#also side note - i have no idea what Vikings skin actually looks like

[arckiaym]

Hey @amberstormblade amberstormblade, me again. You've captivated me and from now on I won't tag u so I'm not annoying but know that your idea lives rent free in my mind

I like to think they're going on a road trip through the nether to try and find a way to get viking un-pigged. And along the way he learns all about leg's culture and family and all that and it solves their animosity because they're communicating and understanding each other :)

siblings ykwim?

Blood below the cut b careful u goobers

I'd imagine going from one form to another would be pretty grotesque. Lil gruesome perhaps. (I wanted to draw blood that is the only reason)

Also I'm sure u can tell but I like to draw pig guys as both pigs and guys so get used to seeing em lookin different every single time. I'm not consistent.

[moonbaby26]

Title: A Party and a Spy

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki is forced to return to Asgard to unwillingly participate in the festivities honoring Odin and Thor’s victories in Alfheim. He ends up drunk and in a piss poor mood that he then wants you to help relieve. Your secret meetings also finally attract an unwanted visitor. Super brief cameos here by Sif, the warriors three, and Thor, as well as Heimdall again.

Warnings: Semi smut possibly, but no real sex this chapter. Sorry to tease, will be some next chapter. Here is just mentions of arousal, grinding through clothing. Mention of masturbation. Also some animal abuse, but a magical animal who will be fine I guess. The princes are just jerks like that.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername , @just-wordsandthoughts , @cringingmemeries

My Masterlist

——————————

You still felt warm, your head just poking out from under the blanket as you stretched a little. Your hand ran out across the mattress after a moment though, contacting nothing to your surprise as you then opened your eyes.

As you quickly sat up, the look on your face must have said far too much as you heard a chuckle from nearby.

“No, goddess, I haven’t left just yet. My, you are expressive though.”

As you turned your head towards the voice, you saw Loki now sitting in one of the two chairs at the small table opposite your side of the bed.

He was still dressed only in a pair of pants you also quickly noted, yourself still so unused to seeing this much of him as your eyes lingered on the lean muscle and pale skin.

“What?” He asked, not missing that stare either, though the sly look in his eyes told you he knew damned well what you were now distracted with. He just wanted you to say it.

“Asgardians really do wear too many clothes, if you are any proper example anyway.” You replied simply though. Why hide so much all the time?

He raised an eyebrow, but was smirking as he taunted a little further. “Oh I can assure you, there is no one in Asgard like me. And you’d prefer this not be reserved just for you then?”

You tried not to look caught off guard. Even if he were only teasing, the implication that he’d still be keeping this type of intimacy for you alone was something that made your stomach flutter slightly.

“Come here.” He said next though, snapping you back to attention, though you still hesitated. Was that a command or a request?

He only rolled his eyes after a moment though. “Oh, don’t waste time trying to be proud now. I do have to leave shortly, it will already be late morning in Asgard by now.” He extended a hand to you. “So come, sit with me.”

You eventually acquiesced, standing from the bed then, though intending just to walk to the other chair. Yet the very moment you were close enough, he only grabbed you by the arm, pulling you down to sit on his lap instead.

He was surprisingly fast and strong when he wished to be, his arms already around your waist as well before you could think to try and stand again.

“There. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He spoke lowly against your ear as you shifted.

But to your surprise he didn’t touch you any further, even though one arm did stay around your waist to keep you steady as his other hand just went back to the table.

“I have a job for you.” He added, then moving his hand oddly as a piece of parchment paper and a writing quill appeared abruptly from thin air. “At least I think it may work. I’m sure the majority of these animals are illiterate. I’m hoping at least the clan chief has some shaman or someone of the sort that understands these runes. It’s the only written language I’ve ever seen in this land.”

But even as he started to write on the paper, your mind was still only fixating on what you’d just seen as you asked abruptly. “How did you do that?”

He seemed focused on whatever symbols he was now putting on the page, but he still answered. “How do I do what? They’re just runes.”

“No, how did you conjure the pen and paper?” Controlling the elements, moving objects by will, or casting illusions was one thing. But forming a very unnatural, man made object from essentially nothing was different than the typical kind of magic you were used to.

Loki paused a moment then, like trying to digest what you’d just said before he glanced back up to look you in the eyes.

“The woman can move the seas themselves and is astonished by a piece of paper?” He mocked incredulously.

Your eyebrows lowered. “Listen, I know good and well I’m no sorceress. That’s why I’m asking. How do you create something like that from nothing?”

He shook his head. “Gods, they really just give magic to anyone these days.”

A joke clearly, as everything you had you had been born with, though learning to control it had taken time. And to be honest, was still an ongoing learning process. But you still wanted an answer as you looked at him pointedly.

He sighed under your gaze. “I really don’t have the time for this. But I know you won’t let it go.” He had continued writing though even as he kept talking. “I didn’t make them, goddess. I brought them with me. You are at least correct in that nearly all instances of magic, nothing can be made without taking of something else. I’m sure when you make those little whirlpools of yours for instance, you’re drawing the latent energy from the water. The currents, the temperature differences, what have you. To truly make something from nothing...well, that would be chaos magic. Which, may or may not even exist depending which of the ancient mages’ tomes you most believe in.”

You could tell he did take pride in his studies and the principles behind them clearly. If he wasn’t already concerned about returning to Asgard, you could probably get a whole lecture on this subject right now. But you couldn’t help but point out again, as you just responded. “Yet you still haven’t really answered my question. If you brought them with you, where were they before?” You glanced down at his pants as if to reaffirm your doubt that anything other than himself had been hidden there as they were relatively tight.

Yet he still smirked at your continued insistence. “On the scale of the things I’m capable of, my dear, that’s just a parlor trick. And if you really care so much, I can teach you at some other time.”

At that, he paused writing again though, placing the quill down momentarily as he then moved his hand again for a long dagger to abruptly be held in his palm. “You see? There are far better uses to this trick.” He flipped the knife just as quickly though, letting the blade’s point stab into the table as the dagger then stood on end.

And as it did so he made sure to look to see your reaction, also asking you, “Do you really just depend on your servants to follow you around at all hours with any weapons you may need?”

Yet you just looked from the dagger, then back to him. Surprised surely, but not actually frightened. “And do you have so many enemies as to always need that at the ready?”

“One never really knows do they?” He answered smoothly, just grasping the dagger’s handle again before it disappeared once more.

It didn’t seem like a threat really. But you felt he still wanted you to know a bit more of what he was capable of. You quieted afterward as he went back to writing for a few more moments.

When he was done, you could tell he glanced over the letter briefly, as if proofreading before he rolled the paper tightly and folded it.

He spoke rather business like then, an odd thing honestly as you still sat so intimately on his lap. “If it wasn’t already obvious, I’d like you to carry this to the village leader while I return to Asgard. I don’t have the time to deal with the mortals right now, and besides, they’re your pets.”

“Excuse me? Have you forgotten whose idea this whole ‘protector’ role was to begin with?”

“Oh, I was willing to let the lot of them be wiped out if you’d chosen not to save them. I’d only need to spare whichever the nicest home was from burning as the marauders moved through, and we still would have ended up with a place to meet regardless.”

The sad thing was, you were actually sure he really meant that too. But he just continued.

“Yet you pitied them, and now here we are. And as the beasts held up their end of the bargain, I agree it’s fair at least to give them some recognition for their work. A pat on the head and a ‘good dog’ essentially, that’s what this letter says. So you see, I’m not wholly ungrateful.”

“A thank you letter?” You asked dryly. Relatively sure it likely didn’t read completely as such.

“Well, essentially. But with a reminder on the rules as well.”

“Rules?”

“Our privacy must be respected. I’ll put a green flame at the end of the trail nearer the village when we’re present. During the night, this place is also solely ours. If during the day there’s no flame, then they can come up and clean and maintenance this tiny wood hutch like good help should.”

“Your staff at your palace must just adore you.” You mused sarcastically. “The mortals are not our slaves, Loki.”

“It’s really an odd thing how you fancy them.” He retorted, though with an air of someone just humoring another person they already thought irreparably deluded. “But I suppose you have nothing else fulfilling to pass the time when I’m in Asgard. Some people like to paint, others like to craft things...you, you have your pets.”

Arrogant god you thought. As if suddenly you had no other purpose outside of him? Surely he saw that insulted look in your eyes as well, because you could see the entertained mirth in his own before he pulled you closer to kiss you suddenly.

And this one was rough again, briefly reminding you of that night in the cave as you felt his hands move down to your hips. His tongue was already in your mouth before you could even consider pulling away.

From last night when he’d only held you, to now seeming so hungry again, the sides of him could change so quickly you were learning.

His hands didn’t move beneath your dress though, even though you thought his fingers may be grabbing you hard enough to bruise as he twisted you to be fully facing him. Straddling him actually with each of your legs now on either side of him as he rested against the back of the chair.

He kept kissing you, and it wasn’t long before you felt that distinct hardness against you even through his pants. As always though, you wore nothing beneath your dress, a matter of practicality really for as often as you were in the water. Who would want any undergarments constantly rubbing and chaffing where you were most sensitive? You liked sheer and loose material in the dresses you wore, so that it moved easily as you swam and dried quickly when you were on land.

But he knew all this by now of course, as he just ground his hips then, that rough seam of his pants then moving between your legs as he drug it back and forth.

He was intentionally trying to work you up. You sensed the trap, but still found your own hands moving across his bare chest soon enough.

Your newfound lack of willpower was really astounding. Finally though, you pulled your head back to break the kiss and warn him. “If you’re just doing this with no intention to actually follow through...”

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have taken it last night.” He retorted though. “I’ve already stayed too long.”

“Why can’t I want both?” You answered, meaning it as well. It wasn’t just sex, nor was it just being in his company. Neither by itself was enough anymore. Each had its own place.

He looked frustrated himself though as you felt him thrust against you reflexively, that bulge in his pants wasted even as it scraped against where you were now becoming wet. “I’m telling you, Odin is back at the palace now. I have to be calculated in the times I come and go. There is some damned ceremony today, likely starting any moment by now for their victories in Alfheim. If I’m not there, they’re going to come looking for me.”

As much as you knew he liked to bend the truth. It wouldn’t make sense for him to deny himself this right now unless it was actually for good reason.

“Well you’re the one who pulled me into your lap and kissed me.” You relented, though your own body now fully flustered and urging you to return to him even as you stood up and stepped away.

“Well you shouldn’t have slept so late.” He grumbled back. Pulling at his pants in some discomfort as he stood as well.

But you watched as his armor manifested then, horned helmet and all as his magic washed across him. What you guessed would now be his attire for the ceremony he’d spoken of. You assumed that clothing and armor had been in whatever void the pen, paper, and dagger had been.

At least with his illusions he could also conceal his arousal if it hadn’t faded on its own by the time he reached the palace though, you thought with some amusement.

Yet, even as he walked for the door, he taunted to you as if sensing your enjoyment of his current predicament. “You’re welcome to get back in the bed you know. Think of me while you self soothe, goddess.”

So crude. But you just fired back before he could close the door. “And is that what you do at night in Asgard? Think of yourself as well to finish things off?” You were trying to mock his evident self importance of course.

Yet he didn’t even miss a beat at the intended insult. “Why be myself when I can just be you? Then I never have to forget how you feel.”

And just to prove that he could, you stared in disbelief as a perfect likeness of yourself then smiled back at you lewdly, thin dress and all before shutting the door unceremoniously.

Gods. That was just unnatural. And you had to sit down at that, arousal now paused at least as your body’s resulting confusion was almost palpable.

———————————

Asgard, not long after

Loki was back to his normal appearance, hurriedly stepping into the small grouping of warriors he’d recognized at once in the rest of the crowd at the palace ceremonial hall.

Sif’s head turned in immediate surprise and annoyance as those golden horns entered her peripheral vision. The irritation was evident even as she tried to keep her voice low with so many others still around them. “And just where have you been!? Thor was looking for you everywhere!”

“I was in the library, did he think to look in the library!?” Loki spat back immediately, knowing that even if his brother had checked there, Thor knew the layout of it so poorly, he could always have claimed to have been in another section.

“Yet why are you breathing so hard, chap? Were you actually running?” Fandral asked as well, also looking Loki over.

“And why pray tell would I have been running?” Loki shot a glare to him next. Could they not mind their own damned business for once?

“Because you were late?” Volstagg offered in that simplistic, yet matter of fact way that was always beyond annoying even on the best day.

“Well I’m here now.” Loki huffed, though not missing the way Hogun was also staring at him critically. “And do you have something to add?” Loki grumbled at him.

But only Sif answered. “Well if you hadn’t been lost in the library,” Her tone made clear how little she believed that excuse, “You’d know that Thor chose you to give the congratulatory speech before-”

“The what?” Loki stared at her, that odd mix of horror and disgust then abruptly clear on his face.

——————————

“So what more can I say of Asgard’s favorite son?” Loki’s public speaking voice boomed richly through the great hall, the throng of happy faces sickening as he smiled right back at them. What fresh Hel was this really?

“Alfheim counts her graces I am sure to have such noble saviors defend her-” By the gods he didn’t even know what Odin and Thor had done there the entire time. He assumed there’d been skull bashing and the normal heroics. But if they’d been working out peace treaties instead the last few weeks, who knew. He’d been looking for hidden portals to Midgard still on the days they’d held the main debriefings.

“And with peace secured in the realms once more, please join me in giving thanks to the noble Allfather and the mighty Thor!” Loki wasn’t normally one for alcohol. Not in comparison to most Asgardians anyway. He thought it dulled the mind too much. But by all the mages in all the realms...he so badly needed it now, as he took a large swig of the strongest Asgard had, before throwing the glass down to shatter it as was custom. “And let the feasts commence!”

The crowd erupted in cheers. And on any other day, that would have been something he obviously would have wanted. But Loki knew that not one voice was for him as he suddenly felt a large hand and arm go around his shoulders, shaking him roughly before his brother’s voice joined the yells, yet right in his ear.

“HUZZAH!” Thor cried, one arm still around Loki as his other lifted Mjolnir triumphantly.

—————————

And it was so many hours later before Loki had finally escaped. Time and time again as he’d tried to excuse himself from the endless barrage of drinks and food, it was as if his brother had somehow sensed it.

Then there would be Thor again, telling him any one of those same stories over and over as he’d somehow corralled Loki back into the feast room. If he’d had to hear one more time how with one hand forced behind his back, and Mjolnir still in mid air, that Thor had kicked one of the enemies’ bombs right back into their own garrison, taking out an entire enemy troop as more of their stored artillery then exploded...Loki may have finally vomited.

As it was now, he wasn’t exactly walking a straight line either though. Just carrying his own helmet in one hand, his head already throbbing as he made his way slowly through the corridors. His other arm reaching out occasionally, grazing the walls for balance.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d drank so much. Well, more like been forced to drink so much, just to try and maintain his sanity in what was essentially just another gathering of his brother’s sycophants.

Honestly did Thor even see it? Did he really think all those hanger-ons were truly his friends? Perhaps there was some argument for Sif and the warriors three. As thick headed as they all were, they were about cut from the same cloth. And that was not a compliment.

But all the others? It’d be almost pitiable really if it weren’t so damned annoying. Yet maybe it was the alcohol there as well, making Loki linger on so many of these feelings again.

By the time he reached the entrance to his quarters, he was frowning as he pushed the heavy doors open. He still made sure that they shut fully behind him though as he waved his hand to lock them doubly with a spell.

It was not without precedent that in some true late night madness, either Thor, or Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg may still force entry to try and get him to accompany them on some additional drunken adventure while they were still riding so high on their accomplishments.

“Idiots,” Loki grumbled to no one though. Still stuck in that sour mood as he moved across the dark room, losing clothes as he did so before finally ending up in his elaborate bed. The silken sheets were then the only thing against his skin as he laid there in silence, though the room still feeling like it was moving slightly in his lingering vertigo.

But he just wanted to sleep. That and to will this headache and the thoughts that worsened it away.

But instead he only laid there. His drunken thoughts churning louder and louder as the minutes passed, alone in this extravagant, luxurious, and also very empty bed.

Scattered across the palace now, he could only imagine all the couplings likely occurring. Not necessarily in the full sense of the word. But he knew how these types of festivities normally ended.

Thor was likely in an archway somewhere with Sif, pawing at each other with all the finesse of a pair of schoolchildren. Fandral and Hogun would still be at a table, Fandral now showing off his sword to a couple maidens simultaneously with only thinly veiled euphemisms of how it compared to the hidden equivalent. And Volstagg would have his actual wife and children there, somehow still not bored of them yet as they all laughed together.

And that’s what it really was, laughable.

Loki rolled onto his side, glaring towards the balcony and the stars dotting the black sky beyond it. No, he didn’t need any of that farce of companionship. Not just for the sake of it anyway like all the others. He took what he wanted, when he wanted surely. Pleasure was one thing after all, but it didn’t control him.

You didn’t control him actually. Because no one controlled the god of mischief.

But the longer he lay there in silence, the more he could then imagine your fingers soon running through his hair, or the warmth of your lap to lay his aching head in. He’d had bad days before, many times retreating to this very room alone. But he didn’t have to be alone tonight. He didn’t have to be alone at all anymore did he?

“Goddamnit.” He finally hissed. It was foolhardy, dangerous even after just returning from Midgard already once today. But he wasn’t going to sleep tonight otherwise. Not until he had what he really wanted.

——————————

Loki certainly wasn’t going to be walking all the way to the bifrost gate. Not at this hour, and not in this condition. So he’d taken a form that at least no one would have second guessed if they’d just happened to look up as he’d passed quickly overhead.

One of Father’s ravens, or the rats with wings as he preferred to call them. And as he’d landed near Heimdall, then regaining his normal form, the older god just looked down at him, unimpressed.

“She’s returned to the ocean. She already sleeps.” Heimdall spoke unprompted.

Yet Loki’s eyebrows rose mockingly, even if his words took a little more effort right now. “Oh? Making a habit of watching her…even without me then? That’s a bit perverse.”

But the gatekeeper’s expression hardly changed at the insult, still so difficult to goad. “I saw you coming, and your questions to her whereabouts are becoming predictable.”

It was true. Loki had already come here several nights, yes. Mostly to check whether the mortals had finished that structure or not. And it’d finally been a pleasant reward just the other night when Heimdall had confirmed it already done and you there waiting.

“I don’t care where she is.” Loki retorted though. “I’m going to Midgard. Open the gate.”

“You are inebriated.” Heimdall warned.

“And you have a severely itritating penchant for stating the obvious…open the gate.” He commanded more forcefully.

“Anywhere in Midgard particular?” Heimdall answered.

Loki paused though, hearing that slightest change in the guardian’s normal stoic tone with those last words. “Are you…attempting to make a joke?”

“I did not wish to assume or state the obvious again as you said. And you also say you do not care where she is. So do you not care where you should land tonight then?”

He was! He was mocking him. Loki growled, pointing his finger for emphasis. “Now listen here…it has been a god awful, long day. Quit trying to dissuade me. Send me to the village, gatekeeper!”

“Any village?”

Gods. “My village, her village, whatever you want to call it. But do it or I’ll use the damned sword myself!”

With one last cheerless look down at Loki, Heimdall turned the sword then, opening the gate even as he warned a final time. “Do not fall from the bifrost, Prince. The universe is vast and does not suffer the careless well. Do remember as well that all things done have consequences in the end.”

But Loki had no time to search for deeper meaning in the words, just ruffling more as he walked towards the light. “Is that a threat?”

“Only a truth and a caution.” Heimdall again answered, just before the other disappeared back across the bridge.

———————————

And as the light left him again, Loki was once more in that dark forest. Yet, the ground far lighter colored than normal as to a little of his surprise, his boots now found fresh snow. Winter had finally arrived to this part of Midgard apparently.

He cursed, realizing it would have been far smarter to have told Heimdall to deposit him directly onto the beach this time as he’d now had to navigate back down the hillside and to the trail that led between the cliff face.

It had started snowing again as well as he walked, the large flakes sticking in his black hair by the time he reached the ocean’s edge. He should have told you just to stay at the cabin this morning. But he didn’t expect to be standing here again so soon either.

Loki didn’t care about the water at this point though, the waves rushing up around his feet and over the top of his boots as he trudged forward to call out. “Hear me, sea beasts! Hear me and bring your mistress to me!”

And it didn’t take long of course before he saw two feminine looking torsos rise just where the waves were breaking in the distance. Not quite human, but expressive enough that he could see the skepticism in their body language.

“She’s asleep!” One called back over the waves.

“Then go and wake her!” He only hissed back as if scolding an insubordinate child. Why did everyone feel the need to test him tonight?

But the two nymphs just looked at one another. The other then speaking. “What is so important? Are you claiming injury again?”

He scoffed at the jab, voice easily sliding into its darker range then, even in his continued drunken state. He did not have time for this. “Do not forget your place, water sprite.”

And as he made a move as if to step further into the water, he was pleased to see them both shrink back at that. When they disappeared not long after, he knew all he now had to do was wait.

—————————

You didn’t fully know what to expect. Why was he back so soon? Not that you should complain, but he’d made such a point about having to return to Asgard this morning, and he’d never come back so quickly before. Even though it was now dead of night.

The nymphs also said he’d been acting strangely, even a bit ruder than normal. They insisted you bring your spear, and so you had as you broke the surface only to find him sitting at the water’s edge. Though not even far enough onto the beach to stay dry as the water now ran around him and then pulled back with each successive wave. His pants and cloak were clearly soaked, snow also dotting all over him to your surprise.

“Loki?” You asked, concerned but cautious. Normally the rare sight of snow would have distracted you in its own right had you not been so focused on him. The north was still unique to you for all its differences.

“The cold doesn’t bother me either.” He said abruptly, seeing that worry in your eyes. But he didn’t stand out of the water. “You really should reprimand your servants…”

“It’s not quite that kind of a relationship.” You replied, though not defensively as you still tried to realize what was wrong with him. “Are you alright?”

“No.” He said simply.

If it was just another trick, it was a good one. But you felt you had no real choice but to behave as if he was sincere. You only laid your spear down in the water as you then moved to sit down beside him.

He looked over at you as you did, and you could see how tired he looked even in the darkness. So close to him then, that was finally when you smelled the scent of alcohol, impressively strong even over the salt smell of the ocean.

He was drunk.

“Loki…” You said again, unsure at all what would have driven him to this kind of excess. “Do you want me to help you to the cabin?”

He leaned closer though, as if to either kiss you or lay his head against yours. He did nuzzle your face slightly though as he whispered in your ear. “I want him to get closer first.” Before you could react though, he’d then grabbed your chin to keep you from looking away from him. “He can’t hear us over the noise of the sea…but don’t look away.”

And he did kiss you then, that heady taste of the alcohol almost as distracting as the nonsensical words. His hand was moving up your thigh as well as his other moved around to your back. It all seemed like only the beginnings of foreplay before just as suddenly, he then pushed you down beneath him. His hand that had been on your thigh pulled back simultaneously to throw a dagger violently out into the darkness.

You heard a distinct sound of a hit, a creature screech, and then chaotic flapping in the sand and snow somewhere near the cliff’s base.

Loki was now laying on top of you, your back still pressed into the wet sand as the water rushed back up around you both. He glanced back down at you then, ignoring the confusion in your eyes as he kissed you roughly several times more before finally pulling back again. “We’ll have to get back to that tomorrow…” He all but purred, mood shifting suddenly to satisfaction as he stood once more and offered you his hand.

Utterly baffled, you still took it, letting him help you up before he let go of you to walk off towards the distressed sounds you still heard near the cliff. You only hung back long enough to grab your spear before hurrying to follow him.

You didn’t know what kind of beast to expect from all the noise, and only found yourself more surprised as a pitiable looking black bird finally came into view. It flapped even harder upon seeing Loki, but with one wing clearly mangled and blood spattering the snow and sand around it.

“Oh, you over dramatic twat.” Loki fussed, snatching the hapless creature up with little fanfare as his other hand reclaimed his now bloody dagger, disappearing it again with his magic. “And which one are you?” He asked, holding it roughly near his face as it now continually tried to bite him in defiance.

You didn’t know what he was looking for, and you were about to say something about how harshly he was holding the poor animal before Loki smirked in recognition.

“Well…Muninn, you little vermin. You saw me leave the palace didn’t you? Did you really think I was your other half? Couldn’t leave well enough alone could you?”

What? So this was one of Odin’s ravens? But, Loki had just stabbed it! Was this not treason? Treason that you were now a party to? You had so many questions as your inner panic began to grow.

But Loki only kept smiling, talking with condescension to the injured bird. “Yet, for you to be here so quickly, then you’ve found my door for me. There’s a rift between Asgard and Midgard somewhere nearby…and for that you get to keep your other wing tonight, you little spy.”

—————————

As you passed back up the trail to the cabin together, you saw Loki had indeed kept his word about signaling to the mortals when you were here. A green flame floated, ethereal in midair at the edge of the tree-line.

It had a haunting look to it, but you said nothing, still so focused on Loki’s rough handling of the injured raven. And by the time you’d entered the woods, you could no longer contain yourself.

“Please don’t hold him by the chest like that. It makes it too hard for them to breathe. You’re going to suffocate him!”

At your outburst, Loki seemed to have a genuine moment of surprise, looking over at you before his normal superior expression returned. “Just because you can become a bird….doesn’t mean you should give a damn about this one. Don’t waste your time on kindness. Despite your bleeding heart, his loyalty lies only with the Allfather. He’ll snitch you out regardless.”

“But, he has lost a lot of blood. We can’t let him die, Loki…” You still kept on, worried the alcohol had truly made him lose all sense of judgement.

Again he just gave you the oddest look before outright laughing though. He shook the bird a little, making it squawk again, before continuing. “This rat and his brother are imbued with Odin’s magic. They cannot perish so easily as long as Odin still lives.”

Yet, that was still not comforting to you in the slightest. In what possible way could torturing a favored pet of the Allfather end positively for the two of you?

But Loki didn’t miss the way you still stared with disapproval, just rolling his eyes as you finally made it to the cabin. “Do you know how long we’ve dealt with these little pests? When Thor got his first slingshot as a boy, what do you think he practiced it on? When I learned my first spells, what did I test them on? There is nothing new to this…”

“That’s awful.” You grumbled, though watching as Loki did this odd movement with his shoulders, his magic shifting over him so that he was suddenly dry again.

As he walked inside, you had to shake the snow off yourself the old fashioned way. Your dress and hair still damp from that and the ocean combined as you followed him inside, leaning your spear against the wall before closing the door. “So you could do that the whole time,” You commented as to his drying trick, though not really surprised by anything else right now.

He smirked a little, knowing what you were thinking. With a wave of his hand a couple of the candles also lit. “Oh, I didn’t do it that night in the cave. You were supposed to take pity and ask me to take off some of my wet clothes…of course they ended up off anyway didn’t they?”

You crossed your arms, just frowning as he unceremoniously opened the chest on the floor next, tossing the injured Muninn into it before slamming it back closed.

“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Loki threatened in response to the resulting angry squawk, giving the chest a light kick before the noise inside silenced.

When he turned to look at you again, he only offered a dark smile. Though still looking tired as he started to remove his clothes.

You tried to keep your disapproving look strong even as you realized he was using no magic at all, removing his vestments piece by piece as if to taunt you into further watching.

But looking away would have just goaded him too wouldn’t it? Letting him know the sight of his body still did things to you. You couldn’t win either way as all of his clothes finally laid piled on the floor, no neatness this time as he went lay nude in the bed.

You stood there a further moment, really not knowing what to do. He didn’t deserve to be rewarded right now in your mind. But were you just supposed to walk right back out the door? You didn’t have the willpower for that either, not anymore.

He watched you lazily too, waiting. His voice was quieter now though as he did speak again. “If I’d wanted to sleep alone…I would have just stayed in Asgard.”

Your shoulders lowered a little at the softer words, but you didn’t know how much you really believed him. You finally did approach the bed however, removing your wet dress, and not missing the way his eyes moved across your body before you climbed in under the blanket beside him.

But you could also tell he was in no condition for love making, even as you felt his hand encircle one of your wrists, himself then pulling your hand up so your fingers fell into his hair.

He gave you an imploring look, making his intention clear even if unexpected. It was so strange, but you complied, starting to rub your fingers through his hair and along his scalp gently.

The way he clearly relaxed into the touch reminded you so much of a placated animal truly. And he even closed his eyes as you just continued stroking, letting the black hair work repeatedly between your fingers.

To drunkenly cross the vast breadth of space just for this minor affection, also risking exposure by his Father’s informants, was it telling you that he really was so reckless after all? Or…was this becoming a real need for him?

Were you becoming a need in his life?

You felt him line up his body with yours, flesh to flesh as he got further comfortable.

“Thank you.” You heard him say at last. Surprising you enough that you could find nothing to say in return.

You just kept on with your soft touches though, comforting the troublesome prince all the way until he finally fell asleep in your arms.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[bjornswoman]

Allies

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! I hope you like it! It's just a short one with Harald. Also, I want to thank you again for your support. Sorry for any mistakes, I am just too impatient to port them and I don't see some of them.

Pairing: Harald x Reader.

Genre: Fluff, romance.

Summary: King Harald and you meet again after you saved him on the battlefield.

Warnings: There are no warnings if I am not mistaken.

Your steps echoed, he knew that you were approaching. He was waiting for you, sitting on his throne, drinking mead from his cup. He had been waiting for your arrival for long. He wanted to see you. He was fond of you. You were just a young woman and had achieved so much so far. You became a queen. Harald couldn't just not be impressed by you.

He wasn't the only one feeling this way, many men had wanted you and had approached you in the past, but you weren't interested on any them. You didn't care about men, you cared only about fighting. You fought for your people, because you had no family.

You had been interested in no man since the moment you laid eyes to this attractive king. Harald had caught your attention from the first moment you stepped out of that ship. He did nothing to achieve it, like other men would have done. He had just greeted you. Your heart was pounding in your chest with just one word that he had spoken to you. He was older than you, but that wouldn't stop you from falling for this man. He was a great warrior and king.

You had never been a shy woman, you had spoken whatever had been on your mind. But when it came to your feelings, it wasn't like this. Your love for Harald was your weak spot.

You entered his Great Hall and found him smirking at you and drinking. You smirked back at him and stopped walking, you were standing in front of him, some steps away from his throne.

"Queen (Y/N), I was waiting for you." He spoke on his hoarse voice and your heart started pounding again in your chest. You loved his voice, it was deep and hoarse, just the way you liked it. He placed the cup to a slave's hand and looked at you carefully, waiting for a word to slip out of your mouth.

"I hope you didn't wait for me long, king Harald." You tried to sound playful, like every other time you spoke to someone, but you didn't succeed in the way you wanted. It wasn't perfect the way it sounded.

He did wait for you long enough, but he wouldn't let his forces down and let you know about it. He knew that you played with men, like your personal toys. He had seen you playing even with kings. He had been hurt enough to let you hurt him more. The gods weren't fair to him. Every woman he loved, didn't love him back. He just needed someone to care for him, to love him and waiting for him or fight on his side, have his back on the battlefield.

You had his back on the battlefield. The cut on your face revealed it all. A soldier was about to kill him, but your blade collided to his neck and you cut off it, but before that a second soldier's blade cut a part of your cheek. That part under your left eye. Harald killed him before he could hurt you more. He had a matched scar at the same spot, but under his right eye.

"Don't worry about that, I didn't." He said and stood up from his throne. He stepped closer to you and his hands touched your mark from that battle that you saved him. You tried hard to not close your eyes and lean your face at his hand. You liked the feeling of his hand on your cheek. "How could I not waiting for my savior and ally?" He spoke again and take his hand off of your cut. The cut that you loved because it caused for him and he had a matched one. You giggled.

"And you are my savior, king Harald. If you weren't there, I would be dead by now." You said softly and he smirked again. He was circling you and you were looking infront of you, on his throne.

"You came to save me first, queen (Y/N), so I had to do the same." He spoke. That smirk was stuck on his face. His words felt like a knife had just stabbed your chest. It sounded like he did it because he owed you cor saving him. All the playfulness had left.

"You didn't have to do nothing, you owed me nothing. I came there because it wasn't your time to go to Valhalla. The gods placed me there to do so." You said harshly. He stopped circling you and stood infront of you. His body was only some inches away from yours. You wanted him and he wanted you.

Harald was hurt by the women. He wasn't lucky when it came to love. He wanted a family, a huge family, but the gods han another plans for him, that was what he thought. He was waiting to find the right one. He did a lot of things for love, even kidnapped a woman, you heard of people talking about it. She was with the greatest shieldmaiden that ever existed, Lagertha. This woman was dead along with his unborn child. A child he wanted very much. You weren't a mother either and you wanted a child, but it wasn't the right time for a baby.

He frowned in confusion when he heard you speaking. He didn't want you to believe that it was just a duty for him, not at all, because it wasn't. He wanted to save you. He wanted nothing more than to skin this guy who dared to harm you, but he couldn't what he wanted that moment, so he just killed him.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I wanted to praise you. You were brave and fierce, you didn't fear death. You were about to die just to save a man like me." He spoke softly with his hoarse voice and you felt your heart beating fast again. You didn't fight it anymore. At first you were angry to yourself about this, but then you quit fight it. You wouldn't win this battle.

"You are exaggerating. It wasn't a big deal. That's what we do, that's what Vikings do, that's what leaders do." You said. This man had awaken something else inside you. You dared to stop closer, so close that your bodies barely touched. He was waiting for your next movement. He was used to women, but not women like you. "You did the same for me." You muttered softly, so softly that he barely listened you, and your hand touched his bearded cheek, you caressed it gently. He liked the way your hand felt on his cheek. "You are a good man, Harald." You dared to say, without think too much about it. You regretted it instantly, but it was too late. You had told it and nothing could change this.

His look changed. You pulled your hand away from his face and you cleared your throat. That sound stopped him from thinking. He was replaying your words over and over again. He was happy to listen them, but in the past he got happy listening good words from women and at the end he ended up the wounded one. He didn't want more wounds, he didn't want his heart to be healed and then broken again.

"Forgive me for my words, it was spontaneous. Silly me." You started rambling. The strange feeling in your chest was there, it had never let you alone with Harald for just a moment. "But it was the truth." You spoke again and turned your back at him, you would leave him inside there and you would show up for the feast but his voice stopped you, before you could do even one little step. His hand placed on your wrist and he pulled you closer to him. Your eyes met his blue ones. He had so beautiful eyes.

"You are a good woman too, (Y/N)." He spoke so softly, like it was a secret and none else should find out about it. His right hand left your wrist and placed to your cheek. He pulled a strand of hair out of your face and you smiled, he did the same. It was rarity. Harald didn't smiled often, but his smile was precious.

"You should smile, it suits you." You tried to sound playful and you failed for one more time that day. He smiled again. Your heart was going to pulled out of your chest. Your were sure that he could hear it beating insanely and he had barely touched your skin. A smirt returned to his face.

He placed his free hand on that part of your chest where your heart were. It started beating even faster when he touched your clothed chest.

"I see I have quite an affection on you." He teased and you get a little embarrassed. Love was the only thing you couldn't control. "And I haven't even touched you yet." He spoke with a mischievous grin on his face and his hand left your heart and gripped your hip. You didn't stop him. You wanted Harald and you wouldn't deny it. "What you don't know...." He said again and took your hand to his, he placed your hand on his heart. His heart was beating fast, just like yours. His mouth was inches away from yours. Your lips would touch if you moved just a little your head. ".... is that you have affection on me as well." He continued and you smiled at him. You didn't pulled your hands away from his chest, you pressed your lips to his soft lips.

At first the kiss was slow but he pushed you to the dark wall and kissed you roughly, bitting you a little. Every time he bit you, you moaned on his mouth. He liked it, actually he loved it. You loved it as well. You pushed him and he groaned a little annoyed.

"Anyone can see us here, my king." You spoke to him and he smirked. He didn't care about people seeing you with him. He even liked the idea of you having watchers.

"What's the problem with that, my queen?" He asked smirking. You smirked back, ready to answer him.

"I'm a respectful woman, king Harald. I don't want people talking about me like that. You are not my husband, so that would dishonor me." You spoke reasonably and that smirk didn't leave from his face. His hand caressed your cheek. He was about to say something, but you were confused. That man clouded your judgment.

"Is that the problem? It's easy, queen (Y/N). Marry me. Am I good enough to marry me?" He asked in a playfully tone. You blushed slightly, but that happened only for a second or so. You were serious again. Now you confused him. He thought you wanted him, the way he wanted you and you did, but the way he told you this confused you. It was like it was told out of duty or something like that. You thought it as mockery.

"Don't mock me, king Harald." You spoke and that smirk left from his face. He was as serious as you were. You needed him to say it again. To say he meant it. To say something. His hands cupped your face and his blue eyes looked you.

"I am not mocking you, my queen. I'm serious. I want to marry you. In fact, I was thinking about it for a while and I took the right decision. If you want it to, we will announce it and start the preparations for it. All you have to do is to give me an answer." He said seriously and looked you straight into your eyes. He wanted you to except him as your husband but if you didn't, he would accept it. Nothing would change if said no. You would continue to be allies.

"I accept you as my husband, king Harald, and I promise that I will to be the woman you deserve by your side." You said smiling at him and he did the same. He kissed you softly, with love, maybe.

You would try your best for Harald. You had listened about the women that passed from his life. You wouldn't be like them. You cared for him more than you could handle.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love (Modern!Ivar x OC) Chapter 1

So I recently joined the Vikings fandom (better late than never, right?) and could not get this one-shot out of my head. This is my first time writing for Vikings and writing Ivar. Let me know what you think. 

Also a huge shout-out to @saritanotserena​ for helping me with the moodboard. You are the best, babe! 

Words: 4300

Warnings: mild swearing, mild sexual content, mild angst?

Series Masterlist

 "I'm going to get something to drink!" Kari yelled into the ear of her friend, Alana, hoping she could hear it over the deafening music blasting from the nearby speakers. 

 Alana nodded, ignoring the brunette in lieu of the man who had his hands on her hips and cock grinding against her ass. 

 Without waiting further, Kari squeezed her way through the crowd on the club's dance floor and towards where their table was. For the umpteenth time, she tried to tug down the short, skin-tight black dress over her thighs, unsuccessful in covering the vast amount of skin showing. Even if Alana told her it looked fine and to stop worrying, it still made her personally self-conscious. Right now, she would much rather be at her shared townhouse eating popcorn and binge watching a show or reading one of her new books, comfortable in yoga pants and a soft sweatshirt with preferably no bra. Definitely no bra if she had a choice. But no, she had used up all the valid excuses she could conjure and now had to pay the devil his dues. Or in this case, go out clubbing with her friends. 

 Quickly, she made her way to the table and plopped down in a chair, reaching for the bottled water she was smart enough to bring this time. She ignored the couple sticking their tongues down each other's throat on the other side of the table as she took a sip of the water. Yes, she had told Alana she needed a drink but mostly she just wanted a break. She never wore heels unless for special occasions and with all the dancing she had been forced to endure amongst the mass of sweaty bodies, her feet and ankles were killing her. 

 She peeked at her phone, seeing the late hour and wondering if she could use it as an excuse to leave. She knew her friends planned to stay longer, or leave soon with company for the night. Perhaps no one would notice if she snuck away, feigning exhaustion or some illness. 

 As if sensing her thoughts, a voice called out to her from the other side of the table. "Don't even think about it."

 Kari looked up, meeting the narrowed, brown eyes of her friend across the table from her. "Rach…."

 "No, don't you, 'Rach' me." She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Kari. "I see you, and you are trying to figure out how to leave. It's not happening. You know the deal."

 "Please? It's getting late and there is no one here…"

 "Bullshit. Quite trying to make excuses. You agreed to the deal and you can't leave until you fulfill your side of the bargain and you bet your ass I'm watching." She leaned back against her boyfriend, brushing a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. 

 Kari grumbled under her breath. "Doubt it. You've been trying to eat each other's faces the whole time."

 "What was that?"

 "Nothing."

 "What is the deal she agreed to?" Seth asked smugly, arms wrapped around Rachel's waist and laying soft kisses over her exposed shoulders and neck. 

 "Before Kari leaves tonight, she has to make-out with someone...and not just a quick peck either. Full. On. Snogging." Rachel answered with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a crooked smile. 

 Kari dropped her face in her hands, groaning. She knew there was a snowball's chance in hell that Rachel would have forgotten about what Kari reluctantly agreed to but still…. she had hoped. 

 Rachel continued speaking to Seth but Kari could feel those brown eyes on her. "She hasn't kissed anyone since her ex; so Alana, Jasmine and I decided that we needed to take matters into our own hands."

 "Her ex... shit, wasn't that like two years ago?"

 "Yep." Rachel popped the 'p' loudly. "Now, Kari, you get back on that dance floor and find someone or I will pick them out for you."

 Almost giving herself whiplash with how quickly she raised her head back up, Kari stared horrified at her friend. 

 "You know I would."

 "Shit…." Kari mumbled, fiddling with one of the diamond studs in her ear. If there was one ultimate truth in the world, it was that Kari did NOT want any of her friends picking out someone for her to make-out with. The thought alone made her shudder. To say they had different tastes was an understatement. Her friends seemed to prefer the big, Viking-looking, blonds that seemed to enjoy going outside and chopping down trees…. for fun. Her preference was for, well not that. She downed the rest of her water and stood up, tugging down her short dress once again. "I'm going to the bathroom."

 The blonde rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you better get back on the floor once you're done. We can be here all night if we need too."

 Kari scurried away without a response. She did not actually have to use the bathroom but used the excuse to check her makeup and hair...and hide…. possibly for the rest of the night. Hoping to kill even more time, she took the long way to the bathroom, pointedly looking at the floor to avoid encouraging anyone to approach her. 

 She stumbled past the short set of stairs leading up to the VIP section, silently cursing her heels. All she wanted to do was kick them off. It was becoming a miracle she had not face-planted yet. Making a mental note to never let Alana choose her attire again, she pressed on, moving down one of the half walls along the raised VIP section. 

 As if fate sensed her thinking about her loathed heels, it decided to do something about it. 

 Someone suddenly shoved into her, pushing past her on their way towards somewhere. All the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of was a long, blonde braid and a backless dress. The force was enough to lose her balance on the stupid heels and slam into the wall next to her, her momentum and gravity then yanked her towards the ground. Just as she thought she would at least fall to her knees or kiss the dirty floor, a strong hand grabbed her bare, upper arm, keeping her upright. 

 She staggered drunkenly for a moment, her hands automatically reaching out to grip the shirt of the person who magically appeared in front of her, and really saving her from utter humiliation. No exaggerations. At all. Utter. Humiliation. 

 Once her mind refocused on no longer falling to her demise, the first thing she noticed was that whoever was holding her was definitely a man. Not just because the person was taller than her, but the sheer size of the pecks underneath her fisted hands in his shirt and the broad shoulders were a dead giveaway. Even one handed, this person was holding her upright with ease. The second thing she noticed was his scent. Yes, she knew that thought was beyond creepy but her body decided to take notice. Not her fault. Obviously. She just got to enjoy the repercussions. Whatever cologne he was wearing, it should be illegal to wear out in public. It conjured images of a fire in a hearth, bourbon, hot sex under furs and debauchery. 

 In the next moment, she lifted her gaze, wanting - no, needing to know who this man was. To thank him for saving her. Of course. That was it. Yep. Not to sear his image into her brain to fantasize about later. Not at all.  

 As her eyes met his, any words of thanks died on her tongue. For whatever working brain cells she had left silenced under his gaze. Staring down at her was the most vivid, gorgeous and terrifying blue pair of eyes that both soothed and scorched under their allure. 

 He never spoke a word, just stared at her. His hand held onto her upper arm as if worried she was suddenly going to drop. 

 Later, she would blame it on the combination of his touch, that intense look in his gaze and his cologne that made her act irrationally. So, before her mind could convince her how stupid she was, how reckless this was, how outside of her normal behavior she was acting…

 ...she rose up slightly on her toes and kissed him. 

 His lips were surprisingly soft against hers but unmoving. Slowly she retracted, hurt by his inaction but honestly not surprised. It was probably for the best. This idea was a failure from the start. She did not even know the guy, he just saved her from falling. She should have said 'thank you' and walked away…. not…. not kissed him! Opening her eyes to meet his now painfully hardened gaze, it only confirmed her stupidity. Before she could apologize and retreat to hide away from the world for at least the next century, he spoke. 

 "Are you drunk?"

 His abrupt, harsh question startled her. Her answer tumbled out of her mouth before her mind could filter the proper response. 

 "What?...no, I've had like two drinks but that's it...wait. Oh gods! Was my kiss that bad? Shit. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll just...sorry." She tried to pull away from him, face flushed from embarrassment. What had she been thinking? This was why she never just made-out with random guys. Whatever self-esteem she had evaporated beneath his piercing gaze. Her ex had called her frigid but this….

 His hand tightened ever so slightly on her arm, not enough to hurt but to certainly impede her desire to run away. His eyes bored into hers as if trying to read all the secrets of her soul. It was now, caught in this trap of his gaze, that she noticed the predatory glint in his eyes. She wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like while staring down a wolf, too frightened to move away. Well in her case, she was probably more of a hamster than rabbit. At least rabbits were fast and could try to hide. A hamster had no ability to outrun or outsmart a wolf. And everything about him screamed predator. 

 "Come." He commanded, releasing her arm and took a step to the side. 

 "Wha...what?" 

 He cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. "Come. I am not through with you."

 A sharp shiver ran down her spine at the severe scrutiny sent her way but for some reason found herself agreeing. "Ohhh….um, ok." Her friends had wanted her to make-out with someone right? 

 She followed him, carefully ogling him from behind. The nice button-down he wore only accentuated the broadness of his chest and shoulders, plus with the sleeves rolled up and those toned forearms on show, he could have easily been just walking out of a photoshoot for some fashion magazine. Even the dark wash jeans and white Adidas sneakers could not deter from his overall striking appearance. His dark hair was long on top and shaved on the sides, something she had never seen before but it gave him a serious look instead of it being comical. 

 Surprise coursed through her when he started up the few steps leading to the VIP section. Somewhere she had never been nor expected to go. Only people with money or connections were allowed to be in there. She wondered which one of the two he was. It was also now as she followed him that she happened to notice the slight limp in his gait which drew her attention to the braces around his legs. Her mind wandered with questions as to why he needed braces. Had he been in an accident recently? Or surgery? Should he even be up walking? 

 Once they ascended the few steps, passing the bouncer at the top of the stairs who only gave her a passing glance before returning his eyes to the rest of the club, she continued to trail him to a short 'L' shaped couch with a low table in front of it. There were short half walls around all of the arrangements giving the illusion of privacy for those seated on a couch. Glancing around quickly, she could hear laughter and see some heads over the partitions but no one seemed to have paid any attention to her and the stranger she followed. 

 The man dropped down unceremoniously onto the black leather couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Immediately, his intimidating gaze turned on her and she could not help but thickly swallow at the pure wicked look that sent shivers down her spine. Without a word, he held his hand out, beckoning her closer. 

 For the rest of her life, she would always question why she moved closer, why she took his hand, why she let him slowly guide her to straddling his lap. 

 All she knew was in the moment….it felt right. 

 "Good girl." He breathed out; rough, calloused hands held her hips steady over him. His fingers skimmed the hemline of her dress, now indecently high, almost no longer even covering her ass. 

 Her rational side screamed at her, reminding her she never did this, that she did not know this man. That if her family ever found out, gods forbid, they would probably disown her and not care if it left her starving in the streets due to her wanton behavior. Though their opinions no longer truly mattered in her life. 

 But her emotional side softly whispered that for once, to just give in, to let someone else be in control, to revel in the pleasure his touch brought forth. To throw caution and fidelity to the wind and enjoy life for once before she locked away her heart again. 

 Tipping her head forward, she pressed her lips to his once again. Where he had been unresponsive to her prior kiss, this time his lips slammed against hers, dominating and controlling. It sucked the very air from her lungs. Right now though, he could happily own all the oxygen she ever needed if he continued to kiss her like this. His hands slid to grab her ass, coaxing her even closer and drawing a needy moan from her. As her mouth opened, his tongue slipped in to explore as if he owned it. He kissed as if he was making love to her mouth and giving her a hint of what he would be like in bed. 

 Eventually she yanked her mouth from his, chest heaving and desperate for air. His head dropped to her chest and she gasped when she felt his tongue traced the line of cleavage her dress exposed. 

 "Fuck, you taste amazing." He whispered, practically branding the words into her skin as his lips tasted her. Before she could move or question him, his tongue was back on her exposed skin. This time it slid up from the hint of the valley between her breasts up her chest and neck to end with him sucking just below her earlobe. A whine, or was it a purr, was all her brain could handle, so overwhelmed with sensations she had never experienced before. Sure she had been kissed before but it had never felt like this. It all felt so…. tame compared to what this man elicited out of her. As if her prior understanding of fire was only looking at a lit match; while now she could only stare, completely absorbed by the raging bonfire that threatened to touch the sky with its unending flames. 

 Her hands shifted from grasping his shoulders to keep her upright under his onslaught to gripping his face and forcing his lips back to hers. A heat continued to build in her belly, an inferno that she wanted to dive into without fear or care of being burned. Her hips ground against him, feeling his hardened length between her legs only spurred her on. 

 "Fuck, kitten, keep going. Ride my cock." He growled into her mouth. 

 Before she realized it, the waves of pleasure and heat she had been riding exploded. She ripped her mouth away from his, head thrown back in a silent scream. She could feel his mouth move back to her exposed skin, kissing and sucking as he continued to grind under her. Her mind felt shattered into a million pieces but instead of frightening her, she felt pure bliss. Eventually she came back down from her high, her mind whirling with what just happened. 

 "What…." She licked her lips, wondering why her mouth was suddenly so dry. "What, um, was that?"

 "What are you talking about?" He asked smugly as he placed open mouth kisses along her chest and neck, never stopping his ministrations. 

 "Um, that feeling… I just...wow…."

 He stopped to tilt his head slightly and meet her gaze. "Have you never had an orgasm before?"

 Her eyes widened as realization swarmed her. Hastily, she tried to scramble off his lap but one of his hands grabbed the back of her neck, while the other still gripped her hip, forcing her to remain on his lap. His eyes scoured her, pupils blown wide but it was the dark, heated look in them that caused a whimper to slip from her lips. 

 "You never have…" he murmured, in something between surprise and a dangerous, boyish glee. Mumbling something in a foreign language, his wicked gaze never released her from looking away. One of his fingers returned to tracing her cleavage, teasing her occasionally as it dipped between her breasts only to continue its path. She could feel the heat slowly building in her core again, but if it was due to his touch or the devious smirk he wore, she was unsure. Never more had she felt like prey being toyed with by a hungry predator. 

 "Are you a virgin, my pretty kitten? Mmm?" He asked in such a filthy voice, it should never be allowed outside of a bedroom. 

 She whined, "please…" 

 Agonizingly slow, he leaned closer to her once again, his mouth just hovering over hers with a mischievous smirk that proved he knew what he was doing to her. 

 "Kari!"

 She jerked at the unexpected calling of her name. Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see Rachel and Alana both standing next to the bouncer at the top of the steps into the VIP section. Rachel was staring her down while Alana's blue eyes bounced back and forth between Kari and the man under her. 

 "It's time to go." Rachel yelled at her over the loud music, still easily heard this far away. 

 Kari turned back to...to him. "I need to leave."

 He nuzzled the crook of her neck, brushing her hair out of the way, before whispering into her ear. His hands never relinquished their hold on her. "Answer my question first."

 "I... I need to go. I'm sorry. Please. I just…"

 His hand trailed around her neck so he could grip under her jaw, forcing her face back up to meet his. His vivid blue eyes covetous in their intensity. "Answer. Me." His breath ghosted over her lips. 

 "Yes." The single word came out in a just barely heard whisper. 

 A hesitation, a pause, as if both were frozen in the moment due to her confession. Then his mouth slanted over hers in a greedy kiss, as if claiming her through sheer willpower and his ardent touch. Unable to help herself, she moaned into the kiss. Her hands gripped his shirt as if clinging for her life.  

 "Stay." He whispered against her lips. 

 "I can't…"

 "I'll bring you home. We aren't finished yet." As if to emphasize his point, he rolled his hips under her, his hardened length pressing against her wet core. 

 "Please, I'm sorry. I want to stay, I promise. I've never…. I…. I just need to go. I'm sorry."

 Deliberately slow, his grip on her loosened. First the hand on her neck, his thumb caressed her pulse point before dropping next to him on the couch. The hand on her hip glided up her body leaving a trail of fire in its wake, up to her arm and down it to her hand still clutching his shirt. Gently, almost reverently, he entwined their fingers. His blue eyes stared into hers as he helped guide her off his lap to stand before him. The lust was still evident in his gaze but now she noticed something underneath, something hidden by the ferocity. Yet she could not name it. Though it made her want to pull his head to her chest and just hold him, let whatever the unnamed emotion there bleed from him and comfort him. 

 "KARI!"

 She jolted at the frantic call of her name, pulled away from gazing into his eyes. 

 "Can I see you again?" He quietly asked, running his thumb along the back of her hand.

 "I hope so." She smiled gently then stepped away, before she did something stupid like give the man her number. That would be too forward for her. Turning her back to the man, she walked towards her friends. 

 Once she reached them, Alana slipped her arm through hers and they started to follow Rachel down to the main floor. At the last second the brunette looked over her shoulder to glimpse him one more time. His elbows were on his knees, body leaned forward and eyes glued to her as if trying to commit everything about her to memory. 

 For the briefest of seconds when their eyes connected, his gorgeous blue meeting her blue-green, she considered returning to him. To see what happened next so she never would have to wonder. To try and label what lay behind the dangerous glint in his eyes that she glimpsed. 

 Then her steps brought her to the main floor and away from his piercing gaze. She was too much of a coward to give in and taste the forbidden fruit he so freely offered. Even if a part of her wanted too. Her family rules seared into her brain since birth would never allow her too. 

 Quickly, the three women headed towards the exit. Just before they reached it, Rachel directed them to a semi-secluded alcove. 

 "What the hell was that?" The angry blonde demanded, turning on Kari with a vengeance.

 "What?" 

 "No, don't you fucking 'what' me! We told you to make-out with someone, not plan on getting fucking murdered!"

 Kari almost stumbled back at the venom in Rachel's voice. Her eyes bounced back and forth between her friends, trying to understand what she obviously was missing. "What are you talking about? Murdered? He was nice…. I thought."

 "Nice? Oh, he was nice?" Rachel stared at her for a long moment in shock. With a huff, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she harshly asked her next question. "Do you have any idea who that was?"

 "Um, no... we...he didn't say his name." 

 "Gods, you are so stupid sometimes." 

 Alana cut in, before Rachel could continue to berate. Her doll-like face ranging in expressions from concern to pity and fear. "Kari," she spoke as if explaining a simple matter to a child, her blue eyes pleading and intent on her face, "that was Ivar."

 "Huh?" Kari stated, dumbly, mind not fully processing what that meant. 

 "You know…. Ivar Lothbrok…." Alana gave a pained smile, tugging on one of her large hoop earrings under her blonde, pixie cut,"....one of the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok."

 The sudden knowledge felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, freezing any semblance of warmth she may still have carried from their interaction. "What? I didn't…. are you sure?" 

 "Well the braces on his crippled legs should have been a damn giveaway." Rachel practically snarled. 

 Alana spoke back up, laying her hand on Kari's shoulder. "I know you haven't been here long but the Lothbroks have a…. reputation…. especially Ivar, for being, well, um, brutal. We just want you to be safe." She sighed and peeked over at Rachel. "Let's get out of here. Everyone else is waiting outside."

 "Ok." Was all Kari could say as her mind whirled with this new information. She followed behind them like a lost puppy, too absorbed in her thoughts to pay attention to where they were going. She could faintly hear Rachel harshly muttering something under her breath as they continued. 

 She knew who the Lothbroks were but kept that information to herself. Honestly, she probably knew more about that family than her friends did. She had listened to her uncle curse them enough times she had grown to associate their surname with a one-way ticket to the gates of Hell. If mortal enemies were a thing, her family and the Lothbroks would be that. 

 Her thoughts though stayed focused on a pair of brilliant, piercing blue eyes, soft, dark hair and a voice that called something out in her. There certainly was an aura of danger that hung over him like a shadow of doom plus with the predatory, wicked glint in his eyes, Kari could understand what they meant by dangerous. It was the other look her mind continued to replay over and over. Now away from him, she could pinpoint what it was. Vulnerability. When he asked her to stay- in anyone else she might have mistaken it for begging- that confidence he wore as a mask slid away just for a moment and allowed her to peek underneath. No wonder she wanted to crawl into his lap and hold him close. A part of her yearned to turn around and rush back to him to do that very thing. But her feet kept moving, following her friends. 

 She was not stupid, naïve maybe but not stupid. They wanted her to stay away from him. She could read between the lines well enough. Though if she encountered him again, she was unsure if she would be able to stay away…. or would want too. 

[fenristheorem]

My OC, Fenris

... and the Eldarya AU that she’s in, because I just can’t see her in the original Origins storyline with her differences from Guardienne/Erika. And I think my AU has some pretty interesting ideas. I’ll explain it after I introduce her.

Yea, I know, Fenris Theorem, Fenris, it all connects, huh? Hehe. I like the name, that’s all.

(This page is informational, so it’s written in a bit more of a note-taking fashion rather than a story fashion. It’s written in a very choppy manner but it’s comprehensible despite not having any stress on having it beautifully written.) 

This page just introduces you to my OC. I decided to create a page on her for the poll (now ended) because I think some people will really like small excerpts on her story with Lance, but obviously you need to know about her before deciding that for sure. You’ll notice that some theories I may have posted on Lance in the past are a part of this AU - these theories have been in my mind and I posted them only because I thought they could exist in the actual plotline (it’s where a lot of my theories come from, and then some ideas fit into the AU, and then some ideas could exist in the actual plotline as well based on what I observe), so this is where some of those theories come from.

For the poll - if anything, I would recommend reading the paragraph titled “*Her story in Origins (where many things are explained in moderation, because if I went in-depth I wouldn’t need to write stories on this):” above all else because that describes what I will be writing if the poll results shows that that’s wanted. Everything else is just extra information for you to know my OC and the AU better. The paragraph is at the bottom of the post.

Above all else, this is an AU, and a fantasy world. I like to try to give rationality and logic to a lot of things, so you’ll read a lot of me explaining things, but at the end of the day it’s all fantasy and can be perceived - and therefore approved or unapproved of - in a multitude of ways. If you like my AU but find it illogical in some ways, that’s no problem! Just enjoy reading about it if you enjoy the ideas within it. 😊

~ This is long so continue below the cut ~

A lot of this information can be a bit vague at first but it comes together when I explain the basic plot.

Her basics: She goes by Fenris but her actual name is Dakota. However, people usually call her Kota, or occasionally Ko (Fen is used later for Fenris, first by Ashkore / Lance, but later when she was discovered by the guard as well). She was 18 when she came to Eldarya via mushroom circle (like Guardienne/Erika). The guard test placed her in the Obsidian guard - she’s very happy with that outcome. Was in a relationship with Valkyon before leaving him for Lance (*explained later).

Physical Appearance: Unfortunately I don’t have a picture of her and nothing in Eldarya describes her and her clothing very well, so you’ll just need to imagine the physical features that I describe on Eldarya’s Guardienne sprite. Also, she’s pretty flexible with how she styles her hair and dresses, so I don’t think a single picture of her would describe her well.

Fair and light in skin tone, perhaps a slight tan-ish tone. Thin, but broad shouldered. She’s well-muscled (later on, less so when she first arrived), which gives her a bit of thickness, but not too much. Nicely curved. About 5 ft. 5 in. (167.64 cm). Dark hair, but not exactly black, with brown-hazel eyes. Her hair is medium-length and is usually braided in a multitude of styles. Her eyes occasionally glow a brilliant gold (explained under ‘abilities and genetics’ and ‘her story in Origins’).

Usually wears dark, ancient / tribal-like clothes (think Norse Vikings) with thin, form-fitting but strong armor around her forearms, lower legs (below the thigh starting from knees) and chest/midriff. She wears a good amount of red, blue, gold, silver or dark green clothing and accents with the black base for color. Usually nothing over-the-top, she likes to have her own unique style and express herself but doesn't like to draw unnecessary attention. Doesn't like most faux fur as it doesn't look nice in her opinion, but may wear some that she likes occasionally. Is more likely to wear real fur from hunted animals, but doesn't wear it too often. She wears a sword on her hip, and has a few semi-concealed daggers placed on her body (thigh, boot, torso) for quick use if needed.

Personality: She has a wide spectrum of how she acts depending on people, situations, what she knows, and her current mood. She's typically quite calm, and doesn't seek for trouble or drama, however, she does like to hear the recent news/gossip from around the guard; to stay updated on things, know what may effect her, try to think ahead and just for the sake of knowing. She's very curious and typically observes the situation around her, but in a very subtle way. Is a planner and likes to think ahead, and usually knows how to react to anything because of her observations and forward thinking. Around friends, she's very kind and welcoming. They can talk about anything to her and she'll keep her mouth shut - she has a good loyalty streak (but it does have a limit). However, she doesn't have any friends that are like family to her, but on the day she does find friends like that her loyalty will truly be endless. It's ride or die, and she'll always stand by their side. She has a major independent streak and can’t be around people for too long, otherwise she’ll crack and get a bit irritated more easily. She likes her alone time. In general, she's very cordial with people. Again, she doesn't like to cause unnecessary trouble or drama - she's had a rough past (discussed under ‘history’) and quickly shuts down anyone doing so in a professional but aggressive, don’t-argue-with-me sort of way. She can be harsh, cold and withholding - especially with people she genuinely dislikes - but doesn't like to act this way. On the note of people she dislikes- it's hard to get her to truly dislike someone, but it can be a bit easy as well. In general rule, as long as someone is conscious of the reality of the world around them and doesn't seek to cause issues, she's fine with them, but the instant someone starts continually spreading rumors that are clearly false, or acts (especially in a way that hurts others) solely in their selfish interests, or takes part in willful ignorance (purposely ignoring an issue that you know shouldn’t be ignored), she keeps note of that person and reminds herself to be wary of them in the future. They could be a source of trouble or misinformation that may need to be stopped, and she won’t be very forgiving. However, this is just a general rule, it doesn't always apply - remember she can change based on the situation and what she knows. She recognizes that sometimes people dislike things that are good for them, or like harmful things, and sometimes the villain is actually the hero, history and set rules are created by the winners and anyone against it is considered the villain, and sometimes you need to be cruel to be merciful. She's fully aware that sometimes the bad of life is good, and may defend that, but she's always sure to think long and hard about it before giving a decision like that. A lot of terrible things have happened to her, so she tries to avoid being a source of those terrible things for the world. She feels emotions very deeply and can be a bit impulsive, but fortunately she’s not typically hurt or gets others hurt due to her impulsivity. Again, she is very curious and observes things a lot, so she can usually get a good read on anything new she comes across and work from there, or she can use other information she knows and apply it to the situation. That being said, she won’t drag her friends or anyone else into her occasionally dangerous impulsive decisions. She’ll offer it if they’d like to join her, but she won’t pressure them. Their safety is their decision, and she’ll do her best to protect them although she can’t truly guarantee it. Being in the Obsidian guard, she can’t really condone anyone to risk their safety for fun, especially if it’s her idea. She has a good sense of responsibility when she works for what she believes in, and will sacrifice some of her comfort and fun making sure that she follows her responsibilities if needed. On the topic of her guard - when she first came to Eldarya and joined the Obsidian guard, she wasn’t too bad of a fighter upon basic training, but it was when she started training with Ashkore / Lance where her skills greatly improved until she was perhaps the best fighter in the guard, rivaled only by a few other warriors - including Valkyon. She’s not against helping others improve, but she’s very careful with what she tells the guard - if anyone knew her skills were due to Ashkore, she’d be in massive trouble and may be treated as a complete accomplice. She doesn’t like to lie unless truly necessary, so she’ll usually withhold lots of damning information, and she thoroughly thinks over everything she says, any possible answers to theoretical questions, how her words can connect with other things, and how it might be taken from someone else’s perspective, before revealing any information. Did I mention she’s very cunning and smart, especially after knowing Lance? She has prior knowledge in how to utilize sarcasm and wit, but that’s also improved after meeting Lance. 

She changes in time to be quite a bit more harsh and unforgiving when she starts working with Lance.

(For media reference, think of Lagertha from Vikings and Octavia from Netflix’s The 100. She’s a bit of a combination between the two, both in personality and appearance, although Octavia represents her a bit better in appearance.)

Abilities and Genetics: When she first came to Eldarya, she had no idea of her faery genetics. She never felt as though she belonged with humans and always felt that something was off, but she truly thought she was human genetically - until the guard had her take a test and realized she apparently had some faery blood in her (like what actually happened in the original plotline). She went a good while not knowing about what her genetics were, until Lance told her she was a dragon. She learned her abilities under his mentorship, and found that - to be more specific - she’s a shadow dragon. Her shadows appear usually like a pitch black fog, but can be manipulated into almost any form; hard or soft, thin or thick, curved or straight. It has a bit of a cold feel, but she can’t actually control the temperature of her shadows. She can adjust the color of her shadows along a grey-scale until it looks like any grey or silver, even looking like normal fog, but she can’t make it lighter than silver. She can also make pre-existing shadows darker or lighter depending on what she wants. Being a dragon, she also has a dragon form and can shift into a half-transformed body (like what’s seen with Tia). She has premonitions and prophecies as well. This ability typically manifests in dreams and can come to her the night before it manifests in reality, or even sometimes years in advance - there’s really no way to know. She struggles a lot trying to learn this - and to learn the difference between a premonition dream and just a normal dream - and has some basic understanding of it’s rules. She has absolutely no control over when she has these dreams, but she can occasionally put herself in a bit of a calm, meditative state where she can observe her surroundings enough to faintly feel energies, and from there she can receive some premonitions. When she receives premonitions or prophecies while awake, her eyes glow a brilliant gold - this stems from a more spiritual side of her genetics (*explained later). This ability to very hard to control, though, and can rarely be done despite her persistence in it. 

History: She... didn’t have a very peaceful life. Since her birth, her parents had basically been at war with each other. She grew up under a distinct combination of good influences and bad influences from both parents, but for the most part her mother was her major support as her father failed to be there for her. Neither extended family had much impact, but her father’s family knew of the terrible things he did and didn’t do anything. She continues to hold a grudge against many humans for being forced to live an endangered upbringing when she and her mother were so clearly crying for help. However, she’s aware that this is also what drives her some days, as she didn’t live through all of that just to die shamefully with an unlived life. In time, her grudge against humans has calmed, but it flares back up whenever she’s reminded or learned about something terrible that humans have caused or do currently - it’s a continuous battle and she has a hard time giving an honest opinion on humanity due to her complex emotions. She came to Eldarya when she was 18 (like Guardienne/Erika) and the rest is history (*and is explained below).

Relationships: Miiko is... alright. It’s a bit of a love hate relationship sometimes, but Fenris is usually quite cordial with her. Nevra and Ezarel were irritating at first, but Nevra’s lovableness and Ezarel’s humor slowly grew on her. She liked Valkyon when she first arrived and somewhat quickly pursued a relationship with him. She didn’t mind Leiftan - he was always very kind and left her alone while being cordial (remember, she’s not an angel in this so Leiftan wouldn’t be into her like how he was with Guardienne/Erika). Karuto is like the good father she never had, but she puts her foot down with him on occasion - she doesn’t like to be told what to do, scolded, treated like a child or anything. This is only because she views him in a bit of a fatherly way, and doesn’t want a repeat of her original father. She makes sure he knows that she truly appreciates him, though. Jamon is a bit of a brother if anything, but he’s really just a close friend / colleague that she likes a lot. She appreciates his gentleness and protectiveness for everyone. Ewelein is basically a second mom, she reminds Fenris a lot of her mom back on Earth and has a deep respect for the Elf. Chrome is a bit like an irritating little brother, but she also has a sisterly affection for him. Ykhar and Kero are the panic colleagues; she has a hard time seeing them doing anything else than panicking. She worries a bit for their health as long-term stress is destructive and tries to be as comforting and as nice as possible with them without betraying her personality and morals. Karenn and Alajea are close friends, almost sisterly, but not exactly so. She’s a bit closer with Karenn than she is with Alajea. Cameria is similar to Karenn in the way that she has a bit of a sisterly relationship with Fenris, but in more of a battle partner way. They have a tendency to train together a lot, and they heavily trust each other to have their back in war. Huang Hua is a bit of a friend / leader - she respects the phoenix a lot and has a bit of a close friendly relationship with her. Feng Zifu is a bit of a father figure in the manner that she respects him a lot. She likes to listen to his advice and appreciates his formality.

The AU: So before I explain the plot of the AU, I need to explain a few basics of how I set up the world. In this AU, the crystal breaking could destroy Eldarya, but if it’s shattered in a certain way with certain spells and chants, it’ll release the spirits of the dragons (who sacrificed to create the crystal) and allow them to retain a sort of half-living form - basically they’re alive but... not? It’s weird to  explain. Why does the crystal breaking in this way not destroy Eldarya? The sacrifice allowed a release of energy that originally created the world and then primarily manifested into the shape of the crystal that maintains that world, so this ritual that would be preformed upon it’s shattering would basically allow the energy of the dragons to maintain the world while allowing them to roam around in a different form - hence why they’d be half alive in a way. They’d be physical, but they have additions and limits on what they can and can’t do because they’re still technically dead. However, this isn’t common knowledge (because the guard protects the crystal, they’re the ‘only’ source of ‘accurate’ information on the crystal and both Yonuki Kaze and Miiko have stated that if the crystal breaks Eldarya will fall), only Lance has figured this out (and many of his mercenaries believe him or are working with him because of his destructive habits), so due to this, his ambitions are sort of split in two; destroy the crystal to revive the dragons, and destroy anyone who may try to stop him. In terms of history, Lance in this AU witnessed Miiko (and Nevra - there’s a history behind that that I won’t go into right now) sacrificing dragons to the crystal when he was a part of the guard to try and maintain balance and confronted her about it, only for her to threaten him (in basic; she was convinced sacrificing was the only way to keep balance, and that’s because Yonuki Kaze influenced her into thinking that, so from her perspective Lance coming along and saying it was wrong and had to stop was basically him saying to let the world die) to not tell anyone and stay out of it. Lance then spent a while researching and devising an idea on how to actually balance the world and this included destroying the crystal in a specific way to release the energy (technically there are two ways; the sacrifice was supposed to happen with dragons AND angels, so the ritual was devised to work with the two, but a ritual originally for two races used only with one is basically a ritual preformed improperly, and therefore bound to yield improper results - hence the infertility of the world and shiftiness of it. Undoing the ritual would allow the world to stay while “canceling out the sacrificial imbalance”, but if an angel or demon were to willingly sacrifice - preferably alongside a dragon at the same time - then it would be solved in that way as well). Lance tried to explain this to Miiko later, only to barely get past “I have another idea” before being shut down again. He kept quiet because he feared for himself and his brother (and the only reason Lance could have known that dragons were being sacrificed - without being a dragon himself - is that Miiko said it during the sacrifice he saw, so he didn’t want to raise suspicion onto him and his brother). Later on, Lance is sent to lead an army in a foreign land and is nearly killed, but he saw a chance to escape the guard and took it. From there he’s been Ashkore.

Basically this AU - instead of being “oh no, he’s trying to destroy the world because he’s angry and hurt” - is actually more like “if you had listened the world could be stabilized and also a powerful race could be revived.” It takes the trope of hero and villain and twists it, so the villain is actually a bit of an underdog, villainous hero while the hero’s are - in a way - villains who are heroes because their damning stories haven’t been revealed in a wide-spread manner. Overall, it’s supposed to blur the lines of good and bad, and right and wrong - showing that both sides have good and bad within them, and which side is ‘good’ can depend solely on perception and one’s life anecdote.

*Her story in Origins (where many things are explained in moderation, because if I went in-depth I wouldn’t need to write stories on this): Dakota came to Eldarya by accident via mushroom circle and was placed into the Obsidian guard. She adjusted in time (and willingly took the potion in episode 13 to ease her family / mother of pain and worry) until she got used to things and entered into a romantic relationship with Valkyon. She was sent on basic missions and such and met Ashkore a few times in war (and around the guard), and then she met him accidentally while alone later on outside of the guard. He offered to train her (more like threatened if she didn’t?) and she accepted in time. They trained at night, which was a bit of an issue as she now shared a room with Valkyon and, therefore, had to sneak around. Her skills quickly improved, and her relationship with Valkyon began to decline as he began to become a bit confused / suspicious about her sudden and seemingly random upturn in skills. There were feelings of neglect as well. This carried on for many months and Dakota learned more about Ashkore as well as herself. He eventually admits that she’s a dragon and that he’s investing some of himself into her because of that, and she does her best to explore her abilities with him after that. Eventually she accidentally discovers his actual identity, but keeps quiet about it. As they grow closer, she begins to ask more about him and his reasoning, and he explains his motives for going after the crystal while brushing on the topic of why he���s ruthless to some, but leaves others alone. As she discovers the truth about the dragons and Lance, she realizes that her feelings to the guard were based on lies and false implications, and she begins to grow mentally and emotionally closer with Lance. She becomes less empathetic / sympathetic with Valkyon and eventually sleeps with Lance. This happens a few more times and they enter a sort of limbo where they don’t talk about their relationship with each other but know there’s something heavy going on. Back in the guard, she’s still with Valkyon, and she begins an internal war on what exactly her plan is knowing that she’s sleeping with two guys on the opposite side of a war and that it can’t continue. Her and Valkyon break up in time and she invests her full time into training with Lance, expressing interest in joining his cause. They begin to work together and he gifts her with a specific outfit / armor (that can alternate between identity concealing and revealing for her comfort and safety) so she can go on missions with him. They develop an elaborate scheme to allow her to go on long-term missions with him without suspicion from the guard. She’s eventually sent on a mission and it’s on that mission that she discovers her relation to an ancient dragon named Fenris, and then expresses her interest in taking that name to Lance and the rest of his allies that she’s met (from then on she’s known as Fenris with Lance and Dakota in the guard). Back at the guard, she continues training with Lance and maintaining some sort of odd relationship with himin secret. She’s found elaborate ways to get out of the guard without their suspicion so she can spend many days at a time alone with Lance in a cabin he has hidden in the forest. Over the span of many months / years, she goes on missions with the guard to foreign towns / establishments that are attacked by Ashkore - whether she knows that prior or not - so as she trains she also has actual encounters where she needs to truly fight Lance without actually hurting him while looking as though she’s truly trying to hurt him. When she’s allegedly away on some missions from the guard, she wears the armor that Lance gave her to campaign with him and this occasionally leads to her fighting against the guard if they’re around. In this time and when they’re alone, Lance and allies calls her Fenris as she’s requested them to do. Eventually they go to Memoria together and find out that they have a deeper connection than they think - Fenris (who was an ancient dragon that Dakota took the name of due to her relation with him) and Tia actually knew each other and had a complex history that carried forward to Lance and Dakota / Fenris, and there’s a prophecy of sorts surrounding them. Their relationship after that is still complex, but is more stable as they confirm an attachment to each other. Lance’s identity is eventually revealed to the guard, and sometimes later Fenris is revealed as well, and Lance - in very short, important seconds - offers her to join him completely outside the guard’s walls. She accepts and they flee the guard for a while and plot. Eventually they attack the guard in a final push and get to the crystal, successfully breaking it with... some losses. From there is the skip to ANE, but New Era is... complicated. I haven’t yet thought how she fits into ANE, as many things would be different. Maybe I won’t put pressure on creating her story in it, but if I do I might list it here. Her story in ANE would need to be based off of her story I have here in Origins.

If I write excerpts of this, there may also be many more adventure scenarios that are written but aren’t mentioned here (Lance offering to “help” the guard bring down another greater threat and then turning his forces on them in the midst of war for his own gain, sending them on a wild goose chase, the guard tracking them through rough, unforgiving landscapes trying to catch them, etc.) depending on how the details of her story manifest.

I apologize; that’s a lot to read but I can be very specific and this AU has a lot of important detail that separates it from the original Origins storyline. And this talks over my OC’s details and an AU, which is a lot since there’s not a lot of referencing because I’ve never talked about either before... However, if you’ve read all the way through this post - congrats, and I hope you’re interested in it!

Again, writing excerpts about my OC and her storyline in this AU is an option you can vote on in my writing poll that determines what I’ll write now so I can post later when I can’t access my Tumblr for a few weeks, so if you’re interested in reading about this then please read the info I have about the poll here and feel free to vote!

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 15

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A FEW HOURS LATER

THE COAST OF BJORNHEIMR

The clouds rumbled with the drums of distant thunder, sending a subtle flash of lightning throughout the sky. Sea mist broke free from the restraints of its majestic waves, and gently tickled the skin of the warriors who sailed across its arctic tides. Meanwhile, the ocean rose and fell underneath their feet like the chest of a sleeping giant, and calmly guided the longship back to its home.

Life solemnly carried on with its infinite cycle despite the numerous souls that had just slipped free from its grasp, and offered no comfort to those left behind. The world remained entangled with the threads of endless stories that had yet to unfold, but even then... Eivor felt as if everything had come to a pause.

In his arms, Thora lay motionless beneath a layer of cloth, wrapped in her brother’s cloak to protect her from the elements. Her body was no more than an empty husk awaiting the fires of a ceremonial pyre, and yet, part of Eivor kept hoping that she wasn’t truly gone.

His mind still couldn’t quite fathom the idea that he would never see his sister again. He had gotten so used to having her company, that a world without her felt completely foreign to him. A fraction of Eivor even tried to convince himself that this was all a dream that would eventually come to an end, but in reality, he knew better. Thora would forever roam the halls of Valhalla from now on, and he’d have to accept it.

He just dreaded delivering the news to his father. Arngeir was already stressed enough due to Thora’s absence, and Eivor didn’t know if he carried the strength to inform him of what happened. His father was one of the most steadfast men in their clan, but even then, Eivor had seen the loss of a child break those he once believed to be invincible.

“...Eivor.” Sigurd whispered, lightly nudging the young man with his elbow. He waited until the Wolf-Kissed broke out of his thoughts, and then pointed to the land before them. “We’re home.”

Eivor peered at the battle-worn village with a deadpan expression on his face, barely shifting his body.

“Eivor?” Sigurd repeated, quickly taking note of the man’s empty nature. He leaned closer to his lover, wrestling with the urge to pull him into a hug. “Are you listening?”

The lifeless viking kept his gaze nailed on the village, swaying softly with the longship’s rhythmic motion. He hadn’t uttered a single word ever since their departure from Kjotve’s Fortress, and yet, Sigurd felt as if he could see his very thoughts etched into his eyes.

“...What am I going to tell my father, Sigurd?” Eivor finally replied. “Or Randvi? What do I do?”

The prince bowed his head in sympathy, unsure of how to answer the question. “I... I wish I knew, Eivor.”

The younger man glanced down at his sister’s veiled body, placing a hand on her arm.

“Thora’s death will destroy them. There’s not much in this world that can rattle my family, but... I have no clue what they’ll do once they realize she’s gone. I don’t even know if I can tell them.”

Sigurd offered his help. “I could do it in your stead, if you wish.”

Eivor shook his head. “No. It should be a family member. I found Thora’s body, so I should be the one to deliver the news. But thank you.” 

The older man nodded in understanding. “Of course. You know I’m here for you. I certainly don’t envy your position, though. You bear the burden of a lifetime. But don’t cast away your hope just yet...” Sigurd took a glimpse over his shoulder, glaring at the new captive sitting on their ship, “...we have Gorm now. And he will tell us what we need to know.”

Gorm struggled in his binds and let out a few muffled grunts, attempting to speak through the cloth that had been tied around his mouth.

“Be still, Kjotvesson!” The prince barked, his voice rough with spite. “Or I’ll hurl you over the edge and leave you to drown. Your cries mean nothing to the men here.”

Ulfar chimed in from the head of the ship, sharing Sigurd’s hostility towards the man.

“Indeed,” he added. “Normally, I’d say you’re fortunate to be alive, Gorm, but after everything you did to Thora, I imagine you’d be better off being swallowed by the ocean. Consider yourself lucky if the jarl doesn’t fashion wings out of your bones.”

The restrained viking tried to reply again, causing Ulfar to become even more irate than he already was.

“Osmund,” he said to one of his men, “silence this yapping dog, will you?”

The raider wasted no time in following Ulfar’s command and turned to Gorm, slapping him with a firm backhand across the cheek. The prisoner instantly fell silent upon the strike, and reluctantly complied with his captors’ wishes.

“...Anyway,” Ulfar said with a fatigued sigh, “we’re finally home, men. I know this has been an onerous journey for everyone, but you lot can rest for now. Tomorrow, we’ll bid farewell to those who have fallen, and raise a horn in their name. In the meantime, tend to your families. Odin knows they’ll need all the support they can get.”

Bringing his attention to the surrounding scenery, Ulfar remained quiet for the rest of their journey and leaned against the ship’s figurehead, doing his best not to linger on the thought of Thora’s death. He hadn’t felt this awful since Linnea first fell to Kjotve’s axe, and he grew increasingly restless as he pondered what to do with the rat hiding amongst them. He was more than positive that he knew who the traitor was by now, but the method he’d use to deal with them was a little less clear.

In the meantime, his men steadily shut the sails and lowered the mast, taking a hold of the oars as they brought the ship to land. Their bodies ached due to hours of huddling in the vessel’s cramped space, and their palms grew callused from the continuous toil of rowing the ship. They were eager to finally set foot on solid ground, and they longed for the warmth of a soft bed.

Eivor, on the other hand, dreaded their upcoming arrival. Much to his dismay, he spotted Arngeir waiting at the docks with Ingrida by his side as they anticipated their return, anxious to hear any news pertaining to Thora’s rescue. A glimmer of hope flickered in the jarl’s lost eyes, but the Wolf-Kissed knew it would soon be snuffed out. And it ruined him.

“Ulfar!” Arngeir called out, approaching the end of the pier. “You’ve returned safely, thank the gods. How do you fare, brother?”

The raider waited for the ship to come to a complete stop before hopping onto the docks, still somewhat wobbly from the ocean’s waves.

“I’m well, Arngeir,” he replied, “but I regret to inform you that Kjotve still lives. The bastard escaped.”

The jarl furrowed his brow in concern. “Escaped? How? Where is he now?”

Ulfar shrugged in annoyance. “No idea. He fled the fortress before we even arrived, the coward. I believe one of our own people warned him beforehand.”

Arngeir let out a breath. “...Is that so? Any ideas on how to track him?”

The other man glanced at the ship. “Yes, actually. Sigurd managed to capture Gorm alive. He claims to be unaware of Kjotve’s whereabouts, but with a blade to his throat, I’m sure he’ll sing soon enough. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Then there’s that, at least.” Arngeir paused for a second. “...And what of my daughter? Where is Thora? Is she with you?”

Ulfar’s expression dimmed at the question, and he found himself at a total loss for words. His silence alone was more than enough to plant a sickening fear in the jarl’s gut, but when the man saw Eivor stepping onto the pier with a blanketed body in his arms, his heart instantly froze inside his chest.

“Eivor...?” Arngeir said, mindlessly pushing Ulfar to the side as he strode towards the anguished boy. He looked down at the unidentified corpse and desperately waited for an answer, terrified by his own suspicion of who it was.

“Eivor,” he urged, gripping him by the shoulders. “Who... who is that?”

The boy met his father’s sturdy gaze, afraid to even speak. A million different thoughts swarmed his mind like voracious insects scouring a battlefield, and he stared at the jarl as if he were peering into the depths of Hel itself.

“...I’m sorry, father.” Eivor whispered plainly. “I couldn’t save her.”

Reaching down to grab his cloak, the young man slowly removed the sea-weathered fabric from Thora’s face and revealed who was hiding underneath, causing Arngeir to plummet into an abysmal pit of dolor. A sense of despair clouded his eyes like frost spreading across a lake, and his aura crumbled within a matter of moments.

It was clear that the jarl was one step away from completely breaking down, but for the sake of his clan’s morale, he simply reached out to Thora’s body and requested the solace of his daughter’s company, unable to fully process what was going on.

“...Give her here.” Arngeir said, gently taking Thora into his arms as if he were cradling a newborn infant. A single teardrop immediately streamed down his cheek upon touching her corpse, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to stifle his agony. 

“My daughter...” he lamented, “my sweet, sweet daughter.” The jarl glanced at his son. “What... happened, Eivor? How did she die? Did she die with an axe in her hand?”

The young man shook his head without saying a word.

Arngeir shut his eyes in disappointment and sighed, already overwhelmed by grief.

“...I see. Then may her journey across the Gjallarbrú be swift, and may she find her way into her mother’s embrace.” He pulled the cloak back over Thora’s face, bidding his daughter farewell. “Rest easy, skǫrungr. Your battles are over. We shall meet again someday.”

Trying to offer the mournful father some comfort, Ingrida quietly walked over to the man and placed a hand on his shoulder, beckoning him to follow her to the temple. The seeress’ appearance had changed significantly compared to when Eivor last saw her, and it was as if twenty years had been added onto the woman’s face.

“Come, Arngeir,” Ingrida said softly. “Let us bring Thora to the temple. I shall say a final prayer for her, and prepare her body for the funeral. She will not venture the Gjallarbrú alone.”

“...Thank you, my friend.”

Guiding Arngeir away from the docks, the seeress led the melancholic jarl through the village as the rest of his clan settled into their homes, practically falling into the laps of the nearest benches they could find. The ocean’s wintry chill had seeped into the marrow of their battered bones, and their movements had become sluggish with fatigue.

As for Ulfar, the raider simply stayed in place and watched the jarl vanish in the distance, heartbroken to see his old friend in such a state. He couldn’t imagine the man ever being the same again after a loss as great as this, and for the first time in years, even Ulfar himself felt helpless. 

What would they do when they found Kjotve? If they found him? Would the strength of their alliance finally bring them the advantage they needed to win this war, or would they just end up sending more men to their deaths, and darken the shadow that already hung over Bjornheimr?

At this point, Ulfar no longer knew what to think. His ultimate dream was to witness Kjotve draw his dying breath, but he had also grown tired of ordering people into battle, only to never see them return. He may not have been directly responsible for their untimely demise, but he couldn’t deny that the casualties were starting to take a toll on him.

He just wanted this godforsaken war to end, and he knew exactly where to start.

Diverting his focus to Dag, Ulfar watched the man like a lion waiting to pounce and followed him off the docks, finally deciding to put this damned charade to rest. He hadn’t the faintest idea how this confrontation was going to unfold, but he was sick of keeping silent about his thoughts. Even if he didn’t get the outcome he desired, he simply wanted the people of Bjornheimr to be aware of the wolf hiding among their sheep -- and it all started now.

“Dag!” Ulfar blurted out, approaching the warrior as he wandered away from the longship. “Hold a moment.”

Despite having no intentions of doing so, the raider turned a few heads with his thunderous voice and attracted the attention of nearby onlookers, including Eivor and Sigurd themselves. They all stopped what they were doing to see what the commotion was about, and paused out of curiosity.

“Yes, Ulfar?” Dag responded, clearly not reflecting the man’s antagonistic mood. “What is it?”

Ulfar prowled towards the viking, unable to hide the glower now plastered on his face.

“The jarl’s daughter lies dead in a pool of cold blood... and you have the audacity to feign ignorance?”

Dag scoffed in a bewildered tone, shrugging innocently. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The older man halted in his tracks, keeping no more than a couple meters between them. “Do you think me blind and deaf, Dag? You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Ulfar began grumbling under his breath, pacing back and forth. “Damn it. I’ve been doubtful of you for a while now, but I never had anything to confirm my suspicions until today. I should’ve done something sooner.”

Dag rested his hands on his hips, growing impatient with their conversation.

“What is this about, old man? What are you getting at?”

Ulfar shot a glare at him. “You’re the rat. You’re the one who’s been feeding Kjotve our secrets, and you’re the one who told him to flee. You betrayed us.”

The blunt accusation caused a wave of murmurs to rush through the crowd around them, igniting a sudden spark of worry among the villagers.

“Is that truly what you think?” Dag questioned casually. “I know you’re short one eye, Ulfar, but even you can see how ridiculous that statement is.”

The raider refused to back down. “Give me one good reason why I should believe you. You sailed with me during the assault, Dag. I sent you as one of the scouts. Your job was to pave the way for us, and then give us the opening we needed to ambush Kjotve’s clan. But instead, you ran off to cower behind the fortress’ walls before our warriors could even reach the shore, and you lit the beacon far before we were ready. You forced what few men we had in the settlement to attack alone, and we lost a handful of people because of it.”

Ulfar’s nose crinkled in anger. “At first, I merely planned to berate you for your incompetence, but now it’s clear to me that you knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted the plan to fail.”

Dag did nothing but chuckle in response to the overwhelming accusations and waved a dismissive hand, reluctant to entertain the other man’s skepticism.

“You’re delusional, Ulfar. There is no traitor. We’ve simply been experiencing the horrible realities of war. People are going to die. Not everything is going to make sense. That’s just how it is, I’m afraid.”

Ulfar’s stare sharpened with wrath. “Oh, no. It all makes sense now. I stood idly by whilst you condemned our men to the pits of Hel because I wanted to find irrefutable evidence, but after what happened today, I’m done waiting for evidence. I’ll not allow you to endanger our clan anymore.”

Yanking out his axe, Ulfar brandished the weapon and raised it high in the air, making sure that everyone could hear his words loud and clear.

“I call a holmgang!” He announced. “Here, against the Raven Prince’s right-hand man.”

Sigurd froze upon hearing the challenge, and a stir of panic awakened inside his heart. Was this what Ingrida warned him about so long ago? Was this the betrayal his vision tried to convey?

The prince made haste to the front of the crowd with Eivor in tow, both of them now frightened to see how this would play out. 

“You wish to duel me?” Dag asked. “Are you certain that’s wise?”

The raider aimed the blade at his opponent. “This is no longer something I can take back. I’ve made the challenge. What happens next depends entirely on you. So, either pick up your axe and face me with what little honor you have left, or scurry off to the snake hissing in your ear.”

Dag laughed at the absurdity of the situation and drew his blade, bowing in a smug manner. “...Very well, Ulfar. If that’s what you wish. You’ve made a foolish choice, but I will accept your challenge. We fight to the death.”

Eivor automatically lurched forward, reaching a hand out for the older man. “Ulfar--!”

Sigurd instantly grabbed his arm and held him back, preventing him from interfering.

“Eivor...” he said in a hushed tone, “there’s nothing we can do now. The holmgang is set in place. They must go through with it.”

The younger man hesitated, flicking his eyes back and forth between Sigurd and the warriors. Out of honor, he knew that Ulfar was compelled to cross swords with Dag in a fight to the death, but he also did not wish to see the man risk his life so soon after their return. 

Eivor was already struggling to cope with the loss of his sister. If Ulfar were to perish as well... he didn’t know what he would do.

“I can’t risk losing him too,” he murmured. “Not after Thora’s just been killed. He’s my family. Sigurd, please.”

The prince kept his grip firm, giving him an apologetic look. “...I’m sorry, my love. But we can’t interfere. You know this.”

Eivor remained silent in response to Sigurd’s words and simply shifted his gaze back to the holmgang, uncertain of whether or not to heed his lover’s advice. Part of him wanted to throw himself between the two warriors and force them apart, but the other half knew that Ulfar’s honor would suffer if he did. The man would be relentlessly shamed if he backed down from his own challenge, and to some, that was a fate worse than death.

“...O-Okay, Sigurd.” He said, sighing in defeat. “I won’t interfere.”

Sigurd gently pulled him back into the crowd, trying to ease his nerves. “Thank you, Eivor. I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

Slinking into the prince’s arms, the Wolf-Kissed watched the holmgang from a distance as more villagers gathered around the scene, intrigued by the deadly spectacle. At this point, Ulfar and Dag were circling around each other like a pair of wolves and patiently waiting for the smallest sign of weakness, hoping to catch their foe off-guard.

Within a few moments though, Ulfar was already leaping at his enemy like a bear charging out of the shadows and swinging his axe with the strength of Fenrir himself, causing Dag to stumble backwards in an attempt to dodge the strike.

Regaining his footing, the bulky warrior countered the initial attack with a slice to the shoulder and thrust his blade forward, only to be blocked when Ulfar swatted it away with his axe. The older man whirled around Dag like a flame dancing in the wind and slammed his weapon downwards, aiming directly for the back of his foe’s skull.

Practically hurling himself out of the way, Dag evaded Ulfar’s attack just in time to save the skin on his scalp and sacrificed no more than a few strands of hair, giving him a second to catch his breath.

Dag had to admit -- he didn’t expect the old raider to be so agile after all these years. He assumed that Ulfar’s bones would have stiffened over time, but the man moved faster than many people half his age. It was clear to Dag that he had underestimated him, and now, he was starting to question just how big his chance of winning this really was.

But still, the man had to have a vulnerability. No one was invincible, after all. There had to be something that he could take advantage of. Something that could give him the upper hand.

Dag paused out of realization, suddenly noticing that Ulfar’s weakness was quite literally staring him in the face.

His wounded eye.

The raider’s vision had been cut in half thanks to his old injury, and Dag imagined that he would be able to slip out of his line of sight if he stayed at the right angle. He just had to be fast.

Flanking his opponent from the left, the dark-haired warrior crept into Ulfar’s blind spot and landed a strike on his upper arm, cutting straight through the sliver of fabric that sat between his layers of armor. Fresh blood instantly soaked the plain cloth hiding underneath, and for just a brief moment, Ulfar lost track of where his enemy had gone.

But a moment was all Dag needed.

In the blink of an eye, the larger warrior had bashed the hilt of his blade into Ulfar’s cheekbone and sent him tumbling to the ground, allowing him to shake the balance of the fight.

He relentlessly battered his way through the raider’s defenses and continued to pummel his weapon against Ulfar’s axe, fervently trying to disarm him before he could return to his feet.

Meanwhile, the older man backed away from Dag and slid across the dirt, desperately trying to put some distance between them before even attempting to get up. His arm was growing increasingly sore from having to endure the sheer impact of his opponent’s strikes, and soon enough, Ulfar found himself on the losing side of the battle.

Skirting around the edge of Dag’s blade, Ulfar just barely missed the last of his attacks and scurried back up to his feet, holding his axe out in front of him in a protective stance. By now, blood had leaked all the way down to his wrist, and a number of droplets even started to trail down his fingers. He was admittedly drained from deflecting the brute strength behind Dag’s swings, and with each passing minute, he could feel the energy fleeing from his body.

Still, in spite of the exhaustion now overtaking his mind, Ulfar refused to give up. This was his only chance to eliminate the rat hiding in their clan, and he had no intentions of wasting it.

Lifting his axe in the air, Ulfar steeled himself and prepared to send a vertical slice down on Dag’s forehead, doing his best to ignore the fatigue now hindering his movements. Before he could do anything however, the other man suddenly swerved to his left again and escaped his field of view, attacking him from the same angle. He heaved his blade into the side of Ulfar’s abdomen, and within seconds, the raider had fallen still.

Coming to an abrupt halt, the old warrior simply stared into the space ahead of him and drifted off into silence, unable to suppress the terror that was now swelling in his chest. His entire mind seemed to be paralyzed with an unfamiliar type of fear, and before he knew it, Dag had buried the axe in his torso.

“Ulfar!” Eivor cried, still struggling against Sigurd’s hold.

The raider let out a pained gasp and clutched his chest in shock, horrified by the numbness that was starting to petrify his limbs. The only thing he could hear was the rasp of his own breath scratching against his throat, and by now, the metallic taste of blood had started to envelop his tongue.

Yet, in spite of all this, Ulfar soon felt his fear fading away from him. The ethereal voices of the Valkyries called to him like the gaze of the moon, and in the bleak grey sky standing above him, he could almost see the feathery strips of the aurora forming a bridge to the Corpse Hall.

He had been chosen by the winged maidens, and would soon join Linnea’s side.

The final challenge he had to face now, was saying farewell.

Collapsing to the ground with a thud, Ulfar fell in the center of the arena and landed on his back, sparking a series of gasps in the spectating crowd. Dag’s blade still protruded from his chest like an axe lodged in a pile of timber, and most of the color had vanished from his skin.

As for Eivor, the young man finally broke free from Sigurd’s grip and rushed over to the fallen warrior, kneeling down by his side as the prince solemnly trailed after him.

“Ulfar!” Eivor exclaimed, reaching for his hand. “Ulfar, can you hear me?”

The other man looked up at him, uttering no more than a few words due to his lack of strength.

“...Oh, forgive me, little cub,” he whispered. “...I’ve been a damned fool.”

Eivor examined the raider’s wounds, knotting his brow in distress. “Shit...! Why did you do it? Why did you have to call a holmgang? We just lost Thora, and now you’re dying too? We need you.”

Ulfar felt a pang of guilt prodding him in the heart. “...I know, Eivor. I know. I never meant to leave you so soon. I’m sorry.”

Catching some movement in the corner of his eye, the old warrior turned away from the young man for just a second when he noticed Sigurd joining them, gazing down in a sorrowful manner. He appeared to share Eivor’s grief over the death of his new friend, and his expression was laden with desolation.

“Sigurd...” Ulfar said, beckoning him with a weak wave of the hand. “Come here.”

The prince knelt down, leaning closer to the man. “Yes?”

Ulfar gestured to Dag with a subtle flick of the eyes, giving Sigurd a regretful look.

“...I hate to pass this burden onto you... but you and I both know what needs to be done.”

Sigurd lowered his head in understanding, reluctant to face the horrid reality of the new task he’d just obtained. He despised the idea of finishing what Ulfar started, but he knew it was necessary to keep the clan safe.

“Yes. I do.”

“...Good. I know Dag is like a brother to you, but I need you to promise me you’ll do everything you can to protect these people.” Ulfar reached out his arm, awaiting Sigurd’s response. “Promise me.”

The prince clenched his jaw in an attempt to maintain his composure, admittedly heartbroken by the idea of turning against his childhood friend. Even though their lifelong relationship had reached the point of war, Sigurd would’ve been lying if he said he was willing to kill Dag.

In fact, part of him had even hoped that Ulfar would’ve done the job for him. He secretly wished that the raider would’ve emerged victorious from the holmgang, and he wanted nothing more than to spare his axe from Dag’s blood. But it seemed the gods felt different.

“Alright,” Sigurd assured, shaking the man’s hand. “I’ll do it. You have my word.

Ulfar nodded in satisfaction, barely clinging on to life at this point. “Then my death will not have been in vain. Thank you.”

Letting go of Sigurd’s arm, the dying vikingr finally decided to let the Valkyries whisk him away and closed his eyes in peace, drawing his last few breaths. The environment around him had become nothing more than a massive haze by now, but even then, he could still recognize the muffled sounds of Eivor’s mournful voice.

Ulfar felt terrible for leaving the boy behind. He didn’t wish to abandon him in his time of need, but alas, the Nornir clearly had other plans. 

Fortunately though, Eivor would not be entirely alone. He still had many people in his life who cared for him, and now, Ulfar would just have to trust that they would stay by his side. He hadn’t forgotten about Sigurd’s affection for the young man, and unlike before, he prayed that the prince wouldn’t shy away from it any longer.

As for Sigurd himself, he had become preoccupied with the new path the gods had lain out in front of him. For the first time in years, the road ahead was not obscured by uncertainty, or hesitance, or even fear. It remained clear as day, and yet, it would be the most difficult one for him to venture in his life thus far.

And so, with a heavy heart, Sigurd stood up from the ground and sulked away from Ulfar’s corpse, making a beeline straight for Dag. He laid a hand on the warrior’s shoulder and ushered him to a more secluded area, ensuring that their conversation stayed private.

“Dag,” he said quietly, “join me for a walk.”

The other man threw him a wary look, confused as to what the prince could want at this time.

“A walk? Now? Where are we going?”

Sigurd pointed to the waterfall in the distance. “The Tears of Ymir. Come with me. We’ll be back shortly.”

Dag clearly wasn’t interested. “Can this not wait, Sigurd? We’ve only--”

“--Just come.” The prince insisted, his tone hardening. “...We need to talk.”

Deciding not to question his friend any further, Dag simply went along with Sigurd’s mysterious plan and followed him into the surrounding wilderness, curious to see what the prince had in mind. 

In the meantime, the rest of Bjornheimr’s villagers dispersed from the scene of the holmgang and left Eivor alone with Ulfar’s body, giving him space to grieve on his own. Neither Arngeir nor Randvi had returned to see what had become of their old friend just yet, but he dreaded the moment when he’d have to show them.

How could this be happening? It wasn’t that long ago that Eivor was holding his deceased sister in his arms, and now, Ulfar had taken her place. Just within a day, they had already lost two of the most important souls in Bjornheimr, and gained nothing in return.

Kjotve was alive. Gorm was alive. But somehow, the gods had deemed it necessary to rob Midgard of its benevolent warriors, and leave no more than a grave of ashes in their name.

They always preached about living a life of honor, and yet, they had stolen it from the few who were willing to try.

Well, no matter what happened in the future, Eivor didn’t plan on watching anymore of his loved ones die. He didn’t care what it took to get Gorm to speak, or how long the interrogation would last. He would find the answers he needed, and track Kjotve down before the bastard had a chance to flee.

He promised himself he would kill the man for good this time, and he wavered not at the thought of death.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

Wow. I’m so, so grateful for the lovely response to chapter 1 of this story. I’ve never had so many notes on one of my posts before, so many, many thanks to everyone who took the time to read, like, reblog and comment on it. i do appreciate it

Thanks also to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta

Previous chapter

AO3

Chapter 2: From Scrubs to Sauvignon

Sunlight streaming through the shutters wakes me before the alarm. After the previous seventy two hours with too much alcohol, not enough sleep and shared hotel rooms, last night’s sleep was a solid nine and a half hours and I feel so much better for it.

Trying, for a moment at least, to ignore both the demands of my bladder and my desperate need for caffeine, I gaze up at the ceiling and contemplate the surgery ahead of me. Whilst it’s a comparatively routine procedure for me, I always think about the families — parents, grandparents, siblings. It’s an anxious time for them, never routine, a step into the unknown and they are putting their trust in me to look after their precious child. Their faith in me is something I take very seriously.

I have a ritual I follow every time before theatre. I take a few minutes to close my eyes and let the procedure play inside my head, my hands echoing the images in my brain. I trace the path my scalpel will take on the skin; I position, in mid air, the locations of the clamps; I work with my imaginary mallet and chisel honing the bone, the X-ray images clear in my head.

By the time I’ve finished closing the incision, the demands of my bladder can no longer be ignored. That’s my cue to get out of bed and start my day.

***********

Before I put my scrubs on, I pay a visit to the side room where Robbie, my seven year old patient has spent the night. His parents have already given consent for the operation, but I like to go and do a final check.

Robbie is sitting up in bed, a bit subdued but in good health. His mother is sitting expectantly, nervously playing with the skin around her nails. The foldaway bed has already been put away, but, judging by her red rimmed eyes, I don’t think it got much use. Robbie’s father follows me into the room, two coffees in his hands.

“Sorry, Doctor Claire,” he nods at the coffee. “I didna get ye one. D’ye want one?”

I let the doctor reference pass. As a surgeon, my title is no longer doctor. Officially, I am Miss Beauchamp, but prefer my juvenile patients to call me Claire. Quite a lot of the parents seem to call me Doctor Claire. I suppose they like the reassurance that I am actually a proper doctor.

“No, thanks.” I smile. “Are we all set then?”

They nod nervously.

“Aye,” Robbie’s father agrees. “We need tae get it done.”

“How long will it take?” Robbie’s mother looks directly at me, wanting a definitive answer.

I hesitate. I don’t like to give precise times. If the surgery goes longer then parents start to fear the worst, and that’s not always the case. So I give a vague answer. “‘Till lunchtime… you could always go and sit outside in the little garden, it’s a lovely day.”

His mother looks down at her hands and shakes her head. “No, I want tae be right here …”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but she doesn’t have to. I know exactly what she’s thinking.

I turn to Robbie, blissfully unaware of his parents’ thoughts. He beckons me to him.

“When I wakes up,” he begins in a stage whisper. “Can I have a treat?”

“What sort of treat did you have in mind?”

“Can I have a MacDonald’s? But no’ a kid’s meal. I’ve never had a Big Mac.”

I glance at his parents who nod at me before I whisper back, “Of course you can, but don’t let nurse Geillis see, will you? She can be ever so naughty. She’ll be trying to steal your chips away, if you’re not careful.”

And with that, I stroke Robbie’s little cheek before saying my goodbyes and head out to get changed.

**********

Robbie’s surgery went to plan, no nasty surprises or tricky complications. I call in to check on Robbie’s parents before they head to recovery. They look totally different to when I saw them this morning. Still worn out of course, I don’t think they’ll sleep properly until their little lad is home with them, but their faces shine with sheer relief. I have warned them about the long road ahead, with many hours of physiotherapy and exercises, but, for today, I’ll let them have their moment of pure happiness. Reality will hit them again soon enough.

As I leave the waiting room, making my farewells, Robbie’s dad thanks me once more. I can tell he’s unsure whether hugging me is appropriate or not, so he settles for a handshake. His wife has no such qualms, wrapping me tightly in a hug, whispering her thanks until her husband reminds her that they need to be with their son. I point the way and head down to the nurses station.

Geillis is sitting there, looking very busy on the computer. I pull up a chair and sit next to her. The screen is filled with images of our weekend in Barcelona.

“What?” She looks at me as if I’ve accused her of something. “I’m on ma lunch, aren’t I?”

“How was your night then?”

Geillis beams from ear to ear— she’s like the cat who got the cream. “Nay bad, nay bad at all. After two nights away, Dougal realises what he’s got wi’ me, and he dinna hesitate tae show me, if ye ken what I mean?”

She winks at a poor medical student, who blushes and busies himself with a set of medical notes.

“Geillis,” I warn. “Behave yourself.”

“Anyway, pet, how was yer evening? Another tryst wi’ Professor Randall?” Her face says it all. Geillis thinks about as much of Frank as he does of her. Literally the only thing they have in common is me, and it’s getting pretty wearing.

“No, I was worn out and— oh, that reminds me.” I fumble in my pocket for my phone as I carry on talking. “I’ve got someone else’s suitcase. I hope they’ve got mine.”

I glance at the screen. Two missed calls and one message. All from the same number. All from the number I called last night, the James-Fraser-isn’t-here-don’t-call-again-ever number. Looks like this James Fraser has a jealous or suspicious wife-partner-girlfriend-housekeeper.

“Catch up later, Geillis, I need to deal with this.”

I rush back to my office to try and sort the suitcase problem out.

The message is brief and to the point.

Hi, Jamie Fraser here. I think I have your case too. Can we arrange a swap? I live in Glasgow. Hopefully you too. Where and when? I’m free after 5 today.

After five will work for me too, I just need to pop home and pick up his case. Now, based on his wardrobe choices and his one message to me, he doesn’t actually seem like an axe murderer or sex pervert, but you can’t really tell, so I think about a public location.

How about the benches by the cafe at Kelvingrove Park? 5:30? Claire Beauchamp

A couple of minutes later his reply appears on my screen.

Fine. See you then.  I’ll be the one wheeling a black Samsonite. JF

**************

It’s another glorious sunny day here in Glasgow. Just ideal for going for a stroll in the park. I do feel a bit conspicuous with a suitcase trailing along behind me — kind of like an upmarket bag lady.

There are no other suitcases around, so I perch on a bench. I fire a quick message to Geillis, just so that she knows where to direct the police if I disappear and then wait. It’s not too bad waiting. The sun is still warm, so I stretch my legs out trying for a tan. With my eyes closed, I lift my face up to soak up the rays. I may get panda eyes with my sunglasses on, but I don’t really care. The warmth is so good and I can feel myself relaxing totally —

“Ahem.”

I am conscious of a shadow across my face. I open my eyes and quickly stand up.

He’s tall. That’s the first thing I notice. A good few inches taller than me, and I’m 5 feet 9. And broad. Broad enough to block my sun. His hair is red, very red and the sun behind him creates a fiery corona around his head.

He’s a Viking. A Viking in a navy blue suit and a crisp white shirt. How many of those white shirts does he own, I wonder?

“Claire Beauchamp, I presume. I recognise the case. That red ribbon on the handle, such a unique idea.”

He smiles, a lopsided half grin and holds out his hand for me to shake. “Jamie Fraser.”

“Claire Beauchamp,” I say somewhat unnecessarily as we shake hands.

He sits down. “So,” he begins politely. “I hope ye havena come far out of yer way.”

I join him on the bench.

“No,” I gesture vaguely to my right. “I live not too far from here. How about you?”

That lopsided grin appears again. “Nah,” he gestures to his left. “No’ too far at all.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence. We are not really here for small talk, but is it too rude to just dive in and do the swap?

“So,” Jamie breaks the silence. “About the cases…”

Apparently it’s not too rude.

“I ken ye have ma case there, on account of ma contact details being in it, but what about this one? How do I ken this is yers? Black Samsonites with wee red ribbons seem to be awfa common ‘round here. As proof, can ye mebbe tell me something that’s in it? Something identifiable?”

And at this, my mind goes blank, what did I pack?

“Er, denim shorts… black flip flops… white vest—”

“Weel, they’re all verra common. Is there anything a wee bit more… unique?”

Is it my imagination or is there a twinkle in his clear blue eyes as he says this? And then I remember exactly what’s in my case and start to blush.

“There may be some hen party bits and pieces in there too. It was my friend’s hen weekend, so I think there may be some, er, stuff from that, you know, er, handcuffs… shot glasses…”

He puts me out of my misery. “Och, that’s fine. It’s yers, right enough. Here ye go.”

And we do the exchange, just like in the spy movies. Except in those, the cases are filled with bank notes and the top secret blueprints for a submarine base, and not white dress shirts and an assortment of shot glasses shaped like penises.

Our phones beep practically simultaneously. I pull mine out of my pocket. Jamie does the same and glances at his phone.

Mine is a text from Frank confirming tonight’s arrangements “I’d better go. Plans for tonight, you know.”

“Snap. Plans here as well.”

“Goodbye then. I’m not sure whose fault it was, the mixup at the airport. So why don’t we both say sorry, or neither of us?” I suggest as I stand up and smooth the creases from my skirt.

“Sounds good tae me. How about neither?” He smiles again. “Ms Claire Beauchamp, nice to meet you.”

“Mr Jamie Fraser, likewise I’m sure.”

And with that we head off, me to the right and Jamie Fraser to the left.

************

Frank had said 7:30, and, sure enough, at 7:28 my intercom buzzes and I let Frank in. He arrives at my door carrying a large bunch of lilies and roses. No, not a bunch, I can’t describe it as a bunch… carrying a large bouquet of lilies and roses, beautifully arranged and hand-tied. Clearly not a supermarket purchase. Nor is the wine he also hands to me. A chilled bottle of my favourite Sauvignon Blanc, only available from quality wine merchants in the city.

Frank can be incredibly thoughtful and generous, and I am suitably grateful. I pop the flowers into the kitchen sink while I try to locate a vase big enough to hold them.  He walks in as I’m scrabbling around on my hands and knees, bum in the air, head buried in the cupboard under the sink.

“So what are we having for dinner?” He asks as he pours the wine. “Are you cooking?”

I emerge victorious, having found the vase wedged between a bottle of sink unblocker and an unused can of spray starch.

“Sorry?”

“Dinner?” He repeats, helping me to my feet.

“I’ve not had a chance to cook. I told you about the suitcase confusion, didn’t I?  Well, I had to get that sorted. I thought we could have something delivered. That’s ok, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure that will be fine, darling. What would you like?”

What would I like? What I would really like would be a huge, great pizza full of carbs and grease and pepperoni and cheese that pulls into strands when you try to take a slice. And to sit on the floor with the pizza box between us watching Netflix and drinking beer.

But, that is clearly a rhetorical question.

“Thai?” Frank doesn’t wait for my answer.

Thai is the only acceptable takeaway in Frank’s eyes, eaten at a table, on proper plates. I nod my agreement. After all, he’s brought me wonderful flowers, and a gorgeous bottle of wine. He deserves to have the choice. And I can have pizza with my friends any time.

“You ring the order through then, while I arrange these beautiful flowers.” I say and kiss his cheek.

And that is our evening sorted - takeaway, a couple of glasses of wine, Newsnight on the television and then to bed for a bit of sex.

So, that’s food, drink, mind and body all sorted. I should go to sleep feeling satisfied with everything. I should… shouldn’t I?

[coffee-and-cake]

Toothcup Kids

(Good god I finally did it after forgetting about it twice I finally finished them)

Note: this is mostly just how they were found/adopted with some tid bits of personality

Destin - Human son - oldest (found at about 2 months old)

Destin was found as an a baby abandoned in a forest in the middle of winter. He was deemed a “hiccup” and left on a small island to die. But luckily toothless had heard his cries when flying over the island so him and hiccup were able to warm him up and get back to berk to feed him.

He is found in the middle of the “race to the edge” series (hiccup is 17 - 18)

Age 0 - 9 he is a sweet boy with a thirst for knowledge but has slight trauma of dragon hunters and dragons (remember the team has felt with many a violent dragons and he’s there for a good bit of it). When he’s 10 he starts to distance himself from Toothless specifically and gravitates to his mom (hiccup). At one point he tells hiccup that he refuses to see a dragon as his father. (More to come cause I don’t wanna spoil all of my ideas 😉)

Looks: (Note: every characters look is when they are still children not adults)

Hair: black and curly, bangs cover his eyes

Eyes: green

Body: very small and slim with pale skin but is noticeable tall for his age.

(NOTE: I actually wanna do a rewrite of the 3rd movie and these kids are from my rewrite ideas that I have yet to post much less write down)

Vali - Dragon son - 2nd child (egg found a week after 2nd movie, hatched a few months before 3rd movie)

A young female night fury is found dying in the forest of Berk with an egg in her paws. She acts violently towards the Vikings who only wanna help so they send in toothless to calm her down. She lets the Vikings help her and it’s soon realized that with her injuries might not survive the night. With knowledge in mind she warns Toothless and Hiccup about Grimmel and her trapped people. She mentions that her mate was killed and after she is gone her hatchling won’t have anymore family. Hiccup vows to protect her child as if it were his own as well as toothless and seeing their passion and willingness to help her and possibly save her people she passes away peacefully over night know her child is in safe claws. (Happens not long after the 2nd movie)

When the egg does hatch he has green eyes like toothless but has more of mother(dragon) looks. I actually don’t want to give too much away with this one because he is going to be the more mysterious kind of sibling and a lot of what I have for him cannot be just written down in just a few words but I will say that when he was in his juvenile years he was very much a coward and he hates himself for that when something really bad happens

Looks:

Eyes: dark green

Body: (I tried my best cause all the dragon children are night fury’s)

- he is pretty big for his age and is suspected to be bigger then toothless once of age. (A chubby boi)

- The spikes on his head and legs are noticeable longer as well.

- Underbelly is more of a dark gray

Mista - Dragon daughter - 3rd child (egg found and hatched at grimmels old base after the third movie)

You can find the little story that I made about how they found her egg here

She is surprisingly the most human of all her siblings and hopes to one day be chief of Berk. When she hatched she had already started to be kind of controlling especially to her younger brothers and whenever her mom and dad, hiccup and toothless, would leave for a certain amount of time she would always ask “I’m in charge right remember you said that you put me in charge”

But when it eventually becomes time for her to become a leader it has to be after the worst moment in Berks’ history and she has to make very hard and important decisions.

Looks:

Eyes: gold

Body:

- Mista almost matches Vali in size but is more slender and her muscles being more defined.

- Eye flaps are larger and more pointed

- Her scales are a very dark navy blue

Troy - Dragon son - 4th child (born the same day as his sister but on New Berk)

This boy was born on the same day as his as his older sister a few later hours except he is born on New Berk. Him and Mista are the only ones that are related by blood. he is the wild child of the five siblings and is always looking for trouble but one day he bites off more than he can chew and now has to face the consequences of his actions

*chuckles darkly*

Looks:

Eyes: Gold

Body:

- Is the smallest of the dragon siblings with not much muscle. But he is the fastest of the siblings.

- Scales are a dark forest green under belly is more and dorsal fins are more grayish give him a mossy cobblestone look (Mossy boy)

- Smaller and rounder ear flaps

- Grey freckles scattered across his snout

Axel - Human son - 5th child (found in Grimmels village at 1 year old a few weeks after the birth of the 3rd and 4th child)

Even though he is a whole year older than Mista and Troy he is still considered the youngest due to dragons maturing way faster than a normal human as well as because he was found before them as well so they deemed him the youngest

This boy grows up to be very laid-back he tends to be the more draconic of the siblings be it on the lazier side he loves spending time with his dad toothless and he loves to draw with his mom Hiccup he loves his siblings but they can be a bit overprotective and sometimes controlling but really he just wants to vibe in a field of flowers and sing songs.

But when the time comes for him to be serious he doesn’t hold back and always helps pull his family through the toughest of times

Looks

Hair:

- very light blonde

- Likes it kept long so he can braid it

Eyes: sky blue

Body:

- Axel is small like how Destin was and was also deemed a “Hiccup” but was never left to die.

- He has a small scar on his right cheek that was there before he was adopted by Hiccup.

- Ears are somewhat pointer giving him an elvish look

[tes-trash-blog]

ElaborTe

So if you like Nords or stan them or cherish them as much as I do the Snow Elves, you might wanna skip this one.

TW: White supremacy, Neo-Nazism, the trash blog going completely off their shits

From the early days of the Elder Scrolls, the Nords have always been.. Well, Norse-coded. As far as races and their lore-evolutions go, they’re the only ones who have held steady in their Nordy McNordness throughout the series. They’ve always been hardy, fair-haired men and women from frozen reaches of Skyrim. They’ve always had a foothold in that tundra, as early as the days of Labrynthian, first featured in Arena. They’ve always preferred axes and steel over magic and guile, and before anyone says anything about Project Tamriel or out-of-game lore or whatever Kirkbride said about robots and wasabi, I’m talking explicitly about canon here, as canon is what most gamers see in these games.

From their appearance to their armor and weapons to the draugr and ancient gods, the Nords are very much the Elder Scrolls’ answer to the Fantasy Viking, which in itself is based on the Vikings of yonder year.. Give or take a few embellishments. Their axes have harsh-but-intricate carvings, their armor is lined with fur and made from honest steel, they have names like Hulda and Sigrid, Roggvir and Thongvor, their voice actors hail from Sweden or can put on a Scandivan-esque accent. They look, sound, act, and dress Norse.

In media studies, this is called coding, a relatively new term in academia and so far still largely used in queer studies. Unlike allegory, which is an intentional one-to-one comparison of something vis a vis Lion Witch and the Wardrobe or Ender’s Game, coding is by and large unintentional, or at least unclaimed and not explicitly stated. It is a byproduct of beliefs, biases, and bumbletyfucks the writer possessed as they created a work, and left unchecked it can lead to problematic elements.

This isn’t to say that coding is terrible, or Bad, or Problematic (though it often is at least one, and sometimes all three), but rather, it is a limitation of being human. Most writers are human as are most of the audiences the media reaches out to, and as such are bound by their worldview and preconceived notions and biases. Just because it can be problematic doesn’t necessarily mean it always is going to be problematic. A skilled writer can recognize this and work around it, or even play with the preconceived notions the audience has. I’ve seen very few white writers accomplish this, even fewer that were cisgendered men, but it’s doable.

However, if these notions are left unchecked, unchallenged, and uncritically accepted, you end up with uh, things. Things like, oh, the Khajiit who steal and deal drugs and travel in “caravans” (oof), the Bosmer who are the only brown Elves in the game and are also cannibals (yikes), the Reachfolk are dressed in untanned animal skins and wear antlers and do guerilla warfare and fucking yikes Bethesda what were you thinking???

You also end up with the Nords, who really took a nosedive from Fantasy Vikings into Gleeful Killers with Magic Shouting come Morrowind, where the Snow Elves had a proper introduction if only to show that the Nords of old were mass murderers, but, y’know, felt kinda bad about it after a child soldier killed their leader. It makes for a sad story, but it’s a cheap, Ender's Game-esque out so the viewer doesn’t have to feel bad about rooting for them. “They felt bad, guys! It’s okay!”

These deeply problematic aspects of Nords-as-homicidal-maniacs only became more apparent with the arrival of The Elder Scrolls 5: Skyrim.

Here’s where that white supremacy warning I gave earlier comes into play. You still got some time to check out and enjoy your day.

Still here? Alright.

It was a perfect storm. As I said in a previous rant, Skyrim came about in a time of unprecedented White Anxiety. I cannot stress enough how much white people lost their damn minds when Obama was elected president. There were threats on the then-President’s life, on his wife and daughters, on a daily basis. Gun sales reached record highs out of fear that the boogeyman Democrat would take their guns away. Libertarianism soon became a shorthand for a white supremascist who likes to smoke weed. The so called Tea Party screamed about “freedom of religion” while openly applauding anti-Islamic hate crimes and calling the President by his middle name/dogwhistle “Hussien”, white supremacist hate sites saw an influx of traffic; Stormfront, the oldest of the bunch, saw a jump from 23,000 users in 2004 to over 100,000 in 2008, and this was before bot users were a thing admins had to weed out, this was before a certain foreign power took a keen interest in installing a useful idiot.

This was home-brewed vitriol.

All the while, right wing media went batshit. Fox News had their Mustardgate “scandal”, a dogwhistle to their populist audience that their leaders weren’t like “the average American”. Conspiracy theories sprung up right and left (pun intended) about the Obama administration and “the shadow government”, of which those neo-Nazi sites, with their surge in fresh-faced users,  were a wellspring for. Being the Internet, their memes and “facts Big Media doesn’t want you to hear” spread like a cancer to the greater Internet-- Reddit and its subsidiary Imgur, Tumblr, Twitter, 9Gag, countless other pockets of blogospheres and forums and media platforms. It was, and still is, fucking inescapable.

And of course, Nazis love them that Norse aesthetic. They love the cold where only real men could survive, unlike those weak-willed patsies and *checks notes* dijon-mustard lovers. They love the pale skin and light hair of the people as that’s their idea of genetic purity. They love the runes, the affectations, how the Norse folk of old just invaded and pillaged and were so strong, they did Blood Eagles and were so masculine.

And therein lies why I hate the Nords. I hate how they went from Generic Viking to Murder Men, I hate the direction Morrowind and onward took with them, I hate how no one had the foresight to either tone down these aspects or put a spin on them like they seemed to do with other races. I hate how quickly actual racists took to this fake ass race, I hate how they tried to pull a “both sides are the same” in that stupid Civil War questline when one side is an actual ethno-nationalist paramilitary cult. 

I hate how the writers of Skyrim were cowards, and I hate that they apparently looked at Ur-Fascism and saw a checklist. I hate that they gave the Nords, and by extension you, the player, a moral justification for rallying against a “high-brow”, “elitist”, “globalist” “oppressive”, distinctly non-Nordic and non-Mannish group of people because they “threaten the Nord way of life”. But let’s make the Elves the Nazi allegory so there’s no qualms whatsoever about siding with the Fantasy Republicans. I hate that every other stereotype of non-Nord races can be found in that game, from the skooma dealing Dunmer to the thieving Khajiit to the bootlicker Imperial to the fucking High Elves. I hate that they only expanded on the morally-justified genocide of the Snow Elves with Songs of the Return, and then further reinforce how “good” that was by having you meet the guy who slaughtered children. I hate how, barring one easily missable side quest that still uses bothsidesism there is no challenge to this bullshit way of thinking. I hate that a sizable chunk of Stormcloakblr are also very clearly racist. I hate that my Ysgramor/Pelinal shitpost started to gain traction after someone with a rage face icon reblogged it with a “Kill All Elves” tag. I’ve deleted it since. The meaning is lost on those wastes of breath, and was 100% the cause for this rant.

I hate how the writers could have done better, but didn’t.

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Unexpected

Author: @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader

Word Count: 2327

prompt: “You don’t marry a Viking to be happy.”

Warnings: none I can think of 

Notes: This is my first attempt at just pure fluff... no smut, no angst, though they are hinted at they are not dived into. I hope you folks enjoy!

Thank you so much to @dreamwritesimagines for hosting their “Not Today Writers Block” Writing Challenge cause it gave me the opportunity to try this!

Summary: Married off to Ubbe to ensure the safety of your father's lands you end up discovering something about marriage to a Viking. 

Masterlist || Vikings Masterlist

A scream of pleasure tears past your lips as he was able to cause that coil in your abdomen to snap once again. As he pulled away from you, he moved up to kiss your lips languidly and you returned the kiss, hesitantly. 

Your father had agreed to add you to the Viking in exchange for them leaving his lands intact. Most of the women in your town were jealous- the Ragnarssons all extremely good looking men, but their good, Christian morals wouldn’t let them say so. Instead, they had focused on the fact that your new husband was a heathen and would surely damn you to hell with him. 

“What is wrong?” your new husband asks you after a moment's silence and you lean up to kiss him softly. 

You had traveled with him and his brothers back to Kattegat after the wedding and things had been adventurous, to say the least. The ship had almost capsized during a storm but you’d made it. Your husband's brothers, Hvitserk and Ivar, had decided that they would teach you the language and about their gods. 

They’d started on the ship and you’d learned that while Ivar was short-tempered, he and Hvitserk actually made good teachers. You’d managed to pick up the language very quickly and while you still got their gods confused you had an idea of who was who. It was vastly fascinating.

Even Sigurd had joined in and was teaching you about music and how to play.

Your husband has taught you to fight and you found that you were a quick learner. You were already proficient with the bow and your husband had already informed you that he fully intended to put sword, spear, and axe in your hand.   

Yo lean forward and kiss your husband softly, cupping his face in both your hands, “You know 

Ubbe “Why?”

“Well - they say... they all say that your people are savages- that they eat children and that they’re bloodthirsty creatures  - more animal than human.”

“Well that’s dumb,” Ubbe responds with a snort. 

You can’t help the heat that blooms just under your skin and you’re sure that your husband can tell that you’re embarrassed, “I thought the same thing….” you whisper to him as you hide your face from him. 

A moment later, Ubbe’s hand has come to cup your face softly and he looks at you. When he speaks, his voice is soft and sincere, it holds both a gift and reverence,  “I promise you, my love, that you will never have to worry about such things from me or my family.”

You can’t help the smile that tears across your lips as you lean forward and kiss him, “Thank you, my love.”

Ubbe spends the next year making you happy. He would randomly show up with flowers that he’d picked from the nearby fields. He would bring you gifts that he had bought from far off lands or that he had had made custom for you. 

At first, you would find yourself feeling melancholy and missing your home so Ubbe had found you texts that were written in Latin so you could understand them. He had also found and purchased thralls for you that hailed from your homeland so that you had someone to talk to in your own language. 

He worked day in and day out with you, working on your language and your fighting skills. Each time you learned something new or did something correctly, he would praise you for your ability to pick up their world as fast as you had. 

Ubbe never raised a hand to you and while you had heard the stories of how he had bedded girl after girl in Kattegat when he was younger, he never gave you cause to question his loyalty for you. Whenever he had to stay late with his brother, he would send word to you and you always had the option to go and join them. Many times, you did join them and if you did not, your husband always made sure that you woke in his arms. 

Ubbe had taught you different ways of love-making. Some were soft, slow, and sensual. Others were passionate, fast, and desperate. Still, others were passionate but painfully slow. 

He had started by teaching you how to dance, something that your father would have been furious about and at first, you had resisted but, slowly, you had followed him along the dance-floor. Allowing him to lead you across the floor of your shared room (another oddity you had come to enjoy) as he hummed a soft, happy tune. 

Slowly, he had managed to get you out of the room and to dance at the festivities that his family seemed to constantly throw.  Slowly at first, he would only get you to take one turn on the dance floor but as you became more confident in not only yourself but in your place amongst the people, you found that you would dance more. Though, it was only ever with Ubbe or one of his brothers as there were some things that you felt were not appropriate - no matter what the brothers said. 

Ubbe was, also, unafraid to show his love for you in public. Something your old friends would learn quite soon as you were traveling back to your homelands, to check on the settlement that Ubbe and his brother had left behind when you married. 

The travel back to your home was both exciting and nerve-wracking. You had missed your family but you were not foolish enough to say that the group of you were ever close. It wasn’t as if you had a relationship like the brothers did. 

Though they fought and argued constantly, they all loved each other. There was still some bad blood as none of them had ever had a good childhood, but they were vastly loyal to each other and they tended to spend more time together than they did apart.

You could count on one hand the number of times your entire family had all been together. Still, you missed your father and are looking forward to seeing him when you arrive in your homeland. 

You and your husband had left Kattegat towards the end of the summer months, the first chills were just coming in. You knew that it meant that the snows would be falling by the time that you had made it to your father's home and so Ubbe had made sure that you had fine furs and well-spun wool so that you would not have to worry about the cold. 

He’d even managed to find a woman who dyed the wool purple and cured it in such a way that the purple stayed through many washes. You’d been skeptical at first but after seeing her wash one of her cloths and seeing no bleeding, you had agreed to accept the item. 

It was early morning when one of the men spotted the landmass that was your home. It would mean that you would be there by mid-day.

Going to prepare yourself, you changed into something that your father would expect of a woman married to a Prince. The dress was fine silk, cut to flatter your figure with a slit up the side of each leg for easy movement and yet modest enough for the occasion of meeting your father. However, the strip of fabric that covered your breasts in a most “Christian” manner could easily be removed should you choose. 

Ubbe had already promised to tear it off you later. 

When the boat docked, the men disembarked from the ship first and you swiftly followed behind. As you moved to step down from the lifted edge, Ubbe reached out and lifted you by the waist before carefully setting you down beside him. 

“Y/N!” Your father called out, his arms outstretched and a large smile on his face. Before you realized it you found yourself running to his arms and your father held you tightly before letting go. 

He greets Ubbe and his brothers and you find your husband's arm is once again around your waist as he pulls you tightly to him. This is such a normal thing for you that you don’t think anything of it but you can see the look of surprise flitter across your father's features before he schools his emotions. 

The festivities of the day go on for what felt like hours and hours. Your father having thrown a grand celebration for the visit of his daughter and son-in-law the Heathen Prince. 

Men and women are in attendance but, as expected, only the married couples were dancing. Even then, it was the stiff dance, where only their hands touched and you watched as many of these men would dance with their wives only to make eyes at the younger girls. Some of which were young enough to be their daughters. Others, who were known to be the bastard children of some of the men in attendance working as servant girls. 

The whole thing disgusted you. 

Ubbe must have felt your disgust with the situation for a moment later, he’s pulled you onto the dance floor and leads you across it in gliding steps. It’s not long before you’re lost in the feel of his arms encasing you in their strength, in their warmth. 

Ubbe holds you close as the music swells, pulling you so far into him that it’s almost impossible to tell where your body ends and his begins. As he leads you across the floor he whispers filthy obscenities in your ear. 

You’d both learned, quite accidentally, that you enjoyed hearing what he planned on doing with your body. There was something about the gravely turn his voice took as he would whisper in your ear just how he planned to worship you that never failed to leave you wanton and needy for him. He had used this tactic to keep you from killing a Jarl one night and you figured that he was using the same tactic now. 

You could feel the blood rushing to your skin, both in embarrassment at his bold words here —in front of people you knew would never think to even experiment in pleasing their partners— and from the idea of just what it was that he planned on doing to you. 

As he danced you across the floor, you felt yourself becoming more and more aroused and could see, out of the corner of your eye, some of the women grouping together. You were positive that you know what they were doing but you found that you didn’t care. 

As the dance ended, Ubbe pulled away from you and sent you a cheeky grin before leading you off the dance floor. 

“Are you thirsty, my love?” he asked you, cupping your face so you would look him in the eye. 

Staring into his beautiful blue eyes, you have to remind yourself not to get lost in their depths, just yet. Instead, you nodded your head and Ubbe led you to one of the alcoves and made sure you were situated, kissing you before he made his way in search of a drink for you. 

“Well, well, well,” comes a voice you know all too well and you have to remind yourself not to roll your eyes. It would seem that Anna, who had been the most vocal about your marriage, was making herself known. “What have we here?”

Greeting the woman, you smile softly at her but do not encourage her with any small talk. At home, the people of Kattegat would have understood that this meant that you were to be left alone. At your father's house, however, it would seem that the same rules did not apply. 

Anna offered you a saccharine smile, reminding you of a painted mask you’d seen before with the large smile and yellowed teeth. Moments later, her friends are surrounding her and you quickly piece together that Ana has managed to secure a place for herself amongst these women. 

“Ladies,” Anna begins, “I was just talking to Y/N about her husband… She was telling me that the rumors are true, Viking men are brutal.” The women around her gasp and begin chittering amongst themselves and offering you their sympathies. Anna gives you a look, daring you to contradict her and you merely offer her a smile. 

You know better than to play these political games that they like to play. You had not been one for them when you first lived and after living in Kattegat you found that you had no patience for the games of court. Most of the people in Kattegat were quite less likely to play these games. No - they were more likely to just kill you if they had an issue with you. 

You allowed the women to continue their chatter, they were asking you questions that you weren’t really paying attention to but they answered each other, each one wanting to be the most important woman in the room. 

As your eyes scan the room, you see Ubbe is returning with a drink in hand and it occurs to you that it is quite possible to allow put Anna in her place without disagreeing with her. Catching your husband's eye you offer him a sultry smile and a wink. He looks somewhat confused, as he had probably expected you to play by the Christian courts rules but gives you an indulging smile nonetheless. He will play along with whatever it is you’ve got planned. 

“Y/N, was Anna right? Are you dreadfully miserable with those heathens?”

“Well, she is right, in that you don’t marry a Viking to be happy,” you tell the ladies, before placing your hand out expectantly,  “You marry a Viking to be treated like a queen.” 

As soon as the words are out of your mouth, Ubbe’s lips are kissing your fingertips.

-

Masterlist || Vikings Masterlist

-

taglist: @nicole-lynne​ @stiles-o-dylan24​ @mummybear​ @dreamwritesimagines​

Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to HISTORY CHANNEL  and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 30 September 2019

[kadmeread]

Not Over Yet - Chapter 1: A New Pantheon

If anyone is interested, I decided to redo this story, it is currently published under my account on fanfiction.net (kadmeread) there as well. But I thought I might publish this new version on here and AO3 (same username again) as well to hopefully get it out there. Please let me know what you think!

So this story is a PJO/HOO/TOA crossed over with MCGA. Set after Burning Maze and during Ship of the Dead. Basically the summary goes along the lines of; Jason's confused. Where the hell is he? This isn't Elysium...and there are Norse gods now?

Chapter 1: A New Pantheon

So I finally did it, I died. Now I’ve been close to dying before, I’ve even actually died for a minute, but I never expected to go so soon. When I did go I expected to wake up in the Underworld, on my way to be judged. I would hope that I would get judged worthy of Elysium, but it's hard to tell sometimes. Anyway, I did not expect to be holding the hand of a girl riding what looked like a venti. As I started to show signs of being awake she dropped me on this lawn. It was connected to this really large building, like Olympus sized. As I was looking around, the doors opened and I was addressed.

“Ahh, you’re early, oh well come on in Mr Grace.”

The guy who spoke had on a doorman’s uniform, but the rest of him contradicted the welcoming look. He had a distinctly viking like look, with the wild hair and beard. He had a large double bladed axe at this side and his hand hovered over it threateningly. I decided it would probably be the best idea to do what he said as I still wasn’t even sure if I was dead.

As I walked towards him I noticed the lack of pain, in theory I shouldn’t have even been able to walk, even if I had survived. But I couldn’t even feel any of the various wounds I knew I had gotten. When I looked down at myself I saw no sign of the wounds, I also noted that I was in my Camp Jupiter t-shirt, and IVLIVS was in my jeans pocket. I thought this was odd as I knew I had been using it when I died.

The doorman looked at me impatiently, “Well hurry it up,” he said. “You can’t hang out over there all day, we have other new arrivals expected after all.”

I sped up slightly and tried to work pout what exactly had actually happened. I had been fighting Caligula…Piper and Meg and Apollo had been there fighting with me…Oh gods, the Sybil’s prophecy…it had come true...I had died, I was now dead. I felt the weight of this realisation settle upon me. If I was dead then…

“Where am I?” I demanded. I was confident that this wasn’t any part of the Greco-Roman Underworld. Between Percy, and Nico, and Annabeth, and Hazel, and even Thalia, I knew what it all looked and felt like and smelt like. It was kind of sad that most of my friends could describe the entire Underworld to me like going there was an everyday thing.

The guy’s eyes softened, I really needed to get a name for him.

“All in good time lad,” he said, “For now let’s get you checked in.” He put a hand on my back and guided me in.

The foyer was larger than I expected considering the outside appearance, sure the building seemed tall, but large? Nope. I was no architecture expert like Annabeth, but I was pretty confident that it was physically impossible for the foyer to be this big without magic. The walls were covered in polished Viking shields, the floor almost reminded me of how Percy had described Diana’s tent; (that was a story, he was the only man to have gained her respect in centuries) covered in the pelts of various animals, including what appeared to be a dragon skin. On the right wall a large hearth crackled, I bowed my head towards it, Vesta probably wasn’t there but you never know, and she would always have my respect. There were pictures and statues of wolves scattered around the room, which I greatly appreciated, wolves always did make me feel at home after being raised by Lupa.

I found what appeared to be a reception desk and headed over there. Another guy who unless my dyslexia was acting up was called Helgi said “Welcome to Hotel Valhalla, here is your room key, it’s a suite.”

I had no idea what was going on so I decided the best idea was to ask this guy. “Ah...thanks, I guess? Where am I? This isn;t part of the Underworld is it?”

Helgi’s eyes crinkled “No, you are now in Valhalla, the home of the valiant warriors who shall fight in Ragnarok. Congratulations. In Midgard we are in Boston. Your Valkyrie should be by soon to answer any other questions you might have. Hunding…” He glanced at the other guy, well I knew his name now, “Can you please escort Mr Grace here to his room on Floor 19?”

Hunding nodded and gestured to a door through which I could hear the shouts and metal clanging. “Right this was Mr Grace.”

I shifted uncomfortably, I might not be like Thalia and have completely renounced our last name but I wasn’t used to it being constantly used. “Please, call me Jason.”

He looked at me strangely for a second before nodding.

After we went through the door, we came upon a lounge. We were walking through the lounge to the door on the other side, when a guy about my age came in. I noticed him because he wasn’t really bothering to try and avoid the weapons, nobody else really was, but he also wasn’t joining in on the shouting or other games going on. He appeared to be looking for someone. It became obvious who he was looking for when he came over and started up a conversation with Hunding. I stood there awkwardly for 5 minutes as Hunding had forgotten about me for his conversation. Eventually the other guy gave Hunding what looked like some chocolate before noticing me for the first time. He gave a start and looked me up and down before smiling at me and asking Hunding.

“Who’s the new guy?”

Hunding glanced at me and replied “Jason Grace, just came in today. He’s actually going to be your new neighbour.”

“Really? Cool…” he nodded at me “You’ll have the corridor to yourself soon.” He told me before turning back to Hunding, “Would you me to show him around until Sam gets here, I’m guessing he’s one of hers? I know Helgi will have a bunch of other jobs for you to do.”

Hunding beamed at that, “Yeah he’s one of Samirah’s, and I’d really appreciate it thanks Magnus, you’re a star.”

Magnus turned towards me as Hunding walked off. As I got a good look at him, his eyes startled me, they were the same steel grey as Annabeth’s although they were a lot friendlier, that girl was scary.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Magnus, welcome to Valhalla.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

I took it saying “Thanks, Jason Grace.”

He looked down at my arm and noticed my tattoo, I had forgotten about it. I wanted to ask about his reaction as he almost seems to recognise it but he forestalled me by asking, “So what impressively heroic feat did you do to end up here?”

As I turned to follow him as we got into an elevator to go up to my new floor I told him, “Umm...I got stabbed in the back with a spear.”

He winced “Ouch, I know how that feels.”

He seemed to be a good person to ask what the Hades was going on. “So,” I continued, “What exactly is Valhalla?”

He looked uncomfortable, “I’m probably not the best person to explain this, but basically it’s the Norse afterlife for those who died heroically with a weapon in hand.”

“Ok…” I decided that until I was sure what the Hades was going on I wouldn’t mention that I’m in the wrong afterlife. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t meant to go to the Norse afterlife instead of the Underworld.

After standing in an awkward silence for a few seconds the elevator finally arrived at floor 19. Magnus told me all about my new neighbours as we passed their rooms. “So this is Halfborn’s room, he’s your typical Viking; big, hairy, thickheaded, good to have on your side in a fight. He and Mallory are in an on again off again relationship, so tread carefully there, I think they aren’t currently together. That’s T.J’s room, he was a soldier in the Civil War. He fought with the Union and is obsessed with hills, I think it’s a Civil War thing.”

I nodded, “I have a friend whose grandmother was a slave, she wasn’t happy to hear that my forebears were Confederates.”

Magnus nodded, “Yeah probably best not to mention that to T.J either. Anyway that’s Mallory’s room, she’s Irish and has the brogue to match. Don’t get on her bad side, her knives are always sharp.” I thought that she sounded kind of like Annabeth and noted to be careful where I stepped with her.

I then pointed to a door which had Alex Fierro and a snake like symbol on it and asked, “What about him?”

Magnus hesitated before answering, “That’s Alex’s room...she’s genderfluid, so be careful what you say about her.”

I nodded absorbing that information, “Sorry about that, almost sounds like you have a crush on her.”

Magnus looked kind of panicked “What?! No...she’s just...cool. Anyway, you're here beside me.” He hurriedly pointed to the next door.

I looked at the door for my new home. It was purple and orange, reminding me of the two camps. Magnus looked queasy at the colour choices but it made me feel nostalgic for my cabin on the Argo, it’s door had been the exact same, all the doors had all been like that, in order to remind us what we were fighting for. I opened the door and was transported to the lounge of the Argo, it even had the Camp Half Blood video walls, but it also had Camp Jupiter ones as well.

“How did they do this?” I asked in awe, wandering around.

Magnus grinned and said “Magic, it takes your best memories and recreates them to make you feel at home here. My rooms have a tree. What’s the reasoning behind yours, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Uhh…” I said as I caught sight of the Superman poster in my bedroom, that Leo had hung in my room in the Argo as a joke. “This is the lounge area from a cruise I went on with some of my friends and family. The video walls were created by a genius friend of mine, they show videos of the summer camps we went to, we all met at them.”

“Wow,” he said looking at some photos. “Are these your friends?”

I joined him and picked up one of the photos, which had me, the rest of the Seven and Nico and Reyna in it. We had taken the photo in Epirus, so Percy and Annabeth were still looking a little the worse for wear, but we were all ecstatic to have survived to close the Doors of Death and to have Annabeth and Percy back with us.

I felt close to crying, “Yeah, those are my friends, this one has all of us who went on the cruise and a couple of others who flew out to join us, we’re in Epirus, which is in Greece. That’s Nico,” I pointed as I named them and described them for Magnus. “The goth looking boy, he’s my cousin along with Percy and Hazel. Reyna, we grew up together, she’s one of my best friends, she’s amazing, a natural leader and very strong in all ways. Frank, he's a beast man, I didn’t really know him all that well when we first went on the cruise, but now he’s a good friend. He’s also a distant cousin of Percy’s I think. Hazel, she’s Nico’s half sister, and the sweetest thing alive. She and frank are together and adorable about it. Then it’s Annabeth, she’s crazy smart, and super scary.” Magnus smiled at that for some reason, but I carried on. “When I first met her, she was looking for her boyfriend and thought I might know where he was. She scared the heebie jeebies out of me, when she stalked up to me demanding to know where he was. We’re close now though, my older sister practically raised her as a kid. Next is Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend, he’s kinda the leader of our group of friends, but he’s really cool, we’re bros. He and Annabeth had just got back from a really hard tramp, which is why they weren’t looking so good. Then it’s Piper, we’re best friends, at the time this photo was taken, we were together, but she broke up with me later because she felt it wasn’t working. Her mum pushed her into it, her mum is a crazy matchmaker and really ships Percy and Annabeth together. Then it’s me, and then it’s my boy, Leo the Supersized McShizzle, he’s annoying and a bit of a jokester, but we’ve been through a lot together. He decided to go AWOL for a bit, and I only just found out where he was.” I choked back a sob, “We were about to see each other again too, when I died. Oh, and this…” I picked up another photo. “Is Thalia, my sister, she had only just found me again before we went on that cruise. My stepmother decided to raise me, and then Thalia ran away because our mum was abusive, and she didn’t even know I was alive. Gods she’s going to be devastated when she hears…” I trailed off lost in thought of all the friends and family that I had lost, and Magnus quietly slipped out the door behind me.

I hope you enjoyed! Please do let me know what you think, and I’ll try and get the next chapter up soon hopefully. Redoing this in part was me trying to get past writer’s block on some of my other projects, but if you guys ever want feel free to send in prompts or requests for me to write, it’s always nice to get feedback etc.

[drabblemeister]

Viking AU | the Red Hunter

Pairing: JayTim Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @tanekore​!!! I know you’ve been pining for more Viking AU and so I fell into an idea for a continuation to that first part that...I think only you and I have ever seen, LOL. I hope that you like this and that you have an absolutely wonderful day and that this helps feed your creative fire! <3 More Notes: For everyone else reading, all that needs to really be known is that Tim is on the run, under the impression that Bruce (and Dick and Damian respectively) think he is responsible for a death that seems to have Clan Drake written all over it. Since they’ve all taken a vow to not kill...well, this spells betrayal. ___

The stream frothed at the edges, the runoff catching against twigs and leaves and mulch. Songbirds exchanged staccato beats of warning, and Tim, swallowing against a lump in his throat, kept moving.

The water was freezing. It had flooded his boots hours ago, icy and searing, turning his feet and calves numb – but there could be hounds behind him and this was the only way to throw their scent. He wondered how far they’d chase him. How far he’d have to run.

How many hours has it been? It was past midday and the netted canopy of tree branches held him hostage from the sun. His skin felt cold, damp with sweat. He’d nicked himself on thorn-brush somewhere along the way, and the skin on his forearm itched.

How much longer can I keep going?

He knew the answer.

His lungs burned. His muscles ached. The blood-rush had long left him, and now, as he staggered about in the wild, legs sloshing against a freshwater flow, he found his thoughts fraying.

Where am I going to go?

It was a cold, dark thought.

He didn’t have anywhere to go. Ahead, there was forest. Trees, streams, and the Red Lake – which was dangerous. He wouldn’t be protected there; he wouldn’t be known. They’d take away his name – make him fight, like the bloodthirsty animals they were. Tim’s stomach curled.

And then he froze, his world-sense driving him to a halt as soon as he heard it – a long whistle, high-pitched and singing, just before contacting with a tree with a studded thud.

“Arrow…” Tim whispered, heart jackhammering. His head whirled as he searched for the source. For an archer. For anything. At the same time, his thoughts shifted a mile a minute. There shouldn’t be anyone here; it was the Midland, unless he’d followed the wrong stream, unless he was lost.

He felt hot. Above him, the birds had quieted. Tim felt the smallest threads of panic unwind because it was a saturating silence, one that weighed heavy, made his throat feel dry – and he was itching at his arm again, it was so red—

“Oi!” A voice, loud.

Tim snapped towards it. It sent the forest into chaos – a wild goose burst from the hedges, squawking and desperate. Another arrow sang loud enough that Tim squinted his eyes closed, a deafening ring in his ear. It had missed him by inches.

Another thud, as the arrow pegged a tree behind him, and then Tim’s eyes were open – then wide when he and the marksman met eyes.

Red paint, Tim thought. It was smeared across the other’s eyes, like a mask, and contrasted the deep black of the leather sheathing his chest, though the center bore the blood red crest of Red Lake – a scarlet bird taking flight.

Tim took a step backwards. He wasn’t sure how he looked, young and alone, dressed in western furs. The only ink he had was on his back, hidden from sight – not that it would mean anything to a Red, anyway.

They were Drake markings, and since that particular clan, save Tim, had perished – well, few people knew what the art actually meant.

Raising his hands, enough to show he had no weapon, Tim said, “I just wish to pass through.” His throat felt raw and his words came out scraped.

The stranger, not twenty paces away, shifted on his feet, half shrouded by shadow. He was tall, thick-shouldered, drawn with angles that spelled warrior. His hair had been shaved above his ears and the top, long grown, had been swept back into braids, woven with cherry-red string.

When he didn’t reply, Tim tried again, in Norseman tongue. It had been a while since he’d practiced these words, and his lips stumbled through – only, to be interrupted.

“Stop talking.”

Tim did. He tried to think, but his thoughts slipped from sharp to muddled, so much that he had to force himself to focus. He blinked. Licked his lips. Tried not to waver on his feet, though the stream water felt faster now – colder.

He’d seen the stranger come forward, and even though it had been slowly, and with intent, the approach happened quickly. It would have been silly to move, to try and leave. There was no place to go, and aside from that – the man had a bow. A longbow, Tim noted, absently, and at least ten daggers of varying sizes on his belt.

Tim had nothing.

When the Red used the corner of his bow to prod Tim’s furs out of the way, he learned as much. It was fear that pooled in Tim’s gut, paired with a numb feeling as he suddenly felt sluggish instead of alert.

Why did he ache this badly?

His arm felt like fire. Had he touched poison…?

Out of patience with being assessed, Tim lifted his eyes to meet the other’s. “Let me pass,” he said, urging cooler notes into his words. They worked on Dick, most times, when Tim wanted something.

This stranger, however, simply thought it was funny. Up close, Tim guessed they were of an age, which reminded him how much Drake he had in him; it felt like standing next to Bruce, overwhelmed by both stature and presence. His family had never been known as warriors, but they had the sight, and had been graced with cutting, blue eyes that sought to duplicate the colors of the sky.

The man dropped a hand and drew a blade, slow and with meaning. It made Tim remember all the things he’d heard about the Red Lake in one big sweeping rush – Bruce’s warnings that they never hesitated to kill, that they played games, that it made the hunt more fun.

So Tim stood stock-still as the blade twirled expertly between calloused fingers, surprised but unwilling to show it when the dagger was eventually handed to him.

“If you want something from me,” the Red stated, standing languidly at the edge of the stream, “earn it.”

Tim understood now. He was going to have to fight his way out. He was being given an opportunity – but also was at a handicap, legs aching and fevered as the rash on his arm had finally gotten into his bloodstream, and tch, because that meant he didn’t have time for this.

But, if anything, he was decent at compartmentalizing. To an extent, at least. He accepted the dagger and took a few steps forward, meeting the other along the shoreline, keeping his composure somehow, hiding his weaknesses, like he’d been taught, behind a straightened stance and narrowed eyes.

“If I defeat you, you’ll let me pass?” he asked, seeking and agreement.

The Red, with his dark hair and dark eyes, and darker, sun-drenched skin, offered a smirk. “Sure.”

In terms of small victories, Tim appreciated that the man didn’t think he could fight. Too little was said for the element of surprise, and Tim had won a fair share of sparring matches by pretending to be less than he was. This wasn’t quite the same, he knew – because  no one picked fights against this particular tribe; they cheated, and didn’t have rules.

The dagger was well balanced, the handle of the leather worn. Tim considered another disadvantage: he couldn’t kill.

Focus, Tim thought, and he breathed in, centered himself, struggled to think of strategy and strategy alone. His vision spotted when he felt a flash of heat burn at the back of his neck, up through his temples and forehead. His legs felt heavy, so he’d rely on his core. More than any time he’d fought before – he needed to end this, quick.

The bow got tossed aside; Tim noted how far without really looking. It was useless in hand-to-hand, and Tim hated bloodsports, which is exactly what this was. The man tugged out a blade of his own – shorter and duller. His lips were quirked and his eyes glittered – this had his interest piqued, and on a better day, Tim would have been anxious to bring the stranger to his knees.

Tim cleared his throat, ignoring the damp of sweat on his back, in his hair. For what it was worth, the stranger hadn’t seemed to realize Tim’s state, which was either a blessing or a curse.

And then…

…the Red leapt. It was fast, even though he was so built, and when he came forward, Tim went on autopilot. So many hours grappling with Dick; so many times he’d successfully fought off Damian, who’d thought to take Tim by surprise.

And this – this wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t unfamiliar, either. So Tim discarded the blade, a quick flick towards the earth below him, imbedding it there – and shifted easily enough, catching the other’s outstretched arm while twisting his own body, using his centered weight to toss the other up and over his shoulder, and down, hard enough that the Red was forced to roll.

Then Tim was ducking, grabbing for the blade, ready for the Red to scramble up and double back, preparing to shuffle backwards – only the other man leapt at him low, tackling him flat, and Tim’s knife when sputtering sideways into long grass.

Tim rolled, just before the other’s full weight settled, pinning the man beneath him with just enough effort to reach for the longbow, which was only a hairsbreadth away. The Red was onto him though, and Tim noticed, with some degree of confusion, that his opponent had lost his weapon somewhere along the line as well.

“Nope,” the Red said, wrapping an arm around Tim’s waist and flinging him sideways, sending him a decent distance from the wooden arch of the bow. His side scraped against the gravel; his arm scalded, laced with a teeth-gritting pain that threw Tim’s concentration off and forced a stuttered sound from between his lips. He clawed at his arm violently and it burned beneath his touch.

“Well aren’t you a bundle of surprises,” the Red said, and he crept over Tim with the intent to pin him down, to rub it in Tim’s face, most likely, how easy that had been—

—but Tim was shaking, unable to help it, the heat finally having gotten to him, and the Red, confused, looked him up and down before he finally realized that Tim was gripping his arm tight enough to cause the skin to go white.

It was hard to tell if the look on the warrior’s face was curiosity or concern; as he dragged a leg over Tim’s torso, holding Tim down by the his weight and thighs alone, he made quick work of peeling Tim’s arms apart – which had Tim raking in air like his lungs had forgotten how to breathe.

“You managed to throw me,” the Red yanked Tim’s arm higher, so that it was nearly straight, to get a better look at the wound, “half dead from this?”

Tim could barely process pain in a way that it was growing more and more difficult to stay conscious. It wasn’t made easier by the weight of another man weighing down his abdomen, and Tim could barely make out the world around him through tear-blurred eyes and double vision.

And then, “How long?”

Tim had no idea what that meant.

A finger stabbed against the rash, bringing a sudden burst of pain-driven clarity as Tim gasped and threw his head back.

“How long has it been like this?” the stranger tried again.

Tim felt chills rack him; language was suddenly hard, he couldn’t grasp what he needed.

“Mor-ning?” he tried. His voice sounded miles away.

The Red cursed, and it was a dark word. In less than a moment he was shuffling, yanking Tim up to sit, running a finger along Tim’s jaw in order to tip his chin upwards.  There eyes met, and Tim realized the other’s weren’t black, like he’d thought. Just some shadowed, dark-water color; an ocean tide during a storm, lost to light.

“Who do you belong to?” the Red questioned, tone urgent even if Tim couldn’t put together just what as being asked..

No one owned him. He was a Drake.

“I am…not…”

The Red seemed to know where he was going, and disagreed. “This will be a life-debt,” he pointed out, as if it was matter of fact. “If you wake, you’ll belong to me.”

Tim wanted to argue; felt it in his bones.

But then the man asked, “Do you want to live?” 

The darkness was a consuming thing, chewing at the edges of his thoughts, devouring his sanity whole. The pain felt distant, the world felt like a faraway thing. It was a wonder, then, that Tim said, “Yes.” ______________

[poisonedjoinery]

The Raid - Ivar/Reader

Part Eight 

Part Seven Part Six Part Five Part Four Part Three Part Two Part One

Authors Notes: I needed to write some more on Ivar and I have managed to actually sit down and do it FINALLY. I apologise it has taken me so long, but thank you all for being supportive. I created my own idea of a Viking ceremony, along with taking ideas from what I remember in the show. Gif not mine - if you know the owner, please do let me know.

Summary: You're home. You're safe, and the best part is that you can now marry Ivar the way you wanted. In the eyes of your Gods. But someone feels the need to try and scare you from him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"In two days, everyone will know who my heart belongs too."

You awoke the next morning with those words swimming around your head. The day was still early, the light a pale and cold thing shinning through a small gap in your curtain. You could feel Ivar's slow breath gently tickling your neck. It amazed you, how he looked so vastly different in sleep, how young he looked. His brothers, mainly Sigurd, had tormented him about his legs or how he wasn't so much of a man. That he was young. So he had taken it upon himself to become equal if not better than his brothers. They often feared him now. Clenching your hand around the one he had wrapped, protectiveley around your stomach you smiled and shut your eyes again.

BANG!

The door to the cabin had been thrown open.

"Ivar!" Sigurd called out. Ivar was already sitting up, blade in hand. Sigurd sauntered through the curtain and grinned.

"There you are... we missed you at the feast last night." He flopped down on the end of the bed looking at you both. Ivar's teeth ground together,

"Well, brother, we wanted some time away from everyone." He eyes flashed in anger as Sigurd grinned more.

"But why... it was a joyous occasion that should have been celebrated by all." You sat up then, clutching the furs too your chest, your voice toneless.

"Well Sigurd it's just that I was feeling sick, and looking at your face was making me feel worse." His grin faded, as Ivar bared his teeth at him. Reaching behind you, you pulled out your own ax.

"It's not nice to barge into someone's home Sigurd... especially when you know them to be sleeping. You could have been hurt." Glaring at you he stood.

"I wanted to see you, see if you was okay. But I won't bother now." You were out of bed before he knew it your ax pressed to his cheek.

"I do not need your concern Sigurd, not when I have Ivar." You swiped the ax away, leaving a split in his pale skin. Stomping away, he had just pulled open the door when Ivar's blade landed with a dull thunk in the wood next to his head. He didn't look back, just slammed the door behind him.

Turning to look at Ivar, you saw his face was flushed red with rage. The quick movements had caused pain to flare in your legs, but they were healing well. Just maybe a few more weeks would help. Placing your ax next to the bed, you climbed back in next to him and kissed his shoulder.

"Ignore him my love... he is jealous that all anyone can talk about is you." Ivar huffed a mocking tone.

"Why would he be jealous of me? According to him I am not a real man." His eyes had gone flat, his temper flaring through him.

"He is jealous of all that you have achieved. There are not many men, who could have grown up the way you did and made themselves into something stronger. Someone to be reckoned with." Reaching out you turn his face to yours. You wanted him to see the truth you was speaking, wanted him to understand.

"He is jealous because he rests solely on your father's name, where as you built your name for yourself. He is jealous Ivar... because out of all of you... you are the second son of Ragnar to bare his own children." Ivar glanced down, gently stroking your stomach.

"What if... what if our child is... like me?" His voice was just a whisper. He had obviously thought about this a lot, and the worry that crossed his face was painful to see. Gripping his hand you smiled at him.

"Then he will be taught how to be fearless just like his father. He will know not to worry himself with the opinions of the sheep." You raised your head a little in stubborn assurance.

"And what if he is not like me? He will be ashamed to have such a father." He dropped his gaze again to your stomach, his lip trembling a little.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of Ivar. Men take for granted that they are whole... but you... you have proved everyone wrong. You have shown them and the Gods just how strong you are!" Leaning in he kissed your stomach, whispering to your unborn child.

"I am unsure of who is the strong one here little one... but I feel your mother may be the horror that waits in the night for those who disregard us." He glanced up at you, smiling slightly.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The rest of your morning was spent in a haze. Ivar had enjoyed speaking to your child, he told stories of battle, how he couldn’t use his legs, how he had met you. You smiled as you ran your hand over your stomach. You had left the hut to go into the town to find the perfect ring for Ivar. One of the blacksmiths that worked here before you had left for England was a good friend of yours. You knew that he was the only person who could complete your request in such a short amount of time. Entering his workshop, you saw Geir standing over an anvil hammering out a sword.

“I see you are still here old man.” Turning to look at you, a smile grew on his aged face.

“I heard you was back.” Placing his tool down he came over and hugged you tight. As he pulled away he glanced down,

“I also heard a rumour you was with child... Ivar’s?” He raised an eyebrow. You grinned and nodded. 

“Yes.” His smile widened, gently touching your stomach. You felt a warmth run through you, When you first arrived in Kattegat, Geir had offered to sharpen your sword and ax. Over the years you had been here, he had quietly cared for you. Like a father. For the first time, you had experienced what it was like to have someone care for you. Until you had met Ivar that is. Gently taking your hand he stepped back a little,

“I know he is a Prince... but I know him to have a temper, does... does he treat you well?” You knew it cost him to ask that, knew that if he was overheard he would be brought before the Queen for judgement. You smiled;

“I have never been treated better than by Prince Ivar... do you know what he did for me whilst on our raid?” Geir nodded, pain filling his face.

“They hurt you so bad, they broke you." He glanced at the wooden crutch you was using to lean on. With your free hand you stroked his cheek.

"They broke my body, but not my spirit. I knew I would be saved. I knew Ivar would burn the world to get me back again." He grinned, moving back and gesturing to a wooden bench.

“Come come... sit down.” Helping you to the bench, you sat down and smiled.

“Thank you Geir.” Sitting next to you he holds your hand.

“Now... tell me why you have come to see an old man.” Grinning you squeezed his hand.

“Geir... in two days I will be marrying Ivar, and I want him to have the perfect ring. There is no one better I could ask... if you would?” He pulls you close hugging you tightly.

“I am so proud of you my love... of course I will do this for you.”

“Thank you... could you rework some metal for me?” Reaching into your pocket you pull out a Gold jewelled necklace. Holding it out to him you smiled,

“It used to belong to The King... can you melt it down and forge it into a ring for me?” 

“Of course... I will start on this right away.” Removing a pouch from your other pocket you place it on the bench for him, 

“What is that?”

“Payment.” He stood shaking his head,

“No, you do not need to pay. I will do this for you... for Prince Ivar as a gift.” You stood and hugged him,

“Thank you Geir, but please... keep the gold. I know that you need new tools and such so let me at least gift it to you.”

“No... you keep...”

“Geir... do you want to turn down a gift from your future Princess.” You smirked at him, knowing he would never be disloyal to the Queen and her sons. Sighing chuckled at you,

“You have twisted my arm.” Hearing a shuffling behind you Geir’s face falls slightly as he steps back from you and bows his head,

“My Prince. How are you today?” Ivar came to stand beside you watching the old man intently.

“I am well Geir. I see you are close with my (Y/N).” He nodded,

“Yes my Prince, we have grown close over the years... she is like a daughter to me.” Tilting your head you smiled at him, as Ivar watched you both.

“I assume you know that... (Y/N) and myself will be married in two days time?”

“Y... yes my Prince?” Ivar walked closer to Geir, pushing into his personal space.

“You care for (Y/N)?” You started to worry. Surely Ivar could not be jealous of Geir, he was clearly not interested in that way and neither were you.

“Yes my Prince I do.” Ivar grinned, and placed his hand on the other mans chest,

“Then would you like to be the man who stands for her when we swear before the Gods?” You wasn’t expecting that, you breath caught in your chest.

“Ivar.” You whispered at him. He flicked his eyes to you, winked and looked back to Geir.

“I... yes my Prince yes.. of course... of course!” He bent his head, holding onto Ivar’s hand. Nodding Ivar turns to you and grins.

"You was worried... was you not?" You blush and poke at his side,

"Of course I was... you have a temper even the Gods can't keep up with." Geir watches you both with fascination.

"(Y/N) your request will be finished tomorrow... I will find you myself. Now... I believe you may have other errands to run." Smiling he turns back to his forge, tucking the jewelled necklace out of site. Walking out with Ivar, he guides you to the forest.

You always enjoyed the quiet walks that Ivar took you on. You knew he never really liked being alone, but he had never had someone he could enjoy the silence with. Keeping the pace slow, he brought you to a small rocky shore by the river. You had never been here before, the trees hung so low they created a sort of veil between you and the rest of the world. It seemed as though even the Gods would not see you here. The water seemed to be a stone grey colour, the rocks looked black in the shade. The only colour was from the small pale pink blossoms that sprouted from the tips of the trees branches. Letting go of Ivar's arm, you slowly reached out your hand to touch the delicate petals.

"Do you like it?" Ivar's voice seemed hushed against the confined space. Smiling you looked back at him,

"It is beautiful my love... how did you find it?" Ivar shifted to sit against a large boulder that was partly submerged into the earth.

"My father left me here when I was a baby. He wanted to wolves to claim me, he believed that my deformity would cause me to die at a young age. He didn't want my mother to suffer that way. So he took me away early one morning and left me here with a small ax." The way he spoke, sounded as though he was telling you a fairy tale. Not as if he was telling you of when his own father tried to kill him. Walking forward you came to stand between his outstretched legs, gently stroking his cheek.

"I never knew that. I mean... I knew that your father didn't believe you would live but... to try and kill you." Your heart ached, what if Ragnar had left him.

"What happened?" You wanted to know, but you felt a pain at asking him. You didn't want him to think of such things... but you wanted to know, you had to.

"My mother had followed him, she hid in the bushes, and once he was far enough away she stole me away back to our hut." He smirked as he fingered the fabric of your tunic.

"He was very surprised and angry when he came back later that day to find that I was safe and in her arms."

“Well I am glad that she found you... because now I can have you.” Leaning down you kiss the top of his head.

“I will never do that to our child.” His gaze was intense, the blue seeming to burn.

“I know Ivar, and neither would I. I would rather have my child in my arms for a short while than to give up on them completely.” Shifting you sat beside him, holding his hand watching as the sky grew darker and the air heavy with the smell of fire wood.

~ ~ ~ ~ Two Days Later ~ ~ ~ ~

It had felt strange waking without Ivar pressed close to you. He had insisted on staying in the Long Hall with his brothers the night before. It was still early when you left your hut, you wanted to bathe in the lake without any interruptions. You had waded into the cold water and scrubbed your skin until it had burned slightly. When you returned, a few servants were waiting to help you dress for the ceremony. Standing on a wooden bench, you watched as the servants painted a soft gold over your cheeks. Gently brushing it over your lips and fingers. You had decided to braid just the sides of your hair leaving the rest of it down, knowing that Ivar would want to run his fingers through it at some point. A wreath of elder wood circled your head, gold and iron beads threaded throughout. Looking down you run your hands over the soft white tunic you wore, seeing your bare feet poking out from the bottom you could see the gold paint shinning on your toes and ankles. Wild flowers circled your wrists, giving a sweet smell as you moved them around.

A knock at the door brought your gaze up. Geir entered, his furs gracefully set across his shoulders. His smile grew wider when he saw you.

“You look beautiful (Y/N), Ivar is a lucky man.” Laughing you stepped down and walked to him, hugging him tightly.

“And you look very handsome in your furs.” He held out a freshly carved wooden box, pulling open the lid. Inside sat a solid gold ring. But it was smooth, it was jagged but not sharp just had odd angles. Two iron rings circled the side, a green stone sitting in the middle. Gently running your fingers over it you sighed quietly.

“It is beautiful.”

“Well I did not think that a man like Ivar should have anything like what any other man would wear.” A small smile crept across his face, as you closed the box holding onto it.

“You seem to understand my Prince well Geir.” Holding out his arm, you loop yours through it.

“I think we have somewhere to be.” Heading out the sky was pale and the air brisk, but it had the promise of sunshine later on. Not many people were in the village, only a hand full of servants remained behind working on the feast that was to come. You heard the crowd in the forest before you saw them, the quiet murmurings of many people gathered for the youngest Prince’s day. The guests closest to the back fell silent as you approached, each of them staring in wonder as you approached. The quiet quickly descended upon the others. You caught a few people’s gaze, nodding to each of them in turn. Hvitserk grinned at you, Ubbe started to mouth something to you but your eyes slid away from him, focusing on the reason you was here beneath this grove of trees. Ivar was standing, his eyes never leaving you. Looking down you saw that his legs had been encased in iron frames allowing him to stand freely, giving him the need to use only one crutch. His hair was braided back, the leather chest plate you had made for him gleamed in the light. Soft furs were draped across his shoulders, with red leather cuffs at his wrists. Geir kissed the side of your head, and braced one hand on Ivars shoulder. Turning away, Geir stood with the rest of the crowd as you and Ivar shifted to stand in front of the priestess. As he gripped your hand tightly, his grin was a bright and joyful thing.

Raising her hands the priestess called for silence as she began to speak.

“We are here to bare witness to the bond of two souls, to have the Gods blessing placed upon them both Prince Ivar and (Y/N).” Reaching out she took both yours and Ivars hand, wrapping them in a cotton cloth that had been dipped in goats blood.

“Before the Gods you must promise to be true to one another, that your souls are as one. No other persons will come between you. That your bodies are for the love and site of each other. Prince Ivar your vows.” Ivar’s gaze burned into you as he spoke.

“I do not own you, and I never will... I never want to. But know that I am yours, my heart has been yours since the day you stepped off that boat. You frustrate me, you amaze me... you terrify me, and yet all I want to do is drown in you. My lungs burn as you flood my life with your light, and now with the light of our child too.” No one else existed in that moment, just you and Ivar. Stepping closer you gripped his hand tighter.

“Ivar... my love... my Prince. I have never met a man like you, and I know I never will. You have already proved to me that you will do anything to keep me safe. My life, my soul is yours, and your son will be proud to walk along side you beneath the watchful gaze of the Gods. I could not be more proud to be your wife, nor to tell others that you are my husband,” The priestess stepped forward, a wooden bowl filled with blood in her hands.

“The rings?” You removed Ivar’s ring from the small wooden box, Ivar placing yours in the bowl along side it. The priestess swirled them both around in the bowl then held it out to you both.

“These rings and the blood the share shall bind you together for the rest of your days, until you reach Valhalla. May the Gods bless you both, and may your lives be filled with light and guidance. You are now... husband and wife.” Cheers went up around you as Ivar pulled you in close kissing you roughly, his fingers twisting in your hair. You grinned at his when you parted, his face flushed and shinning.

“You look happy... husband.” He laughed loudly, wrapping his arm around your waist he lifted you kissing your chest. Placing you back on the ground he stepped in closer to you.

“Say that again wife.”

“Husband.” Grinning at him, you wrapped your arms around his neck gently pressing kisses to his cheek. A hand pulled at your tunic, turning your saw Hvitserk smiling at you. Giving Ivar one more kiss you stepped away allowing Hvitserk to pull you into a hug that lifted your feet from the ground.

“I always wanted a sister.” He said spinning you round, you noticed Ivar watching you over Ubbe’s shoulder. He wore a small smile, even though Hvitserk was hugging you Ivar had this knowing look that no one could keep you from him any more.

“Well I never wanted an annoying brother but it seems that I now have four.” Hvitserk pouted at you but grinned when you leant in to kiss his cheek. You found yourself being picked up from behind as Bjorn came and kissed your cheek.

“Congratulations sister.” You turned in his grasp and hugged him tight.

“Thank you Bjorn, I don’t think I could be any happier.” Sigurd rolled his eyes and scoffed. Bjorn glanced at him and shook his head.

“You are just mad that Ivar has bested you at a few things Sigurd... if you are going to be bitter maybe you should find yourself a servant girl to keep you company.” Before he could answer, you stepped closer to him keeping your voice low.

“I know you hate Ivar... but if you even think about making him angry today then the ravens will have a feast of Princely meat for their dinner.” You let your eyes bore into his, you saw the moment he regretted his choices. Turning he stormed off into the woods. Ivar came to stand by your side watching after his brother.

“What is wrong with him?” Turning you smiled,

“I told him that the ravens would have a fine dinner if he so much as tried to ruin anything today.” Kissing your temple he tugged on your hand,

“Let us go, I believe there is a feast for us and I wish for you to dance for me this evening too.” Following the crowd towards the village centre, you grinned.

“Yes husband, what ever you wish.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The celebrations lasted all day moving into the night. The women danced and the men fought and sought entertainment for the evening. The ale flowed freely, and Ivar was in such a good mood that men approached him and they spoke for most of the night. Retelling battle stories, adventures across the sea. You sat with Torvi and some of the other shield maidens, all of them laughing as they spoke about the men. Torvi grinned as you looked over at Bjorn,

“You know Bjorn is... very good when naked.” Her skin flushed pink as the women laughed. Dagny leant forward,

“His name is suited to him... he is the size of a bear. He must crush you.” Dropping your head back you laughed as Torvi chucked her empty cup at her. Voiced rose a little behind you, causing you all to turn and look. Sigurd had sauntered over to Ivar and the others and had decided to taunt him. Your face fell slightly, as you watched them. Dagny whispered behind you.

“What is wrong with them?” Gripping your cup, you slowly stood watching them. Their voices grew louder and louder, the rest of the hall became silent listening to Sigurd and Ivar arguing.

“Come now brother... tell me how will you teach your child to walk?” Sigurd laughed, but no one else was. Ubbe had walked over, pushing at Sigurd’s shoulder.

“Stop being a child and leave him alone... it’s his day to be happy.” Sigurd swayed pushing Ubbe away,

“But I want to know... how will the great Ivar the Boneless....” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Your voice boomed over his.

“His father will teach him Sigurd, and I will be there to witness it. And you... you will be alone in your bed wondering why the Gods have not blessed you so greatly.” Everyone had turned to look at you. Rage burned through your body. Walking over to him, the crowd seemed to part before you. Placing your cup in front of Ivar, you picked up a small knife and pressed it to Sigurd’s chest.

“You listen to me Sigurd. You ever think to insult my husband or my child again... and there will only be four Lothbrok sons left in this world.” Ivar pulled himself up, standing close to your back.

“Ubbe... please remove Sigurd from my sight... I am trying to enjoy an evening with my wife.” Ubbe grabbed his younger brother by the arm and pulled him outside. Turning into Ivar you pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you okay my love?” Gripping your tunic he hummed,

“I am fine (Y/N), I’m not letting him ruin anything.” Smiling against him you pulled him closer.

“I want to dance with my husband.” His face paled a little, 

“(Y/N) I can’t... I can’t dance.” Kissing him gently, you squeezed his hand whispering to him.

“If you can bring down an English city... you can dance with your wife.” Slowly walking backwards, you kept him close as you gently moved with him from side to side. For a while he seemed rigid, not wanting to fall.

“Do you trust me Ivar?”

“Of course I do... you know that.”

“Then dance with me, I won’t let you fall. Just like you won’t let me.” Smiling he relaxed more against you, moving when you did so as to remain balanced.

“Skøl!” Cried Bjorn, the call was echoed by the rest of the men and women.

The rest of the night passed in a whirl of drink, food and laughter. Sitting down you rubbed your back watching the last remaining people in the hall.

“You are tired my love... I need to get you to our bed.” Ivar’s voice was soft and low, making your skin tingle. Standing up you kissed his cheek, 

“Well I still have enough energy for you Ivar.” Ubbe waked over to you and wrapped his arms around you both.

“Dear (Y/N), not only are you a fierce maiden on the field... but you are now a fierce maiden who has taken on my brother.” He laughed at his own joke, Ivar huffed as you smirked.

Walking out into the night air, Ubbe guided you towards your hut. Bjorn and Hvitserk stumbled out behind you all and started to sing loudly. You and Ubbe joined in, as Ivar shook his head.

“Look it’s the married couple.” Sigurd slid out from the shadows watching you all. Bjorn watched him, his hand sliding to his sword,

“Leave it be Sigurd... go and sleep off your ale.” Stopping in front of you, Sigurd smirked.

“Tell me (Y/N)... what is it like sleeping with a cripple? I expect it is like lying with a fish. A cold, wet, lifeless fish.” Reaching out he stroked a strand of your hair away.

“I think you will find me more satisfying” He grinned, his laugh echoing around your head. It all happened slowly.

Hollow eyes that watch the sky. Odin’s Raven see’s all, watch him fly. See him fly.

Sigurd’s smile slipped, his knees collapsing from under him. Blood poured from his chest. Ivar was breathing hard... his hand wrapped around his ax as he wrenched is from Sigurd’s mangled chest. You reached out to Ivar, Ubbe held you steady.

“Ivar...”

Your voice was a hushed whisper, lost in the winds as Sigurd’s body slumped to the ground. His life blood seeping into the dry earth.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Part Nine

Thank you for reading my Ivar fic, I hope you enjoyed it, and I appreciate your time. Again I apologise for how long this has taken me, I’ve had some stuff going on personally and just couldn’t find the motivation for a while. But I am hoping to get back into the swing of things again. If I have missed out someone do let me know.

Tags: Tagging my Sugar Pringle @dreamingoftheza2

and my new friendy’s @cbouvier23 @iamcraving​ @littlepanda-love​ @aphnxrising @sea-phoam-goddess @captstefanbrandt @cc8302 @nothingeverdies​ @czescdaria​ @youngestxhearts​ @juliludu​ @directionlessbuthappy​  @funmadnessandbadassvikings@assbuttbrinker​ @justdontbother2000 @kikuthestrange  @mblaqgi  @kenzieam  @tinypuppysoul @bloop-bleep-sheep@opalscarab @kathieycarrerarosshley  @titty-teetee  @mypage-myfandoms  @missrobyn81  @hotdamnfandom

[ivarthebonemearmy]

Perhaps A Year Is All I Need Chapter 3

Summary: What do you do when you are paired with the person you detest the most? Beatrice is a History major at Oxford University. She is a straight-A student, but she cannot help but hate Ivar’s very existence. Fate likes to play tricks, neither of them has anything to lose if they choose to gamble. Or do they?

Part 1

Part 2

Word Count: 1965

A/N: Part 3 is up! Not much to say for this one, apart from apologizing for any grammar, spelling mistakes. English isn’t my first language so. Also, if I have gotten any history parts wrong, I will correct them and I apologize if I did.  Any kind of feedback is not only welcome but super duper encouraged. Hope everyone had wonderful Christmas, too! Enjoy!

Chapter 3

The first time Ivar Lothbrok entered my dorm room felt as if I have stepped into the twilight zone. I was worried about getting into trouble for having a guy over but no one dared speak against his wishes or presence; some were too scared and some simply pretended to look the other way instead of facing the trouble that may come with going against him.

He stood there, a white T-shirt clinging closely to his torso. I saw a tattoo peak its head out of the linen and my curiosity peaked, though I quickly pushed it down. He has propped himself up on his crutches, leaning slightly against the door frame, his eyes boring themselves into mine.

I cleared my throat. “Come in.” I gestured for him to take a seat wherever he would like and he began making his way towards the loveseat opposite my bed.

We sat there for a while, the air was charged with awkwardness and a slight tension and I whizzed through my brain looking for anything to start a conversation.

“So,” I began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “Have you made any progress on researching the Battle in Wessex, yet?”

He leaned back into the seat, his stance relaxing slightly as he propped his crutches by his side. He reached out into his backpack and drew out his laptop and notebook, along with some pens and highlighters. “As a matter of fact, I have,” he said, eyes glinting with pride and smugness that I wished I could wipe right off. “Have you made any progress on… “

“Valkyries,” I finished. “And yes, I have.” I turned to my desk, sorting through my notes to dig up a summary. “They’re immensely interesting.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head to the side. His full and complete attention made me slightly fidgety and queasy.

“Yes,” I said.” They are the choosers of the fallen. People called Valkyries the spirit helpers of the god, Odin. They were also only female.” I looked at him and he nodded at me to continue. “They chose who could get admitted to Valhalla, as well as they had the power to choose who could die in battle. Oddly enough, they were also known for using malignant magic to make sure their choices were fulfilled in the end.”

“So they were witches?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. He propped his elbows on his knees and I glanced at the flex of his forearm.

“Not exactly,” I said, looking back up at him again. “Vikings, at least for the most part, were driven by doing things that made them worthy of a place in the Valhalla, that would make the gods proud. Valkyries had many roles and functions. You know of shield-maidens, I’m guessing?” I cocked my eyebrow at him.

He rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle, a sound I realized I was all too fond of. “Of course, I have.”

I allowed myself to crack a smile. “Well, they could have also been shield-maidens, or swan- maidens.”

“Swan-maidens?” he drew his eyebrows in.

I bobbed my head eagerly. “Yes, because their clothes were made out of swan feathers that people believed allowed them to fly and carry the chosen warriors to the gates of Valhalla.”

He leaned back again, going into deep in thought, his eyebrows drawing in in concentration. I watched him absorb the information, and place it neatly inside of his brain. I grew an inch of respect for the man across from me.

“Do you like writing about them?” he asked after a solid second of his own reflection. During our conversation, he seemed to have shifted towards me and it surprised me that I felt at ease, more comforted by his presence than I would have thought.

“I actually do,” I began. ”The legends, myths, and faith in the gods seemed to influence their way of life and behaviour a whole lot. It’s weird to think that a being, a creature who was probably just a simple human, could determine a Vikings fate with regards to the Valhalla.”

“A creature?” he challenged. “You mean to tell me you don’t believe in the supernatural, B?” There was mirth in his eyes, and they swarmed with a sudden warmth I wasn’t accustomed to. For a second all I could do was admire them. He looked down to his lap, a small smile dancing on his lips.

“You know no one calls me ‘B’, right?”

He shrugged his shoulders before looking up to capture my eyes. “Maybe I’m not everyone,” he mumbled. Although it was difficult to make out what he said, especially with the accent, I heard him loud and clear.

“Maybe you’re not,” I said. “Though, I doubt you’re much different.”

He tensed visibly at my words, his fist clenching slightly. A dark expression loomed across his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, his voice intimidatingly low.

I bit my lip. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything, I should NOT have said anything, I thought and internally cursed myself for opening my mouth. I thought about what to say for a second, weighing my options. “Nothing,” I ended up saying. “Let’s just get back to the task at hand.” I hoped it would be enough to steer us clear off of any kind of thoughts or feelings about anything that was not our history assignment.

“Tell me,” he urged, the dark expression now forming into an abundant rage.

I took a deep breath to steady my internal screams of panic and looked away from him to find something to focus on in the window. “I hated you,” I finally whispered, not daring to look his way. “I hated almost, if not everything, about you.”  My mouth will get me killed one day, I swear.

When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I worked so hard to get to where I am, you have no idea. I overcame every single obstacle thrown at me, I worked various amounts of jobs until I could barely hold myself up just to pay to be here. And then you showed up

“And at first, I truly believed that you only got here because of connections, power and the immense wealth.” He snorted. “But then you turned out to actually be smart and it seemed so exuberantly easy for you. I mean, you don’t even bring a notebook to class, or a pen for fuck’s sake,” I laughed, though it lacked humour behind it. I could feel tears pricking my eyes but I blinked them away. I have not cried in front of anyone for years and I refuse to let him see me this way.  

The silence stretched. I focused all of my attention on my breath and the distance tick-tock of the clock, throwing a glance across the room avoiding looking in his direction.

“You can’t hate something you don’t understand or know,” he stated. “Just like you can’t love something you don’t fully understand or know. You can only hate or love the idea you have formed entirely by yourself. ”

I heard him shuffle around, the zip of a bag made my head snap up. I followed his movements as he hoisted himself up from the love seat, slung the backpack across his shoulders, propped himself on his crutches and began to make his way out.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, warmth spreading to my cheeks as the wright of the situation hit me. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He stopped in his tracks, right before reaching the door. “I don’t get offended,” he said, turning his head to look at me. “But I also won’t be in the presence of someone who seems to hate me without knowing anything about me for longer than I have to.” With that, the door shut closed and he was gone in the blink of an eye.

I sat there for a while, staring at the door, wondering what the fuck just happened and how I managed to have gone from a surprisingly pleasant conversation to none at all.

*********

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

I exhaled loudly, kicking at the stones on the road. I was betting that to others I looked like a child. I also felt like a child.  “I am.”

“So, let me get this straight, you were in your dorm room, with none other than Ivar bloody Lothbrok, the hottie rich boy, and you flat out called him an entitled prick?”

“Well, of course not,” I hissed. “I just said I hated him and listed reasons that sounded both like compliments and insults all at the same time.”

Pause. “Wait, hated as in past tense?”

Of course, my cousin would get hung up on tenses. But then, I contemplated my choice of words in both instances for a second. I didn’t hate him anymore. He wasn’t as bad as my own jealousy and spitefulness painted him out to be. I didn’t like him, and I sure as hell would never hang out with him outside of it being anything but necessary, however, I didn’t hate him. “He’s not that bad.”

“Well, fuck me sideways,” she chortled. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Nothing is happening, so don’t jump to any conclusions,” I warned. “All right, buttercup, I gotta go see if he’s meeting me at the library tonight.”

“Okay, chick. If you hate shag I want all the details!” she said, just before ending the call.

“Fucking Lisa,” I muttered, before sliding the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. The air started to get chilly in the afternoons lately and I missed the warmth of the sun rays kissing my skin, although I couldn’t wait for autumn either.

I sat on the nearest bench and tried to think of what I could possibly say if he was there. In my head, I had approximately six different speeches and a scenario for each one of them. Needless to say, none of them ended well at all, but I also understand I have to grit my teeth and face whatever awaits me.

The library swarmed with people tonight. Students of all kinds and ages immersed themselves in books, their noses stuck to the screens of their laptops or iPads, some taking notes. I glanced around the room, occasionally standing on my tiptoes to try to see further around but he was nowhere to be found.

I walked around the library a couple of times until I finally settled on a free table by the entrance. I felt a tinge of disappointment and anger form in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know if he was coming or not, after our conversation, but I still hoped he would put his personal feelings aside for the sake of this project. After all, this one is one of the many and we will have to complete them all together, whether either of us liked it or not.

I checked my watch and realized I have been waiting for a good forty-five minutes, before finally giving up and sulking back to my dorm. My emotions switched between anger and disappointment, though they weren’t aimed at him but rather myself.

That night I dreamed of blue eyes. They were oceanic orbs, pulling me in until I was so deep in my lungs hurt from the crave of a wisp of fresh air. His voice was a low melody, lulling me to let go and give in to the pull. Once I was on the ocean floor, a storm began to brew and his anger flared the lightning bolts up above. I was paralyzed into place as he made me watch the destruction happening around. All I could do is wait.

[tlatollotl]

Answer by /u/400-rabbits,

The only people who seriously subscribe to the idea of Chachapoyas as blonde and blue-eyed are racists and conspiracy theorists (with no small overlap between the two). It is not a serious idea and is not to be taken seriously. The very quote you cite from Cienza de Leon does not even describe them this way, instead noting them to simple be paler than other native groups he had encountered. He also affirms them to be indigenous, as the original text from his La crónica del Perú calls them "indios naturales," a term early/colonial Spaniards explicitly used for Native Americans:

Son estos indios naturales de Chachapoyas los más blancos y agraciados de todos cuantos yo he visto en las Indias que he andado...

Note that calling them "más blancos" (more white) does not imply that they were "white" with the connotations it has today (i.e., ethnically European), but simply acts as a descriptor of skin tone. Note also that Cienza de Leon also not calling them European, but merely that they are of a lighter skin tone then the other indigenous groups he has encountered. There is nothing here to suggest they were of European ancestry and certainly nothing about blonde hair and blue-eyes. The use of blanco/negro for skin tone, without implications about ancestry, is not uncommon in early Spanish texts, and should not be used in the same way "white" or "black" are used today. The terms can just as easily by translated as "fair/pale" or "dark/swarthy," without the burden of terms currently used to ascribe race. (Weirdly, I just had to tackle this regarding Afrocentric theories in another question.)

I also see nothing about the Chachapoyas' height in La crónica del Perú. One radiological study (Friedrich 2010) of Chachapoya area mummies estimated stature in what they determined to be adults to range from 123cm to 160cm, which is... not tall. Admittedly, estimating stature from CT scans of long bones is not ideal, but clearly these people were no giants. There were, in fact, in line with stature estimates from the region. Ubelaker and Newsom (2002) in The Backbone of History: Health and Nutrition in the Western Hemisphere measured skeletal remains from various periods in nearby Ecuador, finding a range between 148-170cm.

Well what about mummies in the region with "red" hair? Surely such a hair color could only occur if some fair-haired Northern European had spread their genes around, right? No.

Lightening/Reddening of hair in preserved remains is a well-known post-mortem change. As my Tibbet and Carter (2008) Soil Analysis in Forensic Taphonomy note:

All hair color contains a mixture of both black-brown eumelanin and red-yellow phaeomelanin pigments, which are suspectible to differential chemical change under certain conditions. Importantly, phaeomelanin is much more stable to enviromnetal conditions than eumelanin; hence, the reactions occurring in the burial environment favor the preservation of phaeomelanin, revealing and enhancing the red-yellow color of hairs containing this pigment. (p. 129)

What about other biological evidence? Surely some evidence of errant Vikings would show up in the bones and genes, right? No.

Nystrom (2006), examining craniofacial landmarks, found that while sites associated with the Chachapoyas culture showed differences from each other, this was was best explained by the geographical distance, admixture with surrounding groups, and a general erasure of internal ethnic division among the Chachapoyas by both the Inca and later Spanish. In other words, the people of Kuelap may have seen themselves as distinct from those people up the Utcubamba river at Hueyabamba or Condores, but to outside invaders they were all Chachapoyas. On the genetic side of things, Sandoval et al. (2016) looked at other extant groups in the region, and found them to be a complex and diverse group of peoples "suggesting a high interpopulation migration between the Andes and Amazonia." Likewise, Guevara et al. (2016) using samples from extant communities in the area found historical evidence for a Chachapoyas population that was connected to, but still distinct from their neighbors, which is explained by the general population diversity of the region, it being an area where both Andean and Amazonian groups mingled, and influence from the Inca system of resettling conquered peoples. They concluded:

The genetic profile of the Chachapoya indicates that populations that developed in “intermediate ecological regions” have a complex genetic composition which has been influenced by their position with regard to other civilizations in the northeast Andes.

None of these investigations came back and said, "well, turns out they're Vikings." So were does that idea come from?

Well, the idea of the Chachapoyas being non-indigenous got a boost recently with PBS's Secrets of the Dead devoting an episode to the hypothesis of a German academic (with no expertise in archaeology, let alone Andean specific training), Hans Griffhorn. He proposes that, following the 3rd Punic War, the Carthaginians were not all enslaved by the Romans, but that many of them joined Iberian Celts to flee to secret Brazilian colonies. From there they apparently decided to travel from the Brazilian coast through the Amazon to settle in the Andes, for some reason.

The documentary is terrible and uses the same toolkit that Pre-Columbian conspiracy theorists always rely upon: taking the most extreme interpretation of ambiguous ancient texts; drawing specious connections between convergent similarities in the art and architecture of American groups and the chosen Afro-Eurasian group; an insistence that the American group in question was somehow unique, distinct, or "advanced" as compared to their neighbors; a blithe disregard for the mountains of archaeological, anthropological, and historical evidence; and an underlying assumption that the peoples of the Americas somehow required an outside force to push them towards civilization. The only thing missing is some dubious linguistic analysis, but that is probably only because the Chachapoyas language is extinct. Jason Colavito has a review on his site worth reading.

Ancient Celts and Carthaginians are not Vikings though, and the idea of Andean Norsemen goes back all the way to... the mid-late 20th Century. That's when Jacques de Mahieu, a french Nazi collaborator and general proponent of Nazi racial theories, began publishing books arguing that Vikings had extensively colonized and conquered huge swathes of the Americas. Nigel Davies in his 1979 book on pre-Columbian hypotheses, Voyagers to the New World, summarizes de Mahieu's idea and their reception:

seven Viking boats, each with eighty people on board, reach Mexico in A.D. 967. Twenty-two years later these adventurers undertook a new migration and eventually reach Paraguay, after passing through Venezuela and Chile. In Paraguay, the Norsemen became the progenitors of a tribe whose sturdy womenfolk created the legend of the Amazons, and their last descendants still survive as the Guayaqui Indians. Mahieu admits that these Guayaquis are a sadly decadent breed of Vikings, since they measure only four feet, eleven inches in stature and some are cannibals. Such theories are treated as pure science fiction by leading Argentinean anthropologists, and though he has written no less than fifteen books on the subject, Mahieu has hardly proved his point.

Nicholas Goodrick-Clark, author of the 2003 Black Sun: Aryan Cults, Esoteric Nazism, and the Politics of Identity, has further summary of the ideas contained in those 15 books published by Mahieu, which posit a pan-American Viking empire. Apparently the original flotilla of Vikings conquered the Toltecs, then moved on to Venezuela and Colombia. One specific Viking leader split off to colonize Peru and found an Incan Empire whose elites were Norse. Goodrick-Clark notes Mahieu's books were published by Wildred van Oven, Goebbel's deputy who fled to Argentina and remained a committed Nazi until his death, and that Mahieu's ideas influenced Miguel Serrano, a Chilean neo-Nazi who believed a race of Aryan-Hyperboreans originally colonized the Americas and that Columbus' voyage was a ploy by the Jews to cover this up.

The idea of the Chachapoya culture and people being lost Vikings is, in short, born from Nazi racism. It is an idea that found fertile ground among the myriad pre-Columbian contact myths, legends, and conspiracy theories which have abounded ever since Europeans stumbled upon the Americas, and which are often rooted in racist ideas about the inferiority of Americans. Pop-culture has kept alive these ideas through irresponsible and pseudo-scientific works like the PBS show. These hypotheses, however, always end up breaking down under the slightest bit of scrutiny, with the actual anthropological, archaeological, and historical evidence actively arguing against such beliefs. The notion of Norse Chachapoyans has even less going for it than most of these fantastical ideas -- being essentially Nazi fanfiction -- and does not deserve a moment of your, or anyone else's, time.

[miraimisu]

These Stones We Skip | C̷͓̮̳͒͂̓̈́ha̷̖͖̯̙̫̜̋͑͝pteȑ̷̝̤̙̺͂͜͝ 1

◄ previous part  ♣  next part ►

[Read at FF.net]

[Read at AO3.]

Summary: Ochako, as a newcomer to the most powerful guild in this forsaken village, had not only one, two; but three responsibilities: grow stronger until she was able to pin the world down, untangle the mystery that her past was and survive under the eyes of a crowd that watched over her as night chased the sun’s tail, the charade going on and on until the thread… suddenly snaps.

Rating: T because of obvious reasons such as Bakugou and swearing children. And it’s an AU. Medieval AU.

Word count: it’s fucking long get over it

Author’s note: HI. I can't fathom how many followers I'll have lost in the month I've been gone but. life man. It go me real goo in the ass, uni and feelings. FEELINGS ARE COOL SOMETIMES. But like really. Um, I was pretty much down the mood? so all my friends at discord helped me over and kinda scooped me, said "YO IF YOU DONT FINISH THIS WHO WILL" got a viking inspiration and wrote it.

It's a bit shorter than usual tho, mostly bc this and next chap were supposed to be one, but for plor reasons I decided to expand on it. Not many visions, not much Kacchako developement, but we got the lore going! Actually who am I gonna lie, we did have kacchako developement. ALso thank bestie kwife bc without her who would I be.so next update should be a bit sooner I think, but I can't make promises D: I'll try to get back to yall soon ♥ thanks for everything, YOU ALL ARE AWESOME

Warnings: long yet shorter than usual, a bit messy but IT HAS SOME GOOD STUFF DAMN SON.

I’ll very likely have to edit this once I am over this chapter and repair any little plotholes I may have poked.

I just hope Google docs hasn’t munched anything from this fic I swear to god.

"Uraraka, Uraraka!"

A muffled voice was calling her in the distance– screaming, touch blistering as all surrounding her skin reacted to the calloused touch, the hands of a madman shaking air out of her until there was no feeling of skin differentiation anymore, and suddenly, consciousness came back to push her into the real world and gasp for needed air. It was like technicolor exploding into her, suddenly reeling her out of the blackness and, in a moment, all she saw was the color of blood.

"You motherfucker!" she very well knew who that gruff voice belonged to, but she was too busy coughing the swallowed, raspy water of the river. A hand came to slap it all out, which only gave her sore skin on her back. Her body contorted, twisted to a side as the fit got tougher. "I can't believe you would be so damn reckless!"

Uraraka wiped some remains of water off her chin and blinked up to her leader, who was squatting on her side with the most displeased grimace she had ever seen him sport. Now that she noticed, he was also soaked to the bone, hair dripping and pants heavy. "B-Bakug–"

The blonde leader let out a tch of impatience and shook his head. He didn't even offer a hand to her before getting up. "That stupid thing threw some of us off the cliff, and now we are stuck here." his head snapped to meet the clearing sky, raising his fist to the air. "I can't believe we didn't get him, he would have been plenty useful as a food source."

The brunette focused her eyes on the streaming river, calmer now and splashing at her feet. The dreadful canyon stood in a faraway distance from them, clouded by morning mist and the orange streaks of sunrise. Light hit on the walls and gave the peak a magnificent glow, surrounded by clouds of aftermath and ash permeating the air, a clear evidence of the catastrophe that had taken place a few hours ago. As she looked around, she stumbled upon the realization that they must have been carried by the currents for a part of the path, and Bakugou had probably– she gasped.

He seemed to notice her sudden realization, for which he looked aside with a regretful sway of his eyes. His fists were tense, arms extended, yet his whole self was consumed by a somehow tired and fighting stance. "You were the one who… saved me?"

Bakugou hissed loudly and slapped his cape against his legs in an attempt to dry it, but ended up having to squeeze it with a grunt of displeasure. He had a knack for wearing thin and light clothing, and his cape would sometimes be uselessly lost in the spur of a battle. Turns out this was the only time when it would have been useful to not wear it. "Not a big deal. I'm making sure you don't owe me any more of your glittery stuff–"

Uraraka quickly rose to her feet and clutched the fabric of her dress frantically, only to notice that her clothes were oh so damp and her gloves were gone, tattered with dirt and water. Still, this fact didn't let her lose focus on the matter, caution prevailing on her little steps around his heart. "You saved my life, Bakugou! This isn't a small deal!"

And a part of him knew this to be true. Once her little body had crashed against his on the currents, he had almost immediately wrapped himself around her to protect her– and it was so hard to admit it, but all that had crossed his mind when he felt her aimlessly spinning was that he needed to keep her close, because she was a damn valuable member of his guild and he wouldn't let her off his sight that easily. He had found grip on the seams and tugged them both up for dear life, her body still clutched to his chest when he dozed off, and still close to her when he woke up again.

The quiet rush of the waters near him were a grim reminder of how far things had sunk into complex waters of unknown feelings, his heart stretching and twisting the peaks of his fixated vision into something so much darker and stranger than he had ever seen. Bakugou was so stranger to peculiarities and irregular corners– after all, he had to deal with crashing timelines and a freak trashing at the end of his horizons. Yet, when he looked at the soaked, puffing woman, he saw something deeper than any of his journeys combined.

Depth. Yes, depth. That was all he could see when it came to her.

He was still torn between deeming it to be a good thing or not, that he had mindlessly risked his life to shield hers back there, where water soaked more and bit less. It had felt so right to get her away from there, and no matter how much he fought to deny and hate that feeling, he just couldn't really reject her openly without backtracking.

Then, he looked into her clean eyes. Was that what she felt on a daily basis? Were these feelings all she felt when she looked at him so intensely, so menacingly yet so warm and kind to him? When had that part tagged as annoyance bloomed into something he saw as positive now?

Bakugou gritted his teeth at her, a short lived action. If only he could go back to automatically wanting to slaughter her… somehow, the idea didn't sound appealing anymore. And he… was so tired of fighting the currents anymore.

This time, when he had fought the currents, it turns out she had appeared in front of him and all he had done was protect her. He didn't feel like the danger factor hung so heavy anymore. It felt… nice.

Sun peeked from between trees and hit on Uraraka's crooked hat, on her temple, washed over her left cheek and reflected on her eyes, twinkling against his hardened ones. Wind blew again around them, making their heavy clothes and hair sway, the shadow of a small boy falling in front of her for a second, smiling at her and taking her hand like a happy child with a sister, only to fade away slowly with the blink of her eyes.

Sunshine filtered between his tresses as well, slowly, as the orange light cascaded faster on her and made his breath hitch dangerously crisp in weird places he had never known. Something clapped louder inside of her heart, and he suddenly looked so handsome in the sunset, with her, the river streaming at her feet.

"I…" her mouth was dry, hands realizing the emotional burden he must be carrying, conscious of the tremendous leap he had taken for her. "I can't define how thankful I am to you, Bakugou. I owe you a big one, and I will spend the rest of the path showing you so!"

Her head bobbed a bit in agitation, lips moving yet he couldn't really comprehend the will behind them. All he could see was how beautiful her skin shone in the milky sunset, steaming off light like the sun with the peace and serenity of the moon. That itching feeling in his heart, it was so annoying – he scratched his chest a little, feigning a mere pain but aware of the danger being inside of him, not outside. "No need to go that far, Uraraka. I am the leader of this damn guild, it's my mission to fucking ensure your safety."

"Even mine?"

That was the real quid of the question, because while Bakugou cared about his peers evenly, he couldn't even dare cross her out like another one of them, because for better or for worse, she wasn't like them. Uraraka was the embodiment of all he hated, yet also all he wanted to be if he was given the chance to be born again. She was confusing, something he had always pushed down with so so much care he had never expected her to grow out of his reach.

It somehow hurt to admit that he needed her more than he would ever aknowledge. She was strong, stupid, and that vicious tag he had put on her so stubbornly, the walls he had built around her had faded somewhere in the past, along with their bickering and their silent oaths of loyalty and promises. It was no longer possible to deny that she mattered, too.

And now it was time to let it shine.

"…Yeah." admitted he to the lullaby of his rushing heart, wind tamedly blowing and sunrise washing over them. Her eyes widened a little, and her hold on her clothes tightened some notches.

And Bakugou turned around, wiping his cape to try and remember where he had reached to see the others, maybe a pair of his comrades lost somewhere around them as well. He could recall having seen half-n-half nearby, and also a woman, yet he wasn't sure of the latter's identity. He took a step in the direction of the forest, scratching his cheek in wonder–

Something thudded on his back and sneaked arms around his waist. After a intake of air and seeing the rigged sleeves of his peer around him, his shoulders tensed. He could feel her cheek nuzzling with his cape despite its wetness, and she felt so cold on the outside yet so fucking warm with the gesture. His arms tensed and flexed in pure instinct.

"Oi, what the h–"

"Thank you so much, Bakugou!" repeated she again, but the load hung heavier on the air and her voice was clearly strained. "For looking after me! Thanks for…" her arms tightened around him, and his arms somewhat gave in and limped on his sides, eyes somber and expression tight. "for trusting me, for walking blindly and… I swear I won't let you down!"

Something sounded in his ribcage, Uraraka knew. He took a big gulp and his voice was uneven, but hard and off to her. Gruff, yet low, and he suddenly didn't feel like himself anymore. "You better not, Uraraka."

She then gingerly removed her arms from him, and padded slowly behind him as she fell into pace with him in silence. Bakugou could still feel the weight of her arms around him, and when she had taken it all away – the newfound giddiness of a hug, the warmth of her presence and the burst of colors behind his eyes – an uncomfortable void had poked itself in his gut, because a part of him wondered what it would have felt to hug her back.

He would regret that, too.

"I have seen Yaoyorozu somewhere nearby the river when we got here, and I bet some more people must have fallen down that damn cliff." of course Uraraka tensed stiff like a dry leaf, and the boy eyed her warily from ahead. "No need to lose your shit over it, they will be alright." he palmed over his waist and visibly relaxed when his fingers touched the silver of his now wasted sword.

The sorcerer followed the weapon in deep curiosity, hands folded in front of her chest. His hands were clenched around the handle, tempting the fates of the ruined fabric – it was torn on some sides, almost outstretched at the back and stained beyond repairing – as his calloused fingers tested the feeling of being guarded again. It was then when she realized that her wand had been lost as well in the spur of the river, and her head shot to the shore to see if it had ended somewhere nearby.

Still – understood she a bit later on – she could still do hand wielded magic. Uraraka gave her hands a little shake and light streamed from them effortlessly. It would drain some more energy than usual, but perhaps this would be good for her training.

The pair entered the forest, yet scanned the shore behind the trees with precautious eyes. "I can't see anybody yet." spoke the mage after a few minutes, the path stretching on and on deeper into the forest. "I wonder how far they may have gotten."

"As long as they are alive, all is good for me." answered Bakugou, almost ignoring her while his focus was put on his discarded comrades. "The river flows straight into the Capital. If the streams have taken them nearer, the faster we will get there."

The Capital… she had read some about that place while skimming through spell books – which had been useful this far and frankly, she couldn't wait to get more of them – and meals at the guild. It was an awful big place with scattered halls and stadiums, a whole palace sitting at the very center of the town with a cathedral somewhere in between houses and shops. It was mostly known for its grand walls surrounding the place, guarded by an invincible crew of ruthless reformed barbarians.

It had all seemed so dark and dangerous to her, but after seeing some paintings of it and acknowledging the fact that Bakugou and the rest would be with her, she felt a bit more assured, safe. Just having the leader close filled her with newfound security, and it made her smile to herself– she enjoyed this feeling, that of seeing him as somebody she could entrust her body to.

A part of her wanted to think he would actually take care of her even now that they were even duty-wise. A part of her knew that it was more complicated than that.

"Speaking of," she continued her train of thought absent-mindedly, but judging by how his pace slowed down the tiniest bit, he wasn't strolling too far from her own thoughts. "how are you feeling?"

Disappointed with such measly question, he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at the river. "Perfectly fine, Uraraka."

"I wasn't exactly talking about your body." the girl fidgeted on her place, and the boy actually looked back with something similar to surprise knit on his rough features. "After our fight with Midnight you… were having some awful…"

How to word those murmurs that would turn into screams in the dead of the night, when she was most unprepared yet most pendant? Were they nightmares? Were they memories? What was all that he had said so fast and jumbled that it had left her unbroken, bleeding fast inside and feeling that very same trepidation she sensed whenever he was near?

There was something intangible keeping them separated – yet undeniably close, spiraling one around the other aimlessly, her nails scraping the metal of their chains yet never rendering them useless, and she needed to know what it was that had troubled him to get chunks of separation out of their way and grasp the whole meaning of it all.

"Spit it out." murmured he. A shadow had fallen on his eyes, fangs clenched in a menace that he always put up automatically. "We don't have all time for this, Uraraka."

The last part seemed ironically incorrect and worthless, but that was not the point.

"Well, you were mumbling lots of stuff and cried when we are treating you at the bay, and even back when I was carrying–" this was the first and last time she would even blush at such mention of close contact with him. He raised an eyebrow, clearly lost in her mind games. "carrying you to the village. So I wanted to know if–"

Bakugou was no fool, and clearly caught up fast as well. His response was a snap of a branch with the blade of his sword, voice hoarse and a few octaves lower. "That's… not your goddamn business. Don't pry."

"So you remember, huh." she didn't even acknowledge his threat, only scratched her temple. Uraraka was way too used to his shenanigans, and only needed to look deep into his eyes to see that something had been nagging at him from behind all along. "I am just worried, you know. You truly looked messed up."

And he had to bite back a sarcastic remark because he definitely never looked like a mess– if only, she was the one who was always a mess, dress dirty and hair bloodstained, but that was not the point. "Again, it's not your battle to fight. I'll be alright."

The leader sprung back to his side and carefully strode down a little slope to an uncovered shore, leaving a saddened Uraraka behind, clutching her heart in even worse worry. "Bakugou…"

She had seen it, the sting of his eyes and the aloof feeling to his words. They hadn't tried to bite her, or push her back– actually, they had unwontedly drawn her closer to his seething heart. Something dark had sparked between them, in her heart, like a mirror facing a crowd of mad bees chasing after a sugar spoon. It was venomous, not easy to tackle, tough and long, but she would have never expected Bakugou to be one to passively reject a hand and not reach out.

Admittedly, she could understand his reluctance to swat her away, but the fact that she had gotten so close to reeling truth out of him only fueled her fire. Her resolve got tougher, stronger, brimming in her eyes, and she promised herself to ask him about it later.

In the meantime, Bakugou heard her skip after him instead of using the traditional way of simply sliding down slopes. She could have slipped on the landing and she for sure didn't even care. "Don't go jumping around or you will end up hurting yourself. I ain't carrying you to the Capital."

Uraraka's soles slid a bit, but they just scratched some stones. She gracefully avoided a clumsy fall with some arm flailing. "I am alright, meanie! No need to be so gruffy about it�� Uh!"

There was a cough near them, a strained retail of raspy breaths and cuffed life resonating a few meters ahead of them. Uraraka stopped on her tracks and snapped at the leader in alarm, whose storm brewed eyes shone in alert. He knew who that was, too. "I can't fucking believe this."

Uraraka nodded – somewhat agreeing with him – and rushed ahead, hearing the leader's frantic steps stomping against the mossy ground in pace with hers. A blob of black appeared, then there was a silver armor and a floret shining against the sunrise that peaked on the transparent streams. The sorcerer had to cover her eyes to nor blind herself, eyes lost in a sea of orange of the sky and the redness of that familiar armor.

"Damn…" the woman's chest shook again, heaving up and down in distress. Her elbows wobbled on the earth, and attempted to support herself once again, grimacing under the other two. "My arms…"

"Yaoyorozu– please, stop." spoke Uraraka softly, hands on her knees and head tilted for kindness, a very needed softness in this stray condition. The knight looked up, eyes lighting up upon seeing the pair. "We can't allow you to strain yourself too much. Are you injured?"

In other circumstances Uraraka would have thrown her arms around the knight– yet again, this situation wouldn't invite hugs and kisses over. While Uraraka hastily healed her mentor, they locked glances and simply nodded, glad of seeing the other alright. Bakugou was too busy being a bit shitty for the time being.

"We need to get to the Capital as soon as fucking possible." spat the leader, hands in his pockets and eyes bouncing from the river back to the girls. "Otherwise we will be even more delayed and we were for once working in schedule. We have two days and one night to get there and I have no fucking i–"

"I had planned on making a boat, Bakugou." Yaoyorozu thanked the sorcerer briefly before getting up. Her skin was marred in little bruises from crashing with rocks in the river probably, hair completely disarrayed – now that Uraraka noticed, hers was also a bit messy, caked with mud and probably an awful amount of bugs and leaves – and her eyes were dulled, no more glaze of licking fire gracing the view. It made her stomach lurch with worry, but pushed it aside. "But there is an awful storm coming, I'm afraid."

This made the other two turn to the canyon without sparing a moment, and saw a mass of black clouds rolling from the back into the sunrise. The path to the Capital along the river was clear, sun gleaming on the crystal river, but something dangerous would approach them by the middle of the day. The brunette craned her eyes to the squinting leader, whose shoulders were tense in planning. Uraraka had always known this guy was intelligent, but he couldn't live up to life's mad racketing, and this sure was a setback to his prior plan.

So much for marching straight to the Capital. Judging by Bakugou's grim expression, he didn't like that, in a constant hurry to get to RampAge. Everyone was pretty hasty about the issue, but the fact that the blonde was so especially enthusiastic about getting it done so quick stood out like a sore thumb to her. And his voice came out so thick and strained that her suspicions only burst into a technicolor of darkness and sudden dread.

"Where the hell did that shit come from?" barked he, and no wonder some swearing had dipped into her vocabulary considering how much time she spent with him and his foul mouth. Uraraka had the urge to scoff.

Yaoyorozu crossed her arms, watching the clouds make their way to them ever so slowly with critical eye, brows knit in frustration. "That's what I'd like to know. I can't believe the next electric storm will get us while we are on a trip– also, I can't create anything akin to a mean of transport with this little energy and the risk of crashing on the air."

The brunette glanced at Yaoyorozu, wanting to ask oh so many questions, yet she remained silent. In such state of confusion and still trying to pick up the pieces of such catastrophic defeat at the canyon, she was in no place to meddle. She let Bakugou speak while eyeing the incoming storm with slightly narrowed eyes. Probably timelines weaving wrongly. "Seeing how the wind will pick up soon, we better take refuge somewhere."

Something clanked wrong in such brash plan, and it was time for her – as the everlasting opposite force to Bakugou's rash plans – to counterattack him. "We can't go take refuge so lightly without looking for others! There may someone injured nearby."

The hunter growled because she was right, as she usually was and there was no moment in which he enjoyed her having the upper hand. This time though, he knew the field better than her, used to survival trainings and knowing how to handle it. Not like he would convince her despite his obvious expertise – it was Uraraka who he was talking about, for crying out loud – but he wouldn't waste time in making her agree with his ideas.

"Yeah, but we can't risk our lives so lightly, either." his red irises swirled around the curves of the black puffs of chaos in the sky, frowning. "We are in a forest. The risk of having lightning reach us is too high to handle this with much other perception other than survival. We can't let a pussy storm ruin our plans because we tried to play hero."

Again, that man was intelligent to a horrifyingly high degree. His ideas were sharp, logic fast and convictions quickly founded. Whoever who mistook this mess of violence and buried emotions with an uncivilized beast was dead wrong, and Uraraka could bet that he would most probably outsmart in many aspects of life. She was no wimpy ass though, and she would not back down from the challenge of proving him to be a smartass better than him.

"Still, there may be somebody nearby who is injured." supported Yaoyorozu. She was also wary of this option and didn't really feel up to taking too many risks, but the whereabouts of her comrades worried her as well. She couldn't help but imagine any of her close companions hurt and get this gnawing feeling of nausea crawling up her throat. "I suggest making a quick sweep of the zone while we seek refuge. The shore could have washed over anybody and brought them to land."

Uraraka looked up to the leader expectantly, whose face had clouded with hesitation and vacillation, yet he ended up bending to the circumstances. "Sounds fair enough. But you better watch after your asses, I am not a babysitter."

The blonde marched onwards, again wiping his cape behind with a puff of annoyance, followed by the wobbling knight and a very offended Uraraka. "Not like we need to be babysat, jerk!"

"Who are you calling jerk now, Uraraka? Wanna go!?"

Yaoyorozu meanwhile limped a little behind the bickering pair. "Such a bunch of children…"

"Is Yaoyorozu asleep already?

Uraraka was met with crimson eyes glaring at her from the walls of the cavern. Thunder rolled outside while she shook raindrops off her hair and cape, the sheltered logs clattering to the ground under his unimpressed stare. "Not like she could hold up for much longer. And whose body would that be if it were to be anybody else?"

Uraraka wanted to feign feeling offended, but she had no energy to do more than kick the logs into the embers nearby and limp on the wall opposite to his. "Please, don't be such a jerk today. I am almost dead now." the girl sighed. She could feel Bakugou's muderous eyes peeling skin off her body, and switched topics hell fast. "Did you give her the treatments I told you to?"

He nodded curtly and hit his head against the wall, making Uraraka briefly make her eyes dance around the shades thrown onto his body, muscles rippling under the light– she forced her eyes off his figure with a gulp, a light blush covering her face for a moment. His flickered against hers from underneath his eyelashes. "Can't believe Asui's lessons paid off. I thought it would go to damn waste." his eyebrows arched at her hunched complexion, not that used to seeing her so beaten up. "Did it take much to find something dry?"

"I managed. There isn't much rain as of yet, so it wasn't that much of a challenge." she combed her hair back and blew some bangs off her face, letting Bakugou admire the dimming shimmer of her cheeks. It unsettled him for some reason, and he didn't exactly know why. Her fingers threaded and threaded until her hair was completely disarrayed, and stayed out with lidded eyes eating the fire. "I just hope the fire lasts through the storm."

The blonde leader looked outside. The cave wasn't too deep, had an end to it near the entrance and was ample enough to keep the warriors far from the other. After such tiring experience at the river and battle against that howling monster, there was no fiber of their being which would hold up against the other if they strung the wrong chords. Their grudges against each other were getting smaller, but they were still bigger than their bones and broken soul.

The girl looked out as well, the eerie silence around her, rain failling softly near her and dampening the air in solemn reminder of the tight situation they wer ein, like a clock slowly ticking into a point of chaos and complex angles, her surroundings full to the brim with shapes she couldn't distinguish, yet it was all ther ein front of her, in silence, as if mocking her for being too idle in this situation. The environment was so stable and empty, yet full of life that she couldn't believe there was such existential crisis looming over them in that very moment.

The cave… that's where the old man lived, right? Her eyes tried to make out his shape in the midst of the storm, as if he would be waiting for her there, observing her– yet there was nobody there, and it somehow unsettled her that she had had contact with him in vain. Regardless, a part of her knew their encounter had meant something– she had felt it in the air, that shift whenever time pushed her onwards.

It felt cold around her, lonely in front of a fire, colder and bleaker than any nightmare had ever etched itself to her mind. There was this soaking notion of the leader being near her, but it was no more than a notion. All she could feel was the rain falling outside, fire consuming the logs, but it all fell on an invisible carcass above her. The notion of nihilism permeated her the same way that man's hideout had, and it only made her remember the clash of solutions that had surfaced in the span of a week.

Uraraka could clearly remember how Shinsou's eyes had melted into hers, like water sipping from a creak on a rainy ceiling, and had made her feel so many emotions at once. Looking at her hands, it didn't make sense for her to stick to Bakugou's opinion, because if she had met Shinsou first, it was highly likely she would agree with his ideas. Now that she thought about it, her opinions and ideas were more foundamented on circumnstances than on facts, and believe it or not, as a direct participant on the issue, she needed to think about where she stood.

Because while she was 100% sure she was against Shinsou, she needed to find out what else to do other than think about the madness behind that sorcerer. They needed a full-proof plan, and that's what she needed Bakugou for now.

"Say, Bakugou…" his eyes snapped from the entrance to meet her in a sideways glance, one that didn't make her feel at ease at all. "why are you so against Shinsou's idea?"

Bakugou clearly was too tired to join the dots, and frowned at her with a full-on glare. "Care to elaborate?"

Always so edgy, that man. Uraraka returned the hardened stare, needing points of view despite not really needing his, out of all people. Yet, as a leader, he would offer a pretty expansive insight on the matter. If Yaoyorozu was awake, she would ask her rather than Bakugou, and and she would make sure she asked her as soon as they reached the Capital. "What Shinsou said, back then at the dungeon."

"What the fuck, Uraraka–"

"I am not taking sides, don't jump into conclusions." clarified she. Their eyes met above the fire, and there was something so enticing about his eyes staring at her so intensely, a far off memory lost in a sea of lost causes. "But I was still thinking about what got you so worked up about him. I know Shonsou's ideas are crazy–"

"You bet they are."

"– but still, is there an ulterior choice other than that?"

The blonde didn't alter his glare much after her world changing reaction. To be honest, he should have seen her coming. "Again, care to elaborate? I am not a damn mind reader."

He was getting defensive and edgy and she didn't like that thorny side of his at all. Her hands shot up in front of her defensively, smile quick to show but quivering at the corners. That man was something she could deal with for now, but he could get the best of her awfully easy sometimes. "I-I mean!" why was she even stuttering? she wanted to slap herself. "Well, all I know is that Shinsou has a plan and all, and he seems to have contacts and people to carry his plan out, or so people say – and I wondered, what exactly is our plan?"

Bakugou's eyes softened to a somewhat tender shade of red, flickered with flames licking his slight fears away after seeing her so undeniably afraid of rubbing on him the wrong way, making her just look like an innocent soul– again, he knew she was by no means innocent, but the shade that the fire threw on her momentarily blinded him.

"Go for that RampAge fucker, smash it– just destroy that motherfucker." his violent string of wording left her a bit cold on the spot, and made her eyes widen. "Then we catch the man behind the curtains and beat the shit out of him."

Uraraka had always rolled with the plan, as when Bakugou had initially explained it to her – it seems like he had forgotten about that detail or decided to let it slip, as he hadn't reprimanded her for asking again – it had all seemed fine and easy, but after Shinsou's encounter she somehow needed to come clean with the situation again. She hadn't been given a choice to pick sides with either the good team or the bad team– but what defined each, really?

The sorcerer was likely to follow the good path, but she also wanted to know what the other side had to it so she was ready for their tricks in the future. "I still don't know where RampAge's connection with the timeline issue lays. How can a monster be connected to such an intricate problem like time bending? And also, a sole man?"

It was obvious Bakugou was pissed by her inquisitive nature, but it wasn't like he shouldn't have gotten used to it by now. Look at her hands, at her eyes, those incandescent irises and her tough, violent hands which held gentle intentions with the weight of the world on her shoulders. For him, she was sometimes like a needle of glass supporting a basket of apples: fated to break, yet idle and uncracking. It sometimes made him wonder if he was made of other materials, too.

"Our theories aren't made out of thin air, you know." responded he, all but gentle, yet his voice came out like such and he hetaed this because it wasn't the first time it happened, above all in front of her. "And it's fundamented on other explorations from prior parties. Are you trying to dick with me or–"

"I wasn't attacking you, don't get so defensive." apparently he was being defensive of it, because he actually flinched at the accusation. She noted that fact down among with all other things she had to do – they were piling up – and looked at the leader even more intensely. "I just don't see how such a monumental problem can be solved so easily."

"Our problems can't come from any other source than that, stupid. That damn beast appeared when our timeline was starting to be strained, when people started having these crazy visions and when my damn weapons disappeared from my storage." he jabbed his own chest purposefully, and stood up with a jump. "So don't try to play clever with me."

Uraraka also stood up from her safe place, straightening her clothes with a huff of disappointment, since there was no way she had actually hugged this man hours ago and they were bickering once again, after so many steps forward out of the hate zone. "I am not playing games, and while I do also see this option as the most fit–"

His lips were drawn into a snarl. "Then why question it!?"

"Because I also wanna know what path I am taking, I wanna know the exact reason as to why I am not going to Shinsou's side right now instead of–"

Bakugou jumped over the small campfire to the rhythm of lighting striking outside the cave, and he landed right before her, making the sorcerer take a step back until she was hitting the walls of the cave. "What the fuck are you even implying, mentioning that fucker now!"

He was way too close, his breath fanning against her face rapidly and gusting through some disarrayed tresses– but in a way, Uraraka didn't mind it much. From such close distance, she could name each of his eyelashes, count the endless number of little scars on his cheeks – what would he do if she touched them? – and stare at the glimmer of his eyes on hers, which were considerably wider. It turned out that the bickering from seconds ago was kind of forgotten to him, as a new indescribable feeling had settled and it was not going away.

His breath hitched.

"Actually, I can see where Uraraka… is coming from."

The smooth pair tensed dramatically and turned to see Yaoyorozu scrubbing her eyes, yawning and hunched over herself. A linen blanket lay over her form and pooled around her knees now, but Bakugou couldn't focus on that now. "What the hell are you doing awake now?"

If the knight hadn't known better, she would believe she had interrupted a sensitive moment between them, but that was impossible. It was Uraraka and Bakugou, for crying out loud. "You guys are a bit loud…"

The brunette blushed and let herself sink to the floor, clothes scraping the uneven surface of the cave walls. "I'm… sorry, Yaoyorozu. That was unacceptable from us."

Unexpectedly, Bakugou nodded as well, and sat down criss-cross in front of her, near the fire. His eyes lingered on her for a bit, aggressivity gone but now replaced with a feeling that didn't sit well with Uraraka. He didn't look dangerous now, he didn't look like himself and, for a moment, he had looked ambiguely better to her, so close to touching noses and his voice so intimate. What… had that even been for?

Why had he even looked so taken aback by seeing her so close? Uraraka rubbed her face in her hands, and felt like dying for even taking such little facts into consideration.

"It's fine, Uraraka." yeah, it wasn't. "I am a light sleeper. It's only natural you guys woke me." her voice was grainy, hoarse, and so unlike her. It looked like the river and the past events had taken the worst out of each of them, and Uraraka didn't like it a single bit. "Now, about Shinsou and all that, I can get where she comes from with all this."

Bakugou was confused by this to the naked eye, yet inwardly shaken up. "What are you talking about?"

The knight scrubbed her eyes open again, feeling how the fires fed her with energy and how Uraraka's curious eyes scanned her meticulously, as if studying her. That glance of hers would go like that ever so often, but it sometimes made Yaoyorozu wonder how many things could go through her head at once. "All we have given Uraraka ever since she came to us has been either a warning or small problems to deal with, but we haven't offered her our solutions other than destruction and messy havoc."

"Not like she fucking put up a fight on that matter, y'know."

The girl shook her head. "The point is, Uraraka doesn't understand how everything ties to our final showdown with RampAge. She trusts your ideas because they are marginally better than Shinsou's, otherwise she would be completely torn on what to do."

And that was the understatement of the year, because if there was somehing the sorcerer didn't understand was the foundings of Bakugou's planning and what had him so on edge with this foe. True, he was dangerous and a threat to humankind, but there was this something that lurked behind his eyes, a glint to his skin and a tremor to his lips. It was absolutely terrifying to see a major pillar of her safety stand in the middle of a corrupted lane.

"I just wanna figure out what the point is." summarized the girl, looking at her feet as she was damn aware that the blonde was looking at her. "I don't wanna drive into another wall like with Pyrox, where all we won was gold and a ban to our heads. I just wanna know what the point even is of all of this."

And the blonde could understand where she was coming from as well, this time, because all he had given her was pain and hell to deal with while she tried her best, and only now did he see how stupid he had been for once thinking she would bite him lest he gave her his hand to cooperate. Those cheeks were to rosy for a beast, hands destined for destruction, yet on a year off-work, apparently. Uraraka was bruised, a bit bloody, yet she remained like a stained, lone sunflower in a battlefield.

It sometimes made him think she was special, too.

Still, he wouldn't give her that, so his teeth gritted again in distaste. "Already told ya, the disruptions come from that fucker, hereby we're gonna destroy him."

"It just seems so convoluted that such a enormous problem may come from such a foe like RampAge–" his glare was enough to have her scrambling for a comeback to cover her little slip. "But I can understand it though! I guess that time-travelling and this guy are the ones behind it, right?"

Yaoyorozu hugged herself with the blanket and crawled to their side. "The problem does come from time-travelling, but this monster has a good dose of history with time-travelling. It is theorized he is the one who holds all disruptional time knots together. We could say he is the one who keeps the mess going on."

That bit of information made sense, yet something was off and both older members could see the pieces clicking in the sorcerer's head. "Wait, if he is the one holding the mess together, wouldn't it be dangerous for it to come undone?"

The tea cup shattered, and it seems like the shards were too sharp for her to take them lightly. It came as a big wave rolling over her and washing over in a blank slate of whispers and statics, making her whole body tingle in trepidation as her muddy eyes shifted to the leader, whose blistering pools stared right at her as if to mirror the same inward turmoil that spirraled in a sway of chaos and doubt, it all coming out as a pained grunt of messy incoherencies that left Uraraka realizing that he knew of this setback– yet he was still willing to go on forward with yet again another risky plan, and it made her furious.

"What the hell, don't give me a bark when there is so much on the loose, Bakugou!" her voice shook her vocal chords and suddenly boomed across the cave, which was small and quickly enveloped her. "How can you be playing with the strings so uncarefully when something even worse than the actual–"

"Uraraka."

The girl was surprised to see that the female knight was not only unsupportive of her behavior – look at those black eyes, they clearly reflected something negative towards her, menace and scornful intentions shining through – but also seemed to be mad at her. Yaoyorozu sighed before speaking up. "I do agree with you to some extent, but I will never take your side on a matter like this. Trust me when I say he knows best this time."

The blonde silently thanked her for her intervention, because he didn't feel like spilling some scientific shit that late into the conflict. Uraraka had arrived at a late stage in life, and she had to understand there was no time for her to catch up with the logic behind her surroundings. All she had to do was trust them, but apparently she deemed it appropriate to stop and stare at all the interrogations around her.

He… didn't know what to make out of that, to be honest.

Still – he glanced into her sparkling eyes, a pair of pearls that never lost that angry determination of hers, and he knew he liked it, more than he would admit to himself – he knew she wouldn't be backing off easily. There were so many corners to her personality he hadn't seen yet.

"I respect Bakugou in his role as a leader, yours as my almost teacher and you both as warriors and worthy counterparts– yet, I just don't see how experience can defy the login in this." Uraraka tried to even her voice and succeeded in doing so, yet her posture was rigged and bumpy, agitated. "How is killing a chaos vessel not a risk for just the mere potential of a time collapse? Is it really worth the ris–?"

There was a big slam on the air near her, and suddenly Bakugou was standing up again, hovering over her small form. The rotten blade that had been laying around was flung to her neck, in a fashion so dangerously similar to their first meeting, giving her this sinking feeling of him taking steps away from her after they had been so, so close. "Listen up here. You got no fucking idea what that asshole is. You have no fucking idea who it is and what it's planning, nor what it has done to deserve this punishment."

"But–"

"Don't interrupt me!" she silver metal breezed through her pulse, waking up hairs from her nape. The needles ticked against the clock, cures and poison scattering across a wronger timeline Bakugou was so hellbent on both destroying and saving, and the complexity of it all made her discover the thought that maybe, just maybe, more anwers to those mysteries laid inside of him, unawake. "I have my own reasons to chase that fucker, I know what it is capable of, I know his science, so just fucking shut up already!"

It also dawned on her that Bakugou had this little side of him that was so raw, animalistic and likely of him to be expected, yet it was also an uncanny side to witness. Because while he was brash and typically rude and just an ass, he didn't have such habit to scream in full force like he was doing now, or show clear anger and vexation at someone or something, like her and their current situation. It never crossed her mind that he was aggressive, yet not that abrassive as one would expect.

Why was it that he was constantly surprising her?

"Bakugou… I just don't–"

A hand came to rest on her shoulder, rubbing on the fabric of her uniform with concern. It stopped whatever dangerous discourse Uraraka was about to release, and trust Yaoyorozu when she knew and manifested that it wasn't good at all to keep on with a certain topic– above all when it involved Bakugou. "Let it be, Uraraka."

"I just…"

"It's settled, Uraraka." the sword was driven straight into the rocky ground, like a Excallibur finding its gravestone, and the leader just tried to shrug off the tension with a hand to his chest, the itchy feeling somehow appearing again. "I'mma go for a walk or something."

The only one to stop him was Yaoyorozu, as Uraraka was starting to feel the shame of prying too much into someone's life and she suddenly felt mortified after probably causing another drift between them. If her condition as a sorcerer wasn't enough she had started taking too much trust with him and– the girl buried her face into her hands. "It's not wise to go around so carefree, Bakugou. The thunderstorm is coming and it's too cloudy to–"

"I don't give a fuck." snarled the boy too calm for both girls' liking, his body filtered by a clap of thunder and the blister afterwards. Something was shadowing his eyes, his hair, his whole essence– and Uraraka could feel that clank in his armor as if she had ran her fingers through it in a daily basis, but that wasn't the case and such notion of familiarity with him was going to be their end. "I'll be back soon I guess, I don't enjoy rain either."

With a last glance in her direction, full of sporadic hatred and nausea, he punched the entrance's wall and stepped into the rain, letting Uraraka see his hair weighed down to his jaw, his cape sweeping behind him– and he suddenly didn't look like the glorified leader he preached to be, he was just a broken boy under the weight of a secret he seemed to be holding inside and was bringing him to his darkest limits. Everything was washed into gray and dust, and he looked so frail and sad under the thunder's embrace, a element he had once thrived under.

It was unsettling. She didn't like it.

"What is…" her head slowly turned to see Yaoyorozu shaking her head, tucking herself to sleep again as if this was something to be brushed aside– and what the hell, it was all but that! "What did just happen? Is he gonna be ok?"

The girl chuckled from her position. "He is no small man, Uraraka. I am pretty sure you know that already." a beat of silence flew thorugh them, the knight aware of the wistful gaze in her eyes chasing his footsteps in the mud. "I'm sure you are still going to chase after him, right?"

"Huh?" her shoulders tensed, and her eyes whipped to meet hers hastily. "I don't know what… you are talking about."

There was a mumbled giggle from her, then a sigh of mixed contentment and mockery. "You two are always playing chase with each other, trying to poke in the worst places to trigger the other. It's kinda fun to watch at first, but I can understand his reaction when some topics are taken too far."

"I just… didn't know RampAge held a personal grudge in him."

Yaoyorozu hummed in stern approval clouded by the exhaustion in her eyes, yey she voiced her thoughts clearly. "Still, you can't go around asking mindlessly. Just… don't doubt him again. Do as he says."

Uraraka glanced out again, her eyes squinted in worry. Rain was falling hard outside, his weapon lay a few feet before her shadowed by the mist, and the rain would cancel out hs only innate ability: his hand wielded explosions. He was practically defenseless out there, where monsters could come chasing at him. Regardless, that wasn't her biggest worry, and one could quickly see that physical monsters didn't scare her as much. But the inner secrets he may be hilding back… they couldn't keep on being so blind to the other.

She needed to change that. "I'm just worried. I don't want to hurt him."

The knight was bundled in her blanket by the time Uraraka got up, her feet staggering to the entrance. Rain sloshed against the mud and coated the way to the river, into the forest and into a mist that seemed too cloudy for it to be barely noon. They had been walking for hours on end, from sun to sun until their limbs had been weak and their breaths and words ragged and dirty. Still, Uraraka felt as if her energy was fueled by that man's foul behavior, and there was no way to explain it any other way than magnetism, or some kind of masochism.

"Go find him." the sorcerer turned to find the girl probably tiptoeing into another realm of the universe, eyes dotting with dots of sheer exhaustion. Her whole body was numb after so much walking and the sensation of blankets like arms wrapped around her was… nice, like being lifted up by a cloud. "It won't do to reach the Capital with a severe delay because of his stupid ass."

This was the only time Uraraka felt like the insult was severely misplaced, and blamed it on his barbarian hands pulling on her heartstrings too clumsily, too carelessly that she felt too held down, too heavy and it just mattered too much when he was supposed to mean nothing. She could only hope she would get over it soon, because overworrying for somebody who was bound to not care would be emotionally straining.

With a nod, the girl skipped out and immediately felt downpour cascading down her hair and hat, shifting it askew before Uraraka liiked up into the dark gray sky. The storm was hitting its chorus and there was no way to let it pass without wondering how such a punishment had come down from above when it was clear and sunny hours ago. Uraraka would have chuckled humorlessly if she had been tucked in a blanket, inside her guild room, but she could only muse over the absence of birds and the turned off hues of the dead forest.

The girl didn't have to walk too much to find herself lost, albeit momentarily. Trees and trees dodged her and created a little path to the forest, trunks hovering and leaves crumpling beneath her feet, humid with the rain and fog that was getting lighter and lighter. Uraraka would sometimes try to slap the volutes away, but found herself with more foggy paths. Still, the girl trudged through the rain and the humid air to find the river in front of her.

The girl squinted and it was all it took for her to find him spaced out, looking at the stream with strange fixation on its flow, sitting under a tree's shelter and he suddenly looked so small and vulnerable, as if he was made of glass, and it dawned on her that Bakugou was a stronghold, yet all barriers had their leaks.

Uraraka padded to him carefully, hand stretched out as if to feel his warmth in the middle of the rain, but it was fruitless, like most gentle approaches she tried on him. But, asif thunder had triggered him, red fierce eyes flashed at her like thunder, her heart feeling struck and paralyzed at his vicious glare and defensive flexion of his arms, curled on his knees. "What the fuck would you want now?"

It was as if he had pushed them to the starting line again, stage tilting and makign her lean, stumble and fall into his games again. But Uraraka had learnt how to handle him, or at least how not to handle him. "I know it possibly means shit to you that I wanna apologize, but…"

His hair shadowed his eyes, weighed down by remaining wetness. "It doesn't match you."

"What…"

"Swearing." responded he between gritted teeth, spine tense. "The first day you came around you were still as fucking feisty, but at least a pure one language-wise." the leader scrubbed his jaw with a tint of recognition and rewinding. It suddenly looked like it had been so long since the night she arrived, but now they looked like complete strangers again.

"Bad habits tend to rub off, I guess." muttered the sorcerer in an uncharacteristic small voice. "I just… came to apologize for my behavior earlier." this time he did look up, waiting for her petty excuse to appear but no mumbled word came out, it was all sincere and heartfelt and he had this instinct that just wanted to trust her with his life. "Right before we began this journey I predicated my faith in you but… I let it slip once and it was clearly not the best time to lose grip on it."

The boy didn't look appalled at all by her meek expression, yet the way he slightly relaxed was a giveaway of his turmoil calming down, either because of her words or because her presence seemed to dim the rain around him. He wanted to think that it was because he was overly irritated with her to notice anything else. "Hell straight, Uraraka."

"I'm just… sorry. I do have faith in your expertise and I will comply to your plans. I may not agree with them but it's not like I have other choices than that, right?"

"What other choices would you even have?"

"None! That's my point." conceded the brunette with a tight smile. When his back hit the trunk behind his body she allowed herself to approach him and take shelter by his side. The way she was suddenly towering over him almost made him tug her down with him, but it wasn't worth it anyway. "I will stick to your side because I am your subordinate after all, and it's not like I can go making rules up myself. I just… was a bit short on Shinsou's side and…"

"I… get it, somehow." stumbled Bakugou, voice relatively calm for the inner storm he was facing. When she sat down by him he had this urge to push her away. "We just don't wanna risk having you walk towards that side of the coin too easily. You are still under trial, y'know. Having you wander too far into others' opinions is a bit of a risk. Still a newbie."

The girl scooted a bit closer to Bakugou with this interested look on her face which was so raw it could very well be false, but this girl was too fucking transparent to even try to lie. She looked to be that kind of person who either didn't lie or, if she did, she could pull it off effortlessly. "I… know it's hard to believe but I am willing to act under your orders, after all it's true I don't know best like you guys do."

"Well, as long as you don't fucking dare go with that bastard, I'm willing to believe you." rain fell hard in front of him, splashing on the river and hitting the mud, but they were sheltered, unaffected, and it made him look at her. Big mistake, as their eyes met only awkwardly to only look away again. He hadn't felt this stupid in his whole life. "I don't know what's the point to you coming for me into the rain, though."

Which was true, as Uraraka had no particular liking for the rainy, humid weather. "I was worried you would be too irritated to, I don't know, rage or stay out for too long."

"Again, I don't need–"

Uraraka kind of laughed and chimed in effortlessly, and he let her for this time. "I know, I know, you don't need my help, my care, whatever, but you saved me back there." her index pointed at the river, and he grunted in disdain as he could see her reminding him over and over already along their remaining journey. "I owe you this one. To care for you like you did for me."

"No need to make it such a personal issue, you know."

"But it is."

"Is fucking not."

The sorcerer crossed her arms, imitating his pose so comically he frowned at her. "Well then fine, it is personal because it's me caring for you and… admittedly, I also need something from you."

She heard a hoarse chuckle reverberate from his chest. "Of course you do."

Yet, her determined stare didn't dim or falter under his blatant exasperated tone— one that had gone from angry and hateful to just antisocial and crisp, yet she could work him through that, so she just went straight to the point. "I need deeper insight into Shinsou's plan to know what kind of person we could be running into in the future."

Of course, Bakugou looked at her with this ethereal expression of thinking she was being goddamn nerd. She reminded him of that greenie bastard too often. "Why the fuck would I provide you with all that?"

The girl sighed, and this was probably the first time Bakugou saw her actually stop and think about her next words. After all, they were in no easy situation and it was pretty precautious of her to ask about her choices – again, not like she had one, but it was not like she wasn't right on being cautious when it came to Shinsou. Besides, she was one of the very few people who could actually sweep him off his feet and throw him off a cliff if she so desired, so he was in no position to be picky.

He still waited for her to beg a little.

"Well… again, I fear what we may run into and maybe knowing what his game is will help us predict his movements." yeah, he never took her for a retarded, so of course her question would be damn clever. "Besides, after what he told me at the dungeon, I can't help but wonder why his intentions are so obscure."

"It's not like I can tell so easily, I ain't a damn psychologist." protested he, but understood what she meant. "I don't really get why his purposes are so different from ours, after all his guild isn't particularly keen on crime or dark stuff. Shinsou himself is a pretty laid-back guy, but his thoughts are wicked and distorted."

She, again, scooted a bit closer. He didn't notice. "How do you know him so much?"

"Being both leaders from champion guilds makes it only natural for us to clash, even if it's only at those shitty reunions at the Council." the girl nodded, as this was something she had kinda guessed. Treaties and stuff must be a given in big places like these, above all when clashes like the one at the dungeon happened. "Regardless, he is more than vocal about his intentions, and has the contacts to make them a reality."

That thing about contacts should have hit her as hard as it did now long time ago, really, yet when it came to her she felt an odd mix of sensations, none of them precisely good or bad, just dancing on the limbo. "Who are these contacts though? Because I haven't seen much crime around here."

"Most serious criminals have hideouts in the outskirts, some are just illegal hunters at the forest and then there are little thugs, drug dealers and the like." that was the information he had told her prior to this mess starting, but he sighed and was ready to tell her a little bit more than he'd enjoy. "However, I know he has been consulting some rogue sorcerers and hunters outside… and we can't do much about it because there is a legal loophole on it."

"How so?"

"Well, in the same way we can't go chasing monsters from other territories, we obviously can't go chasing criminals out of our frontier. If someone is making dirty business out of our territory, we wash our hands about it and push it under the rug." explained Bakugou. And this also explained some more tidbits on their ban from the day before, yet didn't quite end the one on Shinsou. "That means we can't do anything about his deals with criminals outside because it doesn't affect our village quite much, and it fucking sucks."

"But that's stupid!" exclaimed Uraraka as if Bakugou hadn't complained about it enough, and he rubbed his face with a hand tiredly, looking at her from a corner of his eyes. "How does a universal matter not include our village itself? If Shinsou is toying with the safety of our world, thus our village, we gotta–"

"Again, not that easy." he was quick to shut her up before she went on a full ramble like greenielocks usually did, and briefly wondered where he was at the moment, hoping he was taking care of his people like he would. "Shinsou has dark plans… but we cannot legally persecute him. I wanna bust that motherfucker real hard, believe me, but it ain't easy."

"But he is so obvious about them…" said Uraraka to no one in particular, hugging her knees to her chest. "How hasn't the Council made echo of the danger and told other villages?"

"With the timeline thing on their and our hands, it sure looks like Shinsou just seeks attention– but I know that fucker real well. It's all in his loser eyes." it was a bitten bark about the leader, so fierce and full of hatred that it left her speechless again. His boiling emotions were so… raw, so damn animalistic and blistering. "He seeks time bending to just destroy our timeline, because, apparently, he thinks stuff can't be fixed and that we cannot fix it–"

"And… you think you can fix it." breathed she, her eyes wide and face a bit distorted in horror. "Of all things, something as complex as a time-space issue?."

He knew where she was coming from and hurried to clamp the shitbox close. "May sound presumptuous, but trust me it can be pulled off."

It clearly couldn't be pulled off, and Uraraka knew it. So many bitten words polluted the jar of her heart and started to thump and trash around, yet never broke her pensive posture because, again, this was not her place to say anything. Still, it was true that Shinsou's plan was a bit too chaotic, but it didn't hold much of a candle compared to Bakugou's. Both were plain suicidal. And how the saying went, opposites attract, because two ends of a coin don't differ much from the other.

"Well, I just hope we can try to take out this... monster, this foe!" argued the girl, a meek insecure smile that Bakugou didn't look into invading her crestfallen expression. "I will train as much as possible to help you all, give it my all!"

Bakugou had heard that infamous phrase of hers some time ago, somewhere lost along the webs of an intrincated timeline but also somewhere closer to them, where fire hit harder and her sighs were less vibrant, less significant. Things had changed, his vision on her had changed– but her tone was as severe as it had been once, and this time he realized it could be significant.

"Ok, I fucking need to ask because you have had that shitty attitude ever since we set out and, Uraraka, what the hell?" he of course wasn't as assertive as he would have liked to, but that was another story he wasn't paying attention to that day. "What is this about giving this your all? Didn't I tell you the very first day that I wasn't gonna accept that shit on my–"

"It's different this time!"

"What did I tell you about interrupting me?" this little thing of his wasn't perpetual thing, as she had interrupted him endless times and it seemed like seldom did he mind it. "I don't know how this shit is different now. You still do seem to be doing the same shit over and over again."

"What are you even–"

"I know your shitty business more than anybody else here, Uraraka!" exclaimed he, his voice rising a notch too high than he had intended. "I don't understand how many times have I told you to stop throwing yourself around like some drag doll!"

"How are you supposed to know about me better than me myself?" her voice was somewhat knit in peaceful wonder, something akin to curiosity etched to her eyes and this infuriated him, because while she used to be the tiniest bit shaken by his words some time ago it seemed like the coin had flipped and landed on the side he would be losing to. "I am precautious with what I do, I know myself better than any of you and know my limits."

The leader scoffed and jumped to his feet, the ghost of an abandoned town of ire and hell rising to thrive again in his eyes, blistering on hers so vividly that when thunder clapped, the girl jumped into the trunk. "I am not gonna say this twice: I don't have you in my guild to go toying with your own safety. I don't think you are so fucking stupid to use too much of your power and over do it, that's why I'm fucking training you in the first place."

When her head tilted a bit down in deep thought, he thought the conversation was done with and they could get back to their comfortable pace of hating each other silently while really not doing so anymore, as Bakugou was finding himself caring about her safety more than he should be allowing himself– because the thought of her on the line of danger didn't inspire much vexation in him anymore, but a gut-clenching sensation settled itself on his being and it wasn't moving no matter how much he growled at it or her to leave.

Though, she had to speak again, didn't she?

"Still," her arms were crossed when he looked again, hands supporting her elbows while her eyes were again pinning his down, like a hurricane did to a tree on a field of unshed rain. "I will give this battle my all, for the sake of those in danger and those who still regard me as a bad luck token!"

His brow knit in confusion, her hands tucked on her waist as another knit of her now overtook her features. Wind blew on them, the storm coming to a close. "What are you–"

A streak of shy sunshine hit on some trees, washed over her clothes and melted on a side of her face, eyes shimmering like a sparkling lake and rendering his thoughts speechless and blank. "This time, I will change the curse of times with you all, and we will put this world out of its endless slumber!"

And at this, Bakugou couldn't help bit wonder, speechless again, how many impossible promises would she make before she broke.

They walked to the cave in silence, the girl almost half a kilometer away from her leader and already asleep when the boy made his way into the cave. Much to his surprise, it wasn't Uraraka who was waiting for him to wish him a good afternoon of naps, but Yaoyorozu herself with Uraraka's bag on her lap.

"I'm sorry to disturb you… but I think we must talk."

The hunter sighed, eyebrows loose. He couldn't see things going any worse than they were already now, and realized in that very same moment they were about to go downhill. "Yeah, I think there's something we need to talk about."

Yaoyorozu wordlessly rummaged through Uraraka's bag and when her fingers tapped hard covers, she held in a sharp breath. "I found this in her bag." the book was given to the blonde, making breath hitch on his throat and lungs constrict painfully at the letters engraved in front of him. "And… I am disturbed by this."

Bakugou sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "Didn't you actually tell her not to fucking get this?" his head shook. "Seems like she didn't make much out of it. I should have seen this coming."

"What can…" Yaoyorozu's eyes drifted to Uraraka's sleeping body, then flickered to Bakugou's hands. "what should we do?"

The hunter's eyes narrowed at the volume in his hands. "... metamorphosis, huh."

"Oi kids, get here!"

"Father, we are not children!" Nameless ran to her tutors, flowers cradled to her chest in messy hues of pink and oranges. Another girl waited in front of her tutors. "I'm so sorry for being late!"

Mina frowned her eyes at her sister, glinted in malice and impatience at her sister. When Nameless was by their side, she watched her parents rub the girl's shoulders, yet never berate her for being so delayed on such an important day. "You are always late, sister! Get a hold of yourself for tonight!"

The brunette smiled at her sister sheepishly, and beamed at the shiny crown of flowers on her head. "I want a crown too! Why don't I get one?"

"So childish for not being a child, dear." mother put a set of dry sunflowers and daisies on top of the little girl's head, who seemed overly enthusiastic about the arrangement. She giggled into her bouquet of starry flowers, raising her hand to fit it a bit better. Her fingers skimmed through some petals, feeling the softness to them, and sighed in contentment.

Yet, there was no real happiness, it seemed – because she knew, in the end, nothing mattered. Life could go shooting in front of her like a shooting star and throw sparks to her eyes, lit them up in amazement, nothing would matter to her as much as she felt it should. Why couldn't she feel anything else than oddness, that crippling fear of being out of place?

Why couldn't things fall into place already, why couldn't the hanged man let the ties loose and let the puzzle pieces be settled? Why was the void only getting bigger? Still, Nameless would always smile, let the littlest of joys overpower her and let it all flow into her like a broken canvas seeking an artist's comfort.

In some certain places, the girl doing as much of a hand raise would startle more than one man.

"I love this so much, mother." then, Nameless shuffled a bit closer to Mina, the two smiling brightly at the other, surrounded by flowers and the starry night sky. The planets and comets seemed to be giving the little girl a rest from her hands, what she carried with them, and everything else that such a tiny girl could handle. "They look so good!"

Mina looped an arm around the girl's left arm. "We sure do!"

The brunette let her parents lead her away from the fields and into the lively path near the coast, hearing already the voices of talented singers and smelling the baking of fresh bread and salty fishes, all waiting for her while one of the petals from her crown fell apart, falling to the dirty mud.

The petal stood there for a while, maybe days, withered and disappeared with the earth around it, rain and piercing screams at its wake.

Life was good when skies were clear, clouds were somewhat gone and Bakugou was quiet for once – concluded Uraraka, her eyes shifting to the open sky around her. A change in the weather would have rendered her petty and whiny, her eyes shimmering in utter disbelief and stopping the sway in her hair, or the bounce in her step.

The breath of the forest and the murmur of the quiet streams had walked her into the capital with a lullaby, her chatter with Yaoyorozu somehow ebbing a weird feeling inside her chatter. The girl had sounded stern, had felt calm but had ended up coming across as mildly tired or irritated. Uraraka couldn't tell which, but there was no fiber in her being who was willing to give it much thought.

But then came a white something, a spot in the distance as the path cleared, as the river made a sudden turn to the right. A wide path with cobblestone laid ahead of them, and instead of staying behind to admire the grandness of it all, Uraraka was forced to fall into pace with her team again.

"Is that wall…?"

Bakugou increased his pace the littlest bit, either to get away from that mass of beating enthusiasm or to get there faster. Stones were missing from the nice paviment, some longer than others, and Uraraka also realized, as her steps trudged her forward, that some trees were brown with odd seasoning behavior, others chopped off, but the ones at the front stood mostly fine. Her eyebrows sunk in preoccupation, because how weirder could this get?

"The Capital." grunted Bakugou, and he made it seem as if he had been there all his life. The resentment he seemed to hold for this place told another story. "A madhouse."

He had seemed so eager to get here, yet he was so edgy now. What could have changed in the two nights they spent away from their crew. Something was shadowing his eyes, flickering his eyes with a flame no one would enjoy, yet she knew better than to hate the fire burning in his soul. After fighting with him, there was no way she couldn't bask in his sparks.

He was made of the same flesh than her.

Their steps slowed down again after going up a little stoned hill, and gasped at the comittee waiting for them at the gates of the town. "I can't believe this."

Strangely enough this was Yaoyorozu talking, not Bakugou who seemed to be about to explode. Uraraka though, didn't see anything wrong with a bunch of guards. After all the havoc with RampAge and the illegal hunters there was no way there wouldn't be a little guarding, right?

Bakugou was still fuming over this apparently, and quickly made his way down the short slope to get into the guards' peripheral vision. Much to the others' surprise, some guards acted on his presence and actually stepped out of the way, yet some stayed in their place much to the guild members' vexation. As he stepped closer, his words grew more frantic and he wiped his cape with much more strength. "Out of my fucking way! I have business in there!"

Ah, of course he would be too violent for the guard's liking, for they instantly puffed out like birds and refused even more to let him in. "Who do you think you are, boy? Stop the tantrum already."

Uraraka was quick to stop him before he drew his sword out, Yaoyorozu's hand on his bicep seemingly not being enough. "You won't do much for the situation by drawing your weapons out."

That calmed him somehow, so Uraraka stepped out to see if she could do anything to actually contribute instead of chopping some douchebags' heads off. "Excuse us, fellow guards, but we have important matters to discuss here with the heads of government here. We do not wish to put this sacred place in danger."

The brunette tilted her head back and wiggled her eyebrows at him in slight suggestion, shining with mischievous thoughts. Not so difficult, right?

Far from impressed, Bakugou emotionlessly smirked at her, the grudges from some days before shortly forgotten, despite having it deeply rooted that the talk would come one way or another. The girl whipped her head around to meet the leveled eyes of the guards, and their stares came across as vexating and somehow humiliating. Did these guys judge her for being a bit short and sweet-looking?

Honestly, if she put some damn effort on it they'd learn their lesson real hard. Instead, she swallowed her bruising pride and glared at them twice as hard. "I wouldn't like to repeat myself. My peer here has clearly stated that–"

"Oi, stop messing around, you too." one other guard stepped to the side of his mate, thumbing at the gates. "We have a situation in the city, and no one is allowed until this situation is cleared."

Uraraka bit her knuckles in frustration, because she had this inkling that there was little to zero truth in that. There was no ruckus, no disturbance in the air, and well– there was this blatant suspicion that if this were to be true, Bakugou and Midoriya would be informed beforehand by Sero and the spy team. Was Uraraka stronger and powered by the force of circumstances, been a bit more affected, and she would have wiped them out with no questions asked.

The fact that Bakugou had his arms so tightly crossed and he looked so pissed off didn't put her at ease either. Yaoyorozu, being the most mindful out of the trio, bit her tongue back before making the matters worse. However, Uraraka could tell she thought the same as she was thinking, and what Bakugou thought as well.

Sensing the awkwardness in the air, the sorcerer tugged at the high collar of her uniform, shrugging uncomfortably. "Well? What are we gonna do now?"

Bakugou tapped his fingers on his biceps, eyes blistering against the silver armors of the henchmen. He was severely torn between smacking those guys out of his damn way and directly breaking through in any other place, like a wall whether it had doors or not. Seeing how the situation was, though, he just poked daggers onto the other guys' backs, as they turned to their initial position just before the gates. "I wanna bust those fuckers into ashes. To be fair, it's not their fault some asswipe put them there."

The soldiers stood at the gates, silent and unyielding as if they hadn't heard them. They probably hadn't. "Bakugou, we can't stand here. The others must have gone in there already,"

Unlike the brunette would have expected, he only frowned and spoke as angrily as he could, no curses flying at her for being persistent. It was like the mightiest of magics to her to see him so quiet and relatively peaceful – albeit undeniably angry and grumpy, too much for the hunter –, and it would never tire her. The brunette smiled at him from the corner of his vision, and his chest puffed out a bit at this.

He was livid at her after the unfoldings from the other day, yet couldn't help reacting to her in any form possible.

"Bakugou, Uraraka is right." agreed Yaoyorozu, receiving a fair nod from Uraraka. "As you said, we have stuff to do in there. No matter what the situation is in there, it can't be that bad for us to interrupt our journey."

Yaoyorozu sighed, because the leader wasn't open to anyone's suggestions. His body and mind were separated into different entities, eyes drifting across the wall, probably seeking for ways to blow it up, and Uraraka was there, thinking as well– yet none of them were being proactive in the only occasion where it would be necessary when they were jumping at the other's throats in a daily basis.

The knight looked around meekly, hand to her chin as she racked each brick with solutions for the problem. She could create a catapult with her ability, or a ladder. Bakugou could blow up an entrance, Uraraka could lift them up. But them trespassing a legal border when being straight told they could not do so was not only illegal, but also dangerous if the situation at hand was bad.

They wouldn't know unless they tried.

"Guys," both warriors craned their head to their wandering companion. "it's of no use to remain here, we'll just have to wait."

But they were no fools, and knew what the knight was up to the moment her head whipped to fast, and how her feet marched straight to a side of the wall. Uraraka marched respectfully behind her peer, hands clutched to her front, but also saw Bakugou seething at the guards in a pretty ungraceful manner that had Uraraka stopping her walk and facing him briefly.

"Bakugou." her firm voice got his eyes on her for a split second. "Stop barking mentally at the guards. We gotta get moving somewhere, we are wasting our time here."

But the hunter's feet didn't move, and that prompted Yaoyorozu to stop as well. The moment one guard turned a bit to smirk pridefully at the blonde, the girls knew Bakugou had been triggered. When his hand clasped the ties of his cape and the fur around it, Uraraka shuddered. "Bakugou, what are you even–"

Yaoyorozu wasn't able to finish her sentence as she observed in terror – or awe, she couldn't tell – how Bakugou discarded his cape on Uraraka's hands. "Take care of this, I fucking hope you can do that much."

When he was a few meters away from her, the brunette took the liberty to hiss and bunch the fabric in her hands, fists shaking in agitation for his rashness and stupidity when pride got the best of him. Not like he wasn't that was fairly often, but there were times when it spiked up and it would never get less annoying to her. Bearable, yet still vexating.

"Oi, fucktards." some guards gasped at this outrage and held their shields a little higher. None of them held any difference between each other to Bakugou, and only faced them as pawns he had to move out of his way. "I don't wanna cause a pool of blood here, and you all sure know how capable I am of doing so without thinking twice."

None of them moved. If anything, they dig their soles to the ground and started murmuring among themselves, the silver shine of their stupid armors only making Bakugou's job a tidbit harder – but he was never one to back down from a challenge. If anything, he was the one to either trigger or finish them, and this time was no fucking exception. "I ain't asking once again. Either you fucking back off or I'll back you all off."

When the sorcerer behind him witnessed him twisting his wrists a little, her gasp came hurried and hasty. "Bakugou, don't!"

"Back off, you two." grunted the blonde, somehow making some guards actually giggle at an arrogancy that seemed undeserved, but they should know better than to underestimate him. "I ain't nursing you inside once this is over."

"What the hell, Bak–"

The leader of the team drove his palm forward, grasping his wrist for precision to then send ripples from the depths of his power, fire soaring to life in front of the guards and exploding in a huge nebula of pressure and ash which made his boots hiss against the dry soil at the pull as the fires licked the guards' skin beneath the armors, melted some spikes and set the spears on a havoc of fire and screeches at the bestial display. A warm dash of air washed over the area as Uraraka covered her ears at the white noise of various ripples eating the guards alive.

The leader's eyes had turned vicious, blistering and hungry for more flesh to burn, yet when he felt his peers give in a little to his power, he retrieved his hand from the attack and clenched his fingers in to feel his skin peachy, yet alive like it had never been. His attack had successfully cowered the mob to a stuttering mess, and Bakugou suddenly felt like a tower looming over mice.

"I gave you a damn wise advice." chided the blonde sternly. That was the girls' cue to come in, which they did with hesitant step. "No one stands in between my and my mates' goals. Not when there is something on the fucking loose as dangerous. So go fuck yourselves, you ain't of use here."

Uraraka found herself stumbling with her own words, because if his eyes had ever been so lively and frisk, she never took notice. Yes, his eyes, his irises were still there, they blinked and saw, but what lay behind it flickered gone for a pair of terrifying seconds in which his path had been momentarily blocked.

This man must be tired inside, something seeming to fuel his determination and dampen his rock solid body in something that seemed so raw, so human.

Yaoyorozu found her voice, but when it finally came out, it was somewhat coarse. "I wouldn't have been so brazen." but it was the only way out, too. "Will they be alright?"

Bakugou saw some guards scramble to their feet and break into a run, jolting out of the gates. Others lay limp and motionless on the cobblestone to where the leader walked, and deadpanned. "I should have for being so goddamn stupid. Otherwise, they'll be fine."

Uraraka looked around briefly. "We've got to keep moving. If chief guards or whatever authority they have here see us, they will have our heads."

"Well, the gate is open and empty now." addressed Yaoyorozu with a hand to the molten parts of a guard's armor, mildly impressed. "I don't think we had spectators other than this little crew."

"They talk so much shit about security, but they have their gates open all day." Bakugou sighed in exasperation while trudged forward, dragging Uraraka along by the arm emotionlessly as she stared into nowhere. "Let's get in there already, the rest must be waiting for our slow asses."

Yet, Uraraka dug her soles into the ground and pointed at a spot behind some trees that had Yaoyorozu standing still as well. "Hold on… Bakugou."

"What now?" spat he with an impatient grimace that only grew in depth as his step died, and followed the indication of her finger.

The blonde let out a loud whined groan. Two little heads sprouted from behind a tree, eyes gleaming at the previous show of might.

"What the hell!" his hands flew to his blonde mane, teeth hissing in annoyance at the two girls that skidded out of their hiding spot. "And who in the world are you two, midgets?"

The little ones were met with a threatening figure hovering over them the nearer they got, approaching the foreigners with meek expressions of both surprise and intimidation for the blonde. Uraraka clearly saw through them and walked to them softly, silently hoping Bakugou would stop whining around like a baby whenever something unexpected happened. The guy could get a grip on himself.

"Don't be startled, he isn't that dangerous." which prompted her to be almost knocked out by Bakugou's very same hands. "We are very sorry you had to watch that, we were just very hurried to get into the Capital and my friend here is kind of impatient."

"I am your damn leader, not a wimsy glitter friend of yours, angelface!" Bakugou wanted to bite those words back because 1), they were partially untrue and 2), because it had been too long since he had called her like that. Since she didn't seem to notice his words very much – she was too busy petting the kids' heads and being just too fucking kind for her own well being – he didn't speak his thoughts out.

"We didn't mean to annoy him, we're sorry for that, miss!" spoke one of the girls, looking at Uraraka while the other was comforted by Yaoyorozu and Bakugou's piercing glare. "It was just that we were given permission to wander a bit around– and we couldn't help but be attracted to such booming voice!"

Bakugou was on their toes again. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"So when we saw this man facing the guards, we were in awe. We had never seen such magnificent free displayal of power in our whole lives!"

That made the brunette turn around knowingly, already feeling the man's ego inflate from the way his breath had somewhat hitched, all under what he had previously called midgets. When he found his heart, his words on it were tiny. "...ne?" however, he quickly recovered from the mild shock and rasped out a little growl. "Whatever, no new information. I am a damn powerhouse."

"Bragger." mumbled Uraraka under her breath, expecting Bakugou to actually not hear her. In fact, she had actually expected him to laugh at her or something, not slap her nape again with that nasty habit he was gaining lately. She was torn between considering it a friendly gesture or an abuse of his power. "Meanie."

"Sassy." responded he with a frown of his own, looking down at her crouched form, hands on his waist. The gesture looked awkwardly powerful from him. "Anyway, what do you two even want from us? We don't have any sweets, we ain't damn parents."

"That's not it!" exclaimed the girl by Yaoyorozu's side, who leaped to stand before Uraraka. The knight walked to the group as well, crouching to have a better eye level with the girls, armor clanking with every one of her movements. "For your information, attacking royal guards is illegal and you could be put into prison for what you just did!"

That earned the leader a judging, pointed look from his peers, making him emit a little scoff. "Please, not like we had other option than to do that." that did the trick and them looking at the girls again, but his mind wasn't at ease knowing those girls were such cunning midgets. "Are you gonna blackmail us with that or something? We could pretty much be mercenaries and kidnap you."

Uraraka only jumped up to smack him on the neck with twice the force necessary. His head bobbed forward with a hissed groan. "What the hell, Bakugou! Don't scare them! How can you even suggest such stupidity?"

"He is right, though..." Yaoyorozu tilted her head to a side, and the girls did the same, as if actually trusting them had been a wise idea. Now that Uraraka saw it with more time, it had been a reckless move, and Bakugou had had to suffer her wrath for her to realize that– again, he was no stupid man. She sheepishly grinned up to him with a little apology, to which he frowned in disgust and mental exhaustion. "You shouldn't trust strangers so easily."

One of the girls, one with caramel long hair, grinned and pointed at herself. "I have a special ability called Short Read. I can read someone's thoughts in a span of 60 minutes, I just need to be close enough." she then pointed to the other girl with her thumb, smiling some more as Uraraka's mouth opened agape. "My sister can create weapons with her skin! They bleed out of her skin if she knows what the material is. However, she will get ugly bruises if she uses too much of it."

In cue, the girl with shorter hair let her skin melt into the shape of a knife Uraraka had seen Kirishima handle during trainings during the ban. "Impressive! So I take it you read our thoughts and deemed us to be harmless?"

This obviously irritated Bakugou to no end, but Yaoyorozu jabbed him on his spleen to make him shut his mouth. It didn't work. "We aren't any kind of softies, I just wiped out a damn army of soldiers, for fuck's sake."

"That's not the point here! We do know you aren't weaklings, that's why we need you!" answered weapon girl, stiffening at the stressed need that Bakugou was sneering at.

"So you two do wanna blackmail us."

"Not really." the girl with longer hair twined her hands behind her back, swinging on her toes innocently. "But it's possible that we would shut up about this incident if you guys helped our town with this teensy problem we have. Our father is working on the case but we need powerful people to help him out!"

The blonde's answer was quick and sharp like a razor blade. "We aren't fair puppets, girls. We have better stuff than deal with the Capital's problems, above all when they tried to ban us out of there."

But as the only way universe would have it lately, Uraraka was hell fast to face him– at this point in their story, he was by no means surprised by this. "We can't test our luck that far, Bakugou."

He only crossed his arms, then closed his eyes in lukewarm contemplation, opening one when Yaoyorozu talked again.

"What is this problem we are talking about? We are in a pretty grand quest ourselves right now, and as my bold master put it, we don't have much time in our hands to spare." gently said the knight, her features as soft as silk. Uraraka had never seen so much sympathy in that woman's face, usually stern and focused on things by far more important than this. Uraraka blinked her eyes back to the pair of girls, silently agreeing with her mate's statement. Judging by his silence, Bakugou did as well. "But we could probably make some space for this if this isn't a big mission."

Yaoyorozu knew her schedules well, knew what she was talking about and always tried to keep her words in line with what her guild required. But this time, she knew they had no other option than to comply to these little girls. She was a proud woman, but there were times in which one had to bow to an intelligent move – which she hated, because RampAge was no issue to be dodging at the moment.

She watched the girls share a look, then sink into their shoulders. "Actually… it would be best if you went visit our dad at the offices in the Court. He is the head in the case and should actually be doing paperwork in his office."

Bakugou severed his frown a bit harder, the girl's shiny eyes boring into his like the fucking sun as suddenly – just what he fucking needed, the damn nail in the coffin – that damn sorcerer's eyes turned to his too, less hesitant and hoping and more pushy and impatient. That girl was too kind for his heart to handle. Not always in a bad way.

The blonde sighed. "Fine. But we will only accept this mission if our remaining guildmates agree to it. I ain't making such important decision with everyone's approval."

The thought readers clapped her hands briefly before grabbing Uraraka's long sleeve and dragging her along the bridge to the town, across a little stream surrounding the Capital. It should be a little branch of the river – if Yaoyorozu recalled correctly – and actual boats could row down them last time she visited this town. "Thanks a lot! our father will be so glad to hear this!"

The other girl dragged Yaoyorozu by her metal gauntlets, musing over the chilly texture of her armor and the little engravings on the metallic surface. There were little waves that looked rough after so many battles, and the fingers had little dents to them. It screamed toughness and strength, which weapon girl admired in silence.

The blonde skidded his boots against the cobblestone in restless vexation at the topic he had gotten himself into. "This is gonna be a damn nightmare."

"Sorry, but you are in the wrong department."

Bakugou slammed his hands onto the marble counter before him, shoulders rising in contained lit fuse. "What the fuck? How are we in the wrong depart–"

"Your question won't be answered here." answered the woman in glasses. "This is the Help department. You must head to the Conflict Resolution department if you are seeking our conflict chief. It's right at the other wing of the building, second department."

Yaoyorozu gently peeled Bakugou off the counter before he blew it up with his heating hands. "Thank you very much, miss."

Uraraka made a good work to distract the leader from his rising anger with her soft touch on his biceps, dragging him across the hallway of the building and pinching his skin so he would calm down. "Could you please behave for once? We are in the Capital, not a barbarian bar."

He removed his arm from her strong hold, relishing on the newfound freedom and starting to hiss from the little marks she had left in there. "You don't get to give me an earful, Uraraka." the boy trudged onward to a safe distance from her, wiping his cape behind. "Where the hell do we–"

"West wing." sighed Yaoyorozu, crossed arms bouncing as she jogged a bit to make it to his side. "Also, you must have the talk with her someday, you–"

"I know." barked the blonde at her unceremoniously, taken so out of context to others that some people turned to look at him, Uraraka included. This was what somewhat troubled him the most and he didn't have no fucking clue as to why. "Let's get this out of the fucking way first."

It took them little time to reach the next department under his hurried pace, full of impatience and utter anger at what he could tell was gonna be another dismissal. Still, as a responsible member of the guild, he found necessity in keeping his cool and trying to act calmly, composed, collected, under control. There was no way he'd prove right everyone who thought of him as a barbarian. Well, he enjoyed the comparison. But not in that way.

He stomped over to the next marble table. A little golden plaque read the place he was looking for. The man behind the desk, however, didn't pay much attention to him, not even a glance. And Bakugou was hard to not notice. "Hey, excuse us! We need to go see–"

This got his attention, taking shape as a sleek sideways glance. "Are you guys visitors?"

Uraraka stepped out this time when the blonde opened his mouth a little too much. She tiptoed to put her elbows on the marble surface, eliciting a curious yet softened eye from the leader, who looked to another direction as Yaoyorozu looked at him, eyebrow arched. "We were meaning to visit an authority in the Capital called Gun…"

"Gunhead." filled in Yaoyorozu, stepping to the desk as well. It was a pretty tall desk, and seeing her companions reach it perfectly made her feel too small. Uraraka propped herself a bit higher, her soles scraping the tile floor. She could very well make herself float, but that would be even stupider. "The secretary at the Help department redirected us to your department, so we were wondering if we could arrange a meeting with him."

All they received was an asshole worthy glance of total boredom. Bakugou already hated this guy and he hadn't even met him properly. Uraraka would be willing to have a drink with him, give him a chance. Yaoyorozu was having her doubts. That was how things were until he went back to his book and flung his feet over a stool. "You guys are in the wrong–"

Bakugou banged the desk with his fist, making various items jump and shake, some others fall off the table. That guy had a fetish with banging stuff when he was angry. "The wrong fucking department again." he retrieved his hand from the cracked surface with a huff. Uraraka's face clearly gave away that all drinks she'd be sharing with him would be a shot of poison. "Where do we have to go so someone can actually listen to us?"

The receptionist ignored the clear insult. "Fourth department in the second floor, Administration and Patrolling."

"Fucking awesome." reprimanded or… answered Bakugou, his head turning to the direction of dreadful stairs waiting for them. He gave the marble desk another tempted smack before leaving in the other direction.

Uraraka detached herself from the cold marble desk to see Yaoyorozu tugging a pretty pissed Bakugou from the failed mission that was bureaucracy, the leader muttering curses that no sensitive audience should be able to hear. As if to make the point even clearer, the knight looked back to Uraraka catching up with them. "He hates paperwork like this."

The brunette sighed with closed eyes, stepping faster towards the staircase. "Tell me about it."

The two women followed the grumpy leader with pressured walks up the stairs, crestfallen expressions crowning their faces. Uraraka busied herself by looking at the surroundings and out the massive windows that ran all along the egg-shell color walls. The day outside was clear, sun filtering between some measly clouds and streaming into little markets on the plaza below. It was so strange to be in such a posh, tiled and golden building while seeing such dirty scenery outside.

She sometimes wondered if the snotty people in the facility noticed the little daily disgraces from those people, selling their only food to eventually feed hungry children. The city itself was prosperous, it showed to the naked eye– there was no sign of poverty as Uraraka or basically anyone would have expected, but as she went up the charcoal stairs, all she could do was wonder what would have happened is she was one of those sellers outside.

The moment Uraraka touched the tiles of the second floor, a little ripple of nausea hit her. It hadn't come to her that her legs were a little bit strained from their walk to the Capital, and the pain was starting to flourish now, when she needed her limbs the most. The brunette gritted her teeth, staring at the leader's back, and decided she wasn't going to be a softie now. Not when he could let all his hopes fall down the moment she showed any weaknesses.

"Damn it." muttered she, supporting her weight on the staircase bar. Her feet almost crashed with the white vase of a little tree, but the sorcerer was quick to save the fall. Yaoyorozu noticed this slip, yet didn't mention it and just noted it down, frowning in decision. Vibrant images of her night with Bakugou swung in front of her eyes as she stared at his back, thoughtful.

His shoulders held no shake to their movement, or no ripple to his usually demanding behavior. He was angry as hell now, but remarkably calm as a leader like him should be. Pretty strange. Yaoyorozu knew there was something wrong, something he wasn't showing. Bakugou could act all stoic he wanted at the end of the day, there would always be someone to decipher him. Not because she was close to him, but because they had worked together for long now.

She sighed, feeling Uraraka stagger her way to her side. Yaoyorozu addressed her presence with a secret peek at her disheveled state. "You better do something, Bakugou." her eyes shifted to see the blonde banging the desk again. "Or we'll have her as a terrorist again. And we don't like being fooled."

The red eyed foul boy was at the verge of screaming rageful words at the receptionist again, but he got himself together and pulled a hand to his waist, tapping the loops of his pants for some patience. Uraraka deeply appreciated that, and wished he'd do that in a usual basis. "We are here to fix a meeting with your chief, Gunhead. His two br–" for the second time that day, Uraraka smacked him on the head, earning her a hateful glare from him, hissing as he rubbed on the sore spot. "his two daughters came to us and offered a meeting with him for some issue on the Capital's criminal activities."

Yaoyorozu tilted to meet Uraraka's ear, not lifting her eyes from the receptionist as he, yet again, probably dismissed them. "For your information, it's a pretty good sign to see him actually not throwing an immediate fit over you hitting him, but you can't overdo it that much."

The brunette blinked up to her in silence. Then, her eyes moved to Bakugou's agitated back while yelling at another receptionist. "Well, I'm just trying to stand my ground against him, he does it too often anyway. It's no crime." there were two beats of silence in which all Uraraka did was observe him from afar, feeling how despite being a meter away, they were a galaxies away. After the other day's row, there was no doubt they'd have to talk it out soon. She smiled regardless, like she always did despite the situation. "Besides, he's starting to change some."

Surprised, the knight crossed her arms again and looked at him, skeptical. "He may be warming up to you, but he's still a major pain, sometimes."

Which was true. Bakugou remained unchanged to the public eye, also to hers in most parts of his personality – yet, she enjoyed telling herself he was changed. He was at least not trying to kill her or actively kick her out of his life, which was a pretty solid step in the right direction. However, there was always this clank to his armor that seemed unbreakable, and it sometimes looked like no matter how much she tried to do for him, he'd never understand the reason why.

Indeed, he had saved her life – and woes betide from her not being thankful, but there was something deeper to his disdain to her that she would never make out, or even reach out for. Something would always prevent him from taking a big step and seeing her actions as something good, not something he didn't need or things he never asked for. His mind hadn't learned the idea of people caring for him because he hadn't cared about anyone beyond personal levels like she did all the time.

They were awfully mismatched, and this was a fact. She would always make the stars spin around him if that would make him smile, unconditional devotion for making people happy never dimming no matter the situation and just wanting him to see her, to witness her true power, to just notice her in a big crowd of madness and greediness, see her purity and her existence.

Her mind was like a satellite around his actions lately, wrapped up in analysing all his steps to her, all the words he said, all his gestures, how warm he was, and how deeply she cared for him that is was tragic that he would never see her, that no matter how much she fought for him, he'd never notice her.

Uraraka could very well make the world stop for him, make planets fall or stars burn; Bakugou would never bother discover her, would never bother be anything else than her boss, just see that she cared so much it hurt, sometimes, to be rejected. She could fake as much as she wanted and tell him it was fine– to be fair, it used to be fine to her, to care and never be cared for, but she wanted him to grow out of his solace shell at the top of his ego mountain and she felt like one of the very few who could help him.

He was a part of him while she was not even invited to his life. It made her wonder why she was so adamant on him on the first place.

"Whatever, we ain't gonna find our stuff here, either." again, Bakugou slammed a steaming hand against the counter, his cool fuse completely blown. "Thanks for the help, fuckstick."

The man saluted them a farewell while the girls strutted by the leader's side. Yaoyorozu was the first one to say something that should have been stated before that madness started. "We aren't making any progress here, Bakugou."

"Damn me before I give up to these fucker's halfassed system of passing their clients around like dolls. Not gonna put up with that crap." cut Bakugou with his usual sharper, but this time it was hoarser and more tired than anything. His anger came and went like the wind. Frightening much. When Bakugou splurted more curses than actual words, he was to be feared. "Nothing new to me."

As they let Bakugou guide them around the floor, both members noticed that Uraraka was awfully silent for her cheery self, a little tidbit that only Yaoyorozu voiced out, voice laced with her usual concern, yet less stern than usual. "Tired much, Uraraka?"

At this, she snapped out of her reverie, meeting her eyes with a gasp. "Hm?" Bakugou turned his eyes a bit to catch her reaction, a little frown knitting his features. Her grin afterwards was cringe-worthy. "Ah, yeah! It's been a pretty hard journey this far, I can't wait to hit the mattress!"

But Bakugou was inadvertently wise to his beastly nature. He knew all his peers' expressions as if they were his own, and he had seen Uraraka pain too many times for him to admit without shuddering, because he had caused in most occasions. He had seen from the very beginning that she was tired as fuck– more than him and that was an understatement, because he wouldn't be able to handle another set of stairs. This time though, while he wasn't good with deciphering individual emotions, he could easily see when someone was lying.

So yeah, Uraraka was tired, but not as tired to lose that little spark of hers he had never noticed until now, that it was gone. It seemed like, lately, all he could see was what life lacked, what she lacked when her good things disappeared. It was a detail that put him off for some reason.

Yaoyorozu turned to Uraraka fully, pointing at the offices behind them. Her eyes were kind like water, and her usual hard points were gone for the day. It was nice to see her be at ease with the sorcerer for a change. Everyone was slightly off to Uraraka, yet she couldn't say she wasn't enjoying it. "You can always head to search for the others while we sort this out on our own."

Sensing that something was indeed very wrong if Yaoyorozu was giving a free day so easily, Bakugou snapped, his muscles tensing and his body whipping to face the girls. "Hold up, who the fuck gave you permission to give her a free day?"

The knight looked back twice as hard as he was. Tired like Bakugou was feeling, he only swallowed his pride and crossed his arms at the victim of his hatred and general foul humor. "I'm most certainly not giving her a free day, because she has the right to rest just like we do. I understand that since she is a rookie she is still a bit beaten up, so she shouldn't be giving herself such a bad time. Right, Uraraka?"

That was clearly an indirect that felt out of place to Uraraka, but the fact that Bakugou and Yaoyorozu shared the same displeased expression, only varying in hues and wrinkles or scars made her feel chided on to a point that she recoiled from their dark oozing presence. She took a step back, then another two in a faster pace. She held her hands up. "Yes! I will go search for the rest, it's not like the Capital is that big, right?"

"It's more crowded than anything." responded the other, tapping her chin in recollection. She had been to the town a few times with Todoroki and Tokoyami for information business, but she had never stopped to go sightseeing. There was little she could say about the Capital street-wise. "All streets are intricately connected among each other, and there is a residence near this building. There is also this cathedral somewhere around the walls."

Uraraka perked up at this. "Ah, you did say there was a cathedral here. Do you have any idea on where it is?"

Bakugou only raised an eyebrow, surprised to see her so interested on this kind of stuff. He would never bother to step into any religious building unless it was for a wedding – and he would have to think about it unless it was his own, and that scenario was more than unlikely, it was fucking impossible.

If the knight was surprised as well, she didn't show. "I think it's on the far northeast corner of the walls, but I could be wrong. From the data Tokoyami fed me with, not many people went there for congregation."

Uraraka wrinkled her nose at this, a grimace painted in her even features. "Such a shame, but I will pay it a visit and check. Todoroki had mentioned to me he needed to go there as soon as he got here, so it's worth checking."

"Go now before this place gets cramped." advised Yaoyorozu, knowing what she was doing when she started shoving Uraraka to the staircase down to the hallway. "We'll probably be here for a little while more, so if you get lost, come see us. I don't think we'll be allowed to enter Gunhead's office straight away even with his daughters' kudos."

"Yeah, that guy looks busy as fuck here." commented Bakugou out of nowhere. Uraraka noticed that judging by his undivided focus on his surroundings, he had been considering this for longer than usual. "I can't shake the thought there is something going on here."

Uraraka cocked her head to a side. Her frame bangs fell a bit, softly. "What do you mean?"

He snarled at her like usual, but didn't call her names like he had been avoiding to do all this time. It didn't make that little nagging, sinking feeling of ignorance fade a single bit. "I just can't fucking fathom that such an important institution like this would shake comrades off their hairs so easily. No one in our village does that and we ain't half as important as these guys here are."

Yaoyorozu looked at him in understanding, making Uraraka feel stupid for not noticing this point as something strange, and not a hindrance. She wasn't used to these kinds of protocol, and she probably would never be at this rate. The knight spoke with a tight tone this time, looking around warily as well. Some workers caught her glare and cowered some. "I know what you are talking about. It did strike me as weird to see them tossing us to each other. None of them looked that busy to not be able to treat us properly instead of dismissive."

The brunette was shocked to look around and prove this right with a tight intake of breath. Everyone around them was either talking to each other or reading, playing basketball with spare scrolls or just staring out their windows. Nobody excepting the office sportsmen seemed to be doing any regular paperwork, which put her in alert.

"It can't be they are this free of work with the illegal hunter business and RampAge on the loose," reasoned Uraraka, pensive as her surroundings blurred into a sole idea of oddity and dire disturbance. "I don't think Gunhead is low on work, too."

"His daughters seemed sharp as hell despite being midgets." answered Bakugou abnormally quiet, as to not let the workers know their clients were picking on their movements and odd behavior. "They haven't had soft education if they can use their abilities so well this early, so Gunhead must have trained hard as fuck with them."

Good reasoning – conceded Uraraka, frowning – but it wasn't enough to see through this weird situation. If Gunhead was sending off work as normal and the situation did call out for laziness from the workers, they must be the ones with a problem or a secret behind. How was the Capital working properly if their main organisation was so lax on attendance and work?

She felt out of place, and knew this wasn't their battle to meddle in. They would probably talk about this with Gunhead in given time when he received them in their office. At this rate though, it seemed like they would have to barge into his office themselves before somebody from the departments let them in with free access. If Bakugou was that right on Gunhead's meticulousness, then he'd be willing to listen to their requests.

She had never expected to face such political parts from life, so full of corruption, greed and darkness that her heart couldn't even wrap around the idea. The world was full of people and, therefore, full of intentions and purposes, yet she would never imagine that people had different mindsets to hers. It was egocentric and obnoxious, but people being touchy, greedy or ill-intended just screamed wrong to her in so many levels.

Though, she only had to look at Shinsou and see it usually depended more on philosophies and mindsets, not actual actions. This was a point that she often wondered if Bakugou understood, but it would be comprehensible if he was too blinded by competitiveness to see through the mask of a leader and see a person behind, no matter how hateful they were.

Uraraka shrugged a bit in her uniform, her eyes dancing on the hem of her dress before meeting Bakugou's unperplexed eyes. He was always like a wall and in this tense situation of being surrounded by uncertainty, he wouldn't change. So the girl swallowed all the pity she could, spit some for later relief and padded to the staircase. "Either way, I'll try to look for the others. They may be able to fill us in about this messy organization."

"Ask Tokoyami about it if you see him, he has specific information about geographical locations and views more than any of us, even than me or Midoriya." spoke Yaoyorozu, seeing the girl off with a serious, thoughtful façade to mask all the thoughts she was desiring to speak out. For the moment, she just observed Uraraka start padding out of view, glitter and pink enveloping her faked giddy aura.

Yaoyorozu could see Uraraka smile all she wanted, make her be happy all she wanted, but if one looked closer, deeper, something had faded out of place in her, ripping at the seams. And the image of the sorcerer walking away from the pair had never looked so disturbing before, when they could have killed each other if Uraraka had wanted to. In the end, it always came to her, didn't it?

Watching her slowly walk away, her uniform swinging with the breeze, Yaoyorozu had never felt so transfixed to alarm and ubiquity in her full life. Seeing Bakugou tense up so quickly made her realize that not only was she right on her theory, but that he was the one holding the seamripper.

The Capital was pretty, the Capital was beautiful but the Capital was crowded. As Uraraka treaded through the cobblestone, wide streets, people crowded her surroundings shouting various things to each other. Fruits would fall from carriers and sometimes explode into juices, sloshing on her feet. The girl hastily dodged a loaded carriage of supplies as the man ran with them for his damn life, another crossed streets right behind her and the girl found herself more stressed out than back in the Court.

Uraraka sighed to herself, busying her eyes with two tasks– actually, they were three: search for her comrades, look for a gear shop and find the cathedral. Two of those tasks were correlationed, but her need for new equipment was so desperate and obvious – some people were looking at her pretty weirdly at her scruffy clothing in such little body like hers – that Uraraka had pulled out some gold from her pockets and counted the little coins while looking for some shop to spend them in.

When she made sure that she had enough for at least a staff, she dug her coins and hands to the depths of her uniform, huffing as her soles scraped the wasted ground. From a side of the street, she heard busy talking and screaming. The brunette looked to her side warily. At the pier to the river, in one of the many ports of the town, a gruffy sailor was going on a row about something with a younger man.

Curious, Uraraka turned her head to their side, eyes impassive until she saw a little knife peeking from the sailor's pocket. That was when her walk stopped and her eyes widened a little, her step taking a leap and skipping to the gates of the pier, peeking from a side of the gate so she wouldn't be seen.

"This ain't the right fucking fish the boss asked for, asshole!" screamed the sailor heatedly, banging his fists around the air, aiming to hit the poor deliverer who only grimaced in fear. He was probably used to this treatment. "You all doing you only fucking job wrong has my business hitting rock bottom, get your shit together and do your damn job right!"

Uraraka shed a nervous smile, disbelieving the situation in front of her. The man was so pale one could use him as a harlequin. "Talk about a sailor mouth." mumbled the girl.

"We are so sorry, sir!" squirmed the lean man in utter fright. Judging by how his eyes darted to the man's hands, he was also aware of the fact that the man before him had a weapon with him. Such a brave thing to do to actually face someone so angry and armed.

The sailor grunted endless curses to himself and pulled out a disapproving scowl of pure disgust. In the meantime, Uraraka scanned her surroundings with a deepening scowl, muting the screams and blatant rage. The boxes by the sailor were wet and muddy despite the valuable objects it supposedly carried with it, thawed at some sides. If the boxes held fish or any kind of alive being, they weren't making any noise to prove so.

Uraraka searched around the area with her eyes. From the sneaky – not so sneaky – place she was in there was not much room for investigation, but she could see enough. The little boat in which the sailor had come was kind of old, had nets on a side and more boxes on the other. The waves rocked the boat on the stream, and something came to her mind the moment a wave rocked it too hard.

"Fish selling… in the middle of the river?" wondered Uraraka, well aware of the people passing behind her but murmuring to herself nonetheless. She brought her fingers to her lips, eyeing the situation – how is it logical that the Capital was buying fish from external business when they had a damn river on their barriers? Was this part of the region lacking fish population in this segment of the river?

However, when Uraraka had fallen to the streams back at the fight with Midnight – she would have to address it to Gunhead later and have to go through the feelings of being swallowed and weighted down again, such vivid images imprinted in her mind – the water had been swarmed with fishes, some of them smaller, some of them bigger, some colorful, others not. She hadn't been able to discern typologies and species, but some had nibbled her fingers and it was enough proof.

So the point still stood. The duel against Midnight had taken place only a pair of miles away from the Capital, maybe some more. Then, why was this place actually buying fish instead of employing that sailor to reel some in?

This and the odd behavior at the Court from the workers there only sparked more interest towards this place's intricate mysteries. But that was a story for another time. Right now, Uraraka had to pile that thought to the endless little notes in her head and focus on her current goal. If this man was so keen on his surroundings like he was preaching to be, perhaps he had seen either her comrades or the cathedral. He didn't seem to belong to a fighting profession, so asking for a shop would be useless.

Uraraka shyly stepped out from the gate's wall and approached the sailor as the deliverer hurried out of scene. The sailor was putting some nets in a box and opening some to see the product they had given him. Apparently, some boxes were pure trash as the man recoiled from them, and when Uraraka reached him he was emptying one of them on the river.

"Excuse me, sir?" called the sorcerer in the most neutral voice she could muster, earning a yelp from the busy man. His eyes were all but kind to her when he turned around. "I was wondering if you knew where the local cathedral is. I am no–"

"Who the fuck cares, shitty girl?" yelled the sailor, spit bubbling from his foul mouth. Uraraka, while no member of nobility, wanted to step away. "I am damn busy with my own stuff myself, don't dare try to woo me into your business!"

His talking and rash behavior screamed Bakugou all over the place and she didn't know how to take this information, because she somewhat out up with Bakugou and was enticed by him, yet all she wanted to do now was leave this man despite having the very same features as him. Still, she didn't let first impressions get the best of her, and urged a bit further.

"I just need a pair of indications, I must meet some friends there a-and…"

"Again, just fuck off already, don't you see I'm busy here? Can't take a hint it seems." grumbled the man as he tied some nets to the boxes, jotting down a pair of lines on a paper while eyeing her ever so often. She didn't seem like she was gonna move anytime soon. "What the fuck?"

"I just need some information, sir."

"Who the fuck said I'd give it to you in the first place?"

Yep, this was why this man wasn't like Bakugou now that she saw more depth to him. Bakugou would have barked at her at first, maybe the second time as well, but he would have actually given her clues, or been stubbornly useful through anger and ire. It was who Bakugou was, and while their language was the same and them both screamed violence, this man was by far simpler than her leader. Knowing such deep analysis about her blonde leader made her suddenly question why she was so adamant on trying to make a difference.

It was… disturbing. But Uraraka shook it off and went on, her feelings feeling a bit shaken up after that. "I was just hoping you would. Everyone seems so busy here and all, I don't mean to disturb you with giving me directions."

He pulled up an adamant scowl, yet seemed to accept her apology despite this being very much silly. "Your sole voice is disturbing me."

"Sorry. Either way," she shoved her hands to her pockets and tried to ignore his blazing eyes burning on her. "I was also searching for my friends here. They are a big crowd, one of them has green hair and–"

"I saw several greenie boys around here. One of them came on a boat."

"No, they didn't–"

"The others came to ask for fishes. One of them actually searched a residence to stay." answered he. "I didn't fucking give them the directions but he didn't look stupid. I bet he found his way around the town."

"That must be Midoriya then!" exclaimed Uraraka, her eyes brightening again and even the sailor had to admit it was a rather good sight, to see such a lost girl smile over such a stupid thing. Look at her. That beaming smile could light up a room. "Thank you very much, sir!"

Instead of thinking of his life choices and stopping to see that a simple answer put nicely like this could do actual good, the sailor went back to his business of not giving a fuck, and continued making the inventory for his deliveries. He waved her off with his hand. "Fuck off already. I have stuff to do."

Nodding in gratefulness, Uraraka already knew where to go. The Court building was surrounded by very few big buildings itself, opting to have minor business around to promote them. And she knew that her comrades wouldn't be looking for fish out of all things, and considering that the residence Yaoyorozu told her about was nearby… yes! Uraraka cheered in giddiness while sinking into the mad crowd again, yet somehow this didn't bother her.

"I must go see the others and ask for medicine for sore limbs and search for a shop. Todoroki must know about the cathedral." rambled Uraraka to her neck, walking aimlessly in the middle of the wide street. She counted sub-tasks with her fingers. "Also, i should get some food too–"

Suddenly, a deaf echoed pain smashed her on the neck, feeling a sudden glare stare at her through the mad crowd that swarm around her. That familiar cold sweat coated her in fear and chills like that first time at the local fair– but this time, trained to be fast, Uraraka didn't budge. The girl turned around, her clothes flailing with the sudden wiping move and searched for her prosecutor.

A dark, cloaked figure stood in the midst of the shadowed people, the hoodie washing over her grim face like an eternal veil– and the whole world stopped spinning, she stopped beating, because for a reason this presence just evoked chaos and utter confusion in her. She just didn't understand who this was, why she was there, but all it did above all was grant her a feeling of fear, make her feel horrified at the sight and widen her eyes, take in the image and drink from it like a pure psychopath.

Hands cold and trembling, she couldn't find words to say other than a strained gasp, whatever thoughts she had in mind poofing into thin air, stuck in odd parts of her body and creating a raspy knot that tightened, the clocks ticking as the wind blew, making waves rise up and make this figure stare, black spots boring into Uraraka's distanced ones, cold falling on her and numbing all senses, a thrill and shudder tickling up her spine. Gulping down and trying to make her hands snap so they'd feel, so they'd be alive, Uraraka took a crisp deep breath.

The moment Uraraka was able to take a step forward, the figure faded behind the passing people. And the more time that passed with her staring blankly at spot, the more she thought it had just been a mirage from exhaustion. Her mind was all over the place recently.

However, when the girl turned around, she had no clue as to where she was. That person's appearance had somehow made her lose track of location and all she knew was that she was surrounded by buildings, people and skies she didn't know. She could very well be dissociating or just randomly transported to another galaxy. Uraraka was, once again, lost in this forsaken town.

"Where…" Uraraka doubtingly whipped her head around a little bit, confused. She tried to read some letters on some shops, but couldn't recall having ever seen them. She could, again, very much be at the other street besides the main one, but seeing how the roofs were slightly lower than at the center of the town, she seemed to have mindlessly roam around and ended up there. "Where the hell am I now?"

Her feet stumbled a bit as she turned around in angles, hoping to find some sense of direction in this messy sketched map– to come to face a dominating façade, then columns, and suddenly, a beautiful rosette glass on top of the building. "The cathedral." breathed she. After the ominous structure had made its way to Uraraka's recognition, she again whipped around a few times to check no one had accidentally or purposefully warped her there. No one stood out from the crowd, so she considered herself to be good to go.

The girl ascended the stone steps to the big fat doors carefully, her soles relishing on the cold feel of the stone, and advanced until she was at the doors. Somehow, this felt like such a magnificent thing to do, after all she couldn't recall being in any cathedral before in her life… or all she could recall from it. Which was, like, only right before she met Yuuei.

The brunette stood before the mahogany, brown painted doors of the cathedral, and gave one of them a tentative push. The door opened with a deep creak, as if eager to reveal all secrets hidden in such sacred sanctuary. Uraraka looked inside from a little gap, and saw very dim lights illuminating the eerie interior. There was a purplish hue washing over some benches, spare people coming and going all in silence. The whole place seemed completely silent and, compared to the unstoppable rustle of people outside, it looked like a paradise.

The sorcerer quickly skipped in, as if this was a private meeting, and closed the door behind her. The heavy door closed with a fateful bang, making her spine tense and her feet jump. Had she been less aware of her surroundings and she would have snapped into anti-gravity by sheer nature, but of course she didn't let that happen. As time had gone by, Uraraka had become a bit more careful when it came to her powers, and her own ability itself. Hadn't she gotten some grip and Bakugou would have probably had her head… along everyone else, probably.

Uraraka stepped out of the entry and found herself surrounded in a bubble of silence, where even her sole thoughts seemed to make too much noise in such tranquil place. The praying benches were arranged properly in rows, red velvet covering them and, as she passed a finger around its wood on the back, someone liked them clean. The carpet beneath her feet was tainted in crimson red, running to the altar at the front of the building, where she could make out the shape of a man.

The walls of the cathedral were dimly illuminated in violet lights from a great rosette on top of the altar, shedding life to the dead corridor between benches through which Uraraka walked wordlessly. She should feel like she was attending a wedding and she was the bride, yet felt like a corpse being delivered to the reaper.

There was a little atrium with candles lit up for some kind of rithual that had been held short ago – or was probably going to be held. Again, Uraraka wasn't sure at all – and there was nobody but a man standing there, looking at them as if they held the many secrets of the universe that Uraraka couldn't know herself, yet this man probably knew by now. The closer Uraraka got, the dreaded this man looked, standing still as if he wasn't even breathing. A part of Uraraka feared that he would shatter with her sole touch.

The girl approached the little stand of candles and entwined her hands in a little prayer, intending to be respectful. "Prayers."

The man to her right smoothly craned his head to look at her. It was then when Uraraka saw that this man had incredibly long hair, all clothed in leather and sporting deep, rosy bags under his dead eyes, unblinking. It was as if this man was alive, yet was walking in a dead corpse of flesh, yet had no heart or compassion behind those black eyes of his.

He regarded her briefly, then turned to the candles again. The girl turned again, but frowned slightly at the sight of a sandy scarf cuddling on his neck. She could swear she had seen it before, in the middle of a cloudy, foggy and cold evening, just like the surroundings of this man which were freezing her skin cold, singing her heart in dread because–

The girl gasped sharply, and realized who this man was. Her shoulders shrunk a little, yet stood as high as possible to make quick work of this unexpected encounter. Her hands were clasped at her front, and her breaths, uneven and chaotic. This scruffy man made her feel uneasy. This man, carrying the words of death and premonition to his very surroundings– he made her feel scared, small but somehow… there was this feeling again, of reminiscence that hadn't come to her before in their meeting at the mountains.

This man… she had seen him before. Before this moment, before their meeting in the fog, before her even being born. Planets aligned, the sun shone in the middle of the clouds, and he spoke gently, albeit deadpanned. "These candles are for somebody I used to know."

Feeling forced to fall into sync with his tragedy, Uraraka hurried to answer. She was shaken with doubt on whether to regard him as an acquaintance or a total stranger, because she wasn't sure if he remembered her to start with. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"It wasn't my loss." stated the man. Something in his tone made her think she should know who he was talking about and why things were like these, why his situation was such gloomy mess, yet she couldn't follow that thread, and complied to her inner wishes. She remained silent, expecting him to go on. At this, the man sighed. "It was the world's loss."

At this, the girl didn't give much of a reaction despite the man seemingly interested in that aspect. She only undid her praying hands and fisted the fabric of her pockets' insides. There was no grimace in ehr face, no twist like he had seen her do so many times before, and this woman couldn't be Uraraka – he thought, breathing deeply, yet gave no signs of early alarm. Still Uraraka couldn't help but ask, peeking at him from half-lidded eyes.

"The world's?" wondered the brunette. The flames flickered for a second, knocking the girl into a short trail of thought that went off-rails when one of the candles died, prompting her to look at him more directly, turning her head a bit. "Was this person that important?"

"I thought you'd know, Uraraka." his tone was so chiding and somehow cold that a startled shudder ran down her spine. Her name fell off so easily from his name, as if he had repeated it so many times, and his stance was filled to the brim with familiarity. Her body fell backwards, broke glass and floated down into a realm of darkness. A nebulosa of pure uncertainty was bubbling inside of her and echoing to her head, making her feel all sorts of feelings– none of them good.

Invisible wind blew on the strands of a long forgotten girl, lost to the rain in the middle of a war, and then there was her, dancing across centuries like a shooting star. In the middle of a sea of tragedies and incognitas, the girl screamed for the world to show her. "You remember me, I see, despite dismissing me."

The scruffy man let out a little hmph. It wasn't arrogant like Bakugou's, giddy and humorous like Kirishima, or thoughtful like Todoroki's. It was different in all aspects and it terrified her to face such an unknown, unmoving force. Now, it seemed like no matter how much of an unstoppable force she was, he was an unmovable object no matter the universe or time. And she had this feeling she had known this too, before.

"It seems ironic. After all, in such a chaotic world like this, destined to burn at the hands of an unfair destiny, everyone forgets everyone, lost in their goals and tangled fates." spoke he wisely, making Uraraka crane her head to him again, her brow knit again in confusion. It wasn't the wording that confused her, so embroiled and mysterious, but the meaning behind it. "I am somehow able to remember everyone, every face, every body that comes to me. Yet, the world doesn't seem to remember a fading footprint on its ground."

Another candle was blown to dust. Uraraka knew she had no comebacks to offer. What could she do? Should she confort him? His voice sounded undeniably miserably, yet what kind of relief could a mere girl like her offer? She was no more than another face to him, another face to everyone. In the end, she was nothing special, and aiming to be so didn't help the situation. Uraraka just drew a hand out, touching her heart with a feeling resonating with him.

Yet, something was holding her back from saying it, and she frowned even deeper because this wasn't like her, to hold immediate thoughts in. Her eyes were fixated on the flickering candles again. Her body was made of the same chemicals as everyone, could breathe, get sunburns and blister like a slave of her life– yet felt like this man knew better than her about herself, looking at her so deeply and speaking so fondly of such a tragedy.

"S-Sir, I don't…"

"I know the feeling." muttered he. His eyes met the same candles again, closing his eyes briefly to taste how the words would roll out and probably crash her alive. He could hear her blinking at him in confusion. "I have been in this world for ages, from times on end, watching seasons pass. I know every palm of this plane, know every angle of every street, I know who passes through the gates, know every wind. Yet… this world doesn't know me, doesn't notice me." at this specific wording, Uraraka's breath hitched. "Unfair, isn't it?"

The brunette took a step back, the feeling of fright and dread drenching her whole body in a thick cover of disbelief, seeing him stare at her without mercy, hands to his pockets as if he hadn't said one of the most disturbing facts in history. Her brows were knit, lips parted as if gaping to find words that were lost and scattered to every corner of her being– because she knew the feeling, that feeling of loneliness and misunderstanding. Thoughtful, Uraraka turned to the altar, her eyes reflecting the purple sparkles from the rosette above their heads.

"I have been in this world for far longer than you will ever realize. yet from all times I have ever seen you…" feeling even more uncomfortable by this indirect stalking or this– this premonition shit he had going on, the girl turned to look at him with a grimace of disdain. "you have never looked as raw as you do now."

She grit her teeth in frustration and let her meek, polite mask fall off and clatter on the ground. "I am sorry to say you don't know me, you will never know my feelings or–"

"Excepting that I do, because I know you, Uraraka." interrupted he, slaying her voice like butter on a heated knife. She found herself shutting up too easy, even waiting him to speak so she could see where the path led to. "I know what it feels to have unilateral feelings for someone, to chase after the sun's shadow, to be unnoticed by those who you fight so much for. I know what is like to have a blindfold and discover the truth too late."

Uraraka shook her head adamantly, her hands drawn to fists as her head bobbed violently from side to side. "Truth? What truth are you even talking about? What is this you all are trying to solve, what is the reason for such fight or–"

"That's not a question for me to answer, but for you to discover." answered the black-haired man with a huff, not sparing a glance in her direction. Her eyes blinked at him, feeling again slain by his words and just overpowered by him in such a way that it was as if his heart was looming over hers and cornering it into mild abuse. "If you want to discovers answers, you must do it on your own. No one will give you the answer you are looking for but yourself."

And something echoed deep into Uraraka, because this was the first time she had felt satisfied with an actual response in her life. It was like a rush of adrenalin teasing her to havoc her mind, driving her crazy with the mere thought of being shown what it meant to be alive, what her whole existence meant and what was the solution to the problem that loomed above, under and in front of her, but never meant to be left behind.

She felt so… giddy, in the middle of an eerie place with a scary man with piercing eyes that it felt wrong. And she didn't want to believe that this man had the truth when her guildmates were perfectly capable people. Still...

"My...self?" she echoed his words with uncanny care. It was painful for the man to believe she was so hopeless and clueless on how big the problem was to everyone, to him, to her. But things could change. Meanwhile, it pained her to not believe him, in such weak state of the heart. "I can't see the sense in your words, I'm afraid."

"Not like I expected you to, anyway." the man shared an intimate, voidless look with her sparkling, determined eyes– because she had never been put in this situation, of being faced with such a hard place of either kneeling down to a set of beliefs and rules that were safe, that would make everyone happy, or find a way out. But why would she even want to not believe her comrades? That was bullshit, and for now, she had no reason to not trust them with her heart.

So she refused, took a step back with her hand on her chest. She had made an oath to stay, to protect, to save and to change. What this man was offering, was insinuating… it was just preposterous! "I have no intention to bend to the likes of you, sir. I am not some manageable girl you can play with."

"That's fine by me." muttered he again, as if he didn't care, but his words had held so much richness and impetuous tint to them that it was impossible to not see through his true intentions. Still, he held his impassive pose, and reached down for a dusty book nearby. "You can be as stubborn as you want, but I have seen you before. You will end up realizing the truth."

The elder handed her the book with strong yet reluctant grip. Uraraka took the thick, black volume with both hands. "What's this?"

"A book." answered he,as if this was the most obvious thing in the world– well, it was, but she couldn't understand what this could do for her. "A book on good, decent spells, not like the ones you are taught in Yuuei. Bakugou wouldn't want you to stand so idle, knowing that boy."

Uraraka blinked at the man, then down at the book. Ancient glyphs were engraved on the tough cover, some dust left on the sides of the volume that she swatted off with a hand. She then realized how lengthy and heavy this book was, pages lacquered in golden hues and written in handwritten lines that looked like poetry, yet spelled out dangerous, vibrant spells of probably forbidden magnitude.

Seeing her so hellbent on devouring the book so soon, he allowed himself to shed a little smile of pride and turn to his back, stepping down the aisle Uraraka had walked a few minutes ago. When Uraraka felt him leave, she sharply turned to look at him from a bit afar, her little voice filling the whole cathedral brokenly.

"I don't understand why dismiss me to then give me all these explanations or whatever, and this book– what is it even for?" her message reached across dimly, but reached him cleanly, striking on the bull's eye like a moth to a flame. Her uniform flipped with her movements, making her feel brave, alive, yet so confused and lost. She didn't need answers now, answers she was second-handedly searching for, but craved them. "I do not intend to–"

"I know what the feeling is, to be forgotten, looked down on, mistreated, and not noticed." broke he, voice smooth like silk but dreary and flawless, as if he wasn't making much effort to speaking such atrocities and mad thoughts. What was he talking about? Uraraka waited. "Feeling alone, feeling clueless. I want to fix the world, but no one seems to care but me. Shameful much, isn't it?"

And there he went again, with this business as if he knew her, her circumstances and just whatever was going through her mind– but it was impossible he knew, impossible he could see through her so easily when all they had had was an almost meeting and this… whatever this was. Her eyes searched for his around his head, volume hugged to her chest in a comfortingly familiar manner while her hand reached out to him. Yet, there was this moment when she reached for the ribbon, and for once in her entire life, it seemed like her fingers could grasp the thread and tug at it. This man was responding to her.

Her breath was stuck in her chest, feet deep in concrete and wings sprouting to make her fly– yet she felt useless, because she couldn't believe this man, couldn't even look at him without feeling indecent, like a witch being hunted to thrive in the flames. Woes betide she got herself a solution, tried to go against the currents again, and darkness drew in a little closer, hugging her from behind and making her remember she wasn't alone in the light kingdom.

"You were the one to reach out for me, I answer. Simple, right?" spoke he, turning again. So much for total closure. "One day, you will know what to do, what to say and how to decide. I'll be waiting for you, Uraraka."

And with that the man of the sand scarf left, leaving a trail of dust at his wake and a broken, puzzled magician behind with the book of hell in her hands, whispering sweet devils in a sacred cathedral.