#and THEN when memories snow started playing right after it was like divinely timed

[blzzrdstryr]

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

[charliedawn]

Imagine being an old classmate of Lucius and him stumbling upon your shop

As soon as the blond boy enters your shop, you know that trouble is not far behind. The boy is touching an item when another man comes in and warns the child by hitting his hand that was handling said item with his cane, sending him a stern look.

" Come on, Scorpius. Stop acting like a child. You shouldn't touch things that aren't yours. Your father would be ashamed.."

The voice, the look, the hair..Oh no..You would have recognized that condescending tone anywhere. You are about to back away slowly and hide in the back shop when the man coughs from behind you to get your attention.

" Shopkeeper, I am searching for a crystal ball for my grandson's class of Divination. Do you have any of those ?"

The hair at the back of your neck stand on edge at the pompous voice dripping with disdain, but you force yourself to smile and turn around to greet the client.

" For sure, sir. Please, follow me."

He doesn't seem to have recognized you yet and you thank Merlin for that miracle. You show him the different crystal balls and he inspects each one of them with the minutiae of a true expert, but you know that deep down, he is absolutely clueless. You almost let out a snort when he chooses the most useless of the crystal balls to buy, surely because it is the most expensive one and that the Malfoys ever had only one motto : Higher is the price Better quality it must be. You still cash it in and try to contain your laughter at the bad deal the man had just bestowed upon himself. However, you fail to see his brat outside, practicing the Alohomora spell on your front door and before you could truly comprehend what had happened, your door shuts close and traps you both inside. Lucius pales at his grandson's action and immediately withdraws his wand to open the door, but the spell doesn't work and he groans in annoyance.

" What is this ?! Why don't my spells work ?!"

You sigh before looking at your watch..6 o'clock. Of course.

" It won't work. Because of the many thieves roaming the street at night, I spelled this door to not succumb to any spell after 6 o'clock at night..It won't open until 6 o'clock tomorrow morning."

He turns towards you, obviously unnerved and is about to yell at your incompetence when a sudden glimmer of recognition lits up his eyes.

" Wait..I know you..You were in my house. Your name is Y/N, isn't it ?"

You scoff before mockingly clapping.

" Bravo ! Took you long enough.."

He growls at your mocking gesture before looking at the door with a scowl.

" Were you always that irresponsible ?"

You rise an eyebrow before rebutting.

" And you, were you always that annoying ? On second thoughts, don't answer that..this is why nobody invited you to the Yule Ball !"

He blushes in embarrassment and mumbles angrily.

" Why you little..Because I had Narcissa !"

You roll your eyes before replying with a jeering tone.

" Thanks Merlin, you had her ! Or you would still be a virgin !"

You would have never thought to see such passionate hatred in Lucius' eyes, him who usually remained so calm and who always had the perfect comeback. But, as you are both trapped, you sigh before getting two chairs and placing them next to each other while he stands still. You sit down and cross your arms before sighing exasperatedly at him.

" Are you going to stay up all night ? Come on, I don't bite..often."

He humphs at that last part before looking at the chair, maybe trying to decipher if there are any traps under the cushion. But, he finally indulges. You both sit next to each other in silence until Lucius sighs and admits.

" You're wrong, you know ? Someone did invite me..I never knew who it was though ? However, what I do remember, is the effort they had put inside the letter..The silver lines moving like snakes around the paper and the green velvet envelope..They even used perfume: a rich fragrance of mint, leather and a hint of fresh nightingale. No name had been written though and this is why I thought it was Narcissa, since she had been trying to find a way to invite me for a while..But then, I asked her about it and she never dared to admit that it was her who wrote it, I found it cute at the time..But now that the divorce is in motion, I really doubt that it was her."

He sighs loudly before pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, exhausted. You had noticed the heavy eyebags and could only imagine what a single grandfather Lucius could be like. No wonder his grandkid locked him inside. But, since he had been nice enough to share his worries with you, it's only normal that you do the same.

" My shop is on the verge of collapsing, nobody is interested in buying quills and papers now that they have those damn muggle phones..It must be me ? I live in the past and now, reality is hitting me hard in the face.."

He listens to you without interrupting and smiles nearly compassionately at you.

" Guess muggles aren't that great anymore, huh ? I knew that, at some point, our worlds would merge, I just didn't want the Wizarding World to be lost forever..It's sad really."

You can't help but laugh bitterly at his comment.

" A Malfoy will remain a Malfoy ! Always with your ideas of purity and against any kind of change ! If you had just been a little more open-minded, maybe you wouldn't be the most hated family in all the Wizarding World ?"

He only scoffs dismissively at your comment.

" What is the point of being liked when you have power ?"

You look at him and smirk.

" Power ? True power doesn't come from money, Lucius..If you had been paying a little bit more attention, you would have known that power comes in many different shapes and forms..Everybody could have power over anybody, if they only know how to play their assets.. "

He arks an eyebrow at you before smirking as well and asks almost daringly.

" Really ? And what power do you have over me then ?"

The both of you ferociously stare at each other for a while and then, you finally decide to jump on him and tackle him to the ground, to his greatest astonishment. Before he can do anything, you take his cane and throw it away. You then take some nearby rope and, in a few minutes, Lucius is defenseless. When he tries to speak, you put your hand around his throat and squeeze. He grits his teeths and you smile victoriously.

" What was that you were saying about true power ? See how easy it was for me to take the upper hand ? You Malfoy men, always playing the same dangerous game..Over and over again. Never learning that it takes a woman to truly feel powerful..Now that Narcissa is gone, it would be a shame if I were to bite your head off ? Who is going to save you ? Your son ? I doubt it..He hates you. Your wife was your best protection, people always underestimate the power of a mother..But, dear Lucius, you should have known better than treat everyone you come across as pathetic worthless worms..Now, you can either tell me that you were wrong, or I'll tell everyone that a mere half-blood has put the great Lucius Malfoy on his back.."

His eyes widen at the revelation before remembering that he had never seen your mother..Your father was a metamorphmagus and many respected him and that had always been enough..He should have definitely digged deeper. He groans, trying to free himself, but to no avail. He finally glares up at you with everything he feels: disgust being a very distinctive look on him.

" Let me go this instant, you filthy mud..!"

But before he could finish his sentence, you bit his shoulder so profoundly that he finds himself on the verge of screaming..He only hisses instead and you then whisper in his ear.

" Ask nicely..and I may consider it."

He sighs, how could he have been so stupid ? And now, he is pretty sure the memory of submitting to the halfblood would stay in his mind forever..

" Could you please let me go ?"

He finally asks politely but, he is surprised when you start kissing up the side of his neck.

" See ? You can be nice when you want to.."

He groans, still frustrated, but also strangely aroused by all this..But, of course that, he would never admit it to you. He only closes his eyes and hopes that you will stop when you notice that he isn't paying attention to you anymore. However, you aren't going to let him go so easily. You take him suddenly by the chin to force him to look back at your flashing yellow eyes and, to his surprise, you growl.

" Eyes on me, pretty boy..You wanted to see real power ? I'll show you what real power looks like.."

Again, you attack his neck and grind against him until he sees stars.

" You..You will never.."

He tries to speak, but his words get lost when you get him out of his coat and throw it to the ground carelessly.

" Hey ! That coat costs more than your whole damn muggle shop !"

You bite him again, a little less hard on his clavicle, only to shut him up again and roll your eyes playfully at him.

" Me who always thought that you were an ice king, you are just a snow princess.."

He opens his eyes wide at the nickname before glaring at you.

" What did you call me, parasite ?"

You dramatically put your hand at the level of your chest, as if the insult had hurt you before smirking down at him.

" What ? Is that the best you got ? Parasite ? Well, don't forget that said parasite is the one who is making you harder than rock right now..Must hurt, isn't it baby ?"

He clenches his jaw hard at your taunting tone before suddenly raising his pelvis to hit yours, making you moan loudly. When you open your eyes again, he is grinning up at you and asks mockingly.

" What was that ? I thought you said you were going to show me power, but all I hear are the purrs of a pitiful kitten who thinks she is a predator.."

You growl and put your hands around his throat. You aren't playing anymore and want to kill him..To kill him for everything he had done, everything he was..

" Die, you piece of trash !"

But, far from being affected by your sudden death sentence, Lucius only smiles weakly at you and takes your wrists that are shaking around his throat. He takes your moment of inattention to flip you under him, your wrists pinned to the floor.

" It isn't fair.."

You mumble almost in tears as he frowns in incomprehension at you. Why are you crying ? You are the one who had attacked him first, and now you are the one saying that it isn't fair ? As if you could read minds, you try to explain.

" I tried so hard to escape..To escape from you Malfoys and the misery that you seem to surround those who try to get close to you..But even years later, I still end up crossing your damned path !"

He tilts his head to the side, surprised by your sudden outburst and stares at you while you start sobbing and wiggle to set yourself free. When he is sure that you aren't going to attack him again, he slowly shifts his hands from around your wrists to gently wrap them around your waist. He then cradles you in his arms and puts his chin on the top of your head before closing his eyes, calmly stroking your back with his hand to soothe you. It takes a few moments for the both of you to calm down and get back to a normal regular breathing rhythm.

" Soon, I'll be out of your shop and you will never see me again.."

You know that he is trying to reassure you, but the realization makes your heart skip a beat in fear. You would not see him again..He would never know who wrote him that letter all those years ago..He would forget about you. Narcissa had been clear on what would happen to you if you ever dared tell him who was the true writer of the letter..But, would it really matter now ? Narcissa was gone and Lucius was there, his arms wrapped around you. Also, surprisingly, had not make a move to get his wand back to Avada Kedavra you yet. It was a good sign, right ? You look up at him and as soon as your eyes meet, you know that he isn't going to hurt you. You then look at the crystal bowl that he had bought, broken and splattered on the floor. You sigh before reluctantly standing up and getting your most precious crystal ball out of the shelf and giving it to him. He frowns in confusion at your gift.

" What are you doing ? I haven't paid for that one.."

You smile genuinely up at Lucius before silently picking his coat up and running your hand on the soft material before giving it back to him as well.

" I think it should be better if you would take a moment to rest, Mr Malfoy..My behavior was inappropriate and I shouldn't have acted the way I did. It was foolish of me and I humbly ask that you do not sue the shop for my mistake. It is already in a very bad condition and I do not have the money to pay you back for what I did to you.."

He opens his eyes wide in shock before looking at the items in his hands, and finally lays them on a nearby table.

" I do not care about all that now. I don't even understand you. At first, you say that you hate me and try to kill me, then you bite me and try to seduce me in a very odd and savage way, and now this ? What are you trying to tell me, Y/N ?"

You bawl your hands into fists and bite your inner cheek in order not to say anything and turn around to leave. He is to never know who you are or why you are angry at him..You thought he was smart, but you had to admit that he was not the one you thought he was.

" This is where we part ways, my ice prince. Tomorrow, you will come back to your kingdom of paper people and fake happiness and I'll be just another insignificant person that you will forget..Until then, I suggest we both sleep our separate ways. The sofa on your right will be just enough comfort for you and I'll be sleeping in the back with the best company one can have: books."

He stares at you for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before following you and locking the door behind him. You squint your eyes suspiciously as he flashes you a dark grin.

" After all this time, I finally found you.."

The dangerous vibe he is giving you makes you quiver in fear and you step back until you hit the wall. He chuckles at you poor attempt to escape and when he looks up at you again, you can see that his icy blue eyes are nearly glowing in the dark. He gets out his cane that you regret not having taken and slowly makes his way to you, running the tip of his wand on the many books kept on the shelves. You suddenly feel cold sweat running down your back, is he going to kill you ? You wonder as he stops just in front of you and his eyes brighten as he slowly makes a mental map of your body with his eyes that give away a certain appreciation..Is he planning on disposing of your body piece by piece ? Suddenly, he take you by the jaw and forces you to look directly in his eyes as he runs the tip of his wand on your cheek, neck and collarbone. He then leans forward and whispers in his low baritone voice.

" I hope you had fun teasing me..Because it will be the last time I'll ever allow you to make a fool out of me..What ? You thought I wouldn't recognize the perfume ? You stink of the same thing you sprayed that letter ages ago..And, if it wasn't for that, there is only one person that I've ever heard call me ice prince."

He knew. He knows. Oh no..You feel your eyes sprinkle with tears in front of the truth. When you think things couldn't get any worse, he summons said letter with his magic and smirks at your horrified expression.

" I kept it. Want me to refresh your memory ?"

He doesn't wait for an answer before starting reading out loud the subject of your embarrassment.

" My ice prince, I have been considering over the past few months to ask you humbly to accompany me to the Yule Ball. My dreams are filled with your scent and marvelous blue eyes that seem to light up a path to Heaven. When I close my eyes, my thoughts are filled with images of your delicate..Oh my !"

He stops abruptly and glances at you with a sinful smile.

" I had forgotten how detailed the letter was..I remember making Narcissa very happy the following day. To think that it could have been you..You must be feeling so disappointed.."

You blush vividly and try to get out of his grip by scratching his face, but he takes both of wrists and pins them above your head with one hand before continuing reading, not the least bothered.

"Oh no, my darling..You'll stay right there and listen to every word you wrote me..You'll listen and I'll make sure that you remember all of them by heart by the end of the night.. That way, you can shout all you want about how you've put the great Malfoy on his back, but I'll have the immense pleasure to tell everyone who I've succeeded in bringing to her knees."

Your heartbeat quickens at his words and you try to get back up, but Lucius doesn't let you. He pins you down to the table while motioning you to stay quiet.

" You..You're evil.."

You manage to gasp out and he chuckles, as if the insult in itself was some kind of hilarious joke.

" Coming from you ? It's a compliment, my dear..You bit me and tried to kill me. Now, where was I ? Ah, yes..Your delicate hands around my throat and your tongue against the crook of my neck.."

He leans in and slowly and sensually licks your neck from your collarbone to that place behind your ear. He then proceeds to whisper in the shell of your ear.

" I must admit, you are far more responsive than Narcissa at the time.."

His hand lowers itself agonizingly slow down your waist until he reaches your waist and suddenly uses it as leverage to drag you towards him brutally, as if to make you realize that it is happening, that he is here, that it isn't all just a dream..

" Your lips look irresistibly pleasing, my dear..Mind if I get a taste ?"

Before you can say anything, his lips are upon yours and his tongue is invading every crevice of your mouth. You roll your hips against him as a response and he slowly drags his other hand from your wrist to your throat. He squeezes lightly and with your free hands, you cradle his face for him to stay still.

"..I've never seen such beautiful sapphire eyes and only the thought of you makes me want to sing and dance.."

The letter falls from his hand as he understands that he doesn't have to remind you..as you've never truly forgotten. He kisses you again, but sweetly this time. Before you can continue however, he stands up and gets out of the room, leaving you hot and bothered.

" What are you doing ?!"

You yell, almost in despair and he only chuckles before closing the door behind him.

" I did what I said. You won't forget that letter any time soon..However, I can't allow myself to be seen with an half-blood..It would be improper."

" Im..Improper..?"

You repeat, as if dumbstruck by the fact that you may have been played with..You look at the door with a glare before getting up and walking determinedly towards the door. You try to open it, but find it locked.

" Lucius ! Open this door right now !"

But you are only met with a laugh from the other side.

" Good night."

You try to open it by force, but it doesn't work and you can't do anything but declare defeat. You get back to the table and sit on it before burying your face in your arms, trying to muffle your tears as Lucius had, once again, tricked you. But, to your surprise, you hear the door opening and see Lucius standing there, guilt written all over his features.

" I..I didn't think that you would actually cry.."

You don't know what angers you the most : his genuine shock or the fact that he is now staring at you, completely lost ? You try to get past him, but he doesn't let you and cages you in his arms.

" Come on..You know I was only playing. I was going to open it soon enough.."

You try to get out of his grip, but the man is not ready to let you go any time soon. He even tightens his hold on you and you finally lean back, inhaling his very expensive cologne.

" Am I just a game to you, Lucius ?"

You ask with a heavy heart and he decides to answer truthfully.

" At first..you were. But, now ? I don't think so. After the war, I understood that I may have acted wrong. I'm still trying to get better. I may have had very bad ideas over this concept of pure-blood supremacy and other..But, I know now thanks to my son and my grandson that I acted out and I wish to make amends. I truly do. This is why, I think I want to give it a try..Will you help me ? Please ?"

You are taken aback by such honesty in Lucius, but still nod in agreement.

" I have had many phases in my life, some when I hated you and some when I lov..liked you. I don't think that you are a bad man, Lucius. I just think that you are a very ambitious and very proud person. If you could just spend some time with people like me..You would see that we aren't so different..This is why I'm willing to make the first step."

He looks at your outstretched hand for a moment before finally taking it with a small smile.

" I'm looking forward to working with you, Miss Y/N."

The next day, Lucius is finally free from the shop and remains courteous. He even apologizes on behalf of his grandson and Draco seems surprised by his sudden change in behavior.

" Did you use magic on him or what ?"

He asks you in a whisper, but you only laugh heartily and shake your head.

" No. I just talked to him..and he listened."

Lucius smiles, his eyes creasing a bit and you glance at each other with a knowing look. Lucius would be back. He had still much to learn afterall..

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 151: Zora’s Domain

 After training and lunch Sidon and I went searching for history again. We would have brought Bossa Nova, but he had wandered off during training.

We went searching around Ruto Mountain. It reminded me of when we were just walking around the cliffs that faced the Akkala region. Just walking around and chatting. He did give me a scare though when he accidentally slipped on some rocks and slid down a shallow cliff. Thankfully it was not a long drop and he found some more history.

It’s rarer, but Sidon got embarrassed. He’s rather cute when sheepish, he has this little habit of scratching his cheek, even if he tries to hide being flustered, that gives him away. He apologized for worrying me, saying a prince ought to have more awareness of his surroundings.

It was about Mipha, her trident. When she was born the trident was made for her. From the start she was loved by everyone, she was even skilled in spearmenship, easily mastering the Zora’s form. After she died, everyone was devastated, it was like they all lost the most lovable, precious, strong person in the world. They tried sending her trident down the river as a funeral of sorts, but it began to glow, and they heard Mipha speak. She told them her and her trident were one, and to keep going on happily, to remember the past with fondness, it happened and not grief that it was over and to not cry. Since then, on the anniversary of the Calamity striking, they honor the trident as a holiday.

So, when I was given her trident, when I was told that with it she would be protecting me like she wanted, it wasn’t hyperbole or a metaphor, or whatever, they literally meant it. Mipha is literally with me.

Sidon asked me if I was alright. I told him I was the one who should be asking him that. The gesture of being given this trident, what had become my main weapon, the one I almost always go to for battle, something that is considered to be Mipha, it just means a lot. I can understand gifting me the armor she wanted to give me, but her trident, it almost feels to be too much. I just wish I could remember more about her. I want to know what our relationship was, and if she really was as great as everyone says. She honestly almost doesn’t sound real. Just perfect in every way. But then again, Sidon is here, so a person like that isn’t too far of a stretch. Sidon said he wasn’t perfect, but he strives to be, to be like his sister.

I asked Sidon if he was pressured to be like his sister. He admitted that at times, yes. Sometimes he felt he wasn’t good enough and couldn’t live up to her legacy, how when he was younger he would be compared to her often but that just meant he had to create his own legacy and be the kind of person everyone could love, but in a way different from Mipha. He said it’s like what I’ve done. I… didn’t understand. He seemed confused and asked to read through my memories, of the ones of my current time here. He told me there was something I hadn’t noticed.

It seems so blaringly obvious now.

I’m not being compared to the Hylian Champion from a hundred years ago. We are separate people. There’s the old, or I guess younger me, the me who fought with the champions, the one who Mipha loved, and the one who died. Then there’s me, a new champion. One who is more expressive than the one from long ago, one who’s made a reputation for being a troublemaker with an exceedingly kind heart. The new champion who gleefully plays with the children and help them with their pranks. The new champion who had such a big heart he searched across Hyrule’s waters for one single person. The new champion who fought along side their Prince to save them all, a person who rose from death itself just to help people. Someone who even when injured still wants to help by becoming a teacher. They see the old champion and the new champion as separate people now.

They haven’t talked about the past much being here this time, the old me. The old me exists, and is remembered, but I’m not him.

At times, it feels the Zoras speak of nothing of the past, but they live for so long, it only makes sense, it’s not history to them, they all remember it all, yet… Mipha and Sidon are both loved, but differently, and I, though the same person, am thought of differently, and now even treated differently.

That must be why it feels different this time, not as suffocating or sad. Its… like the feeling I have for Hateno, but different, like the love for Sidon and Mipha.

It’s nice.

We kept exploring around the cliffs.

We got a clear view of Mount Lanayru. There seemed to be this bluish-purpleish glow at some places. It’s not like the Luminous stones in the Domain, it’s something else. It’s odd. I never looked around there before. Maybe there’s some shrines to be found, maybe I could get some new equipment, hopefully something to keep warm in the snow since I’ll be going to Rito Village.

We had to do a bit of rock climbing and Sidon carried me the whole way. He slipped a few times but did very well.

We also walked along very tally, grassy areas and found a forest. I insisted we search around it. No matter how small or inconspicuous, I’m going to search every forest for the Master Sword. Sidon asked if this was what traveling was like. Sometimes, it really depended on the area and if I’m following roads or not. Sidon said he’d like to travel someday. It would be fun to have him and Yunobo tag along. Maybe I should visit him soon and see how Death Mountain is doing. Maybe he’d feel safe enough to travel now.

We found more history in the forest.

It was about a princesses Zora who fought alongside the princess of Hyrule and the legendary hero against a man who wanted to rule the world. The Divine Beast was named after her and it was believed to be fate for another princesses Zora to have been chosen to pilot it.

The sun was beginning to set, we should have gone back, but we decided to go searching for a little longer.

The Domain at night is beautiful. It reminded me of Death Mountain. I tried describing the gorgeous sight of that bright, hot lava against the stark darkness. Sidon said that usually if the Gorons and Zora wish to speak, the Gorons come to them, but perhaps, I could be his escort, take him up the mountain, and he could use a lot of potions to protect himself there. The Gorons respect strength so a Zora, a being who needs a cool moist climate, to go to their land, surely they’d respect that and make the ties between them stronger! Sidon wants his people to have good relations with everyone, working together would make everyone stronger than they are alone. The Hylians used to be more so the force that tied the Zora, Goron, Gerudo and Rito together, but with our power fallen, everyone has somewhat separated and Sidon wants to get everyone back together to be able to better help one another and fight against any more disasters like the Calamity. The visit could serve two purposes! If he was going to go there anyway with me, he might as well as get to know the Gorons. He spoke of it like it was certain we were going to visit one day. He told me that if he had the power, he’d do anything for me. He said that with all my travels, I’ve seen so many places, so if I specifically am fond of one area, it must be something more beautiful and unlike any other, he trusts my judgement.

We’ve been taking the river when traveling, but this time we just walked on the trail. Traveling by river and riding on his back is much faster than walking. We found another one. It was about his father and how he had defeated a guardian single handedly and saved the domain.

On the way back we found some blue nightshade flowers. He tucked them behind my ear and just said ‘adorable’, and then I was especially so when I blush and he did it with that toothy grin and why must he make my heart race so effortlessly! He’s doing it again even now just remembering it! AGAIN!

We found one last history piece one the way back, it was right by the road like the last one. Unlike the others, it was notably worn, decayed and uncared for. It was just barley legible, unlike the others. It’s close by town too, it’s almost impossible to miss it when coming and going from town via the trail. The others, some are nowhere near trails or water and were difficult to get to or to find yet were perfectly kept up. It was about me, when I defeated the lynel and earned the Zora helm.

Sidon just stared at it for a while. I couldn’t quite read his expression.

After a while he took my arm and lead me back to the medical bay. Before leaving me in my room, he kneeled down and just hugged me. He told me I am an amazing and sweet person. That I’m strong and courageous beyond belief. He told me I am such a marvel, how hard working I am is astounding. He was grateful he could call me his friend, and I deserved only the best the world had to offer. He asked if I knew I was loved. That people truly care about me and want nothing more than for me to be able to be happy and safe.

If no one else, I at least know without a doubt he cares.

Bossa Nova was asleep on the bed when I got to my room. He looked so comfortable I didn’t want to wake and move him.

Sidon asked if I thought I’d go to sleep. I’m too wide awake, I have too many things on my mind.

Sidon asked me to follow him.

He took me to the reservoir where Vah Ruta was attacking from. We were able to climb up it with a staircase. At the top there are several docks that line the top. Before the dock we were on there is this big, I think it’s called a gazebo? It has a roof and the framing for walls, but no actual walls. Along the frames there’s this counter that connects everything except for the entrance gap. On it are some trays, chalices, a jug and some tall thin glasses full of drinks. There are also a few seats by the counters. The back doesn’t have any pillars, not far beyond it though is the large wall we had to scale to get here. It’s a little taller than the reservoir itself. On the frames are the softly glowing stones, everything else is crystals. There’s also a large bed at the back. Sidon says it’s a water bed. The bed frame is like a cradle that holds this giant bag of water that’s the mattress. Because it’s water the mattress moves and readjusts when you’re on it. It’s so comfortable, and warm, the heat readjusts too.

Sidon told me we was not sure why this was here, maybe it was for entertaining the Hylian royalty when they came to visit the reservoir. Whatever the reason for it, he found it to be a nice spot. From here there’s a gorgeous view of the town and the surrounding nature. You can even see distant mountains and cliffs. It feels like it close to town, but also detached. Just me and Sidon, no one else. The night sky here seems endless. It’s a strange feeling being here.  Almost feel a little nervous being here with Sidon. Sidon is usually so calming which makes this even stranger. It’s not a bad kind of nervous though.

Its more windy here than it is in the canyon, more chilly too. Sidon and I hid in the bed, and it was so warm. Like standing in the morning sunshine in Gerudo desert.

Sidon loosely draped his arms around me and made sure he wasn’t touching my injured arm.

He wondered aloud if I could have my splint taken off for a while so I could take a bath, it might be relaxing if it wouldn’t hurt me. He wondered if we should visit Death Mountain before or after I face the Calamity.  He wondered if I’d take him everywhere across Hyrule, just go anywhere I wanted. He wondered aloud about us resting under the stars. He spoke very sweetly, just about us being together. Sidon kept talking, trying to stay awake, but he soon fell asleep. He’s hugging me in his sleep. Even when he’s not awake his touch is so strong and secure.

Bossa Nova can get food, and I’m sure Sidon will be able to wake me up, so maybe I’ll try to fall asleep tonight. No one can get hurt if I rest for now. The Rito need help, but I can’t go till this infection in me is gone, the doctors won’t allow me to go till I’m healed, so since I can’t help them anyway maybe I can rest for the night. Maybe it’d be okay, but I’m not sure if I even can.

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[queen-scribbles]

Full of Surprises

Here we go, first Inquisition Commander!Fenris AU fic. :D I’d like to thank @lethendralis-paints for introducing me to the idea, and promise there will be Fenris POV in later pieces; this one just wound up sticking with the Inquisitor’s for basic set-up. ;)

---

Kerith Adaar was a hard woman to rattle.

 The nature of her business called for a certain level of implacability; being able to roll with new information or circumstances as if you’d planned for them from the start. These were the most bizarre “new circumstances” she’d ever found herself in--sickly green hole ripped in the sky vomiting demon, sealed by the same green now shimmering under her skin--and she’d managed to keep her head through it all. Adapt. Like she always did.

Which made it almost hilarious that the thing to throw her off when demons, murder accusations, and the wreckage left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes couldn’t do it, was an elf. 

In her defense, this was not just any elf. If his appearance--snowy hair and dull white tattoos that trailed down his throat to vanish under his armor--wasn’t enough to justify her surprise, there was also the fact he was an elf. In a position of obvious authority. In an organization begun under the auspices of the Chantry. The Vala-kos had done enough jobs for Chantry-affiliated persons, Kerith was well acquainted with how many of them viewed... others. 

She managed to curb her curiosity through the ensuing conversation among her new advisors--spymaster and ambassador, both human, and the elven commander. Best to remain focused on the more important issues; how things stood after the Chantry denounced them, spirited debate over what they should do next and who they should ally with to close the Breach for good. Given their shaky standing in the eyes of all available options, it was decided all they could really do was meet with the one person currently willing to speak to them; a Chantry Mother working out in the Hinterlands. There were already scouts in the area attempting to make contact, Kerith could depart as soon as she received word of where, precisely, to go.

With that decision made, they all went their own ways, to attend their own business. Kerith shivered slightly as she stepped out of the chantry’s warmth, weaving sideways to avoid collision with a huffy nobleman in the doorway. He grunted something rude under his breath but she ignored him in favor of pulling her coat a little closer. Her time spent in Ferelden had not accustomed her to cold as much as she would have liked.

Kerith made her way through the village, secured supplies for the pending trip to the Hinterlands, and conversed with some of her new allies as she wandered before finding herself down at the training ground, not entirely by accident. She leaned against a post meant to hold a training dummy and watched her--well, their, this wasn’t just about her--apparent military commander lead what remained of the Inquisition’s forces through rapid-fire drills. He’d armed himself with a greatsword after leaving their council meeting, and wielded it with grace that spoke of hard-earned skill. Just one more angle to the enigma he presented.

“You have good form, Commander,” Kerith commented when there was a pause.

He flicked a glance in her direction, barked for the recruits to take a break, and then joined her. “Fenris,” he reminded her. “As I said before, the title is unnecessary. Did you need something, Herald?”

Kerith shook her head as she pushed away from the post. “Just getting to know people. And it’s Kerith; this ‘Herald’ business is unnecessary as well. I’m not that special.”

“Are you certain?” Fenris asked with a dry chuckle. He nodded toward the soldiers he’d been training. They were all staring at them--her--and a few whispering to their fellows. “They seem to think you are.”

“Wonder if that’s due more to what I am” --she tapped one of her broken-off horns--”or who I am, the Herald of Andraste, who glows and can close the little demon-spewing holes in the sky.”

“Hopefully the larger one as well, if all goes to plan,” he said, inclining his chin toward the greenish shadow that marred the clouds about them.

“Hopefully,” Kerith nodded. The Mark pulsed faintly, in time with the Breach, and she curled her hand into a fist. “And hopefully soon.”

“Indeed, I believe that would please everyone.” Fenris loosely crossed his arms and arched a brow. “But you said you wanted to talk.” One side of his mouth curved briefly higher. “I suspect you have a specific topic in mind?”

“You would be correct. A couple actually, if you’ve the time.” She ran a hand over her hair, capturing one of the narrow dark grey braids to absently weave between her fingers as she continued. “How did you wind up here?”

“I walked,” he deadpanned. “Or rode, when it better suited.”

Kerith rolled her eyes but laughed. “Enlightening. Though I meant more how did an elf get named military commander for a Chantry organization?”

He shook his head. “It isn’t.”

“I know it’s--we’ve--been denounced as heretical now, but that is how it started, isn’t it?”

Fenris gave another small shake of his head. “It was begun by Cassandra and Nightingale.”

Kerith snorted, picked at the end of her braid. “I’m pretty sure, as the Right and Left Hands of the Divine, Cassandra and Leliana are considered part of the Chantry. Or at least were; that may have changed with the whole ‘founding a heretical movement’ thing.”

“But they did not begin the Inquisition to be an arm of the Chantry; it was in answer to a threat. While they would have welcomed the Chantry’s support, this”--he paused to gesture at Haven and their set-up--”was their intention regardless.”

“With or without approval,” she murmured as she tipped her head in easy concession. “Still, folk like us are hardly the typical first choice of Chantry types, you must admit, no matter how well-suited. Especially for positions of authority.” She flexed her Marked hand and muttered, “Not that they got much choice with me...”

Fenris chuckled. “Kerith, you’ve spoken to Cassandra, have you not?”

She nodded. “Only a little beyond the council, but yes.”

He fixed her with a dryly amused stare. “Does she seem the sort to care in the slightest if her actions are typical in pursuit of her goals?”

Kerith laughed. “Can’t say she does. And I see you’re just as skilled with words as you are that sword.” Tattooed, eloquent, combat-trained... She shook her head with a rueful smile and muttered under her breath in qunlat, “Where did she find you?”

“Antiva,” Fenris answered in common with a faint smirk at the surprise Kerith didn’t try to hide. “Hard on the heels of a particularly nasty band of slavers. She made an excellent case, and I could leave my pursuit in... very capable hands. Ones I trusted to get the job done. So I left with her, and we returned only a few days before the Conclave was due to start.”

“Mm.” Kerith pursed her lips. It was a straight forward story, if notably light on details. But she could pry for those later. “You speak qunlat?”

“Yes.” He cocked his head, studying her. “I must admit to being equally surprised you do. From what Nightingale had found, you were raised Vashoth?” He waited for her nod of confirmation. “I would not have expected that to be something passed along to you, under those circumstances. Most who leave the Qun wish to abandon it entirely.”

She smiled thinly. “Some parts of your heritage you just can’t avoid.” Others you don’t want to. “But it came in handy once I was looking for work of my own. Vala-kos were the only ones who’d have me, and some of them don’t speak much common. But we all know qunlat.” She scuffed a foot through the snow, then arched a brow at Fenris. “Where’d you learn it?”

He averted his gaze out over the lake. “I... spent some time in Seheron. It’s always useful to know the local tongues of anywhere you find yourself staying long.”

“It is,” Kerith agreed. “Seheron also where you learned to fight like that?”

“One place of many,” Fenris replied with a small shrug, his crossed arms tightening fractionally.

She was well-versed enough in body language to pick up this was not a favored topic, at least not for public discussion. “I learned from many places as well,” she said, her hand drifting toward the hilt of one dagger. She let a beat of silence pass before changing the subject. “You really think the templars are the better option for dealing with that?” She jerked her chin toward the Breach.

“I do,” Fenris said with a nod, the tension that had stiffened his spine starting to bleed away.

“Cassandra and Leliana made a good case for seeing if the mages can’t give the Mark more power,” Kerith said, part idle comment, part seeing his response.

He shook his head. “Better to attempt suppressing the Breach itself than tempt mages with more power.”

There was a vehemence behind the words that made her raise a brow, but she decided against pulling that thread just yet in favor of staying on track. “You believe they can? To the extent we’d need?”

“In sufficient number, yes,” Fenris replied, rolling his shoulders.

“That’s the trick, isn’t it?” Kerith chuckled ruefully. “It’s hard to find sufficient number of anything right now.”

He answered her chuckle with one of his own. “That’s what we have you for, isn’t it, Herald?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Well played, Commander. I’ll do my best to drum up a sufficient number of allies, whichever course we pursue.” She looked up at the Breach again, bit her lip in thought. “It’s so big,” she murmured to herself. She curled the braid’s tail around her thumb. “Can’t imagine what it’s going to take to close that son of a bitch....”

“It will be quite the effort, whoever you call upon for help,” Fenris said, running a hand through his hair. “Will you have to open it again, as you did last time?”

“Void’s teeth, I hope not,” Kerith groaned, shuddering at the memory of the Pride demon they’d had to battle, one of very few things that had ever made her feel  small. She rubbed her forearm subconsciously, even though the remembered wound had been healed with nary a scar. “I don’t relish the thought of another fight like that.”

“Understandable.” His weight rocked foot to foot and back as he recrossed his arms. “It was quite the battle, from what I hear.”

“Would likely have been worse if not for those of you watching our backs,” she returned with a half-smile. “But yes. It... was not fun. And I hope nothing similar is required to close it for good.”

Fenris hesitated the briefest moment before voicing his thoughts. “If it were, the templars would also be a great help in that fight.”

“...as opposed to mages, who would perhaps be more vulnerable to demons.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s something for me to consider, since mine will apparently be the final word on the subject.”

“You are the one with the Mark,” he shrugged. “You are the one who can close the Breach. That lends your word on the matter extra weight.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Kerith said wryly, which earned a chuckle. She glanced at the restlessly shifting soldiers. “I’ve taken enough of your time, I’ll let you get back to it. I appreciate the conversation.”

“As did I,” Fenris replied, inclining his head respectfully.

He returned to training the soldiers as Kerith walked away, and she couldn’t repress a smile when she realized he’d learned as much about her as she had him. And with hardly a direct question. You’re just full of surprises, Commander Fenris. She didn’t know who to thank for dropping him in their laps--Cassandra, probably--but she had a very good feeling about the Inquisition’s military commander. 

Surprise that he may have been.

[cautelous]

He has a long way to go. Not to the highest summit, of course, but… Targon stands impossibly tall against the backdrop of the Great Barrier. Mountains that are taller than the Ironspikes are cowed before the peak. The ascent.

But he only has to go to the Solari. Still a climb, still a journey - but not the journey. He finds beauty in nature and thrill from danger, yes, but the peak holds little promise for him. What would he find up there, if frostbite and oxygen deprivation didn’t kill him first?

Nothing but snow and ice and a sense of hollow victory, he imagines. The heavens only open for those pure of character, if the myths are to be believed, and he isn’t delusional enough to think that he qualifies. Noble goals and a noble heart, but justice outside of Piltover is still so set on judging actions and actions alone. The gods are no exception.

                                                        —

The Rakkor are far from unused to foreigners. They speak a common tongue with him, and while their grandmothers and grandfathers may have driven him from the land in an instant… Things have changed over the decades. Even in the past decade - he’s been here before, after all, and so much is different since then. He doesn’t have to hide, have to scamper up the mountain in the dark. The Rakkor’s opinions have shifted: so what does it matter if outsiders try to climb to the peak? If they are worthy, the spirit of Targon will embrace them and guide them higher. If they aren’t, their bodies are a sacrifice to feed the mountain.

He spends two days there, going over the contents of his pack again and again. It’s heavy - overloaded, truthfully, for a man of his weight - but he’ll manage. (Or he won’t, and his body will end up as one of many lost beneath the snow or down a crevasse.) There’s others on their journeys, others that he can climb with until their paths diverge. (That’s something new, too.) Cover, if she comes looking. (Won’t she?)

Thrillseekers and adventurers and dreamers. He sees how they shoulder their packs lightly, how they laugh and joke and cheer. (He joins in too, of course, and celebrates on the night before his and some of their departures.) Confident in the mountain guiding them up. No ice axes, no crampons, just their hands and determination. Won’t that be enough, if they place their faith in the divine?

Maybe it will be. Or maybe he’ll see their colorful coats blowing in the wind, higher up on the mountain, as he descends.

                                                        —

The first few days of climbing are more than manageable. The spring thaw had happened a month before, and so they make camp in grass that’s unburdened by snow. The others are less unprepared than he’d originally thought: they have food and shelter, at the least, and the other climber from Piltover has her own backpacking stove for warm meals. They boil water over it each night, taking turns donating packages of tea for the others. The Demacians - brothers, he finds out - look on with a mix of suspicion and interest the first night, but take the offered drinks on the rest. The Noxian has no hesitancy. The Freljordian keeps to herself, eating pemmican and jerky from the lightest pack of the group. Determination has set in as they climb, the stuff of jokes now reality.

The other Piltovian - Beth, he’d learned at the base of the mountain, and he’d given his name as Vincent - is a quiet and kind soul, but still spirited, once the ascent begins. His own mood has turned introspective as well, whether from the journey ahead or the mountain itself.

They sit at the edge of camp, one night, and stare out into the brilliant sky.

“Vincent,” she starts, looking over to him. “Why are you climbing?”

He sighs and watches his breath crystalize in the night, letting the lie come easily. “I’ve always wanted to. Do you remember when the first one of us made it up? The news didn’t stop interviewing him for a month, and… he’d said he’d seen ‘such beautiful things’.”

He remembers the articles and the newscasts. Something that had been talked about over distant dinners - his brother had called the man an idiot, for risking his life for a pointless title, and his mother and father had agreed.

“I wasn’t around yet,” Beth says with a laugh. “But I read about him when I was a girl, so I guess we’ve got the same reasoning.”

Her words hit him in the chest. “You’re- ah, you’re younger than I, then.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

“You- you,” he stumbles over his thoughts, turning to her with concern in his eyes. “Beth, you shouldn’t be up here. Not now.”

“If not now, when?”

Gods. He’s a hypocrite, really, worrying over her choices when he’d been robbing nations at her age. But imprisonment isn’t a cold and lonely death on a mountain. It doesn’t matter what he says, though - he knows that look on her face.

“If not now, when…” he echoes and stares up at the sky. Then he gets to his feet. “I’m turning in for the night. We’ve ground to cover tomorrow.”

“Rest your old man bones, Vincent.”

                                                        —

They reach the highest Rakkor settlement after a few more days, and the mood brightens once again. They’re nearing the point of no return, yes, but in the here and now there’s life and living. The Rakkor play host, children darting about and laughing as adults watch with relic-weapons at their hips.

He knows of the Rite of Kor. He knows that each of these men and women have slewn another - another child - for the sake of battle-hardening and survival. (He’s been here once before. He’s held a weapon and known that his are the only bloodless hands to have touched it. It sits in his private gallery with all the rest.) But they offer their hospitality for seekers of Targon’s truths. What a change, what a thaw.

Or perhaps it’s just a matter of sacrifice. He feels the mountain wind run him through as Beth laughs and talks with a girl, the other Piltovian crouching low and listening attentively.

                                                        —

The Solari make their home higher still, secluded from the main path up Targon’s flank. His divergence will be noticed, of course - he can’t run off in the middle of the night. But he has his explanations.

The Demacians, Frederick and Jonathan, have warmed up to everyone - even Felix, the Noxian. They share tales of valor over the stove at night, the three admitting that they had no idea that those from the opposite nation could be so… human. Even Erna has thawed, offering sips from her leather flask to the party and singing into the night.

They’ve all discussed their reasons for climbing. Beauty, achievement, pride, wonder, longing. He keeps his story the same. Inspiration from another, a desire for beauty. It’s true, if one looks at it in the right sort of way.

He asks the group one day, once their mutual camp has been set up, if they wouldn’t mind sitting for a few sketches. Beth claps her hands in excitement - Vincent, you’re an artist? Why didn’t you say anything? - as he pulls a sketchbook and pencils from the bottom of his pack.

It had been extra weight. It had been worth it. So he sets about committing their features to paper, one-by-one, and leaves out his reasoning. It’s something more permanent than memory. Something to prove that they existed.

Beth pulls him to the edge of camp, later that night, and they stare up at the nearly full moon. He worries for her. How could he not? She’s too young for this. Too soft for this. Everyone but them is a warrior, and he’s had his complicated life to prepare him for this. She’s a dreamer, hardly out of her studies - hardly into the real world at all.

“So why are you really climbing?” she asks, gloved hands cupped around an insulated mug. Steam rises in the cold.

“I’ve told you a few times, haven’t I?”

“And you’ve been lying,” she says with a shrug. “At least, I think you have. Not telling the whole truth, at least?”

He freezes. It’s the first time someone’s caught him in a lie in… years. And it has to be someone like her, doesn’t it? The last person he’d suspect. In any other situation, he’d deny it, play it off, laugh. But Beth deserves honesty, he imagines. She’s gone past her point of no return.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs. “I’ll tell you.”

“Well, go on then!”

“The Solari,” he starts. “That’s my end-goal. I need to… speak to them.”

She breathes out a ‘huh’. “Didn’t take you for the religious type, Vincent.”

She deserves honesty. Maybe not the whole truth - he can’t surrender himself to the will of another, not now, not here, not with the wrong person - but enough of it. It’s the least he can do. He looks to her and pushes the thought of purple-black frostbite from his mind.

“It’s Julian, actually,” he says with a laugh. It doesn’t sound forced.

He expects her to draw back - to accuse, or at the very least frown - but all she does is chuckle. “I thought you didn’t look like much of a Vincent.”

“I suppose I don’t.”

Chuckles give way to quiet concern. She stares out into the void for some time, silent. “Hey… You don’t have to tell me, but - whatever you’re looking for with them?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you find it, Julian.”

                                                        —

He breaks from the group the following day, pointing out his new route on his map. Everyone takes it well enough, although even Erna seems concerned at his departure. But he wishes them well (and gods, he means it) and soon enough it’s just him and the snow and the ice.

The Solari had been hard to plan for. Records on what relics they have are vague, at best, half-finished anthropologic surveys in the basements of universities and the words of the Radiant Dawn his only clue. But he has his target: another manuscript. He hopes it’ll be small enough to tuck into a pocket of his pack. Preservation is essential, after all, and the thought of accidentally destroying something so priceless is anathema to him.

As for his plan? Simple in planning, complex in execution. The full moon is in a few days. The Solari will stand watch at the edges of their territory, or so he’s been told. Rituals and customs and patterns. Their archives will be left unguarded.

Of course, if he’s caught… he’ll be executed. But that’s the nature of his work. Perhaps he and the others aren’t so different, after all.

                                                        —

The heist goes fine. The hardest part had been the trip to and from his camp, hidden far enough away from the Solari village that they wouldn’t spot it. No light but the moon’s. No sound but the crunching snow and ice. (And the matter of hiding his path, of course.) But he has his prize, written in a language that he can’t read, and he feels…

He feels lighter, truthfully. He knows what the pages say, or at least the gist. The structure would make it obvious, if he hadn’t already known from his research.

Poetry. Devotion to the sun as the giver of all life, as the celestial being whose love warms the world. The Solari depict her as a woman, he’s read, hair a mane of fire and skin the color of a burning sunset.

He’d left a card in a new color. (They’re going home. Together?) But that will have to wait. For now, the sun needs to rise. He needs to descend. He needs to survive. He forces himself to sleep, book tucked safely away in his pack, and ignores how the shadows seem to dance and twist in his dreams.

                                                        —

The descent is harder than he expects. He finds himself expecting to hear others’ voices, to hear Felix speaking of the life he left behind, to hear Erna humming, to hear the hushed conversations of Fredrick and Jonathan. He expects to hear Beth’s laughter as his foot punches through fresh snow, expects an arm to shoot out to balance him.

He expects company, and its absence chills him far more than the wind. Gods. How had he ever thought poorly of them? They’re all the same, them and him, all dreamers holding onto faith and luck. They just placed - place, he amends with a jolt - their faith differently than he. All the same, but they believe in a goal and he believes in a woman. No one’s more justified than the other.

He looks up into the cold, clear night each time he makes camp. He’s never been a religious man, but he bows his head to the stars regardless.

Let them summit. Bring them home. Please.

He says another for her.

Let her live. She’s too young. Have mercy, please...

He says another for her.

Let her be happy. Let this work. Let her see how much she’s needed, still. Let her choose for her sake.

He thinks, briefly, about saying one for himself. But he’s pushed his luck enough with three. He doubts the gods - or whatever is out there in the inky blackness - would have much tolerance for a man such as he, anyways.

He only hopes that they tolerate prayers for others’ sakes.

                                                        —

It hardly feels real when he steps - nearly tumbles, really - back into the village at Targon’s base. He knows how he looks after pushing himself for days, after not stopping at the Rakkor settlement. He needed to beat the Solari down the mountain, after all, and they had the advantage of it being their home. But he’d done it. The Rakkor give him a wide berth - do they think that he’d summited? Do they think that he’s been changed?

He has been, but not by the peak. His pack feels heavier than when he started. It’s not due to the manuscript. But he makes his exit, begins the long journey home, and tells himself that he isn’t leaving anyone behind.

                                                        —

He reads the paper religiously in Piltover, buying morning and afternoon and evening copies. Her name was is Elizabeth Hargreave. She’ll be trumpeted and heralded, he knows, once she makes it back. But a week passes. Two. Three. There’s nothing.

Maybe, he bargains, she’s come back quietly.

So he goes to find her. Because she has to have made it. The world’s a cruel, cruel thing, but it can’t be that senseless. She’d had faith. They’d all had faith.

He finds grieving parents.

He doesn’t speak to them.

He carefully tears one of her portraits from his sketchbook, folds it into a crisp little rectangle, and mails it to their address.

No return address. No added words. What could he say?

He finds himself drinking more wine than usual.

                                                        —

He finds himself staring at the two manuscripts, a half-empty glass in his hands, and wonders if he’s made a horrible mistake.

It all depends on what she thinks, he imagines, and he downs the rest.

[spicylove4ever]

My thoughts while watching Frozen II

Spoilers ahead! 

Anna and Elsa playing with a snow forest like my sister and I did with Lego.

All is Found sounds really neat, but the “drowning” part gave me chills. Is like telling children the Red Riding Hood version where the granny gets killed and the wolf makes steaks with her flesh and wine with her blood and gives it to the grand-daughter.

Story-time with dad! The spirits coexisted that way with the Sami people? Cute. Kind of weird watching the Nokk acting like that after all the trailers where it tries to kill Elsa.

Whoa, all went to hell in one minute. And then, of course Agnar can’t recall very well what happened because he got hit in the head.

So he and Iduna were the only ones who managed to get out of the forest before the mist arrived? Sad.

That was the very night when the snowman incident happened?!

My headcanon of Elsa freezing something by being startled by someone on behind is true!

Cheesy song... but it sounds like the “enjoy your happiness because everything is about to change” song.

Charades night exactly as the leaks told it is with the gorgeous slap to Hans.

I watched a leak of Into the Unknown, but watching it on the theatre... I cried.

Wait a minute, the book said Elsa and Anna exchanged a look when the crystals appeared, it’s NOT happening! Of course not, since they weren’t on any of each’s range of vision.

So they managed to pick up some luggage before running from Arendelle. Just two seconds of footage which helped a little the plot of how did the people managed while the girls were gone.

Elsa has magical sensations about the magical stuff is happening.

So what Grand Pabbie does is divination? Hey! Where is the “magic is very alluring part”?

Olaf driving the gang mad on the trip like Donkey on Shrek 2. XD

Anna wanted to smooch but it ended on the clumpsy entrance for proposal. 

The wagon didn’t get destroyed!

Ok, they are looked in the forest too, but they are like, ok, we just have to fix this, we will get out anyway.

Olaf lost in the woods, gets found on A TORNADO. Sorry, didn’t like the song.

Visions on the raging wind before calming down Gale.

WATER HAS MEMORY, Olaf makes Elsa disgusted (hey, dude who said that she’s supposed to have more stomach since she’s going to live in the woods, Olaf made Sven puke too!)

Sami people and Arendelle soldiers can’t seem to stop fighting and when they learn the visitors are from Arendelle Mattias was like “Ha! You’re gonna get down!” but they are like “you all need to calm down!”

Olaf telling stories and Mattias being us when we watched (even with the shock part about the southern jerk).

BRUNI ARRIVES. Elsa gets to action in a second. Everyone into action except Anna who trows herself into danger and almost gets killed by the smoke.

Bruni face revealed and his angry face looked fantastic to me. They put the difference of temperature on the movie (Elsa’s cold hand and Bruni’s hot feet)!

Sami give the welcome to the sisters with FREAKING VUELIE. It looked to me like the directors went like “you guys wanted Vuelie to fit more? There you have”.

Kristoff making friends. X3

The giants pass by and Elsa is like, “they could be here again since they are looking for me, we should leave now”. They couldn’t take Kristoff with them because he went to practise how to propose.

Yelana’s face on the failed proposal. LOLOLOLOLOL

Wrecked ship looked gorgeus! Also, very sad part with the predicted stuff by OUAT.

Elsa: you can’t go with me in this part, it’s too dangerous! Anna didn’t listen so she tries to go after her and she and Olaf got stuck in a cave by trying to reach for Elsa. Interesting methafor.

DARK SEA. Elsa was right, she couldn’t bring Anna on that part. 

The footage didn’t show a long fight, but the jump-cuts do tell that Elsa probably spend a long time (maybe FREAKING HOURS) fighting a horse who tried to drown her all the time. Goosebumps.

The GLACIER. Elsa walking in and making the inside look more tidy and as gorgeus as those ice hotels. 

“SHOW YOURSELF” CLIMAX!!!!!!!! EPIC

Snow statues memories. Elsa ashamed by her Let it Go moment, and touched by her parents’ romance and her “ew” with Hans and shattering it XD.

The grandfather’s memory. Elsa dissapointed at him because he was a jerk. When the dark part of the memory comes, it goes to the dark pit, Elsa following it to know what did he do, an echo of “not too far or you’ll be drown” warning her. To know the dark memory brings a risk. Elsa jumps into the pit of dark memories because SHE NEEDS TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN ORDER TO KNOW HOW TO FIX EVERYTHING. 

Elsa FREEZES while sending the message..... like... as if, since she is an spirit too, the curse her grandfather brought is getting her as well. The other spirts went rogue, she gets what is her thing against her.

When Anna and Olaf are getting to an exit, Elsa’s message arrives. And then Olaf starts vanishing (it didn’t look that much as vanishing to me, it wasn’t even getting parts of him appart, just snowflakes going into the air).

Anna DEVASTATED. TT_TT

Anna going to the giants to destroy the dam in “Fuck it” mode. EPIC. I didn’t like her dependent behavior before this part the movie, but this was GREAT, she growed a pair. Mattias being reasonable since he wanted to end the problem and knowing there was a problem. Nice. I like you Mattias.

Dam destroyed = all spirts are free of the curse, including Elsa.

Arendelle being saved by Elsa. I thought she was going to freeze the water and vanish it, but she used a giant wall. 

ELSA AND ANNA REUNITE. Cried a third time.

Kristoff leaves the complicated plans and just proposes to Anna. So beautiful. Keep crying.

Bruni is so cute....

Anna is the new queen! It makes sense to me, since she looks closer to the people than Elsa, she even jumped ahead to give orders before Elsa. 

Mattias reunited with his crush!!! X3 Photography has arrived? Then it must be over 1839, since firsts photographs on Norway were on those times. And no, that doesn’t still give credibility to the theory of Tarzan being the brother of the sisters, because, as you remember, Agnar and Iduna died on the sea ON THE NORTH, and Tarzan’s parents made it to a coast close to Africa. 

Somebody said the Sami went to Arendelle and Elsa and the other spirtis were the only ones on the forest. Wrong. 

Seems like Elsa lives on a glacier. NEAT. Who else can say they live on a Petra-like icy palace with hints of ice hotels design with a lethal basement?

Anna’s queen gown was originally made for her coronation, but the time shown there is NOT her coronation. Is the ceremony when they show up the statue of the parents. They cut that stuff so the final thing would be the way it is (and I love it). That means Elsa didn’t miss her sister’s coronation. Also, is canon she visits her sister often and that they stay in touch. 

Honeymaren and Elsa. No clues of any romance. She has a more significant relationship with the horse or Bruni. Still, I believe she came to save the fandom of incest and toxic relationships. 

To sum up: I LOVED THE MOVIE. 

[inviouswriting]

Cruore

It literally means “flowing blood”

Half original. Half going on the recent story I wrote.

Mentioned characters - 

Meeps/Fae - @meepsthemiqo

Shuri - @maiden-born-in-snow

Yume @earthlystar 

Some warnings in here for touching on Kivera’s descent in Hell.

Kivera is use to the smell of blood, the world she is from is full of it. The underworld, the realm of the dead. Her world she has known after her death from the hands of Bathory. She knows the realm inside and out, from the deepest pits in Tartarus and Hell itself. To the highest peak in Purgatory where she watches those who come before her. Seeking passage to Paradise.

Her punishment as much as bestowment. Punishment for her sin, bestowment for her servitude. She is under Thanatos and Hades. She does their work without question, and never asks the Fates of their reasons.

Kivera is capable of seeing the world up to the earliest of her memories she remembers. In other times she has witnessed how civilization takes hold and grows over periods. Other worlds, she sees how far behind, or how they destroy themselves.

The smell she is use to is that of flowing blood. She is use to it so much it doesn’t phase her like her fledgling days. So Kivera stands over a sight she is accustomed to people pleading her for a difference. To be let into Paradise, on behalf of some good merit they did.

“You have not learned yet, and I cannot let you through.” Her voice echoed in the hall, softer as she addressed the face before her, another of many. One she’ll forget after a few days. She sees so many. Her mind constantly drifting back to her interactions in The Source.

She had let a few dozen through, and encountered only a few people who need to humble their hearts more. Still full of resentment.

“Why do you get to play as judgement here?” The words echo in her mind.

“That is just the way things are.. I just do.” She says automatically. Practiced words, ones she has said countless times. The faces change, her words remain the same as she gives these people their tasks and trials to complete. Till she grows tired of doing this, letting the realm do their part.

She retreats to her personal space, and replays the events that she had done. Her own hands burn from when she used her hell flames on Ardbert. She still feels their heat. She had marked three people to keep an eye on. Cid, G’raha, and Ardbert. She had tied their lives into her own spirit. She had to do something to keep them from meddling. 

Kivera recalls her encounter with Cid. He was busy with something he had worked on, barely even noticed her slipping in through a mirror. Before he had known, he felt something graze through his back and touch his very soul before searing heat engulfed him internally. When he had turned around, he was met with the blunt end of a scythe raising him up and pinning him to the wall nearby.

“You’re Shuri and Estinien’s lover?”

“That saves me time. I know you, and have watched you for a while now.” Kivera’s eyes were a bright green behind her mask, and he sees black surrounding them. He felt his limbs as if they were freezing in place.

“What is this about? Surely you are not?”

“Just be quiet and listen to me. You of all people should heed me. You are very much alive, and I am very much capable of ending that now. Right here. So I have a warning for you.”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“No you do not. Either you heed it or you rather not know what will happen. You have stepped into a world and realm you have no business in. One that WILL kill you. If you have any sort of devotion to your beloved, Yume. You will stay out of the time temporals. I let the events of The First slide, because I was meant to stay out. But I won’t have you setting foot where you shouldn’t now. Be with your lover.” Cid feels his arms returned to normal but his legs felt heavy as stone. 

“I can’t just abandoned my work.” He tries to bargain with her.

“I never said you didn’t have to stop. Just not mess with time. It does not lead to anything good.” She warns him. Her voice softer than he remembered, but in the empty room it was haunting as she is the border between two realms. He notes how with ease she lifts him, not even shaking in her hold bearing his weight at the end of her scythe. 

“I’ll try not to.” He is met with a glare behind the mask, irises flashing orange in her annoyance. He feels his body returned to normal in the way he doesn’t feel his body stone and the blood rushing back through him. Kivera turns and tosses him with her scythe across the room.

Kivera wanders to the door to the workshop and exits it, scaring Wedge with the sudden slam of the door. She stalks out and goes to stand in the center of Revenant’s Toll, she still had one more person to see within this place..

Kivera’s memories of what happened after replay, she had only intended to scare the miqo. 

“Maledetto! Ardbert! Why did you have to....“ She throws a fireball across the floor letting it race and fizzle out before it reaches her scrolls. She had lingered in a mirror when she spied on the meeting at Rising Stones. She saw the way her loved ones defended her name. How Shuri didn’t reveal everything about her, Divinity had to disclose, she doesn’t blame her for talking about her so much. Explaining her reason and resolve.

She sees how haunted G’raha Tia looks at how the Scions seem to just accept it, not wanting to make a further mess by targeting her as an enemy. They are wise in that choice. They know her power already with Amaurot. How she can raze a world, how she can destroy something without a thought. They see keeping her on their side more vital than a dispute.

Kivera felt guilty for how she treated G’raha, but she did not feel sorry for the way she went about her methods. He had to know the gravity of his meddling. That the lives he altered permanently, they have to deal with the repercussions. Meeps and Fae both have to come to terms with their feelings. How to raise a child without their parent they had spent.

“A parent is a god in the eyes of a child.” Her voice comes out in a whisper, she would never have that opportunity. Her life had been snuffed out decades ago. She regrets attacking Ardbert, he had just gained her trust. Then shattered it with careless words.

Antares’ orb reflects her eyes in a deep blue at that feeling. She cared, she knows their interaction is unavoidable. She feels the familiar pricks in her mind from Divinity searching for her. She quickly shuts her out, unable to really show the Libra spirit the sorrow she feels. 

Ardbert used it as a means to provoke her, and she let loose on him. To draw her attention off G’raha, and onto him full force. It worked, she had attacked him in pain, they had exchanged blows to the point she had invoked Pluto into her own body. A deity of destruction. If Divinity hadn’t intervened. She is certain Ardbert might not be around due to the magnitude of what she was about to unleash on him.

Kivera feels another prick into her link, and sighs as she curls into one of the beds she keeps to lounge on. 

“Te amo.. You and Shuri.” She gives Divinity what she seeks. Her response to ensure she would come back to them.

Her mind drifts to the time she spent in Hell. Wandering as a broken soul, stumbling blinded, and torn apart almost from the many who saw a pristine being and set about ruining her in every which way. She feels the hands still when they gouged skin or her eyes.

She resigns her thoughts to another thing, she needed to see Chiron. He helped her through the days following Damien’s death, then after when the conditions of his revival were placed on her. When she was asked when she would return. She answered after she visits the Sagittarius spirit. She needed tempering in her abilities, how to redirect her anger, her alignment had shifted in that fight to a little more chaotic than her neutral state. 

She’d have to summon G’raha when she returned. Any explanation she should give him, is best from herself. She didn’t need her loved ones apologizing on her behalf for losing herself.

Kivera ruffles the hair of Silvara, the sphinx raises her head to eye her.

“Tell me of a riddle.” Kivera asks her, and Silvara thinks about it.

“You are planning to see him?” A nod and she stretches herself across the reaper’s body.

“No.” Kivera snaps her attention to her.

“Why?” She was being denied entry.

“You know what must be done. A riddle nor Chiron will give you more answer than what you already know.” Silvara feels Kivera stir underneath her, and only presses down, grateful for her lion like body having some weight to pin the angel down.

“And what is that answer?!” She is met with a smirk.

“That would give away the answer.” Kivera tries to slip out from her grasp. Silvara keeps her there. Not inclined to move off and lets her frustrated curses be sound in her ears.

“Maledetto!!!!!” 

“Silenzio!” Silvara chirps back taunting her. Kivera blinks, and resigns herself.

She did know what needed to be done.

Apologies to those involved. She had let her own wrath speak for her. 

“Forgiveness right?” She says quietly.

“Bingo. Head scratches.” Silvara demands. Kivera sighs and gives the sphinx pets on her head. She won’t be allowed up unless she does.

“Don’t eat my books again in my absence.” Kivera reminds her.

“They were ones that you wouldn’t miss!”

“Silvara! Don’t eat my books! Eat Chirons! He has more than me.” Silvara gets off of her finally, and lets the reaper up.

“You’re going back right?” Silvara takes over Kivera’s spot.

“I need to. I did some things I shouldn’t have, and there is a few who miss me already.”

“Divinity always did worry when you up and leave. Even in Paradise.”

“I have a role to do, and I must see it through.” Kivera starts towards a mirror, to head back to the world she ran away from in pain.

“Don’t burn people too much again.”

“Aww... that is my specialty.” Kivera sees the grin on the sphinx, then promptly curls her wings around herself.

Kivera enters through her mirror, she had some atonements to make.

~~~~~

Translation note -

“Damn you!”

“Silence.”

[jade4813]

Like Moths to a Flame, Chapter 7

Fandom: North and South

Title: Like Moths to a Flame

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: John/Margaret

Synopsis: “I hope you realize that any foolish passion for you on my part is entirely over.“ Margaret decides to confront John about his unjust judgment of her character, but the two have always been drawn to each other, and things quickly get out of hand. In the aftermath, she agrees to marry him to satisfy propriety, but she cannot forget how ready he was to believe the worst of her. Can love survive without trust, or will the two find a way to work through the misunderstandings that have plagued their relationship from the start?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

It snowed every day leading up to John and Margaret’s wedding, the weather unseasonably cold for the season, but the morning of the ceremony dawned crisp and bright, without a cloud in the sky. Soon enough, the air would fill with dirt and smoke, eclipsing the bright sunshine, but the morning sun promised to provide the perfect day for a wedding. John would have credited the favorable weather with bestowing good fortune upon his marriage if he were superstitiously inclined, but his mind had always tended along a more pragmatic path.

Though not normally given to fits of nervous anxiety, he found himself incapable of remaining still, his hands repeatedly worrying at the folds of his cravat as he paced the length of his drawing room. The hour was early, yet, and he supposed he should turn his attention to work in the hopes it might occupy his mind until the appointed hour. However, it seemed a waste of time to even make the attempt, when he knew his mind would fail to fixate on any particular task, no matter his intentions.

Once more, his hands raised to his cravat, giving it a slight tug. This simply wouldn’t do. If he couldn’t manage to get this newly developed habit under control, he would have to replace the wrinkled fabric before heading to the church.

“You’re looking fine.” His mother’s voice drew his attention to the doorway, where she lingered to watch him with her eyes filled with maternal affection. Embarrassed that she had caught him in his preoccupation, he turned to her with a smile, forcing himself to remain still as she approached to worry at his cravat in turn.

“Well?” he teased her gently. “Will I do?”

She scoffed. “Oh, you’ll do well enough,” she replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice entirely. “Any woman of sense would be proud to stand up with you today. Maybe she will too, if she doesn’t decide she’s too high and mighty to take you after all.”

He had no worry on that account. Whatever her failings, he was certain that she would hold to her promise. “She’ll be there,” he reassured her with quiet confidence.

“Perhaps,” his mother allowed as he stepped past her to gaze out the window. The smoke had already begun to fill the sky, blotting out the sun. “I know you care for her, and for your sake, I hope she makes you happy. I only wish you could have found someone who deserved you. Someone who could love you in return.”

Though he continued to stare out the window, he no longer took in the sights as he turned his mind to contemplation of her words. “I could never expect a woman like her to love a man like me. My love for her will have to be enough,” he remarked in a soft voice. Clutching his hands behind his back, he turned to face his mother once more. “Regardless of her feelings, I’m certain she won’t do anything to dishonor our marriage.”

She wasn’t so trusting. “If she had so much honor, she’d have had more care for her reputation, and there’d be no need for you to offer her the protection of your name.” For once in no the mood to argue, he forbore to mention that Margaret would never have agreed to marry him if her reputation had remained unsullied. She had made it quite clear when he’d proposed to her before that she was too far above the likes of him. She only agreed to marry him now because she’d fallen lower in her own estimation, if not in his.

Capturing his mother’s hand, he asked, “I know of your feelings toward her, but she’s going to be my wife. I wish for my sake that you’d make an effort with her.”

She sniffed. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I hate her, but if you’re right about her, she’ll be a Thornton soon enough. I don’t have to like her to take care of my own.”

He had no cause to doubt the truth of her words. Whatever his mother’s feelings, she was fiercely protective of her family and the Thornton name. Her pride would compel her to defend the new Mrs. Thornton as staunchly as she did either of her children.

Having said her peace, his mother squeezed his hand. “Now, everything’s ready for this evening. I’ve asked Jane to prepare Miss Hale’s room, and she’ll stay behind to make sure all her things are set up properly when they arrive this afternoon.” Her own things would be taken to Fanny’s, where she would stay for the next fortnight at least, allowing the newlyweds some privacy since they wouldn’t be able to take a wedding tour until the mill’s financial difficulties were resolved.

“Separate bedrooms, Mother? I didn’t think you’d hold by those Southern traditions,” he asked in good humor.

“A proper lady like her? We wouldn’t want to frighten her with our rough Northern ways. Now come. Sit with me for a while. I won’t have you to myself much longer.”

Indeed. In a few hours, Margaret would return to this house to assume her position as its new mistress. As his wife. He took position in the chair by his mother’s side, reaching up one more time to worry the fabric of his cravat.

Across town, Margaret had awoken determined to conduct her morning walk through the cemetery. The morning breeze carried a chill that brought stinging tears to her eyes as she stood on the hilltop and looked toward the mill that would soon be her home. It would be bittersweet, to leave the house she’d shared with her parents behind. She worried about her father growing lonely in her absence, as he’d never entirely recovered from her mother’s death. But that small, dingy house had seen such sorrow in so short a time, she would never look upon it as she did her beloved Helstone, with joyful nostalgia.

When she was younger, and still wrapped in the throes of romantic sensibility, Margaret had occasionally wondered how she might feel when this day dawned. She’d always assumed she’d walk beneath the trees whose bows were as familiar to her as the rosebushes that brought such color into her life to meet her beloved at the church where she’d attended sermons from the time she was a child. There had been no question of whether she’d look upon her wedding day with eager anticipation – merely whether she’d also be overcome by such genteel flutter of nerves that were befitting an innocent young lady.

Now confronted with the reality of her upcoming nuptials, she found that she could claim to be neither. She wasn’t eager to become a bride, for although she’d always imagined she’d marry for love, her attachment to Mr Thornton was not based on such sentiment. Nor was she overset by excessive anxiety, for the course of her future had been set from the moment the news of her engagement had been made public – if it hadn’t been put on its inalterable path sooner, during her shameless display in her father’s sitting room. Though she could not yet claim the title of “Mrs Thornton,” the upcoming ceremony had more of the essence of a formality, to sanctify their union in the eyes of God. There was no purpose in fretting over that which she couldn’t change, and so Margaret faced the day with a calm pragmatism that would have scandalized her younger self.

Her emotional equanimity lasted until she returned to her house to prepare for the day ahead. She had barely mounted the first stair when she heard her father’s voice call out to her. “Margaret? Is that you?” She smiled with warm affection at his beloved countenance as he looked over the railing at her. “Come up here, will you? There’s something I want to give you.”

Dutifully, she did as he asked, though her heart plummeted when she realized his destination. She’d avoided his sitting room as much as possible, ever since that day with John, afraid that her father would somehow mystically divine her scandalous behavior the moment she stepped foot into the room. Unable to avoid doing so now, she purposefully turned her back to the table that had played such a pivotal role in that ill-conceived illicit union, desperate to avoid the memories the sight of it would evoke. Though she hoped to convey a composed demeanor, she was afraid her father would read her mortification and shame – prompted both by the act itself and her own acknowledgment that she did not regret their behavior that day as much as a proper lady should.

It had brought her to this moment, after all. It was about to make her John’s wife.

But wait. She stopped short at the thought. Surely that could be no cause for celebration. Hadn’t she already decided as much? So where had that errant thought come from now?

Pushing the inconvenience of that question aside, she asked, “Yes, Father?”

For a moment, she was afraid she might have been found out, as her father threw her a considering look, his expression grave. Her relief was immeasurable, therefore, when he said kindly, “It’s only natural to worry about the future ahead of you, but try not to fret. His ways may be different, but I’m confident he’ll give you no reason to regret becoming his wife.”

Before she could reassure him that she was of the same mind, his gaze grew distant as his thoughts drifted to the past, to happier times he had shared with his own bride. “Your mother and I…we married for love, as you know. I’m afraid I made her desperately unhappy, in those last few months of her life, but I hope that the years of joy that we shared were enough for her to never regret having married me.”

When Margaret would have protested, he cut her off. “No, it’s all right.” His eyes focusing on his daughter once more, he offered her a soft smile. “I never regretted her, at least. Whatever mistakes I’ve made in my life, loving her was never one of them.” He cleared his throat. “I worried, when I brought you to Milton, that I was taking you away from any chance that you might form a similar attachment of your own. I cannot tell you how pleased I’ve been to watch you and John fall in love, just as I once did with your mother.”

Abandoning all pretense of composure, Margaret felt her face flame bright red. “N-no, I – that is, we don’t – that’s—” she stammered, scrambling for the words that would disabuse her father of his foolish notion without divulging the secrets this room carried. Secrets he would never believe.

But perhaps she should allow him his delusion. It would only break his heart, causing him additional grief and concern on her behalf, to realize the truth of the matter. Let him think theirs would be a marriage of love, if it brought him peace.

“Mr Thornton and I would be blessed to claim half the love you and Mother shared,” she replied as honestly as she could manage.

The smile on her father’s face was worth the deceit. “Oh, I have something for you!” From his pocket, he pulled out a necklace. The delicate gold chain supported a pendant – a single pearl. It was simple and beautiful, and Margaret remembered her mother wearing it on occasion, in simpler, happier days. “I gave this to your mother at our wedding. It isn’t much, but…I think she’d want you to have it.”

Overcome by emotion, Margaret nodded and leaned up on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek. She turned, closing her eyes to avoid compounding her mortification by the sight of that table, to allow him to fasten the clasp around his neck.

“There now,” he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she turned to face him once more. “I won’t keep you. I know you have a lot to do to get ready.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing one more kiss against his cheek as she fled from the room. Taking refuge in her former bedroom, she attempted to regain her composure. Once her heart had resumed a slow, steady pace, she stared at her reflection in bemusement for a long moment.

That she and John might be in love? Whatever could have given her father that impression?

Her earlier composure notwithstanding, Margaret quailed as she approached the wide church doors on her father’s arm. Although she felt certain she’d made the right choice in deciding not to cry off the engagement, she hadn’t forgotten her earlier fear that Mr Thornton might come to resent her for binding him for life to a loveless union. That he would always endeavor to treat her with respect was certain; he was too good a man to do otherwise. But although she’d never sought his love, her heart ached at the prospect that she might need to one day reconcile herself to polite disdain as her only cold companion.

The future was uncertain, she told herself as she stepped into the serene sanctuary of the church. Her eyes locked on John’s, and the steadiness of his gaze gave her courage. He didn’t look as though he might one day come to resent her. Indeed, he looked pleased to be taking her for his bride. Their life together might not be all that he had wanted, but perhaps her fearful premonitions would never come to pass, after all.

Finding comfort in the presence of her husband-to-be, Margaret kept her attention fixed on him as she made her way to the front of the church. She hardly noticed the words of the holy ceremony, struck as she was by the handsomeness of the man by her side. He had always cut a compelling figure; even when she had believed herself to dislike him, she’d been unable to tear her eyes away from him. She’d sought him out in every room, searched for him on every street. He’d challenged her, frustrated her, even angered her, and yet she’d found herself compelled to send one last look at him over her shoulder, every time she walked away.

Now, dressed in his Sunday best, it was enough to make even the most sensible girl’s heart run away with her, to spark the imagination of even the most prosaic minds, inspiring an endless stream of fairy tale love stories and happily-ever-afters. She watched him out of the corner of her eye throughout the ceremony, silently cataloguing every expression that crossed his countenance, her heart racing anew at each subtle gesture and movement.

Was every bride so fanciful and foolish at her wedding? It seemed only right that one should be so, the recognition of this fact sufficient to soothe any alarm that might otherwise overtake her at the realization of his effect upon her.

When it came time to exchange their vows, Margaret found her voice surprisingly calm and firm, her words carrying over the congregation with confident authority. To her astonishment, it was her groom, typically so self-assured, who gave in to a slight display of nervous excitement, at first attempting to slip her wedding band upon the wrong hand. The crowd tittered in indulgent humor as she offered him a gentle correction, guiding him to the correct appendage, and the wedding ceremony concluded without further incident. His lips pressed upon hers, the embrace properly chaste for the occasion, and it was done.

In the eyes of the law and of the church, Miss Margaret Hale was no more. She was bound to him for all eternity as his wife. Mrs John Thornton. Margaret Thornton.

He slipped his hand in hers as they faced the congregation, and her gaze roamed the crowd, searching for familiar faces. So few of her own friends and family had been able to attend the ceremony – her party consisted primarily of her father, the Higgins family, and Mr Bell. Still, Nicholas offered her an encouraging smile when their eyes met, his own aglow with mischievous happiness, and she was warmed by both his presence and genuine affection. Though he had once held her fiancé – no, her husband, she reminded herself sternly – in a sort of contemptuous distrust, she understood the two men had formed a sort of understanding, gaining mutual respect as they worked together to address some of the more pressing needs of the millworkers under Mr Thornton’s care.

They left the church in a flurry of well-wishes and stood outside to greet their guests in turn. As Margaret accepted Mary’s congratulations, drawing the younger girl in for a brief embrace, she saw her new mother-in-law (was she to refer to her as “Mother Thornton” from now on? What a terrifying thought!) approach, remaining nearby until the last of the guests had trickled through the church doors. At first, she thought perhaps the older woman remained close to ensure Margaret did nothing to discredit herself or her new family, but she was amazed to realize that her mother-in-law did so in a tacit show of support for the new couple, silently conveying her approval of the newest member of her family – an approval Margaret had more than sufficient cause to understand wasn’t genuine, but was appreciated nonetheless.

Still struck by this unanticipated extension of familial loyalty on her behalf, Margaret found herself compelled to speak of it to her husband upon finding herself alone with him in the carriage on the way to the wedding breakfast. “Is your mother feeling entirely herself today?” she asked teasingly as she resisted the temptation to relax into his arms for the duration of the drive. “I could swear she wanted everyone to believe she approves of our marriage, when I can’t believe her opinion of me has changed so dramatically.”

Reaching for her hand, he covered it in his own, his fingers absently stroking against hers as he remarked, “You’re a Thornton now. Whatever her private reservations, my mother would never discredit our name by speaking publicly against any member of our family.” After a moment’s pause, he ventured in a grave voice, “I know you’ve had your disagreements, but would you make an effort with her? It would mean a great deal to me if the two of you could come to an understanding.”

“Of course,” she agreed readily, though she knew it was easier said than accomplished. Leaning in slightly until her shoulder pressed against his, she lifted one hand to cup his cheek, marveling at the newfound freedom to do so without the risk of public embarrassment or ridicule if they were seen exchanging such a tender gesture. “You’re a fortunate man, you know. Your mother loves you very much.”

“As your mother loved you, I’m sure. And as she would have loved a son, if she’d had one,” he agreed readily. It was her opportunity to explain the truth of that scene he’d witnessed in the train station. She even opened her mouth to do so – to divulge the truth that her parents did have a son, but he was currently (and perhaps forever) separated from them by fear of an unjust punishment accorded to him for his role in a morally just mutiny. But she found she could not. If she told him the truth, she had no doubt that he would forgive her readily, but then she would never know if his trust in her would have ever overcome his pride. And though she couldn’t explain why, it had become increasingly important that he not just treat her with honor. She needed to know that this man – John, her husband – believed in her.

Heedless of her mental preoccupation, he continued, “It’s true. I am fortunate in her love.” The carriage had slowed, and his gaze drifted out the window as he mused to himself in a voice almost too soft for her to hear, “She’s the only one who truly cares for me.”

The carriage rocked to a halt, but Margaret refused to release his hand, giving it a slight tug when he would have pulled away. “Surely you don’t mean that!” she protested hotly. Sadly, before he could reply, the carriage door opened, and the newlyweds were swept into such celebratory revelry of their nuptials that drove all thoughts of his softly spoken declaration from her thoughts.

The remainder of the day passed in a blur, leaving Margaret exhausted as they returned to the house that she would now call home. Resting her head against her husband’s shoulder, she allowed her thoughts to drift, lulled to a state of hazy consciousness by the rhythmic rocking of the carriage. She was only brought back to herself when the carriage came to a halt and she felt the soft press of a kiss against the top of her head.

Her eyes fluttering open, she flushed in embarrassment, but John didn’t appear to notice her discomposure. Instead, he stepped out of the carriage before reaching inside to help Margaret onto her feet. To her surprise, however, he didn’t escort her down the carriage step. Instead, he lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her to the front door. When she let out a tiny gasp of surprise at her sudden weightlessness, he smiled down at her, his eyes glinting with tender affection. “Come now, Mrs Thornton. Surely it’s tradition to carry the bride across the threshold in the South, as well?”

She nodded, too struck by the strength of his arms to reply. He carried her as though she weighed nothing, and she closed her eyes as she marveled at the play of muscles against her side as he moved. She found herself struggling against disappointment when he ducked through the front door and placed her gently back onto her feet.

His voice embraced her like a caress as he pressed a kiss against her lips. “Welcome home, Mrs Thornton.”

[everly-kindred]

Eve’s Diary - Entry #91

Date: 14th of February, 2028

Dear Diary, 

Well! It has been a very eventful couple of weeks leading to Valentines, and most of it is good! Honestly, I’m so excited for spring. I’m ready for the snow and ice to go away, and I’ve come to realise that aside from Halloween, Valentines might be my favourite holiday. I mean, I love all of them but, yeah. 

So I tried this potion called essence of euphoria for the first time, with Ruby. I bought some last Hogsmeade Weekend. Ruby and I played some question games, and it was really silly. It made me feel very… light and soft. Like I had sunshine in my belly, which, the potion is all sunshine yellow, so that makes sense. And Ruby kept saying all these things, calling me pretty and stuff. It was a good memory, I think. I want to buy more from Hogsmeade, but I have to save my allowance a little. 

I got to talk to Aures a little, and I met some other Gryffindors - one named Andie, the other named Candice. Candice seems nice, and I offered to help her with herbology homework because she was struggling with aconite. Andie is… lively. And energetic, but… I’ve heard her say some mean things to Jamie, so I’m not sure how to feel about her. Ressy likes her though, so… I dunno. 

In Potions Theory, we got to talk about Love Potions which I guess is something we do every year around this time of year. Not that I’m complaining, I have that subject matter practically memorised. I love the idea of love potions! Or maybe I just love love. Anyways, we got to smell amortentia again. I smelled chocolate chip cookies, and firewood like the smoke from campfires and fireplaces, and honeysuckle, which made me really wish it was spring again. I wish I could wear amortentia as a perfume. I wonder if you could actually do that? And then you’d smell like whatever attracts other people. I wouldn’t want that kind of attention, though, I’d want to just smell it for myself, you know? 

Jamie found me in the art room when I was painting some stuff I had seen from the vision. We talked about it for a long time. I learned some things about the vision I hadn’t known, and so did they, because we both focused on different things when we were seeing it. It’s so strange to share that exact memory with someone else, but, it’s also kind of cool, and comforting. Jamie told me that they’re dating Ressy now, and I thought I’d be jealous, but… I think it’s sort of good? I know Ressy has always wanted other friends, and I do too, so it sort of feels like even though we’re kind of growing in different directions right now, it means it’ll be better to grow together later. Like, become our own people rather than being isolated together, I guess. 

Cupid’s Corner and the rose grams came back again. I got one rose from Jamie, and it was a new friend rose. I’m going to hang it from the poster frame of my bed so that it dries in a good shape, and then I’ll keep it forever. And then I put in Cupid’s Corner messages for a few people, but not as much as I did last year or that I would’ve liked to, and I didn’t send any roses at all. I guess I felt really tired and lazy. Maybe a bit sad and homesick? Like, I’m all pent up, and I keep dreaming of just getting on my broom and flying away for a little bit, having an adventure. 

In Divinations, we did divination with cats! I was very glad to not have brought Puck to this lesson, because he doesn’t really get along with other cats. Like, he doesn’t mind them, but if he gets frustrated or wants to go outside, he’ll bother them. Anyways, I got to divine with this orange cat, the tag said Sir Pounce de Leon, but if he were my cat, I’d have named him Goose or Cashmere. I love his name, anyways. And I ended up staying in the room way after everyone else had left, because he fell asleep in my lap and it seemed like it was against the law to move. 

We did the flutterby bush class again, which I always love, and then it was time to prepare for the Hearty Party. Mum sent me this dress I had from a few years ago, but she’d used magic to colour it, and my granny tailored it to fit me better since I’ve grown a little. And then she gave me this sparkly undershirt thingy to wear with it, and a big pink ribbon. Oh, and this piece of costume jewelry that’s like a big opal to wear as a necklace. Honestly, this was probably my favourite outfit I’ve ever worn, and I didn’t really wanna take it off. I just love love! And love themes! And for the party, I coloured the ends of my hair red and then braided it and tied it up.

The Hearty Party this year was pretty cool. The theme was Medusa and Athena, which I thought was interesting. I heard they’ve done greek themes for years now. They apparently did Poseidon at one point, and there was sushi and stuff and it was all underwater themed, and I wish I could have seen it! I ate berry flavoured cheesecake and fruit lemonade, and then I ended up leaving early because there was so many people in there and so much going on, that I got a little overwhelmed. 

I ran into Casey, also. He’d gotten into some sort of fight with Peach and she stormed off, and Andie and this Slytherin girl Alexandra teased him. He seemed really upset, so I stopped him and told him if he needed to talk to a friend, or anything like that, I’m here. He went to the common rooms and I haven’t seen him since, but it’s only been a day so… I just hope he’s okay and has friends to talk to if he needs it. 

And then this is where it gets… interesting? Weird? Bobby found me in the clocktower. I was playing exploding snap by myself, so we started talking and were gonna play some games, but then a bunch of older students showed up, so he picked me up and carried me to this secret room behind a painting! I don’t think I’ve been carried since I was little, and even then it was by my parents! 

Anyways, we started to play the game. We talked about favourite holidays, worst things we’ve ever done. We talked about what we thought about marriage and family, like, when we’re older. He says he wants to have a yacht which is like a big fancy rich people boat, and I told him I want to travel in a van or even a caravan and sometimes by broom, like, see the world? 

But then we started talking about crushes, and he told me that Talula had talked to him about me and that she thought I might like him, which, she’s not wrong. And I told Bobby that I did like him, and Ruby, too, and he told me he liked me back! And he kissed me on the cheek! But then, he asked if we were supposed to kiss or something, and… And I got so nervous that I just kissed him on the cheek and ran away! 

I had told him I didn’t want to make things weird with out friendship, but, I also kind of don’t want to let this go. I don’t really know what to do. Bobby is one of my closest friends, it’d wreck me if I lost him for some reason or another, but, maybe I’m overthinking it? I need to ask Marigold or Talula or someone for their thoughts. Someone older, with some experience. Though, Talula did talk about Chadwick apparently being a knob, so… I dunno. 

My brain is all kinds of confused, now. But, we’ll figure it out. I’m sure it’ll all be okay. So! Until then.

Much love, Everly

[ Eve’s Wiki Page ] 

[ Flickr ] 

[crqstalite]

in autumn.

OCtober prompt ‘autumn’.  yes! i am four days late as of publishing this 10.4.2020 at one in the morning but i digress. the prompt wouldn’t leave me alone, so here it is lol. just a fluff piece about a bit of reflection and one cold elf girlfriend.

ship: marzeyna lavellan/cullen rutherford word count: 2,060

-

Skyhold in autumn.

Creators, it was beautiful. 

Or at least, Marzeyna thought so. Sure, she’d experienced it year after year with Clan Lavellan in the Free Marches, but it made her smile at the fortress they’d moved into earlier this year. The shades of red and orange and the hues of yellow that had slowly taken over the trees as the year wore on, she couldn’t think of any other place that she’d want to be. Other than back in Wycome to assist with rebuilding, sure, but she was happy enough to wander the place on an off day.

Of course, nothing ever just lasted forever did it? She’d also be ripped away from it in favor of visiting Halamshiral -- damned place within the next few weeks to prevent an assassination. Beyond the fact she would be the first of her living Clan to be there in their lifetimes, she would also have to endure nobles.

Plenty of human nobles. With all their fancy dresses, and all their fancy wines and the Games they liked to play with the people who attended the event, and their distaste for elves.

To say the least, she wasn’t particularly excited. 

Evidence of their impending trip being the overly complicated ‘art’ Vivienne had done to her hair earlier this afternoon. She trusted the woman with anything and everything presentation (the dress she’d commissioned from Val Royeaux was nothing short of show-stopping, something Marzeyna would have to get used to the idea of but was still drooling over hours later), but she’s still picking the glitzy pins out of her hair nearly three hours after the afternoon spent bathing in the cooling sun in Vivienne’s loft. Relaxing, sure. She rarely had time to talk about the mundane with anyone.

By the time they got back from Orlais, chances are the snow would start to set in and it’d be Haven all over again. No more crunching leaves under boots or the off-chance she’d see a stray cat lounging on a window sill, just the freezing cold (well, more than usual at least) starting to set in to her bones and making her grateful she could get out of the mountains.

Then again, there’s also the impending doom of Corypheus.

But for now, she could enjoy the cool and crisp air whipping around the battlements, playing with her hair like flames fanned by the wind. She loves it, and there haven’t been enough moments as of late to take solace in what she likes. For the first time in weeks she’s actually sat down in her own desk, and for the first time in other weeks, she’s sat down with Josephine to go through every diplomatic issue she’d missed since she set out for the Arbor Wilds.

(They could not pay her enough to do that again, Inquisitor or not she did not have the attention span or willpower. There are still stacks of reports left for another date in her quarters. Under a paperweight, because she hasn’t gotten enough of the beautiful autumn breeze and has left the windows open. If a few blew away, well, nobody would be any the wiser.)

A door clicks open on her left, and she turns from scenic view of the snowy valley, pushing another rogue curl behind her ear and blowing another out of her face. Marzeyna had come up to the battlements mostly just to walk, but also to pull another diligent person away from his work, as she typically did whenever she was back in Skyhold. She smiles to herself anyway, as annoying as the rest of the world could be, at least she still had Cullen Rutherford by her side.

As tired as both of them have been as of late, it is still good to see him. Since they’d been decidedly moving further and further out from Skyhold, the more and more he had to deploy soldiers and the like. Another thing that not even Varric could pay her enough to do -- that wasn’t her favorite thing to do and she was not interested in learning.

“Long day?” She asks, leaning against the half wall while he runs a hand through his hair, “Looked like you could use a break.”

“I could, yes. Though--”

“Though nothing. Look how nice of a day it is out, it’s already autumn here.” Marzeyna replies, grinning.

That pulls a smile out of him, “That it is. I’d assume you like the change in weather?”

“Well, it’s no longer sweltering but it’s not freezing just yet either. Like a lull in the storm,” A leaf flutters up from one of the trees in the courtyard, dancing in the wind before disappearing back down the wall, “Relish in this, I’m sure we’ll come back to snow by the time Orlais has had it’s way with us.”

She nearly pouts at the smirk he gives her, mildly offended he’s taking amusement in her dislike of the coming snowfall, “Then the Inquisitor isn’t a fan of the winter months?”

“Just because you have the fluffy mantle and heavy armor doesn’t mean the rest of us can compensate nearly as easily,” She teases, just barely holding herself back from crossing her arms, “It gets so cold at night, there’s no using a fireplace to offset it.”

“Didn’t Josephine requisition more of the down blankets?” Genuine concern, that was sweet the way he asked.

“She did. But it’s also been weeks since I’ve been back in Skyhold. I got used to the warmth in the Wilds and the Plains,” She pulls at her overcoat as if to wrap it tighter around her. It wasn’t like she could drag them around the fortress either, collecting dirt and who knew what else on the tail of it. She really needed to find a proper coat that didn’t hinder her magic if she intended to make it through the winter, “It’s not a fair comparison.”

“Isn’t it?” Her look must be that sour that it’s at least amusing, “Fine then.”

Marzeyna pauses again, letting them bask in the quiet for a bit, admiring the changing colors of the leaves and wind blustering around them. It’s been nothing but fighting Venatori for the last few weeks, that and the undead and whatever giants they can imagine. No more running for now, and she’s not kept to Cassandra, Blackwall and Dorian for company anymore (not that she doesn’t adore them, but...well). It’s good to just sit and acknowledge how much they’ve gotten done, how much things have changed. 

Cullen looks at peace at least, a far improvement from how he’d been just before she left the last time. He notices her smiling directly at him, and visibly flushes.

“I did...miss you,” She offers, pointedly looking up at him. She pulls her hair over her shoulder, standing properly again, “Were things okay while I was gone?”

He knows what she’s referring to -- more withdrawal symptoms, “Not as many, no. A minor improvement, I assure you. You needn’t worry.”

“I will worry regardless, Cullen, I don’t want you in pain,” Another pause, “But...that is good to hear.”

“Most likely only because you pushed to keep me off of it.”

“That was all you, and you know it. I can’t fight that battle for you, but you’re still winning it.” She offers. That much was true, she may have been another opinion in the situation, but he was recovering, little by little.

He sighs, glancing out to the horizon for just a moment, “Yes. I suppose you’re right, and I thank you for the strength to go on.”

“I do what I can,” She steps closer, gauging his reaction, “And yet? No one can quite replace you, as I’m finding. I was wanting to be back sooner than this -- letters are just not the same. Surely you understand?”

“As much as you love to write them.” He responds, surely referring to her inability to write the shorter reports than the others of the Inquisition are capable of. She likes to go on and on and doesn’t even realize it until she’s run out of parchment paper. Usually she only has enough room to squeeze in her own name at the bottom of the page in the loopiest handwriting.

“You read them?” She asks, surprised, and maybe a tad embarassed now -- considering they aren’t always the most academic. She would’ve thought they’d go directly to Leliana, considering just how much sneaking around they’ve done as of late, “I thought you were only getting the shorter ones.”

“The ones you send to me directly?” He smiles to himself, “Yes, I read those as well.”

An arm snakes around her waist, careful, tentative as she goes on, gently leaning into the touch and placing her hands on his chestplate, “You know it’s almost been a year, Cullen. Since all of this started, and now we’re here. Could you have imagined we got all of this done in such a short time?”

“It has been an experience, yes. Demons, Venatori, among other things. I don’t believe my past experiences would’ve prepared me exactly for that.” He responds, only slightly flinching when she leans her head against his chest.

“You’re telling me there wasn’t anything on what to do if demons started falling out the sky in the Templar instruction book?” She’s got such a stupid grin on her face again, but he chuckles anyway at her joke, “I’m surprised, they really didn’t teach you enough to be effective.”

“I don’t believe such a manual exists, but should you wish it, I’ll write one and distribute it to our Templar allies,” And now she’s chuckling herself, as halfway serious as he sounds. 

Oh why does she care for him so? A mage and a Templar, for Creators’ sake.

The humans’ Maker is probably throwing some sort of fit right now, wherever up in the sky He is.

“I’m serious though, Cullen. It seems like just yesterday Cassandra was content to yank me out of the chantry’s dungeon to force me to answer for the Divine’s death,” That was one downside to the mostly...interesting memories, “And here we are, such an international power that we’re being invited to make an appearance at the Winter Palace.”

“Believe me, I am aware,” He muses, “You’re a very capable leader, Lavellan.”

“I didn’t do half of this -- you know the Inquisition would simply fall apart if any of you just walked away,” She rolls her eyes, sighing, “I just close the rifts with the glowing hand, not much else.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “You act as if this isn’t a result of your determination to save the world. It is. I would say you’re doing an admirable job.”

She highly doubts she would get the same flood of affection with anyone else, or that anyone else’s compliment would feel nearly as genuine as his does.

“Thank you, Cullen. We made it to Kingsway, I can’t say anything else about the rest of the year though. That’s decidedly still up in the air.”

Marzeyna feels distinctly...tingly. The good kind, like just before her magic would flare again during a fight, except the fight or flight response doesn’t accompany it. She’s just undeniably happy, and if anything arcane flickers under her fingertips, she doesn’t notice. Her ears are twitching though, probably moreso than usual when he presses a tentative kiss to her forehead.

It was much too pretty a day out, but she was content to rest her for just a moment, letting the world continue on. 

The wind gusts around them again, and she shivers, audibly chilled by the cold and trying to press herself further into his embrace, the fur of his mantle tickling her cheek, “It’s much too cold out here.” Marzeyna barely keeps the whine out of her voice, she wasn’t a child, but she also didn’t feel as if she had to hide the fact she was having no fun dealing with the change in seasons from him either.

“Would you like to go inside then? You...could come and sit for while, there isn’t much work to be done this evening.” He offers.

“I...would like that. As long as you don’t want me reading any reports,” She makes a face, “I would be happy to spend the evening in your presence.”

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 165: Flight Range

 Kass caught me heading out for the Flight Range. I can only hold on to my paraglider for so long, and I certainly can’t carry Bossa Nova while using the paraglider so Kass offered to show me to the Flight Range. Harth appeared, saying that probably wouldn’t be a good idea for Kass but Kass told him it would be fine, and to keep resting, he really shouldn’t have been working while still injured. Harth said if he wasn’t looking out for the three of us, no one will. Not everyone likes stubborn individuals like us after all. He passed Kass a bow, telling him to just pay him later and leave the rupees on the work desk in his shop. Kass thanked him, but Harth said to thank him by coming back alive with Teba.

There were several shrines on the way to the Flight Range, all of which I had completed. I asked Kass about Rivali’s legacy, what was he known for, if he had any descendants. As far as he knew Rivali didn’t have any descendants and as for a legacy, him being known as the Champion, his Landing and the Flight Range. Not much as for as he knew, not even a song. Kass realized that even having grown up there he didn’t know much about the guy. He was going to have to dig deep to find anything he could transform into a song. Kass hoped he could find something I could like.

There were many bushels of spicy peppers, so we made some more elixirs for Bossa Nova. Although I’m still a little worried about bring him onto mountains with snow so we left him back in the village for now. Besides, I don’t think we could have taken him even if we wanted too, the girls refuse to leave him alone.

The flight range is a great updraft in a large hole. There’s a pillar in the middle, on the walls and pillar are targets. Next to the updraft is a little building with some bows, bow maintenance matterials and repair equipment as well as supplies and a cooking pot.

Teba was sitting by the edge of the jumping off dock, point, thing, repairing his bow when he spotted me. He looked rather tired. After a few moments he told me that he didn’t know me, and that he was busy so I should go. Then he went back to his repair work. His feathers are white like the snow.

Before I could speak Kass called out to him. Teba just kept his back to us then asked what Kass could possibly want. I told him that we want to fight the Divine Beast and stop it’s rampage. Right when my words were done an arrow zipped past me, landing in the middle of a far-off target. Kass shot it. Teba looked to us and stood from his perch. He was confused. Kass wants to fight now when before he just ran off abandoning his wife and children for a dead man in such dangerous times only to return with some random hylian and both want to help him defeat Vah Medoh. He wasn’t going to believe that. Kass said his leaving was to protect his family, not only his wife and children but his master was his family too, helping his master fulfill his final wishes was going to help save Hyrule. Teba didn’t believe playing those songs for anyone but the Champions would help anyone, they’re all dead so it’s meaningless. Aside from that Kass’ master is dead while his wife and children are very much alive and can’t fight for themselves, he should have stayed to protect them, they need him more. Kass said he was protecting them by doing his part to save Hyrule’s future, he’s helping me, his capable friend get stronger, a person who could possibly end all this, someone with potential that far surpasses his own and Teba’s. Kass said he was satisfied sitting on the side lines and knows when he’s not powerful enough, unlike Teba who keeps insisting on fighting even when it’s impossible to win. He then spoke of how scared and worried he is making Saki and Tulin. Teba said he was actually trying and not leaving the work to someone else to pick up for him. Vah Medoh is a threat to his family and he was not going to ever sit idly by if his loved ones were in danger. Even if he’s not as powerful as others he didn’t care, he was going to keep fighting, it’s the only possible way to protect them. He said of all people Kass should be fighting, he didn’t care that Kass much preferred playing his music to fighting, Kass could do whatever he wanted, but he should place the needs of his family over his own wants. Even when Kass was under the tutelage of his master, he was still a great warrior, he said Kass needed to put his training to good use. He never should have left. His family, Teba, and everyone else desperately needed him, especially with so many warriors dead now, there’s not enough hunters to feed everyone. People used to respect him and would have followed his lead. Of all people to leave Kass should have been the last. Everyone needs him too much. Even if he’s here now, they needed him earlier.

Kass just sighed, the past is in the past, we can’t change it, only the present and future and he was here now, so is Teba, and I. Teba took a moment to cool off, apologized to me for having seen that. He was glad that at least we weren’t here to stop him unlike so many others who had tried to do so before.

Teba however wasn’t going to trust us just because of that, we needed to prove we could fight well in the air with a bow. First Kass and I shot many targets in a limited amount of time, then Teba gave us another tests. Go hunting. All three of us did so…

I didn’t even think about it before, it just felt so natural sharing ingredients, I didn’t even give a second thought as to why Amali needed my ingredients. She only had a few items in the pantry so I gave her some of the things I had in Bossa Nova’s saddle bags.

We got a lot, so much we couldn’t carry it all and had to take several trips to get it back to the village. Kass asked if Teba would return to the village with us. Teba wanted to get in more training. He told us to prepare, get as many arrows as we could along with some sleep, we were to plan and head out for battle at sunrise. After getting all the food back, having dinner and collecting arrows I returned to the Flight Range. Teba looked at me surprised for a moment before returning to training. After a while we started fighting each other, showing one another our respective archery techniques.

Once he noticed the sun should be rising soon, I stopped so I can write down my memories. Teba is taking a rest too, having a quick power nap before Kass arrives. Perhaps even after Vah Medoh is appeased, maybe Teba will train with me some more. I learned a lot from him in just this one night.

When we battled, I noticed Teba didn’t hold anything back even though it was training. He held no hesitation. Is it because he feels responsible for protecting his family because he’s the only one who can, so it’s an obligation… His views on that intrigue me. I started this journey because I was told too and nothing more, but over time, I found my own motivations. I do this because I want too, not because I’m supposedly the only one who can. What if I didn’t want to do this? I think people should be allowed to choose to do with their life what they want, but… what if you are forced into something you don’t want, but are the only one who can, are you then obligated too, or not and your own will being more important. I suppose Zelda chose duty over herself…

We talked about this for a while. Teba is very forceful about his stance, I was told he was stubborn, I guess it didn’t sink in till now. But though he stands with his beliefs he was willing to listen to my arguments. I kind of like we don’t see eye to eye, I’m learning a lot from him. He told me he was learning a lot from me too. He said I’m very skilled, that it seemed as if time stopped as I shot each arrow with such precision. Only after our debate did Teba realize that he never asked my name, he wanted to know the name of such a skilled person.

He told me he felt like he had heard my name somewhere before. He thought that surely tales of such a skilled person would have reached the village by now. I told him I’m a historian of sorts, I’m trying to learn as much about the past as I can, hoping it will help with my memory loss and so I can learn more of then so I can fight the Divine Beasts now. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and even I have heard tale of my travels from others, but none of them knew my name, just some mysterious knight guy, but maybe someone learned of it at some point. He admitted that it was hard to believe I had fought off the other Divine Beasts, but right now, Teba was going to take all the help he could get, but… I certainly had the skill to do so.

Kass should be back any moment now, perhaps I’ll see if I can fit in a quick nap too.

First Page , Previous Page , Next Page 

[kathrynalicemc]

HPHM Profile

Identity

Name: Devon Marlowe

Gender: Female

Age: 16 (year 6)

Birth Date: November 11, 1972

Species: Human

Blood Status: Muggleborn

Sexuality: Straight

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British/French dual citizenship

Residence: Born in Paris, France. Moves back to England at 10.

Languages:

Verbal (limited): French, English

Writing: French, English

Sign Language: French, English

The Mage

Wand: Fir wood, Phoenix Feather core. 11 ½”

Misc Magical Abilities: Purely non verbal magic user, Legilimens, occlumency

Boggart Form: Herself with her hands, eyes, and mouth bound. It shows her fear of having no communication with others and no voice of her own and being cut off from people.

Riddikulus Form: idk yet

Amortentia (What others smell): The smell before a rainstorm, freshly fallen snow, Ice rink, forest, French pastries

Amortentia (What she smells): Rain, citrus, cedarwood, christmas cookies

Patronus: Barn owl

Animagus: Barn owl

Patronus Memory: Baking with her mother and father together when she was little in their bakery

Dementor worst memory: Flashes of lightning in the dark. A dead body in the forest.

Mirror of Erised: Herself exactly as she is but she’s skilled and thriving, her friends by her side.

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Specialized in non verbal magic

Appearance

Faceclaim: Garriiet on Insta

Game Appearance: N/A

Height: 5’6”

Physique: Slim and unassuming but strong from figure skating

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Beige/sandy brown blonde

Skin Tone: Pale

Hair style: Long and slightly wavy when small. Currently it’s shoulder length and slightly wavy. She also sometimes straightens it or puts it up in a bun

Body Modifications: She has freckles mainly on her cheekbones

Scarring: She has Lichtenberg scars from being struck by a lightning spell when a child. The lightning scars are on her left shoulder going down her left arm and up her neck and slightly on her left cheek. They also go down across her chest a bit ending at her stomach.

Inventory: Wand, her camera and photos she’s taken of her friends, her skates, a book of divination and legilimency, a pad of paper and a quill to write down what she wants to say to people who don’t know ASL.

Hogwarts Information

House: Hufflepuff

Extra Curricular: Divination, Legilimens & Occlumency training, Ancient Runes

Hobbies: Figure Skating, Photography, writing

Professions: Journalist for the Daily Prophet 1991-1996, Runs underground newspaper during the war (1996-1998)

Relationships

Mother: Ann Marlowe

-FC: Rosamund Pike

-Muggle

-Born in Paris France

-Dies due to complications in childbirth of her son Asriel.

Father: Charles “Charlie” Marlowe

-FC: Ashley Radford

-Muggle

-Very warm and kind man

-Soft and loving

-Always cheers Devon on and supports her and cheers her up when she’s sad

-Moves to Paris from Britain to go to pastry school

-Meets Ann and they settle down and own a pastry shop

-Moves back to Britain after Ann’s death

-Possibly Bi? WIP

Brother: Asriel “Asri” Marlowe

-He is younger than Devon by 10 years

-He’s just like his father and is very warm and friendly

-Very precious

-NOT Jacob

Love Interest: Henry Mcclarnon @that-ravenpuff-witch

Background/History

Devon was born on November 11, 1972 to muggle parents Ann and Charles Marlowe. She is the first born. One day when Devon is 8, she went into the forest behind her house to play. Her favorite thing to do was to dress up as a witch and pretend she’s writing runes, brewing potions, and doing magic. Suddenly, a death eater came running out from the brush with an Auror chasing close behind. She watched as the death eater killed the auror and then feeling bold she jumped out with her play stick wand surprising the death eater who in a panic cast a lightning spell. Devon is struck and loses her hearing permanently. The spell gives her lightning scars on her shoulder, down her arm and chest, and up her neck and on her cheek on the left side of her body. The death eater runs away thinking she died but she regains consciousness after a few hours and stumbles home in a daze. She panics because she can’t hear anything but her parents calm her down and she writes down what she saw because she can’t hear herself talk or regulate her volume. Her parents go to the forest to check but there isn’t a body so they just think Devon was struck by lightning and it affected her mind along with her pretend game of witches. She learns FSL (French Sign Language) and relies on it most of the time. Being postlingually deaf, she does know how to talk but she doesn’t like to because she can’t control her volume and she doesn’t want to seem not in control. She can say things in an emergency. Devon also learns to read lips.

As she grows up, her magic starts to show itself in the form of legilimency. She starts to hear random words in her head and she is very confused until she realizes it’s not people speaking but their thoughts. She doesn’t tell this to her parents in fear they won’t believe her. When Devon is 10, her brother Asriel is born and her mother Ann dies due to complications. Soon after her family moves back to Britain to be closer to Charlie’s family. She also picks up BSL (British) along with FSL. Devon is overjoyed when her Hogwarts letter arrives when she’s 11. When she gets to Hogwarts she meets two girls called Eirlys Knell and Celia Caprice Li. The trio become instant best friends after causing some mischief together and Devon teaches them some sign. By the end of year 1, all three are fluent in BSL and use it to communicate in secret. Dumbledore also trains Devon personally in legilimens and occlumency so she can use it to know what’s happening around her. She can use it to know when someone is casting a spell at her when she isn’t looking. She struggles somewhat in year 1 with performing spells since she has to skip the verbal phase and go straight into non verbal casting which students don’t learn to do until later years.

Personality

-Quiet and reserved

-Unassuming and seems small and sweet

-Is actually strong and powerful and not to be challenged

-Warm to most people but sarcastic and mischievous to her close friends

-Like the calm before the storm

-When she gets mad she won’t show much emotion. She won’t scream or yell or cry. She’s silent in her anger

-Very emotionally strong and morally strong. She never wavers from what she knows is right or what she believes in

-She doesn’t like help and will try to do things herself

-Intimidating

-Loyal to the death

-Hardworking

-Stubborn once she puts her mind to it

-Curious

Misc

-She can speak some things in emergencies but she prefers to sign. She can write down things on paper for those who don’t know sign. If she talks, its most likely in French and limited. She was 8 when she stopped talking.

-Dumbledore knows sign, Flitwick and Mcgonagall enchant a pair of gloves to sign what they say in class. Snape is an asshole and Devon uses an enchanted quill to write down whatever Snape says so she has notes. After the first few years of dumbledore teaching her to develop legilimens she can read most of everyone's mind to know what they are saying, in combination with reading lips.

-She’s really curious about things like legilimency, divination, ancient runes, and potions which are stereotypical witch stuff. She loved to play witch when she was young and thought they weren’t real.

-Her lightning scars glow a very faint cyan/blue in the dark and have sort of barely there wisps of Magic like patronuses because they are magical scars from a spell.

-As a kid she did figure skating and she enjoys to skate on the frozen Great Lake at Hogwarts in the winter

-She also loves photography because if she can’t have auditory senses then she will focus on visual senses and see beautiful things.

-During the war she joins the Order and creates an underground newspaper to spread facts and combat the propaganda. It has no name but is referred as “The Phoenix Paper” by the readers as the only identifying mark is a rune of a Phoenix.

-She uses Eirlys’s pub as a safe house where she prints. It's guarded with all manner of enchantments and a code word to keep out death eaters. Only people trusted on the side of the Order are let in.

-Devon acts as a secret keeper to the location of where the newspapers are printed (the pub) and the symbol of the paper itself which lets people see the words on the parchment. Since she only signs, it's harder for people to get the information from her. It would need to be written down or someone would have to understand BSL which would infuriate the death eaters as they would require time to find a translator.

-Her code name during the war that she uses as a disguise is “Ruby”, after the red cows sometimes referred to as a “Devon Ruby”. She uses this as her authors signature in the Paper and the occasional times she has a segment on Potterwatch.

[lux-i-fer]

Holiday Weekend at Penny's

Ao3 link

Synopsis: After four peaceful Christmases in a row, Christmas number five might just be Lucifer's match. Between Penelope Decker's new beau and a gift for Chloe burning a hole in his pocket, he's not entirely sure he'll make it back to LA alive.

Rating: G

Notes: Sequel to Moonlighting and Moonlighting. (STANDALONE FIC. FIRST PART IS NOT REQUIRED READING). I bet this was a sequel you never saw coming. Trust me, I didn't expect it either! Because this is in fact a sequel of a fic written during s1 this fic exists in an imaginary post-s4 timeline!

This fic is for the lovely @nightslux for the 2019 Secret Satan TDN Christmas Exchange. Merry Christmas and happy New Year darlings! Unbetaed.

When they arrived at Penelope Decker’s mountain cabin, Lucifer realized he’d never in all of his four years of visiting thanked the woman for what she’d done. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if she knew what she’d done in the first place. He was sure she had a general idea, but  Lucifer wondered if she knew that she was the catalyst that finally pushed him and Chloe together. Lucifer hummed and fiddled with the gift for Chloe he’d stashed in his pocket. The memories of their first night at the cabin clouded his thoughts. He could still taste the wine on her tongue and feel her hands cupping his face.

“What’s put you into such a good mood?” Chloe asked, shifting the car into park. “You’re usually grumpy on Christmas.”

“Yes, well you would be too if your Father so blatantly chose favorites,” Lucifer replied, all residual happiness of the memory fading away. “It’s not as if my half brother’s ego isn’t inflated enough already.” He looked away flustered and knowing that that wasn’t the answer she was fishing for. “Apologies, Detective,” he continued after clearing his throat. “I was simply thinking about our first Christmas with dear Penelope.” At that, Chloe offered him a gentle smile and leaned across the center console to give him a peck on the lips.

“Are you guys done being gross now? I want to get out and play in the snow.” Beatrice called from the back seat. Lucifer pulled away and caught a glimpse of her hands covering her eyes in the rear view mirror.

Chloe rolled her eyes and killed the engine. “Yeah, Monkey, we are. Help us unload the car and then you can go play.” Beatrice was out of the car and popping the trunk before she could say another word. 

Lucifer followed, anxious to get out of the cold despite the overcoat he’d bought specifically for this occasion. Even with his elevated body temperature, Lucifer avoided the cold as much as possible. But alas, Penelope insisted on having snow on Christmas, so here they all were, standing around in near-freezing temps for the sake of tradition. He buttoned up his coat begrudgingly and started helping unload the car. As he handed Chloe her garbage bag full of presents, he heard the sound of another car coming up the drive. Then a moment later, he heard said car’s door slam. He turned around just in time for Penelope Decker to wrap him up in a sideways embrace. The force of her crashing into him would have been enough to knock the breath out of any other human, but Lucifer managed to hold steady.

“Lucifer!” She kissed both of his cheeks. “Look at you; it’s so great to see you!” 

Lucifer returned the gesture. “Penelope! Always a pleasure to see you as well. You’re looking lovely as usual.” 

She preened at his complement and looked around. “Now where’s my daughter?”  

“She was right behind me...” Lucifer’s trailed off when he didn’t see Chloe beside him. Where had she gone? He finally spotted her, giving the bag of gifts to Beatrice by the front door. “Ah, there she is.” Penelope followed his gaze and ran off with her arms open wide for another bone-crushing embrace. Lucifer returned his attention to the car Penelope had arrived in and saw Dan crawling out of the driver’s seat (according to Chloe, Penelope was a horrid driver in the snow) and a man he didn’t recognize beginning to grab bags out of the back seat. 

Penelope reappeared by his side with Chloe in tow. “Lucifer, Chloe, come meet my boyfriend, Jeff.” She gestured to the man Lucifer didn’t recognize.

“Jeff?” he repeated under his breath. None of the Decker women had mentioned Penelope was bringing a guest. Much less a guest with a name as boring as “Jeff.”

Chloe looped her arm in his. “Just go with it.” 

Penelope was still talking when Lucifer tuned back in. “--and this is Chloe’s boyfriend, Lucifer.” 

Jeff stuck out his hand. Chloe shook it first. “Nice to meet you, Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you! Penny’s told me a lot about you,” Jeff replied enthusiastically. He turned to Lucifer. Lucifer shook his hand out of mere formality, and cringed when he seemed to refuse to let go. He didn’t remember humans’ hands being this slimy. “And nice to meet you too! Is your name really Lucifer? Like the guy who owns that nightclub? Do you mind if I call you Luce?”

Lucifer hid his immediate discomfort with his most charming smile. “Yes. Lucifer Morningstar,” he corrected subtly. “The one and only owner of Lux.”

“Damn that’s neat. I’ve been there a few times, it’s a swanky place.” Jeff finally let go of Lucifer’s hand. “Well we better get out of the cold. Penny said there’s a lot to do today.”

“There is,” Penelope agreed. “I already gave Dan the key to unlock the door so he and Trixie could get a head start while I introduced you guys to Jeff. Oh,” she turned to Jeff. “you have to meet my granddaughter!”

As if on command, Beatrice burst out of the front door, wrapped up in a giant ski jacket and pants. Lucifer flinched as she flopped into the nearest snow bank, undoubtedly jamming snow down the back of her coat. 

“Look Lucifer, I’m making a snow-you!” she shouted.

He hefted the remaining bags on his shoulders and glanced down at her flailing around in the snow. “Very nice, urchin. Except that wingspan would never support an actual angel.” Beatrice giggled and continued flapping her arms. Lucifer shook his head, bewildered.

“That’s a really good snow angel, Trix,” Penelope said as she came up behind them with Chloe and Jeff in tow. “Trix, hun, this is Nana’s friend Jeff.”

Beatrice paused her flailing to wave. “Hi!”

A blast of chilly air blew a dusting of loose snow over her, causing her to giggle even louder. Lucifer shivered as the wind crept down his collar and decided he was done with introductions and done with the cold. He moved into the cabin, leaving both behind. By the time Lucifer had returned from placing their luggage in a bedroom, Dan had taken down all of the boxes of decorations from the attic. 

“Dan, Jeff, and I are going to start dinner,” Penelope told him when he came down the stairs. “Would you and Chloe start on the tree please?”

Lucifer grinned, happy to be paired up with Chloe. “Anything you need, Penelope.” 

He found Chloe amongst the various cardboard boxes in the living room. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Lucifer took a few moments to just watch her. She was rifling through one of the boxes, pulling out ornament tins and stockings and placing them on the coffee table in the same way she would spread out evidence at the precinct. His hand unconsciously went to his pants pocket and felt around for her gift. For a moment, Lucifer thought about just giving it to her now when it was just the two of them. He took in the barren Christmas tree and the dust dancing in the late afternoon sunlight and left the box in his pocket. There would be more than enough time later, he thought to himself.

“What can I help with, darling?” Chloe whipped around, Christmas lights in hand, at the sound of his voice.

“Lucifer,” she said breathily. “You scared me.”

He shrugged and wondered into the room. “Perhaps you should put a bell on me like you’ve threatened to in the past.”

Chloe snorted. “Nope, definitely not. You’d enjoy it way too much.”

“Detective you wound me.” He placed a hand to his chest to emphasize his point.

“Here.” She handed him a tangled mass of Christmas lights. “Why don’t you start on the lights?” Lucifer frowned and opened his mouth to protest such a menial task, only for her to silence him with a cheerful smile. “You did tell my mom ‘anything she needed.’” 

“Yes, well, I anticipated dear Penelope would need help with wine pairings or mistletoe hanging not…”

“‘Inflating your half brother’s ego?”’ 

“Exactly!”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “It won’t kill your image if you untangle one strand of Christmas lights, Lucifer. Come on, put your lightbringer skills to use.” 

He scoffed, but sat down and began to do as she’d asked. Just because Lucifer was the Devil did not mean he wasn’t a gentleman. And proper gentlemen did not make a scene in front of the in-laws. “You know his birthday isn’t even in December. It’s in May,” he grumbled.

Chloe didn’t tear her eyes from the ornaments she was unboxing. “You’ve mentioned that before, babe.”

Lucifer tried not to get upset when she didn’t rise to the bait. He heaved out one last long-suffering sigh before directing his full attention to the offending ball of lights. According to Penelope, the lights hadn’t been used for a couple of years, and looking at them now, it was obvious as to why. Whoever had used them last had been careless. It was impossible to tell how long the strand actually was because the wires were so tangled together. It looked more like a mechanical tumbleweed than Christmas lights. 

By the time he’d finally untangled the lights, Beatrice had finished playing in the snow. “Did you plug the lights in to see if they worked yet?” she asked, sipping her hot chocolate on the couch next to him.

Lucifer shot her a grin. “Darling, please.” Without breaking eye contact, he reached into himself, gathered a fraction of his divine power onto his fingertips, and snapped. The divine energy ignited the lightbulbs, causing them to pulse with a soft blue light. Beatrice squealed with delight.

“Whoa! Lucifer that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen! Mom look at what Lucifer did to the lights!” Chloe looked up from where she was stringing garland around the Christmas tree. Lucifer urged the lights to glow brighter when he saw her start to smile.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” she said.

“I can’t reveal all of my tricks, now can I Detective?” Like he had with her daughter, Lucifer held Chloe’s gaze, watching the divine light dance softly on her face. He let the lights glimmer for a few seconds more and then let them fade away. 

Beatrice tapped his shoulder. “Can I plug them in for real?”

Lucifer handed her the plug, and she raced to the nearest outlet, the freshly untangled lights trailing behind her. Beatrice plugged them in, but unlike before, the lights didn’t turn on. She tried again. Nothing. Lucifer frowned.

“Oh I guess there’s a short,” Chloe said, turning back to the garland.

Almost immediately, Jeff appeared in the doorway as if the words had summoned him like some half-witted hellbeast. “Gotta short, I heard?” He began to make his way over to where Beatrice was kneeling by the outlet.

Lucifer clenched his teeth and mustered up his smoothest tone. “No need to pry yourself away from Penelope, we’re managing it just fine.” 

Jeff waved him off and moved on to fiddle with the lightbulbs. “It’s no trouble. These old strands are finicky sometimes. My uncle used to say I’ve got the magic touch when it comes to these things. I used to do this for him all the time.”

For once in his life, Lucifer was speechless. His influence really only extended to desire, but after ruling Hell for an eternity and a half, he had grown accustomed to a certain degree of respect. Hell, even his employees at Lux knew not to undermine him. It was common decency. He narrowed his eyes. Whatever game Jeff was playing, Lucifer was going to get to the bottom of it. He began sorting through the remaining strand of lights in his lap. If he was quick enough, he might be able to beat Jeff to it. However, before he could grab the next bulb, the strand flickered to life. 

Jeff let out a triumphant sound. “There we go. Told you I could get it sorted out. Some lightbringer you are amirite, Luce?” He gave him a friendly arm punch.

“It’s Lucifer,” he corrected stiffly. 

“Nah, I know. I’m just joking with you.” 

Jeff walked back in the kitchen with a spring in his step that irritated Lucifer more than he’d care to admit. There was something off about Jeff, and this time Lucifer was certain that it wasn’t just his pride talking. Only a creature with supernatural hearing could have heard their conversation over the racket of saccharine Christmas carols and Penelope cooking dinner. Whatever Jeff was, he wasn’t human. 

“Monkey, let’s put the lights on the tree,” Chloe called. Beatrice ripped the plug from the socket once more and dragged the strand over to where her mother was standing. Lucifer took a deep breath and then walked over and sidled up behind Chloe. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her in close. Chloe automatically rested her hand over his and leaned into his chest. “What’s up?” 

“Something’s not right about dear Penelope’s new chap,” he whispered close to her ear. 

She made a noise in her throat. “Are you sure you’re not just upset that he stole your thunder?” They watch Beatrice wrap the lights around the tree for a few tense moments. Lucifer stayed silent. He knew she meant it as a joke, but pride had always been one of his sins, and he couldn’t help but feel the sting of her words. Chloe squeezed his hand, as if she felt it too. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered. 

He placed a light kiss behind her ear. “I know.”

“If you really believe it, promise me you won’t make a big deal out of it. Mom seems really happy with this guy.”

Lucifer nodded. “You have my word, Detective.” 

They fell silent for another beat. “Hey,” she twisted to look up at him. “Why don’t you go see if Dan needs help with anything? Trix and I can finish up in here.”

Lucifer nodded. He gave her one last peck on the cheek and then left in search of Dan. He checked the kitchen first. Dan usually helped Penelope cook or set the table, but this time he was nowhere in sight. Instead, all he found was Penelope pulling the rolls out of the oven and Jeff stirring the vegetables. Lucifer was about to check upstairs when a voice stopped him.

“Hey-o Luce! You looking for something?” 

Lucifer suppressed the urge to correct him a third time. “Just Daniel.”

Penelope waved her serving spoon in the direction of the stairs. “Check upstairs, Lucifer sweetie.” 

It took him three tries, but Lucifer finally found Dan in the last bedroom, unloading his suitcase. He knocked gently on the open door, causing Dan to glance up from his dismal wardrobe. “Hey man. Is dinner ready?”

“Not yet. The Detective ordered me to assist you; however,” he gestured to the knit red and green monstrosity in Dan’s hand, “I don’t think you need my help recognizing what a pitiful abomination that is.”

Dan grinned with half of his normal bitterness and held up the sweater. “What, you don’t like it?” The it in question boasted several tabby cats wrapped in shimmery green tinsel with “Meow-y Christmas!” stitched in big red letters at the bottom. Lucifer shuddered. 

“Take it from your neighborhood Devil, Daniel: that sweater is a sin. And not the good kind.”

Dan threw the sweater back onto the bed with a little more force than necessary. “Yeah I figured you’d say that.” 

Lucifer wrinkled his brow at that. If he didn’t know better, he’d say that Dan was upset about something. “Why aren’t you knocking around the kitchen like every other year?” he asked instead.

“Because fucking Jeff , that’s why,” he snapped. Lucifer cringed, not such a safe question then. Dan sighed. “Sorry man. I didn’t mean for it to come out that harsh.”

So he was upset. Lucifer wished he hadn’t asked, but he’d be damned a second time if he wasn’t going to take any opportunity to gather information on Jeff. Lucifer crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway before he continued. “What did Penelope’s boytoy do to get you this riled up?” 

“Just...I don’t know.” Dan shook his head. “I always help Penny make the vegetables and then all of a sudden Jeff comes in and tells me I’m seasoning them wrong! Then he starts doing my job! And then it looks like I’m the asshole because Jeff’s so nice and who wouldn’t just accept help like that, you know?”

Lucifer cocked his head. “I’ve held my tongue for four years for the Detective’s sake, but I suppose I’ll say it now. You do season the vegetables wrong, Daniel.”

“Hey--”

“No,” Lucifer cut him off. “Listen to me. It pains me to say this, but that is beside the point. It doesn’t matter that you season food like your taste buds were seared off in a chemical spill. What matters is that for once you and I are on the same page. Jeff did the same thing to me when I was helping the Detective with the fairy lights.”

“Really?”

Lucifer nodded and lowered his voice. “And if I’m being entirely honest, I’m fairly certain he’s not who he says he is.”

Dan gestured for Lucifer to shut the door. Only when it was shut completely did he respond. “What are you saying?”

“Whoever--or whatever--Jeff is, I believe it is a front. I’ve been observing him since we arrived. Something seems off. He reminds me far too much of some of the unsavory creatures in Hell to be coincidence.”

“Jeff’s mafia?” Dan whispered fiercely. 

Lucifer blinked. “What?” He shook his head. “Daniel I said Hell, not the mob.”

Dan winked. “Yeah, gotcha. ‘ The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west,’ ‘don’t talk about Fight Club’ or whatever other bullshit.”

For a brief moment, Lucifer was sure that he and Dan had been on the same page. Now he wasn’t very confident in that conclusion. He cleared his throat. “Yes sure, whatever you say Daniel. Now, will you help me figure out what he is or not?”

“Hell yeah, why wouldn’t I help? Chloe or Penny or Trixie could be in danger.” 

Lucifer shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, there are some tests we can run to try and determine what kind of creature Jeff is. We can immediately rule out any of my celestial siblings; however, the infernal ones are sadly still on the table. As are the other run-of-the-mill supernatural creatures.”

Dan shook his head, looking a little dazed. “Dude, one day you’re going to have to explain your family to me.”

Lucifer ignored him, but not without giving him a withering glance. “Right. Anyway, we can try the normal tests: silver, holy water, the works. We’re lucky that dear Penelope still keeps real silverware.”

“Wait that stuff’s legit?” Dan asked, eyes going wide.

Lucifer wasn’t sure what “stuff” Dan was referring to. Before he could ask, there was a knock on the door.

“Hey Dan? Can I come in?” Chloe’s question was muffled by the door. Dan shouted an affirmative and the door swung open. “There you guys are,” she said when she saw Lucifer standing next to Dan. “Is everything alright?”

“Close the door,” Dan whispered. Chloe arched a brow, but did as she was asked. “Lucifer thinks he recognizes Jeff from The Life.” She shot Lucifer a look.

Lucifer held up a hand. Father help him, he wasn’t going to let Dan slander his name in front of Chloe. “ No, I said Jeff is not who he says he is. We’re doing tests to see if he’s human.”

“Lucifer,” she sighed. “I told you not to make this a big deal.”

“Daniel started it!” He jabbed a finger in his direction to make his point.

Dan batted his finger away. “Don’t throw me under the bus like that, Lucifer! You’re the one who wants to do tests!”

He scoffed. “You’re he--”

“Guys!” Chloe interjected. “Stop.” They fell silent. “Look I’m really glad you guys are getting along, but whatever this,” she gestured vaguely in their direction. “Is don’t let it ruin Christmas alright? Leave me, leave mom, and leave Trixie out of it, okay?”

Dan shook his head. “Don’t worry we’ll be careful.”

“Yes, Detective I did give you my word,” Lucifer added.

Chloe’s face softened. “Good.” She moved to wedge herself in between them, carefully wrapping an arm around each of their waists, and pulling them in close. “I love both of you so much and I’m so thankful to have both of you here,” she said quietly. 

As a testament of how far he’d come since he’d crawled out of Hell, Lucifer didn’t get upset at her statement. A few years ago, he might have been jealous of her marriage to Dan. As a matter of fact, he had been jealous of their relationship. The man he’d been then couldn’t comprehend how Chloe could break her love into so many pieces and yet still have enough left over to love him as deeply as he loved her. He was selfish then, Lucifer would admit it. He wanted to capture every ounce of her affections and keep it all for himself. But that wasn’t how it worked. Chloe loved best when she was free to give it to everyone. He always thought that revelation would drive a wedge between them, but it had only made him love her more. And it made him want to be better too.

They stood in silence for a minute, letting her words sink deep into their souls. Chloe rubbed a hand down their backs and let them go. She gave both of them a kiss on the cheek--Lucifer first, Dan second--before going to open the door. “Mom told me to tell you guys dinner is ready, so let’s get down there before they start wondering where we are.”

Lucifer sighed and straightened out his suit jacket. He took a beat to collect himself, gave a short nod to Dan, and then followed Chloe downstairs.

The start of dinner was an interesting affair, to say the least. Jeff dominated the conversation as soon as they descended the stairs, and judging by the looks Lucifer shared with Dan and Chloe, nobody was enjoying what he was saying. Niceties and plain, sterilized topics spilled from his mouth like a leaky faucet before they’d even begun to eat. Even worse yet, Jeff had insisted they say grace despite the fact that no one except maybe Daniel had set foot in a church for over a decade. As an act of defiance, Lucifer blessed Jeff’s wine while he warbled through his praises to his Father and half brother.

Lucifer caught Dan’s eye as soon as he saw Jeff go to pick up his knife. Together they watched him grab his silverware with ease, and when his skin didn’t immediately burn off Lucifer couldn’t help but deflate a little. He only deflated more when they found out that the blessed wine was a bust too. 

“This turkey is great, Mom,” Chloe said when Jeff’s mouth was full of mashed potatoes.

Penelope basked in the complement. “Thanks baby.”

“I actually suggested this great turkey recipe to Penny last week,” Jeff prattled on, mouth still half full. “I don’t think she used it tonight though.”

“Nope, sorry hun, I always use John’s recipe. He was such a great cook, and I just can’t imagine having anything else during Christmas.”

Jeff laughed. “I can assure you once you try my recipe, you’ll forget all about this one.”

Penelope’s fork screeched against her plate like a record scratch. The table went deathly silent. Lucifer could feel Chloe go still beside him, and he placed a comforting hand on her thigh. He knew Jeff’s words struck a nerve when she laced her fingers with his and squeezed hard enough for her nails to dig into his skin. Even Beatrice was looking at Jeff like he’d suddenly grown a second head.

Lucifer broke the silence. “Well I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a better turkey, dear Penelope. And that’s coming from someone who has an affinity for fine dining.”

Penelope visibly relaxed and it was as if the spell broke. The noises of silverware clicking against plates and fingernails tinging against wine glasses flooded back into the room. Chloe let go of Lucifer’s hand and flashed him a grateful smile.

“Nana do you want to hear about my project on outer space?” Beatrice asked.

“Psst. Hey Lucifer,” Dan whispered. Lucifer whipped his head towards the sound. 

He caught Dan staring at him with an odd glimmer in his eye. “Thanks for doing that, man.”

Lucifer ducked his head. “I couldn’t let him continue to smear Jonathan’s good name, now could I?”

“Still though, you didn’t have to do that.” He leaned further across the table and lowered his voice even more. “I don’t think this is working, though. Have you got anything from your tests?”

Lucifer shook his head, frustrated. “I’ve tested him for every supernatural inclination I can think of and I’m slowly coming to the conclusion that he’s just regular old wanker.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Great. Those are the worst kinds of monsters.”

“Boys?” Lucifer looked up to see Penelope and everyone else staring at them from the other end of the table. “Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine, sorry Penny. I wanted to know what Lucifer had gotten everyone for Christmas,” Dan lied smoothly. Chloe rolled her eyes at the obvious lie and took a swig from her second glass of wine.

Beatrice gasped. “What did you get me Lucifer?” 

“You’ll see, urchin,” he said in between sips of wine.

She turned her attention to Dan and made sure to bat her eyelashes for good measure. “Daddy what did Lucifer get me?” 

Dan shook his head. “You’ll see soon enough, Trix.” 

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Jeff began, picking at his food. “But how does your relationship work?”

“What do you mean Jeff honey?” Penelope asked. Her eyes darted from her boyfriend to her daughter.

“Well you’re divorced right?” He drew a line with his knife from Dan to Chloe. Chloe made a go on gesture with her own knife. “How do you manage, you know, everything between exes and then stuff like new relationships and who gets what holidays and such?”

Chloe and Dan shared a look. Chloe coughed. “Well. We just manage, I guess? Dan and I are still friends. Dan and Lucifer are friends. It was tough at first, but Dan and I actually have a better relationship now that we’re separated.”

Dan nodded his affirmation. “And for holidays we just coordinate the best we can. Not a lot has changed schedule-wise except that Trixie rotates houses every week or so.”

“It’s great! I get to have two bedrooms,” Beatrice stage whispered to Jeff.

“Whoowee, you guys are crazy!” Penelope seemed taken aback by Jeff’s outburst, but he continued talking. “I could never be civil with my ex wife. No siree, we didn’t part on good terms at all.”

“Well I am happy that you three all get along,” Penelope said quickly. “Not everybody gets to have two handsome men around the table during the holidays.”

“What about me Penny hun?” Jeff asked a little too sweetly for Lucifer’s taste.

“What about you Jeffrey?” Penelope stood and began clearing the table.

Jeff chuckled uneasily. “Nothing, nothing. I was just joking.” He swallowed thickly. “Let’s get this cleaned up so we can open presents!”

Lucifer and Dan exchanged matching smirks. Perhaps Penelope was smarter than they’d initially given her credit for. When Chloe rose to take up her plate, she bumped Lucifer’s shoulder with her hip. To anyone else it would look like an accident, but he knew she did it on purpose. He looked up at her, his smirk turning into a full blown grin when he saw her barely holding back her laughter. She squeezed his shoulder with her free hand and headed to the sink, edging Penelope away from the counter. “I’ll load the dishwasher for you, Mom. You cooked, I’ll clean up.”

“I’ll go help her,” Dan said to nobody in particular. Lucifer waved him off.

“I’ve got it, Daniel. Go make sure Beatrice doesn’t open all of her gifts before everyone else sits down.”

He smiled appreciatively and pushed in his chair. “Thanks.”

“Why don’t you go with them, Jeff?” Penelope suggested. “You can start sorting out the gifts we brought. I want to talk to Lucifer and Chloe for a minute.” 

Jeff smiled tightly. “Of course, Penny.” 

When he was finally gone, Penelope turned back to Lucifer and Chloe. “I think bringing Jeff up here was a mistake.” 

Chloe handed Lucifer a dirty glass and sighed. “It’s okay, Mom. How were you supposed to know he’d say something like that?”

She shook her head. “I should have known better.” When Lucifer saw Penelope tear up, he focused on carefully arranging the dishes on the dishwasher rack. Chloe dropped the plate she was rinsing in the sink and passed Penelope a paper napkin. She blew her nose. “Thank you for handling it, Lucifer.”

Lucifer finally meant her puffy eyes. “It was my pleasure.”

They fell into a comfortable silence while they finished putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher. Instead of going to sit down in the living room, Penelope hovered close to the sink, tapping away on her phone throughout the whole thing. When they finally made their way to the living room, Beatrice had already divided up all the presents into little piles.

“Mom and Lucifer your stuff is over there.” She directed them towards the loveseat. “And Nana your presents are here.” She pointed at the side of the couch Dan wasn’t occupying. Nobody missed that Jeff was sitting in the lone rocking chair, away from the rest of the group. Once she was satisfied with where everyone was situated, Beatrice sat in between Penelope and Dan. “Can I start now?”

“Yeah baby, go ahead,” Chloe said.

Beatrice didn’t need to be told twice. She began tearing at the wrapping paper of the nearest present. Lucifer couldn’t help the rush of pride when he realized it was his. Beatrice’s eyes went wide when she managed to get the box open. “Oh my gosh Lucifer I love it!” She held up the locket, trying to see the picture of the three of them that Lucifer had put inside. 

“What is it, babe?” Dan asked, leaning over to get a better look.

“It’s a locket!” She thrust it in his face. “Look it’s engraved!”

“‘ For Beatrice. With love, from Lucifer.”’ he read.

Penelope swooned. “Lucifer, that’s adorable!”

Lucifer felt Chloe press a kiss into his shoulder and he smiled. “You’re welcome, Beatrice.” The weight of Chloe’s gift seemed to feel heavier in his pocket when Beatrice’s smile stayed fixed on her face as she looped the locket around her neck and ripped open the next gift (a bracelet from Dan). And then she opened the next (an art kit from Chloe) and the next until there was a sea of wrapping paper blanketing the carpet and a mountain of gifts surrounding her.

“I think it’s time to move on to the adults’ gifts now,” Jeff began loudly. 

Lucifer felt his stomach twist. The little box in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole in his Armani. His heart began to pound, and if he was human Lucifer was certain he’d have been sweating bullets. He’d wanted to wait until all of the gifts had been opened, but now that it was time to begin opening his gifts he wasn’t so sure he could wait. Before he could raise his voice to request to go first, Jeff interrupted him. “Penny do you want to go first?”

Penelope set her wine down on the table. “Oh, I suppose so,” she said with faux modesty. 

Lucifer could barely remember to ohh and ahh at the right moments as Penelope tore into her gifts. It was as if his world had narrowed down to one specific gift jammed deep in his pants pocket. He fought the urge to reach in and make sure it was still there as they moved onto Jeff’s few gifts. By the time it was Dan’s turn to open his presents, Chloe was beginning to notice his nervousness.

She leaned further into his side to whisper in his ear. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing darling. Just keeping an eye on Jeff to make sure he doesn’t have any more missteps tonight.” He was sure she could tell that that wasn’t the real reason for his shaking hands, but luckily for him, she just shifted to lay her head on his shoulder in lieu of an interrogation.

“M’kay. Love you.”

“And I you, darling.” The sentence carried so much emotion behind it that Lucifer felt it burn a track up his throat.

Ten minutes later, Lucifer opened up his own gifts with mechanical efficiency. He tried to give the proper polite amount of attention to each item, but the truth was that his heart wasn’t in it. He had to get Chloe’s gift out of his pocket; the thing was consuming him from the inside out. But if Lucifer thought opening his gifts was the most difficult ten minutes of his life, watching Chloe open hers was worse. She took a painstakingly long time with each of them, marveling over their beauty or usefulness, and thanking each gifter individually. Then, finally, finally it was time.

Lucifer shifted to the edge of the loveseat, easing away from Chloe’s wine-tipsy embrace. “I actually have one last gift for the Detective,” he said, raising his voice over the holiday chatter. The room quieted and Lucifer reached for the box in his pocket. Slowly, he sunk down on his knee. He opened the box he’d been carrying around all day to reveal a glittering black-jeweled ring. He distantly heard Penelope gasp. “Detective--Chloe. I had this grand speech prepared before we came up here, but no matter how often I rewrote it, it just never felt right for this moment. So here is the abridged version. I love you darling. I might not have realized it until much, much later, but I loved you from the very moment you stepped foot into my life. You’re my best friend and dearest love, and that’s more than the man I was a decade ago could have ever anticipated having. Chloe Jane Decker will you marry me?”

Chloe stared at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. When he saw tears gather in the corners of her eyes, Lucifer felt his stomach drop. Was this the wrong time? Had he done it wrong? He stood frozen as she brought a hand to cup his cheek. She brought his face closer to hers, pulling him off his knees, and Lucifer assumed the worst. But then her face split into the most vibrant smile she’d ever given him.

“ Yes,” she breathed before pulling him into a kiss. Lucifer lost himself in a wave of relief and joy. When Chloe broke the kiss, the intimate bubble around them popped. Someone started clapping. 

“Put the ring on, I want to see it!” someone else, probably Beatrice, shouted.

Lucifer felt drunk. It took him a few seconds to steady his hands enough to take the ring from the box and slide it onto Chloe’s ring finger. A dopey smile spread across his face when he turned to face the rest of the room. Dan clapped him on the back, and Lucifer swayed on his feet. Penelope wrapped her arms around him in a hug that was even tighter than the one she’d given him earlier in the day. 

“Congrats, Lucifer!” she squealed. She held onto him for a few more seconds and then released him to do the same to Chloe. “Your father would be so happy for you, baby!”

“What about me? I’m happy for you too, Chloe!” Jeff exclaimed, putting a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. The celebration hiccuped as it had during dinner. The smile on Chloe’s face slipped, but she moved to give him a polite side hug anyways. Lucifer began to stalk towards him, eyes on the brink of flashing red, but a hand across his chest stopped him. He glanced down to see Penelope arching a brow at him.

“I’ve got this one covered, Lucifer. It’s time I stand up for myself.” She drew herself up. “Jeffrey, listen.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a very nice man, and we’ve had a fun few months, but I’m afraid I have to put a stop to this.”

Jeff gave her a vacant look. “What?”

“It’s time for you to go Jeffrey. You’ve been trying to erase John from my life ever since we started dating, and that’s just not going to fly. My family will always be more important than a country club reject. So get out of my house.”

“Huh?”

“Leave.” She shook him for emphasis. “Get your things. I called an Uber for you before we started opening presents and he’s waiting outside to take you home. I want to spend Christmas with my family.”

Jeff turned mauve. “I…”

Dan appeared at Penelope’s side. “You heard her.”

Lucifer loomed over her other shoulder, glaring down his nose at the sniveling man in front of him. Without saying another word, Jeff began collecting his things. He waded through the wrapping paper and grabbed the few gifts Penelope had given him. Then he started towards the stairs, presumably to grab his suitcase. Penelope and Dan followed him out.

“We’ll show you out the door,” Lucifer heard Penelope say. 

Lucifer was tempted to go with them, just to ensure that the job was done swiftly, but before he could go, Chloe put a hand on his arm to stop him. First he looked down at her hand proudly displaying the ring he’d picked out, and then he looked up at her beautiful face. 

“Let him go. It’s Christmas,” she said conspiringly.

“Yeah, it’s Christmas, Lucifer!” Beatrice plastered herself against his legs and gave him a hug reminiscent of Penelope’s. 

Lucifer smirked and pulled Chloe in close for another kiss. “Merry Christmas, Detective.”

“Merry Christmas, Lucifer.”

[pamphletstoinspire]

25 Quick Tips to Improve Your Confession

In Sacramental Theology there exists an all-important concept for the efficacious reception of any of the Sacraments. This is called Dispositive Grace or Grace of Disposition. What this concept means is simply this: the graces that you receive in your reception of the Sacraments are in direct proportion to the disposition of your soul at the moment of the reception of that specific Sacrament.

In the Sacraments, Jesus touches us directly, in the most personal and powerful way that we could possibly imagine.  The Church is the Mystical Body of Christ and Christ unites Himself with us through the Sacraments.

Receiving a Guest

One of the easiest analogies to understand the concept of Dispositive Grace could be the example of inviting a guest to dinner.  There is a whole gamut of ways that the guest could be received, from totally poor to excellent.  In inviting a guest, you might even forget that you invited him—pretty shabby!  Or the guest might come and the door is open, but there has been no prior preparation.  Still again, the guest might be received with a meal prepared, but all is done in a rush, in which the guest feels as if he were a burden.  Then, there might be preparation for the guest with a welcoming committee, a good meal, and great desert.

Finally, it might be such that the house was cleaned the day before, the favorite food of the guest has been prepared, the guest’s favorite music is playing in the background, and then at the end of the meal the family offers the guest a special gift that the guest really likes!  Obviously, every scenario is different.  This can be applied with respect to the concept of Dispositive Grace, most specifically to the reception of Jesus in the Eucharist. He could be received very poorly or with an excellent disposition.

Frequent Sacraments

There are two Sacraments that we should receive frequently until we die and meet the Lord—Confession and the Holy Eucharist.  In this article we would like to highlight specific ways that we can enhance the graces that we receive in the reception of the Sacrament of Confession, sometimes called Penance or Reconciliation.  The suggestions will be very short, but we hope very useful to upgrade your reception of the infinite mercy of Jesus that comes through this Sacrament.

1. Trust. We must have s limitless trust in the infinite love and mercy that comes to us through Jesus in the Sacrament of His mercy, Confession. May this prayer issue forth from our hearts time and time again: Jesus I trust in you!

2. Read Luke 15. An excellent means to prepare us to receive the Sacrament of God’s mercy is to read and meditate upon Luke 15, sometimes called the Lost and Found Chapter.

3. Parables of Mercy. In Luke 15 we encounter the lost sheep and the sheep that is found, the lost and found coin, and the lost and found son—the Prodigal Son.  Confession is being found and loved by our merciful Father.

4. Just do It. The modern phrase found on many young people’s T-shirts is Just do it!  The devil will prevent you from going to confession.  So, kick the devil in the behind and Just do it!

5. Priest-Christ. We must renew our faith that by going to confession to the priest we are really confessing to Jesus, the Eternal High Priest.

6. Biblical Truth. Recall the words that Jesus used in instituting the Sacrament of Confession, the 1st Easter Sunday night, when the Apostles were in the Upper Room.  “Receive the Holy Spirit; whose sins you forgive will be forgiven; whose sins you retain shall be retained. (Jn. 20:21-23)

7. Confess ASAP. If you have had the misfortune of falling into mortal sin, in which you have lost sanctifying grace and friendship with Jesus, do not wait, but go to Confession as soon as possible!  If your house were on fire, you would not wait. What about your soul in danger of eternal perdition, do not wait!

8. Prepare Well. As said earlier expressing the concept of Dispositive Grace, the better the preparation, the more abundant the graces.  The fault is never in the Sacrament but in the poor disposition of the recipient of the Sacrament.

9. How? Get a good booklet explaining the Ten Commandments in detail and read through it; better said, pray through it.  Jesus said to the rich young man that salvation comes through observing the Commandments.  Indeed, they are Commandments and not Suggestions!

10. Write it Down. It could be very helpful to actually write down your sins on a piece of paper; this will prevent memory-loss in the moment you go to confession. However, after confession, trash the paper and the sins.

11. Grace of True Sorrow. Of paramount importance in making a good confession is begging the Holy Spirit for the grace of true sorrow for your sins. Imperfect sorrow is called Attrition, which is Fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of Wisdom. It is also one of the seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit. Imperfect sorrow is fear of going to hell. This is enough to receive forgiveness for our sins.

12. Perfect Sorrow. However, we want to arrive at perfect sorrow. This means that we are sorry for having sinned because our sins have hurt the One who loves us so much and the One we should love in return—Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

13. Beg for the Grace.   We should beg for the grace to attain both imperfect contrition, as well as perfect contrition.  Saint Augustine put it concisely: We are all beggars before God.

14. Firm Purpose of Amendment. What necessarily flows from true and sincere contrition of sorrow for sin is a firm purpose of amendment. In concrete this means that we are ready and willing to avoid any person, place, or thing that can lead us into sin.

15. Don’t Play With Fire. In other words, we should not play with fire.  We should not walk on a slippery moral slope. We should not walk on thin ice. Often we sin because we place ourselves in harm’s way.  We must be firm in avoiding all near occasions of sin!

16. Use images.   Of great utility could be as you prepare yourself for confession, as you examine your conscience and beg for true sorrow, to pray before images that raise your mind and heart to God. Three in specific: The cross, aware that our sins nailed Jesus to the cross; Divine Mercy, so that our trust will be infinite; finally, Our Lady, to whom we pray as such: Hail Holy Queen, Mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope.

17. Pray for the Priest. On one occasion, Saint Faustina left the confessional without peace and she wondered why.  Jesus revealed to her the reason: she forgot to pray for the priest before she entered the confessional.  So pray for the priest (a Hail Mary or a prayer to the Guardian angels—theirs and yours) and the confession will flow more smoothly!

18. Qualities of a Good Confession. Jesus also revealed to Saint Faustina the three most important qualities of a good confession: transparency, humility, and obedience.  To be a good penitent, we must express our sins with great clarity.  Then we should make no excuses when we confess our sins or blame others.  Finally, we should obey what the priest tells us.

19. Start Right, Close the Door, Begin. Upon entering the confessional make sure that you close the door.  Then start with the proper formula: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.  My last confession was… (for example, a month ago).  These are my sins…

20. Stay on Topic. In that famous TV Program Dragnet, we heard those all-important words from Joe Friday:  Just the facts ma’am, just the facts.  So in confession the priest wants to hear:  Just the sins, mam, just the sins.  Cut to the quick and tell your sins; that is the essential matter for confession, and of course a true and repentant heart!

21. Acts of Contrition and Absolution. The Sacrament concludes with you, the penitent, praying with great sincerity and fervor your Act of Contrition. Then the priest imparts absolution. With the words of Absolution through the ministry of the priest, the most Precious Blood of Jesus washes your soul clean, as white as the snow!

22. An Attitude of Gratitude. Thanks the priest, as you leave thank Jesus for His infinite love and mercy that you have received in this wonderful Sacrament! Give thanks to the Lord for He is good; His mercy endures forever.

23. Penance. The last a final step of making a good confession is to carry out the penance that the priest gave you.  Once my spiritual director made a suggestion on the penance.  He said always try to do double what the confessor gives you (not that this is absolutely necessary).  However, it is a sign of good will and the sign of a really good grace of disposition.  God will bless you all the more!  God can never be outdone in generosity!

24. Healing the Wounded Heart and Soul.   The specific sacramental grace of Confession is that of Healing.  Sin wounds our soul, but Jesus heals us.  As Jesus healed the many sick and infirm in the three years of His Public life, so He continually heals us through making good confessions.  Rejoice in being healed!  Indeed, Jesus is the Wounded Healer!

25. Be An Apostle of Confession!   You have received so much peace, joy, happiness, love, and mercy through having received the Sacrament of God’s mercy, Confession, now go out and proclaim the Good News!  Bring others to this infinite Font of God’s mercy!

FR. ED BROOM, OMV

[baektempo]

Tiny Victories [2/6]

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader 

Summary: The Adventures of Baekhyun, his failing Divination classes, and his broomstick named Peanut.  

Warnings: Language 

Author’s Note: Please tell me what you think of it so far, I would love to talk to you about it :)

Saturday morning. After two hours of Quidditch practice, Baekhyun is soaked in sweat. He has a fuzzy head and nausea is clenching his insides. Chanyeol did not joke about preparing for their next match with Ravenclaw.

He groans as he flops onto his bed, towel drying his hair. He remembers the roasted chicken. Your lips—your pretty, pretty lips. The kitchens. And—fuck, the donuts. The jam donuts he was supposed to be eating with you at midnight.

He’s ready to throw himself into the Black Lake and get eaten by the Giant Squid or something.

He sits there for a few minutes. Would you still talk to him after he ditched you to sleep? And his class—Professor Sinistra is gonna hang his ass from the Astronomy tower.

A while later, Jongdae comes into their room and gives Baekhyun a funny look. “Did you not see those?”

He points at a paper bag resting on his nightstand, with a note attached to it. Baekhyun sets the towel down and picks up the paper bag.

I figured you’d stood me up when you didn’t come to eat these sugary beautiful donuts. Don’t worry, I saved you two. And don’t forget, you’re gonna buy me all the Cherry Syrup I want from Madam Puddifoot’s. ☺

Your writing is neat and scribbly. He’s unsure of the huge smiley face that you’ve drawn, it seems like a warning. Next time you ditch me, I’ll hex you—something like that.

But still, there’s a grin on his face he re-reads it again. He looks up to see Jongdae with that funny look still on his face. “What?”

“She asked you to meet at the Hogsmeade Station,” Jongdae looks at his wristwatch, “at 10 am.”

“Oh,” Baekhyun says and chews his cheek. “It’s 9:45 am.”

Jongdae shrugs, plopping onto his bed. His cat, Blossom, climbs onto the bed, purring at Jongdae and gives Baekhyun a dirty look. That cat hates him.

He wastes no time as he huffs down the stairs, running through the corridors. He even considers flying to the station with his broomstick. But none of that can do.

He sees you talking to some third years by the time he makes it to the station. Although he’s bundled up in his warmest clothes, he feels almost as a cold sweat breaks out. He just doesn’t want to disappoint you—again.

“Glad to know you could make it on time, Baekhyun,” you tease, a smile gracing your lips.

Baekhyun is caught off guard as he puffs out laughs into the air, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m, I’m so sorry—I fell asleep after practice. I also missed class,”

You didn’t ask for an explanation nor do you look mad, but your lips still quirk up with appreciation as you nod. “Jongdae was complaining about how you and Chanyeol wouldn’t wake up. Let’s get going then, shall we?”

The carriage ride to High Street isn’t anything notable, just a few pubescent boys trying to impress you as Baekhyun tried his best to keep a scowl off of his face. He should be getting all the attention.

However, ten minutes later, his hands are freezing as he’s gathering all the snow he can possibly collect to form the largest snowball he can make.

He aims directly for your face and shoots, and as the best Chaser in the team—he scores.

The snowball catches you off guard, as you yelp and fall on your butt. Baekhyun is chortling, hand on his knee, one hand on his stomach because there’s a cramp from laughing too hard.

You laugh too.

“That was so unfair!” you say, aiming a poorly built snowball at him. It lands three feet away from him.

“Alright,” he chuckles, “Now that we’ve decided on who’s the best snowballer, lets go drink something warm.”

“Hey, I could’ve cast a charm to win but I didn’t,” You sass. “But now I’m freezing, and I forgot to bring my gloves.”

There’s a million spells Baekhyun knows that can warm you up, but at this moment he doesn't need the feel to pick out his wand and cast a charm.  Instead, he takes out his favorite gloves. The color is fading and there are strings hanging loose, but they’re still his favorite. He hands you his gloves.

“But won’t you be cold?” Steam blows as you speak ruefully. Baekhyun starts to see flecks of snow gently falling atop your head.

“I don’t mind the cold.” Liar. He despised the cold.

Maybe you know that he’s lying out of his mouth. But you still put on his gloves, and they’re a little big for you but there’s a huge grin on your face and it makes Baekhyun feels a bit warm on the inside.

By the time the both of you make it to Madam Puddifoot’s, he knows more about you: the socks that scream once Jongdae has worn them too much was a gift you gave to him last year. You would like to become a Curator, but you don't tell anyone about it because they might think that you’re a bit boring. You also hate going to the Forbidden Forest because spiders scare you a lot.

He also traded some secrets: he wants to compete in the Quidditch World Cup one day. He once cast a memory charm to make sure Filch didn’t remember him sneaking out with his friends to drink Firewhisky. He also is terrified of owls.

Madam Puddifoot’s is a dainty little tea shop. He feels out of place as he sits somewhat cramped on the chair.

“I know, the place is super… tacky. But I promise the drinks are really good,” you say hopefully.

“It’s okay, I’ve just never been here before.” He takes a peek at the other customers in the tea shop. They were all cuddled up against each other and… are they—are they making out?

Baekhyun coughs and clears his throat, hoping his ears aren’t red with embarrassment as he focuses his attention on you again. You are fidgeting with the lacy napkins on the tabletop, acting like you didn’t see him witness the snogging couples.

“I guess this place is more popular with couples.” He comments.

“I guess so.” You admit, a shy smile on your face.

“Miss ___, you sneaky girl. I did not know that you had a boyfriend!” Madam Puddifoot greets the both of you.

“He—he’s not my boyfriend!” Your eyes widen, cheeks flooding with warmth. Baekhyun is having way too much fun to see you flail over the accusation.

“Yet,” the older witch winks, taking both of your orders. Baekhyun picks a black coffee and you go with a warm tea.

“God, I’m so sorry. I think we’re better off at The Three Broomsticks.” you snort. He gazes for a moment at the soft expression in your eyes, and nods.

“If you want to.”

“We could meet up tomorrow… if you’re free?” you suggest.

Baekhyun pauses. He picks up the freshly brewed coffee, thinking of how to reject you in the nicest way. “I’m, uh, not gonna be free tomorrow.”

“Oh. Well. There’s always a next time,” There’s no anger or disappointment in your voice. Which is why he has been looking forward to spending more time with you. “There’s an essay I have to complete by Monday, so I’ll just stay back at Hogwarts.”

Baekhyun feels bad. “I, uh, I feel like I’m bringing the team down. So I want to practice more.” He admits.

There's a flash of emotions on your face, but a warm smile wins. He nearly faints as your hand covers his on the table. “I can’t imagine how bad you must be feeling over losing, but I promise you that I always admired your skills.”

His lips part in surprise. “You’ve seen me play?”

“Well, I am in the same house, you… goober. Gotta be supportive and all that.” You say lightly, and draw your hand away from his. He nearly protests at the loss of contact.

“Will you come to cheer me on for the next match this week?” he asks coolly and pauses, “Only if you’re free.”

Your eyes are glinting with a warmth and he feels cozy by it. “I would love to.”

—

Baekhyun breathes out a massive sigh and blinks his eyes. He can hear the snowstorm outside, and shivers in the dark of his dorm room.

He yanks off his blankets as Jongdae’s cat meows at him. He gives the cat a good glare. What business is the dumb cat upto this late, anyway?

He sucks in a breath, swings his feet onto the hardwood floor and walks downstairs. He blinks at the fireplace, and finds his way onto his favorite armchair when he spots you—laying on the carpet, scribbling away furiously with your quill.

He whispers out your name, and you nearly leap into the fireplace. “Merlin’s beard!” you gasp, “You scared me,”

He snickers and slides down onto the warm, thick rug—right next to you. “Why are you up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” your voice is only a hush in the dim lit common room. The wind scratches against the windows, and Baekhyun sees the snow swirling furiously in the air.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He admits.

You set down the quill, and curl up next to him. An embrace of seeping warmth from your body makes him sigh.

“You’re nervous,” you state. Your eyes are closed. Baekhyun hums, he doesn’t really want to agree with that. Especially to you. He doesn't want to seem… weak.

“Hey, its okay, you know,” your voice is a soothing balm. “I used to think that purebloods were better than me. But honestly, it never mattered. Because at the end of the day, I became a prefect only ‘cause I worked my ass off for it.”

You chuckle. Baekhyun’s throat feels tight.

“What I’m trying to say is that… you work really, really hard. And although you don't think so, I think that you’re the best Chaser in all of Hogwarts. I know that you’ll do your best tomorrow, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun is quiet for a moment—he is wondering if you’re heaven-sent. He then shifts his body towards you. His lips lift into a loopy smile.

“I really hope we win. I heard that there’s gonna be a scout for the National Quidditch Team tomorrow,” he sighs.

“They better pick you, I’ll make sure they do,” you say. “If not, I’ll protest outside the Ministry or something.”

Baekhyun laughs—it echoes in the open space of the common room. He yawns again, and closes his eyes.

“I know we just became friends but, thank you. For always believing in me.”

—

Baekhyun’s face is bright red when he enters the Gryffindor common room with his teammates. A cacophony of voices and laughter fill the overcrowded room. Students wearing blue, yellow and green pop out from the dozens of reds.

He feels a bit overwhelmed with everyone’s eyes on him. He tries to hide away in a corner, but Jongdae’s shrill voice thunder across the room.

“Coooongradulaaations!”

“Good lord,” Baekhyun mumbles, and his eyes catches a huge three tiered chocolate cake. It is smothered in chocolate frosting, and there’s a huge CONGRATULATIONS! written on with red frosting. He licks his lips in anticipation.

The chocolate cake is placed on a small table and Baekhyun wonders how it’s holding up as he shuffles closer to Chanyeol. His teammates blows the candles—and he’s worried for a second that Professor Dumbledore is gonna get annoyed for such a huge ruckus being caused at the common room.

Baekhyun can't help but snicker as he sees Sehun, a close friend from Slytherin getting tangled in a streamer.

Jongin shoves a plate with a massive slice of chocolate cake towards Baekhyun. He digs into it with a fork, and takes a bite. He swallows, and almost cries from how amazing it tastes.

“Isn’t it good? Me, Jongdae, Minseok and ____ went to the Kitchens last night to help the elves bake the cake,” Jongin says. He has been a friend of Baekhyun ever since they were in the same train compartment on his first year at Hogwarts.

Baekhyun speaks with his mouth full. “It’s really good.” Jongin cringes at him.

He finds Jongdae tucked away in a corner, laughing as he speaks with Minseok. He hears Minseok complaining about an owl biting his finger. He shudders at the thought.

“Hey, Baekhyun! I almost fell out of the tower from screaming out your name so loud,” Minseok jokes and slaps his back. “You were truly the star of the match.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

There’s a proud smile on Jongdae’s face.  Minseok tells them he’s going to the Ravenclaw common room to grieve over their loss.

“When did you have the time to bake a cake?” Baekhyun blurts as soon as Minseok leaves. “You were dead asleep last night!”

“You were asleep next to ____ when I woke up to my alarm,” Jongdae says impishly as he grins back at Baekhyun and wiggles his eyebrows.

Baekhyun clears his throat.

“This is so good,” he says loudly to Jongdae over the scuffle, shoving another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. Jongdae does not tease him about it afterwards.

The cake is nearly gone by the time everyone gravitates to other places. Baekhyun waves to Sehun and Kyungsoo as they leave. Chanyeol is arm-wrestling with Yixing. Their voices hit the ceiling. Junmyeon couldn’t make it to the party, considering that he was the Head Boy—and had to soothe his Housemates over their loss.

That was okay, he can meet up with the boys next Saturday.

Baekhyun watches you play rock, paper, scissors with a 4th year, and grins as you snatch the plate of cake away after winning. You’re smiling as you catch his eyes, heading to sit on the same couch as him.

“You did so great,” you say lightly.

“Thanks,” Baekhyun replies, smiling a little. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He gestures at the floating balloons, pieces of paper scattered from the party poppers and what is left of the cake.

“Okay? But we did it anyway,” you shrug.

He scowls, and nudges you with his elbow. There’s a gleeful laugh, and you set the empty plate on a table top and collapse next to him.

Baekhyun shifts closer to you as you find the perfect spot to rest—using his chest to rest your head on.

His insides feel funny—and it's not from the cake.

“So, did you sneak into the kitchens without me?” Baekhyun says, pretending to be hurt.

“What makes you think I’d make you decorate a cake that’s meant for you?” you quip lazily.

“Fine. I liked it. And I like you a lot better now,” Baekhyun mumbles.

“Well, I like you enough to make a cake.” you clarify. “I’m so proud of you, Baek.”

“I haven’t felt this happy for the longest time. Maybe I was in a slump,” Baekhyun breathes in your familiar, warm scent.

“I’m glad you feel better now,” you squeeze his hand. Baekhyun feels his heart almost lurch out of his chest.

Baekhyun pulls you in closer with a fond smile.

“Wonder what’s for dinner tonight.”

[pastellarts]

To the edge of your sky - Chapter 1: The man with the glowing hand

Summary: A terrible explosion brings together a blunt self-righteous Seeker with a passionate nature and a gracious but skeptical rebel mage. As they fight with their allies in the Inquisition to save the world, they will embrace new dreams and discover that where the sky begins, sorrow ends.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742424

Chapter music: https://youtu.be/uDFpcSc7IcY

----------

Chaos and despair.

Every step she took on the path towards the destroyed Temple of Sacred Ashes made Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast lose her mind bit by bit.

What had happened? Who was behind it?

Why?

Those were all valid and important questions, demanding answers that she would unleash a hunt for. But as her stride brought her closer to the theater of disaster, the smell of burning flesh and debris overwhelmed her senses.

Her eyes moved frantically from the red and black flames to the vast green swirl that lit up the sky, oozing strange magic and terror. A wound so big that tore the heavens apart and shook the ground by touching it with veins of strange energy.

The thick smoke was making her cough. Cassandra covered her mouth and nostrils with a handkerchief to help herself breathe.

Justinia, I got to find her… And Galyan… Oh Maker, was he in the Temple or not?

She had heard nothing so far, not even a single plea for help or a scream. Only the echoes of the footsteps of the soldiers that joined her to scout the area. The all-consuming fire and the shuddering Breach cracklings were crashing her hopes about finding survivors.

A loud crack nearby broke her reverie and she felt a strong arm dragging her with haste as some burning debris collapsed where she had been standing.

"We can't go closer to the Temple, it will fall apart!" Cullen tugged her further away as he tried to catch his own breath. "We stay here and we die as well, come on!"

Justinia. Templars. Mages. All dead.

"Secure a perimeter to the Temple! Take cover! Make sure nobody approaches, it's too dangerous!" Cullen issued his orders to the soldiers and turned to her.

"Cassandra, I fear…" Cullen offered her a flask and she raised it to her lips without question. Whiskey, to clear the smoke in her throat and her mind. "I don't think anyone survived the explosion", he took the flask from her and drank as well.

Justinia. Templars. Mages. Galyan?

They were dead. The whole Conclave was dead.

The last effort to bring peace to Thedas was sabotaged and all she could do was stare at the tragedy and hear the wind howling as it dispersed hope and ashes around them.

A green explosion startled them, followed by a rift opening. By the time they had drawn their weapons, a Terror had already impaled an unlucky archer that stood closer to it.

"Demons! Formation behind me!" Cullen took a defensive stance as a Shade moved towards him. Cassandra snarled and lunged towards the Terror on her own, only to see it phase into the ground. She kept her guard by pivoting in her position. Moments later she heard a shriek and the Terror crystallized out of thin air, pouncing upon her before she could even blink.

"Die, you demon!" Cassandra kept deflecting its hits with her shield until it disappeared once more. Experience kicking in, she let out a powerful shout the moment it reappeared, hoping to taunt the Terror.

"Ugh, die already!"

She charged like a raging bronto, her longsword hitting the legs and torso of the demon, causing it to dissolve back into the rift, which seemed to calm down.

"This is bad. These rifts are all over the valley. We need to keep men here to fight demons as they appear!" Cullen still held his sword as he assessed the situation.

They stared at each other, sharing the unspoken unavoidable conclusion; more people would die to protect the survivors from the demons and anything else those rifts might bring.

There was no time to lose.

"I need to speak to Leliana at once."

And find Galyan

"I will dispatch soldiers at your disposal for dealing with the demons. Update me if you find anything," Cassandra started her jog down to the village. "And Cullen, please be careful, all of you" she addressed the soldiers and the Commander as she turned towards them. "We have no idea who and what we are up against."

She was Cassandra Pentaghast, the Right Hand of the Divine, Seeker of Truth and the Hero of Orlais, and she would bring anyone who was responsible for this disaster to justice. She would behead them herself for crushing Justinia's crusade for peace and reforms, consequences be damned.

Maker help her, she hoped she had the strength to overcome this challenge.

~oOo~

Alexander Trevelyan had not imagined such an outcome when he joined the delegation of the mages as part of the former Circle of Ostwick to the Chantry Conclave. Nobody in Thedas could have imagined it.

Clad in borrowed scout armor with a random staff in hand and afflicted with a headache and various muscle strains, he followed the tenacious Seeker on the snow-covered mountain path that led to the Temple. The two of them along with Solas and Varric had just bid farewell to the missing scouts who had thanked her for their rescue.

"Thank our prisoner, lieutenant. He insisted we come this way."

Prisoner. He had been requested to resolve the dilemma between choosing the mountain path or attacking at the temple, he got the credit for the rescue of the scouts, but he was still her fucking prisoner. Perhaps a distinguished one, since he was allowed to carry a staff. He would play along for now, like he had agreed to do, following her lead and using his magic against rifts and demons. Until his judgment for a crime he had no memory of.

"There will be a trial, I can promise no more."

The Seeker navigated them, warning about slippery parts and falling ice stalactites, offering a helping hand to prevent missteps. And, Andraste preserve him, that bickering of hers with Varric about everything was making his headache worse. Ostensibly the dwarf had been also her prisoner; neither had kept their squabble a secret.

Was it a habit of hers, taking people as prisoners and interrogating them, just to satisfy her insatiable need for justice and penance? The last thing Alexander could recall from his memories before all went black was walking in the Temple. And then things chasing him and a woman in a mysterious form. When he regained his senses, another woman, tall, fierce, unyielding, with her hand on her sword, approaching him like her prey, threatening to kill him if he didn't give her the answers she was looking for.

But his answers had not been good enough for either of them. He had no recollection of how and why a strange green mark had suddenly appeared on his left hand or if it had caused the explosion that killed all those people.

Unable to get any explanations from him in shackles, the Seeker had released him from the heavy chains, pulled him on his feet and dragged him outside through the angry crowd of the people of Haven.

If by any chance they let him live, he would never forget the first time he saw the blinding light of the Breach that expanded till the edge of the sky. Even the worst curses he had heard from the witnesses of his exit from the holding cells could not taint that vision of green doom from his memory.

"They have decided your guilt."

Still, the reactions of the villagers were nothing like the voiceless shrieks from the dead bodies that laid before the gate to the valley. The screams and pleads to the Maker from soldiers that were running to save themselves. His own howls at every strong pulse from that green mark. The rapid explosions that could bring down a bridge and dozen more soldiers in the blink of an eye.

It was so bad that the Seeker had agreed to let him carry a staff not long after his interrogation had ended.

He could not blame her for being in a hurry to face this disaster. From what he gathered so far, she was the only one realizing what was at stake, reacting seriously and swiftly to the situation, unlike Chancellor Roderick who only wished for his execution in Val Royeaux. Her and Sister Leliana.

He could also see the strain on her face. Without question, the explosion did hurt her. She had lost the Divine, colleagues and perhaps friends. And now she had to tolerate the bitter presence of the lone survivor of that tragedy and protect him because his mark could close the rifts. Couldn't blame her, really.

"We need to keep moving." Cassandra urged them on.

His whole body was heaving from the exhaustion, despite the adrenaline rush. The interrogation, the three rifts, the strain and paralyzing pulses from the green mark – things kept happening so fast, taking a heavy toll on his body and mind. He was able to stand more than a fighting chance, but not today.

And he was hungry, so fucking hungry, but like hell he would admit a weakness to her.

"Down the ladder. That's the way to the temple." Cassandra descended and he prayed he could make it down there without collapsing.

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes." Solas commented.

"What's left of it." Varric whispered full of dread.

Maker! He could only gape at the sight before him. Maker help them all…

How did he even emerge from this catastrophe in one piece?!

Alexander observed the strange rock formations that surrounded the ruins. The discussion between Varric and Solas about the circumstances of the explosion caught his ear. If he were to survive this mission, he would like a chance to converse with the mysterious elven apostate in detail about his informed and rather fitting explanations.

"That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you." Cassandra approached him. "They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was."

The corpses of the victims were still burning, condemned in an endless torture for their sins, for their hopes for peace between mages and templars. They didn't deserve this fate, no.

"You're here! Thank the Maker." Leliana approached from behind with some soldiers.

"Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple." Cassandra issued her commands. "This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

"I'm not sure how to even start getting up to that thing." Alexander looked up to the rift, unable to form an effective strategy.

"No. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach." Solas insisted.

"Then let's find a way down", Cassandra's gaze locked with his. "And be careful."

They moved further inside, walking through red lyrium, hearing echoes from the fade. A deep intimidating voice mentioning a sacrifice and then a female voice yelling for help.

"That is Divine Justinia's voice!" yelled Cassandra.

"What's going on here?"

"That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…" Cassandra's desperate plea for answers was interrupted by more intense ghostly echoes of the Divine engulfed in red energy and a looming dark figure with glowing red eyes. A flash of white and the echoes disappeared.

"You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?" Cassandra snarled at him in vain.

"I don't remember!"

Maker, it was futile to prove he was not behind this tragedy. Cassandra could go on accusing him and he could go on responding in every possible manner that he had no memory of any of it.

"Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place." Solas quickly reminded them what was at stake as the soldiers stood around them with their weapons drawn.

"This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

"That means demons. Stand ready!" Cassandra unsheathed her sword and took a battle stance by his side. Of course, her primary task would be to protect the prisoner with the glowing hand long enough to close the rift and then throw him away like a rag for his trial.

Damn the Seeker and the Chantry and their modus operandi against mages. Right now, the only thing that mattered was to fight that Pride demon and close the rift. However, if he made it out of this battle alive, he would fight for his freedom and his rights, for justice for the mages. That was a promise.

 ~3 days later~

He didn't mean to scare the elven servant, but he had woken up with a headache and a soreness in most of his body parts. He poured himself some water and grabbed some bites from the food tray nearby. He wasn't really hungry, but his inner mouth felt like stale bread and he wanted all of his senses back up and running at once.

"I'm sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you've wakened. She said 'at once'!"

"And where is she?"

"In the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,' she said!"

The scared servant had run off, probably to alert the Seeker that he was awake. He stretched his limps and tested his walk as he got off the bed after 3 days, if the elf was telling him the truth. Running his hands through his hair, he realized with wonder that they were clean and free of whatever shit had landed on him during the battle with the Pride demon.

Alexander found his armor clean and draped over the back of a chair. Perhaps he could ask what had happened to his robes, if he got a chance. The basin with clean water and a cloth on the desk were another welcome surprise.

Huh.

He picked a note that lied on the desk.

'Patient Observations

 Vain hope: Someone better at this than me takes over before the survivor expires. Notes in case.

—Day One—

 Clammy. Shallow breathing. Pulse over-fast. Not responsive. Pupils dilated.

 Mage says his/her scarring "mark" is thrumming with unknown magic.

 Wish we could station a templar in here, just in case.'

Of course they would wish for a templar to keep an eye on the dangerous mage.

Alexander put on the armor. Time to meet Seeker Pentaghast and get some answers. The Circles were no more and like hell he would put up with a glorified templar ordering him around like a puppet.

He opened the cabin door. Twenty Fereldan soldiers were lining the path starting from the cabin, saluting him with their fists on their chests, surrounded by a small crowd of people.

"That's him, that's the Herald of Andraste!"

"Why did Lady Cassandra have him in chains? Andraste herself blessed him!"

The people of Haven stood in attention, bowing their heads in respect and offering him their blessings as he made his way through the crowd to the Chantry.

"Blessings upon you, Herald of Andraste!"

 Herald of… Andraste?

He kept walking in awe as people commented on his deeds and showered him with words of encouragement, instead of yells and spit. The revered mothers and clerics stood before the Chantry entrance, arguing about Chancellor Roderick and their lack of leadership. A flock of babbling hens, if you asked him, who were foolishly ignoring the imminent danger that was more than visible and were focusing on who would sign their chantry appointments. Barely a week since Justinia and all those Conclave attendants had perished.

Alexander raised his eyes to the sky where the Breach moved like it was about to shallow everything. The images of the devastation in the Temple and the echoes from the Fade were enough to motivate him do his part. He would not ignore this threat. He could not. If it grew, it would literally end Thedas and they were all doomed, mages and templars, soldiers and farmers, humans, dwarves and elves, commoners and nobles alike.

The doors closed behind him as he entered the Chantry and Alexander inhaled long and deep. He would help the Seeker against this threat with every bit of himself, but he would demand respect and fair treatment. And freedom. He was a Senior Enchanter of the former Circle of Ostwick, not some prisoner to be flaunted around from the leftovers of the Chantry. As long as he was the key to closing those rifts, he would be their equal.

After all, he was 'the man with the glowing hand', as Varric had put it and nobody would ignore his only leverage.

The closer he got to the end of the hall of the Chantry, the louder Seeker's voice was booming from inside the room, steady and passionate. So were the Chancellor's yells as well.

"Have you gone completely mad? He should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine."

"I do not believe he is guilty."

Cassandra was facing off with Chancellor Roderick about… him?

"The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, he intended it this way."

"I do not believe that."

"That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to the serve the Chantry."

"My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours."

And she believed him to be… innocent?

 Huh.

Time to join this meeting himself and see what had changed during his long sleep.

~oOo~

Cassandra entered the Singing Maiden and headed for the table with the big comfortable chairs near the fireplace that was thankfully empty. She could use the heat right now. And some warm food. And a good drink. Or two.

Earlier that day, the Inquisition was founded again by her and Leliana, with support from Ambassador Montilyet, Commander Cullen Rutherford and of course the Herald of Andraste. Using the authority granted to her and Leliana by Justinia's writ. Maker help her, she hoped she was doing the right thing.

No. They were doing the right thing. At least they were acting. Because if they didn't, it would be too late. She had no doubt of the latter. No matter what it took.

"Good evening Lady Pentaghast, can I get you anything?" Flissa smiled nervously at her as she approached.

It had been a very, very long day.

 Wine, I should drink wine

"Is there wine?"

Flissa bit her lower lip. "Spiced w-wine only."

"It'll do. And whatever warm food you have."

"Got Fereldan stew and-"

"Stew will do, thank you Flissa" Cassandra nodded.

"Be right b-back with your food and wine, Lady Pentaghast." Flissa hurried back to her post.

Cassandra took off her gloves and leaned back at her seat, taking in the people in the tavern. Recruits, soldiers, a couple of scouts and few villagers were unwinding, unaware of the long way they had ahead of them, of what the Inquisition meant.

A recruit entered the tavern in a hurry and conversed with Flissa. She hoped it would not take long. She had eaten nothing since morning.

Right then, Trevelyan opened the door. He nodded at her and went also to talk to Flissa. Flissa smiled nervously at him and went on rambling about something, delaying further the serving of her meal. Then he replied and Flissa giggled.

Cassandra was starving and those two were flirting with each other.

Maker help her, she wanted to punch something. Or someone.

Their chit chat ended, and the Herald scanned the tavern, looking everywhere and lastly to her. Apparently having a dinner and some wine alone was a privilege. So be it.

"May I sit?" Trevelyan asked in a cordial tone.

Cassandra gestured impassively and braced herself for awkward silence.

"Here is your stew and wine, Lady Pentaghast." Flissa served her and placed an ale in front of Trevelyan as well. "Would you like some food, Lord Herald?"

"Yes please, stew and any roasted meat, if there is any." Trevelyan drank half of his ale at a gulp and wiped his beard with the back of his hand. Despite her treating him like a mass murderer until few days ago, he had been hesitant but considerate the whole day.

"It is a good idea to eat a large meal, you will need your strength the following days as we travel through the Hinterlands." Cassandra said between swallowing spoonfuls of stew.

"I have been a rebel battlemage for quite some time, Lady Seeker. I can survive in the wilderness. Have some faith." Trevelyan regarded her curiously.

The arrival of his meal halted momentarily any reply she could have given him and they dined in silence, accompanied by the chatter around them and the bard's song.

Cassandra leaned back in her chair and studied the Herald. By every standard, he was a good-looking man, with greenish eyes and rich dark blond hair at mid neck length, held back in a half ponytail. He had a beard and his hands were calloused with chilblains. She made a mental note to urge him to find some gloves. No harm should happen to him, his mark was the most important weapon.

Trevelyan finished his ale and turned to ask Flissa for another. Cassandra also raised her glass signaling for a refill.

"Could you explain something to me, Lady Pentaghast?" Trevelyan seemed to ponder on his words, even after her curt acknowledgement of his request. "What made you change your mind about me?"

"What I told you this morning, Herald. Perhaps I am mistaken again. Your actions will show what you truly are. But right now, you are the person we need, that this world needs to close the Breach and restore order."

Trevelyan tilted his head slightly to his left and locked his gaze to hers. He was careful, perhaps too careful, calculating even. She had to pay close attention to everything he would say.

"And I agreed to help you fix this." He lifted his left palm. "You need this, the world needs it."

Their drinks arrived and this time Trevelyan did not devour his ale fast. Perceptive, that one. Patient when he chose to be.

The urge to punch something started to grow inside her again.

"Spit it out Herald, I don't have all night for your musings." Cassandra squinted her eyes.

"The Circles are no more. I take no orders from Templars or Seekers." The Herald leaned forward, pinning her in her place with those fiery green eyes of his. "I will respect any tactical decisions as your equal and will follow you in battle and fight with you and the Inquisition for now, until we close the Breach and find who is behind this. Because you are the only ones that intend to deal with it and I will do whatever I can, you have my word. But after that, I'm gone." He snapped his fingers and relaxed his posture, sipping his ale.

Cassandra had to hand it to him. Few people had the gall to address her with an attitude stripped of fear.

"I hope you keep that bravado for the demons we will encounter the next days, Herald, you will need it." Cassandra finished her wine and got up from her chair. "I gave you my word and sealed our agreement with a handshake and I take my promises seriously."

"I am aware of that and appreciate it. You need to understand Lady Seeker, during the mage-templar war a promise meant nothing, so the past years have made me rightfully wary. But I hope I will be pleasantly surprised for a change." Trevelyan declared.

"Nothing surprises me in the world anymore. Goodnight, Herald." Cassandra said.

"Lady Pentaghast." Trevelyan raised his mug with a tight smile and released her from his glare.

Cassandra left the tavern with a belly full of food and a feeling of terror unbeknownst to her. There was something about Trevelyan that made her fear him since the moment she laid eyes on him. Only a handful of people had managed to flare up that dreadful reaction inside her and she didn't like it at all, no.

After she undressed in the room that she and Leliana shared, she did the only thing she could. She fell to her knees and prayed to the Maker for guidance, for a clear mind, for a heart that would neither harm a man that seemed to be innocent nor fall for any of his tricks and games.

Andraste preserve her, the war they had declared against chaos and despair would be a long one.