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adiabolikpastel · 4 years ago

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Title: Lunar Eclipse Masquerade

Shu pt. 2

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2,577

Pairing: Shu x ? (m/f)

ღ Being in charge is not easy for someone who hates pressure. As Shu attempt to run from his responsibilities, another one arrives - much to his dismay. ღ

Mun Yu: We made it to the second wave of LEM. I hope you all enjoyed the set up, and are ready for the main event. Our Lunar Eclipse is in full swing as the masquerade beings. These chapters will be longer.

Additionally: I would love to thank @dialovers-translations for translating the Shu and Reiji versus CD which show cased them during the Lunar Eclipse. It helped me greatly to write his personality.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

Despite what most people think, demonic beings are very social creatures. The elites hold countless balls and parties, celebrating their immortality together, and entertaining one another with stories. Typically, they are done in celebration for something – though this is not always the case. All types of beings from across the Demon Realm will come if the host is of high enough prestige.

There would be no such host if it was not for Karlheinz. Seated as the head of the Bat Clan (vampires), Karl’s reach spans far. Being the widow for the former Demon King’s daughter, and having children of the first blood, an invitation from the Vampire King is not one to refuse. Though why would you? In his immaculate castle within the Demon Realm, Eden Castle, it is always quite the spectacle. While the celebrations held in his Human World mansion are nice, nothing compares to a true night of pleasure within the true home of the King.

On this night, there was to be a Masquerade in honor of the first Lunar Eclipsed Moon in over two years. While this night may serve each species differently, the idea to celebrate its return was simply too tempting. For this reason, Karlheinz took it upon himself – or rather – his house, to host the event. This extended to his offspring as well, regardless of their personal agenda. Members of every social elite race accepted the offer, and gathered for a truly unforgettable evening.

So nosey. That was the only thought going through Shu’s mind as he arrived to this unnecessary event. There were so many guest in attendance, part of him felt it was a personal attack from his father. The man knew everything – so he found it hard to believe that he and Reiji could actually attempt to surprise him. That thought alone made him weary to even come, but it was better to follow orders than to disobey. He’d learned that lesson long ago.

Before coming to Eden Castle, it was rather nice to be back in the old mansion. He’d been gone for a year – being able to nap in all his old places was great. Not to mention, two of the louder brothers weren’t in the house – it was perfect. Then again, Subaru and Kanato were noisy on their own. Not to mention seeing Akumu – that was... a thing.

Not that things had ended badly between the two – far from it actually. Akumu’s place simply wasn’t meant to be at his side forever. Despite any attachment that may form. Subaru was going to have a much harder time letting go than Shu did. For him it was as simple as telling him that he was leaving. In typical Akumu fashion, the robo-boy simply nodded. That was something Shu liked about Akumu though, there was never any pressure with him.

Things were easy, because there wasn’t really anything to get. He was simply there to be used as needed for whatever was needed. Simple. No attachments. Shu had every intention to keep things that way. Hell, even during his short time back in the house, he used Akumu’s body to soothe some needs. Honestly, Shu felt like that was the type of relationship he could have forever. No stress. No expectations.

With all of his brothers finding some kind of ‘love’, Shu found himself thinking on the topic in passing. Though he never gave anything much thought. Especially since Reiji approved him with this new task – his fate seemed to remain alone. It would be cruel to bring someone into this, not to mention his own personal baggage. This was easier. Better even. The relationships his siblings had were so much effort – though that may steam from them being with humans. Shu could never see himself with something so common as one.

Now here at this party, however, he could see the appeal of having a partner. It was bothersome to have to be alone in a place like this. There was nowhere to sleep, and of course Reiji wouldn’t just let him make an appearance and then leave. His brother went so far as to have him stay close and actually speak with people. It was draining. The same phrases on loop. Again and again. To faceless person after faceless person. Shu could care less about any of these people.

Reiji urged him that these would be his people, if their plan came through. The idea made things slightly more bearable, but there would always be a certain disconnect between Shu and the rest of the world. How could there not be. He made that barrier long ago. After losing the one thing in life that made him happy. Even after learning that his friend was alive, that didn’t change the years of grief and torment. But now wasn’t the time for all that. Stand up straight. Smile. Pretend. If this was just a sample of what was to come, Shu was having major second thoughts.

The stress of dealing with so many people each day. Throwing parties for stupid events. Living each day under constant watch. Honestly, it was overwhelming. So much so that, he had to get away. With a small excuse, he left Reiji to finish the greetings. He had to get away for a moment. Out of this room. So he leaves the ballroom, wondering the halls.

The worse thing about Eden Castle was its ability to react to those inside it. Shu closed his eyes, groaning, and letting himself rest against the wall. He refused to open them. Not now. This castle would warp around his distress, turn him around, make him lost. That was the last thing he wanted. He simply needed a moment to breath. Preferably nap, but that wasn’t an option.

It was moments like this that really made him think about the future. How was he going to function as a leader? When all of this made him so uneasy. Even with Reiji at his side, all of the pressure – Shu lowered himself into a seated position. He hadn’t felt like this in years. Fear. Anxiety. It was suffocating. Shu couldn’t stop the memories flooding into his head. Why was this happening?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat in the hallway. He wasn’t even sure if he was really still in Eden Castle or not. The panic racing through him placed him in the past. Where his mother still lived, and lectured him daily. Where Reiji plotted and schemed against him. Where Edgar… Enough! Shu had to snap out of this, and in an attempt to do so, he gave himself a smack. This was ridiculous. It had to be this place, stirring up the memories he’d so desperately rather forget.

Picking himself up, he forces his will onto the Castle. Shu could feel its magic attempting to twist the view to his emotional distress. Perhaps all the training this past year wasn’t for nothing? Forcing himself up, Shu walked back into the ballroom. Upon his arrival, Reiji was dealing with some kind of mess. A table was over turned, and there were desserts all over the floor. What a hassle. He had planned to simply tell Reiji he was leaving, but that plan wasn’t going to work if his brother tried to get him to help.

As he debated with himself, an all too familiar presence made itself known. Shu searched the crowd to find the source. It was overwhelming in his current state of mind to ignore, like he normally would. Against his desires, his body followed where the call came from. It was almost sickening, this influence. Soon he found himself face to face with the one beckoning him, Karlheinz.

“There you are Ririe, I have been waiting for you to join us.” The vampire lord’s voice held such weight, even though he spoke so calmly. Normally Shu was able to resist most of his father’s influence, but for some reason tonight it felt stronger. Could it be the moon?

“Ah~ Shu-san, you look so handsome in that suite. I knew that design would complement you perfectly.” Another familiar voice chimed, as a woman made herself known next to Karlheinz. Shu would tell then why everything felt off. It wasn’t just from the moon.

Before Shu had a moment to speak, Karl placed a hand against his back, moving him closer. “There is someone special I have been trying to get you to meet.” He informs raising a hand to beacon someone over. Shu wanted to move out of his father’s grasp, but there was no escape. “Ajax, I am so pleased to finally get these two together.” He addresses someone Shu had never seen before.

This ‘Ajax’ was a tall, broad man, standing well over all of them, probably pushing about 8 feet. His skin was tanned, and his hair looked as though it were the mane of a lion. Similar to his father, it was long and held with a ribbon, but his bangs were pushed back from his face. While on most people they would slick back, his seemed to flare outward, in excitement, perhaps? He was dressed in an embroidered long-sleeved formal shirt rather than a suite, with a mask to match.

Next to him were two smaller women, one that came to about 6ft tall, and the other shorter than Shu. They both also had tanned skin. The taller one wore a two piece outfit, it stood out amongst the many dresses in the room. While it was simply a blouse and skirt, it seemed elevated, majestic even on her. The shorter female was dressed much closer to the tone of the event, with an off the shoulder ball gown, yellow in color with a navy lining.

All three of them had a pair of horns on their head, though each were different. Ajax’s were large, and split into three different pairs. The longest set on top of his head, moving back with his hair. The next were not as long, and the third fell just over where his ears would be. The larger woman had a pair, but they were much smaller in comparison. Just a single pair, that formed a perfect wrap around her ears, the ends sticking out just slightly. The smaller females were a combination of both. Only have one set, they dipped down as if to begin to wrap, but instead moved back, and extended upwards.

The three approached the Vampire King, bowing respectfully, “Karlheinz, It has been some time since we last met! It is good to see you well!” Ajax, voice was booming, but not with malice. He held great enthusiasm, and respect in his words. “So this is the young lad you had in mind? I can see the resemblance in you! Haha!”

Shu was utterly confused by what was transpiring before him. Just who were these strangers? Why would he of all people be introduced to anyone? Surely he meant to call on Reiji. Then again, he did use his true name, what could his father be planning.

“Yes, this is my eldest son, Ririe. As we look towards our futures, there is not a better son I could think of to join our families.” Karl goes on to Ajax. “While he does share my genetics, I assure you, he looks much more like his late mother.”

Ajax laughed, and scratches his head, “I should say the same for my daughters! They all carry their mother’s beauty that is for sure!” The taller woman next to him smiles but clears her throat. “Ah! Yes of course, my dear!” The large man moves to the side, and brings forth the smallest female. “How rude of me! I present to you my lovely youngest daughter, Callista.”

He all but pushes the female into Shu. Who was still trying to process what was happening in this moment. As he looked at the girl, he could see she was embarrassed to stand before him. What was he supposed to say? To do? “Um…” She was the first to break the silence, looking up at the young vampire. “It is… a pleasure to finally meet you, Lord Ririe.”

Shu just stared at her. How could his father even suggest this!? He had always sent brides to the home, but this… this was more arranged. This was – “You’ll have to forgive him, Lord Ajax. He must be in total shock from your lovely daughter’s beauty.” Shu could hear the enchanting tone in his father’s escort’s voice.

“Haha! Of course! Like all of my daughters, she is a beauty beyond compare.” The tall man boast happily.

“Perhaps we should allow them some time to become acquainted.” Karl suggested, and before Ajax could protest, the other woman clears her throat once more, elbowing Ajax a little. “Come, let me give you a small tour of the Castle. I am sure Burai would also enjoy seeing you as well.”

As the rest of them started to leave, there was one final word from Ms. Escort. “Do your best, Shu-san. Your father will be counting on you.” Her words were soft, much too soft for anyone but Shu to hear, as she followed after Karl and the others.

Leaving Shu and this girl, Call-something. Shu looked after his father, trying to decipher the meaning to all of this. While the final words of his escort rang in his head. Such a noisy thing. Clearing his throat, Shu took a moment to gather himself. There were far too many forces attempting to influence his mind, and he was growing tired of it all.

With a disgruntled sigh, Shu turns from the girl. He would have no part of this nonsense. Not once had he ever shown interest in the human’s their father threw at them. He sure as hell was not interested in a demon bride. Just because he was the eldest, did his father think he could simply marry him off? Ridiculous. Disgusted by the entire offering, Shu planned to leave. Leave this entire charade behind. Reiji would have to find someone else to take on the role of heir, because he was not the one.

As he began to walk away, a small hand grabbed onto his arm. “Wait just a moment.” It was that girl’s voice. He had no intention of listening to her, and shrugged her hand off. “Um, excuse me, I am talking to you.” She followed after him, he could hear here the sound of her heels behind him.

“I have no intention of doing as my father states. Leave me be woman.” It was cold, but Shu knew no other way to be.

That must have set her off, because before he knew it, the smaller being was in front of him. Hands on her hips, “The least you could do is speak with me. For just a moment. You may not like it, but I have a duty to uphold and-" While she was talking, Shu move around her, uninterested in what she was try to say.

Oh boy did that make her mad. The demon girl stamped her foot, and continued to follow him. “Listen, I know it is not ideal. I am beginning to think that you were not told about this beforehand, like I was. This must be a rather overwhelming moment, however, I will not be ignored. Lord Ririe we are to be married whether –"

Shu stopped in his tracks as she uttered the word ‘married’. It was so abrupt that she ran right into his back, letting out a soft gasp. Shu turned slightly to look at the girl once more. She was not hideous. Hair curly, skin tanned, body… Now that he looked at her, damn if her shape was not ideal. Curvy in all the right places. A nice pair of tits. Thin waist. Round hips, which he was sure translated to a large ass as well. Not to mention her eyes were piercing. A golden color, that looked similar to a predators.

Perhaps ignoring her was the wrong approach. He could be persuaded to use a bit more effort, since she was his type. “I’ll speak with you then. Not here though. Come with me.” Shu orders and holds out his arm for her to take. She is obviously confused, but she links her arm with his none the less. “Appearances. Don’t want anyone coming to attack me thinking I am upsetting you.” He says softly leading her outside.

“Well… I wouldn’t say I blame you. It was rather shocking to me as well when father told me of the news.” She says blushing slightly. Shu did not respond to her as they walked through the crowd. He could feel multiple eyes on him. Just who was this girl? She was clearly the daughter of a demon lord – though Shu had no idea which.

☆+ ﾟ .+ .ﾟ.ﾟ｡ﾟ｡. +ﾟ｡ﾟ.ﾟ｡ TO BE CONTINUED ☆*｡｡ . ｡ o .｡ﾟ｡.o｡* ｡ .｡

#writing #Lunar Eclipse Masquerade #LEM

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snappedsky · 4 years ago

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Fanatics 81.7

Round Three: Finish ‘em!

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

Reawakening Part 7

Shmee and Nailbunny stand over Zoli with their shiny, new human bodies. Zoli and her zombies and Johnny and the Night Terrors can only stare at them in shock and awe.

“Wha-who-you-you’re Agents of the Daydream?” Zoli questions, flabbergasted.

“Ex-agents,” Nailbunny corrects.

“Yeah, they definitely hate us now,” Shmee adds.

“How?” Zoli barks, “how are you here? How do you look like that?”

As if on cue, the Epic pulls up and the Battalion climb out. Squee glares at Zoli as he slams the car door.

“You,” she snarls, “you should be a useless husk by now.”

“Far from it,” Squee says, “in fact, I’m feeling pretty good.”

“Augh, dammit!” Zoli barks, punching the ground. “Useless! Everyone’s useless! That squishy toy is useless! And you!” She points at the zombies, who flinch under her glare. “You’re all useless!”

“Guh-Tess is the one who betrayed us!” Krik argues.

“Oh, real nice, Krik,” Tess snaps, stomping up to them.

“He’s right, though,” Dillon points out, gesturing to the Night Terrors. “Why did you side with them?”

“Because this fucking sucks!” she shouts, “being her slave, being trapped in the Nightmare- it sucks! You can’t say it doesn’t. And they’re free, so why can’t we be?”

Jimmy, Krik, Dillon, and Edgar are unable to argue and just stare at her, speechless.

“Useless,” Zoli snarls as she stands up. “All of you!”

Shadows swirl around her hand, summoning a new scythe. The zombies cry out as she charges them.

Her blade clangs against something and she stumbles back. She growls as she looks up at Squee who stands in front of the zombies, knives raised.

“That’s enough, Zoli,” he says. The rest of the Battalion joins him, weapons ready.

Zoli snorts. “Oh, so the children are facing me again? Cause that worked so well last time.”

“Okay, admittedly you did get the best of us last time,” Dib says.

“Zim will admit nothing,” Zim snaps.

“But this time, the whole team is together,” Pepito adds, “and you got nothing we can’t handle.”

“In fact, it’s even more than us,” Gaz adds.

Zoli looks back as Johnny, Shmee, Nailbunny, and the Night Terrors approach. She nervously glances back and forth between everyone as they ready their weapons.

“Uh z-zombies! Attack!” she orders.

None of them move. Jimmy, Krik, Dillon, and Edgar glance between each other then look at Tess, who watches them with quietly begging eyes.

“Did you hear me?” Zoli barks, “I am your master! Obey me or else!”

All five zombies suddenly drop to their knees, crying out in pain as they grip their heads.

“Ugh, you’re right, Tess,” Edgar groans, “this does fucking suck.”

“That’s enough, Zoli!” Squee snaps, “it’s over!”

Zoli glares at him hopelessly. Then she reaches into her coat and whips out a gun.

She fires. Squee flies off his feet as the bullet hits his chest. Everyone cries out in alarm as Pepito and Gaz catch him.

“Easy, we got you,” Pepito says as they steady him. Squee gasps and lifts his shirt, revealing Irken branded chest armor, the bullet embedded in it.

“See?” Squee says, “I told you she’d have a gun.”

“Yeah, good thing we put that on you,” Tak adds.

“You-!” Zoli starts to bark when a blade goes through her throat. She gags on blood before Johnny slices off her head with one stroke. It bounces down by his feet while her body collapses into a heap.

“Nice one,” Eff comments.

“Okay, so she’s dead,” D-boy remarks and looks at the zombies. “What about them?”

“They’re still here,” Sickness points out.

“Maybe they really can be free?” Reverend Meat questions.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Nailbunny sighs.

“What?” he questions, “why not-?”

He’s suddenly cut off by Zoli’s body bursting into a mass of Nightmare appendages.

“Kids, get out of the way!” Shmee barks.

The Battalion quickly dives out of the way as the tendrils lunge and wrap around the zombies. They all scream as one by one, they’re pulled into the writhing mass.

“No!” Reverend Meat exclaims and leaps forward, grabbing onto Tess. Eff, D-boy, and Sickness quickly join him and try to hold her back, but the tendrils start to wrap up their arms.

“Let her go!” Shmee orders, “or you’ll get pulled in too!”

“Listen to him,” Tess demands.

“We said we’d help you!” Reverend Meat says, “and we will!”

“It’s too late,” Tess insists, “but you have your freedom. You have to keep it.”

The Night Terrors stare at her hopelessly as the tendrils continue to wrap around their arms.

“It’s okay,” she smiles weakly, “thank you for wanting to help me. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

“We’ll find a way to free you,” Reverend Meat swears, “we promise.”

They let her go and rip their arms out of the appendages. She’s quickly swallowed up by the Nightmare. It writhes and swirls around itself before disappearing into nothingness.

Everyone stares at where it was for a second, stunned and speechless. Then the Night Terrors all gasp loudly as they collapse to their knees, their human features returning.

“You guys okay?” Squee asks.

“Yeah,” Eff sighs, “just a little wiped.” “That form takes a lot out of us,” D-boy adds.

“Yeah, I wanted to ask about that,” Squee says, “I didn’t give you that power, did I?”

“Even we have our secrets, Little Boss,” Reverend Meat smiles.

Squee smiles back. “Well, thanks for your help. For everything.”

The four of them smile bashfully.

Johnny sighs heavily as he sits down and hangs his head. Squee smiles softly, sits next to him, and leans against him.

“Thank you too,” he says.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Johnny replies, resting his head against Squee’s.

Squee looks up at his friends. “Thank you all. For everything.”

Everyone smiles warmly at him.

“There they are!”

Everybody looks over at the voice and sees Devi and Tenna running towards them. They double over as they reach them, panting heavily.

“Finally found you,” Devi says.

“Did you run here?” Johnny asks.

“Yeah, well it’s not like we have a car,” she points out.

“The news was going crazy about buildings falling apart around here,” Tenna says, “so we came to check it out because we figured it was from you fighting Zoli.”

“Yeah, and we beat her,” Johnny states.

Devi and Tenna smile with relief then notice Shmee and Nailbunny.

“Uh, who are they?” Devi asks.

“Hello, Devi, Tenna,” Shmee says.

“Shmee?” they question.

“And I am Nailbunny,” Nailbunny says, “it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Nailbunny?” Devi questions then looks at Squee. “Did you…make them human?” He smiles and nods.

“While we’re on that topic,” Eff says as he and D-boy stand up and face Nailbunny. “Bunny.”

“Doughboys,” he replies.

“Don’t think you can just show up here and be all heroic after being away for so long,” D-boy snaps.

“The only reason I was away is because you two drove me out of Nny’s mind,” Nailbunny retorts.

“What are your plans now?” Eff asks, “cause you ain’t staying with us.”

“Like we wanna stay with you in your disgusting van,” Shmee scoffs, “we’ll find our own way.”

“Where will you go?” Squee asks.

“Anywhere,” he shrugs and smiles. “But don’t worry. I won’t be far.”

Squee smiles back.

“It’s been a long time since I had a body and I’ve never had freedom like this,” Nailbunny says, “I look forward to using it.”

“It’s not as great as it sounds,” Johnny grunts, “being human is overrated.”

“I know all about how you feel about being human,” Nailbunny grins. Johnny smiles back.

“I guess we missed a lot,” Devi remarks and looks at Squee. “How are you doing?”

He considers the question. “I’m…better. A little bit. Still not great. But I feel…not different, really. It’s like…the last couple weeks have been a nightmare and I’ve finally woken up.”

He smiles. “I feel reawakened.”

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #johnny the homicidal maniac #johnny the homicidal maniac fanfiction #iz jthm crossover #myart #myocs

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars CVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Tomorrow I’m posting a hidden moment about what happens once the kids are at school and two former marauders are left alone. Stay tuned! -Danny

Words: 4,225

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Better Off’ -by Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Chapter Six: Hidden Nightmares.

"Prefect, eh?" growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away toward Sirius and Lupin.

"Well, congratulations," said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, "authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you..."

Mel took her friend away from Moody in case he decided to continue trying to scare him to death.

"I was never a prefect myself," said Tonks as she walked past them. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" said Ginny.

"Like the ability to behave myself."

"Same reason why Mel didn't get a badge," Emily walked past her daughter. "I hope this works as a lesson..."

"Sure does, now I know I'm doing something right," Mel smirked.

"What about you, Sirius?" Ginny asked.

"No one would have made me a prefect! I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," said Lupin. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

"What about my dad?"

"Matthew was a brilliant student but Dumbledore knew that giving him the badge would've been like given us green light to go around doing whatever we pleased," Sirius grinned.

"Again, same the reason why Dumbledore didn't give you a badge," Lupin smiled.

"You really think I would let my friends do mischief without any consequences?" Mel feigned indignation.

"Yes," The three adults replied.

"Well, I think I'll sort out that boggart before I turn in... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? 'Night, dears."

Mel walked into Harry just as he was getting up and she stumbled backwards.

"Sorry," He said quickly.

"It's fine..."

"You all right?" Moody asked them.

"Yeah, fine."

"Lovely dinner," Mel smiled tensely.

"Come here, I've got something that might interest you," He told them.

From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old Wizarding photograph.

"Original Order of the Phoenix," growled Moody. "Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one... Thought people might like to see it."

Harry took the photograph and Mel leaned closer to take a look.

"There's me," said Moody. "And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom — Poor devils, better dead than what happened to them... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him... shift aside there–

That's Edgar Bones... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family too, he was a great wizard... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young... Caradoc Dearborn vanished six months after this, we never found his body... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes... budge along, budge along... That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke..."

It was the first time she'd ever seen of her grandfather. He looked a lot like Dumbledore, but he lacked the warm gaze and the fancy robes. He had the same hair colour as her though, and there was a similarity between his nose and her dad's.

"That's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally... Sirius, when he still had short hair... and... there you go, thought that would interest you! Eh?"

Five people were staring up at them: Petter Pettigrew, Lily and James Potter, and her own parents.

"That's great," She tried to sound enthusiastic. "Look at that..."

"Yeah," Harry's voice sounded heavy. "Er... listen, I've just remembered, I haven't packed my..."

"What's that you've got there, Mad-Eye?" Sirius asked loudly from the table.

Harry left so quickly she almost thought he'd disapparated, she understood though, that picture was full of ghosts, and for some reason, she felt kind of responsible for them– maybe Harry felt that way too, after all, it was him Voldemort was after...

The adults surrounded the table and stared at the picture, there were tons of quiet exclamations and nostalgic chuckles as they examined it, but what made her leave the room was the way she knew her mother and Sirius had finally found their friends' faces staring up at them, she could see something dark and heavy falling on their features.

Mel didn't feel like sticking around to hear stories about when they were all young and alive, when Peter was still Peter and not the traitor that had gotten his friends killed. It was stupid to remember something they couldn't have back.

She was in the main hall when she heard someone crying.

"No! No... riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS !"

Mel ran up the stairs and found Harry looking at Mrs Weasley... She was sobbing above a second Harry, only that this one was dead.

'Boggart', Mel thought.

"Harry, we need to get help–"

"Mrs Weasley, just get out of here!" Harry's eyes fixed on the vision of his own body. "Let someone else —"

"What's going on?" Lupin rushed in followed by Sirius and Emily. Moody was right behind them."Riddikulus!"

Mrs Weasley wept harder.

"Molly– Molly, don't... Molly, it was just a boggart," Lupin patted her head gently. "Just a stupid boggart..."

"I see them d-d-dead all the time! All the t-t-time! I d-d-dream about it..."

She had been dreaming the same thing that summer– hell, her boggart had been the same thing years before that! Seeing it again that night caught her off guard. A thousand different images of Harry trapped in the cemetery came to her, the pain she'd felt that night, the memory of Cedric's body laying on the grass...

She tried to get out of the room as fast as possible.

"D-d-don't tell Arthur– I d-d-don't want him to know... Being silly... Harry, I'm so sorry, what must you think of me? Not even able to get rid of a boggart..."

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, sounding impressively calm.

"I'm just s-s-so worried– Half the f-f-family's in the Order, it'll b-b-be a miracle if we all come through this... and P-P-Percy's not talking to us... What if something d-d-dreadful happens and we had never m-m-made up? And what's going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who's g-g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?"

"Molly, that's enough," said Lupin. "This isn't like last time. The Order is better prepared, we've got a head start, we know what Voldemort's up to — Oh, Molly, come on, it's about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can't promise no one's going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we're much better off than we were last time, you weren't in the Order then, you don't understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one..."

"Don't worry about Percy," said Sirius. "He'll come round. It's a matter of time before Voldemort moves into the open; once he does, the whole Ministry's going to be begging us to forgive them. And I'm not sure I'll be accepting their apology..."

"And as for who's going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died," Lupin looked up to Emily and smiled a bit, "what do you think we'd do, let them starve?"

"Certainly not!" Emily kneeled beside her, hugging her by the shoulders. "Not after all you've done for us! After seeing how much you care about Harry! You're one of the best friends I've had in a long time, I would never abandon your children..."

Harry turned and locked eyes with Mel. He had a distraught expression on his face as he watched her cover her mouth, struggling to breathe.

One time when she was six, Mel had to be taken to the nurse because some kids cornered her in the playground and she lost it; a teacher carried her out. When her mother arrived they told her Mel had suffered a panic attack.

A panic attack wasn't exactly a good omen nor the best way to spend her last night before going back to school, but she had no control over it.

"Deep breaths, Mel..." Harry muttered, quickly making his way towards her. "It's okay–"

The boy tried to touch her and that stirred her into action. Mel slapped his hand out of the way and ran out before someone could stop her. She ran up all the way to Buckbeak's layer and she locked herself there until her crying stopped.

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" Mrs Weasley yelled.

Mel let out a pained groan, her head was pounding after last night and all she wanted was to get to the train so she could take a nap. Mrs Black's portrait was howling, but no one tried to close the curtains since the house was loud with voices coming from every floor, all gathering their stuff before leaving.

"I'm dying," The girl leaned on her mother's shoulder. The woman ran her fingers through her hair tenderly.

"You had a rough night. Been years since you had one of those..."

"It was the stupid boggart," She muttered. "I'm okay now. I'll see Erick, so that's kind of cool..."

"You and Harry haven't talked, then?"

"Mum..."

"I'm not trying to force you–"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"

A dog ran into the hall, looking rather lively.

"Oh honestly... well, on your own head be it!"

Mrs Weasley, Emily, Mel, Harry and Sirius all left the house together.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked.

"She's waiting for us just up here," said Mrs Weasley.

"Wotcher, guys," Tonks -disguised as an old woman- winked at them. "Better hurry up, hadn't we?"

"I know, I know... but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again... but Fudge wouldn't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic..."

Sirius was having the time of his life though, running around chasing pigeons and barking loudly. Mel and Harry laughed at his antics, Emily rolled her eyes and mumbled something about him being a child.

As they walked through the streets watching Sirius chase cats and go crazy with the poor birds, she felt Harry glancing at her from time to time. Mel knew he only wanted to help, and perhaps he was a little hurt about the way she'd reacted last night. However, she was far from even acknowledging that she'd cried in front of so many people.

"I felt it, you know?" Harry said when no one was paying attention. "Your panic attack..."

"I figured," Mel said numbly. "It's the lifeline... doesn't matter, I have it under control."

"I could've helped," He insisted. "When we were little–"

"We're not little anymore," She replied sternly. "You handle your stuff, I handle mine. That's what we agreed on."

Harry's jaw clenched, he didn't speak after that.

It felt like a type of rebirth when she crossed the platform and found herself in front of the scarlet train.

"I hope the others make it in time," said Mrs Weasley.

"Nice dog, guys!" called Lee Jordan.

"Thanks, Lee," said Harry.

Sirius made a show of himself, acting as the perfect puppy.

"Mel, come here for a moment," Emily drew her away from the group, looking anxious.

"What is it?"

"I didn't say anything until now because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable during your stay but... oh, well..."

She noticed how her mother glanced at Sirius, who was rolling around at Harry's feet.

"Mum... Are you and Sirius... a thing?"

Her mother hesitated.

"I know you've noticed how... I mean, we've... we're not exactly together."

"Oh," She frowned. "Why not?"

"What?"

"If you want to be a couple, then be one."

"I... you... you're not upset?"

Mel gave her a small smile. "You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy. If being with Sirius gives you that, I have nothing against it. He's a good man– bit stubborn, but he treats you well, right?"

"He was always a good friend..."

"I hope all goes well, then."

The woman stared as if she'd mistaken Mel for someone else.

"You have more of Matthew than you could ever have of me, you know?" Emily beamed. "I'm thankful for that."

"Sirius would be an idiot if he rejects you, to be honest."

Her mother laughed.

"Don't get your hopes up about this, though..."

"I trust you," Mel brushed it off, hugging her one last time before going back to the group.

Five minutes later Lupin was wishing her a safe journey. Mel held onto him tightly, his scent filling her lungs.

"I'm going to miss you lots," She mumbled against his chest.

"You'll see me soon," Lupin rubbed her back. "Now, just because you weren't made a prefect doesn't mean you're allowed to misbehave. Make us proud."

Sirius ran up to her and crashed against her legs, she kneeled and hugged him as well.

"I'll miss you too, Snuffles... look after my mother while I'm gone, okay?"

He barked, snuggling his face closer to hers.

"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin told the rest of the teenagers. "You too, Harry. Be careful."

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody. "And don't forget, all of you — careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

"Quick, quick," said Mrs Weasley as the whistle blew a second time. "Write... Be good... If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on... Onto the train, now, hurry..."

For one brief moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs and placed its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"

"See you!" Harry yelled from the door.

The black dog chased the train barking madly until they turned, then he vanished.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione murmured.

"Oh lighten up, he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke," Ron shook his head.

"Well, can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. Are you coming with us, Lady?" Fred asked.

"Maybe later," She shrugged.

"All right, see you later!"

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked.

"Er..."

"We're — well — Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.

Suddenly Mel felt really bad about not going with Fred and George.

"Oh," Harry tensed next to her. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said the girl. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine– Well, we... might see you later, then."

"Yeah, definitely. It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather — but we have to — I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."

"I know you're not," said Harry.

"I'll tell Erick you say hi, Mel," Hermione offered, thinking that would ease her mind.

"Brilliant," She said without much excitement.

"Come on," Ginny spoke, Mel felt immense relief as she turned to look at the girl, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."

"Right," said Harry, and he looked as pleased as her.

After a while of silent walking, they ran into Neville, which was even better, more people to talk to.

"Hi, guys– Hi, Ginny... Everywhere's full... I can't find a seat..."

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny. "There's room in this one, there's only Loony Lovegood in here —"

"I don't want to disturb anyone..."

"Don't be silly," Ginny chuckled. "She's all right."

They all followed her inside.

"Hi, Luna! Is it okay if we take these seats?"

The girl beside the window looked up. She had straggly, waist-length, dirty-blond hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Harry knew at once why Neville had chosen to pass this compartment by. The girl gave off an aura of distinct dottiness. Perhaps it was the fact that she had stuck her wand behind her left ear for safekeeping, or that she had chosen to wear a necklace of butterbeer caps, or that she was reading a magazine upside down. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," said Ginny.

In the middle of all the movement of putting away trunks and pets, Mel and Harry somehow found themselves seated together. The girl thought it'd look suspicious if she were to move now, it would confirm that she was actively avoiding him.

"Had a good summer, Luna?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. Yes, it was quite enjoyable, you know. You're Harry Potter."

"I know I am," said Harry, frowning slightly.

Her eyes then moved to the next person, which happened to be her.

"You're a Dumbledore."

"Yeah, people keep saying that," Mel said.

Luna moved to Neville. "And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," He said.

"No you're not," said Ginny. "Neville Longbottom — Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," sang Luna.

"Guess what I got for my birthday?" Neville asked them.

"Another Remembrall?" Harry teased.

"No– I could do with one, though, I lost the old one ages ago... No, look at this... Mimbulus mimbletonia."

"Sick!" Mel beamed. "Er- in a good way..."

"It's really, really rare," said Neville excitedly. "I don't know if there's one in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, even. I can't wait to show it to Professor Sprout. My great-uncle Algie got it for me in Assyria. I'm going to see if I can breed from it."

"If you do manage, I'd love to have one," Mel eyed the plant with interest.

Harry did a strange noise next to her and she stared back, daring him to speak.

"Does it — er — do anything?" He asked, glancing nervously at her.

"Loads of stuff! It's got an amazing defensive mechanism — hold Trevor for me..."

Neville put the toad on Harry's hands. Luna was staring again.

Neville held the Mimbulus mimbletonia up to his eyes, his tongue between his teeth, chose his spot and gave the plant a sharp prod with the tip of his quill.

Liquid squirted from every boil on the plant, thick, stinking, dark-green jets of it; they hit the ceiling, the windows, and spattered Luna Lovegood's magazine. Ginny, who had flung her arms up in front of her face just in time, merely looked as though she was wearing a slimy green hat, but Harry, whose hands had been busy preventing the escape of Trevor, received a face full. It smelled like rancid manure.

Neville, whose face and torso were also drenched, shook his head to get the worst out of his eyes.

"S-sorry," he gasped. "I haven't tried that before... Didn't realize it would be quite so... Don't worry, though, Stinksap's not poisonous," he added nervously, as Harry spat a mouthful onto the floor.

Mel cackled, cleaning her face without an ounce of grumpiness.

"That was amazing!"

The door of their compartment slid open abruptly.

"Oh... hello, Harry. Um... bad time?" Cho stared at the lot with an anxious expression.

"Oh... hi," Harry quickly tried to clean his face.

"It's a terrible time," Mel said brightly, "We stink."

"Um... well... just thought I'd say hello... 'bye then."

Cho Chang was blushing when she closed the door. She heard Harry groan and fall back on his seat.

"Never mind," said Ginny. "Look, we can get rid of all this easily. Scourgify!"

"Sorry," said Neville timidly.

"Don't be, that was really interesting to watch," Mel smiled.

Neville blushed at her comment.

"I'm starving," Ron walked in, Mel quickly made room between her and Harry, which he took without even noticing.

"Well, there are two fifth-year prefects from each House," said Hermione. "Boy and girl from each."

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" said Ron.

"Malfoy," replied Harry.

" 'Course," Ron made a face.

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," said Hermione to Mel. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..."

"Cheating of course," Mel shrugged.

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," said Ron.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil for Ravenclaw," said Hermione. "Oh! Erick seemed fine, Mel– couldn't talk to him because of Malfoy, of course..."

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron explained, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something..."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!"

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse it at all."

"So you're going to descend to his level?"

"No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"For heaven's sake, Ron —"

"He's not being unfair, is he?" Mel defended him. "If anyone deserves detention, that's them..."

"I'll make Goyle do lines, it'll kill him, he hates writing," Ron then pretended to be the Slytherin. "I... must... not... look... like... a... baboon's... backside..."

Everyone laughed, but nobody laughed harder than Luna Lovegood. She let out a scream of mirth that caused Hedwig to wake up and flap her wings indignantly and Crookshanks to leap up into the luggage rack, hissing. She laughed so hard that her magazine slipped out of her grasp, slid down her legs, and onto the floor.

"That was funny!"

Her prominent eyes swam with tears as she gasped for breath, staring at Ron. Utterly nonplussed, he looked around at the others, who were now laughing at the expression on Ron's face and at the ludicrously prolonged laughter of Luna Lovegood, who was rocking backward and forward, clutching her sides.

"Are you taking the mickey?"

"Baboon's... backside!"

"Hey, Lovegood," Mel grinned. "We're going to be great friends..."

"Can I have a look at this?" Harry asked Luna. He was staring at the magazine she'd dropped. "Mel, have a look at this, will you?"

He was showing her an article over Ron's shoulder.

SIRIUS - Black As He's Painted?

Notorious Mass Murderer OR Innocent Singing Sensation?

For fourteen years Sirius Black has been believed guilty of the mass murder of twelve innocent Muggles and one wizard. Black's audacious escape from Azkaban two years ago has led to the widest manhunt ever conducted by the Ministry of Magic. None of us has ever questioned that he deserves to be recaptured and handed back to the dementors.

BUT DOES HE?

"What is this?" Mel asked, her voice slightly shaking with contained laughter.

"Hang on," Harry said distractedly. "This one's about Fudge.."

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, denied that he had any plans to take over the running of the Wizarding Bank, Gringotts, when he was elected Minister of Magic five years ago. Fudge has always insisted that he wants nothing more than to "cooperate peacefully" with the guardians of our gold.

BUT DOES HE?

Sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Fudge's dearest ambition is to seize control of the goblin gold supplies and that he will not hesitate to use force if need be.

"It wouldn't be the first time, either," said a Ministry insider. "Cornelius 'Goblin-Crusher' Fudge, that's what his friends call him..."

"Anything good in there?" asked Ron.

"Of course not," said Hermione. "The Quibbler's rubbish, everyone knows that."

"Excuse me," said Luna. "My father's the editor."

Mel had to bit her lip to not make a sound.

"I — oh. Well... it's got some interesting... I mean, it's quite..."

"I'll have it back, thank you," Luna took back the magazine and buried her face behind it.

The door to the compartment opened again.

"What?" Harry snapped at Malfoy.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention... You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah, but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

The group laughed. Mel felt something crawling up her chest, ready to pounce.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"I seem to have touched a nerve... Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"Get out!" said Hermione sharply.

Mel's heart skipped a beat.

Dogging.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic #hp ootp

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toloveawarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Red Army Princess (Ch. 4)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Characters: Eden Bright, Edgar, Kyle, Lancelot, Claudius ft. Shine

Universe: Ikerev Next Gen

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @christmaswarlock @sakura-1819 @stardust-dreamer13 @lady-of-all-cards @hamster-damn

A/N: More of little Eden! This chapter goes a little more into Edgar’s feelings toward being a father! Next chapter will likely be flashback to when he found out about Eden!

“Come now, little one. It’s only going to be worse if you fight me.”

His voice iced and lacking the sweet tone that his age would use when speaking to a child. It rattled the girl shivering beneath the bed. Eden had barely managed to escape his grasp, darting into the nearest room, the empty guest room attached to Lancelot’s personal quarters.

“It seems my nephew has yet to teach you a single thing. I’ll have to remedy that.”

Eden clamped her hand over her mouth, jade eyes wide in terror and locked on the space between the skirt of the bed and the floor. His polished brown loafers came to a stop at the foot, purposefully silent.

He stilled.

If she couldn’t see the shoes, she wouldn’t know the man was still in the room. Quite similar to her father, who could easily sneak up on her or appear without a sound, but it didn’t frighten her as this did.

Claudius shifted, bending down to one knee. His hand snaked under the skirt like slithering through tall grass, preparing to spring on his prey.

The thud of her heart likely giving her away.

Thump. Thump.

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Growl.

The whole room settled in silence, like time itself had paused.

It hadn’t come from the girl beneath the bed. Certainly not from the proclaimed great uncle. Again, a growl rippled through the room, moving the attention to the door separating the guest and King’s quarters.

“What is your business here, Claudius?” Lancelot’s low voice slicing as swiftly as his sword fell on his enemies.

Claudius retreated as quietly as the wind, abandoning his target for the time being. His empty cordial laugh was short. “I thought I’d spotted a little mouse. That’s all.”

“You must be mistaken. If that’s all, I’ll have to ask you to vacate this room. It’s currently in use by a guest of mine.”

Eden remained where she was, jumping slightly when Shine slinked under to join her. His warm tongue licking excitedly on her face. “Shine, you saved me,” she whispered, scrunching her fingers into his soft fur with a relieved smile.

“You can come out now, Eden. He’s gone.”

At Lancelot’s call, both the child and his pet vacated their hiding spot. Eden cautiously peeking at the doorway for Claudius, but he’d vanished as a grim reaper that hadn’t snatched it’s appointed soul, still lingering in her mind. She startled when Lancelot patted his hand once against her head.

“He’s gone. You don’t need to fear him anymore.” His words not ones he himself believed. Clearly, Claudius was not aware about Eden until this moment, and likely he’d use her to control his nephew.

<< << <<

After the long, arduous task like the one he’d completed, Edgar could nearly forget his secondary responsibility. Returning to headquarters, the only thing on his mind was resuming his duties as the Jack. That is, until a sheepish Kyle caught him in the hallway.

“I’m not saying that I lost Eden, but what I am saying is... I can’t tell you... exactly where she is,” Kyle admitted. He’d gone to give her the evening treatment but upon searching the whole of the building, he’d come up empty.

Something must have frightened her, and like all frightened animals, they typically returned to a familiar space to conceal themselves. Over the last year, he’d worked tirelessly to gain her trust and paid close attention to her habits. “I’ll show you where she likes to hide.”

In his bedroom, a wardrobe and dresser sat beside each other. The space between them was minuscule and if one were not careful in their search, they’d never spot the tiny girl squished in between them. “Eden, come out from there.” Edgar knelt down, waiting for her to run to him as she always did.

But the girl only curled up tighter.

“Did something happen today?”

Kyle scratched his head, mulling over the question. “I think Lance did mention that your uncle stopped by, but I was half asleep so I might have heard him wrong.”

“Claudius was here?” Jade irises flickered back to his daughter. If his uncle knew of Eden’s existence, it wouldn’t be safe for her to remain here in his care. His own soul be damned, but not hers. If she were to be subjected to what he’d been, in her frail condition, she’d certainly die long before Claudius could turn her into his ideal pawn.

Edgar nearly toppled, too lost in his own thoughts to see Eden slip out from her hiding spot and throw herself at him, little arms around his neck. He gently pet her head, debating where to send her that was outside of Claudius’s reach. “Is that man going to take me away?”

“No. I won’t allow that.”

Her small body relaxed, the anxiety subsiding. She’d wound herself up so much that after her breathing treatment, the little girl fell promptly asleep in her father’s arms.

“Kyle, I believe it’s time.”

The doctor fiddled with his machine, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. This conversation one he’d hoped never to come about. “Her illness isn’t under control. If she isn’t here, I won’t be able to properly treat her.”

He knew that. Of course, he did. “She’s in danger here. The best course of action would be to place her with a loving family. There, at the very least, she could have a normal childhood,” Edgar answered. The transition would be painful for her, but in the end, worth it if only to keep her from Claudius.

Kyle scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If she survives her childhood without me treating her. It’s dangerous for her anywhere now that people are aware of her being your daughter. Here, you can protect her.”

“It’s not that simple. What kind of life am I giving her at an army base?” It would have been easier if he’d never agreed to keep her temporarily. He could have found somewhere, anywhere, to prevent this heartache. “I never intended for her to remain here indefinitely.”

A year had passed so quickly. Kyle spent countless hours working to fight each attack, each illness. Edgar convinced himself that Eden was a wounded animal, tried to keep her at arm’s length, but he couldn’t say that out loud now.

“If you aren’t attached, then why are you still holding her? She fell asleep a while ago. You care for her more than you are willing to admit.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“I disagree. She’s your daughter and she loves you.” He wouldn’t use guilt. Kyle wanted his superior to choose Eden because he wanted to, not out of obligation.

A knock at the door broke the tension in the room. As Kyle left, Alice came in. “I heard you’d come back. Oh, is Eden feeling better?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t sort through his emotions, ones he believed to have buried deep enough to never return. It made little sense. He had no experience in this field. He tended to her as he would the Creeks. The intention always to return her to the normal world, with a family that would care for her.

And yet, his chest ached at the thought.

It was best. Safest. Logical.

“I overheard a little of your quarrel with Kyle. It’s probably none of my business and I haven’t been here long, but even I can see how much you love her.” Alice crossed the room to stand beside him. The little girl sleeping so soundly in his arms.

“Love?” Did he love her? Was she not categorized as a duty he had to fulfill until she was well enough to leave?

Alice smiled softly, reaching out to rub the girl’s back. “She’s yours. You haven’t accepted it, and I’m not quite sure why. She doesn’t need anything special, just you.”

Her words were soothing, even if he couldn’t fathom how a demon like himself could ever be what a child needed. Eden tightened her hold around him, hugging him in her sleep. He’d need to consider much before making a decision.

But tonight, he’d hold her a little longer.

#ikemen revolution #ikerev #edgar bright #ikerev next gen #eden bright #red army princess #he loves her so much #he just doesn't understand those feelings yet

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heyyyharry · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 6: Cottage in the Woods

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which the king is dead, Y/N faces a tough decision, and Harry thinks this might be goodbye.

Word count: 10k

Warning: smut and angst (please don’t hate me or Harry lol)

AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (original character: Reyna as Y/N)

Willem’s sickness had only gotten worse since he received the news that his daughter had fled the kingdom with a prisoner. He’d sent people to go after her, find her, and bring her back, but it had been almost two weeks and the missing princess still hadn't been found. Prince Kavan and his retinue had cancelled the wedding and returned to Attwell, and the King of Attwell had been furious. He had broken the alliance with the North and declared to cancel military aid and political support when Isolde was to be at war again. Never had Willem thought his dynasty would crumble because of a woman, but now he was starting to believe in the prophecy.

Could Madam Maggie be right when she said the faith of his kingdom was entirely in the hands of his only daughter? Everything had gone wrong since she left, and if she didn’t come back, if there was no wedding, if Egon became King, then Willem would lose it all. He had failed to be a husband and a father, and he might fail to be a king, too.

This morning when he woke up, the sky was grey. The castle was engulfed in dark clouds and the snow was falling so hard and thick that he could only see a white grey snow curtain when looking out of the window from his sickbed. Another storm was coming, one he had expected for a really long time.

“Josephine is here, Your Majesty.”

“Send her in.”

The guard opened the door for Jo to come in. She kept her head down and stayed close to the entrance as the door shut behind her.

“You asked for me, Your Majesty?”

“Come closer,” Willem said, his voice was low and unsteady. Jo hesitated before walking towards him to stand at the foot of his bed and only looked up when she’d been given permission.

Willem had only allowed his subjects to see him when he was well, so when Jo was requested to come to his chamber, she thought there had been a mistake. But there he was right in front of her, white as a corpse, nothing but skin and bones. Most of his hair had fallen out and there were more wrinkles on his face than she could recall. He was dying, and he knew it.

“Jo.”

“Yes, my lord?” Jo walked around the bed to stand beside him. Willem coughed while struggling to open his eyes.

“I asked to see you because you are the closest to my daughter. Did she tell you where she was headed?”

“No, my lord. Y/N--Um...Princess Y/N...didn’t tell me that she was going to run away, but my guess is that she’s heading to Theros.”

“To see Edgar?”

“I think so, my lord. She had always talked about how much she missed her uncle.”

Willem gave a low “hmm” and asked no more questions as he lifted his shaky finger and pointed to the desk facing his bed. “Bring me that envelope.”

Jo hastened to get the white envelope with the red royal seal and bring it to the King.

“Keep it,” he said, pushing it back into her hands. “Give it to Y/N. I might not be here when she returns and I need her to read this...”

“Your Majesty--”

“It’s all right, my child. Everyone has their own time.” Willem flashed a weak smile at the distressed maid. “I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to. But I know you did. And if you still do, please look after her.”

Just as Jo opened her mouth to respond, a guard walked in and she hurriedly hid the letter behind her back.

“Prince Egon has arrived, Your Majesty.”

Willem nodded and gave Jo a dismissive wave. She did a small curtsy before making her way to the entrance, following the guard and walking right past Egon without making eye contact. She brought the letter to her front before his eyes could catch it and just continued walking.

“Why did you ask to see Jo, father?” asked the Prince as soon as he entered the room and shut the door. He made his way to his father’s bed and stood beside it with his hands behind his back.

Willem had his eyes closed as he sucked in a breath. “I asked her about Y/N. I thought she might know where your sister went.”

“I already interrogated her as well as all the other servants in the castle. Nobody knew about Y/N’s plan to rescue a prisoner and run away with him. And forgive me if I’m wrong, but I believe that is treason.”

“She was scared. I was hard on her.”

“She was weak and could not fulfil a simple task. It was her duty to marry Kavan Gennady but she failed, and not only have we lost our strongest ally from the West, we will also be fighting on our own if Theros--”

Willem put up one hand and Egon’s mouth clamped shut. The Prince clenched his jaw as he inhaled deeply, trying to keep his irrational feelings of malice to himself.

“I didn’t ask to see you so you could tell me the things I already know,” the old King said. “Are they still looking for her?”

“Yes, father. I ordered our men to search every little corner on the main road through the towns, but we couldn’t find Y/N and the thief. They must have taken the trail through the forests and the North mountain. They’ve been on their own for a week without food and water, so it’s very unlikely that they are still alive.”

“She’s alive.”

Egon froze as his eyebrows knitted. “Yes, father?”

“Y/N is alive. I can feel it,” Willem said breathlessly as he started coughing. “Bring her back. And do not harm her.”

Egon released a sharp exhale as he straightened his back and lifted his chin. He had been patient, thinking he had got Isolde in the palm of his hand, but it seemed more difficult than he’d expected as Willem was too stubborn to let Y/N go.

“Father,” he spoke after a moment of silence, “you’re already on your deathbed. So why don’t you shut your whiny mouth and let me have the fucking throne?”

Petrified, Willem pointed his finger at Egon’s face. “How dare you--”

“Speak to you like that?” Egon scoffed. “But I am. What are you going to do?”

“G-Guards!”

“Go on. Scream louder. I’ve sent all of your guards away for a reason.”

Willem trembled as the last bit of colour on his face drained out and Egon stepped closer, smirking down at him, his nostrils flared and his eyes turning dark.

“You are a foolish man,” he told the King. “For all your life, the only thing you’ve ever cared about was the crown on your head.”

“Guards!”

“You spoiled me when you thought I was going to be your heir, and tossed me aside like a bone when you found out it was your precious daughter who would be ‘the saviour’.” Egon shook his head, laughing mockingly. “You were going to put the fate of your kingdom in the hand of a useless woman and a foreigner, and for what? A stupid prophecy that was told by another woman?”

“You are a disgrace!” Willem barked. “All you’ve done since your mother died was getting drunk and fucking whores. Anyone could be a better ruler than you!”

“Hmm, you might be right. Anyone could be a better ruler than me.”

“What are you doing?! Stop--”

Egon shoved the pillow to Willem’s face as he jumped on the bed, throwing one leg over his torso and sat on top of his chest. The old King was unable to fight back as he was too weak compared to his twenty-year-old son.

“But. Only. I. Will. Be. King!” With every word, Egon pressed the pillow harder, using all the strength he had as his knuckles went white and his face was damp with cold sweats. It didn’t take longer than two minutes for Willem to go silent and stop moving.

Egon removed the pillow slowly, his lips curved into a smile. He let out a joyous laugh and continued laughing for almost a minute before getting off the bed and fixing the duvets and the body’s position.

Before he ran out to find a guard and announce the death of the King, he took one last look at Willem’s face, admiring it for a second.

“See you in hell, father.”

Three days later...

“Welcome to Leslie’s whorehouse, gentlemen! We have all the best ladies—”

The commander slammed his fist on a table, making Leslie shrink back behind her counter. He scanned his eyes around and scowled at whoever dared to look. “We have been told two wanted subjects are taking shelter in this house. We’re here to bring them back to Isolde.”

“We don’t take orders from Isolde.” Leslie scoffed, squinting her tiny eyes. “Besides, how are we supposed to know these people? What do they look like?”

“It’s the prin--”

The commander raised a fist to stop his subordinate so he could continue, “we’re going to search every single room in this house. If you want to keep your head on your neck, do not get in our way.”

As no one dared to object, the commander turned back to his men, “I will search upstairs, one man downstairs, the others stay here and make sure nobody leaves.”

A guard rushed forward and whispered to him, “should we send more people in, commander?”

“We’re not sending ten men to catch a street rat and a girl,” the commander grumbled. “Stop questioning what I asked you to do and follow my order.”

“Yes, commander.”

“If you see the prisoner, kill him,” he said loudly to the guards but made sure everyone else heard it too. “Attack the important subject if you must, but keep this one alive. Prince Egon’s order.”

“Yes, commander!”

Everyone made way for the commander as he headed to the wooden staircase. On the first floor, he met a long corridor with numerous doors on each side. He started from the closest one, banging his fist on it until someone answered, but it was always the prostitutes and their clients who cowered or huddled in the corner as soon as they saw him.

In every room he passed echoed the moaning and laughing and the sound of bedframe slamming against the wall, but one room caught his attention as it was suspiciously quiet. He stopped and banged on the door. “Open the door! Prince Egon’s order!”

As he got nothing but silence, he raised his fist, about to try again before he had to use the last resort and kick the door down.

Click! The door was pulled open.

He saw Harry waving at him as Y/N jumped out and shattered a vase over his head. He stumbled back, losing his balance on the broken pieces and one jolt of her knee to his crotch made him drop to the floor. The princess drew out her sword before the man could get up, but as she raised it above her head, she stopped abruptly.

He took the opportunity to kick her in the knees and stood up when her body hit the ground. He raised his blade to strike, but Harry charged straight at him and cut his throat with Stefan’s hunting knife. Blood splashed all over Y/N’s clothes and face as the guard collapsed right in front of her.

Harry immediately dropped his weapon. He stepped around the dead body and wrapped his arms around her, her body had gone stiff and her face was pallid.

She knew that man. He had been her mother’s guard for the longest time before he was her brother’s. He used to carry Y/N on his shoulders when she was small, but today he was going to hurt her and she had to watch Harry kill him.

“Peach! Are you okay, love?” Harry frantically asked as he used his sleeves to wipe the blood off her face.

She kept gawking at the body lying in its pool of blood. “He—He was going to hurt me.”

“But you’re okay now.” Harry held her face, turning her eyes back on him. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

“Guys! Terrible news—Holy shit!” Stefan covered his mouth, grasping the door so he wouldn’t faint. “That—That’s a dead body! A bloody dead body in the middle of our room!”

He looked at Y/N first as she was the one covered in blood, but Harry didn’t give him a chance to assume it was her.

“I did it,” he said and continued to clean Y/N’s face. “I had to. He was going to hurt Peach.”

“Well, what are you still doing here then?! You have to go!” Stefan hopped over the dead body to pick up the swords and Y/N’s satchel. “I was downstairs when they arrived! They said they’d kill you and I’m sure the 'important subject’ they mentioned was Rain. They would take her back to the castle for that bastard Egon!”

“Over my dead body.”

“I’m pretty sure that was what they meant, Harry.” Stefan rolled his eyes as he shut the door and locked it.

“We have to jump out of the window,” Y/N spoke, causing the men to freeze. Stefan opened his mouth but she shushed him and darted across the room to lean out of the ugly squared window.

“I think if we fall into the giant haystack down there, we’ll be fine.”

“Oh, she’s serious then,” Stefan mumbled, taking a shaky deep breath.

Harry exhaled through his mouth as Stefan gave him a nudge. “Fine. I’ll go first and I’ll catch yo—PEACH!”

Both men fled to the window, poking their heads out and sighing in relief when they saw that Y/N was fine. She pushed herself out of the haystack and stood up, fixing her clothes like it was no big deal.

“Wow, that was sexy,” Stefan said, and Harry shoved him out of the window.

Screaming, he slumped into the haystack and Y/N pulled him out of there so Harry could jump. Harry landed with a sharp cry, making Y/N push Stefan aside and drop down on her knees beside him. She carefully rolled up his sleeve to find blood soaking through the cloth around his wound.

“Harry, you’re--”

“Don’t worry,” he told her, pushing himself up. “Come on. We have to go.”

“This way!” Stefan told them and Harry quickly followed, but Y/N didn’t move. A young girl was looking straight at her. Before she could react, the girl picked up her dress and ran away. It took Y/N only two seconds to recognise her.

It was the same girl she had kicked out of her brother’s chamber when she needed to speak to him about Jo. That girl remembered her. That girl knew she was the Princess. That girl must be one of Leslie’s prostitutes and the one who had ratted them out.

Shit.

“Peach!”

“Coming!” she shouted back and raced after Harry and Stefan.

Five men were guarding the stable door as they looked for Thunder and Lightning. Y/N joined Harry and Stefan behind a wall, leaning her back against it as her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.

“They’re going to take our horses,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut.

“They can’t,” Stefan turned to her, “I already hid Thunder and Lightning where they couldn’t find. But we have to cross the stable to get there.”

“Shit,” Y/N muttered, looking at Harry. “Maybe each of us can take down two guards? I’m sure Stefan can handle one.”

Stefan flinched. “I’m not sure about that…”

“Bad idea,” Harry said, making his friend sigh in relief. “We cannot make a scene. Willem’s men are everywhere in this area. They could shoot us if we show our faces.”

“So what are we--”

“They went this way!” the female voice made them all jump.

“That sneaky little bitch!” Y/N muttered.

“Who?” Stefan asked but she didn’t care to answer. She looked around and spotted a hay wagon nearby.

“There! Hide in there!”

“We’re diving into hay again?”

“You don’t get to be opinionated now, Styles!” she scolded him and forced him onto the wagon. They lay down together for Stefan to cover them with hay. Nobody had seen Stefan run away with them so those guards didn’t bother to take a second look at him when they passed by.

He held his breath until they were gone and turned back to the wagon to tell his friends, “I’ll get the horses for you and we’ll get out of here.”

“Stefan, wait!” Y/N said as she heard his hurried footsteps fading. Harry pulled her to his chest and started rubbing her back to put her at ease.

“He’ll be back, just trust him,” he said, and she gave a nod, nuzzling his neck and closing her eyes.

Suddenly, they heard a voice. “They killed the commander.”

“Fuck that little bitch,” spoke another guard. “The Prince won’t be happy. He wants her back before his coronation.”

Coronation?! Y/N covered her mouth with her hand, her heart almost stopped. If her brother was having a coronation, it meant...it meant -- She couldn’t even finish that thought. She couldn’t accept it. Her mind went blank for a second and she heard Harry asking if she was okay, but she couldn’t tell him. If she removed her hand, she would start sobbing so loud she wouldn’t be able to stop. So she buried her face into his chest and forced herself not to cry.

They lay there for a long moment until the wagon began to move. Y/N knew it wasn’t Stefan because whoever was riding the wagon was too quiet. As she and Harry were trying to figure out what to do next, this person spoke to them, “your friend will catch up with us. I already told him where to find you.”

It was a woman.

Harry muttered into Y/N’s hand something sounded like “what the fuck?” but she only glowered at him and asked the lady, “who are you?”

“Someone who wants to help,” she said. “Now be quiet. And trust me.”

They didn’t have any other choice. Their fate was in this woman’s hand, so this could either be the luckiest day of their life, or the very last.

As the room faded into view, the first thing Harry saw was two beautiful women staring down at him. He thought one of them was Y/N, but when the blinding light started fading, he realised he had never met either of them. His eyelids fluttered as he kept on blinking. He thought he was dead for this was what heaven looked like in his imagination, he’d be surrounded by beautiful women, but if he was in heaven, where was Peach?

“Where’s Peach?!” He sat up straight, causing the girls to jump away from the bed.

“Who?” the taller one asked before giving a smile. “Oh, you mean the girl?”

“I thought her name was Rain,” said the other.

“I thought so, too.”

“Who are you?!” Harry’s face twisted as he shifted his eyes back and forth between the girls. They exchanged some funny looks while giggling, which made him more confused.

“I’m Mary, and this is my older sister, May,” said the tall one, “I was the one who saved you in the village. Don’t worry, you’re safe here in our home. You passed out on the way here so we brought you inside. Rain just went out a moment ago for some fresh air.”

“Where are we?” Harry asked, still breathing hard.

“I wish I could give you a specific answer. But all we can say is that you’re in the middle of the woods with two beautiful ladies,” Mary said, making May scoff as she swatted her on the arm.

“We don’t have friends or even neighbours so we’re so happy to have you here.” With a beam, May handed him a cup of tea, but he shook his head and waited for his brain to catch up with what they were saying.

“So the two of you live alone in the woods?”

“Yes, but we’ve been living here for a very long time. We have another sister who’s away at the moment. Her name is Maggie, you’d like her. But by the time she gets back, you might not be here anymore.”

Harry rubbed his forehead, his eyebrows knitted. “Isn’t it dangerous for the three of you to live here on your own? Aren’t you afraid?”

“Oh, we’re not afraid,” said May.

“In fact, danger should be afraid of us.” Mary laughed along with her sister, but then she noticed the blood soaking through his sleeve and she gasped. “Oh sweet thing, you’re hurt!”

“It’s okay.” He pulled his arm away before she could take it. “I got this wound a few nights ago. It must be bleeding again because I jumped out of a window.”

He expected them to question why he’d done such a crazy thing, but those ladies didn’t even seem surprised, as if people jumping out of windows was a normal thing that they saw every day.

“Come with me,” Mary said as she grabbed his hand, pulling him up. “Lucky for you, I know a lot about medicinal herbs.”

As he hesitated to stand, she chuckled. “Are you still worried about your lady?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes. But you’re not, so worry about yourself,” Mary said as she led him to a different room.

This one was smaller, with two narrow rectangular windows for sunlight to enter, but not enough to brighten the whole room. There were dry flowers hanging on the ceiling and crooked shelves on the walls that kept jars in various shapes and sizes and clay pots of exotic plants.

Mary told him to wait at the dusty table in the middle of the room while she prepared the herbs. He took some time to look around before she returned and pulled up a chair. She sat in front of him, their knees touching.

“This is what I’d like to call my medical room,” she said and gave him a reassuring smile. “Pull up your shirt.”

“What?”

“Pull up your shirt.”

“But I’m not--”

Mary pulled up his shirt before he could stop her and his eyes stretched as he saw the large bruises on his torso. Mary released a breathy laugh and began to apply the herbs topically. Her fingertips felt cold against his skin, making him shiver and she would stop to make sure he was okay before she continued.

When they both looked up and made eye contact, he shyly looked away. He heard her giggle as his heart started beating like a drum, but when he saw the bloodstain on his other sleeve, he thought about Y/N.

Mary let down his shirt and went for the wound on his arm. He hissed when she applied the herbs to it and breathed out steadily once he had gotten used to the burn.

“So the girl, Peach,” she said, smirking at the nickname. “Is she your lover?”

“No.”

“Really?” She arched an eyebrow. He said nothing, so she went on, “well, if I were your lover, I’d be very jealous of how much you care about her.”

“She’s my friend, so there’s nothing wrong with me caring about her,” he said, sounding more like he was explaining to himself than to the girl. “Besides, I’m not in love with anyone.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Mary said and pressed her red lips into a smile.

Harry was no stranger to having women flirt with him so he knew exactly what Mary was doing. The tingling feeling in his stomach made him shift on his chair, but he soon realised it was only because this woman looked like Y/N, not exactly the same, but enough to make him feel something he shouldn’t.

He decided to change the subject, “this must be the herbs Stefan mentioned. He told me he'd get them for my wound.”

“Impossible." Mary scoffed. "These are very rare. My oldest sister had to bring them back from the highest mountain in the East. So unless your friend often travels there, I assume he was talking about the ordinary kind, you know, the useless one."

Harry laughed along at the joke. He had a few questions about this mysterious sister but didn't think it was necessary to ask, so he went on, "you said that Stefan knew we were here, right?”

“Yeah, I saw him hide you two in my hay wagon, so I offered to help and told him to bring the horses here tonight. It’s too risky to go during the day as those Northerners are everywhere in the village now.” Mary rolled her eyes, pursing her lips as she started dressing his wound. “Why are they after you anyway?”

Harry stayed silent, his eyes shifted to his lap.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Mary chuckled as she finally finished and cleaned her hands with a cloth.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As she gave him another smile, he had to ask, “do you always help strangers like us?”

“Only the ones who deserve our help.”

“And how do you know who deserves it?”

“We just know.” Mary gave a shrug and kissed his arm before standing up. “We’re done, love. You’re good to go.”

Y/N had never seen the sky so blue. She was used to the washed-out grey so characteristic of wintry afternoons that when she stepped outside, she thought she was lost in a daydream. She sat on the grass, hugging her knees to her chest, just watching the clouds float across the pretty blue sky and forgetting how much time had passed since she got there.

The weather felt like a kiss of summer without the fiery heat, and the grass was a soft green with a hint of yellow. Seeing all these vibrant colours instead of the usual dull grey and white, she knew she was close to her destination. But the invisible weight resting against her chest didn’t allow her to feel any sense of joy.

Her father was dead. She’d watched the person she cared about kill someone she’d known her whole life. She’d even dragged poor Stefan into this mess and made him risk his life for her.

And Harry, her Harry…

Had they been caught at the brothel, he would have been killed. They only wanted to keep her alive because she was the princess. Harry didn’t matter to them. They didn’t care about the life he used to have, his dreams, his family, all of which mattered so much to Y/N that she wouldn’t forgive herself if he never got to have them again.

“Hey.”

She flinched and turned around, smiling as she saw him approach. The sun was slowly sinking into the woods and painting the sky shades of red and pink. Harry sat down by her side, resting his elbows on his knees, one hand holding the other wrist.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.” She tucked a strand behind her ear and took his arm to check the wound. “Wow, the girls did a pretty good job.”

“They really did.” He chuckled. “I think they’re witches.”

“They saved us, didn’t they?” She lifted her shoulders in a half shrug. “If they’re witches then they’re good ones, and we should be thankful.”

As he said nothing and kept gazing at her, she bashfully wiped her cheeks, thinking there was something on her face and was perplexed as he let out a soft laugh and held her hands to stop her.

“I just think you’re very...pretty,” he said, making her blush.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Harry gave a shy nod, and her heart felt like it could explode. That feeling of ecstatic elation was so out of this world, yet it disappeared as she woke up from her short-lived daydream. Despite knowing this would not last, a part of her was still holding onto that fantasy, in which they met as different people in a different time and maybe then they would have fallen in love.

But the reality was this, them sitting side by side, silently wishing they could live in this moment forever until their shadow started shrinking towards their feet and they knew ‘forever’ had come to an end.

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her skin cooled by the breeze. Harry noticed so he asked, “do you want to go inside?”

She shook her head. “Can we just enjoy this beautiful sunset for a bit more?”

“Okay.” His mouth twitched as he watched her watching the sky. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?” She chuckled, turning to look at him but his serious expression remained.

“Are you really fine?” He paused to let her answer. To his disappointment, she gave him nothing.

She wished she could tell him everything, from her true identity to all the demons that were chasing after her, to the childhood memories she refused to let go, to that summer day at the Vidarr River with the boy who had saved her life, to how she was falling in love with that boy and had not realised it until this very moment, to how much it scared her that she would ruin him before he could love her in return.

Everything.

How sad it was that their entire relationship had been built upon a lie. Would he still treat her this way if he knew who she was? Or would he look at her in disgust and assume she was just like her father and brother? Or worse, he could hate her for lying to him.

Before this day, she had feared that he would hurt her. But now, she just wanted to protect him from everything bad in the world, including herself.

“Peach...”

She jerked away when he reached out his hand to touch her shoulder. The look on his face almost broke her heart. He was shocked, but he’d seen it coming. His hand fell back to his lap as he broke the eye contact, his mouth opening and closing as if he had run out of words to say. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t something he’d done but she didn’t know how to even begin so she let him get up and walk back to the cottage.

Watching him go, she wondered if she should stop him and tell him the truth, but a voice in the distance knocked her out of her own head, “Rain!”

“Stefan!” Y/N got up quickly and ran to Stefan as he got off Thunder’s back and gave her a big hug.

She held his face, laughing with her mouth wide open. “You’re here! I was so worried!”

“You were?”

“Yeah, I thought they got you.” She pulled him in for another hug, closing her eyes. “God, I’m so relieved.”

Stefan was hesitant to return the hug but once his arms had locked around her, he didn’t let go. She was the one who pulled away and turned to Thunder, giving her horse a warm hug as well.

“Where’s Lightning?” she asked Stefan as the smile slipped from her face. “Did they take her?”

“No, I would come back for her tomorrow. Leaving the village with both of them would’ve been too suspicious.”

“You’re right. Thank you so much for helping us.” She smiled, patting him on the back. “Come with me. Harry will be so happy to see you.”

“Wait, Rain,” he stopped her in her tracks.

She turned around, raising her eyebrows at him. “Yes, Stefan?”

Stefan took a deep breath, stepping closer and running his fingers through his short brown curls. His cheeks were flushed from the cold as night fell which made her wonder why he was reluctant to go inside.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Oh, okay…” Her lips parted as she tensed her shoulders while hugging herself. She hoped he wasn’t going to break some terrible news. Even though she couldn’t guess what it was, she didn’t think her heart could handle it.

And she was right.

Stefan took her hand as he got down on one knee and she recoiled in shock, her eyes bulging. “What are you do--”

“Marry me.”

“What?! This isn’t funny, Stefan. Get up.”

“No, this is not a joke. I love you, Rain.” He reached for her other hand but she withdrew both and took two steps backwards, shaking her head.

“No, you can’t. You can’t!” She kneaded her forehead, her breaths quickened. “Look, you are a nice man and--and I-I’m very flattered. But you don’t want to be with me--”

“But I do. I want to be with you so much and I want to be the one who takes care of you--”

“No, stop!” She covered her ears and he hurriedly followed as she walked away.

“You’ll be happier with me. You can finally have a family and a home. You don’t have to keep on running!”

“I have a family and a home!” She turned around, raising her voice, “I’m going back to Theros. That’s my home, and my uncle is the only family I need.”

“How do you know your uncle is still alive, Rain?”

“I just know, all right? And you--God, Stefan, please don’t make this harder. I can’t...I can’t marry you.”

Stefan shoved his hands into his pockets and let out a sharp breath, his head hung. She sucked in her lips while picking at her nails. She kept shifting from one foot to the other, unable to stand still as her heart was beating so loud in her ears. She thought she knew what he was going to say. She was praying he wouldn’t say it.

“You’re in love with Harry.”

“No,” she blurted, shaking her head.

“But you are, Rain.”

“I’m not in love with Harry. I’m not in love with anyone. Not even myself.” She held her head, holding back her tears as her voice trembled. “I’m not what you think I am. I’m...I’m trouble--”

“I can handle it, like today--”

“Today could have been worse. We could’ve been killed. And we might not be lucky like today if they find us again, Stefan. I--”

I broke my father’s heart and killed him. I denied my responsibility and betrayed my kingdom. I put innocent people like you and Harry in danger. I don’t deserve to be loved.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Stefan spoke as Y/N couldn’t finish what she was saying. He put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close as she unclenched her fists and let her arms dangle at her sides.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “I don’t know about your past, and I don’t care how awful you think it was, because I know you have a good heart and you deserve to be happy. I lost my family too, so I understand what it’s like to feel like you don’t deserve what your loved ones couldn’t have. But we can change that. Marry me and let’s be happy together. We’ll have a normal life just like you’ve always wanted.”

Y/N took a deep breath and slowly lifted her hands to rest them on his back. Though she knew her heart would break if she chose not to break Stefan’s heart, it could be the only way this could end without anyone getting hurt.

Harry was pacing back and forth in the cottage while waiting for Stefan and Y/N. May and Mary were making dinner and didn’t bother to question why he appeared to be so upset. He’d tried not to let it show, but jealousy had got the best of him. Half of him wanted to go outside and see what was taking them so long, whilst the other half couldn’t stop thinking about the way Y/N had jumped into Stefan’s arms the second she saw him.

Chewing on his lips, Harry reassured himself that Stefan was probably giving her updates about what was happening at the brothel after they had left. Y/N had never shown interest in Stefan before, so he had no reason to worry. Right?

The handle on the door shook slightly and Harry flew straight to it and opened the door, glowering at Stefan the second he saw him alone. “Where’s Peach?”

“Oh, she’s checking on Thunder.” Stefan stepped around Harry to walk in as May and Mary came to introduce themselves.

Harry couldn’t care less about what they were saying to each other. He continued pacing back and forth and pinching his bottom lip anxiously until he heard, “you’re welcome to stay with us, Stefan.”

“You’re staying?” He shot his head up, his eyes went round.

“Yeah.” Stefan nodded happily. “I’m going back to the village tomorrow with Mary to get Lightning. I couldn’t bring both horses here as it might have been suspicious.”

Mary put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, giving him a warming smile. “You and Stefan can sleep in the shed and Rain will sleep here with May and I.”

“Can you give us a moment?” Harry told her and pulled Stefan back to the entrance. He watched the girls set the table and turned to his friend, lowering his voice to a whisper, “how was Peach when you talked to her? Did she tell you why she was so upset?”

“No, she didn’t say anything but she was very emotional. Did you do something wrong?”

“Fuck, I think I did,” Harry breathed into his palms, his eyes squeezed shut, “she was terrified when she saw me kill that guard. I bet she only sees a murderer when she looks at me now.”

“That’s not true,” Stefan said, putting both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “You only did that to protect her and I know my lady won’t ever think so about someone who has saved her life.”

“Your lady?”

Despite Harry looking distressed, Stefan proudly raised his chin. “I just proposed and she said she’d think about it.”

Harry froze as those words hit him like an arrow, yet his heart didn’t stop, it kept beating faster and louder.

“I think she’s going to say yes. God, I cannot wait until tomorrow!”

Stefan was on cloud nine so he could not see through Harry’s fake smile. He patted Harry on the back and joined the sisters at the table. Meanwhile, the heartbroken man went limb by the door as his shoulders slumped and his face turned blank.

He wanted to be optimistic and believed that maybe meant no for Y/N. Still, if she had wanted to turn Stefan down, she would’ve done it right when he asked. So she was actually considering it. Y/N believed that marriage was the ultimate happy ending for a woman, and one would be happy if they married the right man. Stefan seemed like someone she could fall in love with. If Harry was her, he would rather stay with Stefan than continue to wake up every day wondering if it would be the last.

Despite knowing the reason she would consider marrying Stefan, Harry still could not accept it.

When Y/N entered, his entire body stiffened. She stopped at the door and gave him a smile, one too gentle, almost forceful that it made his skin crawl. Stefan was being distracted by whatever Mary was telling him about and so he didn’t notice Y/N coming in. Harry grabbed her elbow as she walked past. She looked at him, flustered as he gently pulled her closer.

He brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Stefan and I are staying in the shed tonight, so...uh...if you can’t sleep, you can come over. We can...cuddle again.”

“Okay,” was all she said before giving a small smile and joining the others at the table.

That night, Harry couldn’t sleep. He kept tossing and turning while Stefan was snoring next to him. He would prop himself up on his elbows every few minutes to look at the door, hoping Y/N would enter and join him under these covers.

He missed her soft skin, her sweetness on his tongue as he held her legs apart and watched her squirming and gasping his name. But most of all, he missed falling asleep holding her and waking up smelling just like her. If she came to him tonight, then he would know that she chose him over Stefan. But he waited, and waited, and waited, until he fell asleep.

The next day, he woke up alone. He didn’t know how late it was, but his head didn’t hurt as much as yesterday and his wound wasn’t as painful anymore. He rolled out of bed and put on his shirt before taking a heavy-footed walk outside.

The sky was so pretty today, blue, bright and soft all at once. Harry filled his lungs with fresh air and the soft smell of the morning’s dewy grass. He couldn’t help but notice the red and yellow wildflowers growing along the path. Thinking for a second, he decided to pick some for Y/N.

He walked around the cottage and found her, Stefan, and May at the stable getting ready for the trip back to the village. He watched Y/N from a distance, and his heart pained when he saw Stefan give her the same flowers. He looked down at the ones he had picked, his heart slowly sinking and he heard Mary’s voice from behind, “are you okay?”

“You scared me,” he said as she approached.

She pointed to the flowers. “Are those for Rain or for me?”

“No one. I just thought they were pretty,” he said reluctantly. “You can have them if you want.”

Mary took the flowers without faltering and told him she loved them very much.

“May, look!” she shouted at her sister who was following Y/N towards them. “Harry picked these flowers for me! Are they pretty?”

May rolled her eyes, laughing slightly, but Y/N’s expression stayed the same. She was looking at Harry, who was staring at his feet as if he was afraid to see her reaction.

May told Mary that Stefan was waiting for her, and as Mary said goodbye to Harry and Y/N, she didn’t forget to give Harry a kiss on the cheek. Y/N didn’t ask about it, not even after Stefan and Mary had left. Harry assumed she was upset about him and Mary, but he didn’t think of it as an achievement.

If only he could go back to when he didn’t care if she ignored him, but as he watched her helping May with the housework just to avoid him, all he wanted was to tear his head off and set himself on fire.

In a moment of selfishness, he wished Stefan wouldn’t return.

When Stefan and Mary came back, the sun was setting and Harry had just woken up from a long nap.

His wound didn’t hurt anymore and all the bruises had magically disappeared, but he had been weary all day long and didn’t want to leave the bed. He covered his face with a pillow, trying to fall back to sleep when a knock on the door made him jolt right up.

“Harry! I’m back!”

And so is Stefan, he thought tiredly and ran his hands over his face.

He came to open the door as Mary kept on knocking but she was too impatient to wait. She burst right in before he could touch the handle and slammed the door shut, standing with her back against it and her hands behind her back.

“May and I had to go outside so Stefan and Rain could talk,” she said, biting her lip. “Would you escort me to their wedding?”

“There won’t be a wedding.”

“Why not?” Pouting, she followed him to the bed and stood with her hands on her hips as he sat down.

“I know Rain. She doesn’t want to marry Stefan.”

“That’s not what she told May.”

His eyes popped out as he looked up at the girl. “What did she tell May?”

Mary plopped down by his side, hugging his arm and resting her chin on his shoulder. “She said she was going to say yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!” Mary shook her head. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask May. Or you can see it for yourself!”

She got up and pulled his arm but he didn’t move. She huffed, her nose crinkled like a little girl. “Don’t you want to congratulate them?”

“I’m too tired, Mary. The only thing I want right now is some ale.”

“I have ale!”

Harry was surprised when the girl ducked under his bed and pulled out a wooden box full of ales. His eyes grew large as she put a finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet.

“I have to hide these from my sisters. They hate it when I drink, but I’m not a baby anymore, I just turned eighteen last month.”

“Eighteen?” He chuckled. “You’re the same age as Peach and you look quite like her.”

“I assume that’s a compliment?” She smirked.

“It is.” Harry sighed sadly as he took the bottle from her hand.

Y/N was waiting for Stefan by the fireplace when he walked in. From the cheerful look on his face, she guessed May had told him something before he entered, which would make what she was about to say so much worse. But he might already know that as he took a seat on the opposite side of the table and saw the massive frown her face.

“I’m sorry, Stefan,” she told him, the flame glowing in her eyes as she met his disheartening gaze.

Stefan swallowed hard, running his fingers through his hair. He knew this was going to happen, and yet he was brave enough to hope it would go differently.

Before he came back, she had prepared a long speech to turn him down, thinking if she gave him reasons then her answer would hurt him less. But after spending some time to think it over, she realised people would only hear what they wanted to hear, and the other things, no matter how genuine, would be a waste of time. She was not going to waste his time, and only going to say what she thought was important.

“I actually considered it, you know,” she spoke with a faint frown. “I thought about how marrying you would be the perfect escape for all of us. And I even told May that I was going to accept your proposal.”

“So what changed that?” he asked calmly despite being everything but calm. She appreciated how he was trying to understand instead of being bitter about her decision.

She sucked in a breath, kneading her temple. “When you came back and I heard you outside, there was this unsettling feeling in my stomach. It was not only sadness but also guilt. And I thought, if I felt that way about accepting your proposal then how could I spend my whole life with you and feel it every day? You don't deserve that. And I don't either.”

Stefan nodded. Though disappointed, he didn't interrupt her.

“I ran away from the place where I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, and I don't want to go back to that same life. I can’t love you the way you want me too, Stefan. I’m so sorry, but I can't, and you deserve a wife who will love you until her very last breath. I’m very sorry.”

“It’s okay, Rain. You don't have to apologise,” Stefan said as he reached across the table to hold her hand. “I’ve spent some time to think and realised I was wrong to put you into this position. I wouldn’t be happy if you marry me only because it felt like the right thing to do. I don't want to be the greatest mistake of your life.”

She rolled her eyes as they shared a laugh. “Well, it would be a real challenge to become the greatest mistake of my life.”

Stefan pressed his lips into a smile as he gave her hand a squeeze. “I know someone else will fall in love with you, Rain. Trust me, it’s very hard not to.”

Harry gripped the bottle in his hand, his eyes swivelling towards the back of his head in a distressed sense of a headache. Mary was rambling on about something to do with magic and potions, which made no sense to him but he wasn’t making an effort to understand.

They were sitting on the floor, he tilted his head towards the edge of the bed, sighing as the walls started changing figures and the ceiling was expanding and shrinking in a blink of an eye.

With her head on his chest, Mary was singing a song she didn’t know the words to, so she replaced most of the lyrics with his and her name and both of them dissolved into laughter every time she shouted them out loud.

He felt shivers down his spine as she nuzzled his neck, her warm breath tickling his shoulder whilst his own breath was the underlying cause of the smell of alcohol that entered his nostrils. His mouth was sore and dry so he poured the rest of the ale down his throat and put the empty bottle back on the floor with the other ones.

He gently pushed her head off his shoulder, clearing his throat as he stood up, just to fall down on the bed in an unbalanced attempt to walk to the door. He lay there, his arms spread, feeling the comfort of the mattress overtaking the state of drunkenness.

“Peach,” he mumbled while covering his eyes with his forearm. He felt the bed weighing down as Mary got on and mounted him. She straddled his waist, giggling like a madwoman as she lay flat on top of him, her chest against his chest and he wasn't in his right mind to push him off her.

As she put her lips to his neck, he cupped her cheeks and brushed her hair out of her face. His vision was blurred as her face faded out of focus only to fade back in while spinning in circles with the ceiling.

“Peach...you’re here,” he mumbled out of desperation as he sat up, locking an arm around her waist. Mary couldn’t stop laughing. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed her forehead to his.

“Peach? I like Peach, the best fruit in the world!” she said drunkenly, but all he could see was her mouth moving in silence.

He stroked her bottom lip with his thumb and she sucked it into her mouth, holding his wrist so he couldn’t pull away. But he didn't want to. His eyes bored into her as his eyelids drooped. He smiled, staring at his finger between her lips. He adored Y/N’s full lips. Y/N’s bright eyes. Y/N’s pink cheeks...

It was Y/N that he saw sitting on his lap. It was Y/N who was whispering into his ear how much she wanted him. It was Y/N whose lips he was kissing, whose hands snuck under his shirt, whose dress he was taking off. It was all her.

Kissing him passionately, Y/N combed her fingers through his hair and he closed his eyes at the comforting feeling. She took the opportunity to slip her tongue in, and instantly he responded by gliding his tongue against hers. She leaned back to flick her hair out of the way, reaching down to put his hands around her waist and rubbing her crotch against his thighs. She began to pant a little as she cupped his growing bulge.

“You're hard,” she whispered in his ear, ending it with a moan and grinding down more urgently.

His hands had to steady her, and her head fell against his shoulder, breathing heavily and her eyes fluttering.

"G-god," she moaned. "You've got me so wet."

Harry moved her hips faster in circles, eyes rolling back at the sensation of the pressure on his cock. "I need to touch you..."

"P-please," she whimpered, and he lifted her off him and slid her underwear off her hips, his body reacting strongly to the sight as he pulled his pants down to release his erected cock, sliding his fist up and down the length as she started kissing him again...

Everything after that was a blur…

The next time Harry opened his eyes, he was lying naked on the bed, tangled up between the sheets, and the sunlight was shining through the high window on the wall. He wasn't sure the images in his mind were a crazy dream or actual memories of the night before, until he flipped onto his side and saw the girl’s bare back as she was sleeping beside him.

“P-Peach?” he whispered, reaching out to touch her shoulder. His slight movement made her stir awake, and he was petrified when she turned over.

He instantly sat up as Mary propped herself up on her elbows to look at him. The blanket slipped down, exposing her perky round breasts and he quickly looked away, making her chuckle.

“You loved them last night. Don't hurt my feelings.” She smirked and threw her legs off to the side of the bed. He sat on the other side, his back facing her as they silently put on their clothes.

“I can’t get pregnant, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” she told him, but he kept on getting dressed and didn't say a word. She broke the silence once again, “you don’t remember anything we did?”

“Only a bit, ” he finally said, “but I thought...I thought…”

“You thought I was Rain, right?”

He did. He fucking did, and he was so ashamed.

Lucky for him Mary didn’t look angry or bitter. She turned and patted him on the back. “It’s okay. I don’t remember much either. Except for a few things you said--”

“What did I say?” he asked quickly.

She chuckled at his worrying look. “When you came, you said you loved her. I thought it was so sweet.”

He wished she had been lying, but he knew himself and that was definitely something he had said when he was drunk and missing her.

She might have left with Stefan already or was getting ready to leave, and he couldn’t deal with either way. He just wanted to stay in this shed, alone, until he accepted that he’d lost her and a chance to say goodbye.

He wasn’t sure if it was love as he had called it, but the way he felt about her had been the most exciting and frightening and disappointing and comforting feeling he had ever felt. And now he couldn’t accept that it was over, but he couldn’t hide from it forever.

Once he and Mary had finished getting dressed and cleaning the bottles on the floor, she gave him a hug and told him she was sorry about Y/N. He wasn’t sure if she was sincere, but he would take all the sympathy he got. Mary opened the door and walked out first, he reluctantly followed.

His feet turned to stone the second he saw Y/N right outside the cottage with Thunder and Lightning. Mary had gone somewhere but he didn’t care. He turned his head from left to right, looking for Stefan, and when he couldn’t find him, he gathered all of his courage to approach her.

Lightning reared and neighed when she saw him, but Y/N and Thunder’s reaction was the opposite of such excitement.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she quickly told him, “get ready, we’re leaving.”

“Where’s Stefan?”

“He went home last night. You missed the chance to say goodbye,” she said, not looking at him. He was supposed to be elated, but all he felt right then was just guilt.

“I need to tell you something,” he blurted.

“If it’s something about last night then don’t,” she said with a straight face. Y/N was always so scary when she was too calm. She let go of Thunder and finally looked at him, her glare was as cold as ice. “I couldn’t sleep so I came to find you. I didn’t come in, don’t worry. But I could hear everything from the door.”

Oh no...

“I was drunk…”

“So that’s what you do every time you get drunk? Take a girl to bed?”

“No!” He shook his head rapidly as she let out a sigh.

“Just go get ready.”

“Peach.” He caught her arm before she could leave. He almost told her that he had been so drunk he thought it was her instead of Mary, but he was tongue-tied as his fingertips pressed into her arm.

“What happened between you and me,” he breathed, “was different. We were different. You’re...special to me.”

She gave a mirthless laugh and yanked her arm away. “We were only different because you can’t have me. Things are always so great when you can’t have them, but when you do, you’ll realise how unspecial they are. And then I’d be like Mary and the girls at the alehouse to you.”

He didn’t know what hurt more, hearing those words from her or knowing that it was what she really believed.

She crossed her arms over her chest, making herself look small as her forehead puckered. “I’ve been distracted, but from now on, I’m not letting stupid men slow me down anymore.” She swallowed, pressing her lips together. “But...I can’t lie and say I don’t care about you. Because I really do, and I h-hate that. So we’re going to finish this journey together, try to keep each other alive, and then...and then we can finally separate.”

She shoved Lightning’s saddle into his arms and ran back to the cottage, leaving him there to wonder if this indescribable pain deep in his chest was what he was supposed to feel when he lost Kenny.

“I can’t believe you slept with him!” May said as she slammed her palm on the table, but Mary didn’t even blink as she continued sewing her dress.

“I was drunk,” she rolled her eyes, “and have you seen him?”

“You’re such a whore, Mary. Maggie won’t be happy about it.”

“Yeah, well, Maggie isn’t here, is she?”

Right as Mary finished her sentence, the front door flew open and the two sisters jumped out of their seats. A tall and slim woman walked in. She shrugged off her black cloak, letting her long black curls fall down past her waist as she marched towards the table, glaring at the girls.

“Did I just hear my name?”

“Maggie!” Mary wrapped her arms around her oldest sister, hugging her tightly.

“How was the trip?” May asked as she got up and also shared a hug with Maggie.

“Extremely unpleasant,” Maggie said, her golden tooth sparkled as she gave a wide grin. “Did you two behave when I was away?”

May elbowed Mary, who scoffed and rolled her eyes but she didn’t speak so May did, “the princess just left and Mary slept with her man.”

Maggie didn’t react the way May had when she heard it, but she didn’t look very pleased. Her thick eyebrow arched high as she raised her voice, “explain, Mary.”

“I’m so sorry!” Mary clasped both hands together in front of her face. “But--But everything is fine now. They’re still heading South to see King Edgar!”

Maggie sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “But you could have ruined everything, Mary! If she had changed her mind because of what you did, we would all be dead!”

“I know, sister...” Mary swallowed, her head hung.

“That princess is much stronger than she looks,” May said.

Maggie released a sharp breath. “But she would give up everything for that boy. And we cannot have that, can we?”

#tctm series #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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hysterialevi · 4 years ago

Text

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 15

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

THE NEXT DAY

GRIZZLIES WEST

Resting a hand on the journal’s worn pages, Dutch hesitated to turn to the next chapter as he thought back on the things he’d just read, wondering where everything went wrong.

Just this morning, he finally took the time to sit down and skim through some of Arthur’s private thoughts, only to end up discovering that they were much worse than he expected.

It was evident from the entries that Arthur lost his faith in their gang years ago. His words had no motivation behind them. No hope. No purpose.

They were all just so... bleak, and so full of finality.

It only made Dutch wonder if things were always meant to end this way. If, perhaps, Arthur was meant to turn on him from the start.

He knew the man wouldn’t be able to stick around forever. No one would. Not even Hosea. But the fact that he lost Arthur so quickly and so easily made Dutch question if there was ever a true relationship between them.

If there was, he would’ve given anything to get it back.

“Boss!” Micah’s voice suddenly barked from behind, leading Dutch to look up from the journal.

“What is it?” He asked, still somewhat preoccupied.

The other man sniffed, strolling in his direction through thick snow.

“...We got a problem, Dutch. It’s Bill.” Micah stepped next to him, letting out a disappointed sigh. “I think... he’s cut loose.”

Dutch snapped his head towards Micah in surprise, furrowing his brow.

“What? What do you mean he’s cut loose?”

Micah gestured towards the horizon, casually explaining his thought process.

“I saw some tracks leadin’ to the south from where I sent Bill to investigate last night. His horse is gone too. You ask me, I think he made a run for it. Probably decided to make his way back to New Austin. Try to survive on his own in the desert. He certainly talked about it a lot.”

“You sure it wasn’t somebody else’s tracks?”

The outlaw chuckled. “Who else could it have been? The Pinkertons? They’re mean bastards, I’ll give you that, but I reckon we’re the only ones crazy enough to actually come out here, Dutch. No... I’m pretty sure it was Bill.”

Dutch firmly shut the journal closed, storming off into the distance. “Dammit...! That goddamn coward.”

Micah gazed after him, shrugging in confusion. “You wanna try findin’ him?”

The older man coughed before waving a dismissive hand. “No. We’re here for Arthur and Isaac. No one else. If Bill wants to leave us behind and freeze to death in these mountains, then so be it.”

“Of course, of course. But you should know, Dutch... it’s gonna be trickier, now that it’s just the two of us. ‘Cause as much as I hate Arthur and his lil’ brat, I can’t deny that them boys know how to fight. I mean, look at what they did to my goddamn eye.”

Dutch glanced down at the journal, mindlessly tightening his grip on it. “...I’ll fight Arthur myself if need be. I raised him ever since he was a boy. I know how he thinks.”

The man coughed a few more times, his strength wavering with every jagged breath as the wind howled loudly around them.

“...Listen, son,” Dutch continued, his tone much softer now, “I don’t know how all this is gonna end. I don’t know if... Arthur will kill me, or if the tuberculosis will, but... whatever happens, I appreciate you stayin’ by my side this whole time. You’ve always had my back ever since you joined us, and I won’t forget it.”

Micah grinned, his eyes dark with insincerity. “Of course, Dutch. You’re practically family to me now. There ain’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”

Dutch nodded in reassurance. “I know, son. I know.”

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Dutch walked over to his horse and began mounting up, eager to continue his search for Arthur while the day was still young.

“C’mon, Micah.” He beckoned. “We’ve got one last score to settle.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

NEAR LAKE ISABELLA

“Here,” Isaac said, handing a warm mug to Arthur as the campfire crackled between them. “Drink this.”

The man took the cup in hand, curiously examining the dark liquid inside. “What is it?”

“It’s... medicine, I guess you could say,” Isaac answered. “I made it from some herbs I picked. I was gonna brew it when we got done fishing yesterday, but I never had the chance. It should calm your cough down a bit.”

Arthur raised the mug in appreciation, beaming at the boy. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Isaac held up a hand just before his father could consume the drink, giving him a last-minute warning.

“Oh, um, just so you know -- it’s probably gonna taste like shit.”

Arthur chuckled, bringing the mug to his lips. “Yeah, I figured as much. That tends to be the case with most medicines. Though, it can’t be worse than salted offal.”

He took a sip, immediately grimacing from the bizarre taste. “Jesus Christ, you wasn’t kidding. What kinda herbs did you make this with?”

Isaac smirked at his father’s disgusted expression. “English Mace and Alaskan Ginseng. They’re pretty hard to find in Ambarino, but they’re a common mixture when it comes to curing illnesses. I remember mom always used to make this when I got sick.”

Arthur cocked a brow in interest. “Did she?”

The boy smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah. I’d always get nervous whenever I saw her makin’ it in the kitchen ‘cause I knew it would taste horrible. But... I can’t really complain. It did its job, after all.”

The older man nodded in a nostalgic manner. “Yep. Eliza always had a knack for takin’ care of people. I remember she’d fret over me every single time I came home, lookin’ to see if I had any stray bullets stuck in me and whatnot.” A sigh escaped Arthur. “Your mother was such a sweet woman. She didn’t deserve the stress I put her through.”

Isaac gave Arthur a gentle look, reminiscing about his times with Eliza. “...She loved you, you know.”

Arthur cupped the warm mug in his hands, setting it down for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mom always talked about you whenever you was away. She could never say much since she didn’t want me to know about your work, but I could tell she missed you. She was never angry, though. She understood why you couldn’t be around.”

Arthur felt a tinge of guilt. “...Did you?”

“Not at the time,” Isaac admitted. “But I do now. You had people to look after. A gang to protect. You couldn’t just abandon them.”

The older man glanced at the ground in remorse. “I guess that’s true. But I still wish I could’ve protected you and Eliza. You were in danger, and I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

Isaac shook his head in disagreement. “It was four men against a woman and her child. Even if you had been there, you probably just would’ve gotten shot with her. And trust me, that’s not what mom woulda wanted. For either of us.”

Arthur found some peace in those words. “...Maybe you’re right.”

Falling into silence for a moment, the two of them quietly enjoyed each other’s company as snowflakes gently fluttered down from the sky, painting the ground around them with a new layer of snow.

The weather was getting colder in this region, or so it felt. It was probably due to the fact that they were further up north than before, but the sun seemed to appear less often these days, and Isaac couldn’t remember the last time he saw anything apart from dying grass and naked trees.

It just made the boy wonder how much longer they had until they’d reach Canada’s border. He had never been anywhere outside of the United States, so the idea of finding freedom in a different country was admittedly daunting for him... but he knew they had to do it.

There was nothing left for them in America. Both of their gangs had scattered to the winds, and it was more than obvious that the age of outlaws was finally dying out.

Civilization was moving on without them, and if they didn’t catch up, they wouldn’t survive. It was a sad truth about their lives, but one they had to accept.

“Hey, Dad,” Isaac said. “I gotta ask. Did you... hear what Bill said last night? About Dutch bein’ sick with TB?”

Arthur nodded, his tone more serious now. “Yep. It would explain why we’ve both been coughin’ so much.”

The boy sighed. “...I’m sorry. I wish there was somethin’ I could do.”

The older man coughed into his elbow a few times. “You’ve done more than enough, Isaac. Don’t go blamin’ yourself, now. We talked about this.”

“I know,” Isaac replied. “It’s just... hard to accept, you know?”

Arthur took another sip of his drink. “I understand.”

Finishing the rest of his medicine, Arthur put the empty mug down and stood up from his seat, stretching out his arms as he began gathering their stuff.

“Hey, Isaac, why don’t you go make sure the horses are ready? I think it’s time we get movin’ again. We’ve been stuck here long enough.”

The boy followed his father’s actions and headed over to the hitching posts, helping to pack up their camp.

“Okay. You think this weather will hold up? It got pretty bad last night. I just hope there won’t be another storm blowin’ through here before we can... we can...”

Stopping mid-sentence, Isaac’s voice suddenly trailed off into silence as the young man noticed something in the distance, leading Arthur to follow his gaze.

“Isaac?” He called out. “Everything okay?”

The man glanced at Arthur, his tone now low with caution. “Dad, I think I see Pinkertons.”

Taking hold of his gun, the older man instantly strode over to Isaac’s side and stepped protectively in front of him, looking to see who it was approaching them from the horizon.

Their uniforms certainly resembled that of the Pinkertons, but unlike before, it wasn’t just Edgar Ross and Agent Fordham. This time, it looked like they had an entire group of men riding with them, ready to take Arthur and Isaac in at a moment’s notice.

Arthur whispered quietly to the young man as the Pinkertons rode in their direction, making sure to keep his movements subtle.

“Keep your gun close, boy. And be ready to ride when I say so.”

Isaac nodded, taking position near the horses. “Got it.”

Standing his ground, Arthur readied his pistol as the Pinkertons got closer to their camp, causing a trail of snow to wildly spray behind their mounts.

So far, no one was shooting at them, so Arthur took that as a sign that the Pinkertons wanted them alive. But based on the heavy amount of security Ross had brought with him this time, he assumed that lethal force was no longer out of the question.

Arthur would have to do his best to keep things peaceful. There weren’t a lot of places for them to hide out here, and if anyone started firing, he and Isaac would be caught dead in the open.

It was unlikely that they’d be able to run away from this without a fight, but for the sake of not getting Isaac killed, Arthur was sure as hell going to try.

He just had to trust that the boy would do the same.

“Mr. Morgan.” Agent Ross greeted upon reaching the camp, remaining mounted on his horse. The rest of the Pinkertons lined up beside him, keeping their rifles at the ready.

“I’m surprised to see you all the way out here,” Edgar confessed. “I didn’t think you’d risk trying to survive out in this cold, but it seems Mr. Bell was correct.”

That caught Arthur off-guard. “You spoke with Micah?”

The Pinkerton casually adjusted his sleeves, straightening the cuffs. “Regrettably, yes. Not too long ago, actually. He was quite the informant. Said he didn’t know exactly where to find you, but that he suspected you were wandering somewhere in Grizzlies West. Looks like he knew what he was talking about. For once.”

Arthur grunted at that. “I’m sure he did.” He coughed a number of times, trying to stifle it as he spoke. “Look, what d’you want? It’s clear you ain’t just here to chat.”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed. “No, I’m not. We’re done giving second chances, I’m afraid. Though, I’ve given you far more than that, haven’t I?”

The agent took a few steps forward, signaling the other Pinkertons to brace themselves.

“Look, Mr. Morgan, I know we’re both tired of having this same conversation over and over again. Lord knows I am. But I need you to listen to me. Ideally, we would like to capture you alive and have you face full justice, but I think it’s safe to assume by now that you’re not the type to cooperate with the law. Or with anyone, really.”

Ross held up a cautionary finger. “This is why I’m only giving you one last opportunity to comply. Surrender your weapons, and come with us peacefully. Do this, and you have my word that you and your son will not be harmed. Not for now, anyway. Once we return to civilization though, your lives will be in the hands of the law. You will both face a trial, and a judge will sentence you. What happens after that is up to them. If you refuse to surrender, however...”

The Pinkertons prepared their weapons, causing Isaac to grow restless in his position. Arthur threw a side-glance at him, reminding him to stay calm.

“...well,” Edgar continued, “I think you know what’ll come next.”

The outlaw scoffed at the meager offer, glaring at Ross in disbelief. “So, my only options are to either die right here, or let you drag me and my son all the way to Blackwater where you can parade us around before havin’ us swing? You really think that I’ll--” a cough interrupted him, “--that I’ll--”

Another series of coughs came bursting from Arthur’s throat, causing the man to keel over slightly as the Pinkertons watched him from their mounts, waiting for a response.

Meanwhile, Isaac stared at his father in concern and felt the need to rush over to him, but restrained himself out of fear of alarming the Pinkertons.

“...That’s quite a cough.” Edgar remarked plainly.

Arthur spat some blood onto the snow, wiping his mouth. “TB will do that to you. I got it from Dutch himself, apparently.”

“That’s a tough disease.”

“Sure. But it makes your job easier, I suppose.”

Edgar rested his arms on the saddle’s horn. “I know you see us as the bad guys, Mr. Morgan. We’re the ones threatening your livelihood, after all. But what’ll it take for you to see that you’re also threatening the livelihood of others? You people are all about violence, and living in the wild. Your code revolves entirely around one man and his gun versus another man. It’s survival of the fittest, put simply. It’s a living hell.”

Arthur shook his head. “You’re talkin’ philosophy with the wrong man, agent. I done some bad things in my time -- that, I won’t deny -- but I don’t care about any of that no more. Right now, only concern is my son. And as much as you and I may disagree, you are right about one thing. You are a threat to my son’s safety, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do that’ll convince me to let you lay your hands on him.”

The agent sighed in disappointment. “Well, unfortunately for you, there’s nothing that can stop us.”

Realizing that it was pointless trying to dissuade Arthur from the inevitable, Edgar decided to put an end to this chase and reached for his gun, swiftly pulling it out so that he could shoot the man.

Just before he could properly aim however, Arthur quickly caught wind of his intentions and hastily fired a stray bullet, shooting Edgar’s horse in the neck. The creature reared in panic and collapsed to the ground, causing the agent to be trapped under its massive body.

Though, that didn’t stop the man from pulling the trigger. Despite the unexpected turn of events, Edgar still attempted to take a shot at the outlaw, and before Arthur even had time to react, he suddenly felt a sharp pain hitting him in the abdomen.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what just happened.

“Father!” Isaac shouted in horror, hurrying to Arthur’s side. He fired two bullets into the line of Pinkertons, taking down an agent with each of them.

Letting out a strained groan, the boy desperately dragged Arthur over to his horse as the agents continued to fire back at him, only to end up shooting a large tree that stood between them.

“Stay with me, Dad...!” Isaac urged, helping his father onto his horse.

Climbing onto the saddle in front of Arthur, the young man let loose another bullet in the Pinkertons’ direction before bolting off in the other, causing Agent Ross to yell after them.

“Goddammit!” He barked. “Don’t let them escape! And somebody help me out from under this horse!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

NORTHEAST OF LAKE ISABELLA, COLTER

Galloping frantically through the snow as the Pinkertons fervently chased after him, Isaac found himself riding into what looked an abandoned settlement not too far away from Lake Isabella, leading him to come to a halt.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was give the Pinkertons a chance to catch up to him, but with the state that Arthur was currently in, he needed someone to look after his wounds.

There was already a worrying amount of blood staining the fabric of his shirt, and judging by the roughness of the man’s breathing, Isaac assumed the horse’s sporadic movement wasn’t helping him much either.

He hopped off of Aldo’s saddle, quickly bringing Arthur into his arms.

“I got you, Dad.” Isaac whispered, letting the older man lean on him as he headed inside one of the cabins. “Just hold on.”

Arthur groaned sharply at the pain piercing through him, struggling to keep up with the boy’s pace.

“...What the hell’re you doing...?” He wheezed, pressing a hand on his stomach where the bullet had hit him. “You need... to run...! The Pinkertons--”

“--I’ll worry about the goddamn Pinkertons later!” Isaac dismissed. “I ain’t lettin’ you die. Not like this.”

Kicking the cabin’s flimsy door open, Isaac practically hurled Arthur inside before shutting the entrance again, giving the older man some time to rest on the floor. They couldn’t hear any of the Pinkertons’ voices at the moment, but Isaac knew it wouldn’t be long before they picked up their trail again.

He crouched down next to Arthur, taking a closer look at his injury.

“Shit...” Isaac muttered under his breath, unsure of what to do. He fumbled through his pockets for a minute, desperately searching for anything that could’ve helped. “I... I have some bandages left. Here.”

Stretching the bandages into one long strip, Isaac tightly wrapped them around Arthur’s waist as the man hissed in pain, trying not to make too much noise lest the Pinkertons hear them.

Blood was already starting to seep through the thin layers of white cloth, and with every agonizing second that slipped by, the more Arthur could feel his energy escaping him.

No, Arthur thought to himself. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t give up. He just couldn’t. Not after fighting for so long. Not after finding his son after all these years.

He had to stay strong. For Isaac’s sake. The boy was counting on him to survive. He couldn’t die now. He refused to.

“...Dammit...!” Arthur cursed through clenched teeth as Isaac pulled on the bandages. “That son-of-a-bitch got me good...!”

The outlaw’s body shook with another series of coughs, causing even more blood to gush from the open wound.

Isaac immediately placed his hands on top of the injury and pressed down, doing whatever he could to stop the bleeding. But it was no use.

The red liquid only ended up leaking through the cracks between his fingers, and by now, Arthur’s skin had transformed into an alarmingly pale color.

His eye sockets were almost purple, and judging by how the man could barely walk right now, Isaac knew there wasn’t much of a chance of him getting out of this alive. But that didn’t mean he was willing to quit.

“Hold on, Dad...” the boy pleaded, “...please. Just hold on.”

“...Isaac...” Arthur groaned out, his voice grating against his throat.

“You’re gonna be fine.” The boy insisted. “Don’t you give up on me now.”

The outlaw coughed weakly, struggling to get his next words out. “...Isaac, listen to me.”

“You’re gonna be fine.” He repeated, but Arthur knew what was coming. “We just... we just need to...”

“Isaac...!” He said more firmly, gripping the boy’s arm this time. “Listen to me.”

The young man fell silent, his eyes glossy with tears. He looked up at his father, fully aware of what the future held.

“I’m... I’m dying, son.” Arthur said softly, almost sounding apologetic. “I can feel it. I know... this ain’t how we wanted things to end, but it’s what we’ve come to. It’s what we gotta deal with. You hear me...? I need you... to be strong, Isaac.”

The boy gazed downwards, unable to hide his true emotions.

“I...I don’t know if I can, Dad. First mom, and now you? I can’t lose both of you. Not after we just found each other again.”

Arthur placed a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, urging the man to keep his composure. “I know it’s difficult, Isaac, but...” a cough rattled his chest, decimating what little energy he had left, “...I know you can still survive this. You’re strong. Much stronger than you realize. You just... have to keep pushing. Just for a little longer.”

Isaac shut his eyes, shaking his head in refusal. “...I ain’t goin’ to Canada without you, Dad. You’re outta your mind if you think I’m gonna leave you behind--”

“--You have to, Isaac...!” Arthur reiterated. “I wish things was different. I do. But look at me. I’m sick, I’m dying... I ain’t much use to anyone in this state. But you... you can still make it. You can still reach the border. You’ll be a free man. You’ll have the chance to start a new life for yourself. One that isn’t full of death, and violence, and fear. It’s the life your mother and I wanted for you.”

“But you said it yourself,” Isaac recalled. “What’s the point of survivin’ if you’ve got no one to care for?”

Arthur’s hand began to slide down Isaac’s shoulder, his exhaustion finally being reflected in his movement.

“You will find other people, Isaac. And besides, life don’t end just ‘cause you’re alone. I’m sure you’ll find someone you love. Someone who... you can start a family with.” A quiet chuckle escaped Arthur. “...Heh. Who knows...? You might even have a son of your own, someday. But whatever happens... you need to get out of Ambarino alive, first. You can’t stay here. You can’t... let me hold you back. You understand?”

Interrupted by the sound of men yelling at each other from outside, Isaac glanced out of one of the windows and suddenly noticed the large presence of Pinkertons closing in on the area, causing Arthur to reach for the boy’s hand.

“Isaac...!” He whispered urgently. “Tell me you understand.”

The young man gazed down at his father, still reluctant to leave him behind. The idea of leaving Arthur alone in the middle of these mountains tore Isaac apart with guilt, but deep down, he knew it had to be done if he wanted to live.

There were far too many Pinkertons for him to fight alone, and if they managed to corner him in this cabin, they’d both be finished.

Isaac would be shipped off to Blackwater to be executed, and all of Arthur’s efforts would’ve been in vain.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“...O-Okay.” The boy finally agreed, his voice trembling softly. “I’ll... I’ll go.”

Arthur appeared content with that and let out a relieved breath, his shoulders now slouching due to the fatigue quickly overtaking his body.

“...Thank you, Isaac.” he murmured weakly.

Reaching for his satchel’s strap, Arthur slowly pulled the bag off and reached for his gun before handing both of them to Isaac, ensuring that the boy would have some supplies in the wilderness.

“It ain’t much...” Arthur said with a cough, “...but there’re some provisions left in here. They should keep you goin’ for a few more days. And take my pistol, too. You’ll need the extra firepower.”

Isaac cradled the last-minute gifts in his palms, staying quiet as his father lived out his final moments.

“Oh,” the older man remembered, “and there’s one last thing... I want you to take...”

Lifting a shaky hand up, Arthur gently gripped the dented crown of his hat and gave the accessory to Isaac, placing it so that it sat proudly on top of his head.

The hat looked like it was made for the young man, and for just a split second, Arthur almost felt like he was looking at a reflection of his younger self. Isaac had the same ruffled hair, the same blue eyes, and if he looked closely enough, Arthur could’ve sworn he saw some of Eliza’s features hiding behind his expression.

It was the perfect fit, just like when Arthur took the hat from his own father.

“You look just like me when I was younger,” the outlaw reminisced with a faint smile. “...Eliza would’ve been so proud of you. You’ve grown so much.”

Isaac’s sharp gaze softened a bit at the remark. “You think?”

“Well, I know I am.”

Letting his head lean back against the wall, Arthur finally decided to rest and and gazed up at the cabin’s decrepit ceiling, sighing in peace as Isaac stood up from the floor.

This wasn’t quite the death he imagined he would experience, but no matter how cold these mountains were, or how desolate their environment remained, Arthur still considered himself lucky for being able to be with his son in his final moments.

Part of him wished he could simply ignore the pain and follow Isaac out of these woods, but as the edges of his vision started to go black, the more reality began to sink in... and the more Arthur came to accept the fate that had been given to him.

His job in this world was done. His time with Dutch’s gang was over, and his responsibility as a father had been fulfilled.

Isaac was his own man now. The boy still had much to learn about life and the people around him, but from now on, Arthur would have to trust that he would do the right thing in the future.

It was his journey to lead from this point, and Arthur could only hope that the kid had a better chance at life than he ever did.

It was the only thing he ever wanted for the boy. The only thing he and Dutch ever dreamed of.

Freedom.

“...Isaac...” Arthur whispered, his breath faltering with every syllable, “...if you see Dutch again.... tell him I never hated him. And I’m sorry I weren’t there when he needed me.”

The young man nodded in an assuring manner, trying his best not to break down in front of his father. “I will.”

“...Thank you, son...” The older man said quietly, letting his head tilt to the side. “Thank you.”

On the outside, he might’ve looked miserable to the boy, but on the inside, he was surprisingly content. Arthur found himself flipping through all his memories like an old photo album and recalled the days from when Dutch first met him, all the way to when he finally reunited with Isaac in Tall Trees.

There were so many emotions flowing through him. So many what ifs. So many things he wished he could’ve said when he still had the chance to say them.

He thought about his parents. He thought about Dutch and Hosea -- about their gang. He remembered the days they’d spend riding freely through the open deserts of New Austin, and the nights where they’d share stories around the campfire.

He thought about the years he spent falling in love with Mary. About the life he wished he could’ve had with her.

He remembered the pain of her absence when she decided to marry another man, and the happiness that quickly replaced it when he ran into Eliza a few years later.

But most importantly, Arthur remembered the day Isaac was born. He remembered the feeling of holding him for the first time, and wondering how on earth he was going to raise a family.

The boy was so innocent back then. So pure. He was completely untouched by the troubles of the world, and every time Arthur came home to visit, he’d feel at peace seeing his son’s face again... only to be forced to leave a few days later.

In the beginning, Arthur thought he’d never see Isaac again. He thought that Shay and his men had finished the kid off for good, and that he was condemned to be alone for the rest of his life.

And yet, here he was -- fifteen years later -- a full grown man, and fighting against the world entirely on his own, stronger than ever.

He carried a lifetime of sorrow and remorse with him, but Arthur knew that Isaac was still good at heart. The young man had the same compassion that Eliza held for others, and Arthur couldn’t have been prouder of the boy if he tried.

He loved him more than life itself, but now... he had to leave him behind. One last time.

Finally reaching the end of the road, Arthur welcomed the cold sensation that embraced him and calmly shut his eyes, falling still as one final breath escaped him.

His body was completely motionless now. Completely devoid of life. And the longer Isaac stared at the corpse of his father, the more he could feel warm tears welling up in his eyes.

He was alone again. After all those years of seeking vengeance for Eliza’s death and finding the strength to move on from it, the process of mourning had reset itself.

It felt like the world around him had stopped turning, and despite the urgent threat of the Pinkertons lurking close by, Isaac couldn’t help but feel nothing except emptiness.

But he knew there was no time to grieve. Not right now. Arthur would’ve wanted him to get out of here safely, and he wouldn’t have wanted him to look back.

So, with one last farewell, Isaac said a brief goodbye to his father before heading for the cabin’s exit, and taking his leave from the abandoned town.

He felt like the same scared, little boy that watched Eliza die again, but this time, he wasn’t going to let others determine his fate for him.

He wasn’t going to allow anyone to control him like Shay or his gang did, and he wasn’t going to lose himself to vengeance.

The only thing he was going to do was reach the border, and he’d be damned if he let anyone stop him.

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE COLTER

Stepping back out into the unforgiving weather of Ambarino, Isaac removed himself from the confines of the cabin and began making his way back to Aldo, only to stop in his tracks when he noticed a man waiting for him outside.

The man was clearly a Pinkerton based on his uniform, but unlike his fellow lawmen, he seemed to display no hostility towards Isaac. His gun was resting in its holster, and even though the boy was obviously alone now, the agent showed no intentions of taking advantage of the situation.

In fact, his temperament suggested quite the opposite. The man wore a sympathetic expression on his face, and when his eyes landed on the signature hat sitting on Isaac’s head, a proverbial light bulb seemed to illuminate in his mind.

Isaac tentatively walked towards the man, analyzing his face.

It was Agent Fordham.

“There you are.” The Pinkerton said as he leaned against a wall, keeping his arms crossed.

The boy kept a hand close to his gun, admittedly suspicious of the lawman’s motives.

“Archer Fordham...? What are... what are you doin’ here? You knew I was in there?”

The man nodded. “Yes. I saw you and your father go inside earlier, but I didn’t have the heart to interrupt.”

Archer sighed morosely, gazing at the snow-covered ground. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Morgan. Your father and I may have been on opposite sides of the law, but it sounds like he was a good man.”

Isaac replied halfheartedly, still somewhat shocked by the sudden death.

“He was.”

The Pinkerton steadily approached Isaac, careful not to alarm him.

“Listen, Mr. Morgan, I know this is a traumatic time for you, but you need to understand your current position. If Edgar finds you, you’ll be a dead man. After that little shootout he had with your father back at camp, he’s fully intent on taking you back to Blackwater as a corpse. He won’t let you walk out of here alive.”

Isaac picked up on the man’s tone. “...But you will?”

Fordham let out a conflicted breath, furrowing his brow in thought. “I believe in a world of law, Isaac, but I don’t believe that a world built on order has to be one without mercy. I’ve read your files. I know you’re only twenty-one years old. And I know that if I alert my superiors of your presence here, they’ll take away everything you’ve worked for. They’ll have you killed.”

The agent stepped closer to Isaac, looking around to make sure no one else was nearby.

“...I know Edgar disagrees with me on this, but I think you deserve a chance at life. It may be the unlawful thing to do -- letting you go -- but I believe it’s the right thing to do. After all, how much is civilization really worth if we reflect the same savagery we fight?”

Taken aback by Archer’s compassion, Isaac found himself at a loss for words and simply stared at the man incredulously, unable to believe his stroke of luck.

“You-- you’re--” Isaac stuttered, “...thank you, Fordham. I doubt your friends would’ve done the same.”

The Pinkerton maintained a stoic demeanor, but Isaac could tell he felt empathy for the young man.

“Just don’t mistake my mercy as a pardon. You’ll still be a wanted man in the United States, and the Pinkertons will take you in if they find you again -- myself included. So, if you have any plans to get out of the country, I’d use them now. This will be the only chance you get.”

Isaac nodded despondently, his mind still preoccupied with Arthur’s final words. “Of course. I understand.”

Archer turned on his heel and walked back to his horse, promptly ending the conversation there.

“Good. Then I think it’s best if you and I pretend we never had this talk.”

Mounting up, Agent Fordham took hold of the reins and clicked his tongue, urging the horse to begin trotting away.

“It’s a shame that it had to end this way, Mr. Morgan, but I wish you luck. For both our sakes, I hope we never cross paths again.”

Isaac watched the man slowly vanish into the distance, holding onto Arthur’s gun as if his father were still around. He was fully aware that the man wasn’t coming back, and yet, part of him couldn’t help but hope.

Strangely enough though, that just seemed to make it even worse.

“Yeah...” Isaac whispered solemnly, his tone burdened with loneliness.

“...Me too.”

#red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #Micah Bell #Edgar Ross #Archer fordham #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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nothingeverlost · 4 years ago

Text

On the Wings of an Owl (2/?)

In which Sirius finds his way home and Remus starts a new journey.

Prologue

Chapter One - A Journey Begins with a Single Step

The sun was shining when Sirius left the Department of Ministry. It was the first time he’d seen the sun in twelve days and it seemed a sacrilege that it was bright and not hidden behind clouds. The whole world should be weeping for Lily and James.

“Oh thank Merlin.” Monty was waiting for him in the ally, in a set of robes of dark gray. His hair seemed whiter than it had been a few months ago, no signs left of the strawberry blond it had been once. His skin was fragile like those dusty old tomes Remus liked to read.

He couldn’t think about Remus, not right now. His head was already throbbing with too many thoughts.

“You didn’t need to come,” he told the man who had been a father to him for almost a decade. He should have known one of the Potters would be waiting for him, but it seemed too much to ask of them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d feel up to apparating just yet, my boy, so I hired a car to take us home.” Monty’s step faltered a little as he turned. Sirius automatically grabbed his elbow, steadying him. Monty looked at him for a moment before taking another step. When he spoke it was in a voice that was soft, and more to himself. “That’s just right, lad. We’ll prop each other up.”

It took a little less than an hour to reach the house, the last five minutes down a private lane that the driver wouldn’t be able to find later even if he had a reason to drive out to Weybridge again to look. The house had changed little since Sirius first saw it at the age of twelve, the summer before Second year when he stayed for a week. It looked like James should come running out the door at any moment to greet him, like he had a thousand times before.

James would never greet him again.

The sprawling manor house had been in Monty’s family for generations, probably as long as Grimmauld Place had belonged to his own family line. Where Grimmauld was weighed down with the past, however, the Potter home was alive, treasured antiques from the Potter’s English roots entwined with the warm colors and scents of Euphemia’s Indian heritage. A suit of armor in the hall had a dent on one arm where he’d knocked it against a wall after James had used it to scare him once. Opposite the armor was a bronze elephant decorated in jewels, the trunk raised in a show of prosperity. Harry was using the elephant to pull himself up, focusing on standing until the door opened and he noticed the new arrival.

“Pa-foo,” he said clearly, looking up at Sirius with eyes the same vivid green as Lily’s, his hair sticking up at odd angles just like James. For the first time in a week Sirius broke down in tears, collapsing onto the floor. Harry lost interest in the elephant and fell backward, landing on his well-padded butt and rolling over to crawl over to the object of his attention. His small fingers found the holes in the jeans Sirius wore and he used them to pull himself up until he was almost in his godfather’s lap. Sirius pulled himself together enough to support the lad, holding him close to his chest. The warmth he felt against his skin was alien after weeks of only feeling cold, or more often feeling nothing at all. Harry reached out one chubby hand to touch Sirius’ cheek. “Pad-foo wet.”

“He’s been waiting for you. I told him you were coming today.” Euphemia stood in the hall, ignoring the single tear falling down her cheek. She was dressed in robes of pure white without adornment, her feet bare despite the chilly November day. The white was for mourning he knew. She had told him once that bare feet made her feel more connected to her home and her magic. “Welcome home, Sirius.”

Sirius could only look at her for a moment before bowing his head.

The weeks after the war were a strange time. First came the celebrations, of course, the great silence of the last years ending in cheers and fireworks. The pubs were crowded as friends and strangers alike toasted to the downfall of He Who Must Not Be Named and his followers. Infants who had been born into war woke up for the first time in peace, and children who had been afraid to play were finally able to run in the streets in bright colors and with raised voices. Wizards were no different than any other human and needed their victory, but after the first few days reality set in.

For the first time, they had the leisure to mourn the dead after years of having to push away grief to focus on the next mission, the next battle. For months memorial services happened on a weekly basis, some for a single person, sometimes for an entire family. Two months after the war ended Christmas came, a celebration that highlighted the many empty chairs at Christmas dinner.

In Diagon Alley a memorial was built, a single arm raised with a wand outstretched, behind it a field of stars, Every minute the name hovering above the wand changed, each of the fallen listed in turn.

Marlene McKinnon Dorcas Meadows Fabian Prewitt Gideon Prewitt Edgar Bones Benjy Fenwick

It took more than an hour to see every name. After Lily Potter’s name faded away the series began again. There were names that were missing. One day Regulus Black would be added, when his deeds were learned, but that wouldn’t be for years. It would take another month before the death of Arabella Figg was discovered, as she had little communication with wizards and it took time before anyone checked on her. Frank and Alice Longbottom, stuck between life and death, weren’t on the list.

Peter Pettigrew’s name was quietly removed from the list the day after it was discovered that he was still alive.

It was a rare family that wasn’t touched in some way by death. Remus Lupin, half an orphan before the war started, was completely alone after. His father had started fading the moment his mother died; he had chosen recklessness as his way to join her. There had been whispers of werewolves going after muggle families. It was a member of Greywolf’s pack that killed him, though Remus fortunately never knew that fact. He only knew that his father died and he was alone.

In the weeks after the war Remus fled to Wales. For the first time in his adult life he didn’t have anything to do. No mission from Dumbledore, no job, and certainly no friends to meet at the pub. He mourned in his own way, drawing his grief tight around himself. Grief for the friends lost and the relationships that had fallen apart. He tried to look back at everything and figure out when Peter had become a betrayer and where he’d missed the signs. He did not want to think about Sirius, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the much more obvious signs of how badly that friendship had gone wrong. Losing James and Lily was like an amputation, a part of himself that was there one moment and gone the next, leaving phantom pains. Losing Sirius was a festering wound that would probably never heal. He mourned the losses of his friends, all of them.

The Daily Profit announced on the front page when Sirius Black was released, and it was a dull sort of comfort knowing that at least he was free and innocent, or at least as innocent as any of them could be after fighting a war. The picture they used was an old one, from Jame and Lily’s wedding, and it hurt to see it. Though it was only Sirius in the frame, mugging for the camera, Rumus knew that his own younger self had been cropped away. They had all been so happy that day. Sirius had even dragged him out to the dance floor after a few drinks, and it was just a lark for him but Remus could still remember how it had felt to dance with his friend and secret love. He tossed the paper in the bin.

Transforming on his own was always harder, leaving him exhausted. He needed another day of rest, he decided, but then it was time for a change. There was no reason to stay in England. Sentiments against werewolves were even worse after the war; some had been responsible for vicious attacks, and the best that could be said was that some had chosen to remain neutral. He had his parents’ house, but without an income there would be no way to feed himself. There was only one thing he could do that would be of use to anyone; he was going to find Peter. Tomorrow he would start tracking down a rat.

Sirius could not sleep. The bed was too soft and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a real bed. The last month was a blur of cells and leaning in doorways and curling up in alleys as a dog. After living in the city and fighting a war the sounds of the country were too quiet and strange. Mostly, though, he couldn’t sleep because it felt as if James being dead had changed the whole equilibrium of the world and he couldn’t find his footing.

His bedroom faced the back garden, his view partially obscured by a tree that had been a handy way of coming and going when he was a boy. Many a time he and James had climbed down the tree to go for a midnight swim or smuggle in things to drink. More than once he’d climbed in on his own, the window never locked as if the house itself knew that he sometimes needed a place to run to when his own house was too much. The summer before Fifth year he’d shown up at one in the morning on an August day, climbed inside and collapsed in the bed, sleeping until James had pounced on him and demanded to know why he hadn’t woken him up. Sixth year, when he’d left his family or good, he’d used the front door.

Sometime in the last couple of years Euphemia and Monty had changed their bedroom to the downstairs suite. It meant that of the five upstairs bedrooms the only other one occupied was the one to his left, a guest suite that now held a crib. To his right was James’s room, separated from his own by a bath they had shared. The door to the room that now belonged to Harry was open, and Sirius found himself standing in the doorway more than he tried lying on his bed. The window shade was up and the almost full moon illuminated the crib enough to see the bandage on Harry’s forehead. Magic wounds were hard to heal, and no one knew how long a curse from such a powerful wizard would take before it stopped bleeding.

“James should be the one standing here,” he whispered to the boy as he stood at the edge of the crib. His friend had been so excited about being a father. So proud. So worried about his ability to protect his son and wife. Sirius had sworn that nothing would happen to any of them. He had lied.

“Mmm.” Harry shifted in his sleep, as restless as James had always been. He was such a small thing; Sirius had panicked the first time Lily had handed the baby to him, certain that he would drop the kid and nine months of work would be ruined. James could forgive him just about anything, but probably not a dent in his kid.

“I’ll fuck this up, Prongs, but I swear I will do my best.” The first time James had asked him to be godfather it had seemed a joke. It was a good laugh, him responsible for anyone’s child. Merlin, there were days when he shouldn’t be responsible for himself, let alone another human. As the war had progressed the promise was one that James had reminded him of on occasion. Every time he had panicked and told James that he and Lily were the ones most likely to survive. Even after the prophecy they had a plan. James would be safe. Godfather would be an honorary title that just meant he got to spoil the kid with the things his parents wouldn’t buy for him. And then he’d made the stupidest argument in his life and had convinced James that Peter would be a better secret keeper. James and Lily paid for his mistake with their lives. Harry would pay for the rest of his life, his parents stolen from him.

Thank Merlin for Euphemia and Monty. He couldn’t raise Harry on his own. Without them he wouldn’t know what to do. Without them he’d probably be in a cell in Azkaban.

It was another hour before he slept. He only settled because Harry woke up and needed rocking; they both fell asleep in the chair that had been Lily’s, Harry on his chest, the rocking charm he’d put on the chair long since worn off. Euphemia found them in the early hours of the morning and covered them carefully with a blanket.

#wolfstar fic #wolfstar #remus lupin #remus lupin x sirius black #sirius x lupin #remus x sirius #sirius black #siriius black x remus lupin #harry potter #my fic #harry potter fic #MPPW

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theparanormalperiodical · 5 years ago

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Is Stephen King's IT Based On A True Story? The 7 Real Life Stories of Evil Clowns

With autumn just around the corner, that can only mean one thing: Halloween season is finally upon us!

But you can snort your pumpkin spices and layer your scarves all you want. There’s only one thing I am in anticipation for this autumn.

It’s the horror flicks.

Every October, a chaotic mix of horror films hit the cinemas, leaving us paranormal fanatics spoilt for choice.

But only when you cut out the rushed screen time plays that were written purely to coincide with the most wonderful time of the year, that is.

I’m not here to talk about crap, however.

I’m not here to bitch about clunky jumpscares, and the movies with more holes in a plot than in your prep school tights (“Mum, they’re fine!”).

I’m here to talk about IT Chapter 2.

The IT sequel – alongside Stephen King’s other horror hits – is set to complete one of the cinema phenomenons of this decade, and its influence on pop culture is just one echo of the incredible story the movies tell.

If you’ve been trapped in the sewers with Pennywise for the last 27 years, let alone the Clown Craze that’s followed us in and out of cinemas, here’s a quick rundown of the book/film:

A rag-tag group of misfits start noticing odd patterns in their small town. Namely, kids start to go missing. And this tends to happen roughly every 30 years, just like clockwork. Cue some freaky shenanigans evoked by an evil entity who is represented by an image of a clown/whatever you fear, and here we are.

Now, the book/films sits on this 27-years rule. It’s set between when they were young, and when they were several decades older and once again face It.

We last see It half kinda dying (but if there’s a sequel y’all know that’s BS) in the midst of the 1980s. And the new film brings us screeching back to the phenomenon that is once again haunting Derry.

Like I said – and as you will well remember – when the last flick came out, there was a Clown Craze. There was this cultural obsession, even a criminal wave using clown masks and attire to scare the innocent bypassers. Viral videos were scored with Pennywise-esque thumbnails.

(I’m pretty sure I even went a club night that was clown themed…)

So, it got me thinking: have evil clowns ever actually existed? Has anything ever emulated the character that titled one of Stephen King’s most famous books?

Unfortunately – in more than one case – the answer is yes.

Why does the answer have to be ‘yes’.

In today’s edition of the Paranormal Periodical we are going to be discussing why we all hate clowns, the cases of actual evil clowns, and urban legends that echo these cases.

Let’s get spooky.

Why are we so afraid of clowns?

I’m pretty sure that no one in the history of ever has liked clowns. In fact, that’s actually a key part of the book.

Pennywise supposedly thinks children love clowns, and that it will entice them so he can take them away for his feeding purposes.

And believe it or not, Stephen King wasn’t the first guy to write an evil clown into literature.

Clourophobia – or the fear of clowns – is a common phobia, and has been played upon since the 19th century by the king of horror himself, Edgar Allan Poe.

And only a decade before King published It in the 1970s, several mock comic books hit the stores with ‘Evil Clown’ blaring across the cover. ‘Frenchy the Clown’ as he was known might not be the malovalent entity that is core to King’s novel, but he does echo the dark themes we pick so easily out with clowns.

Even academics have outlined our unease when it comes to these supposedly comical figures.

The University of Sheffield did a study which confirmed this universal fear of clowns today.

In particular, they deduced that children don’t like clowns as they are unknowable. The thick layers of makeup, the potential threat that could be disguised by jokes and silly clothing.

And why wouldn’t they be?

*Ok, this has nothing to do with like spooky shit but can I just air my thoughts right why and how do clowns exist now like surely we teach kids not to talk to strangers who act weird and you don’t know and that’s literally the purpose of clowns and like yall can say I’m a trigger libtard whatever but a lot of the basis to clown makeup must be based on blackface look at the lips and the hair or even trying to mock disabled people by how they act*

Even academic figures lie Wolfgang M. Zucker take this point further. Zucker claims there are strong similarities between clown figures and the cultural depiction of demons and other terrifying creatures.

Deathly white faces, the freakish features.

This is what makes Pennywise the Dancing Clown such a standout character.

And it’s also what makes the following real-life stories of evil clowns quite so distressing.

Here are the 7 cases of Evil Clowns that you have to hear about:

This might be the Paranormal Periodical, but there is nothing supernatural here. And its probably the lack of ghost-based legend that makes these evil clowns so like Stephen king’s iconic character.

And we start with probably the most horrific case: John Wayne Gacy, aka Pogo or Patches the Clown.

From 1972 to 1978, John Wayne Gacy murdered, tortured, and raped over 30 underage and young adult men. Most of the bodies were buried around his home, and some were even disposed in a nearby river.

He even made plans to fill the crawlspace in his home – where he had crammed over 20 corpses – with concrete and essentially make a new mass grave on top of it.

This twisted and depressing tale carries further into the innocent image his community impressed upon him.

Gacy frequently performed as his clown alter-egos at local parties, charity events, and at children’s hospitals. Even outside of this, he met a First Lady, was active in politics, and was even awarded the title of Precinct Captain for his services to the community.

And if all this wasn’t terrible enough, the reasoning behind his clowning days further darken his tale:

Gacy claims his clown alter-ego allowed him to regress into his childhood which was fraught with emotional and physical abused from his father.

And so, the ‘Killer Clown’ label has been bestowed upon this case.

Interested in hearing more? Check out the full story here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wayne_Gacy

Our next evil clown doesn’t stray too far from the predatory behaviour of John Wayne Gacy.

The man behind Klutzo The Clown – A. Paul Carlock – was charged with the possession of child pornography and of child molestation back in 2007.

Like Gacy, he was a force within the community, working as a police officer and a volunteer for the Big Brothers/Big Sisters scheme. It was even noted when he was alive that he had a fondness for children.

In fact, he was categorised as a ‘Christian clown’ before the accusations were brought to light.

He was hired as a police officer in 1973, yet they only found evidence (pictures on his laptop when he returned from an overseas trip) in 2007.

Upon finding the evidence of his predatory and paedophilic behaviour, he immediately began to show signs of illness, dying 39 days after his arrest. And its for this reason that his case is seen in a different light to mine.

The disgusting details tend to be overlooked as his death brought in a lawsuit regarding whether he was neglected and mistreated after his arrest.

Following on from this, we have Martin Evanick.

His clown alter ego, Vlad, certainly expressed a killer-clown vibe synonymous with Pennywise, but it seems his intentions didn’t actually stray to far from the character he sought to emulate.

This metal-band drummer pleaded guilty in 2013 to creating child pornography. He was also found prior to this to be a child molester and rapist.

Another clown to fit the bill of evil is actually a relatively recent case.

Back in 1990, a woman opened the door to a clown who promptly handed her balloons and a floral gift.

The clown then proceeded to shoot her, leaving her for dead.

For 27 years, there was no answer for this bizarre and deadly attack.

Well, until now, that is. Sheila Keen was charged with first-degree murder. She married the husband of the victim, and the later developed DNA evidence provided the key to the case.

Unfortunately, evil clowns don’t always act alone.

And it’s these next cases that vouch for this.

Across many countries in the last few years we have witnessed random groups of people dressed as clowns or donning clown masks who chase, harass, and even attack innocent people seemingly in broad daylight.

One of the most documented cases of this is actually from France. Back in 2014, the French were apparently terrorised by a group of clowns who physically attacked anyone who just so happened to get in their way.

One of these clowns was arrested for beating a pedestrian with an iron bar whilst clad in a clown costume.

A student even had a severe cut to his hand whilst defending themselves from a clown wielding a axe, and Schoolchildren were eve chased down the street by a clown following close behind with a chainsaw.

Shit bro.

But it was only in 2016 that the phenomenon was fully realised.

The 2016 Clown Sightings – which even feature on Wikipedia, now – summarise the frequent reports of people disguised as evil clowns.

However, as this is evidently a broad case, we cannot pinpoint the extent or nature of the ‘evil’.

For some it appears a practical joke, possibly even playing on the build up to the 2017 release of IT.

But the original cases have actually been traced back to 2013, from which a creepy clown was spotted in Northhampton. It was eventually found out to have been created by filmmakers to drive up traffic and fame for their Facebook page. In fact, they used the ‘sightings’ to evoke the fame they sought.

From scary clown pranks littering Youtube, to urban legends feeding on upvotes from Reddit, it appears it has not been grouped as an ‘evil’ or ‘criminal’ set of occurrences.

Even on October 25, news outlets in the US reported on threats of a potential ‘purge-like’ event carried out by clowns on Halloween. The only attack resembling this – which I assume was merely a hoax – was an attack carried out by 20 people in clown masks on a family in Florida.

No arrests were made.

There were many cases in the UK, but these only amounted to petty crimes, threats, and scaring people passing by.

But the widespread nature of it certainly confirms it as a phenomenon. 80 percent of US states witnessed this phenomenon, and the Wikipedia page is crawling with country-by-country listings of ‘killer-clown’ cases.

Do you remember the Clown Craze?

And do you have a personal tale to share about any creepy ass clowns?

Make sure you let me know!

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kar3npage · 5 years ago

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Sewing Scissors and Throwing Knives

What would have happened if Neil stopped playing Exy? If he kept running after his mother died? Neil Josten is working as a janitor at Palmetto State University when he gets the opportunity to work as a fashion designer for an up and coming brand. It's a dream come true, if it wasn't such a public position and if he wasn't still running from his father and the Moriyama's. Aka, the Fashion Designer AU that no one asked for but I couldn't help but write.

I will be updating this fic once a week, so keep tuned! You can read this on ao3 here

Chapter One: Alli Rey

There’s something about empty public spaces. The feeling that comes from being the only person in a building that’s meant to hold thousands is eerie and calming all at once. Neil Josten loves his job for this aspect, and this aspect alone. The less enjoyable part of the job was the more important part: cleaning after other peoples messes. Neil’s been working at Palmetto State as a janitor for 3 weeks now, and he’s become very aware of how messy people are. Despite the obvious drawbacks to his current situation, he feels at home here. This could be a dangerous feeling and no one is more aware of that than Neil himself, but he can’t help himself but cling to the small comfort that is having a key to somewhere. Having a key means he belongs, that he’s not only allowed but desired in the building. It’s been 15 years since Neil first started running, 7 since he’s been on his own without his mothers company and harsh words. He never thought that he would make it past the age of 20, but here he is. Maybe not living, but alive for the moment.

Neil is achingly grateful for the fact that he’s usually in charge of the Art wing of the university. It’s one of the least liked areas due to extreme amount of mess that appears every single day, which is why the newbie got it, but Neil was okay with cleaning literally anything as long as it kept him away from the Exy court. Exy carried far too many memories, most of them negative. Today was different though. Through a series of unfortunate events (the person who usually cleaned it was sick, their backup won’t come in, etc) the court has been given to Neil to handle. This is the other most hated area to clean, thanks to the mess that’s left after games. The past few hours have passed in a blur with Neil counting in different languages and using various other coping mechanisms to keep his head firmly in the now. His fingers itch for a pencil and paper. He doesn’t have any grand ideas, but sketching out his thoughts has always been soothing, which is why he began it in the first place. The facts are these: after the fateful night when he scrimmaged with Kevin and Riko and his mother took him away, he decided that Exy maybe wasn’t as enjoyable as he initially thought. This opinion was hammered into place 8 years later, right after his mom died. He had been grieving and stupid and passionate, and decided that attending just one year of university for Fashion Design couldn’t possibly hurt. Somehow Riko found him near the end of the year, and he was ‘invited’ to spend two weeks with the Raven’s. Neil hasn’t touched a racket since then, and at the moment he has no desire to. This particular court couldn’t be more opposite to the one in Edgar Allen, but something about the scent and the sound of his footsteps echoing in the court brought memories that he would rather forget right to the front of his mind.

He’s almost done when it gets to be too much. The lights, the empty bleachers, all of it together is just enough to push Neil over the edge. His skin feels like it’s two sizes too small, his whole body is itchy and he’s overly aware of exactly where each scar starts and ends. Not only does his skin not fit, but now his ribs seem to be shrinking, forcing much needed air out of his lungs. Neil drops the massive mop where it is and practically runs out of the stadium into the foyer, desperate for air and a break. It’s not until he makes it outside that his ribs start to go back to their normal size. He had grabbed his bag during his panicked escape (the duffle that he still brings everywhere he goes. He has a small apartment to put it in, but there’s no way he can trust anyone enough to just leave it there), and he fumbles for his sketchbook and pencil case. His hands ache from work, but the sound of pencil scratching on paper is so comforting that he can easily ignore the discomfort. He isn’t trying to do anything groundbreaking, just drawing out idea after idea for fun. He draws suits with unique pockets and prints in fun places, dresses with elegant coats and dresses made out of fabrics with stupid prints on them. He goes through five pages of tiny drawings before his heart settles down and he stops jumping every time the light from the lamppost flickers. It’s torturous to go back into the empty building to finish. Neil goes as quickly as he can and sprints home with his duffle clutched to his chest.

Morning sun makes the little apartment cozier than it is, though not by much. He’s been living here for three weeks, and he’s not expecting to be here for any longer than a month from now. Neil never buys anything more than what he deems absolutely necessary. Most of that fits into his duffle. Whatever doesn’t will be left behind, such as the duvet set that he got on sale at Target. Another perk of the janitorial job is the hours: he doesn’t start until 10 pm, so he can avoid most human life a good deal of the time. Even though he works late, Neil can’t kick the habit of waking up early. It’s only 7 am and he’s wide awake and ready for a run. He does a quick check of the apartment to make sure that everything is in its place and ready to go if he needs to leave at a moments notice. This is when he notices that one very important item is missing. The sketchbook that has been Neil’s lifeline for the past year is nowhere to be found. With a sinking feeling, he realizes that he must have left it outside after his panic attack last night.

His running routes are always random but well thought out, to avoid getting jumped. Unfortunately, today’s route has to be to the university so Neil can find his sketchbook (if he was a praying man, he would pray, that’s how desperate he is to get it back). The university is a terrible place to run, since it’s so crowded and there are so many campus security around. It takes twice the amount of time to get to the court now than it does at night. The sketchbook isn’t where he left it last night. Neil scours the outside of the building, even checking the garbage bins. With a sigh, he decides to go inside as a last ditch effort. Logically Neil knows that it isn’t a necessity, so he really shouldn’t be heading straight into a trigger for it, but this sketchbook holds more information about him than almost anything else (other than the binder that sits at the bottom of his duffle). The black book practically has his soul in it, lame as that sounds. After that year in the Design program, Neil hasn’t shown anyone any of his designs. Not that he’s had anyone to show, but still. It’s a private thing, and not knowing where it is makes him feel vulnerable. As expected, the university Exy team is practicing when Neil goes inside. He can hear shouts coming from the court where he stands in the room that holds the TV and couches. Keeping one ear in the direction of the court, Neil starts methodically going through the room. He’s checking under one of the couches when the soft sound of a footfall makes him reel around. Standing in the entrance to the room is a man around the age of his father. His wife beater shows off tattoos that cover his arms. They’re intricate and Neil would think they were beautiful if they weren’t attached to the person blocking one of his exits. The person who looks strong and a little bit pissed off, who reminds Neil of his father for no reason other than his age. “Who the hell are you and how did you get into my court?” the man says. Neil flinches when he takes a step into the room. “Janitor. Keys,” Neil says, holding up his key ring for the university. He stands up and takes a careful step back, eyes darting to the other exits in the room. The mans posture softens, though his face still looks suspicious. “As far as I know, no one called for a janitor.” Neil considers just leaving without answering. But he really wants his sketchbook back. And maybe the man knows where it is. “I left something here last night.” The mans eyes gleam and Neil has an uncomfortable feeling that today might turn out much differently than he was expecting it to go. “The something you left doesn’t happen to be a black sketchbook, does it?” Neil takes another step back and nods. The man grins and jerks a finger toward the office door, where he must have come out of. “I found it outside this morning when I got here. I was flipping through it to see if there was a name of the owner and I saw your drawings. They’re good.” Goosebumps raise on Neils arms when he hears that this man looked through his book. He knows that he had a legitimate reason to look inside, but anger still rises up. “I didn’t realize that you were an art connoisseur,” Neil snarks, trying to avoid thinking about someone looking at his art without his permission. The man snorts. “I’m really not. But my son knows a lot about those kind of things, and I’ve picked up a thing or two from him. I’m Wymack, the coach of the Foxes.” That is just really too bad, Neil thinks. He was really enjoying getting to stay here, and now he has to leave a month earlier than he was planning to. The thing is, Neil knows exactly who Wymack is. After his little scrimmage with Kevin and Riko, he kept a close eye on Kevin. He wasn’t stalking him or anything, just checking up on the poor kid who had to see his father do such terrible things. He heard about Kevin’s injured hand almost as soon as the press heard about it. Not long after that, it came to light that David Wymack, coach of the Palmetto State Foxes, was his biological father. Kevin faded from the Exy scene a few months after that when it became clear that he was giving up the sport and Neil stopped checking on him. Wymack is watching Neils internal breakdown carefully and he shifts to the side so he isn’t blocking the exit anymore. If Neil wants to leave, he can, but he’ll have to get in arms length of Wymack. They have a silent staredown while Neil decides on his course of action. Wymack speaks before a decision can be made. “I hope you don’t mind, but your work was really impressive. I’m not an expert or anything, but I would like to think that I’m pretty good at spotting talent.” “What are you hoping I don’t mind?” Wymack scratches the back of his neck, the first time that he’s looked anything but confident. “Well, as I said, my son knows quite a bit about that sort of stuff. Actually, he’s a designer. At Alli Rey, the fashion company. And I sent him a few photos of your sketches.” Neil’s stomach plummets through the floor. Unless Wymack has another mysterious son, he just sent his artwork to Kevin Day. Neil had no idea that Kevin was a designer now, he didn’t even know that Kevin was interested in that. Neil tries to school his emotions and makes a beeline to the exit, tensed just in case Wymack decides to try to stop him. “He was really impressed.” Wymack says, and Neil freezes. “You had no right to go through my things, or to send them to anyone.” Wymack doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “He wants you to intern at Alli Rey, he thinks you have potential.” “I don’t want that.” “Why not? It’s a great opportunity, and you’re obviously passionate about it.” “I don’t need your help.” Wymack raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I wasn’t trying to help you, maybe I was trying to help Kevin. The company needs another designer, and he thinks you would be a good fit.” Neil searches for a legitimate excuse to decline an offer that in any other world would be like a fairy tale. “I’m not good enough to work with Kevin Day.” Wymack looks almost pleased with himself. “I never said his name. The fact that you know who he is is proof enough that you’re passionate. And who cares if you think your good enough or not? Kevin thinks you are. And he doesn’t say things like that lightly.” “I just came back for my sketchbook. If you could give it to me and let me leave, that would be great.” Neil can tell that Wymack is analyzing him. He has been this whole time. Finally, Wymack sighs and his shoulders slump a bit. He looks exhausted. “Is there a reason that you’re trying to push away an amazing opportunity that you want to take?” “Who says I want to take it?” “I recognize that look from my Foxes. Do you know how I chose players for the team?” Neil shakes his head no, even though he’s heard tons about the damaged players who are recruited for Palmetto’s Exy team. He wants to hear Wymacks side of it. “Everyone here has a bad past. The team isn’t about the sport as much as it is about second chances. Second, third, fiftieth. As long as it’s one more chance than the rest of the world wants to give you. Taking this offer could be your chance.” “You don’t even know my name.” “I know that you’re skilled, that you did a hell of a good job cleaning up last night, and that you have the same look in your eyes that most of my Foxes do.” Neil straightens his spine like that might prove that he isn’t broken, that he’s different than the aggressive team that’s currently arguing in the court. “Look, you don’t have to answer right away. Just think about it.” Wymack turns around to rummage around in the office for a moment. He comes back out with the sketchbook and Neil feels a spark of relief at seeing it in one piece. “I left Kevin’s number on a sticky note on the front. Take the week, he’ll give you until Friday to decide.” Neil snatches the book out of Wymacks hand and speed walks out of the building, breaking into a sprint the minute he’s out of Wymacks sight.

#fan fiction #writing #my writing #andreil #chapter one #all for the game #multi chapter fic #fashion designer au #the foxhole court #neil josten #wymack #coach wymack #fanfic

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thecomicsnexus · 5 years ago

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The Judge of All the Earth

WATCHMEN #3 NOVEMBER 1986 BY ALAN MOORE, DAVE GIBBONS AND JOHN HIGGINS

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

Doctor Manhattan is having problems with his relationship with Laurie when he multiplies himself and she finds out that 'one of him' had been working while she was being romantic with another. Laurie walks out on Manhattan, going to meet up with Dan Dreiberg.

Meanwhile, Manhattan's ex-wife Janey Slater is giving an interview with a news editor of the Nova Express. She states that she has cancer that she presumably received through connection with Manhattan.

Manhattan gets dressed and transports from his home to his television interview where he meets up with a government official named Forbes telling him what to, and what not to say. One of his questions that he cannot say is about his involvement with the Russians in Afghanistan. Then, one of the audience members is Doug Roth of Nova Express who ask Manhattan of his relationships with his colleague Wally Weaver, Slater, and his former nemesis Edgar Jacobi, if he knew that all of them had a fatal form of cancer, among others. Forbes quickly intervened and stopped the interview, but while he and Manhattan were leaving Manhattan became overwhelmed by questions. A very distressed Manhattan yells "I said leave me alone!" and transported everyone outside of the building.

Laurie meets up with Dan who gave her some coffee and they talked about her troublesome relationship and where she will stay that night. She decided on a hotel and walked him to Hollis Mason's place, but while walking through an alleyway they were almost mugged by a gang of knot-tops. They take out the entire group. Leaving the alleyway, Laurie decides to go find a hotel and to leave Dan alone. Once arriving at Hollis' place, Hollis shows Dan the interview of Manhattan's incident on television.

Manhattan arrives back at his home to find out that it is being quarantined. He decides that he is leaving, telling a soldier to leave a message for Laurie and his superiors. He said he is going to Arizona, and then Mars. He goes to the Gila Flats test base in Arizona, where he took a picture of himself and Janey Slater many years ago at a carnival. On Mars he explores in a childish excitement and then finds a rock to sit on.

Laurie goes back to the base to find that everything is being taken away by military personnel in hazmat suits and she is told by Forbes that she is ordered to undergo a cancer scan and is ask about whether she has put Manhattan in emotional stress. Unaware of Manhattan's incident, she is offended by Forbes for considering herself responsible for something until the man, deeply exasperated, snaps to her that she is no longer welcome to the base, since his superiors believe that Manhattan is not coming back in which his absence has severe global consequences.

The next day, Dan awakes from his bed to find Rorschach has broken into his home (again), whom shows Dan a newspaper with the front page of Manhattan's departure from Earth. This news also makes Rorschach being more convinced of his mask killer theory.

That night, the news vendor receives the evening edition and is shocked to read from the headlines. Anxiously, he gives the kid a copy of Tales of the Black Freighter for free, and even his cap. The headline he read is "Russians Invade Afghanistan".

Tales of the Black Freighter A young mariner is the sole survivor of a battle with pirates and wakes up on a deserted island where dead bodies are piled next to him. The mariner recalls the disaster of the attack and about thinks about the pirates of the "black freighter" bearing down on his home and his unsuspecting family. He then begin the arduous task of burying his shipmates throughout the entire day.

UNDER THE HOOD

Chapter V Hollis described the 1950's as cold and bleak, both for himself and for masked adventurers in general. The Minutemen have become irrelevant in society as their exploits were being reported less frequently and treated as a joke. Sally Jupiter have her daughter Laurie in 1949, when her marriage began to deteriorate. Her marriage ended in 1956, and since then Sally has been successful in raising her daughter. The Comedian remained the only member of the Minutemen who has been treated seriously in the eyes of the public partly due to his government connections, and was turning into a patriotic symbol.

During the height of the McCarthy era, the remaining active masked adventurers testified before the House UnAmerican Activities Committee, and were forced to reveal their identities. The Comedian was excepted because of his allegiance. This doesn't present any immediate problems for most of the Minutemen, such as Captain Metropolis' outstanding military record and Hollis' service in the police force. But Mothman met with more difficulty due to his associations with left-wing friends during his student days. He was eventually cleared, but the investigations were both lengthy and ruthless, and Hollis speculates that the pressure may have prompted his drinking problem that later contributed to his mental ill-health.

Hooded Justice remained the only masked adventurer who refused to testified, on the grounds that he was not prepared to reveal his true identity to anyone. When pressed, he vanished. Hollis presumed that the Hooded Justice retire rather than revealing his identity. But almost a year after Hooded Justice vanished, the New Frontiersmen publish an article about the disappearance of a circus strongman named Rolf Muller, who quit his job at the height of the Senate Subcommittee hearings. Three months later, a badly decomposed body was found washed up on the coast of Boston. The body was identified as Muller's that was shot through the head. The article further stated that Muller, whose family was East German, had been on the run for fear of being uncovered during the Communist witch hunts, and implied that Muller was executed by his Communist superiors. Hollis speculated that Muller and Hooded Justice are the same person, but find this troubling to accept his fellow costume fighter was a spy, and leaving him to wonder who had killed them. This has took Hollis a long time to realize to accept it as a mystery.

Another problem that contributed to the downfall of costumed adventurers was the absence of costumed criminals. These criminals turned in their costumes along with their careers, but some opted for a less extroverted and more profitable approach as "ordinary men in business suits" who ran drug and prostitution rackets.

By March of 1960, Doctor Manhattan came, whose presence make the term "masked hero" and "costume adventurer" obsolete. Hollis recalled how the public reacted with feelings of disbelief of an actual superhuman being with incredible powers. The presence of Manhattan made Hollis to conclude that the regular heroes are replaced. In the closing months of 1958, Ozymandias first appear after busting a major opium and heroin smuggling racket, and earned a reputation amongst the criminal fraternity for his boundless and implacable intelligence and a large degree of athletic prowess.

Hollis first met Manhattan and Ozymandias during a Red Cross relief in June of 1960. His encounter with Manhattan was described as a strange experience which lasts for a short time until it almost seems normal. It was then that Hollis decided to retire his heroics and opened his own auto repair business. Soon, he was visited by a young admirer who proposed to borrow his identity as the new Nite Owl. After visiting his admirer's home and seeing his technology that will be use on the war on crime, Hollis permitted. Hollis also learned of Sally Jupiter's daughter, who was also carrying on her mother's legacy. Hollis conclude that the super-hero has become a part of American life for better, or for worse.

REVIEW

Tales of the Black Freighter is still the thing about Watchmen that I don’t like. I understand “why it’s there”, but it doesn’t make it more entertaining to me.

There is one thing that I can take home of that, and it’s the relationship between the news vendor and the young reader. When I started reading comics, newsstands was the only accessible place for kids to get them. As a result, you would cultivate some sort of friendship with your local news vendor. That is very similar to what we’ll see during Watchmen. It is interesting that this comic book came out through the direct market (I assume because of its content, quality and lack of bar code), so that relationship is a bit ironic.

Narration in this issue is sometimes coming from a comic-book, and other times it’s other people’s dialogues. Usually when people talk, we see something that tends of be the opposite of what they’re saying.

This is the first time we see full frontal nudity in the comic. According to the annotated version, this may very well be the first time in a mainstream comic-book... but I hardly doubt that. Even for mainstream, this is 1986.

To be continued...

#alan moore #dave gibbons #john higgins #dc comics #comics #review #1986 #modern age #watchmen #doctor manhattan #vertigo comics

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

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Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve: Preordained Position

Summary- 5.8k Curtis Everett x You. Your boyfriend got you tickets to a charity Haunted House, and the special features include immersed scenes from the movie of your choice. Once you hear that the one and only Curtis Everett from Snowpiercer is a part of the choices, you just have to go. Prepare for a night of apocalyptic fun!

Warnings- Brutal Killing, Drug Use, Non Con/Dub Con, Swears. Read at your own risk.

A/N- Written for @jtargaryen18 Haunted House 2020. Be sure to read the warnings for each chapter. The page dividers were made by @firefly-graphics , I highly suggest checking out her work, its really excellent and a bit of everything to choose from. The manor described in this story, Rose Red, is a piece of work from Stephen King, and I highly suggest watching the tv mini series, if you can find it. Perfect for this time of year. Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for being my Beta in this project. Happy Reading and Haunting! 😈🎃 🌹

Chapter 2 / Rose Red’s All Hallows Eve Masterlist

“Why the fuck we keeping her?” Edgar sneered at you. You swallowed and looked away feeling a little more exposed now it was just the five of you left. Edgar, Grey, Nam, Curtis and of course you. Somehow you've made it this far.

Curtis searched through the room, but found little of much use, his boot pushing aside children's bodies while he went through desks and bins. Straightening, he responded finally to Edgar’s question.

“Because she's useful, Wilford’s pet. Even if he sent her to the tail end, he hasn't lost track of her. If we kill the bitch now, what leverage do we have? Besides, she gave us information. Before we came in this car, she told me to watch out.”

You looked down and shrugged a bit. “I didn't know it was going to be like this.”

“Well, we could have come out of it a lot worse. I should have listened.” Curtis paused for a moment at Tonya and reached down to close the woman's eyes, sighing at the lost members of their group once more. Moving to a stand and grabbing a hold of the handle of his ax, he nodded to Nam. “We move forward.”

This time when Curtis jerked you to his side, it wasn't as rough, checking your shoulder with prods of his fingers. “This needs to be sealed off or else you are going to get weak and pass out. I'm not dragging you along.”

You could already feel the pain and blood loss starting to tire you out. “Next car, it’s medical, dentistry… other stuff.” You try to remember, but it's getting hazier now, doubting yourself after all the differences you’d already encountered compared to what you’d expected.

“Medic. Good. We can get them to patch us up.” Curtis nodded as he gave you a gentle push forward. Nam opened the next door and you stepped through wondering what hell you were all going to find this time.

Thankfully, it was nice, much nicer than any of the other carriages you have been in. Wide open rooms lined the sides of a red carpet, and Curtis peeked in each one in turn as you walked down the middle. Edgar and Grey remained at the rear, clearly on guard should anything pop out. But nothing happened, in fact the people filling this cart seemed to ignore each of you completely, which suited you fine. Curtis paused at a room which contained what looked like a doctor treating a patient, and steered you in there. For the first time since you’d entered this cart someone seemed to notice you two.

“I’m with a patient.” The doctor remarked, pulling away with a needle he had been injecting the man's face with. You couldn't help the wince you gave at the man's now unnatural looking face, much like those grinning kids that would haunt you probably for the rest of your life.

Curtis obviously didn't give a shit, using his axe to point at the door. “Get out before I carve your heart out.” The simple threat from this menacing man left the patient scrambling to get past everyone, scoffing when he brushed against Edgar and wiping the invisible dirt from his shirt. Edgar made like he was going to throw his own weapon, lining him up. “Be so easy ya know’ Just one fling.”

“Edgar get your ass in here and let's get you fixed up.” Curtis grunted as he eased his coat off, and then you could see where his shirt had been shredded, unaware of just how much damage he had taken.

At first concern bloomed through your chest, worried at what you were seeing. The doctor tutted as he started to patch up Curtis’s back, muttering under his breath. Then you started to remember this man kept you alive just cause you were useful, raped you because he thought you were nothing more then Wilford’s whore and your concern melted away as fast as it had appeared.

“Get over here Little Bird and let him look at your shoulder.” Curtis snapped when you were glaring at him, as he pushed off the seat. Just as he was moving to a stand, the doctor's hand whipped out from his jacket pocket and stabbed a needle into Curtis’s neck, pushing whatever was in the vial into his system.

With a yell Curtis whipped around and grabbed at the doctor's neck, his fingers digging into the column of his throat, but he started to collapse. Behind you the same thing was happening to Grey, Edgar and Nam, all caught unaware by guards who had seemingly appeared from nowhere, each man crumbling down into a heap on the floor. The doctor wrenched Curtis’s hand off him, and stepped away, tossing the used needle aside. You backed into a corner as the militia men came to collect each one of your captors, dragging them away. You tried to follow as they took Curtis, but the doctor stopped you sharply. “Oh I don't think so Y/N.”

“How do you know my name?” You snapped, trying to wrench away from him. This frail but surprisingly strong man smirked.

“Wilford already filled us in.” He stretched your arm out and used a prepared needle to stab you, even while you tried struggling.

“Where is he? He put me in this place” You tried to get answers, wriggling to get him to release you, but whatever he injected immediately hit you. This time when you started to go under, it wasn't nearly as painful as last time and the last thing you heard was the doctor's calming voice.

“If you survive this next couple of cars, you will meet with him.”

And then it was nothing but darkness, blessed darkness and you hoped to stay there for the rest of the time.

You woke to hands pawing at you, hot lips on your neck and your body being tossed back and forth as parts of your clothing got pulled off. When your eyes sprang open, you seemed to be in a pit, loud people standing above you looking down at you, laughing at your expense as they stared at you like you were an animal in a zoo. They started pouring bottles of cheap champagne over you till you were spluttering from being unable to breath without inhaling the alcohol, and they sprinkled you with something foul smelling, Even blowing the powder down at your face forcing you to inhale it. What the fuck? You try rubbing your face when everything starts fading in and out of focus, a slurred giggle bubbling from your chest. “W-what?”

Suddenly Edgar pushed you back, joined by Grey while they both jerked your pants down and you squealed in shock at the two men, each one wild eyed and giving that unnatural grin that scared you. You tried twisting away from them, desperately attempting to claw your way away. “No, no not again.” you sobbed. Just as you had almost pulled yourself free from the pit, a laughing front ender shoved their foot against your forehead and pushed you back into Grey and Edgar’s arms where they started grinding their aching bodies into your ass, hip, wherever they could while they hotly panted against your face. Whatever they gave you was making you lose your will to fight slowly, and Edgar rubbed a handful back under your nose so you breathed it in once more. Your eyes swept down to see that it was kronole and you suddenly realized that was the reason your mind was so foggy. As that thought broke through the mist in your brain you tried pulling away but to no avail.

Grey’s hands pulled you down to lay in the pit all the time the circle of people above remained jeering at your impeded state while he rutted through his clothing against you.

You were about to be raped again and couldn't stop it. In fact you were getting to the point you didn't care, the more the kronole messed with your senses. You went limp, the two men manipulating you back and forth between them, bites to your neck and shoulders, hands grabbing your breasts through your bra…

And then, your addled mind registered a roar of rage which came from somewhere above, and a dark shadow loomed over the group standing around your pit. You shrunk back in fear, as Grey and Edgar looked up in surprise.

Curtis dropped into the pit, clearly out of his mind too from kronole, but he was far more intimidating. “She's mine.” he snarled, and slammed both men away from you. He grabbed your hips, and jerked you against him, and his hand moved into your hair, ripping your head back viciously enough to make you scream. “Just proving my point, you’re Wilford’s whore rubbing against these boys.” He bit against your lips and pushed you back to sprawl against the ground. Grey was the first to recover, going for Curtis in a rage for being interrupted when Curtis whipped around, grabbing Grey’s head and giving a vicious wrench, twisting it till it jerked at an unnatural angle before he tossed his body out of the pit. Edgar came next, eyeing Curtis as he circled him, looking to attack. You tried to pull yourself up the wall when Curtis wrenched you back into him.

“You couldn't get away last time, you're not getting away this time.” Above the drugged onlookers cheered, breaking more kronole and sprinkling it down over the three of you. Curtis inhaled the powder deeply once more as it settled all over his face like a dusting of ash, and his pupils blew almost black suddenly. Dropping you, he twisted and attacked Edgar, the two men unevenly matched and equally out of their minds. Curtis had the upper hand being bigger and he ended up crashing Edgar's head over and over into the steel side of the pit, once his head was completely crushed in, he let him go and turned towards you.

Curtis was nothing but a kronole crazed demon now his face covered in the green dust of the drug. The lighting above continued shifting back and forth as more people packed in to watch, but your depraved audience faded out as the man came stalking towards you…

And then that fog descended on your brain once more and you realized you didn’t want to stop him. You were a slave to the heat rising in your chest and the clenching of your core at wanting this man to fuck you, needing him to fuck you. You scrambled over to him and leaped to wrap your arms and legs around him, grinding yourself into his tented pants, your nails digging into his jacket. You knew that if you didn’t fuck him right now, you would have to someone else. He slammed you into the wall, crushing your chest against his hard one, clearly experiencing the same madness you were, that driving need to pound into you. Edgar and Grey had done half the work before you were drugged, but now Curtis and his dirty clothes crushing the air from you was making you hotter, wetness coating the front of his pants as you gave a grind.

“Fuck me.” You finally hoarse out while trying to open the front of his pants.

Curtis grasped your wrist and easily pinned them back, spitting in your face. “Mine, that pussy belongs to me. Fuck those boys, and Fuck Wilford.”

You nodded and arched to give him room to get his cock out, causing you to look up, temporarily blinded once more as the partying people started to pour and throw random stuff down at you, garbage, more kronole dust, pouring that cheap champagne. But you didn't feel the stuff bouncing off you, nor did you hear the jeers at how nasty the tail enders were. No, all you could feel was Curtis as he slammed into you. So fast and hard, that you locked your legs harder around his hip, his grunts at how you were so tight around him were nothing but whooshing air right out of his lungs. Setting a brutal pace, fucking you into the wall, he used your body harshly, bruising you and you didn’t care. You didn't care that he was fisting his hand in your hair, or that his teeth were sinking into your neck and shoulders while his grunts matched each slamming slap on your body against the wall.

For you it was satisfaction at the burn, the hard rage he was forcing into your body. Your eyes rolled back while he arched himself to bite and kiss on your breasts, marking them with broken skin and lapping the blood that started to seep down your cleavage. It felt good, all so good that you couldn't hold yourself back and started cumming on his cock with no warning.

“Curtis- fuck I cant.” you started as he angled your hips, dragging his cock through clenching muscles and bottoming out. Those grinds against your clit, started you right back up again.

“Mine.” was all he said, his pupils still black soulless orbs, a grin that scared the shit out of you and you could do nothing but hang on once more as he used your body, marking you every which way, forcing you open around his cock over and over till you were ragdoll limp between him and the wall until he brought you off again, crying cause it was too much.

Then he finally jerked into you, his cum bringing you back aware at the soreness of your body, the sweaty ache and rawness where you were rubbed against him, between your thighs, sticky with a sharp ache. Your mind cleared, suddenly aware of where you were an what had happened and you took a shaky breath, your head sagging back against the wall as you fought back tears of despair. Curtis slowed, panting against your shoulder, and when he lifted away, those blue eyes you were familiar with were back, confusion as to what had happened was creased in every single line of his face, and he let your hands go, numb as they fell. You swiped your trembling hand over his kronole covered face quickly to wipe it away and you jerked his shirt over his nose. “Don't inhale anymore!” You pleaded and he pulled away, his hands falling to your hips to hold you standing as your legs were shaking.

“We have to get out of here. What's the next car?” He yanked his jacket off and swept it around you, covering your mouth and nose with the collar as you tried to figure out how you two were supposed to get out and through the people, who you now realized were also out of there fucking minds from the kronole. Curtis didn't seem to hesitate though, approaching the edge, he grabbed someone's legs and yanked, sending them sprawling and laughing, pulling them over the edge and kicking at their heads. “They are so fucking out of it from kronole and alcohol that they won’t put up to much of a fight.” He kept going, smashing people down till he could crawl out, shouldering others out of the way and reaching with his hand to grasp you. You tried not to step on anyone and held onto his hand as your legs were grabbed, one of the first people recovered enough to make a snatch at you. You screamed, kicking out your legs while Curtis pulled you up. People started to crowd against him, jostling him and also grabbing at you as he managed to get you over the edge and as you straightened up you realized they were trying to push you both back in.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” they started chanting while Curtis kept you against his chest, pushing you away from the pit.

Now you two were alone, weaponless, and being crowded in a mob of frontenders yelling obscenities. “Come on fuckers, we want a show.” Someone grasped at your coat and yanked you into the mob of people, you tried screaming Curtis' name but you were jostled too quickly, shifting from person to person, and you could see Curtis pushing through, trying to keep an eye on you as he split the crowd apart.

One thing that the frontenders were not was fighters. Curtis was easily able to shove and punch his way through. You ended up getting slammed into a giant steel door with a W on it, your head colliding painfully making you see stars and you were just coming around as someone was trying to pry open your coat. You slapped at him, and kicked him away, pulling it back closed. Curtis soon joined you, roaring for people to get back which for whatever reason they did, shrinking away enough so he couldn't hit them, making threatening moves to come forward again though hoping to intimidate him. The door behind you creaked, and you grabbed the back of Curtis’s jacket to pull him through, sure that you two would be safe.

The next room was nothing more than computers. You remembered this part of the movie, realizing that you were near the front and hopefully the end of this nightmare. Once Curtis was through, you slammed the door shut, pressing your forehead against it with a sob of fear while the crowd rushed forward, feeling the steel door shake with the force.

“Were safe, for now.” you said as you moved to straighten, and someone other than Curtis spoke.

“Yes, finally I’ve been waiting for a few days now for you two.”

A shiver racked your body as ice dread filled your veins and you looked over your shoulder to see Curtis shaking too. But not in the same way you were, instead he was trembling in adrenaline and rage at the man sitting so calmly before you. Wilford smiled at the two of you as he brought a fragile cup of steaming tea to his lips and slurped it loudly, smacking his lips. “I will say though, it's been a hell of a show. Sit sit! Coffee, tea? How about a night cap?”

You tug on Curtis’s sleeve to try to get his attention, but he's hyper fixated on Wilford, shaking you off. He storms forward to get his hands on him when Wilford pulls a gun out of his robe, aiming it for Curtis.

“Another step Everett, and I will not hesitate. SIT.”

With a look of absolute hatred on his face, begrudgingly Curtis did as told, whilst you remained still pressed against the door, feeling the slams of bodies pound on the door. “Come Y/N my dear, you have nothing to be worried about.” Wilford said in a manner so happy you wanted to scream at him.

Curtis's accusing and hurt eyes turned towards you after Wilford said that, and you shook your head at him.

“I swear Curtis, it isn't like that.” although why you were apologizing to your rapist captor you had no idea.

“I fucking know what it was like” Curtis spat “This was all a set up wasn't it?”

Wilford gave a chuckle as he poured liquor into fancy glasses, bringing them to the table.

“Well yes, it was a setup Curtis. But I assure you Y/N didn't know.” He pushed the glass to Curtis, and his icy blue eyes twinkled in joy. “But this is the first time you've gotten this far in a while.”

His head whipped back to Wilford. “Gotten this far?”

“Oh yes, you don't seem to like staying in your preordained position Curtis.” Wilford sighs as he finishes his drink. You listened intently, this too wasn't right. “But such is life… or death? More like this is our death. So, time for you to return.” Wilford gave a snap of his fingers, and Curtis stiffened, moving to a stand almost robotically.

“Curtis?” you whimpered out a bit seeing him stride back towards you, everything you knew about him was missing as you gazed up at him. He brushed past you, his hand cupped your face, thumb sweeping back and forth over your cheek before whispering. “I'm sorry…” he whispered in such a broken way, your mouth just dropped, gaping at him. Gone was the rage and fight, leaving just sorrow on his face and he slipped out the door back into the crowd. You spun around to watch him disappear into the mob, Wilford watching your reaction curiously. The door slammed shut suddenly, making you jump and spin around to face the only person left with you in the room. “Why is he sorry? I don't understand what is going on, any of this. Why is he just leaving me here with you?!” your voice breaks as you're saying this, so close to just melting down at the stress and fear that was taking a toll on your body.

“He’s sorry because he knows exactly what this place is and that he caused it. You see, before Curtis was this tailend leader, He was head of a construction crew for Rose Red, back in 1903.” Wilford seemed to struggle with remembering the date. “1904? Anyways, he was laying the foundation of Rose Red, while I was honeymooning with Ellen. I didn't want her to see any of this half finished, so we were touring across the world. Curtis had one major deadline, to finish our house in two years. I received telegraph after telegraph of nothing but issues from him. Working conditions were subpar, men were getting injured or killed in accidents of construction. The demands were unfair, pay not enough.” Wilford rolled his eyes listing the complaints, you were just listening in silence still in shock at what happened. “Finally I had enough, sent back that he was to be removed from the ground by authorities and another hired to take his place. Simple, correct?” He asked as if you were to answer. After a few seconds of those icy blue eyes staring at you he went back to the story. “Curtis thought he had all this ‘responsibility' to his men.’ Something in him snapped, and that bastard tried to stop the train I had bringing supplies in from the harbor. Curtis didn't just stop the train…” Wilford gave a chuckle of disbelief. “No, his attempts derailed the train where it sits now. Screeching metal coming to a stop, and killing hundreds of men onboard, himself included. That day is when Rose Red came to life, all that death, all at once stains the earth, the blood soaking into the dirt while they perished in the smoke and flames, trapped in steel boxes. When something that tragic happens, it stains the earth, trapped energy that allows hell on earth.”

You shook your head in disbelief, snapping out. “Impossible, whatever this is… why didn't Curtis just end you, we made it. This sick game you're playing with us. That's all this can be. I paid for an interactive experience, but not this.”

“Whatever this is, it’s your fate little girl, accept it.” Wilford cut you off with a snap, smoothing his hands over the fine silk of his robe. “And don't worry about Curtis Y/N, he will return safely to the tail end, and start all over again, that is the way it has to be, that is what fate Rose Red wants for him.”

You could feel bile threatening to burn its way up your throat, you couldn't let yourself believe what he was saying, as it was simply impossible. These things didn't exist, they were books and movies, tales told to tell children to scare them into behaving. Ghosts? Haunted Houses. Your mind echoed Bryce’s words earlier that night ‘You know that shit isn't real’. So what was Wilford playing at? You finally snapped, giggling, turning into laughter. Wilford ignored you, till you started screaming at him.

“YOU GO GET STACEY, CAUSE I WANT THE FUCK OFF THIS TRAIN, NOW.” your voice kept getting shriller with each word. “WHEN BRYCE HEARS ABOUT THIS, YOU CAN BET HIS GRANDFATHER WILL HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY ABOUT THIS CHARITY FUNCTION.”

Wilford arched one brow and chuckled, moving to a stand, and wrapping his fingers around the second untouched glass. “Stacey? Y/n, you know what you saw. Wasn't Stacy’s face smashed in?” You closed your eyes, pushing down the image, chanting in your mind, not real, not real, all pretend. “Matter of factually Y/N, you have Bryce to thank for your active participation in Snowpiercer.”

Your eyes snap open at this, narrowing on Wilford “Bryce? What does Bryce have to do with whatever this all is?” you’re confused at why your boyfriend would be mentioned and you slide along the wall to keep away from Wilford as he comes closer to you till you bump into the table and fall into Curtis’s seat.

“Why everything Y/N. You see, Rose Red Manor is indeed haunted. My wife Ellen, that is her domain. Your boyfriend happened to break in looking for some artifacts I came back with when we were on our honeymoon in Africa. They would be considered valuable now, but my grandson didn't care to have my collection so they remained in the manor. Bryce though, well he admired the pieces, wanted to study them.” Wilford gave a shake of his head with a sigh. “Bryce was of course killed by Ellen. Her rage towards me, makes her banish men's souls to the ground.”

And then your mind recalled the story, Rimbauer infected his wife with some unknown disease while they were on their exotic honeymoon, that was why the rumors went that men who entered Rose Red were gruesomely killed, where women simply disappeared to never be seen again…

“Bryce isn't dead, I saw him. I talked to him tonight.” You shook your head

“Yes, he's very much alive now Dear, but he wasn’t for a time. His body was stuck in the house, ready to rot right where Ellen killed him. But she banished his soul from the house, and left Bryce's soul wandering the grounds, he happened to stumble upon my part of Rose Red, what luck.” Wilford sipped from the glass, swirling it a bit. “You know I miss the real stuff?” shrugging he set it down. “Bryce happened to find me, begging to be brought back, and would give anything to return to the living. I had no interest, all that matters is Rose Red has fresh souls to feed off of. But your boyfriend made a proposition that I was intrigued with. An innocent soul in his place. Do you know how valuable an innocent soul is? So much more to give, cruel I know, the unfairness of using something so pure and innocent to keep his parasite of a house alive. But I must do what can to keep my Ellen happy in life or death. It is my fault she has to live eternity like this.” His cold fingers traced your face, you wrenching back out of his touch.

“No… he wouldn't do that, he wouldn’t sacrifice me…” you whispered, your throat closing and your heart slamming in your chest. And then the wave of realization crashed over you. of course he would. Bryce was the most selfish man you've ever met.

Wilford tsked a bit. “Well one innocent soul isn't enough to feed Rose Red, to give the house enough energy to keep building like Ellen wants. The house must keep growing, Ellen’s soul would die and fade away if she couldn't keep adding more to her collection. I told Bryce two innocent souls, delivered by tonight, and he could leave alive and free. But don't worry, Bryce will pay eventually, you can't make a deal with a devil and expect to walk away untainted.”

Not Stacey too. You screamed internally. No wonder Bryce insisted you take her as well.

“I must be asleep, a nightmare.” You spit out, your hands shaking as you rubbed at them, trying to wipe off the dried blood, hoping it would wake you up, that all this was some kind of crazy your mind made up. Wilford almost looked sympathetic when he spoke again.

“I’m afraid not Dear. Bryce told me about how you loved this Snowpiercer story, so I figured if you're going to be condemned to this, might as well be enjoyable.”

“I don't want to be condemned! Please how can I get out of this?” You started to figure out ways to bargain, like Bryce apparently did. But Wilford responded with a mere shake of the head.

“Ahh, that won't be happening. Innocent souls are much stronger. Rose Red can keep building now… many years on you alone. Ellen will be much pleased. Curtis also likes you as well, he was always one of my favorite victims of Rose Red.” Wilford leaned back in his chair. “Since he's banished to an eternity of hell, he deserves someone to make it easier. His own little songbird singing him hope. Any other girl I’ve sent him, he always ends up murdering her before he gets cut down.”

You were whipping your head back and forth, pushing to a stand to start looking for a way out, anyway to get off the train, and Wilford just watched you for a moment processing all that he was saying.

“If it's any help, you will be joined with Stacey again. Maybe your next trip to the front, you will manage to keep her alive.” Wilford moved to a stand as you tried to open the door, yanking on it to open, when he twisted you to face him, your bottom lip trembling as you looked up at him.

“Please… I don't deserve this.” you whimpered.

“You don’t Dear, but you're going to endure it as we all must. Very few victims of Rose Red actually deserve the fate that has befallen them.” He plucked the Rose from his breast pocket from earlier and laced it through your hair while you trembled, tears rolling down your face as you started to accept the truth of it all.

“You're not going to let me off this train, are you?” your voice trembled with defeat, and Wilford shook his head.

“No, you now belong to Curtis Dear. His one reward for his life of hell. Although I will leave you with a parting gift. Your memory will remain so you can help him make his way through the Cars to the end. Save you from some of the pain of being brutally killed.” fear washed over your face and Wilford smiled gently to reassure you, although there was no way it was going to make you feel any better, be less afraid. “I will be seeing you again soon Dear.” Wilford said softly before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, your eyes closing in defeat.

You opened to darkness, gasping as you tried to understand where you were. It was intensely cold again, and a dim light came into your view, a tiny fire from a match. A familiar face loomed from the darkness to rake cerulean eyes over you, his head tilting as he looked you up and down.

“Wilford sent us a present.”

No, not again. You think as you're dropping to your knees to beg Curtis not to hurt you. “Please, have mercy on me.”

“Mercy? Were we ever shown any mercy? I don't know what Wilford was thinking Little Bird, sending you back to me with this innocent act of yours. But don’t worry I will make you sing.”

And then he gave a shake of his wrist, killing the match and plunging you both back into the darkness.

Your hell started all over again.

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