over Red’s slack face and taking note of the ever-growing stubble, the deepening dark circles under his eyes, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the sickly pallor of his skin. “Oh, Red,” she whispers hoarsely, unable to keep all the despair and helplessness she feels when she realizes that he’s dying without her and yet she can’t do much about it inside, and reaches out to cup his cheek with her warm palm, to trace the sharpened outline of his cheekbone with her thumb or stroke his head, the smile that stretches her lips at the feeling of his hair – now longer than usual – tickling her palm too wobbly and weak. Sometimes, he sleeps peacefully… or, rather, dreamlessly in his drunken beyond measure state, never once waking or even stirring, and on those rare occasions Liz just sits by his side, holding his hand or stroking his shoulder or head, till the first rays of sunlight come streaming through the window. Most of the nights, though, he suffers, thrashing around, tangling the sheets and throwing off blankets, panting and whimpering and crying, his mind tormenting him with vivid reconstructions of some of the worst moments of his life, and Liz hesitates, unsure of whether she should try to wake him or not, unsure of what he’s dreaming about… until her name – her seemingly long-forgotten nickname – spills from his lips and she knows exactly what he’s dreaming about. She doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Shh, Red, it’s alright,” she hushes him gently, leaning in close and settling her hands on his shoulders firmly but gently or cupping his cheeks with her warm, very much alive hands, “I’m here. I’m here, I never left.” Tears finally spill from her own eyes as Liz whispers quiet reassurances and sweet nothings to the suffering man, willing him to feel her

presence and wishing she could take the memories of that awful night away from him ( even though initially, she thought that it would be a good lesson for him, putting him in what could be her place if she pulled the trigger… but she didn’t think it would affect him that much, to the point where he isn’t really living anymore, just struggling to exist ), until she gets too choked up to speak… until Red jerks one more time under her hands and either finally settles into deep, exhausted, dreamless slumber with a heavy sigh ( in which case Liz picks the blankets he’s thrown off up from the floor, covers him with them again, tucking him in and making sure he’s warm and comfortable, and goes back to keeping her silent vigil, wiping her tears away and fighting the desire to climb into bed with him, wrap him up in her arms and never let go ) or wakes up. She always freezes when he does, when his eyes slowly open and he squints up at her in the dark, because she’s not sure how he’s going to react, even though his reaction is the same each and every time. He frowns up at her at first, his heavy with sleep and hazy from alcohol mind struggling to comprehend what is happening in front of him, but even though he doesn’t recognize her, even though in his eyes she might look like an intruder, he doesn’t even try to protect himself from any possible danger – as if he doesn’t care about what happens to him, if he lives to see another day or not – and Liz’s heart breaks at the thought. ( How did she manage to break him – the strongest man she’s ever known – so hard, so possibly irreparably? ) But then recognition dawns on his face and his lips part softly and he stares up at her with utter disbelief and very tentative hope, slowly reaching his hand up, as if in trance, to touch her cheek. She lets him, leaning slightly into his touch. “Lizzy,” Red breathes, so pained and intensely relieved at the same time that Liz hates herself for doing this to him in the first place and for not being able to go out of hiding ( but it’s not only her life that’s on the line, it’s also her daughter’s and, to a degree, his, so she has to wait out until her fame in the upper and under worlds quiets down ), to console him, to make him understand that she’s not just a figment of his imagination ( she learned pretty quickly that he doesn’t let himself even consider the possibility that she might be real and not just his hallucination or a surprisingly pleasant dream ) just yet, “Lizzy.” And every night when he wakes up to such a vivid, realistic image of his lost love, he begs her for forgiveness – for absolution – and kisses her hands, the scar on her wrist with such tangible, blatant devotion it makes her heart ache. And every night when he apologizes to her, she tells him that she’s already forgiven him for everything but never takes advantage of his fragile, weak, unguarded state to get the long overdue answers out of him ( after all, she had enough time on her hands while she recovered to understand that, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter who they were in the past… what matters is who they are now – Red and Lizzy – and that he loves her with as much ardor as she loves him ). They always end up in each other's arms, with Red pressing messy, fervent, desperate kisses to her cheeks and forehead and the soft cascade of her shiny mahogany hair and Liz rubbing his back in what she hopes is a soothing manner, their tears mixing and staining his shirt and her sweater. “Lizzy, Lizzy, Lizzy,” Red repeats in between kisses in his low, cracking from the lack of use voice, again and again and again, like a mantra, a prayer that sounds to her ears too much like Don't go, don't go, don't go... She knows she can't promise him that now. But she can promise to stay until the morning, which is why when he whispers softly, brokenly "Stay?" in her hair, his weight settling heavier against her after the emotional turmoil of the past few minutes? hours? – Liz doesn't know how much time they spend sitting there on his bed in the mess of tangled limbs,

the mix of apologies and reassurances and each other's names that sound for all the world like declarations of love, like I'm sorry and I miss you and I don't want to ever let you go spilling from their lips – leaves him even more exhausted than the pain and the grief of the day do, she simply nods and gently pushes him away and onto his back. Red doesn't take his eyes off her as she picks the blankets up and settles beside him and tucks the blankets around them both ( Liz is acutely aware of his gaze, burning with adoration and desperation in equal measure, on her back and the side of her face ). Even as she opens her arms for him in a silent invitation to move closer and he does just that, snuggling up to her side, resting his head on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist tightly but not enough to hurt, he doesn't close his eyes. Liz can tell by the way he's breathing and his body goes practically rigid with tension that he's fighting the undeniably strong pull of sleep long after they've settled in for the night. That confused her on the first day but then she understood. He knows that in the morning she won't be there, that this illusion, hallucination, dream he's having will shatter once he closes his eyes and succumbs to exhaustion. And he doesn't want to lose her again. Not for the third, fourth, fifth, umpteenth time ( when she thinks about it, Liz is not even sure if her visits help him or hurt him more... but she can't stop, she can't go about her days without knowing first-hand how Red is doing ). So Liz does the only thing she can do to soothe him: she cups the back of his head, presses a light kiss to his forehead and lies. "Sleep, Red. I will be here when you wake up." "No, you won't," he whispers back flatly – just pointing out the obvious – with an undertone of finality that haunts her long after he obediently closes his eyes and his body finally relaxes in her arms. Because he's right: she always leaves long before he wakes up, giving Dembe a hug goodbye and asking him – rather unnecessarily but she can't help herself – to take care of Red, with only one thought keeping her going through the day: That one day – and hopefully, not in such a distant future – she will be there in the morning when Red wakes up.

[jaxsteamblog]

Day 19: Hurt/Comfort

I’m re-posting my 2019 fic “Making Space.” It’s post-canon and very heavy. There are mentions of past self-harm, a statement of suicide ideation, miscarriage, blood mention, various forms of depression, and implied child neglect. Thinking about this made me sad, writing it made me sad, do not let it make you sad unless you want it to. Click on the title to read on AO3 or continue under the cut. Be aware of trigger warnings! Includes Kat-ang and Ma-ko.

---

“Tenzin is an Airbender, he needs to know these things.”

“You have never cared about that. You have never made others feel lesser like this!”

“They won’t get it.”

“If you leave. If you leave with just Tenzin, we won’t be here when you get back.”

Sokka and Suki arrived on the earliest airship as soon as they heard. Bumi and Kya, knowing something drastic had happened, couldn’t be separated, so Sokka took them both out to go penguin sledding. Suki stayed with Katara, moving around the hut in silence till Katara inevitably dissolved into tears.

“They’ll hate me.”

“It’s better this way. If they hate you, you’ll be around to love them.”

“I’ve lost my baby.”

“He’ll come back.”

They stayed for a whole season, ignoring all of Katara’s anxious questioning about what they had left behind. At night, since Katara couldn’t sleep, she could often hear her brother’s angry whispers as he summoned all the curses he knew from the ocean depths. His anger lasted longer than her tears, and Katara wrapped herself in her brother’s anger like a thick fur.

Bumi did well under his uncle’s attention, though his comments about his father made Katara wince in pain. Sokka deflected each question and comment easily, refocusing Bumi on some project.

The more Katara watched them, the more she realized she should have reached out to Sokka sooner. Standing between his aunt and uncle, Bumi beamed. These were two great heroes, and both were non-Benders. With the other South Pole children - more non-Benders than Waterbenders - Bumi only stood out by the paleness of his skin. But then, there was Suki: just as bundled up and red-cheeked.

Kya was quieter, often trailing behind the others. When Katara was close by, her daughter would come and sit with her. Their mirrored sadness wove them together, a common blanket that bound mothers and daughters everywhere.

“Daddy isn’t coming.” Kya said.

“It has always been his choice to make.” Katara replied and pulled her daughter to her side. None of this made sense; Aang had always stressed the importance of living in harmony, of being friends with all types of people. As they had grown, Aang had even recognized the patronizing way he would speak of the Air Nomads. When he reminisced, it was never to compare his people to others. He never again acted as if the Air Nomads had been some sort of paragon. Letting go of that pride had allowed him to open to the new occupants of the various Air Temples.

The Air Nomads were gone, but they would never be forgotten. Aang held a pained resignation in his chest and Katara would find him staring off in thought when they stopped at the Temples.

She thought that sadness would fade with time. Aang was more present and tempered, rejoicing in everyone’s growth. The sadness returned when Bumi died, and when other pieces of his past started to slip away. But every time, her husband would return and they would go on a trip where he would kiss her till she felt her body rise into the stars.

Katara never expected that sadness to be running like a river through him, slowly eroding away his insides.

When Bumi was born, Aang cried. At first, Katara thought it was from joy. But she heard him late at night, after she had gotten up to feed the baby and found Aang gone. He wept like an animal was trying to escape his chest and Katara was frightened.

She had shut the door, feeling her heart flutter behind her ribs.

When she got pregnant again, she knew she had a Bender. She was excited when she told Aang and he had seemed like his old self. He stole her breath with kisses and everything seemed lighter.

As the midwife handed Katara the swaddled Kya, Katara squeezed her eyes shut.

Three days after the birth, Katara had woken to the pain of milk in her breasts. Going for the baby and seeing Kya missing, Katara almost fainted from the shock. Rushing about the house, she finally heard the faint lines of a song.

Aang sat in a chair on the balcony, rocking back and forth while singing a song too soft for Katara to make out. Holding her breath, she just watched. Her husband’s face was tight but his eyes were sunken. With one thin finger, he was tracing the curve of Kya’s cheek and drawing small swirls. Then he bent down and kissed her forehead before standing up. Silent, Katara walked over and took her, moving back into the house to feed her. Kya, smelling milk, started to cry, but Katara paused to look back.

Aang was still standing, looking out into the midnight air.

Tenzin’s birth was salvation. Aang had been overjoyed and could barely contain his excitement. For weeks, Katara would snap at him when his mania would wake the other children.

She didn’t notice how Aang’s sole source of happiness became Tenzin. Katara was busy, tending to the older children and continuing the work she was already doing. Aang took over most of the infant care, save for when he needed to be fed. But as soon as Tenzin moved on to more solid food, Katara would often not see her youngest for hours.

Katara thought it would pass.

Then Aang would start leaving, taking Tenzin to important Air Nomad places. That Katara could excuse, though she didn’t see why they all couldn’t go. Bumi had started school and Kya could work on her waterbending at home.

When one trip extended unexpectedly, Katara panicked. As soon as Aang returned, her fear came out as anger and they argued. He had just taken a small detour, to show Tenzin a special place. Cliffs that sang in the evening breeze and glinted like fire crystals at sunrise.

Aang had taken her there and told her that he would love her forever as they laid in the thick grass, listening as the ground below serenaded them.

It was a place they could have gone with all the children.

Katara had left to pick up Bumi and shut the door.

All of those doors being closed had ended up shielding her from what had been happening. The sadness had erased everything she loved about Aang and it was too late for her to fix it. The empty space had been filled with air.

When Sokka and Suki finally did leave, Bumi and Kya cried every night for a week. They became belligerent, fighting with her over everything from their clothes to their food. Already stressed, Katara yelled back and they cried even louder.

At night, Katara’s own sadness continued to heave out of her, like a bilge pump on a sinking ship. She would fall asleep out of exhaustion and when she woke up, Bumi and Kya would be curled around her.

They had woven a wide blanket and it covered them all.

Towards the autumn equinox, as the sun was starting to stay lower on the horizon for longer, Katara received a letter. She felt the rush of hope and the familiar lightness, but it left her as she read it. Toph, with children of her own and a job that allowed for few breaks, had written to check in on her.

Much to Katara’s embarrassment, everyone now knew about what had happened. The chain of events that led to the discovery was both mortifying and oddly satisfying.

Having stayed close, Suki had told Toph about their trip to the South Pole. Immediately after being told, Toph had tracked Aang down and dressed him down, loudly, in public. The argument had been explosive and Toph warned him to not set foot in her city. And she would know if he did.

When Toph returned, Zuko was already in Republic City. He had only recently gotten divorced and was attempting to be more like his uncle to achieve some sort of inner peace. Unfortunately, he wasn’t prepared to deal with Toph’s fury.

Zuko tried his best to defuse the situation, but then Sokka came into Republic City. With his anger still not assuaged, he reported the effect Aang’s decision had on Bumi and Kya. They talked more about what should be done; there were legal penalties for abandoning one’s wife and children, but that would involve a traumatic session of Katara testifying. Divorce was also tenuous, as Katara would have to forfeit all of her children if she won her suit.

Then Aang came to Republic City.

It had been daring, of course, as he could have gone directly to Avatar Island. Instead, he came into Republic City and it only took moments before word reached Toph.

Now with Sokka at her side, she renewed her fight. Sokka stepped in, but only to explain how Aang’s leaving had hurt Bumi and Kya.

All of this was written more like a police report, but Katara could tell from where Toph had bashed down on certain keys of the typewriter that certain sentiments had come up during specific points.

Toward the end of the letter, all Toph reported was that Aang had made an offensive comment, Sokka had lunged, but Zuko got there first.

And the Fire Lord knocked the Avatar out cold.

During all of this, Tenzin had been in the care of an Air Acolyte. At this point, the Acolyte stepped in, getting Aang up and making sure they flew to Avatar Island as soon as possible. A day later, Appa flew away again to destinations unknown.

Toph promised to visit soon, but urged Katara to return to the United Republic. There were plenty of cities far enough away from Republic City, but she would be close enough for everyone to visit.

Katara folded the letter and hid it in a small cupboard where she kept her unguents and pill casings.

At the dawn of the first twilight day, the sign that winter was fast approaching, an airship arrived. Regular shipments came into the South Pole to replenish famine rations that they were supposed to have stopped using five years ago. But the reconstruction took longer than expected, and the signs were suggesting that this would be a harder winter.

Katara brought Bumi and Kya to the dock as a reward for having a not-so-terrible day. They went shrieking like wild animals with the other children as the hydraulic ramp slowly lowered with a leviathan groan.

The flash of red the airshipmen wore at first made Katara think of Republic City and she suddenly couldn't breathe. But as the ramp hit the ground and the people began to move, she saw the Fire Nation symbol and relaxed.

Then the guards came and Katara felt lightheaded as she was suddenly pushed back thirty years.

Zuko looked so different, it scared her. Her fingers froze with electrified terror and Katara felt like she was going to cry. As he started to look around, she prayed he wouldn’t see her, but as the thought became wisps in her mind, his eyes met hers.

Then Bumi went barreling up the ramp and directly into Zuko’s stomach.

Once again embarrassed, and still on the verge of tears, Katara rushed forward toward the crowd. Her voice was thin and reedy as she pleaded and pardoned her way past people. And then, she was in front of Zuko.

Bumi was thrown over his one shoulder like a laughing sack of potatoes. Izumi and Kya stood together behind him, whispering and admiring a bracelet Kya had made.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“I know.”

“We’re doing fine.”

“No you’re not.”

Katara’s breath came in a shudder and her chest felt hot. Zuko set Bumi down and handed him a crowbar, telling him that he hid a prize in one of the crates. Kya cupped her hand around Izumi’s ear and then both girls were suddenly giggling before darting away.

“I’m fine Zuko.”

“His sadness changed him and you didn’t get to say goodbye to the man you loved. You’re not fine.”

“And how do you think that could possibly be it?”

“Because I never got to say goodbye to the Mai I married.”

Before she started to cry, Zuko put his arm around her shoulders and turned her away from the gathered people. No one was paying attention to them, as they were either unloading or going through the supplies. Still, Zuko steered her away and back toward her house.

Taking no prompting, Zuko sat her down on the couch and brought over a blanket while she was weeping. Katara curled into it, laying down on the couch and sobbing while the core of her soul ached. When he returned, Katara felt his warm hand on her back, slowly rubbing the tight muscles that seized with every arrhythmic breath.

“This is all my fault.”

“Not all of it. And you can’t be blamed for not fixing something you didn’t know was broken.”

“Why did he do this?”

“Because a sadness that deep can erase the greatest of joys.”

He gave her tea and he told her about Mai. The promises he made and how now, finally, everything would be as they wanted it. She had enjoyed it at first, the power and privilege that came with being married to the Fire Lord.

Then they started to get pregnant.

She usually lost them in the first trimester. Nothing to show of a pregnancy except the amount of blood. One pregnancy had been promising, and the doctor had ordered strict bedrest. Sages, not the Fire Sages but a new group to rise from their ashes, had said that if the spark caught, the baby would be a strong Firebender.

They had lost him during the seventh month.

Something had broken in Mai then, and Zuko insisted they stop trying. Mai needed the rest and to recover, so they traveled to various healing springs. The doctors had told him in very strong words that he must not even so much as sleep in the same bed as her, so that her body could heal. He did. She pulled away from him, receding more into herself. Maids and other noble ladies assured him that this was normal, and Mai would be fine. So Zuko had left her alone.

He had left her all alone.

During a new moon, when it was the darkest Zuko had ever experienced, he had been woken up as someone entered his room.

Mai had come to him and draped over him like a sheet. Zuko could still remember how he had traced his hands over her body and felt her ribs. And the thick scars on her legs.

She said nothing and the only sound was of their breathing.

When it was done, Mai got up and walked out of the room.

When they returned to the palace, she moved out of their shared room. And nine months later, Izumi was born.

Mai took care of all the motherly duties, but quickly handed Izumi to whatever nurse happened to be nearby. As those duties lessened, Zuko tried to reach out to her. Every time, she turned him away.

When Izumi turned five and they found out for certain she wasn’t a Firebender, Mai threw a glass into the dining room wall.

“I failed. The thing nearly killed me and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. Please, Mai, if I ever made you think that-”

“It’s not you Zuko, it’s them. It’s this place. It’s me.”

“Mai.”

“Zuko, if I stay here one more night, I will die.”

Zuko let her go.

The divorce had been hard. Mai looked dead as she signed the papers, forfeiting her parental rights to Izumi. As her father’s only heir, there couldn’t be a chance that Mai would take her. As per the usual agreement, Mai was not permitted to remarry for one full year and any pregnancy had to be reported immediately to the palace. Just in case the baby was Zuko’s.

There was no ironic laugh. Mai only scratched out the character of her name and looked at the magistrate.

“She wasn’t even the same woman at that point. I hadn’t even been seeing her.”

“Why couldn’t they just tell us?”

“That sadness was theirs. Either they thought we wouldn’t understand or they didn’t want to drown us.”

“I love him so much.”

“Aang’s gone. Mai’s gone. And it is a terrible thing.”

“What do I do with my own sadness now?”

“Let love in.”

Zuko said he was staying until the solstice, claiming that he had never had the opportunity to spend a good one with her. Having him around, Katara tried to work on letting love in. She saw how sometimes Zuko’s sadness would seep in and he would begin to pace. He moved till he found Izumi and then pestered her, throwing handfuls of snow over her and the others while they ran about shrieking. By the time he needed a break, he was smiling and his eyes were brighter.

Katara took a chance. When her sadness lapped up her spine, she sought out her children. She taught them how to scrape furs and when Bumi started to roll over them, instead of yelling at him, she wrapped him up in one. As he struggled and laughed, Katara and Kya continued to roll him, using their bending to ultimately send him bounding down a hill. They would roll after him and end up on their backs, laughing and crying at the same time as their breath became clouds in the air.

Love began to take up too much room and the sadness had no place to linger. Zuko warned her that it wouldn’t always feel like that, and it would be difficult to push back the sadness for good. While he was prone to melancholy, it was still taking him time to recover.

At the solstice festival, she understood what he meant. Zuko had gone to help light the fireworks and the children were gone somewhere doing spirits knew what. A woman came by with a tray of sweets and Katara took two small plates. As the woman left, Katara turned.

Aang wasn’t there to take the other one.

He had been absent all this time, but her muscle memory still expected him to be there. When she washed dishes, the first she usually held out, waiting for Aang to dry. When she tucked in the children, she had to stop herself from saying their father would be in shortly to say goodnight. When she thought about the meals, she first thought about what dish could be made with and without meat.

But now, during a happy festival, she grabbed a dessert for her husband who had left her. Who had been gone for longer than she cared to admit.

“Katara.”

“He’s not coming back.”

“No.”

“I thought he loved me.”

“Katara, he’s not the same inside. There was too much of the pain.”

“It hurts, so m-much.”

Zuko held her while the fireworks boomed overhead. She pressed her face into his chest and crawled as close to him as she could. He took in slow breaths and his body warmed. Zuko wrapped himself around her and she cried.

“You have to let the pain out.”

“How?”

Her breath was hot and wet, and it curled against her flushed face. Her nose was congested but her eyes dripped.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Zuko.”

Katara turned her head and Zuko went stiff. His sleeve had been pulled up as he held her awkwardly. There was a mark like a thumbprint burned into his skin. The skin was cracked and dry, with the flesh beneath looking dead. It had been burned repeatedly.

Her sadness and pain left her in a rush. Katara felt weak and wrung out. She sagged in Zuko’s arms and he sighed.

“I have to keep going. Even when I don’t want to, I have to.”

“It can’t be like this forever.”

“But we have to survive the waiting.”

Katara decided that staying in the dark for weeks and weeks wouldn’t help anything. An army of people packed up her house and loaded it onto the airship. Bumi and Kya were excited about the trip, hoping out loud and without subtlety that they would be able to stay at the palace for just a little bit before heading on to the United Republic.

Iroh greeted them when they landed, hugging Katara with such genuine warmth that she suddenly felt like she was drowning. She had resolved to stop crying so much, knowing that it was causing some sort of imbalance in the waters of her soul. Zuko told her it was only her body pushing out some of the pain to let in a little more love. Katara had told him that Iroh had been corny, not sappy so he had missed a lesson somewhere.

Now being outnumbered by Benders, Bumi started to act out. Iroh took every boast and bluster seriously, giving Bumi the attention he needed. When his anxiety waned, Izumi reminded him that she was a non-Bender and was going to become the next Fire Lord. She asserted that just being a Bender didn’t make anyone amazing because just look at her grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, and then Iroh interrupted her to tell them that there were red bean buns in the kitchen.

Then Kya broke Katara’s heart as she took Iroh’s hand and asked if being a Waterbender was special enough. Iroh smiled at her and replied that he knew of one very special Waterbender who was also one of the women he most admired. Kya glanced back at Katara as she and Iroh went after the others, and Katara smiled.

That night, Katara made Zuko show her all of his scars. Working from his right arm, Katara glanced at his abdomen. Zuko put a hand over it.

“Not that one.”

“It’s just another scar you didn’t deserve.”

“It’s one I earned.”

“By throwing your life away.”

“To protect you.”

Katara found all the small burns and smoothed them away. The water around her hands stayed cool and glowed faintly, concentrating in spots as they found the damaged skin. The threadlike scars from very sharp blades were also erased.

“And here?”

“I earned that one too.”

“Don’t say that.”

“What else would you have me say of it?”

“You have earned kinder things.”

He sat up and pulled on his robe but left it open. Katara could hear the rush of blood and her limbs felt heavy. He faced her and took a loose strand of her hair. He watched his hand as she watched his face. Zuko tucked the strand behind her ear.

“I earned your friendship.”

“That hasn’t always been kind.”

Her fingers felt cold, or else it was that his skin was hot. Katara touched the place where Azula’s lightning had hit him and he smiled.

“I would take this type of kindness over your indifference any day.”

“I’m not indifferent.”

“I don’t mean to presume.”

“You have earned kinder things than my attention.”

Zuko’s hand returned to her face and he cupped her cheek. A small affection, but one so intimate that her body shuddered. This was not the touch of a brother or a comforting friend. It was a touch she had not known for a very long time.

“Then let me have your words, because you have my full attention.”

“Take them.”

And he kissed her.

As Zuko shifted to hold her, Katara cried out softly. There was nothing desperate or lustful, but her body still felt charged. Zuko only hugged her, kissing her gently, and cradling the back of her head with his fingers in her hair.

As Katara’s head started to spin, Zuko picked her up and moved her to his bed. He regarded her with a pained look.

“This isn’t how I want us to begin.”

“But I am ready for an ending.”

They spent the night together, and Katara got her first restful sleep in months.

It took two years.

Katara bought a house in Luodai, a promising city that wasn’t too far from Republic City. She met with Aang half a dozen times in various attempts to reconcile, or at least come to some sort of agreement.

Then came the proposal of a new law.

Katara had not been permitted to sit as the South Pole representative on the council as she was married to Aang, who also had a seat. Sokka had taken it instead, and had done a remarkably good job. It was because of how seriously he took his position that the proposal took as long as it did.

Called the Mothers’ Right Law, it outlined the new rules for any divorce occurring outside of any marriage where a legitimate heir was required to maintain the stability of a government. Women were now allowed to initiate a divorce on their own and did not have to forfeit their parental rights. Instead, custody must be shared between the parents in equal measure for all children. If the mother is unemployed or becomes unemployed before remarrying, the former husband must pay her an allowance.

Sokka presented it at a council meeting and as Aang rose from the table, Toph stepped forward. The other representatives all stared at the Avatar and ultimately the law was signed.

Aang signed it again, in another version, one month later.

For the spring and summer, Aang had all three children. Katara had them for the fall and winter.

And during the next winter solstice, Katara and Zuko decided they wanted a new beginning.

[minthara]

“ you’ll fuck me but you won’t marry me. ” for hawke & sebastian ♡♡

from this prompt list

The Amell estate is quiet in the morning. There is no chatter from the faithful or the ringing of bells like in the chantry, though Sebastian still rises like clockwork as soon as the sun goes up. Dim light filters through the room, light shining through a gap where the curtains aren’t drawn closed all the way, and he’s been watching the rays make their way closer and closer to the bed he is lying on. In a few minutes it will have reached Hawke, shining onto her relaxed face and rousing her from her sleep. Her face will wrinkle and she’ll turn away, drawing her eyebrows together and trying to stay asleep, though ultimately failing. She wakes easily and always in the same way, though today would be the last time Sebastian would be present to watch her.

He swallows hard and reaches out to brush the hair out of her face, her eyes opening moments before his fingertips stroke over her skin. 

“You’re still here,” she says after a few seconds, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat and stretches, bones cracking. “I thought you’d already be on your way to Starkhaven.”

“Not happy to see me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. She rolls her eyes and turns towards him, her hands reaching out beneath the duvet and finding his chest. She lets her hands run over his torso and then rests them at his waist, a sigh escaping her.

“I hoped we wouldn’t have to have this conversation again.”

“About me leaving?” 

“About me coming with you,” she huffs, lines showing on her face.

“You’ll fuck me but you won’t marry me,” he muses, closing his eyes as Hawke’s fingers reach around to stroke over his back. Her nails are short but sharp, her fingers calloused from years of sword fighting. He’s gotten used to it - he can’t imagine the feeling of soft, femine hands on him, doesn’t want to marry some noble woman from an important family. Not when she’s right here, in his arms, the best option to have crossed his path since deciding to go back and rule Starkhaven.

“There is too much work to do here,” Hawke brushes him off, shaking her head. “Kirkwall needs a viscountess, I can’t abandon them and run away with you.”

“You could still be Kirkwall’s viscountess, even if-,” Sebastian says, but Hawke cuts him off.

“I’m done talking about this.” 

He swallows down his anger as she gets out of bed, watching her as she grabs for the robes hastily thrown on the floor yesterday when he was undressing her, desperate to touch her, to convince her she can’t stay here without him. One heir, a spare, then she’d be free to do what she wants again - a topic often discussed, though always pushed back because of too little time with too much to do.

A qunari occupation here, a bubbling war between the mages and templars there, no time left to discuss a future he had already painted for them in his mind. A perfect alliance, thrown away because of stubbornness.

“I think you should leave.” Her back is turned towards him, arms wrapped around her waist as she stares out of the window. He can see her shiver slightly, naked feet on cold stone ground. She curls her toes. “I’ve said all I have to say.”

“I will write to you,” Sebastian says as he gets out of bed, dressing himself. There will be an entourage waiting for him outside of the city gates, soldiers ready to escort him back to the palace in Starkhaven. “I will send aid, for the reconstruction.” 

“Kirkwall will be thankful,” she replies, no emotion in her voice.

A heaviness sets in his stomach as he laces up his boots, replacing the anger with a profound sadness. He wants to touch her, kiss her goodbye, but he knows she would flinch away from his affections if he as much as stepped closer towards her. 

She does not turn as he walks towards the door, his hand on the doorknob, hesitating for just one more second to give her time to say something, anything, but it does not come. 

Her back still turned towards him, he opens the door and steps out.

[pastelsandpining]

Belongings

A BotW Post-Calamity Zelink hurt/comfort one shot

Summary: Zelda struggles to find her place in this time she should not be a part of, and she doesn’t understand how Link makes it look so easy.

Words: 8156

Warnings: blood mention, depression, honestly not sure what else to add here so proceed with caution and let me know of anything I need to tag!

tagging @etiquetteemotions :) I hope you enjoy!

When she watched him, she wanted to be upset that he couldn’t remember everything. It wasn’t his fault of course, and she knew he was probably facing deep turmoil for it, but she still cried out for the knight she fell in love with. Yet she couldn’t be upset, because he smiled now. He seemed so free of the burden on his shoulders all that time ago. He smiled and laughed and talked.

But it was never with her. Not the way it was with everyone else. 

She saw how he interacted with Sidon and Riju and Yunobo and Paya. She saw how he spoke to stablemen and village people. She saw how his smile was wider, his eyes were brighter, and it was a stark contrast to when he was with her. 

At least, she thought so. Because when he looked at her, his eyes seemed distant. His smiles didn’t reach her heart like they used to. And when he touched her or held her or did anything of the sort, he was so careful. Like he was afraid she’d break apart if he were to touch her in any other way.

There were many times when Zelda felt like she would never fit in with this new life. That she would never connect with Link in his Hateno house, or fit in with all of his new friends, or be anything other than Princess Zelda. Sure, helping Purah and Robbie with research and talking with Impa brought her back down to Hyrule—made her believe that it wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. But then she would return to Link’s home, eat dinner across from what might as well have been an empty chair, and lay in bed, feeling the hopelessness wrap around her like a weighted blanket. 

Some nights, she would feel Link’s arms hugging her ever so gently, and she’d think that maybe it wasn’t so bad.

And then the morning would come and she would wake up alone. 

Maybe it was her. Maybe she’d just become... unreachable. With nothing but the Calamity to keep her company for a century, maybe she’d changed without realizing it. Or maybe she was just a reminder to everyone about what the Calamity had done—how she failed them all the first time. Had it not been for Link, Hyrule would’ve been devastated beyond hope of returning.

The Hero of Hyrule. The savior of them all. Even her. 

And after a century of growing doubts and fading hope, she supposed she would be different too. But her difference didn’t come with the freedom his did. Because Link had done everything right up until the very end. She did nothing right until there was nothing left to do.

There was nothing left to do. No pieces to pick up and put back together—not here. Not in Hateno. 

And after staring at a page filled with scratch outs and unfinished sentences, Zelda decided there was really nothing she could say. Nothing but a sincere thank you, and a hope that his life of newfound freedom would bring him nothing but happiness. So that was all that she left behind. 

Her hands were scraped and blistered from the hours she spent yanking at rubble, at the cave in that cut off the entrance to her bedroom. It was the first place she wanted to see, even though she couldn’t imagine it looked very good. Link said he’d gotten in through climbing, but she certainly didn’t have the upper body strength to climb the tower to her study. She was left with no choice but to use a rusty old sword she’d found to try and help her loosen the rocks and stone and dirt. And she’d done a decent enough job too, or at least that’s what she wanted to believe. The most she’d done was get the rubble to crumble and slide just enough for her to be able to squeeze between the top of the pile and the ceiling. 

Zelda let out a slight scream when the rock beneath her hand gave out and she went sliding head first down the rubble, into her room.

It was completely trashed, which she’d sort of expected. But seeing it was a different story. Her living space, what she’d called home for her whole life, was reduced to practically nothing. Her bed had collapsed in on itself, her papers and books were yellowed and ripped, the staircase to her study was completely gone, and it looked so sad and empty. Yet she had seen so much destruction that she could not bring herself to mourn any more than she already had. 

She ran her fingers through the layer of dust on her vanity. Her mirror was cracked, and spiders had taken over. Her rugs were torn and looked to be burnt up, and the only thing that looked truly intact was the Royal Guard’s Bow above her fireplace, that Link had gifted her a century ago.

She peered out to her balcony, and then up at the missing staircase. Going to her study was out of the question entirely, so she supposed she’d have to wait until the staircase was rebuilt. At least she still had her journal, which Link was kind enough to recover for her. 

She busied herself by carefully pulling down the time-worn papers above her desk. The edges crumbled under her fingers, but her writings and drawings remained untouched—other than the fading. She set them down on her desk in a neat stack and gathered the ones from the floor, then set the paperweight on top of them. Then she got to work on pulling her small, circular table back upright. She pulled the yellowed table cloth off of it and tossed it into a corner. Soon, the pieces of broken chair joined it. 

Her bed was going to be a little tougher to deal with, so she stuck to small things for now. Picking up what rubble she could, using the sword to knock down spider webs, throwing everything she didn’t want to keep into the pile. But it didn’t look like she’d done anything. Maybe her room was also too far gone for her to do anything with.

But to rebuild everything from start..? 

No, not for her room or study. She could manage. But the rest of the castle—she could gather people willing to help. Gorons, Sheikah—all of Hyrule could help if they were willing.

She could invite the Sheikah to return and implement their technology—or at least encourage them to return to creating, and use that in the restoration of Hyrule. She could take the kingdom a step further than it was before, bring it into an entire new age with the help of those her family had wronged.

With the ideas filling in her head, Zelda fished her journal from the bag she carried and quickly scribbled down everything she was thinking of. 

Gorons to help get rid of the rubble. The Bolson Construction Company could work with the Sheikah to create new floor plans and interior designs. The Zora could bring their designs in too, and incorporate the beautiful luminous stones that lit their architecture.

But how would she go about bringing this up to them? She would have to go up to all of the leaders individually—which was not an issue, since she’d been considering going to each region to propose the permanent station of the Divine Beasts as memorials for the Champions. That would be another thing to the list. 

Zelda paced in her room, relaxing into something that felt familiar to her. Brainstorming, keeping herself busy. She could bring in Purah and Robbie to help rebuild the Research Lab too, which sent a flood of excitement through her.

Maybe once she thought she could stay away, but this was where she belonged. She had a duty to her people, to her kingdom, and she refused to fail them again. She refused to sit idly because of what she’d been through. She wasn’t the only one, so she had no right to sit and sulk. Hyrule needed her.

Didn’t it..?

Zelda’s pacing slowed, and she looked back towards the pile of rubble with a frown.

Did Hyrule need her?

Now that the threat of Calamity Ganon was gone, was she really of any use? A century without rule seemed to do Hyrule just fine—even if the kingdom was only beginning to recover. The four regions were thriving well on their own, under their own leaders. And the remaining Hylians—what did they truly need her for? Other than reconstruction, but even then, did they need her for that? She could propose ideas all she wanted, but she could do very little with her hands. 

And now that it was safe for Hyrule to begin rebuilding, who’s to say they wouldn’t? Who’s to say they wouldn’t rebuild on their own? There were brilliant minds out there that didn’t need her permission or her ideas.

Zelda took a slow seat into the red velvet chair and looked around her crumbling room again. 

Did she not belong here either..?

There was no one. Her father—everyone within the castle walls had perished when Ganon rose. Sadness and bloodshed were embedded deep in the walls of this place. There was no one left to tell her how to be a queen, how to rebuild a kingdom. She’d spent her entire life devoted to awakening a sealing power that came all too late. Her father had been right, it seemed. She was an heir to a throne of nothing. Nothing but failure. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have come back. But if she was the heir, didn’t she owe it to the kingdom to rot alongside that nothing? To be reminded of her failure everywhere she looked? 

She didn’t realize she was crying, screaming her voice raw, clutching her father’s journal to her chest, begging aloud to deaf ears—like she’d done for years. What she would give to feel her mother’s hugs, or Urbosa’s comfort again. What she would do to see her father again, even if he were looking down at her in his disappointment. What she would do to have someone, anyone left to guide her. 

To get an answer from Hylia about what to do now that they had won. 

But no one would hear her. 

Zelda curled up in her chair, hugging her knees to her chest, and leaned her head against the top of it. She was reduced to gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes shut, as if that would stop the flow of tears.

It was getting dark now. She’d spent hours here, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Where would she even go if she did? 

It was getting colder. In regular circumstances, she would have someone light her fireplace. But this was not regular circumstances, and there was no one left to do anything. 

She must’ve cried herself to sleep, because she certainly didn’t remember going willingly. But instead of the nightmares, she was left with a dull ache. Nothing but darkness. Nothing but nothing.

———

When Link returned from hunting to find his house empty, he knew something was amiss. There was a sense of loneliness—the same one that filled the house when he first bought it. He didn’t quite know what to make of it, but he tried not to make assumptions. As much as he wanted to protect her, to not lose her again, he also didn’t want her to feel suffocated. Perhaps she just wanted to take a breather.

But it didn’t feel like Zelda had just gone on a short outing. It felt more like standing among a village of ruins. It felt sad and dull, like the life that once filled it took all the color with it when it left. There was something she brought with her to Hateno, and that something was gone now. Maybe he was simply overreacting, and he would find her at the lab with Purah. 

She would come back later.

Except, the minutes turned into hours and she still hadn’t returned. Link became restless, and he took his horse up to the lab to check for himself. But Purah said that Zelda hadn’t come by at all that day. 

Link raced back to his house to search for any sign of where she might’ve gone, but what he found made him feel nauseous. In her neat handwriting were the words:

Thank you for all you have done.

I wish nothing but happiness for you, and that a day will come where we can meet again.

He read the message over and over again, desperate to pry some other meaning out of it, but it was useless. He knew what she meant by this. 

From the weeks he’d spent with Zelda, to the memories he recovered of her, he knew this wasn’t like her. It wasn’t like her to disappear, or hold back whatever was on her mind. He saw how hesitant, how closed off she’d become since she gained freedom, but he always hoped that maybe she’d talk to him eventually. He shared stories of his journey, took her to see everything he’d seen, in the hopes that she would someday feel comfortable enough to speak. He never wanted to force her.

But maybe he should’ve, because she was gone.

Link didn’t bother grabbing anything other than his gear before taking off towards Kakariko. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to be hiding with Impa, but he was going to need help. 

There was only one other place she could be, but he struggled to imagine why she would return to the castle alone. Why she would suddenly leave without a word. Had he done something? Did he say something that made her want to leave? Did she feel trapped? 

He didn’t know, because she hadn’t talked to him. 

It was dusk by the time Link was finally able to set out for the castle, accompanied by Purah, Symin, Paya, and Impa. He’d been weary about so many people at first, but he let it slide for the sake of finding her before something happened. Sure, he made sure to kill every monster he found when he explored the castle, but there was no way of knowing if other monsters found their way in. Or people looking to find treasure. Or anything, really. Did she even know of the danger she was in?

Of course she did. He needed to give her a little more credit. She faced Ganon alone. Surely she could take a few monsters, or people, right? There were weapons in the castle, scattered everywhere. She would be fine, right? 

Still, Link urged Epona to go faster. They raced past Dueling Peaks, through Central Hyrule, through the gates of the castle. 

“Go,” urged Impa at his hesitation, with a nod towards the tower he’d climbed what felt both like yesterday, and a year ago. “We’ll find our way. Take this. Go find her.”

Link took the damp towel and bandages into his hands and slipped them into his bag before turning on his heel and sprinting towards the tower. He knew at the top would be the study, and the bridge that led to her room. Would she be there..? He couldn’t imagine how she’d accessed it, but no one knew this castle better than Zelda. He was sure there were ways in even he didn’t know about.

The pattern of the stone bricks underneath his hands and feet were familiar as he scaled his way up the tower, going as fast as he could. With no guardians to shoot him down, he was able to reach the midpoint and use Revali’s Gale to get him the rest of the way—at least, to the open window. The study looked as empty and depressing as ever. Zelda was not in here, though he wasn’t surprised. The stairway was broken, after all.

The bridge was empty too, so Link continued on to the princess’s room. 

He could spot her from a mile away. Even if it was dark, and he was descending slowly on his paraglider, he saw her curled up in that dusty chair. Part of him wondered how she got in, and the other part broke upon closer look. She was asleep, but still she looked troubled—almost like she’d been crying. And—was that her father’s journal, in her hands?

And oh, her hands. He crouched besides the chair and gently took hold of one of her wrists. He pulled it gently to him, causing her to only stir, and examined it up close.

Years of climbing experience made him recognize the blisters, but she hadn’t climbed. No, because there was dirt underneath her fingernails and under the torn skin, and there were scrapes caked with dry blood. A glance towards the rubble pile outside the doorway confirmed his suspicions. She’d dug her way in.

Link looked back to her hand and gently pressed the towel to it. She flinched away and was awake in seconds, her wide eyes searching over him like she couldn’t believe them. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Link,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “I-“

“Your hands,” he stated, holding one of his own out. “They’ll get infected.”

Wordlessly, Zelda placed her hand back in his. Her father’s journal rested on her lap in favor of the Sheikah Slate, which she tapped away at with her free hand. Link only looked up when he heard the familiar warping sound of an item. 

“Here,” she said softly, holding out a glass bottle filled with water. Link took it with a quiet “thanks” and dumped some on the cloth, figuring he could ask about herbs for medicine later. The priority right now was cleaning the wounds.

He dabbed at one of her palms, mumbling an apology whenever she would wince. He knew from experience that it stung, and it made him feel even worse. And the silence—it was more agonizing by the second. So he tried to fill it.

“You tidied up,” he said, nodding his head towards the trash pile.

“Hardly,” Zelda replied. “All I really managed was stacking some papers.”

“And that, if I recall correctly, is new.”

Her smile was weak and small, and hardly sincere. It didn’t belong on her lovely face. He took care with wrapping her hand and fingers, for an excuse to hold onto her a little longer. 

“I think if there wouldn’t have been a Moblin in here, it wouldn’t be as bad,” he continued, thinking back on what a scare it’d given him originally. The last thing he’d expected to find in her bedroom, a place that was supposed to be so private and safe, was a monster. But then again, a monster had long since taken over her home. “They don’t have the best manners.” 

“A Moblin?” Zelda asked, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Not sure how it got in,” Link said with a shrug, wetting the cloth again so he could begin cleaning her other hand. 

“A century is a long time,” she replied, her voice breaking just enough to make his fingers twitch with the urge to hold her hands tighter. “There’s really no way to know if the collapse happened during... or later on. It could have found its way in at any point. You mentioned monsters of all sorts infested nearly every room.”

“Not your study. I wish I could take you see it, Zel.”

She was quiet. Link looked up at her to find her gazing at the missing staircase, but he didn’t know if she was actually seeing, or if she was lost in thought. He watched her for a moment, wondering just how much she was thinking of. What memories she must have been replaying—if they were ones he no longer had, if they included him at all. He knew he had been in her study with her at least once, if not multiple times all those years ago. Maybe he used to help her research, or kept her company while she did. He wanted to take her to her study, show her the Silent Princess that bloomed right in the middle. He could remember her mentioning prior attempts to grow them domestically and save them from extinction. Did it result from an attempt of her own, only able to actually flourish a century later?

Link returned his eyes to her hand. It was cold against his, despite what the red, irritated, and torn skin suggested. He tried to stay as gentle as possible as he wiped the grime and blood away, feeling worse every time her hand stiffened in pain. The silence was getting to him again, as was the still overhanging question of what drove her here.

“Zel..” he spoke. If she looked his way, he didn’t know. He busied himself with wrapping her hand. “I would’ve come with you.. You didn’t have to come back here alone.”

“It’s home,” she whispered out. Link glanced up at her, holding her hand just a little tighter.

“I know,” he said. “But home doesn’t have to be just one place.”

Zelda did not reply, but he could faintly hear his name being shouted. He’d nearly forgotten about the others, and clearly Zelda was as shocked as he was. But he stood from his position, letting her hand go at last, and jogged to the pile of rubble.

“—in there?” someone said, muffled by the wall of filth.

“We’re in here,” Link called back, wincing at how loud he sounded. “There’s a hole in the top that you can squeeze though, or we can try to remove more of the cave in.”

He thought he heard something like “stand back”, but he wasn’t sure until he heard a loud crash, and rubble began sliding down towards him. He backed up just in time to miss being pelted by a large rock and the rush of dirt and dust behind it. He coughed, waving his hand in front of his face to try and disperse the cloud it had created. 

“This’ll take a lot more force to clean up entirely,” came the voice of Purah after a coughing fit of her own. 

“We’ll manage,” replied Impa. Once the dust settled, the four were able to enter the bedroom at last. Link gave them all a polite nod and turned back to Zelda, who was staring at them as if they were ghosts. She looked pale.

He crouched before her again and raised the cloth to her face. When she didn’t move to pull away, he started wiping at the grime and scratches.

“This is quite the place to run off to when you’re upset,” spoke Impa again. She sounded far closer than she had before and Link had to keep his surprise that she could move that fast at bay. 

“It’s home,” Zelda repeated, adverting her eyes. Though this time, something about her voice gave away that she didn’t believe it. 

“Maybe once, a long time ago,” Impa said. 

Link raised a hand to Zelda’s cheek, holding her still while he wiped at a scratch on her forehead. She was making a point to avoid looking at anyone. She looked a little guilty, too, though he couldn’t think of why. 

“We can rebuild,” Purah promised, standing to the side of the cushioned chair. “Really, your room isn’t that far gone at all. And most of the castle structure is still intact—at least, the parts we can get to. Really, Princess, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

“That’s kind of you,” Zelda replied, but she shook her head. “But reconstruction will take years.”

“It’s not impossible,” Purah argued, grabbing the arm of the chair with her little hands. 

Link slowly lowered his hands now that Zelda’s face was, for the most part, clean. He capped what remained in the bottle and set it aside, reaching instead for the Sheikah Slate. When she didn’t stop him, he placed a hesitant hand on her knee and got to work looking through their gathered materials. He could make a healing potion for her hands with the right parts.

“No,” Zelda agreed, leaning back in the chair. “But it’s long and tedious and.. and we— I do not deserve your help.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at his princess with a frown. He wasn’t the only one, but her eyes remained stubbornly glued to the floor. An overwhelming desire to see those green eyes sparkle with happiness once again hit him, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Was it even his place?

“The concept of being ‘deserving’ of anything is silly,” spoke up Paya. Her voice was soft and rushed, like she were nervous to be speaking up to a princess. Link didn’t blame her. He felt like that too, in the beginning. “I’m sorry, Princess, but everyone deserves kindness, regardless of what they themselves think. To imply that they don’t is to say that they’re not.. human.”

“Paya is right, dear child. But I can think of no one more deserving of a comfortable home and happiness than you,” Impa said. 

Zelda looked like she was trembling. Link set down the Slate and gently took her bandaged hands in his own. Only then did she look at him, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears. The sight tore his heart in half. 

“Talk to us,” he whispered, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “To me. Please.”

He wished he could read her mind, soothe whatever fight she seemed to be having with herself. But all he could do as tears slipped down her cheeks was kneel upright against the chair and wrap her in a hug. And the journal she kept in her lap fell to the floor when she pressed closer, holding parts of his shirt in tight fists. He held her tighter, hoping just maybe, he could keep the remaining pieces of her together. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. Link shook his head.

“Don’t apologize, please. You have nothing to be sorry for. But if there’s anything I can do-“ 

“Link, you’ve done so much.” She was looking at him again, like he were some kind of grand hero. He was, according to almost all of Hyrule. But when she addressed him as such, and looked at him as such, it was different. Like he were her hero, and hers alone. Sometimes, he wished he were. “Really, there is nothing more for you to do.”

“I can be here, with you. If you really wanted to come back, I would’ve come with you.” 

He felt like he was begging. Begging for her to still give him a place in her life. For how confused he’d been when his journey began, he felt so inexplicably complete when he finally got her back. He wanted to feel that way again—wanted her to know that feeling if she didn’t already. But he would struggle greatly with acceptance if she didn’t want his help.

“Why come back?” she asked, pulling back from his embrace and leaving him empty. She looked so sad. “The heir to a throne of nothing. Is that really who you want to follow?”

He could still hear those words, spoken originally in the gruff voice of the king. At the time, Link found him to be acting as neither a king or a father. It was cruel, to spit those words in a sixteen-year-old’s face. To relay to her what the gossip mongers said behind her back, to imply that they were correct in some sort of way. She tried all she could, but they refused to let her be of any help outside of her supposed destiny. Little did they know her destiny involved facing a great evil alone, locking herself away for over a century. And yet, all these years later, those words still bit deeply into her. Did she truly believe them? After all she had done?

Link had never once believed in those words. Though he was as clueless as anyone else on why the goddess remained silent, he instead believed that she would save them all. Her worth and ability were never tied to any sacred power. Not to him, not to her friends, and not to her father. It was just a shame the king picked so late to act like one.

He reached up to hold her face again, trying to get her to look at him. 

“I follow the princess who cared so much about her kingdom that she sealed herself away with evil incarnate for over a century. I follow the princess who worked tirelessly to fulfill her duty. I follow the princess who knelt in freezing waters for hours at a time to pray on deaf ears. I follow the princess who did everything she could, and not just because she was told to.”

“You follow a princess who killed you and countless others with her inability to do her job,” she spat, but there was no venom to her words. She just sounded.. tired. Link shook his head again, racking his brain for the right thing to say. What had he said back then, in moments like these? What would work to comfort a broken soul? 

“Please.” He was begging again. He was desperate, because her coming here alone meant more than what she was saying. “Please don’t blame yourself for the things Ganon caused. I hate to admit it Zel, but we were fucked regardless whether or not you unlocked your powers. But they don’t blame you—and neither do I.”

“But why don’t you?” Zelda asked, finding a grip on his shirt once again. “I was so cruel to you, so jealous of you.. and in the end... I don’t understand.”

“I took a vow to protect you with my life, Zelda.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones, wishing he could get rid of her unshed tears that easily. “And I’d do it again. Without hesitation. Wherever you go, I will be there.”

Because without her, it felt so very empty. Even with the friendships he’d made along the way. And the why evaded him until he’d come to understand that it was better left unspoken. And the weeks spent with her in Hateno, while they tried to adjust to this world neither of them were really a part of, was when the pieces of the puzzle fell together. 

“That vow was made as a knight to a princess and a king, in preparation for the Calamity. There is no threat. There is no more king. And there is hardly a princess. But should you need it, I, Princess Zelda of Hyrule, officially release you from your vows.”

Link shook his head again, as if it could prevent the words from reaching his brain, his heart.

He felt like she was slipping right through his fingers. Just as she had with every memory along the way. One minute she would be there with her green eyes and warm, sunny smile, or annoyed glare, or concentrated expression. Then he would open his eyes and find himself alone, with any lingering warmth fleeting to join her in the castle, locked far away from him. He would look towards the castle and think of nothing but her. This Zelda that he knew long ago, this voice that compelled him to find her, this Princess that a century ago, he had fallen in love with and given his life for. And maybe his memories were fragmented, and maybe he’d never get them all back, but he was certain of that much.

“I made a promise to protect you, Zelda, princess or not. Because I want to. So if this is where you want to be,” he freed a hand to gesture to the room around them, “then I will be there too.”

“You belong to the wild,” Zelda replied simply, bringing her hands to cover his. “I can’t take you away from that.”

“Then stay with me there, please. Or, or with Impa in Kakariko, or Purah in the lab. Anything is better than here, cold and alone.” She had to know that. To return to a place of nightmares...to consider staying... Link was so afraid she was too far gone, and they hadn’t caught anything until she’d broken. 

Zelda peeled his hands from her face and shook her head. Link couldn’t find the right words, and he’d never felt so hopeless before.

“I’m afraid,” began Impa, joining them at the chair. Her wrinkled hands covered theirs. Link hoped with all his heart that they were bringing warmth back to her icy fingertips. “That her century with malice has driven the light from her mind. Princess, why have you convinced yourself that what you want is unreachable?”

Zelda recoiled at the question. Link tightened his hold on her hands ever so slightly, because he felt her trying to slip away again. 

“There are times when the darkness can extinguish the light,” she replied, tearing her green eyes away. 

“And the blame for that does not fall on your shoulders, sweet child. In fact, Hyrule would not have been able to recover at all, had it not been for your selflessness. The horrors you endured, sealed away with a beast, are something we cannot ever understand. But we can recognize that without you, Hyrule would have fallen completely to Ganon’s control. When you focus solely on your stubborn power, you ignore the other things you were able to do. Without your help, the Champions would have been unable to master their Divine Beasts.”

“The Champions are dead,” Zelda repeated, her voice trembling again. Link knew the feeling, and goddesses, how he wished he could grant her the closure he’d received. He found himself praying, begging out for Urbosa to somehow come to her aid, appear to her and let her know in a way he couldn’t that it was alright. 

“The Champions knew just what and how much they were risking when they answered your call, Princess. You chose well. But I’m afraid Link is right, Ganon would have taken them out even if you had awakened your power. The beast was prepared for our attack, and I’m afraid by following our ancestors so closely, we doomed ourselves. But the blame for that does not fall upon you.”

“But if I had just worked harder, if I had done more, prayed harder, then maybe-“

“Zelda,” Impa said, her voice stern. Even Link felt like he was being scolded, and he was nothing more than a bystander. “You gave all your efforts and in the end, prayer was hardly what woke your power.”

Her eyes drifted to Link. She looked defeated, because she did know. And so did he. When Kass relayed to him the song, he’d nearly cried. It wouldn’t have been the first of the tears shed on his journey. And it wasn’t the first time he’d learned of a princess doing something out of her love for him. He remembered quite clearly when he found out—how he spent that night asking into empty air if it were true. No answer ever came to him. 

“I know,” Zelda replied at last, ducking her head and instead looking at their hands. In two simple words, his answer had come.

“Then I trust you to make the decision you believe is best for you. But no decision should be made at this hour. I suggest we get some sleep before dawn’s light is upon us.” Impa’s hands lifted, and with a simple gesture to Paya, they disappeared through the rubble at the doorway.

“If you ever need a place to go, or someone to talk to about ideas, my door is always open. But I have to agree with my sister on this one. You should get some rest, and make your decision in the morning.” And Purah and Symin were gone as well.

Now that they were alone, Link wished he knew what to say. He wished he could leave it at that and tell her to get some sleep. But he couldn’t.

“I still don’t understand,” he said, releasing her hands so he could dig in his pockets. Zelda lifted her head to look at him, and he held up the piece of paper she’d torn out of her diary. The writing that was burned into his brain. “Why?” 

She lowered her gaze again, but she did not answer. 

“I thought you might’ve been at the lab with Purah,” Link continued to fill the silence. “And then I thought maybe you went to Kakariko, but Impa said she hadn’t seen you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda said softly. Her eyes were fixed on the dirty rug beneath her chair, but he could tell she was looking far past that.

“Why didn’t you talk to me..? Or say goodbye, at the very least?”

“I just.. I couldn’t,” she admitted, hugging her arms. “It would’ve made it harder.”

“How long have you been thinking of leaving..?”

“A week or so...” 

Link let out a sigh, dragging a hand down his face. He felt guilty again, for not saying anything when he first noticed her drawing back. Maybe she thought he was disappointed, because she continued,

 “I just—I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“Did something happen, Zel..?” he asked hesitantly, lifting his gaze back to her’s. It was selfish, but part of him needed to know if it was him, or the setting. “To make you want to leave, I mean. Do you not like it in Hateno?”

“No, no-! Hateno is lovely, Link.” She straightened up, reaching out a hesitant hand towards him. But she dropped it before it made any contact. “I just...”

“You don’t have to talk to me,” Link said, lifting a hand to her face, though he desperately wanted her to. “But if there’s anything you need, please let me know. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

After a moment more, he dropped his hand to his side and picked up the Slate again. He wished there was more he could say or do, to help her. But this wasn’t something he could swing a sword at and disintegrate.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t quite belong here?” she asked, ending the stretch of silence. “Like you shouldn’t be, because you belong to a different time?”

Link looked up at her, masking his surprise that she was perhaps finally speaking what was on her mind. He nodded once, but said nothing more, urging her to continue. She did.

“At first, Hyrule didn’t look much different than it had before.. But seeing Castle Town and Central Hyrule in ruin was still... so fresh. Something that took years to build and was once full of life, was destroyed in minutes. So many lives lost... And then I find this new village—two, actually, filled to the brim with life. Like the Calamity had never touched them at all. And it was so.. different.”

“A Hyrule one hundred years later,” Link said, finding her hands again. “Toeing the line between recovery and destruction. And the only thing keeping that line steady is you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zelda said again, her hands twitching like she wanted to pull them away. “I shouldn’t be complaining when you’ve no memory of the Hyrule we were a part of all those years ago.”

“But maybe that’s a good thing,” he responded. It made her finally look at him, her eyes wide with shock. But he’d thought long and hard on it, and he was being honest.

“Link-“

“I’m serious,” he insisted. “I don’t remember everything. And it hurts sometimes, that I can’t remember everything about you, and about our friends. But I don’t feel the pain that came with fighting Ganon, or fending off guardians. I don’t feel the burden of the sword. I’m.. a little more free of that trauma than you are. For a century, you sealed yourself away with nothing but evil incarnate. And you still remembered everything you had done and been through up until that moment.”

“You make it look so easy. Living in this Hyrule, I mean. You have so many friends, you seem so comfortable and at home..”

“It’s hard not to make friends when they risk their lives to help you. And I don’t think I’d be as well off if I still remembered everything. But it’s not easy. I’m living in a world I really know nothing about. And as for home, well... it didn’t feel like home. Not until you were with me and safe.”

Zelda blinked. She looked like she wanted to cry again, but Link was being more honest than he’d ever been. Yet for some reason, a fraction of hurt took over her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had come, but he saw it.

“You hardly know me,” she said. Even she winced at that and went to apologize, but Link held her hands a little tighter and willed her to look directly at him as he spoke, pouring everything he could into his words.

“I know that you love your people so much, you faced Ganon alone. I know that you love to research and wanted to learn as much about Sheikah technology as possible. I know you faced criticism from everyone, even your own father, but you pushed yourself to your limit anyway with a silent goddess. I know you saw me as a reminder of your own failures, and I know you tried to convince me to taste a frog. I know your favorite dessert is fruit cake, I know you had a white horse you named Storm who you struggled with at first, I know Urbosa was like a second mother to you, I know Revali annoyed you just as much as he annoyed me, I know we somehow ended up as friends, and I know what woke your powers in the end.”

Zelda looked as if she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. It wasn’t impossible to believe, given he’d mentioned some things only someone who was close to her would know, but maybe that last part should’ve stayed to himself.

“Urbosa did always say it was quite obvious.” She shook her head and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Did she tell you?”

“Kass did,” Link replied, adverting his eyes. He felt a little guilty to admit it. “The Rito Bard. His teacher, the court poet, set out to.. learn some ballads about the ancient hero, so he could help me. He mentioned it in his song. Though, now that I think about it, it was a little... rude. I mean, it’s no one’s business and..”

Zelda looked amused. Link forced himself to stop speaking, which was new. He was still getting used to a lot of things.

“Well, he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. It’s better you hear it from them, than a gossip monger who has nothing better to do but impose on the life of others.”

“I’d rather hear it from you,” he replied with a shrug before he could stop himself. Even in the dim lighting of the room, he could see the way her cheeks flushed. 

“You just did,” she argued, ripping her hands away so she could cross her arms. Link held his hands up in defense. 

“All I’m saying is that having a descendant of the goddess Hylia herself love you is quite the feeling.”

“Oh, so being Zelda isn’t enough for you then? You’ve got to play the goddess card to inflate your already big head?” But there was no malice behind her words, and the faint smile on her lips was more than worth it. 

“Now I never said that,” he defended, fending off a smile of his own. “I happen to find Zelda absolutely wonderful all on her own. But having goddess powers is cool, too.”

A small giggle passed her lips. The light was returning to her eyes slowly, but progress was progress and Link was desperate to keep it up.

“I’m glad someone around here appreciates Zelda,” she joked, leaning back in her chair once again. He rested a hand on her knee and looked up at her, letting the smile onto his lips.

“Someone should tell her that she’s deserving of love, and happiness, and a fresh start too.”

Zelda’s smile was weak, but it was there. It was enough to make him swell with hope that maybe, maybe they’d figure it out eventually. But something was still eating at her. He could see it in the way she adverted her gaze again, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“What if I don’t get along with your new friends?” she asked at last. “If I don’t fit in?”

It would’ve been rude to laugh. Her fears were absolutely valid, and he took her hands again in an attempt to show that. But it was hard for him to imagine any of his friends not getting along with Zelda. She was lovely, even after years of nothingness. He was sure she would fit in perfectly.

“Sidon will absolutely, enthusiastically praise you for every little thing you do,” Link began, counting off his closest friends. “Yunobo will bow to you with your strength, maybe even ask you to help him with his own. Riju will be the little sister you never had. And Teba may be just as proud as, but he’s less openly arrogant than Revali. They will love you, I promise.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Zel, I can’t believe you’re worried about that. If you could hold the Calamity back for a century and make me fall in love with you twice, then you can easily make friends who’ll love you just as much.”

The confession he hadn’t intended on making caused a smile to tug at the corners of her lips, and Link knew maybe, finally he’d said the right thing. He gently pulled her forwards by her hands but before he could kneel to meet her, she’d joined him on the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her into his chest with an unspoken promise to continue being by her side until the end of time.

“If you’re really ready to be here,” he whispered out, “then I’ll be here. But if you’re not, it’s never too late to come back home.”

Zelda pressed her face into his shoulder, and he leaned his head against hers, drawing gentle shapes on her back.

“Thank you for coming after me.”

“Of course. If I didn’t, people would think I was mad at my princess or something.”

Zelda let out a quiet laugh and he felt her hold him a little tighter. 

“What, so you only came after me to protect your reputation?” she joked, tilting her head up so she could look at him, forcing him to lift his head.

“Obviously,” Link said as he looked back down at her. “Can’t be the Hero of Hyrule if I leave their princess all alone.”

“If I recall, you did that for over a century.”

“My bad.”

Zelda laughed again, the sound bright and joyous in the empty room. It filled him with comfort, and he couldn’t help simply gazing at her, taking in every little detail he could see. Part of him wondered if he’d really forgotten her, because it felt impossible to imagine a time he didn’t know her face. Her lovely eyes, her warm smile, her infectious laugh, her pink lips—it wasn’t something that could be forgotten. A beauty like hers transcended that. 

“I meant it when I said thank you for everything,” she said with a small smile. “Hyrule really is in your debt.”

“I would do it again and again.” Without thinking, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It was lucky for him that her love lasted over a century. 

“Get some sleep,” she said softly, tugging the cushion from the chair and tossing it behind him. “You must be exhausted.”

“I slept for a hundred years. I think I’ll be fine,” he replied, but laid back and rested his head on the cushion anyway. Zelda laid gently on top of him, resting her head against his chest. Link folded his arms around her and took a deep breath so her scent enveloped him again. Her fingers tapped against his shoulder, keeping time with his heartbeat. He knew, just as he had for a while, that they were right where they needed to be. He couldn’t speak for Zelda, but he knew that he belonged with her, no matter what life it was.

And he closed his eyes, missing the dawn’s light peaking over the horizon.

Masterlist

[spacexmagicxandxsheepxbleats]

The Wild Hunt - Open ‘Raid’

INCOMING TRANSMISSION

Zavala: Guardian, we’ve received word that the wanted fugitive, The Ram, has been sighted not far from your location. Be advised, if you wish to engage it’s at your peril and we can not offer assistance. However, should you succeed you will have avenged the many Guardian’s who have lost their light to her insanity...Good Luck, Guardian.

There is a resigned sense of exhaustion in the Commander’s tone, a barely perceptible shade of doubt that anyone who’d respond would survive the encounter.

It was increasingly rare that Zavala broadcast this particular task, having seemed to accept that it would forever haunt the roster and he was loath to expend anymore individuals on it, but if he didn’t bring it up on occasion, he got an earful from the Consensus...

The Wild Hunt had been on the Bounty Boards for the better part of the last few centuries. Dated at the middle of Saint - 14′s Crusade to the present day, the long trail of names added to the roster started in it’s comments section was a litany of Guardians who’d not only failed and lived to tell about it - but those who never returned...

                                             And the latter had taken a disturbing trend in growth.

Music - House Targaryen - Dracarys

Blue skies, calm winds - a cool autumn day, and a peaceful one at that. The trees had begun to turn colours and lose their leaves, the shadows growing long as the clouds drifted across the face of the sun. Soon, in an outdated nod to the past, all of the clocks and other time pieces in the Last City would turn back an hour to compensate.

Despite the clouds being grey and laden with the threat of rain, no droplets fell from the heavens.

But all of this pleasant atmosphere seemed to fade, the air becoming heavy...suppressive, almost, viscous... the suffocating sense that Light had little to no power here as any unfortunate Guardians dared to heed the call and try their hand at the Hunt.

A Darkness Zone. Not uncommon and quite consistent throughout all reports regarding every instance of engagement with Her.

There were eyes in the increasing gloom, sets of four that glowed azure. Blinking and re-positioning, taking up watch along the path - Sure signs that the Eliksni who rallied to The Ram were active and relaying messages to their ‘Kell’.

The Fallen House of Dread, a mismatched hodgepodge of Eliksni who filtered to her side over the centuries. The fractured remnants of the Wolves made up the mass majority of its backbone and they found no shortage of savagery under her hand.

Organized and better armed than when they were under Skolas, the Vandals and Captains enjoyed not only a sense of autonomy but purpose as they flickered through the umbrage, keeping their eyes on the quarry while staying their hands, knowing that if they were patient it would pay off in the end.

Overhead the sombre tones of a squall coalesced, even if it were predicted by the Weather Frames in the Tower the storm couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate time to crop up.

As if funneling any unfortunate soul to the arena of slaughter, Ravens and Crows took up perches in the trees, gathering as if in anticipation for the meal to come, cawing and cackling, heckling for their supper.

At last, when a fork of lightning split the sky, The Ram stood at the center of the small clearing ahead. Wreathed by tall pines and a scattering of deciduous trees, the oblong circle was mostly trodden dirt...a pacing ground for the Risen’s cloven boots.

Eyes carved into the tree trunks stared unblinking into the space, older etchings having grown several feet above newer additions. Strange effigies hung from some of the more stalwart tree’s branches, some made of wood and animal bone, others woven of vines, bunches of herbs and other botanical matter, while a disturbing few looked almost...human... the armour rusted, overgrown and draped with moss, tendrils of barbed creepers growing around the joints and reinforcing the chains that held the figures aloft.

                                           Were those Ghost eyes watching from the tangles?

It was difficult to ignore the desire to take in the stacked stones, the weathered wooden carvings...the patterns laid out in pebbles along the edges of the area...

But, to take one’s eyes off the creature standing thirty paces ahead and in the center invited death, especially as all the watchful Wolves padded into view, loping languidly into position near the woman.

Like her, the Fallen wore tattered leather in layers over and under sturdy metal plating. Ribbons of hand embroidered linen draped along their shoulders and backs, small brass bells and diadems adorned their forms - both in the Eliksni style as well as The Ram’s own archaic aesthetic.

She herself stood swathed in ratted and rotting leathers, moldering cloth and war worn plating, field patched and sewn, amalgamated from Eliksni pieces as well as those she scavenged from the Guardians she’d slain.

                                         But it was her helm that seemed the most unsettling.

Unlike The Ram helms produced by the Towers foundries, this one was carved from the bone of an Ahamkara and served as the base template of all those that came after it and not unlike the rest of her attire it bore the ravages of time and battle.

Its face was scarred, stained with soot, etched with weather worn runes...fine links of brass chain draped over it’s forehead, cascaded to the crux of the bone wrought horns, the left of which had been capped with brass, the cracks and splinters radiating around the seal be lied that it’s tip had been destroyed, just as the skull’s original muzzle had been.

Both horn and jaw had been obliterated, just as the left side of the woman’s mouth and cheek beneath had been in the blast, however contrary to her flesh and bone, the Helm’s jaw had been reconstructed with brass and the muzzle of a wolf, both upper and lower jaws adorned the armour piece, fangs bared in an eternal snarl.

She said nothing, the voided sockets of that nightmarish visage seemed to look past any who stood before her, as if not seeing the individual but through them… until one of the Captains who flanked her churred deep in his throat. His companions had grown increasingly restless in the seconds-long staring contest between Guardian and Risen.

Still, there were no words spoken as her left hand dropped to the dull iron hilt of a chipped and furrowed Seax. Her right extended to bar her Eliksni from leaping a head, and as she stepped forth she unsheathed her blade, a throaty cacophony of archaic syllables echoed soundly from her as eldritch green light shimmered and wove it’s way into the likeness of two large wolves, much the same as those the Lords of Iron keep in the Temple…

But, these were an ill match to those of flesh and fur. Hard Light fangs flashing with the snap of their jaws, the torn turf and soil under their translucent claws contradicted any notion that they were but illusions of Light.

No, these two were very real as they sprang forth, eerie mockeries of normal vocalizations rippling and echoing in the space as The Ram advanced in their wake….

[alwaysyourqueen]

My January Jubilation (@masseffectholidaycheer) gift for @ray-beams! Slightly late but still completed. Read it here on AO3 or here on tumblr! Happy February.

--

Jane Shepard woke up, a hand flopping over to the other side of the bed. No one there. She yawned, blinking her eyes a few times to clear her vision. It was weird to not be wearing glasses. Years after her genetic engineering and she still didn’t like that she could see clearly first thing in the morning.

She rolled herself out of bed, pulled on a nice robe and pajama pants combo, and wandered out into the common space of her and Samantha’s apartment. It was modest, which she had wanted for too long now. A sense of normalcy amidst the craziness her life had become.

“Shepard. Didn’t want to wake you. Rest very important during recovery period.”

Jane jerked her head to the side and saw Mordin, cradling what was likely decaffeinated tea, sitting on a couch across from Sam. “Oh. Didn’t think you were stopping by until one.”

Sam stood up and walked over to her girlfriend’s side, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Jane?”

“Yes dear?”

“It’s two thirty.”

“Ah. Thanks.” Jane gave Samantha a quick kiss on the cheek before stealing her spot on the couch. “Coffee?”

“Got a pot warming up. I’ll leave you two to catch up.” Samantha made her way to the kitchen, probably to do a menial task or two in the meantime to allow Jane and Mordin to talk. The two of them did like their private conversations.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mordin.” Jane settled herself into the couch, suddenly hyper-aware of the robe she was wrapped in. It felt very silly that she hadn’t gotten dressed.

“Sleeping long hours common reaction to intensive reconstruction. Completely normal. Should stop in number of days.” Mordin set his cup down on the coffee table, then stood up from his seat.

“You know you can call me Jane now, right?” Jane propped one of her elbows up on the back of the couch. “No Commander crew dynamic anymore. Just two enactors of genocide having coffee.”

“If that was meant to offend, silly way to do so. Never meant for Shepard to be impersonal. Always been formal, never impersonal.” The salarian began to pace, as he was wont to do. Frankly, Jane was surprised he’d even been sitting still to presumably talk with Sam. “Both did what we had to do. Best option with available information at the time. No fault in doing what we do best.”

“It’s hard to think about that. What if eventually I realize I was wrong?”

“I did. Can’t go back and fix what’s been done. Tried.”

Jane laughed. “If anyone could pull it off, it’d be you, Mordin.” She hard swallowed, looking towards the window on the opposite side of the room. “Does it get easier?”

“Unclear question.” Mordin stopped his pacing to stand stock still for a moment, bulbous eyes fixed on Jane. “Does what get easier?”

“Dealing with the consequences of our actions. I mean, I condemned an entire field of science to starting from scratch. Probably killed a lot of people in the process. No, I know I killed a lot of people in the process. And now I have to get up and be a person in the galaxy.”

“No.”

Jane looked at Mordin, a starstruck expression on her face.

Mordin gave a short shrug of his shoulders. “Feeling never goes away. It shouldn’t. Focus more on the future. Do better today than we did yesterday.”

“That’s awful optimistic of you. Are you sure you haven’t been replaced by an evil clone?”

“Only you warrant such extreme copying.”

Jane rolled her eyes. Sometimes she had to reflect on the fact that her life was so crazy, it was impossible to even joke about without someone ribbing back that it had actually happened. “You were so upset about everything with the Genophage, and I did that on another level.”

“Not about us. Not about you. About the people we are going to help. Not about you or me, or how we feel about it.” Mordin finally stopped moving to sit down across from Jane again. “About making a difference after we’re gone.”

“Yeah.” Jane ran her fingers through her hair, scratching at her scalp along the way. “Making it better. I hope I actually made it better instead of making it worse.”

“I think you did. The whole team does.” Mordin made it sound as such a matter of fact, such a simple thing that everyone knew. Jane was struggling when people said those things to her, but she wasn’t going to argue the point. Mordin was a much better arguer than her.

“What do you suggest we do? To do better?”

“Get up again. Do something good. Protect people.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hard to give advice to savior of the galaxy, Shepard. Figure it out.”

“You’ve got an attitude problem, you know that, Solus?”

“Not a problem. Keeps you guessing.”

Jane laughed, got up from her seat, and stepped forward. “Can I get a hug before sending you on your way?”

“Just this once.” The salarian stood up and let Jane put her arms around him, and put his own around her too.

Jane held the hug for what was probably a little too long for a salarian perception of time. She finally released him, rolling a part of her shoulder that was digging a little too hard into his suit. Despite how squishy salarians could be, their tech was the opposite.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” Jane walked with Mordin towards the door.

“As long as you are wearing pants next time I visit. Fair trade.” Mordin gave her the salarian equivalent of a cocky smile, or at least that’s what she thought it was. All this time around aliens, and she still didn’t quite know how to read their facial expressions.

“See you, Mordin.” Samantha waved from behind Jane, who whirled around, taken aback by her girlfriend’s sudden appearance. “Heard the going away party, and decided to butt in.” She passed off the cup of coffee in her hands to Jane’s hands, who quickly brought the hot bean juice to her lips.

Mordin gave them both a last wave and the door closed behind him, the automatic lock visibly switching into place.

“Did you know you are the most amazing woman in the world?” Jane slumped against Sam’s side, making a raspberry as she exhaled air.

“Oh, so there’s some other world with women more amazing than me? Maybe I should’ve shipped you off there instead of coming home.” The words were spoken with an air of comedy, clearly lacking any real offense. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m the one on dishes. Maybe I’ll just leave out all your favorite cups to get all dirty, and gross, and,”

“Alright, alright, I get the idea. Don’t lay onto me until I’ve had my coffee.” She lifted the cup as if to demonstrate, and sipped from it again. “Okay, begin the shaming.”

“I think you’ve had enough for one day.” Sam put her arm around Jane’s shoulder. “Let’s work on that sleep schedule though, eh?”

“Over my dead body.”

“Too soon.”

“For the first time or the second?”

“Exactly.”

[rhmg-au]

I couldn’t resist, okay? The idea came into my head one day and it was like “write me please”, so I did.

The prequel’s next part will be coming soon, so please stay patient with me, I’m no good at being on time-

This is not connected to the ficlets I already made, so you could see this as an alternate timeline if you like.

This AU belongs to @rhmg-au . Please follow them, reblog their art, give them fanart, support them in any way possible, etc.

Charlie and Copper created by FlamingRedAnon.

TW: Blood, gore, death

(Mod Swanno: Read more because of length and content! ^^)

———

Four to one.

It didn’t seem fair, not in terms of battle, but why this fight is happening in the first place.

Four unlucky and unfortunate souls twisted into weapons, machines, their only purpose to destroy the Toppats.

It all began when Right Hand Man was taken away from the clan, just before the launch of the spaceship. His sacrifice made it possible for the rest of the members to escape from a fate they didn’t deserved, at the cost of his freedom and free will. Now, he’s referred to as Green.

A while after the space station was set up completely, Reginald Copperbottom disappeared without reason or warning. Several search parties were sent down to Earth and even around the station, but no signs of him were spotted. No notes or messages were found left by him, only bumping the concern and fear up by a longshot. Toppats were getting killed off at a much faster rate, causing Henry to bring the remaining clan members into the orbital station to prevent more casualties, only allowing them to leave if they have a viable reason to or it’s deemed safe to go back, which it isn’t. After this decision was made, no further deaths were reported. Reginald was only seen again when they raided the Government to get their fellow Toppats back, but he wasn’t the same. He was changed into a cyborg too, against his will, and just like with Right, had his memories wiped clean. New name? Copper.

Charles Calvin was a pilot who worked for their enemy, while he may came from the opposing side, one can clearly see how uncomfortable he was with the General’s choices, and wants to help. Unfortunately, his motives were discovered and he too suffered the same fate as Reginald did. Charlie is what he’s called by now.

Similar to his co-worker, Rupert Price is a high-ranking soldier in the Government, and like the pilot, is uncomfortable with the decisions of the person he takes commands from. But he has another reason why, he’s been trying to convince them to save a friend of his, however they kept denying as he’s just an average citizen who’s not worth saving and it provided no benefit for them if they do. These were more than enough to push him to his breaking point. His life took a turn for the worst when he was caught by the monster behind all of this, and was changed into something he never wanted to become. Before this though, he was tortured mercilessly for defying the expectations of a soldier. Prize replaced his original name.

All of them were standing before her, the only one who could possibly match against them, Sabine Setorion.

She couldn’t believe it.

But another thing that made it even more unbearable was that it was all thanks to her adoptive mother, the one who saved her from dying all those years ago, who treated her like a daughter…Dr. Vinschpinsilstein.

Even after all of the things they did, what she told her about them, she still decided to throw her words and the horrid acts to the wind for revenge.

But this isn’t simple revenge. This was too cruel to call it revenge.

Sure, they held her at gunpoint, made her turn Right into a cyborg, but they had no other choice. How else could they convince her to work on saving his life? Besides, wasn’t saving lives her job? Like how she did for her? No matter how it was demanded?

But…she couldn’t bring herself to hate her.

She’s blinded by her anger, the need for revenge, and has done inexplicably dastardly deeds, but hatred was out of the question.

Even with those conditions active, her care still shone through.

For now though, the only thing she should focus on at the moment was the fight she’s thrusted into.

And it was incredibly one-sided.

No one else could stand against these four walking machines, she’s the only one who could at least manage a short confrontation between herself and them.

But that’s not the only reason why she’s fighting a near hopeless battle.

All of those she ever brought herself to care about would be destroyed if she refused, including her mother.

Galeforce was cruel, there was no doubt about that, but this was insane. Not only was he putting countless Toppats and their lives on the line, and those she calls friends, but even that of his assistant. Just to satisfy his need for vengeance.

Blood spewed from her mouth, her burn had been covered up with the crimson substance that has found its way to the unhealed injury she still possesses to this fateful day. The scar which was sealed off years prior has been reopened in a painful way, the sting lingered with her for the rest of the fight. The stitches had undone, and a new one has been made to criss-cross the wound, effectively creating an X shape on her face.

Pain coursed through the entirety of her being, it was as if she was waking up from a coma but it was a worse version of it, like someone beat you senselessly while you were still unconscious, and you had the misfortune to wake up to experience the assault of agony it brought alongside your awakening.

The metal used to reconstruct her new body has been damaged severely, with five to one, she was barely even breathing. She never harmed anyone, because she knows that all of them are still human, still people who are worth saving, even if some of them are not from her side of the playing field. They were disabled (by her will) for the majority of the battle, only relying on evasion and defense as strategy.

It hurt, physically, mentally and emotionally. Knowing that under these circumstances, there was no real way to win. And to know that those she cared deeply for are forced to watch her eventual demise, and to know that those who have to end her can’t stop themselves.

All she could do was lay there, almost lifelessly, as she heard a command from the General:

“Finish her.”

As they prepared to end her second trial of life, she weakly spoke. “It-It wasn’t your…faults. I-If you c-can hear me, r-remember t-that.” You could hear it if you leaned in close enough, but they were quieter than total silence. They did nothing to help. They couldn’t hear her.

Yet she still tried.

A single, solitary tear escaped from her eye mixing in with her blood, a smile plastered on her face.

This was the end.

Four individual blasts came soon after.

The last thing she heard were screams and scrambling.

And she was gone…permanently.

———

I gotta admit, this was kinda rushed-

But hopefully you enjoyed the end result regardless of shortness and how rushed it seemed.

My poor baby didn’t stand a chance against four cyborgs, there was no realistic way for her to win unless she managed to snap them out of it.

Also I would like to say the reason why she was killed instead of being brainwashed like the rest: Dr. V was now against Galeforce, and unless he figures out how to do cybernetic surgery by himself, or finds another doctor, he can’t have another walking weapon at his disposal, leaving him no choice but to kill off Sabine.

I legit couldn’t think of a name that fitted Rupert’s rehabilitated version of himself, so Prize had to do (and no I did not use his last name as reference for it-)

Maybe I’ll do an alternative route for that possibility, who knows? ;)

Don’t worry, I’m still working on the prequel, procrastination and demotivation are being assholes to me at the moment, but hopefully I can combat them to bring another another work to this AU!

[nunyabhiznus]

Pearls are not Jewels

Prologue

Chapter 1

Word Count: 10.9K

Warnings: Kidnapping, some cursing, some violence, mentions of sexual harassment (barely). Lmk if I missed anything. 

A/N: Before we begin I want to point out some things about this story. 

First, I know that Star Wars takes place “In a galaxy far, far away” but for the sake of wanting to write a cool, fun story for everyone, lets just assume that Earth is somewhere in the unknown regions. 

Second, because I’m putting Earth in the unknown regions, no one there knows about eveything that’s been going on in the galaxy, and everyone in the galaxy knows very little about Earth. So basically, Earth is exactly the same as it is now except the star wars movies do not exist. Please let me know if this second point makes sense. If it doesnt, I’ll be glad to clear it up. 

Third, this is my first Star Wars fic so I’ll be doing the best I can to keep the information as authentic as possible. Wookiepedia has become my best friend for this project. 

Thank you!

Jules Taxo was on the run. 

This was nothing new for her, though. At any given moment she was either being sought out by republic officials or hunted down by someone who wanted revenge. But she was quick, smart, and deadly so no one could ever catch up to her; an ability that she prides herself in and one she hopes will get her out of her current situation. 

But as she looks out the window through curtains barely parted enough to view the street, she couldn’t help but feel like this time things were different. She had never been chased down by someone this important before. If she wants to get out of this situation alive, she’ll need every part of her plan to work perfectly. 

“Are you sure you want to go through with the procedure?” 

The doctors question pulls her away from the window, her hand dropping the curtains making the room slightly darker than it was before. 

When she faces him, the Rodian sinks into his chair with a fear she knew was not brought on by the change in lighting. 

Normally, Jules would’ve basked in the power trip that her reputation usually took her on, but she knew she was running out of time. Those who were after her would eventually track her to this planet, so she needs to finish what she came here to do and keep moving. 

Digging her hand into her pocket, she threw the doctor a small pouch. Its contents ringing throughout the small room in the universal language of greed. 

“Your payment,” she states, answering his question. “There are extra credits in the bag for your continued discretion.” 

Not that she actually expects it. There was no doubt in her mind that someone with more credits would come along and convince him to release the information. In fact, she was counting on him to eventually give her up for her plan to fully function. 

The doctor peers inside the pouch and seeming satisfied, turns around to activate the nurse droid that would assist him during the procedure.  

He clears his throat, facing her again, “What would you like to have done?” 

Jules takes out a disk from her pocket and activates a hologram. 

“Can your nano droids make me look like her?”

“The complete facial transformation will render you identical,” he says observing the woman in the hologram with curiosity. “I should advise you that it’s a painful process.” 

“Just do it,” She orders and doesn’t wait to be told before laying down on the examination table. 

With a sigh, the doctor nods to the nurse droid who holds Jules down by the shoulders, pressing her down on the table. 

If this worked, she thought with a sick smile forming on her face, they’d never find her. 

A small hiss escapes her lips as the doctor inserts a needle into her neck. At first, she felt nothing, but after a few seconds she began thrashing around the table as the nano droids began to reconstruct her face one fracture at a time. The hold of the nurse droid was the only thing that kept her on the table as she yelled in pain. And then it was over just as soon as it began. 

Her chest heaved up and down as the pain slowly crept away until all she was left with was a dull headache. The doctor slowly hands her a mirror as she sits up and looks  at the unfamiliar face staring back at her. 

The smirk she saw reflected was foreign, belonging to the woman in the hologram. Jules turns her new face side to side and admires the work. 

“Who is she?” The doctor asks, slowly backing away now that his usefulness is over. 

“Oh nobody,” she says coyly. “Just some dead girl from the planet Earth.” 

With those details carefully shared, Jules leaves the doctor to his credits as she wears her new identity through the busy streets. 

Confident that her disguise works, and no one was following her, she returns to her ship and punches in the coordinates to her next location. The last phase of her plan. 

Jules Taxo was heading for Earth. 

 ***

When you can’t open your eyes as soon as you wake up, the first thing you assume is that you’re dead. That the never ending black you see is a dreary afterlife and not your heavy eyelids. 

As feeling starts to come back to your limbs and you’re slowly able to make out blurry shapes in front of you, you realize that you are still very much alive. Your racing heart is a clear indication of that. 

Your legs give out as soon as you try to stand and what little you can make out of the room starts to spin. You rest your hand on your chest, letting your fingers grasp at the necklace hanging around your neck. A subconscious habit you had when you were nervous. It’s then that you realize that your hands are tied together. 

Well, not tied, you sluggishly observe. More like... handcuffed? 

Adrenaline heightens your numbed senses instantly and you realize that you’re in the corner of a dark room. The wall opposite of where you’re sitting has a bunch of strange panels and buttons that give off faint lights, which fail miserably at lighting up the space. Listening closely, you could hear the faint hum of machinery surrounding you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it looked like the inside of a spaceship from a sci-fi movie. 

How did this happen? Taking in deep breaths, you try and piece together the events prior to waking up wherever you were. 

The day had started off just like every other weekday. 

You remember pulling into your jobs parking lot. You were late. Still, you felt you could turn the day around as long as no one noticed you coming in. Ironically enough, you’re wishing for the exact opposite of that right now. Surely somebody had to be wondering where you were. Your thoughts immediately went to your family as you fiddled with the pearl around your neck. What would they think happened to you?

You remember barely getting out of your car when someone grabbed you from behind, holding a hand over your mouth to prevent you from screaming. 

You remember feeling a shock throughout your body. Was it a shock? Stunned was a better word to describe what you felt - like you could no longer control your limbs as your vision went black.

And then you were waking up. 

The sound of voices bring your thoughts to the present. You can’t hear the conversation, only a muffled dialogue, but you can tell that whoever is talking is just beyond the walls of the room. Although you already know you’re wrong, you hope that help will come through those doors when they open anyways. 

There’s a beeping sound coming from the other side and you know that your captors, or saviors (you’re trying to be optimistic), will walk in any second. 

Despite the fear you’ve felt since you woke up, you try to put on a brave face, but as soon as the door slides open the light that floods in the room makes your face scrunch up instead. 

So much for brave, you think as you blink your eyes a couple of times to get them adjusted to the brightness. 

Two men you’ve never seen before were now standing in front of you. You gasp as you take in their appearance that was unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 

They looked like human men if humans had blue skin and white hair. Intricate black tattoos covered every exposed piece of skin, wrapping around their necks and reaching to the ends of their fingertips. Their massive stature did not escape your notice either. Both men were easily at least six feet tall (or taller) and heavily built. They wore all black, but the one on the right was wearing what looked like a long-sleeved leather jacket, while the one on the left wore a vest that allowed you to see more of the tattoos on his arms. Both men were also staring at you with sick grins. 

You were scared before but now you were terrified. What the hell was going on? 

 With the initial shock already wearing off, you realize that staring at them would get you nowhere. Scrambling to stand up, you did your best to not look as intimidated as you felt. 

“Where am I?” You ask, hating how small you sound.

The one wearing the leather jacket took a step forward and you instinctively took a step back. Your back met with the wall and you jump at the contact. Leather Jacket seemed pleased with knowing you were scared of him. 

“You got caught, Jules,” he sneers, his voice a deep sound that cut through the room. 

Wait a minute. 

“Jules?” You question, suddenly more confused than afraid. “My name’s not Jules.”  

“Nice try, doll face, but it’s going to take a lot more than a facial reconstruction to hide from Black Sun,” scoffs the one in the vest. 

You blink back with eyebrows raised. Doll face? 

“Look,” you start, getting closer to them with newfound courage. Where it came from, you had no clue, but you weren’t about to question it. “You‘ve got the wrong person. You have to let me go!” 

“Your little trick isn’t going to work on us,” Vest snaps. “I’ll admit, going to a planet in the unknown regions was impressive, but you’re losing your touch.” 

Leather Jacket smirked down at you and you narrow your eyes at him. 

“Yeah, you were too easy to find,” he shoves your shoulder, effortlessly pushing you back. 

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss. 

This entire ordeal was starting to chip away at your patience. 

“I have no idea what you two are talking about,” you say through gritted teeth. “Let. Me. Go.” 

Neither of them responds, just continue to look down on you with smug expressions. Scoffing, you start to make your way to the door anyways, frustrated in your lack of understanding, but they block your path. 

Standing side by side, the two blue men left no way to get through.

“You’re staying right here.” 

A command, you notice. And a threat. Especially when Leather Jacket turns to Vest and pulls him to the side of the room, leaving the doorway exposed. He clearly wasn’t worried about you making a run for it. And he was right. As taunting an idea as it was, you weren’t dumb enough to try it. They’d catch you before you got one foot out the door. Besides, your hands were still cuffed. 

No. If you wanted to escape, you’d have to do it differently. 

 “Call L-1 over here to watch her while we’re out,” you hear him say before they both walk out of the room, the door sliding shut behind them. Once again, the room was dark. 

You ran to the door then. The two men were still talking, so you put your ear to it to try and hear them better.

“L-1!” Called out Vest. Even though he yelled, you could still barely hear through the steel door. You press your ear harder against it hoping your lack of visuals will encourage your ears to hear better. 

“We’re going out while the ship refuels to get supplies. Stay with the bounty, and don’t let her leave the ship. We’ll be back in a few hours.” 

There was a response, but you couldn’t make it out, either because of the steel barrier or because of their tone of voice. Your brows furrowed. Yet another thing to not understand.

The sound of heavy steps were getting closer to the door and you back away just in time for the door to slide open again. 

At first you think the silhouetted figure is another man, but as the light settles around the room again you stood mouth gaping at another unfamiliar sight. It isn’t a man at all, more a machine. A robot? 

What the hell was happening? 

The robot advances passed the door frame and you quickly back up until you feel the wall pressed behind you, wanting to put as much space between you and it. The way it moved was not slow and clunky like you always imagined a robot would move. This one reminded you of those creepy Claymation movies where everything was always just slightly off. When the robot stops in the middle of the room you let out a shaky breath. Relief filling your senses.

You can’t bring yourself to look away from the robot, afraid that if you did for even a second it would start going towards you again. Its appearance is unnerving. The thing itself was not much taller than you and it was noticeable how some of its dull yellow paint was chipping off its metal exterior. It’s the headpiece that keeps you locked in place. Through a dark opening in its head, two orange, lifeless lights stare back at you. 

Your thoughts were racing almost as fast as your heart. “What are you?” 

“I am L-1,” it says in a low robotic voice.

“A general service droid,” it adds for clarification. 

“Not a guard or a bounty hunter droid as they seem to think.” 

Was that sarcasm? 

“But that doesn’t mean you can try anything, Ms. Taxo.” L-1 brought up a small gun and you flinch. “I can still stun you with my blaster.” 

              A dangerous idea starts to form in your head. Now that the two men were gone, you figure that you’d have a better chance at escaping with only the droid guarding you. L-1 said it himself, he wasn’t even a guard droid. Time to see if you could outsmart a machine. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you blurt out trying to look at L-1’s face instead of the gun (or did he call it a blaster?) he kept pointed at you. 

“That is none of my concern,” L-1 responds sharply. 

“Well,” you start to say, forcing yourself to be more confident. “If I don’t go to the bathroom soon, I’ll end up soiling myself.” You sigh dramatically and add a shrug for good measure. 

“I don’t think they’ll be too happy to see that when they come back.” 

“No... They won’t,” L-1 agrees, though you could hear it was quite forced. You need to say more. 

“And they’d blame you for the mess,” you quickly add. “Might even shut you down.” You hope that was a thing that happened to robots and not just something you pulled out of your ass. 

“Maker! You’re right!” L-1 exclaims. “I’ll be deactivated because of you!” 

L-1 quickly lowers the blaster gun and grabs your cuffs, all but dragging you out of the room by them. 

“There’s a lavatory on board the ship,” he says while you struggle to keep up with his quick strides. “I’ll never understand you organics! How many bodily functions do you even need? It’s not very efficient at all!” 

When you reach another set of doors, L-1 let go of your cuffs and points the blaster gun at you again. 

“Get your business done quickly,” he orders. “We have to return to the other room.” 

You try your best to make an innocent face as you hold up your cuffed hands. 

“I can’t go to the bathroom with these things on.” 

“I cannot remove them,” he states. “You will try and escape if I do.” 

“I can’t!” You point out. “You’re guarding the door. Plus, you have a blaster, and I don’t. You can just take these cuffs off, I can go to the bathroom, and then put them back on when I’m done.” 

His silence was eerie, emphasizing the fact that you have no way of knowing what was going on behind the metal exterior. Did he realize what you were doing? 

“After that, we’ll walk back to the room and it’ll be like none of this ever happened.” 

L-1 lowers the blaster again and uncuffs your wrists. Yes! You try your best to hide your excitement. The door to the bathroom slid open and closes again once you step inside. 

“Don’t take too long!” L-1 orders through the door. 

“I won’t!” You respond, rubbing your wrists where the cuffs had irritated your skin. 

Okay . . . Now what?

You take a second you don’t have to process everything that’s happened. The pieces of information you have don’t make any sense to you but they’re all you have to go on. So far, you are certain of three things: 

First, everyone thought you were some lady named Jules Taxo. 

You gather she is not very popular. Vest had referred to you as a bounty before. You got a sick feeling in your stomach. They want to sell you? Or rather, sell Jules but they thought she was you? You were getting a headache trying to wrap your brain around the situation you were in. 

Second, you think you were abducted by aliens.

The idea sounds farfetched, even to you, but those guys were blue. BLUE! And they mentioned something about Jules going to a different planet - was she also an alien? Anyways, there was also the way that L-1 called your location a ship. Even with your lack of understanding you realize this place  looks more technologically advanced than anything you’d ever seen on Earth. 

And third, robots were real. (You remember it called itself a droid) 

And not very smart. And the one you just met was waiting for you outside the door. 

Right. Back to business. 

You couldn’t bust through the door and hope to fight against the droid. Even without the restriction of your cuffs, it had a gun. There goes plan A. 

Okay, plan B. Was there another door? You frantically start to look around. There’s nothing else in the room except a strange looking tube seat you assume is the toilet. No other doors. 

But there is a vent above you. Plan C! And it looks large enough for you to fit through. You stand on the tube seat and do your best to move the railings without making any noise. You thank God when you see it isn’t bolted to the ceiling and easily slides off. You’ll have to jump in order to create enough of a boost to hoist yourself up. Bending your knees, you get a feel for the movement. 

Okay. You took a deep breath. 3 . . . 2 . . . 

“Are you almost done?!” L-1’s annoyed voice yells through the door. 

You nearly lose your balance on the seat as you curse, and your hands fly out to steady yourself with the walls. You almost forgot about the droid. 

“Just another minute!” You respond, keeping your voice as calm as possible. “I can’t go if you keep pressuring me!” 

You don’t try to listen for his response, but you know he mumbled something. Forgetting the countdown, the renewed sense of urgency gives you all the preparation you need to jump up and reach for the vent. Although it’s not much, you use all your upper body strength to haul yourself up to the vent system. Once your torso is inside, you shimmy the rest of your body in as well.

Looking ahead, the ships vent system looks like a small tunnel. You quickly start to crawl through the vent, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep up your trick the next time L-1 said something. Finding a way out was your main objective as you navigate through the maze of vents. You have no idea where you are going but you try your best keep quiet and increase the distance between you and the droid. 

In one of your turns, you see the vents getting more illuminated. Following the light, you nearly start crying when you see the end of the vent. Through the railing, you could see that it led outside. Kicking the vent out,  you throw yourself out of the ship. 

When you land on the ground, the impact on your knees was felt strongly and you grit your teeth in pain. You gasp at your surroundings, forgetting all about your discomfort.  Spaceships of varying sizes were all around, lined up in neat stations where they were plugged in to large towers.

You can sight see later! Run!

Shaking your head, you start to run for it in the opposite direction of the ship you just escaped from. Something in the back of your mind was reminding you that you have no clue where you are, or where you’re going, but all you care about is getting as far away from that ship as possible. You never want to see it again. 

You run until your lungs burn and your legs feel like jelly. The ship station was far behind you now but since you could still see it in the distance, it was still too close for comfort. Ahead of you, strange clay brown buildings stand against the surrounding dessert terrain. There’s nowhere else to go so you ignore your screaming legs and keep running towards it. 

Two of the large clay buildings make a sort of entrance gate to a city bustling with movement behind them. You thought you were incapable of being surprised anymore, yet you were proved wrong when you stumble into the middle of an active marketplace. You stand frozen in the middle of the street, watching with wide eyes the many booths and stands around you. 

You were baffled by the number of new things you were seeing. The stands were selling strange objects and foods you couldn’t begin to describe. All around you strange creatures, each one more different than the last, visited the booths and exchanged goods. You even saw more droids walking among them. 

Too astonished to even notice, you are unaware of how in the way you are of everything and how much you stick out like a sore thumb. Every so often, an alien bumps into you and glares. Probably wondering why, you, a lone woman in strange clothes, stopped to stand in the middle of a busy street. It wasn’t until one of them had begun to yell at you in a language you didn’t understand that you snap out of it. 

You shake your head and stutter out an apology before quickly moving around him and further down the marketplace. It seemed to go on for miles as unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells add to your confusion. Everything around you blurs together in a mess of too many new experiences. Stand vendors would go up to you and shove products in your face, trying to convince you to buy them, and the crowds would push you further along the market before you even had a chance to decline. It was exhausting and disorienting. 

When you finally stagger to the end of the market, forcing all of its commotion behind you, you were able to round the corner of a nearby building into an abandoned alleyway. Leaning against its wall, you catch your breath and struggle to even out your frantic breathing. 

There was no time to freak out. You remind yourself that there are still people after you. No. After Jules. 

With no bearings and nothing but the clothes on your back, you figure that if you let yourself freak out now, you’d never make it. 

Somehow, you’d have to get as far away from them as possible. And possibly even harder, find a way back home

 ***

 Din Djarin had never gotten along with Jules Taxo.

He thought her extremely unpleasant, a trait most bounty hunters typically shared. She was rude. Undisciplined. Dishonest. Cunning and smart as a whip, he'll admit, but dangerous.

Jules had been one of the many hunters who had tried to take the kid away from him when he first found him on Arvala-7. She put up an impressive fight, and in the end managed to escape alive. Something that could not be said for the majority of those he encountered.

So, when Greef Karga told him of the large bounty on her head, he did not hesitate to accept it. He had a score to settle. Not only for himself, but for Grogu.

"Black Sun is offering a heavy sum for bringing her in alive," he tells him.

Beside him, Grogu takes sips from a soup bowl and watches the two men curiously.

Karga points at him, "You sure you want to bring the kid with you on this one? Taxo won't play fair if she sees him. Why not leave him here with us? He could stay at the school."

"The kid goes wherever I go," Din responds, leaving to room for discussion. After everything that's happened, the only place he felt Grogu was safe was at his side.

Nodding in understanding, Karga leads the conversation back to business.

"There's no puck," he explains. "Do you still want it?"

Din nods, "What do I have to go on?"

"A last known location and a picture," Karga says as he began to dig through his jacket pocket. "This is what I know. Taxo ran off to some planet in the unknown regions to escape Black Sun. There, she was caught and taken to Klatooine where she escaped them a few days ago. That's where she was last reported."

"Taxo got caught?" Din was unable to hide his surprise. Everyone in the galaxy who knew of Jules's reputation would've had a hard time believing it. "By who?"

Karga sighs, "The Gotros brothers."

"Them?!" They couldn't catch a bantha if it were right in front of them. "How?"

"Ah!" the magistrate exclaims, pulling a disk out of his pocket. "Here it is!"

 When he set it on the table, a holographic image shows a picture of a woman he has never seen before. And he was sure he'd remember a face like hers. The sound of Grogu's coos pulls his eyes away from the hologram, instead focusing on how his small, green hands stretch out to reach for the image. He likes the look of her too.

"She's beautiful, right?" Karga asks rhetorically, not giving him time to answer before continuing. "This is Jules' new face. The doctor who did the reconstruction told the Gotros brothers where she was headed. I guess she didn't count on his loose lips."

He scolds himself for getting momentarily distracted with Jules' reconstruction. Din extends his arm towards Grogu when he hears him coo again, and gently pulls his hands away from the hologram. He forces himself to find a flaw in her picture, but he can’t find any. Instead, resolving to compare her to the way that some flowers were poisonous despite their alluring appearance.

"Why did they take her to Klatooine?" he asks Karga.

"They stopped there to refuel," he laughs. "Apparently, they left her alone with a droid and that's how she escaped."

"That's it?"

"That's all I've got. Look Mando, a lot of bounty hunters are going to be after her when they catch wind of how much Black Sun will pay for her. I suggest you leave as soon as possible before she finds her way off that desert rock."

Din nods, setting Grogu back in his floating pram.

"Thank you," he tells his friend, before walking away and towards the Razor Crest.

"Looks like we're headed to Klatooine, kid."

 ***

 Two days have gone by since you escaped the ship.

Two of the most frustrating days you've ever experienced in your entire life. For the remainder of your first day there, you spent the entire time in the alleyway. Too afraid to go out in the open in case they saw you. You barely slept that night either.

Basic survival instinct and years of living as a woman on Earth nagged at your decision to remain in a secluded space, alone in the dark. You couldn't be bothered, though, as exhaustion crept through your bones. You silently prayed for a break which you received. No one came into the alleyway that night.

The following day, you decided to carefully explore the city you were in. Turns out, your curiosity for the alien planet overpowered your fear. Being the fast learner that you were, two things became abundantly clear:

First, there was an obvious language barrier.

You could not read a single thing on this planet. No matter where you went, the written language was made up of strange symbols that were unfamiliar to you. Thankfully, some of the inhabitants spoke English, which you discovered they called ‘basic', so at least you weren't completely lost.

Second, you were broke.

Their monetary system made no sense to you. ‘Credits’, as they were called, were something you did not have. Something that became abundantly clear the longer you went without food.

In spite of those things, you found yourself marveling at all of the new sights around you – the same ones that had sent you spiraling the day before. You felt alive walking through the foreign city as each step presented an opportunity to learn something else about the strange planet. Everything around you, from the alien creatures to the unfamiliar music to the clothing everyone wore, reminded you of how different it was from Earth. Different, but still beautiful.

The constant threat of being found remained in the back of your mind at all times as you wove through the unfamiliar streets, careful not to stray too far from the market. However, you must've been doing something right because you had yet to run into the blue men again. It made you wonder if they were either really bad at hunting people, or if you were just naturally good at evading your captors. You doubted it was the latter.

Halfway through that day, you realized that hiding your face would be the best course of action. You needed a face covering and had to find a way to get one without any money.

The day the blue men captured you on Earth, the weather channel had forecasted a cold front, so you left your apartment wearing a coat. One you were currently carrying around on the hot planet you were wandering through. It was your favorite one.

You sighed as you walked up to a market vendor who sold a variety of products.

"Hello?" you greeted, hoping the man spoke the only language you understood. Although he didn’t say anything, he looked up at you when you spoke, so you took that as a sign to keep going.

"I don't have any money," you started. God, you sounded pathetic. "But I have this coat. Would I be able to trade it for anything here that would cover my face?"

The man held out his hand for the coat and you handed it to him. He immediately held it up and began inspecting its quality. You furrowed your brows. Even with everything you've been through, the coat was still a hell of a lot cleaner than anything else he was selling. You decided not to voice that thought, though. Instead, choosing to bite your tongue.

"This coat can't get you any of the helmets,"' he said in a gruff voice. "But I can trade you a cloak for it. It has a large hood."  

You reluctantly nodded and he handed you a black cloak. As you were putting it on, he pointed at your necklace.

"That's a fine piece of jewelry you got there. If you give it to me, I'll throw in the best helmet I've got."

He held up a strange looking device for you to see.

"It's an Ubese raider helmet," he began to explain. "Not only does it hide your face, but the speech scrambler can mask your voice."

You looked at the helmet longingly. That thing was exactly what you needed. Your fingers danced around the pearl above your heart. Suddenly, it weighed a thousand pounds.

It was the only real reminder you had of your family back on Earth. If you ended up never seeing them again, this would be all you had left of them.

"No, thank you," you said, shaking your head. "It's not for sale."

Leaving it at that, you threw up the hood and kept walking. The cloak would have to do.

That night you couldn't sleep either, but it wasn't for a lack of trying. Curled up in the corner of the alleyway, your new cloak blending you into the night, your constant hunger pains kept you up. You hadn't eaten anything in two days, and it was starting to show.

Now, you stumble around the city, hoping to maybe trade off your shoes for a bite of anything to eat - You were that desperate, when you hear something strange coming from behind a building nearby. Carefully, you creep over to investigate, a gut feeling telling you that finding out would be better than ignoring it.

When you round the corner, you see a tall burley man cornering an alien woman. From the looks if it, she was trying to shove him off, but he was too strong for her.

You desperately look around, trying to find a way to help her. Your gaze lands on a large metal pipe on the ground and you quickly grab it.

You huff when the weight of it settles in your hand. This thing weighs a ton! Even at your most physically fit, you doubted you’d be able to carry it with ease. And you weren't exactly the picture of health at the moment.

You ignore that thought, focusing on helping the alien woman. Silently, you get behind the man. With his back to you, and his mind preoccupied with the woman, he hadn't heard you come closer. With as much strength as you can muster, you raise the metal pipe and swing it at the man’s head. It collides and the sick sound of bone crunching rings through the air as he falls to the floor. Unconscious or dead, it doesn't really matter to you.

The alien woman gasps and keeps staring back and forth between you, the unconscious man, and the metal pipe in your hand.

Your vision starts to get spotty. Clearly, you used up the little energy you had in you on this little rescue mission.

"You're welcome," was all you managed to slur out before the pipe fell out of your grip and you fell to the ground as well. Unconscious or dead, you didn’t really know.

 ***

 When you wake up, you figure that you're dead.

That the soft light coming in is heaven and you're laying on a cloud.

"You're awake," you hear a woman’s' voice say somewhere near you.

As you fully regain consciousness, you find out with great disappointment that the cloud you were on was actually a bed and the light was coming from a nearby window. Your eyes land on the woman in front of you, the same one from before, who was sitting at the edge of your bed with a blaster pointed at you. She was a species that you observed was one of the more human-like. Her skin was a light pink color, and instead of hair, she had two long appendages that sat on the top of her head. Sitting up, you held your hands up in surrender, hoping to explain yourself but she beat you to it.

"You're Jules Taxo," she spit out. Oh, great! This again?

You start to shake your head, "N-No, no, you don't -"

"Don't bother denying it," she interrupts. "I saw your wanted hologram in the cantina."

You open your mouth to speak again but she cuts you off this time too.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to turn you in," she says lowering her gun. "You helped me out back there, so I owe you one, but I don't want any of your trouble."

You let out a breath of relief, "Thank you."

             "You can stay here for the night," she adds. "I can give you some food too, you look like you haven't eaten in days."  Your mouth waters at the sound of a meal.

"But you'll need to leave in the morning, Jules. Like I said, I don’t want trouble."

"Thank you so much," you say with a heavy sigh. "I appreciate everything you're doing for me, believe me, I do. But I am not Jules Taxo, so please don't call me that."

"What do you mean?" she questions so you explain your situation to her, thankful to finally have someone to talk to about it.

She listens carefully to all you have to say. Who you really were, how you were caught, and how you ended up wandering alone on a planet you never knew existed. You honestly couldn’t tell if she believed you or not, but it felt good to have someone listen to you after days of being on your own.

"You don't have to worry, I'll be out in the morning," you add when you’re done. "I just have no idea what to do after that."

"You need to find a pilot to take you to one of the Inner Rim planets," she says with a forlorn expression. "New republic officers will be able to help you better there."

"So, you believe me?" you ask, feeling hope sprout in your chest.

"I do," she nods, smiling at you. "My name is Krin, by the way."

"Thank you, Krin."

"You’re welcome, but I'm not the ones you have you convince."

"Right," you say, sitting up straighter. "So how do I get a pilot?"

"With credits," she sighs. "More than either of us have. Trust me, I've been saving up to move to the inner rim for years and am not even close to saving up for what these crooks around here will charge you for taking you there."

"I don't have any credits," you mumble more to yourself than to her.

The two of you drop the conversation there, choosing to eat dinner together instead. You follow her to the kitchen where Krin offers you a green soup that you graciously scarf down. It was bland, and didn't taste like much but in that moment, it became your favorite food.

After dinner, Krin told you about her life. How she spent her whole life on Klatooine (the planet you were on), and how her dream was to move to one of the inner rim planets and be a professional dancer. She told you about the war and the Empire, and how they brought destruction across the galaxy.

It amazed you to find out these things. So much was happening outside of Earth that nobody even knew about. Wars were waged, entire planets were being destroyed, millions of people died. And nobody knew about it.

"What do you know about Jules?" Krin asks you, bringing you back to the conversation at hand.

"Nothing. Except that everyone hates her, apparently."

"She's a famous bounty hunter," she told you. "Someone who hunts down people for money. Those guys are always loaded with credits."

Instantly her eyes lit up with an understanding that you did not share. You raise an eyebrow at her.

"I have an idea for how to get us a pilot!" Krin all but shouts at you.

"How? You said we couldn't afford one."

"But Jules can!" She looks at you expectantly, but you still do not understand.

"You said she stole your face, right? Well, automated bank teller machines work through facial recognition, and I'm willing to bet she updated her security before she went into hiding. If you used one of those machines, you'd have access to all of her credits. We could use them to get off world!"

You could barely believe it. "Would that actually work?"

"As long as she updated the security to her new face - your face, it should," she says. "The only problem is that it would probably also alert those who are looking for you."

"So, if we wanted to do this, it would have to be quick," you confirm.

"Yes."

"Okay," you declare. "We'll go tomorrow."

  ***

 The last thing he expected from this job was for it to be easy.

Din expected a challenge. With no tracking fob and only a location from a few days ago to go on, he assumed it would take him at least a couple of days to find which part of Klatooine she was on. His confusion could not have been more evident when he got a signal from a specific pinpoint location where she used facial recognition to extract credits.

He now had her exact coordinates. If fact, any bounty hunter in the system looking for her would have them now too. Was she trying to attract attention to herself? If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was being sloppy on purpose.

Landing the Crest outside of the city that contained her coordinates, he wastes no time in navigating through the busy streets towards a bar. Everyone in his line of work knew that if you ever needed information on something illegal, a bar was the best place to go to.  

He keeps Grogu’s pram open while walking through the bustling market, careful to not let anyone steal what he worked so hard to keep, but at the same time glad to see the child beam at the exciting, new surroundings. As he moves down the street, everyone turns their heads to stare at him, clearly not used to seeing a Mandalorian. If he got too close, they would back away, unintentionally clearing a path for him. This was nothing new for him. In the beginning, the stares would make him feel raw and exposed despite the piles of beskar protecting him. Now, they were like grains of sand in the wind. Only a mild inconvenience to him.

When he reaches the bar, all activity stops for a moment. Again, he was the center of attention.

He stands still until everyone inside decides they had their fill of his image, turning back to their drinks and conversations. Din walks over to the bartender.

"What will you having?" the man asks him. As if he could accept.

             "Information," he chose, and slid the bartender a couple of credits.

"What do you know about Jules Taxo," Din asks showing the man her holographic picture. He ignores the happy noise the child makes at it as he continues his questioning. "My sources say she's somewhere on this planet."

"I heard rumors she was on Klatooine," he says rubbing his chin. "But I've never seen her walk in here." he points to the picture.

"Is that all you know?" Din already knew this answer.  

"For the amount of credits you just gave me? Yes."  

His jaw clenches as he hands the man more credits.

             "Ah! I remember now," he continues, pocketing his win. "This morning a lady wearing a Ubese raider helmet, which she was very adamant on keeping on, paid a local pilot an absurd amount of credits to take her and her Twi'lek friend off world."

"Do you know where they went?" Din presses, already tired of haggling for information.

"They wanted to get to the inner rim. The pilot could only take them as far as Pasaana, but they agreed to go anyways. That's all I know."

Din mulls over the information in his mind as the bartender left to go tend to the other customers. What would a bounty hunter like Jules want in the inner rim? Did she think she could hide better there? His instincts told him that there was something off about the whole situation, but he chose to ignore the feeling as he made his way back to the Razor Crest.

He would capture Jules in Pasaana.

 ***

 You and Krin moved fast. By the end of the day, you two had already made it off world and were on your way to Pasaana.

She had been right about the credits, and after obtaining them, the first thing you did was go back to the vendor who you got your cloak from and properly paid for the helmet he showed you that day. Since then, you hadn’t taken it off and while it wasn’t the most comfortable accessory you’d ever worn, you preferred it to feeling so exposed. The helmet had more features than you knew what to do with, all of which would have been useful for whatever raiding it was designed for, but you only cared for the voice scrambler.

Krin also convinced you to buy some blasters for your protection. Even though you had no idea how to use it, you felt better knowing you had a for-emergencies-only weapon strapped to your hip. Hopefully, you’d never have to use it.

The trip to Pasaana had been nerve wrecking. The first time you flew through space you had been unconscious, so you didn’t really count it. This time, you’re fully aware of every little movement and drop in altitude as your hands grip your seat with such a force that it turns your knuckles white. It reminds you of being on an airplane and how you were never one for air travel to begin with. Even after the ship stops shaking as it enters hyperspace (a concept you could barely wrap your head around), and everyone was allowed to roam around you still stay glued to your seat.

             “You must not have much space travel on Earth, huh,” Krin teases.

             “We don’t have any,” you say, trying to keep your voice level in spite of the helmet’s delivery of your voice.

             “That thing makes you sound like a broken droid.”

She wasn’t wrong. The scrambler on the helmet dropped your voice by a couple of octaves and made the sound coarse and choppy.

Much to Krin’s disappointment, Pasaana was another desert planet. You on the other hand can’t find a reason to complain. How many people back home get to go to different planets? None! That thought makes you feel incredibly small.

Besides, Pasaana serves its purpose just fine. It got you away from Klatooine, which was where everyone thought Jules was going to be.

You only wish you could help more. Krin does all the work for both of you, seeing as she knows the languages and monetary system, and you can barely keep her in your line of sight as the new surroundings tempt you into distraction. You cringe at your position, lagging behind like a shadow and hovering around her conversation with the next group of pilots she found to take you to an inner rim planet. You feel like you’re watching a foreign movie without subtitles with enough context to follow the plot but not enough understanding to catch the finer details. When she nods at you, though, you immediately know what she wants, not needing to know the language to understand that nothing is done for free. So, you dig the pouch of Jules’ credits out of your pocket and set it down in front of her where she carefully pulls out the right amount and promptly gives it back to you for safekeeping.

They told Krin to meet them in the shipyard tomorrow morning, until then, you had the entire rest of the day to yourselves.

             You both agree on finding an inn to spend the night in and seeing as you have so much time on your hands, you see no harm in ignoring the looming threat of the situation to go spend time in the city before you do. While Klatooine’s arid streets had been full of impatient characters and hard stares, Pasaana’s warm sand welcomes you both with a peaceful energy.

Its markets are different – calmer and more relaxed, giving anyone who walked through them the opportunity to enjoy themselves. You and Krin take advantage of this change of pace, making stops at every stand to see what each have to offer.

             “I’m starving!” she says, pointing somewhere down the street. “That vendor’s selling something that smells amazing! Let’s go!”

Once there, she buys something (which to you, looks an awful lot like a charred squirrel) that’s skewered on a stick. You opt for a fruit instead, its shape roughly resembling a pare with a dark orange color. You’re about to take off your helmet to bite into it when a figure in the distance catches your eye by how much it stands out. At first you think it’s a droid by how its’ shine contrasts against the earth tones of the market, but as it moves through the crowds you realize it carries itself with aura all to powerful to be anything but a man. Its armor, you realize and as if he heard your thoughts, his helmet moves to your direction and stills.

With his helmet on you can’t tell if he’s actually looking at you or not, and you hope that yours offers you that same privilege. The armored man does not look away from you, his stare only making your blood run colder with every second he holds it. You look away first, and its childish the way you feel like you lost.

             “Let’s keep moving,” you tell Krin, fruit forgotten as you herd her further along your path, no longer able to keep putting off the reality of your situation. “We need to find an inn, it’s getting late.”

She protests but you push her along anyways, your paranoia heightening every time you realize that the armored man is still close no matter how many twists and turns you make through the stands.

Krin shouts your name and pulls you to a stop.

             “What’s gotten into you?” she gasps, out of breath. “You’re going to tear my arm off if you keep dragging me around like this.”

             “Someone’s following us,” you let her know, nodding in the armored mans’ direction to see him moving your way.

             Krins’ eyes widen and now it’s her who’s pushing you to move, “RUN!”

You don’t think twice as you break off into a sprint. You’re pushing past the crowds and somewhere along the way you realize that Krin is no longer next to you. You frantically look around, only to find the armored man still hot on your trail. You only pray that you'll find her again eventually as you continue running.

You keep this up until you reach a dead end where the unused carts of the market are piled up high. If you could climb those, then maybe -

The sound of slowing footsteps behind you makes you spin. The armored man stands a few yards ahead of you, effectively cornering you like a runaway animal. Internally you’re screaming at yourself for allowing yourself to be chased into this position. You should have just gone to the inn to begin with.

The both of you stare at each other again much like before. This time, there is no question of who his gaze is directed to. For a moment, its quiet and the only thing you can hear is your heavy breathing amplified by your helmet. Can he hear it too?

Against the setting sun, his unmoving frame looks like a grand metal statue. The rich colors of the sky are beautifully reflected on his armor. If he weren’t trying to kill you, you’d say he looks like a knight from a fantasy.

You snap out of it and remember that you’re really in a nightmare. How were you going to get out of this one? The armored mans’ hand was hovering around something on his waist – his own blaster probably, prepared in case you were going to use yours – as if you could miraculously learn how to use it before he shot you down. You contemplate the probability of that scenario, but you doubt you would win a shoot out with this space cowboy.

             “Jules Taxo,” he says loudly, the surprise of the sudden words making you jump. The voice is low, and it seems to shake the ground below you.

You don’t respond, only backing up, hoping to inch closer to the pile of carts. When you first saw them, it was hard to see how high up they went, but you hope that it was high enough to jump onto the nearby roof building. That is, if he doesn’t shoot first.

“I can bring you in warm,” he starts, moving closer with every step you back away. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

             “What the f-,” you whisper, biting back the curse and horrified at the threat. You stop your movements when your back touches the carts. The armored man stops advancing too, waiting for you to make the first move. It’s now or never.

You turn around and start to scale the pile of carts as fast as you possibly can. It’s clumsy and you probably look ridiculous, but you figure its better than being “brought in cold” refusing to even think about what that meant. You start to believe that maybe this sudden plan was actually going to work, but all of your thoughts stop cold when you feel a tight grip around your ankle trying to pull you down. You let yourself curse then, doing your best to grip the cart you’re on to resist him. You thought your slight head start would keep him out of reach. Evidently, you were wrong.

Your mind is ten steps ahead of your actions, trying to take in any detail that could get you out of this. The first thing you think of is his metal armor, so you latch on to that thought and let yet another desperate plan form. You seem to be doing a lot of those lately.

The armor should be heavy if it's made of metal, you think. His grip on your foot is too strong, and the more you kick, the more you risk losing you footing. But you have the high ground and maybe, if you let go and fell just right, you'd be able to use the weight of his own armor against him in the fall. That might buy you a few seconds to run away again.

You let go of the cart and let yourself fall on the armored man. Your plan works. In his surprise, he let go of your ankle and you both fall back to the hard ground. You land on him harshly and hear him groan as the weight of himself catches up to him. You scramble to get off of him, doing your best to ignore how much your head is pounding with how hard you fell. The man did nothing to soften the landing.

Before you can get too far, the armored man, still on the ground, extends his arm out blindly to grab at you. His heavy hand reaches for your helmet hoping to pin you down, but he misses and instead finds a hold on the gold chain around your neck. You feel a sting as it’s snapped off.

             “My necklace!” you gasp, the voice scrambler failing to hide your panic.

You’re both standing now, opposite of how you were earlier. His back is to the carts while yours faces the streets, and while he’s cornered and you have the chance to run away, all you can think about is the necklace that’s dangling from his fist. There’s a heavy pause in the air as no one moves. The armored man looks at the necklace in his hand and then back to you. Your hands flex, itching to grab it from him but you know that if you get close you won’t be able to escape him again.

He starts to move again, and you break out into a run. You’re sure he’s about to reach you any second now when you hear a high-pitched noise come from somewhere in front of you. A flash of bright blue zooms passed your face, and you fall to the ground. It barely missed you and you breath in gulps of air to calm yourself.

You lift your head up from the ground when you hear a familiar voice call your name. Krin!

             “Come on!” she says when she’s close enough to pull you off the floor. “We have to get out of here before he wakes up.”

Sure enough, when you look back, the armored man is an unconscious heap on the sandy ground. You don’t bother to wonder how long he’ll stay that way before you and Krin race away to an inn.

When you arrive, your thoughts are either nonexistent or too slow to register. Probably a survival mechanism to keep you from freaking out. You’re barely able to catch the conversation Krin has with the innkeeper or realize you’re walking to a room. It’s when she locks the door and shuts the blinds that you’re able to tune back in.

“You never told me the people after you were Mandalorians!” she exclaims, pacing around the room.

“I don’t even know what a Mandalorian is!” you say, ripping off the helmet in frustration. “I’ve never seen him before! He wasn’t part of the group that captured me on Klatooine.”

Your hand inches towards your neck and you cringe at the absence of your necklace. You forgot to go back for it, you remember.

             “Mandalorians are a race of crazy warrior people,” she sighs, sitting on the bed with her head in her hands. “If one is after us, then we’re as good as dead.”

The Mandalorian is not after her, you think dully. Its after you. Guilt weighs down on you like a heavy blanket. Because of you, Krin could get killed when she’s done nothing but help you survive. She didn’t deserve this.

“That stun better keep him down long enough for us to leave the planet. Hopefully, we can lose him.”

You acknowledge her comment with a hum, knowing well enough that you weren’t going to leave this planet together anymore.

 ***

               Neither one of you slept as much as you should have last night, and despite her cheery disposition when she nears the ship you’re both supposed to get on, you can tell that Krin is incredibly tired. You are too, but the anxiety of what you’re about to do keeps you from fully admitting it.

As she starts to board, you grab her arm forcing her to stop moving. She turns, giving you a confused look.

             “I’m not going with you,” you say directly.

“What?” She questions, yanking her arm from your grasp. “What are you talking about? Why?”

“These people are after me, not you,” you explain. “You’ve helped me get this far and for that I’ll always be thankful for, but I’m putting you in danger and can’t let you risk your life for me anymore.”

“No! Y-“

You place a bag in her hands, cutting off her protests. “Half of her credits are in here. Take them and start a new life in the inner rim like you wanted.”

“But what about you?” She asks and you can start to see tears forming in her eyes.

You blink back your own, thankful that you can at least hide yours behind the helmet. “Don’t worry. I’m keeping the other half of the credits.”

“I meant, what are you going to do?”

You pull her in for a hug which she returns with a tight squeeze. “I’ll be okay,” you tell her, hoping that you didn’t just lie to her. “I hope we see each other again.”

             Krin laughs through a small sob, “And under different circumstances.”

             “Thank you,” you tell her before pulling away, leaving the shipyard behind you.

You walk back to the city, head held high with determination forcing your steps, well aware that a certain armored man has been following you all morning.

 ***

               Din forgot all about the Twi’lek companion.

That’s the first thought he has when he wakes up, groaning at the discomfort he feels when he’s able to stand. It’s been a while since he’s been stunned.

His second thought is more of an instinct as he looks around for the child’s floating pram. Much to his relief, and generous luck, it’s still next to him closed and protected. He pushes a button on his vambrace, opening the pram which reveals Grogu’s furrowed face. He lets out annoyed whines that Din assumes are from being shut in for as long as he’s been unconscious.

             “I know, kid. I’m sorry,” he says, rubbing one of the child’s ears. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

Small complaints are replaced with distracted joyful noises as the child reaches out to the dangling object he didn't even notice he was still holding.

Din inspects Jules' necklace further, a delicate gold chain with a single pearl dangling from it. He remembers the way she froze when he took it from her. The way it seemed like parting from it was almost as much of a struggle as it was running away from him.

Not for the first time he finds himself thinking that this entire job has been strange. Jules had been easy to find in Pasaana as well. It wasn't hard to track the ships coming in from Klatooine and spotting her in the market crowd had been a simple task - her pink partner drastically stood out and not many people wore Ubese helmets while parading around a market. It was like she wasn't even trying to hide.

He also remembers her putting up a better fight the last time he ran into her. Why hadn't she used her blaster? Jules all but used him for target practice last time, and he was fully prepared for a shootout to occur. He even closed the child’s pram beforehand so he wouldn't accidentally get caught in the crossfire.

So why did she choose to climb the carts? It made no sense! She had to know that she couldn't have gotten far like that.

She was buying time for her partner, he reasons, trying to not to overthink. She's not stupid. She was toying with him while the other one got ready to shoot. If he had been paying more attention, he would have noticed it.

He stares at the necklace again, knowing that he should just toss it aside and let the winds cover it with sand overnight, erasing it from his memory. But he can't come up with a good enough excuse as to why he shouldn't be allowed keep it. Din sighs and settles on pocketing it for some unknown reason, ending his distraction.

He still has to find her and now she had a head start. Mumbling a curse, he spends the rest of the night picking up her trail again which leads him to a shipyard the following morning.

From where he hides, Din can see that she’s about to board a ship. He starts to move out of his position, eager to prevent her from getting on and ending this assignment once and for all. But she stops and he witnesses a heartfelt goodbye between Jules and her partner before she heads away from the shipyard. He follows closely behind, confused as to where she’s going now that she didn’t board the ship.

She winds through the streets and he stalks her every move until she turns around and fixes her gaze in his general direction. No. Not his general direction – at him specifically. Din has enough experience with viewing life through a helmet to know when someone is looking directly at him. She holds the stare for a few moments before continuing her walk through the city. He understands through that wordless encounter that she wants him to follow her.

Hand on his blaster, he follows her steps until he sees her halt at the end of a secluded street. Jules turns around and removes her helmet.

Din doesn’t acknowledge the breath that escapes him and doesn’t dare think about how the holographic picture doesn’t compare to the real thing.

             “I’m not going to run from you anymore, Mandalorian,” she says, shifting the position of her helmet beneath an arm as she holds her wrists out in surrender.

Her voice snaps him out of his daze, thankful that his armor hid the lack of composure on his face. Din clenches his jaw as he takes out his blaster, pointing it at her as he moves closer to her. She doesn’t move a muscle, only keeps staring with an unreadable expression.

He stops moving when he’s about a foot away from where she stands. He expects her to attack then, to pull out her blaster or to make a jarring movement that could potentially throw him off. Jules doesn’t do any of those things and he finds it just as unsettling that she is giving up so easily.

“If I go with you,” she starts, her voice set with steady resolve. “Will you leave the woman I was with alone?”

             He wasn’t expecting that question but answers her anyways, “The bounty is on you. She is of no concern to me.”

Whether she was aware of it or not, she visibly relaxes at his answer. Jules nods, letting out a sharp exhale and extends her wrists out further.

             “I surrender willingly, then.” Din cuffs her wrists quickly before she has a chance to change her mind. He’s about to begin leading her to the Crest when she adds a final condition.

“Just don’t stun me.”

[reaperintheroses]

My Pilot

Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: this is the first time I’ve ever done head cannons and written starwars. This is relatively long and I’m not super proud of the ending. Same as last time I tried to keep it gender neutral so if there are any pronouns for the reader other than they/them please let me know so I can fix it. Also requests are open.

Warnings: death, angst, reader is pretty malnourished in the beginning, there isn’t a ton of dialogue, hinted use of a sedative, hospitals, passing out, talk of execution, angst, fluff.

Now you had lived on Hosnian Prime for about as long as you could remember 

You didn’t live directly in the city but more in the countryside

So when the first order invaded your planet your small town was one of the first to be taken over

Now it was important to note that your mother and father had fought for the resistance against the empire all those years ago and you had kept your father’s resistance jacket. 

So it wasn’t helpful that if you were discovered to have any links to the resistance, old or new, that you would be executed

You weren’t going to get rid of the jacket, it was the last piece you had of your parents

Though 5 days later when the first order came knocking on your door you realized that you probably should have done something smarter with it than just hide the jacket under a loose floorboard in your bedroom

They asked if it was fine to do a random search to make sure you weren’t hiding any illegal contraband

They were in your house for maybe ten minutes before they found the jacket

You had a fast and unfair trial where you were quickly sentenced to death 

Your parents would be so disappointed if they knew you just stopped fighting

You stopped caring about what happened to yourself. 

They stored you in what used to be the small city jail and kind of forgot about you

You had no clue how many days had passed or what season you were in now

The only time you really felt something was when one of the guards came in and told you that you had three days left

You just nodded and went back to sleeping, tears staining your cheeks

Death was scary, man how could you not be scared

So much to your surprise a little while later a loud bang woke you up

Shooting up you looked around for somewhere to hide and when you realized there was nowhere you backed yourself into the corner of the old cell

‘Was this the end’ you wondered in the longest three minutes of all time as you waited to see what had caused the large noise

So when a man wearing the ugliest shade of orange you ever had the misfortune of laying your eyes across slid into your view 

Let’s just say your interest was quite peaked

He started yelling that there wasn’t time to waste and you just raised your eyebrows

He managed to get your cell open and grabbed your hand pulling you through the building, turning around every few seconds to make sure that you hadn't died 

When you stepped outside the first thing you felt was shock

At the time of your arrest and trial, it had been in the dead of winter and from the looks of it it was almost summer

The second thing you felt was self-conscious about how you looked and smelled, you weren't going to deny the man in front of you was quite hot regardless of the blood and sweat all over his suit

The third thing you felt was pain

The sunlight felt far too bright and it blinded you for about a minute and then started to give you a pounding headache

Keeping your eyes shut you just trusted your rescuer to help guide you so that you wouldn't have to open your eyes and face the bright suns beating down on you

You had no clue how long you were running for all you knew was that it was a long time and a while back you cut your leg on a bush or something

You opened your eyes a little later and saw that you were face to face with an x-wing

He climbed up and started hitting different switches trying to prepare the ship for take-off

He shouted down to you to hop up and that one you were safely in hyperspace he would help you clean your leg

Grabbing the later you swung your body into the ship and strapped yourself in

You heard shouts coming from a distance and your eyes widened 

You didn’t want to rush him but you were starting to get scared 

Right as the stormtroopers started to approach where you were the ship shot up off the ground 

When the shit started to leave the planet’s atmosphere you started to get a little dizzy

Lights started swimming in your vision and you reached for the sides of the ship to help steady yourself

Right as the pilot turns around and starts to ask a question you slump forward in your seat a pounding headache causing you to pass out

You woke up strapped to a bed in a very strange place that smelt strangely of lemons

Citrus smell set aside a strange place is still a strange place 11/10 would not recommend 

After quickly shaking your head to clear the fuzzy feeling you started to struggle in an attempt to escape the straps that kept you tied to the cot

Before you could even manage to undo the first one though the pilot came running in along with a nurse and one or two more people 

The pilot put his hand on your forehead telling you that your okay and that the nurse was just going to give you something to help you calm down

You stop struggling but only because a large sleepy feeling is taking over you 

Your holding onto the cliff of consciousness with only your fingertips you can feel the pilot smoothing his hand over your forehead telling you that it's okay to let go and that he’ll be here when you wake up

The cliff breaks and as the last pebbles fall into the dark abyss of sleep you fall with them.

Waking up round two is a little better

You look over and see the pilot asleep in a chair next to you, snoring softly

It’s endearing honestly

Without all of life’s stresses and the fate of the galaxy resting on his shoulders he looked way younger

Earlier when the two of you were racing against stormtroopers and fighting to escape your planet he was hot

But now he was just plain cute

You coughed slightly and he jolted out of his sleep

He hit a button above his head before sitting up and stretching 

He looked down at you and you looked up at him with a questioning look

“Your safe, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore,” he replied back down to you in a soft tone

Oh thank the gods

The two of you just stared at each other for a few more minutes before a nurse came in and kicked him out so she could do an examination without him distracting her

She started asking you questions about when you last ate, how much fluid you had consumed in the past day, etc.

It was hard to answer 

She talked about how you would need to be fed through a tube to help get your strength back up but once you got back to a sustainable weight you would be able to start eating solid food again

You nodded at the appropriate time trying to show your focus but your mind was elsewhere 

You couldn’t stop thinking about the pilot 

You think somewhere in her information dump she realized that you were thinking about completely off-topic things

She made to leave and right as she was about to swing out the door you opened your mouth

For the first time in months, you started to speak

You croaked out a gentle “where am I?”

Your nurse smiled at you and replied “Oh honey, you’re on the resistance base.” she left the room without another word and you shut your eyes as you smiled feeling small tears of joy seep out of your eyes

The pilot would come and visit you almost every day and tell you about everything and nothing from small things like what some of the members of his squadron did at lunch to things like his family back home on Yavin 4, to occasionally stories about his mother who was in the resistance along with your parents. 

Even when he couldn’t be there due to missions he would always write you a letter before you left, telling you to keep your head up and that he would be back soon to tell you about all the stars 

Every time you missed him you would read his letters, sometimes your shoulders would shake with silent tears, and others with full out laughing fits at the small jokes he would put in there. 

He once told you that you were the first person he would come see after he returned regardless of what he had to do once he returned

In the very beginning, he would come to you straight after he landed but the smell of gasoline gave you a headache and that gods-awful flight suit made you want to kick him so you told the nurse to make sure that he showered after returning from a mission before coming to see you 

You hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to the pilot yet. You were worried that he would see you as all healed up and abandon you for the next person he saw who he fancied, you heard the nurses gossip sometimes about him

NOT to imply that the pilot fancied you, nor you him. 

You didn’t like him, nope not one bit

You told yourself this all the time but the moment he flashed that damn smile at you it was like the wall you had built around your heart constructed exactly with those words would fall a small bit and once he left you would have to spend hours reconstructing it by telling yourself that he was just watching over you to make sure that you pulled through and then he would leave you in the dust

Love was scary

But when your pilot came to visit you he would talk and talk and talk, and when he wasn’t there? You would fantasize a life with him once this war was over

When you started calling him your pilot?

Honestly couldn’t tell you the line was kinda blurred

You would tell yourself every time he would come that this would be the time you talked to him

It never happened

You were talking plenty now

You would talk to the nurses when they would bring you food or come check on you

It was just nerve racking to talk to your pilot

But when he came in next time, with an encouraging nod from your nurse, you replied to something he said

He just asked a question about what you ate 

Normally he would just throw in that question before telling you about what the cafeteria had for breakfast 

Before he could answer his own question you just replied quietly “toast and eggs”

He started to answer his question before doing a double take and looking back down at you 

“You talk?” you just smiled at him playfully, reveling in his shock for a moment

It wasn’t nearly as bad as you anticipated 

After that conversation came far easier

Now at this point your probably able to walk around the infirmary and the base during night when there isn’t as many people

But the fateful day came where it was suggested that you eat in the cafeteria 

Yeah you thought taking was hard? This felt nearly impossible

Luckily you were able to come to a compromise and you would wake up early and go eat before most people got up

So there you were standing in front of a display of food with almost no one else around

You felt like a fish out of water and at peace at the same time

You just grabbed the first peace of fruit you saw and a small slice of bread before going to sit down

You started to calm down and eat in peace 

You were in your own little world so when you felt a hand on your shoulder you practically fell out of your seat you jumped so high

There, your pilot was standing looking surprised

He gestured next to you and you just nodded your head

The two of you quickly recovered and soon enough he was talking your head off, telling you about a crazy dream he had

Your pilot made you feel very comfortable 

So you started to eat breakfast with him every day

This quickly became lunch

And dinner

This was how you met his squadron

You became quick friends with most of them 

These meals quickly became apart of your daily routine 

You looked forward to seeing your pilot and his friends 

So when your pilot did not show up for 4 days straight you started to worry

You were able to catch snap in the hallway one day before dinner and ask where he was

He told you that he was on a solo mission but he should be back in a couple of days

So when he didn’t show up nearly two weeks later you started to get worried

Snap told you that he had been lost in action and if they didn’t hear from him in a week he would be declared dead

You felt empty

You wanted to feel something

Anything

But you just felt empty

You quietly thanked snap and just went about your day

You didn't speak for a while after he told you

They held a small ceremony for Poe

But after that everyone just kind of forgot 

it felt like there wasn’t nearly as much joy in the base as before

The squad gave up on trying to get you to talk 

You stopped coming to meals daily 

You would maybe show up for dinner once a week

You just shut down

You started to run

You hated running but it was a good distraction

You would run around the base four times once a day

And one time during your run you heard a speaker in the communication center crackle to life

You slowed down but didn’t stop

So when you heard your pilots voice over the speaker you ran straight into a wall

Everyone stopped what they were doing

He was requesting access to land

His squadron was in the room

They all looked at each other trying to figure out what to do before snap gave the go ahead

He made eye contact with you before the entire squadron started running towards the hanger

You made it there first and watched his x-wing, looking a little worse for wear, land 

He crawled out of the hatch as people started rushing around trying to help him or look at the damaged ship

His squadron started hugging him and asking him questions

You started to turn around, you obviously offered no help here you could see him later

Little did you know your pilot was just trying to shake everyone off so he could get to you

You pressed the button to open the door but before you could get through a hand grabbed your shoulder

You turned around and there he was

Blood coating his forehead, his clothes a mess but somehow still smiling

You started to tell him off, saying that he needed to get checked out and make sure that he was okay and then check in with his squadron, after that he needed to clean himself off, change, and he looked like he could use some sleep and you told him as much. You should definitely be at the bottom of his list of important things to accomplish

He cut off your rambling by grabbing your chin and putting his mouth to yours

You squeaked in surprise and froze for a second before melting into his warm embrace

He smelt like gasoline and saltwater

You pulled away and looked at him

He smiled at you and you knew in that moment that you would have hung all the stars and suns in the galaxy if it meant he would smile at you like that again

He started to talk about how there was this great place to eat a few planets away and how the entire time he was away you were all he could think about, and he knew in his mind that when he got back if he didn't even try to talk to you about the feelings he had bottled up that he might just combust.

You just smiled again and nodded

He hugged you again and you just squeezed him right back

You felt the stars align and as you gripped the jacket he was wearing that was so similar to your fathers you felt a feeling you hadn’t felt in so long

Hope.