#Some of the princes have genetically impossible eye colors

[moplopbool]

Priam & and the princes of Troy!

[emy-loves-you]

Sanders Sides AU-gust Day 22: Futuristic

In a world where cybernetic enhancements have reached the point of genetic inheritance and only those without them are seen as ‘pure,’ Logan is a mechanic attempting to hide his cybernetic status. He somehow catches the eye of Prince Roman, a human who has an interesting view of the Enhanced.

Logan POV, Logince

TW: Racism against cyborgs, brief mentions of oppression and public beatings/killings

Day 21 | Masterlist | Day 23

Logan sighed as he attempted to weld the two pieces of metal together. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, but Logan wanted to get this done as soon as possible. The client had promised to pay him extremely well if he had it done in under 24 hours. And if there were two things that Logan would admit to being, it would be determined and dirt poor.

“Ah!” Logan hissed as his right hand was burned through the glove. He winced, fully removing his right glove before moving to the back room, away from any potential prying eyes. He used his teeth to remove his gloves, not wanting to get anything on his burn. His navy blue metal hand gleamed softly in the light, and Logan resisted the urge to scowl at it. He grabbed some burn cream and bandages from a nearby table and started to wrap his right hand up. The sharp contrast between his hands drew in Logan’s attention. Right and Left. Weak and Strong. Flesh and Metal. Pure and Enhanced.

Logan scowled. A little over 300 years ago, people first began obtaining cybernetic enhancements to make up for missing limbs. Soon, there were entire generations that used cybernetic enhancements to create ‘perfect’ children. Around 80 years later, science had evolved to where cybernetic enhancements could be applied down to the cellular levels. Any inhuman enhancements could now be chosen before birth, and could even be genetically inherited. After 200 years of cybernetic enhancements, the ‘Enhanced’ took up over 40% of the population. That’s when people began to discriminate against the Enhanced, saying that their enhancements made them ‘less than human.’ It didn’t help that by that point, 90% of the Enhanced were born with their enhancements. It was soon seen as wrong for Enhanced to hold positions of power, or have any children. The people without cybernetic enhancements were seen as ‘the Pure.’

Logan sighed. While there weren’t any legal ramifications to being an Enhanced, there was still major discrimination against them. If anyone saw his external enhancement, he’d be fired within the week. Most people had obvious external enhancements, such as metal eyes and limbs. Very few were born with internal enhancements, such as multiple sex organs or a cybernetic immune system. Logan had a few internal enhancements, but his only external enhancement was his left hand, which he tended to cover up with his gloves.

Logan sighed as he finished wrapping up his human hand. He quickly put back on the gloves before heading back to the front of the repair shop. He was surprised to see someone there, staring at the metal pieces he had been working on. Logan cleared his throat. “Excuse me, can I help you?”

The person jumped, turning to face Logan. Most of their face was obscured by their hood, but Logan could vaguely make out their tan skin and reddish-brown hair. “Hello! I’m looking for Logan Croft; is he here today?”

Logan adjusted his glasses while staring down at the stranger. Not for the first time in his life, Logan was thankful for the glasses. Most Enhanced had perfect hearing and eyesight, so he was usually assumed to be one of the Pure. “My name is Logan Croft; what do you need today?”

The stranger looked through the window towards the street, where the entire street was empty. He then turned back and pulled down his hood. Logan felt his heart stop. The stranger was extremely attractive, with big green eyes and plump pink lips. The stranger smiled. “Greetings, my name is Roman. I was told that you are the best mechanic in the kingdom.”

Logan felt a small amount of recognition at the name, but he couldn’t remember where he had heard it. He then blushed at the compliment. “Nonsense, I’m sure there are plenty of mechanics in the area that surpass me in terms of skill.” Besides, even if Roman was being truthful, people didn’t hire Logan that often. Especially since he didn’t discriminate against the Enhanced.

Roman shook his head. “Even if they are skillful, it is rumored that there is no problem that you cannot find the solution to. Even when you are physically incapable of fixing it, you can easily discover and explain what the issue is and how to fix it. That is deeply admirable.” He turned towards the metal he had been observing previously. “What is this supposed to be? I’m afraid I’m not well-versed with machines, and it’s been bugging me since I got here.”

Logan quickly answered, grateful to no longer be under Roman’s praise. “It’s a compact engine for a replacement eye. My client suffered from minor head trauma, and one of the wires snapped. Since the engine is so small, I had to completely take it apart before I could repair the wire. I am currently piecing it back together. With any luck, the engine should be fully repaired before noon.”

Roman turned to stare at Logan. “You have enhanced clients?”

Logan immediately became defensive. “Do you have an issue with that?”

Roman shook his head. “No! It’s just not often that I get to meet mechanics that work on Enhanced. It’s a dying field, sadly.” He sighed. “The world’s prejudice against Enhanced is pathetic, really. It’s not like the Pure are any better biologically. Actually, most Enhanced people are better than the Pure, both biologically and as people in general.”

Logan raised his eyebrows in shock. “That’s a very bold claim.”

Roman scowled. “And what’s wrong with that?”

Logan shrugged, moving to collect the metal pieces around him. “I didn’t say there was anything incorrect with your claim. You’re quite correct, actually. But I’m one of the few people in this area that actually believes that. And the Pure tend to get violent when opposed.”

Roman gasped. “I didn’t realize that things were that bad.”

Logan nodded, not turning to look at him. “If an Enhanced has any visible enhancements, it’s nearly impossible to walk down the street without getting harassed. And if one is getting beaten or even killed, people have learned that it’s best to turn a blind eye. Even if you’re also Pure, if you try and defend the Enhanced you’ll find yourself beaten within an inch of your life. And the royals don’t bat an eye at the loss of a few hundred Enhanced.” He held up the motor he was working on, nearly complete. “That’s why I do this. Even if I can’t stop the Enhanced from getting harmed, at least I can help them back up if they survive.”

Roman stayed silent for a long moment. Logan turned to look at him, and nearly flinched at the cold expression on Roman’s face. Logan was slightly shocked at the fact that Roman knew nothing about the violence against the enhanced. How sheltered would a child have to be to not even know about the people that are beaten out on the street?

Roman suddenly smiled. "Thank you for telling me that. It is quite apparent that I have much to learn." He then pulled an envelope out of his jacket. "The Enhanced are actually what I wished to discuss with you. My dear friend's leg was injured a few days ago. I was wondering if you could examine these photos and see if it is repairable. He's severely wounded in other areas from the attack, so he is currently on bed rest. I will pay any price, I just wish for him to walk again."

Logan took the envelope and grimaced when he opened it. It was filled with photos of the patient's leg. The leg was violet in color, with a giant gash running from the Achilles heel to the knee. Several wires were sticking out, and Logan noticed some serious dents around the ankle. "I'm afraid these photos do not provide enough detail. I will have to view the patient in person. If you could arrive tomorrow at sunrise, I will have everything ready for a thorough examination. I will not ask for any money until I have determined the extent of the damage. Does this sound acceptable?"

Roman nodded. "That sounds perfect! I will be here tomorrow to escort you to him." He bowed his head slightly. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Logan."

Logan smiled, bowing his head in return. "The pleasure was mine, Roman."

------------------------------------------------------------

Logan sighed as he popped the eye into its socket. "Janus, you need to stop antagonizing people."

Janus snorted as he moved his eye around. "Honestly, you make such a big deal out of things."

Logan frowned "One day you'll go out there and they won't let you come back alive. Being rich won't protect you forever."

Janus rolled his eyes. The mechanical eye glowed a little as he spoke. "Right, and pretending to be Pure will definitely protect you forever. Especially when you do nothing to hide your sympathy towards fellow Enhanced."

Logan winced. Janus had an internal enhancement that allowed him to taste lies and see when someone was hiding something. Janus had known since the first day he came in here that Logan was Enhanced. "Even so, at least I keep my head down. You need to be more careful."

Janus suddenly froze. Logan was about to ask what was wrong when Janus whispered. "You're lying."

Logan blinked. "What?"

Janus frowned. "Every time we talk, you say that you keep your head down. And every time before now, you've been telling the truth. But today you lied." His eyes widened. "What did you do?"

Logan blushed. "A Pure man walked in here asking for assistance in fixing his Enhanced friend's leg. I'm going with him to visit his friend tomorrow. His ideals were very similar to mine, and I will admit he was rather handsome."

Janus smirked. "So, what's his name? And should I be ready for a wedding anytime soon?"

Logan's blush grew. "We only met today. He's just my client, nothing more." He looked down at his glove, a sense of shame filling him. "I didn't even have the courage to tell him that I'm not Pure."

Janus scoffed. "You just told me that he sees the Enhanced and Pure as equals. And I'm sure he'll understand why you kept it a secret." He moved to lean over the worktable, resting his chin on his hand. "So, what's his name?"

Logan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "His name is Roman. He's very kind and charming. He also seemed to come from nobility or wealth, since he was essentially oblivious to the street violence."

Janus started staring at him again. Logan tried to figure out what he'd lied about before Janus turned towards the monitor on the workbench. He typed something too fast for Logan to read before the screen showed a head-only picture of Roman. "Is this your Roman?" Logan nodded, confused. Janus pressed a button and the image expanded to show Roman standing in front of a crowd. He wore a white suit with red and gold accents. A sword was sheathed on his side. But what grabbed Logan's attention was that crown on his head. "That is Prince Roman, first in line for the throne." He turned back to Logan. "And not only do you have a crush on him, you also promised to see him tomorrow."

[ourplaceinthecosmosphff]

Chapter 4. Him

‘be gentle my little thunderstorm, the world is just not ready.’ a.j. lawless

The day we had tea with the Cambridges ended the same way many before: with Lourdes sending a video of her ice skating routine asking for my opinion; that time I didn’t even pretend to see it. I ignored the text and tried to sleep. 

Louis barged into the room soon after.

“Will you stop ignoring our sister?”, he asked, rudely. “She notices, Maggie. And it’s really unfair.”

“Okay.” I said. “Goodnight.”

I heard him sigh, and nothing else. No steps out of the room, no creaky Clarence House door closing, no light down. Finally, I pushed away the cover and sat up.

“I can’t do this now, Louis. I have a headache.”

I’d come up with the headache excuse in order to skip dinner with the Prince of Wales and his wife, but my brother knew that excuse better than anyone. 

After leaving the Cambridges, we had gone back to Clarence House, where we were hosted for the trip, and changed into black attire for a military ceremony in town where I managed to avoid my brother to try and focus on being less upset. He wasn’t about to make it easy for me, though.

At one point, Harry came to stay in line with us as my father and Prince Charles received the compliments from the officials. He gave me that look of his I was now coming to identify as a signature look, one with more intentions than verbalized; one with more feeling than was allowed. 

“Nice dress.” He said. Leaning in close enough that only I could hear him, close enough that his lips brushed my hair and couldn’t be read by prying reporters, he added, “The person wearing it is prettier.”

It took all in me to contain an eyeroll, but the amused smile in my lips was impossible to hold back. Just as I felt my cheeks redden, Louis joined in.

“It’s probably our mother’s. The shoes definitely are.”

It wasn’t a dig for the untrained ears. My mother, in all ways, was more stylish and beautiful than a woman her age should be allowed to be. But knowing my brother for all the twenty-two years he’d been on this earth, I knew very well how to distinguish his honest compliments to his sarcastic ones.

Still, the moment passed, and I maintained the posture expected of me. Coming home, however, I had to tell my father I had a headache so I could come right upstairs before dinner, or else I might lose it in public. 

I had a nice, warm shower, put on my softest fleece pajamas, and brushed my hair while talking to my friend Constance on the phone about our other friend Stella and her terrible taste in men, allowing it to distract me from my brother and wild, unruly thoughts of Harry. 

After that, I got under the blankets and prepared to stare at funny pictures on pinterest - an app I had a fake, incognito account on - until sleep took over. I promptly ignored my sister’s text, as I was known to do, and not ten minutes later Louis barged into the room.

I finally heard the door close, and was overtaken by a familiar struggle against tears, but before I could decide if I should succumb to it, the mattress dipped as my brother climbed onto bed with me. A few seconds went by in silence before he finally broke it.

“Look. Maggie. I… I was talking to Will earlier.”

“Prince William?”

“Oui. I guess I just… I didn’t realize- of course I knew you were helping a lot back home. I just didn’t think it bothered you so much.”

I took it in; he was… almost apologizing.

“Well, now you know.”

“Yes, I do. And, I don’t know, I just…”

I pushed the blankets down and sat up, still not looking over at him, but allowing myself to be in the moment as well.

“I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

I sighed, and finally looked over at him. 

My brother didn’t look too young or old, he had that odd quality of looking precisely his age. He had a light stubble growing around his thin, pointy jaw; it was the same color as his hair, blonde, which was now growing almost to his ears. It waved about, framing his eyes, a nice, dark blue shade just like mine - Lourdes had them too, all three of us had inherited them from our mother. The blonde hair we got from dad’s side of the family, as well as an unwavering determination.

“I’m not unhappy, Lou. I just… I could be happier, I suppose.”

He nodded. “And I want you to be.”

Letting out a long breath, I attempted to also let go of the anger, and focus on what I knew for sure about Louis.

He had the biggest heart of anyone I knew. No matter the signs, or how often he was told of the contrary, Louis was always decided to give people the benefit of the doubt. It was a trait we got from our mother, too, and I wasn’t sure what had made me slightly more cynical than him in this aspect, but I suspected it happened somewhere in Law School.

Louis wanted people to be happy, to excel. He wanted laughter and adventure and success for every person that crossed his path. I knew for a fact there was no way he would ever really wish the contrary, on anyone. I knew something else, too, something much more important.

I knew exactly why he was afraid to come home.

“I know you’re trying to figure things out.” I told him. “I don’t blame you. I know it’s tough.”

He nodded, slowly, and took in a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was wavering; barely a whisper.

“I’m not, though. Not anymore. I think you know that. I haven’t been figuring things out anymore. I’ve known, really known, for a while now.”

All thoughts of the fight forgotten, I felt my heart tighten on my chest. I looked at my little brother, shrunk down and resolute, sitting by my side in bed. He was staring off into the room, but I knew, somehow, he was perfectly aware of my every move.

“You’re sure?” My whisper matched his. I presumed my fear did too.

He sighed, gulped, and shut his eyes tight, before opening them again and smiling at me, scared.

“I’m in love with him.”

The words were new, but the sentiment wasn’t; Louis was fifteen the first time he told me he thought he might be gay. I remembered the day as if I had been replaying it in my mind at least once a month ever since, because it was accurate. 

It was summer; I was almost eighteen, fresh out of my secondary school graduation, but still a few weeks before my adult future. We had been spending summer with our grandparents at the place they lived after my grandfather abdicated as king, Haydell Castle, in the east coast of Savoy. The Castle sat on a hill overlooking the Atlantic, and Louis, myself and Lourdes would go to the beach most afternoons to play volleyball and tan. One late afternoon, Lourdes was applying finishing touches to a sandcastle she’d spent hours working on. Louis had been helping, but left her to get some water from the cooler near where I was laying, struggling to read a book on the darkening light of the fast approaching sunset. 

He sat down by my side with a thud, drank half a bottle of water as I complained about the sand he’d inadvertently thrown my way, and then, without looking at me, said, “I think I have a crush on a classmate.”

Louis went to an all-boys boarding school. The boy in question was a very handsome senior, with kind eyes and handsome dimples. My brother spent a while telling me about how he liked sports and theater and wanted to backpack through South America after school. Then we spent the rest of the summer brainstorming what this could mean.

Monarchies weren’t built on diversity. The core of the system our family was built on was genetics and catholicism, two elements that were famously not very lenient. The Royal Family of Savoy had branched out from the French Royal Family many generations ago. Though we prided ourselves, then and now, that we were different, we still inherited some very big elements from them. A few tiaras, a few titles, and Catholicism. Though Savoy had freedom of religion, the monarchy’s official creed was still Catholicism. It was involved in most of our protocols and traditions, a king couldn’t even be crowned if he hadn’t been baptised in the church. 

The idea of a gay, catholic King of Savoy was ludicrous even to us, no matter how much we wished it wasn’t.

And then, there was the issue of the line of succession. Say the church and country allowed my brother to reign as an out gay man, say they allowed him to marry a man in the Catholic church, say they allowed him to be crowned as king with a prince consort… It would be his duty to secure the line of succession; a king’s job is to produce a child to be the next king whose child will be next after him, and so on. Though it was the 21st century, there was no precedent to a king’s heir being anything other than his own, biologic child. And even as we tried to consider the idea of my brother having one with an egg donor, using a surrogate, we immediately knew what that would mean: whoever this woman was, her privacy would never be respected. People would want to know everything about her. 

As to adopting, what were his options? In what world would the press not hunt down every possible information about the child’s biological family? Interview every distant relative for money? Come up with every way to embarrass them for clicks on an article? How could that child possibly be raised to be king with that kind of scrutiny surrounding them? 

I thought of it as we sat in silence. He loved Peter. Peter loved him. And yes, they were young and that might change, but Louis being gay wouldn’t. Louis wanting to be a father was unlikely to change. But there was no precedent for a king to have an adopted child as an heir, and having a biological child through surrogate would be too hard on a surrogate and her family, being harassed and forever linked to us. If he sacrificed his own wishes and decided not to have children in order to spare them, then me or my children would have to inherit, which to me was simply unthinkable.

“They’re not going to cut you out.” I told him. “You know mom and dad, they love you. They love us. It might be hard dealing with everyone else, but they’ll always support you.”

He gulped. “The thing is… they might love me, but that’s not enough to change centuries of tradition just so I can-”

“Be who you are!”

He was silent, pulling on a lose thread on the blanket.

“I suppose I could just do what they did back in the day.” He considered. “Marry some poor, naive girl, sleep with her just enough to produce an heir and make Peter my secretary so we can carry out a scandalous and secret affair.”

I gave him a sarcastic look, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding.” He started biting a nail. “I could just… not have children.”

“You want children.”

“...yeah.”

“We’ll think of something.” I told him, confidently. “It’ll be easier once mom and dad know. They’ll figure something out. They’re good at this. They’re not going to make you keep this a secret, they love you too much.”

He sighed. “It would be easier for me to abdicate.”

“That’s not happening!”

“Why?! Because you can’t fathom the idea of having to inherit?! You think it’s okay to put me or my children through hell so you can hold on to your comfort? Who’s being selfish now?!”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

“That’s not fair.” I wasn’t even sure the words had come out, so low was my volume and so loud my shock.

He reached out and held my hand in his, leaning over to lay his head on my shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I laid my cheek against his hair, holding his hand tightly. 

The worst part was knowing he was right. As unfair as it was, the easiest path was for him to come out and simply not have kids. But I didn’t want the headache of figuring out how to raise children to inherit after him, or worse yet, to have to be the heir if he was made to abdicate. It was such a colossal thought I couldn’t even think of it too much without feeling a panic attack creeping in.

He was 22. My little brother shouldn’t even be concerned about children at this age. And yet, because of the backwards traditions we were embroiled in from birth, he had no choice, and all our lives depended on how accepting the world would be of who he was.

“Hey.” I called, and he raised his head to look at me. “We will figure it out. I promise.” 

His smile was so small it broke my heart even more. He didn’t say anything, though. He just nodded, slowly, and stared at his hands.

“I love Peter.” I said, tentatively. I had said it before, but it carried a different weight now. Louis’ smile grew. 

“I want to introduce him to Lou. She didn’t come that time you met him, I think they’ll get along.”

I bumped my shoulder to his. “Just tell him to compliment her skating, she’ll love him.”

He chuckled, then looked at me very seriously. “Speaking of our sister, you could be more patient with her, you know?”

I sighed. “I am.”

“No, you’re not. Patient would be watching her videos and offering useful advice.”

“You’re asking too much.”

“I can do it, so can you! You think I care about ice skating?”

“Kinda.”

“Well… okay, I do. But they wear really sparkly dresses. Honestly, Maggie, she just wants to make you proud.”

“I don’t…!” I sighed, “I don’t really know how to talk to her, sometimes. I only had a couple of years with her before going to boarding school, you at least got to see her more often.”

He fished into his pockets, found his phone and opened the messaging app. I watched him create a group, add both me and Lourdes to it, name it ‘Louis’ Girl Gang’, and send the message, ‘this way it’s easier to chat!’.

“This way you can just watch how I interact with her and mimic.” He said. “Just react like me and soon you’ll be able to do it yourself.”

I opened my phone and replied, ‘this chat name is ridiculous’.

“Ouch.” He said, emotionless.

I gave him a dirty look, and we laughed. Both our phones buzzed at the same time with Lourdes’ reply, the first of many.

‘yay i love this! miss u guys!’

I smiled. She was too sweet for her own good. 

I had no idea what the future held for us, but I knew with one hundred percent certainty I loved every single atom of my siblings.

---- ---- ----

The drive to the polo club the following morning - our last one in Britain - wasn’t long, but we had to leave early enough that I had to do my makeup in the car. Did I need makeup to play polo? No. But would the press comment on how ‘tired’ I looked if I didn’t? Yes, so shaky hands on a tiny mirror it was.

Harry and William were already at the club when we got there; we were introduced to the horses we were using that morning, and the rest of the people who would be playing. There was a small breakfast laid out, with mimosas and champagne flutes, which we ate as we made some small talk and got to know everyone. 

“So,” Harry started, finding me alone by the water jugs.

“So.” I replied.

“I’ve been doing some googling.” 

“Yes?”

He sighed. “And I cannot, for the life of me, figure out when we may have met.”

“Oh.” I smiled.

I had started to think he’d forgotten it, or worse, simply didn’t care. But apparently he did. He cared enough to look it up.

The thought felt… oddly warm.

“I asked my people. And then I asked my people to ask your people, who weren’t able, or willing, to come up with an answer. So I do not know, for the life of me, when we may have met before two days ago.”

I nodded, smiling slightly. “Your efforts are noted.”

“Look, I feel like a jerk.” He sighed. “I’m sure I would remember you if we met before. You have a face a guy would remember.”

I swallowed the electric shock that line sent through me. “Apparently not.”

“Give me a hint. Was it here or in Savoy? Or another country? Day or night? Was it more than a year ago?”

I looked at him, brows raised. “It was in another country, during the day, more than a year ago.”

He nodded, attentive, scratching his beard. Then, he sighed dramatically. “God, I have no idea!”

“So you give up?”

He grinned. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. It’s a question.”

He stared into my eyes for a beat, as his smile grew.

“No, I don’t give up. I’ll figure it out.”

I nodded, silently, holding his stare.

I suddenly realized I didn’t have a plan. I hadn’t planned on making this a big deal, but now when I eventually had to tell him, we would both be faced with a story that wasn’t as interesting or sexy as we had made it sound.

“So, what are we thinking?!” My brother interrupted, joining us with William. “Heirs against spares?”

“What, and lose the chance to massacrate Harry on the field?” I challenged, as the ginger looked at me, mouth agape.

“Nice! I love the sentiment, Margueritte!” William cheered. “She’s on my team, dibs on Margueritte!”

“Excuse me, I believe I already have dibs on Mary.” Harry interjected, making his brother laugh.

The line was so unapologetically flirty I felt my jaw drop as I looked around. We were at a tent in the back, where the players were getting ready before being sorted into teams. There was no press around, but there was a lot of people who hadn’t signed NDAs or anything.

Louis was squinting at Harry with a mischievous grin on his lips. “Excuse me, are you flirting with my sister?”

I felt my stomach twirl in anxiety, and tried to give him a warning look, but before I could, Harry answered.

“I’ve been trying to, for the past three days.”

He was smiling at me now, again so unapologetically it felt as if I had lost all ability to function. William was watching the whole thing with an amused look on his eyes.

Louis’ grin grew into a smile, as he slowly moved his eyes from Harry to me, “Huh.”

“Is that a problem?”, Harry asked my brother.

“For me? No!” He assured him, “For you? Well…”

“She hasn’t exactly made it easy for me.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Louis-Adolphe!” I admonized, earning from him a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t use both my names as if you’re mom.”

William laughed.

“Any tips?” Harry asked Louis, very seriously, but looking at me as if studying an animal on the wild.

“Hm,” my brother considered him, “Patience. Her only relationship was with a family friend we’ve known all our lives, and that took forever.”

“Lou!” I warned, again.

“What?! It’s not like he can’t google you.” He shrugged.

“Okay.” I said, before turning on my heels to exit the tent.

I made myself busy elsewhere, but couldn’t keep my mind straight. My heart was racing and I couldn’t tell if the reason was Louis’ teasing or Harry’s unabashed flirting, or both. Before I knew it, though, we were stretching as a group, and getting our uniforms on; I did stay on William’s team, while Harry and Louis played together. 

He found me as we made our way into the field, while I was busy trying to tie the upper half of my hair on a low ponytail.

“Have I told you you look fantastic today, Mary?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll remedy that as soon as possible.”

“You look fantastic, Mary. White pants suit you.”

Harry’s eyes hovered down my body over my form-fitting white jeans under the black riding boots.

“Thank you.” I said, curt, and paced faster to my horse, starting to fasten the girth to adjust the saddle.

“...I’m sorry.”

I stopped, and looked back at him, only half surprised he was still there. A little more than half surprised by the genuine fear and sadness in his eyes. 

“Oh. For?”

He grimaced. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable before, when I was talking to your brother. I was just… trying to lighten the mood. Be, you know, funny I guess.”

I gulped; funny?

“Right. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” I resumed my work on the horse’s saddle.

I even added a short smile to go with the lie, but it didn’t seem to convince him.

“Really, I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Why would I be upset?”

He took a quick step closer and wrapped my hand in his; I felt my breath caught in my throat as I noticed how big they were, his knuckles were protuberant, his veins popped against his pale skin. In a dark corner in my mind I wondered what hands like those might feel like on my body.

“Mary.” He whispered, softly; I gulped, not daring to meet his gaze. 

“Marie.” I whispered back.

He sighed. “Marie. If you want me to stop, and just… be your friend, or even just a polite acquaintance…” 

He allowed the end of his sentence to hang in the air, ominous; It felt horrifying, specially hearing him call me my actual name. It made me look back at him, meeting his eyes a lot closer than I thought they would be.

“...all you gotta do is say so.” He finished, finally. 

The offer sounded awfully simple for a feat that sounded amazingly difficult, though I couldn’t understand why. He was being so annoying, so infuriating for the past three days. It would be so easy to tell him to back off, if only it weren’t for that little part of my heart that was trying to tell me he wasn’t that annoying. And really, wasn’t the only frustrating thing about it that we had had so little time together? After all, his hand was still on mine, and it did feel like my whole body was warmer than the British sun on that morning warranted.

“What’s this?” I asked.

As I looked back to his hands, I noticed once more that he had something written in them. He turned his palm towards me, while the back of his hand still rested in mine.

“This says ‘call Gil’, it’s the manager of my foundation in Lesotho. I have to get back to him about something. And this other line says ‘figure out trip’. It’s my mate’s birthday next month and the lads asked me to figure out how we can organize a hunting trip for him.”

As he explained his little reminder list on his palm, I traced it with the tips of my fingers lightly. After I ran out of the ink to trace, I started tracing the lines in his palm, very slowly.

“Bad memory?” I teased.

He sighed, “The worst. Well, not about important things. I remember important things. But names of people I met only a couple times, but should definitely know? Nope. And the deadline to things I have to do? Even worse. Hence the writing in hand.”

“Have you tried setting alarms on your phone?”

“I barely know how to make calls.” He rolled his eyes.

“Drama queen!”

“I’m serious! We’re not allowed to use social media, so really what’s there to do? I just don’t use it much.”

“God, it’s like you’re 80.”

He chuckled, and his hand closed on reflex over mine. Now it was almost as if we were holding hands. The thought, the warmth of his skin on mine, sent a shock wave through my body.

“Come on, Harry, no flirting with the competition!” Louis called out as he rode by.

We chuckled, timidly.

“Things seem better, with Louis.” He commented. 

I smiled. “We talked.”

“Did he understand?”

I nodded. “Yes. He’s got a good heart. He’s young, but he’d never willingly do something to hurt anyone. It’s just…” I sighed, giving him a side glance. “He’s got… some stuff to figure out. And I wanna help as much as I can. I just… Can’t sacrifice myself for it. And I think he gets it.”

There was a pause, a more comfortable one this time, and next time he spoke, he had a whisper of a smile on his lips.

“You didn’t ask me to stop.” He whispered. I looked at him. 

“I guess I didn’t.”

We exchanged a smile, and just as I felt my cheeks redden at the long pause, his brother rode by already on his horse.

“Stop flirting with my player, Harry, get to your horse!”

We jumped, startled, but chuckled timidly as he rode away.

“So, how confident are you that you’re going to beat me?”, he asked.

“Oh, only about 89%.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Ninety-six, tops.”

He nodded, amused. “Care to make it interesting?”

“What are you thinking?”

“Loser buys dinner.”

I bit my inner lip to contain a smile. It almost sounded like he was asking me on a date. Was he asking me out on a date?

“I… I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Well, Savoy is, what? Four or five hours away by train?”

“Another one and a half to the city where I live.”

He nodded, then shrugged. “I can do that. What do you say?”

I placed a foot on the stirrup, and jumped up to take my seat on the saddle.

“Win first, Your Royal Highness. Then we’ll talk.”

“Game on, Mary.”

--- ---- ---

[A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! please let me know if you like it? I’m open to notes, suggestions, all of it =) just liking this chapter would really help me know!

I don’t know how to say this without spoiling a big plot point in the story, but to be fair it is sort of the main premise, so if you’d like not to be spoiled on plot points, maybe come back later? Cool. Let’s get to it.

When I first started writing this story, I hadn’t intended on Margueritte’s brother, Louis, to be such a big character. I expected his time with us would be… well, shorter, after all the main idea for this story starts with his - again, spoiler alert - death. But as I wrote a little of him, I I liked him so much, and I ended up writing more and more and soon it was really heartbreaking killing him. As you’ll soon find, Louis fits into a trope I didn’t intentionally set out to write: the kill your gays trope. I don’t want to go into details because that’s enough spoilers, but suffice to say mea culpa, and also I hope you’ll give me a chance to show I do have a bigger intention with this: one, monarchies are famously heteronormative. They essentially can’t survive otherwise, or so we are told. I have always wandered about this. We’ve all read the historical examples of homosexuality being swiftly repressed for the good of the succession line. As a modern royal, Margueritte will have to look this issue in the eyes, too. She’ll have to realize the role she plays in a system where for her family and its history to survive, some families cannot exist in their purest form, and she will struggle with not being able to tell the world the truth about her brother - since it is not her place - knowing this makes her an accomplice in rewriting history to fit her best purpose. 

Which choices she makes and which path she decided to take in this issue are something I’m excited to explore, as I honestly believe monarchies will have to have a solution for this at one point or another.

TL/DR: though this story adds to the kill your gays trope, which I know it’s problematic, I want to write about the way monarchies perpetuate heteronormativity and how they will have to find a way for all their members, regardless of sexuality or gender identity, to feel at home in the institution, and I intend to add more non-straight characters so delve into this issue.]

[weissfai-blog1]

Love Bites.

AePete AU

"There are no accidental meetings between souls."

Pete is a vampire. AND NO – he is not some sparkling diamond vampire – though whoever look at Pete will say he is a sparkling Prince – but no – Pete is not a twilight vampire nor is he Bram Stroker’s Dracula vampire. 

He is a half Noble vampire. His mother is a powerful dragon seeker while his father is a full blooded Noble. 

The Nobles are an ancient and powerful race that possess great strength, speed and telepathy as well as various blood related abilities, such as the talent to grant similar powers to others via contracts "of blood and soul". They reside on an island nation, known as Lukedonia, that cannot be detected by human senses. They have guarded humans against predators and the forces of nature as long as they have existed, due to a genetic inability to ignore the slaughter of the weak, helpless humans. Thousands of years ago, they were worshipped as gods by various cultures around the world.

However, the Nobles are nearing extinction due to a scarcity of females to mate with. With their lifemates, male Nobles live emotion-filled colorful lives. Without them, the males fight the madness that causes them to choose between suicide or the thrill of killing humans by draining their blood, becoming soulless vampires in the process.

But he doesn’t apply to these category as he is not a full blood Noble. 

Pete is a gentle and way too sweet and shy half Noble that his father deem him unworthy of the gift and vanished him, and because his mother loves Pete so much – they both abandon the life in Lukedonia and travel and after a hundred years of traveling to different countries, they settle to Thailand. 

Pete’s mother was born in Thailand. She loves the country, the people, the beauty and the serenity of the land.

Pete and his mother change their surname to fit in with the Thai people and they settle on an old mansion. His mother told him to live like a normal boy and because Pete doesn’t crave blood like ordinary Noble, he is free to go out even on sunlight. As he is also a part Dragon Seeker, he doesn’t turn into ash or die if the sun hits his skin. He is what the others may call Day Walker.

Pete’s mother looks at her son. She worries about Pete as the first to being a half Noble and half Dragon Seeker boy to ever live. Most of the half-breeds die at their 50th years of age. But Pete is nearing his 300 years of age and though he is the same as the Nobles who lost their colour of sight, Pete never changes. He doesn’t crave blood (though she gave him blood via blood bag through blood bank), doesn’t go dark, every night she administer a soul and spirit check on his body but its clean… more like pure. Her son has a purest white soul. 

Putch heard about the legendary Noblesse but never given it a thought. For all her life, she knew only of one Noblesse and that person is not half but a full blood Noble.

Putch told Pete to live his life freely. Whoever he chooses, whether it be human or of the same kind, she will support him. 

Pete met Ae. 

Pete was walking out of his campus when again the pain in his head hits him, the pain and disoriented blurry visions keeps on popping out in his head. He wasn’t aware what’s happening in his surrounding when he heard a shout and someone drag his body and both of him and the other stumble in the ground with a loud impact.

‘Are you driving to hell?! And you! What the hell are you doing not looking where you’re walking?! Are you planning to die?! If you are, choose a place where I’m not there!’

Pete doesn’t understand what’s happening but his heart then begun to hammer and his visions doubled… the ground… its grey… he looks at his surrounding and he was blinded by the burst of colours.

COLOURS!

He can see colours… 

But the only time a Noble can see colour is when they find their lifemate through voice or connection.

‘Oi! Are you okay?!’

Pete stumbled once again on the ground and clutch his heart tight. 

Its beating crazily and there’s a line. 

A magic being woven.

A connection being form.

Pete found himself being raise by the person and for the first time he looks at him.

Pete gasped.

Black obsidian eyes looks at him.

‘Are you okay? You’re bleeding!’

He what?! Impossible!

He looks and yeah, he is bleeding. But why?

That’s their first meeting.

The man who gave him colour and light ~ Ae. A small boy but with sturdy muscular body and a harsh foul mouth.

Ae cannot help but feel lucky and at the same time with the thinking: “Did I ever save the whole country on my past life to have a friend like Pete?” 

Each and everyone who knew Ae will know that he is a brute. He doesn’t have any sweet bone in his body, he doesn’t even have a STOP DON’T SAY IT brake on his mouth. He will say what he want to say especially to some idiots who lacks braincells. 

Pond calls Ae: “Son of a Beast! He will kick his only best friend and whacks my head if I so much get on his business and be nosy! See this! See this?! That’s his fist! My skull already has a dent in the form of his fist!”

Ping: “The greatest man but has the foulest mouth on the planet. He doesn’t care nor doesn’t give a damn what other people will think. I have never been the receiving end of his fist and kick so I’m happy to say that he is still a friend I can count on.”

Bow: “Tactless beast! He just made someone cry when he flat our rejected her. But that’s what I like about Ae, he never take advantage of people and will always be there to help others.”

Can: “Ae is the bestest of the best man out there! He doesn’t give a damn and will help me even though he doesn’t know me! He is a great bastard buddy!”

Captain of the Football Team: “Ae is our MVP. He may be 174 cm shorty but he can kick those asses good bye! We love Ae in this team. He brings glory to us! Well except when he beat us Sports Science when he is an Engineering Major…”

LadyBoys: “I don’t know how the hell a muscular, sexy abs, yummy muscles belong to that shorty with foul mouth! This is an outrage! He even give me the middle finger when I told him if he wants to spend the night with me! Such barbaric action against me a lady!”

Pete chuckles to the different description of Ae. 

For him, Ae is the opposite of what they say and he cant help wander why. Ae is sweet to him. Ae never finds him annoying and he is always pinching his cheeks or ruffling his hair. Ae told him that he likes his hair, soft and silky (well he is a half-Noble so his hair is entirely different from humans) 

Ae never rush him when they are eating. Its hard for him to swallow cause he is not used to eating the food Ae gave him, he eats either fruits and drinks blood via blood bags from blood bank. So its really really hard for him to swallow any meat and vegetables.

Ae cares about his safety that Ae will bike all the way to his apartment and drop him off (when all he did was walked, he is a Noble so walking for an hour or so is nothing to him, or he can just jump building to building or well, fly – he is not human after all)

The Engineering Department won the game with Ae’s two points versus Sports Science and instead of joining the seniors and juniors at the party, Ae went to Pete. Pete was alarmed when Ae was at his apartment. Pete looks at the full moon and this is the time that he is very weak and the blood bags are not stored in his freezer where he usually storms them.

He has been feeling weak for the couple of days and the blurry visions and headache keeps on attacking him.

Ae was worried because Pete promise to watch the game only he didn’t show up. Pete never miss a game and he was not answering his line messages as well.

‘Pete, what’s wrong? You’re so pale.’ Ae was scared for Pete. Pete’s skin is milky white with a blush but the Pete before him is pale as ghost.

‘Ae… please go. I’m okay. Please please go.’

‘No! I will be here! Tell me what to do!’

‘Ae please! Go!’

Ae was angry now when Pete seems to be pushing him. 

Pete was crying and Ae doesn’t know what to do. Ae tried to hug him but Pete pushed him -  a little bit strong that made Ae stumbled and hurt.

‘OH! AE! Im sorry! But please please. I don’t want to hurt you! Please go!’

Pete was scared – he can feel hunger. 

He had never felt his way before.

He can smell it… the delicious smell of blood. He clench his teeth and told Ae once again to go.

‘No! I will not go!’

‘Ae please… I don’t want you to hate me… please’

Ae is crying now as well, ‘Please tell me Pete what’s wrong with you?’

‘Ae… I… I- please just go.’

‘No!’

‘Ae!’

Then everything on Pete’s memory become a blur and then darkness.

He doesn’t remember anything.

What he remembers is the sweet taste of blood in his lips.

He woke up and was shock. 

He was scared.

‘Ae?’

Everything – his surrounding is full of blood. Dried blood.

‘NO! NO! AE!’

‘What?’

‘Huh?’ Pete looks up and saw Ae running to him. Ae in his shorts and wet hair. 

‘Pete are you okay?’

‘Ae?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ae!’

‘Yes! That’s me! I mean yes what?’

‘You-you’re okay… what-what? Blood?’

‘Ah. Well… First of all, Pete this is not my blood. This is the blood from the bag inside your freezer. And well, some of them are your blood.’

‘What happen Ae?’

‘You kinda turn dart vader last night. You push me – well more like – haul me – good thing it was a soft sofa and went to the freezer, you open the blood bag and drink it, but you throw it away saying ‘It taste like rot’ and then you look at me-‘

‘Ae! Oh my! Did I hurt-‘

‘I’m not hurt. I understand what’s happening even though I don’t believe it – but you well, your eyes turned blue and your fangs kinda shows and told me your are so thirsty. I offer you my blood-‘

‘NO!’

‘Well yes, but when you are nearing me, you bite your own arm. And told me to get out.’

‘Then why are you still here?’

‘I can never leave you Pete. You look like your dying. And you were speaking about soul contract or blood contract-‘

‘GOD NO!’

‘Well – I don’t want you to suffer… and I understand that you need blood. I gave it to you freely.’

Pete then put his trembling hands to Ae’s neck, removing the towel, and yes, there it is his bite.

‘Ae! Oh God! I’m so sorry!’

‘Pete don’t be. I agree with it.’

‘No! no! You don’t know what it means-‘

‘It means that you’re going to drink my blood from now on. That my blood is the only blood you’ll ever drink.’

‘Ae why? Why didn’t you leave. I’m  a monster Ae. You should have left me…’

‘Pete. We have been fighting last night more than hours – me telling you to drink my blood while you insisting I get out. You even threatened to kiss me and enchant me with your other spell from your mother side and I still stayed.’

‘Why? Why Ae?’

Ae smiled and put his two hands on Pete’s cheek, ‘Because you are not a monster. You are a pure cute vampire. My vampire.’

THIS IS NOT THE END. There will be a proper chapter by chapter story fic. Thank you.

Author’s Note : I was looking for another name for Vampire when I remember about the webtoon that I’ve read years ago (its still on going) it’s a Korean manhwa title: NOBLESSE. I borrowed the title or the race and some places. I just don’t want to say just a vampire.

[yespoetry]

E. Kristin Anderson: Inside Us Is an Earthquake

And Still He Will Be Remembered as the Believer

                                                (after The X-Files)

 Believe in ghosts—      the ones that whisper in your ear late at night

in the office         the ones that pull at your childhood        like a storybook

and a chilling draft.      Believe in flying saucers       because you’ve seen

the bright lights yourself       felt the empty-full feeling       of tractor beam

 paralysis     had time disappear in the middle of the road.          Believe

in conspiracy—      Cancer Man scowling in the corner       filling an ashtray

with ash            in a cloud of smoke            your informant shot

in cold blood        your questions affirmed but unanswered.       Believe in

 shapeshifting and skin-walking and faith healing and the undead      but save

your suspicion            for rape.               I’ve seen Agent Scully slide photo

after photo       of bruised women         across your desk.       The marks

on their wrists from restraints         the pale, cut lip.         Their purple thighs.    

 And I’ve seen you reject the evidence—        rape by spirits and invisible entities

is always           unsubstantiated.         False claims are        the weapon of angry girls.    

Still you click through these slideshows      of crop circles      and monsters.     

      Still                you describe this evidence that only you can see

 Chase a rumor of a close encounter       

a vampire      el chupacabra       to the ends of the earth       but a human woman    

is where you’ll draw your line       and find a hoax.       File the evidence in a drawer.                 

                                                        Believe only in yourself.

  Dress it Like a Romance Dress it Like We Drew it Pretty

                                                (after The X-Files)

 Pull down the blinds and close the curtains.               In that house we let

nothing in.         In that house         we feign quiet and sunlight has to sneak

by with a winter draft.       In black and white this paints a perfect landscape.

 Where there’s a legend            there’s fire.        And Scully, you know the raw

science of genetics so profoundly that it screams in your blood.      Tell me

why we make monsters         on purpose                 forgive their trespass      

 dance with them and decide this is normal.        I hear you on the recording

color stripped from your language.            I hear Cher on the recording, too

her voice a storm        around the song of a creature I’m asked to forgive.

 Father and father and son           crime after crime        as the song plays and

the poison fills the air with white smoke.             I know reality when I see it

and I can always hear the lie.         Turn off the TV this time.          Listen.

 I cry   because I can.        I lie flat on my back remembering in the dark because

I can.        I know which songs speak truth     and I know how ugly is so easy

to uncover that its presence is almost comical.         Scully, there are photos and

 we flip through them           knowing that even the pictures we took ourselves   

are little lies.         And we are in the rain again and because I can I collect it

in my hands as the house burns down        and I wait for Cher to sing because

 I don’t want to hear         when the monster explains his own harmlessness

and I pretend that the stars have gone out because        Scully          the man

you harbor is      indeed a man          and as cruel as those who robbed you of

 your body and your womb.      We are not theirs.       So how can this story end

with the music surging and science gone       and a rush of joy      and a dance and

if I keep my eyes shut      if I put a Cher record on     can I change my own end?

Inside Us Is an Earthquake and a Refuge and a Riot

                                                (after The X-Files)

 I walk into the ditch          as myself—        there are still daises in the grass

if you look close enough.      Desires.       If you look close enough       Mercury

is in retrograde.      Actually,      the retrograde is there whether you look or not.

Agent Scully warns about the horrors we can imagine       in moments after trauma.

 But in this cold town it is impossible to quiet the voice            of a man who would

drown you out     with charm.      Remember:    Trauma is there whether you look

or not.       I know the places where I can see my breath     and I am a Sagittarius

with a Leo moon.        This is true no matter what you believe         about the stars.

 I used to read my horoscope in every magazine           mark my lucky days on a

calendar.            But my magic did not boil over in the school gym.    I never dug up

a field looking for something to burn—      though under the right circumstances

I can lose my mind      or my temper:    the stars       a well-timed pop song       a man

 making me roll my eyes so hard I can foresee my own afterlife.       Don’t even try

to change the channel tonight.     Scully mumbles into her lit cigarette     (as if a good

woman is without vice)    and I want to tell her       she’s right         in every other town

but this one       on any other day.       And she finally erupts       and slams the door    

 and hits the gas.       We all feel the perfect alignment       the horror of feminine will

somehow backed by the universe at large.         I let the grass speak its truth but I

make room for smudged eyeliner and astrologers.       I make room just in case of some

bizarre miracle. It’s so dark. It’s fine. It’s whatever Mercury wants for us this winter.

 If All I Know Is Howling How Can I Breathe In a Quiet Room?

                                                (after The X-Files)

                                                                It’s raining and I’m missing

even without leaving home.          I melt into a photo—       this is the medium

in which we exist now.        I miss the whine of the Polaroid      the magic of

watching an image slowly appear          even my expired film creating its own

 erratic boundary.                   I have never thought a photo         into the film    

but I do think often of the practice of lobotomy       the women just like me

with so many troubling thoughts that men          of a certain generation would

                                         pierce our eye sockets to quiet us.

 Scully, you understand            unruhe            even as you assess the horror of this

CAT scan           the blighted places gone forever          the unrest of women chased

into the shadows again and again.           Scully, you speak the language of fear

because fear         is adrenaline         is a weapon           is yours.

 And when you drive away from the dead          it is not elegiac          there is no

compassion for Death       for those who would cast a shadow on our wicked teeth     

the animal pull to resist this at every possible turn             blurring ourselves

                                                 into any sunlight provided.

 I imagine, Dana, that you struggle to sleep            awake to bear witness to yourself

in case you are ever missing again.        And I wonder whether unruhe is a curse at all.     

I cannot know any other self      cannot reach behind my eyes.        And this photo

I’ll keep for myself—      a sort of mirror to watch over whatever self survives.

E. Kristin Anderson is a poet, Starbucks connoisseur, and glitter enthusiast living in Austin, Texas. She is the editor of Come as You Are, an anthology of writing on 90s pop culture (Anomalous Press), and Hysteria: Writing the female body (Sable Books, forthcoming).  Kristin is the author of nine chapbooks of poetry including A Guide for the Practical Abductee (Red Bird Chapbooks), Pray, Pray, Pray: Poems I wrote to Prince in the middle of the night (Porkbelly Press), Fire in the Sky (Grey Book Press), 17 seventeen XVII (Grey Book Press), and Behind, All You’ve Got (Semiperfect Press, forthcoming). Kristin is an assistant poetry editor at The Boiler and an editorial assistant at Sugared Water. Once upon a time she worked nights at The New Yorker. Find her online at EKristinAnderson.com and on twitter at @ek_anderson..

[fandomflail]

title: Recognition (6/8)

rating: M

summary: Soulmate trope AU. Set in a world where humans and elves coexist.

a/n: *screams at Tumblr* I queued this for Friday 10 pm but the queue at my post! Sorry for the delay, you guys. 

Past Chapters: (1)  (2)  (3)  (4)  (5) or AO3

RECOGNITION CHAPTER 6

Killian Aearinön had lived a life of strife, despite being Noble born. Of course, his older and wiser brother, William Beriothien, would often comment that said strife was a result of his own actions and self-recrimination. Liam, as Killian called him, wasn’t wrong.

“What was the instruction?” his brother asked, brow furrowed with worry.

Liam worried too much. Between his bride, Elsa Arendelle, and Liam’s own tendency for anxiety and worry, it was a wonder the two functioned at all. Unlike the humans, who suffered more from physical maladies than psychological ones, elves were far, far more susceptible to injuries of the brain.

If they weren’t dying of childbirth, Killian mused, they were running Nightlock into their blood for a quick death.

“Killian!”

Giving his brother his focus, Killian said, “For her own safety, I delivered the instruction as The Sukrasa said. Remain human to those who know her as human, reveal her as an elf to society, with the story that she was simply living in secret. No mention of halves.”

Liam strode closer, blue-grey eyes delivering a piercing gaze. “And she can be trusted?”

Killian felt his temper rise. “Of course she can!”

“You don’t actually know her, brother. A consummation does not a soulmate make,” he said, pacing the length of the mahogany table that stood as the centerpiece.

“I know enough to know she can be trusted. As can the other three.”

“You have no idea what sort of danger you’ll unleash if word gets out, I mean it, Killian. This is serious. For once, please take this seriously.”

“I know that! I’m not a youngling, Liam. Stop treating me like one.”

“Perhaps if you —“ his brother cut himself off, swallowing whatever insulting thing he had been about to say, and said instead, “I am glad you’re back to high society. Things have changed, and they have not. You’ve lived with humans for a total of what? 150 years now? You’ve adopted some of their…mannerisms, and not in a flattering way.”

“Yes, like when people annoy them, they tell them to bugger off.”

“Now that’s just rude.”

Killian flipped him an obscene human hand motion.

“You’ve been tight-lipped about this Emma. If she’s a lost child, her parents are sure to be looking for her.”

He nodded, drumming his fingers on the table. “I checked; there was no missing report of an elven girl matching her age or appearance.”

“Hmm. Come to think of it, that makes sense. If she’s a hybrid, they’d have wanted it kept hush. Plus, she’s Nysnian; it’s not like those elves have ever trusted us.”

“I don’t know if she even wants to find them. This whole thing has been overwhelming for her; she’s been using the ignore-it-until-it-goes-away strategy. With her heritage, with me.”

Killian was unsuccessful in keeping the bitterness out of his voice. He dropped his gaze to the little decorative windmill on the table, spinning its blades to distract himself.

“Well, she’s still coming later, isn’t she? That’s a start.”

“Only to the Embassy. I don’t want her meeting the serpent. Who knows what she’d say to her. Wait does she even know that I Recognized…”

“Stop calling her that. Of course she does. It’s just within the family, you’re safe.”

“That’s a relief, though who knows who she’s hissssssssed to.”

“Oh shut up. Just so you know, I’ll be there.”

“What???”

“Oh yes, you really think I’d miss meeting your soulmate? My little brother’s Recognized half?” Liam’s smirk was unbearable, his posture so casual he could only be faking it.

“You’re the worst elf in the history of elves, I hope you know.”

“Stop being dramatic. I invited Belle, to make Emma and her son feel comfortable. Belle is the human equivalent of a library, and she is Head of the B.E.A.S.T. I can truly think of no one else as perfect to fill in the blanks about our culture.”

“This was supposed to be a quiet tea,” Killian huffed.

Liam shook his head, no doubt judging Killian as a child, despite the fact that their age gap was a mere 10 years. A single petal difference in a forest bloom, but to hear Liam tell it, one would think Killian was an infant human, and Liam a wise old sage. It was maddening.

“Do you think this could work?” Liam asked after pouring himself a cup of fresh honey tea.

His perpetually concerned face was soft, curly blonde hair kept in place by the ice-inspired circlet he often wore to honor Elsa. Maddening though he may be, Liam was the best brother an elf could ask for. The look on his face mirrored the look he had when Killian had fallen out of a tree, breaking his bones in three places; as if this whole endeavor was the same sort of dangerous recklessness he’d exhibited as a youngling.

“I believe so. I chose to live as a human for Milah. I loved her. I always will. But Emma, Emma is different. This is different.”

“Killian…I’m sorry to suggest this but… do you suppose this thing with Emma is simply a matter of chemistry, rather than a matter of heart?”

There was an almost visceral need to defend his feelings, an anger so swift he could’ve wrung his hands around his brother’s neck. He fought the impulse, forcing himself to truly consider his brother’s question. After all, he had, in those early hours, had the same questions.

It felt like a betrayal to confess his heart, especially about the first few hours following his introduction with soulmate, but this was Liam. Who could he truly trust, if not him?

“I hated it, at first. She ran, twice that day. She made it clear that her actions were the effect of the Recognition, and not for any real desire to know me. She didn’t seem as affected as I did. I thought…I thought maybe I hallucinated it.”

“You checked with The Sukrasa,” Liam reminded him.

“I know. But a half-elf? That’s a myth and propaganda people like Her Highness, Snake Queen Consort, tell to fear-monger elves about the Bad Things That Happen When We Mix With Humans.”

“Killian,” Liam warned, tone infused with a world of warning. He ignored the rebuke about their step-mother.

“You know that’s what she thinks, even if she isn’t forthright about it. Anyway, it was highly possible that they had mixed her blood and Henry’s. Full or half elf, I thought I was going crazy, except it’s impossible to ignore that feeling.”

“What was it like?”

“I told you, remember, when you said we should just put the Trace on her and be done with it.”

“Actually, what you told me was, and I quote, I’m dying Liam, I’m dying. Hardly descriptive.”

Killian rolled his eyes, moving to swipe his brother’s mug for a sip.

“It’s a burning sensation, like the skin under your skin is on fire. You can’t scratch it. Your throat feels like you’ve been screaming for years, but no amount of water quenches it.”

Liam watched him with wide eyes. For the first time, Killian felt like he was being taken seriously. Figured.

“There’s a ringing in your ears, like you’ve stood next to a gong after it’s gone off. And the worst thing is… well, you can relieve yourself as much as you want, but it hurts. The humans have a term for it, though I’m not sure why they use the color blue to describe it. Nor do I think they understand what exactly, it means for one to have ‘Blue Balls’”.

“Oh. I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“Yes, well.”

“So you can be happy with her? And her human child?”

“It would be too easy to fall in love with Emma Swan, Liam. Just wait till you meet her.”

“Sure, can’t wait.”

Killian ignored the slight sarcasm. His brother was a damn worrier.

* * *

Emma eyed the silver pears, Asiménia, a delicacy of the Nobles. While she usually, genuinely, enjoyed elvish food, this was awful. She did her best to school her expression, but she knew she was kidding no one.

Henry, through sheer teenage obstinacy, was scarfing down his food as though he liked the taste. No doubt, she thought wryly, because Gracie seemed to be genuinely enjoying it.

Across from her, Killian���s ears twitched in effort to choke down his laughter.

“So Emma,” Prince Liam said, lips tilted upwards in a smug smile, “how do you like the food?”

“It’s…” she said, grappling for the right word and coming up short, “interesting. Different from the ones served during the ball.”

“Oh yes,” Prince Liam said, while Killian glared at his brother, “this is a family delicacy. We’ve never had a Nysnian elf who has ever taken to it.”

“Oh, oh my, are you Nysnian, Emma?” Belle pipped up excitedly from her seat next to Henry.

Henry and Belle seemed to get on like a house on fire, going through hundreds of years of world history in the span of the few hours they had talked.

“Yes?” she replied, unsure why this was an issue. Her gaze landed on Killian, suddenly feeling like maybe this was a thing about herself she should know.

“Oh. I see it now, you have that dent in your chin and everything,” Belle said, craning her head to study Emma.

She squirmed under everyone’s attention, bringing another spoonful of Asiménia to her mouth, only to instantly regret it.

Elsa, the quiet blonde next to Liam, laughed. She had barely spoken to any of them, so Emma was a little surprised to find such open emotion from the elf.

“Truth be told, Asiménia is truly an acquired taste, don’t feel bad, Emma,” Elsa said.

“And it apparently tastes like this berry in Nysno, Marjaga, which is poisonous. Maybe that’s just your genetics that makes you dislike it,” Belle said, the petite human a seemingly endless sprout of knowledge.

“Belle,” Gracie cut in, seated primly across Henry and in-between Killian and her father, “will you tutor me in history?”

Jefferson’s head snapped up to his daughter, who was ignoring him in favor of staring down Belle.

Belle lit up like a Yule lantern, eyes rounding wide as Henry interjected “Me too!” and then remembering his manners, added on softly, “Please.”

“Of course. Oh, it would be such an honor. I would love the opportunity to hear you recite poetry as you did earlier. And sing. You have such a gift for it.”

“Thank you,” Gracie said with a smile, preening under the praise.

* * *

It was decided that they would stay for dinner, so the party adjourned to the study to continue their discussions.

Killian looked to be completely taken by Gracie.

His eyes kept darting to Emma, and she wondered if he was musing the same thing as her. Had it taken? She was in no ways prepared to be a mother, not like this, but watching Killian interact with the blonde haired, green-eyed elf child made picturing a future too easy.

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted it. Having to deal with a situation like that would drive her into a panic. But until then, she figured she could allow herself to indulge in a little daydream.

Killian was seated on the lush carpet on the floor resting lightly by her knees, while Emma sat on the couch. She was tempted to run her fingers through his hair, but managed to stay the impulse. Next to him, Belle, Henry and Gracie made up the rest of the circle on the floor, while the other adults had left for something or other.

Despite her initial anxiety, and Prince Liam’s somewhat cool response to her, the day had been nice. In fact, seated where she was, Emma was feeling particularly content.

While Belle and Killian took turns to regale the children with tales of history and famous adventurous elves and humans, Emma found herself only half-listening.

The content wasn’t boring. On the contrary, she was learning a great deal about elves, but her full stomach and calm proximity to Killian made her rather sleepy.  They had her full attention, however, when Henry asked why elves who were hundreds of years old looked like humans of 30 years.

“We develop slowly, lad,” Killian said, gesturing with his hand for Belle to interject with the prolix answer they all knew she had.

“You see, elvish biochemistry is very different from ours. Hormones are created slowly, the mechanisms more complex, the telomeres longer, much longer than ours.”

It was clear she was losing Henry, who hadn’t quite reached that chapter in school, but Belle continued, “They age pretty fast as younglings, which is why Gracie and you seem to be growing up at the same rate, but once she hits about 30, everything slows down. It’s also why parent-child relationships don’t have the same dynamic as human ones.”

“Aye,” Killian said, rubbing his jaw, “that’s true. You see, you could technically have a child at 30, but because both you and your child have an average lifespan of 800 years, you’re pretty much peers. But say, you have a child when you’re 350, and well, that’s a more similar human parent-child dynamic.”

“What if you Recognize when one person is 300 and the other is 30?” Henry asked.

Emma felt her face flame. Adopted though he may be, he was just as blunt and sly as she was.

Both Belle and Killian flushed, clearly under no pretense as to why the question was asked. `

“I’ll leave this one to you,” Belle said, looking at Killian, while Gracie giggled.

“Uh… um… well. Recognition is different. It’s two souls meeting as one. You will learn from each other of course, but as long as you respect each other, like any other healthy relationship, there should be no problem.”

“Good answer,” Henry praised, making Killian blush red.

“Henry!” Emma hissed.

Suddenly, she was struck with a thought of what he’d just said.

“Oh my god,” Emma gasped, as the realization hit her.

All of them turned as one to look at her.

“What is it, Emma?”

Heart beating rapidly in horror, she asked, “How long do elves have periods for? Because I’m not going to lie, I was looking forward to menopause. Now you’re saying I have to go through this torture for hundreds of years?”

“Oh ewww, mum, come on!”

“It’s part of life, Henry, I told you that,” she told her son distractedly as her gaze remained on Killian.

“Yeah, but that’s for when I’m like older. I don’t need to know that now.”

“Don’t even talk to me about you getting old,” she warned. Henry shut his mouth abruptly, no doubt remembering her breakdown about her outliving him still fresh in his mind from the week before.

Killian looked flustered, so it was Gracie who answered.

“We’ve evolved not to need that, actually.”

“ELVES DON’T HAVE PERIODS?!” Emma shrieked indignantly.

“I mean, we do,” Gracie corrected, brow furrowing, “it’s just, it’s not the same. You bleed once every 3 to 5 years, until you hit about 250. Then the body sets itself into what is called Henig Amatúlië. It’s basic epigenetics. And Recognition can trigger it later on. Like an on and off switch.”

“What she said,” Killian mumbled.

With an eyebrow arched, Gracie asked, “How do you not know this, Your Highness?”

“Just Killian, lass. And I do. I mean, not in as much detail as you do, of course.”

“Okay, can we change the topic now, please?” Henry begged.

Emma met Gracie’s gaze, the young elf rolling her eyes as if to say, men, no matter the species, all the same. Belle laughed, clearly entertained, as she diverted the conversation into some random fact.

* * *

Emma excused herself to freshen up a little while before dinner, only to be followed by Killian just as she reached the day room for guests.

“You’ve made it hard for me to get you alone,” he said, closing the door with a soft click.

“I was doing no such thing.”

“You’re simultaneously an enigma and an open book, my love,” he said.

Killian had a habit of dropping saccharine endearments into their conversations, and she didn’t know how seriously to take him. While it was hard to stop the warmth that stirred in her belly every time he used one on her, she told herself that perhaps, it was simply how he spoke, and did it to everyone. So she ignored it.

“How so?” she challenged.

“Our messages have gotten a little brazen, wouldn’t you say? Yet here you stand before me, skittish as a doe. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re only brave to admit to your desire when you have a distance.”

“Wow, that’s reaching, don’t you think?”

“Hardly, Swan,” he scoffed, “I think it’s right on the mark. You’re scared of me, scared I’ll let you down.”

“Just what the hell have you been speaking about with my son?”

“I didn’t have to ask Henry any of this to know it, Emma. Give me some credit. I didn’t pry.”

“You think you know me so well then? What about you?”

“What about me?”

She paused, considering him. Somewhere during their conversation, they had moved closer. It was like a disease, a constant pull towards him whenever they occupied the same space. She wanted, when he was nearby.

And while he seemed to read her easily, she couldn’t quite figure him out. That in itself, was scary. He was unpredictable, an unknown entity that already had too much hold on her heart. An elf who understood her and had ingrained himself in her family. He was too much.

“I’d say you’re scared too. I just don’t know what about.”

He shrugged, slowly bringing his hands to grasp hers.

“Well, if we’re going to be scared anyway, doesn’t make sense to do it alone, yes?”

“Killian…”

“Why are you making this so hard, Emma?”

She bit her lip, eyes roving across his face as she considered how truthful to be. He was beautiful, that was easy to see, but throughout the weeks, he had proven to be everything she had ever looked for in a man. Elf. Man. Same thing.

Sure, there were inklings of a temper and jealousy that she could see there, and perhaps he was more reserved and secretive than she was, but he had shown himself to be kind, considerate, funny and above all, had taken a genuine interest in her life and Henry’s.

He had gotten lunch delivered to her when she had complained about having to work over her break hour due to Ashley’s mess up; had tutored Henry on math via hologram the day before an exam; made her smile by sharing articles and pictures of cute animals with silly captions throughout the day; in short, he had stuck around, with no pressure for more, as promised.

He kept promises. She hoped that was true. She wanted to believe that.

“How would this even work?”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re an elf prince. You live in a royal place in Irska.”

“Actually,” he cut in, “I live in Alamané. In a penthouse overlooking the river. I write music and paint, and I sometimes sell those paintings.”

“Your brother hates me.”

“What? No. Liam is wary of you, but he is wary of everything.”

“No, pretty sure he doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“Emma,” Killian said, looking at her in concern, “I’m not sure what the idiot did to give such an impression, but I promise you that is not it. Liam’s issues are with my choices, not you. If he hated you, he wouldn’t have launched an inquiry about your parents.”

She pulled her hands away from his.

“He did what?!”

Killian looked like he deeply regretted revealing that. Emma glared at him.

“The Sukrasa are… they are the guardians of the elves. Everyone has a file. Since that first night, they’ve been building yours. Liam looked at it. I didn’t. Told him he was overstepping.”

“Fucking right that’s overstepping,” she growled, crossing her arms.

“Yes, well, he’s got a different idea on what constitutes as help. Liam is big on family. It’s why he tolerates the mad witch.”

“The mad witch?”

“Father’s consort, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed sardonically.

“Liam may know a fact or two, but he doesn’t know the stories. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll get on with Elsa.”

“She seems rather frosty.”

“She’s the nicest. Too nice for my idiot brother, honestly. She just takes a little time to warm up.”

“Did they Recognize too?” she asked, uncrossing her arms.

“No. They chose each other.”

“What happens if they Recognize with someone else?”

“They still have the choice to keep choosing each other. Besides, elves aren’t nearly as prudish as humans. We’re a polyamorous species, which makes sense when you think about how long we live.”

“I don’t share,” Emma said, the words rushing out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Good,” he said, taking the passion behind her words as an invitation to step into her space, “because neither do I.”

Emma gulped, suddenly feeling short of breath. Killian kissed her forehead, lips lingering between her brows as he breathed her in.

“Are we doing this, then?” he whispered, arms coming around her to caress her sides.

“I…I just… I’ve got to do something first.”

He sighed, pulling back. “Fine, but don’t tell me you’re not avoiding this, us, me.”

He looked as if he was fighting his frustration, biting his lip and shifting his foot.

It shouldn’t have been, but was, terribly endearing. Running on instinct, Emma leaned in, going for a kiss.

Killian’s reaction was instantaneous; his lips parted, deepening the kiss, derailing the chaste peck she had been aiming for. She indulged in it for a moment, breathing him in, before pulling back.

“Be patient, Killian.”

“Sure, what’s another 300 years?” he muttered. His cheeks were a ruddy red.

“Killian?”

“Yes?”

“Liam’s enquiry…did…”

“No. Not yet. If there is, I’ll let you know.”

She placed another quick, tender kiss on his cheek and then turned and walked to the water-closet, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She heard a faint murmuring, not being able to catch his words, as she washed her face and took in her own flushed complexion.

You’ve played yourself, Swan.

* * *

In hindsight, staying for dinner had been them, overstaying their welcome. They’d barely finished the hors d’oeuvres when the Sukrasa announced Her Highness, Queen Consort Coraline was to be joining them.

The easy flow of the room vanished instantaneously, as Liam, Elsa and Killian sat up straight as if a tree branch had been inserted down their spines. Jefferson, who generally stayed away from elvish politics, looked discomforted by the prospect of the queen joining the table.

Gracie and Henry, clearly neither oblivious nor stupid, picked up on the change of demeanor of the adults and quietened down. Emma could think of no good reason why the queen would join them for a simple occasion of tea and dinner.

Beside her, Killian gripped her wrist. Emma had given up resisting him while she was in his presence, the need to connect and touch too strong to ignore for the sake of pride. They’d been discreetly hand-holding under the table for a while now, though neither had said a word about it.

The doors opened, and everyone stood. Killian dropped his hands from hers abruptly, as an elf in a blood red ballgown with dark hair in an up-do practically glided into the room.

Aside from the fact that she was over-dressed for the occasion, there was a sense of superiority about her that set Emma’s teeth on edge.

“Really, Killian, I must find out from the help that you’re hosting a dinner with someone who could potentially be joining the family?”

Her voice was clear and sharp, and despite the concern in her tone, Emma could tell it was more a reprimand than a desire to be included. She didn’t care about his response as her eyes zeroed in on Emma, who despite wearing an elvish-style dress, felt like she had been judged and came up lacking.

“Well, she’s pretty, at least. Small mercies. What is your name?” the queen demanded.

“Emma,” she answered, matching the no-nonsense tone.

The queen made a tsk. “I hear you’ve lived as a human your whole life, what a pity. But that’s no excuse for lack of propriety, my dear. I suppose we’ll have to see to your lessons about elvish court.”

She heard Liam cough, and saw Killian’s ears flush red.

“I think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Your Highness,” she said, looking the woman in the eye. “We’re here to honor Gracie, after all.”

“Yes, there’s really no need to be inundating the Lady Swan, is there, Queen-Consort?”

Clearly irritated by the title, her eyes flashed to Killian. She moved to the head of the table, sitting down and beckoning them to do the same.

“I told you, son,” she replied, tone saccharine sweet, “no need for such titles when you could call me mother.”

“Not a damn chance, thanks, Your Highness,” Killian answered with a smile.

God, this was exhausting. Killian, with teeth still bared at his step-mother, turned to Gracie.

“Gracie love, I present to you Her Highness, Queen Consort Cora. You should tell her all about your assignment about human-elf integration, I’m sure she would love to hear it. You and Henry make a great research team.”

Emma wondered who she ought to kill first - the Queen, if she made a disparaging remark about her son, or Killian, for bringing attention to him. It was sure to be a fun dinner.

* * *

It wasn’t a fun dinner.

As soon as it was polite, Jefferson excused himself and Gracie, with a look to Emma. Needing no impetus, she also excused herself, receiving no resistance from Henry, who had been asked twice what sort of history they studied in human schools.

The queen seemed to adore Gracie, constantly comparing her knowledge to that of Henry, making sure to note the differences in standards. Emma was two seconds away from throwing a fork through her eyes, but Gracie seemed to diffuse tension with the kind of grace befitting her name.

“Of course, it’s late. I would like a word alone with Miss Swan” the queen said, eyes glinting.

“Your Highness,” Liam interjected smoothly, “I’m afraid Miss Swan isn’t quite privy to all the protocols of court. Perhaps when we’ve—“

“I’m well aware, William. Now, my request stands. Please leave us.”

Jefferson, Henry and Gracie stood. Emma waved them off.

“Go on, Henry. I’ll be right there.”

“I’m staying,” Killian said, tipping his chair in an insouciant move. Emma ignored him. This power play was a family issue, and she did not want to be anyone’s pawn.

“Am man theled?” Queen Cora said to him in Elvish, leaving Emma clueless as Elsa and Liam rose.

“I am staying,” Killian repeated, clearly having no wish to explain his reasons.

Liam looked like he was about to say something, but Killian flashed him a look, posture screaming for this fight to be his. Liam said nothing, giving the queen a hard look before walking out and slamming the door.

“So hot headed, your brother. Just as you are,” she said, switching back to the common tongue. She shook her head at him disappointedly.

Having had more than she could bear, Emma snapped. “Fine, Your Highness,” she said, the title dripping like ooze, “I’m here. What did you want to say?”

“Very well, straight to business. You’re to remain discreet, Miss Swan. The less anyone sees and knows you, the better. You’re not to talk about your suspected parentage to anyone. And…” she pulled out a bottle from her pocket, “if you happen to find yourself with a…problem in your belly, this tea will solve it.”

Killian had grown progressively more irate as the woman had spoken. At her last words however, he growled, standing so abruptly the chair crashed to the floor.

“How dare you—“ he sputtered, stalking to her.

“Killian,” Emma called out sharply, never taking her eyes of the queen who seemed to be enjoying the bonus of watching her stepson rage, “this is my conversation.”

“As you pointed out, I’m uncultured in your bullshit rules of court. So let me tell you right now, that I don’t give a flying snapdragon about what you think of me. I sat down here and played nice while you barely tolerated my son, and now you’re asking me to abort a child I might have? I see why they call you a serpent, but it seems like a damn insult to the snakes.”

“How dare you speak to me that way, you insolent brat! You have truly no idea who you’re speaking to. No idea how I’m helping you. This is your one and only show of mercy, Miss Swan. Test me again, and you will deeply, deeply, regret it.”

Nostrils flaring, the queen strode away, the anger radiating from her an ancient thing. Perhaps if she had been anyone else, Emma might have been cowed, but she felt nothing but anger.

Just as she reached the door, she turned, eyes finding Killian.

“Ask your brother, he knows why I only meant to help,” she said, and then walked out through the antechamber. The door was shut heavily behind her.

“Amarth faeg! That fucking, no good, lousy viper! Pe-channas!” he snarled, picking a bowl and flinging it across the room. It shattered into dust, the fine glass completely disintegrated from the force.

“I should slit her throat where she sleeps.”

“Okay, whoah, calm down, Killian. I’m pissed too, but calm down with the murder.”

“Slitting her throat would be too merciful for someone like her,” he said darkly.

“What did she mean about ask your brother?” Emma asked, moving to pick up the vial she’d left behind.

Killian was shaking, his face red. He looked two seconds from throwing another bowl.

“Who knows? Probably something said to sow seeds of distrust.”

She held the vial of clear liquid up to her eye, swirling it this way and that. “No, she wasn’t lying. I could tell.”

“What are you doing with that?” he asked her instead, ignoring her remark.

“I don’t know.”

“Throw that away. Perhaps you should throw it there,” he said, indicating to where a dust of white lay to their right, “where it belongs.”

“Does it do what she said?”

His mouth dropped open, the look in his eyes one of betrayal. “You can’t be serious.”

“I don’t think I would. But I should have a choice!” She tossed the vial in the air and caught it.

“You do have a choice, but what am I? Does my opinion count for nothing?”

“Not if it’s my life on the line!” She growled at him.

“That’s fair, Emma, look I’ll respect your choice. But at least let us talk about it if it comes to that. And for the love of the universe, not by her methods. Who knows what poison is actually in that.”

Without a word, Emma swung her arm back, releasing the vial against the wall. It shattered, the liquid running down the sides of the wall.

“That felt good,” she said, grinning. “I pictured hitting the back of her head.”

Killian blinked at her, an unreadable look on his face, before he surged, crossing the distance and grabbing her by the waist. He kissed her soundly, pulling greedy kisses from her lips. She responded enthusiastically, channeling all her irritation and emotion into passion.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing deeply.

“You’re a marvel, Emma Swan.”

“And you have some serious anger issues, but it’s also very, very sexy.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“That’s sweet, Killian, but I can fight my own battles.”

He smiled against her lips, kissing it briefly before pressing his nose to hers. “I don’t doubt it, but you don’t have to do it alone. That’s what I keep telling you.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

She pulled back far enough to look him in the eye.

“Henry told me an old saying. We’re only as strong as we are united.”

“Smart lad.”

“Yeah. I missed you. I could feel that…emptiness. I thought it was an after-effect of all that Recognition stuff…maybe it is, but I guess… I mean you asked why make this harder than it needs to be, and well, maybe you’re right.”

“I know exactly what you mean, my love. I’d rather not live like that, considering I now know what its like to have you in my arms. My heart no longer needs be empty. I know it won’t be easy, but we don’t have to get involved in any of the snake’s politics, we can just… be. Away from here. Work on this, us, together. Would you like that?”

“I suppose it’s good as any plan.”

He laughed, tweaking her nose. “That’s hardly a plan, but we’ll work on one. Henry is probably getting really impatient outside this door.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised he hasn’t barged in yet. Gracie is really good for his manners.”

Killian kissed her softly, a gentle peck of the lips, before reaching to grasp her fingers with his hand.

“And you’re really good for me. Come.”

please track tag ‘cs ff recognition’ for future updates:

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Shoutout to @mysecondmountain and @galadriel26 for all the comments and reblogs and for reading past fics and commenting on that too. You guys are rockstars ILU

[scientifically-strange]

Dani (with an 'i') gets found by S.H.I.E.L.D. and they find out that she the genetic daughter of Loki. Dani on the other hand wonders how to break it to Danny (the original) that his dad is not Jack. And on the side, Loki is in denial that Dani is his daughter since he was never with anyone at the time it would have taken to conceive her (though maybe a couple years before that he did).

Dani grit her teeth as she was pushed along, her hands cuffed behind her back. She could have easily escaped if it weren’t for the fact that none of her powers were working. Despite being really short, she noticed that it was pretty effortless for them to push her around.

“Who are you?” She asked, looking at the man with an eye patch. He didn’t turn around. Instead he was looking at several different screens that had her running around and kicking bad-guy butt with her brother Danny.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” The man said. What more did this guy want from her? They had already taken blood samples, mouth swabs, and a lock of her hair. Were they wanting to take her freedom away too?

Before she could ask what he waned from her, a woman in a lab coat ran towards the man with papers in her hands. She whispered something to him, and he visibly stiffened before turning around to look at Dani and her white haired glory. He narrowed his eye, thinking for a moment.

“If that’s true than put her in the holding cell we made for him. If she’s anything like her father we need to be prepared for her tricks. Loki won’t one-up us again. And see if we can contact Thor. He needs to be in on this as well.”

The guards holding her turned her around and shoved her forward. Did they honestly think her dad was Loki? No! Her dad was Mr. Masters! Granted she had had a falling out with him, but still! She wasn’t the kid of some whiny demigod with daddy issues! And Danny was her brother, who was the son of Jack Fenton! She had been adopted, but there was no way he was, right?

She was led to a large, circular cell, and was told that if she tried anything they would send her plummeting to her death. They unlocked the cuffs before shoving her in, and then quickly left, looking back at her with looks of utter hatred for maybe being the child of an evil demigod. She scoffed and blew a lock of snowy hair out of her face before turning intangible and sinking through the floor.

She had to find Danny.

———-

She was in Amity by lunch the ext day, trying to ignore the summer heat as she flew over the town invisibly. She looked in his room, thankful that he was there with his two friends. Maybe they could help as well.

“Danny!” She called, panting as she switched back to her human form, letting her now raven hair flop across her face. She blew it out of the way and stared at her brother. How was she supposed to tell him that he was adopted to? Or could be? ow as she supposed to tell him that they were the spawn of demigods?

“Danny, we need to talk,” she said.

“What? What is it?” Danny asked, instantly alert. 

“I was caught by SHIELD and they took some DNA samples and one of them said that we were related to that Loki guy,” she spit out. If Danny hadn’t been so well versed in translating Dani, than he would have needed to ask her to repeat herself more slowly. But he caught every word.

“That’s impossible,” he said. He looked a little worried now. “There’s no way. I mean, he doesn’t have ghost powers. Right? And besides, I got my powers from the portal, and so did you.”

“Yeah. But what about our ice powers? Isn’t that a Loki thing too?”

“Danny, she’s not kidding,” Tucker said, looking at his computer screen. He turned it around for his friends to see. “Look. That’s Dani’s DNA, and that’s Loki’s. Dani is the daughter of Loki, meaning you’re his son.”

“Meaning that my dad…Isn’t my dad…” Danny’s face fell, and Dani wanted to take back what she said. She didn’t want to hurt the only family that cared about her. But she knew he had to know. 

She needed to find Loki.

——–

Compared to her trip from California to India, her flight from Amity to New York was only a few minutes. And she already knew where their Tower was, so she didn’t have to waste time finding it. However, when she got there, Thor was just getting back. She quickly turned invisible and intangible before following him inside.

“Your eyeless man says that Loki has one or more children, both here on Midgard, and both with what you humans call super powers,” his deep voice boomed in the small room. The only other person in the room, the Captain America, looked concerned.

“Does Fury know where she went? Or how she escaped? We need to talk to her,” he sounded more concerned than he looked. It was nice knowing that your childhood hero was concerned for your well being.

“Nay, they know not where she went,” Thor replied. “I saw the film, though. She had dropped through the floor.”

“What do you mean?” Cap asked.

“He means I can walk through walls,” Dani said. This was getting old. She needed to talk to Thor, and Thor needed to talk to her. “See?” She let herself go through the floor, stopping when it was at her waist, before gently floating back up and placing herself on solid ground.

“Who are you?” Captain America asked.

“Dani. With an ‘i’. And I’m the one Thor here is talking about. If Loki really is my father I want to know!”

“I can take you to him,” Thor said, looking bewildered. His supposed niece looked nothing like him or his brother. Her hair matched the color of the Ice Giant’s home, and her glowing eyes were much to bright compared to his brother’s dark, cunning green ones. But they still had to make sure.

“Thor, are you sure this is a good idea?” Steven asked. He nodded, putting his helmet on once again.

“Aye. Now come, small child, I will take you to your father.”

———

Dani had always loved exploring the world and seeing new places. Her favorite was Africa, because of all of the free range animals and the beautiful sunsets. But now that she was looking at Asgard, she was having second thoughts. The rainbow Bridge was enough to sway her opinion.

She floated alongside Thor as they made the long walk to the palace dungeon where her possible biological father would be.

“My people will misunderstand if you are floating around. They will mistake you for a drauger,” Thor cautioned.

“So do you think this will help?” Dani asked, stepping down on the ground and changing back to her human form. Thor blinked a couple of times, not knowing what to say. Because now the family resemblance was almost uncanny with her high cheekbones and black hair. Her eyes were ice blue, but that trait could have been carried from the mother. Her skin was pale, and when she smiled she had Loki’s dimples. Thor nodded, not saying anything.

When they made it to the dungeon, she was surprised to see such a drastic change of scenery. This place was dark and wet and smelled like mold. It was awful compared to the nice, bright, pristine look of the halls she had bee admiring.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice boomed. They stopped in front of one of the cells where a man in a normal silk shirt rested against the wall. His hair was kind of a mess, and he didn’t look up from his book when Thor said his name. Not until Thor banged on the glass. Loki sighed and looked up with a bored expression, but that changed when his eyes landed on Dani.

“What do you and your friend want, brother?” He asked, placing his book on the ground and standing back up.

“This, according to Midgardian science, is your child, Loki.” Thor’s voice was laced with caution at his brother’s tone, and it was the mos serious Dani had ever heard him talk.

“I don’t have kids, you dolt,” Loki snipped. His voice was sharp and he became quickly agitated. “Quit wasting my time with children.”

“Loki, look at her! She looks like you! And she has the same eyes as-”

“-Don’t!” Loki interrupted. His power flared slightly, but he quickly settled it. “Don’t you speak her name, Thor,” he hissed.

“When was the last time you bed her,” Thor challenged.

“Years ago. Years before she perished from the sickness. She never had any kids. Not any of my knowledge anyway. Besides, if this child was mine, she would have frost giant blood in her. But she has none.”

“Wait, what’s a frost giant?” Dani asked. Loki gave an exasperated sigh before showing her his now blue hand, coating the border between them in a thin layer of frost.

“Creatures of ice and snow, ruling the lands of Jotenheim, and enemies of Asgard,” he replied bitterly.

“So they have ice powers?”

“Aye,” Thor replied before Loki could. Dani shrugged put her hands together, blinding the brothers with a blue glow that lit up the whole room. When she was done, she removed one of her hands and held out a small figure. It was Captain America, standing as stoic as ever.

“My ice doesn’t melt or break, either,” she stated proudly, throwing it onto the ground. It bounced and when she picked it up again, there wasn’t even a scratch.

“Leave me,” Loki said darkly. When they hesitated, he yelled it again. His voice echoed throughout the dungeon, his anger flaring up again. The table flipped over and his bed was smashed against the wall. Then, he said it again, quieter this time. “Leave.”

———

Loki sat against the wall, book forgotten. His elbows rested against his knees, his head in his hands. It wasn’t possible, was it? He had only been with Eira for a few years. They had made love, but she never had any kids. Or maybe she had them away from him. He vaguely remembers the trips to Midgard she took, and she had made more while they were together. Was this because she could not bear having children with a prince in secret, or because she had somehow found out who he was?

Either way, with the little demonstration the girl with his Eira’s eyes made, it was quite possible that she was his child. How many more children did he have that he had no knowledge of?

No. He didn’t have kids. He never would have kids.

There was no way.

[jasminegalbraith1991]

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How To Grow Taller At 23

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[hollanderin]

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