#Visit Mount Hood

[crimeronan]

spent some time fucking with the default camera tools to make my pics look closer to how the places do irl. here are my favorite shots from exploring yesterday. SO PRETTY

[novaursa]

The Last Dragonslayer (2/2)

- Summary: The conclusion of a journey, for you, one of the many.

- Paring: female!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 7 000+

- Previous part: 1

- Bonus part: 3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The council chamber is cold, the stone walls adorned with banners of House Targaryen, their crimson and black fabric swaying lightly in the draft. The weight of history presses down upon you, the ancient stones whispering secrets of kings and conquerors. You stand at the edge of the chamber, watching Rhaenyra from beneath the hood of your cloak. The lords seated around the table glance at you uneasily, their gazes lingering too long, discomfort plain in their eyes. You are a foreigner, an anomaly, a reminder of tales and nightmares they would rather forget.

Rhaenyra, the Queen, sits at the head of the table, her presence commanding even as shadows darken the skin beneath her eyes. She’s been restless since Daemon left for Harrenhal, pacing the halls of Dragonstone like a caged beast. Now, she listens as her advisors bicker, her expression tight, her gaze distant. They speak of the war, of the blood that’s already been spilled, and the blood that will flow if they do not act.

Alfred Broome, his voice tinged with frustration, slams his fist on the table. “We cannot continue to sit idle, Your Grace. The Greens gain more ground with each passing day! Aemond’s attack on Storm’s End—”

“—was an act of war,” interrupts Lord Celtigar, his tone measured but firm. “They have already crossed the line.”

“And yet we remain here, waiting!” Broome snaps, glaring at the others. “Waiting for what? A miracle? A sign from the gods? Aemond tried to kill Prince Lucerys, and still, we do nothing.”

You watch as Rhaenyra’s knuckles whiten, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair. Her grief is palpable, a dark cloud that has yet to lift since news of Lucerys’ narrow escape reached her. But she remains silent, her eyes flickering with a storm of emotions she refuses to let loose before these men.

It’s then that you decide to speak, your voice low, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Action without strategy is a fool’s errand, Lord Broome. Perhaps you are eager to throw away lives in a show of haste, but the Queen’s duty is to her people, not to your impatience.”

The lords turn to you, their eyes narrowing, some in suspicion, others in outright disdain. You meet their stares unflinchingly, the cold fire of your homeland reflected in your gaze. Your hand rests on the hilt of your sword—a sword older than any of them, a relic of a time when the world was shaped by fire and blood, but not by dragons alone.

Broome sneers, his lip curling. “And what would a foreigner know of our wars? Of our dragons?”

More than you could ever understand, you think, but do not say aloud. Instead, you take a step forward, the shadow of your Banshee—your mount, your companion, and your weapon—seeming to loom behind you, though it remains far from these walls. The lords shift uncomfortably as if sensing its presence. They fear it, as they should.

“I know,” you say, your voice steady, “that Aemond did more than just attack Storm’s End. He was driven away. Chased off by something he did not expect, and that something was me. You may not trust my motives, but understand this: I have chosen to stand with the Queen, to see balance preserved in Westeros. You would do well to heed her wisdom and not let your fear cloud your judgment.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes meet yours across the table, and for a moment, the storm within her clears. There is gratitude there, and something else—something that has lingered between you since the night you arrived at Dragonstone, the night you saved her son. The pull between you is undeniable, a silent promise that neither of you has yet dared to speak aloud. But in her gaze, you see it as clearly as the flames of a dragon’s breath.

Lord Celtigar clears his throat, cutting through the tension. “The Lady Y/N speaks true. We cannot act rashly. The Greens expect us to strike without thought. We must outmaneuver them, not merely meet them on the field of battle.”

The room falls silent, the lords exchanging glances. Broome’s scowl deepens, but he holds his tongue, his eyes flickering to Rhaenyra, who now seems more resolute.

Rhaenyra straightens in her seat, the weight of the crown evident on her shoulders but her voice strong. “We will act, but we will act wisely. The Greens will not find us easy prey. We will not fall into their traps, nor will we be goaded into hasty decisions. Lord Celtigar, begin preparations for the fleet. We’ll strike where they least expect it. And Lord Broome,” she adds, her gaze hardening, “you will ensure that our forces are ready when the time comes.”

Broome stiffens but nods, his anger barely concealed. “As you command, Your Grace.”

The council continues, the lords discussing strategy, but your attention drifts to Rhaenyra. The tension in her shoulders has eased slightly, but the burden she carries is still heavy. You find yourself stepping closer, a silent offering of support that she acknowledges with a slight nod, a flicker of something warm in her eyes as she turns back to the map spread out before her.

Later, when the council disperses, and the lords retreat to their chambers, you linger. The chamber is quiet now, the echo of the lords' voices fading into the stone. Rhaenyra stands by the hearth, staring into the flames, her thoughts far away. You approach her, the weight of your sword still at your side, a constant reminder of who you are and what you represent.

“You were right to keep a level head,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence. “They do not understand the full scope of what we face.”

She turns to you, the firelight casting her features in a warm glow. For a moment, she looks younger, almost fragile, but then her eyes meet yours, and the steel within her is evident once more. “It is difficult,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “To know when to strike, and when to hold back. But with Daemon gone, I must be even more cautious. I cannot afford to lose another child… or more allies.”

“You won’t,” you reply, your voice firm. “Not while I’m here.”

A small, wry smile tugs at her lips. “I am grateful for that, Y/N. More than you know.”

The air between you shifts, charged with the unspoken words that neither of you dare to voice, not here, not now. But the promise remains, woven into the fabric of your alliance, and something deeper, something personal.

You reach out, your hand brushing against hers—a fleeting touch that sends a jolt through you both. Rhaenyra doesn’t pull away, her fingers curling slightly, as if to hold onto the warmth you offer. For a brief moment, the weight of the crown, the war, the bloodshed all fades, leaving just the two of you standing by the fire, bound by something stronger than duty.

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, her voice soft, vulnerable in a way you’ve never heard before. “Just a little longer.”

You nod, your hand gently clasping hers, the two of you standing side by side as the fire crackles softly in the hearth, the flames a quiet witness to the bond growing between you.

The wind howls through the trees, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down your spine. The forest is dense, the shadows long as dusk begins to settle over the land. You stand alone in a clearing, your cloak billowing around you like a dark shadow, the hilt of your ancient sword gleaming faintly in the dim light. The ground beneath your feet is soft, the earth freshly disturbed by the recent passage of men and horses—Ser Criston Cole’s forces, on their way to seize Duskendale for the Greens.

The quiet of the forest is broken by the distant sound of hooves, growing louder with each passing moment. You remain still, your gaze fixed on the treeline as they emerge—riders clad in armor, their banners snapping in the wind. At their head rides Ser Criston Cole himself, his face set in a stern mask, followed closely by Ser Gwayne Hightower and several dozen men-at-arms. They slow as they approach, their horses snorting and stamping as they take in your solitary figure.

The men spread out in a semicircle, surrounding you, their weapons at the ready. Ser Criston rides closer, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your appearance. The tales of your deeds have reached his ears, no doubt—whispers of a foreigner with an ancient sword, a beast that haunts the skies, and the power to make even dragons flee. But it’s clear he does not yet understand the full measure of what stands before him.

“Who are you to stand in our path?” Criston’s voice is hard, commanding, as if the answer to his question will determine whether you live or die.

You don’t flinch under his scrutiny, your voice calm as you reply, “I am Y/N. I have come to give you a chance, Ser Criston. Turn back now, and you may yet live to see another day.”

A murmur ripples through the men, some of them exchanging uneasy glances. They’ve heard the tales too, and the sight of you standing alone, unafraid, seems to unsettle them. But Criston is unmoved, his expression hardening as he spurs his horse closer, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

“You expect me to turn tail at the sight of a woman?” He sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. “You may have frightened Aemond, but I am no craven boy. I am the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, sworn to protect the true king. Step aside, or I will cut you down where you stand.”

His men shift in their saddles, emboldened by their commander’s bravado. Ser Gwayne smirks, drawing his sword, the blade catching the dying light of the sun. “It would be wise to heed the Commander’s words, foreigner. You are far from home and outnumbered.”

You remain still, your expression unreadable, the forest around you eerily silent. The air grows colder, the breeze carrying the scent of earth and leaves. You speak again, your voice carrying an edge of steel. “This is your final warning, Ser Criston. I am not here to play games, nor am I here to waste lives. Turn back, or face the consequences.”

Criston’s eyes narrow, his patience clearly worn thin. He raises his sword, the motion sharp and decisive. “Enough of this. Men, bring me her head.”

The order is given, and the men begin to close in around you, their horses snorting, the sound of metal clinking as they draw their weapons. You don’t move, your hand resting lightly on the hilt of your sword, the weight of it familiar and comforting.

As the first rider approaches, sword raised high, you draw your blade with a fluid motion, the ancient steel singing as it cuts through the air. The rider barely has time to react before your sword meets his, the force of the blow sending a shockwave up his arm. His eyes widen in surprise, and in that moment of hesitation, you twist your blade, disarming him with a swift, practiced movement.

He falls from his horse with a cry, his weapon clattering to the ground. The other men hesitate, clearly not expecting such a swift and effortless display. But Criston’s voice rings out, cold and commanding. “Press the attack! She’s but one woman!”

But you are not just one woman. You are Y/N, the last of the Dragonslayers. And this is not your first battle.They charge at you, swords flashing in the dim light, but you are ready. Your movements are a blur, each strike precise, each parry executed with lethal grace. One by one, the riders fall, unhorsed by the skill of your blade or the sheer power behind your strikes. The clearing becomes a battlefield, the air filled with the clash of steel and the cries of men.

In the chaos, you catch sight of Ser Gwayne, his face twisted in anger as he drives his horse towards you. You meet his charge head-on, your swords clashing with a force that reverberates through your arms. He grits his teeth, pushing against you with all his strength, but you hold firm, the ancient power of your blade surging through you.

“You should have listened,” you say, your voice low, as you twist your sword, breaking his stance and sending him reeling. He barely manages to stay in the saddle, his eyes wide with shock as he realizes just how outmatched he is.

“You’re a demon!” he spits, his voice trembling as he regains his balance, but the fear is evident in his eyes.

“No,” you reply, your voice cold, “I am justice.”

With a final, powerful strike, you knock him from his horse, sending him crashing to the ground. He groans, trying to rise, but you place the tip of your sword against his throat, pinning him in place. The other men halt, unsure whether to continue their attack or flee.

Ser Criston watches the scene unfold, his face a mask of fury and disbelief. He dismounts, striding towards you, his sword at the ready. “You think you can best me?” he snarls, raising his weapon.

You turn to face him, your blade still poised at Gwayne’s throat. “I don’t think, Ser Criston. I know.”

Criston lunges at you, his strikes fast and furious, but you are faster. Your swords clash, the sound ringing through the clearing like a bell. He fights with the ferocity of a man with everything to lose, but you match him blow for blow, your movements fluid, almost effortless. He’s strong, but strength alone is not enough.

The battle drags on, but with each passing moment, Criston’s strikes become more desperate, more reckless. He overextends on a particularly vicious swing, and you seize the opportunity. You parry his strike, stepping inside his guard and slashing across his chest. He stumbles back, blood blooming across his white cloak, staining it red.

He grits his teeth, refusing to fall, but the wound has taken its toll. You don’t give him a chance to recover, pressing the attack with a series of swift, precise strikes. He barely manages to parry, each blow pushing him further back until he’s on the defensive, his movements slowing.

Finally, with a powerful upward swing, you knock his sword from his hand, sending it flying across the clearing. He falls to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest, his face pale, eyes wide with disbelief.

You stand over him, your sword raised, its tip pointed at his throat. “I warned you,” you say softly, your voice carrying the weight of inevitability.

Criston glares up at you, defiance still burning in his eyes, but there is also fear—fear of the unknown, of the force that now stands over him. “Kill me, then,” he spits. “But know this: you will never defeat one true king, Aegon.”

You lower your sword slightly, considering him for a moment. “I do not need to defeat your king, Ser Criston. I only need to preserve the balance.”

With that, you withdraw your sword, stepping back. Criston’s eyes widen in surprise, but you give him no time to react. You whistle sharply, and from the shadows of the forest, your Banshee emerges, its massive form blotting out the last of the daylight. The men around you recoil in terror as the creature lets out a bone-chilling shriek, the sound reverberating through the clearing like the cry of a thousand tortured souls.

Criston stares up at the creature, his face drained of all color, and for the first time, you see true fear in his eyes.

“Tell your king,” you say, your voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “that Duskendale is under my protection. And the next time we meet, I will not be so merciful.”

With that, you turn and mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings unfurling as it prepares to take flight. The men watch in stunned silence as you ascend into the sky, the wind whipping around you as your mount carries you away from the clearing and into the night.

Below, the soldiers of the Greens stand frozen, their leader humbled, their will to fight shattered. The tale of what happened in that clearing will spread, carried on the winds of fear, and it will be known that the last of the Dragonslayers walks the earth once more.

The great hall of Dragonstone is quiet as you enter, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the walls. The air is thick with the scent of salt and smoke, the sea and the dragon forges mingling to create an atmosphere that is both heavy and foreboding. Rhaenyra and her council are gathered around the massive oak table at the center of the chamber, the map of Westeros spread out before them. Their faces are drawn, tense with the weight of decisions yet to be made.

You stride forward, the sound of your boots on the stone floor echoing through the chamber. The lords and advisors turn to you, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. You are a mystery to most of them, a shadow in the midst of their struggles, but your presence commands attention.

Rhaenyra looks up from the map, her violet eyes locking onto yours. There is a quiet strength in her gaze, tempered by the grief and burdens she carries. She nods to you, her silent signal for you to speak.

“The Greens will no longer trouble themselves with coastal points, Your Grace,” you begin, your voice steady and clear. “I intercepted Ser Criston Cole’s forces before they could reach Duskendale. They were forced to retreat, and word will spread of their defeat. They will not dare to strike at our shores again, not while I stand with you.”

Murmurs ripple through the council, some lords exchanging glances of relief, others still wary of the enigmatic figure before them. But Rhaenyra’s expression is one of satisfaction, a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

“Well done, Lady Y/N,” she says, her voice carrying the authority of a queen. “You have once again proven your value to our cause.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her words. “It is my duty, Your Grace.”

The council continues for a while longer, discussions of strategy and the next moves in the war filling the chamber. But you notice that Rhaenyra’s attention drifts back to you frequently, her gaze lingering as if she has something more on her mind. Finally, as the meeting draws to a close, she dismisses her advisors with a wave of her hand.

“Lady Y/N,” she calls, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “A word, if you will.”

You nod, following her as she leads you from the great hall. The corridors of Dragonstone are dimly lit, the stone walls cold and unyielding. Rhaenyra’s pace is slow, measured, as if she is gathering her thoughts. You walk beside her in silence, the only sound the faint echoes of your footsteps.

She leads you to her chambers, a grand room that still manages to feel intimate despite its size. The air is warm here, a stark contrast to the chill of the hallways. A bath is drawn, the steam rising gently from the water, scented with herbs and oils. It’s clear that Rhaenyra sought this moment of respite, a small comfort amidst the storm of war.

She gestures for you to sit by the fire, where a table is set with a decanter of wine and two goblets. “Please, join me,” she says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of something more—curiosity, perhaps, or even a touch of longing.

You take a seat, watching as she pours the wine, the deep red liquid catching the light of the flames. She hands you a goblet, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments. The touch is fleeting, but it lingers in the air between you, unspoken.

“I wanted to speak with you, Y/N,” she begins, taking a sip of her wine as she settles into a chair opposite you. “I realize I know so little about you, despite all you’ve done for me. You’ve proven yourself a loyal ally, but there is much I would like to understand. Who are you, truly?”

You swirl the wine in your goblet, considering her question. There is so much to tell, more than could be shared in one evening, or even in a lifetime. But you see the sincerity in her eyes, the genuine desire to know you, not just as a warrior, but as a person.

“I have seen much, Your Grace,” you say slowly, your voice carrying the weight of centuries. “More than most could ever dream or fear. I have witnessed the rise and fall of empires, the death of loved ones, the shifting tides of history. From the brilliant Yo Ti Empire to the shadowed lands of Asshai, to the great wonders beyond the western seas… I have wandered this world longer than I care to remember.”

Rhaenyra listens intently, her eyes wide, a shiver running down her spine at your words. But it is not fear that grips her—it is something else, something that makes her heart quicken, her breath catch.

“How old are you?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she is almost afraid to hear the answer.

You smile faintly, the lines of your face softening as you look into the flames. “Too old, Your Grace. Old enough to have seen the world change many times over. To be bound to a Banshee is a terrible purpose.”

Rhaenyra sits back in her chair, the goblet forgotten in her hand as she takes in the enormity of your words. For a moment, the weight of your age and experience presses down upon her, making her feel small and fleeting in comparison. But then, she realizes something—despite all you have seen, all you have endured, you are here, by her side, choosing to stand with her in this tumultuous time.

She reaches out, her hand resting lightly on yours, her touch warm, grounding. “And yet you have chosen to fight for me, for Westeros. Why?”

You look at her, truly look at her, and see not just a queen burdened by war, but a woman who has suffered, who has loved and lost, and who is determined to protect what remains. “Because, Your Grace, you fight for balance. For the hope that the world might find peace, that the fire of the dragons might warm rather than burn. That is something worth fighting for.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes soften, her heart touched by your words. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, her gaze never leaving yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For your honesty, and for your loyalty. It means more to me than I can express.”

The room seems warmer now, the tension of the day melting away as the two of you continue to talk. You share stories of your past, tales of lands and people she can only imagine, and she in turn shares her own hopes and fears, her dreams for her children, for her realm.

As the night deepens, the conversation grows more intimate, the barriers between you falling away. The flickering fire casts a soft glow on Rhaenyra’s face, highlighting the beauty and strength that have drawn you to her from the beginning. And though the specter of war still looms over you both, for this moment, in this room, there is only warmth, only connection.

The wine flows, the stories continue, and as the night wears on, the bond between you and the Black Queen deepens, becoming something more than mere alliance, more than duty.

The night deepens as you and Rhaenyra continue to talk, the warmth between you growing with each passing moment. The wine in your goblets has long since dwindled, but neither of you seems to notice, too absorbed in the quiet intimacy of your conversation. The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the room, but it is the light in Rhaenyra’s eyes that holds your attention.

As the conversation naturally lulls, a silence falls between you—not an awkward one, but rather filled with unspoken words and lingering glances. You notice how Rhaenyra’s gaze occasionally drifts to your lips, how her breath catches slightly when your hands brush. It is a delicate tension, a quiet yearning that neither of you has fully acknowledged until now.

Finally, Rhaenyra breaks the silence, her voice hushed, almost tentative. “Y/N… there is something I have been wanting to do for some time now.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in her tone. “And what might that be, Your Grace?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, instead leaning in closer, her eyes locked onto yours. The distance between you shrinks until you can feel the warmth of her breath against your skin, your hearts beating in tandem. Then, without another word, she closes the remaining distance, her lips meeting yours in a kiss that is soft yet filled with a deep, unspoken desire.

The kiss is tentative at first, testing, but as you respond, it deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Rhaenyra’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while your own hand rests on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her dress. The world outside the room fades away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this moment.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s as you take in the reality of what just happened. Rhaenyra’s eyes are dark with desire, her voice a mere whisper as she speaks. “Join me… in the bath.”

There is no hesitation in your response, only a quiet nod of agreement. You both rise from your seats, the space between you charged with anticipation. Rhaenyra’s hand slips into yours, leading you toward the bath that still steams softly in the corner of the room. The heat from the water fills the space, creating a cocoon of warmth and intimacy.

Standing beside the bath, you turn to face each other, the moment heavy with significance. Slowly, reverently, you begin to undress one another, your hands moving with a gentle purpose. Rhaenyra’s fingers trace the edges of your cloak, slipping it from your shoulders, while your own hands find the laces of her dress, loosening them with deliberate care. Each piece of clothing falls to the floor with a whisper, leaving you both bared to each other, not just in body, but in soul.

Rhaenyra’s gaze sweeps over you, appreciation and desire evident in her eyes. She reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she brushes a lock of hair from your face, her touch tender, almost reverent. “You are… beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion.

You smile softly, your own hand coming up to cup her cheek, your thumb brushing against her skin. “As are you, Rhaenyra. You are radiant.”

There is no more need for words as you step into the bath together, the water embracing you both in its warmth. You sink into the water, Rhaenyra following, her body pressing against yours as you both settle into the comfort of the bath. The heat of the water contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening every sensation.

You share another kiss, this one slower, more languid, as if savoring each moment. Your hands begin to explore one another’s bodies, tracing the curves and lines with a tenderness that belies the passion simmering beneath the surface. You feel the strength in her arms, the softness of her skin, and the way her body trembles under your touch.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitches as your hand moves lower, finding the heat of her womanhood. She mirrors your movement, her fingers slipping between your thighs with a surety that makes you shudder. The contact is electric, sending ripples of pleasure through both of you. The world narrows to the sensation of her touch, the way her breath mingles with yours, the warmth of the water lapping at your bodies.

There is a rhythm to your movements, a dance of desire and affection that grows more intense with each passing second. Rhaenyra’s moans mix with your own, her voice breathy and desperate as she clings to you, her hips moving in time with your hand. The water sloshes gently around you, the only witness to this intimate exchange.

As the pressure builds within you both, the touches grow more urgent, the kisses more fervent. Rhaenyra’s hand tightens on your shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she reaches the edge. You follow her soon after, your bodies trembling together as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you both breathless, your hearts pounding in the aftermath.

For a moment, there is only the sound of your breathing, the gentle lap of the water, and the warmth of Rhaenyra’s body pressed against yours. Slowly, the intensity of the moment ebbs away, leaving behind a deep, abiding connection.

Rhaenyra leans her head against your shoulder, her breath warm against your neck. “That was… incredible,” she whispers, her voice still tinged with the aftershocks of pleasure.

You smile, your hand gently stroking her back as you hold her close. “It was,” you agree softly, feeling a profound sense of contentment.

The two of you remain like that for some time, simply holding each other, basking in the warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies. There is a gentle, unspoken understanding between you now, a bond forged not just by passion but by mutual respect and deepening affection.

As the water begins to cool, Rhaenyra lifts her head, looking into your eyes with a soft smile. “Let’s dry off and rest,” she suggests, her voice gentle. “There is much we still need to talk about… but for now, I just want to be close to you.”

You nod, helping her out of the bath and wrapping yourselves in the towels that were left nearby. As you dry each other off, the touches are more tender, more affectionate, than before. There is no rush, no urgency—only the simple pleasure of being together.

Once dry, you both slip into the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin. Rhaenyra curls up beside you, her head resting on your chest, her hand lightly tracing patterns on your skin. You hold her close, your own hand gently stroking her hair, the intimacy of the moment filling you both with a deep sense of peace.

“Tell me more about your journeys,” Rhaenyra murmurs, her voice drowsy as sleep begins to tug at her.

“Of course,” you reply softly, your voice soothing as you begin to share more tales of distant lands and ancient times. Rhaenyra listens, her breathing slowing as she drifts off, content in your embrace.

As she falls asleep, you continue to hold her, your own eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. But before you succumb to sleep, you take a moment to appreciate the warmth of her body against yours, the comfort of her presence. 

Together, in the quiet of the night, you both find rest, the bond between you stronger than ever before.

The dawn is just breaking over Dragonstone, casting a pale golden light across the harbor. The sea is calm, the waters reflecting the first light of day like molten glass. The ships are ready, their sails furled and waiting for the wind to carry them across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenyra stands on the dock, her expression stern, though her heart is heavy. The decision to send her children away, to safety in Pentos, has not come easily. Aegon and Viserys cling to her skirts, their young faces filled with confusion and fear, while Lucerys stands beside her, trying to put on a brave face for his younger brothers.

Jacaerys, their eldest, stands a short distance away, his jaw set in determination, though there is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He is prepared to escort his brothers, to protect them as best he can, but the weight of responsibility is a heavy burden on such young shoulders.

Rhaenyra kneels to embrace her children, whispering words of comfort and love, even as her heart aches with the knowledge that she may not see them again for a long time—if ever. As she stands and turns to Jace, a shadow passes over the group. She looks up, expecting to see a cloud or a bird, but instead, it is you, descending from the sky on your Banshee, the creature’s leathery wings creating a powerful downdraft as it lands gracefully on the docks.

You dismount with practiced ease, your cloak billowing around you as you stride toward the group. The lords and soldiers present step back instinctively, the stories of your deeds still fresh in their minds. Jacaerys stiffens as you approach, sensing that something is about to change.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra greets you, her voice laced with surprise but also a trace of relief. “You’ve come to see them off?”

You nod, but your gaze is focused on Jacaerys, who meets your eyes with a mixture of respect and defiance. “No, Your Grace,” you say calmly, “I’ve come to take Prince's place.”

Rhaenyra’s brow furrows in confusion, and Jace steps forward, his voice firm but uncertain. “But Mother has tasked me with escorting my brothers. I can’t leave them to face this journey alone.”

“You won’t be leaving them alone, Jace,” you reply, your tone gentle but unyielding. “But your place is here, by your mother’s side. She needs you now more than ever.”

Jace opens his mouth to protest, but you raise a hand, silencing him. “You won’t make it past the Gullet,” you continue, your eyes narrowing slightly as you speak. “On my last flight, I saw ships from the Free Cities approaching fast, likely in league with the Greens. They will be waiting for you, and you will not have the strength to fight them off. But I can.”

The gravity of your words sinks in, and Rhaenyra’s hand instinctively tightens on Jace’s arm. The boy hesitates, torn between his duty to his brothers and the growing realization that you speak the truth.

Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts from her son to you, her eyes searching yours. There is a deep understanding between you, born of the time you have spent together, the shared battles, and the nights spent in quiet conversation. She knows you too well, and she can sense what you are not saying.

“Y/N,” Rhaenyra begins, her voice low and laden with concern. “You intend to go alone, don’t you?”

You nod slowly, the sadness in your eyes betraying what you cannot bring yourself to say outright. “This is something I must do, Rhaenyra. It is time for me to fulfill my calling, to see this through to the end.”

“No,” Rhaenyra says firmly, shaking her head as she steps closer to you. “You are not just an ally, Y/N. You are more than that. You have become… indispensable to me, to us. I cannot let you go, not like this.”

You offer her a sad smile, one that speaks of centuries of experience, of knowing when a path must be walked alone. “I have only ever obeyed one master, Rhaenyra,” you say softly, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. “And that is my calling. This is something I must do, for myself, and for those who have gone before me. My time here is coming to an end, and it is time for me to go home.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, but she blinks them away, her voice breaking as she speaks. “Will I ever see you again?”

You take a deep breath, your gaze lifting to the sky, where the first stars of evening are beginning to twinkle faintly, though the sun has barely risen. “I will be watching over you every night, Rhaenyra,” you reply, your voice tender and filled with an unspoken promise. “Whenever you look up at the stars, know that I am there, looking at you.”

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the weight of the world hanging in the air. Rhaenyra reaches up, placing her hand over yours where it rests against her cheek, holding on to the warmth of your touch as if she could somehow keep you with her.

“Then promise me,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, your lips lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “I promise I will do everything in my power to return,” you say, your voice filled with the sincerity of your oath. But there is something unspoken in your words, a truth that both of you know but do not want to acknowledge—that sometimes, not all promises can be kept.

Rhaenyra steps back reluctantly, releasing your hand, her eyes never leaving yours. She nods, accepting your words even as her heart rebels against them. “Go, then,” she says, her voice filled with the strength of a queen but the sorrow of a woman who knows she may be losing someone dear. “But remember that you have a place here, with us, with me. And if you can… come back to it.”

You bow your head slightly in acknowledgment, your expression one of quiet resolve. “Take care of your family, Rhaenyra,” you say, turning to the children, your eyes lingering on Jacaerys for a moment. “And remember what I’ve taught you.”

With that, you mount your Banshee, the creature’s wings stretching out in preparation for flight. You glance back at Rhaenyra one last time, committing her face to memory—the strength in her eyes, the sadness in her smile—before turning your gaze forward, to the horizon where your destiny awaits.

The Banshee’s powerful wings beat the air as you take off, soaring into the sky above Dragonstone. Below, you see Rhaenyra and her children watching, growing smaller and smaller as you climb higher into the sky. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the distant promise of what is to come.

As the island fades into the distance, you feel a sense of peace settle over you. You have made your choice, and it is the right one. 

And somewhere below, on the shores of Dragonstone, a queen stands alone, her gaze lifted to the heavens, searching the skies for a glimpse of the one she has come to care for more than she ever thought possible. As the stars begin to emerge, she knows that, wherever you are, you are looking at them too, and perhaps, just perhaps, you will find your way back to her, to the home you have both made together.

But for now, all she can do is wait, and hope, and hold on to the memory of your final kiss, a promise that will echo in her heart for as long as she lives.

Years have passed, and the Red Keep stands tall against the night sky, its ancient stones bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The castle, once a symbol of unyielding strength, now bears the weight of countless battles, of loss and victory, of the bloodshed that shaped the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, despite the passage of time, one constant remains: the stars, ever-present, watching over the realm with a silent, timeless gaze.

Rhaenyra Targaryen, now older and wearier, stands alone on the balcony of her chambers. The years have etched lines of sorrow and wisdom onto her face, and her once fiery spirit has been tempered by the trials she has endured. Her long silver hair, once a brilliant cascade, now carries strands of white, a testament to the time that has passed and the burdens she has carried. She wraps her cloak tightly around her shoulders, shielding herself from the cool night breeze that whispers through the Red Keep.

Her gaze is fixed on the sky, on the stars that glitter like diamonds against the velvety darkness. The constellations are familiar to her, their patterns etched into her memory from countless nights spent searching them for solace, for answers, for a glimpse of the past. The night is clear, the sky vast and endless, and yet Rhaenyra feels a deep, aching loneliness that even the stars cannot fill.

She lifts her chin slightly, her eyes tracing the paths of the stars as they twinkle serenely above. It has become a ritual of sorts, this nightly vigil, a way to connect with something greater than herself, to find comfort in the constancy of the heavens when everything else has changed.

But tonight, the stars seem more distant than ever.

She remembers those who have been lost to the ravages of time and war—her children, her loved ones, and the countless souls who once stood beside her. She remembers the faces of those who are no longer here, their voices now echoes in her memory. And among those memories, one stands out more vividly than the rest.

It has been years since you left her, years since you took flight from Dragonstone, vowing to protect her children, to do what needed to be done. You had promised to look after them, to see them safely to the other side of the Narrow Sea. And you had promised, in your own way, to return—to find your way back to her, to the place you both shared.

But you never did.

Rhaenyra’s heart tightens at the thought, a pang of sorrow so deep it threatens to overwhelm her. She has long since stopped searching the skies for your return, knowing deep down that you had fulfilled your destiny, whatever it may have been, and that she would never see you again. And yet, on nights like this, when the stars are particularly bright, she can’t help but wonder if somewhere, in some distant part of the world, you are still watching over her, as you had promised.

She leans against the cold stone of the balcony, her hands resting on the worn edges, her gaze unfaltering. The years have taken so much from her, but the memory of you remains, as vivid as the night you shared on Dragonstone, as real as the last kiss you gave her before you took to the skies. It is a memory she holds close, a fragment of warmth in a world that has grown increasingly colder.

The wind picks up slightly, rustling the leaves of the trees far below, carrying with it the faintest scent of the sea. It is a reminder of a time long past, of a love that was as fleeting as it was profound. Rhaenyra closes her eyes for a moment, letting the wind brush against her face, imagining it is your touch, soft and comforting, as it once was.

But when she opens her eyes, the night remains as it was, unchanged, the stars twinkling impassively above. She takes a deep breath, the weight of the years pressing down on her, and yet, there is a certain peace that comes with it. She knows that you are out there, somewhere beyond the reach of mortal hands, and that perhaps, in your own way, you are still watching over her.

Rhaenyra lifts her hand, as if to touch the stars, her fingers stretching out toward the endless sky. It is a futile gesture, and she knows it, but it brings her a small measure of comfort nonetheless. She lets her hand fall back to her side, her gaze lingering on the stars for a moment longer before she turns away, retreating into the warmth of her chambers.

As she closes the balcony doors behind her, shutting out the chill of the night, Rhaenyra takes one last look at the sky. The stars continue to shine, distant and unwavering, and she knows that they will be there long after she is gone, just as they were before she was born. They are a reminder of the constancy of the universe, of the passage of time, and of the fleeting nature of life.

And as she steps back into the familiar confines of her room, she carries with her the memory of you—of the love that once was, of the promises made beneath the stars, and of the bittersweet knowledge that some things are not meant to last forever.

But even in that knowledge, there is a certain beauty, a quiet acceptance. For Rhaenyra knows that, in the end, it is not the length of time that matters, but the depth of the moments shared. And though you are gone, the memory of those moments remains, a light in the darkness, a star in the sky, guiding her even now.

And so, she closes her eyes, allowing herself to rest, knowing that, wherever you are, a part of you is still with her, in the stars above, in the memories you left behind, and in the love that will never fade, no matter how many years pass.

[citrlet]

because i was asked for what mods i use, i decided i'll just make a whole post!

most of everything here is pretty cottagecore/naturey~

under the cut because my game is heavily modded this list is long!!

visual

medieval buildings

way back pelican town

seasonal cute characters base / expanded / east scarp

all cuter animal replacements

vibrant pastoral 1.6 (temporary fix)

overgrown flowery ui

medieval craftables

dynamic night time

cottagecore fences

lamps

gwens paths

animated gemstones

foliage redone foliage only

rosedryads fairies

elle's town animals

sve facelift

more grass

medieval dnt

flowergrass and snowfields

expansion fish redesign

clothing / hairs

more accessories and stuff

cozy scarves

hoods and hoodies

vanilla pants and skirts

the coquette collection

seasonal hats

ani's colour collection

improved and new hairstyles

kyuyas hairstyles pack

furniture

idalda furniture recolor

h&w outdoor furniture

h&w fairy garden furniture

west elm furniture

nano's retro style furniture

asters big furniture pack

gameplay / mechanics

cjb cheats menu (just to walk a little faster)

cjb show item sell price

greenhouse gatherers

craftable mushroom boxes

advanced casks

lumisteria serene meadow

growable forage and crop bushes

cornucopia more flowers / more crops

atelier wildflour crops and forage pack

wear more rings

tree transplant

passable crops

no fence decay redux

multi yield crops

crop fairy

challenging community center bundles

better chests

automate

spawn supply crates on beach

expanded storage

bigger backpack

blue eggs and golden mayo

better ranching

npc map locations

data layers

expansions

stardew valley expanded

east scarp / lurking in the dark / never ending adventure / always raining in the valley

lumisteria visit mount vapius

misc

jen's cozy cellar

cozy farmhouse kitchen

asters walls and floors megapack

wrens expanded greenhouse

cuter coops and better barns

nicer sewer

also recommended

hudson valley buildings

elle's seasonal buildings

seasonal fences

ridgeside village

immerisve farm map 2

[mortalfaerie]

𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕛𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕤' 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 (+ 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕖𝕟𝕒) (pt 1)

this concept is stuck in my brain so...

your were always in the shadow of your twin, jacaerys. he was born only ten minutes before you, but in doing so had outshined you for a lifetime.

while your grandfather might have bent the law further for you if you had been born first, he wouldn't do so for the rest of the realm - and being a girl, the birth of your immediately younger brother meant you wouldn't inherit driftmark, either.

that's not to say that you didn't love your brothers - they were your closest friends, especially after your mother had moved your family to dragonstone.

you missed your aunt helaena, however. at only two years your elder, she was more like a cousin or a sister to you, and as the only other girl you two had idled away long hours with tedious septas together.

for the first few months you wrote faithfully to eachother, but after the disaster at your aunt laena's funeral, an irrevocable schism has opened between factions of your family.

from that day, two more years would pass before you saw her again.

when helaena was thirteen, she came to dragonstone to claim a dragon. it was a cold and diplomatic trip which the king was too ill to attend and the queen had flatly refused to consider, and so the hand of the king escorted her along with a platoon of guards.

you were eleven years old, clasping hands with your twin on the windy shores of dragonstone as the princess' boat came ashore. all of you, even joffrey were ill at ease during this first meeting of factions in years. but, when the princess pulled back the hood of her cloak and stepped onto the beach, you found your heart hammering for an entirely different reason.

helaena had grown taller and more beautiful since you last saw her, though she seemed completely unaware of it as she anxiously took in her surroundings. she had all the beauty of the targaryen line in her, and the beginnings of what would make her a regal looking woman one day. and yet, she was softer in her features and appearance than the rest of your family in a way that was completely disarming.

though the feel of her visit was detatched and lacked the warmth of a family reunion, you found every excuse to seek her out over the duration of it. at first she was wary of you, no doubt because of your brothers and stepsisters and the role they had played in her brother's injury. after a few days though, she warmed and you slipped into a rapport like that before you had left for the island castle.

when it came time to venture up the dragonmont in search of a dragon, you begged and pleaded your mother to allow you to come with the princess - after all, your egg had never hatched and you lacked a dragon as well - and after exhausting the crown princess she relented.

on the dragonmont with a mixture of red keep guards and those loyal to rhaenyra, you and helaena camped on the mount for days, venturing to a different part of the mountain each day in search of dragons. at night, you shared a tent and kept eachother awake giggling and telling stories.

on the sixth day on the dragonmont, you met with the dragons dreamfyre and silverwing, who had belonged to two queens and sisters before you. after the pair of you successfully mounted the dragons and took to the skies, you returned to the beach of dragonstone with a renewed fire inside of each of you.

the night you returned to dragonstone's castle, a feast was held to jointly celebrate two dragons being claimed. you and helaena danced joyfully as the musicians played, and eventually you fell back to let your twin take your place. it was then you felt the first twist of jealousy in your stomach as jace made her laugh.

you snuck into the chamber helaena was staying in that night to recreate the little would you had when sharing a tent. that night, she had said to you before falling asleep, "you and i shall be bonded forever. dragon-bonded," she had said dreamily, then added, "soul-sworn."

before you could ask what she had meant by that, she was asleep.

[fluentmoviequoter]

One More Favor

Pairing: Titans!Dick Grayson x fem!reader (most of this fic takes place in/around Titans 1x2)

Summary: When Dick takes Rachel out of Detroit, he needs help, but he'll have to call in a few favors first.

Word Count: 5.0k+ words

Warnings: POV changes (that hopefully make sense), fluff, a little bit of angst, descriptions of injuries/self-harm (reader cuts her arm open to remove a tracker), several descriptive fight scenes, guns?, spoiler for Titans.

A/N: This is my first Dick Grayson fic, and I actually wrote it several months ago and just got around the editing it. Dick may be OOC, but I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think!

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info (OPEN)

Gotham City - 4 Years Ago

The heavy door creaks as it is pulled open, warm air blowing out into the cold rain. You step inside, dropping your umbrella in the overflowing bin and wiping your shoes on the mat. Shivering slightly, you run your hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm up.

“Hi, Alfred,” you greet as you look over at him, your smile dropping at the solemn look on his face. “What happened?”

“Master Grayson left last night. He left you this,” Alfred answers as he hands you an envelope, your name written in Dick’s handwriting across the front.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” you ask, tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you, Alfred. I’m going to go home,” you say as you pull the door open and step out, waiting for the door to close behind you. You take a deep breath and start running, not even thinking about the umbrella you left. As your tears mix with the rain on your skin, your heart feels about as warm as the Gotham City air.

Fremont, Ohio - Present Day

“Where are you taking me?” Rachel asks, spinning one of her rings on her finger as she looks out the window.

“To see an old friend. She can help us,” Dick answers, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

An hour later, Dick checks his phone while he waits in the car as Rachel goes into a truck stop. He tracks her through the window as he dials a number he hasn’t called in years. It rings several times, and he thinks he won’t get an answer.

“Hello?” A voice asks as the line connects.

“Hi, Alfred, it’s me.”

“It’s been a long time, Master Grayson.”

“I know. This is a one-time thing; I need a favor.”

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

You enter the diner, sighing as you fall into a booth. Looking up at the television mounted in the corner, you see a story about yet another murder in Detroit. It’s almost as bad as Gotham City these days. 

“How’s my favorite customer today?” Dan asks as he walks to the booth, his apron still on.

“I’ll bet you say that to all of your customers,” you counter with a smile, your hood still pulled over your head.

“I most certainly do not. What can I get you today?”

“Just some tea, please.”

“You need to eat.”

“Will you let me pay?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I’m not letting you give me free food every day, Dan. Just tea.”

“Fine,” Dan sighs, returning to the kitchen and passing your order to a waitress.

The bell above the door chimes as it opens, a few sets of footsteps echoing as the door closes. You pull your hood up further, turning to face the back corner. Kelsey, Dan’s only waitress at this hour, drops off the mug of tea and a book, smiling at you as she walks away. She’s been lending you books since you first visited two months ago. You slide it closer, shaking your head as you read the summary: a vigilante who gets a new partner. Sounds familiar.

Benton, Pennsylvania – 3 ½ Years Ago

You take a deep breath before you dig the knife into your arm, making a shallow slice from the middle of your forearm up to your elbow. After you drop the knife into the hotel bathroom sink, you grab a pair of tweezers from the first aid kit and dig around, gritting your teeth as you ignore the pain. When you finally see a glint of silver, you grab it and pull. The tracker makes a ‘clink’ sound as it falls into the sink and goes down the drain. You sigh as you pick up the pre-threaded needle and start on the stitches. Good luck finding me now, Bruce.

Norwalk, Ohio – Earlier Today

“If the police are looking for me, is it smart to be on an interstate?” Rachel asks.

Dick sighs, knowing she is right. He pulls off at the next exit, getting on a small Ohio state route and heading south. They drive for about thirty minutes before coming to a small diner, claiming to have the state’s best chicken and waffles. Dick is ready for a break, so he doesn’t fight Rachel when she asks him to stop. They walk into the diner, and Dick looks around, planning escape routes and scanning for trouble. The waitress and the cook both say hello as Dick and Rachel sit by the window, the kitchen and the door visible. Dick looks at the only other customer, a girl in an oversized sweatshirt leaning over a book and nursing a mug of something.

“I’m Kelsey. What can I get you, folks?” Kelsey smiles as she approaches their table.

“Chicken and waffles, please,” Rachel orders.

“Coming up, and for you, sir?”

“Just coffee,” Dick answers, smiling.

Dick watches as the cook takes the order from Kelsey before nodding toward the girl in the booth. Kelsey walks over and starts talking to her, but Dick can’t tell if it is a friendly conversation or a ‘you need to leave’ conversation. Kelsey’s shoulders drop as she turns around and walks back to the kitchen pass-through, shaking her head as she speaks to the cook. A plate and a mug slide onto the counter, and Kelsey carries them over to Dick and Rachel, telling them to let her know if they need anything.

“What are you looking at?” Rachel asks.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s going on over there,” Dick answers, gesturing across the restaurant with his chin.

Rachel looks over and cocks her head slightly, “Kelsey’s happy but a little worried, the other one is really hard to read.”

Dick nods, sipping his coffee as he looks up at the television screen. His heart drops as Rachel’s picture appears on the screen, but it is gone before he can say anything. Dick looks toward the kitchen, but no one is there. Turning his head, he sees the cook talking to the other customer, sitting at the booth with her. Kelsey and the cook stand, and the cook returns to the kitchen as Kelsey walks toward their table.

“How is everything?” Kelsey asks.

“Great. Those were definitely the best in the state,” Rachel answers.

“Need anything else?”

“Just the check,” Dick answers, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s been covered,” Kelsey assures before clearing the table.

“By who?” Dick asks, eyebrows furrowing as Kelsey smiles.

The girl in the booth looks up suddenly, leaning to look out the window. She stands and moves toward Kelsey, telling her something before walking out the back door, the book she had been reading abandoned at the booth. Kelsey whispers something to Dan before turning quickly to walk back to Dick and Rachel.

“Someone is here for her,” Kelsey says to Dick, gesturing toward Rachel, “there’s a room through the kitchen with a back door.”

Dick and Rachel stand quickly, following her through the kitchen. They all freeze at the sound of gunshots, then begin moving again.

“Why are you helping us?” Dick asks.

“Favor for a friend,” Kelsey answers as she opens the back door. “Be careful.”

Dick nods as he ushers Rachel to stand on one side of him, gripping his gun in his other hand as they slowly round the building. The girl in the sweatshirt, who Dick really needs a new name for, is standing in the parking lot, a pipe falling from her hand and three unconscious men sprawled on the ground around her. She looks up before dropping her head, putting her hands in her pocket, and walking away. Dick hears one of the men groan and decides to leave before they come to. Rachel keeps asking him if he knows the girl, and the only answer he can supply is, “I don’t think so.” Maybe he should make it his new catchphrase.

Gotham City – 4 Years Ago

You enter your apartment and grab your backpack, dumping its contents out on the floor before you run around and grab what you consider “essentials”: an extra pair of shoes, a change of clothes, cash, a fake ID, a sweatshirt, a blanket, and the letter from Dick. You slide the letter into the protected laptop pocket of my backpack, promising yourself you will read it someday, but not right now. You put on your best pair of sneakers, comfortable and warm clothes, and a jacket with a hood before walking to the ATM, emptying your account, and ditching your card before boarding a bus to Princeton. As you watch Gotham City fade behind the bus, you cry because you lost a part of yourself, and you know it would hurt too much to see reminders of him. So, you leave.

Glen Easton, West Virginia – 2 Years Ago

You check into the small motel with cash and a fake ID, grateful you can sleep in a real bed for once. You find your room and collapse against the small mattress, setting your backpack beside the bed. You open it and pull out a change of clothes before showering. The letter from Dick is still in the computer pocket, unopened. When you think you are finally ready to open it, you get scared about what is inside it and change your mind.

You retrieve the sweatshirt from the bottom of the backpack and put it on. Then you order a pizza and turn on the TV. The sweatshirt is the only thing that provides you comfort after leaving Gotham City. You left everything that tied you to that life, except the sweatshirt, and nights like this make you wish you had realized Dick was going to leave and chased him.

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

“Why are we driving around in circles? I thought you were taking me somewhere?” Rachel asks.

“I’m looking for the girl that helped us,” Dick mumbles as he looks across the street.

“Oh,” Rachel says with a smile.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve felt different since you saw her in the diner.”

“She just reminded me of someone I used to know.”

“Someone you knew. Seems like a lot more emotion than simple acquaintances.”

“Fine, we were best friends. We did- some stuff together and we were super close,” Dick said, failing to find a way to explain their vigilante activities.

“You did stuff together?” Rachel repeats incredulously.

“Not like that,” Dick huffs. “We just- she was my best friend, and I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Why?”

“I left.”

“You left her?”

“I didn’t leave her; I left the life I had then.”

“And by extension, her,” Rachel scoffs. “Why haven’t you called her?”

“I tried, once. Her number had been disconnected and I didn’t know her new one. Or if she even wanted to talk to me.”

“Surely you know someone who would’ve stayed in contact with her. Call them.”

Dick sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He does know someone.

“Right now,” Rachel adds, “I can feel your sadness and it’s bumming me out.”

Dick pulls over, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing the number. “It’s me again. I need one more favor,” he says when the line connects.

“Of course, Master Grayson,” Alfred agrees.

“I’m looking for,” he glances at Rachel, who is listening intently, before finishing, “her. I was wondering if you had a new number for her. Or know where she is?”

“Master Grayson,” Alfred says sadly, “we haven’t seen her in four years.”

“Four years?” Dick asks, eyes widening.

“Yes, sir. She left right after you did.”

“Did you give her the letter?”

“I did. She ran out of the manor, literally, after I gave it to her. We have not heard from her since.”

“Any idea where she went?”

“Last we knew she was in Benton, Pennsylvania. But that was nearly three and a half years ago. I’m sorry, Master Grayson.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick says before hanging up.

“Sorry,” Rachel says quietly, “I shouldn’t have made you call.”

“Not your fault,” Dick assures her before pulling out. He slams on his brakes and backs up, turning into an alley and parking.

“What?” Rachel yells, gripping her seat.

“I think she’ll go back to the diner, they seemed to know her. Enough to give us free food on her behalf.”

“That’s what you think happened?” Rachel asks sarcastically.

“You’re the one that read their emotions.”

Rachel sighs before agreeing, “You’re right. She’ll go back.”

They find a small motel and get a room for the night, leaving their stuff in the room before returning to the diner. Entering, Dick and Rachel look around but only see the cook and a different waitress. 

“Welcome back,” the cook, who introduces himself as Dan, greets.

“Hi, Dan. We’re looking for the girl who was in here this morning. She was wearing a grey sweatshirt, reading a book, and left quickly out the back door,” Dick explains.

“Yeah, I know her. Why are you looking for her?”

“She helped you. That’s why you’re so nice to her, if not a little protective, isn’t it?” Rachel asks.

Dan’s brow furrows as he answers, “Yes, she helped me.”

“We’re not trying to hurt her or get her in trouble or anything. She helped us this morning and we’d like to repay the favor,” Dick promises. “Could you at least give us her name?”

“I don’t know her name,” Dan answers. “But she’ll probably come back here in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Dick and Rachel say together.

The following morning, Dick checks out of the motel and drives to the diner. They both look to the booth where she sat yesterday as they walk in, frowning when they see no one there. Kelsey smiles as she greets them and takes their order, exactly as they had yesterday. Dick spins his mug around as he watches the television, trying to keep himself from staring at the door.

“Dick,” Rachel whispers a few minutes later. She gestures toward the counter, where the girl is now sitting, wearing the same sweatshirt as yesterday.

Before Dick can do anything, Dan’s voice fills the diner. “All three of you need to get somewhere safe. Everyone in town is talking about some secret service agents asking about you folks.”

“All of us?” The girl in the sweatshirt asks.

“You know how these people feel about cops, but they’ll come in here eventually and you don’t need to be here,” Dan says.

“11 North Country Road 29,” the girl in the sweatshirt calls as she stands, “you got that?”

“Yeah, we got it,” Rachel answers, practically dragging Dick to the front door.

Dick gets in the car and speeds toward the address, hoping that the girl in the sweatshirt will meet them there. And give them her name. He parks between the house and a row of trees, where the car is hidden from the road. The back door is unlocked, and Dick sweeps the house before ushering Rachel in. Several minutes later, the back door opens again, and the girl in the sweatshirt walks in, coming face-to-muzzle with Dick’s gun. Her hands are raised as he lowers the gun.

“Sorry,” Dick apologizes as he holsters it.

“Not a problem. I’d give it a few hours before leaving,” the girl says, moving past them.

“Thank you. For yesterday and right now,” Rachel says.

“Least I could do. I’ll be in the back room if you need anything.”

Rachel waits until she is out of earshot to turn toward Dick and ask, “She really reminds you of this girl doesn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Dick sighs. “That obvious?”

“Your shame is practically choking me. Why did you hurt her?"

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s not an excuse, Dick.”

Rachel walks toward the back room, determined to find a way to help Dick get over his hurt.

Omar, Ohio – 2 Months Ago

“Take your hands off the girl,” you demand as you enter the dark room.

Three men turn toward you, one raising a gun as the others take a step closer. You see a girl tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth, blood everywhere, and fear in her eyes. 

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, sweetheart,” the man with the gun growls.

“Right back at ya,” you say, taking a threatening step toward him.

The two other men charge toward you. You catch one of their fists as they throw it toward you, twisting him in front of you to encounter the brunt of the other man’s hit as he throws it. Their shared momentum knocks them both to the floor. You slide across the floor, elbowing the third man’s knee as you grab his hand, flipping his wrist so the gun falls to the floor. You pick it up and level it at his temple.

“One more time: let the girl go,” you demand slowly.

One of the men on the floor throws a knife, which spins in the air and nicks your arm. You glance toward him before swinging the gun and taking three shots, taking out one knee on every man. As they groan in pain and roll on the floor, you untie the girl and ask her where to go. She directs me to her father’s diner.

“I’m looking for Dan,” you say as you carry her through the back door.

Dan comes running, grabbing his first aid kit as he sits beside her. “Your arm needs attention?” he asks as he points to your scarred forearm and the small bloody patch from the knife.

“No, I’m all good. Thank you.” You begin to stand, but he stops you, refusing to let you leave until you eat something.

“You’ll never pay here. Come back anytime,” Dan says when you leave an hour later.

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

“Sorry about him,” Rachel says as she walks into the back room.

“It’s completely fine.” The girl in the sweatshirt laughs softly, her hand playing with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Rachel says as she sits in a chair across from her.

“How long have they been looking for you?”

“About a week. Since they killed my mom.”

“I’m sorry.”

Rachel shrugs. “Just so you know, the guy I’m with, Dick, he’s a cop. And he’s not usually this weird.”

She laughs again, looking up long enough that Rachel can see her face.

“You remind him of someone he used to know.”

She shakes her head before changing the subject. “You’re Rachel, right? I’m assuming you can do something, otherwise, they wouldn’t be looking for you.”

“I can feel what other people are feeling. There’s something inside of me, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Rachel, you can learn to control it. It’s obvious you’re a good person.”

“I tried to read your emotions at the diner yesterday,” Rachel admits, “but you have a lot, and they were overlapping.”

“A lot has happened to me in the last few years. I don’t even know what I’m feeling all the time.”

“They’re clearer now. You’re sad and regretful,” Rachel says quietly.

“I don’t care that you’re looking, Rach. The more you use your powers, the better you’ll get at them. And you’re dead on.”

“Sometimes, when I touch people I can see some of their memories,” Rachel explains.

The girl in the sweatshirt smiles. “You don’t even know my name.”

“What’s your name?”

She extends her hand and answers, “Find out.”

Gotham City is cold in winter, and the freezing rain is not helping the temperature issue. Robin is fighting behind me, our backs touching as we take down the last of the numerous bad guys.

“Nice work,” Robin says as he smiles at me. “But you’re cold, stop touching me.”

“Oh? I am cold? Your Kevlar is practically frozen,” I respond sarcastically.

He pulls me into his side, pressing the button on his belt to turn on his cape heater.

The setting changes: a large door opens, and an umbrella is placed in a bin, destined to be forgotten.

“-left last night. He left you this.”

An envelope trades hands, and a name is written on it. The door is opened and closed, then running in the rain gives way to stressed packing and boarding a bus. The same envelope is unopened years later, a new scar appears on a forearm, the same backpack is stashed in a motel, and a sweatshirt is the most prized possession.

Omar, Ohio – Present Day

“It was you,” Rachel says, her eyes wide as her hand slips from yours.

“What was?” you ask.

“You’re the girl Dick left, the one he’s feeling so guilty and sad about.”

“He what?”

“He saw you in the diner and was reminded of a girl he used to know. He said they ‘did stuff together.’ You don’t look like that girl; you are that girl.”

“What did you see?” you ask, confused about how exactly her powers work.

“I see some of the most important things in your life. I saw you fighting with Robin and then learning that someone left. You’ve been on the run since then, haven’t you? And the sweatshirt means something.”

“What do you know about Robin?”

“I know who he is. I know what he went through. I think you two should talk.”

A noise outside causes you to stand suddenly. “Stay here.”

You walk out, seeing Dick holding his gun as he moves toward a window. You move to the other side of the room, by another door, and stand against the wall as the door is kicked open. A hand holding a gun comes inside; you grab the wrist and slam it down against your knee. The gun hits the floor and slides away. The man raises both hands to your shoulders, pushing you backward and into the wall. You form a fist and slam it up into his chin, his head snapping back as his grip on you loosens. While you fight him, Dick takes on a second man who enters the house.

Dick moves behind the door, grabbing the man’s shirt collar and flipping him to the floor. He attempts to get information from him but comes up empty. Slamming his fist to his nose repeatedly, Dick doesn’t stop until the man loses consciousness. He looks over and sees the girl in the sweatshirt standing from the floor, wiping blood from her nose.

“That was impressive. You two could be partners,” Rachel says as she walks in, smirking as she looks over at you.

Dick opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, telling them, “You two should get out of here while you still can.”

“I’m not leaving,” Rachel says, crossing her arms. “Not until you two talk.”

“About what?” Dick asks.

“Rachel,” you warn.

“She’s right. We do need to get going.”

“Show him.”

“Either we need to leave, or I need more information,” Dick sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

A phone rings in the back room, and you walk away to answer it, releasing a breath as you realize it was Kelsey.

“What was that about?” Dick whispers.

“You two have to talk before you never get a chance again,” Rachel says.

“Someone broke into your house and assaulted several officers,” you say as you return, “the police are calling a nationwide manhunt for you, Rachel.”

“I am not leaving without you,” she says, stepping toward you and grabbing your hand. 

Her eyes fall to the sleeve before she glances up at you and pushes the sleeve up. You push it back down quickly and look away from her.

“I can’t go with you,” you say sadly, shaking your head.

“You can if you want to,” Dick offers, “you’ve been a huge help.”

You look toward Rachel, who only nods as she squeezes your hand.

“Just tell him,” Rachel whispers.

You take a deep breath before you look up and pull your hood down. “Hi, Dickie.”

Dick’s eyes widen as he takes a hesitant step forward.

“Rachel said I remind you of someone,” you say. “I thought-“

Dick cuts you off by rushing forward and hugging you tightly. You return the hug, gripping him tightly and burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Dick whispers.

“It’s okay.”

“Tell him everything else,” Rachel encourages from beside you.

You squeeze Dick one more time before pulling back and saying, “I left Gotham City after you did. Alfred gave me the letter and I just ran. I’ve been in a bunch of small cities since then, but nowhere as long as here. I saved Dan’s daughter from some kidnappers and just stayed for some reason.”

“Alfred said he didn’t know where you went after Benton,” Dick says.

“I cut my tracker out in Benton,” you explain, pulling your sleeve up and exposing the scar.

He reaches forward and gently runs his fingers up the scar. “Tracker?”

“Right. Bruce told me he sedated you when he gave you yours, something about you being too excited about being in the bat cave.”

“He put a tracker in me?”

“He put trackers in all of us.”

The phone rings twice before silencing. “That’s our cue to leave,” you say.

Columbus, Ohio – 1 Week Later

“How’s your arm?” you ask as you enter the room.

“Healing quickly,” Dick answers, smiling as he looks up at you from the hotel bed.

“Looks good,” you say, gently holding his arm, “yours probably won’t scar.”

“Pizza’s here,” Rachel calls as someone knocks on the door.

Dick answers the door and gets the pizza while you and Rachel get drinks from the mini-fridge. You all sit on the small couch as you eat, and you can’t help but think of old times. The following morning, you, Dick, and Rachel load into Dick’s car and drive toward Covington. 

“Are you going to tell him?” Rachel asks as we wait in the car while Dick goes into a police station. 

“Tell him what?’

“That you still love him.”

“I-“

“I can feel it. I could feel it when he was Robin and when you found out he left, in the safe house, and right now.”

“I don’t know, Rach.”

Dick sighs as he gets back in the car. “I got the description of the woman who broke into the crime scene.”

“Where to now?” you ask.

“Arcade. 5 miles north,” Rachel answers.

You laugh lightly as you shrug at Dick.

“An hour,” Dick says as he puts the car in gear.

“And a half,” you and Rachel correct together.

You give her some cash before you and Dick find a seat where you can see the entire arcade.

“You’re good with her,” you say as you steal a fry from his plate.

He playfully swats your hand away before moving his plate closer. “So are you,” he agrees.

You watch Rachel for a moment before looking down at your sweatshirt sleeve.

“Are you okay?” Dick asks, his hand landing on your arm.

“Yeah,” you say with a nod, still looking down. “This sweatshirt is the only connection I’ve had to you for the last four years.”

“What?”

You extend your arm toward him, watching his face as he grabs your wrist and looks at the sleeve, his initials and a small Robin messily embroidered on it. 

“You kept it?” he asks.

“Of course, I did.”

“Mine’s in the trunk of my car,” he admits, smiling as he looks back up at you.

“Really?”

“You think that I’d leave it after all the hard work we put into them? I couldn’t leave it behind; it felt like leaving you behind. I tried to call you.”

“I left my phone; didn’t want Bruce to come after me.”

“Why does Rachel keep telling you to talk to me?”

You laugh before answering, “There’s something I haven’t told you and she wants me to.”

“What?”

“That I’m in love with you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

Dick is silent as he stares at you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said any-“

Dick pulls your wrist gently, slamming his lips to yours. His other hand raises and wraps around the base of your neck, pulling you closer. You move your hands to his waist, pulling yourself closer to him as you kiss him like he’s your source of life.

“I take it you told him,” Rachel says, suddenly standing on the other side of the table.

Dick pulls back, smiling at you before saying, “Shut up, Rachel.”

“I’m out of money.”

Dick pulls a fifty from his wallet, handing it to her and smiling in gratitude as she walks away. She nods and returns the smile.

“I love you,” Dick says.

“I love you,” you respond, stealing another one of his fries.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I wanted to find you but had no idea where to look.”

“Rachel was right. We could be partners. Again.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Grayson,” you smile before kissing him again.

“You didn’t read the letter did you?”

“I couldn’t,” you admit, shaking your head, “hurt too much. Why?”

“I wrote it to tell you I loved you. I wanted to take you with me but was scared.”

“I guess I should read it then, because I love you, too, Dickie.”

You and Dick watch as Rachel walks toward you, a tall woman with bright Magenta hair on one side and a green-haired boy on her other side. 

When they reach the table, Rachel says, “This is Kory and Gar. They have some interesting stories.”

“This feels familiar,” you mutter to Dick as you stand up.

“I’m gonna need a bigger car,” Dick says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

[prince-toffee]

L I F E I S A H I G H W A Y !

Written by Prince-Toffee (me)

Art by the absolutely supreme @themazziah @cosmiccanineart

Created as part of The @spopbang 2024

Before we begin, I just want to say thank you to @themazziah for creating this absolutely gorgeous piece of art that you're looking at right now. It was so good in fact that I was inspired to rewrite the story to incorporate it into the narrative. When writers and artists were being paired up, I was sure I'd be left without a partner, but after you said that I was your first choice I was honestly so moved and touched. Thank you for picking me. Nothing I write could ever express how lovely it feels to read a kind comment like that. And that's why I'll try to get back into writing Entrapdak fics, it's been a while, and I'd love to do more, the world can never have enough Entrapta and Hordak in it. (and Glimmadora, my first time writing them, hope I did okay) Thanks, Mazz, I hope this story gives you a good few chuckles.

Second of all, thank you to all the organisers of @spopbang I may not know many people there well, but right from the start people were nothing but kind and helpful, and this event is a beautiful gift to the fandom. You guys are absolutely amazing!

Finally, on a more personal note, this is a three parter, I could only manage to finish Act One before the deadlines as I was working on my final university assignments at the same time, and now I'm finished and free! And I can't think of a better way to celebrate! I'll try to get the rest of the story out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy this little space road trip.

Life Is A Highway

Act One (of Three)

~One Year After The Defeat of Horde Prime

CloneTown, or as the inhabitants of the settlement chose to dub it, Doormat, was a small shanty town at the foot of Mount Dryl on top of which Castle Dryl stood. The doormat of Dryl, of Etheria, of the universe, Adora assumed that was the intended joke. The warrior of light examined the sign closely, a hastily put together sign stood before her, it read: ‘Welcome To’ with CloneTown crossed out. A separate board, made of wood not matching the rest of the sign, was nailed underneath, on it carved crudely was ‘Doormat’. Adora never knew clones had a sense of humour, then again, it wasn't like she spent much time among them. Or at all. As She-Ra, the Protector of Etheria, she visited many villages on the continent, observed as many cultures of as many people as she could, opened her heart and reached out a helping hand to all... all except the newest refugees of Etheria. Every time she had ventured to a clone settlement, she felt unease - most villages across Etheria worshipped her (so to speak, and that invited its own unique forms of exhaustion), but when she set foot on clone grounds, she felt unwanted, which of course, she was. Perhaps the unease emerged from the fact that all the staring eyes that silently watched her stroll into town as she did so now, all belonged to the same face, the face of her old master. One she worshipped in her youth, but no longer. But that didn't matter now, now she was walking down the muddy roads of Doormat, and attracting quite a few puzzled, angered glares. Adora approached in her normal form, strolling up as a 9-foot-tall glowing, radiant, goddess might have been a bit too much. Not that it mattered too much as she still stuck out like a sore thumb, she was the only non-clone in the village, nothing she could do about that. The warrior was cloaked in torn and tattered robes, a hood obscuring her face, so at least they didn't know who she was.

Soon enough the Warrior of Grayskull happened upon her destination, Bar Nefcy, a local, clone-ran establishment. She got a bit lost, but Entrapta’s directions were correct. There was a hanging sign spelling out the bar’s name in uncharacteristically bright pink paint. Almost acting as a centrepiece of the town. From what she heard about it, the establishment acted as a sort of neutral ground for clones: regs, defects, and whatever came between. And as she entered the establishment, she wondered whether that mentality and ideology would extend to her. And almost immediately she got her answer as the chatter throughout the room stopped, all the various patrons turned to look at her, a sea of red and green eyes staring into her. She wasn't exactly scared, if anything came down to violence, she had plenty to keep herself safe, including the enormous broadsword channelling cosmic energy that would transform her into the most powerful woman in the universe. Adora made her way over to the barline and sat herself down, each of her footsteps making the wooden floor creak, which could be heard over the silence.

She attempted to stay invisible and stay silent until her contact would show up, however that turned out to be unlikely as she caught a glimpse of her bartender, a small “Oh!” escaped her and she immediately regretted it, and felt awful about it. Adora’s bartender did not look like a regular clone, he was downright bizarre, he was overgrown with vines, flowers, and moss, all intertwined and weaved into the clone’s being. Where his eyes would be, now two thick vines ran outward spreading into a patch of moss and grass atop his head. Effectively rendering the man, blind. Admittedly, she stared for a bit too long, but she didn't think he'd know.

“Well?!”

“?”

“I may be as blind as a bat, but my hearing is as good as ever. I heard you walk in and sit down, the floorboards are on purpose. So? What’ya want?”

Adora gulped, and put on her best diplomatic voice, “No drink for me, sir. I only ask permission to stay in your bar for- I don't know, uh, a few more minutes. I'm meeting a... friend, shall we call him. A clone. I'm a friend! An ally!” Whoof. She never had to pull that card out before. The bartender didn't seem to look convinced. The diplomatic voice slipped halfway through all that. “Please.” She finished with an awkward smile on her pinched face.

“Uh huh, look this is a clone-establishment, not for… natives. You're unsettling my clientele, so if you'd be so kind and find the exit as I can't, ya know on the account of a magic flower growing out of my face. Good day, Princess.” Wait he knew? How? Was her voice that recognisable?

Just then another voice rose from the back of the bar, from a far corner booth, “Ah, come on Manny! I thought this was a ‘neutral ground’ and whatnot. You gonna denie the guy their poison? They're just trying to get through today like the rest of us.” The bartender, who Adora now knew was named Manny, groaned in annoyance, if he could roll his eyes, he would have. Adora turned around to see where the voice was coming from. There, far in the back, in the corner booth, set an elderly patron a clone no doubt, he spoke with the same voice. But he too looked downright bizarre, unlike all the other clones. This clone was thin, like a skeleton, he looked sickly. (A defect, they were called, she believed, though not entirely sure). The lower half of his face looked normal enough, well for a clone that was. But the top half of his head was a glass-like red dome with some strange displays flashing inside like a radar monitor. And not only that, protruding out of his face was a long witch-like nose, sharp as a knife. Almost as sharp as the red teeth that formed a, what was meant to be a friendly, smile.

The clone wore a mechanical suit (of armour?) that framed his skeletal features. His feet were kicked up on top of the table. His feet resembled… clamps? Like mechanical vulture talons. There was another clone at the corner booth with them, but they had their back turned to Adora, they were clearly uninterested in this interaction. The vulture-like clone stood up and wobblingly made his way over to Adora. It was clear he was drunk. But from Manny’s reaction she gauged that this was his default state. The bird-like man spoke up again, “Leave the freak alone. ‘Serve all, not one’, right?” The woman noticed that the clone acted as if he had a cup or glass in his hand... But he didn't, there was no drink in his curved hand.

“V,” Manny spoke, so that was his name, “Should have known this freak was with you, something always happens when you're around here. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, and you always bring it here. So why don't you take your royal friend, and go lead trouble away from here.”

“I won't cause any trouble, I promise.” Adora proclaimed, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, she placed the page onto the table and slid it over to Manny. “I'm actually here on behalf of the Queen, to hand you this Establishment License to let you run your business officially... it was illegal before, just so you know. As a show of gratitude and togetherness.” Adora gave her best smile. Manny just looked at the piece of paper and groaned, he turned around and walked off with the paper in hand, grumpy. Adora swivelled around back to V, she awkwardly thanked them, “Hey, thanks, uh, V was it? For taking my side. And I'm sorry I caused a commotion here.”

“Eh,” He waved dismissively, “Don't take it too personally kid, Manny over there's still a little peeved that you turned him and a bunch of others into walking compost heaps back when you turned The Velvet Glove into a giant tree, heh.”

“I- I did that to him?”

“Oh, not just him, every clone hibernating in a pod and whatnot. Thousands.”

“Oh, gods, what have I done.” She murmured to herself, she combed through her hair, a thousand yard stare on her face. “I'm so sorry... I didn't know I was unwelcome.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, “Don't take that too personally either, neither is he.” V pointed behind him with his thumb towards the doorway. Adora followed the thumb to the silhouette in the door frame. Hordak. Her drinking partner had arrived.

The Ex-Lord of the Horde entered the establishment and silence befell the bar once more, the collective of eyes glared at him and followed him as he slowly made his way over to the warrior Princess. Not too different of a reaction that they greeted Adora with. V just then realised there wasn't a drink in his hand and so he moved out of the way to give Hordak room to sit down next to Adora. He did so. The villain maintained silence, Adora thought it was to seem intimidating, but in reality he simply had no idea how to talk to people, and was too awkward to be the one to begin the conversation.

Hordak was cloaked in a black cape and hood. His blue, curly, fringe poking out from under the hood. Another thing she just now noticed about Hordak was that his eyes were different, usually fully blood red with black makeup around, just now realising that those must have been contact lenses of some sort, because now she witnessed his real eyes. Soft and organic rather than the glass shields which is what their texture usually looked like. Now his corneas were fully pitch black with black pupils and bright blood red irises, the way they shifted about it somehow made him far more emotive. He was clad in matte black and gun metal grey plated armour with neon red highlights running throughout. No Horde symbol on his chest plate however, The Wings of The Vampire where nowhere to be seen. What Adora didn't see was the First One's crystal embedded within his armour powering his entire suit. He wore the same double slit dress he always wore, thighs on full display. That was certainly a choice.

Adora spoke up first, “Sooo, ahem, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you.”

“Yes.” He spoke with his deep, smooth voice, “Entrapta, my dearest, did not disclose why you wished to meet. And why here of all places. I am usually summoned to BrightMoon by the Queen.”

“Weeeell, I thought meeting here might make you feel more comfortable. Heard this place serves drinks to anyone, guess... guess not.”

“Hmm, indeed. I do not drink here. I am unwelcome. I do not blame anyone for that belief. My shunning is just.”

“I thought you'd be a hero to your people, especially after killing Prime and all.”

“You killed Prime. I'm surprised many of my brothers haven't turned to worship you She-Ra Adora.”

“It's just Adora. And more people ‘worshipping’ me is the last thing I want.”

“And as to why many of my brothers hate me? Well, everyone has their own reasons. For many I will always be that authority figure, a High-General, sending them off to their deaths. For others, like Manny here, good man that Manny, they believe my... ‘campaign’ here has led to your people hating them. I destroyed any chance of a peaceful coexistence. I am keen to agree with him.”

Adora didn't disagree, but there was more to it. She did not want to unpack all of it just yet so she chose to instead change the topic of conversation, “Hordak. The reason I wanted to meet with you... I have a job for you.”

“I imagined as much. However, it is usually the Queen who imparts assignments upon me and my brothers. Why this- breaking of routine?”

“Because this concerns the Queen. This ‘job’ isn't her idea, it's mine, in fact, it took a lot of convincing to get her onboard.”

“And the mission is?”

“A road trip, so to speak.”

Hordak quirked his brow. “Ooooh-kay.”

“There is an Intergalactic Conference in the Summit solar system, few galaxies away. Glimmer needs to attend in the next few days. It's quite possibly the most important event in Etheria’s history.”

“And what does the conference pertain to? If I may ask?”

“Securing Etheria’s status in the universe. Glimmy wants to appeal to The Council of The Known Universe and have Etheria recognised as a developed-enough world to join The Council. Ever since Etheria had been freed from Despandos it has been at the mercy of the rest of the universe. As a magical mediaeval world, Etheria’s has been seen by the rest of the universe as ‘underdeveloped’ and ‘primitive’ and as ‘defenceless’. Becoming a part of The Council will grant us safety. Their technology advancements. Limitless food and medicine - access to planets they’ve constructed dedicated solely to agriculture and harvesting. Respect among other worlds. Protection from other tyrants across the cosmos like Prime. Make sure it never happens again. The Council of The Known Universe, turns out, was established to create a barricade against tyrant empires like Prime and The Galactic Horde. Etheria needs protection like that, but there's a problem.”

Hordak placed a hand against his chin as he pondered on the matter, “The Primusians.”

“Yes. You've heard?”

“I have, through the ‘grapevine’ as you would call it; clones talk, or think (telepathically), especially here. V doesn't keep anything to himself. Primus pirates have been assaulting crafts around the system, many of them clones seeking home off-world. They've been quite active since our ‘stunt’ with the Minister of Armament and Defence. You're afraid they have their sights set on the Queen. Making transporting her a major risk.”

“Yeah, you got it. I knew you'd catch on.” Hordak shot her an inquisitive look as well as a bombastic side eye, “Anyway, the plan is to send a new unmanned decoy ship on the route to the conference. Pirates explode it, and hopefully they'll think the bodies got incinerated.”

“That's that then.” Hordak remarked satisfied.

“Yeah, except Glim still needs to make it to Summit. And that's where you, and your... team comes in. I hear you have a ship, don't know how, but you do. You'll escort Glim on the longer way around the Black Donut system and deliver her to the conference on time.”

“That will take days.”

“One week exactly. One way each. That's why I’m here now, the Queen’s orders.”

“It does not sound like the Queen would be thrilled about this idea. My brothers can be... a lot.”

“She isn't. But she knows it's the right thing to do.”

Hordak sighed. “Adora why would I-“

“Because you owe me.” She suddenly became incredibly serious, her glare at Hordak hardened, and Hordak fell silent. He really did. Freeing him from Prime’s influence. Dropping in a good word for him at his trial. He most likely wouldn't have been with Entrapta at all without her. He simply nodded in agreement. “And... because I love her.”

“And you would trust me to keep her safe?”

“The same way I'll keep Entrapta safe while you're gone... So? Deal?”

-        - -

Day One (of Seven)

“No. No deal.” Glimmer remarked defeated. “This is a bad- ugh- I don't like this plan, just stating that for the record.” The Queen of BrightMoon spoke to the holo-pad, arguing with the screen. On the other side of the screen was a smiling but slightly scared Adora. Glimmer marched through the corridors of Castle Dryl, the never-ending labyrinth, that Glimmer was 80% sure was constantly shifting, trying to confuse her. It didn't help that she was constantly going down, deeper into the mountain. Entrapta was the master of traps after all. But Glimmer continued on her path anyhow. She had a map display hovering over the holo-pad that clearly outlined where to go. And surely this wasn't a trap, a planned scheme to assassinate her, right?

“I know what you're thinking; It's not a trap.”

“I- wasn't thinking... that.” She squinted at the map overhead, “I swear the corridors are moving, how is that even possible. It also doesn’t fill me with confidence that Entrapta called this, ‘The Basement’.” The monarch wore her traditional purple outfit, glittering cape, golden accents around the belt, shoulder pauldron, and of course her royal tiara. Her stern look faded away and a sadness took its place. “Why couldn't you’ve come with me?”

“~Oh, StarLight, I'm sorry. I want to always be at your side, and I would be if I could. But the strange signals emanating from the Crystal Castle, it could mean LightHope’s back. And if LightHope is back, which her is she? And why would she be transmitting off-world?”

“So you'll be on the other side of the universe.”

“As soon as I'm done I'll B-line it to you. Just- just wait for me. You're in good hands until then.”

“...I wish I could hold you, I miss you already.” Glimmer's words brought a warm smile to the She-Ra’s face. Adora turned away, avoiding eye contact, a blush rising across her face.

“I miss you too. But please, trust me, it'll be okay.” Adora turned to look at something out of the holo-pad’s view, she sighed, “I have to go. I love you. See you in a week.”

And the transmission terminated.

Glimmer sighed. Already missing Adora’s voice. She believed she was approaching her destination, a large mechanical door stood before her. The GPS on her holo-pad indicated that she had reached ‘The Hangar’. “Okay.” She accepted the journey ahead with one word. Glimmer swiped the touchscreen on her whole pad, the bypass code got transmitted to the control panel at the doors ahead. The green light indicated the door unlocking. And the metal doors slid upward with a hiss. A light spilled into the corridor, so much so Glimmer had to shield her eyes with her hand. She took a step inside and almost tripped over immediately. She looked back to see what it was, and noticed that the floor was littered with a variety of… strange and seemingly unrelated things; Pipes, cables, and various other pieces of machinery, she guessed. There were also art supplies; Paint buckets, brushes, canvases, and spray cans. As she turned around to face forward once again she ducked immediately as she was almost closelined by a low hanging clothing line, various photographs hung up along it. Various landscapes from the brief glimpse that Glimmer caught of it.

“Look out.” A familiar voice called out, but it came from an unfamiliar character. Glimmer followed the voice to match it to the clone face. The man wasn’t even looking at her, which meant she must have yelped quite loudly at some point. She re-composed herself and made her way to the clone, the closer she got, the more details revealed themselves to her. The man was, in fact, a clone, he had the same voice and Hordak’s face, but that was almost where the similarities ended. The tuft of hair on top of his head was dyed in a patchwork of every colour, it was quite strange seeing all that colour on a clone. But the most defining characteristic was the fact that he was wheelchair bound due to his two missing legs, amputated just above the knees. The defect was sat in front of a sizable canvas, a paintbrush in hand and in the middle of creating a new painting. The painting was, no doubt about it, gorgeous. It depicted Doormat, at the foot of Mount Dryl. The light that had blinded Glimmer earlier when she entered had come from the massive open hangar bay doors letting the daylight in. She assumed that was where he got the photos and references from.

“It's beautiful.” She remarked.

“What? This? Thank you, but no, it's just a warm up, and it's hideous. I think I might be having an off day. See that tree?” The clone pointed to a perfectly fine tree on the painting.

“Right.” She should have probably introduced herself, “I'm-“

“Cargo.” He finished.

“Not how I'd like to put it. But yeah, I- uh- I’m Glimmer.”

“I know. You’re the Queen. You send me and my brothers on suicide missions.”

“Yeah... uhmm, yes, soooorry about that, and you are?”

“Moe.”

“Moe. I'll- I'll remember that. Is Hordak here?”

“He's with Entrapta, doing… whatever mad-scientists do. Making time travelling microwaves that send your meal forward in time to when it's already done?”

“Heh, it's Entrapta, it wouldn't surprise me. She can do anything she sets her mind to.”

The joke seemed to resonate with the artist, he smiled, “We're taking off soon, Dak’ll be down in a bit, feel free to get set up on the ship, try getting used to it, the trip’ll be a few days long.”

“Thanks.”

Glimmer turned to the ship in question, The Annihilation it was called. It was a Horde troop carrier dropship repurposed as a mobile home to The Defects as they recently began calling themselves. Looks like they were really owning it. The dropship had a new paint job, no doubt thanks to Moe, an angry face painted over the cockpit, angry eyes and a row of sharp teeth. And a mural on the side of the hull, abstract, but unfinished, she presumed. The ship had Christmas lights hung up all along it, a TV satellite dish on top, and a footpath leading to the lowered ramp into the loading bay. The Annihilation was surrounded by a white picket fence, turf of fake grass, a small cheap fountain (kinda ugly, with a gnome spitting out water at the centre). And a mailbox at the front, not that anyone ever sent in any mail, it was all very cute however.

The Queen of Light made her way into the loading bay, up the ramp, and quickly realised it was... A living room? A TV, a couch, and a carpet. All bolted down so it wouldn't fly out presumably. She was surprised at the mundanity of it all, she was expecting something far more alien or militaristic. While her head was in the clouds she tripped yet again. She growled at her own clumsiness, “What? Do I have two left feet today? What now?” She looked down at what had tripped her up and she almost jumped out of her skin. It was a man, slumped over, on the ground, leaning against a wall, a cable lodged into the back of his head. He was silent, he wasn't moving. Glimmer’s thoughts raced madly; He's dead. They killed someone and stuffed him into their ship. She was looking at a corpse right now!

Then a voice came from above, “Heh, you know that happened to me once.” She looked up to see a skinny man hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, he smiled with his bright red fangs, “Mortar shell. Blew me into pieces. Turns out I grabbed someone else’s leg! HA!”

“...Wh- What?”

“Two left feet! We all match so the joints just pop in! Customizable action figures, batteries sold separately.” V cackled to himself as he descended from the ceiling and landed before the monarch. Glimmer wasn't sure how to respond, or what she was looking at, some sort of birdman? She was at a loss for words, since her mind was still on the potential corpse at her feet. “V.” He indicated himself with his hand.

“Is this a dead body?!” She pointed to the clone on the floor in panic and anguish. V craned his neck to look past the Queen. V waved it off matter of factly.

“Eh, don't worry about Drag. Kid’s just taking a nap.”

“So I shouldn't be worried?”

“Oh, well, no, you definitely should. ‘Nap’ so to speak. The truth is far more horrifying. You see little Drag is in a state of constant rapid brain degradation the curjigger he's hooked up to continuously recreates his brain through... woff nanobots? I don't know, Dak’s the one who does machines. The boy fainted not long ago, so he'll be out for a good while.”

“How long is he usually out for?” She still asked panicked.

“Uh, I don't know, varies, sometimes hours, sometimes days, whatever the story needs really. I'm sure he'll be back by the third act.”

“... What are you talking about?”

“I don't know. Anyways, make yourself at home, but not too much, the chaotic mess is on purpose.”

“The ‘I know where everything is’ type of organisation system?”

“What? No, I don't know where anything is, it's just to annoy Hordak. Sometimes I dump buckets of mud and dust inside just to see how furrowed his brows can get. Ha! He gets so angry.”

Glimmer just now noticed that V had patted the couch as he made his ‘make yourself at home’ statement. “Wait, I'm… sleeping on the couch?” She remarked in disbelief.

“Weeell, yeah, what did you expect?”

“A room?!”

“Ahhh... No. Heh. No.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Hey, it's not that bad, this is the best spot on Anni! You got a perfect view of the TV (which has channels from the next three galaxies). A few itchy blankets and who knows what wonders hide between the couch cushions; Just today I found Drag’s goldfish’s food... Oh shoot, I knew I forgot something.” He tapped his chin.

“I'm in Hel. I died, and now I'm in Hel.”

“HA! Not yet. But The End is coming. Soon!” V waltzed away saluting her away as he ventured off to check up on his younger brother’s fish.

“Wait! Can't I have Drag’s room? Or is his room the corridor?” She asked sarcastically.

“Sorry, Candy Floss, he ain't interchangeable. You’ll just have to deal with it.” The doors to Drag’s bedroom closed and he was out of earshot.

“...Great. Perfect. Great idea, Adora. Thanks, hun.”

-        - -

“I wish you could stay.” Entrapta sadly remarked.

Hordak took a moment to reply, he looked away and down, “... As do I, Beloved.”

It was another day, another mission and once again the universe had decided to tear them apart as it often did. It was especially bittersweet and tragic as the couple had plans for today, family picnic, so to speak. Entrapta sighed as she soldered the motherboard in front of her, their mask down and covering her face, “I was really looking forward to working on the power couplings for the hyper light telescope. I bet we can see the Lynks system from here! I heard rumours that they've managed to construct an entire artificial star! It powers their two nearest colonies!... I- I can wait for you... And we could do it together when you get back, how long can the escort be? Two?- Three days?” She tried to keep up a genuine smile.

“We estimate a week to the Summit system, and one week to return.” Hordak hid most of himself under his cape like a weighted blanket, “I know how much you love star gazing, you shouldn't have to wait for me. You should enjoy yourself without me.” He reached out for Entrapta’s hand. Entrapta let go of the soldering iron, and accepted the taloned hand of her partner. The Ex-Lord of the Horde softly massaged her hand, his thumb moving in circles.

She gently squeezed Hordak’s hand in return, “But I'd love for you to be with me. Us, together, you know?” She snuggled into Hordak’s chest, leaning her head against him. Dak held her hand and placing his other hand against Entrapta’s back, a gentle touch, “That's the life I wanted for us.” She murmured lowly, almost a purr.

“I know.” Hordak spoke solemnly.

“...It feels like we're apart every day now. I thought things would get better… and here you go again.”

“I know. But this request- it came from-“

“Adora, I know.” Entrapta lifted her mask, revealing a small smile, “That's the only thing I like about this.” That made Hordak raise one of his brows, “You, opening up to her, it's cute. She's a good girl. I'm glad you're making new friends.” She patted Hordak’s chest.

“Well, I wouldn't go that far-“

“Hordak.”

“Ah!” Hordak jumped, scared by the voice inside his head. The clone turned around to find Lee, another one of his brothers, just standing there – Menacingly. “Lee! How did you- ? Where? Why?!”

“We have a problem.”

*Italics indicate telepathy – Toffee*

“What?”

“The Queen is currently in our home.”

“Yes, she is the cargo.”

“…Why was I not informed of this?”

“Because you wouldn't have liked it.”

“We are transporting (possibly) the most powerful woman in the universe - that is going to turn heads, and paint a target on our backs. Are we not meant to be secret task force?”

“That is why we and the She-Ra are the only individuals aware of this mission. And, were you not the one who urged me to establish a more trusting relationship with the rulers of this world? Do you not think that a favour such as this would aid in improving relations between clones and natives?” Lee pondered on it, he nodded. He would have grunted if he could, unfortunately for Lee, his entire lower jaw was missing. By far his most noticeable and unique feature.

“...Sooo? Are we-? Is this-? Are we done? I'm just getting half of the conversation here, just so you know.” Entrapta poked in.

Suddenly V also appeared out of nowhere behind Hordak, “Hey we have a problem.”

“Gahhh! Where did you?! How- What?! Ugh. Yes, we know; the Queen.” Hordak face palmed.

“What? No. It's Drag’s goldfish, it's dead.”

“What? I thought you were feeding it.”

“I thought Lee was feeding it.”

“Well, I thought Moe was feeding it.”

Hordak sighed, face in his hands, “Fine, we'll figure it out on the road, just go, get out of here.”

Lee just looked at him, and turned away, “I'll be on the ship. I'm assuming all the relevant mission information is on board?” Hordak nodded. “Then I will be there, studying.” And the clone disappeared as soon as he appeared. V followed.

“He's scary good at that.” Entrapta remarked.

“Hmm.”

“I don't think he likes me.”

“They’ll come around...”

Both of them stood there for a moment, in silence. “So... you should probably get going.” Entrapta remarked sadly, not ready to let go again so quickly.

“Mmm.” Hordak looked around the lab, “Where is Imp? I wished to say goodbye to him before departing.”

“Probably hiding, lil rascal hates to see you go. He misses you you know.”

“I know…” A sadness washed over his face. 

“Look, I know you're at work, the last thing you need up there is me. But-”

“I would spend my entire life at your side! I love your voice. I adore your beautiful mind. And worship your heart for all the love you have offered me. You are not a hindrance!”

“Okay, okay, haha.” She looked down at the ground with a warm blush on her cheeks, “I know, I get it.”

“You think so little of yourself, I know how you are. And I do not appreciate it.” He landed a soft kiss on his partner's cheek. Which drew a chuckle from her.

“OK, OK, enough! You know I can't take compliments!” She exclaimed joyously as she smooshed his cheeks with her soft gloved hands.

“It is my duty as your lab partner to remind you of your worth, your beauty and your wonder, and that is just a scientific fact. Now, what- uh- what were you going to say before I rudely interrupted?”

From a large pouch on her utility belt Entrapta fished out a small Rubik’s cube-like object, which shifted in her palm and unfolded into a large two-handed holo-pad, and handed it over to Dak, “You know how I've been working on the intergalactic communications array?! So, I've been working on downsizing it and managed to incorporate it into a screened device - this holo-pad will allow us to stay in touch, even worlds apart. It’s only a prototype, of course, but it should work perfectly.”

What a loving gift. Entrapta always bestowed such wonderful presents, Perfuma proclaimed that it was her love-language. Hordak did not understand what that meant exactly, but his mind wondered, how could he further ‘communicate’ in this ‘language’? “Beloved, I- This is a most thoughtful gift, but... it is standard protocol to not take any contraband that could possibly link us to and could be traced back to Etheria in case the ship is breached... but, I suppose with the literal Queen of Etheria on board, that rule does not apply.” He smiled. Entrapta matched the smile.

“I will call you, when you're on your way, later today.” She raised on her tippy-toes and kissed her tall partner on the cheek, “Keep you company.”

“I would appreciate it.”

         Hordak and Entrapta lost themselves in each other's eyes as they often did, they wordlessly embraced in a warm hug. Their foreheads found each other, eyes closed, they allowed themselves to smile just a little.

         “I love you.”

         “I love you, more.”

         “Scientifically impossible, I love you far more.”

         “No, I love you more!” They giggled softly to each other.

-        - -

Glimmer had unpacked, to the best of her abilities, that is to say she was pecking at one of her packed lunch sandwiches and marked the couch as her territory by placing her luggage all over it. The Queen was now just sitting on the couch, slouched. This was going to be a long trip, she could tell. So she tried to distract herself by glueing herself to the TV. Unfortunately, the channel she was watching was broadcasting from an alien system with a language she did not understand. She could infer from the tone of the voice and the acting what was going on. It was some sort of telenovela, ooorr a reality TV show? No, Glimmer had no idea where the remote was. So that was it, her life for the next week. Hopefully Adora and the rest of the Princesses would take her on the way back after the conference.

         “Oh, nice, that's a good episode.”

         “What?” She turned back to see V standing behind her like a dad at a BBQ over a grill, a coffee mug in hand.

         “Sapphire Lakes. Great show. A handful of wealthy women who pretend to be friends are locked up in a small lake house for a week where they scream, lie and backstab each other for a cash prize. It's truly peak television. Tiffany's just confronting Jade about cheating with Keith.” He pointed gleefully at the screen.

         “How do you know all this? It's not even in Etherian?”

         V taped the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, wait, did he even have ears? “Air-Vibration Translators. Convert any nearby language to clone speak.”

         “Huh.”

         “Your majesty.” Glimmer’s eyes followed the voice to the clone entering the drop ship, it was Hordak. Long black cape covering his body and draping behind him on the floor. His battle armour underneath, no longer bearing the symbol of the Horde, but rather the symbol of Dryl, purple gear with a star at its centre. Proud property of his wife. 

         “Hordak, finally. I wanted to speak with you.” Glimmer spoke up.

         “Lee here?” Dak turned to V.

         “Yeah, he’s in.” V replied, still glued to the TV screen.

         “What? I didn't see anyone enter.” Glim remarked confused.

         “Yeah, that's Lee. If he wants to, you won't see him all week.” V shrugged.

         “One can only hope.” She murmured.

         “I see you've already gotten acquainted with the crew. Uh- Make yourself at home, I suppose. We depart soon.”

         “Uh- Thanks...”

         “...”

         “...”

         “...Soooo, How- uh- how are you?...”

         “Yeah, I'm- I'm good- I'm alright... How... Are you?”

         “Good. Good...

         “... Yeah.”

         “... Alright, let's go.” He awkwardly turned around and departed to the ship's cockpit.

         V stopped on the way, “Hey, Daky, beloved brother of mine, my favourite person in the whole wide cosmos.”

         “What do you want?” Hordak sounded tired already.

         “Can I drive?”

         “No.”

         “I'm a pilot! I was a pilot back in the day! I'm good at flying. I'm a pilot... Can I-?”

         “You are not touching my ship.”

         “But you let Entrapta work on the ship!?”

         “That, dear brother, is because she's competent.”

         Glimmer huffed as she leaned against the couch cushions, “This is going to be a long week.” She returned to her slouching.

         Hordak marched up the small steps that led to the cockpit which was a narrow space; and sat one on the front seat, the pilot seat from which one would steer the ship via the steering wheel and the numerous unlabelled buttons covering the control panels on either side of the wheel, some blinking, some not. (How Hordak knew to press what, was beyond this trans-fourth-dimensional narrator.) V attempted to flick a switch, but his hand was slapped away by Dak, who didn't even take his eyes off the panel. V frowned like a toddler that was denied cookies from their mom, and he fell down onto the back seat of the cockpit, the navigator seat. The navigator would advise routes throughout space and monitor the status of the ship.

         A finger taped Glimmer on the shoulder, she turned to see Moe, now on board, “Can I take some of these?” He asked, pointing to the pillows on the couch.

         “Uh, yeah, sure.” She handed the clone the pillows, and watched him make his way to Drag. Moe climbed down from his wheelchair and gently moved his brother to lean forward, still unconscious, and placed a pillow behind his head. He wanted to lift his younger brother and place another pillow under him, but Moe, being a defect, was unable to lift his weight. So, he was surprised when Drag did lift up. He looked up surprised to see that Glimmer had lifted the comatose clone up by the underarms. Moe was pleasantly shocked for a moment, but continued and placed a pillow for Drag to sit on and one to lean against. Glimmer lowered him, and helped Moe up onto his wheelchair. And pushed his wheelchair to the couch.

         “Thanks- Bay doors.” He pointed to a big red button with a lock image on it. Glimmer pressed it, and the ship’s ramp receded in and the heavy shutter doors sealed them in, and would seal the void of space out. “Thanks.”

         “No problem.” They returned to the couch.

         “He's always sore when he wakes up.” He remarked worryingly. The gesture was cute, that little act of kindness surprised Glimmer.

         V’s voice echoed through the ship, “Non-clones and gentle-clones please take your seats as we're about to rocket ourselves into the void of space through a wall of fire surrounding the planet, so we're all probably going to die, so say your prayers to whatever deity you believe in, won't matter though because we live in a nightmare world where there truly is no god.” He announced cheerfully. A loud smack could be heard and an “Ouch.” from V.

         Hordak’s voice came through, “Ignore him.”

         “You’ll get used to that,” Moe spoke up, “That's like Dak’s catch phrase.”

         “Is your brother, the bird one, always like that?”

         “No, he's usually worse. He's on good behaviour since we have a guest over.”

         “Are we- going to experience some turbulence? No offence to your brother but anything he makes is usually held together by duct tape. Are we about to turn into a giant fireball? He loves big fiery explosions.” Glimmer asked concerned, recollecting about the Fright Zone.

         “HehHa! Yeah that sounds like Hordak, alright.” He wheeled himself over to a front corner of the ship which had a standing canvas, some small cabinets at the side supposedly housing some art supplies. There was also a small circular window at the corner framing the view of the outside. “The Annihilation has been through a lot, but you won't find a more reliable (and lucky) ship in The Holy Armada! You won't even feel the take off.”

         “How do you know?” Glimmer asked unconvinced.

         “Come take a look.” He just pointed to the window. Glimmer, confused, waltzed over to the window, her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. A blue surface, rippling and kicking up as the ship zoomed past; a river, then fields of trees, zipping by. They had already launched. Mount Dryl shrinking into the distance.

         They had launched from the side of the mountain, out of the hangar bay doors, cloaked by Entrapta’s holographic disguise field. Soon they surpassed the clouds, and pierced into the atmosphere. For a moment the window became coated in fire and flame. And then it passed, and now the Queen of Light stared out into an endless black void reaching out into infinity. Across the blackness were white speckles; stars, distant suns, sustaining worlds and civilizations all of their own, Etheria a distant speck to them all.

         Before they could leave Etheria behind there was one obstacle left; a barrier of warships guarding the planet from the upper atmosphere. An impenetrable wall of hull and fire power. The most powerful warships that side of the galaxy. After the Fall of Prime over a year ago the clones were freed from his control, left to aimlessly wander Etheria - for the first time in their lives without purpose. The clone population was stranded on Glimmer’s magical world, the Princess Alliance weren't about to just let their invaders take back their war machines and leave to who knows where, or worse, turn the weapons back against Etheria. So, at first the warships over Etheria were disabled. But over the following months, as Entrapta established communications with various systems, and rumours began to spill out. A sizeable number of them coming from the clone grapevine. The refugee clones slowly began to form pockets of community around Etheria. The Princess Alliance never stood against it, and even helped establish those pockets, BrightMoon was always involved in combating homelessness, a programme started by Glimmer’s mother, often allowing homeless citizens take shelter and live within the walls of BrightMoon castle.

         Within the clone settlements many managed to establish contact with the outside, smuggling becoming a major enterprise. Clones being the main item smuggled off world. Through Hordak various rumours reached her; Word of various larger neighbouring systems eyeing Etheria with watering mouths. Smaller less developed planets often fell prey to larger powers, Glimmer wasn't about to let that happen. And the answer was right under her nose. The clones knew how to operate the worships, of course they'd be supervised by BrightMoon knights, but to her pleasant surprise the clones dedicated themselves to their posts rather quickly and without much convincing or argument. They were desperate for a mission, for a purpose. And so, Glimmer gave them one; Protecting their new home.

Glimmer sighed, “I'm going to be honest I would’ve felt much better about this if the starships could escort us... No offence, uh…”

“Moe.”

“Moe.”

“Short for Mosquitor.”

“Oh.”

“I'm guessing the point of all of this is to stay unseen, and not to attract much unwanted attention.”

“It is. Heh, not to mention the reason why we're going to The Council of the Known Universe is to make allies, it’d be hard to do that if we just pulled up with a starship overhead. Don't want to prove the threats and fear mongering rumours correct.”

“Didn't you just reason your way out of the predicament?”

“I suppose I did.”

“Also, those aren't starships, heh, you haven't seen a Starship yet. Warships of The Holy Armada are impressive, no doubt about it. But starships are unfathomably enormous. Giant rings, large enough to surround an entire sun, draw power from it, often acting as a shipyard constructing warships for the Prime’s endless conquest. They’re pretty, in a horrifying kind of way.”

Glimmer couldn't even imagine something of that scale. Things like that often made Glimmer put things into perspective of how small and secluded Etheria was. How little she was in the vastness of the cosmos. It frightened her, but she chose not to think about it. But unbeknownst to the Queen that phobia had led her actions subconsciously. Many people are guided by fear, even kings and Queens, whether they know it or not. Glimmer, whether right or wrong, was stepping along the path of fear.

Glimmer’s eyes scoured the dark space and managed to spot a small brush of green among the canvas of black, the only spot of colour in space. “Huh.”

Moe took note of the response, “What? The Velvet Glove? Huh, looks different than when I last saw it, greener!”

“Yeah, that might have been my and my friends’ doing. My… friend, Adora, kinda,” Glimmer scratched the back of her head, “Turned the ship into a giant tree.”

“With many of our brothers still within.”

“Yeah, sorry about thaaAAHHH!” The Queen of Light embarrassingly shrieked as she noticed a third figure standing behind them silently. A man missing his lower jaw. He narrowed his blood red eyes, their wrinkles around his eyes more visible. Glimmer covered her mouth like an old Victorian maiden. “Sorry. My bad. Sorry. Hehe.” Lee seemed unamused. The old clone’s pupils lit up and he turned to Moe. Moe turned back to face him, his pupils lit up too. The two stared at each other without a single word spoken for a moment or two. Glimmer’s eyes shifted between the two. Are they buffering? What's going on?

Moe returned his gaze to the Queen, “He– ugh, welcomes you on board and wishes you a pleasant stay. And is honoured to be in the presence of royalty, especially one of whom allows us to stay on your world.”

Lee signed with his hands, clearly some sort of sign language, Glimmer managed to make out some of it, but not enough to further the conversation, “I'm sorry I don't know sign language, I- I should but I don't.” She remarked sadly.

Moe translated for his brother, “He just wants to discuss with you- uh- some matters.” He sounded a little awkward and nervous. Lee gave him an angry look for not translating fully. Moe just shrugged.

Outside across the depthless night a streak of light zipped across their view, Hordak spotted it, and moved to tail the craft. It was the decoy ship. As a mediaeval planet-locked civilization BrightMoon had no spaceships with which to cross galaxies. Which was why Adora got Entrapta to step in, and she was all too overjoyed about it. Being the genius she was, Entrapta fished out a crashed Horde ship fixed it up and customised it, now sporting the colour scheme of BrightMoon; purple, pink, and gold, even a painted mural of Glimmer on the hull. You couldn't get more overt than that, if this bait wouldn't work, Entrapta didn't know what would.

That was a lovely day, Entrapta and Hordak made a whole day of it, a date, that was what normal couples did so they thought they'd try it out too. And it was wonderful. Just them working together, bouncing ideas off of each other, problem solving, like two lobes of the same brain working in tandem. It was like a dream. Hordak would cherish this memory for years to come.

Hordak pulled up behind the decoy ship. With a single press of a button the clearance codes were transmitted from The Annihilation to the warships. Then; quiet. This moment was always horrifying. The silence. The wait. Hordak and the rest of the crew knew the codes were correct, Glimmer approved them herself, but each time Hordak’s mind briefly flashed to the thought of; What if the codes were wrong? If the warships would open fire, they would be dead in seconds - if not instantaneously vaporised by the battery lasers then they would freeze in the void of space. Seconds ticked away. They waited for the go-ahead; Hordak tense, V, behind him, completely relaxed and indifferent - the fear of death had left the old clone long ago, and then...

A green light lit up on the control panel. And the barricade of warships began to part like the Red Sea. And the tightness in Hordak’s chest disappeared and he released a sigh of relief. The two ships bypassed the armada wall and soon after separated, Glimmer watched the bait craft shrink into a dot out of the window and disappear. Soon the armada faded from visibility as well, and they were off on their voyage, no turning back now. Nothing but an endless stretch of darkness.

“Well, I guess there's no going back now.” She stepped up to the cockpit and looked on at the eternal night ahead.

V put his feet up on the pilot chair ahead, annoying Hordak, “Why so gloomy your highness. They should call you Gloomer. We’re here to have a good time! You know this is a road trip, and you know what that means!”

Dak: “No.”

Moe: “Oh Prime.”

Lee just turned around and left to his room.

V opened a compartment in the chair he was sitting on and pulled out a CD, and practically crawled over Hordak to get to the front control panel and slid the disc into a rectangular device. Glimmer believed it was called a CD player. And so music began to play from it. A country song come on not that our protagonists knew what that was exactly. The song began:

‘Life is like a road that you travel on,

When there is one day here and then the next day gone,

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand,

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind’

Hordak face palmed, unable to escape the sound of the song, trapped in the pilot's seat. He had clearly heard this song a thousand times before. “I can't believe this.”

‘There is a world outside every darkened door,

Where the blues will not haunt you anymore,

Where brave are free and lovers soar,

Come ride with me to the distant shore’

Glimmer bowed her head down and sighed, “This is my life now... for the next week... No going back.” She echoed the words to herself once more. She turned and waltzed back to the couch defeated.

‘We won't hesitate, to break down the garden gate,

There's not much time left today, yeah –

THE DEFECTS, FEATURING QUEEN GLIMMER OF ETHERIA, STARRING IN:

‘L I F E   I S   A   H I G H W A Y  !’

‘And I want to ride it all night long.’

End of Act One (of Three)

___

Next Time on LIAH

"I've been checking our food cabinets, some thing's eating our supplies, some thing's here with us."

Dun. Dun. DUN!

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"Don't be mad!"

"What did you do?!"

"I said don't be mad!!!"

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"Is that a shotgun?!?!"

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"Fifty Romulaks?! Where are we crossing over to Terabithia?!!"

---

"Keith... I'm pregnant."

"I knew it."

To Be Continued

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 23 On Cloud Nine

(730ish words of Shadowbringers and a Good Girl)

The stables in their stone home were very comfortable. The stablehands were friendly, there were plenty of adventurers and their mounts to meet—not always chocobos, but no accounting for taste. Great care was taken with the food and water, and there was no shortage of gysahl greens, krakka, or curiel roots. There were toys of all kinds, and a nice little meadow cleared out and reclaimed from the Gloomy Place’s blasted grounds for playtime.

Snowlight was at least content for the moment.

Some of the Scions would come to visit. The small ladies when they could, though they were Very Important And Busy. But the Bow Lady took Snowlight on rides around the lake, or up into the foothills leading toward the Frozen Place. She would let Snowlight gallop as fast as she could while the Bow Lady practiced firing from Snowlight’s back, and that was a lot of fun! They even tried flying a little when she did it, and Snowlight was very careful to not drop her person’s comrade.

Her person had asked Snowlight to wait patiently and be helpful to her friends. She had called Snowlight a good girl and kissed her beak and promised she wouldn’t be long, but wouldn’t be able to call to Snowlight where she had to go.

Snowlight had kweh’d and cuddled her person, who was worried about her friends, sleeping too still. Especially the Sneaky Man; her person liked him the most. And that was all right; he knew how to give proper scritches and what treats were best, and made her person happy. So Snowlight wanted him to wake up, along with the rest of the sleepers. They were all very nice and friends with Snowlight, too.

Her person had left some time ago, and the days turned to weeks turned to moons. Snowlight would have been more concerned, except for the pixie that visited her dreams, crooning about what a pretty bird she was and that her person was just fine.

It had been awhile since the pixie's last visit, though.

The day was like any other; gloomy aether filling the air and obscuring the sun. The stablehands stumbled in early regardless, yawning and joking, making sure everyone had breakfast and water. They took turns letting out some of the long term residents to muck out their stalls, a few adventurers coming to claim their companions. The small friend with the cat-ear hood came to visit Snowlight. She seemed very tired, and Snowlight wished she would get more rest. But she offered treats, and helped the stablehands lead Snowlight out with some others to the meadow to play. She had to leave after that, but that was fine, Snowlight was busy asserting her dominance at kickball against some sprout adventuring birds.

She had almost won when she stopped still on the field, the other chocobos cheering and fluttering as they scored. But the familiar pressure had suddenly returned, like one’s ears popping during a change in altitude.

She trembled, talons flexing into the dirt. Could it be…?

The whistle called to her, and she kweh’d joyously, using its signal and bit of crystal, joined to her own aether, to teleport.

Snowlight was hardly in the River at all when she popped back into the world, in the shadow of the Tower on the other side of the lake. Her person smiled brightly—and then oofed as Snowlight headbutt her in excitement, wings flapping wildly.

“I missed you, too!” her person laughed, burying her face in Snowlight’s feathery neck. There were strange scents and sensations from her person, indicating Things Had Happened. It was very odd that there was a whiff of the Sneaky Man among the new smells, when Snowlight was certain he still slept in the stone house, but she could figure that out later, what mattered now was that Snowlight’s person had returned!

Not like last time. This person had kept her promise.

“Let’s go, Snowlight. I’ve much to tell the others,” her person said, swinging up onto Snowlight’s back, even without a saddle or bridle. She scritched Snowlight’s neck in just the perfect way.

Snowlight kweh’d an agreement and took off—carefully!—for the stone home on the other shore. Her person hugged onto her back and it was the best thing ever, this was the best day ever.

Her person was home!

[cynic-spirit]

Soulstory ii

Y/N sighed as she sat behind the wheel of her car, the engine sputtering defiantly before finally giving out completely. The dashboard lights flickered, then dimmed, leaving her in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the windshield. She had just finished a lovely visit with her sister, catching up on family stories and sharing laughs over old memories, but now, the comfort of that warmth felt a million miles away.

“Of all the nights to break down,” she muttered to herself, glancing at the clock. It was well past midnight, and the quiet stretch of highway felt eerily empty. She attempted to restart the engine, but all she got was a series of futile clicks in response. Frustration mounted as she fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she tried to dial AAA. After several attempts, the call wouldn’t go through—no signal out here.

Her heart sank, and she leaned back against her seat, letting out a breath of exasperation. The thought of being stranded alone in the dark was unsettling. It was late, and the isolated stretch of road offered little comfort. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiety wash over her.

“Maybe I should just wait for someone to pass by…” she whispered to herself, but the idea didn’t sit well. She knew the reality of the situation: she was miles from home, and it would be hours before anyone drove by.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/N glanced at her phone again, considering her options. Her heart hesitated at the thought of reaching out to Tony. They had a connection, yes, but was it too soon to ask him for help? He had been nothing but kind to her, and she felt a little guilty thinking of troubling him so late at night. But as she looked around at the desolate surroundings, the idea of waiting there alone felt more daunting than calling him.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she groaned, shaking her head.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her contacts and found Tony's number. She stared at it for a moment, her thumb hovering over the call button. Would he even want to help her? But the sound of crickets chirping and the rustle of leaves in the cool night air convinced her she had little choice.

With a resolve fueled by necessity, she pressed the button and listened as the phone rang. Each tone seemed to echo her anxiety until finally, she heard his voice on the other end.

“Y/N?” Tony answered, sounding slightly groggy. “What’s up?”

“Um, hi, Tony,” she stammered, the words tumbling out as she tried to keep her voice steady. “I’m really sorry to call so late, but… my car broke down on the highway, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t reach AAA.”

“Are you okay?” he asked immediately, his voice shifting from sleepy to alert in an instant. “Where are you?”

“I’m a few miles from the exit at Green Valley. It’s really dark out here, and I’m starting to freak out a little,” she admitted, her heart racing.

“Stay right there. I’ll come get you,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll be there in a few.”

“Wait, you don’t have to—” she began, but he had already hung up.

A rush of relief washed over her, mixed with a twinge of embarrassment for needing to call him. Still, she felt a sense of comfort knowing he was on his way. She settled back in her seat, trying to calm her nerves, grateful for his willingness to help.

Minutes later, she spotted headlights piercing the darkness, and her heart lifted. It was Tony, his car pulling up beside her. He stepped out, dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, the faint light casting shadows on his face, but his expression was earnest.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, rushing over. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just a little shaken up. Thank you for coming,” she said, a shy smile breaking through her earlier tension.

“Of course! Let’s take a look at your car,” he replied, already moving towards the front hood.

As they worked together under the moonlight, Y/N couldn’t shake the warmth that blossomed in her chest. Even amidst her frustration, the comfort of his presence made everything feel a little less daunting. Maybe reaching out to Tony wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah, I’m not repairing this. On second thought, I’ll just buy you a new one,” Tony said with a smirk, crossing his arms as he surveyed her car with an amused expression.

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “Why? I’ve had this one for eight years now!”

“Eight years?! You’re telling me this thing has survived for that long?” Tony made a face of mock horror, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. “I’m definitely getting you a new car.”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “You can’t just buy me a new car because mine broke down. That’s not how it works!”

“Oh, please,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand. “You deserve something that actually runs properly. Plus, I can’t have you stranded in the dark again, can I? It’s bad for my reputation.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile at his teasing. “Your reputation, huh? I’m sure the world will keep spinning without a new car for me.”

“Maybe,” he replied, grinning. “But I won’t be able to live with myself knowing you’re out here in a death trap.”

“Alright, Mr. Stark, drop me off at home first. Then we can discuss my ‘death trap’ and your generous car donation,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat of his sleek vehicle.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, starting the engine. “And while we’re at it, I’ll give you a little tour of the latest cars I have in the garage. I think you’ll find some pretty enticing options.”

“Are you seriously trying to sell me on your car collection now?” Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

“Always. You just have to see it to believe it,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they pulled away from the side of the road.

As they drove through the quiet night, Y/N felt a warm flutter in her chest. Despite the circumstances, being with Tony felt comfortable and exciting. She glanced over at him, catching a glimpse of the playful glint in his eyes. Maybe her old car breaking down wasn’t such a disaster after all.

“So whatever I pick, it’s mine?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued as they drove through the city lights, the glow illuminating the interior of Tony’s car.

“Yes, absolutely. And more too if you want,” he added, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Why would you want to waste money like this on me?” she questioned, trying to mask her surprise with a lighthearted tone.

“Waste money? Excuse me?” Tony feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “This isn’t a waste. This is an investment in your happiness.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “An investment? You make it sound like I’m buying a mansion or something.”

“It’s the best use of my money,” he insisted, glancing at her with a genuine smile. “You deserve something nice, something that works. Plus, you know I like spoiling my friends.”

“Friends?” she repeated, a playful eyebrow raised.

“Fine, friends who I may or may not have some feelings for,” he admitted, his expression softening. “But seriously, Y/N, you shouldn’t have to worry about driving a car that can barely keep up with the times. Let me treat you.”

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her at his words. “You really don’t have to, Tony.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he said, his tone turning earnest. “But I want to. It makes me happy to do this for you.”

She smiled at him, appreciating his generosity, even if it still felt a bit overwhelming. “Okay, I guess I can’t argue with that logic.”

“Exactly. So let’s pick out something that screams ‘Y/N’—classy, creative, and just a little quirky,” he said, turning the car onto the highway.

“Quirky? Are you calling me quirky?” she laughed, playfully nudging him.

“Of course. In the best way possible,” he replied, and they both shared a light-hearted moment, the car filled with the promise of new beginnings.

“I can afford my own car, you know. I’m a bestselling author, in case you don’t remember,” Y/N said, her tone playful but firm.

“I know you can,” Tony replied, glancing at her with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. “But just because you can doesn’t mean you have to settle for something that doesn’t bring you joy. Life’s too short for that.”

“I’m just a little frugal,” she admitted, shrugging as she stared out the window, watching the city pass by in a blur of lights.

Tony could sense a change in her demeanor, the lightness fading as she continued, “We never had much growing up.”

The admission hung in the air, and he shifted his focus back to the road, aware of the weight of her words. “I get it,” he said gently, his voice lowering to match the seriousness of the moment. “Frugality is a smart way to navigate life, especially when you’ve had to work for everything you have. But it’s okay to treat yourself too, Y/N. You deserve it.”

She looked at him, her expression softening. “It’s just… I’ve always been careful. I don’t want to lose sight of what’s important by getting too caught up in material things.”

“Material things aren’t everything,” he agreed, “but a reliable car isn’t just about status; it’s about safety and comfort. It’s a tool that should make your life easier, not harder. Plus, think of it this way: you can take spontaneous trips to see your sister without worrying about breaking down.”

Y/N smiled, appreciating his perspective. “You make a good point. Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

“Maybe,” he said, shooting her a teasing grin. “But let me help you overthink in style. I promise it’ll be fun.”

As they continued their drive, she felt grateful for his understanding nature, realizing that sometimes it was okay to let someone else take the reins—especially when that someone was Tony Stark.

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice steady yet laced with a hint of excitement. She turned to Tony, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of adoration and challenge. “You offered, so I’m taking that offer. Give me what you deem fit for me. Let me understand how you see me.”

Her words hung in the air, charged with an unexpected intensity. Tony felt a rush of emotion, a blend of affection and admiration for her boldness. She wasn’t just accepting a gift; she was inviting him to show her, in a tangible way, how he perceived her—who she was in his eyes.

Tony’s heart quickened, a smile playing on his lips as he met her gaze. “You’ve got it,” he replied, his tone equally serious and playful. “But don’t blame me if I go all out. I’ve got a pretty high opinion of you, you know.”

Y/N’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from Tony Stark.”

Tony chuckled, but underneath his usual bravado, he felt a deep sense of responsibility. This wasn’t just about a car anymore; it was about understanding and connection, about showing Y/N that he saw her strength, her independence, and her worth. He wanted to give her something that reflected how much he admired her resilience and the unique blend of grace and determination that defined her.

As they drove on, the city lights flickering around them, Tony’s mind raced with ideas. He knew whatever he chose had to be perfect—not just luxurious, but thoughtful, something that would resonate with Y/N’s personality and values.

The challenge she’d set before him wasn’t just a test of taste or style; it was a way of deepening their bond. And Tony was more than ready to rise to the occasion. “Get ready,” he said, glancing at her with a grin. “Because you’re about to see yourself through my eyes, and I guarantee it’ll be a ride you won’t forget.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his words, feeling a warmth spread through her. She didn’t doubt him for a second. She knew whatever Tony chose would be a reflection of his perception of her—a glimpse into how he saw her as someone worthy of the best, deserving of everything the world had to offer. The thought filled her with a mix of excitement and a newfound sense of belonging, as if she was stepping into a new chapter of her life, one that Tony was helping to write.

Tony stood in his workshop, surrounded by holographic displays of luxury cars. He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the edge of the table, his eyes scanning the images as they floated in midair. Beside him, Jarvis’s calm, measured voice broke the silence.

“Might I suggest starting with a few options, sir? The Bentley Continental GT is an excellent blend of elegance and power.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s a great car. Powerful, sleek... but maybe it’s too aggressive for Y/N. She’s more… refined. Let’s keep looking.”

Jarvis, ever helpful, continued, “Perhaps the Aston Martin DB11? It’s sophisticated, with a timeless design.”

Tony tilted his head, picturing Y/N behind the wheel of the DB11. “Hmm, I like that one. It’s stylish, but I feel like we need something with a little more presence, you know? Something that has an impact, but isn’t flashy.”

He swiped his hand, changing the display to a new set of images. “What about the Porsche Panamera? It’s luxurious, but it’s got that sporty edge.”

Jarvis considered for a moment. “While the Panamera is indeed a refined choice, it might not fully capture the understated elegance Miss Y/N exudes. Perhaps something more classic?”

Tony nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s a beautiful car, but maybe too sporty. What about the Mercedes-Maybach S-Class? Understated luxury, and it’s got that timeless appeal.”

“A fine choice, sir,” Jarvis acknowledged. “The Maybach’s blend of comfort and sophistication would certainly suit Miss Y/N’s elegant nature.”

Tony smiled, considering it. “It’s got that quiet confidence, like her. But… I think we can do even better. I want something that really makes a statement—something that says, ‘You’re special, and I want everyone to know it.’”

He scrolled through more options, his eyes narrowing as he thought. “How about the Maserati Quattroporte? It’s got the luxury and the heritage, plus it’s a bit more unique.”

“The Quattroporte is indeed unique, sir, but it might not convey the same level of timeless grace that Miss Y/N deserves,” Jarvis gently countered.

Tony sighed, knowing Jarvis was right. “Yeah, it’s a little too… sporty again. I need something that’s more about luxury, about making her feel like royalty every time she steps into it.”

Finally, Tony’s eyes landed on the Rolls-Royce Phantom. The car’s imposing yet graceful design, with its iconic silhouette and unrivaled luxury, immediately caught his attention. Tony’s face lit up.

“Jarvis, what do you think of the Phantom?”

“The Rolls-Royce Phantom, sir, is the pinnacle of luxury vehicles. It’s the perfect combination of tradition and modernity, offering unparalleled comfort and an aura of exclusivity. A car that speaks volumes without uttering a word.”

Tony grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction. “Exactly. It’s perfect. Y/N deserves something as unique and special as she is. The Phantom has that old-world charm, but it’s still incredibly contemporary. And the ride… it’s like floating on air.”

Jarvis added, “Furthermore, the bespoke options available for the Phantom will allow you to customize it precisely to Miss Y/N’s tastes. It could be tailored to reflect her personal style.”

Tony’s mind buzzed with possibilities. “I’m thinking a deep, classic color—maybe a dark emerald green or midnight blue, something timeless. The interior? Soft leather, custom embroidery, the works. I want her to feel like a queen every time she gets in.”

“An excellent choice, sir. The Phantom’s presence will undoubtedly reflect the elegance and grace that Miss Y/N embodies,” Jarvis affirmed.

Tony nodded, feeling a wave of contentment. “Alright, it’s settled. The Phantom it is. Y/N’s going to love this. And more importantly, she’ll know exactly how much she means to me when she sees it.”

He leaned back, satisfaction washing over him. This wasn’t just about buying her a car—it was about showing Y/N that he understood her, that he saw her as someone who deserved nothing but the best. And for Tony, that meant giving her something that would make her feel cherished every time she drove it.

“Jarvis, let’s get started on the custom specs. I want this car to be as extraordinary as she is.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll begin the arrangements immediately.”

As Tony watched the final design of the Rolls-Royce Phantom take shape on the holographic display, he couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be perfect.

Tony paced around the sleek, deep blue Rolls-Royce Phantom, his mind alive with ideas. He knew that while the exterior was stunning and the luxurious interior was perfect, it was the technology inside that would make this car truly special. Pausing for a moment, he turned to the air with a familiar smirk.

“Jarvis,” Tony began, excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior, “now for the cream of the cake. Let’s make the technology custom too. This isn’t just any car—it’s going to be an extension of Y/N, something that feels alive and perfectly in tune with her.”

Jarvis responded promptly, his tone mirroring Tony’s enthusiasm. “What features would you like to incorporate, sir?”

Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let’s start with a fully integrated AI system, something tailored just for her. It should be intuitive, but not intrusive. It needs to learn her habits, preferences, and routines, and adjust accordingly. We’ll call it ‘Eirene’—after the goddess of peace. It should have a calming presence, just like she does.”

“Eirene will be designed to provide a seamless and personalized experience for Miss Y/N,” Jarvis confirmed. “Shall I model its interface and interaction style after myself, or would you prefer something different?”

Tony mulled it over for a second. “Let’s give Eirene a softer touch, something more empathetic. I want it to respond to her mood, offer suggestions when she seems stressed, and even play her favorite music or podcasts when she’s on the road. It should be like a companion, not just an assistant.”

“A gentle and empathetic AI interface will be developed, sir. Eirene will be capable of recognizing emotional cues and adapting its responses to ensure a comforting and supportive presence,” Jarvis replied.

Tony nodded, pleased with the idea. “Good. Now, let’s talk tech specs. This car needs to be as advanced as anything I’ve ever built. We’re talking top-of-the-line navigation with real-time traffic updates, voice-activated controls, and a holographic display that can show anything from maps to stargazing projections. She’ll love that last one.”

“I shall incorporate the most advanced navigational and display systems available, including a holographic interface that will project both functional and aesthetic visuals. The stargazing feature will be tied to the car’s starlight headliner, offering a truly immersive experience,” Jarvis elaborated.

Tony’s grin widened. “Perfect. And we can’t skimp on security—this car needs to be impenetrable. I’m thinking biometric locks, encrypted communication systems, and a self-driving mode that can kick in if it ever detects she’s in danger. I want her to be safe, no matter what.”

“Biometric authentication, encrypted communication, and advanced self-driving capabilities will be integrated into the vehicle, ensuring Miss Y/N’s safety in all scenarios,” Jarvis assured.

Tony was on a roll now, his mind racing with possibilities. “And let’s add a few more fun features. A personal climate control system that adjusts based on her body temperature, and a mood lighting system that changes color based on her playlist or the time of day.”

“A personalized climate control system and adaptive mood lighting will be added, providing a unique and comfortable environment for Miss Y/N at all times,” Jarvis confirmed.

Tony’s expression softened as another thought struck him. “You know, she’s a writer. We need to give her a space where she can write whenever inspiration strikes. How about we integrate a computer system into the car—something sleek, with all the software she needs for writing her books or poetry?”

“A fully functional and discreet writing station will be incorporated into the vehicle’s design, complete with the latest software for writing and creative work. It will be easily accessible and tailored to her needs,” Jarvis replied, acknowledging the thoughtful addition.

Tony smiled, satisfied. This wasn’t just about giving Y/N a car—it was about creating something that reflected how much she meant to him. “One last thing, Jarvis—make sure the AI has a bit of personality. I want it to surprise her, maybe even make her laugh once in a while. It should feel like it was designed just for her, because it was.”

“A touch of wit and charm will be programmed into Eirene’s personality, ensuring that it is not only helpful but also endearing to Miss Y/N,” Jarvis responded with a hint of warmth.

Tony stepped back, taking in the car one last time. “This is going to be incredible. Y/N’s going to love it. And when she does, she’ll know exactly how much thought I put into it.”

“Indeed, sir. This vehicle will undoubtedly reflect the depth of your care and consideration for Miss Y/N,” Jarvis affirmed.

Tony smiled, feeling a surge of pride. “Alright, Jarvis, let’s get to work. I want this car ready for her as soon as possible.”

“As you wish, sir. The customization process will begin immediately, and I will keep you informed of our progress,” Jarvis replied.

Tony took one last look at the Rolls-Royce Phantom before turning away, already imagining the look on Y/N’s face when she saw what he had done for her. This car was more than just a gift—it was a reflection of everything she meant to him, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

As Tony admired the sleek, deep blue Rolls-Royce Phantom, now customized to the highest standards, a thought struck him. Something was missing—something personal, something that would make the car not just a gift but a connection between them.

“Jarvis,” Tony said, his tone serious yet affectionate, “there’s one more thing we need to add. Something personal.”

“Of course, sir. What do you have in mind?” Jarvis responded, ready to implement whatever idea Tony had.

Tony paced a little, his mind racing through possibilities. Then, with a smile, he settled on the perfect idea. “I want to add a direct line to this car—a way for me to talk to Y/N anytime. No matter where she is, no matter what she’s doing, she should be able to reach me, and I should be able to reach her.”

“A direct and secure communication line will be installed, sir,” Jarvis confirmed. “Would you like it to be integrated into the AI system as well, perhaps allowing for seamless transition between speaking to Eirene and yourself?”

“Exactly,” Tony nodded. “But make it easy—one command, one touch. If she wants to talk to me, all she has to do is say the word, and I’ll be there. And it goes both ways; I want to be able to check in on her, to hear her voice whenever I need to.”

“Understood, sir,” Jarvis responded. “The system will be designed to ensure that, with a single command, either of you can initiate a conversation. The line will be fully encrypted and secure, guaranteeing privacy and uninterrupted connection.”

Tony smiled at the thought. “Good. And Jarvis—make sure it’s not just functional, but… I don’t know, intimate. It should feel like she’s talking directly to me, not through some cold, technical device.”

“I will ensure that the communication line provides a warm and personal experience, reflecting the importance of the connection between you and Miss Y/N,” Jarvis said, a hint of understanding in his tone.

Tony ran his hand along the smooth surface of the car, imagining Y/N’s reaction when she discovered this feature. “This is important, Jarvis. I want her to know that no matter what, she can always reach out to me, that I’m always here for her.”

“She will undoubtedly appreciate the thoughtfulness behind this addition, sir,” Jarvis replied.

Tony took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “Alright, let’s get this set up. And once it’s done, let’s make sure everything is perfect. I want this car to be a reflection of how much she means to me.”

“It will be, sir,” Jarvis assured him. “Every detail has been carefully crafted to ensure that this vehicle is as unique and special as Miss Y/N herself.”

Tony nodded, satisfied. “Thanks, Jarvis. Let’s finish this up. I can’t wait to see her reaction.”

“With pleasure, sir,” Jarvis responded as he began the final phase of the customization, making sure that every aspect of the car—especially the direct line—was exactly as Tony envisioned.

As the customization of Y/N’s new Rolls-Royce Phantom continued, Tony had another brilliant idea. “Jarvis,” he said, his eyes lighting up with inspiration, “I want to get a personal number plate for the car. Something unique, something that represents Y/N and me.”

“Very well, sir. Do you have any specific themes or references in mind?” Jarvis inquired, ready to assist.

“Yeah, let’s go with something inspired by history, maybe a blend of Julius Caesar and Shakespeare,” Tony suggested, a smirk forming on his lips. “How about ‘Veni Vidi Amavi’?”

Jarvis processed the suggestion. “That translates to ‘I came, I saw, I loved.’ It is a fitting tribute, given your sentiments towards Miss Y/N.”

“Exactly! It encapsulates the essence of our relationship. It’s bold, it’s classic, and it carries depth,” Tony replied, clearly pleased with his idea.

“Shall I proceed with that for the number plate?” Jarvis asked, already beginning the process.

“Yeah, but let’s make sure it’s in a classy font—something that reflects the elegance of the car,” Tony added. “And maybe a subtle embellishment or two. After all, she deserves nothing less than the best.”

“Understood, sir. I will ensure that the design reflects both sophistication and the unique character of Miss Y/N,” Jarvis confirmed.

Tony leaned back against the car, imagining Y/N's reaction when she saw the number plate. “I can already picture her face when she reads it,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “It’ll be like a little inside joke between us. Plus, it’s a nod to the classics, which she appreciates.”

“Shall I also integrate a digital display that showcases the plate whenever the car is in motion? It could be a fun surprise,” Jarvis suggested.

“Absolutely! That would be awesome. Let’s do it,” Tony said, his excitement bubbling over. “I want everything to be perfect for her.”

With a final nod, Jarvis began working on the number plate and the digital display, ensuring that Tony’s thoughtful gesture would be a memorable part of Y/N’s new car. The Phantom was not just a luxury vehicle; it was a representation of their connection, complete with personal touches that only deepened Tony's affection for her.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her curiosity piqued as she glanced at the section of the lab that was deliberately obscured from her view. "What’s in there?" she asked, tilting her head slightly toward the hidden area.

Tony, who was busy tinkering with a gadget, looked up with a mischievous grin. "Oh, nothing. Just something I’m working on," he replied, trying to sound casual.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Why is it hidden? No one comes here except me." Her tone was playful, challenging him to reveal more.

A smirk danced on Tony's lips. "Yes, I have hidden it from you," he teased, leaning back in his chair with an air of mock seriousness.

Y/N crossed her arms, feigning indignation. "But I don’t understand technology much," she bantered, trying to pull him into a lighthearted debate.

"It’s not entirely technology," Tony shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"So what is it then?" Y/N pressed, leaning forward in her seat, the playful challenge evident in her demeanor.

Tony glanced at the digital clock on the wall, calculating the remaining time until the reveal. "I can tell you in…," he paused for dramatic effect, “27 hours and 12 minutes.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "That’s awfully specific. Are you counting down or something?" she teased, her interest only growing.

Tony shrugged, his playful demeanor intact. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just enjoy the suspense." He winked, clearly enjoying the game they were playing.

Y/N rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Well, I guess I’ll just have to be patient then. But you know how much I hate surprises!"

“Consider it a test of your patience,” Tony said, leaning closer with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “And who knows? The surprise might be worth the wait.”

Y/N met his gaze, a mix of intrigue and anticipation bubbling within her. “I have a feeling you’re up to something big, Stark.”

Tony simply grinned. “You have no idea.”

Y/N shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “You are such a handful, Tony Stark,” she said, her tone light and teasing as she leaned back in her chair.

Tony feigned a look of shock, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “Me? A handful? Never! I prefer to think of myself as… dynamically complex.”

“Dynamically complex, huh?” Y/N arched an eyebrow, her laughter bubbling up. “Is that your fancy way of saying you’re a troublemaker?”

“Troublemaker? I prefer to call it ‘spontaneous innovator,’” he replied, grinning. “And besides, you love it.”

“Do I?” she asked, feigning seriousness. “I’m not sure about that. It might be more of a challenge to keep up with your whirlwind of chaos.”

“Oh, come on!” Tony leaned in closer, lowering his voice playfully. “You know you thrive on my chaos. It keeps your life exciting. I mean, when’s the last time you had this much fun?”

Y/N tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, let me think… Oh right! It was when I decided to take a chance on a billionaire playboy with a penchant for theatrics.”

“Ah, yes! A bold and daring choice,” Tony said, pretending to look impressed. “You must be feeling quite brave. Not everyone can handle the Stark experience.”

“I think I’m more curious than brave,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Curiosity can lead to trouble, you know.”

“Good thing I’m an expert in getting out of trouble,” he quipped, flashing her a charming smile. “Or at least I like to think I am.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “You and your confidence. I’m not sure if it’s charming or just plain reckless.”

“Why not both?” Tony grinned, clearly enjoying their back-and-forth. “You know what they say—life’s too short to be serious all the time.”

“True, but a little seriousness wouldn’t hurt,” she countered, leaning forward with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Besides, someone has to keep you grounded.”

“Grounded? That sounds boring,” Tony said, waving a dismissive hand. “But I suppose I could make an exception for you. I mean, if anyone’s going to keep me in check, it might as well be the beautiful bestselling author sitting across from me.”

Y/N felt a blush creep into her cheeks at the compliment, her heart fluttering at his words. “You’re quite the charmer, Stark,” she replied, her voice softening. “But don’t think you can sweet-talk your way out of revealing what’s behind that hidden section of the lab.”

“Ah, so we’re back to that, are we?” He leaned back with a playful smirk. “All right, I’ll make you a deal: if you can guess what’s behind the curtain, I’ll reveal my secret. But if you can’t…”

“Then what?” she challenged, her curiosity piqued.

“Then you have to promise to let me take you on a spontaneous adventure. Somewhere fun, with absolutely no planning whatsoever,” he proposed, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Y/N considered his words, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Challenge accepted, Stark. But you better be ready to reveal all once I win.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Tony said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Let the games begin!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Tony's offer. “Five chances? That sounds generous for someone who usually keeps secrets like a master spy.”

“Just think of it as an act of faith,” Tony replied, leaning back in his chair with a casual confidence. “Besides, I’m curious to see how your mind works. You might surprise me.”

“Or I might just embarrass myself,” she shot back playfully, crossing her arms as she regarded him. “Okay, let’s see… is it a new invention? Something groundbreaking?”

“Wrong,” he said, a teasing smile on his face. “But it’s a good guess. Next!”

Y/N thought for a moment, biting her lip. “Is it something that flies?”

“Ah, you’re thinking big! But nope,” he answered, shaking his head. “That’s strike two. Keep ‘em coming!”

“Alright,” she said, furrowing her brow as she racked her brain for ideas. “Is it a prototype for a new suit?”

Tony chuckled, clearly amused. “Not even close. You’re swinging and missing, Y/N. That’s three!”

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, determined to come up with a good guess. “Okay, is it something that involves… well, technology?”

“Hey now, that’s a little vague,” he teased, holding up a finger. “But I’ll give you that one since it’s kind of true. But that’s strike four.”

Y/N could feel the excitement bubbling within her, spurred on by the playful challenge. “Alright, last chance. Is it… a surprise for me?”

Tony leaned forward, his expression turning serious for a moment, though the hint of a smile lingered. “Well, that’s a clever guess,” he said slowly. “But I can’t tell you that. So… strike five!”

“Five chances and I failed all of them,” she said, laughing lightly as she leaned back in her chair. “Looks like I owe you an adventure.”

“Indeed you do,” Tony said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But don’t worry; I have some ideas in mind that will blow your mind. And just so you know, I’m more than happy to keep the secret hidden a little longer.”

Y/N smirked, her heart racing at the prospect of whatever adventure awaited her. “Fine, but you have to promise to reveal what’s behind that curtain eventually. I’m not giving up that easily.”

“Deal,” Tony replied, extending his hand to shake on it. “But until then, I might enjoy keeping you in suspense.”

Y/N grinned, shaking his hand with determination. “Good luck keeping me in suspense. I’m persistent.”

“Just what I like about you,” he replied with a playful glint in his eyes

As Y/N settled into her chair with a book in hand, Tony found himself captivated by the scene unfolding before him. The soft glow of the lab lights cast a warm hue on her face, highlighting the way her brows furrowed in concentration and how her lips curled slightly as she turned the pages. It was a simple moment, but to him, it felt monumental.

Look at her, he thought, a smile creeping onto his face. There’s something so effortlessly beautiful about how she immerses herself in those words. He marveled at the way she lost herself in the story, her expression shifting with every twist and turn of the plot. It’s like she becomes a part of the worlds she reads about, and I can’t help but wonder what adventures are taking root in that brilliant mind of hers.

He leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting. She’s not just a talented author; she’s a force of nature. She writes with passion and purpose, and it shows. It’s no wonder she’s a bestselling author. Tony felt a swell of pride, as if he had a stake in her success. She was doing what she loved, and somehow, that made him feel more alive than he had in years.

I could spend hours just watching her, he mused, a feeling of warmth enveloping him. He loved the way she was so engrossed in her book, almost as if the rest of the world faded away. And then he remembered their playful banter just moments before—the way her eyes sparkled when she challenged him, the lightness in her laughter that made his heart race.

God, I’m whipped, he chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly. And I’m not even mad about it. There was a sense of peace in knowing she was right there, her presence grounding him in a way he had never expected. I can’t wait to show her what I’ve been working on. She deserves to see how special she is to me, even if I’m still figuring out how to express it.

As he watched her, he felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest, the kind of feeling that whispered that maybe—just maybe—she was meant to be a part of his life. I want to give her the world, he thought. Every luxury, every experience, every moment of happiness that I can offer. She deserves it all.

Tony took a deep breath, a grin playing on his lips as he thought of the car they would be picking out together. A Rolls Royce Phantom, he mentally repeated, feeling proud. It’ll fit her perfectly. Sophisticated, elegant, with just the right touch of flair. Just like her.

The thought lingered in his mind as he continued to watch her, the noise of the lab fading into a gentle hum. In that moment, he realized he didn’t just want her to have the car; he wanted to share every part of his world with her. Every adventure, every laugh, and even the quiet moments like this one, where nothing needed to be said.

I hope she knows how much I care, he thought, feeling a surge of determination. I want her to feel cherished, just as she is. With that, Tony leaned back and let himself get lost in the peaceful ambiance of the lab, all while keeping a careful eye on the woman who had unexpectedly captured his heart.

Part 3

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 5, 29 mai 1886, Paris. No. 13. — 1. Toilette de visite en dentelle noire. 2. Toilette de courses en petit drap bleu amiral. Modèles de l'ancienne maison Cheuvreux-Aubertot, 7, boulevard Poissonière, Paris. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Toilette de visite en dentelle noire. La jupe est formée par trois volants imitation Chantilly, montés sur satin noir. Une grande dentelle, de 1m,05 de hauteur, forme seconde jupe, et est relevée sur le côté par de longues pampilles de jais noir. Camail en dentelle perlée, doublé de soie noire, et garni de dentelle de Chantilly, surmontée par une passementerie perlée.

Capote Manon en dentelle de Chantilly noire, garnie de coques de ruban, et. doublée d'une dentelle blanche plissée.

(1) Black lace visiting ensemble. The skirt is formed by three imitation Chantilly ruffles, mounted on black satin. A large lace, 1m.05 high, forms a second skirt, and is highlighted on the side by long jet-black tassels. Beaded lace camail, lined with black silk, and trimmed with Chantilly lace, topped with beaded trimmings.

Manon hood in black Chantilly lace, trimmed with ribbon shells, and. lined with pleated white lace.

—

(2) Costume pour les courses en petit drap de dames bleu amiral, avec pente dégradée, tissée dans l'étoffe. Première jupe à gros plis couchés, formant le pouf derrière. Seconde jupe, formant long tablier, relevée devant, sur un côté, également à pente dégradée. Corsage-jaquette, garni d'un applique de drap découpé, et ouvert largement sur un gilet de piqué blanc.

(2) Suit for race course in small admiral blue ladies' cloth, with gradient slope, woven into the fabric. First skirt with large pleats, forming the pouf behind. Second skirt, forming a long apron, raised in front, on one side, also with a gradient slope. Bodice-jacket, trimmed with a cut-out cloth applique, and open wide over a white pique waistcoat.

Métrage: 7 mètres drap en grande largeur.

Chapeau de paille à bords très relevés, formant visière, et garni sur le côté gauche par un bouquet de fleurs des champs.

Straw hat with very raised brims, forming a visor, and garnished on the left side with a bouquet of wild flowers.

[bettergeology]

Ticked an item off the “visit” list a couple weeks ago: Little Crater Lake, in the Mount Hood National Forest.

It’s sort of an oddity- a near-circular straight-sloped clear blue lake in the middle of a large wetland. It seems to sit right on top of a bedrock fault, which is likely active, part of a series of extensional faults called the Oak Grove Graben (which was completely unknown until about 2020!). The thinking is that this fault allows copious amounts of groundwater to rapidly rise with enough force that it washed out this crater-shaped lake. Its similarities with real Crater Lake end there, as that lake is an enormous volcanic caldera. Nevertheless, it shares the same vertigo-inducing clarity which allows the natural deep blue of very cold water to be so striking.

We found a healthy rough-skinned newt population in the lake. I guess the cold doesn’t bother them that much! Lots of flowers were in bloom, including this lovely Western Bunchberry.

[mountttmase]

A Mountain To Climb - Part Six

Note - officially at the halfway point 🙊 thank you so much for all your kind words so far it’s so nice to read 💙 let me know what you think of this chapter 💕

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 2.5k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut & angst

Masterlist

You thought it might have been a bit weird without Mason, but the last three weeks had been overwhelming and even thought you’d kept in touch over text and the occasional face time, it was a strange feeling to miss someone who wasn’t your family or Freya.

Speaking of, she had managed to finish her last assignment early and promised to come and visit you this weekend. It was now Friday night and the pair of you were in your favourite restaurant having a good old chin wag. Thankfully the the topic of Mason had been avoided all night and even though he crossed your mind frequently, you had a lovely evening before heading to an underground cocktail bar where you drunk and sung your little hearts out.

Nights like these the pair of you would use to set the other one up with a cute guy but each one Freya pointed out to you you seemed to have an issue with. Too tall, too short, hair too long. No matter what, there wasn’t anyone you fancied doing your usual routine of flirting with before they took you home and although Freya didn’t say anything, you knew she had cottoned onto what was happening.

It was early evening the next day when the pair of you were finally feeling good enough to get some food. You left your flat to get some drinks and sweets before heading back to order pizza. You were just walking up to your front door when your phone buzzed and you opened the text from Mason immediately.

Once your pizza was ordered, you got comfortable and flicked through Netflix before settling on a cheesy film to keep you occupied. You were just getting into it when you heard a gentle tap at your front door and Masons voice ringing through your hall.

‘Y/n? You here?’

‘In here’ you called meekly and you heard him laughing before he appeared in the doorway. You hadn’t seen him in three weeks, and you had to stop yourself jumping out of your seat to throw yourself in his arms. Instead you settled for returning his smile before he gave you a little pout.

‘Well, isn’t this a sight for sore eyes’ he commented, clearly teasing you both as you were dressed in tracksuits with the hoods covering your heads looking like death warmed up. ‘I’m Mason by the way. You must be Freya?’ he nodded at her and she smiled back over to him.

‘That’s me. It’s nice to meet you’ she replied and you were about to speak when there was another knock on your door. Mason was quick to turn and answer it before coming back with pizza boxes in hand, setting them on the table in front of you.

‘Do you need plates or anything?’ He asked and your heart warmed at how caring he was, wanting to make sure you had everything you needed even though he knew where nothing was.

‘No thanks. Your chargers on the table behind me’ you nodded and he nipped behind your sofa to grab his portable charger he’d let you borrow the last time you’d seen him.

‘Thanks, I need to rush off but I’ll text you tomorrow or something’ he told you, resting his hands on the sofa behind you and leaning over the back so his head was upside down above yours.

‘Okay, good luck tomorrow’

‘Thanks’ he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your head over your hoodie. You froze in shock at the gesture as he’d never done that before but he was already halfway to the door before you’d snapped yourself out of it. ‘Nice to see you, Freya’

‘You too’ she beamed and with one final wave he left, shutting the door behind him. You didn’t want to look at Freya, knowing she was staring you down from besides you so lent forwards and grabbed your pizza before settling back. You were halfway through your first slice and she still hadn’t moved so you glanced at her, watching her wide eyes stare into your soul. ‘What the fuck, y/n?’

‘What?’

‘Are you kidding me? First of all, that’s a very pretty man. Like does he have a brother or something?’

‘He does, yes’ you laughed, taking another bite of your pizza as she reached for hers. ‘I don’t think you’re his type though’

‘That’s rude, I’m everyone’s type’

‘Try telling that to his boyfriend’

‘Oh’ she huffed before shaking her head. ‘Well that’s besides the point. Since when are you this pally with anyone who isn’t me?’

‘Aw, are you jealous?’ You teased and she rolled her eyes at you.

‘Quite the opposite. I’m happy for you, you deserve someone in your life’

‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’re friends, that’s it. We barely see each other as it is’

‘But you like him right?’

‘What?’

‘You like him. It’s all over you face. I know you better than you know yourself babe and you liiiiiiiike him’ she teased, bumping into you and you went straight into defensive mode.

‘Do not, stop making things weird’ you protested and she huffed in mock annoyance.

‘I’m not, just be honest with me. Do you like him?’

‘Well yeah, we’re friends’

‘Sweetie, you haven’t made a new friend in years’ she pointed out ‘why now after all this time? Why him?’

‘I don’t know… we’re bonded by trauma’ you laughed and Freya gave you a confused look.

‘You what? I don’t think that means what you think it does’

‘He said it first’ you laughed before looking down at your hands, ready to be real with Freya once and for all ’Look, he’s persistent I guess. I try and back off but he keeps coming back and it’s got to the point I don’t want to back off anymore. At least I don’t think I do. For the first time in so long I feel like I can trust someone again’ you confessed quietly and she smiled at you warmly.

‘You honestly have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that’ she whispered and you could see her eyes getting a little glossy. ‘Now I may be pushing it here, is there potential for more than friends?’

You huffed, cause in your heart you knew you had a different answer to what you head was thinking, but you couldn’t vocalise your real thoughts. ‘I don’t want to get ahead of myself, we’re fine as we are. I told him I can’t do anything more than this and he was fine with it?’

‘And are you fine with it?’

‘It’s taken me a lot to get here, Frey. But I do feel a bit awful sometimes. I heard Mason on the phone a little while ago tell someone he feels like he’s got a mountain to climb and he’s taking it step by step. I don’t want to make him feel that way’

‘Is he good to you?’

‘He’s amazing. He listens to me, he knows when to back off and not ask questions cause I’m not ready to talk about anything like that. Like he has no idea about my past but he accepts me as I am. He knows not to push me like he’s just really supportive. And you know what? It absolutely petrifies me’ you breathed, looking over at her with glossy eyes and she gave you a sad smile back.

‘I know it does, baby. But the best things in life are scary sometimes’

‘Since when did you get so bloody sensible?’ You laughed resting your head on her shoulder and she lent into you.

‘I’ve always been sensible, you’ve just never been in a position to need my wisdom. Anyway, what about you? Do you support him?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it sounds like he puts a lot of work in and is really nice to you. Now I know you haven’t made any new friends in a while but part of being a good friend is paying that back. What do you do for him?’ She questioned and you sat thinking about it silently for a minute. What did you do for him? He always text you first or initiated calls, always let you rant and listened to whatever you had to say yet you don’t think you’d heard him complain once about anything. The more you thought about it the more you didn’t understand why he wanted you around. You were hard work a lot of the time, constantly changing your mood and the relationship was never really 50/50. ‘Maybe it might be good for you to do something nice for him?’ She questioned quietly, catching onto the fact you probably hadn’t thought of that.

‘What could I do?’ You whispered, looking at her nervously and she shrugged her shoulders.

‘Do exactly what he does for you. Let him know you’re there if he needs anyone to talk to and actually listen to him and support him. He bought you cookies right? Maybe you could make some for him? I know you’re good with stuff like that. Or show some interest in whatever he’s into. He’s playing tomorrow? Maybe go to a game once in a while’

‘I’ve got no one to go with’

‘I’ll go, why don’t we try seeing if we can get tickets for tomorrow? It would be a nice surprise for him don’t you think?’

‘I’ve never been before’

‘My uncle and cousin have season tickets, let me do some digging and see what I can do’ she told you and you let her work her magic. Half an hour later she was turning to you with a wide smile. ‘They can’t make the game tomorrow so he’s added us to his ticket list and transferred them over so we can go’ she beamed and you were suddenly very nervous.

You didn’t know how to respond so you just nodded whilst smiling at her before turning your attention back to the tv. This felt like such a huge step in yours and Masons friendship but after what Freya has said, you were excited to prove to him you could be a good friend.

The game was kicking off just after midday and after you and Freya had eaten at your favourite brunch spot before you made your way to Stamford Bridge. It was surreal to see so many people walking around with his name on their shirts and massive pictures of him dotted around the place but an overwhelming sense of pride swelled in your chest for him.

You found your seats which we’re thankfully on the end of a row and your excitement was building as you watched everyone come out to warm up. It was a weird feeling knowing that he didn’t know you were there and when the ref blew the whistle to start you cheered for him at the top of your lungs, causing Freya to give you a shocked look.

As much as you tried to figure out what was going on, you were still none the wiser so you settled for just cheering along with everyone else. It didn’t take long for Kai to score but when Mason managed to put it in the back of the net you went absolutely wild, feeling like your heart might burst from you chest with how happy you were for him.

‘Maybe he could sense you were here’ Freya laughed as you watched him clap the fans at the end of the game. There was no way he could see you as you were so high up and in a mass of people but you liked to of think you were his good luck charm. On the way home you posted a picture of yourself to instagram in hopes he would see it as you and she’d just set off for her trip back up to Leeds when your phone started vibrating wildly. You opened up your instagram to check and you knew Mason had definitely seen it.

You quickly opened your messages up to see a whole load from Mason who was clearly excited that you been there and it warmed your heart to know you’d done something nice for him and made him happy.

Twenty minutes later and you felt your phone ring on your lap, picking it up to see it was a face time and you quickly checked your appearance before accepting, watching Masons smiley face fill your screen.

‘Hey you’ he breathed and you smiled brightly at him even though you suddenly felt very shy.

‘Hi’ you whispered and he laughed at you slight awkwardness.

You spoke about the game for a little bit and you could tell how happy he was that you’d come today. The conversation flowed easily and the pair of you kept the call going whilst you got ready for work the next day, both settling into bed and you propped you phone up besides you making it feel like he was there with you.

‘I’ve missed you these past few weeks’ he confessed and you felt your face flush at his words.

‘Yeah? You only saw me yesterday’ you teased and he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

‘For like 30 seconds, I don’t think that counts’ he told whilst stifling a yawn and you wanted you reach out and touch him so bad but you couldn’t. ‘I don’t have a midweek game this week so maybe we could do something?’ He asked hopefully and you sent him a soft smile as he shut his eyes.

‘I’d like that’ you uttered and you watched his body relax as sleep started to over take him. ‘Hey, Mason? I missed you too’ you whispered, unsure if he was able to hear you or not but you saw the corners of his lips turn up slightly. ‘Night’ you breathed before settling down yourself, the sound of his soft breathing relaxing you until you were finally gone.

Tagged: @alwaysclassyeagle @ricsaigaslec @cinderellawithashoe @vip-access @majx00

[crimeronan]

the other thing about hiking accidents that scares the piss out of me is that after five years of living in portland's very temperate climate, i FORGOT how bad weather can get. most hikers who get hurt in oregon are from the portland area and try to summit mount hood, which is a nearby volcano with year-round ice-covered wintry conditions. it's not an easy climb for experienced mountaineers and it is So Deadly for city folk who haven't been taught about the danger.

but i went home to new hampshire in april, which depending on the year is still deep winter in the north of the state. (this year it was deep winter in the south, too, there was a huge snowstorm the DAY i arrived.)

and i was talking about driving up to the white mountains, which happen to include the deadliest mountain in the continental US. and i was like "yeah, i figure i'll take a day and go up and take some pictures!! there's a dark sky spot in the heart of the mountains that i've been wanting to visit on a clear night, i'm looking forward to it"

and my siblings, who both climb the white mountains regularly, and who both have rescue insurance & read all the incident reports about hiking accidents up there, were like

".....kitkat. you have to look up the weather. if it's cloudy down here, chances are it's snowing and icy up there. you'll Never get the car over the ridge, you're gonna get trapped in an ice slick with no heat and no food. kitkat it is not worth it. kitkat....."

and. like.

i KNEW that. when i LIVED THERE.

but.

after five years away.

i fucking FORGORRRRRRRR.....

[weirdmageddon]

Cumpleaños chica, no hay que preocuparse

AO3 MIRROR

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Rating: T

Relationships: Link/Zelda, Link & Zelda

Summary: Now seventeen years old, Zelda is finally able to step foot on Mount Lanayru. Link keeps a close eye on her at the Spring of Wisdom, the final spring she has yet to visit to hope at awakening her sealing power. Once again, she is unsuccessful. Canon compliant imagining of events earlier in the day before Calamity Ganon awakens as seen in Memory 15. One-shot.

Tags: Canon Compliant,  Pre-Calamity,  Selectively Mute Link,  he talks a little bit but he’s mostly quiet and terse when he does,  Developing Relationship,  Hurt/Comfort,  Zelda Needs A Hug,  Non-Explicit Intimacy,  Cold Weather,  Huddling for Warmth,  Character Study,  POV Multiple

Author’s notes: Inspired by a conversation I had with a friend. It tickled my brain that Zelda wore her bare-skin ceremonial robes on a freezing mountain, not to mention in the freezing water. The expression and movement Link makes towards Zelda when the Calamity awakens in the memory gave me the impression that he was worried about her state earlier in the day as well. This fic arose tying the threads of what scenario was most likely to have reasonably happened earlier that day, as well as whatever caused them to be suddenly comfortable being so touchy-feely with each other that entire day as seen in the memories.

Beta read by another friend. I hope you enjoy. I don’t write a lot, but I like to think that I have a talent for grasping the “voice” of characters.

Title is most people’s interpretation of a nonsense lyric from Tears for Fears - Listen. Give it a listen if you haven’t. Give it a listen even if you already have.

Today is her birthday.

However, instead of celebrating her seventeenth over fruitcake with friends and family, she’s standing with her skin nearly bare in frigid waters. Her white robes blend in with the snowy landscape of Mount Lanayru. She has goosebumps all down her arms, partly from the below freezing temperatures, and partly from the premonition she feels in her bones.

Her silent but loyal guard stands at the entrance of the spring, his back turned away from her to give her privacy. She still doesn’t feel that she has much anyway, for she knows he’s listening to her. He always has, but doesn’t make it known.

Zelda stands small in front of the stone statue of Hylia, smiling down upon her in a way she feels is patronizing at this point.

“Hear me now,” Zelda articulates with a tone of resignation, “Goddess of Wisdom, Nayru. I come seeking your strength. The spirit of your sisters have not answered my plea. I fear that you may be my last chance... and I hope that it won’t be too late.”

As Link looks back down the mountain, his mind isn’t empty. It’s filled with thought he tries to push out to numb himself, but today he’s stirring on a few things.

Before their ascent to the Spring of Wisdom, Link offered Zelda her winter coat, but she refused. She said that she needed to fortify her spirit by braving the cold as a display of her devotion. He remembered what Zelda had said to him the day before:

“Lanayru’s decree is very specific. It says, ‘No one is allowed, under the age of seventeen, for only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain.’”

Her decision to forego her coat did not seem very wise, but he knew better than to argue with her. He packed it with him just in case. He does not enjoy seeing Zelda push herself like this to what seems like self-enforced punishment. Her actions appear to be out of desperation at this point.

Link’s nose is running and he wipes it on his sleeve. His ears are warm and snugly tucked into his hood. He briefly glances over at Zelda’s ears and observes that they are pink and raw.

“Today is my seventeenth birthday. Father made me begin my training ten years ago to this day. And today is the first time I pray to you.“

She gives a gentle chuckle, but it’s not one that makes Link feel warm inside.

“Ten years...” she says. “Ten years of my childhood wasted to being ordered to do something as fruitless as this. The Calamity draws ever nearer. It could awaken at any moment, and yet...”

Zelda looks down at her hands and examines their lack. Her fingertips are pink and raw.

“Nothing...”

She’s silent for a moment. The wind blows steadily and the water laps as she puts her hands back down.

“I have great knowledge of the ancient Sheikah relics that legends say brought Calamity Ganon to its downfall ten thousand years ago. If only Father would let me learn more about them I could help... since I can’t seem to do anything else of any good. Surely it’s better than naught?

“If so,” Zelda fumes indignantly, “wouldn’t this be a wise thing of me to do, then?!”

Zelda’s frustration is understandable and justified. Link has seen it evolve every time she visits the springs to pray. He assumes that they could have started as prayers, but since the time he’s been tasked with accompanying her, she seems to end up talking her personal thoughts aloud and venting.

“At this point, I honestly don’t even know if you’re real or not, but please. Give me a sign... a hint. Illuminate my path.”

It’s year ten and Zelda is met by silence yet again.

She balls her fists and curses under her breath. Even with a new spring, she didn’t have her hopes up. Her color looks paler against the periphery of her skin being tinged red from broken capillaries. Zelda begins to sigh, but stops when the frigid air burns her airway.

“This was my last chance...” Her somber tone hangs heavy in the air.

“So, I failed then.”

The silence upon the mountain is broken when a powerful, freezing gale of wind from the north blows Link’s hood in front of his face and causes Zelda to halt in place, grabbing her own arms with her hands for warmth. Link whips his head around, the wind chill making him finally decide to make a break for it. He wades into the freezing water and grabs Zelda’s hand.

“Link,” she snivels, either from the cold or her misery, he wasn’t sure.

Link responds with a soft affirmative grunt and pulls her towards the stone landing, indicating that she get out of the water.

Zelda doesn’t even bother trying to fight against his urges to get her out of the cold water. She knew this effort was futile. She hates herself for being so useless to everyone. For, in all her wisdom, not figuring out a way to her power by now, ten years later. The heir to a throne of nothing.

The water insulated her legs from the air, but now that they are exposed, her legs are frozen in place. They’re mottled from poor circulation.

Zelda chatters, “I... I can’t move them.”

Link’s eyes widen and he lets go of her hand, and instead kneels down, reaching his arms behind her back and knees, and slowly lifts her with a grunt. Carrying Zelda, Link walks her down the steps of the landing and places her on the flat frozen grass. He takes his hood off and gives it to her.

Link then grips the hilt of his Master Sword and lifts it out of the sheath. He runs to the nearest tree and plows his sword into it as hard as he can, gathering wood bundles and bringing them back to Zelda.

The bag that he packed for the trek sits on the ground next to Zelda. He pulls out one of the towels that’s been kept warm by red chuchu jelly. The towel is white and the royal crest is embroidered in the corner with golden thread. He quickly takes it out and wraps it around her. He takes the other warm towel that was packed and places it on the ground for her to sit on, which she does.

Link takes the red chuchu jelly that was warming the towels and places it on top of the bundle of wood he set on the ground. He removes the bow from his back, takes an arrow from his quiver, and shoots at the substance. The arrow piercing the jelly creates a small explosion of heat that sets the wood alight. He looks back at Zelda expectantly, and the two move closer to the fire, sitting beside each other. He holds her hand. Her hand is so cold.

A rare occasion, Link gently voices his thoughts. “It’s dangerous to stay in your wet clothes in this weather.”

In any other situation, he would be bashful about insinuating she undress with him nearby, but he’s dead serious on making sure she doesn’t get hypothermia, if she hasn’t already. He glances at her with a pleading expression.

Zelda understands. “Please don’t look.”

Link’s expression shows exasperation, as if he wouldn’t even think of it. He turns and covers his eyes.

Out of his sight and by the warmth of the fire, Zelda undresses out of her wet gown. She quickly wraps herself back up in the warm white towel.

“Okay.” She sits next to him again, her arms and legs shaking.

“...So that’s it,” she laments with a pause. “After all this time... it was a failure. I’m destined for nothing.”

Her thoughts guide her away from the present, remembering how cold she used to be towards Link because he executed his skills seemingly without flaw or issue. He was naturally talented at harnessing what he needed for his destiny from a young age. Even now knowing Link’s hidden struggles he confided in her, and knowing that he doesn’t despise her for her inability to harness the sealing powers of the Goddess, it doesn’t change the fact that she remains unskilled and aimless at unlocking them at seventeen. She thinks on how if this had happened back then, she would have rather frozen to death in her pretty white robes. Link is so warm, however. He always was, in hindsight. She was just plagued by her own shortcomings. Even if his expressions were cold, his heart was always warm.

Link brings her train of thought to a halt as if on cue, pulling her back to the present when he wraps his arms around her body and holds her close in the warmed towel. He doesn’t say a word, because he doesn’t feel the need to, but he also just doesn’t know what to say. He presses her icy arms close to him. His body is so warm.

Zelda breathes out, with a cloud of steam, “Link... I...”

Making a quiet questioning noise, Link pulls back slightly to meet her eyes.

“...Thank you. I’m sorry for my reckless behavior. I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

Link doesn’t respond in words, but he blinks; his eyebrows lower, and he has a pensive look in his eyes. He then rests his chin over her shoulder as he holds her. Clearly, whatever apology she’s given, Link has already forgiven before she even stated it.

Link quickly grew to care about Zelda beyond the scope of his bare minimum duty to protect her as ordered by the king. Despite being fearless and formidable in the face of physical threats, Link was afraid of one thing: getting pulled into any drama or causing anything that could foster gossip of his relationship with the princess. A random swordsman born to a line of soldiers from Hateno entrusted with being not only the captain of a royal’s personal guard, but being the exclusive one chosen to accompany her on her escapades was enough to get him looks, so he kept his mouth shut and kept a few steps behind her. It pains him that he can’t show her the affection he feels towards her due to the hundreds of eyes boring into him every day. He’s never been close like this to her before.

But right now, the moment is only between him, her, and the Goddess.

Link still feels her muscles are stiff and quivering. The towel may not be enough. He pulls out of the embrace and puts his palm out to signal her to wait a moment. He stands up and starts performing bodyweight squat-jacks.

Zelda stares at him in disbelief.

“What... are you doing?”

Link is silent and focused on moving, engaging his entire body. He continues the squat-jacks until he feels himself begin to break a sweat, grunting during the last one, at which point he stops.

“Generating body heat,” he huffs.

He stumbles, taking a seat beside Zelda again and removes his coat, panting out puffs of steam. He takes off his belts and blue tunic, now only in his off-white long-sleeved undershirt. This should transfer heat better, he thinks. Over his undershirt, Link puts the coat back on and wraps the sides of it around both him and Zelda to form a seal with it so that the air is contained. Link again closes the distance with a gentle but firm embrace. She can feel his heart thumping in his chest from the exertion against her arms which makes her a tad lightheaded and giddy, but his idea is working. The sum of the fire, the insulation from the warm towels, the heat radiating off his body as well as his breath confined by the coat, is warming her.

“Oh. Of course...” Zelda responds sheepishly to the situation, internally justifying his actions with reason. “Yes, that makes sense.”

He tucks his face into the towel over her collarbone and exhales heavily.

Even with his back turned when she prayed, Link always kept an ear open to what Zelda would say. He had escorted her to the Spring of Courage just a few days prior; he vividly remembers hearing how her voice broke as she asked the Goddess what was wrong with her, and it made him deeply uncomfortable to hear her so miserable. He had turned to face her and gently counseled her to wrap it up for today, with his superficial reasoning being that it was getting late, but the deeper reason being that he didn’t want to listen to her hurting. He wanted to hold her tight at that moment but was still worried about professionalism and politeness. There wasn’t much he could do. But currently, Link is feeling catharsis for that missed opportunity.

The two stay like this for a half a minute before Zelda breaks their silence.

“Link. I need to tell you something,” she says gravely.

Link’s ears perk at her tone. He nods, softly grunting in acknowledgment. His breathing is still short.

“Two nights ago, the night after we returned from the Spring of Courage, I had an unsettling dream.” Zelda’s eyes become distant, moving up and to the left, as though she were recalling the scene. “In pitch darkness, there was a lone woman haloed by a blinding light. She was beautiful. I could sense she wasn’t of our world. Her lips spoke urgently, but I couldn’t hear what she said. Her words failed to reach me.”

She looks back down to the top of Link’s messy head and frowns.

“I woke up from it filled with a feeling of dread... dread like I hadn’t known before. Since that dream, I haven’t been able to shake this sense that something terrible is about to happen. And whatever it is, I’m not prepared.”

A lump forms in Zelda’s throat. “And I’m not sure why anyone would believe this sense of urgency coming to me. After all, what have I to prove successful communication with the Goddess? Nothing. And yet...”

“I believe you,” Link replies.

He is actually biting his nails internally, but he tries to numb himself to it and it doesn’t show. After accompanying her countless times, he knows how observational Zelda is and can’t help but trust her intuition.

“Are you afraid?” she asks waveringly.

Link bites his tongue, unsure what Zelda wants to hear. If he says he’s not afraid, will she feel like she’s being undermined and overreacting to a major threat? If he says he is afraid, will she lose confidence in his ability to protect the kingdom? The pressure is also on him to perform, just as it is for her. Hesitantly, Link confesses to his stress with a whispered humph. His arms are still wrapped firmly around Zelda’s body, and he rubs her back comfortingly, feeling the beads of the towel’s fabric under his hands. The sensation of his chest rising and falling makes her feel safer.

Zelda instead seems relieved at his response. That he knows how she feels.

“I just feel that—it feels that at any moment something awful could happen.”

Link pulls back to look her in the eyes, hands on her shoulders for coat insulation. He wants to tell her they’ll get through this together but he is unable to speak, or even know if what he’d say would be the truth. Zelda’s too penetratingly critical to believe it, and he’s not sure he truly believes a pointless platitude either, to be honest.

Zelda also looks into his eyes. After being accompanied by him countless times, she has learned to read her taciturn escort’s subtle expressions. His tight-lipped face communicates worry and pensiveness, which paradoxically feels reassuring to her. Her face heats up when she begins to feel her eyes involuntarily water. She’s always been a strong girl. She held herself with dignity when her mother died eleven years ago. She can’t remember the last time she felt hot tears stinging her eyes, at least not in front of anyone else.

At least the fluids in her body were warm again, she tells herself.

Link notices. He wipes her eyes with the towel. She takes the towel in her own hands and lowers her chin, hiding her face. He pats her back gently as she gives a hefty sniff from her runny nose.

“Let’s head back,” Link says softly. She nods, face red from both embarrassment and the cold.

Beckoning Zelda to her feet, he hands Zelda back her dress. Unfortunately, she has no dry change of clothes besides the coat by itself, and neither of them want her to present herself naked in a towel in front of the rest of the Champions.

“Put it back on,” Link gestures to her ceremonial gown. “I’ll keep you warm on the way.”

With Link’s back turned and eyes closed, Zelda dresses back into her white gown. It’s still damp, but it is not dripping wet. A good portion of the water has evaporated next to the heat of the fire and in part due to the type of fabric it is woven from. The smoky scent of embers still lingers in the cloth.

At the same time, Link puts his own clothes back on; he dresses back into his blue tunic and fastens the belt around his waist and chest. Once Zelda gives him the okay, he turns around, takes her dry winter coat out and slips it on over her gown. He takes his hood back, packs away the towels into their bag, and stamps out the fire.

He glances down at Zelda’s open-toed sandals, her poor toes red. “Can you walk back in those?” he asks. Even down the slope of the mountain, the Naydra Snowfield poses as an obstacle before the clearing to Lanayru’s East Gate where the Champions await their return.

“No,” Zelda simply states, shaking her head. She knows she won’t be able to. She was able to power through open-toed footwear in the snow earlier out of a sense of expectation that her devotion would be heard. But that thread of hope has gone nowhere, and she has since emerged from the Spring of Wisdom with a slightly more impoverished state of mind from their initial trek up the mountain. Her feet are also icicles.

Guilt hangs heavy in her chest for telling him that she isn’t able to walk in her sandals through the snow now, though she could earlier. Even when she had just told him she doesn’t want to trouble him, and even when he addressed her worry in his typical silent way. When will she just accept the seemingly endless lengths he’d go for her? It’s literally his job, she reasons to herself. Get a grip.

Link doesn’t seem to give away what he feels about a situation. Directly knowing how people feel about states of affairs is how Zelda naturally feels at ease with others. Even now she still sometimes finds her imagination running wild at what his attitude is for any course of action or situation, wanting to make sure she doesn’t accidentally step on his toes if he truly dissents but never voices it. Since meeting Link, she’s had to learn to understand that he is actually a very simple person, much simpler than she had initially believed. He holds no strong opinions either way and seems fine, even functioning at his best, when sailing wherever the wind may take him. She’s amazed and even a little envious at how ‘okay’ he seems with things all the time, but her slight envy backpedals as she wonders if an existence like that ever feels aimless and numb.

Numb like her toes right now.

Shouldering the bag, Link kneels down next to her and slowly hoists Zelda up in his arms with a guttural grunt, holding her in the same bridal carry as before: his left arm supporting her back and his right arm behind her knees. When lifting her, he adroitly puts a slight twist on the fabric of the dress around the contour of her legs so that the cold air doesn’t have many opportunities to blow in from under.

Link’s stature is slightly shorter than Zelda’s by about ten centimeters, but he is still strong enough to carry her. She is repeatedly impressed by his physical strength for such a small, lean little Hylian.

“I hope I’m not too heavy,” Zelda coos, “I’m so sorry to make you do this, Link.” The guilt of burdening him with more labor just won’t quit no matter how much she knows he probably doesn’t care.

Link gives her a look, a mild but confident one accompanied by an almost imperceptible grin. More readily does Zelda identify his smiles from his eyes than his mouth—the way his bottom eyelid just ever so slightly moves upward. Seeing his expression brings her a faint sense of relief, showing her that he has it under control and isn’t struggling, and also that she needn’t worry about apologizing.

He kind of likes doing it, anyway.

After taking one last glance at the Spring of Wisdom, Link turns his back to it and begins to move down the mountain with Zelda in his arms. Zelda doesn’t look back.

                                                      • • •

The two continue their journey through the snow in silence. They’ve descended down Mount Lanayru from the Spring of Courage now. The late afternoon sky reflects off the snow-capped mountain behind them and the snowfield before them with a gorgeous pale orange glow, accompanied by contrasting blue-tinted shadows.

Link glances at Zelda, and notices her eyes are closed. He thinks about how exhausted she must be, yet so determined to get the answers she needs. He knows she will continue to push herself, and he is determined to keep up with and protect her. Under it all, his heart breaks for Zelda. It’s not fair. Time after time, she dedicates herself fully. Just like him. She puts just as much effort into her training as he does, yet gets nothing out of it but reminders of her inadequacy. Link was naturally born with a gravitation towards swordsmanship. He enjoys the thrill, making sense of and creating his own techniques, and seeing how he has improved. In this way, he thinks Zelda is even stronger than he is for having to put up with training she loathes and sees no progress out of for ten years. If she were able to freely chase her intellectual pursuits instead of being required to play her role as princess for the kingdom, Link is certain she’d have as much skill in her own niche as he does in his own, and would actually be satisfied with her own accomplishments. And doing this on her birthday no less? He wants nothing more than to cook something delicious for her today in comfort and safety. She deserves it. She deserves it so much. She pours hours into dedicating herself to the benefit of everyone. And for that, he feels himself bonded to her, and especially after today, a deeper sense of devotion and protectiveness towards her than he has ever felt before.

Without much thought, he holds her closer as he carries her through the afternoon-lit snowfield, hands squeezing her back and legs which causes her eyes to flutter open. The air is gradually getting warmer and the snow is thinning under his boots. He’s starting to tire a bit, but continues forward.

With grass now under their feet, Link puts Zelda down. The air is warmer here and Zelda is noticing she’s getting sweaty with anticipation. She takes off her coat and hands it to Link who promptly bags it.

Approaching the east gate, her expression becomes more and more pensive at the prospect of informing the Champions of her failure again and squashing their hope. They’ve given her so much encouragement. It’s only fair that they get something in return for the time and hope they’ve invested into her endeavors. She feels herself to be a hope sink. Not to mention, what is she going to tell her father back at the castle...? From behind her, Link sees her head bow slightly.

“Zelda,” Link speaks with that gentle breathy tone of his that he rarely uses. He knows Zelda doesn’t care for him addressing her with formalities such as Princess.

She stops and turns her head to him, knowing that it’s important enough for him to speak about. His expression is neutral but there’s an inhibited fondness behind it. “Yes?”

Link saunters until he’s caught up with Zelda, stopping next to her. He reaches from below and holds her hand, lacing his fingers between hers.

“Happy birthday.”

[ladystormcrow]

Crow Takes A Trip, Part 5

After Powell's, we drove up to Multnomah Falls. Since getting parking at the actual falls is a nightmare (thank you for warning us @thoughtfulrxven!), we took a shuttle up to the site.

After that, we drove up to the base of Mount Hood. Unfortunately, the mountain was too covered in fog and rain for us to see anything (the same thing happened when we tried to visit Mount Saint Helens on our previous trip -- we must be cursed), but there was a little museum that was fun, covering the terrain and wildlife of the mountain and the history of skiing there.

On our way out of Portland on Thursday, we stopped here for doughnuts to take on the road. Please don't cancel us!

(Continued here)

[sweet-caress-of-twilight]

Going off of one of my previous reblogs, i attempted to make a list of where in the world every Disney Animated Canon movie takes place

Antarctica:

Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros) (Pablo starts out living in the South Pole and then he goes to Chile, Peru, and Ecuador)

Africa

The Lion King

Tarzan

Asia

Aladdin is set in a mishmash of Middle Eastern countries. It was supposed to be in Iraq, but because of the Persian Gulf War, Disney said no, so it takes place in the fictional country of Agrabah, which is inspired by Baghdad in Iraq.

Raya and the Last Dragon is set in a mishmash of Southeast Asian countries, but takes the most inspiration from Vietnam

China: Mulan

India: The Jungle Book

Europe

England: The Wind in the Willows (The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad), Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan, 101 Dalmatians, The Sword in the Stone, Robin Hood, Winnie the Pooh, The Great Mouse Detective

France: Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Aristocats, Beauty and the Beast, The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Germany: Snow White, Tangled

Greece: The Pastoral Symphony (Fantasia), Hercules

Italy: Pinocchio

Norway: Frozen (Arendelle is heavily inspired by Norway)

Russia: Peter and the Wolf (Make Mine Music)

Spain: Wish (Rosas is inspired by Spain and located off the Iberian Peninsula)

Turkey: Pomp and Circumstance (Fantasia 2000) is about Noah's Ark, and many people believe that the ark landed at Mount Ararat in present-day Turkey

Ukraine: Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria (Fantasia) (the real Bald Mountain is Mount Triglaf, near Kyiv in Ukraine)

Wales: The Black Cauldron

North America

Mexico:

Las Posadas

Mexico: Pátzcuaro, Veracruz and Acapulco

You Belong to My Heart/Donald's Surreal Reverie (all from The Three Caballeros)

United States:

Different towns in Massachusetts and California have claimed to be the Mudville that Casey at the Bat (Make Mine Music) takes place in, but the author of the original poem said it has no basis in fact.

The Legend of Johnny Appleseed (Melody Time) - the real Johnny Appleseed (real name John Chapman) planted apple trees in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Ontario, and West Virginia

Lady and the Tramp could take place somewhere in New England

The Fox and the Hound looks like it takes place in Appalachia, so maybe Pennsylvania or Virginia

Home on the Range is somewhere in the Old West

Bolt takes place across America: starts out in California, the title character ends up in New York, visits Ohio, and is back to California by the end

Alaska: Brother Bear

California: Wreck it Ralph (Ralph Breaks the Internet reveals that Litwak's Arcade is in California), Big Hero 6

Florida: Dumbo

Hawaii: Lilo and Stitch

Louisiana: Blue Bayou (Make Mine Music), most of The Rescuers, The Princess and the Frog

Maine: Bambi (the forest was based on Maine and the animators traveled to Maine for reference)

New York: Johnny Fedora and Alice Blue Bonnet, The Whale Who Wanted to Sing at the Met (Make Mine Music) (the Metropolitan Opera is in NYC), Little Toot (Melody Time), The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad) (the real Sleepy Hollow is in New York), The Rescuers (the Rescue Aid Society headquarters is in NYC), Oliver and Company, Rhapsody in Blue (Fantasia 2000)

Texas: Pecos Bill (Melody Time)

Virginia: Pocahontas

Washington, DC: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (Milo works at the Smithsonian

Oceania

The Rescuers Down Under: Australia

Moana: Polynesia

Pangaea

The Rite of Spring (Fantasia)

Dinosaur

South America

Argentina: Pedro, El Gaucho Goofy (Saludos Amigos)

Bolivia: Lake Titicaca (Saludos Amigos)

Brazil: Aquarela do Brasil (Saludos Amigos), Baia (The Three Caballeros), Blame It on the Samba (Melody Time),

Chile: Pedro (Saludos Amigos) (The title character delivers the mail in the Andes, between Santiago, Chile, and Mendoza, Argentina), Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros)

Colombia: Encanto

Ecuador: Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros) (Pablo goes to the Galapagos Islands, which is an archipelago in Ecuador)

Peru: Lake Titicaca (Saludos Amigos) (the lake is at the border between Peru and Bolivia), Pablo the Cold-Blooded Penguin (The Three Caballeros), The Emperor's New Groove

Uruguay: The Flying Gauchito (The Three Caballeros)

Unknown/does not take place in our world

Any of the package film segments not mentioned here

The Little Mermaid seems like it takes place in the Mediterranean Sea, but it could also take place in the Caribbean, which would explain Sebastian's accent

Fantasia 2000: "Pines of Rome" is set in the Arctic, so it could be anywhere from Canada to Alaska to Finland to Russia

Most of Atlantis: the Lost Empire, since the city of Atlantis is completely made up

Treasure Planet

Chicken Little

Meet the Robinsons

Zootopia

Strange World

[diabolus1exmachina]

Lincoln Indianapolis (one-off). 

With its sextet of faux, side-mounted exhaust pipes, proboscis-like front end and aircraft-style wraparound screens, the one-off design study looks eye-poppingly futuristic even today – so imagine how extreme it must have seemed when the wraps were first pulled off it at the Turin International Automobile Show in 1955.As is often the case with such ‘concepts’ the design was created in double-quick time, flowing from the pen of Gian Paolo Boano, the talented 20-something son of the celebrated coachbuilder and former Ghia boss Felice Mario Boano. Boano senior only founded Carrozzeria Boano in 1954, but Gian Paolo had an ex-Ford friend who suggested that, if the Boanos could create a dramatic and futuristic design based on FoMoCo underpinnings, it might serve as a starting point for establishing a potentially lucrative arrangement between the fledgling firm and the giant manufacturer.

Gian Paolo was thus handed a Lincoln chassis – Lincoln being Ford’s luxury marque – and set to work creating large-scale sketches that he and the carrozzeria’s skilled craftsman brought to life using a combination of steel tubing and sheet metal. The hugely exaggerated hood was flanked by suitably long wheel arches (or ‘fenders’ in U.S. speak) that each held twin stacked headlamps and culminated in shrouds from which those fake exhaust tips ostentatiously protruded.

The feature was balanced by forward-facing air vents set into door-mounted cowlings that flowed seamlessly into the rear wings which, in turn, book-ended a sloping tail that made the roof seem even more ‘canopy’ like to reinforce the design’s aviation influences.

The 2+2-seater ‘cockpit’ was trimmed, chequered flag-style in black and white and featured a wraparound dashboard and bucket seats separated by a prominent, stepped centre console. And, just to make sure Boano’s futuristic creation didn’t go un-noticed, its already dramatic bodywork was finished in a coat of flaming orange paint.

With Carrozzeria Boano being based just a few miles west of Turin, it was an easy job to get the freshly-finished, freshly-named ‘Indianapolis Exclusive Study’ to the 37th Salone dell'Automobile, where it wowed the crowds and provided visiting motoring journalists with ready copy. Auto Age magazine even made it the cover star of its November issue, teasing its readers with the tantalising caption: “Is this the next Lincoln?”