#The weights of the dozen of swords I had with me made me drown and I woke up

[duncanor]

One time I dreamed I had a wife and I needed to save her. So I went on a quest to do so. I knew nothing about my wife beyond the fact that I loved her.

When I ultimately failed, and woke up, I felt a devastating sentiment of loss. I missed my wife so badly I started to cry. She didn't exist, never even had a name nor a face but it didn't matter.

I often think about this experience. I don't know what to make of it but damn,

I miss my wife..

[batmanqa12]

The King of Flowers

"What is it?" asks Thorin one day, when he notices Bilbo standing above him whith outstretched hands and something looking like a circle made of flowers.

"Ermmm... It's a crown. For you." answers the hobbit nervously. He is afraid of the king's reaction. What if he won't like it? Oh, how stupid of him to even try giving him the flower crown. What can he think of Bilbo?

"And where is gold and rubies?" dwarf asks again, even more confused. He has never seen in his long, long life a crown made of flowers.

Bilbo starts shiftint his weight from foot to foot.

"This is a different kind of a crown. Would you like to try it on?"

The dwarf nods and kneels on one knee. Bilbo carefully puts a flower crown on his head and makes a step back to admire his work. Indeed, the flowers he had chosen were perfectly made in aspect of colors and pattern. It was worth it to stand up earlier that morning and go to the nearest meadow near a rivulet. Dozen of ceratostigma willmottianum, a bunch of striped squills, two cornflowers and a nigella damascena in the middle surrounded by amaryllis and daisies.

"Why did you give this to me?" another question comes out of still surprised dwarf.

"You will be a King, and every king deserves a crown. You especially, my lord."

Thorin laughs softly.

"Thank you for such a noble gesture, I will keep this in my heart." he takes off the flower crown and puts it into his pocket. "I don't want to damage it." he explains to the questioning look Bilbo gave him. Both of them look at each other with hints of sparkles behind their eyes.

°°°

"TAKE THIS HOBBIT AWAY! I will never again befriend a wizard or a traitor." while saying that, he pushes halfling away.

Bilbo with his eyes full of tears, climbs down the rope. He notices that Thorin is taking something out of his pocket and throws it onto a ground, into a puddle.

The flower crown.

Bilbo runs quickly, takes damaged wad of flowers and squeezes it hard, keeping it close to his heart. His back is hurt after hitting a hard rock but it is nothing compared to the pain of his soul. Ruined hobbit rushes to Gandalf.

Thorin is watching a whole scene feeling baffled.

°°•

He wants to grab for flowery crown just as always when he needs to make a decision. In his pocket there is nothing but a golden coins. He is walking on a gold floor, sees golden ornaments, watches golden sapphires.

Gold is crushing him. It becomes cold, this kind of yellowness unbearable.

In the blink of an eye, he starts to drown in the floor, collapsing into it, getting covered by gold from everywhere. He wants to get away, he doesn't need gold anymore. I don't want this chains, take them off me!

He would give anything for the blues and whites of flowers!

He drowned.

°••

"Forgive me, my dear Master Burglar."

Thorin smiles despite the pain and blood in his mouth. Bilbo is holding his friend's hand, full of sadness. He pulls out an old flower crown and tangle it between their wrapped hands.

"You don't have to apologize for anything! It was the greatest honor any Baggins couldn't have ever dreamed of!"

Thorin knowing he doesn't have a lot of time, looks at their locked hands.

"If everyone cherished music, food and happiness above gold and power, the world would be a merrier place."

He once again squeezes Bilbo's palm harder.

"Farewell, Friend!"

"Nnno, Thorin, no!" Bilbo starts nodging the dwarf in vain. He can't do anything.

Thorin... is gone.

•••

Bilbo stands next to Thorin.

His tears stream down his face.

He takes out a crown and places it on dead dwarf's head.

Crowned in flowers, a sword and an arcenstone, ready to rest. Beautiful like a King of Flowers, deadly as a dragon. Dead as a Death itself.

Oh why does it have to hurt so much?

[miss-choco-chips]

Drink and make merry, my friend (you'll be gone come morning)

Day four: historical- pirates // sci-fi- space

There are three pirates chilling in the dungeons. None seem overly concerned about the fact that they’ll be hanged come morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Bartholomew H. Allen. Bart for the friends. ‘The red nuisance’ for everyone else. Wasn’t the first time he’d been inside this very same prison cell; probably won’t be the last. The guards stationed in front of his door were the quickest on their feet, so maybe they’d have a minimum chance of catching the fucker should he escape again. Probably not, but the Arch Duke had been particularly displeased the last time he’d weaseled his way out of their prison, so they had to at least pretend to try.

He’d been unconcernedly chewing on dried meat for hours now. How did he manage to smuggle it into the cell, no one knows, but after he bit the first few hands that tried to take his treasure away, the general consensus was to let him be.

Similarly, anyone who held any notions of spending a fun afternoon with the only woman among the sea bandits was quick to be corrected, either by a broken hand or a kick that stole the air from their lungs like it was gold from a ship’s treasury.

Her name? Cassandra Sandsmark. She did not fuck around, and really, considering she would be dead by that time the next night, it was’t worth it to punish her for ‘prisoner misconduct’. That was why they left her be. Not because she scared their balls back into their bodies. The fact that she was Princess Diana’s wayward niece and, death row or not, the noble Lady would murder them all for even breathing in her direction, was a notable plus.

The last pirate, well… He’d chosen to spend his last night on earth doing push ups. It was probably better to leave him to his own devices.

Conner Kent. Whether or not he had any relation to Crown Prince Kal was anyone’s guess, but they did look startlingly similar; something the younger man had taken advantage of to avoid capture multiple times in the past.

To catch any of them wasn’t an easy task. The fact that they were all there thanks to the same man was beyond amazing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

An auburn haired boy ran through busy port streets, his form almost a blur between passerbys. Jumping over crates, avoiding street vendors, sliding over banisters and landing at the very last step of any stair in his way, the youngster made a truly astounding escape.

Tough luck his opponent had accounted for that.

Just as he was rounding that last corner separating him from the port (and his freedom), a foot struck out. Quick thinking saved him from face planting on the disgustingly dirty streets, but his surprise and momentum cost him precious seconds of stumbling.

The swords pointing him from every direction when he straightened weren’t as threatening as the lone young man standing behind the National Guard, unarmed but from the cutting edge on his glare. Without breaking eye contact, the runner threw both hands up in surrender.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The guards barely even glanced up when the servant girl let herself in, softly pushing the trolley. They did, however, when the scent of food caught their attention.

“That for us, pretty lady?”

Blushing, the girl looked at both men from under her brown fringe.

“The… the prisoners…”

Elbowing each other, they smiled, sharks smelling blood in the water as they eyed the delicacies on display.

“It’d be a waste to let people who are gonna be fish food by this time tomorrow eat such an amazing feast.”

The girl hesitated again, her duty to feed the prisoners at war with the populace general unwillingness to disobey their military enforcers.

“Come on, pretty lady”, the other one edged on. “Who’s gonna tell the higher ups?”

Something flashed behind her beautiful blue eyes, and she nodded, gently pushing the trolley in their direction.

From within their cells, the three pirates watched in silence.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If anyone were to ask, he’d been minding his own damn business when shit went down.

He had only wanted a beer. Really, life just wasn’t fair to wanted criminals.

It was just his luck that his crew chose this particular tavern to drink and make merry. Though, Kon supposes, it wasn’t their fault either. How would they know that the Lavender Throne pirates favored the same establishment?

He’d only been a member of the Renegades’ crew for about two months now, but he already knew how this fight would turn out. He was easily their best fighter, and the Lavenders were all about the same level of well trained; so here he was, alone in a circle of enemies, fist held high and feet doing their best not to trip over fallen crewmates.

Or maybe not so alone. A smaller back pressed against his, and he could see from the corner of his eye how the men trying to get his blind spot fell like flies. Not one to doubt his blessings, he doubled his efforts.

When things died down, Kon relaxed, marveling at the fact that just two of them were enough to deal with a full tavern of enemies. The bar maidens started to rise from under the tables they chose to hide behind, and Conner was about to turn around and thank his surprise saviour, when the feeling of cold metal against his neck stopped him in his tracks.

Uniformed men started bleeding into the room, dragging unconscious pirates away. When one approached him and his mysterious capturer, he almost felt the man behind him shaking his head.

“This one is high risk. I’ll take him myself.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Are you sure? There’s plenty enough for all of us”, asked Dumb Guard Number one again, words almost unrecognizeable under his chewing.

The girl, sitting primly in the chair they oh so gentlemanly had offered for her to wait on until they finished their impromptu dinner, shook her head.

Dumb Guard Number two didn’t need to be told twice and snagged the last piece of bread.

“Is it just you two for the night?”, she asked, apropos of nothing.

The more sharing of the two nodded. “Yeah, until the morning shift guys come and take them away to the plaza for their sentence.”

She whistled softly.

“Seems kind of mean, having only you two to guard three of the most wanted pirates of the last few years.”

The second one smiled a bit. “Nah, we got dealt a nice hand. We get to eat and laze around, and as good as they are, they can’t weasel their way between those bars. No excitement here. The day guards are the unlucky ones here.”

“How so? Aren’t them, like, a lot more? Seems like it’d be easier, sharing the weight of it.”

“Yeah, but Lieutenant Drake will be with them, ‘s going to personally oversee the executions. Can’t exactly slack off with the favored son of Archduke Wayne breathing over your shoulder, now can you?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Cassandra!”

“Go! I’ll hold them off!”

The older woman, holding desperately to the other’s hand, made a sound of profound distress.

“But-!”

“Donna, just go! If they catch you- just how much do you think Diana is going to suffer?”

“It’s the same with you! We can run together, there’s space in the spare boat”

They were running out of time. She knew convincing her older sister figure to leave her behind was not going to end well or happen quickly, so the blonde pirate shot a look to vice captain Artemis. They both knew Donna was just too important to risk like this, her relationship to Diana recognizable enough to use her as leverage against their Princess. Cassandra, as beloved as she was by the women who took her in, had spent the better half of her childhood hiding her real identity and running amok where few would be able to point her out as Princess Diana’s protegeè.

Ignoring her mistress’s screams, Vice captain Artemis’s arms went around her waist, lifting her clear off her feet and dragging her away, her strength forcing Donna’s hand free of Cassandra’s arm.

Soon, Cassie stood alone in an empty ship, sword in hand as she watched the sun setting over the horizon, the distant figure of dozens of escape boats a mere shadow in the distance.

When the sound of boards and then feet hitting the deck reached her, her hand tightened on the sword’s hilt, but she didn’t turn to see.

“It was a bold move. Brave, though.”

The words made her startle, spoken so closely to her ear, the approaching presence absolutely unnoticed until that exact second.

Breathing in deeply, Cassandra spun on her feet, sword raised. Her enemy was already a few feet away, safe from her board attack. His cold stare clashed with her feral growl, an ice prince facing off against an amazon fighter.

No other soldier dared approach them, as the sound of their clashing swords echoed in the quiet of the night as thunder.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Just as a distant clock was about to point both arms to its highest point, both guards fell asleep. Literally fell, face planting in the dirty prison ground.

Sighing tiredly, the young serving girl rose to her feet. Walking towards Dumn Guard Numer 2 (stopping only barely on her way to nudge Dumb Guard Numer one to the side, so he wouldn’t drown in the puddle his face had landed on), she crouched down and took the keys from his belt.

When she stood again, all three pirates were on their feet near their doors, waiting.

“Who’s first this time?” asked the youngest, voice vibrating in his excitement, smile bright.

“Me, for sure”, crowed Conner, hands on his hips.

“What are you talking about? I made him fight for it. Drew blood, even.” Cassandra, proud smile and raise hand, threw back in challenge.

To all their surprises, the maiden went straight for Allen’s door.

“What? Me?”

“What the fuck?”

“Are you seriously telling us IMP is the one who gave you the most trouble this time?”

The girl shrugged, but a small smile could be spotted under her calm facade if one cared enough to look for it (which they all did).

“I had to chase him all through Star Port city. I was tired afterwards. The two of you made me fight, but it wasn’t nearly as exhausting.”

The boy jumped out of his cell as soon as the door was opened, fist raised in victory.

“Yessss! Free booze!”

“It’s a stupid bet”, the girl shrugged at the other two’s upset frowns. “None of you are an actual challenge, after all.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole. Get us out of here before those dumbasses wake up.”

Before long, all three pirates and the young castle maid were running through empty streets towards the port.

“The ship is ready for you to take. I made it look like you stole it from a very drunk, very unsuspecting crew of beginners.” As they all ran, she… he, took his hand to his head, snatching away the brown wig. Hair, black like a raven’s wings, fell over his icy blue eyes.

Cassandra, keeping pace with him, accepted the disguise. “Where to, after?”

“There’s instructions on your next mission already written down on the back of the map, on the captain’s cabin. I left the key to the cellar as a paperweight over it, so there’s no way you’ll miss it.”

Behind them, the other two boys crowed in delight. Bart even makes a small little jump, never slowing their pace.

“Is it fully stoked?”

Turning to look at the bigger man over his shoulder, the maid-turned-criminal rolled his eyes.

“Half. I do need you all lucid enough to do your chores. But whatever you find along your way that doesn’t slow your progress on the mission, you can loot for yourselves. There’s an empty treasury on the right side of the ship just for that.”

Another jump, this time from the other pirate. The two running ahead shared an exasperated, though fond, look.

They reached the promised ship before long. It sat there, beautifully tilting this way and that thanks to the gentle waves reaching shore.

They stopped there for a second, the three pirates facing their rescuer.

“Will you be alright? Won’t anyone suspect?”

He shook his head, hands demurely raising his dress a slight inch from the ground in a small courtesy.

“Caroline Hill has a perfectly solid cover, and there are lots of people who’ll vouch for her if she’s ever suspected for tonight. Also, the guards chosen for the night shift are known for slacking off in their duty. Falling asleep close enough to the cells for one of you to snatch the keys and free themselves won’t be too much of a stretch for anyone to imagine.”

They smiled back at him.

“Do try to catch some sleep before going back there as Lieutenant Drake. You’ll need your beauty rest to give a convincing ‘I left those criminals in your care and you LOST THEM?!’ show.”

“The laughable state of the kingdom’s military is perpetually infuriating to me. Don’t worry, I’ll be believable. And I can use this as an excuse to fire the most incompetent guards in the history of ever.”

“Do you ever do anything without at least two different reasons and multiple plans banking on it?”

“Why would I, that just sounds like a waste of my time. Now go, run off, before someone sees four people hanging by the port and gets curious enough to remember faces.”

“When will we see you again?”, asks Conner, hand catching his friend’s shoulder before the man in the dress can turn around and leave.

“This mission should last a month or so, and after you hid the objective in the safe place I designated for it for me to pick up later, you’ll need to scatter. I’ll catch you again soo after that, so in total… maybe two months? Three if any of you give me an actual challenge, but I’m not holding my breath for that one.”

“Bastard. See you soon.”

“Make sure to take us drinking next time, Tim. We barely see you now that you have to play good lawful boy with your dad.”

“Only if you idiots take good care of the ship. The Red Bird is a delicate lady and I’ll hang you myself if there’s even a scratch on her beautiful shell.”

“It’s almost as if you care more about a bunch of wood and metal than us.”

“Because I do. Now fuck off.”

[In which Tim is a privateer (Basically a pirate with papers. As the name suggests, privateers were private individuals commissioned by governments to carry out quasi-military activities; in this case, Tim does illegal things for the greater good. As a military agent, he’s hiring himself lol) and the other three are pirates working for and with him, because they like to help him do good things and they also get a chance at fighting people, drinking and looting treasure outside their missions. Tim catching and then freeing them is how they exchange information or he gives them his orders.]

[cevans16]

Choosing Between Two Loves Part 7 ~ Endgame - 3

Summary: You were a Goddess named (Y/N), who had powers similar to Thor and even stronger, you joined the Avengers back when Loki had tried to take over New York. You were great friends with most of them. Tony Stark was someone you were always in love with even though you knew you could never have him. However that all changes when you get to know a certain super soldier....

You woke up with your head pounding, you felt a heavy weight on your chest, when you opened your eyes you saw that it was all debris that surrounded you, something had gone entirely wrong. “Thor?! Tony?!” you called for anyone to hear you but you were met with silence. You pushed the debris off of you, you weren’t severely injured thankfully, you had minor cuts that would surely heal up within the hour, the benefit of being a goddess. You dusted yourself off, grabbed your gear and walked around to see if you could find anyone. 

You spotted Thor standing on a small cliff looking down focused on something. “Are you okay?” you asked him, “Mhmmm”, you looked to see where he was looking, you felt your blood drain to your feet, it was Thanos, this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

“Ehhh you mess with time and it’ll tend to mess back” you heard Tony say behind you being followed by Steve. You sighed in slight relief seeing these two alive as well. “What has he been doing?” Steve asked, “Sitting and waiting” Thor replied, “let’s kill him properly this time” he added. You took a deep breath walking first towards Thanos, you had to kill him, no matter what. 

“I’ve seen you haven’t been appreciative of what I have done for you all” Thanos spoke when you walked closer to him. “We should appreciate half of a world?” you snickered at him, “Would you like me to destroy it like yours then?” he remarked, “Not this time” you gritted running towards him with your sword. You heard the boys behind you following your lead, each of you fought against Thanos. You were gaining advantage until he knocked out Tony, throwing him on a boulder. It was Steve, Thor, and you fighting against Thanos, he pushed Thor against another boulder, he wasn’t unconscious though, now it was you and Steve. You ran back towards Thanos, he picked you up by your neck, almost squishing you, you felt your feet dangle, “You...will ....never...be a god” you gritted at him between the breathes you were taking. That pissed him off, he was about to punch you straight on when you heard a swishing sound beside you, causing you and Thanos to turn to see what it was, Steve had caught the Mjolnir! You felt excitement, you knew one day it would happen just not when exactly. Steve ran towards you and Thanos, Thanos threw you onto the floor in order to avoid Steve, this gave you leverage in catching your breath. You ran towards the two of them, Steve and you double teamed, he threw his shield at you so you could hit Thanos harder while he tried his best to attain the lightning against Thanos. Unfortunately you caught a hard hit from Thanos, knocking you out unconscious

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

The sound of someone yelling woke you up, turning to your right Thor was laying down passed out, Tony was still out. You turned to your left to see Steve limping towards something, you looked up to find Thanos and his entire army walking towards you all. You got up slowly to make sure you didn’t have any serious injuries, not that it mattered any way with Thanos and his army outnumbering you. You walked to Steve’s side, you both knew what was to come, didn’t mean you wouldn’t go down without a fight. This was it you thought, the end of your life, you were so close to beating him. You looked up to Steve, staring into his blue eyes, “It has been an honor to be by your side Cap” you said as your voice broke, Steve didn’t say anything but he gave you a sorrowful smile. He hadn’t heard you call him Cap in so long, he wasn’t ready to die but he was glad to have a great friend by his side not turning against the fight. You turned back towards Thanos, “let’s give them hell” you said. 

You made one step forward when you heard a faint sound in your earpiece. “Cap” it buzzed again, “on your left”, it was Sam’s voice. You quickly turned to look at Steve in astonishment, there was no way that could be Sam. You were wrong though, it was, you saw a portal open on the top left, sure enough Sam flew out over you and Steve. You then saw more portals opening one by one, each revealing everyone that had been dusted away. You let out a breath when you saw the kid from Queens that Tony had brought onto the team. You were looking for two more faces, Nat and surprisingly, Bucky’s face. You saw Bucky from a distance, you could tell it was him because of his hair and the type of gun he had, you felt an odd sensation of butterflies in your stomach seeing Bucky. You turned to look at Steve, he had tears in his eyes this time, he gave you a wink, you smiled back to him, tears were falling out of your eyes. 

You all formed up in lines, the biggest team of Avengers ready to take on Thanos and his army. You heard Steve yell, “A-VENGERS.........” you saw the Mjolnir fly back to him catching it, “assemble”. You all ran forward; you, Steve, and Thor being the fastest you took the lead. You had so much anger in you, you felt like you were going to explode. You ran into the fight first, pulling out your spear to throw it at one straight ahead and then pulling out your sword....it was hunting season. “Ahhhhh” you gritted through your teeth every time you cut one of them through, blood was splattered all over you, you didn’t care, your mission was further ahead. You were deep into the fight when you heard someone call your name, it was Bucky, “Did you miss me doll?” he smirked at you, you rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t shoot at me this time Bucky” you teased. 

You don’t know how long you were fighting but you were all getting closer to the quantum realm machine, you needed it to snap away Thanos and his army. You were about a dozen feet away from Thanos when you were thrown back onto the floor, someone landed it front of you, it was Wanda. “You took EVERYTHING from me” she said angrily to Thanos, “I don’t even know who you are” he replied. To say that Wanda was the most powerful one was an understatement, she had Thanos in the palm of her hand like nothing, it was too much for him apparently because he had his own army attacked to get Wanda to let him go. 

You were close to Peter when you saw a bunch of debris falling towards him, you ran to his aid, using your own shield to cover him mostly. “Thanks” he gasped, “No problem kid”. You ran back towards Thanos but he kept throwing things to people you cared about to get you to cover for them. At one point you weren’t sure who you were covering for when you saw Tony move closely to Thanos, you knew you couldn’t move until the debris stopped falling all over. It was getting heavier by the second, all you could do was see Tony get a hold of the gauntlet.  “Tony NO!” you yelled, it was too late, the gauntlet formed around Tony’s hand, you saw him mumble something and then snap his fingers. In doing so, the winds picked up causing everything to fall down. 

You sprinted towards Tony, holding him up, he looked up at you giving you a tired and sad smile, you looked down to see the damage on his body, it didn’t look good at all, half of it was completely burned. You placed him gently down, kneeling beside him, “Tony it was supposed to be me” you whispered to him, “you can not leave Tony” you said, your voice was breaking, Tony heard that, he didn’t say a word, only pointing a finger towards your heart. You caressed his face softly before placing a kiss on his forehead, you turned back to see Pepper, you didn’t say anything but your face told her everything, she had to say goodbye to the love of her life. 

You got up, looking to face the others, you were trying to hold it in to look strong for them and Tony. “Where’s Thor?” you asked practically pleading to find him, you felt a pair of hands grab you pulling you into their chest, you thought it was Thor until you looked up to see Bucky. He looked at you, he had never seen you this way, you looked like you were going to break any second, the strongest warrior was going to break. “Shhh shhh doll” he said trying his best to soothe you, you didn’t realize it but you were almost hyperventilating, the last time you felt like this was when you lost your world, you were having a major panic attack. You opened your eyes again, trying to see through your tears, you caught back a glimpse of Tony, sitting there, his arc reactor was still on and then it shut down. You felt yourself drop, Tony Stark was gone from this world. Bucky held you tighter, rubbing your back while you let the tears drown out. “(Y/N)” you heard Thor’s voice right behind you, Bucky let go of you, as much as he wanted to sooth you, he knew Thor was a special person in your life. “Thor” you were sobbing once Thor hugged you, “he’s GONE”, you said, Bucky caught your last sentence to Thor, “It should have been ME” he heard you say.

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

You were beyond exhausted, Thanos and his army were dusted away but you lost another great love in your life, Tony had become such an amazing friend, you couldn’t imagine your life without him, you never had. You were doing everything you could for Pepper to not worry about anything, “I just need you and Morgan to be okay” you would say to her, “thank you (Y/N)”. She was more than grateful to have you there, it gave her a sense of peace in knowing that you would watch over Morgan as if she were your own. 

You guys walked down the steps of the Stark cabin towards the lake. You held Morgan’s hand while Happy guided Pepper ahead. Bucky wasn’t sure whether he should attend the funeral due to the situation with Tony but Steve had convinced him to go since everyone would be there, he even used you as an excuse. He saw you walking with Morgan, Tony’s daughter, you looked exhausted, sad, angry, everything was bottled up inside you. You saw Bucky at the far end looking at you, you smiled softly at him. Pepper and Happy arrived at the end of the dock where she let go of Tony’s original arc reactor that she had saved. You knelt down to be right next to Morgan, giving her a kiss on her head, Pepper reached her hand down to squeeze yours. 

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

Thor was planning on leaving with the Guardians, he and Rocket had asked you to come with them but you refused, “This world needs a suit of armor” you explained to them. You gave Thor a hug, “You know where to find me” you said, “And you’ll know where to find me. You be safe” he replied. 

You walked away to head toward Steve, he had to return the stones so the timeline wouldn’t get weird again. You knew Steve was going to return but you also knew Steve would not entirely return as Steve. You walked up to him, Banner, Sam, and Bucky saying their goodbyes. “I’ll be okay” Steve said to you, “You be safe” you replied hugging him harder, “live that life Tony always talked about” you whispered, “Okay but give Bucky a chance” he whispered back causing you to chuckle. You pulled back to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I will miss you Steve” you said tearing up, he smiled at you and then walked over to say goodbye to his lifelong friend Bucky. You gave them their space, walking over to stand next to Sam, you and Sam didn’t really talk to each other but he rubbed your back, “You good?” he asked genuinely, “Hanging in there Sam” you replied. 

Banner counted down to Steve leaving, then he was gone, he counted down for him to return, nothing happened. Bucky turned behind you and Sam, calling Sam over, you turned around to see someone else sitting on the bench a few feet away. You saw Sam walk over to him, it was Steve, you knew it. You heard the exchange between Sam and Steve, Sam looked over to you in confusion, Bucky nodded his head, you smiled at him, you could feel the tears again, you hadn’t cried this much in your life. You then saw Sam pick up the shield, it was time for a new Captain America, you knew Sam was the perfect choice. 

You were sniffling quietly, “Are you crying again?” Bucky asked you, you avoided his gaze, wiping your tears away fast so he wouldn’t see them, “No” you muttered, “It sounded to me like you were” he said trying to make you laugh, “Shut up Barnes, lets go” you said pulling him with you, his eyes opened wide at you doing that, “Hey now let’s be nice” he teased you, you let him go but he did walk by your side towards Sam and Steve. 

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

After working a few things out in New York, you had gone back to your home in Europe, you weren’t done with being an Avenger yet. You had stayed in touch with Bucky, he had asked for your number a few days after Steve handed over the shield to Sam. Bucky had been going to therapy and he was pardoned from his past crimes of being the Winter Soldier. You planned on staying in Europe for a while, as much as you had grown to like Bucky, you knew it wasn’t the right time to fall in love. You had to work things out on your own and you knew that Bucky had to work on his own things too, you guys however spoke on the phone a few times a week to check in on each other. One evening you were watching the news when you heard, “Breaking News, Avengers own Sam Wilson has come to the decision to turn in the shield over to the Smithsonian museum”, “SHIT” you said to yourself. You knew that Sam turning in the shield to the museum didn’t mean shit to the government, they were going to try to replace him in no time. You didn’t understand why Sam did it, only one way for you to find out....head back to the States. 

[deactivatedpermanently]

Fat Bastard Girl | Robb Stark

Could you maybe do a Robb Stark imagine where the reader is insecure about her weight and he comforts her?

Requested by: Anonymous

(A/N: I really hope this was alright; I’ve never really written anything based on a request before, but there’s a first time for everything I suppose! Also, if you’re offended by explicit language (which I doubt you are if you like Game of Thrones) then probably skip this one.)

Summary: When you, a swordfighter loyal to the Starks, follow Robb to war, many of the soldiers manage you feel insecure about yourself. Robb steps in and comforts you.

By the age of 3, you had a sword in your hand. Sitting idly by and simply just marvelling at your half-brothers and their immaculate swordsmanship wasn’t enough to satisfy you. So, with your father’s permission, your second eldest half-brother (Gared Laurent), the legitimate son of former knight Lord Regalt Laurent, taught you to how to fight. He was just 15 at the time, but he, like you, was a prodigy with a sword. However, unlike you, he wasn’t Lord Laurent’s bastard.

You had been raised in the keep of Herely Heath since infancy, following the death of your biological mother during childbirth. Luckily, Lady Juliene Laurent (the woman you knew as ‘mother) didn’t resent you enough not to raise you; with 6 boys, she was happy to raise a girl. Unfortunately, her dream of dressing you up in pretty gowns and styling your hair in a beautiful way was soon dashed when she realised that you were different. You wore your brothers’ old clothes  due to loathing the long, girly dresses your mother insisted you wore. Your hair was often made messy by the wind and rain in which you insisted in playing. Your personality was more brash and confident than what was expected of a young girl, and the daughter of a lord. 

The commoners, unlike your family, seemed to judge you and mock you to themselves for who you were. You heard their whispers about you, the chubby bastard being raised like the legitimate child of a lord and lady. Most other lords and ladies would be disgusted that their daughter, illegitimate or not, wanted to fight, but, instead, your father and mother were surprisingly supportive of your choices, even when commoners and several other lords and ladies passed judgement upon you.

As you learned how to fight with a sword from such a young age, you became easily one of the best sword-fighters in Westeros. Though you weren’t as good as Jaime Lannister, you could certainly give him a run for his money. Like your half-brothers, your skills were on par with that of an accomplished knight. That’s why when you turned 11, instead of marrying you off to a wealthy prospective lord, your father decided to send you off to Winterfell to begin serving his old friend, Ned Stark.

Though you were a bastard, you were still the daughter of a Lord. Your father insisted that you were escorted to Winterfell, less than a day’s travel on horseback away from Herely Heath, by three members of his guard, but you insisted he let you travel alone because, in your words: “A true fighter need not be protected.”

Your arrival at Winterfell was a welcome one by all of the Starks. You were the same age as Robb and Jon, both of whom initially doubted your abilities as a sword fighter. With Lord Stark’s permission, you engaged in combat with both of them and won within half a minute. While Jon revered you as a worthy opponent, Robb was mesmerised by you. With the tip of your blade to his throat and your foot resting on his torso, Robb looked up at you with complete admiration. From that moment, you were close with both the Snow boy and Stark boy, even if one viewed you in a whole different light to the other. The fact that you were a bastard always helped you relate to Jon and be close with him and have a strong, platonic bond, but you could surprisingly connect with Robb, especially when he requested that you teach him how to be a better fighter.

When you and Robb were 14, Robb gained a better understanding of you than he ever had before. He learned why you were the way that you were.

It was late at night, and you and Robb were training by fire light. Yet again, you had him pinned to the ground.

“Your stance made you lose balance.” you informed him, extending your hand to him to help him up. “And, you were holding your sword too low down, so I could kick it out of your hand. If I wanted to kill you, I could’ve killed you. Imagine: Robb Stark killed by a fat bastard girl.”

“Alright; no need to keep bringing it up.” Robb muttered, sitting up and taking your hand. “You always do that.”

“Do what?” you asked bluntly, pulling him up with a little bit of difficulty.

“Tell me that you could’ve killed me and that you beat me and then say you’re a ‘fat bastard girl’.” Robb answered.

“You’d be smug about it too if you were a fat bastard girl defeating the legitimate son of a lord.” you said, folding your arms. 

Rob frowned and looked at you, a bemused expression on his scuffed-up face. He was silent, something in the back of his mind telling him that you weren’t finished talking.

“If I wish to wield a sword and pierce the flesh of my enemies instead of be forced please a wealthy man in a loveless marriage and produce a dozen children, I have to prove myself as more than Lord Laurent’s fat bastard girl to everyone whose watching me.” You glanced up at Rob. “What’s the eldest son of Lord Eddard Stark got to prove when nobody’ll judge him for what he was born as?”

Robb was silent still. Yet again, he sensed that you weren’t quite done, and he was alright with that. He’d never thought of you, the brave and cunning (Y/N) Laurent, as just a fat bastard girl, but he knew, deep down, he’d never be able to prove to you that you weren’t just that.

“I was born as a fat bastard girl, but I want to die as more than that.” you responded. “When I die, I want to be remembered as something more than just Laurent’s fat bastard girl.”

You were done, Robb thought to himself. It was his turn to speak.

“Is that why you picked up a sword?” Robb asked.

“Of course not. I was three; I didn’t care about honour and victory when I was three. I just thought sword fighting looked better than drinking tea with mother.” you replied, causing Robb to snort a laugh.

There was a brief moment of silence.

“You’ll always be more than a fat bastard girl to me, (Y/N).” Robb stated.

“I know that.” you said in an unconvincing response. “It’s getting late. We’d better go back inside before your mother shouts at us.”

From that day on, Robb was aware that, in spite of how you presented yourself, you were insecure. You weren’t as self-assured as you acted, but you only broke down in private. That was until you had followed Robb to war.

Robb had appointed you second-in-command after him, knowing you could and would be a good leader.

However, the incredulous men who gawked, sneered and laughed at you didn’t share the same idea. For one, you were a woman. Somehow, your lack of testicles meant that you were unworthy of having any authority over them. Two, you were fat. Being fat meant that they just couldn’t resist the urge to not mock you. They didn’t even have to know you were a bastard to make up their minds that you weren’t good enough to lead them. Even when you’d slaughtered one of your foes before their eyes, they didn’t take you seriously. To you, they represented everyone, which meant that no one would take you seriously as a fighter.

They’d literally snort at you when they thought you weren’t listening. They’d roll their eyes at you when they thought you weren’t looking. Within weeks, you were sick of it.

You snapped.

“Any man to show me any disrespect regarding my appearance gets his heart torn out by their own sword! Do I make myself clear?” you yelled.

They all cackled at you. You clenched your jaw. 

A young man sat close to you made a pig squealing noise, causing a louder eruption of laughter.

You stormed over to him, effortlessly unsheathed his sword and pointed the tip of the blade at his chest, now rapidly rising and falling in panic. The laughter was drowned out by silence. The young man looked up at you, his eyes filled with the fear of a man about to die.

“Didn’t you hear me?” you demanded. “Or could you just not understand me?”

“I-I...Um-um-” he stammered out. “I-I...W-well-”

“I’m sorry; am I not making any sense? Am I speaking in Valyrian?” you demanded.

“N-No! I-I-I’m really s-sorry, m’lady-” he stuttered out, tears spilling from his eyes. “P-Please, don’t-”

“I could skewer you and make an example out of you, or I could show you mercy and be weakened by your pathetic display of grovelling.” you said, pretending to think aloud. “Laurents, legitimate or not, are never ones to spew empty threats. If I don’t tear your heart out with your own sword, I wouldn’t be a very good Laurent, would I?”

“P-please, m’lady. I beg for mercy!” the man pleaded, body wracking with sobs.

“Only the weak show mercy. I told you that anyone else to show disrespect towards my appearance would have his heart extracted by their own sword, did I not?” you demanded.

“Y-y-yes, m’lady. B-But, I was only j-joking-”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies then, sweetheart! I didn’t realise you were only joking.” you responded, thick sarcasm laced in your voice. “Joking or not, it’s still disrespect. All my life, disposable, loathsome fools like you have disrespected me because of my weight. Even when threatened with death, idiots will still do all they can to wrench a laugh from those around them. When I explicitly stated defiance would lead to death, why should I spare you?”

“Because, I forbid you from doing so.” an authoritative voice said, approaching you from behind.

“Robb? What are you doing?” you questioned, trying to sound as confident as possible.

Robb looked at the young man whose chest was being prodded by the sword in your hand, then looked up as if to address anyone with a cold look in his eyes. “If any of you refuse to show Lady Laurent your respect, you’ll have to answer to me. Is that understood?” Robb loudly demanded.

“Yes, Lord Stark!” the soldiers shouted in unison. 

Robb grabbed the sword from your hand and threw it to the ground. He grabbed your wrist and practically dragged you in tow as he marched you to his now-empty tent.

“What was that?” he demanded, folding his arms as he glared at you.

“They were all being cunts to me, making pig noises and commenting about me behind my back, so I threatened them with death. That scrawny little prick disobeyed me, so I was prepared to skewer him.” you shrugged, suppressing the urge to just break down about everything that had been overwhelming you as of late.

“You can’t just kill people who mock you, (Y/N).” Robb sighed irritably

“Why not? I have a sword, skill, authority and a general disdain for those expendable cunts. I could massacre half of them if I pleased.” you sneered bitterly, looking Robb in the eyes.

“I know you, (Y/N). I also know you weren’t going to go through with ending that boy’s life. You don’t have to act like you can choose if those men out there live or die.” he said, approaching you as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

You looked away from him, folding your arms. “Shut up.”

“If you think they’re just expendable cunts, why let them get into your head?” Robb questioned.

You felt tears brim your eyes as you bit your bottom lip and said nothing. 

“(Y/N).” Robb said firmly.

You exhaled. “I’ve been treated like shit since I was a kid because of who I am. I thought having authority would earn me some respect, but still they view me as nothing more than a fat bastard girl.” you explained, tears falling. “If they can’t see that I’m not just a fat bastard girl, how am I supposed to convince myself that that’s not just what I am?”

You felt a firm grip find itself around your waist, the warmth of Robb’s furs warming your freezing cheeks. Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms around Robb’s torso. A few moments later, he pulled away just enough so he could look at your face.

“(N/N), you’ve never just been a fat bastard girl.” Robb assured you, softening from the stoic facade he’d worn to intimidate the soldiers. “I learned that when you beat me in that fight when we were kids. (Y/N), never let those people make you feel anything less than what you actually are.”

“What am I actually, then?” you asked incredulously, damp cheeks heating up. Robb holding you so firmly made you feel a little more secure. Of course, you didn’t need Robb to protect you, nor could he raise your self-esteem. But, he’d always been good at making you feel a little better than crap. 

“You’re a confident fighter, a strong opponent, a beautiful woman.” Robb responded. The sincerity in his speech and the emotion in his eyes that bore into your soul was enough to melt any reluctance to accept his words as anything other than true.

“Don’t use my vulnerability to get me into bed, Robb.” you insisted jokingly in an attempt to show him that what he’d said had made you feel a little better.

He chuckled and smiled faintly as you, wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers. Of all the people you’d met in your time away from home, Robb had been the one to see you in this state the most. He was never annoyed nor inconvenienced by it. In fact, he felt privileged to be the one you trusted enough to come to in times of distress. 

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you pointed a sword at my throat. Did you know that, (N/N)?” Robb said, not entirely thinking. Still, he was bold enough to speak such words. 

You shrugged, masking your surprise and childish urge to fangirl. “I suppose so.” you responded. “Before I say that I love you too, can I tell you something else?”

“Of course.” he replied.

“Don’t ever undermine me in front of anyone again, or I’ll skewer you like a pig being roasted over a fire.” you said with a smirk, half-joking.

“Understood, my lady.” he replied with a smirk, half-frightened.

[auxiliarydetective]

Whump-/Flufftober - Day 4: Trust Fall; "Do you trust me?" | taken hostage | pushed

TW: hostage situation, near death, drowning

“Zoro! Zoro, I’m scared!”, Inari screamed.

She dangled at the edge of the rugged cliff, her hands cuffed together, the only thing keeping her from falling into the deadly, rumbling waves below being the man behind her who was holding her hostage.

“Put away your swords, Pirate Hunter Zoro!”, the man yelled as dozens of soldiers lining the cliff cocked their guns and pointed them right at Zoro. “One false move and you’ll never be seeing her again!”

Zoro cursed quietly. Those people were no opponents for him. But no matter what he decided to do to try and free Inari, it would just end up hurting her. The only thing he could do was slice those bastards from below. But depending on how he did it, he would either hurt Inari or make her fall into the depths, sealing her fate by making her drown because he would be too busy dodging bullets to save her. That was when he heard someone land on the rocky ground behind him.

“Damn it, marimo”, a familiar voice said. His hands in his pockets, smoke trailing into the sky from his cigarette, Sanji stepped next to him. He looked up at what was happening atop the cliff, looking disturbingly calm. “What kind of mess did you make this time?”

“It’s obviously his fault!”, Zoro retorted, pointing his sword at the man atop the bridge.

Immediately, Inari shrieked. The man had let go of her cuffs, making her fall a few inches before he grabbed her ponytail to stop her again. Her heart thumped in her chest. Her knees had grown weak, her head and neck ached from the weight dangling by her hair. It was hard to keep her feet on the edge and not fall off by accident.

“Help me!”, she screamed.

Angrily, Zoro sheathed his blades. But just as he did, Sanji grabbed his wrist.

“Do something right for once”, he said. “Do you trust me?”

“I have no other option, so yes”, Zoro replied.

“Attack.”

“But she’ll fall.”

“Exactly. Slice them, but make sure you don’t hit her. Trust me, I have a plan.”

“Fine.”

Sanji let go. At the same time, Zoro unsheathed his blades again and, before anyone could react, sent a powerful slice to the top of the cliff. The man let go of Inari. With a scream of terror, she started tumbling through the air, flipping over multiple times as she spiraled down. Zoro’s eyes widened when he realized Sanji wasn’t moving a muscle to save her. He tried pushing him, but Sanji resisted. With a loud splash, Inari hit the surface and sank into the sea.

Zoro lashed out: “What the hell, stupid cook?! Are you trying to kill her?!” He tried to run to the ocean and save Inari, but was stopped by a bullet landing right in his tracks. The soldiers had started firing.

“Shut up, I know it’s a risk!”, Sanji retaliated, ducking out of a shot aiming for his head. “What kind of monster do you think I am?!”

Inari, meanwhile, was sinking deeper and deeper. She could feel her strength fading, the sea water draining her of her power. Her lungs ached. In her chest, her heart thumped so hard that it made her feel like her ribcage would burst apart. But as the water weakened her more and more, it also slowed her heartbeat. She felt that she was close to fainting. Once the water had weakened her far enough, she would drown if the urge to breathe did not hit her first. She would die. This was it and she knew it. Just as her lungs gave out, as she gasped for air and water rushed down her throat, she felt a large hand on her waist, grabbing her. Her lungs burned and she coughed heavily, trying to get the water out of her system but only inhaling more in the process. Slowly, but surely, the pain faded. Bit by bit, she coughed out the water. But how was that possible? She was still under water. Confused and on the edge of fainting from the exhaustion and the water, she opened her eyes and noticed she was being pulled through the water at incredible speeds. Blood was coming from her upper lip and two weird objects had grown out of her lower jaw. Finally, she realized what was going on. The large hand that had grabbed her. Someone had saved her. Judging by the colorful, patterned fabric of the person’s clothes, their build, their blue skin and the dark black locks curling down their back, it had to be…

“Jin...be…”, she croaked, before passing out completely.

[hawksmagnolia]

The Depths Part 4

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,184

Author’s Note: Sorry this is a day late! 

This is Part 4 - Links to Parts 1-3 are HERE.

THIS IS NOT ENDGAME CANON. Sorry, not sorry. It’s my world and I can do what I want. 

Please reblog and leave me some love. It really does mean the world to me! This has been an absolute labor of love and I can’t wait for next Friday. -xo- Allie

Despite Thor’s timely arrival, Bucky knew they were struggling. He’d long been out of ammunition and had taken to using the serum in his veins and the sharpest knife he’d been able to find. They’d learned Stark was battling Thanos somewhere in space so they had to defend Earth on their own. 

Suddenly the Outriders stopped. All of them. Every beast on the field locked in place.

They went from feral, violent beasts to near catatonic with their heads tilted. 

“What the fuck?” Bucky looked towards Steve who looked as confused as he felt. Around them, people were slowly getting to their feet and checking each other for injuries while warily watching as the sky to the west erupted into black boiling clouds and when everyone looked to Thor, he shook his head.

“That is not my doing.”

The crack of thunder was enough to make them all wince but the outriders continued their stillness but they slowly began to sway to some unheard music.

Bucky stared at them and then realization dawned over him. He turned back to the swirling mass of clouds that was over the area of his Wakandan home and the nearby village. 

And the lake.

The pearl on his wrist felt hot, throbbing like it was alive. 

He looked back at the hypnotic sway of the beasts and grabbed Steve’s arm. “This could be very good or very bad. We have to get over there. Keep everyone else here.”

“Buck…”

“Don’t ask. Not yet. I just need you to trust me.”

Steve stared at him for a moment and then nodded. The two of them took off towards the storm, Steve relaying for everyone to stay in place and on their guard while they investigated.

Bucky’s blue eyes never left the twisting clouds as they covered ground super soldier fast. 

“This is completely unsettling.” Steve glanced at Bucky as they passed another pack of non-moving outriders.

When they crested the hill that overlooked the valley where the village and lake were, Bucky grabbed Steve’s arm to stop him.

The grass beneath their feet had frozen and crunched under their boots. Both of them stared at the piles of bodies, some human but most were the frozen remains of the invading aliens. At the concentric circles that surrounded a tiny specter in white with her hands to the sky.

“Oh shit.”

I stood on the banks, a water wraith in all her glorious fury. I pulled down the clouds, draining them of their moisture until it filled my hands…and then filled the lungs of the monsters that dare attack the people I now consider mine. 

You don’t have to be in the water to drown, the water just has to be in you.

I made my way towards the heart of the village, each beast that attacked gave me more anger to use against the next. 

It was one of the smaller villages, only housed a dozen or so families. Those still alive were hiding in the largest home.

“Go.” My voice was soft but harsh, but I didn’t want risk raising it and accidentally using the power building up inside me. “Go to the water.”

They ran past me, filing to the lake’s edge. 

The lake shallows now filled with creatures of all shapes and sizes from friendly faced otters to massive ancient turtles. They waited patiently to ferry the survivors towards a small island towards the center of this side of the lake. The last one was the village elder, a soft spoken woman, bent with age. She stopped and put her hand on my arm. When I turned to face her, she tapped her ear. It was packed with bees wax and cloth. She smiled knowingly before she climbed onto the back of a turtle who began to slowly make his way away with her. 

Above me, the sky was an angry bruise, black as pitch as the power in my veins built. I closed my eyes and began to hum, just enough to still the creatures as they poured over the hill. When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by them. They formed multiple ring around me, swaying hypnotically to the beat of my music. 

I shift my weight, still unused to the sensation of legs, of feet planted onto soil that is splattered with the blood of innocents mixed with the black blood of evil. I feel the air around me grow colder, my breath pants in plumes of steam. The creatures began to shiver, I raise my voice enough to hold them locked in my thrall. 

It doesn’t matter the species. If they have blood, they have liquid in their veins. 

And all liquids freeze.

“What the hell is that?” 

“It’s not a what. It’s a who.” Bucky clenched his fist as the temperature continued to drop. He was more than a little shocked at how fast it was plummeting around them. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him and when he met his gaze, Steve’s blond brows were almost at his hairline.

“Is…she?” Bucky nodded and Steve continued. “Is she on our side?”

Bucky’s gaze was back on the figure. “Yeah. She is. She’s fighting for us. Even though I told her to hide.”

“You know her?”

“She saved my life.” He glanced down at the pearl on his wrist, feeling it thump in tandem with his own pulse as her words echoed in his head.

“The world is not a safe place. I accept this. I am not running away scared. I can fight.”

My Tear begins to sing, its twin is near. Which means Bucky is far too close.

But I can’t stop now.

Tears begin to stream down my cheeks as I try to dam the coming tide within me. The tsunami of rage that will destroy all in its path.

Including him. I stagger, unbalanced on unsteady legs. Ice blooms like lace under my bare feet. To some it might be pretty.

People often forget that ice is also so very deadly. 

I drop to my knees, tilt my head back and lose myself in the song.

“Cover your ears!” Bucky shouts as soon as she begins to fall. “Warn the others!”

As they clap their hands over their ears, the sound hits them. Both of them drop to the ground as soldiers are trained, face down in the grass as the Outriders around them began to shriek followed by a wet, crunching sound. Over and over, each of them wincing at the muffled sounds until a silence so abrupt follows that it’s almost a physical ache in their heads.

Bucky tilts his face to the side. All he can see are the contorted carcasses of dead outriders. As  he sits up, he’s shocked to find that they’re all dead. They look as if something…someone had exploded them from the inside out. Each of their bodies is flayed open and the hollow cavities inside are white with frost. Both he and Steve are covered in gore and damp from the grass that is no longer frozen. 

Both of them sit on their heels, knees in the muck as their twin blue eyed gazes towards the village where the bodies have formed a gruesome fence for the tiny white figure who is curled on her side in the fetal position, white hair fanned away from her. 

It’s then he notices how silent, how still the pearl on his wrist is.

“Fuck. No!” Bucky lurched to his feet, boots sliding on the melting entrails as he dashes towards the village, Steve right on his heels.

As they vault and weave their way towards their hero, Sam’s voice comes across the coms.

“I don’t know what happened but half these guys exploded with ice and the other ones turned on each other…Stark just radioed in. They’ve got the stones. Guys?”

In the dark, I hear my mother’s voice.

“Do you want to know a secret? It’s not a song my sweet. It’s a scream, one that drives men to their deaths not because of it’s beauty, but because of the horror is causes. And you, my beautiful daughter, were doubly blessed with the touch of winter. You can command the flow, the sound even the shape of water as a siren. Little fish, you have the ability to wield it like a sword. Never forget you were made to be a warrior.”

I have never felt pain like this before. I feel as if my skin has been peeled from my bones.

My throat constricts as I try to cry out, the muscles spent from the rush of power. My lips are cracked and bleeding.

Sirens bleed red too.

I can hear the faint echo of a heartbeat and I wonder briefly if its mine.

I am so very tired. 

Bucky drops to his knees at her side. She looks so tiny like this. In her siren tail she’s almost double him including her tail but now she’s small, almost fragile. She’s lost the color she’d gained while here, her pearlescent ivory now back. The only color on her body is the scarlet stain of blood across her lips.

Scooping her up he strides towards the shore cradling her against his chest as he makes his way to deeper waters. When she is submerged to her neck, her head lolling against his shoulder. Her pale hair swirls around them like a lacy net and the wet fabric of his shirt clings to her body.

“Is she alive?”

Bucky turned and saw Steve standing on the muddy beach. His best friend looked exhausted, was covered in muck and blood but still his earnest face held questions.

“I’m not sure.”

“What…was that?”

Bucky shifts her in his arms. He isn’t sure if she’s alive. But her gills had flared open when he’d brought her here and then sealed shut. It gave him hope.

“She saved me. I fell into the Bering Sea, figured I was dead. Accepted my fate. And then she swims up. Steve, I thought I was back in cryo. She carried me to the life raft. When I asked to see her again, she gave me..

“The pearl.” Steve finished. “But how did she get here? We’re a long way from Alaska.”

“She followed the pearl. When they put me in cryo here, she thought I was dead. So she swam.”

“From Alaska?”

Bucky nods, continuing as he watches her face for any sign of life. “Eight weeks ago she shows up here. She’s been here ever since.”

Realization dawned on Steve’s face. “She’s the mermaid. The villagers were being serious when they said there was a mermaid in the lake.”

“Siren.”

“What?”

“She’s a siren, not a mermaid.” Bucky is able to hold her in one arm as he pushes wet strands of hair away from her face and behind her delicately pointed ears. He hadn’t even known they were pointed. 

“Whatever she is, she just gave us enough time to win. She’s got a lot of heart in that tiny body.”

Bucky swallowed a hard knot in his throat as he surveyed the wreckage that was the aftermath of a siren’s song. 

When he looked back into her face, he found her eyes the ones that were the exact same color as his own looking back up at him. 

Tag List : @nano–raptor @cchellacat @eurynome827 @jobean12-blog @book-dragon-13 @aesthetical-bucky @marvelgirl7 @sallycanwait68 @buckys-broody-muffin @softpeachbarnes @godofplumsandthunder @azurika-writes @ikaris-whore @this-kitten-is-smitten @randomfandompenguin @bucky-plums-barnes @bugsbucky @littleredstarfish @emilylyoness @hailmary-yramliah @daughterofsteven @crushedbyhyperbole @theycallmebecca @nomadicpixel @bluebell-24   @sevans-is-my-weakness @sebastiansloserclub @justvnash @worldofmarvelaficionado @undiscovered-misunderstood @throwmyheartawayagain @jewels2876 

[dusky-dancing]

The Prince and the Pirate - CH 2

For SoKai Week - Day 2

Story Summary: Sora finds himself far away from the walls of the Radiant Garden he's known his whole life, kidnapped by a rowdy group of pirates whose captain is as alluring as she is mysterious. What he thought was a simple hostage negotiation turns into an adventure that Sora couldn't have anticipated. He doesn't know which is worse, not knowing what's up ahead, or liking it that way.

Rating: T

Genre: Romance, Adventure, Pirate AU

Length: ~ 2k words

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Links for story navigation:

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

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"Kairi…"

He involuntarily breathed her name, and a playful smile grew across her face.

"That's my name," she nodded.

Despite the authority she obviously possessed, she remained kneeling at his eye-level. A show of acquaintance and equality. If she wasn't trying to intimidate him, then what could she possibly be after? Maybe she didn't want anything malicious from him, and this was nothing more than a hostage-for-money negotiation.

Or maybe it was all intentional. Nothing more than a trick, a warm and smiling cover to weaken his defenses.

"Who are you all?" he asked. "What do you want? Why me?"

"All questions I will answer in due time," she said. "What do you say we move this conversation somewhere more comfortable?"

"What, you have a cushier prison cell?"

She laughed, "Do you want to remain a prisoner?" Before he could respond, she turned to her two subordinates. "Take him to my quarters."

They both turned in surprise. "But captain-"

"It'll be fine," she nodded.

It wasn't until they hoisted him up, hands still tied behind his back, that she herself stood and led the march up the stairs. Her graceful steps didn't cause a stir from the worn wooden steps, but they creaked endlessly under every other boot.

"Don't try anything funny," Jessie mumbled in his ear.

Biggs laughed. "Where's he gonna go anyways? Swim all the way back?"

Clear blue skies soon greeted them, and the ocean air hit him in full force, not that the sensation was unwelcome.

Though Sora knew what a pirate ship was supposed to look like from stories, the true scale of a pirate ship surprised him. He craned his neck in order to see the sails, and even then he couldn't find the top of the mast from his position. The creaking and groaning of the ship were drowned out by the crew's work on the deck and the wind flapping the white sails.

All active work within Sora's eyesight, however, ceased once he emerged from his makeshift prison cell. He felt their eyes on him. Eyes of strangers, possibly more of his assailants. The bright sunlight kept him from taking in too many of their details, but he made out another woman and a few other men of varying sizes.

Sora must have been standing frozen for too long, because Biggs pushed him along. To the back of the ship they walked, where large wooden double doors stood decorated with plain glass. The Captain's quarters, where Kairi wanted to talk. Alone.

More questions clouded his mind as she pulled open both doors and disappeared into the room. It was comparatively dark inside, much easier on the eyes than the raw sunlight he'd just endured.

The room resembled less of a captain's living quarters than a decorative dining room. A single large table stood in the very center, enough to seat a dozen people. Various shelves, plants, and decorations filled the room comfortably, but Sora found himself too distracted to notice their details. The woman who'd ordered his kidnapping stood opposite of him, framed by a large glass window that put the entire ocean on display for him.

Again, she never held herself too high or with too much authority. Everything about her welcoming posture seemed intentional yet natural.

Biggs secured Sora in the chair across from her and left. Not a moment after her door closed did he begin unleashing his thoughts.

"What do you want? Why me? Is it money? Resources? Do you have any idea who you're messing with?"

Kairi held her hand up calmly. If his bombardment of questions annoyed her, she didn't show. Her dress pooled around her hips as she slowly took her seat opposite of him.

"Money is of no interest to me. I chose you, Sora, because you're the only one who can help me. Help us." She gestured around her whole ship.

"How?" he asked.

"I know who you are, Sora," she smiled. "You're the key to our success."

Her subtle emphasis on the word 'key' sent a shiver up his spine. It'd been years since he'd publicly called upon his abilities. His father had done well to keep them a secret from the outside world, but it was inevitable that someone, either the dark forces that plagued the seas or a hiring mercenary group, would find him eventually. The woman before him seemed to occupy the later group, though her methods were a bit more forceful than that of a simple business negotiation. On the off chance she belonged to the former motive, however, he instinctively scooted back. His hand twitched within his restraints.

"Don't be afraid." She said, and he was inclined to believe her despite his earlier instincts. "Our goal is for the good of everyone who lives on the ocean. You must understand that some missions don't allow the luxury of asking for help."

"What's this goal?" He thought back to rumors he'd heard within the kingdom. "Is this about the monsters in the ocean?"

She hummed, placing a finger over her lips. "I'll tell you more when we arrive at our destination, I promise."

Sora relaxed a bit in his chair, taking his eyes off of the woman before him to examine her quarters. Like the rest of the ship, the room had been carved entirely from wood, though its polish was much finer than his previous holding place. Naturally, the large window framed so intricately behind her drew his attention first. Scattered among the many shelves were various trinkets: a jewelry box, carved or sculpted animal figurines, atleast half-a-dozen plants he didn't recognize, nothing violent or overly extravagant. A small desk facing the window held an open ink well and dozens of papers secured under a large seashell weight. A discreet door off to the side likely led to her bed chamber.

The way natural light reflected off of the crystal chandelier above them made the chamber appear much brighter. It was...welcoming.

"So if I'm joining you on this secret mission, do I get a cool pirate code name? Or a pirate hat?"

He turned back to her, only to find her patience waning.

"This is serious, Sora," her eyes narrowed. "If you're to treat this like a fairytale, then it is clear you're not ready to know what we're after."

"I won't have to know," he said, "because the navy will find me first. They've got the fastest ships, you know."

Impatience gave way to a playful smirk as she leaned forward and rested her chin on her fingers. "Your naive overconfidence precedes you, Sora, but I wouldn't worry about them," she winked. "We've got a couple of tricks up our sleeves."

Sora sensed the pleasant tone leaving their conversation. "Don't hurt anyone," he pleaded. "We haven't done anything wrong to you."

"Relax, Sora. Our tricks are evasive, not confrontational. We won't hurt anyone who doesn't get in our way."

"And if I get in your way?" He smirked.

A soft playful smile pulled at her lips. "You are our way, Sora. None of this can be done without you."

Sora avoided her gaze. He was inclined to believe her again, though he didn't have much of a choice.

"What about after? When I've helped you with whatever this quest is."

"Well, we can return you safely to your castle be long gone before anyone notices. But I sense we won't be doing that, Sora."

"Why not?"

"Because I think you're not satisfied as being a trophy for your king, playing a hero prince but with nothing heroic to fight for." She leaned forward intently. "I understand, because I too have a gift."

Sora straightened, his heart stuttering. "You mean-" he looked to her hands, picturing her wielding a magical sword herself. It would explain why she hadn't carried one on her hip like the rest of her crew. "I thought I was the only one."

She shook her head and laughed, "You are one of a kind, Sora, that much is true. While your gift is more combative, mine is more…" she glanced to the side in thought, "elemental in nature."

Sora remained still, taking her and her words in. Even if their magic was the same, to meet another with an unnatural gift felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Perhaps that was why he'd been drawn to her from the start, how she'd found him in the first place. Had she been like him, kept within the confines of some kingdom or government, or used as a show of power?

He relaxed in his seat before meeting her gaze again. She watched him, waiting for an answer or a reaction.

"Well," he said, "you can't just drop that bomb on me without atleast showing me."

Her smile brightened. "I was beginning to fear you'd never ask." She then rose from her seat, made her way to the door, and gestured outside. "You'll see soon enough."

At her command, Biggs stepped through the doorway and lifted Sora to his feet.

"Is this really still necessary?" Sora asked. He looked towards Kairi, sure that she'd order his hands freed, but she'd already made her way to the deck.

"For now, it is," the man said as he led him along.

On the upper layer of the deck where the helmsman was positioned, The full size of the ship revealed itself. About half-a-dozen crew members, both men and women, worked away all around the deck. Sora's eyes followed the central mast to the crow's nest, where another man focussed through a looking glass out to sea.

"Are we all set, helmsman Wedge?" Kairi asked, though it was more of an affirmation than a question.

"Aye, Captain," the man nodded.

Just on cue, the man in the crow's nest shouted, "Captain! Kingdom ships in sight!"

She quickly shot Sora a knowing glance. "I guess you weren't bluffing about your navy." Her playful smile and wonder-filled eyes held no hint of fear or worry. "What say you to a little demonstration?"

Every crew member around them jumped, and they soon filled the air with excited cheers. Biggs patted Sora's back and said, "This never gets old."

Kairi made her way to the railing that separated the two levels of the deck. Meanwhile, several crew members began loosening the lines to close the sails.

"Wait," Sora said. "I don't know anything about sailing, but aren't you supposed to, you know," he gestured wide with his hands, "expand the sails to move quickly."

Jessie joined his other side. "Aye," she said and held up a finger, "if you're using the wind to move."

Sora raised an eyebrow. "But what else would you-"

His voice caught in his throat when a sudden swell in the gentle waves rocked the ship with more force than usual. After catching his balance, his attention turned back to Kairi.

She stood tall with her hands outstretched to either side, palms facing up. Her eyes remained closed, but the rest of her face expressed pure bliss. The waves seemed to follow the direction of her hands, and Sora thought he'd begun to understand her gift.

Mine is more...elemental in nature,

When the ocean felt calm and steady, she slowly brought her palms forward. Sora was too mesmerized to notice the rest of the crew bracing against whatever they could hold onto.

In one fluid motion, not unlike the very waves she commanded, she thrust her arms behind her, and Sora went flying onto his back.

The sudden speed of the ship would've sent Sora back into the captain's quarters if it weren't for Biggs and Jessie stopping him. The embarrassment tempted him to stay hidden and red-faced, but his newfound fascination with the captain won out. He stood to look over the side, and sure enough the navy ship pursuing them was now a shrinking form on the horizon.

Kairi was focussed, though he swore she shot him a side-eye smirk. Jessie stepped in his way and broke the trance.

"Okay, newbie, enough staring. Let's put you to work?"

——————————————————–

A/N: Thank you for reading! We've reached day 2 of SoKai Week, and I hope you're enjoying it so far.

Kairi's design, abilities, and motivation were inspired from a number characters, including Avantika from Critical Role, Captain Amelia from Treasure Planet, and the historical Irish figure Gráinne Ní Mháille (Grace O'Malley), 'The Pirate Queen'.

[pagiecakewritesstuff]

Falling in love (Arno Dorian x reader)

Summary: Just a little one-shot about Arno falling in love with you... literally. 

Warnings: little angst but nothing more

Arno was fast. Probably one of the fastest assassin in the french creed. But he was also reckless, pushing his luck with bigger and bigger jumps. Miraculously you never once saw him with a broken bone, not even a bruise. Either he was exceptionally talented or very lucky.

Until that one day.

The frenchman went on a solo mission. His task was rather easy. Assassinate the target and then go back to the base. Nothing hard, he thought, and he was right. His target wasn't strong or heavily armed. Arno got to him quickly. However, nobody seemed to inform him about the half dozen guards who were about to kill him. Fleeing was his only option.

But at the outer districts of Paris that wasn't easy. The roofs were further away from each other, but the buildings were almost as tall as he got used to. He only realized that after one particular jump.  

He ran towards the edge of the roof, continuously looking back, searching for templars with his eagle vision. Arno had no time to think about how impossible the jump that he wanted to attempt.  A dirty canal between the buildings made the distance bigger. But stopping only would've meant that the guards reach him within a second. So he jumped.

For moments it seemed like a good idea. That window was soo close, a great hiding spot for the assassin. He almost caught it, but his fingers merely brushed the ledge. And there was nothing under him to cushion his fall. Hardly reaching the ground he heard a loud crack and felt a stinging pain in his right leg. Arno almost couldn't hold back his painful shouts. Knowing that the templars can reach him at any moment he crawled towards the canal. He couldn't stand up, he tried but he couldn't. That made him a bit scared.

Arno got to the canal just in time, ungracefully descending into the water. At least it was shallow. Above his head, the guards run by, not understanding how he got away that fast. The assassin finally could take a look at his wounds. He cut open his trousers with the help of his hidden blade, revealing a big area of bruised, black, swollen skin. It was definitely broken.

"Merde..." The frenchman cursed silently. "No way that I can go home like this." He attempted getting on his feet again, failing miserably. He had to wait for somebody to come and save him.

Its been almost two days since Arno left, you couldn't stop wondering about what happened. His task was fairly easy, he should've come back a long time ago. You were concerned, he never done something like this before. Also the two of you came close in the past few months, however, he looked like he only wanted a solid friendship from you, that didn't stop you to fall for him. Asking the council about the location of his mission you headed to the outer city of Paris. After some interviewing, you knew that somebody did die here by the hands of a mysterious hooded figure. But where the killer went, nobody could tell. It happened at night.

You almost gave up when walking along a wide canal you discovered a body of a man, lying in the water. He wore a blue hood and carried a sword.

"Arno? " Not believing your eyes, you jumped down into the dirty water. "Arno!"

He seemed to be unconscious, almost dead, but to your words, his eyelids fluttered.

"(y/n)?" His voice was raspy, dry.

"What happened to you? I thought you died or worse!" That's when you discovered his bruised leg, in an awkward pose. "How did you do this to yourself?"

"I fell." Pointing to the tall building below the two of you he answered the question. "From there."

"No man would've been able to make a jump that big. What were you thinking?" Realizing, scolding him wouldn't help the situation you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself. "I have to get you back to the base."

"I think I must inform you that I can't walk."

You looked at his leg again. It was definitely broken if he's not lucky enough an injury like this possibly could end his career as an assassin.

"We have to try. I'll catch a carriage for us when I see one." You promised him, then climbed back to the street level. "But now I have to pull you out from there. Why did you jump down into the canal in the first place?"

A faint smile crossed Arno's features. He was delirious, mainly because of the medicines he took to ease his pain.  

"I had to hide, the canal was close."

"Well, if you have any open cuts those are probably infected by now, this water is full of dirt."

"Je connais."

As gently as you could you grabbed his robes, hauling him up next to you. Only a small yelp escaped his mouth, other than that Arno kept his emotions at bay. Standing up was rather hard, but leaning on you he managed to keep his balance. He almost blacked out, with you barely being able to hold his weight. Looked like that the painkillers weren't effective enough, they made him sleepy but nothing more.

"Concentrate, because if you fall I don't think I'll be able to catch you." You warned him. Arno answered with a slow nod while limping next to you.

Finding a carriage was harder than you thought. By the time you reached the river, you still walked on foot. The medicine in Arno's body started to wear off, making him tremble in pain.

"Stop." He pleaded... again.

"Arno we literally just did that ten minutes ago!" You were annoyed and tired but laid him down to the ground nonetheless. The two of you were struggling along the riverbank for an hour at least.

"You should leave me." Arno's expression was pained, it looked like he already gave up. He knew well that an injury like this could demand his job as an assassin. No more missions, no more sunsets with you on top of the Notre Dame. He wasn't ready for that life.

"No way, I'm not leaving you." Glancing around you spotted a few boats nearby. You were way below the street level, nobody would notice you taking one. "I got a ride for ourselves."

"What? A carriage?" Arno was genuinely surprised since he saw nothing that would've been suitable for travel.

"We are going to use a boat." You helped up the male assassin and got closer to the water.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?"

"I'm not, but if you don't fall into the water and drown nothing bad will happen."

"Génial..." Arno sat in the boat awkwardly, the uneven movements of the river made him nervous. He was a good swimmer, but not in his current state. Climbing next to him you cut the ropes and headed to the base. Traveling that way was faster than limping through the city, so by the evening, you reached your destination. Two assassins waited for your arrival, they pulled the boat to the shore and then helped Arno to get inside.  He had some problem at the stairs, leaning on the novices, completely guided by them. You headed to your chambers, knowing that Arno wouldn't want you to see him weak while he getting his leg fixed. He was a master assassin, after all, let him keep some of his dignity after a fail like that. You'll visit him the next day, but for now, you needed a bath and some sleep. A lot of sleep actually...

You woke up with the rising sun. First, you couldn't quite recall what happened last afternoon, but after a couple of seconds, you remembered. Visit Arno, that was the main point of the day, everything came later. Gathering your (f/c) colored gear, you changed clothes then left your chambers. Arno was probably in the medical area still. You hoped he didn't need to pay too much for his injury that he could have prevented.

After asking one of the nurses where your friend could be located, you entered the right room inside the medical area.

"How are you holding up?" You looked at Arno, who laid motionlessly in his bed, his broken leg between two wood boards to keep the bones in the right place until they heal.

"I've been better." He answered with a light smile playing on his lips.

"Will you be able to climb again?"

"If I lay here for three months without moving an inch."

"Mon Dieu..."

"It's not that bad, after all, we can spend a great amount of time together if you like me oh so much, as I hear." Arno's smile only grew bigger as he looked at you dead in the eye.

"Who told you?" You froze in place.

"I figured."

"And... do you feel the same?"

"I think... I just fell in love. Quite literally." Then he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to plant a small kiss on your lips.  

[multisfabulis]

The Road to Forgiveness Be Damned

Freed (Chapter 7/7)

Word Count: 8737

TW: Referenced child abuse

And with the release of this chapter lies the end of this story.

This took me almost a year and nine months to finish and it’s been a rollercoaster. Despite the mental and emotional highs and lows, I’m glad I committed myself to working on this until its completion and I can’t wait to work on the other projects I’ve got lined up!

As a final note, I apologize for the word vomit that is the architecture/interior design descriptions. It was in the middle of writing those that I realized this is a major weakness of mine because my mind cannot comprehend something of that scale. I also have no artistic sense at all so a lot of set drops are based off what I'm visualizing in my mind so there's bound to be many mistakes.

Read on AO3 | Read on DA | Support me on Ko-fi!

     The sound of rolling waves was like music to Ven’s ears. Water ebbed and flowed along the shore as she breathed in the salty air. She opened her eyes to see fluffy white clouds scattered across an endless sea of blue, both above and below. An early spring breeze blew through, ruffling her hair and clothes. She took a deep breath and, steadying herself, tentatively walked towards the ocean.

     It had been a little over a week since her and Ferreth’s return from Thal Esari. They left mere hours after Filaurel’s ruling, not wanting to spend more time than they already had by staying an extra day. She managed to finish reading Thessalia’s journal during the trip back and she had more questions than answers. The final entry was dated a day or so before her death and she still hadn’t made a decision on what to do with her. Rereading the last words she wrote felt weird, the image of her mother writing in her journal whilst not knowing it’d be the last imprint she’d leave in the world present in her mind. At least she knew that she’d never know what her fate would be if Thessalia survived and it may never be completely okay.

     She also learned of something that shocked her. Something she had honestly never thought of but made so much sense looking back on it. It wasn’t just because of her hatred for Vlixeoxs, her contempt for her ran deeper than that. She was meant to be a second chance but it was dashed the moment she saw what she was. She was still coming to grips with what that bombshell revealed and it scared her to know how cruel someone could be to a child.

     She shook her head to stop herself from going further. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about those dark thoughts. What she really needed to focus on was the limits in which her power could go. She never gave much thought as to what she could really do until she began wondering a few nights ago. Were the things she did just part of a dream or were they real? It was hard for her to believe she was that strong but she kept itching to try and do the marvels she had done in the dream. Today was the day she’d find out if there was more to her power she believed possible or not.

     She stopped walking when the water reached her ankles. She nervously swallowed as she let out a shaky breath. Looking behind her to see if anyone was watching, she closed her eyes and held out her hands.

     She thought of how her glaive looked, the weight and feel of it. How sharp its blade was, how tall it stood, she even remembered the tiny scratches on its hilt. She then willed her power to try and recreate her beloved weapon. She felt a weight in her hands almost immediately after she ordered it and opened her eyes. In her hands was a pitch black glaive made of darkness.

     Her eyes widened in amazement as she examined the glaive. It felt solid and was light as a feather, not like the one sitting at home. She ran her fingers along the edge of the blade, realizing just how sharp it was. It even had the ribbon she tied around the top end of the pole. This was a glaive, a weapon she made with her power, something she could do all along but never the courage to do it.

     She arced it up in the air, a fluid motion she hadn’t experienced before. Then she spun it above her head in one hand and passed it on to the other. She was beginning to really enjoy how smooth her regular moves flowed so effortlessly. There was just one more thing she needed to try out.

     Tossing it high up, she waited for the perfect moment to show itself. Once the blunt end of the pole faced her, she kicked it forward with all her might. It was sent flying several feet ahead and, right before it sank into the ocean, she attempted to summon it to her hand. It came back like a boomerang, the force and surprise at how easy it was causing her to stumble back a bit.

     She held the glaive up above her, looking at it in wonder. This was incredible to her, being able to create anything she set her mind to and with such ease! It may only be the first thing she planned on testing out but she was excited all the same. She dismissed the glaive and it dispersed into dark wisps from her hand.

     Now it was time for the second thing she remembered doing in the dream. She closed her eyes again and imagined a wall behind her. The wall had dozens of daggers, swords, and whatever else she could think of trained up at the sky. Once the image was etched in her mind, she raised her arms. Barely any sound was made as she finished summoning the wall and turned around to see it.

     Shock and awe filled her being as she marveled at her creation. The wall was tilted up towards the sky and it spanned the width of the beach. There were spikes protruding out of the surface, appearing about ready to fire. All she needed to do was lift a hand and wave it.

     So she did just that. She turned back around, raised a hand up, and pointed two fingers at the sky. Her mouth curled up into a playful smile as she eagerly braced herself for the magic that was about to happen. Like pulling the trigger of a crossbow, she shot a barrage of dark bladed weapons high into the sky. They flew ahead in an arc and landed in the ocean, dissolving into wisps once more.

     Adrenaline coursed through her body as she tried to keep herself calm. Her hands shook, butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, and her heart pounded against her chest. This may have been becoming too much for her but she wanted to keep going. How she wasn’t bouncing all over the place was anyone’s guess.

     Time for the third and final phase. The thing she never ever thought would be possible, even if she knew how the other two worked. This was something she’d been looking forward to the most and, if she could do it, it’d be a miracle. It didn’t take much for her to remember the image because how could she forget such a sight? A weight was placed on her back and she wanted to squeal in delight.

     She glanced over her shoulder. Two giant black wings were attached to the middle of her back, beads of darkness dripping off them onto the sand below. They weren’t feathered but they didn’t need to be to look beautiful. They were like a smooth onyx gem that shone a slight purple tinge when the light hit them right. She had only caught a glimpse of them in the moonlight from the dream so seeing them on a bright day like today made this moment all the more special.

     She took in a deep, shaky breath, excited for what was happening next. Her wings lifted themselves higher and higher before coming down with a tremendous whoosh. Sand blew away from her as she flew up in the air.

     She stopped just above where the trees’ canopy was. Her wings flapped behind her as she took in her surroundings. It was breathtaking to see the beach, the forest, the ocean, everything from a new perspective and she loved it. Now she could start to really have some fun with this newfound ability.

     She flew under the rocky cliff that overshadowed the beach, weaving through the crags rising up from the ocean below. Then she soared on up to the clouds, bobbing in and out of them and feeling the wind and dew on her face. She swooped down to the sea and glided above its surface, sticking her hand in to feel the cool water go through her fingers. This was everything she could’ve ever dreamed of and she could do this at any time she wanted.

     Then she had an idea. It was, admittedly, a very dumb and very risky idea because of how much danger she’d be putting herself in but the chance of it working was there. If it panned out, it’d be extraordinary.

     She drifted up several feet above the water. Anxiety began to grow in her stomach as she realized just how dangerous her idea was. She could very well drown if this went poorly, due to her inability to swim. It could be hours or even days before someone found her and it’d be too late at that point.

     No, she couldn’t think like that. This might work after all and she’ll have been worrying over nothing. She attempted to settle down her nerves before steeling herself for what was to come. Then, after relaxing her shoulders and steadying her breathing, she dove into the ocean.

     It was like being in the swamp again, except she could see this time. Light filtered in from above, giving the underwater a crystal blue hue. There were many different plants and coral and algae and they were all so vibrant and colorful. Schools of fish quickly swam away when she glanced at them. It was so pretty to look at but she needed to get back up to the surface.

     Her wings managed to stay with her after her dive and they were beating as hard as they could to help her. Her lungs began to burn from the lack of air as she tried to swim up, her arms and legs feeling like lead weighing her down. Fear started to set in, her heart about ready to stop at any moment. A burst of strength came to her once she got close to the surface and it gave her wings the power they needed to break through.

     She shot out of the water like an arrow, sailing up several feet. Water droplets clung to her wings, trailing down till they fell back into the ocean. She drew them in and quickly unfurled them, shaking the last few drops off them. The sun cast her shadow across the water and she couldn’t help liking what she saw. That was her, her and her power, and she didn’t feel ashamed.

     She flew back to shore, an exuberant smile on her face. Her idea worked, it wasn’t a failure. Heck, everything in her dream wasn’t a dream, it was all real. She had done those things and they were all her.

     All her life, she had been shamed for being a Vlixeox. Her eyes, her power, they were things that alerted others of her race. She could only do so much with her eyes but she could hide her power. She could pretend it didn’t exist, it wasn’t a part of her, until she got home, where she felt safe enough to let the mask fall. She hated having to hide it but she also hated having it.

     Every time she looked in a mirror, she was reminded of it. How she, a Vlixeox, was living among people who were normal, elves. The mirror reflected back everything she wasn’t. Even if they tolerated her existence, just seeing them go about their daily lives made her aware of how different, how other she was. It was a constant struggle to hide the parts that gave her true nature away and pretend to be like one of them and it almost killed her.

     It was only when she took a chance and helped Eric with her power back in Brinegarde she didn’t have to hide anymore. He accepted her as she was and treated her like she was his friend. Her once tiny world grew after meeting him, he brought her out of the darkness and into the light. It’s because of his kindness she found people that didn’t care about what she was and she was happy.

     Maybe it was because of her time here she felt comfortable knowing her power was a part of her. There was no need to conceal it anymore. She never allowed herself to have fun with it but today changed all that. It felt so nice and wondrous and…liberating to enjoy this and having this and being this. She didn’t know if she’d ever be completely okay with being a Vlixeox but she figured she was on the right track.

     Her wings faded away once she was safely back on land. She looked over at the forest beyond the docks and her smile dropped. There, just before the trees made way to the clearing, was Ferreth.

     A surprised scream escaped from her mouth and she jumped back, her butt landing on the wet sand. He started laughing as she drew her hood up to hide her face. Her face felt warm, no doubt from the blush she knew she had. She heard him quiet some before seeing him crouch down in front of her.

     “H-how long were you standing there?” she asked, flustered.

     “Just enough to see you flying around everywhere,” he replied, resting his cheek against his hand and a teasing smile on his face.

     She let out an embarrassed whine. She felt mortified at how he may have seen everything she did and that was humiliating. It wasn’t that she was now regretting ever doing this or letting herself enjoy it as much as she did. Having someone see her act so…childishly was something she felt uncomfortable with.

     “Hey, it’s not that bad,” he said, dropping his hand. “It was adorable, seeing how much fun you were having.”

     Answering him with another whine, he continued on with, “I think that was my first time seeing you act so…openly, I guess. You’re a lot more withdrawn normally so it was a nice surprise to watch. It’d be nice to see you like that more often.”

     She finally looked up at him, staring into his light green eyes. They were warm and full of love, her heart fluttering the longer she peered in. He placed a hang atop her head and petted it, her cheeks still warm as she pouted.

     “Come on, let’s get you up.” He stood up and held his hand out to her.

     Sighing, she let her hood down and took his hand. He helped her up easily enough and she tried to wring the water out of her cloak. It may have been stupid to hope it hadn’t gotten too wet, considering how she literally dove underwater earlier, but she would be devastated if it was ruined. It was too important to her so she needed to be more careful from now on.

     They climbed up the steps and were east of town. Her blush cooled down as her embarrassment from earlier gave way to anxiety. Today wouldn’t just be her unshackling herself from the hate people imposed on her when she was a child. She was taking a leap of faith, trusting in the hope he wouldn’t think differently of her.

     “Hey, Ferret?” They had just passed the first building when she called out to him. “Is it okay if you come with me to see Eric?”

     Confused, he asked, “Sure, but is there something you need me to do with him?”

     “No, it’s… I’m planning on telling him.”

     That was all she needed to say for him to understand. She was going to tell Eric everything that happened in Thal Esari, both in the past and present. Even her crime, something she wasn’t looking forward to. The prospect had been brought up before when they were there but she wasn’t sure if she’d ever do it. Her fear of him becoming scared of her was still a real possibility in her mind.

     As she said back then, Eric was the first person to befriend her, show kindness to her. He was the reason she lived in Aurora Zenith now, the reason she and Ferreth met, the reason she was finally coming around to accepting herself. She didn’t want to imagine him hating her over what she did. If their friendship shattered after everything was revealed, it’d just kill her.

     Even so, he deserved to know what happened. She struggled with keeping the bad memories from overwhelming her when he first asked her about it. Now, after all she’s been through the past several months, she felt brave enough to tell him.

     She was asking Ferreth to come with her so he’d give her courage. That was why he came with her to Thal Esari and he’d serve the same purpose here. If it somehow went badly, she’d also need him there for comfort. She hoped it wouldn’t end like that and it would go smoothly.

     “What made you decide on telling him?” he asked.

     “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and I feel like I’m ready. At least, I think I do, anyway…” she replied with a nervous laugh.

     “Hey, if you think you’re ready, then go ahead. Just know that I’ll be there for you, okay? I doubt Eric’s gonna suddenly hate you or be scared of you so…”

     His words were all that she could rely on for this. Even if he turned out to be right and Eric didn’t think any differently of her, it didn’t stop the thought of it actually happening from plaguing her mind. All she could do was hope and pray that things would be all right in the end.

     They arrived at the plaza, busy as it would be after the start of a new season. It was strange how, even with Aurora Zenith being more condensed yet bigger than Thal Esari, she liked the ambiance. Maybe it was because she had felt welcomed and not terrified for her life like she thought she’d be. It was nice to have people actually accepting her instead of shunning her for being a Vlixeox. She missed this while they were gone and she was going to enjoy it.

     The plaza was generally regarded as the marketplace, as evident by the many shops and stalls open for business. It was also the place for people to gather around and socialize, something she still wasn’t used to yet. The smell of freshly cooked food made her mouth water as she overheard the chatter and laughter all around her. A small smile rose to her face; she considered this place to be her home and she wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the whole world.

     “By the way, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.” He leaned his head over to listen. “I decided to forgive Lady Filaurel for what she did.”

     As if he swallowed something and it went down badly, he coughed a few times before exclaiming, “What?! I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

     “Okay, hear me out.” She took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to phrase what she’d say next. “All my life, I’ve been told that I was a monster. I was a monster because I was a Vlixeox, which meant I didn’t have the right to exist. I believed them, especially after what I did. I still believe them now but I want to prove to both everyone and myself that I’m not. To me, I think forgiving Lady Filaurel would be the first step to doing that because monsters wouldn’t know what forgiveness was. That’s just what I think, though.”

     It may have been strange to those who didn’t understand it but that’s what she believed. The “monster” she faced in the swamp, seven of the people she killed, forgave her when she felt she didn’t deserve such a thing. She was the reason they weren’t alive anymore and they still showed her forgiveness. If they could do that to their killer, then she could forgive Filaurel for all she did to her. It was a choice she knew not many would agree with but it was still her decision to make.

     “Am I wrong for doing that?” she asked. His feelings toward her had been made very clear so she had an idea of how he’d take this.

     Running a hand through his hair, he replied, “You already know how I feel about her. I absolutely despise that bitch for all she’s done to you and, if it were me, I never would’ve forgiven her.

     “But--” he placed both hands on her shoulders-- “you’re not me. I may disagree with your choice but it’s not my place to tell you what to do. If you wanna forgive her, then I’ll support you, no matter what. Who am I to judge on how you want to heal?”

     “Thank you, Ferret. I appreciate it,” she said, smiling softly. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t mean that people like me should forgive those that have hurt them. It’s just how I see things.”

     “I figured that’s what you meant.”

     They walked up the stone stairs that led to Eric’s house. It sat nestled in a gathering of elm trees just growing their leaves back and on the cliff she had flown under earlier. The front was painted a faded silvery white and had a porch of the same color that spanned to both ends of the house. The front door was in the middle, two small windows on its left and a large on its right, the nailed-in shutters black. The porch steps creaked under their feet as they stopped at the door. It was a beautiful mahogany door with a simple bronze knocker sitting atop it. Above the knocker was the emblem for Aurora Zenith inscribed in gold.

     She tapped the door with the knocker’s handle a couple times. As she waited for someone to answer, she looked up at the emblem. It depicted honeysuckle vines crawling up towards the sun, its ray of light shining down on the town below. This was meant to represent her home, the place she swore to protect. She hoped it’d still be her home after all was said and done.

     The door swung open to reveal Delrelle. They were Eric’s housekeeper and, though she’s only met them once or twice, they seemed nice, if a bit stoic. Their face held no emotion as they greeted them with a bow.

     “Lady Venlithea and Sir Ferreth, what business have you here today?” they asked, standing upright.

     “We’re here to see Eric, we have something we wish to speak with him about,” she replied. “Could we see him if he isn’t too busy?”

     “Let me check in with him.” They closed the door and, after a moment passed, they opened the door and stepped aside. “I’ll see you to his office.”

     The two of them were then led to where Eric’s office was. They passed by a white staircase leading up to the second floor on their right and the archway that served as the threshold to the living room on their left. A white trim divided the light blue walls in the middle and a long white rug covered the hardwood floor, stretching from the foyer all the way down to the double doors in the back. Paintings of Brinegarde, Thornewind, Mapleshear, and Ravenstrand decorated the walls, what were once Eric’s sketches given life. Small side tables had trinkets such as a seashell, a windmill sculpture, a maple leaf preserved in resin, and a small bowl full of gemstones from the towns he visited over the past ten months. It felt homey.

     When Delrelle knocked on the door, a second wave of anxiety swept over her. It was only a matter of time now until he learned the truth. A pit began to form in her stomach, growing wider and winder as she let out a shaky breath. Her heart pounded against her chest and she was finding it hard to breathe---

     Ferreth’s hand took hold of hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. No words had to be said for her to remember. He was going to be in there with her, be the beacon of courage she so desperately needed right now. She took a deep breath and squeezed back, letting him know she was okay.

     After hearing a muffled “Come in”, the three of them walked inside. Eric sat at a maple desk with stacks upon stacks of paper piled all over, half read books sitting on top of some. Bookshelves filled with history, law, art, and story books lined the walls. They stood on a grand, ornate rug that blanketed the floor, the only thing in the room that carried some sense of sophistication. The whole room fit someone who valued simplicity over complexity but still had something to show for his position.

     Bowing, Delrelle said, “Master, Lady Venlithea and Sir Ferreth have some matters they wish to speak with you about. I’ll leave them in your care.”

     “Thank you.” Eric stood up from his chair to stretch as they went back out to the hallway, closing the door behind them. “Ven, Ferreth, what brings you two here?”

     “Were you in the middle of something?” Ferreth asked.

     “Nah, I was just taking a break before--” he raised his arms above his head, a soft pop echoing in the room-- “getting back to work. You had something to talk about?”

     “It’s more like I had something to tell you,” she spoke up. “Something important.”

     “Well, what is it?”

     She swallowed nervously, the moment of truth finally here. The moment in which everything could change between them. Ferreth put a hand on her back to push her forward, his way of telling her to go through with it. Refusing to let her resolve be shaken, she looked Eric dead in the eye.

     “Do you remember when you asked me how the people of my old village treated me back on the boat ride here?” she asked, trying to not let her anxiety show.

     “...Yeah,” he replied, regret flickering across his face for a split second. “Am I finally gonna hear about that?”

     “I’m finally ready to tell you everything. I’m honestly scared but you deserve to know every last thing that happened.”

     “Ven, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. Don’t feel like you need to tell me unless you want to.”

     “You’re the last person I ever wanted to tell this to because you mean so much to me. It’s because of that that I’m telling you.”

     Then she told him everything she could remember. From how she’d commit petty thievery to survive to the horrific torture she endured. He was never good at hiding how he felt and the anger on his face was plain to see. She really should’ve known what his reaction would be upon hearing her story from the start.

     She hadn’t told him the worst thing yet. The hope was that maybe, just maybe, he’d show mercy to her after learning of what happened that fateful day. He wouldn’t fear or hate her if he knew the reason behind it all. It’d still probably scare him to know she had killed fifteen people but he’d understand why. His kindness knew no bounds, even if it was shown to someone who didn’t deserve it.

     “God, it sounds horrible, what happened to you,” he said, rubbing his hands over and over.

     “There’s still more to tell you and it’s worse than everything else,” she added, the hairs on her body standing on end.

     “What could be worse than what I’ve just heard?”

     “Something not good. Something really bad.”

     She looked to Ferreth, silently pleading for him to give her the strength she needed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. She laid her hand over his, mustering up the courage to tell him.

     “When I was eight years old, I was banished from Thal Esari.” A chill overcame her as she struggled to breathe. “The reason for that is…that I---”

     There was a knock at the door. Delrelle cracked it open and said there was someone who wished to speak with Eric immediately. A pit of dread began to build up in her stomach as she anxiously wondered who was here. Her heart sank and her eyes widened in shock at the person coming in.

     Filaurel walked up towards them, looking her absolute best. Her gray hair was down from its usual bun, styled to where it rested atop her chest. She wore a stunning floor length pearl white dress with a white and gold cape flowing down to her waist. She had her cane with her like always, though she seemed to be using it for its intended purpose rather than as decoration. Her chin was held up high as she sneered at her, standing before Eric.

     Ferreth attempted to shield her from her but it was no use. He was probably wondering why she was here, much like she. Did she just arrive in Aurora Zenith? What reason was she here for? Did their actions on the day of her ruling play a part into why she was here? The biggest worry she had was what she could possibly do.

     “I don’t believe we’ve met, my name’s Eric Travere, lord of Aurora Zenith.” He came around the desk and held out his hand. “Might I ask for yours?”

     “Ah, yes, I’m Filaurel Crawraek and I’m what you’d call the ‘lord’ of Thal Esari,” she replied, gingerly shaking his hand. “Though I prefer being referred to as ‘Lady’.”

     “So, what brings you all the way here to our little town?” he asked, leaning back on the desk with legs crossed.

     “Well, I unfortunately come bearing bad news about your subordinates, especially concerning Venlithea.” She shot a cold glance towards her. “Has she told you of what she’s done in Thal Esari, both the past and present?”

     It was as if a great weight crashed down upon her. She knew what she was going to tell him. She was going to reveal her crime to him and how she had selfishly asked for forgiveness, all because she questioned her authority. If he heard of it from her, that would be it. Their friendship would be over, he’d drive her out of town, and she’ll be all alone again.

     “I mean, I know some of why she was there a couple weeks ago but I don’t know much of what she’s done in her childhood other than what she’s told me,” he replied, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

     “Then it’s of great importance I tell you this. You see, when she was a child, she---”

     “Don’t tell him!” She grabbed onto her arm in desperation. “Please, I beg you, don’t tell him!”

     “Unhand me at once, Venlithea!” She tried to get out of her grip but she held strong. “He has a right to know of what you did.”

     “Please don’t tell him! I’ll---I’ll do anything you want, just don’t tell him!”

     “When Venlithea was a child, she---”

     “My Lady, please…!” Tears stung her eyes as she fell to her knees, still holding onto her.

     “---took the lives of fifteen people. Cut them down mercilessly.”

     Her heart stopped as she let go of her arm. She would’ve collapsed entirely on the floor if it weren’t for Ferreth gently lifting her by her arms to stand her up. His hands remained on her shoulders to steady her. It felt as if the floor had gone out from under her, the world a blur.

     That was it, her secret was out. Eric now knew of the horrible deed she did. He had to be scared of her now, terrified of her hurting him. Maybe he even hated her and wanted her out of his sight. He was probably beginning to regret meeting her, befriending her, helping her. She was nothing more than a monster in his eyes, the very thing she wanted to prove to everyone she wasn’t. If he wanted her to leave and never come back, she’d do it. If he so desired that, she’d do it. She’d do anything he’d ask of her because she loved him. How tragic was it for a monster to love the person who wished he never saved her?

     “Really?” he asked in disbelief. “What reason would she have to do that?”

     “I honestly can’t fathom why,” she replied. “All I know is, she was sentenced to public lashing after committing yet another act of thievery and she just…snapped.”

     Not even bothering to hide the anger in his voice, Ferreth retorted, “That’s bullshit and you and I both know it.”

     “Ferreth...” Eric warned, attempting to quiet him down. “Could you tell me why Ven would do something like that? I just find it hard to believe that a child at the time could do such a thing.”

     “Venlithea was always a troublesome child. She’d keep getting into skirmishes with the other children, pickpocketed others for their money, the list goes on. She got into trouble so often, I had to resort to the extremes to try and correct her behavior. I thought the multiple lashings would be enough for her to desist but…I was wrong. It is because of my pride that I paid the ultimate price.” She sniffled as if holding back tears. “She’s lucky I only banished her when I could’ve had her executed.”

     All she said were lies. She never got into any fights nor did she steal money from people. She stayed as far away as she could from others and she only stole food from the marketplace; everything else she scavenged for. How could she stand there and lie through her teeth like it was nothing?

     “Funny you say that, because Ven gave me a different version of events. She said people often spoke down to her and she would be threatened with a lashing if she didn’t exactly do what they said. There were days she’d starve or had things she found taken away from her for no reason. If she asked why, it was because she had broken a rule that had been set but she hadn’t heard of the rule until that moment. So, tell me--” Eric placed his hands on the edge of the desk and tilted his head-- “which of you are lying?”

     Letting out a chuckle, Filaurel replied, “Well, you know how Vlixeoxs are. They’re well-renown liars. They’d say anything to make themselves seem innocent and Venlithea’s no exception. After all, she hadn’t told you of her crime and you saw for yourself how much she didn’t want you to know. How do you know she’s not using your kindness against you to suit her agenda?”

     “Oh, you’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Ferreth’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “She was gonna tell him about that until you came in and she was begging you not to tell him because she knew you’d twist the truth of what happened to make her out to be the bad guy. You’re the liar here, you old crone.”

     Why did it matter as to who was lying? What’s done was done and she had been outed as a killer. It can never be taken back. What point was there in defending her when it didn’t erase what she did?

     “Another thing, your subordinate here--” she gestured to Ferreth-- “has quite the mouth on him. Let’s just say that, during our last meeting, he took it upon himself to call me very vulgar things, words I’d rather not repeat. I figured to let you know so you could decide on the best course of action to take.”

     “Ohh…” Eric sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ferreth, is she telling the truth?”

     Letting out a breath, Ferreth replied, “Yes. I admit, I lost my temper and said some pretty…not so good things but I’m not apologizing or taking them back. I couldn’t just stand idly by while she tore into Ven with her remarks. I accept whatever punishment you give to me, my lord.”

     “I see…” He took a moment to think on what he wanted to say next. “Well, as much as it may upset you, Lady Filaurel, there’s not much I can do. He was out of my jurisdiction at the time and, since he hadn’t broken the law over there and was considered a mere visitor, I’m not responsible for his actions outside of Aurora Zenith.”

     “You mean to let him walk scot-free?” she asked, a tinge of anger dripping into her voice.

     “The best I can do is a stern lecture but I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted to hear that.”

     Huffing, she asked, “And what of her? What do you mean to do with Venlithea?”

     “From what I’ve gathered, she hasn’t done anything to warrant disciplinary action. Whatever she did back then doesn’t matter now and even if it did, she was already tried in your court of law.”

     “She’s a Vlixeox, my good sir. It’s far too dangerous for you to let something like her wander around unsupervised. I’d suggest putting in some preventative measures to ensure that a massacre on the scale of Thal Esari’s doesn’t happen again.”

     “Ven’s lived here for about a year now and no one’s had a problem with her, as far as I’m aware. I think we’ll be perfectly fine.”

     “You’re underestimating her. Sooner or later, she’ll take matters into her own hands and you’ll be left with several people dead when their deaths could’ve been prevented. All I’m asking is that you don’t let a repeat of what happened in Thal Esari happen here.”

     “Okay--” He pushed himself off the desk and stood up to his full height-- “forgive me if I’m out of line but you keep going on and on about this tragedy that occurred yet you’ve provided next to no explanations as to what her motive could’ve been. Have you ever thought that you might share part of the blame? Have you ever tried to take responsibility for her actions, since you were her guardian, I’d assume?”

     “Y-you insolent…” She recognized the tone of her voice. It was the tone she’d use if anyone seriously crossed her. “How am I the one to blame for what Venlithea did? I’m not the one who tore their bodies asunder while others ran and pled for mercy! Do you have any idea how hard it was to raise a child such as she and it turn out to be a complete failure? I’m still paying for the mistakes she made! You clearly do not deserve the title bestowed upon you if you won’t heed my advice.

     “Only a fool would trust someone who committed mass murder in the past. I’d only ask you don’t come crying to me when she inevitably kills again because you refused to see how dangerous the beast really was. You’ll be just as much a monster as she is for letting her do such a heinous thing.”

     Time seemed to freeze at that moment. Her mind kept replaying what Filaurel said with so much clarity. Eric, her light, her savior, would be considered a monster for what she did if the time where she’d kill again ever came? That wasn’t right; someone as kind and sincere as him could never be a monster.

     A deep seething anger began to stir inside her. It was one thing to call her a monster when she already knew she was. She gritted her teeth and clenched her shaking hands into fists. It was a whole other thing to call Eric, someone that reached a gentle hand out to her, someone she loved with every fiber of her being, a monster. The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop herself.

     “What did you say, Venlithea?” she asked indignantly.

     Whirling around to face her, she heatedly replied, “I said shut up!”

     She took a step back from her sudden outburst. “W-where do you get off on speaking to me like that? Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to, Venlithea?”

     “I think the better question is, where do you get off on speaking to him like that? He’s a monster for whatever I do? How dare you… He saved me from the darkness you put me in, he gave me a reason to live from the hell you put me in, he gave me a home I’m happy in, and you call him a monster for helping me? You should be ashamed…you no-good, lying bitch!”

     A resounding crack rang clear in the room. Her cheek burned from Filaurel slapping her as she stood there in shock, realizing what just happened. She only had one question on her mind: was that it?

     A sense of extreme hostility overcame the room. She could hear a hiss followed by vicious growling beside her. Eric was warning Ferreth not to do anything stupid, which she figured to be bloody murder. Her eyes wandered over to Filaurel, hand still raised in the air after striking her. She touched her cheek and let out a short breathless laugh in utter amazement.

     “Huh…that’s the best you can do?” she asked, a brazen smile on her face. “That’s what I was afraid of all this time? I used to be so scared of you but now I see there wasn’t any reason to be…Grandmother.”

     She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “This is hardly the time for jokes.”

     “In one of the last entries Thessalia wrote before her death, she talked about how she had to swallow her pride and beg you for help because she was so lost on what to do with me. She thought you’d have a shred of love for her to know that she was scared, especially since the time I would be born was coming closer and closer. Instead, you told her she was on her own and left her all alone.

     “I read all the ways you tried to control her and when she got away from you, you disowned her. I was your second chance at getting the ‘perfect’ child you always wanted but I turned out to be a Vlixeox. You couldn’t stand knowing that your grandchild, the baby you waited so long for to mold into someone you deemed perfect, was a Vlixeox. You took all your anger and hatred out on me and I didn’t know any better.”

     “I tried my best to raise you but you refused to behave!” she exclaimed, tapping her fingers against the curve of her cane. “If I had known you’d turn out like this, I wouldn’t have wasted so much of my time trying to care for you. If you had just listened to me, I would’ve treated you better.”

     “It wouldn’t have mattered what I did!” She kicked the cane out of her grip. “For years, I believed what you and everyone else said about me. I thought I deserved all the suffering I got because I was a Vlixeox and that meant I was bad. I tried so, so hard to be good and it was never enough. You hurt me over and over and over, even as I laid on the ground bleeding, wishing that I could die so the pain would stop.

     “I was wrong to ask for forgiveness from you because I should’ve known you’d never give it to me. I didn’t have a chance in hell because your mind was set the moment I asked for it. You’re just a sad, bitter old woman that loved breaking me if it brought me a step closer to being your obedient pet.”

     She took a deep breath and glared daggers at her. “I refuse to let you control me for the rest of my life. Both of us may believe I’m a monster but I did something I know you’ll never live down. I’ve forgiven you for all you’ve done to me but you better believe I will never forget it. Now get the hell out of my home and never come back.”

     The room fell into an eerie silence. Filaurel looked at her in shock, as if she never expected her to finally stand up to her. If she was honestly speaking, it was a surprise to her, too. She probably would’ve stopped halfway through if it weren’t for her outrage at Eric being called a monster and the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

     Alek came in just as the quiet began to wear out its welcome. Eric asked for him to show Filaurel the way out, promising to explain what happened later. To everyone’s surprise, she went along with it, only stopping to pick her cane up off the floor. It was when she crossed the threshold she did it. She tossed parting words over her shoulder, seemingly directed towards her.

     “I was wrong to think you were nothing like Thessalia. You got the rebellious streak I despised her for having.”

     That wasn’t something she ever expected to hear. She never once thought she was similar to her mother in any way and reading through her journal seemed to confirm how different they were. Maybe she had more in common with her and it was just a matter of figuring out when and what.

     “Holy shit, Ven, that was amazing!” Ferreth said excitedly, picking her up by the waist to hug her. “You finally told that bitch to fuck off!”

     “Ah, yeah, I…I guess I did, huh?” she replied, her cheeks warm from the sudden hug. “Could you put me down, please?”

     “Yeah, you did.” Eric put a hand on her head and started petting her after she was back on the ground. “I’m proud of you. You finally stood up for yourself.”

     It made her happy beyond words to see pride in his eyes. There was no fear or regret in his voice, only a fond warmth she heard so rarely. Ferreth was right; he wouldn’t think differently of her and it was silly to believe otherwise.

     She was lost in thought as Ferreth dragged her out to “celebrate her victory”. She never imagined her life would be like this when she was a child. She only had a day of no punishments to look forward to back then. She didn’t think she’d have friends, a home she was happy in, people who had love to give, a life. It was because of Filaurel banishing her that everything happened the way it did and…it was the one decision she made that turned out to be good for her.

     If anything, it was thanks to Thessalia she even had a life. She may not have had much choice in the matter but she was still grateful to her for giving her life. She wondered if the voice she heard back at the graveyard was her, letting her know that she was watching over her. She liked to believe it was possible. She held the amethyst ring she kept around her neck between her fingers and smiled.

     Would she be proud of her daughter and the kind of person she was becoming? Would she not need to worry over her anymore now that she was surrounded by people that truly cared about her? She had a home she belonged in. She knew if things ever got tough, she’d be okay. She still believed herself to be a monster but…she was beginning to think she was less of one now.

[fire-the-headcanons]

Gungnir's blast rolled like thunder through the trees, electric Dust round streaking toward the Ursa Major in a glowing trail of sparks. The massive Grimm stumbled and collapsed as smoke billowed from cracks in its faceplate. Another shot felled a second, smaller target.

 Raven darted forward straight at the remaining five. Alerted, they searched for the source of either the noise or the thin scent of apprehension in the air.

 One spotted her, rearing on its hind legs with a powerful roar and exposing its unarmored belly. Without thinking her hand squeezed the trigger of the Guillotine's sheath and a blade shot out with a ringing crash. Great spikes of ice erupted from the bear's fur, twisting its form into a grotesque pose before it faded to nothing. Three dead.

 A second barrelled toward her, bellowing in rage or hunger, and Raven lashed out with her sword. The air split, and the bear vanished.

 Gungnir sounded again. Four.

 Qrow's shotgun echoed the blast, almost drowning out the snapping of branches and roar of the Ursa as it plummeted fifty feet from his treetop perch to the forest floor below. The fall wouldn't be enough to finish it, but Tai was waiting. Five...

Follow the Beacon Raven—Golden Dragon

[Link to Masterpost]

Gungnir's blast rolled like thunder through the trees, electric Dust round streaking toward the Ursa Major in a glowing trail of sparks. The massive Grimm stumbled and collapsed as smoke billowed from cracks in its faceplate. Another shot felled a second, smaller target.

Raven darted forward straight at the remaining five. Alerted, they searched for the source of either the noise or the thin scent of apprehension in the air.

One spotted her, rearing on its hind legs with a powerful roar and exposing its unarmored belly. Without thinking her hand squeezed the trigger of the Guillotine's sheath and a blade shot out with a ringing crash. Great spikes of ice erupted from the bear's fur, twisting its form into a grotesque pose before it faded to nothing. Three dead.

A second barrelled toward her, bellowing in rage or hunger, and Raven lashed out with her sword. The air split, and the bear vanished.

Gungnir sounded again. Four.

Qrow's shotgun echoed the blast, almost drowning out the snapping of branches and roar of the Ursa as it plummeted fifty feet from his treetop perch to the forest floor below. The fall wouldn't be enough to finish it, but Tai was waiting. Five...

They needed a second to ensure it wasn't getting up. Raven flipped back, away from the last two—make that one, as Summer fired agai—

Her side erupted in agony, and then a blow to her left shoulder, right knee, her head. The world was nothing but red and she screamed, and louder as something clamped her neck and the arm thrown up to protect it. Weight slammed into her back, the vice wrenched, tightened. Her aura drained like blood from an artery and with the last of it she reached for her brother—

One final, smaller impact and the pressure released. She crawled away, still blind, screaming again at the searing heat of cracked ribs knitting together—and the world cleared as her aura failed. A pace behind, the Ursa Major growled at Qrow and snapped its teeth, smoke still trickling from its skull.

“RUN!" he screamed, eyes locked on the bear. It roared and swiped at him with a paw larger than both of Tai's shields. Raven scuttled backward as he dodged and it ploughed into the dirt with a heavy thud. "DEAL!“

"Wait!" Lurching to her feet, Raven turned and staggered away. He must not have seen her aura break or he wouldn't dare boost his Semblance now. "It was playing dead! It's older than we thought!" Raven clutched her side as she ran. The thing had dragged her halfway across the clearing and Guillotine was back where she'd started.

"They can do that?" Tai demanded, smoke trailing from his gauntlets as he tore past. Gungnir's arrow sank into its shoulder before pulling free a moment later, unable to dig in far enough to get purchase.

Raven seized her scabbard and took aim. Qrow swung at the thing's neck, sword bouncing off its matted fur and barely cutting in at all.

"FOLD!" Raven shouted, giving him a chance to shut off his Semblance before firing. It shattered on the bear's armored hide, clumping ice on its pelt, and the Grimm whirled to face her with a snarl. Tai leapt forward, directing all of his momentum into its ear.

Summer dropped from the tree, emptying her magazine of electric rounds one bullet at a time. "What are you doing?! You're out of aura!"

"We've got this!" Tai kept attacking, golden flames licking around him with every blow, pouring down his back almost like wings. It gave up trying to bat at him and just lunged, slamming into him—the fire dissipated instantly as staggered.

Qrow took the distraction as an opportunity to spray its skull with buckshot. The Grimm roared again, charging forward blindly, and he disappeared under its paws with a surprised yelp.

"NO!" The last ice blade clicked into the handle and Raven drew as she charged back in, right knee throbbing with every step.

Tai slammed all his weight into the thing's chin, smoke swirling around them both, and it staggered back. Qrow gasped as its foot lifted from his chest and then screamed as a foreleg landed on his bad shoulder. The Grimm seemed to notice he was there, blinking down with its three remaining eyes, opening its mouth to bite.

Raven leapt forward, ramming her sword as far down its throat as she could reach, trusting her vambrace to keep her arm from being shredded by its teeth. The hilt disengaged with a brush of the trigger and she jumped back. She couldn't activate the Dust without aura, but it would have to break as the bear moved—

—but Tai followed through, ramming one gauntleted hand into the end of the blade. Ice erupted through the Ursa's fur to mingle with the bony spines, stabbing it through in a dozen places. Raven grabbed her brother and dragged him back as it roared in pain. Icicles snapped as it shook violently, smoke pouring from the wounds.

Summer turned away from the Grimm to scream at the twins. "Get ba—"

"What do we have to do to kill this thing?!" Tai shrieked, catching a paw on his combined shields before it could flatten her. She dove around him to jab Gungnir's point into another glowing eye and stepped smoothly back behind his shield as it retaliated.

Qrow staggered to his feet, sword in his left hand, and swung at the thing's neck. The shotgun barrels rotated into position, and he pulled the trigger at the last moment to drive the blade home with the recoil. It cut much deeper than before despite his weakened state.

It turned toward them, but Raven was ready. A bolt of lightning—blinding compared to the sparks of Summer's bullets—struck its side from the scabbard, shattering on its thick skin, and she yanked Qrow back again as the beast seized.

Tai leapt forward, shields folding away, and slammed a fist into its cracked faceplate.

Flames roared from his hands as he kept up the barrage, easily dodging its exhausted swipes and snaps. His wings reignited with a flash, whirling around the pair of them, and he brought both fists down on its head. The bone finally split and the Ursa disappeared in a haze of smoke and sparks.

Qrow froze where he'd sprawled on the ground, staring wide-eyed at the Huntsman and still clutching his shoulder. "Whoa."

“Well, that’s my Semblance," Tai said cheerfully, stretching. Golden flecks faded from his eyes with the last of the flames. “The more hits I dish out during a fight, the stronger I get—especially if I can get a rhythm to resonate. But it resets when I take dama—”

"What were you thinking?!" Summer demanded, stepping him and the two of them, hands tightening on her spear.

Oh gods. Oh gods they knew and they were just waiting for their chance and now her aura was gone and Qrow couldn't use his right arm—she couldn't open a portal and they'd never escape the Huntress on foot, she didn't even need to chase them when she could just shoot them both before they even made it out of the clearing—

Summer's eyes widened. "S-sorry." Gungnir collapsed with a flick of her wrist.

"The fight's over, Raven." Qrow took her arm, gently pushing it down. Her sword—she was holding her sword up like she was going to fight the Huntress. It fell from her hands with a gasp like it had burned. Wait—no—she'd just threatened them, given everything away, she needed her weapon—

Tai rubbed his eyes. "We shouldn't have sent you in there alone. Sorry, that was a stupid idea."

"And I should have put both rounds into the Major like you said…"

"Raven?" Qrow's hand moved to her other shoulder, wrapping his arm around her back, pulling her toward him.

Coddling.

“I'm fine," she snapped, stepping out of his half-embrace to collect her fallen sword, shoving it in the sheath with a quiet snick before turning north and striding away. "We should get out of here before we're attacked again."

"Wha— wait!" Tai shouted, leaves crunching under his boots as he ran toward her. Raven reached one hand into her belt, to the concealed handle of her knife— "At least let us walk in front, come on!" Her step faltered, and he passed before turning to face her again. "I'm really sorry. We won't ask you to do that again."

What?

She'd always gone in alone. Ever since she was seven, it was logical. She could get out of danger with a single step or summon backup if she got pinned. It's what she was for.

"Hey, don't look like that! I'm not gonna get us lost when we're following that ," he laughed, pointing up at the cliffs just barely visible through the canopy above them. "Give me some credit!"

"I'll bring up the rear," Summer said, re-extending her rifle but clipping the arrow to her belt so she could use the stock. "You're pretty beat up too, Qrow. You okay? What's going on with your shoulder?"

"Eh, I'll be fine in a few minutes," he said, casually clipping his sword to his back left-handed. “An Ursa kind of landed on it."

"That sword upgrade sure came in handy."

"Well…" his voice lifted like it always did when he talked about the damn thing. "It's not really an upgrade since it's an entirely different sword. We used the old one as a blueprint 'cause I liked the shape."

Raven stared him down, expressionless. "It still seems overcomplicated to me."

He fell silent.

Next Chapter: Summer—Hint

[ythmir-writes]

Hey hey! Is it still okay to send in an ask for the 182 prompts? If it is, I'd really love it if you could write reincarnation with Ieyasu Tokugawa from Ikemen Sengoku (which... MC is from the modern world but like... I just really like the reincarnation trope so if it it's still okay... >...

A/N: hello! Thank you for requesting! I would just like to apologize for taking too long (youknowwhatimean) but i am here and i have written something! please refer to this post for the full explanation and some insight and just me uhhh generally rambling again so~

here it is, that reincarnation AU that turned into multichaptersevenifno one literally no one asked for this except my brain\

edit! i can’t believe it wasn’t included (again,damnyoutumblr) but hey i would just like to give my sincerest thank you for saying you love what i do! i try my best is always and i hope you continue to enjoy what i write as much as i enjoy writing them :> thankyouthankyou i really LOVE my midcin gods piece i think the suitors would all be badass gods

REINCARNATION

fandom: Ikemen Sengokucharacter: Ieyasu Tokugawa

Prologue / ??

Ieyasu Tokugawa never knows when it will happen.

He had been standing by the sink debating with Masamune about the practicality of growing their own garden on the roofdeck of their building. Masamune had reasoned for fresh produce for spells and cooking. Ieyasu had countered that it was exactly a chore none of them needed, what with the restaurant already enough work for three pairs of hands. When all of a sudden the morning light was too bright for Ieyasu’s eyes, the air too hot for his lungs to take.

He felt his knees buckle under him as he tried to stay upright; one hand gripping the ledge of the sink, the other gripping (extra tightly) the plate, and precariously placing it down so it would not shatter and cause more problems like his brain was causing problems like how he couldn’t hold it all together and Masamune was looking at him funny and he needed he needed –

I will find you!

“Ieyasu…?” Masamune sounded like he was ten feet away.

“I just need… a moment.”

Washing heavy futons and bringing them out to the veranda to dry. A wide backyard filled with nothing but clothing lines and kimonos swaying in the wind. A hat. A balloon. A blade. A burning plane crashing towards them.

Breathe.

Laughter and guffaws as people raced through abandoned castles. Fireworks by the lake. A huge birthday party like none of them had ever seen. A needle thrust into his arm. Fifteen needles. Screams.

Breathe.

I will find you I will find you I will find you.

Breathe.

First through his teeth. Then through his nose. Ieyasu may not know when his episodes will happen but he knew what he needed to do when they did: keep breathing, keep breathing. Take in gulps of air as the pain that gripped him ever so slowly began to let go.

All of a sudden, he felt weightless and realized that Masamune was carrying him, saying some gibberish Ieyasu could neither hear nor understand. He tried to make him stop, tried to tell the idiot that he was just fine, he did not need any special treatment, that this – him falling to the floor with no apparent cause or reason – was just his usual.

Ieyasu was just remembering a bit of his past lives, after all.

+

The first time he had experienced it, Ieyasu thought he had gone mad.

It had been lifetimes past, during a minor scuffle; adolescent teasing turned into a semi-serious contest of who could knock the other one out faster before the adults could intervene. He could remember the half-circle that formed around him. The jeers. The taunting. His own labored breathing and the way his nose was dribbling blood.

The way the other child spat at him and made indecent gestures towards where he should place his head and for how long. He had taken it all in stride. But the other child had spat again, this time on the names of his friends who lost and were nursing their bruises behind the line. That had not gone down so well.

Ieyasu, even when he had temporarily forgotten himself, always did have a particular kind of temper.

He had shouted something equally indecent, taking two thunderous steps to approach his opponent close enough for a punch. But just as he was about to connect his vision blurred.

The kid before him was no longer just a kid but had somehow grown into an adult. No, two adults. Three. A dozen. A hundred. A mass of bodies before him suddenly, impossibly so. And he was no longer just a child but a grown man. And he was no longer just holding out his fists but a sword that he gripped like it was his lifeline and which he swung and twirled and used like an extension of his arm.

The soldiers before him swarmed him but he fended them off, his body moving almost on its own, his steps measured and exacting to keep him upright. For how long he was fighting, he did not know, could not tell. Only that he needed to ward them off, only that he needed to buy time until –

“Ieyasu! Here!!”

Who?

“I’m coming!!”

A hand grabbing his shoulder and pulling him backwards tore him from his vision; one moment he was valiantly defending his keep, the next he was being shoved down on the ground, the screams of dying men fading to give way to the delighted screams of children having seen their first real fight.

“Get a grip, Ieyasu!” someone shouted at someone else but the slap was all his and his cheek burned for it; for a moment, he felt the same warm sensation in his chest rising up, felt the hilt of a katana in his hands where there was nothing but air and –

Another slap. Harder this time, and his vision focused on his playmate – no, a man now – holding him. A very familiar face with raven hair and red eyes. A friend. A comrade. An almost brother.

Not a soldier trying to betray him. Not a spy sneaking into his chambers and trying to kill him.

“Kotaro!” the man shouted at him, and the children around them were fleeing now and some were crying. What was he thinking making a scene surrounded by children? “No, Ieyasu!”

The name felt like a hard blow to his chest, pushing him down. Ieyasu’s vision blurred again. And he had gripped the arm holding him as memories he had never experienced flooded into his mind – memories no fifteen year old boy should have any right remembering.

Too much scenarios. Too much experience. Too much life. He writhed in agony and the hand on his shoulder both kept him down and held him up as he struggled.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch. One moment he was a boy, ignorant and innocent and powerless, wanting to prove his own worth against a world that spat on commoners, and then the next moment he was a conqueror, a ruler of clans. And he knew things; he remembered things so different and stark against his own – truer? more recent? – memories.

He felt his jaw hurt. He felt his arms and legs hurt. He felt like his entire body was being crushed under the weight and the gaze of something judging him from heavens and something else scratching the back of his skull. And all of these caused by the two differing visions he could see at the same time.

Two sets of memories that seemed to blend and mix together. Two sets of memories that fought inside his brain to be recognized as reality. Two sets of memories that hurt. Two sets of memories that made him feel hurt.

“Stay awake.” The friend he could not yet quite remember urged him. “Stay with me. It’ll pass. I’ve seen you do this before.”

Ieyasu struggled and could only barely bite down on his agony, hoping through tears that the man was right. And as he screamed through phantom pain, as he shouted and struggled and tried his damndest to make sense of things as quickly as a fifteen year old boy could, an unsettling and frightening sense of certainty slowly overcame him and told him that the set of polar opposite memories both undeniably belonged to him.

+

Ieyasu does not know if he will ever stop having these visions.

But to be honest, vision was not the proper term. It was more a recollection, a remembering of things gone by.  But if he was already being exacting, it was also not just a simple matter of recollecting either.

It was more a sensation in his skull that his brain was somehow (impossibly and impractically) shifting to accommodate unearthed memories. And more often than not, it was as if his entire body was remembering what it had gone through all at once at the same time.

Pain. Joy. Sickness. Lethargy. Uneasiness. Nausea. Fear. Elation. All his wounds and all his triumphs. All his births and all his deaths. Dreams, and nightmares. A gallimaufry of emotions and sensations. He felt them all, felt himself drowning in them; the moments in which he lost his grip on reality stretching into hours and days as he re-lived whatever it was the he had somehow remembered.

No one had any explanation as to why his body decided to remember everything else that came with his memories. Timeshifters were rare but his case even rarer. It was probably his own little curse. Or an equivalent price. A way to balance his talent.

Ieyasu did not want to look too closely for fear of what might look back. Some people might find the idea of not forgetting things to be of comfort. Ieyasu knows for certain those people have never really experienced what it was like to remember it all.

By the time he regained consciousness, Ieyasu was already on his bed. The room was quiet and dark. A cooling pack was on his forehead, his body weighed comfortably down by a thick blanket, and all his closest friends in the room, asleep and keeping vigil.

No, not all.

One was still missing. The one dearest to him. The one he would never stop looking for.

I will find you! I will find you!

We will meet again!

It was a bitter memory amongst sweet ones, a parting too abrupt. Like a cloth cut haphazardly into a thousand torn seams. Ieyasu knew as long as they were not complete, nothing would ever be the same. Not just their ultimate aim, which was altruistic, but also their everyday life, which was closer. More his.

How long has it been since he had seen her? How long since he had been able to trace the stars on her back? How many lifetimes had passed since she had last held him in her arms as he bewailed the inescapable fact that his fate had no clear end?

Too many to count. Too many to really forget.

And as he sank back down into sleep’s embrace, Ieyasu misses her all the more. He wonders to himself yet again where she could be now, and if they could find her soon. And with his last wisps of consciousness, he wishes not for the last time, that she was there with him, in the dark, with their friends, to help blunt all the pain.

24/182

[lassluna]

CSJJ Day 9: Because of the Cat

Summary: We’re sleeping together except now you got kidnapped? Guess I got to save you.

A/N: Thank you everyone who made this event possible, and everyone in the discord having a blast. Happy @csjanuaryjoy! Also thank you Anon who gave us the enchanted forest prompts. 

Ao3 Ffn

Part 1: Emma

He meets her on the dock; he has normal dock worker clothes on, trying to blend in. He is trying to gather intelligence on a ship with a large amount of wealth on it, it was either on The Darling, or it was on The Firebird. Considering both were going in opposite directions it was vital that Killian figures out which had the gold.

A hit this big would set his crew up for a while and really stick it to King Frank of Oz. Killian wanted more than to annoy the greedy king, but stealing all his money would do…for now.

He notices her immediately considering how out of place she is. She’s clean for one thing, crisp even in white linens and furs to combat the cold, not an ounce of dirt anywhere on her person. Her blonde hair striking and beautiful, she looks angelic.

She doesn’t look like she belongs anywhere near a pirate ship in the middle of the night. But she just stands in front of it with her arms crossed. In fact, she looks like she’s been crying.

Before he decides what to do, she spots him, green eyes filled with nothing but fire. He knows immediately that if he’s not careful he’ll burn from those eyes alone.

“Is this your ship?” She asks suddenly, blocking his path back.

“No.” He says curtly, “I just work on it, why do you need something?” He asks curiously, someone like her doesn’t want to talk to Captain Hook. They shouldn’t. Captain Hook is dangerous and dark.

“I need to speak to the captain.” She says sharply, he feels her eyes looking him up and down. He was absolutely right about those eyes.

“Well love, you can’t speak to him unless you can tell me why you need to speak to him.” He assures her. He comes up with a dozen possible answers, most of them involving a man as good and perfect as she seems to be.

Her answer is absolutely the last thing he expects.

She points to the cat on his ship, a mouser that crawled on the Jolly a few ports back. “Your cat looks sick.” She utters. “If you’re not going to take care of your animals, you might as well not have them.” She utters sharply.

It completely throws him for a loop.

“You’re here in the middle of the night, confronting a captain you do not know…because of a cat?” He confirms.

“Well I’m not here specifically for the cat.” She corrects. “The water calms me.” She admits. “I have a lot on my mind right now, a lot I can’t fix. But one thing I can fix is that cat so are you going to let me talk to your captain or not?”

He smiled at her. “I too use the ocean to calm me. You can see the Captain if you so desire.” He assured her, inviting him onto the ship, and down to his cabin. He poured them both shots of rum. He knows it was the right decision when she takes it in one swig and practically slams the glass back on the table.

“Now, what’s on your mind lass?” He asks, settling into his chair. “I can assure you, now that it’s been brought to my attention, I’ll see to the cat’s welfare.”

“I knew you were the captain.” She assured him. “I can tell you were lying.”

“Oh?”

“Plus you are too hot to be a simple deckhand.” She says boldly, lifting her chin and sitting on his bed.

“I assure you lass; there is nothing simple about me.” He assures her, drinking his own rum. “Why are you really here?” He asks, getting up from his chair, strolling over to her.

“The water calms me.” She repeats, breaking his gaze, looking out the port window.

“So you’ve said.” He places a hand on her shoulder feeling how soft her cloak is. She lets him. It feels more like feathers than furs.

“Your cat looks too skinny.” Her fingers rise to untie it, allowing him to push it down her shoulders. Her eyes are back on him.

“I promise I’ll fix that.” He pushes golden hair behind her ear and lets his hand rest on her cheek. She bites her lip.

“Good.” She rises from the bed quickly and suddenly, her hands on his coat pulling him into a kiss. It was fast and commanding. Her hands trying to push his jacket off his shoulders, he helps her along, his hand finding her waist.

He breaks the kiss. “Lass-“ But her mouth just finds his neck and he groans at the sensation. “You’re not here for that cat…”

“No.” She says, practically pushing him into sitting on the bed. “I’m not just here for the cat.” She smirks, eyes blown. “I think you can figure out what I’m here for.”

              He knows that this woman was going to ruin him.

//

He expects never to see her again. He expects her to be some aristocrat housewife, angry at her husband and wanting to bed a dirty pirate to stick it to him.

(It reminds him of another woman, one with dark hair, bedding him for the same reason, at least at first.)

He never got a name, but he calls her Swan in his head for the feather like texture the cloak had.

Regardless, he asks the cook to feed the cat any scraps he could spare. The man laughs at his request, but complies.

She does indeed show up next time he’s at that port, dressed less ostentatious than before, a simple burgundy dress. He tries to remain casual, tries to pretend that he hasn’t been thinking her of the months since they parted.

(Since she snuck out in the middle of the night with no word)

She looks more relaxed, almost peaceful as she stands by the dock.

“I have something for the cat.” She announces with a smile. There’s a container of milk with a bow on it.

“I assure you, the cat has gained some weight since we last parted.” He assures her.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She declares, inviting herself on his ship. Once she seems satisfied by the mouser, she helps herself to some rum and his chair.

“You have very good rum.” She insists.

“That’s your reason.” He asks with a smirk.

“Yup.”

“Not looking for anything else?” He asks leaning in. “Someone else.”

“Not at all.” She insists, taking another gulp of rum. “But seriously, where do you get this stuff.”

He promises he’ll bring her some next time he visits.

“Oh there is no next time.” She assures him. “Better make this one count.”

He does, he definitely does.

//

There is a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that. He eventually loses track of the times. Killian just knows that once he makes ports within a few days she appears with a bottle of milk for the cat, Henry as Swan has named him.

“You know Swan, one of these times; you’re going to have to tell me your name.” He tells her as she rests her head on his shoulder, hair ending up in his mouth, like it always does.

“But I like the Swan, Killian.” She replies. “Anyway, this…this is just this right? IT’s not like we’re…” She trails off.

He knows, he always knows.

It’s just sex.

//

He learns that she’s just as feisty with a sword as she is in his cabin. He offers her dinner on the deck, she accepts gladly, watching him look over his ship and prepare to depart the next day when one of the crew makes a rude remark about her.

He orders the man to stop, but it was too late, Swan was pissed.

She goes over and decks him in the jaw and when the man draws a blade, she picks one up herself. Swan demands that he fight her if he is to say such rude things about her.

It doesn’t take long for her to disarm him, a blade to his neck.

“Swan, please don’t kill my crew, they are hard to come by so close to the castle.” He says in a complaint, but really he’s truly mystified by her.

She jolts back to herself, helping the man up, who apologies for his comment and returns to his quarters, tail between his legs.

“You know Swan.” He says on the way back to his cabin. “I knew there was a little pirate in you.”

She beams.

//

They return after a nasty battle with the Oz Navy, they were almost caught. They’d evaded thankfully, a canon nearly taking off his head. They’d been boarded and he had a nasty cut in his side, but the Jolly Roger was victorious at the end.

He decides it’s best to drown himself in the bottle, as old thoughts and demons come about.; thoughts about Liam and the royals who killed him.

He didn’t intend on seeing her. But it was the closest port and they needed repairs done.

She finds him in his cabin, nursing his wounds. “The cat’s chasing a nasty rat in the kitchen.” He slurs.

“I didn’t come here for the cat.”

“Well you didn’t come here for me, so what do you want Swan?” He says; Killian’s too tired and too angry for these games.

“I heard you got hurt.” She snaps back. “I wanted to see if you were ok.”

He rolls his eyes leaning up in bed, despite the pull on his injury. “I’m fine Swan. I’ll be ship shape next time you need me to scratch that itch of yours, for now just leave me in peace.”

She gasps at his words.

“You think all I see you as is sex?” She demands. “Damn it Killian I was worried! I was worried that you wouldn’t come back! But if you don’t want me here, I’ll just go.”

He doesn’t want her to go. He catches her hand with his. She stops, fire in her eyes, but she stops. He doesn’t say he’s sorry. He doesn’t say anything at all.

Swan just sits in the bed next to him.

He eventually cracks, rum loosening his lips.

He rambles about the fight the battle, his endless crusade against the people who were responsible for Liam’s death, against all the royals, because it didn’t matter which crown you served they were all the same.

He never felt good enough for his brother his entire life, and now he can’t even avenge him.

Killian eventually falls asleep, head on Swan’s lap as she runs her hands through his hair, whispers of affection in his ear.

For once, when he wakes up that next morning, Swan’s still there

//

But all good things eventually end.

She comes to see him after a really ha

“Killian I need to tell you something.” She admits one night.

He expected this, expected the ‘husband talk’. He never cared with Milah, why should he care now?

(Why should he care about how she likes to raid his book collection when he has to chart their courses, she likes adventure book, why should he care that she loves the exotic spices he has the cook use when she’s here, or how some times she wears expensive earrings but curses them when she remembers them, like she forgot to take them off before coming here.

Why should he care after she sat with him as he was drunk and spewing nonsense, hurt and angry at the world.)

“I’m not who you think I am.” She practically blurts out, hands behind her as she shifted her weight constantly. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t quite understand why she’s so nervous.

“I don’t understand.” He insists. “You haven’t told me so much as your name, I don’t have any idea of your life apart from this.”

She averts his gaze, staring at his feet. “That’s because you’d know who I was the moment you heard my name.” She says. “I liked being Swan with you, just Swan, no backstory, no drama, nothing, just Swan and Killian on a pirate ship.”

He likes that too.

“Just who are you Swan?”

Green eyes flicker to his, burning just as brightly, but looking sad.

“My name is Emma.” She says as a whisper. “Princess Emma of Misthaven.”

Princess. He repeats the word in his head until it makes sense. Swan--no Emma-- is a Princess.

“I know how you feel about royals, how they killed your brother, and what happened wasn’t fair. It wasn’t what my family would ever do.” She continues. “But I can’t just ignore your feelings like that.”

He was sleeping with a princess, a princess who kept bringing milk to the cat, who he cares for intensely.

“If you never-…if you never want to see me again, I’ll understand.” She says ducking her head. IT breaks into the shock he’s feeling, hearing how…dare he say, heartbroken she sounds.

“Never want to see you again?” He repeats. “Darling, that thought never ever would cross my mind.” Green eyes snaps to his. He closes the distance between them, kissing her. He wants her to know, even if he can’t say it.  “Because of the cat.” He says when they break apart. Henry would be devastated.”

Swan, Emma smirks. She wipes tears from her eyes, tears he pretends he doesn’t see.

“Because of the cat.” She repeats. “Who would give him milk?” He presses another kiss to her lips.

“He’d miss you terribly.”

“He would wouldn’t he?”

“Absolutly.”

//

After finding out about her identity, Killian expected things to be easier. She finally told him things. Killian learned that her father taught her how to fight, how to lift your chin and weather the storm.

Her mother was a spit fire, never doing as she’s told, but having the grace to make you think she had. Killian learned that Emma’s best friend was Queen Elsa of Arendell, she often had her Aunt Ruby cover for her, but the woman didn’t know who she was seeing.

He learned why she was crying that night oh so long ago.

“I heard my parents consultants talking about me.” She says into the darkness, his arms tightly wrapped around her. He was tracing shapes into her hips with his hand. “They called me trouble, a rebel. They said I would never be like my parents, they put the kingdom before all else. I was too selfish for that…”

“Swan…”

“They said that no man would ever want to marry me. They said that I was too rebellious, too much for any prince to ever think about touching me…”

“That’s not true, any man would be lucky to have you. You’re strong and beautiful and passionate.” He insists, turning her over so she could see him. “You’re nothing if not selfless; you’re going to make a wonderful queen.”

//

“Are you sure you’re feeding Henry enough? He’s so skinny.” She insists, lying entirely in the nude under his blankets, the ship’s cat curled up on her lap. He glances over at her from his spot at the desk, finishing with his logs, months after her midnight confession, ever since then things had been bloody brilliant.

“I assure you Princess, he gets plenty to eat, along with the mice, he gets all the scraps from the crew along with the fresh milk you bring him.” He says looking up at her putting the grey cat’s head. Kilian can hear him purring from here.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I told you to quite the Princess talk, got it?”

He nods. “Of course, your highness.” He assures her.

“If Henry wasn’t asleep, I’d go over there and smack you.” She confirms. Killian has no doubt that was true. “We had a deal, no princess pirate talk while in bed, Killian”

“I’m not in bed.”

“That’s your own fault.”

Killian chuckles at that. “What time do I have to take you back?” He asks, glancing out at the sea all around them, he could see the port from here, but being a ways away was nice. Emma shrugs.

“I’m supposed to be out with Ruby, so maybe in a few hours?” She asks. “After this I won’t be able to meet after the b-“ She cuts off, Killian knows she thinks she’s said too much.

“The ball?” He repeats. A blush appears on her cheeks. “What’s so wrong about telling me about a ball, doesn’t your mother throw one every other month?” He asks.

Killian can already sense there’s something more to this one. People have been speaking about it far more in other ports in the area.

“She invited suitors to this one.” Emma murmurs softly. “She thought it was time, made me promise to keep an open mind.

Suitors. The word is a jab to the chest. Because it’s an all-too real reminder of what this is their doing, playing with fire on a ticking clock; one day Emma would belong to someone else and he would just be a distant memory.

“Anyone interesting?” He asks casually, trying not to act bothered. He wasn’t bothered.

“Why do you care?” She spits back. “We both new this isn’t anything Hook.”

Hook.

“You’re right.” He snaps back, clenching the pencil in his hand tightly. “I guess I don’t care.”

He doesn’t, he doesn’t care one bit who she’s going to meet that his ball of hers; he especially doesn’t care if she meets her future husband. He doesn’t care because it’s not going be him.

“Killian…” Emma says trying to backtrack. He can tell, but he’s already too angry.

“I hope you have a fabulous time at your ball.” He utters standing up.

“Killian don’t be like this.” She snaps. “You don’t get to be hurt by something you knew was coming.” He rolls his eyes.

“Of course your majesty, how silly I’ve been, just bedding the local pirate to blow off some steam.”

Swan stands up suddenly, making Henry meow loudly in complaint as she stalks up to him.

“You know damn well it’s about more than that.” She hisses. “You know that I care, and you know that we can’t keep doing this.”

Of course he knows.

“Then why do you keep coming back?” He asks. “And don’t say it’s about the cat.”

Emma shakes her head. “As if you don’t already know.” She insists, turning around and gathering up her clothes, changing in silence. “I guess this is goodbye Hook.” She says fully dressed on her way out of his cabin. She sounds sad and he instantly regrets his behavior.

“Until next time?” He asks, pleads really.

Emma looks back at him, cold flames burning him in her gaze. “No, I don’t think there will be a next time.” She insists.

And she’s gone.

//

Perhaps he is being foolish. Killian thinks, all decked up in clothes he considers royal, weeks after his fight with Swan. He was a stubborn ass and he needed to make it up to her. He needed her to know how sorry he was.

How lost he’s been without her, how much he needs her, how much he misses her.

How he had completely and utterly fallen in love with her.

“Invitation?” The woman at the front of the castle asks. He hands her one, he’d stolen it of course. He wonders if it was reported, “Prince Charles, we’ve been expecting you!” The woman gushes.

“The pleasure is mine.” He says kissing the woman’s hand, flashing her his charming smile. The woman blushes before letting him inside.

He was just one of the ‘suitors’ tonight, which arguably wasn’t a lie. One could argue he had been courting Emma since the day they met, just in a less traditional way.

Killian exchanges pleasantries with a few of the men, they don’t seem too terrible, but Killian is confident that none of them could handle Swan. She would chew them up and spit them out without even trying given half a chance.

One of the suitors didn’t even bother conversing with the other guests, decked out in green and gold, he stood apart, analyzing the ballroom as if he was waiting for something interesting to arrive.

Killian couldn’t help but approach the man. He rationalized that if he couldn’t be with Swan, he wanted her to be someone worthy of her. “What do you think the Princess is like?” He asks the man casually.

He looks him up and down. Killian knows that look; the man was looking at him like one does an insect, something beneath you. “Far out of your league.” He says with a toothy smirk.

“Oh?” He asks. “I believe I received the same invite you did.” He replies.

“Your was just to be polite.” He says in an attempt to be kind. “She’s a princess, of one of the largest kingdoms in the realms; she needs to be at the side of someone powerful if her kingdom is to grow.” He insists. “Besides you’ve heard the rumors, she’s wild, untamed, un-princess like at all. Her parents are dying to have her tied down so she won’t get into any more trouble.”

“I always heard that King James and Queen Snow married for love and wished the same thing for their daughter.” That’s how Emma put it at least.

“Love is nothing compared to power.” Killian decided that he definitely wanted to punch this man at some point this evening.

“Who were you again? I’m sorry, I don’t come to these things very often.” He got an eye roll from the man.

“Prince Walsh of Oz.” He explains. “Take my advise, find some lady here, have your fun and then go home to your tiny kingdom and forget all about Princess Emma, perhaps I’ll even invite you to the wedding if you stay out of my way.” With that Walsh, passed by him roughly, hitting his shoulder with his own causing Killian to stumble slightly.

Oh he wanted to punch him.  

Until he sees her, and God almighty, she’s beautiful.

And Emma is always beautiful when she comes to his ship, a breath of fresh air after long days at sea, but this was different. Tonight she looks truly like a princess. Her dress is red and flowing, seeming endless. Her hair is braided and up, like a halo. She looks like an absolute angel.

“Now introducing Princess Emma.” Someone announces as she enters the ballroom, Killian notices her father take her first dance, whispering into her ear as the music plays. Whatever he says makes her laugh, a bright real thing.

As soon as she finishes, a crowd of men greet her, hoping to have the next one. Just as predicted, Walsh seems to push past the others the hardest, speaking the loudest. She eventually accepts the offer, but Emma doesn’t look please, not one bit. He didn’t expect her to be.

If he knew Swan, and he definitely did, Walsh wouldn’t last one dance before opening his mouth and saying something insulting causing Emma to lash out at him. Killian waited with baited breath to see the man being knocked down a peg or two.

Killian feels his entire being go ablaze when the man moves his hand too low. Emma looks absolutely repulsed by whatever he’s saying. He practically marches over, wanting to rip him away from his Swan.

Except of course, Emma being Emma, the usual spitfire she is, detangles with him sharply, and hisses a few words at him and not too subtly stomps on his foot.

And that’s when he makes his move.

“You’re going to regret that.” The man snarls as Killian nears, the other suitors are too distracted to notice what’s happening.

“Watch me Walsh.” Emma snaps back. “I’d rather die than marry you.”

The man moves towards her once again, grabbing at her arm but this time Killian is in the way.

“The dance is over mate.” He confirms,  stepping between this, his eyes daring him to challenge him. “If I were you I’d go find an unaccompanied lass and then go back to your kingdom tail between your legs.” He hisses with a smile on his face. The man stands there fuming, but backs away when he notices the King, Emma’s father looking their way suspiciously. The man’s hand was resting on his blade.

“Perhaps I can step in.” He says, turning to offer his hand to Emma. The look on Emma’s face is absolutely priceless. “You-“ She says. “You look…”

Killian smirks. “I know.” He says kissing her hand gently. “Prince Charles your highness.” He introduces. Emma catches on quickly, agreeing to his offer of a dance.

“What are you doing?” She hisses once they’re alone in the midst of a dance.

“I’m a pirate, stealing treasure is part of the job.” He teases, because he’s dancing with Emma in her castle, he’s holding her close, and flying far too close to the sun. One misstep and he’d be in the dungeon or on his way to the gallows.

“You’re lying to me.” Emma adds, the bite in her voice fading.

“Well you’re heart is the most valueable treasure here so I think I’m telling you the truth.” He counters.

“Seriously Killian.” Swan asks, face soft and pleading. It breaks his heart because she looks to be in pain by his presence and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Perhaps I’m apologizing.” He says in a softer tone. “Perhaps I do care.”

Emma hesitates as he twirls her. “You know we can’t.” She says softly. “What we are, what we have, is temporary. I have to find a husband, someone to lead by my side.”

He knows this. He’s always known this. She needs someone, anyone but him.

“I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t stand knowing that these boys who care more about your power or wealth than you get to dance with you while you’re mad at me.” He utters. “I didn’t want your last memory of me to be me being an ass because I was jealous.”

She pauses, looking to be caught off guard by his admittance.

“I’m sorry too. I know you care Killian, but you know this is only going to end one way right? Now or later, it’s going to hurt like crazy.”

He knows.

“Now that I’ve started looking for a husband, it should probably be now.”

No, please. This isn’t what he wanted.

“If you must, what your heart desires Swan, that’s all I’ll ever want.” But he’s not like her, at his core he’s still selfish, he is a greedy pirate when it comes to her. “But if this is what you want, will you give me this? One night of being the Fairytale Prince you deserve?” Just one more night to pretend that he could ever deserve his Swan, which she could possibly love…

“Ok.” She breathes. “Just one more night.”

Emma dances with all the suitors, but saves him a few dances throughout it. She tells him all about the others, laughing about the stupidity of it all.

If they did disappear into one of the empty bedrooms of the palace for ‘one last fling’ well, that’s their own secret.

//

“I thought we said last time was the last time.” Emma asks. Killian shrugs, pulling her closer. Her bare back pressed against his chest as he wrapped himself around her.  

“You came to me.” He reminds her. He hadn’t expected the Princess of Misthaven to come in midmorning in a hood and pants, practically dragging him back to his cabin for one last good time.

“I had to say goodbye to the cat.”

“Of course.” He tells her. “You can always come to see Henry.” He insists. A stray blonde hair finding itself in his mouth, making him spit it out.

“Killian.”

“I’m serious…you don’t have to call this off. This can be whatever you want it to be.” Emma turns over, pulling the sheets over herself.

              “You know I have to Killian. You deserve to find someone too.” He does, he knows he does, but he believes in his soul that he already has.

“Run away with me.” He blurts out.

“What?”

“We can be together, we can be happy, you always talked about the places you wanted to go, how you want to be just Swan, you can do that. Come with me, sail away with me and we can be together.”

It’s crazy, absolutely insane.

“I can’t just disappear.” Emma says.

“Why not?”

Emma doesn’t have an answer right away. “My family, my people.” She says eventually, “my friends, my life.”

He shakes his head. “You can still have that, eventually, you can write to your parents, see them, same thing with your friends, your parents are young, you can come back, we can be happy Emma, truly.”

Killian wants her to say yes.

“I’m sorry Killian.”

But understands when she can’t. He understands that Emma isn’tselfish, she puts everyone before herself. He loves that about her.

“I love you.” He says, watching her leave the Jolly for the last time.

“I know.”

“There won’t be a day I won’t think of you.” He says, she turns back and smiles.

“Good.”

//

“It appears Princess Emma of Misthaven is as wild as they claim.” The conversation peaks his interest, months after the last time he’s seen her. He was true to his word, letting her break it off without making it harder for her than it already was.

He tries his best to never stop at that port. He dies however, because sometimes it’s unavoidable. He’s still a captain and has to put his crew first.

She doesn’t come.

“Running away with some prince in another kingdom.” The sailor says with a disappointed sigh. “I bet she’s pregnant.”

Run away? It doesn’t sound like the Emma he knows. But really it hurt to think that she could have fallen in love with someone else so quickly, would be willing to run away with someone else.

Killian should just walk away, forget her, forget Swan. She deserves better, she was happy.

“What were you saying about the Princess?” He asks the two old sailors. They are more than happy to gossip with him. He’s always been a glutton for punishment.

Apparently, Swan was on her way to the docks, but never made it home. The kingdom searched for her until a letter was sent from Emma herself explaining how she’s fallen in love with Prince Walsh of Oz and she was marrying him despite her parents’ reservations.

Oh bloody hell. He curses, storming back to his ship. Killian remembers the man’s threat, his vow to make Emma pay.

Captain Hook was going to Oz and was getting his Swan back. Heaven help anyone that stood in his way.

//

Saving Emma was exactly what he intended to do at least, but when he burst into the throne room, he saw Emma bashing Walsh with a club, how she’d gotten a club, he had no idea.

“And that’s what you get for kidnapping me!” She shouts as the man moves to duck her blow. Killian can see he’s bleeding pretty badly. “Think this is going to trap me into accepting your ridiculous proposal?” She demands. He can feel pure fire in her entire being as she goes for blood.

“Guards!” He shouts.

Except Killian’s already knocked them out cold on his way here.

“Let them save you!” Emma hisses, going for Walsh again. “Take me back to the dungeon because all you’re getting from me is a kick in the-“ He approaches slowly, pressing a hand to her arm.

Emma spins around and punches Killian square in the nose.

Killian recoils sharply, nearly dropping his sword ad he cups his face from her right hook.

“You-“ Emma says, breathing heavily. She looks dumbstruck. Her face is smeared with blood and dirt, her dress is torn and ruined, she has one shoe on. It’s obvious that Emma hasn’t changed clothes since she was taken, weeks ago.

“Easy Swan.” He says. She doesn’t move, doesn’t drop her weapon, if anything she grips it tighter. “I’m here to save you.” He looks around at the bleeding prince on the ground. “But you seem to be depriving me of a dashing rescue.”

Now that elicits a response. “No one save me but me.” She says it stubbornly, glaring at Walsh.

She lets him place his arms around her, pulling her close to him. “I know Swan. I know.” She collapses into him. “I’ve got you.”

At this moment the prince choses to gather some courage, “What are you doing in my castle?” He says, grabbing a weapon. “I knew you were no prince.” He seethes. “Get away from my fiancé.”

Rage surges through Killian as he strikes, knocking him on the head with the blunt end of his hook.

“Come on Swan. Let’s go home.”

//

It takes her a while to calm down, adrenaline keeping her tense and battle ready. She refuses to stop until they’re back on The Jolly, and already cast out to sea, and the only reason she agrees to rest at all is because he’s seen the wounds on her wrists, the dried blood on her hair.

He wants to go back and gut everyone who even thought about hurting his Swan.

She doesn’t say much as he bandages her wrists, lost in her own head, a place he himself frequented often.

“It’ll take a few days to get back to Misthaven.” He says eventually. “I’ll bring you in a bath and I have some clothes you can change into.” He offers.

She nods.

“Henry misses you.” The cat was curled up beside her, acting like it hadn’t slept since they parted. His comment gets a smile. “Are you alright love?” he presses gently. Her silence isn’t normal; it’s the shock of the last few days.

She shakes her head. “The whole kingdom thinks I’m marrying him.” She utters softly. “I was running away in the middle of my night; put a decoy in my bed. I didn’t intend to run away, but I intended to sneak out. It’s going to ruin everything.” She says exasperated. “An international crisis they’ll say. But I can’t marry him Killian, I can’t-“ He stops her, pulling her close to his chest, shushing her.

“You won’t.”

“I’ll look like I was just using him, seeing what I can get from him and dumping him, that’s not me.” He knows. Walsh has her between a rock and hard place.

“I’ll never get married; I’ll be a disappointment to my family.”

“You won’t. Your parents love you, you’re never a disappointment Swan, you’re bloody brilliant, we’ll think of a way out of this mess.” He assures her. “And until then you can rest here, recover.” He won’t let anything happen to her.

“How did you find me?” She eventually blurts out, looking up at him. Life was slowly returning to her face. It was a relief if he was being honest.

“I heard a rumor about you that couldn’t be true. I went looking for the source and I found you.” He adds.

“But we’re not…anything anymore.” She adds.

He stares at her dumbfounded. “You know why Swan.” He reminds her, “We are never going to be nothing, because since we parted, I kept my promise, every day.”

There’s tears in her eyes as she kisses him.

“I was running away.” She repeats. “To find you, to tell you…” She trails off. “But it doesn’t matter now Killian. After all the rumors, I have to go home, I have to fix things.” He kisses her back. Knowing the words she can’t say.

They were always playing with fire; they always knew they’d both be burned.

“Until the end of my day, I’ll always love you.” He whispers into her hair. “And that’s why you are going to tell the truth. Tell them a pirate took you, you never made it to Oz. Tell them after this ordeal you need to rethink your plans, your love for Walsh.” He says it bitterly and sarcastically

Emma blinks in surprise. “Killian…”

“It’ll get you out of this mess. No one will suspect anything, there will be no international crisis.” He assures her. Because Emma cared about her people, and a war on Oz for her abduction was the last thing she wanted.

“I’d have to point the finger at you, Killian, they’ll be hunting for your head; my father, Oz, everyone. You’ve been safe because no one cared to hunt the Jolly Roger, not like this, you could never come back to Misthaven…”

He knows. “But you’ll be safe. You’ll be safe from Walsh, safe to find a husband who deserves you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you, but it’s the only way.”

He doesn’t expect her to start to cry, practically sobbing into his chest, he just holds her as she does, the stress of everything hitting her all at once. He tells her it’ll be ok.

She doesn’t call him out for lying.

//

They spend the next few days hold up in his cabin or laughing on the deck, anything they can do to forget what will happen when they make port in Arendelle. The story is that she’ll ‘escape’ there, running to her friend who will give her safe passage home.

It takes longer than it usually does; Killian is greedy, knowing this will be the last he sees of her, so he takes the long way, going around storms rather than through them.

“You should take Henry with you.” He says when they reach their destination.

“He’s your mouser.” Emma argues, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll come back for him.” He insists. “I know you’ll take care of him, and you’ll know that someday I’ll come back, for the cat of course.” He says with a wink.

“Of course.”

There’s a pause, he shifts uncertainly on his feet. He wants to kiss her, but he knows it’s goodbye.

Emma makes the decision for him, surging forward holding on to him for dear life. She kisses him like she’s drowning.

“I’m going to fix this Killian, I promise. I’m going to fix everything.” He asserts.

He knows she will, as he parts, watches her with the cat in hand, he knows that she’ll fix this, that he’ll come back to her someday.

Hopefully sooner rather than later.

[verrottweil]

as snow to fire

intro to this wip multi-chap thing i’m writing. this piece in particular is gen.

inspired by and dedicated to the amazing artworks here. please check them out, you won’t regret it!

can also be read here

main characters: spearman & goblin slayer

.

They made it back to the Guild just in time. The storm's finally caught up; the rain rattles against the building, and the wind is a madman's howl through the streets. It's hard to tell whether it'll be over in a few minutes or will last the whole damn night. Spearman wipes the sweat and grime off his face with the back of his hand, wincing when he catches the gash on his cheek.The blue-dyed leather of his glove comes back blood-stained. Shit. Must've peeled the scab off. Witch tuts disapprovingly and rummages around in her pouch, then hands him a perfumed handkerchief. Her lips curl into a lazy smile. Indulgent.

During the trek back to town Spearman daydreamed about how he’d report back to Guild Girl and how cool he’d look, now he has to stand there at the counter with a hankie pressed to his cheek. Unless...

Turning to his companion with puppy dog eyes, Spearman wheedles, “You have one spell left. Can't you work some magic on me, for a job well done?”

Witch raises a brow and while pretending to mull over his request, she daintily crosses one leg over the other. The candlelight flickers over her features, her generous cleavage. With a tilt of the head, she regards him and answers unhurriedly, “If I were to. You would lose your mark of heroism. No?”

Catching Guild Girl shuffle through a stack of papers from his peripheral, Spearman deflates a little. Witch rolls her eyes and lights her pipe. Maybe Guild Girl would fuss over him for a change? He pokes his tongue to the inside of his cheek, pressing his palm harder to the cut. She always bends over backwards for Goblin Slayer when he gets back from a quest. Resentment rears its ugly head at the thought. Spearman doesn't have the energy to pretend he never noticed how badly she crushes on Goblin Slayer. The fight with those bandits took a lot more than he anticipated.

It would be nice to have Guild Girl smile at him like she means it though.

The massive wooden door opens with a shuddery creak. Spearman groans when he sees Goblin Slayer in the open doorway-- after five years, he recognizes the silhouette of that dirt cheap helmet immediately. A spray of rain gets blown into the hall. Goblin Slayer and his party file inside, striking a more pitiful sight than usual, soaked to the bone and stupid tired from their adventure. Speak of the devil. They shuffle over to the front desk, their shadows crooked on the floorboards.

With a huff, Spearman watches how Guild Girl perks up considerably. “I don't get it,” he whines, clenching his hands into fists. “What's so special about him?”

It was strictly rhetorical. So he certainly didn't expect his companion to reply: “You could try to find out… maybe? He is perhaps more, than he seems. At first glance.” When she notices she has his attention, Witch takes a puff of her pipe-- thin wisps of faint purple smoke float to the ceiling. She adds coyly, “Now is a good time, as any. Don't you agree?”

“Wanna bet there are just more goblins at second glance?” Spearman mutters derisively, shifting his weapon from shoulder. No response. He glances at the front desk.

Still, there's gotta be something worthwhile about the guy.

Guild Girl's dropped everything now Goblin Slayer's in front of her. Her hands are flat on the countertop as she listens captively to Goblin Slayer's report, no doubt standing on the tips of her toes to catch every word. Humming to himself, Spearman concedes Witch has a point. After all, for the entirety of Spearman's adventuring career Goblin Slayer has been this 'goblin-obsessed weirdo’ on the backdrop, and he never really bothered to get to know him better. Witch tips her head back and regards him with narrowed eyes. A long shadow falls over the slope of her throat.

Handing the bloodied handkerchief back, Spearman makes a face and says aloud, “Okay, okay, I guess you're right... Hey, you up for a drink?”

The corners of Witch's mouth curl into a smile. She rises languidly from her seat, with the grace of a cat stretching under the midday sun. Together they head over to the front desk. Goblin Slayer's party doesn't require much convincing; the prospect of drink, food and the tavern’s grand fireplace easily tides them over. Only Goblin Slayer himself remains hesitant. Spearman figures the guy had probably planned to get back to that farm right away.

“Gah you can't be serious, Orcbolg!” High Elf Archer exclaims loudly, hands on her hips and eyebrows furrowed.

Before she can berate him in earnest, Dwarf Shaman pitches in, “Come now, Beard-cutter. You've walked through the same storm as us. It's better to sit this one out. And you might as well fill your stomach while you're at it.”

Even Guild Girl nods in agreement at the dwarf's words. Cornered, Goblin Slayer tenses up, making this soft, confused sound that Spearman would've never heard if he hadn't been standing so close to him. The heavy rainfall drowns out most noise.

“I see,” Goblin Slayer murmurs. Water drips down the expanse of his chest piece, and the fur of his collar's wet, weighed down. Dried blood on the buckler around his arm. His leather boots caked with mud. Other adventurers always turn up their nose when they see him in his gear, but he's downright sorry-looking now.

Spearman snaps his gaze back to the visor of that cheap helmet when Goblin Slayer slowly says, “Alright.”

.

The tavern's awash with warmth. The padfoot waitress flits between tables on nimble feet, the skirt of her uniform bellowing around her legs. Rookie and veteran adventurers are clustered in groups of four or five. Chattering excitedly or raising their tankards in a festive toast. Spearman greets those he knows and leads the exhausted party to the table closest by the hearth. The firewood crackles pleasantly. Soot papering the stone foundation. Lizard Priest takes the head of the table. His hulking form cuts an impressive figure; the priestly garments he wears are wet-stuck to his scales, like a second skin. Dwarf Shaman and High Elf Archer settle down on each side.

“--And I'm telling you that it doesn't count, you stubborn dwarf!” She shrieks, shrill, while the dwarf bursts out laughing. Spearman wasn't really following their argument, about the merits of dwarven crossbows or something; most of his attention had been focused on Goblin Slayer and Priestess. It's oddly endearing, watching this girl hover around the guy like a tiny mother hen.

Her sounding staff gleams with raindrops, firelit. She holds onto it tightly when she chastises him. “You shouldn't have flooded the outpost.”

“The river was close by,” Goblin Slayer replies, carefully unbuckling the worn leather clasp of his shield.

Priestess puffs out her cheeks. Some strands of honey blond hair are plastered to her face. “Can't you be a bit more considerate? You know she doesn't like it when you use fire, water or poison in fights… What if-- what if you altered the river's course?”

“Not by much,” he murmurs in response, placing the scabbard of his sword down in front of the fireplace. The glow of the flames washes over his back like an orange wave. “Give me your cloak,” he then says, holding out his hand.

“Ah, right!” Priestess exclaims, quickly shrugging off the oversized, coarse cloak. Goblin Slayer spreads it out to dry on the floorboards.

Spearman watches the exchange with a smile. He places his spear against the wall and turns to the table, intending to take the seat next to Witch. Their eyes meet, and she smirks, her eyes half-hooded. The tip of her pointy hat droops sideways when she props her elbow on the tabletop and rests her chin on her knuckles. Her gaze falls on Priestess, who blushes under its intensity. Huh, cute.

Witch addresses her directly. “Won't you come sit.” Here she pats the spot next to her. “I would like to hear. About your adventure. Would that be… alright? I am sure, you must have much to tell.” She remarks gently, her voice lilting like a lullaby.

“Yes!” Priestess stutters around the y, grabbing the skirts of her robes with two fistfuls. “I mean of course, that wouldn't be a problem at all.” The skin peeking above her thigh highs a bright red from the cold.

With a sigh, Spearman settles down onto the bench, leaving space for Goblin Slayer. The wood groans under his added weight.

They order soup with full wheat bread on the side, roast for supper with pears and wild cranberries, a platter of grilled winter vegetables for High Elf Archer, and an assortment of cheese for Lizard Priest. The padfoot waitress serves them tankards of rich grape wine. Spearman listens attentively to Dwarf Shaman’s and Priestess’ retelling of their adventure, interspersed by High Elf Archer’s indignant squawks whenever the dwarf makes a joke at her expense and by Goblin Slayer’s remarks. He hasn’t bothered removing his helmet. The torn red ribbon sticks flatly to the metal.

“So what did you guys do?!” High Elf Archer asks, pounding her tankard onto the tabletop -- Lizard Priest gingerly picks up his plate and shoots her a look. Always excited to hear about “real” adventures that one. Her cheeks flushed already.

Spearman takes a big gulp from his drink, wipes his chin and answers, “Cleared a bandit camp. On the mountain pass way up north.”

From the corner of his eye he gauges Goblin Slayer for a reaction. The guy remains impassive, giving no indication he’s heard him speak up in the first place, spooning mouthfuls of food through the slits of his faceguard.

Turning back to High Elf Archer, Spearman continues, “There must’ve been a dozen of ‘em, right. Burly. Tough. Armed to the teeth.”

“Tell us what happened!” She eggs him on loudly, grinning wide. Her companions nod in agreement; all eyes suddenly trained on him.

Basking in the attention, Spearman recounts the events of the day. How they trekked through the tall grass, the frozen ground like rock under their heels, and cautiously made their way to the encampment on the bluff overlooking the mountain pass. They smoked out the bandits. Set the wooden fortification ablaze with a simple fire spell. When he gets to the fight, Spearman becomes animated, gesturing wildly to emphasize certain parts, sometimes bumping into Goblin Slayer next to him. He took on ten bandits at the same time. Only one got to him, socked him in the face with a gauntleted fist.

Lizard Priest folds his paws together, eyes squinted half-shut, and offers, “I could heal that cut for you if you so pleased, milord Spearman.”

Spearman’s caught of guard for a moment. Witch flashes him a knowing look, and he declines casually, “Nah… Wouldn’t want to lose my battlescar.” He turns to Goblin Slayer and asks with a wink, “How else would people know I’m an adventurer, right?”

“You look like one,” Goblin Slayer deadpans in response. To Spearman’s surprise, the other members of the party start laughing, as if the guy just cracked a joke.

Unsure of how to react, Spearman tips back the rest of his wine. A bit too fast, because it clogs at the well of his throat, the taste sticking to his palate like honey. He swallows, curt. Tries not to acknowledge that Goblin Slayer is still watching him. His head angled to the side, the fire’s glow lining the back of his helmet with a streak of gold. Did he offend him or something? The tavern turns rowdy when two adventurers start an armwrestling competition at the bar. Spearman peers at the gathering crowd past Goblin Slayer.

High Elf Archer slams her tankard down on the table in cheer and hops off the bench. “Let's go watch!” She commands, half-drunk. Dwarf Shaman strokes his beard and slips out of his seat as well, keeping his cup of fire-wine in hand. Satisfied, the elf turns to Goblin Slayer and says, “Orcbolg, you too!”

“It stopped raining,” he says matter-of-fact.

Lizard Priest casts a glance over his shoulder, at the lead-stained window behind him and hums in acknowledgement. “Indeed it has, milord Goblin Slayer.” His paws are pressed together again, eyes scrunched shut, like a cat's when petted. “I believe you would prefer to take your leave then?”

It dawns on Spearman that Goblin Slayer had been looking past him, not at him. His lips press into a thin line.

“Oh,” Priestess exhales, almost inaudible over the pleasant crackling of the firewood and the shouting match near the counter. Her hair's dried, frazzled around the cheeks. In need of a good brush. She regards him intently when saying, “Please be careful on your way home.”

“I will,” Goblin Slayer promises, getting up from the bench under a barrage of complaints from High Elf Archer. Her voice crowding out the drunken struggle at the bar.

He drops a leather bag of coin onto the table and fetches his weapons.

Spearman crosses his arms in front of his chest, bouncing his leg impatiently. His expression pinches up when Witch bumps her foot against his ankle and levels him a look. Her eyes gleam under the brim of her hat, the smile on her face duplicitous. After years of fighting back to back, they learned to communicate by body language alone. With a tilt of the head Witch nudges him onwards. He heaves a sigh, surrenders. And then slams his fist onto the table, getting up.

High Elf Archer startles at the unexpected sound. Her lecture brought to an abrupt ending. Dwarf Shaman takes a gulp of fire-wine, peering up at him from underneath thick bristly eyebrows when he stands at full height.

Spearman sheepishly scratches his nose and announces, “I figured I'd come with... All this wine is getting to my head y'know, and I need some fresh air.” He jerks his head in Goblin Slayer's direction and asks, “You don't mind, do ya?”

Goblin Slayer bows his head, caught in the firelight, and mutters, “Do as you wish.”

The hollowed-out sound of his voice would scotch any attempt at accompanying him, but Spearman just grins. He then looks over at Witch and catches Priestess shaking her head helplessly next to her. When she notices him staring, she gives him a self-effacing smile, as if to say you get used to it. It serves to boost his confidence even further.

Taking his spear in hand, Spearman says brightly, “Right! Lead on, then.”

.

Thawed-out and wet, the muddy underground sucks at their boots; the wind whips mercilessly against his bare cheeks. The cut on his cheek throbs from the cold. Spearman wipes at his watery eyes and follows Goblin Slayer's shadowy form down the dirt road, both moons looming behind a slumber of clouds. In the first month of the new year, the weather always fluctuates between bitter frost, and cool and rainy. The candlelight from the lanterns around their hips sloshes unsteadily with every step. It spills over the mud like oil.

Spearman licks his dry-cracked lips. They haven't exchanged a single word since leaving the tavern, and the silence rings between his ears heavier than the wind around them. He'd wanted to breach the subject conversationally. Why goblins? Don't you care about anything else?

But the cold leaves him wrung-out, with the sound of his voice dying stillborn past his teeth.

After another few minutes of walking, Spearman wagers a gamble. He's the frontier's strongest, gods be damned, and he's faced worse than a talk with a fellow adventurer. Balling his hands into fists -- closed tighter than a padlock, he strides up to Goblin Slayer. His squelching footsteps echoing bravely in the dark.

“So,” Spearman begins, his breath a wet fog. “What's your deal, anyway? With goblins, I mean. You never wanna move on to bigger game?”

Goblin Slayer looks at him from over his shoulder, a courtesy for him, and replies curtly, “No.”

“Well why not?” Spearman presses on, courageous. “You could if you wanted to, y'know. Remember when we handled that sorcerer in his big white tower? Lil’ bit more practice and you'd be a great scout.”

“Not interested,” Goblin Slayer answers, pulling the threadbare cloak up to his chin, drawn tight over the span of his back.

The few trees near the road rustle their branches -- aspen, birches, a dried-out oak. A harrowing sound.

Spearman combs a gloved hand through his hair, exhales through his nose, loud like a bull. He makes another ditch effort. “You've got two cute girls in your party. Aren't you even a little bit interested in one of them? And with Guild Girl smiling at you like…” He trails off, swallows. Sounding too sour for his own ears. “And what about that farm girl? You went out on a limb for her farm, and okay, there were goblins too, but don't try and--”

“Not every farm gets saved.”

He snaps his head up, gives Goblin Slayer a surprised stare. The wind like a whiplash against his skin. Goblin Slayer's lantern lights up his belly, his chest, but leaves his helmet to the dark. Just a glint of metal.

This guy, Spearman thinks, why would he say something like that all of a sudden. Inarticulate, he manages, “What?”

“Not every farm, not every village gets saved,” Goblin Slayer says slowly. “Mine didn't.”

They stop walking. The hemline of that threadbare cloak bellows in the wind; Spearman can hardly differentiate the outline against the dark. He shifts his spear from shoulder. The weight of his weapon a comfort. He tries to peer between the grates of Goblin Slayer's visor, trying to glimpse his eyes. They were reddish, weren't they?--he remembers from that celebration at the Guild, when he took his helmet off and…

“We’re already far from town,” Goblin Slayer turns towards the frontier town, towards the lights in the distance. You should head back remains unsaid.

The dismissal stings, worse than his cheek does, but his curiosity grows voracious, threatening to pull the tell me out into the open. Spearman falters. Wants to do something outrageous like reach out to him, grab him by the shoulders and rattle him a little, shake the whole confession out of him. He blinks, owlish.

“Right,” he mutters lamely, forcing a grin. “Guess I should get going then… See ya!”

Goblin Slayer remains unmoved, holding onto the rusted handle of the lantern tied around his waist. The candle wobbles on its iron perch. “Yes,” Goblin Slayer says then, simply assessing him. "I will probably see you at the Guild."

Spearman rubs the back of his neck, takes a step backwards. Another one. His foot sinking into the mud. He awkwardly balances his spear against his shoulder, not wanting to dirty the weapon, and turns to the opposite direction. The red moon peeks through wisps of clouds overhead. He takes a steadying breath and treks homewards, feeling the wind beat against his back like children's fists. His stomach in knots.

For the first time, he's looking forward to seeing Goblin Slayer again.

[wxldchxld]

@irnveined in which there’s a long, boring dabble about witches bickering in an unnecessary set up that does nothing but shine a tiny glimmer of light on what it’ll be like to deal with these assholes the rest of Asha’s life. Except Harper. Harper’s goin tf home.

Asha knew fuck all about witches. She’d spent all of a week in their lands, and half of the time she’d spent there was spent half-drunk, stuffing her face, and doing the finger dance while the witches and Ironborn alike drank themselves blind at the preceding rite to the wedding. The rest of the time was spent in a handful of negotiations, the actual marriage ceremony, and one pleasant but all-too-short night with her new wife. It’d been a small wonder that she’d even been able to keep track of all her own men as she brokered an alliance between herself and a people she didn’t know the first thing about.

Still, nothing could have prepared her for Ragna the Bloodied Badger.

In truth, each of the commanding witches sent to sail east with her were odd in their own way. Harper Stolt looked as soft and lovely as the girls in a pillow house, but the witches all bowed beneath the weight of her boiling stares and assured any Ironborn with lingering gazes that there was nothing beneath her delicate features but a mind like a sword’s edge and a spirit like jagged rocks. The Seal King, who was no general at all but the leader of his clan, was quite easily the largest man she’d ever seen in her life. At his brow he was a good two feet above the top of her head, broad in the chest as her Black Wind was long, and thick in the stomach just like the sigil on his flag suggested. He wore the most offensive yellow coat with a blue hat and sash, and boots that went up to his knees. Cuyler the Seven-Toed Eagle was nearly as large in his breast as the Seal, but of an average height, only his skin was an unnatural grey, and the dark green tattoos that covered him were sunken into his flesh---even the silhouette of an eagle on his face. The witches had sent two scholars too, one a woman with hair the color of a pale ale and eyes red as the deck of Euron’s Silence, and the other an intelligent, fair looking man who looked wise granted his trembling body was kept under control by chewing on a wad of herbs like a goat out at pasture.

Still none of them she found as outlandish, nor as charming, as Ragna: a woman whose head came just to the bottom of Asha’s own chin and the champion of the Badger Clan. Asha was still trying to grasp the ease with which witches pronounced women soldiers and captains and generals at all, better yet small ones. And Ragna wasn’t particularly fit either. She was not as fat as the King of Seals, but they shared a similar quality in that under their---more rounded features their muscles were as hard as iron, and it was easy to see if one spared her more than a cursory glance. Which everyone did, as the woman’s voice boomed like thunder wherever she went to the effect that even when she was on her own ship, sailing beside the Black Wind, Asha could hear her shouting at her men on deck.

She was called the Bloodied Badger because she adorned herself in dozens of little sealed vials filled with her enemies’ blood that attached to her belt and her leather harness that bound her thick chest and the delicate chains woven through her hair. Hair that was shaved off on the sides and as long as her feet, and she scrubbed it so often with lye it was white as a ghost and braided so tightly that it looked like a noose, as she kept it coiled around her neck.

Asha didn’t cower in the face of any enemy, but she thought she’d rather take her axe and cleave off her own hand before willfully getting into a brawl with such a woman. She was, however, pleasant company: never without a sly remark to add to the conversation and rarely without a drink either. Once a week she’d called “war councils” to be held on the Black Wind, of which they’d had more than half a dozen where they were the only two participants involved, but she always brought fine dark ale and didn’t linger too long.

Currently, they were having the first (mostly) sober meeting of their journey, and not one of the witch leaders were absent.

“Three days isn’t time. Three days is hardly a heartbeat.” Ranga growled. “We’ve no time to plan.”

Asha snorted into her cup and brought her heels up to rest on the table. At her left, Qarl sent her a scowl as if he were offended by her boots resting in front of him, and whether or not he meant it, it made her laugh. But her confidence was skin deep. Even with the witches at her back they were outnumbered.

She thought briefly of her wife and resisted the urge to cringe. The witch king had sent her three hundred war ships with men to sail them, but he’d sent twenty treasure ships: the largest things she’d ever seen as sea, each with two dozen sails and a deck that could have hosted a village. Asha had sent her wife on one of those ships, and she had them sail a day behind the war party, but if they were defeated, her uncle’s fleet would descend upon those ships like a cruel wave, and she did not want to linger on thoughts of what might happen to her lady wife. Even in the best of circumstances, where none of her uncle’s men knew that they were wed, she was a young, beautiful woman; they’d drag her off for a salt wife.

“We’re on the open sea with a fleet not half the size of Euron’s own.” Qarl was stating the obvious, but the reminder seemed to have no effect on the witches, so he pressed on. “There’s little hope of surrounding them.”

Asha handed the flagon in her hand to the Seal King across the table, who was so large he had but to lean back and stretch out his enormous arm to put the brim under the spicket. The fox general, beautiful and perpetually exasperated, set her jaw and rolled her eyes, but she twisted the handle anyway. It wasn’t until she’d taken another drink that Asha found anything to say.

She didn’t get to say it because no sooner had she sat down her cup than Harper lost what little patience she’d been clinging to and snarled. “What the hell are they doing so far west?”

“We’ll take them from behind.” Asha said, ignoring a question that she didn’t have any good answer to. “With any luck we can surprise them under the cover of night.”

Ragna wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve. “Not if they’re sailing toward us. The trailing ships won’t have the speed to slip around them. They don’t turn well.”

The Seal King muttered his agreement. They were his ships, after all, and he was the only witch among them who knew a damn thing about the sea.

“It’s the best plan we’ve got.” Qarl said after a moment of long, drawn out silence. It immediately went quiet again, and Asha consoled herself with a long drink.

“The best plan you’ve got, maybe, but I don’t intend to see my command ended in a watery grave.” Harper’s words dripped with such venom they might have bore a hole in the wood below.

They would not drown her. She thought. Not a woman that lovely. A proud man would see a challenge in her and take her for his salt wife, but Asha didn’t say anything. The woman’s hand was resting on a long, slim pouch of leather where she held her wand, and presently it felt like a bad idea to provoke her.

The Kraken’s daughter regarded the angry witch. “What would you have me do then?”

“The Allvaldr gave you nearly three thousand witches. What I wouldn’t do is squander them in a fucking sword fight.”

Ranga chuffed in disapproval. “She’s right. Prefer an axe in a fight myself.”

Asha shouldn’t have laughed at that, the tension in the room was almost at a boil, and Harper had, for reasons no one had ever told her, despised her from the second she’d laid eyes on her. But she did laugh. The Badger was a woman after her own heart.

“Let’ss ju-u-ust---take a mo-mo-mommment to breathe, eh?” The raven hair scholar was shaking in earnest now.

“By the blood of my ancestors will someone shove a branch down his throat?” Harper’s face was coiled in disgust. “Makes me dizzy just to look at you.”

“He ought to stop those transport spells.” The Seal King grumbled through a mouthful of fish. “One day you’ll pop off to somewhere and every inch of that skin of yours will fly off in a thousand directions. Mark my words.”

“Shut up!” The Fox commanded, “I am not done.”

The Seal King turned in his chair so that only Asha and Qarl could see his face, and just below the creaking of the ship she heard him mumble something about how no one wanted her to.

“Good queen,” It sounded as if it physically pained Harper to call her such. All of the witches addressed her as a queen, at least by title. Something about how will shapes the world and speaking things that would be as if they were true.

“We are not outnumbered.” She said strongly. “Not when we can call to the hearts of every creature writhing below the deck of this ship. We need not hurl arrows where we can send dreams to plague men with nightmares that deprive them of sleep. A sword cannot compare to a sickness we could spread through the whole fleet. What good is an axe against waves as tall as castles that we call to drown their ships? See if your enemies will rise from that.”

“Do that and not a soul is spared.” Ragna said quietly. Not even she would meet the eyes of the Fox.

“No.” Asha cut in before another breath could be taken. “I’ll not sink the whole of the Iron Fleet. Those that would see reason-”

“Would have seen it at your queensmoot.”

“I have given you my answer.” Asha said. There was no good nature left in her voice. That was twice now she’d been interrupted by this woman in the halls of her own ship. She sat her cup on the table pointedly and locked her eyes onto the witch. “I will not sink the whole of the Iron Fleet.”

Surely some men would see this for the madness it was. Her uncle Victarion was slow and proud, he believed her place was in a man’s bed fat with his child, but surely even he couldn’t deny her now. She’d sailed to the end of the world and not just survived, but returned with triple the force she’d had when she reached the shore. And she hadn’t lost a single man in the process. Diplomacy was not favored among her people, but it worked; surely they would have to see that. Some at least. Even a hundred. Even ten. She would not so carelessly discard the lives of her people. Troubled as they were, they were hers, and none of them would call her a queen if she let these foreigners kill scores of them.

“Then have my answer, good queen, and it’s this: I won’t send my own in to die for a lost cause. We fight as witches or we do not fight.” Harper replied in a cold, steely tone. The woman rolled her shoulders and turned on her heel to leave. “If you should find your wits, call on me.”

If she’d have been born anywhere else in Westeros, such blatant disrespect might have sent her into a rage. But she was Ironborn, and a woman nonetheless---a woman standing in a man’s shoes. Even if the Ironborn had have been the type to scrape and grovel at the feet of their lords, they wouldn’t have respected her. So she made no argument, and she didn’t let the bitter pang of annoyance show on her face.

With a sigh, Asha reached for her cup and focused back on Ragna. “How much will we suffer without her leg of the army?”

“Leg? Whole damn army’s hers.” Ranga said, already filling her cup again. The two scholars exchanged looks, one of them mouthing to the other ‘one of those nights’ and making a crude drinking motion with her hand that made the other laugh, but they didn’t speak.

“I thought you lead your own people into battle?”

The Badger nodded. “Aye, I’m the general of the Badger Clan’s army, but she’s the general of the United Army. All of us. Only person here to out pull her is Fritjof.”

“And I won’t.” said the King of Seals as he dumped something from a vial into his flagon. It was the first time she’d ever heard his name. He shifted in his seat and wiped his mouth with his hand, “I can’t afford to fight the foxes. I can scarcely afford the war I’m in now. It’ll be a wonder if the Bears north of Mun-Strǫnd don’t take half my land before I return home, I can’t have the south moving up against us too.”

Ranga cleared her throat and shook her head. “Before we decide whether or we can go against her, we should think about if we ought to.”

“Could you do it to your own men? Whether they’d turned against you or not?” It was Cuyler the Seven-Toed that spoke. His low, gravely tone came as a complete surprise; the man had ridden on the Black Wind since they’d set sail, and he’d never made a sound. Asha had taken him for a mute, and more than once she’d wondered how he held any kind of command without the ability to speak.

Ragna grunted and put her lips to her cup again, growling directly into the flagon. “No. No I couldn’t… but what if we didn’t have to? Harper had one good point at least.”

The raven-haired scholar managed to stop chewing his cud long enough to ask. “Dream walkers?”

“They won’t be any use to me if they can’t sail.” Asha said dismissively. In truth she didn’t like the principle of the matter. It felt---cowardly: weakening her people and driving them half mad. People ought to have the opportunity to choose--to fight for themselves.

“We’ve only got the one dream walker anyway. She won’t do it.”

“Does she too have some unfounded grudge against me?” Asha asked, only half serious.

“Your young bride?” Cuyler laughed at that. “I should hope not. But she’s too gentle-hearted to drive men mad. Even if she could channel enough of us to amplify a dream across a hundred thousand men, she wouldn’t have the stomach to unleash it on them.”

“A nightmare, no, but a dream…” Ragna let her words dangle in the silence that followed, then she pointed a finger to the sigil of the kraken on the wall. “An ill omen. It’s all we need send. Have the scouts find the direction which they sail, and let us keep away from them. Send them dreams of warring krakens and the sigils of their supporting clans where your enemies fall. Send them for days. Then call up those same creatures from the deep, let them sink a few ships. After we can send a second dream that warns them to turn home and lay down their weapons---to swear their allegiance to you. If they stay after that then they mean to fight you, and if we call up a wave to drown half the fleet afterwards, they’ll see it not as cruelty but a sign.”

“You mean to manipulate their faith?” The red eyed woman asked with clear disgust in her tone.

“It’s not doing any harm.” Ragna replied hotly. “She is the kraken, and we do mean to kill those who would keep from from her throne.”

“Would we see battle at all?” Asha asked. There was something about the prospect of seeing her axe sticking between Euron’s eyes that she just didn’t want to miss.

Ranga’s grin consumed the whole of her face. “Only if you want it.”

Asha finished the rest of her cup and slumped against the wall behind her. So that was that. She would twist what the Ironborn held most sacred and wage a war Euron’s men had no chance in fighting. There would have to be some sort of bloodshed though or her men would think her cowardly.

“Would she do this?” Asha pressed.

Cuyler offered an answer. “The Lady Greyjoy? She’d be saving life, not ending it.”

His tone was almost mocking when he spoke the words “Lady Greyjoy” but it didn’t seem to be aimed at the Iron Queen in particular.

“Will it bring her close to the battle?” Beck didn’t seem like the type for fighting, and as happy as the thought of seeing her wife again made her, Asha wasn’t sure how she felt about dragging her into the throes of war.

“Dream walkers can go far.” The Seal King slurred, half drunk and slumped over her table. He raised his cup into the air and sighed like a wistful maid, “Walk me to the depths of the sea!”

Perhaps---more than half drunk then. The Seven-Toed Eagle took the man’s coat in his grasp and hoisted enough. “We can do no more until the scouts return. I’ll see his kingship back to his own vessel.”

The two men stumbled up the stairs comically, as the Seal couldn’t manage them on his own and they were too large to stand side by side. Near the top she heard them fall with a groan from Cuyler and a bellowing laugh from his drunk friend.

“We’ll take our leave as well, good queen.” said the woman scholar, bowing her head respectfully and walking off with her colleague's hand clasped in her own before he could attempt to speak through his full mouth. Asha waved them away dismissively and let her eyes fall closed. She wouldn’t sleep tonight; she knew that much. The battle was too close, and she could practically feel the weight of the Driftwood crown on her head.

There was a scrape of wood against wood as Ragna stood to her feet.

“Will the Fox general fight now?” Asha asked in a voice she hoped didn’t sound anxious.

“Harper? Aye. Especially now that Beck’s involved.”

Her brow raised curiously. “Do they know one another well?”

“Is that an answer you truly want?”

Well now she sure as hell did. Asha opened her eyes to assess the Badger, who looked hesitant to continue.

“As well as two people can; four years ago they were meant to marry.”

Asha had a good, hard laugh at that. Not because it was particularly funny, but because she couldn’t think of anything better to do in light of this utterly ridiculous information. Had all of that posturing been over something as petty as jealousy?

She nearly asked more of the witch but saw Ragna wince and thought better of it. Perhaps the ale was starting to get to her as well. That was Beck’s business.

“Shall I return when the scouts arrive?” It wasn’t a question. The Badger ascended the stairs two at a time, and she didn’t look back.

[modern-victoria]

As swift as this is love

Chapter twenty-nine of my Quakerider Fantasy AU.

Read it on ao3.

 Bobbi entered Zephyr Town proudly after two days of riding. She sat straight on her horse, the eagle on her chest gleaming once again after she had washed all the blood and grime off in a stream they had passed. Lady Price and King Talbot were riding in front of her, their heads held high. She wondered how the meeting between them and her king would go; everyone in this kingdom knew about the strained relations between Zephyr Kingdom and its two neighbouring kingdoms. That would be a battle for another day she hoped. She wanted nothing more than to drink her weight in ale and dance the night away with Hunter. The last days had made her realise how much she still cared about him: more than she liked to admit.

 Behind her trotted Lucy. Robbie looked tired. No wonder, she thought, though she had been fighting at the time, she had caught glimpses of what had happened with Robbie, Daisy and Eli. Even more, she had heard his screams echoing through the throne room even though the noises of swords and armour drowned out all the other sounds.

 As much as he looked drained, he looked happy and peaceful, a look she had never really seen on him. Sometimes there were moments she thought she saw a flash of it when he was talking to Daisy, but those moments were fleeting. Now, he wore that look like a badge of honour.

 Bobbi’s gaze drifted to the princess, cradled in Robbie’s arms. Her head laid on Robbie’s chest and her eyes were closed. The gentle rocking of Lucy’s trots and the warmth radiating from Robbie had lulled her to sleep. She had been through a lot too.

 She smiled at the memory of Daisy on her wedding day. Her face when Bobbi told her she might grow to love Robbie was almost comical, and a stark contrast to now. Bobbi had witnessed her anxiousness when they were riding towards Darkhold Castle, had seen the look of relief when she had finally spotted Robbie amidst the battle. She was there when she flew in his arms and had kissed him fiercely. She shook her head laughing, the passion those two had made her rethink of the first days she had met Hunter, before they were married, before his mother didn’t approve of her.

 They all dismounted their horses in the courtyard, Mack and a dozen other people took the reins out of their hands and led their horses towards the stables. She clasped Mack on the shoulder, needing the contact to assure her the war was indeed over and they had won against all odds.

 She walked over to Robbie, who was gently waking Daisy, murmuring words into her ear Bobbi was too far away to hear. Daisy opened her eyes, her chest swelling with a breath of fresh air, then yawned, “We here?”

 “Yes, we’re home,” Robbie answered, the word still tasting fresh on his tongue. Home. However, he didn’t think it was Zephyr Palace that made him feel home, he thought as he lovingly gazed at Daisy, still laying against his chest.

 “Come, let’s get you inside. Your wound needs to be looked at.”

 “I wasn’t so lucky to be healed of all my wounds simply by loving myself,” she joked, her voice still raspy from sleep.

 It was true, after Daisy told him she loved him and his curse had been lifted, all his wounds had mended. Granted, the scars were still there, but he had gotten a second chance. He died, and he lived to tell the tale.

 He dismounted Lucy and guided Daisy off her too. She plopped down to the ground, turning in his arms and pecking him on the lips. “Thank you, husband.”

 He smiled at the name, now said with endearment instead of the practical term it had once been. He pecked her once again on the lips, unable to stop himself now that he could freely kiss her.

 “Welcome!” King Phillip’s voice sounded.

 They both turned to the Palace’s entrance where the King and Queen stepped out, greeting Lady Price, King Talbot and all the soldiers gathered in the courtyard. He walked towards both monarchs, clasping their hands and expressing his thanks. The three of them smiled tentatively, all unsure of where this new alliance would lead.

 Word had already been sent of their victory prior their homecoming, so a grand feast had been organised that evening. The throne room, the grand entrance hall, the ballroom, the courtyard and the inside yard had been accomodated to host all the soldiers that had fought for Zephyr Kingdom’s freedom.

 “Thank you for your service. Tonight, the feast will be in your honour.” The king spread his arms out towards the crowd. “We’ve prepared accommodations for all of you, so freshen up and cheer!”

 The crowd roared in hurray, their hands and armour still bloody, but their faces free from anxiousness. Daisy joined them and pierced the blue sky with her shining sword, hooting with her soldiers without a care. She grabbed Robbie’s hand and dragged him inside the palace. Once inside, she was greeted by Jemma, who tackled her into a hug.

 “Never let me worry about you again!” Jemma exclaimed. “I can’t handle it!”

 “I’m glad to see you too, Jemma,” Daisy whispered into Jemma’s hair.

 Hunter stood behind her, Bobbi by his side, their hands clasped together. Daisy’s eyes fell to their joined hands. Smiling, she looked at the both of them. Hunter walked towards her and threw his arms around her shoulders, squeezing her in a hug.

 “I should’ve been by your side,” he mumbled, a tinge of regret in his voice.

 Daisy pulled back and looked at him, her smile still glued to her face. “You were in spirit, Hunter.”

 “Thank you.”

 “Also, I had a pretty good guardian by my side and I’m sure you would agree,” she winked.

 “Yeah,” Hunter said, walking back to Bobbi and lacing his fingers through hers again, “she is pretty good, isn’t she?”

 “Now, Daisy, let’s get you and Robbie ready for tonight,” Jemma said as she ushered them both further down the hall. Another servant came to take care of Robbie, while Jemma would be busy with Daisy.

 They both made their separate ways, reluctant, but they knew they’d see each other again soon.

 “I drew a bath for you already,” Jemma said, as they walked towards Daisy’s chamber. “Sandalwood and roses, just as you like.”

 “I’d love to get all this grime out of my hair too.” Daisy carded her fingers through her dirt-caked hair, while Jemma opened the door for her.

 “Let me check your wound first,” Jemma said.

 Daisy responded, “I’m fine. It’s been taken care of on the trip home.”

 “With dirty fingers and old rags, Daisy.”

 “Fine,” Daisy said reluctantly.

 “Aren’t we going to talk about it?” Jemma asked, checking the wound for any signs of infection. It was still red, but it seemed like the medic had done a good job treating it.

 Daisy looked away, her brows knit together. “Talk about what?”

 “You and Prince Roberto?”

 Smiling absentmindedly, Daisy thought back of his lips on hers. She didn’t know why she held her feelings that long for herself, because she couldn’t be happier.

 “I love him. I guess, I loved him before too.”

 Jemma gathered her friend in her arms, hugging her happily. “I’m glad for you,” she simply said.

 Once Jemma was done, Daisy didn’t wait a second before shedding her clothes and sinking into the copper bathtub. The warm water appeased her aching muscles and it was only then Daisy realised how weary her bones felt. She sighed happily as Jemma began combing her hair. Daisy closed her eyes and sank further in the soothing water.

 “Finally done!”

 Daisy’s eyes startled open as she heard Jemma’s voice behind her. As she straightened herself in the now tepid water, she noticed her fingertips were wrinkled.

 “How long was I out?” Daisy asked.

 “As long as it took for me to detangle and wash your hair,” Jemma answered.

 “Sorry.”

 “No need, Daisy. The last few days have been taxing, especially for you. I understand.” Jemma touched her shoulder lightly in comfort. “Now let’s get you in a pretty dress.”

 “I know which one I want to wear,” Daisy said as she stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a large cotton cloth to dry herself off.

 “Which one shall I lay out for you then?”

 “The pink one,” Daisy decided. “The one with the silver flowers on the hem.”

 After she was completely dried off, Jemma put some disinfecting lotion on Daisy’s cut and then proceeded to bandage it up again. Afterwards she laced Daisy into her dress. She quickly combed Daisy’s hair and pinned two front locks back with matching silver pins.

 “You’re ready.”

 Daisy rose up from her chair and said her thanks to Jemma.

 “Now, go put a nice dress on,” Daisy exclaimed, pushing Jemma towards her own adjacent room. She opened her door and bumped into Robbie on the way out.

 “Oh,” she let out surprised, “I thought we were meeting downstairs.”

 “I couldn’t wait to see you,” Robbie stated, his gaze piercing her own. Daisy smiled, hiding her creeping blush by ducking her head.

 “I wanted to ask you something,” he continued. “I know it might sound stupid- you probably will think it’s stupid, but I’ve thought about it and- well I- God it’s stupid.”

 “Robbie,” Daisy whispered sweetly, cupping his face into her two hands. He looked at her affectionately.

 “You’re wearing the dress you wore when we first met.”

 “Is that the question? Because It didn’t sound like a question,” she laughed. “But yes, I am wearing the same dress. I thought it was fitting.”

 Robbie grinned happily. “I wanted to ask you this,” he said, taking her hands into his. Daisy suddenly noticed the bright yellow ribbon clutched in his hands. Her eyes widened as it dawned on her what he was about to do.

 “Daisy, I know technically we are already married, but I wanted to do it properly this time. You deserve that.” Daisy could feel her heart fluttering and a huge smile appeared on her face.

 “So, I’m asking you, Princess Daisy of Zephyr Kingdom, will you grant me the honour of being able to spend the rest of my life with you?” Daisy could feel his hands tremble in her grip. She nodded silently, tears of joy spilling from her eyes.

 “Yes,” she breathed out between sobs. He gently leaned closer, but Daisy crashed her lips against his. Their first kiss had been a promise, for what their future might hold. This one felt more like a guarantee, that this was their future;

 A yellow ribbon for hope.

 A kiss for love.

 They pulled away, breathing heavily as their foreheads touched. She nudged her nose against his. “They’re waiting for us downstairs,” she whispered.

 “I feel like they’re always waiting for us,” Robbie muttered under his breath.

 “We are the prince and princess,” Daisy chuckled.

 Robbie grumbled and against his will pulled away completely from her. He still held onto her hand though.

 “And I am hungry,” Daisy added, raising an eyebrow at him.

 “You make a good point,” Robbie joked and together they walked downstairs.

 Upon entering the throne room, delicious scents entered their noses. The room was full of nobles, captains and generals. A long and broad wooden table lined the middle of the room, beautiful silverware was put on top of a lacey linen. Almost everyone was already sat down, talking animatedly and downing one cup of wine after the other.

 They made their way over to the edge of the table, where two places were held free between Gabe and Lady Price. Robbie sat down next to his brother and Daisy took the seat next to Lady Price.

 “Thank you again for coming to our aid.” Daisy turned to Rosalind. “Without your help, we’d have surely lost the war.”

 Price took Daisy’s hands in hers. “You wrote a great piece about why leaving your kingdom in the hands of that usurper would be terrible for all of us. I hope what you said is true, that we could work together in the future.” She squeezed Daisy’s hands and then let go, but her gaze remained on her.

 “I truly believe my father will change his ways,” Daisy nodded, her eyes locked on hers to convey as much confidence as she could muster.

 “It is not with your father King Talbot and I made an agreement,” She began, “but I guess it’ll have to do.”

 Daisy smiled politely, starting to turn back again when Lady Price added, “I am amazed at how you handled yourself on the battlefield. I never expected such a thing from a princess.”

 “You were on the battlefield too,” Daisy stated.

 “Not on the front line.”

 “I guess I was tired of letting others fight my battles,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

 A large smirk appeared on Rosalind’s face. “I feel like you and I will get along well, Princess Daisy of Zephyr Kingdom.”

 Daisy nodded, took her full glass and raised it towards her. “To new friends!”

 “Indeed,” said Rosalind, clinking her cup with Daisy’s, “to new friends!”

 Daisy’s hand found Robbie’s as dinner was served. He glanced at her as a tiny smile crept on his face. They were married, had been for over a month, but their feelings were new and daunting and they were as giddy as two lovestruck teens.

 Gabe peered through the corner of his eyes at them, occasionally rolling his eyes at how corny his brother could be as much as he was happy for them both.

 Her father had spared no expense when it came to the five-course meal that was being served. Daisy stared down the table at the hundred other men and women seated, all eating and drinking. This room wasn’t even filled with half of the guests.

 “Poor pigs,” Daisy mumbled to herself, but Robbie heard and shot her a quizzical look.

 “Pigs?” he asked amused.

 “Nevermind,” she said. He tilted his head bemused, but was cut off from further comments by her father rising from his seat at the end of the table, clinking his glass. Slowly, the whole room fell silent, every face turned towards their king.

 “We won a war today,” he began, letting his gaze roam over every face in the room.

 “That is not something I can say every day. But we won thanks to the help of our neighbouring kingdoms, Lady Price and King Talbot.” Half the room cheered loudly at the mention of their monarch. When the room fell silent again, he continued, “ but it is not I who made this alliance possible. My precious daughter, the princess of Zephyr Kingdom, spoke to their hearts and succeeded where I failed, numerous times.”

 He looked at her, his face soft and caring. She noticed the laughing wrinkles around his eyes again. He looked at peace now that war wasn’t knocking on his door.

 “That is why I decided to step away from the throne.”

 The room erupted in shouts of astonishment and confusion. King Phillip put his hands up to calm his people.

 “I have done my time as monarch. I have led you as best as I could, but with the end of Hydra and this war, it is the start of a new alliance, one that I have not founded. It is the start of a new era, one where my precious daughter will rule as just and as fierce as she was a princess.”

 Daisy stared in shock in front of her. She could not believe what she was hearing and expected cries of dissent. Instead cheers echoed through the immense throne room and Daisy blinked back into reality as the sounds resonated in her head: they were shouting her name.

 Her father was looking at her expectantly.

 Talbot and Price were nodding in agreement.

 Her mother smiled proudly.

 Robbie still held her hand as he beamed at her.

 She rose up from her seat. A hush fell over the room as everyone stared at her in awe. She cleared her throat, then straightened her back.

 “I promise you a better future,” she started, not knowing where she would go with her speech but the words seemed to come without trying. “I promise we will rebuild this kingdom to the grandeur it once had.”

 She inclined her head to Talbot and Price. “Where allies are welcome and friends even more.” Price smiled satisfied.

 “I have fought next to you, and I will continue to do so until anyone who opposes us, our freedom and our peace will quake in their boots!”

 The crowd sprang from their chairs, clapping and hurraying their new queen-to-be. They all raised their cups in her honour and downed it all. Daisy’s legs gave out underneath her and she sank back into her chair, content but still shaken from what had just transpired.

 “Are you okay?” Robbie whispered to her, bringing her still clutched hand to his face and kissing it. "Yeah. I think I am actually."

 “You’ll be king,” she added as an afterthought.

 Robbie dropped his hand, but still held onto hers. “Huh.” he pursed his lips. “I guess so.”

 “You’ll be a wonderful king.”

 “I hope so.” He paused. “With you by my side, I will try my best to be worthy of such a title. And of you.”

 Daisy leaned over her armrest, closing the distance between the both of them as she kissed him. He pulled away slightly, grinning mischievously.

 “I don’t think they need us here anymore.”

 Daisy caught onto his deeper meaning as she saw the glint in his eyes. “They’re all drunk. They won’t notice us gone.” She shook her head slowly, her own face turning into smirk.

 After one last kiss, they both rose up from their seats, quickly leaving the room before anyone would notice. Running through the halls like two giddy children, Daisy led him to her room.

 She stopped abruptly before her door. He watched her lovestruck as she placed her hand on his heart.

 “I am in irrevocably in love with you, Robbie Reyes,” She said softly.

 “Good,” he murmured back, “because I am irrevocably in love with you too, Daisy of Zephyr Kingdom.”

 She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. With one arm he held her up as she melted into him and with the other he opened her chamberdoor carefully. Their lips didn’t come apart for one moment as they both held onto each other fervently. Their kiss, which started sweet and gentle turned heated as they stumbled into her room. With one swift kick, Robbie shut the door behind them.

 One door shut, but a million others open as a new life started for them that night.

 Together.

 At last.

Chapter 28