#Toothless has the most elegant eyes

[guess-i-do-art]

I love book Toothless. He’s so unhinged 😭

David Tennant’s delivery of the line “you can’t eat the cat, I like him!” was PERFECT

[adamwatchesmovies]

How to Train Your Dragon (2010)

It’s been over 10 years since the release of How to Train Your Dragon. Unfortunately, this means you can’t catch it the way it was meant to be seen - on the big screen and in 3D - but it still dazzles. This animated film has it all. A great story of friendship, stunning visuals, memorable character designs, an instantly memorable score, terrific voice acting and a great message. It doesn’t matter how old you are, it becomes an instant favorite.

Much to his father’s disappointment, teenaged Viking Hiccup (perfectly voiced by Jay Baruchel) is hardly the dragon killer his village needs him to be. When Hiccup knocks down a Night Fury - the most elusive and deadly of all dragon species - he finds that he cannot kill it, and instead befriends "Toothless".

We've seen stories about sons rebelling against their parents because they would rather dance ballet, sing, or do anything other than do what they're expected to do before. How to Train Your Dragon differentiates itself first and foremost with its visuals. No dragon we've ever seen looks like the ones in this film. Taking inspiration from the book of the same name by Cressida Cowell, the animators went to town on the creature designs, which range from the two-headed Hideous Zippleback - one head spews flammable gas, the other, sparks - to the bumblebee-like Gronckle. All of them are memorable, as are Hiccups classmates. You’re like the overenthusiastic Fishlegs (Christopher Mintz-Plasse), excitedly looking at these beasts and trying to figure out what makes them tick. I predict in about five to ten years, we’ll be seeing highly detailed and articulated action figures of the creatures in this film sold to adults who grew up with this franchise. That’s how iconic they are.

As you can deduce from the title, Hiccup and Toothless eventually form a close bond and our hero becomes the first dragon rider. The first scene in which they take flight together is pure movie magic. The emotions bubble up inside as if it’s you soaring through the air for the first time. Even on a flat screen, the way they zip alongside cliffs, through rocky formations and above the water is so exciting - particularly with the score by John Powell - it threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You recognize the emotional weight of this moment and the visuals are incredible.

The emotional power of Hiccup and Toothless' flight comes from the character work. Directors Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois have made the genius choice to give a lot of cat-lie attributes to Toothless. He’s effortlessly loveable but also a little wild - if you’ve ever owned a cat, you know what I mean. You’ve seen how Hiccup and his father are. It’s not that Stoick the Vast (Gerard Butler) is a bad father, it’s that they just have nothing in common, whereas Hiccup and Toothless? they get along but they do so well. It breaks your heart knowing they’re from two worlds and that there’s no way this is going to work out. Training with Toothless means Hiccup becomes more knowledgeable about dragons than any other Viking. At his school, he’s acing every course, which breaks down the barrier between him and his father. It raises your spirits but creates a dark cloud on the horizon.

In the end, the screenplay by the directors (who co-wrote with Will Davies) finds a surprisingly elegant way to give the audience the happy ending they want and deliver a big action scene that brings together everything we’ve learned about dragons. It’s revealed that every dragon has been stealing food for the biggest dragon of all, a Godzilla-sized mega beast that will eat anything. The genius of this revelation is that it recontextualizes every dragon attack. If only this big bully were gone, then everyone could live harmoniously. In Independence Day: Resurgence, The Great Wall and similar films, this “Queen” that can be defeated to save the day feels artificial. Not here. In hindsight, it all makes sense.

It's one of the best cast animated pictures in recent memory. Christopher Mintz-Plasse as the big, but squeaky-voiced dragon nerd Fishlegs, America Ferrera as Astrid, Hiccup’s rival and possible romantic interest and the other Vikings are terrific. Even these secondary characters are memorable, making you eager to see more. Then we get to the ending, which is mature and somber. How to Train Your Dragon is much more than the sum of its big, action-packed sequences of aerial pyrotechnics, dizzying flying scenes and narrow getaways. It's packed with emotion, action, and fun. I can’t recommend How to Train Your Dragon enough. (On Blu-ray, April 15, 2022)

[dp-medio-muertos]

The Many Names of Death (in México)

(banner images by @andrei-skelepina)

Her most well-known name is “La Catrina”, an elegant, upper-class lady, wearing a hat full of feathers to represent the social inequality rampant in the early 1910s when José Guadalupe Posada drew her (“La Calavera Garbancera”, had been her real name at first [Source ESP / ENG]). But from then on, this identity became forever associated with Death. La Muerte.

She takes you whether you’re rich or poor, “good” or “evil”, it doesn’t matter. Whatever we built in life stays in the world of the living, as we take nothing to our graves. Hence why she’s “La Igualadora” or “La Democrática” because she evens any ridiculous score you thought you had in life.

How funny these names came from a more modern era when the Nahuas/Mexicas believed anyone who died a natural death could liberate their soul after several trials to the Lord and Lady of Death (Mictlantecuhtli & Mictecacíhuatl) to acquire a new form of existence in the underworld, in the Mictlán. (Source ESP / ENG)

But despite Death being amoral, uninterested in what we did in life, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy a good chase in later representations. She’s now shown as someone to run away from, to deceive, to escape. In the end, the game always ends the same. Her thin and bony appearance is seen often in poems (as we mentioned in our Calaveritas post here) dedicated to her cunning, soul-hunting skills. But don’t be fooled: “La Calaca Tilica y Flaca” (the frail, skinny skeleton) is anything but weak.

The hairless skull gave her the name of “La Pelona” or “La Calva” (the bald one), while others wrote odes to her lack of teeth, calling her “La Chimuela” or “La Sin Dientes” as names that reveal her toothless smile. Others steer away from her stench, foul and rotten. “La Apestosa” or “La Hedionda” (the smelly one) they’ll call her while giving her the stink eye.

And again these newer denominations don’t steer too far from older roots and sound similar to how the Mayans from Yucatán referred to Ah Puch as “The Stinky one”, one of the names of the lord of death and disease, ruler of Xibalbá (the underworld… yes, Xibalbá is a place, not a deity) [Source: ESP / ENG)

But now we don’t talk about trials and tribulations, though we do talk about Death in our everyday struggles. “La Chingada” or “La Fregada” (the ruined one) we say colloquially when we feel like it takes us to a darker place when things are not going our way. (“Me lleva la chingada”, “me siento de la fregada”, we exclaim even when something gone wrong won’t call for our real demise.) We even have sayings such as “no hay que cargar con el muerto” when we don’t want to carry an old burden.

To die can be to “petatearse” (lay to rest on a petate or resting mat), to “chupar faros” (take a smoke before being shot), we say someone “(lo/la/le) cargó el payaso” (was carried by the clown, as riders in the rodeo when they got hit by the bull); someone who dies, “estiró la pata” (stretched a rigid foot), “colgó los tenis” (hung their sneakers on the lightpost cables, as people do when someone dies in some neighborhoods), or “felpó” (to refer to torn clothing).

But death can be treated as something more respectful, with fancier names: “La Dama de la Guadaña” (the Lady of the Scythe), “Doña Huesos” (Mrs. Bones), “Doña Osamenta” (Mrs. Skull), while there’s some room to show affection: “La Amada Inmóvil” (the still lover), “La Malquerida” (the badly-loved one) or “La Niña Blanca” (the white little girl).

There’s plenty of respect and some even call her the Santa Muerte (Holy Death), adoring her like a saint, asking for favors, for protection, and honoring her in many ways, mainly in barrios like Tepito in which she even has shrines and temples dedicated to her. (Source ESP / ENG)

No matter what we call her, how we portray her in art or poetry, how our sayings or legends go, there’s this sense of familiarity with Death, as if she were someone we’ve always known and can invite for a drink or have a nice chat with, goof around, show your sorrows.

In the end, as we say “Al diablo la muerte mientras nos dure la vida.” (To hell with death while life lasts.)

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 13

Chapter 1     Chapter 12

“You ready for this?” Dick asked flashing a charming, boyish grin that Marinette imagined many people had trouble saying no to.  She was not one of those people.  If she could say no to Adrien’s most charming, sappy, kitten eyes trained on her and Tikki’s most wide eyed, imploring, big blue eyes begging for cookies after a ‘grueling’ day wrangling the other kwami, she could say no to Dick’s blue eyes.  It wasn’t even a contest.

However, she currently had no interest in saying no. She was actually really excited to swing on the trapeze with him… or alone, really at all.  A bright smile spread across her face as she took in their trapeze rig.  She’d never been on a trapeze, but she was hoping it would be like swinging on her yoyo. She and Adrien had put their superhero days behind them.  They still wore their miraculous and of course she still had her guardian duties, but they didn’t transform anymore, preferring to move on from the painful memories and impossible balance.  They loved being heroes but the strain it put on relationships, the lies, the responsibility… they never regretted their decision.  

Wonder Woman knew how to get in touch with them should their services ever be absolutely necessary, but short of that, they were out.  So this was the closest she was going to get to that feeling ever again, short of a world ending event, in which case, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy it anyway.

But this, she looked at the rigging again, this was going to be great.  She turned to Dick, her bright smile spreading even wider and her eyes gleaming. “Absolutely!”  She gripped her bag tighter then actually took in what Dick was wearing, tight tank top and bike shorts, and looked down at her own street clothes in realization.  “Well, I mean not right now.  I need to change,” she motioned to herself, “but as soon as I change I will be.”

Dick nodded and opened his mouth to say something but Bruce stepped in before he could say anything.  “Good to see you again, Marinette.”  He leaned in to do a la bise.  He mentally congratulated himself for their first not awkward greeting. It was definite progress.  “Let me show you where you can change.”

Marinette nodded and walked in the direction he indicated.  She looked back over her shoulder to smile at Dick, but he was already turned around and focusing on checking the rigging.  “How was New York?” Bruce asked, bringing her attention back to the two of them.

“New York was good.  It was a good meeting.  Mrs. Bourgeois wanted to speak with me personally about styling the shoot. I was originally scheduled to speak with an associate editor.  I can’t imagine what changed in the last three weeks or so,” she joked with a smile at M. Wayne.

Bruce sighed and gave a resigned nod.  “Yeah, once people find out, they can change the way they treat you.”

Marinette nodded, looking away in thought.  “It was so strange.  I’ve known her for years and all of a sudden she was trying to be nice.”  She shuddered slightly.  “That woman has never been nice a day in her life.  Honestly, one of the creepiest feelings I’ve ever had.”

Bruce grimaced at Marinette’s first brush with being treated differently.  “Sorry about that.  I should warn you… we should sit down sometime and discuss security and social changes.  People are going to do that now, want to get close to you because of your name.  Not that you aren’t worth knowing without it!” he rushed to assure her once he realize what he said.  “I just mean…”

“I understand,” Marinette cut him off kindly. “I have quite a few famous friends or friends with famous parents.  I’ve seen how people try to get close to them because of that.  I’ve even had people try to get close to me in order to get closer to them.”  She rolled her eyes at the memories of the desperate people trying to flatter her and just dropping in mention of Adrien or Jagged.

Bruce looked at her sympathetically.  “Sorry you had to deal with that.”

Marinette laughed at his apology.  She laughed loud enough for it to echo off the walls of the hallway.  The absurdity of thinking that was something to apologize for.  That those experiences even registered on her hurt scale.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  None of that was your fault.  They weren’t even bad.  It was something for us to laugh about.”

Bruce gave her a small smile.  “Hopefully it stays that way.”  He stopped walking and motioned to a room.  “This is your room.”

Marinette waited for the ‘while you’re here’ or ‘while you’re changing’, but they never came.  And there was something off with the way he said it, a gravity that didn’t belong there.  She looked between Bruce and the room a few times and pushed the door open.  Like the rest of the house, the room was luxurious. Only the finest furniture and decorations.  The room was filled with pink, silver, grey, and white.  Everything coordinated and elegant.  She was almost afraid to walk into the room lest she damage any of it.

She walked into the room timidly and tried to take in all the details.  She scanned the room and gasped, her body going rigid, as her eyes rested on a crib against the far wall.  She walked slowly toward the crib, almost like she was in a trance.  Her eyes ran over the crib.  There were still stuffed animals in it.  It was almost like it hadn’t been touched in decades and except for the lack of dust in the room, she would believe it.

“I couldn’t…” Bruce started coming up behind her, “I could never bring myself to tear it down.”  Marinette looked up at him wide eyed.  She was too shocked to say anything.  Her eyes moved to the bookshelf next to the crib.  It was filled with children’s books and baby toys. “I can… I mean we can change it if you’d like.”  His face wrinkled as he forced the words out.  “I know it isn’t exactly,” he paused looking for the words. “I know it isn’t exactly an ideal room for a young woman.”

He sighed and looked around the room.  He made his way over to a nightstand and picked up the framed picture standing on it.  He sat on the bed still holding the frame.  The luxurious bed sagged under him as if it was accustomed to his weight there.  “For a while, it was the only part of you I still had.”

Marinette looked back at him, her lips parting in surprise at his admission.  “Did I spend time here?” she asked quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Bruce nodded.  “You did.  The grey cat stuffie was your favorite, MaoMao.”  He looked up at her with a bittersweet smile.  “You loved chewing on his ears.”

Marinette slowly walked over and sat next to him on the bed.  She looked at the picture he was holding.  He noticed her interest and held it out for her to take.  Marinette took it, almost fearfully.  She didn’t know what exactly she was afraid of, more knowledge?  New knowledge?  Everything changing yet again.  Everything had been in constant flux for the past two weeks.  She wanted things to settle but she needed to know more.

She looked at the image and immediately brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes already tearing up.  The picture was of a much younger Bruce Wayne holding baby her. The look in his eyes was absolutely enamored.  She was looking up at him with much the same expression, a wide, toothless grin on her face as she reached out for his face with one hand and clutched the stuffed cat to her chest with the other.  It was the stereotypical image of a happy family.  She ran her fingers over the image, trying to force herself to remember any part of that day, or any day here or with Bruce.

“That was out in the gardens behind the house.  There’s a little creek back there that you loved. You kept trying to work your way over to it.  Before you could walk, you’d crawl to it.  Before you could crawl, you’d scooch.  Before you could scooch, you’d roll.”  He chuckled as a far off look overtook his eyes.  “You were always very determined.”

“How much time did I spend here?” she asked.

Bruce let out a heavy sigh.  “Your mother brought you once a week for a few hours.”  He frowned.  “Then when you were about ten months old, you spent an entire month here… while your mother was in the hospital.”  Marinette whipped back to him, her eyes wide in surprise.  Bruce gave a small, pained smile.  “You two were caught in an attack that affected your building.  Sabine took the brunt of the damage for you two, but there were other kids…”

He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.  Marinette didn’t blame him.  She’d seen similar scenes in Paris, bodies strewn about, children’s bodies littering the street after an akuma attack.  Bodies she hadn’t been fast enough or good enough to save.  She’d had the luxury of knowing it wasn’t permanent and she could save them.  M. Wayne wouldn’t have had that.  

“I still have nightmares about it,” he admitted hoarsely.  She frowned at him in sympathy and laid her head on his shoulder.  He froze for half a second before relaxing and laying his head against hers.  “It’s why you left.  Sabine and I were never going to get married.  We both knew that.  So I would never be able to keep you close enough to protect you.  And if I couldn’t protect you by keeping you close…”

Marinette took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She pursed her lips.  “Then you thought you’d do it by keeping a distance.”

Bruce nodded.  Marinette nodded too, but didn’t say anything.  There wasn’t much to say.  She understood the reasoning.  She understood making decisions based on nightmares.  She had experience with it.  The nightmares can seem so real, they have just as much effect on you as reality, sometimes more.  They can mess with you in a way reality can’t.  She understood all of it.  And it helped.  It didn’t make it okay.  It didn’t make the hurt go away.  It didn’t excuse not contacting her even after he made sure they were safe.  But it helped.

Bruce suddenly stood up awkwardly.  “Right well, Dick will be wondering where you are. I’ll just… get out of your way.”  He shuffled stiffly for a few seconds trying to figure out if he should give a hug or just leave.  He settled for a wooden pat on the back before retreating out of the room.

Marinette stared after him for a few seconds even after the door was closed before finally moving and slowly changing her clothes. She frowned at the room.  Would it be better to change the room to exorcise the memories, or keep it the way it was?  She really wasn’t sure.  She’d have to get to know M. Wayne better before she could have a hint at the right answer.

She left her room and looked up and down the hallway, trying to remember the way back to the gymnasium.  She made it to the end of the hall before she was lucky enough to run into someone.  She quirked her head to the side.  “I thought you didn’t live here.”

“I don’t,” Jason answered gruffly.  She raised an eyebrow at him.  “I’m grabbing a book.”  He held up his book as evidence of his claim.  She raised the other eyebrow but kept silent.  “I’m not here to see you on the trapeze.”

“I didn’t say you were,” she grinned.

“Shut up,” he looked away and ruffled her hair. She squawked an objection, making him smile.  He motioned for her to follow him and guided her to the gym.  “Just make sure you listen to Dickhead.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Not going to lie, doing what I’m told isn’t my forte.”

“Hey!”  He looked suddenly very serious.  He moved closer until he was almost towering over her.  Marinette looked up at him wide eyed, caught off guard by the sudden change of mood.  “I’m the rule breaker around here.  Ask anyone. That’s my role.  Get your own.”

Marinette held her serious look for a few seconds before her entire body started shaking from the giggles she was trying to suppress. She pushed through the doors to the gym still giggling.  Jason huffed in mock annoyance and leaned against the doorframe.  Dick perked up at seeing them and made his way over with an excited smile.

“Whatever.  Just don’t wear that,” Jason motioned vaguely to her sports bra, tight tank top, and boy shorts, “around Roy.”

“You know Roy?” Dick asked with a frown.

“Why?  He going to give me a workout?” she asked Jason with a smirk.

“No!  He is not,” Dick exclaimed, face scrunching in distaste.

Jason shuddered and wrinkled his nose, making a gagging noise.  “No,” he said definitively.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go throw up.”

Marinette gave him a mock concerned look, her eyes open wide in innocence.  “Oh no, Jason!  Are you not feeling well?  You really shouldn’t drive yourself home.  Should I call your partner to come get you?”

“Wait, how did you even meet Roy?” Dick tried again.

Jason narrowed his eyes at her.  “I hope you fall.”

“Jason!” Dick exclaimed, his expression suddenly serious.  “That’s not funny.”

Marinette cackled as Jason walked away.  Dick shook his head at her and moved them into the gym. “Okay, let’s warm up first.”  He got down on the padded floor and started stretching out encouraging Marinette to do the same.  He watched her in surprise as she was able to stretch incredibly well for a civilian.  She was better than most of his brothers.  “You’re really flexible.  Did you take classes?”

Marinette froze almost imperceptibly.  If Dick hadn’t spent the last twenty years analyzing body language in order to survive, he would have missed it.  She shrugged in an excellent imitation of nonchalance. “I sit behind a sewing machine for hours at a time so I make sure to stretch a lot.” She laughed lightly.  “Probably a lot more than I need to.”

Dick watched her for a few seconds before nodding.  “Right,” he said slowly.  He looked her over one more time.  “Well it’s working.”

Marinette gave him an overly wide smile.  “Thanks.”

Dick eyed her suspiciously again but got up and grabbed something off the wall.  “Now,” he held up a harness for her, “I’m going to hook up a harness.  It’ll keep you from falling too fast and help with the moves.”

Marinette frowned at the thought.  If she was hooked up, she wasn’t going to be able to fly like she wanted to.  It wouldn’t feel like she imagined, like she just now realized she needed.  She needed to feel the weight of gravity on her body pulling her down.  The harness was going to throw her weight off.  It was going to interfere with her movement.  “Can we try it without the harness?” she asked tentatively.

Dick frowned at the idea, clearly not comfortable with it.  She may have swung a few times with the heroes, but that wasn’t nearly enough to be safe on the trapeze.  Maybe he could convince her to wear the harness for the first few swings and she’d realize how helpful it was.  He looked back in her eyes and faltered.  She was looking at him with wide, hopeful, innocent eyes.  How was he supposed to say no to those eyes?  “I…” he sighed and looked down defeated.  “Do you know how to fall?”

Marinette gave him a deadpan look.  “I’m the world’s foremost expert at falling.”

Dick blinked a few times and gave the deadpan look back at her.  “That’s not making me feel better about not using the harness.”

“Can we try it?” she asked hopefully.  “Just a few swings to get a feel for it and if I’m falling too much, we can try the harness.”

Dick sighed and looked down.  It was the same logic he had been planning on trying, but she was using it against him.  He ran his hand over his face in defeat.  Yeah, she’d fit in the family perfectly.  He glanced over to see Bruce peeking in and his eyes widened in realization.  If he let Bruce’s daughter, his newly brought into his life daughter, get hurt, he’d never forgive Dick.  “Okay, here’s the thing,” he started giving her his most pleading eyes.  “If we do this without the harness and you fall, Bruce is going to skin me alive.”

Marinette gave him an understanding smile.  She laid a reassuring hand on his arm and Dick breathed a sigh of relief and waited for her to agree to the harness.  “I’d protect you, but you won’t need it.  We start slow and build up.  Trust me?”  She turned her hopeful eyes back at him but they were somehow even wider and more pleading.

Dick groaned.  “Fine.”

Marinette grinned brilliantly and jumped up and down in excitement.  “Thank you! Thank you!” She jumped at Dick to give him a hug.  Dick almost startled in surprise.  A family member that wanted hugs and gave them freely?  He hugged her tightly.  Yes, please.  Hopefully, everything would be fine and she was as good as she thought she was and nothing would happen and Bruce wouldn’t kill him, so he would be able to get more hugs in the future.

They climbed up on opposite sides and stood on the platforms facing each other.  Dick got into position and showed Marinette so she could do the same.  When she was positioned, he nodded and pushed off from the platform.  “Okay, let’s start with getting the rhythm.  It’s kind of like getting a swing into rhythm,” he explained.  “When you’re ready to try, go ahead and let go.”

Before he even finished his sentence, Marinette had pushed off and started pushing the bar into a matching rhythm.  Dick blinked a few times at how quickly and smoothly she’d gotten into a matching rhythm.  It was a skill people worked at for days, sometimes weeks.  Getting into a rhythm wasn’t incredibly difficult, most people got that somewhat quickly.  

It was maintaining the same rhythm and matching your partner’s rhythm that took time and training.  Honestly, if learning how to get the trapeze to swing smoothly was all she learned out of this time, he would have been impressed.  But she was already far past that.  She was swinging like it was second nature, like the physics of swinging and gravity were inherent.

“Good job,” he said a bit breathlessly.  “Ready to try a simple move?”

Marinette grinned back and nodded in understanding before remembering he wouldn’t always be able to see her.  She had to be very vocal about everything so he could react properly.  “Yes,” she called out loudly.

“Okay, when I say go, let go of your bar and hold out your arms for me to grab.”

“Okay,” Marinette called out.  She focused on maintaining her momentum and enjoying the way the air pushed back against her as she glided through it, the resistance creating a familiar feeling of a breeze against her skin.  The baby hairs around her hairline, the only hair free of her tight bun, were blowing back and forth as she moved.

As soon as she heard Dick say ‘go’, she let go and arched her back, reaching for him.  She free fell for only a moment before Dick caught her forearms in a strong grip.  She grabbed his forearms too in a tight grip and looked up to meet his eyes.  Their eyes met, exhilarated smiles on both their lips.  

Dick grinned in surprise at the success.  He’d been expecting her to fall, to be honest. The first time doing a catch almost always resulted in falling unless the person was well trained or well prepared, which he admittedly hadn’t done for Marinette.  It was a fumble of arms reaching and tangling, grasping for each other, but moving at the same time, trying to anticipate but guessing wrong. But she understood how to do a catch. She understood to trust her partner to catch her.

He grinned wider at what that meant; she trusted him!  His face suddenly turned serious.  “Okay, here’s the tricky part.  I’m going to count to three.  When I say three, I’m going to let go.  You’ll need to twist around and grab the bar.”

Marinette’s expression turned serious as well, though her eyes still sparkled with delight.  “Understood.”

Dick nodded.  “One… two… three.”  He let go on three and Marinette twisted in time to grab the bar, both of them frozen for a moment in weightlessness while she waited for gravity to take over.

She swung away from Dick but quickly flipped on the bar so she was facing him again.  Dick chuckled and shook his head.  “Let’s get more complex, what do you think?”

Marinette’s grin got wider and her eyes impossibly brighter.  “Yes, please.”

Dick laughed loudly, his laughter echoing off the walls, her laughter quickly joining his.  They swung together for almost half an hour, trying increasingly difficult tricks until they finally got to one Marinette couldn’t do.  Dick’s eyes widened in surprise as she fell in front of his eyes.  He was so accustomed to her keeping up with him, it was a shock when she didn’t.  His heart started pounding and he scrambled to get back to the platform until he heard Marinette’s giggles.  He looked down and saw her bounding across the bouncy net toward the ladder.

When she got to the platform she looked over at him with a grin.  “Try it again?”

Dick grinned at her and flipped back over on his bar.  “Let’s go then.”

The trick ended in the same result, but Dick joined her in the net on purpose this time.  “Maybe try to build up to that?” Dick suggested.  

Marinette nodded as she tried to catch her breath. “Sounds fun.”

“Did you want to try it on your own?” Dick offered. “You seem like you’re comfortable up there.”

Marinette’s eyes widened in excited surprise.  “Really!”

Dick chuckled and nodded.  “Have at it.”

Marinette bounced back over to the ladder and quickly made her way to the bar.  She started swinging and twisting on it, using the zero gravity to do solo tricks. Dick was so engrossed in her performance he almost forgot to get out of the net.  She was so graceful and elegant, like she knew exactly what gravity was going to do down to the millimeter.  It wasn’t at his level, she clearly hadn’t been trained.  But she was also clearly not a novice.

After a while she fell down into the net again breathing heavily.  She grinned at Dick.  “That was amazing.  Thank you! I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

Dick helped her down from the net, immediately returning the hug she gave him before he could set her down.  “I had fun too.  Anytime you want to use it, feel free.  Just come on over.”

Marinette gave him a small nod.  Her smile still hadn’t died down at all.  “Let’s cool down.” Dick motioned toward the padded mat again.  He and Marinette sat across from each other and started stretching again.  Dick watched her as she stretched, that spark never leaving her eyes.  He knew the feeling well, that felling you get from flying, the freedom, the release.

Images of her growing up with them, him being able to teach her trapeze from the time she was a baby ran through his head. Fantasies of being a big brother to her, keeping her safe, teaching her, sharing the feeling of flying together… all of it gone.  No chance to happen.  Because Bruce walked away from her and straight to him.

“I’m sorry.”  His voice was heavy, weighted down with guilt.

Marinette quirked her head to the side and blinked a few times.  Her mind raced trying to figure out what he could possibly be referring to.  “Did something happen?”

Dick shook his head, his eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to figure out how to say what he was feeling.  “I.. I’m… he… I was the one he took in after…”

Marinette’s eyes softened immediately.  She laid a hand on Dick’s arm.  “Dick,” she started softly.  “You don’t have to apologize for getting adopted, for finding a home where you felt safe and loved.  You didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured him.

Dick searched her eyes for any evidence she didn’t believe what she was saying, but there was only sincerity and a touch of bittersweetness.  “Neither did you.”  His voice was sure and supportive.  His eyes bored into her, pushing against her boundaries.

Marinette looked away quickly.  She hummed noncommittally.  “Except going to the gala,” she said wryly.  “I should have just let Adrien take care of it.  As soon as I found out I should have…” she trailed off, unsure how to end it.

Dick moved closer to her and threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her against his side.  “But then we wouldn’t have met for who knows how long,” he offered with a bright smile.

Marinette let out a heavy breath and smiled at how hard he was trying.  She looked back up at him from the corner of her eye.  “And what a shame that would be.”

Dick’s grin got wider.  “Exactly!”  He hugged her closer for a few moments as the smile slowly faded from his face.  “I just want to let you know I’m here for you.  I'm sure this is really overwhelming and Bruce has never been good with conveying... or feeling... emotions.  But if you need anyone to talk to, I’m here.”

He moved away so he could see her more clearly. “I missed out on being your big brother growing up and we’ll never get that time back.  And to be honest, I’m extremely upset with Bruce about that. But I’d like to make up for that lost time now.  So if you need anything, I’m here.  You want anything, I’m here.  You want to talk, I’m here.  You want to yell or scream at somebody, I’m here.  If you have a problem you need help with, I’m here.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette looked up at him in surprise.  She blinked a few times uncertain what to say.  “I…”  She closed her mouth quickly, still not sure how to finish the sentence.  After a few moments she smiled softly at him.  “Thank you, Dick.”

Dick pulled her in for another hug, enjoying the feeling of her reciprocating.  Maybe she could show their other siblings how to do that without it being a life threatening situation.  Dick grinned widely as he squeezed her tight and rested his head on hers.  “Or if you just want a hug.  To tell you a secret, I give the best hugs in the family.”

Marinette scoffed playfully as she pulled away from him.  “I don’t know, Jason gives good hugs.”

Dick snapped his eyes to hers.  “Jason gives hugs!”

They almost jumped with Bruce walked in with a wide smile.  “How was it?”  He watched them with a smile as they stood together and stayed close after rising.  It was absolutely no surprise that Dick was able to get so close to her so quickly, but it was still reassuring to see it.

“It was amazing!” Marinette enthused.  “I had so much fun!  I can’t wait to do it again.”

Bruce smiled.  “Any time you want,” he promised.  “Any time you want to come over, feel free.  No need to call first.”  He paused for a moment.  “Although maybe not in the middle of the night.  “It would wake Alfred up.  He’d be more than happy to let you in but we already put him through so much.”

Marinette smiled and chuckled.  “I understand.  I’ll keep the visits to the daytime.”  She looked up just in time to see Dick giving Bruce a significant look.  Dick played it off with a wide smile that Marinette pretended to buy.  She also pretended not to notice the look Bruce gave him back.  She shuffled a few times before looking quietly between them. “Um… I’ll just… I’m going to take a shower and change back.”

Bruce nodded with a soft smile.  The smile was so convincing, Marinette would never have thought anything suspicious was going on if she hadn’t seen the look they gave each other… immediately after Dick spent the afternoon with her.  “You know the way back to your room?”

Marinette nodded rapidly.  “Of course.  Thank you.” She turned to Dick again.  “And thank you.  This was a lot of fun.”

Dick shook his head with a smile.  “You don’t have to thank me, Marinette.  I wanted to spend time with you.  I look forward to doing it again.”

Marinette nodded to him and left the room as quickly as she could without drawing suspicion.  As soon as she was out of eyesight, she speed walked back to the room, closing the door quickly behind her.  She leaned against the door and banged her head against it lightly a few times. It was okay, she tried to reassure herself.  They didn’t know her yet, of course they would have secrets and want to talk about what they learned about her.  She knew that.  But it still hurt.

As soon as Marinette was out of ear shot, Bruce turned back to Dick.  “How did she do?”

“She’s done that before,” Dick reported to Bruce, keeping his voice low so Marinette couldn’t hear him.

“We knew that,” Bruce answered just as quietly. “She said the heroes took her around sometimes.”  He pursed his lips tightly at the thought.  Even knowing nothing happened, he wasn’t happy about it.  The only thing he could think of was all the things that could have happened to her if their villain would have found out.

“No,” Dick cut in before Bruce could brood too hard. “She’s done something similar enough to be comfortable with it, enough that she soared, she flew.  Enough that her body instantly fell into the rhythm, into trusting someone else to catch her.  Those things are learned, Bruce.  I think she had a closer relationship with the heroes than we think she did.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Dick, processing his words.  He nodded and looked back to the hallway Marinette had disappeared down.  “The heroes disappeared.  Diana said she can’t even contact them anymore.  Marinette’s the only one who can tell us more.”

Dick nodded.  “I’ll see what I can do when we get together on Monday for Duke’s reading.”

“Carefully,” Bruce cautioned.  He glanced over to catch Dick’s flat look.  “I don’t want to push her.  She’s your sister.  She’s family, not a source.  She’s not a suspect.  She’s not even a victim.  We don’t need this information.  It would be nice to know, but we can live without it.  She’s allowed her privacy.  Plus she’s smart.  You start asking questions, she’s going to get suspicious and may get upset we’re digging into things she doesn’t want to talk about.”

“I know how to talk to people, Bruce,” Dick scoffed. “I’m better at talking to your kids than you are, if you recall.”

“I’m well aware,” Bruce conceded.  “I just… I don’t want to upset her.  She’s allowed her privacy.”

“And I’ll respect that.  And her,” Dick assured him.  He paused for a few seconds before he broached the next subject.  It was going to be delicate, one that neither of them wanted to consider.  “So the question is, if she did have a closer relationship with the Parisian heroes, when did her relationship with Adrien start.  And why.”

Bruce furrowed his brow.  “You think he started it because he knew she was close to the heroes? You think he was working with his father?”  He stared intently at Dick trying to gauge how serious he was about this.  “It doesn’t make sense for him to still be with her if that’s all it was.  And Ladybug told Wonder Woman Adrien was not involved,” Bruce said quietly.  “She vouched for him.”

“And we trust her word?” Dick asked in the same tone.

Bruce paused as he thought about it.  They really didn’t know Ladybug at all.  She’d disappeared after the last fight and only Wonder Woman seemed to have had any contact with her, and limited contact at that.  The League had never gotten the chance to gauge her competence in areas outside of fighting.  “She said he helped give evidence to take his father down,” he started tentatively.

“But…” Dick prompted.

Bruce let out a deep sigh.  This was not going to go over well with Marinette, but if Adrien was using her, they needed to know.  “But it could be a cover.  We don’t know enough to completely excuse him and we don’t know enough about Ladybug or Marinette to know how good of a judge they are.”

Dick nodded.  “We proceed with caution.”

“Extreme caution,” Bruce stressed.  “You heard how she talked about him at dinner.  She’s very protective of him.  Questioning Adrien is going to take more delicacy and tact than questioning her, I think.”

Dick nodded and looked down the hallway toward her room.  He would have to spend the next few days doing research before they met up on Monday.

Chapter 14

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[senor-plume]

Marriage by Gregory Corso

Should I get married? Should I be good? Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood? Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries and she going just so far and I understanding why not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel! Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-

When she introduces me to her parents back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie, should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa and not ask Where's the bathroom? How else to feel other than I am, often thinking Flash Gordon soap- O how terrible it must be for a young man seated before a family and the family thinking We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou! After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?

Should I tell them? Would they like me then? Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter but we're gaining a son- And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?

O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded just wait to get at the drinks and food- And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife? And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue! I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha! And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on- Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates! All streaming into cozy hotels All going to do the same thing tonight The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen The lobby zombies they knowing what The whistling elevator man he knowing Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything! Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye! Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon! running rampant into those almost climactic suites yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel! O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy a saint of divorce-

But I should get married I should be good How nice it'd be to come home to her and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen aproned young and lovely wanting my baby and so happy about me she burns the roast beef and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf! God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married! So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky! And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him When are you going to stop people killing whales! And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-

Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn, up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me, finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup- O what would that be like! Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records Tack Della Francesca all over its crib Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon

No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father Not rural not snow no quiet window but hot smelly tight New York City seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job! And five nose running brats in love with Batman And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired like those hag masses of the 18th century all wanting to come in and watch TV The landlord wants his rent Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking- No! I should not get married! I should never get married! But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-

O but what about love? I forget love not that I am incapable of love It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes- I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married And I don't like men and- But there's got to be somebody! Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married, all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!

Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible then marriage would be possible- Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.

[thegreatbigfourmain]

Royalty!AU

The young chief had a somber expression on his face as he readjusted the fur cloak resting upon his shoulders. Although Drago and the former Alpha retreated to the ocean, the battle had taken many casualties within the village of Berk. Both dragons and Vikings suffered in the crossfire, leaving them with half their population still standing. It left him with the drastic decision of needing a treaty with a neighboring village to keep his people and dragons armed for another attack.

However, that proved to be a problem. No one wanted to encounter what Berk did in their village. Many of his allies rejected his request no matter how much he emphasized the superb protection done by his dragons. Thankfully to the gods, one did accept. The kingdom of Corona could never turn away a desperate plea for help. And Thor Almighty he was in dire need of assistance.

The arrangement showed to be more than what the Vikings bargained for.

As a way to kill two birds with one stone, the King of Corona agreed to the Viking chief’s wishes if he complies in escorting his daughter, the princess. All other suitors were sent away by her highness, though she is compelled to choose one. He tried to weave his way out of it, but the king would not budge. In his words, “It is not an arranged marriage, but rather being a potential candidate for the role.” To his displeasure, he had no choice but to accept it for the good of his people. It forced him to have a very long conversation with his girlfriend, who was livid when she heard of the final decision. It was the cause for the look on his face.

Hiccup Haddock the Third put on a brave face before entering the throne room where her grace awaited his arrival. He did notice how Corona was the complete opposite of Berk. Everything from the buildings to the atmosphere was different and foreign to him. Banners of the kingdom’s emblem hung everywhere. It seemed like these people are obsessed with the sun. He shouldn’t think much of it considering he’s just as obsessed with dragons, something Astrid also poked fun of whenever they trained.

Astrid…

The brunet made his way down the aisle as he stepped on the softest lavender carpet his feet have ever felt. Then again, he hasn’t much use for fancy rugs and such in his home. The closer he moved toward the royal family, the more his heart sank in his chest. A future without Astrid was unheard of, but the world without dragons was one he simply could not live without. Like the king said, it is not an arranged marriage, just a courtship. If the princess prefers not to marry him, she might be willing to tell her father to keep the treaty. It was the only shred of hope he had for his relationship.

Finally, Hiccup stood in front of the three of them sitting in their lavish thrones. He had seen the queen and king before, but never the princess. He bowed respectfully to them before his forest green eyes couldn’t help but glance at the rumored beauty. When he did, it took every ounce of power within him not to gawk in wonder.

In layman’s terms, she was gorgeous. No, that did not fully define the vision before him. Hiccup could not find the words to describe being in her presence. He was utterly speechless. It horrified him.

The chief knelt down before the princess in an attempt to not gaze any longer. He kept his eyes on the carpet beneath him.

“Your highness,” he said as soon as he realized no words escaped his shocked lips.

“I am here to escort you back to my village of Berk. I hope you will enjoy it there for the time being.” Hiccup said while his fingers rubbed against each other, something he does when thinking of his next sentence. If he raised his head, it would only entice more emotions and thoughts within him.

"You may rise, Dragon Rider," spoke a soft, yet confident voice. Despite what his brain was telling him, Hiccup did what the voice told him to. In the back of his subconscious, he knew he would do anything that voice would tell him to do from now on.

Once he looked up, he was hooked.

Just what was it with him and blondes?

The blonde beauty dressed in a lavish lavender gown with intricate patterns stood before him. It felt as if they were the only two people in the room, no doubt due in part to the way his forest green eyes met her emerald irises that reminded him of spring. Her adorably speckled freckles spread across her button nose seemed to disperse once they reached her rosy pink cheeks. Her unusually long golden hair was braided behind her frame and decorated with freshly picked flowers will most definitely be out of place in Berk, though he wouldn't mind if she asked for him to pick those flowers for her every day.

What was he thinking?!

Probably depicting his nervousness, the princess flashed him a heart-piercing smile. If she meant it in a friendly way, it was anything but. It took every ounce of his being not to continue gawking at the princess before Hiccup cleared his throat to form some sort of response.

"Are, are you ready to leave Your Highness?" He stuttered his words like he was back to being a teenager, though his 20 years of age.

She gave a quick nod as she descended from her throne to meet him, the Viking holding his breath for the close encounter. When she was a mere few feet away, Hiccup gulped down the knot in his throat.

"What is your mode of transportation to Berk, Chief Hiccup?" she inquired curiously, with a slight tilt of the head. Could she stop being adorable for a moment while he tries to wrap his mind around everything right now?

"Umm, dr-dragons. Dragons Your Highness."

"Rapunzel. You can call me Rapunzel," she responded with a soft grin.

"Rapunzel," he repeated, testing out how the name rolled off his tongue.

"Is it safe?" A loud, anxious voice asked in the room. The pair glanced behind to the king standing up at the mention of his only daughter riding on the back of a dragon. Hiccup has mentioned their way of living in between the letters they exchanged, but maybe the realization finally caught up to his majesty.

"Very much so, Your Majesty. I built all the mechanics myself and tested them out numerous times. I have the scars to prove it," he chuckled, though it did not seem to ease the tension in the room.

Tough crowd.

The blonde giggled behind him, grabbing the brunet's attention. He didn't think he's heard such a melodious laugh before in his life.

"I'm sure it's fine, father. If Chief Hiccup believes so," Rapunzel confirmed as she stood beside him. Her presence alone was enough to nearly hinder the Viking under her spell.

The king still seemed to be hesitant, though gave the pair a nod in conformation to allow this stranger to take his child on a possibly dangerous journey back to his homeland.

"Very well. I wish you both well on your route to Berk," he replied in a baritone voice, though there was a hint of sadness in his bright blue eyes. Rapunzel must have seen it as well, considering she picked up her dress skirt to rush over and give her father a hug. The whole image might have been heartwarming if Hiccup didn't first notice the fact that this certain blonde seemed to be barefoot.

Just who is this girl?

The princess then gave her equally gorgeous mother a hug, the small family exchanging a few words before the blonde returned to Hiccup's side. Her smile was something his heart was beginning to enjoy.

"Ready when you are Chief Hiccup."

"Hiccup, just Hiccup is fine Your- Rapunzel," he chuckled, running his fingers through his hair out of embarrassment.

"Okay, Just Hiccup," she joked before taking the lead to show him outside.

The pair walked through the same elegant doors Hiccup did when he arrived to find his best friend waiting for him. He was accompanied by a guard who nervously kept his distance away from the nigthfury.

"Hey bud," Hiccup greeted, feeling much better seeing one thing familiar in this land. The nightfury jumped over to him like a dog, licking his face.

"No Toothless! You know that doesn't wash out! The princess is here~" the Viking groaned when Toothless backed away when he was satisfied.

"I'm so sorry Rapunzel," he muttered, clearly embarrassed by how informal the interaction was. The blonde didn't seem to mind, evident by the huge grin on her face. Toothless already lost focus on his human, examining the blonde and advancing towards her. His snout sniffed her face, getting close enough to ruffle her bangs. Hiccup noticed the way more guards readied themselves in the chance this might turn ugly. He chuckled, how naive.

"Hello, Toothless. Are you going to be taking us to Berk?" She asked softly. A slow yet confident hand reached for his snout, which surprisingly Toothless went in with no hesitation.

"What a sweetheart," she beamed as her other hand went to cup the dragon's muzzle. Hiccup couldn't help but smile himself. It seemed she could easily adapt to their ways faster than he assumed a princess would be.

While she kept herself occupied gaining more of Toothless' love, Hiccup glanced at the royal couple who gave him a knowing nod. His high from facing the princess quickly faded away with the realization that there was an agreement between the two lands. This was a courtship for potential marriage, not simply showing her around his land. The thought of Astrid returned to his mind and the guilt of anything he felt towards Rapunzel weighed heavy on his chest. She never once passed through his thoughts once he met Rapunzel's eyes.

The Viking mounted himself on the nightfury to ready himself for the long trip back to Berk.

"Are you ready, Rapunzel?" Hiccup asked in a monotone voice as emotions swirled within him. Thankfully, the blonde was oblivious to his change of attitude from playing with Toothless when she heard him.

"Yes Hiccup," she replied, walking over to him and trying to figure out how to mount the dragon. "Umm, Hiccup, how do I...?" she trailed off.

He had been so caught up in himself, he didn't realize her unfamiliarity with riding dragons. It reminded him of when he taught Astrid all about them a few years ago...

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here," he stuttered over his words as he reached his arm out. The blonde gently took it and steadied herself for Hiccup to heave her body weight, which was lighter than the axes he swings around, to settle behind him.

Thor Almighty give him the strength for the remainder of the trip to not have his heart pound like a Thunderdrum's roar when her arms wrapped around his lean form. He could feel her warmth all down his back, his arms frozen in place sensing Rapunzel adjust herself comfortably in her seat.

"Okay Hiccup, I'm ready," she said in a nervous, yet excited state.

Sensing her anxious tone, Hiccup absentmindedly reached down to gently hold her arm to ease her nerves.

"Don't worry. I got you," he muttered softly, sighing in defeat that this girl was doing something to his soul. It must have to deal with the fact her people are still new to dragons, and the more positive promotion they can have, the better it is for future generations. At least that's what he kept repeating to himself in hopeless denial.

"Take it easy with the flight bud, we need her to like us" Hiccup whispered to Toothless. The last thing he needed on his plate was Rapunzel not having an easy time on the way to Berk.

The nightfury seemed to get the message as extended his wings out for the wind to gingerly lift him off the ground. Despite the easy takeoff, Rapunzel still tightened her arms around him while letting out a cute squeak of surprise at the new sensation of being in the air.

This is going to be a long ride.

[dzamie-oc]

Smaugust 20 - Death

Toothless takes Hiccup to visit his parents. It's not what Hiccup expected. (1915 words)

cw: spoilers for HTTYD 2

Toothless perched on the edge of a cliff, overseeing a long fall towards the wide, open ocean. Hiccup laid on the night fury's back, staring up at the night sky. The dragon's tail swished back and forth, quietly playing a game with the viking's prosthetic leg, each catching and releasing the other in a tiny game of tag. It was a time of quiet thought. Toothless was thinking mostly about fish. Big ones, little ones, raw and cooked, wriggling in his mouth and dangling lifelessly from a human's hook. He silently wondered if whales were fish, or if they were too big. Perhaps all that differentiates a dragon from a large fish is a breath weapon. Toothless imagined fish flying through the sky, where he would dart down and snap them up.

Hiccup, on the other hand, was not thinking about fish. He was thinking about Toothless, and Stoick the Vast, and Valka. "Hey, Toothless, I just realized: you've met both of my parents now." The thin viking chuckled. "I can't say I ever expected that to happen... any time before it actually did. Do dragons keep track of their parents?"

The night fury made an inquisitive sound, then quickly bobbed his head, nodding a confirmation. He wondered if fish had parents, and if it was better to eat a parent fish or a child fish. Maybe a distraught child fish would make itself easier to catch after Toothless ate its parents. Maybe the reverse was true. Or, the night fury considered, a fish might grow angry and flop ferociously at him in the wake of his piscematricide. An imaginary fish slapped him in the face; an imaginary version of Toothless ate it for its insolence, and also because it was tasty.

Toothless realized Hiccup was talking again, and decided to stop thinking about fish. For now. Probably.

"...so, it would be cool to meet your parents. I mean, if they're not dead. That would be, uh, awkward." Toothless's rider lost confidence and spoke more quietly as he kept speaking. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen any other night furies, actually. I hope you're not the last of..."

Toothless snorted and rose to his feet, jostling his human off. He flicked his tailfin open and wiggled his body, inviting Hiccup to mount up and fly. He had something to show the human. He trusted him more than enough.

The human in question, however, kept talking, mostly stammering as he continue to try to apologize for what might have been a slight but almost certainly wasn't, and several other silly human things. Toothless rolled his eyes, growled for attention, and wiggled again. It was time for Hiccup to be quiet and get on his dragon. And fortunately, Hiccup did just that. Toothless crouched as soon as he felt Hiccup's foot and fake foot slide into place at the controls of his tailfin, then leapt into the air and plummeted off the cliff.

Hiccup couldn't see so well in the dark, so Toothless pulled up early; as he not only expected, but knew in his heart would happen, Hiccup snapped open the fake fin as soon as the black-scaled dragon began to pull up, leaving them shooting off over the water, between a sea of stars and a sea of fish.

They approached the forest of rocky pillars, and Toothless built up the fire and magic within him. The dragon pulled his teeth in to avoid them getting hit, and a ball of superheated gas shot from between his lips, a shock of lightning on its tail. It zoomed into the cluster of stone, burst in a purple, white, and blue explosion, and sent several small sparks of lightning crackling and crawling around and through the pillars. Toothless watched as the lights all but disippated, then approached and vocalized a few noises, their signal for "let me fly." The dragon felt his human's feet disengage from the tailfin mechanism, and he flew silently into the darkened maze of stone. It was a familiar, yet unused pattern. With just the moon and the stars shedding light, the night fury was nearly invisible as he banked left around a few rocks, circled one, dove and rose through an invisible pattern of flight. The dragon landed on a pillar of stone and leapt off it, then ran down another before flaring his wings and zooming through a shallow slalom.

At last, Toothless soared back up, spiraling up around a towering spire of rock to shed speed. He burbled another signal to his rider, and felt the comfort of his partner ready for backup, to once more fly WITH him rather than merely ON him. And, all set, Toothless flapped leisurely out of the maze of stone, directly towards an island that he was certain Hiccup had never seen before.

The island was lit with torches that did not burn, and the weather was pleasant, even in the cool night. Toothless landed in a run, slowing to a trot as he neared the familiar - to him, at least - stone and wood buildings. Hiccup shifted to untether himself and dismount, but Toothless raised his wings up to either side. It wouldn't physically stop Hiccup, but he hoped it would let him know to stay on the night fury. As the brown-haired viking settled back into position on his back, Toothless relaxed and gave a low, approving warble as he walked along the island, headed towards a large house partway up. As he neared it, the night fury opened his mouth and shrieked a greeting. He stopped in front of the large front doors and patiently waited until they opened. Once inside, he let his wings droop, and Hiccup slid off his back, walking side-by-side with Toothless.

From a doorway ahead, a woman peered into the hallway, then smiled warmly when she saw Toothless. "Oh, hello dear," she said, stepping out and opening her arms for a hug, "it's been so long. You should visit more often!" She wore what Toothless remembered her often wearing - a loose, elegant, black shirt with a ribcage done in faint, light blue, and a pair of pants in the same style, long enough to cover even her feet, but never seeming to trip her up. Toothless leaned his head and neck into her as they embraced, the woman's bracelets of bone a stark contrast against both her clothing and his scales. "Your father is off brewing a storm for some big contract he has, otherwise he'd be here to see you too. Oh, and who's this?"

Hiccup was still busy staring, utterly bewildered, between Toothless and this strange woman, when she turned towards him. "You didn't tell me you got a boyfriend!" she said; Toothless hissed and grumbled, and she laughed. "I'm only playing, dear. I suppose I should be thankful one of my children thinks to introduce me to his friends outside of professional matters."

Hiccup awkwardly waved his hand, then offered it out to shake. "Uh, hi. I'm Hiccup. So, you're Toothless's... mother?"

"Oh, is that what he's going by now?" She looked over at her son, who moaned and brought his wings tightly against himself, trying to shrink away from sight. "And yes, though you can just call me Death." Hiccup jolted back, though he immediately looked more sheepish over his reaction than scared of the woman. Toothless rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what joke his mom was about to make. "Oh, don't you worry, Hiccup, I'm off the clock. The only thing I'm interested in killing right now is the stew I've been heating up." Yep, there it was. "Anyway, come in, come in. I'll get some bowls out for you both; I'm sure there's nothing like some fresh mutton stew after a flight, and I always make far too much for just me."

As they made their way into the dining room and to the table, Toothless watched as his viking's gaze went from him, to his mom, then back to him, doing that little thing with his mouth whenever he thought really hard. After a few seconds, he saw him mouth a few words, then his face went slack with shock. "The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself..." he mumbled.

Death returned with three bowls of stew - Toothless's being the widest and shallowest, with a nice, big piece of meat in the middle - and quirked an eybrow at Hiccup. "What's this about my boy being unholy?" she asked.

The viking blanched. "No, not that - he's amazing, trust me, saved my life more times than I can count - it's just, there's this book of dragons we had- have, I guess, but that was only in the old version-" he rambled. Toothless watched calmly after bolting down his meat, keeping his eyes on his rider while he lapped at his stew. "-and most dragons, they had these ratings and descriptions, like 'speed four, strength two, breath seven, extremely dangerous, kill on sight.' But for night furies-" Toothless flicked his focus to his mom, catching a glimmer of satisfaction at the phrase "kill on sight."

"-almost never seen, and certainly never captured - until me - so it was just 'speed unknown, size unknown, never engage; hide and pray it doesn't find you.' And the description it gave was 'the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself,' that was all I knew on it - on him - before I started learning about him from, well, him." Hiccup finally took a break to breathe and try some stew, then finished his thought, "anyway, so that's why I said that. I certainly don't think there's anything unholy about him. In fact, he's sort of the reason Snotlout isn't chief, and I-"

Toothless and Hiccup froze as the night fury and his rider considered the unsaid word, "chief," and the weight behind how Toothless granted Hiccup that title. They and their friends - the riders, for Hiccup, and the Berkian dragons, for Toothless - had spent such a long time trying to help them work through their guilt and sorrow of that event. And, luckily, their efforts had borne fruit. They soon calmed back down, although Toothless found himself much more interested in his lamb stew.

If there could be one saving grace of that moment, it was that both boys figured that they wouldn't have to explain their silence. Death, of all people, would know. "Well," she said, to break the silence and change the topic, "I'm glad my son has found such a 'very good friend.' One he felt was important enough to convince him to visit his mother after so many years."

It worked; Toothless moaned a complaint while Hiccup chuckled awkwardly. "Ah, that's partly my fault. He hasn't exactly had a natural tailfin for a while now, it was lost when he crashed in my net." Toothless helpfully raised the tip of his tail to show off the mismatched fins.

"Ah. Well." Death took a sip from her cup. "All's well that ends well, I suppose. Perhaps it's a good thing your father isn't home; he can be very protective of our scaly son."

Hiccup took another spoonful of stew, then looked back at Death. "Wait, if you're Death, and Toothless is of... does that mean that his dad, who'd be upset at me, is-"

Death smiled. "Lightning, yes. I believe you might know him as... what's that moniker, Thor?"

The viking's eyes unfocused. "Good to know. Now, if you'll please excuse me."

Hiccup fainted.

[3milesup]

Webgott for the ship ask? I’m a sucker for them 🥺

Aah, thank you so much for the ask!! 🥺 Yeah, they are great... I hope this won’t be too off:

Who digs through the toy bin at thrift stories

 Web. He loves children, and giving them things and making them happy, one toothless grin will make his day anytime, and with Joe’s many nephews and nieces he gets quite a few of those.

 Who gives better hugs

They aren’t too compatible when it comes to hugs (are they even compatible in anything, really?!). Liebgott feels awkward about those casual hugs out of the blue, he mostly gives back an almost-bro-hug, with a pat on the back, and goes about his day. But when he feels like there’s a reason to hold David, he will hold him for dear life; for as scrawny as Joe is, he’s hella strong and for as much as he’s playing it cool, he loves Webster a lot and cares to show it at least that way, because he’s still better with embraces than with words.

 Who does absolutely nothing on a day off

Joe. What with juggling two jobs, he’s only happy to spend a day with his feet on the table, mindlessly flicking through the tv channels and eating junk snacks.

 Who prefers gold and who prefers silver

Not really huge on jewelry, these two, tbh. But Lieb does have two silver chains he won’t take off, one he had already, and one Web has bought him. And he got himself a gold watch once, in a fit of vanity, because he thought it looked super fancy spinning there in the shop window and “I deserve at least that much for working my ass off all my life, right?” Web just gave him the eyebrow of who knows they will eventually be right, and he was. The watch is chilling in Liebgott’s nightstand now, because he has enough taste not to wear it with his less-than-casual outfits neither in taxi nor in the barber shop, and if he dresses up, it is mostly to go out with Webster who a) doesn’t approve of said gold watch right from the start and b) is keeping it so lowkey-elegant that Lieb’s watch really feels over the top.

Web just wears these silver & leather bracelets. And since a certain day, a white gold ring, because silver seemed too cheap to Lieb for such occasion but he had come to understand Web really doesn’t like the look of gold, so a compromise it was. He didn’t forget to mention it was actually gold that looks like silver, not just silver; not that the teary-eyed Webster cared. He would’ve been happy with a twist tie around his finger, at the moment. (Later on, when the moment passed, he really appreciated Joe’s choice.)

Who looks better in stripes 

In Liebgott’s mind – and you won’t change it – stripes are for grandpas. He owns one striped sweater that someone gave him ages ago, tucked at the back of his closet with the tag still on it. No stripes in this household. (*he says, and then proceeds to shamelessly check out Web in his button-up with thin vertical stripes in color of his eyes because he’s quite a look, but still, stripes are just lame ok*)

Who wears “dad hats” 

Totally Lieb, and he has shifted the bill from backwards to forward over the years, but still totally rocks them. Yeah, and he wears them in the car, too, because he can’t be bothered with the visor. (He might or might not have broken it in rage over a customer a couple of times, so it’s probably better if he forgets the visor is even there. Or maybe it’s for the best if the visor in fact isn’t there.)

Who excessively quotes shows or movies 

Lieb, especially the movies and shows Webster didn’t like to piss him off. But he doesn’t even quote the movies as much as he excessively comments them. Like, replies to the characters, states the absolute obvious and makes up plot twists. (And no way in hell is Web going to admit it truly amuses him, but it does.)

David Webster comments on what he is watching only when he spots some apparent bullshit going on, because he can’t let it go unnoticed, and then he gets lost in his rant about it and misses ten minutes of the movie, then keeps asking what was happening in the meantime and gets lost in the storyline as well. (To put it simply, when you just want to chill after a long day and see things blowing up, badass guys that don’t need to reload and clichéd story that is basically a block of Emmenthaler - cheesy and filled with plot holes, Web isn’t the guy to watch it with.)

Who saves everything because “we could use it for something someday” 

Web, and deep down “using it one day” is more of an excuse for just keeping it because he gets attached to things, every trifle reminds him of something, a moment, a story, or – if he’s feeling down – just of the times when grass was greener.

 Who piles on the blankets

Not for the cold, but Joe sleeps with three, minimum, for convenience, as Web tosses and turns for the most part of the night and steals Joe’s blankets, while his own end up on the floor somewhere.

 Who drowns everything in chocolate

Liebgott, and you wouldn’t say, just by looking at him, but the guy does have a sweet tooth. Webster is more about raw fruit tarts and things of sort, a very dark chocolate at times, but Joe crams down at least a Hershey bar a day, no regrets. (Web has tried to explain to him the antioxidant benefits of cocoa and the minimum amount of it in milk chocolate, but Lieb just waved him off because he needs “sugar not some fucking antioxidants, because unlike you, Web, I am doing something,” and the good old argument about working vs. pursuing a degree full-time followed. No chocolate discussions since.)

.

Sorry, I don’t know if this is any good but yay, it was fun! Thanks! 🥰

[melodiouswhite]

Quiet

(Lady Summers, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde struggle to cope with their immortality, as their loved ones pass away one by one. But they find comfort in their friendship.)

Most people found that with the end of Victoria's reign, it was finally time for progresses that hadn't been made before.

It was December 1926 and many things had changed.

While she was all for progress, she was a child of the mid-19th century and this new era seemed so foreign to her. So fast. So fleeting. So different.

Women had won the right to vote.

Medicine progressed like never before.

The Great War had ravaged the whole world just a few years earlier and changed everything.

She still could see the scars. In form of shell-shocked soldiers, of people who found no work, because of the poor economy, of invalids, who were reduced to begging in the streets.

She had more patients than before – most of them traumatised from the War.

She had buried herself in her work as a therapist. It was all she had left.

For Lady Summers, the beginning 20th century was a time of grief. After decades of wearing no mourning attire, she had returned to wearing nothing but black.

Her villa, which she had loved ever since she had moved in, had grown quiet.

While she hadn't aged a day, her servants had and most of them had passed on by now. The fact that most of them had been her half-siblings made this even more painful.

Philippine had been the first to go.

The night nurse had always been of delicate health. So it had been no surprise, when she had succumbed to scarlet fever (proving once again, that scarlet fever was no children's disease).

Her older sister Julie had died a few years later.

One day the Frenchwoman had styled Lady Summers' hair not with her usual braids and fourragères, but with a fashionable, beautiful and complicated style. It had been the last time – a farewell gift, maybe. Aoimoku was now the one to do her hair, as the Countess hadn't hired a new stylist. It just wasn't the same.

After that, they had died like flies. Some of the losses were worse than others.

The worst was Marie.

The cheerful and hardy Austrian day nurse had been one of her closest servants and the oldest of her half-siblings. And she had been her closest confidante, even closer than Aoimoku. But tough has she was, she had been the last of her deceased servants to pass on. Just a month ago, she had died at the age of 80 – the only one of her servants to die of old age so far.

Lady Summers had sat beside her elderly younger sister's bedside, as she had died.

“I know that you have lived a long time, but it still seems too soon”, she had whispered.

Marie had laughed faintly: “Now, now. Don't be sad, because it's over. Be glad, because it happened. I'm content. It was … a beautiful life. Being your nurse … and your little sister … was more than just … a great honour. It was a gift from Heaven.”

And with a last feeble squeeze of the Lady's hand, she had fallen asleep forever, smiling.

Just the memory made the Lady's heart bleed.

Of her over a dozen servants, only three were alive now: her butler Sameer Singh, her first lady-in-waiting Kurogawa Aoimoku and her driver Sean O' Connor.

Sameer, just like herself, hadn't aged a day. She attributed that to his Rakshasa heritage. He was more demon (or spirit, or whatever those beings were) than human. But it was a comfort, that he would always be there, her loyal butler.

Aoimoku was 71 years old now, but still held herself with a unique grace, elegance and nobility. The wrinkles and the grey strands in her raven hair had in no way tarnished her beauty.

Sean had gone from being her coachman to being her chauffeur, as Lady Summers had traded her coach for a car. Probably better. He was 76 now and his hands were too stiff from rheumatism to hold reins. His red hair had grown thin. Lady Summers dreaded the day when she would no longer hear his cheerful singing and see his goofy smile.

The only other one of her half-siblings still alive, was Alma, who was now sixty years old, but had never been part of the household. The half Irish, who had once caught everyone's eye with her fire red corkscrew curls, ice blue eyes, red lips and tall and slender figure, now looked more like a crazy old witch (she was even keeping cats – Aoimoku hated them).

Lady Summers sighed.

There were other losses she hadn't recovered from – maybe never would. Coping with loss had never been her strong suit.

Most of her friends and family had passed away as well and each loss had been painful.

Of course her former father-in-law, Lord Summers, was long gone. He had lived on to eighty-two, a feisty and kind old man.

Her brothers-in-law were also gone, the last tie to her first husband.

“Say hello to my darling copperhead from me”, she had asked his oldest brother Edward, the last of them to go – a hardy gent like his father.

He had responded with a toothless laugh and a twinkle in his eye (so much like James): “Will do.”

Gabriel John Utterson, her oldest and best friend in England, had passed away of old age fifteen years ago. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, his lover(s), had been left behind to grieve.

But the worst loss was Dr. Lanyon.

Her dear soulmate.

Shortly after the incidents in 1886, they had entered a morganatic marriage with Queen Victoria's permission.

But he had been a bit older than her without having her immortality.

And he hadn't wanted to be immortal either. She had accepted and understood, but it still had broken her heart.

He had passed away in 1910 at the age of 80.

He had been long ill before, so it had only been a matter of time. He had died awake and promised her that, if rebirth really existed, he would meet her again one day.

“Auf Wiedersehen … my lady, my love, my wife …”

It had been sixteen years now and her heart was still as shattered as it had been back then.

Lady Summers didn't know the future, like her dear half-sister and her old friend.

Lanyon had always kept his promises, but the lady just didn't know, when “one day” would be.

It could be tomorrow or in a hundred years and the thought was unbearable. Worse, her old friend Johann (who now called himself John in response to the anti-German sentiment) had implied, that it was closer to being a hundred years.

So the only thing she could do was wait … and grieve.

It was so quiet in her house… so empty.

It was unbearable.

“Sahib?”

Her butler's voice tore her out of her spiral of depression.

Sameer truly had the best timing.

“What is it, Sameer?”, she asked.

“Doctor Jekyll is here to visit you”, he announced.

Suddenly she felt a surge of relief.

“Show him in then.”

The butler left the room and returned with a tall, blond Englishman.

Dr. Jekyll hadn't changed at all – he was still the dignified, handsome gentleman she had met more than forty years ago.

“Hello, Henry”, she greeted him and stood up. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

They had been on first name basis for a long time now.

“Actually, I think I do”, he replied smiling. “Hello, Luise. I would ask you, how your day has been so far, but your facial expression sort of gives it away.”

She chuckled bitterly, but invited him to sit down.

“Do you want some tea and cake?”, she asked. “It's tea time anyway.”

“Yes, please.”

Sameer saw this as his cue to make his way down to the kitchen. He returned with a full tablet for his mistress and her friend, before seeing himself out.

“Do help yourself”, she invited, “My new cook is quite a good one.”

Dr. Jekyll was obviously a bit apprehensive, when he tried the muffin, but his face brightened up quickly.

“Oh, they're scrumptious!”, he exclaimed, “Your butler must have a really good eye for picking your servants.”

“He certainly does”, the Lady agreed. “Then again, he is part Rashasa. They can see and are aware of things that are beyond human comprehension.”

Dr. Jekyll chuckled: “I remember how you and he identified the impurity in my special salt. Speaking of which, I have never thanked either of you. Had you not found out, what was different in my first badge of salt, ohhhh boy! I don't know, if Edward and I would have learned in time how to properly share control of our body. Sooner or later he would have overpowered me without even wanting to and without the proper formula, I wouldn't have been able to transform back. And what's more, you two helped me learn to shift without my formula.”

Lady Summers nodded: “Yes, that was fortunate. Don't forget to thank him personally.”

Suddenly she sensed Mr. Hyde stirring inside Dr. Jekyll's conscience.

“Did somebody say my name?”, the androgynous, guttural voice piped up.

Dr. Jekyll just rolled his eyes, but the Lady smiled lopsidedly.

“Hello, Edward. Did you sleep well?”

“Eh, it was okay. Hi, Luise.”

“Speaking of sleep”, Dr. Jekyll spoke up again, “How has yours been?”

She sighed and didn't answer.

It wasn't necessary.

After more than forty years, the Doctor knew her so well … and he was one of the few friends she had left.

His face became sombre. “It's so quiet here without Marie.”

“It is”, she whispered. “It really is. Without all of them … and so empty …”

She didn't bother keeping her act up and broke into sobbing.

“I … I miss them so!”

Soon his arms were around her and she was crying into his shoulder.

Lady Summers didn't cry often. It just wasn't in her nature.

But she had been strong for too long now.

It seemed to be the same for Dr. Jekyll; at some point she felt his body shake and knew that he – no, she could hear Hyde sob too – that they were crying with her.

This way they sat, hugging each other and crying together.

They wept for their lost loves, their dearest friends and all the other familiar faces, which had one by one faded away, wept because they could never follow (they had promised to Gabriel and Hastie, that they would never end their own lives), because almost everything they had once known and loved was gone and because all they had was each other.

Sure, there were the three alchemists and Victor and Adam and they all knew the pain of losing someone dear. But these five had chosen immortality; they had wanted it, had strove for it.

Luise and Henry had never wanted to be everlasting, had never asked for this cursed existence.

When they finally stopped and withdrew, a glance at the clock told her, that they had wept for three hours.

“Are you feeling better?”, he finally asked kindly.

She nodded and blew her nose. “A little. And you?”

“Me too”, he replied.

“Me too”, Hyde echoed from inside Jekyll's head. “Holy shit, we three really needed that, huh?”

“Indeed so”, the Lady sighed. “Listen, you two, I have never apologised.”

Dr. Jekyll tilted his head in confusion. “Apologised for what?”, he inquired.

“For doing this to you”, she explained softly. “It's my fault that you're ageless and immortal now. I know, you never asked for this cursed existence.”

He smiled gently. “Hey now. We know you didn't mean to. In this moment, our life was at stake and if it hadn't been for your blood donation (and that of Gabe and Hastie), Edward and I would have died. And maybe … maybe it was supposed to come to this. Maybe it was fate, that Edward and I should remain on this earth and keep you company, my friend. Anyhow we're both glad that we can finally return the kindness and sympathy you have given to us all these years.”

“Couldn't have said it better”, Hyde agreed.

The Countess chuckled hoarsely.

Dr. Jekyll patted her hand. “You know, I'm glad that we three are together in this. I know what loneliness feels like. But when you and I can just sit together as old friends, the silence becomes so much more bearable.”

Finally she smiled back. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

A knock on the door made them look up.

In the doorway stood Sameer, with a table cloth, and the Lady's new nurse, holding a carafe of water.

“It's time for dinner”, the butler reminded his employer and laid the table.

The day nurse nodded. “And we saw you crying earlier, so we thought you might want some water afterwards?”

Lady Summers laughed: “Thank you two, that's quite considerate. We could indeed use some food and drink. Ah, and bring a second set, Dr. Jekyll is staying for dinner.”

The two servants nodded and saw themselves out.

Dr. Jekyll turned back to the Lady. “Isn't your new day nurse the granddaughter of your hairstylist?”

“Indeed”, the Lady confirmed, “She even looks a bit like Julie. But in her personality she comes more after her grandaunt Philippine.”

The Doctor chuckled: “Mademoiselle Desmoulins never truly left you, did she?”

“No”, the Lady answered fondly. “She didn't.”

“And you know what? Perhaps your butler is right about the reincarnation thing. I think someday we will see them all again, in one form or another. We just have to wait for that to happen.”

His trusting smile warmed her to the bottom of her soul.

Yes. They just had to wait.

All of their friends and loved ones would return one day, because true friends never truly left.

And then Luise's and Henry's homes wouldn't be quiet and empty anymore.

[howtodrawyourdragon]

A Warm Snoggletog Heart

Summary: Set during RttE. The Riders decided that one of the best things about having Dragon's Edge was the excuse to celebrate everything twice.

A birthday? They would have a party on both Berk and the Edge. A holiday? A celebration on Berk and the Edge. Snoggletog? That absolutely needed to be celebrated twice!

And this year, they have something particularly special in mind for Hiccup.  

Rating: General

Words: 1 481

Author’s Notes: Wrote this in a day because someone from a whump Discord server I'm a part of gave me the motivation for it. Usually, I wait with posting fics until the weekends, so there's a little bit of time between finishing and revising it one last time before I post it. But I wanted it out before tomorrow and since I'll probably be gone tomorrow, I decided to do it all today.

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

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The Riders decided that one of the best things about having Dragon's Edge was the excuse to celebrate everything twice.

A birthday? They would have a party on both Berk and the Edge. A holiday? Again, a celebration on Berk and the Edge. Snoggletog? That absolutely needed to be celebrated twice!

So when Snoggletog came around, Hiccup and the Dragon Riders returned home to share this time with their families only to then go back to their base away from home to share it with just each other.

It wasn't as crazy as their parents probably thought it was going to be.

Astrid used her iron fist to make sure the decorations put up were perfect and up to her standards as she and Tuffnut worked together on that. Snotlout and Ruffnut were put in charge of gathering the favorite meals of the dragons so they would have something of a feast as well. And Fishlegs was made to help Hiccup get dinner ready.

All in all, it wasn't supposed to be a big celebration. It was rather small and intimate, held in the clubhouse.

That was where they were. They'd just eaten dinner, it was time for presents.

Snotlout may have actually squealed in excitement. Astrid already promised him she would never let him live that down.

"An axe! Yes!" Astrid shouted excitedly, holding the double-headed weapon. It was much like Heather's, except more her style. Less rough and more elegant. With complimentary skulls. Her cheeks and eyes lit up.

"Oh yay! Another one!" Snotlout rolled his eyes next to her.

"Thank you, Hiccup!" She told him, though her smile was more than enough of a gift for him.

"Uh, how do you know it didn't come from us?" Ruffnut asked.

"Because it's an axe, Ruff. Do you know how to make one?" She asked, though she wasn't particularly annoyed. Her day was made.

"Heather and I actually collaborated on that one. She mentioned to me how you really wanted one like hers, so we worked on it together. We each did one half and we exchanged some secrets. Blacksmith to blacksmith. It's like a Snoggletog gift and a "thank you for letting me stay in your hut" gift combined." Hiccup explained. As Astrid took a closer look, she did see some marks she didn't recognize as made by Hiccup's hand.

So this was Heather's signature. She would remember them too.

"So... What did I get?" Fishlegs could hardly wait. He was having a hard time sitting still on his chair.

It was Snotlout who gave him his present.

"From me to you." He told him and gave it to him in the most dramatic Snotlout-esque way possible.

"Awww, thank you, Snotlout!" Fishlegs responded as he accepted the gift. It appeared to be a book. Opening it up, he found detailed sketches of plants inside and he gasped.

"Is this what I think it is?!"

"The Beauty of Botany Volume Three? That's exactly what you're looking at!" Snotlout exclaimed. It was hidden behind a smirk, but he was just as excited as Fishlegs was. Snoggletog was one of the few times a year he let his generosity shine. This side to him was exclusively for Snoggletog and birthdays only.

Fishlegs grinned from ear to ear as he skimmed through its pages. He was as happy as a Nadder at a Chicken buffet.

"So everyone's got their presents, only one victim remains." Ruffnut was particularly menacing as she spoke up, leaning on her knees with her elbows.

Snotlout's gift had been a bludgeon similar to his very first, which he had lost again. The twins had absolutely nothing to do with its disappearance, they had assured Snotlout of this.

What Tuffnut was given was something made for Chicken. It was a little custom-made bed for her because Tuff had complained about it being unfair that he got a bed, but not Chicken.

As for Ruff's gift, it was a handmade lotion of fish oil for her hair created out of rare and exotic ingredients that were quite expensive on the market. She had immediately slathered her hair with it.

Hiccup was the person she was talking about, but for once, he wasn't particularly worried. The Riders watched as Tuffnut got up to grab it.

He quickly returned with something obscured by cloth and he handed it over to Hiccup, who took it.

He stared at the gift his friends decided to give him. He was certainly curious, that was for sure. It was the only one wrapped up.

He didn't quite notice it, all of his attention was on the object held in his hands, but anticipation amongst the Riders grew. They were all sitting on the edge of their seats as they watched Hiccup unwrap it.

It turned out to be a plush toy. Of Toothless! Well, he was pretty sure it was a stuffed animal version of his Night Fury, it looked quite odd.

"It's Toothless!" He was puzzled, but he was smiling nonetheless. The Night Fury himself came over from his corner to sit closer to look at the toy when he heard his name leave Hiccup's lips. He was intrigued.

But Hiccup's smile slowly faltered as he took a closer look at Toy Toothless' oddities.

He had tiny, tiny skulls for eyes. The kind he knew only one person to wear, except they were even smaller. He recognized Snotlout's stitching. The "hide" was knitted patches of black wool. Toothless' "nubs" were braided in a very specific way. And if he had to guess, the stuffing must be chicken feathers.

That's when it hit him.

His friends had made this for him. All of them had left their marks on it. This was something they worked on together. For him!

He was speechless.

"Take another look at the skulls." Hiccup didn't know when his friends decided to move in behind him, but he noticed when Astrid spoke up and pointed towards the plush's eyes. He did as he was told and saw that they were painted a dark green. Forest green.

"Do you think he realizes we made it for him?" Tuffnut asked his sister in whispers loud enough for all of them to hear.

"Oh yeah, I think he does." Ruffnut replied, proud of herself. Her arms were crossed in fulfillment.

As Hiccup looked at its eyes, there was one more detail on the doll left for him to find out.

Turning it slightly, he noticed that his emblem had been stitched onto it.

They had all put little bits and pieces of themselves in the toy and they made sure a little bit of Hiccup was in there as well.

"We saw that you brought the toy your mom made you to the Edge and thought "Hey! You like that one! Why not make another one?" So we did!" Snotlout explained. It looked like he'd been waiting to do so.

The Riders had expected many different reactions from Hiccup. Long ago, when the idea had first struck them, they even decided to take a bet and see who could nail their leader's reaction.

They hadn't expected him to cry.

Tears spilled from his eyes and he sniffed. His smile was the biggest they'd ever seen on his face.

"Hiccup?" Astrid asked, hands on his shoulders. Hiccup let his head hang as a single sob escaped.

"Oh no, we broke him!" Tuffnut loudly exclaimed with his hands on his helmet. Ruffnut smacked him hard.

"Look what you've done to him!" She accused him of an utmost heinous crime. Snotlout came and banged their helmets together.

"Ugh, muttonheads!"

Maybe it was all the stress getting to him or maybe he truly was that touched by their gesture, but Hiccup couldn't help himself.

"Hiccup?"

"I'm-I'm fine, guys. I'm fine." The level of control in his voice backed it up.

"I'm just... I'm just really touched, I..." He tried wiping his cheeks dry with his sleeves, but it was useless.

Smiling sympathetically, Astrid bend down to wrap her arms around his shoulders to pull him into a hug. The waterworks were going with her too, albeit slightly less than they were with Hiccup.

"So sensitive!" Snotlout complained with a shake of his head, even though he jumped on the chance to share a group hug with the rest of the Riders. He grabbed both Astrid and Hiccup into a hold that was more of a headlock than an actual hug. They laughed.

"Ah-ha! A way to fix this!" Tuffnut joked and embraced the three of them. Huffing, Ruffnut joined in.

"Oh, you guys!" Fishlegs spoke and completed the hug by wrapping his arms around the entire group.

All of them smiled, nobody let go. The toy dragon his mother made for him so long ago now had a friend. And Hiccup, he found this to be the warmest Snoggletog yet.

[iamnotbrianmay]

in the arms of life and death

Hi, its me, since I couldn't physically stop myself from writing another fanfic when this idea came to life I was forced by my brain to write and post this chapter. Now I'm writing two fanfics, which is great if you ask me. Less time to do homework, more time to write!

I hope you like this one, its a very weird concept I have had for three days, now its written down and I am shaking with terror about your reactions.

Description: Roger Meddows Taylor is born with blood in his hands and death in his heart. An unbreakable curse with the lamest silver lining he had ever heard of— he had a soulmate. A single soul made just for him to love, cherish, and be happy with.

What a load of bullshit. How could he be happy with anyone if anything he touches will surely die?

Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep.

Roger Meddows Taylor is born with blood in his hands and death in his heart.

The doctors treat him with utmost care, making sure that his head is held upright, his skin is cleaned from all blood, and he is wrapped tightly in a bundle of warm blankets. However, they type his birthmark into the system with anger, because people start pitying and being angry in Roger's behalf from the moment he is born.

His mother cries once he is taken into his father's arms and she is sure she won't drop him. The Hemlock which adorns his skin is nearly a death sentence, and ironically it's the most beautiful flower mark anyone had ever seen. It blooms right above Roger's heart, a bunch of delicate and elegant buds which looked as if the most talented painter in the world had taken hours to draw.

Of course, it's only right that the most terrible curses get the most beautiful flowers.

His father holds him tight against his chest, cooing at the newly born and blinking back the tears. The five-leaved clover that covered Michael's heart burning; taunting him with his never-ending bad luck. Luck that had passed down to his baby.

The blond boy gurgled, and Michael let out a soft sob. A single tear fell onto the boy's cheek, and the doctors left the trio to grieve alone. It was then that Michael Taylor started begging for his son's forgiveness, even if the boy was too small to even understand what was being said to him.

I am a thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints on snow,

In the beginning, and for a long time, Roger remained giftless.

He is still branded as a Cursed, though, and forced to go to a school meant for Cursed children only, until his gift shows. At first, he has dozens of friends, his toothless grin and charismatic personality does wonders for him. He goes around charming students and teachers alike, and by the end of the first semester, there is barely a Friday afternoon in which he finds himself at home.

But things inevitably change, and the first one to go is a little girl called Rosa. She had a mane of red hair, and a grin that makes every boy and girl fall in love with her. They are all sitting in a classroom, attentively listening as their teacher reads a book about a lost bird trying to find his family when Rosa asks the question that changes everything.

"Miss Pearl?"

"Yes, Rosa?"

"Can I sit in your lap?"

"Of course, Rosa. Anything for my favourite girl."

It's a simple request, something that shouldn't have sent alarms ringing, but suddenly the class is buzzing with anger. Shouts and complains ring all over the room and poor Rosa is left in the middle of the chaos, with fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

Roger is the only one unaffected by the gift, he has never been and will never be a jealous person. He looks around the room as children jeered and insulted Rosa until his head feels like it's about to explode and his ears are ringing. He grabs Rosa's hand and runs out of the classroom, ignoring the screams from their teacher.

Once they are alone, sitting on the lid of one of the boy's bathrooms, Roger urges Rosa to show him her flower. All of their flowers are well-kept secrets, only meant to be spoken out loud once their time comes, intended to warn or guide people once their gift showed.

Hesitantly she lowered the hem of her yellow, cotton, dress and Roger let out a soft 'oh' once he saw the mark.

"Hyacinth bloom." She whispered, lisp making it hard to pronounce the name correctly.

"Jealousy."

She nodded and let the hem settle back to its original state. He gathered a little bit of toilet paper and dried her tears, the ones that were still falling after the stressful event.

"My mom says it's not our fault when our gift makes people act differently." He tried to comfort her, but her bright eyes look weary.

"Is it because your flower is similar to mine?"

Roger freezes. He is barely six years old, barely over his toddler-age; he should be innocent and believe that maybe his flower wasn't as bad as people thought it would be. But he had stubbornly learned how to read to find out more about his condition, and had heard his mother crying through the thin walls of the house.

He looked at her in the eyes and shook his head, trusting the little girl with the only piece of information he was allowed to give at that moment, "No. It's much worse."

The next morning Rosa had already been transferred to a school for the gifted, and people had come to explain that every single one of them was going to be transferred unless their gifts proved too dangerous to be around other children. The lecturer's eyes zeroed in on Roger, even if he had no idea of what Roger's gift might be, it felt like a premonition of the years to come.

I am the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.

He is the last one to get his gift.

The classrooms became smaller, the lectures more private, and soon only he and three other people were left out of a class of nearly seventy children.

They are trying to complete a science experiment, and Roger doesn't fail to notice how he is the only one in the classroom that doesn't need to wear thick leather gloves. The other three people had been cursed with the gift of Bellwort, Holy, and Marigold, and therefore had been deemed too dangerous to be around other children until they were at least fourteen years old.

The day starts like any other, he laughs with Khandra, makes fun of Luis, and nearly gets into a row with Anthony, before his gift gets revealed.

He sticks his hand into the fish tank, trying to catch one of the slowpokes to test their experiment, but when he puts the fish back into the water, it dies immediately.

Roger frowns and pokes at the floating fish with one of his slender fingers, then watches horrified as the meat rots under his touch and falls away, leaving only the skeleton. The other children jump back, trying to put as much distance between Roger and themselves, and he doesn't blame them.

The teacher watches as the chaos unfolds and locks the door. He manages to calm down the three other children in the room and then zeroes in on Roger, who is holding his hands as far away from his body as he can.

The teacher, a balding man with soft brown eyes, kneels in front of Roger and talks him into a state of faux calm that is bound to break at any moment.

"Roger, can you show me your flower?"

The blond shakes his head, as fat tears roll down his cheeks.

"Can you tell me what the flower is, then?"

Another shake of his head, and more tears rolling down his face. He looks back at the fish tank, watching as the remaining flesh drifted to the bottom of the tank.

"Can I call your parents?"

Roger is hesitant, seemingly speechless for the first time since he learned how to talk, but then he nods. The man takes out his phone and dials his mother's number. The conversation is short and grim, and once his teacher is turned back to Roger the older man is looking at him with pity in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Roger."

The tears won't stop coming, and his teacher's eyes are misty.

"I'm so sorry, sweet boy."

He braces himself for the hug that he knows his teacher is prone to giving, but instead, Mr Amourne takes a step back and runs towards the door, screaming at his colleagues for help. He is left standing in the middle of the classroom, alone, terrified, and confused, waiting for something that would never come.

When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight.

Roger Meddows Taylor never gets to leave the school for the Cursed.

He grows into a beautiful young man, and his teachers do everything to the best of their abilities to make him as smart as he is good-looking. He teaches some classes for the younger children in his spare time, takes music lessons to drown out his boredom— and grows talented at the art of not touching people.

His gloves help him in unavoidable situations, as does his thick clothing. But for the most part, Roger Meddows Taylor hasn't touched a single living human for more than a fleeting moment since he was nine and a half years old. In fact, he can't even remember what it felt like.

His mother hasn't combed his long blond hair in years, his parents' lips haven't peppered his face with kisses since the morning before the accident, and he has had to sleep alone in cold winters for ten years and counting.

The gloves help with almost everything, including things like his passion for banging the shit out of drums and his ironic talent of gardening. What they don't help with is with his parents' near-constant pity party of their first born.

They only served to worsen it.

They watched with sad eyes as Clare, their beautiful Crocus blessed Clare, took the mantle of the charismatic child. They observed as day after day as she bloomed and he withered.

And when the time came for him to leave school, they had to watch Roger, their Roggie, fall apart.

His already brittle soul chipping away as each of the people he had grown used too wished him the best in life, bowing before him like he was something holy, worthy of admiration. Which in his mother's eyes he was.

Roger, however, hated it when people bowed to him. It was a constant reminder of the fear he had placed in all of their hearts, of the terror they had of what lived inside his veins and was tattooed upon his chest.

But he accepted it, nonetheless, knowing that was the most he was ever going to get, and bowed back.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

The day he meets Freddie is the happiest day of Roger's life.

It's the first day he has ever been out of his house in months, and he is headed to one of his teacher's art exposition. An extravagant event hosted by the same woman who had once taught him how to draw people with their hands entwined, or in the middle of a passionate kiss. He wouldn't miss it for the world.

He walks into the gallery with his best suit, thickest long coat, stunning sapphire tie, and his trusty black, leather, gloves. He fits right into the scene for the first time in a while, and he even allows himself to loosen up. He drinks one flute of champagne, knowing precisely what would happen if he drank more and walks around the gallery, engaging in conversation with whoever is brave enough to get close to the Child of Death,as they had nicknamed him a few years prior.

He still didn't allow himself to brush with people, expertly dodging and slithering between crowds to avoid contact. And people, upon seeing his face made way.

But something was inevitably bound to happen.

And while he weaved his way through the crowd, twirling and ducking to avoid contact, he ended up crashing into someone.

Fear gripped his heart in a vice grip as he landed on the floor. He scrambled to his elbows as fast as possible and saw that the person he had crashed into, a thin boy with raven black hair, was looking at him with wide eyes. They stared at each other, waiting for the worst to happen, before the other boy spoke.

"Jump up and down and twirl around."

The body-numbing fear was instantly replaced by endless amounts of confusion. Roger made a face, shook his head as if trying to see if the boy was real, and then rubbed his eyes for good measure. "What?"

The relief that rolled of the other man was palpable, "Oh thank God, I thought I had touched you."

It was only then that Roger noticed the thick leather gloves on the man's hands, and the Wax plant pin attached to his coat.

"Sorry for the weird first impression, by the way, I'm Freddie Bulsara, Susceptibility."

Roger raised his eyebrows, "Not scared flaunt your curse, I see."

Freddie shrugged, "Better to warn people before they get a nasty surprise. My gift is something you can't quite shake off."

Roger eyed the boy with curiosity, taking in his white tuxedo and silver coat. He scanned the flawlessly applied makeup, the hundreds of necklaces and chokers he was sporting, and the gorgeous Wax plant pin made out of crystals. He also admired the way that he was laying on the floor, talking with a random stranger about the bane of their existence while looking like he did just that every single day.

"Roger Taylor, Death," he said while fiddling with the cuff of his coat, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Do not stand at my grave and cry,   I am not there; I did not die.

         - Mary Elizabeth Frye

Okay so the flowers mentioned in this chapter (and their meanings) are:

Hemlock - You will cause my death Five-leaved clover - Bad Luck Hyacinth - Jealousy, sorrow Bellwort - Hopelessness Holly - Am I forgotten? Marigold - Cruelty Crocus - Cheerfulness Wax Plant - Susceptibility

Comments and Feedback are highly appreciated! In fact, I am a slut for comments! If you want to be added to the tag list, just send me a small message! I love you all, hope you enjoyed it! 

[glassnightfury]

Cry Havoc Chapter 2: If You Could See Me (Part I)

ao3 || fanfiction

previous

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III is a normal 17-year-old. If you don’t count the missing leg. Or his father, the sheriff. Or the strange dog he found in the woods. Or the strange man he met in the woods (really, anything he did in the woods). Or the family secrets he just can’t seem to put together. Or the mysterious disappearance of his mother 16 and half years ago. Or the cryptic veterinarian family friend that keeps showing up in the strangest of places. Or how wild he gets around a full moon.

So, maybe not so normal.

Hiccup hears the crackle of his father's police radio echo through the house.

"All available units to New Berk Preserve, we got a 10-54," the dispatcher recites in the same dispassionate tone she's always had. "Be advised, only half has been found."

Any internal battle Hiccup would have had about following his father into the woods again ends before it begins. Dead body in the woods. Missing half.

The full moon's light streams through Hiccup's window brightly enough he doesn't need to turn on his lamp. Toothless stirs from his bed when Hiccup starts to roll on his prosthetic liner, a telltale sign of trouble at this hour. He grumbles and stretches more luxuriously than a 177-pound tripodal behemoth should be able to before he gets up. He finds Hiccup's jeans from yesterday abandoned at the foot of the four-poster bed. With a flick of Toothless's head, the jeans fly and hit Hiccup square in the face as he's wiggling the air out of his prosthetic socket.

"Thanks, bud," Hiccup says, uncaring of Toothless's attitude. He yanks his jeans on, only taking care with the magnetic closure on the inseam around his prosthesis. Toothless's nails click-clack against the hardwood floor, and the bright red service dog harness lands beside him on the bed before he can jam his foot into his adidas high top.

They both freeze when they hear Stoick's heavy footsteps pass the bedroom door. His normally booming voice is as hushed as he can make it as he relays instructions to his deputies over the phone. The front door opens and shuts, and they spring back into action, their routine practiced and precise from the go-bag in the back of the closet to the jeep keys hanging by the door.

The jeep awaits them as it always does, and they take off.

Hiccup parks a mile away from the entrance. Toothless has his head sticking out the window, and he's scenting the air before the jeep is even parked.

The search dogs bark restlessly at the main gate, but Toothless doesn't waver from his task of leading Hiccup through the trees. It's an exercise of trust. Hiccup's flashlight serves only to illuminate twigs or stones that would pull his legs out from under him. The leash hooks them together at the belt and the harness. He's not quite sure what scent they're following—for all he knows, it could be a rabbit or squirrel—but feeling the uncharacteristically cool air settle around them in a fine mist is liberating enough that he can't bring himself to care.

Toothless leads him onto an old path, well-worn but overgrown and blocked in places. It strikes a chord of remembrance that Hiccup can't place. They keep walking, the voices of the search party growing quieter and quieter behind them. Toothless is determined, but at every obstacle he turns to watch Hiccup pass it successfully. The house at the end of the trail knocks Hiccup breathless.

"More of a mansion, really," he says to Toothless, but he doesn't bother to explain the root of the thought. Its walls are charred black, the glass of the windows shattered and boarded up. The roof slopes down in the middle, and an assortment of lichens and mosses are splotched around. "At least it used to be."

Toothless whirls around, a growl starting deep within him and pointed at something behind Hiccup, leaving him scrambling to find the source of Toothless's ire.

"This is private property, kid," a voice says from within the thicket. A tall, dark-haired man maybe a handful of years older than Hiccup himself steps out, and a spark of recognition ignites in the back of Hiccup's mind, although he's sure he would remember someone with a face tattoo.

"Sorry," Hiccup says in his best unassuming voice. "We're just looking for something."

"I'll bet you are," the man scoffs, and it's an accusation.

Toothless growls again, tugging at the lead with his hackles up and his head lowered. He puts himself between Hiccup and the man, who seems unconcerned with the fierce protectiveness of the unholy offspring of a Newfoundland and a German Shepherd. When Toothless glances back to make sure Hiccup is safely behind him, Hiccup swears he sees those strange green eyes glowing.

"Is that thing always like this?" the man asks with a scowl.

"Where are our manners? I'm Hiccup Haddock," he says wryly, noting the recognition in his eyes at his last name, "and this is Toothless." He gestures to him in a dramatized sweep.

"Hmm. He definitely has teeth." The man's eyes never leave Toothless.

"So everyone reminds me."

"Eret," Eret says after a beat. "Eret Eretson."

Hiccup resists the urge to comment on his name. It has never worked out well for him. The name Eretson, however, rings a bell strongly enough to jog a memory of his father's work.

"Eretson, like the Eretson House fire?" he asks. Eret's face screws farther into its scowl, etching heavy creases.

"What's it to you, Haddock?" Eret spits his name at his feet like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. "You think I don't know exactly who your daddy is?"

His hostility is matched when Toothless doubles down, but Eret steps forward anyway, backing him up into Hiccup's legs.

"You think I don't know exactly what—" he cuts off with a heavy sniff. "Does your father know you're a werewolf?"

"A—what?" Hiccup splutters.

Eret's hazel eyes change in an instant, glowing a bright ice blue. Hiccup freezes. Eret bares his teeth to reveal fangs where Hiccup was sure human teeth had been before. He feels Eret's growl deep in his chest. It bores a hole in his gut, and he can feel his own teeth changing in his mouth.

As quickly as the confrontation begins, it's over. Eret steps back again and pulls his phone out of his pocket, holding the camera in front of Hiccup. His teeth match Eret's, but his eyes glow yellow-gold instead of blue.

"A werewolf," Eret says. His head snaps to his left, and Toothless redirects his anger to exactly where Eret is looking. "You don't know how to fight, do you?" His voice curls up hopefully.

"Fight what?" Hiccup feels panic spread through him while he touches the tips of his fangs—his fangs—and his feet unfreeze, but the only thing he can do is take a couple steps back from Eret, pulling Toothless with him. There's a black smoky mist rising from his fur, leaving Hiccup to wonder just how many pieces of the puzzle he'd been missing.

"Untie the dog."

"What? Why?" He knows he sounds stupid, but his head is spinning from all the information being hurled at him at once.

"He'll protect you."

Against his better judgement, Hiccup listens. Before he can consider regretting that decision, a huge black creature with glowing red eyes stalks out of the thicket. The roar it gives is ten times more powerful than Eret's. Hiccup's feels his fingernails turning into claws.

"What is that?" he asks around his fangs.

"An Alpha," Eret says. "An angry one. Run."

Before he gets the chance, the monster rushes at him. The impact knocks him back hard into a tree. As the monster gears up to attack again, Toothless and Eret launch themselves at it in a strangely elegant attack.

"Run, kid!" Eret shouts.

Hiccup obeys.

Hiccup's heart pounds in his ears. His legs move far more quickly than they ever have before. His body feels brand new to him, but he doesn't take the time to revel in it as he escapes. He becomes aware of Toothless catching up to him, and he allows the relief to pour over him. A tree branch comes up too quickly for him to dodge, and the shoe on his prosthesis catches underneath it, sending him sprawling into an all-too-familiar gully.

When his eyes open, he is face-to-face with the clouded, unseeing eyes and frozen slack jaw of a corpse. He can't stifle the yelp that escapes him. Toothless completely ignores the body—or rather, the half body—as he pulls Hiccup up by the backpack, helping him to right himself. With Toothless helping, it takes seconds to get out of the gully that Hiccup never would have escaped if he were on his own. Such are the benefits of having a service dog bigger and strong than it's 'master,' Hiccup supposes as Toothless barks a clear hurry up message at him.

The search party gets louder and closer as they run, but Hiccup's adrenaline is starting to flag. His body is giving out. He needs to stop. Toothless keeps going as Hiccup leans against a tree, sinking down to the ground. He thinks he must have blacked out for a second, because when he opens his eyes, Toothless is licking his face.

And his father is standing over him.

"Hey, Dad," he huffs, still out of breath. He points back where they came from. "I found the other half of the body. It's that way." His dad just scowls.

"You're grounded, Hiccup."

The first day of school is always a rough one for Hiccup and Toothless. As if it weren't enough that he has to tell every freshman in the school not to pet his service dog, everyone else seems to forget the rule as well. Toothless, for his part, is not particularly amenable to being touched by anyone that's not Hiccup while he's working, and most of the time his cat-like glares are enough to put them off when he's curled around Hiccup's shoes.

This one is a whole new ballgame. They're both exhausted from the night before, and Hiccup is still reeling. It takes everything he has not to excuse himself to the bathroom just to watch his fangs and claws protract and retract over and over and over, and first hour hasn't even begun yet.

A phone rings when he sits down for first period English, and its shrill notes drill into his brain. None of the students filing in seem to even notice as he searches for the source of the pain, and even Toothless is unbothered as he sits watch. The ringing stops mid-melody.

"Three calls on my first day is a bit much, Mom," a girl's voice says breezily. Movement outside the window catches Hiccup's eye, and he spots Astrid Hofferson sitting outside on the bench. Talking on the phone. He doesn't believe he's really hearing her until she digs around in her bag. "Ugh," she says into the phone, and he can see her mouth form the words. "I can't believe I seriously forgot a pen on my first day. No, please don't drive down here. I gotta go, Mom, love you."

"Mr. Haddock," Mrs. Ack calls. "Something interesting out there?" Hiccup's face catches fire. On the chalk board is written "Kafka's Metamorphosis," and he realizes he missed the bell and the greeting.

"Uh, no, ma'am,' he says. "Sorry."

The class is well into the syllabus when the door opens to reveal Astrid with the vice principal. Hiccup is well into not paying attention, but he tunes in when he sees her.

"Class," the vice principal says, "this is Astrid Hofferson. Some of you may already know her."

And Hiccup tunes out again, his eyes never leaving Astrid's face. She catches him staring, but before he can look away, she smiles at him. The only open seat is right in front of him.

He holds up an extra pen in front of her as she sets her notebook on the desk. Her smile burns a hole in his brain.

"Thanks," she whispers, and he just catches the tail end of her confused face before he goes back to pretending to take notes.

Maybe this won't be all bad, he thinks.

Astrid's locker is, of course, right between Ruffnut's and Snotlout's. Hiccup watches from his own locker as she falls right back in with them as if no time has passed since third grade.

"Hey, Astrid," Snotlout says, "the lacrosse team has a party every Friday night at the twins' house. You wanna come?" Hiccup nearly jumps out of his skin when it sounds like they're right next to him.

"I wish I could," Astrid answers. "Friday is family night."

"She's been back, what, five minutes?" Fishlegs says next to Hiccup. "And they're already all chummy again. How's that?"

"Cause she's pretty and perfect and Astrid," Hiccup replies distractedly.

"Oh, come on," Fishlegs whines. "You're not still crushing on her, are you?" Hiccup scrunches up his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he lies. "Are you gonna be home tonight? I've got a project I want to run by you."

"After lacrosse practice. You can wait if you want. How do you have a project already? It's the first day."

"It's a personal thing." Hiccup finally breaks his gaze off Astrid to look at Fishlegs, who snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Okay, weirdo."

The paint on the lacrosse field is all but gone, but the bleachers have a fresh coat of currant red over the designs in preparation for the upcoming season. Hiccup sits on the edge sketching in a notebook, and Toothless lounges belly-up. His harness lays forgotten by Hiccup's backpack.

Before he lost his leg, Hiccup was on the lacrosse team. He never played in a real game except when they were winning by an insane margin, and he only joined to impress his father. The amputation provided a convenient excuse to quit playing a game that had given him several broken bones.

"Hey," Astrid's voice says beside him. "Is this seat taken?" He freezes.

"Uh," he drones. "Yeah, uh, I mean, no, it's free. Not taken. Totally available for whoever wants to—"

"Great," she cuts him off. If she hadn't, he knows he would have kept going. "I kind of need to talk to you."

"Me?" he squeaks. She's just as beautiful as he remembers—more so, probably, and it throws him off.

"Who else?"

"Uh…"

"That was rhetorical, Hiccup," she says, and she's smiling. It knocks the wind out of him. Her hair is white-gold in the sunlight and her eyes the color of his aunt's hydrangea. He's aware that his answering smile is probably—no, definitely—totally dorky. "I just wanted to thank you, again." Toothless wakes up with a jolt and wiggles his way to his feet ridiculously, pushing his head into Astrid's lap. Her laugh sounds like music.

"Thank me?" He snaps out of his daze. Her nose crinkles for half a second.

"Yeah, I mean, if you hadn't gone looking for me that night, I probably would've, like, died of exposure, or something, so," she keeps going, but Hiccup just watches the way her words shape her face, the way her freckles move with her lips until what she's saying dawns on him.

"You were the jogger in the woods two years ago," he realizes. Her posture deflates. She grimaces.

"Yeah," she says with a frown. "And if they hadn't found you, they wouldn't have found me. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have lost your leg." Hiccup thinks about it for a second.

"I wouldn't have Toothless, either," he reasons. Toothless is still trying to wriggle onto Astrid's lap subtly, as if he isn't approximately a million times her size. She laughs again. "I'd trade a leg for him any day. All three of us were in the woods that night. We all needed help. It was just the universe working out for us."

"Look out!" Fishlegs calls from the field, and time slows down. The ball is headed straight for Astrid's face, but Hiccup has all the time in the world to catch it. It's almost too easy. His hand stops the ball two inches from her nose. Her jaw drops, her hand finding its way to his shoulder. A current runs between them, pulling them in closer together. She glances at the watch on her wrist and snaps to attention.

"I have to go," she says, standing up suddenly. "My mom's picking me up, like, three minutes ago."

"Wait, Astrid!" Hiccup calls as she starts away. She turns. "Can you get out of family night on Friday? I hear there's a party."

She grins, and he grins back.

"Family night was a lie," she admits. He raises his eyebrows in expectation. "Pick me up at seven."

[harleyquilt]

Through The Years

Summary: A trip through the many years of the Kaneki family at snapshots of their lives whilst Touken watch their family mature. 

Words: 4144

Notes: So this is for my really wonderful and perfect friend @beneybunny. I actually wrote this as thanks to a favour, but since I’m a lazy and terrible friend, this is now her late birthday present. The fic itself is just really fluffy and silly and I hope you enjoy it! 

It was a quiet morning, as tranquil and lazy as any morning could be really. Kaneki opened his eyes slowly to find himself alone in his bed and sitting up, rubbing his eyes, he heard Touka’s soft whisperings from Ichika’s room. He smiled to himself and leaned back, eyes glancing to his opened window where he could see the wide and vast countryside field nearby. The almost picturesque scenery was nothing compared to the city, which was still in shambles from the attack almost a year ago. He visited there often, the image of the ruins and crumbled buildings and roads were engraved into his mind as a reminder of his actions and despite the pain it brought to remind him of the damage he afflicted, it also reminded him of what he had now; a chance to start again and redeem himself with a beautiful family to support him whenever. Whether he deserved it or not he wasn’t sure, he just knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass because he was busy wallowing in self-pity.

“Oh, you’re awake, sleepyhead.” Touka smiled and she leaned against the doorframe to their room, cradling their small baby girl in her arms. “I was just feeding our little sleepyhead here, I’ll make you some coffee in a minute.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” He insisted as he got up, heading over to her side where he gave her a quick peck on her cheek and leaned down to do the same to Ichika. He caressed Touka’s cheek and she smiled warmly, their eyes on each others. He then looked down, feeling Ichika tug at his shirt and carefully taking her from Touka’s arms, he lifted her up, watching her give him a wide toothless smile.

“What a beautiful smile our princess has!” Kaneki beamed and lowering her, she pinched his cheeks, giggling. “It’s as beautiful as the queens’.”

Touka slapped his shoulder lightly, heading off to make his coffee as he continued to play with Ichika. She was so perfect, a mix of both him and Touka in her features: she had Touka’s eyes and his grey colour, Touka’s face with those chubby cheeks and his...hair? Actually, the hair left him baffled more than anything. He knew Haise was his own person in a sense, but this simply didn’t make sense. Touka seemed completely fine, if anything more amused, at the ‘sesame pudding’ hair she ended up having, yet Kaneki couldn’t help but consider this as Haise’s last act of revenge for disposing him back into the tormenting depths of his own mind. Nonetheless, he loved her regardless of her looks - she’d be perfect no matter the appearance.

At the minute, she was only a few months old, and Kaneki was always chuffed at how tiny she turned out to be. He never held a baby before - never had the opportunity to - and when he held Ichika for the first time...He almost squealed at the sight of her. Everything about her was so tiny, especially her hands that’d barely wrap around his pinkie finger. She was so warm too and he felt completely at peace when he simply sat and held her in his arms, talking to her softly about how much he loved her and of all the things he’d do for her once she grew up some more. She watched him with wide eyes as he headed over to Touka, showering his child with kisses as he smelled the sweet fragrance of the coffee Touka made for him.

“She’s such a happy baby.” Touka commented, taking a sip of her own coffee and she leaned against the counter. “She especially loves that apple mush Yoriko told me to feed her. She threw it all over me yesterday.” She shuddered at the memory. “I can still smell that disgusting scent of it even now.”

“Hey, you eat apples too.” Kaneki chuckled as he set down Ichika onto her cushioned seat nearby, giving her a toy to chew on. He gathered Touka into his arms and embraced her tightly, pressing his lip to the top of her head. “If you want I can give you more of that cake again. Kimi did say we had to adapt our palates if we want to change our diets. I’ll do it with you if you want.”

“Please, it’s enough just smelling the stuff as it if. Give me a break.” They stayed still for a brief moment, Touka letting out a low sigh as she listened to his slow heartbeat. After a quiet moment like this, she looked up to watch the scar that went down from his eyes, like black tears had stained his cheeks. “Hm, they’re not fading it seems. Or at least not completely.” His smile dropped then and her fingers lightly traced the marks, her eyes wide and curious. “Not that I’m complaining, they look pretty cool. They don’t hurt, do they?”

He shook his head and turned to kiss each finger tip. He knew she’d have no issues with his appearance. As she said, she’d love him even if his hands were covered in scales or if he had no arms at all. Still, he wanted to be proud to stand by someone as elegant and beautiful as her, even if his insecurities were simply silly concerns. Ah, but no matter; her words always gave him the comfort he needed and he took a deep breath, his smile returning as he allowed himself to take in those words.

“I wonder how I'll explain it to Ichika.” They both looked back at their daughter, who was banging her toy against her seat with some annoyance. “Don't worry so much about it.” Touka reassured, pulling away and patting his head. “She'll think they're cool too.”

“You really think so?” Kaneki chuckled, grabbing his drink.

“I know so.”

. . .

Ichika stuck her tongue out as she concentrated on her reflection. Her mother's makeup bag was tipped over and all the different brushes and ‘clippy boxes’ (as she liked to call them) were scattered across the dresser table. She held the black pencil in her hand, turning it this way and that. She really didn't understand how this wasn't used for colouring, but considering how she saw her mama draw with it under her eyes, it must be to draw pictures on skin instead of paper. With a confirmed nod and smile, she silently christened this pencil as the ‘body drawer thingy.’

Touka sat besides Kaneki at the dining table as they looked through different holiday locations through the travel magazine they held between them. They were in the midst of arguing whether to go with Kaneki's suggestion and go to Rome for a romantic getaway or to go with Touka's choice of Disney World.

“Look, maybe we can go to both.” Touka suggested with some mild frustration. “We're getting Tsukiyama to pay anyway.”

“Touka-chan, we can't make him pay for us for the sixth time.” Touka raised a brow in confusion as to why they couldn't. He sighed and was and was about to protest once again before they heard a loud tumble in their room. “Ichika! What are you doing?”

She came running in quickly, a slight skip in her step and a beaming smile. There were dark streaks of black pencil across her cheek under her ghoul eye, mimicking Kaneki's scars. She also drew a nice flower on her other cheek and head with lipstick, her artist skills apparent.

“I'm just like papa! I'm just like papa!” She jumped onto his lap, knocking the air out of him and both he and Touka looked at one another - they didn't know whether to feel heartwarmed or angry at their child. Touka was now growing more concerned at the noise she heard in her room just before.

“Don't I look just like him?” Ichika asked her mum with bright eyes, shaking her dad by the shoulders. “Don't I look cool?”

Kaneki felt his eyes water with tears and he lifted her up, a sappy smile on his quivering lips. She giggled as he hugged her tightly, all anger vanished with his pride and relief. Cool! She called him cool! She was truly the most perfect daughter.

“Don't coddle her! Do you even realise-”

“You, my beautiful princess, are getting cookies today.” Kaneki declared, Ichika and him cheering loudly whilst he stood up. Touka only stared in disgust. “And the queen gets cookies too!”

“We all get cookies!”

Kaneki, despite the joy he had felt in that moment, had not considered the lecture he would receive that night as his wife punished him by making him clean up all the mess in their room. And no, she didn't forgive him even after the cookies.

. . .

“He's so small.” Ichika cocked her head to one side as she stared perplexed at her baby brother her mother held in her arms. His face scrunched up every now and again, his tiny pouty lips opening and closing with quiet whimpers. “Is he even alive?”

“Of course he is, silly.” Kaneki sat besides Touka, admiring their newly born child with his daughter. He couldn't seem to stop hugging his wife, kissing her all over with his head leaned against hers.

Ichika, with her eyes narrowing, leaned forward to examine her brother's face. He wasn't quite exactly how she imagined him to be. After all, she did write that letter to the baby factory with specific instructions on how to design him. However, when she felt her brother squeeze her finger, which seemed so much larger compared to his whole hand, her lips parted and she smiled a gappy smile. Kissing his head, she commented how he would make an ‘adeequit’ brother for her, Touka and Kaneki offering her warm smiles.

“What's his name?” Ichika asked, knowing how her parents were still indecisive, even as they were going out the door to the hospital, otherwise known as the baby factory.

Touka smiled smugly at her husband, who nudged her playfully, knowing she was all too proud at being the one to pick the name.

“Well, it's-

. . .

Asuka!” Ichika stormed down the hallway to his room, slamming her fist against her brother's door. “Get the hell out of there, you rat! I know you're the one who broke my ant farm. Open up!”

“I didn't mean to, they just scared me and I panicked!” His usually small and timid voice yelled back, his back against the door. He knew she could, and probably would, easily break it down though. “It's not my fault you're a weirdo!”

“You shouldn't have even went into my room.” She hissed, slamming his door again. “You won't know fear until I get my hands on-”

Touka cleared her throat behind Ichika, who froze with her body now tensed up. Slowly, the girl turned around with an apologetic smile and her hands raised in hopes that her surrender would elicit mercy. Her mother had this cold stare that chilled Ichika to the bone and her arms remained crossed, an unnerved frown on her face. Asuka started to chuckle when he heard her silence, but continued to keep his door locked.

Touka took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing. “Now.” Ichika almost flinched, her lips pressed together. “What's happening here?”

“W-Well, you see, mama-”

“She threatened to kill me. Her own flesh and blood!” Asuka yelled from behind his door, Ichika’s head turning back with an appalled scowl at her snitch of a brother. “He broke my ant farm!” Ichika quickly added, pointing accusingly at his door.

And just like that, they broke out into another argument. Touka sighed as she rubbed her temples, Kaneki soon joining her. He stared for a moment, feeling a sense of deja vu from seeing this sceme from only a few hours ago.

“Alright!” Touka yelled, making them all jump. “Asuka, you better get your ass out here and apologise to your sister and Ichika!” Ichika flinched, silently pleading for her father's aid. But he was already whistling and walking off, minding his own business. “You're fifteen now, there's no need to act like this. You can always get another ant farm after you clean up the one that broke. And you!” She pointed straight at Kaneki, who was so close to retreating to their room. He stared, with wide, terrified eyes at her aggressive tone. “I'm not done with you either!”

She stormed over to his side and practically dragged him into their room, shutting the door behind her - though not before giving one last glare at her daughter. With Ichika sighing and moving back to her room, Touka she dumped herself onto their bed. Kaneki sat besides her, pulling her deadweight body onto her lap.

“I'm guessing you want me to continue the massage now.” Kaneki chuckled, kissing her neck lightly as his hands moved up to her shoulders. She made a noise of confirmation and nodded slowly, leaning into his touch.

She glanced over to the picture that stood on their bedside table; it was a family photo, with a slightly younger Ichika and Asuka stood besides her and Kaneki, along with Yomo, Ayato and Hinami, with her and Ayato’s baby in her arms. It's been a year or two since that picture was taken and it always brought warm memories whenever Touka set her eyes on it. Their family has grown so much after the tension from the Dragon War cooled down. Ichika stood proudly, clinging to her dad's arm. Her hair was tied up in a cute messy bun, her clothes a lot like Touka's when she was younger - baggy and boyish, though she did like her bright colours. Asuka was hiding partially behind Touka's leg, his wavy, thick dark hair partially hiding his big blue eyes, his face still a little chubby and body slim and petite. He didn't have the brash boldness his sister had; he was much more tame like his father, though he was surprisingly hot headed like...well, it doesn't matter who he got that from.

“Hm, they really have grown.” Kaneki said quietly when he caught her staring at the picture. He pulled her against him, squeezing her tightly and rested his head on her shoulder. “In more ways than I'm comfortable with.” He chuckled afterwards.

“It's weird.” Touka added, turning her head to face Kaneki. “Every now and again, it just strikes me that all of this is actually happening. It's...overwhelming.”

He smiled, understanding her completely. It still felt like a dream sometimes and even if it was, they never wanted to let it go. Even with the squabbles and petty fights, even with the glum and moody days, all of it just seemed too perfect to be true. Kaneki pushed Touka's hair to one shoulder, trailing kisses from her bite mark to her ear, where he nuzzled her and pulled her down onto the bed. She giggled as he started to her kiss her softly, whispering her name as he did so, until another loud yell interrupted their moment.

“THERESANTSINMYBED-” Asuka shrieked, along with Ichika laughing loudly. “ICHIKA, YOU DID THIS, DIDN'T YOU-”

“Kaneki, hold this.” She tossed him the cardigan she was wearing. “I don't want my kagune to ruin it.”

“Touka-chan, no!”

. . .

There were butterflies in her stomach and she clutched the hem of her shirt, staring nervously at her reflection. Ichika was dressed in her best casual outfit, with her white shirt that hung off her shoulders and light blue jeans, her hair in a side bun with a white flower clip on one side. She kept the makeup simple, even though that was the only way she knew how to do it, and looked over to the clock to check the time. That was when she heard the doorbell.

She rushed out of the room in an attempt to stop anyone opening the door, but she knew it was too late when she saw her mum and dad already there, greeting their guest warmly. This was terrible! She heard the chipper voice of her date nervously respond to Ichika’s parents, her dad turning to wave over his nervous daughter to the door. With little success, she tried to put up her best smile and forced herself to her dad's side.

And there she was. Ichika’s date. She was beautiful, like she always was, with her long black hair and gentle face. She had these big, dark brown eyes that complimented her soft features and she stood nervously, dressed in a cute, light blue sundress and sandals.

“What a beautiful girl you are!” Touka complimented warmly, inviting the guest inside. “We've heard so much about you, Emi.”

She blushed and Ichika felt her own cheeks heat up, her dad nudging her with his own smile. He squeezed her hand, trying to calm her nerves he knew she had. Touka continued with her gushing compliments, which only embarrassed the two of them further, until Kaneki decided now was the time to save her.  

“Come now, Touka-chan.” He took his wife's hand, tugging her to his side. “You've had your fun, let them go and enjoy their date.” She mumbled that he was a killjoy with a smirk, but nodded with a sigh. Ichika kept her focus on Emi though.

“Hey, you should be careful.” Ichika’s teenaged brother warned as he passed by, playing a game in his hands. His hair was still as bad as it was in the morning, with it all ruffled and sticking out in odd places and he looked up with his dorky round glasses slipping down his nose. “The last boy she dated ran away crying when she nearly bit his tongue off-”

Ichika let out an odd noise that was half a shriek and half gibberish. He chuckled and with and disapproving look from his parents, he ran off to the next room, Touka mentioning how this was somehow Kaneki's fault.

“Ichika-chan, it's fine!” Emi grabbed her hand, making her freeze with her becoming all flustered. “Everyone knows that story.”

“H-How...is that supposed to make it any be-”

“Come on, you dunce, don't keep her waiting.” Touka started nudging her forward, prompting her to take the lead. “Don't be like your dad.”

“Hey, that's not fair.” Kaneki whined, but Ichika sighed and did as her mother told, finally smiling and bidding her goodbyes. Once the door shut, Kaneki took her hand into his and gave her a quick kiss.

“She reminds me of our first date.” He said, his voice low and soft. “Even though we were already married then.”

“Hm, maybe she'll learn from you then.” Touka teased and when he gave her that usual pout she was very familiar with. She pulled him in for another kiss. “But if she doesn't,” she continued, pulling away only slightly, “then everything would still turn out perfect.”

Asuka walked in and made a gagging sound at his parent's sap, hating, though always secretly admiring, how romantic they were to one another. They both amusingly turned to him with their own knowing smirks, Kaneki being the first to tease him.

“I don't know why you're reacting like that when we had to watch you get all cute with that Hitomu girl.” He then made his own high pitched protesting sound, his voice cracking, before he stormed off to his room, his face bright red.

. . .

Asuka checked his watch, half running to his parent's home in realisation of how late he was getting. With him now in Kamii, it was hard to keep track of time sometimes, but he did promise to meet with the family during his break. Besides, he missed his dad's apple pie he always baked for him and Ichika. Well, he'd be lying if he said that was the only reason - he loved his family after all.

Jogging down the street, he finally saw his old home, which was still the same as ever in his eyes. With a warm smile, he went up the small steps and rang the doorbell a few times. He was more than overjoyed to see his mum behind the door and immediately gave her a tight hug.

She was still the gorgeous woman she always was, along with the stray grey hair and crease beneath her eyes. Her hair was shorter again, but he always thought that suited her better. She welcomed him inside, where his dad stood with his pink frilly apron.

“You're too tall!” He exclaimed as he gave him a hug, Asuka almost suffocating. Pulling back, he saw his dad also kept his young looks, even with the few wrinkles around the eyes. “You were shorter than me when you left.”

“Damn, what have you been taking, Asuka-chan? Well, at least you cut off that fugly mullet you had before.” Ichika teased and Asuka smirked, staring at his sister. She has changed herself, though not entirely; her hair was longer, her black roots almost capping her head, and she was dressed quite professionally. She must've just returned from work. “Aren't you going to give me a hug too, brat?”

They share a brief hug and they all sit in the living room, catching up after the few months they last saw each other and sharing the news they’ve heard around Tokyo. It seemed the older members of the TLC were now making their retirements and picking their replacements from the new generation and Kaneki had seemingly no more duties to attend to with Tokyo now fully repaired. Hide had made his last rotation around the continents with his plans of peace and it held some effect with more countries opening their doors to ghouls, though some still saw them as a threat that needed to be eradicated.

They then moved on to their personal lives. Touka and Kaneki were thinking of their retirement themselves, with Kaneki tying loose ends and Touka thinking of handing the cafe to her neice and they hoped to move to a more peaceful and remote area afterwards before travelling to the different countries they had wanted to see. They also planned on spending more time with their friends whilst also taking care of Renji. Ichika seemed to be doing well in the labs, Kimi continuing to teach her as always and Nishiki kept her company every now and again with his son. Asuka always admired his sister for her intellect - he could never pass biology - and she was always so passionate about her being a half ghoul like him and their dad. Asuka never had much an opinion for such a thing and so he instead wanted to refine his writing skills, since his dad wrote such an inspiring book about his messy life. He hoped he could perhaps encourage peace between species through words, like Kaneki and Hide, since he couldn't do so with science.

“What happened to that Emi girl, Ichika-chan?” Kaneki asked with a bright smile, though Ichika could only offer a wry one.

��It didn't work out.” She admitted, all of them offering their own apologies. “It's fine though! It wasn't anything dramatic - it just sorta drifted apart. Besides, I have my work to distract me.” She laughed it off, but Asuka took her hand and squeezed it tightly, both him and their parents offering sympathetic looks.

“Well, it's a good thing I made us apple pie!” Kaneki got up, clapping his hands together. Ichika jumped up excitedly, asking if she could have a big piece like she always did and Asuka and Touka followed behind them to the dining room.

“I always love these moments.” Touka confessed, linking her arm through Asuka’s. He glanced over at her curiously, her gaze fondly watching her lovey dovey husband and enthusiastic daughter. “Isn't it amazing how everything turned out so perfectly.”

He laughed lightly at her comment, nodding. “Well, my hair is still fucked up. It's so thick and knotty.”

“You can blame your dad for that. Or...well...a part of him.”

“W-Wha-”

“It doesn't matter.” She reassured and reached up to kiss his cheek, pinching it. “You're still a handsome boy. Invite Hitomu next time too, you're always polite when she's here.”

As he let out loud protests, they sat around the table, all of them taking a slice of the delicious looking pie. Touka reached beneath the table and held Kaneki's hand. He glanced over at her, her cheeks bright and her eyes crinkled. Of course, that left him smiling all goofy too and neither had to utter a word for them to know the gratitude they both felt. With their children bickering with their own inside banter whilst they both joked with them, and with Kaneki still by her side just as he was twenty years ago, nothing could've felt better than this moment.

Nothing could've felt better with any of their moments.

[bubmyg]

can you write about being all dressed up and going out with bts and best friend yoongi cannot take his eyes off you bc he thinks you're sooo pretty and is also lowkey protective (and maybe has a crush idk)

word count: 964

Your first move was toward Seokjin, fingers grasping at his crooked bow tie with a click of your tongue in soft reprimand. Five other figures stalled, speech catching on tongues, coughs covering stutters, awkward shifts padding expensive leather dress shoes into the wood threshold. 

“There,” You teased, patting the clipped silk over Seokjin’s clavicle. You peered up at him, taking the same sanction of your fingers to tap at the underside of his jaw, “You’re welcome.”

Jeongguk was looking at you like you’d grown a toe from the tip of your nose. You blinked, snapping your fingers over the exaggerated hang of his ajar jaw, startling the unabashed laser of Hoseok’s gaze in the process. You turned to Jimin, catching the panicked aversion of his dilated pupils from your own as he nearly toppled over a rocking Taehyung. 

You turned to Namjoon, “Where’s Yoongi?”

Heavy footsteps shuffled from the hall, catching the acute attention of seven turning heads. Yoongi swore under his breath as he approached, fingers fiddling at the loose buttons attached to the cuffs of his fitted long sleeve. One was particularly difficult, sliding under the stitched hole in time with his stature sliding next to you. 

“Hey,” He greeted with a slight huff, pouted bottom lip drawing up into a toothless smile as he peered at you. 

You flicked your gaze to the fabric secured underneath his array of sparkling bracelets, “Did you get it?”

Yoongi was caught off guard, blinking once, twice, stuttering, “What? Oh, yes, I got them,” He leaned closer, plush cheek dimpling as he bit the inside of his mouth, “You look really nice.”

“Thank you,” You ignored the stir in the pit of your stomach, nudging his side with your elbow, “I’d say the same for you, but-” you shrugged, “-eh.”

The full weight of his unabashed gums blinded you, bumping his hip into yours as he straightened. Six knowing gazes pierced over the small bubble the two of you had created, burning a slight blaze to the back of your neck. Yoongi’s smirked died into a thin line, frowning at his members. 

“Did you tell her?” He quipped. 

A small murmur of confusion filtered into the ambiance. Namjoon was the gentle voice of reason, “Tell her what?”

Yoongi deadpanned, “That she looks incredible.”

Stunned silence wasn’t allowed for long, Jeongguk blurting, “She looks hot, hyung.”

Delicate digits crushed between the spaces in your own, squeezing to mirror the laced annoyance in his tone, grumbling, “Not the most elegant way to put it, but yeah okay-” 

Taehyung tucked his shoulder against Yoongi, taking a languid sip of maroon wine past stained lips. “You’re glaring,” He said gently, following the blazing path of Yoongi’s gaze to you. 

“I’m observing,” Yoongi huffed, pushing the broad shouldered man off of him. You laughed in that moment, a loud trill he could hear across the room, eyes crinkled, unabashed to the strangers milling around you. 

The younger hummed in acknowledgment, downing the last drop of tangy liquid across the curl of his tongue. His lips smacked thoughtfully, rolling the taste around his tongue in time with the balance of his glass between his index and middle finger. “She’s truly radiant,” Taehyung mused, “beautiful, really.”

Yoongi’s lipped scold was tighter than he’d intended, “You’re just now noticing?”

You turned, catching the brunt of Yoongi’s stare. Your cheeks tinged with warmth, smile small, wave shy. Taehyung watched as the smaller man waved his hand in acknowledgement, hard gaze immediately bursting with fond, the adoration radiating so thickly from his aura that it was nearly sickening to stand that close. 

“You’re blushing,” Taehyung pointed out, bottom lip rubbing absently at the rim of the empty glass clutched in his knuckles. 

Yoongi’s pliable cheeks puffed in annoyance, blotched in three separate shades of patchy red, the high apples of his cheeks dusted in cotton candy pink. “I’m not,” He muttered, the sole of his shoe scuffing into the tile below his stature. 

“When are you going to tell her?” The younger hushed, half teasing, half serious. 

“Tell who what?” You chirped as you approached. A lazy smirk curled over your lips, index finger reaching out to dig into the hunch of Yoongi’s side. “Interested in someone?”

“No-”

“Yes,” Taehyung sang. “He hasn’t stopped talking about her all night.”

Yoongi glared. 

“Oh?” You turned over your shoulder, scanning the slight thrash to the crowd gathered about the small club. “Is she here? Do I know her?”

“Forget it-”

“Yes, and yes,” The younger smiled deviously, wielding the emptiness of his glass in front of his eyes as he took a step back, “Now I have a date with a refill.”

Yoongi glared harder. 

You gripped the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt over his elbow, using the leverage to turn his stature toward you. “Really, though. You didn’t tell me you were into someone.”

I have been for months. “I don’t know,” His chuckle was tentative, nervous, “just intrigued, I guess.”

“What’s she like?” You revealed in the bashful blink of his bright honey eyes to your own.

You. “Pretty,” Yoongi shrugged, tilting his head as he eyed the soft contours of your features, “really pretty.”

“You can tell me more later,” You released your grip on him, deciding to spare the intense embarrassment seeping from the hunch of his stature. Instead, you jerked a thumb behind your back, “Now, do you want to dance?”

His voice was small, shy, hopeful, “With you?”

You gently pushed at his torso, “Unless your mystery girl is here, yes. With me.”

Yoongi was beside himself, tripping over the numb stall of his feet in search for your hand, giddily lacing your fingers. 

No, I’d really like to go home. With you. 

“Yes,” He beamed, “I’d love to dance.” 

[z-brooke]

So my thoughts on How To Train Your Dragon 3

spoilers, even though some of it is painfully and devastatingly predictable (the only surprise is that some elements are so old and cliche that they’re even here at all)

So first thing I want to address is the girl night fury (”light fury”) that everyone went bonkers over. Personally, I enjoyed the jokes, but I didn’t mind the design choice entirely...

Because HTTYD doesn’t really have diversified dragon models within their species, (bc the most important trait for them is either being Toothless, or being ridden upon) let alone sexual dimorphism, so it would be rather odd that only night furies would be the only ones with differing models, imo (it’s pretty clear that even if they’re different species, dragons function essentially as a pack of the same animals). And with the same model/base, you have very few options. The first thing, which I hate, was removing textures. Light fury has no scales, which makes her look really unnatural and rubbery compared to Toothless. (not sure what it is? maybe the black disguises how odd some of the facial expressions are and it’s more visible with white? hm...) Another one I disliked was making her tail and wings more ‘elegant’ looking, more rounded and iridescent. Doesn’t really look bad but it doesn’t really help, either.

The third choice, the one that got the most attention that I actually think is the better choice is to go with changing the color. Making her white makes reading them as distinct characters at a distance where you can’t see Light’s freakish lack of face-scales much easier than if they were both black/dark. And just as a little bonus (If you don’t want spoilers and clicked on this anyway out of curiosity this coming up is a spoiler so turn back now) - her coloring isn’t a dimorphism thing. No one comments on it, but later (REAL SPOILER I GUESS) when Toothless and Light have babies, they’re shown to have a mix of white and black markings, indicating that she actual has a mutation. (And perhaps it even suggests that she’s one of the last surviving night furies because her white color made her initially not classified as a night fury and thus avoided being hunted?) 

Idk I really appreciate that.

But the night fury relationship was soooo dull and bad. Like very generic “boy meets girl, and is stupid-gaga over her and is already love stricken and has to go find her again” kinda deal... which I almost understand from this point of view of “they’re animals, they mate for lives, they have instinct” so maybe Toothless imprinted on the first female he ever encountered past adulthood and this is his one and only mate (but this doesn’t explain why the same doesn’t seem to be true of Light? Like she returns for him again and again but seems easily turned off by his antics and will just leave?). And I’m totally not against Toothless being romantic with his species’ last chance at survival, but the very cartoony and goofy displays of this infatuation was really weird imo.

I didn’t care for most of the whole courtship things, either. (The flying scene was kinda cute, but a tad long). The whole thing could have been handled better if for the most part it didn’t just look like Toothless was badgering the fuck out of her and she was trying to tolerate it.

The next Bad Hetero thing was the classic “Competent women are here as emotional support” but twice! Half the mom’s role was urging Astrid to go be emotional support. It’s really annoying, a little distracting, and the worst part of the movie in my opinion, and probably the worst HetTrope present.

And the last bad hetero thing (which is like four in one so buckle up - also this is about endings so fucking spoilers if you’re still here kicking yourself) how everyone pairs off. In the beginning of the movie, Astrid is kind of pressured to marry Hiccup because she has sense and would be a good ruler (hello can of worms, i’ll crank you open in just a sec) and later the two talk about it and Astrid says the two of them aren’t ready (with it implied that Hiccup does want to get married) but it isn’t mentioned too much after that, least not seriously. Cut to an ending montage where they’re getting married. What made them ready? There’s really nothing to indicate this was way in the future, and seems to have happened shortly after the conclusion of the conflict. Fishlegs cries and hugs Ruffnut at the wedding, and she hugs him back and says that she likes sensitive guys. (I think this is hinting at them pairing off, and Ruffnut had expressed an interest in getting married a few times in the film, and an interest in Fishlegs, but not really the same from Fishlegs.)

Anyway, cut to the future where Hiccup’s finally old enough to have a beard of his own (the models are so good in this movie, throughout the movie Hiccup has small whiskers and it’s just *mwah* looks great, cute detail, love that), and he’s holding a baby Hiccup. But wait, this one is blond! And he also has a daughter, who looks like Astrid, but has reddish brown hair!!!

Idk if ive mentioned it here, or if anyone would have notice, but the “a boy and a girl that are clones of the parents, but with swapped hair colors” is probably the most boring het trope that I make fun of the most often. This is my go to “bad het story writing” trope when giving examples. I don’t know why I was so suprised but boy howdy! I couldn’t believe that they topped off some really generic hetero storyline stuff with this garbo. 

I am on my knees thanking Jesus that they didn’t do the same with the baby furies (which are the greatest thing to come out of this movie, holy shit). Esp. because the babies suggest that Light has a mutation that makes her white, which isn’t mentioned or speculated on in the movie, and that it has co-dominance with black. Good stuff. I would have been even more disappointed if we got only two babies that were black and white (and maybe swapped eye colors? or something even worse somehow)

And that’s my complaints about the relationships, at least. I’ll talk about general plot stuff in the next post~!

[suggestionsofthecaribbean]

The Black Pearl: James and Elizabeth

The rescue mission is finally underway, and in precious snatches of privacy James and Elizabeth are trying to figure out the dynamic of their love life.

CW: An attempt at mild bondage that is quickly abandoned.  Eventually, at the end, there is relatively explicit sexual content.  This post is extremely long.

Tia Dalma said the way to Jack Sparra was as hidden as the inner chambers of the heart, beneath wave and earth, beyond time and reason.  A deep cavern, neither of land nor of the ocean - and when you came out of it, not even of this world anymore.  Her jewelry rattled, her eye glimmered; every man or woman in the room had shivered.

And Will Turner had spoken up first.  “So who’s for spelunking?”

And the Pirate King had looked away, eyes distant, maybe misty, jaw tight.

---

Teague and Barbossa handled being crammed onto the Pearl startling well.  Teague was more elegant in his ways than his son was and not desperate to prove his dominion over the ship, and Barbossa, for his part, was as obsequious to the father as he’d been mutinous to the son; their shared humility led to an agreeable and easy co-Captainship.  The Pirate King was superior to them both, but also the least qualified and the least knowledgeable; and so she marched around and looked important, got on gamely with everyone, asked Teague more about the Code, ribbed Barbossa about his monkey, and practiced her Cantonese; and all day long she barked frequently specific orders to her dog without partaking much of his company - nor that of her ex-husband, her civility to whom matched her treatment of the other captains, yet whose presence seemed to provoke zero consideration or emotion from her at all.

There were bets taken among the crew for which of her men she was on with.  Some had it that her clipped cordiality with Turner meant she had chosen him, since she spoke not a word to Norrington that was not an instruction, and thus probably meant to give him a hard time; others had it that Turner was out and the attention to Norrington was a show that she liked him - the Pirate King bein’ a female, and that bein’ the ways of females an’ all.

In spite of all of those bets, however, not a man aboard noticed that one of them joined her in her cabin that night.

---

James had her in his arms the moment he shut the door.

“Elizabeth-”

Not content only to see her again, he picked her up and hefted her onto the crook of one arm, turning her across the floor like a newlywed and then kissing her deeply.

Elizabeth gasped and laughed and then shushed herself, smacking him on the shoulder scoldingly for making her make so much noise, and rendering this scolding toothless by kissing him back with equal ardor.

“Do you know the trouble it��s been, staying reserved and silent all day when all I wish is to adore you-”

“Oh, but you did so well-” she said, running her fingers through his hair while clutching his shoulders with the other hand. “You did everything so well…”

“One does one’s best,” he said, before kissing her again.

She let him, wrapping her arms further around him, pulling him close, pressing herself closer. James carried her to her little cot and gently lay her down against it, leaning over her and seemingly, for once, uncaring of his hair falling in his face. Elizabeth pulled him closer still, guiding him down between her thighs while kissing him with increasingly soft kisses, before holding his head against her throat, tilting her head back and groaning in sharp, sudden frustration.

“I was so angry at Tia Dalma I didn’t ask after a quondam-!”

James flinched. “Well, I suppose we’re even now-”

“I’m so sorry, James-”

“How long has it been-”

“I don’t know - I should be due soon-”

“Do you suppose it’s been three weeks?”

“Yes?  Yes, it must have been -  Elizabeth blinked, breaking the mood a little. “Lord - has it already been three weeks-”

James was visibly lost in thought.

“I- if it’s been three weeks the odds are low, very low-”

She started clutching at him a little too obviously.  “Oh - really, James-?”

“I- I think,” he said warily. “I’m not positive-”

“Do you want- should we try?” she asked, pushing herself up on her elbows.

“I-”

His hand warily settled on her belly, followed by his line of sight.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I would hate to do that to you before you desire that as a possible outcome.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders sank, but her legs stayed wrapped around his waist.  She slept in a shirt most nights, but changed into a more flattering nightgown if James were invited to her cabin - tonight, particularly, she had donned it with enthusiasm.  Currently it was bunched around her hips, too long to do anything else.

“But what are the odds of that, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s not the kind of thing one can tell out of hand.”

“James,” she prompted. “We could die on this quest.”

“...that’s a fair point,” he said, though he had to look away from her as he did.

She rubbed the back of his hand.

“I have not yet shaved,” he said abruptly- and, following that, he immediately winced. That, if anything, only barred them from further alternatives to what they were both considering at the moment.

“I don’t mind,” she said - touching his beard affectionately.

“Elizabeth-”

He sat up beside her.

“If you were to fall pregnant- with my child, no less-”

She pulled a bit of a face, but endeavored to appear to be listening.  “Not precisely unheard of to raise a child at sea,” she coaxed him.

“Yes,” he said patiently, “but with this whole… dog thing we’ve worked out-”

“I don’t care if anyone knows you’re the father.  And you would be a good father-”

This clearly gave him pause- James had not expected to hear anything quite so sweet as that at a time like this, and he smiled almost reflexively.

“But would you wish to be a mother?” he asked, putting his hand flat on her belly again. “It’s asking a great deal more of you than myself.”

“I’d manage,” she said, after a short pause.  She had not planned on anything that had happened to her in the past three years; this was, therefore, probably true.  “I’m sure not all pirate children grow up to be depraved little monsters with tattoos everywhere.”

“Ha,” said James, giving her a very level look. “It’s not as though either of us would set that example to start with, unless you have plans.”

She smiled at him, perhaps a little mysteriously.  “Not at present.”

“Mm. Well, I can’t say it would change my good opinion of you.”

“I was thinking about getting one,” she admitted hesitantly.  “I’ll tell you about it… later, I think.  When I’m not so embarrassed-”

“I don’t mean to pry,” he said, kissing her shoulder for good measure. “They’re quite common in the Navy, regardless.”

“Mmmm, this isn’t the Navy, James-” she sighed, shutting her eyes and tilting her head back.

“Of course not,” he said, kissing under her jaw. “If it were, I would not be doing this-”

He leaned back and added, with a stern point of the finger, “I know the sort of joke you’re thinking of, and I’m telling you now that it is not as clever or original as you may believe.”

“I can honestly tell you I have no idea what you mean,” said Elizabeth, pulling that hand to her breast.  “I only have one thing on my mind, I’m afraid…”

“What’s that?” James said dryly. “Motherhood?”

“Fatherhood,” she rejoined, and started to laugh.

“If you’re certain-”

He kissed her again.

“-you and the child will want for nothing-”

Elizabeth rubbed his chest as she kissed him back.  “You know,” she murmured.  “Captain Barbossa’s not half bad with children himself…. Perhaps sailors are just very well-suited to child-rearing.”

“Perhaps,” he said, “though I suppose you would be breaking new ground as far as carrying one goes.”

“That’s not so,” she countered.  “I don’t know too much about Jack’s mother, but I gather he was born at sea himself.”

“And Grania O’Malley had a sword in her hand two hours after delivering,” James added, “though she was, I believe, around thirty at the time. What do you think as regards naming it, hm? I suppose Weatherby is the obvious choice for a boy-”

“James,” she said faintly.

“You already said Eliza for a girl- I suppose they won’t all turn out to be little Sparrows, would they?”

“I don’t know.  Teague’s a good enough sort, I guess, but rather eccentric; you would probably be a sterner father - and a more affectionate one, I think.  Little Lizzy the Second would be much better off for that, I’m sure-”

“Wait- what does Teague have to do with it-”

“What does-?  James, you can’t be serious.”

James had gone a little frantic around the eyes, in that subdued, tamped-down way of his.

“I know you like to believe he was more a father to me than the admiral, but I never knew the man-”

Elizabeth was so incredulous that she started laughing - and she had never been good at reading the subtle details of emotion.  “Oh, come on - you’re having a go at me.”

“It’s a- well, I assumed it was a cultural sort of thing,” James began lamely, looking away from her with wide, staring eyes. “I didn’t think-”

“But they look exactly alike,” she said helplessly, still laughing.  “Anyway - why did you think Teague came on this rescue mission, he doesn’t involve himself in much else- has to be impartial to enforce the rules, I suppose - well, it explains a lot, doesn’t it?  Jack’s always been a better sort of pirate than most of them.  Cares a lot about what’s fair, in an each man to his own sort of way-”

James stood abruptly and paced across the floor. There wasn’t a lot of room to do that, and he ended up turning back to her almost immediately.

“Oh, my God.”

Elizabeth had not noticed the early stages of his panic, but when he broke from her, she knew it at once, if not the reason for it.  He found her sitting up uneasily, looking concerned.

“James?”

“Teague’s son?” he blurted. “That man- Jack bloody Sparrow-”

“Yes,” she said, hesitant to confirm it.  “Are you - come sit down-”

James groaned and sat down on the edge of the cot, pushing his hair out of his face in irritation.

“You mean to tell me,” he said, “that I threw over four hundred men into a watery grave chasing down the son of the man who saved my life-”

Elizabeth went abashedly silent, unsure of how to proceed from here.  The guilt he felt, the reality of it were so enormous she couldn’t hope to fix them.  

“James, I didn’t- I didn’t think, I’m sorry-”

Touching him gingerly on the shoulder was a poor excuse for comfort, but she thought to pull closer to him would only be smothering and counterproductive.

“I always exempted Teague,” he said faintly. “Did you never realize that? When Beckett began the purges- I fed him as much misdirection from the start as I could to keep him away from you, from Turner- and from Teague.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“And any family I knew him to have, which was none. My God- if I’d known, I never would have sailed into that fucking hurricane-”

Elizabeth tried to rest her unhappy head on his shoulder and impede him as little as possible.

She had no idea what else to do.

“At least-”

He sighed. “It ended all right for me, I suppose. I can’t say as much for the others.”

“It was the law that was wrong - not you,” she said quickly, though her voice was a little flat - she felt numb.  “How could you make a choice? You had none.”

“The law didn’t tell me to pick up a bottle,” he countered, with a sad smile. “That’s the kind of thing that damns a man, wouldn’t you say?”

“Be damned with me,” Elizabeth whispered, turning her face to meet his gaze.  “I- I can’t say I’m not sorry for how we got here, but -”

She bit her tongue for a moment.  It was not fair to compare Will to four hundred men and boys rotting underwater, broken heart or no.

“-  I’m glad we’re here all the same.  I don’t care if it’s selfish.  You belong with me.”

James touched her cheek.

“I know.” He took a slow, shuddering breath, and added, with a similarly sad, drained laugh, “I haven’t indulged since- Good God, July?”

He paused.

“My God- Elizabeth, is it October already?”

“You know what this means,” said Elizabeth, focusing on something distantly, with a forlorn expression on her face.  

“I know something,” he said, “but nothing important right now-”

“We are really bad friends to Jack Sparrow.”

“Jack Sparrow is not my friend,” James retorted, “and it took his father just as long.”

“He’s my friend,” said Elizabeth fiercely.  Then she deflated.  “Well, he was until I murdered him in cold blood and all of that,” she added miserably, and buried her face against his arm and groaned.

“Perhaps I can bargain with the witch to bring back the Dauntless,” James said mirthlessly, “or at least the men aboard.”

“That would be a little difficult,” Elizabeth said, muffled against his arm.  “If not for her, then for them to go home to families that have spent two years mourning them.”

“I know,” James said fully. “But even so-”

“You would only be condemning them to lives as outcasts,” she warned. “Three years is a long time to be dead.  And then all of them just come back? A miracle; or summoned from hell?  And what will they go back to - wives remarried, children adopted, houses and belongings all sold - James.  There’s nothing you can do for them.”

“And yet Hector Barbossa is stomping about overhead, playing at schoolmaster,” James said, with a bitter laugh, “and Jack bloody Sparrow’s died three times now and we all have to undo that, of course.”

“One of those times was my fault,” she reminded him quietly.

“I nearly hanged him,” he said, rubbing her between the shoulders. “And came rather close to shooting him-”

“Both of those things were different. It’s - oh, nevermind.  You weren’t there.”

James smiled, but it turned into more of a grimace. “I was probably in Beckett’s office about then.”

“It’s one thing to kill a man in self-defence,” said Elizabeth, after a long moment; the silence of the cabin was terrible.  “But to preventatively kill him, to save yourself?  To kill a friend?”

“Elizabeth…”

He pulled her up a little higher, to lean on his shoulder.

“What happened back there-”

“Davy Jones sent the Kraken after him,” said Elizabeth with a pleading insistence. “We tried to battle it, but nothing worked.  Jack wanted all the survivors to pile into the longboat and make for shore while it took down the Pearl-- but it didn’t want the Pearl.  Just Jack. So I -”  Elizabeth blinked quickly.  “ - please don’t make me finish this.”

“-so you considered the greater need of your party,” James said gently.

“- I kissed him, and chained him to the mast while he was distracted,” Elizabeth said bluntly. “Will saw the kiss and looked away after, I presume.  He spent the next year thinking I was-”

She had to stop again, now feeling the tears stinging her eyes.  “This isn’t like you, terrified out of your wits and picking up a bottle in a storm.  There were more righteous ways I could have thrown Jack to the creature - could have put the matter to a vote, or told the crew what I did, or whatever.  I deceived him and then I lied about it, James.  Don’t try to protect me from this.”

“Elizabeth,” said James, though there was a note of discomfort he couldn’t quite conceal. “That’s- well, you were proactive, I suppose.”

“That’s why he hates me so much.  That’s also why I have to come rescue him.”

“Then we are alike in obligation,” he said grimly.

She kissed him on the cheek. He smiled a little at that and pressed his hand to her own cheek, as though to hold her there a little longer.  She responded by bringing her kisses down his jawline, not minding the beard one bit.

“Changed your mind?” he teased, slipping his fingers into her hair.

“You know I like it,” she said, a little miffed, as she moved her lips to his throat.  “I just also know that you don’t.  And you can grow it out again if you change your mind…”

“More like if you change yours-”

“Well, I wanted to give you the illusion of control over your own life,” she said with a low laugh. “James, get on the bed.”

“Do you mean to say you would prefer me on my back?” he asked. “I’m afraid I’m already on the bed.”

“Yeah.  I mean get on your back, on the bed,” said Elizabeth, already sliding onto the mattress.

James obligingly lay back and swung his legs up onto the mattress, with a little palm-up gesture, as though to say that there she had him.  She had him indeed; she was on top of him in a moment, hands in his hair and kissing him.

“Does this please you-”

“Touch me,” she commanded, instead of answering him.

“Where?”

“Wherever you want most-”

He began with her hair; that would be the easiest way to keep himself from getting carried away, and it was so close already to the neck he moved on to kissing almost immediately after.  Elizabeth shut her eyes and arched into it, her own hands creeping down to his chest to remove his shirt.

“I love you,” he breathed. “It still- I am still dazzled, to be so wanted by you after all-”

This didn’t propel her to greater heights of desire; it made her feel uncomfortably guilty.  As much as she had tried to anchor her feelings in their past, she could not fully deceive herself that wanting James had not been new.

“ - I love you too,” she finally responded, passing it off as having been distracted by his touching her, and turning her head to kiss the palm of his hand, a gesture he reciprocated.

“I did not think you would choose me over him,” he said, reverently, against her palm. “I hardly dared to dream of it.”

“You - never?” She hadn’t wanted to follow him down this line of thought, but her discomfort pulled her there anyway. “Not after everything?”

He lifted her hand from his mouth to look up at her with sad, knowing eyes.

“I didn’t know. It was difficult to think that things might have mended again between you.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze for long.

“I’m sorry I didn’t… I didn’t do enough to assure you.” Even with her eyes cast down, she smiled.  “That you were mine. That I intended to keep you.”

“Why, Elizabeth,” he said, reaching up to touch her face, and then pull her downward to kiss her, “that's very nearly a threat.”

“Captain Swann to you,” she whispered against his lips, smirking.  Her tone was as sultry as it was dangerous.

“Your Majesty,” he said, in a low voice.

“One day,” the Pirate King continued conversationally, gliding the backs of her knuckles over his temple, “I will have you so thoroughly that you’ll be saying that as you climax.”

“Would you like me to work on that?”

“I suppose I’ll have to train you.”

“With what instruction?” he asked, lifting one leg and firmly bending it over hers.

Elizabeth reached up and behind him, sliding her hand beneath the pillow for something she’d had prepared.

The notorious silk curtain tie.  

“Touch me a little while longer, my love,” she said with a look of profound satisfaction on her face. “Because in a moment I will ask you to give me your hands, and I will expect you to comply.”

He grinned. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He kissed her again and pulled her down as much as he felt his station allowed.

It was, by and large, Elizabeth who took advantage of the minutes in which she allowed him to caress her - guiding his hands to pull down the bodice of her gown, nuzzling the palm of his hand, taking his fingertip into her mouth.  She saw no need to disguise that this was more for her benefit than for his.  It was an open secret, really.

“Does this please you?” he asked, pushing his fingers back through her hair.

She had been straddling him for the better part of it, all the greater pity they could not do as planned.

“Why don’t you check and see?”

“There are many kinds of pleasure, sweetheart.”

“Indeed, but I seek one at the moment.”

“Am I to look for a change in climate, then?” he asked lightly, gliding his free hand downward.

She was forced momentarily out of character by an eruption of laughter. “Climate, James?”

“If I may be so cautious-”

“I don’t enjoy your caution in this context.”

“I thought you might prefer to see your time extended.”

“Oh, it shall be, darling.  I just want you to feel how I feel before I lash you to this bed,” she said with a gentle kiss.

“What- are you hiding more ropes in there-”

He patted down the length of her body, somewhat facetiously, while raising an eyebrow at her.

Elizabeth laughed again, pulling both of his hands back to her bared breasts.  “Just your hands tonight, darling.  One cannot learn too much in a single evening.  Instructing you will take some time.”

Her smile was merciless and clearly baiting him.

“Would you have me blinded again, Your Majesty?” he asked, with an almost distressing degree of sincerity.

“Not tonight.  One peculiarity at a time, I would think, is sufficient.”

“Ah,” he said. “Er, Elizabeth-”

“Poor thing,” Elizabeth laughed, stroking his jaw affectionately. “Would you have liked that?”

“Elizabeth,” he said, and he tried to soften it with a rather embarrassed-looking smile. “I- I don’t think I particularly desire to be tied up.”

“ -oh,” said Elizabeth in surprise, the little rope still in her hands. When she lowered them, without thinking, the rope sagged as though it had overheard, and had its hopes dashed. “What do you particularly desire?”

“I’m still sorting that out,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s- Elizabeth, you know I love you very much, don’t you?”

She laughed again, once and loudly. “A bit of insurance before you tell your mistress you’d rather not be tied on a leash?”

“Well, in a sense-”

Elizabeth chewed on the inside of her cheek and then proffered the ties again. “Do you wanna do it on me?”

“What, tie you up?” he blurted, looking startled by the very idea.

Elizabeth smirked at him.  “Could make it a game, hm? Pirate hunter and captured Pirate King?”  She was tickling him under the chin with one of the tassels. He laughed, and gently pushed it away, but let his hand linger on hers before lifting it to his lips.

“I want to stay here with you,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it neatly across the palm, “and talk, and enjoy your company, and take a little time to appreciate that you’re mine…”

“There’s not a lot in there about, ah, rutting each other senseless, is there-”

“We’ll see if we can work up to that,” James teased.  

Elizabeth looked at him stubbornly.

“Do you not know where I am sitting? I think you’re worked up to it.”

“I haven’t,” he pointed out, “and I’m in no hurry to do so. May I kiss you again?”

“Hmph,” she said, with a demure nod of resignation.

He did, lips parted, and clasped her hands in his.

“I don’t want to simply rush into having a go at you,” he said, leaning his forehead to hers. “I know you don’t mind it, but- putting you to it first thing when I have been away from you for so long- as though I’m using you and worrying about the formalities later-”

“But I love doing it,” said Elizabeth, somewhere between petulance and remembered ecstasy.  “How can it be using me?”

“I hope this doesn’t constitute too much of a problem,” said James.

Elizabeth slid gingerly off his lap.  “I think you underestimate how much I want you.”

“I’m not going to challenge you to prove it,” James said lightly. “I suppose- well. I always had a very specific idea of what our marriage would entail, and the physical aspect was- never mind. I did not like to dwell on it.”

“The physical aspect was what,” she asked suspiciously.

“Rather low in my consideration,” said James. “As I said, I did not wish to dwell on it. It seemed improper.”

“What was your ‘very specific idea?’” she asked in growing, flattered curiosity.  “I- we- might implement it, if you like, if I care for it.  I think what we have now is very like what we might have had,” she said, and mortified herself by being shy.

James’s eyes widened as he looked at her, then looked away and down.

“I- I mean to say that I had thought- expected- more companionship than… physical acts,” he said, looking sidelong now to the cabin wall. “That was the very specific idea. I could not bear to think of much more save that I wanted to know you might enjoy said physical act-”

“Now I do - really, really do - and you avoid it,” she pointed out, with a small, pleased smile.

“I’ve a rather complicated history there, darling,” he said, looking back at her again to assure her he was not offended.

“Mm, yes. And you’ve a rather complicated history with me,” she agreed, rubbing his chest so as to assure him that she was not either.  “I wish I could ease your conscience some.  You have no idea how much I long for you - all day I do - and then being here with you, finally… I suppose you are less afraid of using me and a little more concerned that I am using you.”

“Lettie was not my first woman,” he said carefully.

“I had not thought she was. Men have more reign in these matters than women do, and you are a sailor.”

He smiled unhappily at this. “That’s hardly an excuse.”

“Nor indeed do you need an excuse,” she said, rubbing her thumb fondly back and forth over his chin.

“A woman would be expected to supply one,” James retorted.

“You know I think that is a wagon of horseshit, too -”

“Does it not seem rather unfair to you that a man is not, then?” he asked.

“Of course it does - but not in that direction,” she said incredulously.  She leaned up a bit on her elbow and stretched her legs out.  “I believe,” Elizabeth mused out loud, “everyone should do whatever they please, whenever they want to, and be obligated to no person - so long as they do no person any harm.  Of course… If the East India Trading Company were to take a loss… or justice were dispensed towards those who do harm on a regular basis….”  Elizabeth started to laugh, the kind of low but uninhibited laughter that often accompanies drowsiness.  

“Those are rather unconnected phenomena, darling, that’s nothing to do with carnal matters-”

“Well, I am not merely speaking of carnal matters,” said Elizabeth peevishly. “You know people are limited in more ways than that.”

“If your father had seen the… disgraceful way I was carrying myself as recently as the week I brought the pair of you to Port Royal,” James protested, “he might never have given me his confidence around you- especially not after your incident in the library. It’s only through the grace of God I’m not poxed-”

Elizabeth shrugged.  “I don’t mind. I’m only a bit jealous.  I too would like to have a string of conquests behind me - Sao Feng left me his ship, but the rest of what he gave me wasn’t very nice, and I wasn’t with Jenny for long enough -”

“Oh, God,” James groaned. “They weren’t conquests-”

“Indeed, you were the conquest in every encounter, I am sure -” Elizabeth smiled at him teasingly.  “At least you are with me, whether I may tie you down or not-”

“They were encounters, at best,” James said. “And frequently paid. And God, that’s not accounting for-”

He grit his teeth and took a breath.

“-fumbling with boys in the dark. That was hardly conquest either. We avoided looking at one another’s faces. We knew each other too well for that. Some of the others were busy with conquest, but one learned to look the other way and try to avoid the sound of it. There was a sort of stratification- some of us simply had to get it out somewhere, and another’s hand was as good as anywhere, and others- well, God forgive me, but they were practically sweethearts. It seemed unreasonably cruel to suggest it.”

“Cruel to suggest what?”

“Parting them-”

“I don’t know why you think it is my place to offer commentary on this,” said Elizabeth, after a pause. “I wouldn’t have done any differently.”

“Squandered yourself on people for whom you felt nothing but lust, and sometimes not even that?” James asked skeptically.

“What!” she exclaimed, in some surprise; this was so little like her own way of thinking. “Gained a bit of experience and made the passage of time considerably less dull - lord, James. It’s not as though I haven’t done a few things.”

“Less dull- well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, but I could probably have made captain another two years earlier had I not been frittering my life away on drink and loose behavior-“

“And what would that have gotten you?” she challenged.

“I don’t know- something to keep me too busy to chase Sparrow halfway across the damned planet and in position enough to curb Beckett on my own,” he said bitterly.

“Something that took you away from me?” she asked, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice, and surprised that she felt it.  It was selfishness, pure and simple - she could not pretend James was possibly happier with her now than he would have been in such a universe as he described now - but then too, Elizabeth was selfish. “Well, one of us would have been better off, but I’d much sooner have you for my dog than somebody else’s Rear Admiral.”

“Even if you had known of the drinking and wenching?” he asked dryly.

“I would have wished I could have signed up,” she said, grinning.

“Elizabeth!” he said, with a sudden, very visible flinch.

Concern flashed over her features; she touched his shoulder.  “What is it?”

“Thought of you in the uniform.”

Her hand slid off. “What,” she said flatly.

“The breeches and all that-“

“Oh, James, God!” she exclaimed in exasperation, and she shoved him backwards.

“I told you, it’s difficult to not think of such things-“

“I don’t mind,” she insisted.

“I mind!” he said, staring up at the ceiling rather than her from where she had shoved him.

“Why?” she demanded to know. “You’ve seen my legs.  Kissed them. Kissed very much between them, too-”

“I know- and I enjoyed it, thank you-”

“Then what’s so awful about picturing me in a pair of trousers?”

“It’s rather forward- and Elizabeth, I’m meant to be the one pleasing you-“

“It pleases me to be thought of. It pleases me to know you blush when you think of me. It pleases me to be wanted-”

“I do not blush-“

“More’s the pity-” she slung back heatedly.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “I’m beginning to fear I cannot keep up with you-“

That stung a little.  That stung a lot, actually; and Elizabeth was ready to retort something else at him when she found she had not the words.  She stared at him with her mouth barely open, and then, blinking angrily, she asked, “What do you think you mean by that?”

He couldn’t see her from this vantage point, did not recognize the pain in her voice, and continued, with an embarrassed and apologetic half-laugh, “I must be a dreadful disappointment to you.”

“You’re not-”

Suddenly she was leaning over him, cupping his face with her hand, tender and adamant; and just as suddenly she was kissing him. James gasped and started sitting up again in surprise.

“Elizabeth Swann,” he said fondly, “I will never deserve you.”

She growled a little and pushed him back down to the bed, absolutely devouring him.

“Elizabeth!”

It wasn’t much of a protest this time; he pulled her to him with a laugh of relief.

“I’m sorry about the ropes-“

“Forget about the ropes-” she said breathlessly.

“Ah,” he said. “Good, very good- I think I’d rather keep the dog bit out of the bedroom, if it’s all right with you-“

“My offer still stands,” she said with a lopsided smile.

“What! Oh, no, no-“

“No?” She looked mildly put out.

“Elizabeth,” he said, a little breathlessly, “I don’t think that’s at all to my preference-“

“No? Not even to do what I planned to do to you? I think you would like that.”

“I would rather be able to touch you,” he said, trailing a finger along her lower spine through her nightgown to illustrate this point.

“I just want to control you,” she said with relish. “But never mind it - I shall do so when the sun is up.”

“And I suppose, if you may accept this as an offer of trust,” he said, “you are welcome to pull my hair and grope at me as you will.”

“What?” asked Elizabeth, stupefied.  “Really? I know that your reputation is largely set in stone and that you’ll be my kept boy in all the annals of history, but do you really want that on the record?”

“If it is set in stone, it scarcely matters,” James retorted. “And I'd rather that than the ropes.”

“Look, I….”  She had to sit up and give this the thoughtfulness it deserved.  “I am not unopposed, but - not in front of Will, if that’s all right with you.  To be perfectly honest, I would rather we not do it in front of Barbossa, either, but that’s another story - he’s just too smart to fall for it.  He knows I’m a little off my head about you, and he won’t stop letting me know how much it annoys him.”

James laughed at this, and kissed her hand.

“I'm quite amenable, I assure you.”

“Well,” said Elizabeth, her eyes still wide. “I suppose that gives us something else to live for.”

“I rather assumed you enjoyed it,” said James. “God knows that without your attentions I might well have given up on my hair by now. It's damned annoying when it can't be secured.”

“It’ll grow out and then you can secure it,” she said, sliding her fingers through it now.

“I know. I know, that's how I continue to commit myself to it.” He closed his eyes and relaxed under her touch. “Though it helps to be in a situation where one can have a bit of one’s vanity back.”

She watched him a while longer with a satisfied smile.  Seeing his face still stirred more than a decade of memories, all of them more valuable now than they had ever been.  After a moment of recollection, Elizabeth leaned over to kiss him on the cheek - repeatedly, and whispered: “Dog’s head buckles…” before giggling and pressing her face into the pillow, leaning on him for support. James put his arms around her, nuzzling into her hair and kissing her temple.

“Yes, of course. Those are an absolute, are they not?”

“Mmmm,” Elizabeth agreed, leaning into it and rolling over.  “James, would you like me to indulge your vanity a bit more?”

“Mmm. Yes, I suppose,” he said, closing his eyes as he tightened his grip, a little possessively. He had earned the right to be possessive, he thought. She was his. She had said as much.

Elizabeth shut her eyes and melted further into the embrace.

“Well, looking at you….” she said, and slid her own arm around his waist, tightly. “You look like a proper pirate.”

“Good heavens,” he laughed. “Is that a compliment, now?”

“From me? You have to ask?”

“I know, I know,” he teased. “It’s more simply a wonder that I have ended here-”

“I wonder at that, too - every time I look at you and recall the last decade of our acquaintance,” she said affectionately.  She ran the flat and then the back of her hand over his chest.

“Mm,” said James. “I’m glad to know you approve.”

“More than approve,” she said softly.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “it is as much pleasing you, and knowing that I am doing so, as it is simple vanity.”

“Let me tell you again how much it pleases me…” she murmured.

“Oh, do,” James said, in a voice reduced to a low, pleased rumble. “I shall work to keep that in mind.”

“Better yet, I could show you…”

“Or both,” he said, unable to prevent another chuckle from entering his voice. “You know how much I seek to live up to any admiration I receive-”

“My dear Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth, lips on his throat, “is that what the French call a double entendre?”

“A what?”

He opened his eyes and lifted his head at this.

“Living up to my admiration, darling?” she asked, with a strategic caress.

“Elizabeth, good lord-”

“I assume that was a no,” she said, struggling to control her laughter.  It was easy enough, though, to bury her face against his throat and resume her attentions there. James lay back down, still a little startled, and laced his fingers through her hair.

“I meant only that I want to deserve that kind of indulgence,” he clarified, with an awkward clearing of the throat.

“The indulgence is mine. You’re mine.”

“Ah, yes. I’d forgotten my place.”

“To be fair, until the acquisition of certain objects, you cannot properly inhabit it.”

“Elizabeth-” James blurted. “My God-”

“Do you object to that?” she asked, a touch exasperated.

“I’m still accustoming myself to your frankness-”

She snorted.

“There is a difference between the degree of opinion which I have always known, and been delighted to know you possess,” James said carefully, “and this… freedom of expression.”

Elizabeth lifted her head, unable to fully conceal either her embarrassment or her sincere pleasure in his admission.

“Really?”  She cleared her own throat.  “Delighted, I mean?”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “I was not thinking of you in trousers yet when I granted that you might borrow them from the Marines.”

“Delighted does not mean resigned.”

“I was delighted, I assure you. I distinctly recall laughing.”

“Oh,” she said, doubtfully.  “I suppose I remember that.”  She lay there a moment longer with his heart beating against her arm where it rested on his chest, her fingers combing through his hair.  “Can it really be so,” she wondered out loud, when she could control herself no longer, “that I’ve fallen in love with you - an older brother at most, later an unwanted suitor, uptight, honorbound, and extremely uninteresting?  Pinch me; I think I dreamt it.”

James, with no change in expression, gave her a sound pinch on the rear.

She burst into laughter.

“Not so unwanted now, it would seem,” he said dryly.

“Not a suitor either. You only call them suitors when they are still trying to win you,” she said, cupping his cheek.  “Oh, how though?”

“Something to do with the promise of dog’s head buckles, it would seem,” he said, closing his eyes and just barely allowing himself a smug smile.

“It began well before that -”

“Well, for whatever reason, I’m yours now,” James countered.

“Yes, but you were mine already,” she said - gently this time. “I just didn’t claim you.”

This time, he burst into laughter in return.

“Fair enough-”

“Now I do with pride.”

“And I gladly accept such an arrangement,” he said, leaning to kiss her on the top of the head.  Elizabeth shut her eyes and smiled.

“James, have we talked enough for your tastes or is it still too early in the evening for you?” she teased.  “Pardon me for my forwardness, Captain, but all this talk about ownership does things for me.”

“Ah, but I so enjoy seeing you like this.”

“Like what-”

“Breathless and eager-”

“Careful application of your hand will get you more of it-”

Of course it would; even saying so did.

“-and finishing you off would put a swift end to it. No, I think I should prefer to enjoy prolonging it a bit.”

She let out an affronted peal of laughter, but even as that died down she looked at him with earnest wonder. James lifted his eyebrows in questioning amusement.

“What is it?”

“I wish I knew,” she said sincerely.

James tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled up at her from where he lay.

“Perhaps it is not ours to question,” he said, “only to be happy in it.”

She returned his smile, leaned in to kiss it.

“I hope,” she said, hesitating after beginning, then going on anyway, reaching to clasp his hand as she did, “we would have found our way to this if we’d married, too.”

James paused, blinked a few times, and then slowly smiled again.

“One can only hope.”

“Even if you would not show me your scars on our wedding night,” she teased him.

“A gruesome topic for a wedding night, wouldn’t you say?” James retorted. “I know I’m hardly ravaged, but there’s a time and a place for such things-”

“Yes,” agreed Elizabeth, her voice low and warm, cupping his cheek again and leaning in as though to kiss him. “The wedding night.”

He laughed again, defeated. “All right, a fair point. You may look on them now, if you like.”

“Why don’t you show them to me?” asked Elizabeth, languidly propping herself up on one hand.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Of course-”

James pushed himself up and started trying to extricate himself from his jacket as quickly as possible, with a gesture for her to be patient.  She wasn’t, though, and helped undo the closures with an air that made that very plain.

“Show me - show me like you would have shown me then,” said Elizabeth - her shyness returning, though her ability to breathe did not.  “As if we were starting - from the beginning.”

“...ah,” said James. “Well, ah-”

He made another gesture for patience and stood- nearly rolled himself from the bed, in fact, and tried to recall who he might have been three or four years previously under circumstances such as these.

“Elizabeth,” he began- he linked his hands behind his back, without thinking- “I don't wish to alarm you, but I feel as though I cannot proceed in this without a bit of preamble-”

Elizabeth swallowed back a laugh and did her best to look innocent and cautious - and then, actually remembering what she had been like back then, a little dubious.  She had not meant this sort of mummery, but when faced with the opportunity she would gladly claim the idea as her own.

“Certainly you are aware that the Navy man’s lot in life is not an easy one,” he continued, lifting his chin despite his back still being turned to her. “I count myself very lucky, for a man of my rank.”

“Will you not at least turn and face me?” asked Elizabeth, starting to remember, too, why she had liked him less then.

His posture loosened as he turned around- he had to remind himself to straighten it again, as though he had not very recently buried his face between this woman’s thighs.

“Forgive me.”

“That is easily done, with perhaps a bit of encouragement, J- Commodore Norrington,” said Elizabeth, recalling with a pang of guilt that she had called him that even up to the end of their engagement.

“I don't wish to alarm you- or invoke your pity, either,” said James. “Only to prepare you-”

“For what? I am not ignorant of the- the customs and expectations of matrimony-”

“I don't mean to impose anything further than the awareness of- the ways in which I have been marked during the course of my career,” he said carefully.

“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, with perhaps more interest than she would have actually shown if such a day had come to pass.  

“Er, yes,” said James. He came to sit beside her again and took her hands in his.

After a moment of looking her in the eyes, he faltered.

“This- er, well, I probably would have removed the wig here,” he said, “so we can probably just ignore that-“

Elizabeth rubbed his hair, which was a bit longer than it would have been.

“And I suppose I would have done that, too. I want to believe I would have, at any rate,” she said, with a faint, agreeable smile.

“This would have shown on its own,” he said, pulling his hair back from the scar on the side of his head. “Rather starkly, at the time. You’ll have to imagine that.”

“And I would have…”

She brushed her thumb over it.

“Do you want me to continue like this, or…”

“Please.”

He cleared his throat.

“All right,” he said. “That's the worst of them. I hope that is a reassurance.”

“Is it?” asked Elizabeth, dubious again.  “I don’t mind to see the… the proofs of your courage, Commodore.”  And though she rather suspected this was not actually how things would have gone, she touched him on the shoulder and said, more softly, “- or James. May I call you James?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course, Elizabeth.”

“I’m sorry I did not do it sooner,” she said, and realized with a flush of warmth that she was worse than sorry, and not at all playing pretend. The sudden shine in her eyes was real.

“I don't blame you,” he said softly.

He could have kissed her in that moment, but belatedly recalled that she wanted to continue play-acting. James blinked rapidly and looked down.

“Shall we continue-”

“May we?” she asked, rubbing her nose swiftly and decisively.

“Well,” he said, “I suppose I ought to get to it.”

He returned to unfastening his weskit, with the occasional brief look in her direction.

Elizabeth set her jaw determinedly and tried to stay in character.  James was making it very easy - boring as he had ever been - but guilt was making it a challenge for her.

“Would you-”

She had found herself too authoritative, addressing a question as though it were a command, and had to shut her eyes and work out the more hesitant, softer tone necessary.  “Would you like my help undressing?”

James paused with his hands on the closures as his eyes met hers. A moment later, he nodded and moved his hands away.

She’d helped him do this twenty times now at least, and somehow it still felt different in this context.  She had been aware through all the stages of their relationship of what it might have been, and it hung over them now like a heavy curtain.  Her breath caught at the sight of him as if she really were ridding him of a military uniform, and she flushed with embarrassment at that.

“We’ll pretend this was more difficult, I suppose,” James said awkwardly. “Cravat and all that-”

Elizabeth kissed him on the throat in response to that - timidly, she recollected just in time.  Self-consciousness provided her some realism.  

“Would you have minded this terribly?” she asked, touching his collarbone.  “You had always been so overdressed around me.”

“It was a uniform, Elizabeth,” he said. “I hardly gave it any thought past keeping it in order.”

“Yes, but to be undressed right in front of me,” she pressed.  She maintained eye contact as she insisted, but her eyes dropped to his chest as it was revealed to her.  “And to be - to be staring, I would have stared -”

“You would have been my wife,” said James.

“As though that would have made a difference to your shyness so soon-”

“It would have been expected of me,” he retorted, “and as I don't exactly have anything to hide under here-”

“All right,” she said, with a touch of impatience, meeting his eyes sparingly but fiercely - rather a bit too like she had once done.  “And it isn’t as though you hadn’t seen me undressed - twice, by that point.”

“There would have been nothing to mind,” he said. “I would not have wished to impose further, had you expressed any reluctance.”

“I wouldn’t have, but you would have seen it just the same. Sent me to bed and slept beside me as stiff as a tin soldier - not in an enjoyable way, either-”

“There was no right to be claimed- my studies of how to please you or no, I would not have wished to force you-“

“I would not have needed you to force me,” she said, a hard note of insistence entering her voice.

“I know you would have stared,” he said wearily. “Why else would I have undressed before you in Tortuga?”

“Did you like it? Did you want to-” She glided a fingertip down his chest and to his navel. “-Provoke it?”

“You were married,” he said grimly, “or at least, I thought you were at the time.”

“Being engaged to you did not prevent me from staring at other men,” she reminded him, sharply, so as to dissolve his guilt.

“You did not love me then.”

“- no, I didn’t,” she said, uncomfortably.  “And I would not have on our wedding night.  But I would still have had eyes.”

“I would not have wanted you like that on our wedding night,” James admitted, after a long silence.

Elizabeth took his hand and clasped it a long time.

“When would we have… do you think…”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It grew further from my mind the longer the engagement progressed.”

“Because you could tell, you mean-” she said bitterly.

“...yes,” he said. “Because I could tell. I thought- perhaps at sea-“

Elizabeth pulled him to her and kissed him quiet. James put his arms around her in relief and gratitude.

“That is what happened, isn’t it - after all-” she managed between kisses.

“In a way- good lord, Elizabeth, is it terrible to be glad we were never married-“

“Would we have still found this-” she asked, with her eyes finding his.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I can only hope so, but with so little to be sure of…”

“I’ve spent months wondering about it - how I gave you up, how I ruined your life -”  Elizabeth drew him back to the bed, drowning him in kisses.  

“Elizabeth- for all you know I might have lost you with the Dauntless-“

“As if the sea could claim me -” scoffed Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth-”

“I’ll only let you do that,” she murmured against his mouth.

“How are you so adept at this?” James said, as impressed as he was confused. “You have a greater knack for steering everything in that direction than any man I’ve ever known.”

“What direction?” asked Elizabeth, straddling him on the bed - “sex?”

“I was attempting to be more delicate than that.”

“Perhaps it is only because I am not a man,” she said, smirking.

“Mm. By now, I daresay it wouldn’t matter if you were.” He pulled her down and kissed her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that….”

She licked him on the ear and whispered, “I’d have really fucked you by now.”

James was shocked into laughter.

“Elizabeth-”

“You’d have liked it, James,” she baited him, moving her mouth - and her tongue - over to his mouth.

“Of course I would have,” he said, making a fist in her hair. “It’s you, after all-”

She groaned a little loudly, shutting her eyes.

“-and you remember what I told you, months ago-”  

“God, as though I could forget-”

“Really?” He sounded surprised, but pleased.

“James, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever been told-” she said, pulling back to look him in the eye, although a shy expression of pleasure came into her gaze.

James blinked in slow shock, and then moved his hand from her hair to her cheek.

“...it’s true,” he said, in a soft voice. “Every word of it. God help me- it might have been easier if I did not love you for some time there, but… I don’t believe it’s anything that can be helped.”

“Thank you,” she said, when she had found her voice again; “for waiting for me.”

“I would wait decades for you, if I had to,” James said, stroking along her cheekbone with his thumb.

“You don’t need to go so far as that,” said Elizabeth, biting back a greater smile and looking aside, just slightly away from his eyes.  “I plan to never make you wait again.”

“Will you still have me as your dog?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“For always, I hope,” she said, meeting his eyes now.

“Before others,” he said, “I think that is what I must be.”

“They’ll know I love you,” she said, caressing his cheek, first with her fingertips and then her knuckles, back and forth, and then his throat, just the same.  “They may think something a little cruel in that love, but I won’t be able to hide it, so I will not try.”

“I can manage that,” he said. “I didn’t spend twenty years in the service to rankle under authority.”

“Especially authority as sweet as mine,” she said coaxingly, before laughing at herself.  But she touched his lips and said sincerely, “You know I love you, James.  So much.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I do know, now.”

She kissed him, cupping his cheek as she did.

“It is a greater gift than I dared hope to receive any longer,” James said, pulling her against him and embracing her, nuzzling into the mass of her hair. “God- Elizabeth, there is no world in which I could not love you-”

Elizabeth held him and rolled over hard, to bring him halfway on top of her.

“In this world, at least, I promise you won’t lose me either,” she said in a near whisper.

James had to brace himself, with an awkward little bark of laughter, to keep from falling on her. The whole cot was sent rocking.

“Noted-”

“Oh, James-”

“What is it, love?”

Elizabeth let out a tiny laugh that died on her lips, tilting her head as she looked at him, fond and a little embarrassed. “Oh, James,” she had to repeat.

She had not reacted like this since the night she had saved him in Tortuga, and that somehow seemed more distant to him than even their former lives. Those seemed to exist nearly simultaneously, but behind a pane of glass- inaccessible, yet always visible. Their life now- his life, this life- had become so much the status quo already that it was strange to think that its course had begun so recently.

He pushed his fingers back through her hair and she shut her eyes and leaned into it.

“Don’t stop that,” she whispered, biting her lip.

“This- now, this, I might easily have done on our wedding night-”

“Mmm.”

“It seemed indecent to even think of it.”

“Touching my hair? Oh, James, good lord, imagine-”

“It’s a matter of context-”

“What a delightfully filthy idea,” she continued to tease him, wetting her lips and smiling.

“Didn't tend to imagine it quite so golden, though-”

“Well, no. It wasn’t.”

“Mm. Well, I like it golden-”

“I like that you like it,” she murmured.

“I like everything about you,” he said warmly, pulling her in for another kiss.

Elizabeth felt her face heat up and broke the kiss, as well as she could given the overall mood of the evening. “Surely not everything-” she faltered.

“Elizabeth, you're forcing my comments toward the filthy,” he half-grumbled. “Everything is close enough-”

“I did not mean it like - that,” she said, mortified.  “I only meant - my pride and my stubborness. My tact - or if you rather my lack of tact-”

“Mm. Well. I was not thinking of that-”

“Something less literal? You like the idea of me?”

“Oh God- Elizabeth-”

He scrubbed at his face with his free hand, his voice a barely audible mutter.

“I like- I enjoy looking at you.”

“Oh my G- was that all it was? You like everything you see?”  She started laughing, momentarily more relieved than flattered.

“Yes,” James groaned. “Christ- I'm still accustoming myself to this degree of informality between us-”

“Oh, dear, do you need a little bit more practice?” she asked, too innocently to mean anything but carnally.

“Oh, my God-”

She rubbed the back of his neck with a fraction more sincerity. He leaned into it- James never recognized his own muscle tension until she was relieving it- and gradually lowered his face to her shoulder in an attitude of defeat.

“I feel I am doomed to perform very poorly at being dreadful on your account if I can't handle so much as this,” he confessed. “I am brought low far too easily.”

“I do not mind you brought low - you have done some of your very best work for me in such a state as that,” said Elizabeth, holding him possessively closely, “but if you can see to it you are only done in by me, I would appreciate it. Remember who you belong to.”

“I know,” he sighed. “My God. I can promise you, I used to be better than this.”

“Why did becoming a pirate make you worse.”

“It was preceded by a long period of drunken wretchedness,” James said flatly. “I imagine that’s to blame.”

“We’ll make you better,” she said decisively.

“I am working on it, whether you can tell or not,” James said, with deeply wounded dignity.

“I can’t,” she said gamely, “though that is also because I can’t tell you have performed poorly by your own standards. I always find you competent at the very least. I have always admired you, and now that my admiration is joined by tender feelings and not a little bit of lust, I am probably blind to your faults.”

“I used to think that that was my worst,” he said. “The way I was… then. Not before you, but at sea.”

“And what do you think now?” she asked, briefly pausing in her administrations to the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said grimly, “I haven’t been back in battle in a good while.”

“Oh, that will probably change sooner than you’d like, and it will probably be ghosts or sea monsters or some other thing.  This is an awful crowd.”

“Indeed,” he said dryly. “And there I will be, with none of my earlier resources to draw upon.”

He lifted his head enough to smile at her and assure her he wasn’t completely sinking away again.

“Yes; you will have something better,” she said, and she whispered into his ear something entirely too filthy.

“Oh God-”

His head dropped again. Elizabeth started to laugh at him again, faintly, barely suppressing it against his shoulder.

“Will that not fortify you?” she pressed on.

“I meant,” he said, “without my typical resources toward inspiring terror-”

He felt like a petulant child, and shut himself up again as he weighed his words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was lower, more even.

“You may recall that I had another name before I was Her Majesty’s dog,” said James. “The Scourge, they used to call me. God help me, I had earned it, too. I used to fear your learning of it in any detail. I suppose that hardly matters now.”

She stroked his hair. It did not matter, but she was impressed with it nonetheless.

“I doubt that carries much weight among these people any longer, regardless,” he said. “One can hardly keep up that kind of reputation when rumor has it one is being bent over a desk on a habitual basis.”

That was another thought for another night - she did not think it would have been fair to suggest it when they had still been unable to enjoy each other the other way around - and she reluctantly put it out of mind.

“I don’t think it would be impossible to remind them,” she said diplomatically.  “Surely it will all come back in time.”

“One can only hope dog’s-head boot buckles and what have you can inspire a similar degree of dread as the slow removal of one's coat,” James commented.

After a pause, he added, “Because of the bloodstains, you see-”

Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly. James pushed himself up in concern.

“Are you all right?”

She bit her lip. “I’m picturing it-”

“Oh, my God-”

“So if we had married, things would have come around eventually,” she said optimistically.  “You couldn’t have kept that a secret.”

She remembered with some shame how insipid, how oppressively bland she had thought being married to him would be, but that only meant that her turnaround would have happened all the more willingly.

“That's true,” he conceded. “I couldn't exactly tell your father of any of that, either.”

“I would have been besotted,” she laughed.

“Once you stopped fussing, perhaps,” he said, leaning up properly now to brace himself up on his elbow. “I used to- oh, God, it sounds ridiculous to explain it now-”

“Please go on.”

“Cheap wine skins under my shirt.” He patted at his side to illustrate where he could have situated them. “Flat, unnoticeable. If they were slashed, my clothes would be soaked red in an instant. A bit of warfare of the mind, you could say, to fool an opponent into believing I was fighting through a wound that ought to have been lethal-”

Elizabeth started to giggle.  “I don’t think fussing would be necessary, for I would have gotten the shirt off you to see how bad the wounds were and uncovered the deception too quickly for that-”

“The devil you would have! I would have warned you first.”

“Either way, you cannot pretend you would have fooled me.”

“You're a great deal smarter than most of these people,” James said dryly. “Most of them seemed to believe I was up and about with an impossible head injury, at that.”

“I’ve had….”  This was an unpleasant thing to talk about; she wanted to keep on talking about James, Scourge of the Caribbean, and fancy a better ending for them if they had gotten married when planned, but once the topic had been brought up, it was the honorable thing to do to at least acknowledge it. “I’ve had four times the education anyone else here has had,” she admitted, then, not sounding proud of it.  “And I squandered a lot of that to read about pirates anyway.  I am sure I would have been very stupid if I had not been forced to my studies.”

“Ignorance and stupidity are two very distinct things,” James said, rather dismissively. “Believe me, there's plenty of both to go around in the Navy as well.”

“Look,” she said, after a moment, a little unwilling to argue.  “My first experience with pirates - an experience you shared, if you recall - involved ghosts and curses. I doubt that it is really that strange for a lot of these people to consider that the Crown may have undead pirate hunters to sic on them.”

“Oh, naturally,” he scoffed. “That's what made it so easy to exploit. I suppose we shall have to decide how that factors into my current status.”

“What is more fearful,” she teased, grateful to be off other topics, “death, or woman leaders?”

“A woman leader followed by three dead men, I would imagine.”

Elizabeth giggled again, leaning up enough to nuzzle him.

“We’ll have to devise a new impossible wound,” he said lightly, putting his arm around her. “The previous one is already out of sight most of the time, and will only be more obscured when I can tie my bloody hair back again-”

“Ohh, poor James,” she said, continuing to burrow into his arms.

“I’m not suggesting it’s the end of the world-“

“No, of course not, merely a great burden for you to shoulder,” she continued in the most tender tone of voice, rubbing his back.

“It's damnably annoying- I am permitted to be annoyed, you know-”

“Believe me, if you were not, I would remind you,” said Elizabeth, laying back again, and smirking up at him, tendrils of sunbleached hair falling in a tangle over her forehead.  She touched his lips absently. James kissed that fingertip and stretched himself beside her, pushing her hair from her face and letting it trail over his hand.

“I know I hardly need to ask this,” he said, “but I dearly hope you never cut this off.”

“I was not planning to. I did consider it, when I went incognito after Will and Jack, but I decided my reluctance was all the advice I needed.”

“Your impatience with it would be worse than my own,” James chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle it- and her as well.

“I do like that you like it,” she admitted, touching his own hair, and urging him closer. “I like that more than I like it myself.”

“Ah, now there's a familiar feeling,” he said, muffled by her collarbone.

“Which is?”

“To enjoy being liked for some particular quality more than that quality itself.”

“Well, I only feel that with you - and my father,” she amended, gently chucking him under the chin. “To hell with what other people think of me.”

“Mm. I have come to feel similarly about you.”

“Good boy,” she whispered.

James laughed, startled.

“You’ll note I have not yet shaved-”

“Yeah,” she said, gripping him by the jaw affectionately.  “I admit I am a little bit relieved. I like you roguish.”

“I knew it-”

“I only wanted what was best for you,” she protested.

“I’m not sure I have a best anymore.”

“Well, on that we are not in agreement; I have decided what is best for you is whatever I like most.  On that note, you are keeping the beard.  I don’t mind that it tickles. I have nothing to compare it to, anyway.”

“Noted,” James said dryly. “I shall try not to disappoint.”

“You never have,” she said fondly.

“I'm not particularly disposed toward the suggestion of a scarf.”

“Then ignore it.”

“I'm not going to stop complaining,” he said, very firmly. “I've earned that.”

“You have not!”

“Other than that,” he said, “I suppose I'm at your disposal-”

“I think earrings. Or an earring. Not one of those little manly hoops, though - something that dangles.  It’ll blend in with your hair, I think, for the most part, but catch the light and look so pretty.  Silver, I think.  It’s a better color for you.”

“I'm sorry, what-”

He leaned back up on his elbow in abject alarm.

“I believe you heard me, Captain.”

“Yes,” he said, “but I never can tell when you're joking-”

“Well, I’m not,” she said crossly.  “Don’t complain about this one, please.”

“How, exactly, do you intend to go sticking a new hole in my body-”

“Gin. Needle. Your sweet patience and an earring - something expensive, I think.”

“Oh, my God,” James groaned, laying back down.

There was a pause.

“... something dangling, though-”

“Yes.  You really couldn’t pull off hoops, I don’t think - you’re somehow too….”  She frowned at him. “Delicate.”

“That's a new one,” said James.

“Refined, perhaps.”

“It's going to be some time before I've enough hair for it to blend with, as you put it.”

“I don’t care. You’ll let me have what I want, won’t you?”

“I- yes, of course,” he said as he lay back down, a little bewildered. “How long have you been thinking of this?”

“At least all of today,” she said airily, to disguise how she felt about what she was about to confess.  “I thought we could share a pair - although I do not look better in silver. I am willing to make a concession for you.”

James scoffed. “This is your idea. If you’d rather gold, it’s all quite the same to me.”

“No, you wouldn’t wear it well enough.”

“Fine-“

“Well, now all of that’s settled,” said Elizabeth, stretching herself out on the bed while sneaking a look at him that was not sneaky enough not to be noticed, nor intended to be.

James’s eyebrows drew together.

“What now?” he asked suspiciously.

“What indeed,” she said, sliding her leg over his.

“Ah,” he said. “That.”

“James,” she pleaded.

“I haven’t got a quondam-“

“Well, maybe we should start a family. Though I am not naming any son of mine Weatherby.  I’ve always told father that.  We agreed ‘Henry’ will do; it is his middle name.”

James slowly sat up again, staring at her unbrokenly as he moved all the way up.

“...Elizabeth?”

“Darling?”

“Are you- darling, are you serious?”

He reached for her hands.  She laced their fingers together.

“I don’t want a child,” she said earnestly, but held onto him tightly, and kept her eyes on his - willing him to see her sincerity.  “But would it be so terrible if we had one unplanned?  We could die on this rescue mission. That would be a reliable form of birth control, to be sure.  Then perhaps we may not conceive at all.  And if we conceive, and we survive, then… well, then we would certainly have our work carved out for us.  I don’t know how long you could be my dog before it interfered with our child-rearing, but…. We could work it out as it happens.  James?”  She rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles, then leaned in and kissed them.  “We’re free out here.  We can do anything we want.”

“I know,” he said. “And truly, I would give you all the assistance you require. But Elizabeth-”

“Yes, James?”

“Are you certain-”

“Yes - yes, I’m absolutely certain-” she said, a little feverishly, pulling him to her.  “It’s worth the risk - and I have no worry for the consequences. I know that I can do and handle absolutely anything that falls in my path - and that you would be a wonderful father -”

“Elizabeth,” he reminded her, though he had to pause for a kiss- “Elizabeth, nine months is a rather long time-”

“Grania O’Malley,” she murmured. “Nothing shall ever slow me down-”

“Elizabeth…”

He kissed the edge of her mouth, already moving down toward her throat.

“Come back up here-” she laughed, wanting to taste him.

“Mm- you're right, it's safer up there-”

“Safer?” she asked, pausing as their lips touched, knowing she wouldn’t want to keep speaking once she kissed him.

“Less likely to lead anywhere unplanned,” he laughed.

“Ah, well - let’s do it anyway-” she laughed, and smooched him.

“Swann or Norrington, do you think-”

“James!”

“I'm making certain you're certain!”

“Swann, then!” she griped, and putting her arms around him she fell backwards to the bed.

“Mm- noted-”

He didn't add anything after that. His mouth was rather preoccupied.

The thought of having a child - of becoming pregnant with one - still left her with a quiet sense of unease.  It was mostly to do with the immediate concern of their plans, Pirate King and dog - the reality of raising a baby could not emotionally touch her no matter how much James implored her to consider it, so instead she was hung up on what a difficulty it would be to make all the sea quake with fear of her when she was pregnant and enormous - to make others dread James again, while keeping him firmly beneath her boot, when they were raising a child together.  To say nothing of the fact that the language she had adopted towards him in public could never, ever reach a child’s ears - children cannot hear their parents say such things to each other, even in play; they are too young to understand it.  

But she was not lying when she told him that if it happened, she could weather it - they could weather it together.  Perhaps they would have to raise a baby instead of raising hell - perhaps they would not be so terrifying as they wanted to be.  But what was the point of wanting freedom if one only gave oneself new restrictions?  She would not be tied down by her dreams of power; she refused.  And just once, just one chance to know him - she would take the risk for that.  Sometimes it seemed inevitable that he would die on this mission - in her mind, it was always James she feared dying, never herself - and she could not bear even the imaginary grief.  Having him beforehand would probably not lighten that if it came to pass, nor did she think, if she were to conceive, that raising a child alone after losing him would be any easier; but those hardships seemed to pale in comparison to the possibility of regret.  To never have him at all, to have loved him and lost him and never had him, would have been the worst possible feeling for her.

There was, however, nothing frantic in the way she kissed him; now that she had finally persuaded him, she felt free to take her time.  The only reminder of her plans now was in the way she led him between her thighs, and even that, she did slowly - there was so much else to do in the meantime.

James’ hand had settled on her belly in a pensive way even as he kissed her collarbones, over her breasts, her shoulders. He had remained sober for a few months now; there was now an even greater pressure to remain so if- somehow, God forbid- things went predictably in the most complicated possible direction and she fell pregnant. He was not a violent drunk, except where taverns full of taunting pirates and the chance to kill Jack Sparrow were concerned. Most of the brawling he’d gotten into during his low year had been miserably sober and in the pursuit of getting drunk again, and that was less of a concern around a hypothetical child. But he was reckless, he knew that much, and that frightened him just as much.

And even if he and Elizabeth somehow turned into outstanding parents on the first try, his stomach clenched uneasily at the thought of raising a child on board the Empress, bearing witness to engagement after engagement, being shushed while he or Elizabeth dealt with prisoners, wearing the tiniest imitations of pirate finery either of them could find-

“If it's Swann,” he murmured, lips against the soft inside of her wrist, “you may have to reconsider Eliza for a girl.”

“Why’s that?” she murmured, extending her fingers to brush them against his cheek.

“Imagine it. Sixteen years from now, a second Elizabeth Swann running about the oceans, raising Cain with the wind in her hair, attracting all kinds of attempts on her life meant for her mother-"

“-whom, I assume, she would be like enough in temperament to handle it,” said Elizabeth, before admitting in a quieter voice, “I can’t even picture sixteen years from now.”

“Suppose she were not,” James said softly. “It would be a heavy burden to place on a child’s shoulders, that sort of legacy. Any child of ours will have some degree of that. I'm not worried that either of us will turn into the Admiral, but I was raised at sea and in his shadow all the same. Any child we have will be notorious from the moment you begin to show, whether they like it or not.”

“And I am not worried any child of ours will grow into Jack Sparrow,” she said impatiently, “but we wouldn’t be the first to do it, and we cannot be worse than Teague - or your father, for that matter. Anyway everyone must have some variation of this concern when they join in the marriage bed, and many people who don’t think about it end up with inadequately cared for children.  We’re better off than many, and children are the primary result of this kind of cohabitation.  Even if we had a quondam, it wouldn’t be a guarantee - so unless you are expecting me to live with you and long for you without satisfaction for the rest of my days, you cannot convince me not to want you by threatening me with babies.”

“If you insist.”

There was another little pause.

“And all this assumes only one child-”

She burst into laughter, but it was a bit edgy at this point.  “God, James!”

“I'm not the one to carry and deliver it,” James insisted. “I must ask you to take this seriously-”

“How much more seriously am I to take it?”

“Are you eager enough to have me that you are comfortable with that risk?”

“The risk will always be there! So yes-”

“It will be much less of one when we've located a quondam-”

“And when that is located - will you then finally stop-”

“Yes! Elizabeth, that's all I'm waiting for-”

She looked frustrated and uneasy, clenching and unclenching her hands on the sheets.  Finally she tried to relax her jaw, and said, “James, I don’t - I don’t want - if something happens to one of us - “ to you, though, as she thought privately - “I don’t want us to have never known each other.”

“My mouth has been- honestly, Elizabeth, I believe I’ve known you better than many men know their wives in decades of marriage-”

“It feels incomplete,” she said mournfully.

“You’ve likely had a more complete experience by that method than I could give you by entering you to begin with,” he said flatly.

“It’s not about - James, it’s not about just - that,” she said, flushing.

“I know,” he said. ��But… Elizabeth-”

James settled his hands on her shoulders.

“I love you. I love you too much to ask you accept this lightly.”

“It must be accepted whatever happens,” she whispered, struggling with her agitation. “Whatever we do, quondams or not - it will always be a risk, don’t you understand that?”

“I don't understand why it must be like this,” he said, a little wearily.

“Like what?”

“In a rush, with our thoughts elsewhere and this sense of dread hanging over us both-”

“You are the one bringing both of those things! I just want to adore you, dammit-”

He kissed her.

“Elizabeth…”

“What now-” she asked, but her anger had dissipated considerably.

“I’m sorry,” he said.”But I cannot do that to you. It's painful, it's dangerous- good Christ, some women are practically disfigured by an unfortunate enough pregnancy-”

She could have choked, pushing him back very quickly to look him dead in the eye.  “Never? You mean to tell me we are never-”

“When the risk is lower,” he said, trying to take her hand. “It will always be possible, but damn it, Elizabeth, we cannot play dice with this-”

Elizabeth groaned and pressed her forehead against his chest. James threaded his fingers back into her hair with a moody sigh of his own.

“I don't understand why this matters to you,” he said. “I've heard it's not terribly pleasant on your end to begin with.”

“Because it-”  She broke off sharply and bit her lip, pushing her face against him harder.  

“Because what? It appears if I die, the lot of you can come back for me,” he pointed out.

“Because it’s what spouses do,” she said through gritted teeth.  “Degenerate pirates may do whatever they like and call that binding but a husband and wife do one very specific thing to consummate their marriage and I haven’t done it.”

James had to stop and take this in for a moment, going still against her.

“Well,” he said, “we are not married, and I can assure you that even if we had, similar precautions would have been taken-”

“Would they have been?” she asked, with a strange flood of relief, and a pang of guilt. “Did you never want a child with me?”

“Oh, God, Elizabeth,” he said. “Of course I want a child with you.”

“Really?  Then why-”

“Haven't you got enough on your plate without that?” James asked.

“Now.  But not then-”

“Living at sea? On a patrol vessel? The consequences would hardly have been any less dire then than they are now if any part of it went away.”

Elizabeth smiled wryly.

“I say this for your sake,” said James. “I hope you can at least understand that.”

“I don’t think you know what is for the best as well as you think you do, but I do understand.”

“My mother was well nigh crippled carrying me,” he said, a little ruefully.

“She wasn’t carrying your older brothers,” Elizabeth pointed out.  “Women are not supposed to give birth so late in life.”

“She was scarcely twenty when she birthed Lawrence,” James countered, “and had the fever for four weeks after. I believe the difference there was comprised of Lawrence being the fruit of their wedding night, and not a nasty shock.”

“Is that why you wouldn’t have had me on our wedding night?” Elizabeth asked - not a demand, but too forwardly.  “Trying to avoid being at all like your father?”

“What? Oh- no, no, it's nothing as… charged as that,” said James.

“I don’t understand you at all,” she pressed onward. “You had scarcely managed to convince me you had loved me and truly wanted to marry me for myself and not simply my father’s favor before you began to impress upon me just how far from yourself you intended to keep me.”

“A lack of intent to use you for my own enjoyment is not distance.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Of course I want you,” he said, cupping his hands around her face.

“You want to preserve me,” she said, grimacing. “That is the only way you express your love.  I feel - God help me, James, I thought marrying you was going to be like being shut up in a little box, and I still feel like I’m in there sometimes.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted. “I would think that’s something different.”

“I only want -”  

She caught herself before blurting something insensitive, pulling his hands from her face out of a sense of duty.  James might not want to hurt her, but she had a startling knack for hurting him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “there are other ways we can pass our time, you know.”

“It isn’t the same.”

“You’re right, it’s more enjoyable.”

“James,” she said firmly, “I enjoy your company, I enjoy talking with you, but it isn’t the same.”

“I wasn’t speaking of conversation.”

“I don’t want you to think of me as your mistress,” Elizabeth said heatedly, without thinking.  “I am not some - some -”

Elizabeth let off with an agitated hiss through her teeth.  She did not know what she meant to say, but none of it could have been good.  She ran her fingers through her hair til it fell over her face, and then she pressed her eyes into the palms of her hands and sighed.

“Forgive me, James, I want to be your wife.”

James’s response was not even hurt so much as concerned.

“Do you consider it the lot of a wife, then, to be impersonally emptied within and then dismissed to sleep?” he asked, tentatively brushing her hair aside.

Elizabeth shook her head.

“I don’t want to serve you - I know you would never take me like that anyway. That was never even a concern before.  But I am - I am so burdened by the inverse.  You wanting always to serve me, barely wanting me to touch you - I want to be together.  This is not together, James, it is just… it just you playing forever at being my dog.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” he said. “This is… exactly how I might have treated you as my wife.”

He shook his head slowly.

“Then we would have come to the same place eventually, I suppose.  I thought - I thought you must have been treating me differently.  Oh, God’s wounds, I know that you hate the place but I wish we were back in Tortuga.  I miss what we were like in Tortuga.”

“Has it changed?” he asked, his frown deepening. “As I recall, I did not consider it wise to do what you ask of me there, either.”

“I don’t know. It seemed more domestic then.”

“I have not changed in my feelings toward you, if that’s a concern.”

“I already know your heart is mine,” she murmured, pulling him wearily into an embrace.  “It’s the rest of you I lack.”

James put his arms around her.

“There are few things in the world more one-sided and joyless than a man penetrating a woman,” he said, “or so I have been told. When one adds to that the consideration of the physical complications of pregnancy, I fear above all else that I would be inviting your resentment.”

“Then let me have you otherwise,” she said with a note of desperation in her voice.  “You cannot tell me you are sparing me your selfishness when you are merely displacing it onto me instead.  Let me tend to you, the way you tend to me - you make it seem as though it is a chore to be endured -”

“I don’t derive the degree of enjoyment you wish to give me from that,” James said, rubbing her shoulder now. “I’m much happier tending to you, I can assure you-”

“Now who is being selfish?”

“Elizabeth,” he laughed. “Lie down, and let me enjoy you.”

She did not comply - she did not say anything.  She looked up at him moodily and her eyes flashed betrayal.

James sighed heavily, looking away.

“I don’t know how I can convince you of the intensity of my wanting,” he said, holding her a little tighter, “without feeling that I am using you for my own benefit.”

“At least do me the honor of acknowledging you are making me feel as though I am using you for mine,” said Elizabeth, her stubbornness colliding with her temper.

“I don’t mind it- heaven’s sake, Elizabeth, it’s all right by me. I don’t enjoy feeling helpless and drained- the blindfold was one thing, but-”

“But I do,” she said desperately.

“Are you saying you want to please me?”

“Yes!” she blurted, taking his face in her hands.  “In this one thing, please, please let me be a wife to you and not a king-”

“I don’t want you to be a king then either!” James blurted. “Dear God- that sly, smiling pleasure in seeing me brought low- that’s all very well in front of others, but here-”

That stung.  Elizabeth had thought it a game to play, not a cruelty at his expense, and she had believed - he had given her reason to believe - that he had enjoyed it as well as she.

“Let us leave this conversation off for another night,” said Elizabeth in cresting irritation.  “Let us use this bed for the only purpose we can agree on.”

“All I’ve ever wanted of you was a wife,” he said, putting his hands on her face in reciprocation. “I was settling for a king. I believed a king was all I could have now.”

“No, you don’t want a wife,” she said, yanking his hands down.  “You want some kind of doll-”

“What?” He stared, confused and hurt and completely, genuinely at a loss.

“What made you believe that? I- Elizabeth, if I could have you now, I would. It’s a great difficulty, wanting you as I do and being unable to do anything about it- and feeling all the more ignoble for it.”

“You don’t!” she cried indignantly.  “You practically wince if I touch you - as though you hate it!”

“Pardon me for not enjoying an ongoing litany of how helpless I can be made to look, then,” James said stiffly.

“I am going to bed,” said Elizabeth poisonously, making good on this threat by standing abruptly and walking to the side of the bed, getting into it and staring sullenly at the wall, her back to him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, sitting down behind her and touching her shoulder. She shrugged his hand off.

“I said I am going to bed, Captain.”

“I will not trouble you any further if you wish to be left alone after I give my explanation to you,” he said, “but I would like to apologize for my lack of transparency in why I have felt such reluctance to accommodate you. I understand that my actions have been… confusing, in light of how I have asked to be treated in the company of others. I have sought to avoid treating you with any carnal disrespect, and I see now that that has…” He paused and swallowed.

“Miscommunicated the nature of my desire for you, and what I desire of you. For that, I am sorry. If you will have me, I would gladly offer myself to you.”

He touched her shoulder again- more deliberately this time- and stroked her hair away from her neck.  She had not turned to look at him yet, but at this, she sank into the bed with relief.

“I am plagued by fear that I am misusing you. I never meant to make you believe I don’t want you. It’s- well, it’s a lot of things. But not wanting you has never been one of them.”

Elizabeth swallowed.  “Lie down with me,” she said.

James cautiously stretched himself out alongside her and put his arm around her.

“How's this…?”

“Yes - good. I mean, yes, that’s what I meant -”

He kissed her at the soft place where her neck joined her shoulders, gliding his hand further down her body.

“Forgive me my misunderstanding.”

She took his hand and held it, pressed against her stomach, without any intended meaning behind it.

“If you will forgive me my silk rope…”

“It still makes an excellent blindfold,” he reminded her, with a weak laugh.

“And do you care for an excellent blindfold?”

“I can enjoy an excellent blindfold.”

“I see.  Was your enjoyment at all enabled by the fact that you were servicing me at the time?”

“I won't pretend otherwise.”

“So was the blindfold part of that, or…?”

“I felt it improved my focus,” he said, with a small shrug.

“Ah,” she said knowingly; “my very thorough former Commodore,” she added affectionately and turned her head to nuzzle him back. James smiled and kissed her, holding her a little more possessively now.

“This is really not a trait of yours I thought I would come to enjoy, and I seem to be growing used to it,” Elizabeth observed, tilting her head back against his shoulder so that she could just sort of look at him.

“Which trait is that?” He had closed his eyes.

“Your professionalism,” she said, choosing the word particularly.

“It prevented me from any untoward thoughts,” he said, just as particularly.

“Not precisely a problem in my eyes.”

“And at the time,” he said, “wishing to avoid thoughts of drink.”

“Well, I thought you were a bore,” said Elizabeth, rubbing his hand.

“I'm aware,” he said flatly.

“You still are, but it’s…. I’m learning to work my way around it.”

“Thank you,” he said, even more flatly.

“I suppose… It was always an inflexible notion in my mind. That you were you, and I was of course too different from you - James, why didn’t that seem like an obstacle to you?  We are so different.”

“I have always loved you as you are,” he said, giving her hair a gentle ruffle.

“And you thought we would - forgive me, you thought we were a suitable match regardless?”

“I was planning to bring you to sea,” he pointed out.

“Yes, where I would apparently be remaining a virgin for some time,” she teased.  

He laughed. “I would like to hope, in retrospect at least, that the sight of me covered in blood and wine might have assisted things somewhat.”

“Christ,” she swore. “I would like to see that now.”

“Another reason for you to prefer me in black.”

“I would have torn your soiled clothes off you, darling.”

“Mm. How good to know…”

He kissed her again. Elizabeth squirmed in order to turn over onto her back, and James drew her closer to his body.  She freed her hand to touch his face, then his hair, which she gripped as she deepened the kiss.

“You're allowed to do that-” he said softly, in a light gasp from the intensity of her kisses.

She closed her hand into a fist and pulled his head back - smoothly and deliberately, not with a short jerk.  

“Good,” she whispered, before kissing him again.

Between pulling him backwards and pushing herself up to take a more aggressive tactic with him, she had soon pushed James onto his back, leaning over him, pressing him into the cot, smothering him, all her hair spilling over her shoulder and over him.

“Do you like this, darling-”

“Of course I do,” she gasped, out of breath.

“Ah- good, then-”

“Do you?”

“Mm- yes, quite-“

She smoothed his hair back over his forehead and smiled down at him.  It was done almost grudgingly, but the smile was sincere, if becoming tired.

“Ah- mm. How do you feel about rolling over and-“

“Really?” asked Elizabeth, startled and, perhaps, not displeased.  “You want to do that?”

After a second’s pause, she asked, without a change in tone, “With what?”

James had to give himself a moment and run a number of calculations in his head to follow what she meant.

“What? Oh- oh, no, that’s not what I-“

Elizabeth burst into peals of laughter. “So you don’t want to do that-”

“With what, to begin with-“

“That’s what I asked!”

“I was going to ask you how you feel about letting me have a run between your thighs-“

“Oh - I have no idea what I feel. Rather, I have no idea what I would feel- do you happen to know?”

“Well,” he grumbled, “I’d probably have to start you off first-“

“Oh, and now you don’t like that?”

“It sounds as though you don’t-“

“I love it,” she said fervently, “I just wish you would let me touch you too-”

“-and all else aside,” he said, “I can’t fathom it working without getting you good and slick-“

Her mouth opened. James grimaced.

“I know, that’s not what you asked for, but I feel as though I’m going to have an apoplexy if we don’t do something-“

“Oh, please let’s do something-”

Emboldened by this response, James took a moment to consider things one last time, swallowed, and nodded.

“...Eleanor if it’s a girl. What do you say?”

She gave him a very flat look. James had to look away.

“I… God help me. I want to be inside you-“

“I think you have successfully changed my mind on the viability of that suggestion,” she said, albeit more gently than she had initially intended, upon seeing his reaction.

“...right,” he said, feeling more keenly than ever that he was God’s perfect idiot.

She put her hand over his affectionately. James’s eyes flicked toward her and he had to look away in embarrassment.

“Oh, good God,” he muttered.

Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s not as funny as you seem to find it,” he said. “That- good Christ, I’m an idiot-“

“Why?” asked Elizabeth, walking her fingers up his hand and over his wrist teasingly.  “Because you want the same things as I do?”

“I regret saying anything on the subject.”

“I’m glad you did. It’s been… enlightening,” she said, scooting close enough to him to lean her head back onto his shoulder contentedly.

“I suppose I’ve little choice now but to lie here consumed by lust,” he said flatly.

“There are other ways to be inside me,” she suggested - a bit shyly, given his record with the topic.

He looked at her in mild discomfort.

“Elizabeth,” he said.

“You liked it before,” she said crossly.

“I don’t understand how the entire process doesn’t strike you as rather unhygienic-“

“If I can go from having regular baths and a personal maid to the lifestyle of a pirate captain, to say nothing of the honeymoon suite I stayed in in Tortuga, I think I can manage one measly little-”

She cut herself off, embarrassed.

“...it’s not that little,” she said feebly.  “You know what I mean-”

“No offense taken.”

“Besides, you like doing it to me-”

“You don’t… emit anything with that force-“

“What’s the force got to do with the hygiene?”

“Nothing erupting in my face, for one-“

“Oh, lord, James, I don’t mind any of that-”

“I mind!”

“Please let me have you, James,” she murmured, touching his chest, rubbing her thumb over his bare skin thoughtfully, her eyes dropping contemplatively to her hand and unfocusing.

“I don't know how long I can give you,” he said, a little mournfully, as he stroked her hair back from her face again.

“Such is the way of the fates,” said Elizabeth, voice dropping to an intimate whisper.  “I don’t dare to question it.”

“Elizabeth…”

He pulled her closer and kissed her deeply, then just barely released her.

“Touch me.”

He kissed her again, and did not let go this time. James shifted his hips under her to give her better blind access.  She did not need to be told twice, biting his lip sweetly at the same time as she gripped him.

He froze up a little- it was impossible not to, not with some of the associations still churning around in his head- but he used the sudden tension in his muscles to pull her down further, harder, almost painfully.

Elizabeth gasped against his mouth, having to pause her kissing to catch her breath, but she returned to both tasks quickly, with earnest enthusiasm and a little bit of initial fumbling. James dragged her down beside him.

“God-”

“You don’t have to call me that, darling,” she said indulgently, before silencing him with her tongue in his mouth.

“Mmf-”

He gripped her shoulders tightly. Elizabeth had to kiss him more slowly in order to focus the lion’s share of her attention on him, but this she did not mind.  She could better savor him.

“Good God, Elizabeth,” he gasped. “More-”

“Like this?” she panted.

“Ah- yes, yes-”

“Oh, darling,” Elizabeth moaned against him, shutting her eyes, taking him in.  

For a short moment she found time to sympathize with his statements in support of the blindfold, but it was very brief.  Her eyes opened soon after to etch his expression into her memory.  The look in his eyes when they met hers - that loyal, distracted, proprietary blend of adoration and timid trust that so often provoked feelings of guilt and inadequacy - only brought from her tenderness now; a desire to protect him and please him all at once.  She leaned over him a little better, unable to help the wavy lock of her hair that slipped over her shoulder - bare, now; the shoulder of her nightgown had fallen down - and over his face; she was leaning up with one arm braced on the mattress, and would not have withdrawn her other hand from him for every piece of eight in the New World.

“God,” James was moaning. “God, you’re beautiful-”

She smiled without thinking - she was too distracted to reply, but she bit her lip and beamed at him anyway.

“Forgive me my- my earlier reluctance-”

“Forgiven - easily, always - oh, James. My love. My darling Captain-”

“I- oh, Christ, Elizabeth-”

This continued for several minutes longer, before James’s shoulders relaxed and he sank, breathless, into the bed. Elizabeth floated down beside him with a surprisingly solid thunk, nuzzling into his shoulder and shutting her eyes.

There was a long silence.

“Well,” James said at last. His voice was groggy.

She kissed him gently on the cheek.

“Thank you for letting me have that,” she whispered.

“Mmf. Think nothing of it,” said James, closing his eyes.

She kissed him swiftly on the eyelid and then the other, buying her giggling in his collarbones after. James put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest.

“How far along are you?” he murmured.

“Mm - pretty far, I think. I tend to be, you know, you-” She was tracing a shape over his chest with her fingertip idly. “- do things to my senses-”

“Let me… let me see if I can do anything about that…”

He rubbed her thigh.

Her administrations had left her compromised.  She let out a very wretched gasp.

“Don’t you need - some time-”

“Only for a certain part-”

“Yes, but to concentrate- don’t you want to - I don’t know, cuddle first?”

James burst into exhausted-sounding laughter. “There's a reversal for you.”

She pouted.

“Of course, sweetheart, of course…” he said, wrapping his arms around her again. She buried her head in his chest again, loving the salt smell of him, the sturdy weight of him.

“Are you completely convinced about the earring?” he teased, his voice a soft rumble against her ear.

“Of course I am,” she said, leaning up to nip his ear.

“My suspicions accounted for a tattoo,” he said, “but never that.”

“A tattoo…” she said, touching his chest again. “Perhaps if you are thoroughly convinced you will love me forever, you could get-”

“Oh, here we go-”

“A swan,” she said offendedly.  “What did you think I was going to say? ‘Property of Elizabeth Swann’?”

“You're very thorough yourself,” said James, “though I’m sure you already know that.”

“What’s that mean-”

“Only that you have an impressive number of ideas at your disposal,” said James, reaching up to rub the back of her neck and leaning his own head back into the pillow again to make his hair fall away from his face, if nothing else.

“You are an impressive figure; it’s fun to devise ways to improve on that,” said Elizabeth, perhaps growing drowsy.  She rolled over onto him as though she were about to curl up and call it a night, but started kissing him instead - slow and sleepy kisses of delight and gratitude.

“I always wanted to be a project,” he said dryly, but with too much of a smile to imbue it with any real disapproval.

“Maybe not,” she said in a wry voice. “But you did always want to be mine, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” he said, his caressing growing lazier. “And I’ve no point in saving my pride here; I have done nothing less than ask you for exactly this.”

“Oh, James. I still- I still can’t- oh, forgive me for saying it one more time, but I still can’t believe it’s you,” she said, tactless with affection.

“Neither can I,” he admitted, smiling a little abashedly at her.

She matched his expression with a hint of the gawky girl she’d been, before she’d found grace and wit and boldness in spades, and impulsively she kissed him.

“Did you truly think I expected to leave you at home, corseted and doing sums?” he asked, settling both hands comfortably on her back and lacing his fingers together.

“Mmhm. I thought you had no use for me but to make an alliance with my father.”

“I already had that,” he said, a little wistfully. “I had… hopes, that eventually one day you might want me- I felt as though it would eventually be inevitable, some time into our marriage. I'm aware of my good fortune in at least that sense, relative to most of my former peers-”

“I told myself the same thing,” she said, in a distant voice - too profound for apology. “But it seemed so far off at the time.”  After a few moments of consideration, hushed and bitter, Elizabeth brightened, nuzzling him to get his attention.  “In one matter at least there is a happy certainty. I thought you unappealing enough in the navy uniform that I think I would have been thoroughly struck upon seeing you out of it.”

He laughed at this, too, with perhaps a little bitterness but no anger. “How kind of you to say.”

“I remembered enough of your pig shit ensemble - after you’d joined Beckett’s fleet - that in the period between our parting ways and my seeing you again, I could still remember…”

She trailed off, letting her fingers speak for her as they glided over his throat, mesmerized.

“...ah,” he said. “Well. Thank you-”

“I don’t imagine I’d mind it so much now,” she said on reflection, “now that I love you for thoroughly enlightened reasons, and have seen you nude, of course, but at the time it was a convenient place to sink my dislike. I could not dislike you personally, of course; I had known you since for-ever; you were too nice to me; so the uniform came in handy.”  She squeezed his hand.  “I think I really just did not like the thought of marriage.”

Marrying Will did not seem to be comparable; they had to marry in order to consummate their love, and besides, in that case, she was marrying down - it meant more liberty than she had ever otherwise known, but her father had meant to provide for her as well as he could, and so she had not faced the financial insecurity that would have otherwise meant.  Marrying Will had meant a significant loss of standing and status in Port Royal’s civilized society, and that had been welcomed by Elizabeth with open arms. It had been her first step towards the place she stood now, she understood - embracing the comparable freedom allowed if she could only step away from the limitations of a class-bound, female-unfriendly world and into independence.

She hoped Will understood that someday.  That she really had loved him, regardless of whether not she’d eventually stepped beyond him, too.

“Ah,” he said, taking a moment to reflect on this. “Well.”

He fell silent for a little longer, and then abruptly added, “For what it's worth, I would have forgone the damned wig around you whenever possible.”

She smiled faintly. “I would have appreciated that.”

“For that matter,” he added dryly, “I would likely have tried to fit rather more hair beneath it.”

“I think,” she said, in a soft, reconciliatory tone of voice, “that my feelings on the marriage would have changed, as I came to know that you really cared about me, for my own sake - that you wanted my company.”

“I can hope,” he said softly.

“And perhaps we would have walked the deck together and you could have told me about the winds and the stars, and… I would have fallen in love with your attention, and your patience, and your love for me,” Elizabeth said, dazzled; uncharacteristically shy.

“Is that before or after you've torn off my bloodied clothing, hm?” he asked, more wry this time.

“I like to think before. I want to think so - that you would have gotten to know me better in conversation - long before I would have fallen in love with all of your - oh, your danger and courage -”

James kissed her for that. “I hope I can offer you plenty of that now-”

“I would like it - I would like you to-”

“Yes, Elizabeth- anything-”

“- Perhaps if you ever… tire of being my dog… you could still tell me those things, you know. I only know so much - and I don’t know any English lore at all, I’ve just learned from Tai Huang - and we could still…. Walk on the deck, and you could tell me those things, and your old pirate stories - the things you wouldn’t tell me in my father’s house - all the things you were going to tell me after we - You know, after we married -”

Her voice crept upward in pitch just enough to have become a plea.  

“I imagine I could do that now,” he said, “if one were to redefine ‘dog’ as strictly more of a wolfhound sort of role.”

“It won’t be the same,” she said with a hint of bitterness playing about her lips. “I still have to be the Pirate King, you know.  But - when we’re back - when we’ve returned to the Empress, our ship -”

“Our ship,” he repeated, taking her hands in his. He brought them together and kissed them.

“I-”

James shook his head, as though he were not only surprised, but confused by this turn of events.

“I have so much wasted time that I must make amends for- so much time spent wanting and not having, and then feeling filthy and common for the wanting- and then, to find you believed I never did-”

He let go of her hands now and put his arms around her instead, closing his eyes.

“My God. Elizabeth- you believed I did not want you? I had to tell myself I wanted you less, that I was deluding myself, just to get by. Perhaps- perhaps you were right, and my feelings have been morbidly cool. If they were, they were through my own effort.”

“I wasn’t wholly ignorant,” she protested, overpowered by two different sources of guilt - that she had not wanted him back at the time and that she had now caused him this new crisis. “I knew you wanted to marry me.  But I mistook your motives-”

“Because of my own actions,” said James, “and my decision to forcibly estrange myself from my desires.”

“James,” she said, uncomfortably. “It might not have made a difference-”

“I might have been more demonstrative-”

“I don’t want to give you unfounded hope that that might have been enough to capture my heart at that stage in things,” said Elizabeth gently.  “I was so much infatuated with Will then, for such a long time.”

“I don't think hope matters for three years in the past.”

Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, willing herself to regret less.

“I only wish…. I wish father could see us.  Not perhaps at this particular moment, but just to know-”

“He was proud of you to the very end,” said James. “I don’t know how he would feel about me, but he never regretted your course save to fear for your safety.”

“He’d be smug to be right,” said Elizabeth, opening her eyes with a wry look in them.  “About us.  He would try to hide it and frame it as about my happiness, of course, not entirely incorrectly, but I’d still be able to tell.”  

Elizabeth’s smile faltered, and she pressed her cheek against James’ chest for a bit of comfort.

“...I miss him so much,” she said, feeling a tear leak out of her eye, though she otherwise kept a good lid on it. James pulled her up a little closer to his shoulder and pushed one hand into her hair.

“So do I, love. Every day.”

“I’m glad we…” Her voice squeaked out to nothing, and she cleared her throat. “I’m glad we have each other now - there are many other reasons for that, but I think we are the only two people who really -”

He kissed her forehead in silent understanding. She tilted her head up to accept it.

“Then doesn't matter anymore. You're mine now.”

“Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth with a sniff and an easy laugh. “Please.”

“He used to slip up and call me that even after I made Admiral. For that matter, before I'd made Captain. He never made that mistake with others.”

“Father?”

“It was an affectionate nickname, at first. After that, we had relatively little chance for him to grow used to ‘commodore’, and he knew what Admiral Norrington brought to mind.”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “I thought he was a bit blinded by paternal pride when he began to transparently push us closer together - in you, not me.  I thought he wanted you for a son enough to overlook that you would be ill-suited to his daughter.”

“Do you think he would approve of… this-“

He broadly waved a hand over himself.

“If he approves of me, I don’t doubt he does. He’s probably grateful - probably would be grateful - to you for turning pirate just to take care of me.”

“I thought of him when I did.”

She smiled.

“I can only hope it does not disappoint him to see me doing wolfhound-ish activities on your account,” James added, with a small stressed-sounding laugh.

“I can only hope his vision is limited,” said Elizabeth, affronted.

“I’m beginning to itch for that.”

There was a small pause.

“Don’t worry,” he said, with no change in tone. “I’m as surprised as you are.”

“....by what?” she asked in bewilderment.

“I had assumed I would have been engaged more often by now.”

She had completely misinterpreted his itching and was momentarily disappointed, but the notion of James in battle overcame that quickly.

“Ooh, I’m so sorry,” she said with a sly smile. “I promise when we return there shall be lots and lots of ships to raid and wayward pirates to shepherd.”

She kissed his throat and upward, finding his lips with satisfaction.

“I miss the fear,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. “God, I miss the fear.”

Elizabeth pressed her face against his neck, momentarily taken aback by that - feeling her cheeks flush and her pulse pound in her temples.

“Oh, God, James,” she whispered.

“What is it?”

He lifted his head in concern. Elizabeth turned her face up to look at him, flushed and breathless and visibly self-conscious of it - then, meeting his eyes to be sure he saw, deliberately rolled down her shift.

“Ah-”

He made a delighted sound and pulled her up for a kiss.

“Further down,” she complained.

“Ah- oh, yes, of course, you poor creature-”

She urged his head to her breasts with her hands in his hair and over his face, slipping her fingertip into his mouth, ruffling his hair, murmuring insistently.

“I want-“

“Not as much as I do -”

“-to be bloodied for you-“

“Ohhh-”

“Will you let me-“

“I shall direct you myself, my love-”

“Your scourge-“

“My darling Captain,” she repeated, feeling the blood rush to her face again. She cupped his face in her hands and just barely tilted his head back to look at him as she glided possessively into his lap, letting her skirt gather around her hips.  She released him and moved her hands to his, lifting them to her mouth to kiss his knuckles, then turned them over to kiss his palms.

“Your hands are so rough,” she murmured. “And so strong.  I know you will do great things for me with these hands-”

“This- this is what I wanted-“

“Hm?” she queried, taking his fingertip into her mouth and meeting his eyes so that he would know how she felt, how overcome she was with wanting him.

“When I said I would be your dog-”

“Oh, darling, I know,” she said, releasing his finger, and going to the next one.  Holding his hand against her face, and bringing the other to her waist, she shut her eyes and said fervently, “Every soul on this ocean is going to fear you - the corsairs who think themselves above all law and order, even the most basic of decency to his fellow man - how they shall dread you again. The East India Trading Company knows damn well what to expect, and you’ll confirm their worst suspicions.  Every fat merchant too rich for his own good, every Spanish galleon, every navire français, they’ll bring back their stories of you, James, you shall blacken the Norrington name, you shall haunt it, you shall be better known than your miserable excuse for a father ever was - he’ll come to regret throwing you away on this backwards, lawless place, they’ll wish they kept you in their pocket for the war effort, but it is too late, your fate is quite decided, you have fallen to pirates and the Pirate King; you are mine, my darling, my Captain - they shall know you are the man who holds the heart of Davy Jones to ransom.  And I - you shall be my wolfhound and my love - you shall hold my heart too - how does it feel to be the most powerful man on the ocean?  I’ll show you. Let me give you that - oh, James-”

He wanted his mouth free to murmur whatever crossed his mind. He slipped the hand on her waist further down.

“Tell me more.”

For a moment she could not even speak, though she was far from silent.  Then she swallowed and said, her voice trembling, “You’ll be - every inch - the exact man - I always wanted you to be-”

She took a shallow breath.

“And James- soon I shall have every inch-”

“And more.”

He grinned terribly and intensified his efforts.

It was much too difficult to talk, not even to tell him how infamous and dreadful he would be - she would have to picture it.  James with windswept hair, bleeding from minor cuts, probably not soaked with wine - she would have him in black, she thought, so that wouldn’t show.  A single earring; a woman’s earring, decadent and incongruously pretty against the aura of menace she knew he would project.  James was well-built, tall and broad; all in black, no less, he would stalk more than he would stroll.  A long coat, perhaps, would whip in the wind behind him.  He would wear boots in black leather, and tarnished silver dog’s heads would be on them, and on his belt, and his hand - beringed, and she would put the rings on him herself, she thought of that too - would rest on a pistol at his hip, while he directed defeated sailors to await judgment with a lazy, confident gesture with his sword.

And he would bow to her when she emerged to pass that judgment - he would catch her by the waist and she would take him by the lapel and she would dip him - she would force him to drop to one knee and she would kiss him.  She would taste blood on his tongue, some blow to the face causing his teeth to cut the inside of his cheek at some point - she would smell blood and sweat on him.  She would taste it on him later - and everyone would know, they would look at them and know they were in love, know as soon as their victory had been attended to properly that they would have each other at once - spread the story in England and Jamaica and Cuba and Spain and everywhere else where there be sailors that the Pirate King and her dog are dangerous and indefatigable and very, very deep in love.

She could not form the words to tell him all of this, but she managed to gasp out: “You shall be - positively - the most dreaded man in the Spanish main -”

And it struck her as a familiar thing- had she said it to him before? - when she realized she had said it to Jack, when she had seduced him with drink til he had passed out, and what that had possibly meant about her feelings towards Jack even so early as that, and she pushed that out of her mind.  She had manipulated Jack to her own ends then; she had meant nothing, she was certain of it. To James she knew she was being sincere, if for no other reason than that she intended to be the most dreaded person, and it suited her to have James be as dangerous as she.

When it was over, he wiped his hand on the sheet and kissed her again, enjoying the weight of her joyously exhausted body on his as he lay back again.

“Did I please Her Majesty?”

His voice was low and rumbling beside her.

“I thought of you,” she said softly, resting her hand wonderingly on her face as she looked at him.  “I mean of what you’ll be like, when this rescue mess is over, when we’ve got the Empress back and are doing what we’re meant to be doing.  I was seeing you… cleaning the blood from your sword… in my mind’s eye just as you bid me finish,” she said, and she bit her thumb and grinned at him.

He laughed a low, tired, throaty laugh and nuzzled her throat.

‘Such high expectations to live up to.”

Her pleasure was still very near to her, and the slightest touch of his lips to her neck made her freeze up and let out another little cry of his name.

“I shall do my best to exceed them…”

“Yes,” she said faintly.  “Very - just so.”

“What were you thinking of?”

He was in her hair again, breathing deeply.

“You,” she said, after thinking of how best to describe it and failing to come up with anything so succinct as that.  “Winning battles for me - with me - how handsome you are going to look all in black - how good it is going to feel when I kiss you in front of captured crewmen.  Flaunting to all the world how much we -” Her breath caught; she still struggled with openness on this account. “- love each other.”  She kissed his temple, which was where her lips fell when she turned her head.  “Oh, James, everything you do to me is - is wonderful, but I - I can’t wait until you are - properly situated-”

“Once we’ve finished this, I intend to prioritize that.”

He turned his head to kiss her properly. At least they had that much. She took out her frustrations in that kiss.

“Then we shall be - as good as married - in every way that matters -”

“Yes-”

He was beginning to push her atop himself again, to get a better look at her. When he looked up at her again there was a warm wonder in his eyes and a smile playing around his mouth.

She met his look with a soft smile of her own, wistful and wanting.

“I barely feel satisfied.  I want you all over again and I’ve just had you.  I begin to live and breathe wanting you,” she complained.

“It’s all right. I’m never leaving you again.”

Elizabeth tenderly settled back down again, lying atop his chest as if she were reluctant to leave even that much.

“All in black, hm?” he teased, rubbing her on the small of the back. “The better to match you, I suppose.”

“I don’t know that I will never let you wear a color again, but it is difficult to imagine you in one - I assume blue is right out, and don’t think red is wise - so black, in different textures.  Besides: you have very dark hair, and very green eyes; black will look excellent on you. And you are enormous, so you might as well make the most of that.”

“Ah, yes. Looming.”

“And they’ll tell stories,” she said, stretching out on top of him, “of the man-eating Pirate King and her werewolf consort, I am sure…”

“Oh, my God- is that why I’m resigned to the beard-”

“Perhaps it is.  And perhaps I just like the way it scratches when you’re between my legs.”

“With the rest of this insanity, I suppose sea werewolves were only a matter of time.”

He slipped his free hand down toward her thighs and lightly rubbed the inside of one of them, as though in response to her comment about scratchiness. Elizabeth whimpered.

“That is not fair, you know how wet I still am -”

“I’m making up for time wasted.”

“I’ll say,” she said gingerly.

“So much for morbidly cool, eh?”

“Shall you fixate on that for the rest of our lives?”

“Perhaps. It did hit rather close to home.”

“How so?” she asked, snuggling closer.

“I have always been adept at ignoring certain inclinations,” he said, adjusting himself for her comfort.

“So why take offence to it now?”

“I had assumed everyone did something of the sort.”

“Good God, no-”

“Why not-”

“Because,” she said imperiously, though she did not have a ready answer. “Because I would have gone mad if I had tried and I had a very large, very empty bedroom - does that satisfy your curiosity?”

James paused.

“...ah,” he said. “That’s not what I meant, but. Well. That much is understood.”

“Is it?  Do be honest. I can demonstrate, if you like, if you require it,” she said, innocently widening her eyes.

“Oh, no. No, no, no-”

“No?  Absolutely certain?”

“I was thinking of going between your thighs next, let us not grow hasty-”

That knocked the wind right out of her.

“Oh-” she said wretchedly.

“I was not always this way,” he said, curiously defensive for a man who had just brought her to shuddering ecstasy. “I grew disgusted with myself-”

“How could you do that, when you did such lovely stuff with your Lettie?  That should have made you feel proud of yourself-”

“Well, you see, that was with Lettie- and for Lettie, at that-”

“I don’t follow.”

“It was one thing when it was one woman- quite another when- oh, God, never mind-”

“I can’t never mind, you have to tell me.”

“I was sixteen, seventeen, on double pay and already a drunk. What do you think I did ashore?”

“James,” she said, exasperated. “If not for the complications - of which you’ve spent half the night informing me - and the certainty of social ruin, girls wouldn’t behave any differently.  You can surely remember me at that age - trying to spend as much time as I possibly could with Will, and - well, with you, you may recall.”

“Would you have been sitting at the gambling table with a bottle in your hand and a girl in your lap, with her hand in your trousers?” he asked, in a very flat voice.

“Oh,” said Elizabeth, with an involuntary shiver.  “Hell yes.”

“...ah,” said James. “Poor example-”

“You must face it, James, you are no less a degenerate than the rest of us,” she said, sounding bored, but really thinking about how much she’d have liked to have sat in James’ lap in Tortuga with her hand in his trousers - how unfortunate he could not handle a bottle.

“No.” he said, “I’m probably worse-”

“Good. You are a pirate, and you are my consort, besides - I require worse.”

He closed his eyes in a mixture of resignation and amusement, pushing his hair back with one hand.

“Pity I can’t rely on the scar any longer,” he mused. “It was such a petty thing, but it had its uses for being worse.”

She kissed him on the temple, and, watching his face, and going slowly for his comfort, slid her hand down the front of his trousers again.

“...ah,” he said, opening his eyes. “There you are.”

They finished opening rather wider than usual.

“And there you are.”

“That’s… all right, give me a moment to think this through-”

“May I help you think?” asked Elizabeth, the moisture from sucking on her lower lip glistening in the low candlelight when she parted her lips and continued to stroke him.

“Do you want me between your thighs or not-”

“Of course I do-”

“I- oh God, Elizabeth-”

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“We don’t have to-” she said hastily, upon seeing him upset.

“What- oh, no, no, darling, it’s-“

He grit his teeth.

She laid her hand on his waist, to be safe, and slid off his lap and to the side of him.

“...I think I’m making a bit of a mess.”

“No, no, you can-”

He reached for her hand and, after a couple of awkward groping tries, laid it on the partially open front flap of his trousers again. She smiled ruefully and slipped her hand inside.

“Thank you, James, but I’m afraid that’s not what I meant.  You can say what you like about forceful emissions, but at least you do that all at once and have it done with.”

“-ah. I'd noticed, without thinking of it.” His voice was hoarse.

“James, are you all right?”

“Mmm. Yes, I'm just a bit- compromised-”

“Do you mean this?” she asked with a squeeze.

“YES, THAT-”

She smiled, taking his hand as though to hold it, and guiding it instead to the state of her thighs.

“So we are even.”

“You poor creature. I thought I had relieved that.”

“Hardly at all.”

“Mm. Suppose I’ll have to try harder-“

“Or perhaps…”

Elizabeth bit her lip, glancing down at her hand, and then met his eyes with a growing smile. James leaned up on one elbow and returned the grin.

“You’re thinking of something.”

“I think you know what I’m thinking of,” she whispered.

James very nearly made a joke about what they could name the resulting child, but if she felt safe with the idea…

What was a child but something else to fight for?

“Are you certain?”

“Don’t you want to?” she asked, touching his face. “The timing is just too perfect- you are ready, I am ready… and I want you, and you want me…”

She smiled distantly, her mind on something else.  

“...yes?” James asked.

“Nothing,” she said, looking into his eyes again abruptly.  “As I said.  We’re both - ready, and willing, and wanting-”

“If you’re not ready,” he said, putting his hand on her thigh, “I won’t hold it against you.”

“I am,” she said, with a short laugh, looking down at his hand and rubbing it.  “It’s just…. I was ready to do this with someone else.  I don’t think about him as much as I used to, but he’s here on this ship now - right now.  While I’ve been in your arms. I forgot him.  I forgot he was there.”

“... right.”

James bit the inside of his cheek.

“I can't grudge you that-”

“I don’t know how I could have done that-”

“I would hope it is because you love me,” James said softly.

She looked at him, startled into silence.  Her eyes were very bright.

“....I think it is,” she said, squeezing his hand. She wiped at her face, suddenly. 

“Elizabeth…”

He pulled her toward him and put his arms around her shoulders protectively.

“Oh, I ruined the moment-” she groaned, and laughed tearily.

“Possibly for the best. Imagine if I had gotten you with child.”

“I don’t know if I mind the thought of it. Children - with you,” she admitted in a small voice, with a sheepish laugh.

“...I certainly don’t,” said James. “For a moment, I was nearly… looking forward to it.”

“But I truly, truly think…. We should terrorize the seas first.”

“For the greater good, of course-“

“Oh, I think not,” said Elizabeth, sidling up closer to him, and resting her hand on his thigh again.  “For our reputations. For each other.  And because it’s fun.”

“...and the greater good-“

“I shall leave that to you,” she said, kissing him. James allowed himself to fall back against the bed and take her with him, perhaps a bit physically unsatisfied but personally content.

“I will do my best to fulfill it, then-“

“So, James,” she said, a little muffled.

“Hm?”

“What was the - other thing you were suggesting -”

“Mm. I had a few thoughts.”

“It’s so late that by now, it’s most likely early,” said Elizabeth, with something that could only be called a giggle. She nuzzled his throat.  “Tell me while we still have a chance to make something of the night…”

“I could have a go between your legs, though I don’t know what you’d derive from that,” he admitted.

“What would you derive from it?”

“...I don't know. I've never done it, it was always more of a… two-man sort of business-”

“I don’t mind being that for you,” said Elizabeth, more than a hint of mischief in her smile.

“You’re missing a rather vital point of friction,” James teased.

“Touch me then,” she murmured, kissing his bearded chin and moving her lips along his jaw, running her hand up his thigh and gently squeezing.  “Let’s not be wasteful.”

He ran his hand down her back and around the curve of her hips and her rear.

“Like this…?”

“I thought more that - while you are having your go - if perhaps I am not being satisfied…”  Elizabeth leaned her head against his shoulder, far enough back to look at him and smile.

He thought this over.

“Oh- oh, no, I don't think the position would work for that, love-”

She looked briefly disappointed, but curiosity won out.

“What is the position?”

“Front to front-”

“Oh, I thought it was - nevermind-”

“You thought- oh, good lord, Elizabeth, I would be afraid of accidentally-“

“Don’t want a little risk?” she asked, rubbing him with her hand.

“Do you? It’s not… the most comfortable-“

“I think you could make me comfortable,” said Elizabeth softly.

“We don't- you need grease of some kind for-”

He cut himself off, mortified, and covered his eyes for a moment before pushing that same hand back through his hair, exhaling hard.

“We don’t have to do that one,” said Elizabeth, the bluntness of her tone momentarily breaking the soft intimate atmosphere they had built to at present; and, surprising herself with that, she laughed, further breaking up the mood.

“Oh, thank God-”

“Doesn’t appeal to you?”

“Not particularly.”

“I could…. Get on top of you…”

His eyes widened.

“That's… dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” asked Elizabeth, eyes widening in mystified delight. “How?”

“Again, the risk of an accidental entry-”

“James, everything fun is a risk-” she pleaded.

“You could take me into your mouth-”

Her mouth opened.

“That is to say, if you wanted to-” James said, too quickly.

“James! You are distracting me - of course I want to, but -”

“Yes?”

“I wanted to do something where we….both…. You know.”

“We’re a little low on options now, sweetheart.”

He touched her cheek.

“Let’s do what we did in Tortuga,” she argued.

“Which part-”

“On the beach, after the storm,” she said, touching his thighs encouragingly.

“Oh- ah. Was that- did you enjoy yourself that much?”

“Ohh, James,” she said- biting her lip in remembered delight.  “You really don’t know, do you?  That was - my first time, I suppose, in the most liberal sense - Will had never… He wanted things to be very proper, I think.  I was already quite fallen - breaking off the engagement with you, being sullied by Barbossa - and spending all of my time with Will teaching me to use a sword, I never saw another invitation from the moment Will and I became engaged. But he was so stubborn. I think he had something to prove.  We didn’t…. There was kissing, but it was all standing up.  Leaning against a wall, at most… He didn’t want me to touch him.  Well, let me correct that - I am certain he wanted me to, as he wanted to touch me. But he wouldn’t let me.”

It was an unexpectedly sad, if distantly sad, burst of speech, and Elizabeth had to take a moment to return to the topic at hand. But she did, with a mischievous smile, pulling James’ hands to her breasts again, as though to relive the moment.

“It was… the first time I had ever been touched here. The first time I had ever felt a man stirring, or at least been sitting on him.  The first time… Oh, James, the first time I ever knew pleasure outside of what I had taught myself-”

“Oh, thank God,” James blurted.

Elizabeth could not contextualize this response.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“I didn’t realize- I was mostly just- pleased to have you.”

“James, you had your mouth all over me,” she said, flushing as she realized what she’d said.  “- of course I enjoyed it.”

“Enough to recall-”

“I recall it often,” she said, with reverence. “It was such a beautiful night.”

“Oh-“

James moved his hands up from her breasts to her face again, beaming and a little ashamed of it.

“Yes, James?” she asked, smiling.

“I… I am glad to have pleased you,” he said, grinning a little helplessly.

“Mm,” she laughed. “Can we do it again?”

“Yes- oh God, we're going to have to wash after this, aren't we-”

“We can just fill a basin and wipe down with towels, it doesn’t have to be complicated-”

“I know that-”

He pulled her down and kissed her.

Elizabeth kissed him back eagerly, sliding into his lap.  Though in Tortuga, they had both been fully-clothed, and it was only her jumps and her shirt he had removed from her - this was different, and she broke the kiss with an abrupt, loud noise.

“Elizabeth?”  

He pushed himself up in alarm.

Elizabeth pressed her hand sheepishly over her mouth, barely situated in his lap.  She dragged her eyes agonizingly to his and took a moment to pull her hand away, resting it on his shoulder, and whispered, “...that’s wonderful. Sorry, James.”

“What was that-”

“What was what?”

“You cried out-”

She felt her face grow hot.  “Because it’s-”  She grit her teeth. “- Can’t you tell?”

“I wasn't certain. I feared I had hurt you-”

Elizabeth groaned as much in exasperation as from physical sensation and pressed her face against his shoulder to prevent herself from rolling her eyes.

“-or done something wrongly-”

“James.”

“Yes?”

“God help me, you are so dumb.”

“You stopped, and I feared-”

“I am… trying to get my bearings,” she said, privately hoping that she could stay quiet this time - not merely because she feared being overheard, when Will was on board, but because she did not want him to stop and check her for injury every time she made a sound.  

There was a better way to prevent his fretting over every detail, and she implemented it as she might a defensive maneuver - simply began kissing his throat and gently gliding her fingers through his hair to pull his head back to give her better room to do so, before she began to move against him once more.  She could still not help but whimper, but he couldn’t possibly mistake it for discomfort when it was his name she was whimpering, while clinging to his impossibly broad shoulders.

“Lisbet- how's this-”

“Oh, darling, lovely-”  Somehow the nickname provoked shyness from her, in spite of the circumstances.  Elizabeth pulled her head back enough to look at him, but only barely, and she smiled with an obvious self-consciousness.

“James - touch me-”

“Like this-”

He slipped it downward, between them.

“Oh God-” she moaned.

“Ah, there we are,” he teased. “Good girl-”

Elizabeth shut-up kissed him, rocking in his lap perhaps just enough to make the cot squeak at them. James pushed his free hand back through her hair and gripped at the nape of her neck, forcing the kiss deeper.

“Call me - call me Lisbet again-”

“If you want to be Lisbet in bed,” he said as he dragged the kiss down to the edge of her jaw, “I shall never call you anything else-”

“No one else has - ever called me that-” she managed, though she could no longer catch her breath.  She clumsily tried to kiss him.

“You were never theirs as you are mine,” James retorted, meeting her mouth in a rough kiss and then refocusing his oral attentions on her breasts.  Elizabeth threaded her fingers tightly through his hair, more tightly than intended or realized.  She did her best to keep the volume down, but it was difficult - she was not accustomed to inhibiting herself, and her natural inclination was to cry out his name - over and over.  She pressed her lips to the top of his head, first in a sincere kiss, and then to keep her voice smothered.  

It was indeed a dangerous place to be - more than once James forcibly gripped her hips or her ass to slow her movements, lest he enter her - but the need for caution had its uses beyond the practical.  It was an unnecessarily lengthy period of time before they finished, melting into the sheets in each other’s arms, incapable, momentarily, of speech, and filthy, and trembling, and besotted with each other.

Elizabeth rubbed his stiff shoulders with one hand as she clung to him, unwilling to unwind herself from him just yet. James curved one hand back to entwine his fingers with hers and squeezed gently.

“...how are you managing?” he asked, in a quiet voice.

The response she murmured sounded delicate in tone, but the precise language used, about precisely what manner of woman she was becoming under his tutelage, was not.

“That, historically, has not been enough to dissuade me.” James pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

“We are a smart match again,” said Elizabeth with a self-satisfied yawn.  “Former commodore turned pirate, former governor’s daughter turned --- pirate.”

She smiled against his chest.

“Oh, don't go on about that. Everyone will think I’m social climbing again,” James laughed.

“That’s what my maid said the night you proposed.  A smart match.”

“Do you know what the rest of the garrison said the day before?”

“Oh, tell me.”

“‘Her? Good luck, Jamie, you’re going to need it.’”

Elizabeth laughed ungraciously.

“I doubt many of them are surprised by your latter fortunes,” he said as he closed his eyes again and crossed his arms over her back.

“It turns out, James, that you are even better a pirate-hunter than your reputation stated.  You got me in the end, didn’t you?”

“Good heavens- I suppose, if you want to think of it that way-”

“You bagged the pirate king. Good job!  And with such - “ yawn; “ - vigor, James, too…”

“Of course. I've a reputation to uphold, you know-”

“That’ll- show her…” Elizabeth murmured. “Heard you made her scream, Commodore.”

“A great deal of begging. I shan’t share the finer details in polite company.”

Elizabeth giggled into his chest.

“She’s a lucky woman, to tell you the truth.”

This broke the mood, though in the gentlest of ways. James looked pensively down at her for a long moment, with a faint, pleased smile.

“Do you suppose she is?”

Elizabeth still half-slept, responding without waking.  

“What pirate… or woman… ever entered better custody? And though she evaded capture for so long, now there is nowhere else she would rather be, not in all the world…”

“You flatter me.”

“Mm, what a comfortable prison… So broad and strong.”

“I wish that I could have presented more impressively to you to begin with.”

“Didn’t matter,” she yawned. “Loved Will.”

“Mmph. I meant now.”

“You said, ‘begin with’.”

“After defecting, then.”

“Oh.”  She smirked, slowly.  “Didn’t matter… already loved you.”

“Ah. At least one of us is satisfied,” he said, relaxing and closing his eyes.

Hers, on the other hand, finally opened, blinking and adjusting to the dark; she hadn’t realized all but one of their candles had blown out.  She poked him crankily in the thigh.

“Which one of us do you mean isn’t?”

“Oh, you seem quite pleased-”

“So do you, Captain.”

“In one way, at least. I'll settle quite happily for that.”

“What now,” she sighed, resignedly dragging herself up to sitting, realizing as she did so both how exhausted she was, and how sticky.

“Lie back down, it's nothing important.”

“We’re soiled,” she said amusedly.

“Oh, God.”

“It’s all right, love, it happens,” she said, gently teasing him. “It’s just as well for I’d be disappointed if we were clean.”

“Have you anything to clean with?”

“There may be a pitcher of water in here,” she said, a little unconcernedly looking about.  “Let me…. Yes, I think it’s still there.”

“I would offer to clean you,” he said, with a yawn, “but I fear restarting the entire process…”

Elizabeth smiled back at him in the dark of the cabin, listening comfortably to the creaking and groaning of the ship - the waves beyond them - as she took up their last candle and made it to the pitcher.  To save him from temptation, she took care of herself before bringing a fresh cloth and the water back to him.

“I’ll clean you,” she said generously. “I have no fear of anything.”

“I do,” said James, but he lay back with an unusually trusting gesture anyway.

She was probably less thorough than he would have tried to be, but the water was only so clean anyway; she did not see the point, and she wanted to sleep.

“When do you want me to set the phone alarm for,” said Elizabeth after she had finished and unceremoniously tossed another dry cloth at him to pat down with.

“When are we expected to make landing?”

He was visibly trying to pull away from the soiled patch on the sheets.

“I don’t know or care.  After I’ve slept, I hope.”

“Have I exhausted you?”

“Thoroughly.”

Elizabeth slid into the bed, not caring about the state of it and rolling immediately onto her side. James leaned in to kiss her shoulder and put an arm around her, and she responded warmly, pressing her back against him snugly and embracing his arm with a sigh.

“You know,” James murmured, “even this- this is more than I ever hoped for.”

“You wanted to marry me, James,” she argued sleepily.

“I didn't think on this at all. It seemed too intimate…”

“It would have - “ She suppressed another yawn. “- happened eventually anyway-”

“To feel the warmth of your body against mine-”

“Mm.”

“I'm happier than I think I have ever been.”

“I’m glad I brought you off, too,” she said, patting his hand.

“Elizabeth- that's not what I meant, I would have been quite content without-”

“I know, my love.”  Elizabeth laced her fingers with his and pulled his arm tightly around herself, tucking his hand against her breast as she settled in contentedly with a little wiggle.  “But it was… mm… lovely just the same...”

The chances were very good that the conversation did not end there - not on his part, anyway - but Elizabeth closed her eyes, and soon heard not a word of it.