#and didn’t consider how SHE would feel that he then attended a banquet to kill HER didi ‘on her behalf’

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

A little danger, pt. 9

A little danger - Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sky of Eraklyon x mind!fairy

———— PART 9 ————

Stella: So, tonight’s split into two events. The mixer is where the alums and the students chat, and then the banquet itself, which is just alums and VIPs.

Y/N: Why am I being told this?

Stella: Because you’re part of both events.

Y/N: No.

Stella: You know that’s not a word in my vocabulary.

Y/N: I refuse. That should be somewhere in there, or did Solaria not teach their heiress anything?

Stella: I’ll need your support. I can’t be left alone with Bloom and my uncle.

Y/N: Knowing Bloom is going to be there only reinforces my previous statement. Besides, Sky would kill me if I agreed to this.

Stella: If you come, I won’t tell Rosalind you snuck out of campus with Sky.

Y/N: You wouldn’t dare!

Stella: Don’t underestimate my desperation.

Y/N: Fine! But I’m not happy about it.

Stella: I don’t need you to be happy, I need you to attend.

Y/N: What can you tell me about your uncle? Is he on our side?

Stella: Yeah, he sees people for who they truly are. And he’s not afraid to say it. There’s no love lost between him and Rosalind.

Y/N: I hope you don’t mind if I do some digging about that myself.

Stella: Like…digging through his brain?

Y/N: Perhaps.

Stella: Just don’t leave him like a zombie.

Y/N: No promises.

Sky stands nervously outside Y/N's front door, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t keen on spending the evening in his suit, the tie choking him to death for hours, but Y/N seemed excited for it and it’s the first time she’s been excited about anything lately. Sky wanted everything to be perfect. 

Drawing a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

After a moment, Y/N answers the door, looking stunning in a gorgeous blue gown. The dress hugs her curves in all the right places, and the color perfectly complements her complexion. Sky's jaw drops in amazement as he takes in the sight of her.

"Wow," he says, his voice barely a whisper. "You look incredible."

Y/N blushes at his words, feeling a heat rise in her cheeks at the way Sky is looking at her. She had spent hours getting ready, making sure every detail was perfect, and it was clear that her effort had paid off.

"Thank you," she smiles up at him. "I'm almost ready, I just need to grab my purse."

As she turns to grab her bag, Sky can't help but admire the way the dress moves with her, the fabric flowing gracefully around her legs. He had never seen her look so elegant and sophisticated before, and he couldn't wait to show her off at the dinner. No one will come even close to her beauty, he’s certain of it.

"You look like a movie star," he says, grinning at her. "I feel like the luckiest guy in the world to be going out with you tonight."

Y/N laughs, feeling her heart swell with affection for Sky. She’s so glad that she agreed to go this evening, to officially show the world that Sky’s hers, just as she’s his. Most know of their entanglement with each other, but very few can guess just how deeply they care for one another.

"Thanks," she says, slipping her arm through his. "Shall we?"

Sky nods, feeling a surge of excitement as they step out into the cool evening air. 

“I knew you’d be dashing in a suit, I didn’t realize you’ll be this handsome though,” Y/N smirks as she senses the rush of emotion in Sky. Some people call it butterflies, but for a mind fairy, it feels a lot more like bees buzzing when they find a flower and they’re trying to perform a dance to invite other bees for a feast. 

“Considering how you look tonight, I had to be worthy of you”, Sky presses a butterfly kiss to her temple before he leads her to the door.

They arrive at the event and Y/N can feel her heart beating faster in her chest. She's a bit nervous, aware it could be the night they finally get rid of Rosalind. Stella’s plan is risky, especially when it relies on Bloom doing what’s necessary, but at least they’re doing something.

Sky squeezes her hand reassuringly, and she beams at him.

Together, they step into the grand room, and immediately all eyes are on them. Y/N can feel the gazes of the other guests as they look at the pair, hand in hand, entering the room together.

The room is filled with elegantly dressed guests, and the decor is lavish and opulent. But Y/N is only focused on Sky, and she can feel his eyes on her, a look of pride and affection in his gaze.

As they make their way through the room, Y/N feels a mix of excitement and nervousness. But Sky's calm presence beside her makes her feel more confident and secure.

As they move further into the room, several people stop to compliment Y/N on her stunning blue gown. She blushes, feeling a bit self-conscious, but Sky beams with pride at her.

"Thank you," he says, his arm still around her waist. "I’m glad you talked me into coming tonight."

Y/N smiles at him, feeling her heart swell with affection. “Well, I needed arm candy and you delivered.”

Chuckling, he nods. “Always available if you call.”

“Where have you two been?” Stella’s smile is frozen and Y/N doesn’t need to use her powers to know how fake it is. 

“Do you really want to know?” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows, making Stella grimace.

“Eww! No!”

Giggling, Y/N winks. “So, what’s with the panic and the fake smile?”

“Bloom decided she wants to go by herself.” Stella waves at a guest on the other side of the room, gracious by anyone’s standards. Yet Y/N can sense her dread. It wrapped itself around Stella’s mind, twisting and turning with each passing second.

“She did what?” Sky frowns, scanning the room for signs of Bloom, making Y/N sigh. 

“She did what she always does, which is fuck up.”

Stella’s eyes widen before nodding reluctantly. “Uh, hold that thought.” Setting off after Beatrix, Stella left the two alone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me”, Sky furrows his eyebrows, squinting as if he doesn’t believe his eyes.

Standing on her tiptoes, Y/N tries to follow his line of sight. “Gonna need some context, babe. I can’t see anything.”

Huffing, Sky begins to make his way across the room. With her eyebrows raised, Y/N grabs onto him, pulling him to a stop.

“What is happening?” She hisses, looking around to make sure no one’s paying them any mind. The last thing they need now is to make a scene.

“Stay here”, Sky tries but the glare he receives from her is answer enough. Grabbing her hand, he slows down so she can walk with him and once he arrives at his destination, a quiet gasp leaves her lips.

“Nice enough to make up for burning my house down?” A tight-lipped smile appears on Saul’s face.

“Ah, your house wasn’t that great”, Andreas chuckles.

“What the hell”, Y/N looks at Saul, her confusion palpable as she processes the sight before her. She had been under the impression that Saul was on the run, not hanging out with the very man who was out to get him. Her mind races with questions and concerns, her brow furrowing as she tries to make sense of the situation.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re all family, aren’t we?” Andreas grins, staring at Y/N. 

Staring right back at him, she didn’t hold back. Diving into his mind had left Andreas stumbling back, unable to blink as Y/N rummages through his memories. She focuses all her energy on trying to penetrate his mind, leaving no stone unturned as she searched for Saul, finding the two agreeing on working together and Rosalind giving Saul full pardon. Y/N knows finding more details can be beneficial, but as she concentrates harder and harder, she begins to feel a splitting headache forming at the base of her skull. The pressure in her head builds, and she can feel her temples throbbing with pain.

Y/N tries to push through the discomfort, desperate to understand what's going on inside Andreas's head. But the pain only intensifies, and she can feel her vision blurring as the headache reaches a crescendo.

Finally, she has to give up. The pain is too much, and she can feel her mind screaming for relief. 

With a small grunt, she breaks eye contact. Closing her eyes, she turns her head to the side, feeling Sky’s arm around her. She’s pulled closer to him, her temple leaning on his chest. Swallowing thickly, she opens her eyes slowly, focusing her vision with a few blinks. 

“Did you just”, Andreas begins and she smiles faintly.

“You thought you could train yourself to withstand a mind fairy?” Y/N licks her lips. “Maybe it would have worked on a weaker fairy, but not me.”

“Yet you seem to struggle past the surface”, Andreas reaches out to touch her arm, but Sky steps in front of her. 

“Think again”, Sky speaks, almost like he’s challenging him to try, to give him a valid excuse to punch him.

“I’m glad you’re not on the run anymore”, Y/N tells Saul. “Just wish you would have told us, instead of catching us off guard like this.”

Nodding, Saul sighs. “We’ll talk later. I can’t stay here until the pardon is official.”

Wrapping an arm around her, Sky leads Y/N away to a quiet corner where they can stop holding their breath.

“You tried to read his mind in public?” Sky whispers, agitated by her recklessness.

“Pardon you, I succeeded.” 

“This isn’t a game”, Sky frowns, his eyes alight with anger as he grabs her wrist. “What if he had reported you or arrested you? I can’t fucking lose you”, his eyes fall to his tightly wrapped hand around her delicate wrist. Releasing her, he rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe I grabbed you like that. I’m sorry.”

Leaning her head on his arm, she smiles softly. “It didn’t hurt. I’d make stop and let me go if it did.”

“Please do.” Sky’s eyes are misty as he continues his earnest plea, “I fully support you taking my mind for a joy ride if I hurt you.” 

Nodding, she realizes something. All this time, she was so focused on her own feelings and her loss of control, but this is the first time she sees that mirrored in Sky. She knows he’s been suffering ever since Andreas came to Alfea, but she never understood just how much it affected his control too. There’s an edge to him, a temper she never paid much attention to before as it was rarely directed at her.

Her cell phone vibrates.

Aisha: Looks like you three will be tied up during dinner.

Y/N: What about Bloom?

Aisha: She’s been invited by Rosalind. Good luck.

Y/N: Rosalind plus Bloom equals a disaster. Are you sure you don’t need my help? Stella will understand.

Aisha: Flora and I are on it.

“Apparently, Aisha and Flora are going instead of Bloom.”

Sky raises his brows. “Are we happy about that or not?”

“Always better to have a few cool heads on super-secret missions”, Y/N shrugs. “We should go before Stella kills us.”

They arrived just in time for the dinner to start. Sky is between Stella and Y/N who sat next to Bloom. Andreas and Rosalind are seated across from them, and a man, one she presumes is Stella’s uncle.

Y/N takes a deep breath and reaches out to place a hand on Sky's knee, feeling it bounce nervously up and down. She gives him a reassuring smile and squeezes his knee gently.

Sky looks at her, his eyes slightly widened with anxiety. Y/N can feel the tension radiating off him, and she knows that he's nervous about this. She wants to help him calm down, but she doesn't want to draw attention to his nervousness and make him feel embarrassed.

She leans in closer to him, her voice soft and soothing. "Hey, everything's going to be okay," she says. "Just take a deep breath and try to relax. We’ll be out of here the first chance we get."

Sky nods, his eyes still locked on hers. Y/N can see the gratitude in his expression, and she knows that he appreciates her attempt to calm him down. She gives his knee another squeeze and then leans back in her chair, trying to appear relaxed and nonchalant.

In truth, Y/N is nervous too. But being there with Sky makes it easier. She feels more grounded and centered when he's around, and she knows that they can face anything as long as they’re together.

As they continue to sit at dinner, Y/N can feel the nervous energy in the air slowly dissipating. Sky's knee stops bouncing, and he starts to relax a bit more. Y/N can see the tension in his face easing, and she knows that her small gesture of support has made a difference.

“At least Sky was lucky enough to be raised by Saul. Talk about the blind leading the blind”, Stella’s uncle laughs, drawing Y/N’s attention. She tried to drift off for most of the conversation, but the moment Sky’s name was mentioned, her mind couldn’t let it go.

Stella chuckles, “Uncle Arthur!”

“Oh, come on. Now, you know it’s true!” The man turns to Sky, “I mean, no fault to you, but if you and my niece had stayed together”, he drifts off with a mock gasp, “…scandal!”

Sky’s knee is bouncing again. He runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident in the way he clenches his jaw.

“Granted, you seem to have landed on your feet. First, you dated the fairy who transformed, and then you landed the one that is quite possibly the strongest fairy in existence.” Arthur chuckles once more. “Well done.”

“I didn’t realize we were discussing our dating histories at the table”, Y/N smiles politely, but her attention was elsewhere, focused on the thoughts she was picking up from Arthur's mind. It wasn’t a struggle like it was with Andreas, with Arthur, it was like a floodgate had been opened. His thoughts were swirling around in her head, and she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something was off.

And then, it hit her like a ton of bricks. 

"I know what you're doing," she said, her voice cold and steady as she chained his gaze to herself, implementing a thought in his head, so this part only he can hear. "You're cheating on your wife, and it's not okay."

Arthur looked like he had been caught red-handed, but he seems to have understood her warning. Sky is off limits.

Unlike Y/N, Bloom spoke up. “Tone it down.”

Trying to laugh it off, Arthur glances at Y/N. “Everybody’s so delicate.”

��No, you were being a royal dick,” Sky states.

“What did you say to me?” Arthur raises his voice ever so slightly as Andreas laughs heartily. 

Y/N gives him a pointed look, forcing Arthur to pipe down and this time, everyone seems to have noticed the exchange. 

“Don’t talk to my friends like that.” Stella pipes up. “Every comment out of your mouth has been a thinly, or not so thinly, veiled insult. And you’re drunk.”

Perhaps that’s what made it so easy to enter his mind.

“Your mum was right. You’ve changed. A shame, considering you really wanted that gem out.” Arthur stands up, marching away from the table as Stella looks down at her hands in her lap, too embarrassed by his behavior to face anyone.

“You can still have the gem taken out”, Y/N whispers to her. 

Shaking her head, Stella sighs. “Not like that.”

Looking at Rosalind whispering with Bloom, Y/N focuses on their conversation. She doesn’t have to hear them speak as most people think about what they’ll say moments before they speak the words in existence. It takes no effort to harness those thoughts, drifting from them so easily. No one guards the thoughts they’ll speak openly.

“He’s an absolute prick, but I need him.”

“For the vote?”

“This room is full of people who want to see me fail. I'm cryptic because every move I make has to be bulletproof or they will pounce. 

“They all love you”, Bloom states.

“Nobody really loves the powerful ones. You'll learn that soon enough, just as your friend Y/N did.” Exhaling sharply, Rosalind smiles. “Luckily, fear works too.”

“Yeah, you have a knack for it.” Bloom remarks.

“I have to have a little fun. But there’s one thing you need to know is true. You are my star pupil, Bloom. Transforming, taking down the Burned ones, that’s just the beginning of your story. A story I’m lucky to witness.”

Scoffing, Bloom glances at Y/N, nearly catching her in the act. “You and I both know I’m the star pupil because the other contestant isn’t willing to play your games.”

“And yet, you will be the one to shape the Otherworld and I’ll be on your side. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have cryptic business to attend to.”

Rosalind leaves, Andreas following her closely. Sky lets out a loud exhale as if he’s been holding his breath this entire time. 

“Are you okay?” 

Nodding faintly, he rests his arm on the back of Y/N’s chair. “Are you?”

Pursing her lips, she tries to keep a smile at bay but it’s nearly impossible. “You’re with me. What more can I ask for?”

The phone vibrates again, but not just Y/N’s this time. Sharing a quick look with Bloom and Stella, her eyes shift to Sky. 

“They’ve done it.”

Bloom and Stella rush to meet the girls, only Stella pausing. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Give me a second.”

Inhaling sharply, she takes Sky’s hands in hers. “I’ll never force you to a fancy dinner again.”

“Was this dinner not a part of the gala?” Sky’s eyes widen slightly. 

Feigning innocence, she smiles. “Maybe not?”

Lips parting, his eyes narrow at her. “You’re lucky I love you”, Sky grins. He reaches over, taking her hand, his thumb stroking the back of it gently. 

Feeling a flutter in her stomach at his touch, Y/N can feel her cheeks darkening. They both lean in simultaneously, their lips meeting in a soft kiss. Her heart skips a beat as his arms wrap around her, pulling her closer.

Resting his forehead on hers for a moment longer, their lips part. Neither move, their eyes remaining closed in this silent declaration of love they share for each other. 

Finally pulling away, Y/N can see the adoration in Sky’s eyes. What she’s done to deserve it is beyond her, but she’s grateful. 

“What do you think the girls found?” Sky asks, but Y/N shrugs.

“I don’t know. However, Bloom and Rosalind are far too comfortable with each other for me to trust them. I think she knows I would never cooperate with her, so she’s focused on Bloom fully.”

“Bloom’s capable of making her own choices.”

“Is she?” Y/N questions. “Her previous choices were all disasters. For all of us.”

Licking his lips, Sky sighs. “Let’s hope this time will be better.”

Frowning at her phone as it vibrates once more, Y/N takes a quick look at the messages only to realize she’s already missed a lot.

“Stella’s trying to vote Rosalind out.”

Standing, Sky helps Y/N to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Arriving a little late, Y/N and Sky sneak inside and stand to the side.

“After torturing him in her lab, after stealing his magic, Rosalind let that student die in her office.” Stella’s claim left everyone in shock, muttering loudly. “Devin deserved better. Solaria deserves better.”

Rosalind walks in, her head held high. I hate to break protocol, but there may be a few minor inconsistencies with Her Highness's theory.”

And right from behind her, a student walks in. 

“Devin!” Stella gasps. 

“About a month ago, my friend Mayor Quinn called me. Two fairies, recently released from their studies at Alfea, went missing in Blackbridge. They were found days later, catatonic. Bitten. I offered my help. But until we found answers, he swore me to secrecy. He didn't want to cause panic.”

Taking Sky’s hand in hers for support, Y/N ignored his eyes upon her.

“I have to admit, I was stumped until I borrowed a text from the Royal Archives, with Arthur's permission. In it, I found an ancient creature called a scraper, a native of The Realm of Darkness. It feeds on magic. I realized that's what had happened to those poor fairies.” 

Rolling in a large tank, Rosalind pulls the cloth covering it.

“What the hell is that”, Y/N whispers, her eyes wide. Y/N stands frozen, her eyes still locked on the creature. It is unlike anything she has ever seen before, with a slimy, scaly exterior and rows of jagged teeth that gleam in the dim light.

As she watches, the creature stirs, its eyes blinking open and fixing on Y/N. She feels the weight of its gaze, and a shiver runs down her spine.

Taking a step back, she is unsure of what to do. The students are gasping as the creature chitters.

The creature moves again, its body shifting in the tank, and Y/N can see the power and strength that lie beneath its slimy exterior. She knows that this creature is dangerous, and she is terrified of what it might do.

A low, guttural growl emanates from the tank, and Y/N takes another step back, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She tries to keep her wits about her, but the fear is overwhelming.

“I've been studying a scraper here at the school since we captured it. It wasn't until Devin was found that I got the answers I needed. I was able to bring him back from near death. All thanks to Benjamin Harvey's daughter, who discovered an amalgam that was able to revive all three fairies. I probed their minds and the picture became clear. The scrapers were being called upon by a Blood Witch.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N allows Sky to pull her into his side. Wrapping an arm around his middle, she lets out a shuddered breath. 

“Our old foes have discovered how to steal our magic. If Blood Witches continue using scrapers, fairy magic, therefore fairies, will cease to exist. Clearly, despite my efforts to keep my investigation secret, some of you sensed danger and took action.”

Glancing at the girls, Rosalind then turned her attention to Y/N as she spoke. “Your courage will be needed in the coming days, as we face our real enemy.”

She expects her to take part in this fight. Rosalind’s intentions are clear – she couldn’t control Y/N before, but this will allow her to certainly try. As the moments tick by, the tension in the room mounts. 

Y/N doesn't know what will happen next, but she knows she is in deep trouble. The creature's eyes continue to bore into her, and she braces herself for whatever comes next.

“Thank you for joining us here. Students, for now, you are dismissed.”

Y/N didn’t have to be told twice. She bolted out the door, dodging the girls expertly as she ran to the lake. 

Sky followed her. Y/N can sense him near and for once, she doesn’t get the urge to push him away. She wants him closer.

“Blood witches?!” Y/N shouts, running a hand through her hair. Pacing, she shakes her head. “I don’t know how to stop hurting people around me and she’s going to try to weaponize that!”

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Sky stops her. “I won’t let anyone force you into anything.”

“That’s the thing!” Y/N chuckles dryly. “She won’t have to force me, I’ll feel obligated to help the fairies.”

Cupping her cheek, Sky presses a kiss upon her forehead. “Breathe”, he reminds her. “Breathe.”

Y/N can feel the weight of expectations that are surely to fall on her shoulders to stop the scapers and Blood witches. She is not ready for this. Her own powers are still not fully under control, and the thought of using her unstable magic as a weapon terrifies her. Y/N’s powers are unpredictable, and the consequences of using them could be disastrous.

Y/N bites her lip, her mind racing. She wants to help, and she wants to be brave, but the fear is too much to bear. If she loses control of her magic, it can go terribly wrong, and innocent lives could be at stake.

“I don’t want to do it”, she whispers. “I wish everyone would leave me alone.”

“I know”, his voice is soft as are his hands running up and down her back. “We’ll figure it out, love.”

Shrugging off his jacket, he wraps it around her shoulders and pulls her close.

“But you need rest tonight.”

“I don’t know if I can sleep after this”, her bottom lip quivers.

“I can help with that”, he teases, eliciting a quiet chortle.

Walking toward the dorms, Sky knows she can feel his worry too. Amid all the chaos in both their heads, Sky can feel the weight of his own worries and fears. He can see Y/N struggling, and he feels helpless.

He doesn't know how to help her or if he can protect her from the dangers that lay ahead. The creature is unlike anything he had ever seen before, and the thought of Y/N facing it is a nightmare waiting to come to life.

Sky’s meant to be her specialist, her sworn protector, yet he doesn’t know how to help save her from creatures that he’s never encountered before. It won’t send him running scared, he cares not for himself, only for her. 

No matter what, Sky will protect her. No cost is too great if it means she gets to walk away from this fight unscathed.

PART 10

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 18/2021) - Skeppy and the Egg

With only a week left to prepare for the Red Banquet, Bad takes a trip down to the Egg and ends up in a tense confrontation with Skeppy.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

HBomb94

Foolish

Badboyhalo

Captain Puffy

---

- HBomb hosts Niki, Puffy and Hannah’s episode of L’Cast!

- Bad rows to shore in a boat. He gets out near Fundy’s base.

- He examines the server, remarking on how the Blood Vines are gone. It’s all in preparation. One week from today will be the Red Banquet.

- Quackity has been causing nothing but problems. Meanwhile, the Egg Room has been renovated with Nether brick walls. The plants have been growing nicely, and a dance floor has been prepared.

- Bad looks at the dining area. There are many chairs, but Bad isn’t sure if there will be enough seats for everyone.

- The Egg whispers to him.

“I will give you your heart’s desire. I will give you what you want.”

Bad: “I know. You don’t have to say it anymore, I know!” 

- Bad walks over to the Egg and notices Skeppy there. Skeppy tells him that he wants to be near the Egg. Bad says he worries about him, but Skeppy says he’s fine and to leave him alone.

- Bad tries to convince him to go on a walk. Skeppy tells him that there’s nothing he can say to change his mind. He’s staying with the Egg.

Bad: “I mean I...All of this, all of this is for him...and it’s so frustrating. I just -- I know that Egg, it’s not evil, and everybody’s just misunderstanding it, and I know -- at the Banquet, we’re gonna show them! We’re gonna show everybody exactly what the Egg is all about, and exactly what the Egg wants, they’re gonna see it for themselves. Everybody’s gonna see it...but I just don’t like how much time he spends by it now. He literally just hangs out by it. I mean -- if it wasn’t for Skeppy, it probably wouldn’t have even survived that explosion...Oh my goodness...he was able to repair it.”

- As Bad talks, he watches Skeppy fiddling with the Egg’s surface. The Egg whispers again.

“I will give you your heart’s desire. I will give you what you want.”

- Skeppy asks why Bad is still talking to him. Bad reluctantly leaves to look at the decorations again. Skeppy tells him that no one has entered or left the premises.

- Bad reminds Skeppy of the statues he built for him. Bad says he thinks it looked a little better before...Skeppy asks what it’ll take to get Bad to stop talking to him.

- Bad tells Skeppy he found something wrong on the perimeter. Skeppy says nothing could possibly be wrong, but Bad insists they do one last walk around. He says if they go for a walk, he’ll stop bothering Skeppy.

- The Egg starts to whisper, but Bad tells it to stop and the Egg goes quiet before it can say anything.

- They start walking. Bad says that no dancing is actually going to take place, it’s just for show. He shows Skeppy the table too, but Skeppy gets impatient.

Skeppy: “What’s the mistake? I feel like you’re manipulating and lying to me right now.”

- He shows Skeppy a wall. Skeppy says the wall is “crisp and perfect,” and nothing is wrong with it. He goes back to the Egg.

- Skeppy says he invites Bad to get on the Egg. He gets Bad to stand on it. Skeppy asks if Bad feels good. Bad says he does, but Skeppy insists.

- The Egg starts talking and Bad tells it to shut up again. 

“Nourishment...”

Bad: “Quiet! You muffinhead.”

- Skeppy asks why he keeps doing that. Bad snaps and says he doesn’t like how Skeppy’s been acting lately. 

Bad: “It’s not about power! It’s not about control! I’m your FRIEND, Skeppy!”

Skeppy: “I mean...you can think that.”

Bad: “...What do you mean?”

Skeppy: “I mean, what do you want?”

Bad: “No, what did you just say? You said ‘you can think that,’ what do you mean?!”

Skeppy: “You can think whatever you want in your silly little mind, okay? It doesn’t matter to me.”

Bad: “No, we’re friends, right?”

Skeppy: “Sure.”

Bad: “Sure?! That’s it?”

Skeppy: “You can call it whatever you want, alright? In your head, we can be best friends, okay? We can be friends for life. Just leave. Me. Alone.” 

...

Skeppy: “It’s up to you, ultimately, because I can’t change your mind. So stop trying to change mine.”

- Bad is furious. Is the Egg Skeppy’s friend now, the only thing he hangs out with?

Skeppy: "The Egg is more than just a friend. The Egg is life itself.”

- Skeppy tells him he doesn’t expect Bad to understand the feeling within. 

Bad: “I...I have done so much, because I did for...for you! For our friendship! And now you’re trying to tell me that we’re not friends anymore?”

Skeppy: “Did I say that?”

Bad:  “No, but you’re saying you’d rather spend time with this Egg!”

Skeppy: “I’m not saying it, I’ve been proving it.”

- Bad and Skeppy start arguing and yelling at each other.  Bad says he’s done so much, sacrificed so much to protect Skeppy from the other people on the server.

Skeppy: “You left me for a long, long, long time before you even checked up on me, okay? And now, all of a sudden, you care about me? All of a sudden we’re best friends and all you have is my best interest? I don’t think so!”

Skeppy: “The past doesn’t matter. It’s only about the future and the present. And right now, I know what I want.”

- Skeppy goes back to the Egg. 

Bad: “Skeppy...I just wanted us to hang out like we used to.”

Skeppy: “Yeah, well...Times change. So do people. So get used to it.”

Bad: “I just -- I did this all for you and I didn’t want the Egg to take that away.”

Skeppy: “Do you hear how selfish that is? You are trying to take away what I enjoy, and what I like, for your own benefit? Do you realize how selfish that is of you? you don’t actually care about me! Stop hitting me! That is the definition of selfish!”

Bad: “YOU TAKE THAT BACK. Skeppy, if you have any idea of what I have done, and you calling it selfish?!”

...

Bad: “I...I want an apology. I don’t want you to call ALL the sacrifices that I made for you selfish! Take that back, right now! Apologize!”

Skeppy: “They were ALL selfish, and they were all for your own benefit! You didn’t even consider letting me spend a little bit! Just a little bit of time with the Egg! That was completely cut out!”

Bad starts shaking. 

“IT’S JUST A STUPID EGG, SKEPPY!”

- He pushes Skeppy into the lava and Skeppy dies. Bad screams, horrified.

Bad: “Skeppy, wait! No! I’m sorry! Skeppy no! ...What happened? What did I do?”

The screen goes black.

--- ---

CANON DEATH: SKEPPY

Cause: Pushed into lava by Badboyhalo

--- ---

Skeppy: “Bad? Bad? Bad...Bad, answer me!”

- Skeppy is blue. He’s standing in a wooden house, calling for Bad.

- The view pans around. Skeppy is standing in front of a white bed. He quietly asks for Bad to answer him.

- The view zooms out, exiting through the door marked as Bones and Skeppy’s house.

It’s Big Daddy Island.

The screen cuts to black again.

- Bad visits Puffy at the mansion.

- Bad asks if Puffy’s excited for the Banquet. He sounds saddened. Bad tells her Skeppy died, though. He fell into lava. “Gravity killed him.”

- Puffy asks if Skeppy was shoved.

- They argue about whether gravity would be the killer if Puffy pushes Bad off a roof. Puffy does so and then tridents, accidentally falling to her death.

- Bad talks to Puffy about how he and Skeppy got into an argument because Skeppy kept doing nothing but sitting on an Egg despite all that Bad did for him. Then Skeppy slipped and fell into lava.

- Puffy asks if this means the Egg that Bad loves so much killed Skeppy.

- No matter what, the Banquet has to happen. Bad says he’ll cover the lava up. Puffy will still attend, but the gravity of the situation has changed.

Puffy: “There’s going to be no accidental deaths?”

Bad: “No...”

Puffy: “There was hesitation there.”

Bad: “No accidental deaths.”

- Puffy writes the death report.

Puffy: “Friends aren’t forever but that dump truck sure is.”

- They switch out of canon as Skeppy comes over to hang out.

- Puffy suggests that Bad and Skeppy get a room. To play chess in. They go inside of the Rat statue to play chess. They play Battleship? And then chess but with their minds.

- There’s a lot of interesting talk in the Rat statue.

- After a lot more banter, Skeppy logs off with Mr. Pointy. Puffy says she should start charging for couple’s therapy.

- Skeppy logs on and they get into a chase. He falls and dies and Puffy retrieves Mr. Pointy.

- Bad and Skeppy start bargaining for it from Puffy.

- Bad, Skeppy, Puffy and Sam all hang out together

Upcoming Events:

- Ranboo’s lore stream (April 23rd)

- The Red Banquet (April 24th)

- Dream SMP one-year anniversary (April 24th/25th)

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/12 - Quackity recounts the events leading up to his visit with Dream

4/13 - Nothing much happens.

4/14 - Foolish hires HBomb to be his maid.

4/15 - Nothing much happens.

4/16 - Nothing much happens.

4/17 - Hannah goes sleepwalking

4/18 - Bad and Skeppy fight, Bad kills Skeppy

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

For six months the Lady Elena has been the sole recipient of Jaskier's affections. It started as a distraction - they met at a party he attended with both Geralt and Yennefer - something to keep his mind off the fact that Geralt's heart, rough and closed-off as it is, was claimed by someone else. But Elena was bright and funny and she lavished praise on Jaskier and he was easily drawn in.

They've been sort of on-and-off since Jaskier and Geralt left Vattweir, but whenever they separate, Jaskier finds himself back beyond the mountains. And when they don't, Jaskier sings of her regularly, earning little praise and much grumbling from Geralt, but he doesn't care. For the first time since they met, Jaskier's attention isn't focused solely on Geralt and he thinks maybe if ever was to settle down and stay somewhere, it might be with Elena.

He sings of love and romance and tells Geralt he'll never love like this again - getting only grunts and hmms in response. But he is happy and more than that, he's happy that for once something has pulled him out of the slump he didn't realize he was in. His songs are cheery once more, not impeded by his unrequited feelings for Geralt. Not that those feelings aren’t still there every time Geralt smiles at him over the fire or presses a little closer on cold nights, but it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

But like most happiness in Jaskier's life, it doesn't last long.

He's been invited to sing at a banquet in Vattweir and since Geralt is with him at the time, he considers it a bonus that he finally gets to introduce them. Not that Geralt cares very much, but Jaskier does.

But things don't go quite as planned; as soon as Jaskier walks into the hall, he spots Elena and she's not alone. She's sat delicately in the lap of some nobleman Jaskier doesn't recognize and at first, he doesn't think much of it. When she leans in for a kiss, he reconsiders.

Jaskier’s heart sinks. They never specified that they wouldn't see other people, but he hasn't and he had hoped she hadn't either. Ah,well, he decides, simply a bump in the road - at least Geralt isn't with him to see the shock on his face. He can't imagine how he would react after hours of Jaskier going on about her being the one.

So he keeps this small detail to himself. Everything else is going as planned and he's sure to come out of this night with a heavy purse if nothing else. But Elena doesn't even acknowledge his presence - a difficult feat considering he's the main source of entertainment for the evening - and it doesn't take him long to figure out why. After his first set, there's an intermission and he seeks out Geralt, slipping in next to him at the table.

There's a toast. A speech. An engagement announcement - and engagement announcement for the Lady Elena and some noble or other that Jaskier’s never heard of. Well, he thinks, that would explain things.

He spends the remainder of the night wondering if he just over thought their relationship. Obviously, if she's now engaged to someone else and acting like he doesn't exist. Geralt asks after her, but Jaskier lies, tells him she didn't show up and he'll just have to wait to meet her later. Jaskier is used to heartbreak and for now, at least, he’d rather suffer this one alone.

Without their impending introduction, Geralt insists they leave early and for once, Jaskier agrees.

He never tells Geralt. Partially because he's embarrassed, but mostly because he knows Geralt will say something stupid like you'll find someone new in a couple of days. But Elena was special. He falls in love often and without intending to, but there are people he's found who strike a different sort of chord with him - Elena was one of them. Geralt is another. And maybe he won't find someone new because it's been over a decade that he's been searching for something to fill the Geralt-shaped hole in his heart and now he's lost that, too.

Now he's back to the beginning; in love with his best friend and unable to share that love because Geralt is an unfeeling mutant.

But he tries to keep up the charade for a little while. He still talks about Elana on occasion and when the longing becomes too much, he pulls himself from Geralt's side under the guise of visiting her. Mostly, he turns to the closest tavern and drinks unless someone will pay him to sing. It's not hard pretending still to be in love, the difficult part is hoping Geralt doesn't realize it's all a sham and all the lovely things Jaskier is saying are actually just about him.

But both the stories and the pretend visits start to dwindle over time and his relationship with Geralt slowly returns to what it had been prior to meeting her.

Only Geralt notices because of course he does and Jaskier is forced to lie every time he asks about her. And he asks more about her and Jaskier suspects he's trying to trip him up. But he feels better when Geralt sleeps closer at night or when he lets Jaskier sing them both to sleep on nights that are otherwise too quiet.

It takes five months for him to find out the truth and his response isn't anything Jaskier would have expected. They're outside of Oxenfurt, as far away from Elena and her new husband as Jaskier could hope to be. And yet, they're here, sitting at the edge of the river where Jaskier was hoping to enjoy the rest of his afternoon alone. Geralt is off killing some plant thing that's been killing people along the road and Jaskier had planned to sit and drink wine by the river, but he can't very well do that now.

So he returns to camp and sits and plays for Roach instead, singing songs of heartbreak and betrayal. She presses her nose to his head, ruffling his hair with heavy breaths and Jaskier smiles up at her.

"At least I've got you," he says and just as he does there's a loud crack from behind. He turns to see Geralt with what looks - maybe - like the head of some giant mutated flower over his shoulder. Or maybe a snake, he's not quite sure.

Geralt drops it on the ground and crosses over to sit on the log across from Jaskier, carefully removing his armour.

"What happened to songwriting by the river?"

"Ah, well, the river was already... occupied."

"That's never stopped you before."

"Yes but-" well, it's been five months, maybe he should just be frank with him "-you see Elena was down by the river with her new... husband." Geralt's head lifts at that, his face worryingly neutral as he meets Jaskier's eyes.

"Husband?"

"Er, well... yes. It seems she was finished with me only she never bothered to tell me that." Jaskier has been avoiding looking at Geralt, afraid to see the betrayal in his eyes for lying to him for so long, but when it does it's not betrayal he sees burning there. It's anger.

"I'm sorry," he starts, "I meant to tell you, but I just-"

"Why would she do that?" Oh.

"I suspect she didn't care all that much."

Geralt's eyes narrow and Jaskier isn't quite sure what to make of that. He can feel the anger coming off of him, but it isn't directed at him and he's not quite sure what to do with that. People don't get angry on his behalf, they get angry at him.

Jaskier tries to calm him down, but Geralt is fuming and Jaskier's never seen him this angry before and for the first time in their friendship, he's almost a little afraid of him. But Geralt would never hurt him and the anger is probably more to do with lingering elixirs from the hunt, so when Geralt gets up and stomps around the camp, Jakier lets him. And then, when his pacing and irritability starts to wear thin, Jaskier sits him down and promises that it isn't all that bad, not really, and he rubs his shoulders and runs patient fingers through his hair. And Geralt relaxes.

But he's different after that. Not in big ways, but he makes a point of keeping himself between Jaskier and anything that could hurt him. He sleeps closer when they camp in the open air, practically right on top of him - not that Jaskier is complaining - and he's defensive in a way Jaskier hasn't seen him before.

Jaskier is used to hecklers - no one can please everyone - but Geralt has taken to shutting them down with a single look, glowering at them from his seat until they're silent. Some leave, some are braver and just return to their drink, but none speak up again. Jaskier revels in this newfound attention and struggles not to find ways in which to provoke it.

It all comes to a head one night when they've stopped to eat and Jaskier is singing. He's distracted and doesn't notice at first when the couple walks in, but they sit down right next to him and it becomes hard not to notice. Elena is as beautiful as always, but her husband - Jaskier assumes that who he is, but he barely recalls the man from the banquet that night - has a sneer plastered on his face. Perhaps he knows who Jaskier is, though Elena doesn't show any sign of it.

Fine, he thinks, let her be like that. The next song he plays is his most romantic ballad, one very thinly disguised as having been written about a princess when in reality, it was written about Geralt.

As soon as he finishes, he picks his lute case up and crosses to sit back with Geralt. He knows they have to leave now, which is a shame since he never even finished his drink earlier, but he doesn't want to start something in the middle of the tavern. They were hoping to find a room for the night and Jaskier doesn't want to spend another night in a row on rocky, uneven ground.

"Shall we go?" he asks and Geralt casts a look between him and his unfinished drink. He doesn't respond before a loud, overly enthusiastic laugh fills the air. Geralt looks up with a scowl. Jaskier sighs.

He doesn’t know how he recognizes Elena, but there's an instant change in his demeanour. He goes rigid, staring directly at the corner of the room where she and her husband are seated and Jaskier can feel the rage radiating off of him.

"Geralt," he whispers, "let's just go, it's not that big a deal anyway-"

"She hurt you," he seethes and through the well of emotions swelling in his chest, Jaskier decides not to point out that Geralt has also hurt him in the past. It distracts him long enough that he doesn't realize Geralt is standing until he's nearly pushed out of the way.

He knows Geralt wouldn’t hurt them, especially for something so trivial, but he's so desperately trying to keep the peace. And if he's honest, he'd rather just forget about the whole Elena thing altogether. He thinks quickly, pressing himself up against Geralt's chest and it works, for a moment at least. Geralt looks down at him and something in his expression makes Jaskier's heart beat a little quicker and this is very much not the time for that.

But then Geralt moves to brush past and Jaskier's mind goes blank. He's been in danger - actual life threatening danger - before and Geralt has never been this defensive, protective, of him. So Jaskier acts without thinking. Working off the very slimmest chance that his suspicions could be correct, he pulls Geralt back to him and kisses him.

He stuns even himself and for a split second he's afraid Geralt might be upset with him, but Geralt drops back into his seat with a thud, pulling Jaskier into his lap. He takes Jaskier's face in his hands and kisses him fiercely.

Geralt kisses like a man who's been denied for years and all Jaskier can do is let himself be led. Geralt brings him close so their chests are pressed together and Jaskier can hear the way his heart thuds in his chest. It's highly unusual and if he wasn't being kissed stupid right now, he might be worried about it.

As reality settles around him, Jaskier slides his hands up Geralt's arms reverently, easing the rage and adrenaline out of him. And Geralt visibly relaxes under him, sinking back against the wall and relaxing his hold on Jaskier. Geralt loops his arms around Jaskier's lower back, but even calm and quiet, he doesn't let go. He just kisses him softer, more deliberately and Jaskier happily takes everything he's offering. Geralt is never this soft when he's insincere and this is maybe the worst time to talk about it, but he understands that this anger and rage were about more than just defending a friend.

When Geralt's tongue slides against his own, Jaskier lets out a little whine, shifting further into Geralt's lap. For that, he gets drawn closer and Geralt's hands slide up his back. Vaguely, Jaskier is aware that people are watching and regularly, he might worry about what people thought of him, but right now he couldn't care less. Right now Geralt is kissing him and he's solid and real and he feels so good around him.

Geralt pulls him right up against him and his cock, thick and hard in his trousers, presses up under Jaskier's, pulling a soft moan from his lips. As if pulled from a reverie, Geralt breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks into Jaskier's eyes. He doesn't say anything, but Jaskier hears the unspoken words and he nods, giving his consent freely.

A rush of adrenaline flows through him as Geralt hoists him up to his feet and presses a hand to his chest, guiding him backward. Jaskier is blind, trusting Geralt not to let him run into anything and he knows they're creating somewhat of a spectacle, but he loves it. Part of him wishes Elena would see him and regret the way things went between them, but right now with Geralt's cock pressing into his hip, Jaskier couldn't' be happier about the way things turned out.

Geralt directs him toward the door and Jaskier regrets not having paid for a room when they had the chance. He stumbles out the door and Geralt carries him down the stairs to keep him from tripping. After that, Jaskier finds himself pressed up against every vertical surface between the inn and wherever Geralt is taking him.

The sky is darkening but it's still light enough that anyone walking past could see them, but Geralt finds a small patch of trees right on the edge of town and apparently it's just what he's looking for.

Geralt sets his things down, but keeps Jaskier in his arms, sitting himself down in turn. As soon as Jaskier can touch the ground again, it becomes a race to get each other out of their clothes, grabbing and pulling until Geralt finally stops him, kisses him and tugs his shirt up over his head while he's distracted. Jaskier huffs at him, but he manages to get a hand fisted in his shirt and kisses back, temporarily distracted from his mission of undressing him.

Geralt moves under him, around him and Jaskier just hums and goes along with it, unbuttoning as many of Geralt's buttons as he can reach before shoving the shirt up over his head. He doesn't even mind when Geralt gets him out of his trousers and the Witcher is still mostly dressed. He doesn't mind because Geralt holds him close and kisses him like he doesn't think he'll get another chance. Jaskier continually proves that he will.

He kisses him hard, touches his face, rocks his hips against him even when the ties of Geralt's trousers are too rough against his swollen cock. He wants to prove to Geralt that this is more than just an attempt to distract him. And when Geralt pauses, just briefly to pull back and look at him, Jaskier thinks he knows.

Geralt reaches down, pushing Jaskier back and quickly unlacing the ties of his trousers. He shoves them down just low enough to expose his cock and hauls Jaskier back up over him, shifting under him so his cock rests against Jaskier's ass. He's quick and efficient, if not impatient and Jaskier shuts his eyes for a moment as Geralt's touch overwhelms him. He rolls his hips again, pushing back against Geralt's cock and grinding against him.

Geralt leans to one side, keeping a hand on Jaskier's hip to hold him steady as he turns. Jaskier leans back over him and Geralt kisses him as he rummages through his belongings. When he finds what he's looking for - a small half-empty bottle of oil - he pushes Jaskier back upright. His grip on Jaskier doesn't loosen, but he moves his arm up pushing his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. His free hand moves, popping the cork on the oil and Jaskier groans in anticipation, rutting shamelessly against Geralt's stomach.

When Geralt's slick fingers press against him, Jaskier drops his chin against his chest, breathing Geralt's name into his night. When he slips into him, Jaskier's eyes flutter shut and he braces himself on Geralt's chest, looking down at him. Geralt shifts under him, readjusting himself and when he presses his cock against him, he meets Jaskier's eyes.

Everything slows to a stop as Geralt sinks into him and for a second Jaskier thinks it's going to end. Geralt was caught up in the moment and sometimes sex is just sex, but then Geralt smiles at him, slides a hand into his hair and pulls him into a firm kiss. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Gealt's neck and presses himself back onto his cock as Geralt wraps him in his arms again, pulling him close.

Jaskier's used to the finer things in life; silk sheets, warm beds, but out here in the forest in Geralt's lap he's never felt so loved. He doesn't want to say anything to spoil the moment, but the words are there, bubbling up in his chest and no amount of convincing or persuasion is going to stop him from feeling them. He presses his face into Geralt's neck, breathing the words into his skin instead.

When Jaskier comes, he stifles his moans into Geralt's skin as he rolls his hips against Geralt's slick stomach. Geralt follows a moment later, catching Jaskier's lips in a rough kiss as he continues thrusting into him.

When he stills, Jaskier rolls off of him, exhausted and still reeling. His chest heaves as he remembers how to breathe properly and next to him, Geralt is also panting, eyes shut and lips just barely parted. Jaskier feels like he should say something, but he doesn't know what. That was incredible? Thanks for the fuck? Are we gonna do this again?

"I'm sorry," Geralt breathes and Jaskier turns to look at him. That didn't even make it to the list of possibilities.

"What?" he asks, wondering if he's actually been fucked stupid or if there's something he's missing.

"I was angry, I got wrapped up in it."

"What were you angry about?"

"Elena-" Oh "- that she could hurt you like that and just... go on with her life. She had you and she just... found someone new."

"Oh," he says out loud.

"Why? Do you-"

Jaskier feels the word regret, unspoken and lingering between them and he shakes his head, turning to face Geralt. "No. I'll admit it was unexpected, but don't be sorry. And don't be angry on my behalf."

"Why shouldn't I?" Geralt growls, leaning up over him. Jaskier smiles, reaching up to brush his fingers along Geralt's cheekbones.

"I don't need them. I don't care anymore." He pauses, pulling Geralt's face low enough to kiss him again. "Although, if you're going to get all protective like this every time, I might-"

"Don't even think about it." Jaskier grins, looping his arms around Geralt's neck and pressing his fingers into his hair.

"Okay."

They fall into a comfortable silence, just the sounds of their breath mingling in the evening air, then Geralt’s voice, just above a whisper. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not a child,” Jaskier huffs, amused. “I’ve has sex in the woods before, although I do generally prefer-”

“I mean about Elena.”

“I think that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to ask before you fuck me,” Jaskier quips.

“Hmm.”

“I’m fine. It’s been months, I’ve had time to think about things.”

“And?”

“And I think if things had worked out between us, I would have missed you too much to stay with her.”

“I thought you loved her more than anyone.”

“Well,” Jaskier smiles, turning to brush his fingers through Geralt’s hair, “maybe not more than everyone.”

[amethystpath-writes]

oooo can i request a drabble for that one post you made about the captured hero and the malicious villain because i want that if you have the time or inspiration. thanks :D

I ended up writing this one twice because I wasn't satisfied with the first, but here we are! Thanks for the request anon!

Add. tag: (@whatwhumpcomments )

Heed tags! Nothing too serious but just to be safe <3

******

Heels. Hero hated the sound of heels. Usually, he could tell what mood Villainess was in by how loud and precise the steps were. This time was different.

The steps were sharper, which typically meant she was determined, but this sound was different. It sounds...hollow. What did that mean? He didn't know, and there wasn't anything he could do to find out, seeing as he was shackled against the wall, except wait until she opened the door- which she did.

White light flooded into the room, and Hero had the sense to close his eyes immediately after he heard the lock of the door click. He let his vision adjust beneath his eyelids before opening them. Not without a couple of claws digging around in his stomach.

It happened- his body's discomfort- every time he acknowledged Villainess was in the same building as him. And when she was in the same room as him- when Hero could see her- his throat swelled like it was trying to keep down the stomach acid he knew his body was trying to toss.

Watching her step in now, Hero had to suppress the whine in his throat. He felt so pathetic, felt like a puppy dog begging for attention. Only, attention was the last thing Hero wanted- because attention was a code word for pain.

Villainess hummed. "What say you we do today?"

Hero only swallowed and screwed his eyes shut. The mere image of Villainess sent him into flurries of panic, and oftentimes begging. Instead, he hyper-focused on any amount of wrath he felt. Hero thoughts of his friends- his team. He wanted to return to them so badly, but his wishful thinking didn't last.

"Come on. Pipe up!" Villainess screeched. "I'm in a good mood today!"

Which is exactly why I'm not. The thought wasn't quipy, not at all. Hero imagined his voice being dreadfully tired; it's how he felt.

"You haven't asked why I'm dressed up."

Hero had noticed the stilettos, and even acknowledged that that was why Villainess' steps had been so much more piercing than usual. Most times she wore clacky boots. Not today.

"I have a banquet to attend to. I'm hostess, actually."

The hero groaned, waiting and waiting for Villainous to do something, anything. The anticipation was worse than the torture itself- so he liked to think.

"Bored, are you? Then how about you tell me what we're doing today?"

He shook his head, eyes still closed. Why did she always try to make him choose how she would torment him? It was cruel, and entirely undeserved. "May-maybe you should just- should get ready for your-"

"What do you think I'm doing now?" Hero looked up, only to see Villainess' mouth lift at either corner.

Don't tell me-

"You are going to the banquet, too. Only," She gripped his pretty chin, tilting it to either side. Villainess hummed. "Did you ever watch Beauty and the Beast?" She waited, but when Hero delivered a continued silence, she demanded an answer, to which he nodded. "Good. Then my little rose will be familiar with his glass cage."

Hero swallowed, tried to pull his head away from her hand, but she followed him in whatever limited space he had. "Is that it then? I'm just going to be on display?" His voice was hopeful, but still shaky. Hero doubted it would be that easy. And he was right.

Villainess' hand finally slid away from her captive's chin, but slid to his shoulder. She picked an invisible fleck off the shoulder of his tattered shirt. "I wish I could mend clothes like I did your skin." Hero shuddered at his too many memories of sliced skin. Villainess was a healer. Any prick, scratch, or mortal wound could be repaired to extraordinary health in a snap. Or she could take her time. It depended on her mood most days.

"But maybe not. I do like your skin. It'd be a shame to always have it covered in cloth." Villainess ran her hand across the holes of Hero's shirt. Her eyes lit up as she saw the goosebumps riddling his flesh. "You know what I'll do?" She took several steps backwards, eyeing Hero like he was bait. Villainess giggled. "I'll write the names of your friends on your arms after I rip the sleeves off."

Hero squinted at his tormentor. "You'll write them?" He tried not to think of what their names meant, or rather what Villainess would intend for them to mean. Instead of seeing their names and thinking of himself as a failure for being caught, he would see himself as- as a distraction. Yeah, that was it. Hero was a distraction. Because as long as Villainess was focused on him, she wouldn't bother trying to find the others.

"Not with ink, silly."

How many times had Hero swallowed since Villainess stepped in today? "With wha- how are you-"

"Well first I'll need a cutting tool. How do you feel about scalpels? I find them to be very convenient." Villainess sighed and let her hand fall from the hero's body. "So much work, so little time. You know your one friend has an eleven letter name? Ridiculous. I'm not even sure I can pronounce it."

Hero grunted. He didn't know if he could handle another day of torture. Every day was the same. Every day, Villainess came in and scraped him down to the bone, or raggedly cut patches of his hair off- oftentimes ticking off pieces of his scalp, or any other amount of physical tortures. "I don't- Please. I can't-"

Villainess stopped, faced her precious prize again. "Well, go on, then."

The worst thing about the villainess having the ability to heal was that nearly everything about her was perfect. If anything became askew- like a broken nose- she could fix it. Even worse, she could make it straighter than it ever was before.

Her ability meant that her teeth, as wolfish as they were, were perfectly straight, perfectly polished, and perfectly spine-chilling.

"If you can't handle it, then try to escape."

For the first time since he'd been captured, Hero snarled. And he did yank at his restraints. The metal holding him to the wall bit against his wrists. His elbows were thrown forward, but otherwise, he hardly moved at all.

He spat, "They'll come for me. They'll come, and they'll kill you before freeing me." Hero hated the way his stomach twisted further as Villainess' smile fell into a straight line. No doubt she was still amused, but whatever was about to happen, it was serious, and Hero didn't know how to prepare for it.

Villainess began the tiny trek back to her captive, eventually leaning into Hero and placing her elbows on his arms- keeping them pinned to the wall. She chuckled, pressing a finger against his lips. Surprised he wasn't biting, she told him in a delicate whisper, "They are dead. Just like I am myself in your dreams." Villainess didn't give him time to bite. She moved her hand from Hero's lips to his chin, grasping it between her slender, witchy fingers, and then throwing his head to the side. Villainess put her weight on a single heel before spinning her back to Hero and walking out, hollering before she shut the door, "I'll be back with my equipment in just a moment, love."

The door shut, and all Hero could do was listen as her footsteps retreated, only to hear them come back again. It couldn't be true, could it? That his team was dead? But then why else would Villainess keep him alive?

She wants a trophy to present. And if the rest of the heroes were dead, Hero was the only thing left to show. Villainess would keep him forever just to remind him- and everyone else- that she'd won.

******

If you liked this, consider buying me a coffee? :D

[writingwhimsey]

The Tiger and the Oda Princess Ch. 12

Chapter 12

It was the day before the festival was to begin. I stood at the gates with Shingen, Yukimura, Asuna, Yoshimoto, Sasuke, and Kenshin as we waited for the Oda to arrive. I knew Nobunaga would obviously be coming. I wasn't sure who all would be coming. If it would be the entire inner circle or if anyone would be staying behind to keep the castle running.

The signing of the alliance wouldn't happen until tomorrow as an opening act of the festival. But it made more sense to have them arrive a day early to get a little rest before all of the festivities. I'd also organized things to have a banquet for all of us as a way to bring good will and hopefully get everyone to relax. One of the terms of the alliance was that I was to be a mediator as I was close to everyone on both sides and was the only person who could get these men to behave for some strange reason.

Shingen had an arm wrapped around my waist and I felt him hug me closer and kiss the top of my head. "Are you sure you're up for this my love?" He asked me.

I smiled up at him. "Of course. Besides I have help."

"I brought extra ground spikes as requested, Ava." Sasuke said, giving me a thumbs up.

"And you know my skills are at your disposal as well, my lady." Asuna agreed.

Shingen looked over at Asuna. "You know, I thought you worked for me."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, well you gave me the job of looking after Lady Ava and frankly this is very important for her health and the baby's. Besides...when we were in Azuchi, I couldn't help but to notice...they aren't all that terrible."

I smiled over at Asuna. "They do grow on you."

"Yeah...that was hard to admit to, too." She replied.

"I'd still rather fight them." Kenshin said. "Maybe I can get the One-Eyed Dragon to fight me in the training hall since we'll be in this alliance."

"I'm sure Masamune would be happy to indulge you in that, Kenshin." I replied, knowing how battle hungry Masamune could get.

"Maybe this alliance won't be a bad thing then." Yukimura remarked. "Sasuke and I can finally get a break."

"My thoughts exactly, Yukimura." Sasuke replied.

I looked up at Shingen. I could tell he was tense. I wrapped my arms around his waist in a hug. Instantly I felt him relax a bit as he returned my embrace. I gave him a smile as we held each other. "I love you." I told him.

Shingen returned my smile. "I love you, too." He replied, kissing my forehead.

"Just remember what we're doing this for." I told him, taking his hand and placing it over my swollen belly, resting my hand on top of his.

Shingen smiled at me. "This little one will have a more peaceful future." He agreed. He was then giving me a light peck on the lips. It was a brief kiss, but I could still feel Shingen's love for me in that short kiss. He continued to hold me and rested his brow against mine.

It was then that we could hear hoof beats approaching and a voice called out to us. "Can you not keep your hands to yourself?"

Shingen and I turned at Hideyoshi's grumpy mom voice, but we didn't break apart. The others were with him. I noticed that only Ieyasu and Mitsunari were missing. "The last I checked, there was nothing wrong with showing my wife affection." Shingen replied.

"There's affection and then there's being lewd." Hideyoshi replied.

I sighed, already feeling a throbbing in my temple. Lewd was last night. I thought.

"This is actually pretty tame for them." Yukimura remarked.

"This is tame?" Hideyoshi asked.

"Really can't blame the man." Masamune interjected. "If the lass were mine, I'd be the same. Especially with a group of other men around. Making sure they knew she was mine."

"No one asked you, Masamune." Hideyoshi replied.

"Enough, Hideyoshi." Nobunaga said, as he dismounted his horse. "Shingen is more than welcome to show Ava affection...as long as he doesn't mind sharing." He wore a mischievous smirk as he walked over to us, reaching a hand towards me.

I was frozen in place confused by what was happening. Shingen was one step ahead and pulled me away from Nobunaga, holding me with both of his arms. "I don't think so. Are you wanting a fight, Devil?"

"For Ava, gladly." Nobunaga replied, grinning.

"A fight? I'm in." Kenshin said, his hand already going to the hilt of his sword.

"Woah! Wait just a minute all of you, just stop right now." I shouted. "Don't make me get Sasuke to break out the Makibishi. We are here for an alliance. So, Nobunaga you stop joking around and Shingen stop taking his obvious bait...and Kenshin stop looking for a fight or I'm going to throw out all of the pickled plums and you only get one cup of sake."

Stunned silence filled the air for a moment. "You wouldn't dare get rid of my pickled plums and limit my sake?" Kenshin was the first to speak up.

I stood my ground. "Yes, I would."

Kenshin read the resolve in my eyes. He grumbled unintelligibly before removing his hand from his sword.

Nobunaga laughed in amusement. "Growing bolder all the time." He said. He then looked at Shingen. "Perhaps her being with you isn't all bad."

"Finally admitting my hands are the better ones for her." Shingen replied.

"Alright, before anyone else can start anything, let's get inside and get everyone settled and then we'll have a nice banquet." I said, stopping them before they could start again.

"Yes, we can't let the food or your hard work on the banquet go to waste." Shingen said, giving me an affectionate squeeze.

"I hope you didn't overwork yourself, Ava." Hideyoshi said.

"Me overwork?" I replied. "Besides, I have a midwife who barely let me do anything. And there are a dozen maids here who follow me when she's not."

"Well considering how terrible you are at just relaxing most of the time, we all have to be on top of you." Asuna told me.

"See, I'm good." I told Hideyoshi.

Attendants came then to take the horses and we were leading everyone inside. We showed them to their rooms and then we all went to get ready for the banquet. When Shingen and I arrived to our room, Otsuna had some tea waiting for me as well as our clothes laid out for the evening.

"I thought you could use this tea to help relax you and relieve some of the stress you must be feeling, my lady." She told me.

I smiled at her. "Thank you. You're the best."

She smiled warmly at me and then bowed to us before leaving. I picked up the tea and took a sip, feeling its warmth suffuse me. "I love that woman." I said.

Shingen was coming up behind me, his large hands coming to rest on my shoulders. He was then kneading the tense muscles there. "I am quite certain she loves you as well. Everyone does." He told me, leaning down to kiss my cheek. "Of course, I can't blame them. You are absolutely beautiful, kind, generous, loving, selfless..."

My cheeks began to heat up. "Stahp, you're gonna make me get a big head or something." I teased. "Or combust from embarrassment maybe."

Shingen chuckled and then wrapped his arms around me, hugging me close. He kissed the top of my head. "As I've already said, I just can't help myself when I'm around your exquisite beauty. Words of supplication just slip past my lips."

I playfully swatted at him. "Alright, aright. But we have a party to get ready for."

We both changed into our clothes for the banquet and were then heading to the main audience hall. Soon everyone else began filing in. Food, sake, and tea was everywhere. So far, everyone seemed to be having a good time. Kenshin was even involved in a deep discussion with Mitsuhide.

"I'm terrified to even think of what those two might be talking about." I said to Shingen.

"That is a scary pair." He agreed.

"Not as frightening as you two." Hideyoshi said, as he came over to take the unoccupied seat beside me.

I sighed and gave Hideyoshi a look. "Come on now."

He smiled at me and ruffled my hair an an affectionate, brotherly way. "For you, I will stop." He said, smiling warmly at me.

"Thank you." I replied.

"How have you been feeling? You know you've had us all worried." He said.

"Even Ieyasu has been worried. He was grumbling that he couldn't come." Masamune said, coming over to join us. "Though some of that may have to do with the fact that he got left behind with Mitsunari."

"I'm just fine." I answered. "Shingen and everyone else has been taking excellent care of me."

"Ieyasu sent over some medicinal tea for you." Masamune said. "I already ran it by your midwife, she said it was fine."

"Yes, wouldn't want to get on her bad side." Hideyoshi said.

"She does know ho to take a man down very quickly and easily." Shingen said. "Hitting the right pressure points to immobilize you."

"Really?" Masamune asked. "Maybe I would want her to come after me."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

It was then that I noticed Hideyoshi moving over a bit. A couple seconds later, Nobunaga was sitting down beside me. He smiled at me. "Since it is more taxing for you to come to me, I thought I would come to you."

"Well, I appreciate that." I said. I suddenly felt a bit on edge, sitting between Nobunaga and Shingen. I could feel the tension between the two...and I was sitting right in the middle of it.

Nobunaga turned his gaze to Shingen. "Perhaps we can have another game of Go before I return to Azuchi. I still have to defeat you."

Shingen smiled, though there was an intense look in his eyes. "You can't give up fighting me entirely?"

"Well, if I actually battled you and killed you, that would upset Ava." Nobunaga replied. "At least crushing you in Go, I won't have to see her cry."

Wait...did Nobunaga just admit to not wanting to fight Shingen anymore because of me? I thought to myself. Though I am sure my surprise was evident on my face.

Nobunaga looked at me, an amused grin on his face. "If I were to upset you, you might turn my luck around on me."

Oh, lucky charm turning into a bad lucky charm, huh? I thought. "If I'd have known that's all it took, I'd have threatened to turn your luck around sooner." I joked.

Nobunaga laughed.

"That's something you wouldn't have to worry about, as I would be the one taking your head if we fought." Shingen said.

I sighed. I love this man. I really do. And I love my friends, but damn. I wish they would all just stop with these pissing contests. I thought to myself.

"I wouldn't let that happen." Hideyoshi said.

"Down, boys." I said. "Don't make me put you all in separate corners. I'll have Sasuke block you in them with ground spikes."

"I still want to know just how you got Kenshin's ninja on your side, Ava?" Mitsuhide spoke.

"I too, would like to know this." Kenshin said. "You're supposed to be my ninja, Sasuke."

"I have always been on Ava's side." Sasuke answered.

"He did threaten to make pit traps in her room at Kasugayama before we brought here there." Shingen agreed.

"Wait, Sasuke, why did you want to make pit traps in my room?" I asked.

"So you'd be able to protect yourself from Lord Shingen of course." Sasuke answered.

"Well, you clearly did a terrible job of helping her protect herself from this man." Hideyoshi said, gesturing to my pregnant belly.

"To be fair, I don't think I would have had it in me to activate the pit traps." I said. "Besides, I'm pretty happy now."

Shingen smiled at me, as he wrapped an arm around me.

"You do seem happy." Hideyoshi agreed. "And even if he is the father, you do look cute pregnant."

"Quite adorable." Masamune agreed. "Though if you were in Azuchi, I'd have you really fattened up, lass."

I felt my face starting to heat up. "Oh look, Kenshin's cup is empty. I'll just go refill it..." I said, looking for an excuse to get away, but I was immediately stopped. Shingen had placed a gentle hand on the my arm that was beside him, and Nobunaga had placed a hand on my other arm. Both of them effectively and yet gently pulling me back to my seat.

I could feel them glaring at each other over me. "Uh...what's going on?" I asked.

"You don't need to be getting up to go around the room and wait on everyone." Shingen said. "You should be relaxing and enjoying the party."

"Yes, no need to overexert yourself." Nobunaga agreed.

Masamune and Mitsuhide both started laughing. Even Kenshin let out an amused chuckle. "Oh this, is going to be a fun evening." Masamune said.

"Okay, I'll stay in my seat." I said, shaking off both of them. "At least you both agreed on something."

The party went on for a while and I noticed Masamune disappeared for a bit, but then came back. When he returned, he had a tray of food. He brought it over to us. "Made you something special, Lass."

I looked at the tray and saw the sweet treats that were shaped like cute little bunnies. My eyes lit up. "Oh my goodness! Those are so cute! Almost...too cute...to eat." I wasn't sure why, but I started to feel tears stinging my eyes as I looked at the cute little bunny treats and I began to get choked up while speaking.

"Ava? Are you alright, my love?" Shingen asked me, his large hand coming to rest comfortingly on my back.

I nodded. "Yes...it's just...I don't know...they're co cute...and...I just..." I couldn't finish and devolved into sobs.

Shingen was pulling out his handkerchief for me and I took it, wiping at my eyes. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on me. I'm pretty sure they had started to think I had gone crazy.

"Lass, I didn't mean to make you cry." Masamune said, stunned.

"I'm...I'm fine." I said. "I...I tend to cry...over lots...of really...dumb...things."

"It's perfectly normal." Asuna said, coming over to me. "Mood swings are common."

"Pull yourself together, woman." Kenshin spoke. "It can't be that hard."

I shot a glare at him. My eyes were still wet with tears, but they were slowing. "I'd like to...see you grow...another person in...your body...and be normal."

Shingen was rubbing my back gently. Nobunaga was quietly chuckling at my other side.

Without even thinking about it, I reached over with one arm and shoved Nobunaga on the shoulder. "Stop that."

"Ava..." Hideyoshi started.

Nobunaga stopped laughing, but a smile remained on his face. "Leave her be, Hideyoshi. It is fine."

Hideyoshi nodded. Though he doted on me like a big brother, I couldn't forget the no hitting Nobunaga rule...even if Nobunaga was being a troll and deserved it. Though t appeared he liked it...or just found it amusing.

I managed to calm myself down. "I'm fine." I said, taking in a deep breath.

"If you cry because something is so cute, what else makes you cry?" Masamune asked.

"Uhm...I've cried because the sunset is so pretty...because I've found some beautiful fabric...and because I dropped something." I answered, listing off some of the other ridiculous things I have cried over in the last few weeks.

"I caught her crying just a couple of days ago because she saw some ducks in the pond in the garden." Yukimura added. "She's turned into a big sap."

I didn't even say a word and Asuna was going over to Yukimura and giving him a hard slap to the back of the head.

"Owe, what was that for?" Yukimura asked.

"Because you're an idiot who needs some sense knocked into him." Asuna answered.

"I like her." Masamune declared with a grin.

"She is a perfect compliment for this fireball over here." Nobunaga agreed and gestured to me.

There was more talking and laughing as the evening went on. I was enjoying myself, the food was excellent and everyone seemed to be getting along. I was taking a sip of my water when I felt the baby begin to move. Suddenly there was discomfort in my ribcage. I put my water down and began to massage the spot where I could feel pressure.

"Ava? Are you alright?" Shingen asked.

"What's going on?" Hideyoshi asked, also noticing.

"Oh, the baby is just stretching." I answered. "I have some body part in my ribs right now."

"Probably a head or a butt." Asuna said, giving her expert midwife opinion.

After rubbing the spot in my ribs a few moments, the baby finally moved and then went to kicking lower in my belly. Shingen placed a hand over my belly to feel the baby kicking. I smiled and leaned into him.

"Alright, you can't hog them all to yourself." Masamune spoke up.

The next thing I knew, Masamune was coming over and about to place his hand over my belly. I swatted his hand away. "Hey, you should ask permission before touching a pregnant woman's belly." I said.

"Oh, so only the tiger can touch your belly?" Masamune asked.

Shingen grinned as he wrapped an arm around my waist. "I am the reason it's there after all."

I felt my face heat up, but he wasn't wrong.

Masamune returned the grin. "Guess that means I'll have to make sure the next baby in that belly is mine, then?" His voice teasing.

"Those are fighting words." Shingen replied.

"No need to fight, especially since that won't happen. I'm only having Takeda babies." I said. "So, stop teasing, Masamune...just stick with cooking."

Masamune laughed. "Alright, alright. Though I wouldn't mind to work in a sparing match with the Tiger of Kai."

"If we are having battles, I want in." Kenshin spoke up, from his place beside Mitsuhide.

"If anyone will be facing Shingen, it should be me." Nobunaga spoke up from my other side. "We have unfinished business."

"I will not back down from a challenge." Shingen replied. "Though, I am not Kenshin, I'd rather not face both of you at once."

Though I really didn't want any fighting going on, I couldn't help but to think of when I last saw Shingen in the training hall the other day. I could already feel myself heating up from the memory of how sexy he looked swinging his sword. I had to start fanning myself with the fan Yoshimoto had given me.

"We fight together." Kenshin replied.

This got out of hand really quickly. I thought to myself. "Nope, no fighting. We are having a banquet tonight and then there's an official peace treaty signing tomorrow. Let's not forget that boys." I said. "Sasuke."

"Already on it." Sasuke replied.

"What in the world are these dangerous looking things?" Hideyoshi asked.

"When did you even put these out?" Nobunaga asked as he delicately picked up a ground spike.

"That is an impressive skill." Mitsuhide said.

"What do you expect? He is my ninja." Kenshin said, puffing up with pride over Sasuke.

"Why did you have to put out so many?" Yukimura asked.

"I am sorry, but I was trying to keep a fight from happening." Sasuke replied. "I did come to help Ava in that regard."

"Yes, it would be better for Ava's health if you could all refrain from fighting." Asuna added.

"None of us would harm Ava in the fighting." Nobunaga said.

"Oh, that's not what I am referring to." Asuna replied.

"The stress wouldn't be good." Hideyoshi agreed.

"Not even that." Asuna said. "I just can't have my lady combust when she watches Lord Shingen fight."

I felt my face get even redder. "I...I do not..."

"Then why did you start fanning yourself at the thought of it?" Asuna countered.

"It's just...you know it's completely normal for me to experience hot flashes while pregnant." I deflected.

I could feel Shingen's eyes on me and saw the smile on his lips. I looked up and met his gaze, warming further. He was then leaning over and kissing me gently on the forehead. "No fighting then. I can't have my goddess overheating."

I gave him a playful glare, but I was betrayed by my smiling lips.

"I swear how you two can always end up like this, I don't understand." Kenshin said in disgust, though he had a soft look on his face.

"Okay, come everyone, let's just get back to enjoying the food and I need the rest of you to enjoy the sake for me since I can't." I said, my cheeks still red, but I was trying to get the attention off of me.

The banquet went on well into the night. More talking, laughing, and teasing filled the night and I couldn't help but to smile. I was always happy as long as I was with Shingen...but I was even happier that there was finally peace with the Oda. It was wonderful that everyone was managing to get along for the most part. I knew there were going to be bumps in the road, but there was going to be peace. I knew we would have many more fun evenings like this. The future was looking bright.

Read Chapter 13 below!

https://writingwhimsey.tumblr.com/post/658986867804569600/the-tiger-and-the-oda-princess-ch-13

[dramaqueeenamby]

𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ♦︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔

Summary: He’d searched for centuries to find the sun summoner. What he never expected was for someone to uncover the sun within him. In which the darkling finds himself on a journey with a powerful Grisha who may just uncover the humanity trapped within.

A/N: I am terrible with updating regularly, but here is the second part! If you're actually interested in this hodgepodge of a story, I've updated six parts/chapters on ArchiveOFOurOwn.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC and the non-canon parts.

Words: 2.8K // Pairings: The Darkling x OC // Warnings: None, yet.

Functions weren’t Milena’s thing. To be honest, any type of public outing ranked on the not so pleasurable side of the scale. And it wasn’t due to introversion or shyness but rather discomfort and unease for other reasons. As someone who’d spent their entire life moving from place to place and keeping their head down as to avoid garnering attention, being the subject of a setting created unease.

So, when Milena learned that the Grisha were holding a somewhat “party” in the Little Palace and she was expected to attend, she was less than pleased. For one, people. For two, Zoya. They hadn’t exactly hit it off upon their first meeting. In fact, the only hitting occurred when Zoya sent Milena flying into a stack of logs in what was supposed to be a hand-to-hand combat training session.

Milena, of course, returned the favor, despite the scolding she received from Botkin

Third, she just….didn’t want to.

Too many people had already asked her too many questions. Questions about her power, her parents, where she’d been, was she the sun summoner. It was just all too much, hence her sneaking away to find solace in the palace gardens.

Everyone seemed eager to be at the party, so it was a safe place of solitude and silence.

Some of her favorite things.

“I believe the banquet is inside, is it not?”

Naturally, Milena jumped and had her arms up, ready to attack, only to be met with the smug expression of General Kirigan.

She relaxed, slightly, enough to lower her arms. Milena bowed her head and mustered a low, “sir.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Be respectful. Milena didn’t know if it was the fact that she hadn’t made the best first impression or his frustration with her lack of progress in their training, but she sensed the edge in his voice. After all, he seemed convinced that she was afraid of something, which was hindering her growth.

Whatever.

Regardless, it didn’t escape her how he seemed to take pleasure in toying with her, or maybe being a prick was just something he enjoyed having as a defining trait. Whatever the case, it was getting old. Real old.

“I prefer being alone,” was all she said, eager, though not hopeful, that he would understand the underlying meaning. Leave me be.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” she answered, confidently, looking at him head on. Gone were the days of staring at the ground. She refused to do that any longer. “And as this is your palace, shouldn’t you be at your own banquet?”

He smiled, and Milena nearly doubled back. For as long as she’d known him, the only two emotions and expressions she’d known him to emote were irritation and anger. Perhaps, maybe, amusement, but even that was cleverly hidden behind narrowed eyes and closed lips. And now, the bastard was smiling?

“Fair enough.” She wasn’t expecting that. What exactly she was expecting, she didn’t know, but she knew it wasn’t that. “May I?”

He gestured to the seat near the fountain where she stood. Hesitantly, she nodded, watching him take a seat. Milena decided to occupy herself, searching the garden beds for a petal or something else that could be taken without issue.

“How are you adjusting to life in the Little Palace?”

She couldn’t help the snort that left her mouth at that question. Milena considered lying. Would it be disrespectful to tell him that she contemplated running away at least once a week?

“Well, aside from Zoya trying to kill me, Baghra hating me, and being gawked at like some object by everyone else, I must say, it has been quite the adventure.” Rolling her eyes, she looked over at him to see that he was no longer smiling, the familiar scowl returning.

“You do not have to worry about Zoya anymore.”

Milena spun around, eyes widening. “Is she…”

“Taking time off to reevaluate her priorities,” he finished. Milena wanted to know more but she decided not to push. “And pay Baghra no mind, she cares for few—”

“I didn’t know she could care.” He looked at her, prompting Milena to drop her gaze and apologize. “Sorry.”

He said nothing, skipping to his next question. “Is your room satisfactory?”

At that, her eyebrow quipped. Out of everything, having such luxurious rooming accommodations ranked at the top of her list of reasons to stay. “Well, I’ve never had warming stones put in my bed before, so that’s been a nice change.” She located a three-leaf clover, twisting it in her hands as she leaned back against the stone edging so that she was facing him. “It’s nice having Genya. She doesn’t gawk or probe. I like that.”

“I thought you preferred being alone.”

“I do,” she affirmed, sighing and shaking her head. “I’ve-I’ve always been alone. It’s...it’s all I know.”

Why she was saying that, to him of all people, she hadn’t a clue. In fact, Milena suddenly realized just how strange the nature of this conversation was. Never had he inquired about sentiments toward trivial manners such as her enjoyment, or lack thereof, of her time at the palace. And now, she was divulging beyond surface level feelings.

Milena opened her mouth to change the subject when she realized that he was no longer sitting down but standing up just a few mere inches away. “You are Grisha, Milena.” A beat. “You are not alone.”

She swallowed. Milena didn’t know what to say to that. Did she believe him? Not necessarily. Having gifts in common with others did not equate undying loyalty. She’d never been able to trust and depend on anyone, so how could he expect his mere words to reverse a lifetime of trauma?

Milena relaxed ever so slightly when he moved back, turning to leave. Without thinking, she called after him, prompting him to turn around.

“Why are you training me?” She didn’t intend to ask him anything else, especially since he was leaving her to her much desired solitude. And yet, the sight of him walking away irked her to a certain degree. For what reason, she hadn’t a clue. “You don’t train anyone else.”

“You are not like anyone else.”

She scoffed and looked away. “So, I’ve been told.”

He studied her. “Tell me, are you so anxious to be like everybody else?”

She laughed bitterly. “It would be nice to know how that feels someday...general.”

He continued to examine her, as if he was trying to figure something out. Figure her out. “Well, that day is not today.”

“Nor will it be any other day,” she chucked sadly, turning back around to stare at her reflection in the pond. Milena frowned. Another day of seeing a stranger.

Eyes falling to the side, she made out the General’s reflection. He was now beside her. “What do you see?”

She sighed, fingers dancing in the water, creating waves of ripples. “Someone’s reflection of me.”

“Or perhaps the real you is finally emerging.”

She turned to look at him, discovering that he was already staring at her. Suddenly, self-conscious, she turned away with an awkward smile. “If this is the real me, why do you push me so much?”

His answer surprised her. “Because I can see it. You can’t.”

“Are you familiar with disappointment?”

“In all my years, I’ve never seen a Grisha who can do what you can.” He informed, honestly, and again, Milena suspected no subterfuge. He was being genuine. “You are special, Milena, but it will mean nothing if you don’t stop holding back.”

“You keep saying that, but I’m n—”

“What happened to your parents?”

Her mouth dried and stomach immediately knotted. What reason did he have to go there or to even ask what he already knew? Again, she was reminded how awful the Black General could be.

“You kno—”

“Tell me.”

She pursued her lips as her jaw clenched. “They were killed. Betrayed by friends who found out they were Grisha. Burned alive.”

His gaze was so intense, she should have looked away, but she didn’t. She maintained eye contact.

“And you’ve been hiding ever since, hiding who you are, hiding what you can do—”

“So I could stay alive—”

“So what is your reason now, Ms. Belarus?”

At that, her stomach settled, and defensiveness waned. He had her there.

His words replayed in her mind for the rest of the evening, even as she laid in bed, unable to sleep, her mind a vast bat of conflicting feelings.

She never considered that she was holding back. She was able to utilize all three of her gifts, so how could she be holding back? Then she thought, really thought about what not only the General had been telling her, but Baghra said as well.

And gradually, it started coming to her. The quickness in which she put out the flames, she way she would rush and hide when using her squaller abilities, the terror that filled her being when she sped up or stopped someone’s heart.

She lived in a constant state of anxious panic, fear that she would meet the same fate of her parents.

“Who are you holding back for?”

“My parents,” she whispered, grasping at her eyes, wetness pooling at her fingertips.

Frustrated, she sat up, pulling her legs to her chest. This wasn’t how she expected to spend her night, encountering and swallowing hard truths that she’d managed to dodge up until now. The reason she continued to doubt herself was because she feared the same judgment and persecution as her parents. Even more, there was a difference between choosing to be alone because of feared rejection, and solitude out of necessity. Along the way, those two ends had meshed, and she’d lost where the truth lied.

Up until now.

Wiping at her eyes, Milena kicked the blankets off her body and swung her legs around so that they dangled off the side of her bed. Gripping the edge of the mattress, she stared at the ground, taking a slow, deep breath before standing up. Milena walked toward the door, grabbing a silver robe along the way. She loosely tied it so that her white nightgown with the low neck was somewhat concealed, though not completely.

Where she was going, she knew not, she just allowed her feet to do the thinking for her, which may or may not have worked in her favor. She found herself outside of the General’s room, but instead of like most in the palace, his door was open and he was awake. She looked in and saw that he was standing by the war table, back toward her.

Milena could have sworn she was quiet enough to avoid detection, but he still turned around. Milena realized that he was also in his robe, stark black. Of course. He looked surprised, but not annoyed, by her presence.

“Milena.”

She straightened and laid her hand on the door, swallowing. “I’m sorry. I—am I disturbing you?”

Yes.

“Not at all.” He unfolded his arms. “Can’t sleep?” With a small smile, she shook her head and gradually started to enter his room, halfway expecting him to stop her. “Come in.”

She paused momentarily, waiting for him to change his mind, but once again, he didn’t. Instead, he reached for a small glass of what she supposed was wine and offered it to her. “Here.”

She accepted the drink, bringing it to her mouth to sniff for any unfamiliar or strange scents. She found none and took a sip, eyes falling over to the table while his attention remained on her. Milena quietly cleared her throat and gestured to the pawns. “Is this map current?”

“It is.” He followed her line of vision to see the makeup of the map only to look back at her again. “Our enemies are threatened by your mere existence.”

Milena looked away, a small sense of guilt eating at her. He was referring to her discovery. In the midst of moving from one town to another after noticing strange looks of the townsfolk, the saints were clearly not on her side as she unknowingly walked into the middle of a battle between the Second Army and the drüskelle. Initially, her plan was to lay low and avoid being killed, but she quickly realized that was not an option. She was forced to use her power, all three variations, rendering the fjerdans and the grisha nearly speechless. For the fjerdans who survived, they returned with tales of her, her abilities, and for the grisha, she was suddenly a new recruit. It was all so unexpected and sudden, and Milena often felt as though everything was happening far too quickly.

He continued. “There is talk of uprising in the West.” He began to inch away from her, nearing a poster of Zlatan, the First Army General. “Led by our….esteemed First Army General.”

Milena noticed a sudden chill in the room as patches of light became obscured by growing shadows. Confused, she quickly realized they were General Kirigan’s doing. “Our own people, turning their backs on us.”

Milena saw the anger brimming, the way he stared with quiet hate at the poster, the table, the whole thing. Unconsciously, she moved toward him. “General--”

“I have been fighting this war….alone....for so long.” With each pained statement, Milena found herself moving closer toward him as the darkness continued to fill the room. This was more than anger. It was grief. “I have buried so many good soldiers…..friends.”

She placed her glass down and realized she was merely inches away from him. Milena ignored the urge to touch him. She’d never seen him this vulnerable, his ardent anger on full display in a simmering manner which made him appear even more dangerous. Loud anger was palpable, but quiet rage was unpredictable.

“The coffers are running dry, the noose….tightens, and our own people are turning against grisha just as their kin once did.”

Milena was unsure of what to do in that moment. The room was completely dark, save for specks of light that entered through the bottom of the door. His words cut through her life a knife. For the first time, she realized just how much of a heavy weight this man carried. And she sympathized with him. Greatly.

Reacting on pure instinct rather than protocol or logic and repressing her reluctance, she placed her hand on his wrist, tugging slightly. He angled his body toward her, allowing Milena to grab both of his wrists. She looked up at him, quieting the voices in the back of her head that told her her conduct was out of line. Focusing, she detected his erratic heartbeat and worked to calm him, speaking when she realized he was relaxing.

“You are not alone,” she echoed his words from only a few hours prior. This time, Milena studied him, observing how his eyes burned into her with a plethora of emotions: confusion, irritation, peace. Gradually, the shadows receded, and the light returned.

In more than one way.

The Darkling suddenly dropped her hands. She prepared to move back, accepting whatever disciplinary action he thought necessary. Not only had she initiated contact, but she’d used her powers on him without permission. That had to be grounds for some type of punishment.

But instead, she quietly gasped when he brought his right hand to her face, his hands so large that it encompassed nearly the entire right side of her face. She almost flinched, his touch was so cold. Kirigan tugged her closer. She was tempted to lay her hands on his chest.

“I’ve never…” He seemed at a loss for words, something she found astonishing for someone who always radiated such avid confidence. Milena found herself focusing on his mouth, only to realize he was staring at hers as well. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”

Milena hadn’t a clue what to say or even how and if she could or should respond to such a thing. What exactly did he mean? From what she’d learned, the Darkling had always been in search of a Sun Summoner. She was no Sun Summoner. She was simply a grisha with above average gifts, hardly a saint. So, what exactly was the reason behind his quiet confession?

Unsure and now uncomfortable, Milena forced herself to pull away. She could not ignore the drop in her stomach when she moved so that he was so no longer cupping her face. “I should go.”

He opened his mouth to say something, prompting Milena to turn away and amble out of his room. Though the door was open when she arrived, she closed it, leaning against it as she caught her breath. She swallowed and thought about what happened, face warm and heartbeat unsteady, even if she didn’t understand it.

Milena felt overwhelmed with emotions. She’d oscillated through so many feelings in less than 24 hours. She was exhausted and only remained outside his door for a few moments before she wisely hurried away back to her room, unaware that he was also on the other side of the door, also struggling to understand what had just occurred.

[tearsofthemis]

[Date] 左然 Zuo Ran: 「醉意入怀 Drunken Bottled Truths」

Preview:

“Why... I told you, to come find me when you run into trouble. Why did you have to... with him... Do you always trust others this easily!?”

Keep reading for the full date!

▌Location- Themis Law Firm, Break Room

Beep beep beep-- it was four-thirty in the afternoon, and my alarm went off on my phone. I closed the notification, saved the document I was working on, and closed my laptop. I brought my makeup bag from my desk into the break room and started my routine. There’s a business reception tonight, organized by the famous watchmaker brand in Stellis City, “LingXi Watches”. Zuo Ran had been responsible for one of their lawsuits and had been invited to attend. In turn, Zuo Ran extended the invitation to me as his plus one.)

MC: (Maybe I should spend more time practicing how to put on makeup… My skills are seriously lacking… Oh well, I should be fine with a little foundation. I don’t think I should attempt anything more advanced than that.)

Just as I was rummaging through my bag of makeup products, the break room door opened. ChengCheng peeked in to the breakroom and quickly rushed over to me.

ChengCheng: “Psst, is it true that you’ll be attending LingXi Watches’s reception with Lawyer Zuo tonight?”

MC: “Yeah, why, what’s wrong?”

Suddenly, ChengCheng clasped my hands in hers and looked at me with sparkling eyes.

ChengCheng: “I beg you… I only have this one wish in my life! If it’s not too much trouble, I beg you… you gotta help me!”

MC: “What is it?”

ChengCheng: “My favorite star is attending LingXi Watches’s party as their spokesperson. If you get a chance to meet him, can you help me get his autograph…”

ChengCheng continued to explain; I couldn’t get a word in.

ChengCheng: “I’m not asking for you to hound him or anything like that! If… the opportunity should present itself, won’t you try and ask him for me…”

MC: “Alright, I’ll try. No guarantees though-”

ChengCheng wrapped me in a tight bear hug before I could finish my sentence.

ChengCheng: “Of course, of course! I owe you my life in thanks! MC, you’re like an angel sent down from above!”

▌Location- Zuo Ran’s Office

At the same time…

Zhai Xing: “Are you really planning on taking MC to tonight’s banquet?”

Zuo Ran: “That’s right, why?”

Zhai Xing: “The reception isn’t exclusive to businesspeople; there’s going to be celebrities attending as well. I remember… Gao ShengHan, LingXi Watches’s spokesperson, will be in attendance.”

Zuo Ran: “You pay attention to celebrity news?”

Zhai Xing: “Of course not, I only know him because he recently starred in a popular new drama about love in the workplace. In the end, all the ladies in our firm were raving about him, so I remembered his name. I heard that Gao ShengHan is deemed ‘the senior we’d kill to work with’.”

Zhai Xing glanced at Zuo Ran and gave him a pointed look.

Zhai Xing: “Aren’t you scared that she’ll…?”

Zuo Ran: “I don’t think she’s the type of person to be attracted to TV personalities. Besides, dramas like that aren’t based on reality. A relationship is built upon a foundation of mutual understanding and trust.”

Zhai Xing: “What you just described is defined as a slow-burn love. Now, let’s not forget that ‘love at first sight’ still exists. Hold on - what did you just say? ‘Dramas like that-’? What do you even know about TV tropes? You’ve watched his show?”

Zuo Ran awkwardly coughed, got up, and fixed his tie.

Zuo Ran: “There’s not much time left, I’ll head out first.”

~~~

▌Location- Parking Lot

Zuo Ran drove us to the hotel venue, and we arrived close to the banquet start time. This was my first time accompanying Zuo Ran as his plus one. In the past, I had only attended strictly as his assistant. I couldn’t help but feel nervous. I closed my eyes and took a couple deep breaths. Just then, Zuo Ran spoke up beside me.

Zuo Ran: “Ah, there’s something I have to remind you of.”

MC: “What is it?”

Zuo Ran: “There’s going to be all kinds of people at the reception. If anyone tries to force you to accept drinks, you need not go along with them. Immediately come find me if it happens.”

MC: “B-but the guests tonight all have some kind of social standing. If I refuse their invites, it won't look good for them…”

I hesitated. Even if I didn’t have experience attending parties like this, it would sound rude if I refused.

MC: “I’m not going as my own entity, my actions may directly impact Themis.”

Not to mention, I’ll be representing Zuo Ran as well… I can’t afford to do anything that might upset the guests; I’ll end up only causing trouble for Zuo Ran.

MC: “Also, what if the other party is a client of Themis… it’ll be a good opportunity to get our firm’s name out there.”

Zuo Ran: “I don’t need to drink to pull clients. Themis isn’t asking that of you, either.”

Zuo Ran smiled gently when he noticed that I was nervous.

Zuo Ran: “All you have to do is be your everyday self. You’re the partner I’ve chosen, let your professionalism sway others for you. Believe in yourself, and trust me.”

He spoke directly and calmly, his words carrying a gentle strength.

MC: “... I understand.”

--- PART 2 ---

▌Location- Banquet Venue

Even with Zuo Ran’s reassuring presence, I felt nervous walking into the venue. I checked out the beautiful hotel decor, and my sights settled on someone who stood out in the crowd.

MC: (Is… Isn’t that Gao ShengHan?)

ChengCheng’s wish popped into mind, I hurriedly pulled out the picture she had handed me earlier so that I could confirm it was really Gao ShengHan.

MC: “It really is Gao ShengHan!”

I accidentally spoke my mind, and Zuo Ran turned around at the sound of my voice.

Zuo Ran: “What is it? Someone you recognize?”

MC: “A-ah, not quite, I just saw someone famous, and I can’t help but feel starstruck.”

Zuo Ran looked over my shoulder, and saw Gao ShengHan. He raised a brow at me.

Zuo Ran: “...”

MC: “Seeing him up close in person, he’s actually quite…”

I turned around as I spoke, and met Zuo Ran’s sharp gaze. He was frowning, searching my face with an expression so strange that I couldn’t even begin to describe it.

Zuo Ran: “You… care about him?”

MC: “I guess so, his recent TV drama is quite popular.”

Zuo Ran quieted, and he glanced at the photo in my hand.

MC: (C-crap… does Lawyer Zuo think I accompanied him just so I can meet celebrities? That’s so unprofessional!)

I quickly shoved the picture of Gao ShengHan back into my clutch, and awkwardly reassured him.

MC: “T-that... Lawyer Zuo! I promise this will not hinder my work! Th-the picture… it’s…”

Zuo Ran: “...”

One of LingXi Watches’s executives approached us and began to discuss the aftermath of their court victory with Zuo Ran, thus I couldn’t finish explaining myself. The case was one that Zuo Ran had worked on all by himself before I had become his work partner. My presence beside Zuo Ran might hinder his discussion, so I quietly left his side.

On the other side of the banquet hall, Gao ShengHan was entertaining a small group of people. ChengCheng’s wish popped up in my mind again, but…

MC: “The people he’s with right now… must be a bunch of hotshots… How can a small-time lawyer such as myself approach the nation’s husband…”

As I stood aside brainstorming ways that I could approach Gao ShengHan, he started walking towards me.

Gao ShengHan: “Hi, I was wondering if you were Lawyer MC?”

MC: “Ah! Yes, I am, nice to meet you. You’ve… heard of me?”

Gao ShengHan: “Of course. You were the one who defended PAX Group's Mr. Lu Jinghe from accusation, right? I followed the news coverage and even watched videos of the trial; it was very exciting.”

MC: “You flatter me. I would’ve never thought that an A-list celebrity such as yourself would pay attention to the subject of law.”

Gao ShengHan: “Ah, actually, I’ve only recently started paying attention.”

MC: “Oh?”

Gao ShengHan smiled and used the topic of the lawsuit to strike up conversation with me. It turned out that he had been cast for an upcoming law drama and was brushing up on a lawyer’s mannerisms, even going as far as to shadow lawyers when they were on the clock. He told me he had reviewed many videos of trials, but there were still things he preferred to talk face to face about with professional lawyers.

Gao ShengHan: “The office drama that just aired was made popular all thanks to the director’s hard work on writing such a phenomenal script. The truth is… my acting is still lacking… I didn’t come from an acting background, so there’s still a lot I have to learn. So I’m hoping that it’ll help if I prepare for the role in advance.”

He spoke with an absolutely charming and boyish determination, but stood firm with a man’s conviction. He was set on chasing his dream of becoming a good actor; it was hard not to like him.

MC: (No wonder ChengCheng likes him so much…)

Gao ShengHan: “Lawyer MC, I was wondering if you would share with me some tips and tricks when it comes to speaking in court?”

I was still working on getting ChengCheng her autograph, and I hastily accepted his request.

MC: “Of course I can! Although it’s been said that facts can triumph over eloquence, in the eyes of the law, it is often that facts will benefit from eloquence. Polishing your debate skills and litigation strategies can get you twice as far, with half the effort.”

Gao ShengHan: “I see, then what about cases with iron-clad evidence, or cases with little to no evidence at all?”

MC: “Then we’ve got to cross-examine whatever they’ve got! A piece of evidence’s authenticity, legitimacy, relevance, and size of the evidence must always be considered and contested.”

That’s how Zuo Ran once dismantled a case with seemingly solid defense.

~~~Flashback~~~

Defendant Xiao Ke was charged with homicide and imprisoned twenty years ago. He escaped after serving his sentence for ten years, and was arrested again after returning home to visit his sickly mother.

Prosecutor: “The prosecutor believes that defendant Xiao Ke’s behavior meets the severity of prison escape. The facts of the crime are clear, and the evidence against him is sufficient.”

Zuo Ran: “On the surface, the defendant’s prison escape is indeed in line with escape crimes. However, I would like to ask the prosecutor, what is the legal benefit infringed by the escape crime?”

Prosecutor: “The interests violated by the escape crime are punishable under the jurisdiction of the normal order of justice.”

Zuo Ran: “Correct, but the defendant’s past prison escape does not violate the normal order of justice, and is rather an incorrect order. The guilty verdict on the count of first-degree homicide twenty years ago was fundamentally a false verdict!”

Prosecutor: “Defendant, I must remind you that the chain of evidence was complete. Both evidence and witness testimony-”

Zuo Ran: “The issue lies within the witness testimony! The time of the incident was 10PM on the eighteenth of February. The witness claimed he saw the defendant Xiao Ke push the victim off the east side of the bridge, resulting in the victim’s death. The witness emphasized that because the skies were clear and the moonlight was bright, he was able to watch the incident’s proceedings very clearly. However, the eighteenth of February was five days after the new moon, thus sufficient light could not have been provided. Secondly, the moon would have risen from the west, making the moonlight shine from west to east. If the suspect had pushed the victim off the east side of the bridge, his face could not have been seen solely by moonlight. Allow me to ask, how could the witness under those conditions see the defendant’s face at the bridgehead twenty meters away?”

One by one, Zuo Ran cross-examined the evidence the prosecutor had provided, tearing into each discrepancy.

~~~Flashback ends~~~

Gao ShengHan: “Th-that’s incredible! Just like that, he managed to overturn the court ruling! But… even if it were a false verdict, it must have been difficult to win a retrial. Although I’m not well versed in law, people have always been unwilling to admit their own mistakes…”

MC: “Well, that…”

Zuo Ran’s statement of defense back then, as a lawyer myself, and as his partner, I shared the glory and triumph of his success.

~~~Flashback~~

Zuo Ran: “The evidence presented by the prosecution for the incident cannot form a complete system of proof. According to the principle of a false verdict, the defendant Xiao Ke’s initial ruling cannot be established, and he was falsely sentenced. Since he was falsely imprisoned to begin with, where is the escape crime? Therefore, the defendant’s prison break, cannot even be labelled as such.”

The jury broke out in a frenzy of discussion after Zuo Ran’s defense. He looked squarely at the jury and spoke again, the sound of his voice quelling the murmurs.

Zuo Ran: “The purpose of upholding the law is not just limited to punishing criminals, but also to protect the rights of those who are innocent. Criminal law must be obliged to not only protect our country from offenders, but also to protect the wrongly accused as well as the prosecutors who put them there. If there does not exist such procedural justice, the upholding of justice itself will be as pointless as water without a source. Then, the dignity of the law will fall apart. The defendant hereby appeals to the court, to uphold the spirit of seeking nothing but the truth, and asks for a reevaluation of the evidence. We ask on the basis of the criminal justice system as the criterion, the defendant be pronounced innocent in accordance with the law.”

~~~Flashback ends~~~

The calm and orderly manner in which Zuo Ran delivers criticism, that is the masterful way in which Zuo Ran works his magic in court. And I think it’s an art, the best speech arts in the world.

Gao ShengHan: “I see! No wonder I felt a sense of Deja Vu when I was watching the trial… After hearing about Lawyer Zuo’s speech-- I can see that you two share similar debate styles!”

MC: “Huh?”

I’ll admit that I’ve picked apart Zuo Ran’s technique and mannerisms in court, trying my best to mimic him when I have spare time, but…

MC: “I’m far from reaching his level.”

Gao ShengHan: “No, I don’t think so. You’re close, very close to his skill level. Especially with the emotional control of the room, the way you conceal your intention behind hidden meanings so that your opponent says what you want them to…”

Gao ShengHan listed notes that he had taken on my style after watching my trial. He analyzed the similarities between our presence in court through the perspective of an actor.

MC: (So to other people, this is what they see?)

I subconsciously scanned the sea of bodies for Zuo Ran’s familiar frame. He was still talking to the LingXi executive, his expression calm and indifferent. Suddenly, he must have felt someone watching as he returned my gaze and looked at me.

MC: “!!!”

I hurriedly turned away. Gao ShengHan didn't notice that I was distracted as he continued rambling.

Gao ShengHan: “Ah, I just remembered, you’re Lawyer Zuo’s partner, right? I’ve heard other people mention that you two are a natural pair…”

~~~

On the other side of the banquet hall, Zuo Ran was still responding to the executive’s incessant questions, but his attention gradually began to slip away to watch a certain corner of the room. There, Gao ShengHan and the girl were talking amiably; they seemed to have hit it off. The girl turned to look at him, then quickly looked away. Just then, a vivid smile blossomed on the girl’s face. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were sparkling, almost as if she had confided in the other man a secret that she had held deep in her heart.

Zuo Ran: “...”

Zuo Ran’s gaze narrowed, and he subconsciously itched the palm of his hand.

--- PART 3 ---

▌Location- Banquet hall

After Gao ShengHan and I finished our discussion about debate techniques, he thanked me profusely.

MC: “Ah, it was nothing. Then, Mr. Gao, can I ask you for a favor? It’s like this, er, I have a really good friend…”

I recounted to Gao ShengHan what ChengCheng had said to me in the breakroom, and he happily agreed to sign the photo.

MC: “Thank you so much!”

Gao ShengHan: “You’re very welcome! I should be the one thank you, honestly. Chatting with you has helped me a lot. And I would’ve never guessed that your co-worker has been supporting me ever since I debuted. Ah, aside from the autograph, let me film a shout out too! Would you help me take the video?”

MC: “Of course!”

MC: (Hehe… ChengCheng is going to flip when she sees this!)

I can just picture ChengCheng frothing at the mouth after I bring her the autograph, and a personal video to boot as I quickly pulled out my phone. Gao ShengHan waved enthusiastically at my camera and thanked her for her support and encouragement. After I ended the recording, he suddenly remembered something.

Gao ShengHan: “Actually, Lawyer MC, I’m looking into starting my own studio. If it’s alright, would you help me with the studio’s legal aspect?”

Who knew I’d be the one to find new clients here!

MC: “Thank you for putting your trust with us, I’ll inform Lawyer Zuo in a bit.”

Gao ShengHan: “Then I’ll have to trouble you for that. To commemorate our upcoming collaboration, and to express my thanks for your help earlier, let’s have a toast.”

Gao ShengHan flagged down the server, who brought two flutes of champagne over.

MC: “Then…”

~~~Flashback~~~

Zuo Ran: “Ah, there’s something I have to remind you of.”

Zuo Ran: “There’s going to be all kinds of people at the reception. If anyone tries to force you to accept drinks, you need not go along with them. Immediately come find me if it happens.”

~~~Flashback ends~~~

I looked at the champagne Gao ShengHan expectantly held out to me, and after I recalled Zuo Ran’s advice from earlier, I hesitated a little.

[Select: Don’t decline]

MC: (It doesn’t seem like he’s forcing me to drink with him… Besides, Gao ShengHan did sign the autograph, and he’s looking to collaborate with Themis. It’ll look really bad if I refuse…)

Gao ShengHan: “Lawyer MC?”

MC: “Ah, thank you. A toast, then…”

I didn’t finish my sentence as a hand reached out to grab my wrist, interrupting us. It was Zuo Ran. He walked over to my side, and wordlessly separated Gao ShengHan and I.

Zuo Ran: “Gao ShengHan?”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo?”

Gao ShengHan: “Ah! You’re the famous Barrister Zuo! It’s an honor to meet you in the flesh!”

Gao ShengHan held out his hand for a handshake. Zuo Ran glanced at Gao ShengHan, raised his hand, and shook it very formally.

Zuo Ran: “Ah, pardon my intrusion, Mr. Gao. My partner here doesn’t take well to alcohol, I’ll take the drink in her stead.”

I stood frozen in shock as Zuo Ran plucked my champagne flute out of my hand, touched it against Gao ShengHan’s, and downed the drink. Our chat was cut shortly after Zuo Ran’s interruption. Zuo Ran stayed glued to my side for the rest of the night after that. Perhaps it was due to his naturally imposing aura, but no one else dared to propose a toast to us, and instead, opted to respectfully stick to business talk.

~~~

▌Location- The backseat of a taxi

The rest of the night passed in a blink of an eye. Since Zuo Ran had drunk, I hailed us a taxi. After we clamored into the back, all Zuo Ran said to me was, “We’ll drop you off first,” before falling completely silent. He leaned into the seat as a set of ocean-blue eyes looked out of the cab’s window at the passing city lights, seemingly lost in thought. The neon lights flickered over his face, and all I could see was his somber face light up in shades of blue, pink, green, and yellow. I don’t know why, but Zuo Ran seemed to be quite low-spirited.

MC: (Has he been working too hard? Or maybe the LingXi executives asked difficult questions? If I tell Lawyer Zuo about collaborating with Gao ShengHan’s studio, will it help cheer him up? It definitely will! Afterall, this is such a well known client!)

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, I was talking with Gao ShengHan earlier. He’s planning on building his own studio label. He has a lot of trust for Themis Law Firm, and he wants to hire me to act as the studio’s legal consultant.”

Zuo Ran: “... You want to accept his commission?”

MC: “Yes, afterall civil and commercial law is my strength and-”

Just as I was going to suggest bringing ChengCheng along as an assistant, Zuo Ran interrupted me.

Zuo Ran: “...I’m sorry, let’s pick this up tomorrow. I’d like to rest.”

Zuo Ran closed his eyes and leaned against the headrest. After seeing how tired he looked, I instantly clammed up.

MC: “Al- alright.”

MC: (Lawyer Zuo must be absolutely exhausted…)

I quickly grabbed my phone and turned off the ringer. I didn’t want to disrupt Zuo Ran while he rested. Just then, a notification from ChengCheng popped up. She had sent me a pleading eyes emoji. I smiled at her impatience, and sent Gao ShengHan’s video over to her. As expected, ChengCheng was ecstatic, and my phone buzzed nonstop as she spammed me with countless reaction photos and gifs of Gao ShengHan: him acting cute, showing gratefulness, hearts, and kisses.

MC: (She’s so happy, I don’t think she’ll get any sleep tonight! Today, I’ve learned that Gao ShengHan is truly a man with many expressions. I scrolled through the countless stickers and gifs. Infected by ChengCheng’s bubbly texts, I couldn’t help but smile.)

Zuo Ran: “...Ugh!”

A sigh resounded by my ear. Zuo Ran reached out and grabbed my phone. He glared at me as his brows furrowed into deep lines on his forehead.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo?”

Zuo Ran didn’t respond. Instead, he flopped over on top of me, and I rushed to prop him up. Zuo Ran fell asleep with his head resting on my shoulder, drawing in small rasping breaths with the smell of alcohol hanging onto every breath.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, are you drunk?”

I quickly told the cab driver to turn around after giving him Zuo Ran’s address.

--- PART 4 ---

After we arrived at Zuo Ran’s condo, he still wasn’t awake. It was a relief that I remembered Zuo Ran’s address and apartment number, I said to myself as I helped him up the elevator and into his home.

▌Location- Zuo Ran’s living room

MC: “Hu… Lawyer Zuo, you’re home…”

I guided him over to his couch, and laid him down.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, how are you feeling? You… you should rest on the sofa for a bit. Once you feel better, take a hot shower before heading to bed, alright?”

It’s quite late, and I’m worried about Zuo Ran. There’s no way I can stay here to take care of him; all I can do is try and leave him with reassuring words.

Zuo Ran: “Hnng…”

It was a struggle getting him back to his suite, and Zuo Ran’s custommade suit was wrinkled from all the tugging and pulling. He stayed motionless in the position that I had left him in on the couch. I’m guessing he’s all out of strength. His skin was still flushed from the alcohol, his hair a mess atop his head, and his pretty brows were drawn tight in discomfort.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo…”

Zuo Ran: “Water…”

Zuo Ran raised his hand and felt around on the ottoman, knocking several things down in the process.

MC: “I’ll go get it for you! Just stay put, I’ll bring you some warm honey water!”

I hesitated on leaving Zuo Ran alone, but I quickly got up and brought him a mug of honey water. I helped him upright, and held the mug for him as he took tiny sips. I watched as his lips glistened with water; they looked really soft.

MC: “...”

My heart pounded in my chest, and I forced myself to look away. Just then, Zuo Ran must have felt hot, for he started pulling at his tie. But no matter how hard he tugged, the tie wouldn’t give way. He scrunched his brows in frustration.

MC: “Is the tie uncomfortable, Lawyer Zuo?”

He grunted and resumed tugging on his tie.

Zuo Ran: “Take… it off…”

I obeyed, helping Zuo Ran take off his suit jacket, and then attempted to loosen his tie. One minute later…

MC: (H-how do you even take off a tie…)

I struggled with the fabric. I didn’t want to use too much force and risk accidentally choking Zuo Ran. His flushed skin brushed against my fingertips, and I forced myself to banish those risky thoughts. After several failed attempts, his tie remained immaculate, whilst I had already accidentally loosened his shirt collar and several buttons in the process…

MC: (W-what do I do now…)

My mind was mush. My vision blurred, and refused to focus on anything other than Zuo Ran’s neck as his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. His collarbone peeked out from his dress skirt, and I could see the beginning of a plane of hard muscle.

MC: “!!!”

MC: (I should have looked up a tutorial…!)

I fumbled through my clutch to retrieve my phone, and searched up how to remove a tie. I finally loosened the tie after following step by step instructions. I didn’t even have time to let out the breath I was holding as a breathy sigh drifted past my ear.

Zuo Ran: “You…”

I raised my head and looked into his deep blue eyes. Blue like fizzy soda bubbles and hazy in condensation. Blue, like the rolling hills covered by rain and mist south of Yangtze River: faint, warm, and endless.  Only then did I notice how close our faces were - close enough to share our breaths.

Zuo Ran: “...”

I bolted from the sofa, banging my back up against the corner of the ottoman.

MC: “L-l-l- Lawyer Zuo! I-I- I only… The tie couldn’t undo you.. No … N-no, I meant that you couldn’t undo the tie… Since you’re awake now, I should-”

I stammered through an awkward explanation and tried to inch my way closer to the door in an attempt to escape.

Zuo Ran: “Don’t… leave.”

Zuo Ran overtook me in a bound as he grabbed me, pinning me flush against the wall. He looked directly at me as he took ragged and needy gasps of air. The smell of his cedar aftershave and fruity champagne hit me full force as my knees threatened to buckle.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo...?”

Zuo Ran swallowed hard, his voice becoming low and raspy.

Zuo Ran: “Why… I’ve told you, to come find me when you run into trouble. Why did you have to… with him…”

MC: “Him…?”

Zuo Ran’s demeanor and questions left me sweating.

Zuo Ran: “Gao… Sheng… Han...“

MC: “O-oh, him…”

I thought about what Zuo Ran told me in the parking lot, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt.

MC: “I’m sorry, Lawyer Zuo... At the time I didn’t feel it was right to refuse him… Mr. Gao had been very kind. He helped me with a favor, and even said that he’ll commission us…”

Zuo Ran: “... Very kind?”

MC: “Yes. Don’t worry, I have boundaries, and I would never drink myself silly with other people that easily. Mr. Gao is a good guy, so I-”

Zuo Ran: “How can you be so certain! You just met him for the first time tonight!”

Zuo Ran’s aura changed in an instant, and it felt like we had been transported back to the courthouse, except I’m now on the receiving end of his scrutiny. In the past, seeing Zuo Ran fired up like this would’ve left me motivated by his passion. But now… I stayed trapped like a deer in the headlights, unsure of whether I should fight or run.

MC: “I…”

Zuo Ran: “Do you always trust others this easily!?”

I couldn’t refute Zuo Ran’s point. He was right, I’ve only just met Gao ShengHan, and I couldn’t possibly know what kind of person he truly was. Still, the Guo ShengHan I met at the banquet who was so hardworking and dedicated to his career, who had wholeheartedly put his faith in Themis… I couldn’t help but speak up for him.

MC: “Just because it was the first time we met, that doesn’t mean one is incapable of judging a person’s character. Mr. Gao is very humble, he’s worked hard to get to where he is today… Even with all the fame and fortune, he’s still very approachable…”

Zuo Ran: “Approachable? What kind of logic is that! He’s an actor, aren’t you wary of the fact that he could be lying to you? You would rather trust his word, over mine…”

Lying … to me??? In the heat of the moment, I forcefully pushed Zuo Ran aside out of frustration. Sure, I might not be close to your level of expertise when it comes to the law, but Zuo Ran, must you belittle me and doubt the fact that I can make my own judgements!

MC: “Zuo Ran, just who do you have a grudge with to say all that?!”

I screamed back at him. The silence in the room was palpable after my outburst as a tense air settled in between us.

Zuo Ran: “...”

He must have been taken aback by my reaction. Zuo Ran was at a loss for words, for once.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo… You’ve had way too much to drink tonight. It’s already so late, I gotta go.”

--- PART 5 ---

▌Location- Outside Zuo Ran’s Condominium

After I left Zuo Ran’s suite, I immediately hailed a taxi and went home. But… half an hour later, I had to turn back.

MC: “I accidentally took Lawyer Zuo’s house keys with me…”

When I was trying to bring him back upstairs, I must have pocketed his keys after I pushed open his door while attempting to hold him upright. And after all that happened, I completely forgot about it until now.

MC: “I gotta hurry, otherwise I’ll cause him even more trouble…”

“He’s lying to you…” Zuo Ran’s words came to mind, and my heart squeezed painfully. Is he unhappy with Gao ShengHan? Or maybe, it was out of line for me to pull new clients for us at the banquet?

~~~

▌Location- Zuo Ran’s living room

I unlocked his door with the keys and tentatively peeked in. Zuo Ran wasn’t in the living room.

MC: (He must be in bed by now… Let’s just put his keys back and get out of here, lest I wake him up…)

I cautiously tiptoed into his living room, and was about to set his keys down on the ottoman. Just then, I nearly tripped over a sprawling mass on the carpet - it was Zuo Ran!

MC: “L- Lawyer Zuo!?”

I hastily helped him off the floor.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo! Are you alright! What’s wrong with you?”

Zuo Ran opened his eyes when I shook him awake. His blurry eyes gradually focused on my face, and once he realized that it was me, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

Zuo Ran: “MC, you… It’s you…”

MC: “Are you hurt anywhere, Lawyer Zuo? How did you end up on the floor? Are you feeling sick? I’ll go bring you a wet towel so you can wipe your face. Hopefully, that’ll help you feel more comfortable.”

I spoke while getting up in a hurry, but Zuo Ran pulled me back. Without any precaution, I fell into his lap. I could feel his body heat and pulse beneath his skin against the palm of my hands, and I jerked my hands away as if I had been burnt by it.

MC: “M-my apologies, Lawyer Zuo! I-”

A pair of hands pulled me flush against him, interrupting my sentence.

Zuo Ran: “Don’t go… Don’t leave me…”

Zuo Ran rested his chin on my shoulder, his bangs tickling my ears. He embraced me gently, as if he was scared of me rejecting his advance, but just tight enough that I couldn’t move, as if he was scared that I would leave.

MC: “I was only leaving to grab you a towel…”

He held me even tighter, ignoring my protests, and muttering to himself over and over.

Zuo Ran: “Don’t leave me… alright?”

His voice rasped in my ear, cracking in a vulnerable way that fell far from his usual composure. Like a soft and unbreakable thread, he had ensnared me in his web.

Zuo Ran: “I’m sorry… I must’ve scared you… It’s all my fault… I’m sorry… So don’t leave me…”

MC: “I…”

Is he like this because I left earlier?

Zuo Ran: “Don’t go…”

MC: “Go… where exactly?”

Zuo Ran: “Don’t go over to stand by his side…”

MC: “Who?”

Thankfully, my mind grew clearer.

MC: “Is… Is this about Gao ShengHan’s commission?”

Zuo Ran pulled me even tighter against him as his arms caged me in. So that’s the reason. Lawyer Zuo misunderstood my intentions and assumed that I was quitting my job at Themis and was planning to work for Gao ShengHan’s studio. That’s why he threw a fit… He wasn’t truly upset at me… I wanted to laugh, but was also touched by his sentiment. I gently patted his back.

MC: “How could I leave Themis just to chase after some celebrity…”

Zuo Ran: “You’re so bright and outstanding, I’m not the only one… everyone can see it. I’m just someone with a bad temper. As your partner… I must have added extra stress to your work, but I… say that you’ll be my partner forever and always, alright? So don’t leave me…”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo, you’re over thinking things. I have no intentions to leave.”

My words must have brought him some reassurance. He sighed, sinking against me as he rested his head against the crook of my neck, all the while slowly caressing my hair and letting it glide between his fingers. The calm and self assured Zuo Ran I thought I knew… turned out to be someone so delicate and childish. Unless this is just the alcohol talking, and he’s just treating everything that transpired today, including me, like a dream…

[Examine his hand in my hair]

Zuo Ran’s hair keeps brushing up against my ear, it tickles. I wanted to reach up and brush it aside, but I accidentally brushed his cheek.

Zuo Ran: “I… Must be so dull… Celebrities, they must be fun to be around… You’ll be happier with him… Right?

MC: “How could I be…”

Zuo Ran: “You smiled…”

MC: “What’s that?”

Zuo Ran: “You smiled at him… so many times…”

MC: “Well t-that’s because!”

“Because we were praising you to the high heavens”... How could I say something like that aloud to him…

Zuo Ran: “...No need to cover it up, there’s no need to console me…”

His usual indifference fell through the cracks, his voice sounding incredibly lonely. Is he saying all that to make me consider leaving and collaborate with Gao ShengHan instead? I decided it was probably best not to ask him that.

MC: “It’s true! It’s because… W-we… we were talking about Lawyer Zuo…”

Zuo Ran: “Me? What… about me?

MC: (It’s all good… Lawyer Zuo is so stupid drunk… he shouldn’t be able to recall our conversation in the morning…)

MC: “I told him… that Lawyer Zuo is the best… and that I admire you… Gao ShengHan said… no wonder I was your partner… that we were alike… s-so that’s why I-”

I stuttered through an explanation, feeling the embarrassing twinge of red creep up from my cheeks all the way up to my ears. I felt like I was burning up.

[Examine his arm]

I steadied myself as I held onto Zuo Ran’s arm.

MC: “Er… Lawyer Zuo… Why don’t you have a seat on the couch, does that sound good?”

Zuo Ran: “It’s not good… You’ll just leave me…”

MC: “I already said that I wasn’t leaving…”

Zuo Ran: “You’ll leave…”

Zuo Ran ignored me and continued to slur the same thing over and over, almost as if I’d vaporize into thin air if he let me go. His hot breath fanned across my neck, and I hastily tried to move away from it, only to have him tighten his arms around me.

Zuo Ran: “You said you wouldn’t leave…”

His whining was laced with grief, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I had done something evil.

[Examine Zuo Ran’s neck]

His body heat radiated through my thin dress shirt and settled in my bones.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo… do you feel cold, clinging onto me like this…”

Zuo Ran: “Hah… Cold… You’re cold?”

He pulled me into his lap and pressed me against his chest.

Zuo Ran: “You won’t feel cold like this, right?”

MC: “...!”

[Examine his hand in my hair]

Zuo Ran: “Don’t go…”

MC: “For the last time, I really won’t.”

Zuo Ran: “You kept staring at him… The moment we got there, you were looking for him… You… You even have his photo…”

MC: “I- I was only helping ChengCheng get an autograph.”

Zuo Ran: “Then stay by my side…”

MC: “I will. I’ll stay at Themis, I’ll stay at Themis forever. Because I’m Lawyer Zuo’s partner.”

[Talk to Zuo Ran]

With his head on my shoulder, his breathing gradually grew steady.

MC: “Lawyer Zuo?”

Zuo Ran: “You’re my… destiny…”

MC: “Eh?”

Zuo Ran’s voice fell to an inaudible whisper, I couldn’t comprehend anything he was trying to say.

Zuo Ran: “My everything…”

MC: “Lawyer Zuo?”

I called his name, but received no reply. He must have fallen asleep. I helped Zuo Ran onto the couch, gently laid his head down, and covered him with a blanket. He slept so soundly, it was almost as if I were the one who had hallucinated and conjured up all that had happened, like an out of body experience. But the hammering of my heart told me otherwise. I left Zuo Ran’s suite in a hurry.

--- PART 6 ---

▌Location- Themis Law Firm

The day after the banquet, I handed Gao ShengHan’s autograph to ChengCheng who was waiting by the door, and she held up the photo and cheered.

ChengCheng: “MC, you’re the best! I love you!”

MC: “You should save words like that for your idol.”

ChengCheng: “Of course I will say it to him! But, you deserve my love, too!”

ChengCheng hovered around me excitedly, but then, she pushed up her glasses and settled down.

ChengCheng: “Hang on, why are your dark circles so deep! The banquet ended early enough, didn’t it? I remember that you sent me the video recording at around 9PM. Did anything happen afterward? Unless you had too much to drink and didn't rest well?”

MC: “N-nothing like that happened! I just didn’t sleep well, that’s it!”

My heart pittered loudly when last night’s events rushed to mind. I cautiously peeked around the corner at Zuo Ran’s office, and let out a sigh of relief when I saw that it was empty.

MC: (Lawyer Zuo was completely wasted last night, he probably won’t come to work today right… How fortunate… I don’t know how I should approach him now…)

Just as I was lost in thought, ChengCheng nudged me with her elbow.

ChengCheng: “Good morning, Lawyer Zuo!”

Zuo Ran: “Morning.”

Zuo Ran looked at the signed photo in ChengCheng’s hand, coughed awkwardly, then looked at me.

Zuo Ran: “Uhm. Hold on, come see me in my office.”

MC: “Al-alright.”

I watched Zuo Ran walk away, my heart threatening to jump out of my throat as I stood anxiously.

MC: (Why would Lawyer Zuo want to see me… What if he remembers what happened yesterday?!)

~~~Flashback~~~

Zuo Ran: “You smiled at him… so many times…”

MC: “It’s true! It’s because… W-we… we were talking about Lawyer Zuo…”

Zuo Ran: “Me? What… about me?

MC: (It’s all good… Lawyer Zuo is so stupid drunk… he shouldn’t be able to recall our conversation in the morning…)

MC: “I told him… that Lawyer Zuo is the best… and that I admire you… Gao ShengHan said… no wonder I was your partner… that we were alike… s-so that’s why I-”

~~~Flashback ends~~~

▌Location- Zuo Ran’s office

MC: (I’m so embarrassed…)

I begrudgingly followed Zuo Ran into his office, I didn’t dare look at him, so I kept my head down and stared at the corner of his desk instead.

Zuo Ran: “You mentioned last night that Gao ShengHan wished to collaborate with our law firm for legal consultation in regards to his studio. After confirming the details of the commission with the other party, you may proceed with the contracting process. Startups start from zero, labor and management legal services will be a routine task for you. Risk prevention, business forms and contracts, terms and conditions, of the sort… you must meticulously plan, formulate, construct, and maintain them all.”

Zuo Ran’s voice rang true and indifferent like it always had, like we had returned back to status quo.

MC: “...”

Zuo Ran: “Any questions?”

MC: “None.”

My mind was still reeling from last night’s events, and I couldn’t ask him anything even if I wanted to.

Zuo Ran: “Providing legal consultation for a new business will be a good challenge for you. If there’s anything you’re unsure of, feel free to ask me. Ah, also…”

He hesitated before speaking again.

Zuo Ran: “The entertainment industry… is shrouded in gossip and fake news. If you meet the client alone, it may cause unscrupulous articles to spread. If you’re going to meet with the other party… you must tell me- I’ll go with you.”

MC: “Yes, I know.”

Zuo Ran’s indifference was a great relief to me. It seems like he doesn’t recall what happened… After I came down from my personal emotional rollercoaster, I noticed an ounce of regret peeking out in the corner of my heart… and I understood it less than I understood how it got there in the first place.

MC: “Then, if Lawyer Zuo has nothing else to add, I’ll go and get started!”

I hurriedly scampered out of Zuo Ran’s office.

~~~

After watching the girl leave his office, Zuo Ran relaxed and sank into his seat. Like the way a delayed reaction would be, the back of his ears grew red and hot to the touch.

Zuo Ran: “... I’m sorry… I…”

Zuo Ran paused as the blush creeped from his ears to his cheeks, then he pulled out a small hair tie from his suit pocket. This was left by her last night - and was the tangible proof he needed to convince himself that what happened last night wasn’t a dream.

Zuo Ran: “And now… I don’t know how I can return this to you…”

The silky hair tie in his hands felt just like the way her hair had flowed between his fingers.

Zuo Ran: “In the future…”

Zuo Ran coughed lightly as he looked at the hair tie with quiet eyes.

Zuo Ran: “In the future, I’ll definitely return this to you.”

To the beautiful young eagle that spreads her eager wings and takes to the sky, chasing after a life that she yearns for… If she should fly to places further and further away, then all one can do is encompass the entire sky so that she will stay within reach.

——————

《CREDIT》 Translator: @humi-and-co​​ Editor: @hallowsivy​ 《未定事件簿》Tears of Themis is a 2020 Chinese otome game by 米哈游Mihoyo. All original credits go to 米哈游Mihoyo.

《 VOICE ACTORS 》  Zuo Ran | Zhao Lu: https://weibo.com/mzhaolu Zhai Xing | Fan Churong ChengCheng | V-17 Xiao Zheng: https://weibo.com/u/7360058865

[jaskierrrrrr]

the four times Geralt refuses to admit he and Jaskier are friends and the one time he does???? aka I have a lot of feelings about my boys?? enjoy

***

The first time they meet, Jaskier immediately opens his mouth and doesn’t shut it again for God knows how long. Geralt finds it hard to keep track of what he’s saying; the sentences pour from his mouth like wine from a pitcher. He learns his name is Jaskier, he’s a bard and his sworn enemy is someone called Valdo Marx, all in about 30 seconds, and all unprompted.

Despite his annoyance at the bard’s- Jaskier’s- incessant talking, there’s a part of him that’s actually happy that someone’s willing to treat him like a normal man. Where the other patrons of the tavern had moved as far away from him as possible, Jaskier has no issue sitting across from him, leaning forward as he gesticulates wildly, pausing only to pause for breath or to shift the strap of his lute back up onto his shoulder.

‘So,’ Jaskier says brightly, snatching a sip of ale from Geralt’s tankard and ignoring the scowl on the Witcher’s face. ‘Where are we heading off to?’

Geralt can’t help but smile in amusement as he rises from the table. ‘We?’ he asks. ‘I don’t remember inviting you.’

Jaskier jumps up, falling in step with a soft smile. ‘You didn’t need to. What kind of friend would I be if I let you go off to fight monsters alone?’

‘We just met,’ Geralt points out; they’ve reached the stables and he greets Roach with a soft pat. ‘And I’m not your friend.’

Jaskier rolls his eyes. ‘I never said you were. But I’m your friend, and I’m coming with you, so there’s no point complaining.’

Geralt has nothing to say to that, so he doesn’t bother trying. He mounts his horse and sets off towards the mountains, and if he’s going at a slower pace so that Jaskier can keep up, well, that’s between him and Roach. *** The next time, Geralt hears Jaskier before he sees him. The bard had been travelling alongside Geralt for a couple of months when he’d mysteriously informed Geralt he had business to attend to.

‘Don’t worry,’ he’d said, winking as he packed up his lute, ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

And now here he was. As Geralt rounds the corner, rolling his shoulders that ached from his latest fight, he sees Jaskier perched on Roach singing merrily. To Roach’s credit, she seems to be tolerating it remarkably well- normally anyone other than Geralt trying to approach her causes… issues.

Jaskier catches sight of Geralt and his eyes light up. ‘Geralt!’ he calls, delighted.

Geralt just rolls his eyes. ‘I thought you knew by now not to touch Roach,’ he says, but his tone is mild.

Jaskier slips from the horse, amusement sparkling in his eyes. ‘Oh, I forgot the Golden Rule!’ he laughs. ‘So, my friend, are you ready to tell me the epic tale of your latest heroic deeds? Or would you like to hear my latest ballads first?’

Geralt snorts. ‘I think I need a drink before I’m subjected to that.’

Jaskier smiles and wrinkles his nose. ‘And a bath too, by the look of it. You smell worse than Roach.’ 

He pats Geralt on the shoulder. ‘Come on,’ he says, leading Geralt to a nearby inn, ‘I’ve got rooms for us here.’ ‘How did you even know where to find me?’ Geralt asks.

Jaskier shrugs his shoulders. ‘Consider it as just another of my numerous talents,’ he says mysteriously, and Geralt just sighs before following him through the doorway.

*** 

Geralt really, really doesn’t know how Jaskier’s managed to rope him into this. It seems to be a talent of his; Geralt’s gotten into more ridiculous situations in the ten or so years he’s known Jaskier than in the rest of his life. Which is why he finds himself leaning against a pillar in a spacious banquet hall filled with the sounds of laughter and life, keeping a weather eye on the bard, who’s currently serenading the wedding party with love songs.

He’d practically begged Geralt to come as his protection.

‘It’s not my fault that I’m so desirable,’ he’d sighed, throwing himself into a chair, ‘can I help being so handsome that people want to sleep with me?’

Shaking his head in amazement, Geralt had replied, ‘Jaskier. You slept with the bride and the groom. And neither of them knows about the other’s infidelity. And you want to play at their wedding?’ 

Jaskier had looked up with pleading blue eyes. ‘Yes?’ he’d said, and so now Geralt was standing awkwardly in uncomfortable formal clothes that Jaskier had decided to force him into, as if him just having to be there wasn’t bad enough.

He sighed in relief when Jaskier finished his final ballad with a flourish and roguish wink to the crowd. He makes his way over to Jaskier, who rolls his eyes at the scowl on Geralt’s face.

‘Oh really, it wasn’t that bad, was it? You just had to listen to your very best friend sing for a couple of hours. Sounds like a very pleasant evening to me.’ He grins up at Geralt, but then catches sight of something behind him that causes the smile to slip from his face.

‘Ah,’ he says, ‘we should probably make a hasty exit.’

Geralt raises an eyebrow. ‘Why? Is the bride coming to kill you?’

Jaskier gulps. ‘Worse. It’s her mother.’

Geralt rests his head in his hands. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jaskier,’ he sighs, already grabbing the bard by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the exit. ‘I don’t know why I put up with you.’

Jaskier laughs. ‘Cause we’re best friends, silly!’ ‘Hmm,’ replies Geralt.

***

Oxenfurt is a bustling and lively place, bright with its brightly coloured roofs and narrow cobbled lanes filled with students and scholars, but Jaskier’s smile is the brightest thing of all. It’s been a couple of years since Geralt last saw him; Jaskier rarely accompanies him on quests any more, always blaming his age. To Geralt, he was as young as ever- the crow’s feet barely noticeable when compared to the vividness of Jaskier’s eyes, the grey in his hair nothing compared to the youth he exudes whenever he sings or talks. 

He tries to visit him as often as he can, happy to sit by the fire and tell Jaskier everything he’s missed, happier still to hear Jaskier’s stories of his students and research. This time, Jaskier isn’t expecting him, so Geralt wanders the halls of the Academy, idly listening to the chatter of students, until he hears the voice he’s seeking.

‘Geralt!’ Jaskier calls over the shoulder of the random professor he’d been in deep conversation with. He strides towards him, grin stretched wide across his face, and claps Geralt on the shoulder. ‘My oldest friend, how are you doing? Have you missed me? Come, tell me what’s been keeping you so busy lately.’ 

Geralt smiles. ‘I’m well, Jaskier. I trust you are too?’

They make an unusual pair, especially in Oxenfurt. There are a few whispers around them, not of malice, mostly just curiosity, as they make their way down the corridor, easily falling into familiar rhythms.

‘Of course,’ Jaskier replies, ‘although I would undoubtedly be better if you would finally call me your friend.’ There’s no anger in his tone, only the fondness that came with a well-worn argument.

The corners of Geralts’s mouth tug upwards. He’d missed how easy it was to just be around Jaskier. ‘Surely after all these years you aren’t still expecting me to say it?’

Jaskier meets his eyes, and there’s something in his expression that Geralt can’t read. ‘One of these days,’ he says softly, ‘you’ll finally be able to admit it.’ He pauses, his expression almost sad for a moment before a smile returns to his face. ‘And I will never let you forget it,’ he laughs triumphantly, and Geralt can’t help but join in, both their voices bouncing off the walls.

***

It takes another decade for Jaskier’s prediction to come true. It’s been a particularly cold winter, and the wind whips through Geralt’s hair as he follows the winding path. His cheeks are smarting by the time he reaches Jaskier at the top of the mountain. 

He freezes when he sees him, struggling to find the words. After several long moments, he finally opens his mouth.

‘Well, here we are,’ he says. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually about to say it.’ He pauses, frowning. ‘Actually, I can’t believe it took me so long to admit it.’ 

He looks away, up at the clouds swirling above them and focuses on the few white flakes that have started to float down from the sky. ‘Jaskier. You are the best companion anyone could ask for. And I hope you know-’ Geralt’s voice cracks, and he drops his head, breathing in the cold air for several long seconds before he’s able to continue. ‘And I hope that you know, that I’ve always considered you my best friend. Even if I never said it out loud until now. I hope you know.’

Geralt raises his head and sets his jaw, nodding once at his friend before turning and walking back down the path, the cold freezing the wetness on his cheeks.

And as the snow falls like dust on his best friend’s grave, Geralt doesn’t look back.

[nad-zeta]

Hey ! I would like to request a headcanon please !! ✨💕💕 how would Nobunaga, Shingen, Masamune (and if you want kenshin) react when they know that MC is worried about whether she will be able to marry or even be in a relationship with them because she is a foreigner and perhaps his people want someone of the same nationality (since in Sengoku period people in japan were even more traditional and try to preserve the lineage) thank you !! 💖❤️💕✨

Heheh thanx so much for this request, dear! Sidenote i was too lazy to do research cause ive been playing Mitsuhide’s route lol, so if some pieces seem off thats probs why! I hope you enjoy it! In my mind these boys would marry MC regardless of what the people think and would basically tell anyone who has a problem with you to go to hell. But thats just my opinion anyway! ^0^ Much like this whole HC is lol. Hope ya enjoy it <3

HC: Nobunaga, Shingen, Masamune and Kenshin react to Marrying Foreign MC

Nobunaga

The two of you had been friends for a loooooong time now, and both of you were harboring feelings for the other

One day you finally built up the courage to confess, it was during your game of go

“Hey Nobunaga if I win this game of go, I’m going to claim and conquer your heart.”

He looked up and smirked at you “Alright then fireball but if I win then you are to be my girlfriend”

You had never taken the game so seriously in your life before, you put your all into winning that game

And believe it or not you WON, you had to rub your eyes as you stared at the board in disbelief

You were so happy you ran outside and shouted at the top of your lungs “I have defeated Nobunaga and he is now mine”. Mind you whispered that last part

The start to your relationship was tough, the Oda clan members were not happy about their lord taking a foreigner as a lover

They would especially send disapproving glances your way during banquets, lucky the warlords loved you to bits and 100% supported your relationship

One day in particular, some daimyos daughter was throwing so much shade at you for being a foreigner. Saying that you don’t belong here and that she should be with Nobu instead of you blah blah blah.

And if things couldn’t get any worse most of the Oda clan members were in attendance backing the prissy high lady

Nobunaga lost his shit at that moment; he had fought so long and hard to be head of the clan. He had killed his own brother for crying out loud, and even his own mother wanted to kill him. 

He was not going to let anyone tell him what he can or can’t do, especially not from the people who wouldn’t hesitate to backstab him at the first opening to rise in station and come into power

He stood up and in his most commanding voice proclaimed that you were the love of his life and that you were the only woman he would ever love. This whole speech ended off with him walking up to you and asking your hand in marriage

The Clan members and some allies of his were not happy, that is when Mitsuhide stated that he should let the people of  Azuchi decide who is to be the next woman worthy of being their queen and standing beside their beloved ruler Nobunaga. 

Nobunaga was a bit reluctant but agreed to it either way.

Needless to say, Mitsuhide always had his ears on the ground, and he knew the towns and farm people absolutely adored you. And after gathering the people in the courtyard, the dispute was settled and the true queen of Azuchi, was chosen. 

Nobunaga couldn’t be happier, he was practically jumping for joy

You couldn’t help but cry from happiness at the warm welcoming and approval you receive from the townspeople of Azuchi. Never again was your position questioned among the rest of the clan members.

Shingen

This playboy would spend each night in the arms of a new woman

That is until he fell in love with you

His people thought it was just a simple fling like all the woman that had come before you

But soon the realized Shingen was starting to get serious about you

They really tried to hate you for being a foreigner, cause they wanted to preserve the lineage 

But they couldn’t bring it over themselves, especially considering Yuki also loved you so much

Yuki had told everyone what you had done for them and for Shingen.

It was thanks to you that their beloved leader was healed of his illness

And it was thanks to you that they were able to go back to their homeland peacefully

Plus, you were such a warm, friendly person and everyone that spoke to you couldn’t help but love you

Sit down Yuki this isn’t witchcraft it’s just your charming personality 

If anything, they had more of a problem with you being an Oda princess rather than a foreigner

But like I said regardless they all saw you as an angel or a goddess, pure and radiant, and definitely someone who would have their best interests at heart.

TBH his clan members were all too happy the Tiger was thinking about setting down cause these guys have been pestering him for an heir and Shingen ain’t getting any younger 

You worked hard to earn their respect and trust

When Shingen publicly asked you to marry him in front of all his people you were a little stressed that someone would have a problem with you. Shingen could see the reluctance in your eyes, so he looked around and said:

“Who here has a problem or concern with me marrying my dearest Goddess over here”. Absolute silence fell. You couldn’t help but smile and accept his proposal.

That night you realized just how loved you were by his people as every second person had hugged a welcomed you to the family.

Masamune

You and Masamune had been together for a while now, and the boy was starting to get serious

He really loved you and couldn’t picture anyone else who could stand by his side and rule the date clan with him quite like you 

He made the two of you a yummo dinner and proposed. You loved this one eye dragon so much, so you instantly accepted

That night before you fell asleep you tuned around in Masamune’s arms to stare up at him

Your mind was being overactive with what-if scenarios, you really loved Masamune, but you knew his clan and people would not be pleased by the news of him marrying a foreigner

Not just that but you had seen him receive many marriage requests over the years, and there was one in particular that his clan was pushing him to accept

Masamune could see all the questions swirling in your eyes, he simply bent down and kissed your nose, forehead and then pulled you closer to him

He told you that he didn’t care what anyone else thought and that the two of you would take it one day at a time

Needless to say, Masamune’s people loved you, you had visited Masamune’s home many times and spent lots of time getting to know everyone. You were one of those genuinely friendly people who cared about people

It’s one of the traits that attracted Masamune to you, you didn’t care if someone was rich or poor you treated them equality

No no, the problem came with the higher-ups, they didn’t trust you, and they didn’t deem you worthy. After all, what did you know about history or tradition, you were just some random foreigner. 

When Masamune announced that you were his fiancé; they just said No, like they completely rejected the whole idea. Not only that, but they brought some other random princess out and told him that she would be better suited for him.

Luckily Masamune is a stubborn man, so he just ignored their “suggestions.” But like I said, the clan members and a few smaller date clan allies were not having it.

You went back home alone to Azuchi after the meeting with the date clan, leaving Masamune there to deal with them. You were honestly so upset, what was supposed to be a happy announcement turned into the worst day of your life.

Little did they know you and Nobunaga were very good friends, like you would pop into his room for tea at random times friend. The cry on his shoulder about the backlash of Masamune announcing his intention to marry you, kind of friends. 

And it just so happened that Nobunaga was one of their biggest allies along with Ieyasu, and let be real attending all the banquets got you in good with both of their clan members and if anything they were trying to convince you to marry those two idiots instead of Masamune. So, to say you were backed by two other powerful clans would be an understatement.

Nobunaga listened as you cried about everything that had been said, then he gave you a big wide smile and said: “Come fireball, let’s go scare the shit out of them to make you feel better.”

You Nobunaga and Ieyasu rode to Masamune’s home the next day, they burst into the council room doors, and saw that Masamune was still arguing with everyone over your marriage.

All heads were turned to Nobunaga as he stood by the door with Ieyasu and swiftly proclaimed that you were not just some foreigner but a princess of the Oda forces and if they have a problem with Masamune wanting to wed his sister then he would end the alliance right there and invade.

Ieyasu nodded in agreement 

Hehe you definitely had a smug look on your face, both Ieyasu and Nobunaga had claimed you as their dearest sister, not just that but Nobunaga had pulled out a letter from Kenshin and Shingen in which both also gave you their backing.

Kenshin’s letter obviously being very threatening and saying he would have no probs with allying with Nobunaga and going to war with them for refusing you lol.

Looks like you have some friends in powerful places

Lol those clan boys never questioned you or threatened you again. If anything, they blessed your marriage and stayed faaaaar away from you. They definitely didn’t want to get on your bad side

Kenshin

Kenshin had found his Goddess, of war, his soulmate, the and only woman who would ever hold his heart and soul

It was well known that you were the only woman that Kenshin looked at, the feared woman-hating Kenshin disliked all women but one.

And that would be you

If anything when Kenshin announced that he was going to marry you people were more surprised than anything else

Everyone honestly loved you, mostly they loved that fact that you were the only one who calmed Kenshin the hell down

His clan was overjoyed that he had finally found a life partner

They were honestly just starting to accept the fact that Kenshin would have no heirs

One night while cuddling with Kenshin, you voiced your concerns about not being accepted by his people because you were a foreigner

Kenshin legit looked you in the eyes and said if anyone dares oppose your marriage to him, or utter one bad thing about you he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them

Like he was pulled away from someone he loved in the past, but now it was different, now he had power. He would kill anyone that dare stood in his way! He will not lose the love of his life to anyone

Kenshin nuzzled into your neck and reassured you and then proceeded to pepper you with kisses, he loved you so much

And as if overhearing the whole conversation all of a sudden, the whole bunny army came into the room and joined in on the cuddles

Kenshin couldn’t help but laugh at the silly creatures “And love, you forget you command a whole vicious army of your own. I am sure the bunnies would not hesitate to stand up to anyone who tries to hurt their goddess”. As if agreeing with Kenshin the bunnies started nuzzling the two of you.

All your worries and anxiety were short-lived as when Kenshin made the official announcement, everyone was overjoyed. No one really cared that you were a foreigner, plus no one felt like having their head detached from their shoulders

And if that wasn’t enough, at the banquet celebrating your engagement, the bunnies all attended in celebration with the people, some of the bun buns would sit on your lap staring down anyone who might have worn the slightest frown towards you. These bunnies would not hesitate to attack anyone who made would make you sad just like their master. 

Hehehe this is probs not my best work but here it is anyways! <3

[restingdomface]

Okay I can’t believe I’m going there, but, Lan Wangji’s magical healing cock and also mpreg AU:

Okay. So. Instead of Jin Zixuan being a dick to his crush, he genuinly never had a crush on her at all, and in fact, it never came to light until the Sunshit Campaign started, but JZX had a crush on Jiang Cheng all along. Jiang Cheng, who, reluctantly, returns his affections. Wei Wuxian is disgusted. His brother has terrible taste in men wtf.

So. Things went differently this time. What’s the change here? Meng Yao never left Nie Mingjue’s side. Of course, he did the spying thing, but he never betrayed him (this could be a part of my idea where NMJ and MY plan to actually have him be a spy and send him off after a planned execution of a soldier that NMJ decided needed a death sentence more than banishment, or, an AU where MY presented the idea to Wen Rouhan that his coming to WRH’s side was the betrayel itself). Now how does this change things? Because I honestly and truly think that if MY didn’t go to Jin Guangshan’s side afterwards, JGS wouldn’t have had the sway to execute anyone else in the Wen Family, or do anything horrible like that.

TBH he tries to wipe out the rest of the Wens, but it goes so badly and this time MY isn’t on his side (lol you know JGS would have tried tho, imagine how humiliating it would have been to be publicly denied by your own bastard son at the banquet after wow) and so JGS ends up removed from power entirely and JZX gets made sect leader instead.

This means, that since JZX is about to marry JC, they’re going to have to move to LanlingJin instead of both of them arguing over if they’d move to Lotus Pier or not. Cause they would argue over that. This means that Jiang Cheng is going to be the next Young Master Jin and Jiang Yanli is now officially the Jiang Sect Leader. Nice.

So. We’re rid of JGS and everyone’s happy and MY probably isn’t gonna kill anyone cause now he can marry NMJ in peace and not have to deal with anyone else, where does LWJ’s magic healing dick come in? Hold on I’m getting to it. Impatient.

So. The Wens. Of course, before JGS was removed from power, Wei Wuxian was actually running around saving Wen survivors and gathering them in the Burial Mounds, so he actually has to be coaxed into leaving by his siblings and LWJ and even JZX and NMJ (who thinks this is rather like that one time he had to coax Nie Huaisang out from under his bed when he became convinced NMJ’s cat was a demon because it wouldn’t stop attacking his songbird and he couldn’t come out cause she was in the room and she would steal his soul but she’s just sitting on the windowsill and meowing at them and NMJ is just silently planning to feed her more and keep her away from the atrium and tbh plz NHS you’re 16 years old you’re too old for this plz stop crying) and it’s great. It’s just great.

Anyways. WWX is paranoid af. Like so fucking paranoid. Cause they have been attacked. He’s got 12 year old girls talking about what the adult men in the Jin sect did to them. He’s got a traumatized toddler on his hip that screams when he sees Jin robes. He’s got children with branded scarring on their faces and wounds you can’t even imagine to come from anything but torture. He’s paranoid. He’s trying to keep the kiddos safe. They’re healers, and he’s given them the tools to heal, but they’re scared, and he’s paranoid without his Golden Core, and he’s scared, and he’s not putting down the toddler plz stop asking, he’s keeping this one, shut up.

So. What can he do but make a few demands? The Lan sect may have strict rules, but they would never attack innocent civilians, and they have rules about killing even animals in Gusu. He asks them to send all the Lan guards they can to escort them to GusuLan. He doesn’t think they’d hurt them in YunmengJiang either, but he can’t risk it. He was there when Lotus Pier burned. Cloud Recesses didn’t lose nearly as many people, and he’s still too traumatized to spend much time in LP rn.

So they go to Cloud Recesses. This actually, also gives the other sects a lot of time to get some glimpses at everyone that came from the Burial Mounds.

Not a single one of them was a cultivator.

This is a little different than canon. WWX can’t handle the loss of his golden core in this one. Not to say that he shouldn’t have done it, but that the resentful energy is dragging him down to the point where all he can feel is paranoia and fear. He’s almost completely unresponsive at this point. He follows after LWJ when told to, and he holds little A-Yuan in his arms, but he doesn’t pay much attention to anyone.

Wen Qing tells them of the loss of his core, but not how it happened. Lan Qiren doesn’t much like WWX still, but he accepts that a cornered animal will bite, and WWX lost his main weapon right before a major war. Of course he would do all he could to keep himself safe.

Jiang Yanli offers for the Wen Survivors to be integrated into YunmengJiang, since they lost so many people. It could help a lot. They accept, since she’s offering them protection and help.

Of course, Wen Qing and Jiang Yanli used to Spend A Lot Of Time Together in Cloud Recesses, so love is blooming there between the two sect leaders, and by the end of a year, they’re getting married themselves.

WWX doesn’t go back to LP with them. He couldn’t do it. A-Yuan and Granny and Wen Ning stay with him in Cloud Recesses. Granny talks with Wen Qing regularly, and A-Yuan is attached to Lan Wangji enough that Lan Xichen starts mentioning that he could attend classes there when he’s old enough. LXC is a WangXian shipper and is trying to get his brother to adopt the child. Y’all know he would. WWX spends his time arguing (loudly, but in a room with magical wards for sound so they don’t get in trouble) with a Lan mind healer that talks through his bullshit with him, sleeping the day away in one of the rooms of the Jingshi (because LWJ made him move in right away and WWX couldn’t even argue cause A-Yuan loves him too and he can ask LWJ to play Their Song whenever he wants to hear it) and following after A-Yuan as he enchants (and terrifies) all the rabbits in the field. Also getting yelled at (softly) by LQR for breaking rules. LQR and LWJ have been making it their personal mission to find a way to either purify the resentful energy so WWX can go back to his normal cheerful self that doesn’t jump or hide when startled, or to regain a Golden core so the yin and yang energies can balance each other and keep him stable.

Of course, JYL sends him a message that she’s getting married, and WWX pulls himself out of the fog enough that he can ask them to go to the wedding (he’s being polite, he’s going no matter what they say lol,) and LWJ accompanies him to the wedding. His siblings are so happy to see him there.

Anyways. Things get rocky when WWX hears them talking about kids.

Jiang Yanli will carry Jin Zixuan’s children, and they’ll keep the Jin name. They’ll know that all four of them are their parents, but it’s a way to pass on the name.

Wen Qing will carry Jiang Cheng’s children, and they’ll carry the Jiang name. This also helps to keep track of what kids are heir to what sect.

Of course, Wei Wuxian, the master of ‘I know The Most Obscure Bullshit Ever’, asks why they don’t just have their spouses children. There are spells and potions for that.

Well. No one else in the room knew that but him apparently. Well, they’re still going to go with their idea for the first few kids, and then they’ll decide if other means of pregnancy options are viable.

Anyways. Guess who else didn’t know it was possible for men to get pregnant? You guessed it. Lan Wangji. Who was also in the room at the time.

So. Wedding is lovely. They all have an amazing time. WWX is able to pull himself out of bed every day. He was even able to work on some cultivation items that LQR begrudgingly admits are amazing items and very useful to cultivation.

They go back to Cloud Recesses, and Lan Wangji combs through his and his uncle’s notes till he finds a viable solution to a return of a Golden core that they had originally scrapped because WWX wasn’t a girl.

To return a Golden core to a body by means of very careful pregnancy. Of course, such a thing would be considered stealing under normal circumstances, and most mothers would rather die than harm their child in the womb in a way that could kill them. But this was a method made to keep both parent and child from harm. A way to build the slightest lump of core in the parent, enough to stick and allow a base to build off of later.

Of course, without consulting Uncle (because the man would be horrified at the idea, and LWJ would rather be rejected by the man himself thanks very much) he takes the proposal to the man in question.

WWXA has to think about this one for a long time. He thinks about it while helping Wen Ning with zombie stuff so he can maintain a stable body. He thinks about it while writing letters to his siblings. He thinks a LOT about it while tucking their two year old into bed and reading him a story with the funny voices. He thinks about it when he spends a night in the cold springs with LWJ one night, close enough to touch the man, because without a Golden core, the water is too cold for him to survive in on his own.

He asks why LWJ would besmirch his honor like that. Having a child out of wedlock, his uncle would throw a fit. His name would be in tatters.

LWJ blinks, once, and twice. He quietly tells him the offer could involve marriage if WWX thinks it’s of import.

So. They get married. So they can have a child. Another child. Just. Yeah. Let’s get married so we can mate like rabbits.

They’re in love. Of course they are. But they’re also shy idiots. LWJ is a sex fiend like usual, and WWX quickly gets addicted to it, but they’re both too shy to say anything sappy yet. Well. No. Scratch that. LWJ is fully willing to admit his love to the world. But he’s a very quiet person. So he mostly just tells WWX how much he would do anything for him, and even eats his horrible poison cooking. Not even A-Yuan will touch that shit.

A-Yuan is so excited to be a big brother. His favorite place to lay is curled around WWX’s big belly and giving it kisses while A-Die scratches his hair and reads him stories.

A-Yuan finally gets his baby and Wei Wuxian gets the stability that a Golden core provides so he can continue using resentful energy to dodge the many many scrolls Shifu Qiren will throw at him over the years to come. LQR swears that if that man hadn’t given his nephew happiness and also many great nephews-

Anyways. The Lotus Flowers are all gay and all happy send tweet.

[ilguna]

Belamour - Epilogue (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, death/murder mention.

wc; 10k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

After you won the Hunger Games, you were fully convinced that you would never get a moment of silence ever again. Elysia didn’t tell you until after you’d arrived in District Four--back when you had just come home from the games--that you’d be busy for weeks after. Your life wouldn’t return back to normal immediately, it would be gradual.

On top of all the celebrations that you were required to attend, like the Banquet with all the expensive people in and outside of your district. In your opinion, that was probably the worst to attend, and it was only slightly better because Finnick was there to help you. Then there was a holiday where entertainers from the Capitol and food was provided for everyone. And finally, the first Parcel Day, where families would all receive their own package of food for bringing home a tribute. The best part? There’s one Parcel Day for every month.

Not to mention, you spent every waking moment with Finnick. If you weren’t with Finnick, you were with some Capitol reporters that came around regularly to check up on you and your family. For a while, it seemed like they weren’t going to leave at all, which started to get Reed irritated. 

He just wanted to have a get together with Caspian’s family to finally have a small celebration between you all, but it was practically impossible when you were constantly being hounded. Finnick felt the same way, it made him squirm but he never said anything that might turn the reporters away. Reed was a whole different story.

And even after his meltdown, they didn’t consider leaving you alone until some dumbass made the mistake of trying to surprise you from behind. In return for flipping the reporter onto their back and nearly killing them after, you were then signed up for the best therapist that Reed could find.

He says that it isn’t permanent, but you need to be going every week for a while. The Hunger Games did a number on you, and it was only obvious when you had literally treated the reporter like another tribute inside of the games. In the end, you bruised Mox’s rib and nearly broke Reed’s nose.

You felt horrible for a while after, but they weren’t mad at you. It’s not your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this, it just came along with the already-shitty package. You’re just lucky that the reporters weren’t allowed to say anything on it. Otherwise, the image that the Capitol constructed for you, would be completely ruined.

So, really, you spent about a month and a half after the games, celebrating and trying not to look too terribly bad in front of the reporters. It wasn’t at all glamorous, you woke up every morning feeling worse than the last. When everything cooled down, you told Reed, Mox and Finnick that you’d need a while to yourself before even considering being around others. 

Finnick felt the same. You guys spoke when you could, but the conversations weren’t very long. By the time you came around to each other again, you’d already been moved into Victor’s Village, right next to Mags. Finnick is placed next to Anchor. The houses are huge, with more bedrooms than you know what to do with. If you really wanted to, you could fit Naida’s entire family in here. And she has five kids, one girl and four boys.

The house would be an absolute disaster, of course. But you’d still be able to fit their entire family, and maybe even Finnick’s, if you’re squeezing. Finnick only has a younger brother, Orion. Since your winning of the games, you’ve got significantly closer with his family. A lot more than you had been originally.

You thought that you were close before, when he’d bring you cookies and walk you home from school in the rain. That was really nothing, compared to this. At least once a week, you two meet up to have lunch or dinner or something, just to keep you all close. And once every two to three weeks, your two families and Naida’s will meet up in your house to have dinner.

Fifteen people, all sat at one table. When it comes to cooking, practically everyone is working together. The younger kids are all playing together in one of the spare bedrooms, and even then, there’s still people left over, with no clue what to do. It tends to be you, Finnick and Alyssum that are left alone the most often. Either in your living room or out front. The house can be quite loud a lot of the time.

After the two of you won the games, it hasn’t been the exact same as it was before. You knew that there would be differences, you’d already seen it when you had gone home for the first time with your family. The way that the neighbors, the ones you’ve known for years, would shut their curtains and for good measure, their blinds too. It made for a lonely neighborhood. 

You can’t just ask them why they have the sudden change of heart, but you suppose you could guess. As if you’ve been repeating to yourself for months now, you’re the fifteen year old girl who won the Hunger Games with one fourteen year old boy. He was the youngest victor, together you found out that you’re the youngest pair to win together. You once lived in poverty, and now you’re practically royalty. 

People are just waiting for you to stop being humble, but it’s hard to forget your roots, especially when they’re deeply embedded. You remember the nights of eating dinner by the candlelight, and the cold winters and sweltering summers. You remember the stomach pains when you had to give up your dinner for Alyssum.

You wish you could tell all of them that you’re the same. You’ve always been the same person, and you don’t have the slightest intention of changing. Not as you get older, not as your money starts piling. You’re still the same girl who used to go to The Square for soaps and ugly dresses and beat down shoes when there was no other place to go.

Maybe it isn’t you who’s changed, it’s the people around you.

Sounds like something cheesy, straight out of some romance novel.

Well, back to what you were saying about being fully convinced that you’d never get a moment left to your thoughts ever again; there’s about to be a rinse and repeat. You’ve managed to survive a couple of normal months, and it’s just about to get hectic. The winter Victory Tour is here.

The Victory Tour happens six months after the end of the Hunger Games. So, not only do districts have time to mourn and heal from the wounds of their tributes being killed, they’re now forced to reopen those wounds. And you’re going to be required to rub it in their faces.

The only reason why the Victory Tour takes place so long after the actual games is because it’s a reminder that the districts can’t fully escape the games. Sure, your tributes might have been killed in the summer, but just because it’s winter, doesn’t mean you get to have a moment of peace. What kind of ridiculous thinking is that?

It just means you’re about to spend another couple of weeks away from home. About a day in every district, starting in District Twelve and ending in District Four, since you skip over your home district. So, it would technically go from Twelve, Eleven, Ten, etc all the way to Five, then it would be Three, the career districts, and then a celebration at home. Again.

Needless to say, you hope that you’ll never have to celebrate another thing ever again in your life after this. You’re tired of the big dinners and the pats on the backs. You just want everything to return back to normal.

“Think we should head back, yet?” Finnick asks, skipping another rock across the water. He’s knee-deep, pants rolled up to keep them from getting wet, but he doesn’t care anyway. You’ll be taking a shower when you get home.

“Probably.” you tell him, but neither of you move. Finnick rubs his thumb over a smooth gray stone, showing it to you.

You barely look over in time to catch that it’s the shape of a heart. Instead of doing something romantic, like handing it to you, Finnick straight throws it, not even trying to skip the rock. It soars through the air, going pretty far into the water. When it lands, it causes a minor splash. You’d say that’s swimming deep, you wouldn’t be able to stand up anymore.

“Can’t wait until this is all over.” you say.

“Tell me about it.” he skips another rock, it hits the surface once, twice, thrice, four times before it sinks, “I just keep thinking about how the other kids at school are reacting.”

“Reed was actually considering homeschooling me.” you tell him.

He pauses, looking over at you, “You can’t do that, then I’d be at the school by myself.”

You give him a small grin, “So? Won’t it be like before, when we didn’t really talk?”

“I hope not.” Finnick laughs, “We’re in it for life, we have to be. Plus, you live on the same street as I do, so there’s no avoiding me.”

“I can try.” you push yourself up from the rock beach, crossing your arms over your chest, “I think we’ll grow sick of each other eventually.”

“If they keep pushing us together, I do too.” Finnick holds out a rock for you. You take it, weighing it in your palm before skipping it. It dies after bouncing twice.

He throws his last rock, this one goes the farthest so far. When it sinks too, he brushes off his hands and turns around, getting out of the water. You pull your dirty tennis shoes on again. Finnick dries his feet with his towel, throws said towel over his shoulder, then slides his feet into his sandals. After that, you’re on your way back.

“At least we get to see our prep teams again, I missed them.”

“I didn’t.” Finnick makes a face, shaking his head, “Too touchy for my liking, even before we won.”

“Gross, wish I could give you mine instead.”

“No, you don’t.” Finnick makes a face, and then the two of you laugh.

The walk to Victor’s Village is far, since you and Finnick purposely tried to find a spot that would be hard to find, if anyone came looking. You don’t think anyone has, but then again, you won’t know until you get back to the houses. You and Finnick fill the silence by talking about what you think will actually happen when school gets started up again. You guess sashays to wear, and finnick bets on crowns.

And sure enough, when you get back to the village, you’re able to see the cars parked on the cobblestone pathways. There’s cameras being set up outside, and two separate nervous parents waiting. For Finnick, this would be his mother, Laoise, who comes rushing down the steps immediately.

“Where have the two of you been?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer as she starts yanking Finnick towards his house. 

You wave him goodbye before heading towards your parent, Reed. He’s not upset, as far as you can tell. You head inside with him to see that your prep team definitely is. Cleo lets out the biggest whine you’ve heard come from her, and Leo sighs loudly to let you know that he isn’t happy. Beth, on the other hand, starts towards your bathroom to get a shower started.

You’re not allowed a single conversation with Anchor, or Elysia who seems to be bouncing back and forth between houses. You’re drowned in water, hair washed swiftly just to make it shiny and clean-looking again. You smell like fruit and flowers at the end of the shower, being swept right into your bedroom after.

This is when they start to work like they did beforehand. Cleo gets to work on your nails, Leo heads right in with fixing your eyebrows and plucking every little hair, washing your face down, and starting over to make sure you’re to his liking. While Beth, as usual, takes her time with drying and styling your hair to make sure that it looks good enough. Out of the three of them, she’s luckiest since her job isn’t that hard.

Cleo’s going on about how the entire Capitol is excited to see you again. This is when you remember that you’ll be visiting the Capitol again. You bite your tongue, since you’re not excited. You wonder if this means you’ll be onsaughted by reporters again, going back to weeks of non-normalcy.

“Laurel doesn’t want to see you until you’re fully dressed.” Cleo says, raising from the floor, “I’ll grab your clothes.”

She leaves the room, Leo and Beth pack up their things, “You’ll be wearing warm clothes tonight. I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. You’ll be in dresses for the entire tour.” Leo says.

“Great.” you give him a smile, “Thank you, both.”

Cleo comes back in a moment later, and has you getting dressed immediately. Obviously they’re going for cool tones, because they place you in thick white pants and a long-sleeved, light blue shirt. After that is the jacket, the second that it’s zipped up, you can feel yourself start to sweat. It’s safe to say that you won’t be feeling the cold outside. They place you in warm shoes too, and you’re forced to stand still while they readjust.

In the end, they take the jacket off and tell you that you’ll be wearing it later. For now, you can go ahead and see everyone else downstairs. You take your time going down the steps, not really in a hurry. There’s no way you guys are going to be on time as much as you had wanted to earlier.

“There she is!” Anchor stands in your hallway, motioning to you.

Laurel comes out of your living room, looking over you from head to toe, “Where’s the jacket?”

“With Cleo, she said I could wear it later.” you say, “How do I look?”

“Like how you should.” she says, and then moves on. If you could take a guess, you think she’s annoyed that you did make them behind schedule. Finnick’s probably receiving the same cold treatment that you are.

Elysia comes in through the door, holding it wide open. Behind her is the camera crew, who come in and make themselves comfortable in the living room. Soon, the downstairs manages to crowd. The camera crew, Elysia, the prep team, your siblings, Anchor and Laurel. With the amount of people in the house, the volume starts to increase. 

You reach for your pinky to find that the ring is missing. In the middle of instructions from Anchor, you turn without a single word and head up the staircase. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need the ring. If Anchor is bothered, he doesn’t say anything, he just lets you go.

In your room, you shut the door to muffle the sound and get some privacy. If you heard Elysia correctly, you should have five minutes or so before you present your hobby to the camera crew, which they’ll be editing and showing the public later. When it came to picking one out, you and Finnick were pretty stumped.

The choices were obvious, you were going to rock, paper, scissors to see who would get fishing or knots, when Mags came through with some ideas. Most of them were stupid, Finnick can’t play a guitar and you’ve never really liked gardening. Then Anchor suggested a two part skill, photography and modeling.

You wanted to shut down the idea, especially when Finnick was all for taking the pictures. If you have professional pictures of yourself, people are going to think you’re vain. So, Finnick switched the roles and decided that he could be the model and you could be the photographer. 

It took some practice, the first couple of pictures that you’d taken with the Capitol-bought camera were horrible. But as time went on over the few months, you managed to get a hang of it. And Finnick decided that he liked to model a lot more than he thought he did. And just like that, the problem was solved.

While Finnick’s living room is covered in pictures of himself that you took in various places, your living room has cameras and a few scenery and portrait pictures to show. Needless to say, this is another example of how you and Finnick have been complimenting each other since the beginning. 

You find your ring where Beth had placed it to get it out of the way during the bath. You pick it up and slip it on. By the time you get downstairs, they’re ready for you to start talking about yourself and not shut up until you’ve covered everything. After, you’ll narrate from notecards that Elysia wrote for you.

You think Anchor might’ve told Reed and Mox that you were overwhelmed or something, because it’s clear there’s been a change. Elysia is gone completely, Laurel and the prep team stand in the dining room, away from where you are. The camera crew inside of the living room is spread out enough to give you breathing room. The only people standing close are your brothers.

Just before you’re on camera, you stand taller and give a smile. Once they give you the cue, you go ahead and start explaining your hobby. The cameras, the pictures, how Finnick is your partner in crime with this. You make sure to explain what you do exactly with the pictures. When you’re done, you read the notecards as peppy as you can, then they push you out so they can get the living room by itself.

Reed and Mox aren’t excluded from the event, they’re actually pulled on camera together, which leaves you to hold onto Alyssum for the time being. You expected her to be pretty alert, but in the end, she lays her head on your shoulder while you sway. As soon as they’re done, things start moving quickly.

You hand Alyssum over, and Anchor comes back around with instructions. Laurel pulls the jacket onto you, which has you feeling like a furnace again, but you don’t complain. You nod and him and try to pay attention the best you can. All you seem to remember now is that you need to look as excited as possible when seeing Finnick.

Elysia then stops you in front of the door, tells you to be careful, and then opens the door. You step out, ignoring the sound of the door shutting behind you when you go down the steps. A smile spreads over your face at the sight of Finnick, who looks just as ridiculous as you feel because of how bundled you are. Especially since he was wearing shorts in freezing cold water just a couple of hours ago.

“Finnick!” you shout, opening your arms up wide.

Finnick hugs you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest. He presses a warm kiss against your cold cheeks and laughs, “Missed me that much?”

“Of course!” you laugh too.

Everything you’d been building up to today, is over just like that. It was only to get an outside shot of you and Finnick greeting each other for the first time during the Victory Tour.

The goodbyes to your family and friends takes place outside. Finnick says goodbye to his parents and his brother, Orion. You say goodbye to your brothers, sister and Naida’s family, since they wanted to see you one last time before you go. Everyone from the Capitol piles into their cars, the Capitol people take off first. You, Finnick, Elysia and your mentors get into the last car. You wave goodbye to your brothers before you go.

At the train station, you wave goodbye and board the train. Elysia doesn’t stop the grind there, as she gets you guys into the dining room to have supper. The prep team doesn’t join you guys when you eat. You and Finnick have to take it easy, since the food is so unbearably rich. Even with you trying to make sure that you don’t eat too much, you still manage to feel pretty nauseous after.

After that, you’re left to your own devices. Laurel and Pleurisy disappear, Elysia says to be ready to get up early tomorrow, and your mentors head straight to bed. It leaves just you and Finnick as always. For a while, you two just stare at each other as if you don’t have a clue on what to say.

Then, Finnick gives a smile, “Sleepover?”

You grin, “Oh, hell yeah. I’ll just take a shower first.”

“Meet you there, then.” Finnick says.

You two split, with Finnick going to his own room. In yours, you go ahead and pick out your pajamas, and then shut the door to the bathroom to make sure that Finnick won’t accidentally walk in on anything. With the ring in a safe place, you step into the shower to wash off all of the prep team’s work. Once the water starts running clear again, you step out.

Finnick’s got his spot next to the wall all sorted out. He’s got a blanket laid out, a pillow and then a second bigger blanket to actually use. Obviously he banked on your shower idea, because his hair is wet too. You slip the ring into the bowl at your bedside and then fall back onto your bed.

“Tired?” Finnick jokes.

“Compared to you, yeah.” you look at him, “They’ve got to do a lot more with me than you. You heard Elysia, you get to sleep in.”

Finnick scoffs, “You think I sleep?” he tries to keep a straight face after, but it doesn’t work. The two of you crack up.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” you tell him.

“Sounds good to me.” Finnick says, settling in next to the wall.

The two of you lay in silence for a while. Despite feeling completely exhausted, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You curl yourself up, rock yourself, spread out, roll over but there’s nothing that works. Finnick falls asleep faster than you do, you can hear his heavy breathing.

You eventually settle for staring at the ceiling, feeling a sense of deja vu. It’s exactly like how you’d tried to fall asleep the night before you got home. Only then, you were nervous and excited and now you’re just… upset? You just want to be back to normal. You get that you’ll be mentoring again in the spring/summer, but for now, you should be able to relax.

You think you fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night. You wake up to Elysia rocking you and telling you it’s time to get started. She helps you get dressed into something comfortable, and you decide to leave your ring on the bedside table. When you leave the bedroom, Finnick is still sleeping comfortably next to the wall.

He won’t have to get up for a couple of hours. He’s only got so much that needs to be done, while you on the other hand have to go through everything the Capitol did initially. Your skin is going to be sore for the first time in a long time. You were just getting used to finally looking like the other girls in your grade, too.

Your prep team is already in the dining car when you get there. You assume your regular spot and watch as the team slowly comes to life. It’s obvious that they never have to get up this early, ever. You watch as they drink cup after cup of coffee, and then popping brightly colored pills into their mouths as they go.

Cleo does the most out of all of them, which solves the mystery as to why she’s so energetic. In no time, she’s looking awake and chatting with Leo animatedly. You eat quietly and try not to engage in conversation with them just yet. You wonder how they’re going to rebuild you if Finnick’s sleeping in your room.

You finish your breakfast, and figure that if you’re going to wake up Finnick in the process, you might as well bring him something as a gift. With the help of Elysia, you pack a plate full of foods that he enjoys. Cleo and Leo try not to be loud--Beth isn’t ever a problem--but they end up waking Finnick anyway.

“Here.” you set the tray onto the floor, “I’ve got to get started.”

He’s tired, but at least there’s no bags beneath his eyes, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Beth shuts the door the most of the way, and then they all turn on you like a pack of wild dogs. You’re stripped for the most part, and they start with waxing your legs. Finnick occasionally talks to you on the other side of the door, enjoying his breakfast. By the time you’re being bathed the second time, Elysia comes around to collect Finnick.

They’re all unusually quiet during this, even Cleo. You guess that the coffee and weird pills didn’t do their job good enough. They shower you one last time, try your skin and then lather you in the healing lotion. Immediately, you begin to feel better. You thank them for their efforts, get dressed and meet everyone else in the dining car again. It’s lunch time.

Elysia lays out the plan for you guys during this time. For the Victory Tour, you’ll be starting in District Twelve, which is another day’s train ride from here. By tomorrow afternoon, you should be there. She outlines the protocols and tells you what you should expect from the district, there’s not a single nice thing she says after that.

“It’s not all that bad.” Anchor says, he’s finished with his lunch already, just occupying a spot to keep you all company, “They’re going to be upset like they are every year.”

You share a look with Finnick, though. As much as Anchor and Mags can try and comfort you two, you think they’ve forgotten who the two tributes died to. You killed the boy, drowned him unfairly in water he doesn’t know how to swim in. And Finnick killed the girl a couple days later. You don’t know if you can even consider that self-defense.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more you begin to realize that every stop you’ll be making over the course of the next few weeks will be completely miserable. You and Finnick got an even split of murders, both of you have six, which in total makes twelve. Almost every stop will have one tribute you killed.

Anchor says that the districts are going to be upset, but that’s such an understatement. They’re going to be pissed, the only one that might be a warm welcome is going to be District Three, because of Verda and Blaire. Otherwise, you’re absolutely hated.

Finnick recognizes this too, his face is twisted, the two of you stare at each other for a moment. You wonder who’s going to be the one to point this fact out, but neither of you speak. You just let the topic drop, he goes back to picking at his sweet roll.

“Alright well, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s supper.” you say.

A few of them bid you a goodbye, you drag your feet all the way to your room. Really, you’re not all that tired, you just don’t want to hear Elysia call another district dirty and ungrateful again. In your room, Finnick’s belongings are gone, so there’s no chance that you’ll be interrupted.

Instead of laying down, you find yourself heading towards the chair that you’d first occupied on your way to the Capitol during the summer. You sit in it, sinking into the plush cushion, and stare into the room. It’s a moment before you remember that magazine from your first time around.

You open up the nightstand drawer and find that there’s a new issue. And right on the front is a picture of you and Finnick that you took for the victory tour. 

Inside is probably your worst nightmare. There’s information about yourself, all spilled out onto the page. Your birthday, your age, stuff about your family, how both of your parents died… it just keeps going.

Finnick’s page isn’t nearly as bad as yours. In fact, when you read over it, you’re sure that the Capitol publishers purposely did this. When you begin to feel sick, you rip it into shreds and throw it into the bathroom garbage can so that you don’t have to see it. 

This is when you decide that it’s a good time to fall through on taking the nap. You pull the blanket above your head to shield yourself from the light. It takes some time, you still toss and turn but sticking to the idea works. The next time you wake up is to Elysia at the door, telling you that supper is ready.

Even after catching a look at yourself in the mirror, you decide that you could care less. You’re going right back to bed after this, you’re fucking exhausted. Everyone is sitting at the table when you get out there, and spirits seem to be pretty high. The prep teams carry most of the conversation.

You pick at your food in the beginning, not entirely hungry since you just woke up. You squint, each as much as you can, and sit at the table until you decide that it’s an appropriate time to get up and leave. You and Finnick are reminded that you’ll be up early tomorrow by Elysia. After that, you’re free to go.

Finnick stays at the table, but you go ahead and leave. You change into proper pajamas and roll over. You don’t fall asleep as quickly as you had hoped. In fact, you’re stuck thinking about the families of the kids that you had killed in the arena.

District Twelve, Tassel and Fodille. Tassel being the thirteen year-old boy that you had killed, and Fodille being the twelve year-old girl that Finnick had killed. You could try to play it off as self defense with Tassel, but you knew exactly what you were doing when you turned your back to him. It was bait, you wanted him to step out so that you could kill him. And it worked, you just didn’t expect him to jump on your back like that.

As for Finnick, you can’t imagine what he’d done to get Fodille to go after him. Or maybe he just came across her and decided that he might as well kill her.

Either way, in the end, you wake up screaming. For a good second, while you stare off into the pitch black room, you’re sure that you’ve died. But the moment you take in a deep breath from your nose, you’re reminded that even that would be a dream. Your throat is sore, your cheeks are soaked. You reach for a pillow and bury your face in it, sobbing, wondering how long you’ll have to suffer like this.

You’re so fucking tired. You miss the period of time when you didn’t have nightmares or worried about people approaching you from certain angles because you might accidentally kill them in a fit of blind arena flashbacks. 

You scream into the pillow, and then throw it across the room. You watch as it hits the only glass frame in the room, knocking it off the wall. You get up from the bed, take your ring from the bowl and go to the bathroom. You don’t bother to turn on the light, but you hesitate putting water on your face.

It wouldn’t be a bright idea, especially not after the nightmare, but you do it anyway, multiple times. Even after the cold water, you still feel stuffy, so you go to leave the bedroom. Just as you step on the carpet near the door, a searing hot pain goes right through your foot.

You stifle a scream, gritting your teeth as tears reappear in your eyes. Your hand falls against the wall, holding all of your bodyweight, while the other cradles your foot. Even in the darkness, you can see the dark liquid coming from your foot. You struggle to find the lightswitch, and find yourself blinded in yellow light when you turn it on.

It takes a while of blinking for you to be able to see, and when you do, you’re not surprised. The frame had shattered, giant glass and small glass shards are all over the carpet. In your foot is a pretty big one, around it are much smaller pieces. Blood comes out of every one of them, staining the white carpet red.

Now is the time to start looking for the help call button. You go over the one panel near the door, squinting and rubbing your eyes. The pain in your foot is distracting, the light is hard to see through. You end up pressing the red one and hope that it works.

It does, it’s only a matter of seconds before the door is opening and you’re met with multiple Capitol attendants at the door. They take in the scene, the glass, your foot, the disorientation in your face. And without a single word, two of them help you so that you don’t have to walk on the foot, another goes to clean up the mess.

They take you into the main room and sit you on a chair, “Would you like for us to wake Elysia or one of the mentors?”

You shake your head, eyes trained on the first aid. You’re pretty sure that you’re going to need stitches, “No, can you just tell Elysia when she gets up?”

They agree, bring around the medical expert. They sit in a chair opposite to you, prop your foot onto their thigh and gently get to work. They pull out each individual shard, starting with the smallest, and working their way up to the bigger ones. You close your eyes and dig your nails into your hands when they start pulling out the worst one. You try not to move much but you still end up curling your foot.

You were right about the stitches, the person numbs your foot first and then works on the needle. Since you can’t feel it, it’s easier to watch them go through it. You bleed a lot, and even with the stitches, they wrap a bandage around your foot and have to half-carry you back to your room.

In the hallway is Finnick, he’s shirtless and has got his arms crossed over his chest. He looks over you, the two Capitol attendants, and then down at your foot. The serious expression on his face drops, as well as his arms, “What happened?”

“Broke a frame and stepped on glass, had to get stitches. I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“She can stay in my room.” Finnick insists, holding his arms out for you.

You don’t argue, letting him hold onto you, “Thank you, can you tell Elysia that I’ll be in his room, too?”

“Yes, of course. Call if you have any more problems.” they say.

Finnick brings you into his room, which is almost a mirror of yours. His bed is unkempt, he was obviously sleeping. You wonder if it was your screaming and sobbing that woke him up, or the Capitol people helping you that did it. Either way, he shuts the door and helps you to his bed.

“I can sleep on the floor.” you tell him.

“There’s a hammock.” Finnick says, motioning to the corner.

Your eyes follow, and you find that he’s not lying. A white-roped hammock hangs in the corner of the room. He throws in a pillow, lays a blanket down as a base and then helps you into it. It’s a lot more comfortable than you thought it would be, and you laugh when he throws another, softer blanket on top of you.

Before he goes to lay back down, for the first time in months, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

He lays down in the bed, back turned to you, blanket pulled over his shoulder. You lay your head against the pillow and stare at the ceiling of his room. Your foot throbs painfully. Even with how he set you up comfortably, you don’t fall asleep. You go over the different scenarios in which everyone will have to work around your hurt foot.

During your daydreaming, you manage to doze off. Before you know it, Finnick is shaking you awake, telling you that you two should eat lunch real quick before you get ready for District Twelve. It’s the afternoon, they’ve let you sleep in considerably. Finnick helps you out of the hammock and lets you lean on him while the two of you make your way to the dining car.

Everyone is at the table already, dressed and ready for what Twelve will have to offer. Before you can even get halfway into the room, all eyes are on you and Finnick. Suddenly, the topic is on your hurt foot.

“Let’s see it.” Laurel says, motioning for you to head towards her.

Finnick helps, you lean against the table with one hand so Finnick can go and sit down and start eating. You watch as Laurel unravels the bandage to take in the damage.

“Well, I’ll certainly say that I’m surprised.” Elysia says, sitting up a bit on her chair to see over the table.

“What happened, again?” Anchor asks, looking right at you.

“I uh--” you make a face, “The Capitol attendant didn’t tell you?”

“They didn’t tell us much of anything.” Cleo says, sipping on her coffee, “Did you get any sleep last night.”

Leo huffs, “That’s going to be hard to cover up.

“Well, what happened?” Laurel presses, looking at you now. If she thinks that your foot looks bad, she doesn’t say anything. 

“A glass picture frame broke by the door last night.” you decide that you’ll keep the fact that you broke it, to yourself.

“How?” Cleo asks.

You open your mouth, going to come up with some bullshit excuse, but Elysia has her own reason.

“I bet it was how hard the train braked last night during the refuel. Did any of you feel it?”

“I did.” Cleo and Leo say at the same time.

“Makes sense.” Pleurisy says, “They should’ve nailed it onto the wall better. What’re you thinking, Laurel?”

“She’s going to have to use numbing cream and wear flats for the rest of the trip.” Laurel turns to an attendant, “Can you clean and rebandage her foot?”

You get a new place to sit, away from the table, while your foot is reprepared. At least you’ve gotten yourself out of wearing heels, but you can’t imagine that the pain in your foot is nearly worth it. Plus, you’ll still be walking funky, so there’s no doubt that someone is going to point it out.

You have to eat quickly because you’re behind schedule. This time, you manage to feel just fine, which means that you won’t have to take a ten minute breather to make sure that you won’t puke. Cleo, Beth and Leo work together to make you look nice. They pull your hair down, making it look nice with as many products as possible.

Laurel comes around with your clothes. Since it’s snowing in District Twelve, you put on a dark purple jacket, black pants, snow boots and a hat to keep your ears warm. You think it’s overkill until you finally look outside. Even Finnick is dressed up to be warm, and he hardly ever gets cold.

The train gets dark for a long moment as you pass through a tunnel. When light comes back, you can see that District Twelve has tall walls. As soon as you can see into the district, the first word that comes to mind is ‘gloomy’. You immediately feel bad for the people because they have to stand outside while you receive plaques for murdering their tributes.

You and Finnick are brought into the main room, you’re on more of a time crunch than you had originally thought. Laurel applies the finishing touches here, fixing stray hairs and helping you walk in the boots with your hurt foot. Right as you pull into the train station, Elysia tells you that there won’t be a ride through the city, so there’s nothing to worry about there. But there are cameras at the station, waiting to see you two.

And just like that, the doors open and you’re exposed to said cameras. You hold onto Finnick’s arm tightly, trying not to make your limp super noticeable. Even with the numbing cream, you can feel the stitches oddly move. You’re really afraid of accidentally tearing them.

You’re directed into a car by a couple of peacekeepers. Making sure to thank them, you head inside first, Mags follows, then it’s Finnick, Anchor and Elysia. On the way to the Justice Building, Elysia gives you the cards to read off of, just in case you forget some lines.

From the car, you’re inside of the main building. You hardly get a few steps inside when you can smell a particular scent that must be exclusive to their district. As well as see all the dust that has collected onto tabletops they have not used in months. You can at least smell something cooking.

There’s a few seconds before you have to go outside and face the families of Tassel and Fodille. It really hits you now, you take deep breaths and try to ease the panic attack that’s rising. But it’s coming, and you don’t know how to stop it. With the anthem already playing, you’re fucked.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick says, making you face him, “Tell me one thing you smell.”

“The dinner.”

“Two things you feel.” he says.

“You touching me and the stitches.” you take a deep breath.

“Three things you hear.”

“Your voice, the anthem and my heartbeat.” it’s loud in your ears, almost louder than the anthem that’s playing outside.

“Your heartbeat is constant, it’s not going away.” Finnick says, “Focus on it, okay?”

You nod, sniffing. He gives you a small smile. Microphones are clipped to your bodies so that you’ll be heard. Finnick offers his arm and you wrap your hands around it, just like how you did on the chariot ride. The mayor of District Twelve is introducing you when the doors open.

“You’ve got this.” Elysia urges.

You two move forward, the applause from Twelve feels apprehensive. You walk together, you rely on Finnick to find the right spot on where to stop. He does, and you’re finally able to take in what the district looks like. You were right about the gloomy idea, because this does not nearly radiate the same energy that District Four does.

The space in front of the Justice Building is packed with people, all who don’t look thrilled that they have to entertain you two. There’s been two stages that have been constructed for the families of Tassel and Fodille. You don’t want to look. You have to.

Tassel’s parents are pretty young, but they don’t have any other kids, Tassel was their only child. His parents are straight-faced and angry, no doubt at you. Fodille’s family isn’t much better, she only has a younger sister that has to be half the age that Fodille was… so many six, seven?

The clapping dissolves, the mayor has to give a speech in your honor. You hate standing here and awkwardly staring into their district like this. You killed Tassel, you killed their only son. There’s a number of circumstances that go through your mind, none of which you like.

Two girls hand off large bouquets of flowers to you and Finnick. You make sure to thank them, and then Finnick is reciting the customary reply. It’s nothing interesting, just a thank you. You say your part next, which is practically a repeat of what he just did.

The last part is up to you and Finnick, since it’s your personal comments. It might have been approved by Elysia, Anchor and Mags, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t any less specially structured for their tributes. Unfortunately for you, you and Finnick came to the agreement that you two would switch on and off for who starts first and who goes second.

You clear your throat slightly, staring at Tassel’s family, because everything that you had written down, doesn’t come to mind. You open your mouth, draw your eyebrows in and breathe out. 

You can’t say anything staring at them like this. You close your eyes, and find it much easier this way, “Last night I dreamt that I had been perched in bushes by a pond, watching as two older tributes came around to gather water. I barely moved, but made noise nonetheless. The boy came to investigate, thought that he’d heard something but turned his back to me. I thought it was the perfect opportunity.

“I jumped onto his back, arms and legs wrapped around him and thought victory was mine because I had the high ground. How would he get away from this? He couldn’t possibly. When he reached for his sword, I pulled his hair and went to go choke him. I didn’t take into consideration how clever the boy was, as he fell backwards into the pond on purpose.

“I wasn’t worried for a second.” you breathe out all the air you’re holding, “But I panicked when the water washed over me, when I realized that I didn’t know how to swim and I couldn’t hold my breath for long. I panicked when the boy held me in place to make sure that I would die. I wanted to cry when I thought about how I would be breathing in water in no time.

“It was worse when he wouldn’t let me go, no matter how desperate I was. I thought it was unfair, how he could be so big and so much stronger than me. It was an unfair advantage that I hadn’t taken into consideration. When I opened my mouth to breathe, unable to hold my breath any longer, I inhaled water. The boy let me go, and left me in the darkness of that pond, to sink to the bottom and drown.”

You open your eyes, looking at Tassel’s family, “I died in the dark, cold and in pain, worried about how my family would be able to pay for funeral expenses.” you shake your head, “I have been waking up to this nightmare for weeks. Since the end of the games, I have not slept soundly since. Your son’s face haunts me, and I know that means nothing to you, and I’m sorry. It’s not a proud moment of mine, his face never escapes me in my happiest moments.”

It’s done it, his mother is crying, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. His father nods once at you, but you don’t think that’s good enough. You could give this speech a hundred times to them, apologize over and over, but it will never compare to what it feels like to lose family. Especially not a son that they had raised.

Finnick gives his rehearsed speech to Fodille’s family, which turns out to be just as emotional. You two are given big plaques to accompany your bouquets. You listen to the clapping of the district, which somehow sounds louder than the first time around. The mayor wraps up your appearance, and then you’re brought back into the Justice Building, where everyone is waiting.

Elysia praises you guys, hardly making a comment on how you went off-script. Anchor gives you an approving nod, and suddenly you’re being readied for the dinner. You get washed completely so that you’re a blank canvas, and the prep teams work back up from there. Cleo and Leo are excited to be attending tonight’s dinner, and all the future ones too. You don’t see the big fuss.

They keep with the purple theme. They place you in a dress that reaches your calves, and a pair of black flats with white socks after more numbing cream is applied. Laurel comes around for finishing touches, which is when she pulls a black cardigan over your shoulders to keep you extra warm. You thank her.

“Try not to play with the ring too much, okay?” Laurel says, standing you in front of the mirror so that you can see yourself. You’ve begun to get used to the fact that you’re pretty unrecognizable after every makeover, “The Capitol is starting to take notice.”

“Okay.” your hands drop, you smooth out the dress, “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah, make sure to smile.” she says.

The prep teams head out first, Elysia counts every step, and warns you guys to count too. Next is Laurel and Pleurisy, who look good naturally and have big smiles on their faces. Anchor has Mags hold onto him so that she’s able to move quicker and so that they don’t fall behind.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“Tired, what about you?”

“Hungry.” he says, and the two of you grin.

You start walking.

It’s a rinse and repeat for every district. Your speeches start to blur, as does the faces. District Eight is hard for Finnick because both of the tributes died to him, that night he wakes up sobbing. You hold your breath and the next time you’re fully able to breathe is District Three, where Verda and Blaire’s families are more than forgiving. You can’t thank Blaire’s family enough, when you leave, you think that you’ve finally come to peace with Blaire’s sacrifice.

After your visit in District Two--which had ended badly, the word ‘traitor’ is what you’re labeled as there--Finnick comes up with the idea of making your own training facilities. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask, looking at Finnick. He’s sitting on his bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. You’re in his hammock.

Finnick sits up, “Think about it, we get a building, invest our own money into it. We get families in on it, advertise it quietly, start training kids to be prepared. If we can win at fourteen and fifteen, other kids can win at fourteen and fifteen, maybe even younger!”

“They just need an opportunity.” you say, he nods, a grin is spreading over his face. “We’ve got a problem though, your mom is going to say no, and my brothers would never approve of it.”

“I’ve got a solution to that too. What if we ask Anchor and Mags to put their names down? But only us and Anchor train the tributes, since we’re the youngest.”

You smile a bit, “You better be the one to suggest it to them.”

“Okay!” he agrees, getting up from the bed, “Let’s go now, then.”

Mags and Anchor approve the idea almost immediately, and for the rest of the night, you’re subjected to laying out the plans with them. Mags has got years worth of money built up, and decides that she’ll take on the bulk of the expenses. Anchor agrees to be a trainer, as do you and Finnick, on top of being mentors. 

“You know this means you won’t be home often, right?” Anchor says.

“At least we’ll be in the same district.” you tell him.

Conversation keeps moving. You point out that there’s an expensive building on the rich side of District Four. It’s big, and you think it served as some sort of hotel or warehouse. It’s going to need repairs, but you write the address down anyway and hand it off to Mags.

Finnick says that you two will start advertising it as soon as you get back home, there’s no doubt that there’s going to be some takers. No one wants their kids to die in the games, and if they’ve been preparing for years, their odds increase. By the time you reach District One, you’re feeling better about everything, and take District One with a brave smile.

The Capitol is the same way. You and Finnick stay in the Tribute Center, on your regular floor. The following night, you’re brought to the stage with Caesar to be questioned on how you and Finnick were feeling during the tour. He keeps it going smoothly, there’s not a moment you feel uncomfortable.

“And finally, what are your plans for the future?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, “Two young mentors, next summer will be your first time with tributes. What are your thoughts?”

“Our plans are secret.” you say outright, which has Finnick smirking. 

The audience likes this, all on the edge of their seat. No matter how hard Caesar prys, neither you or Finnick say anything. To admit the idea of illegally training tributes could mean big trouble for District Four. 

“You have to give me something.” Caesar says, “To give us something.”

Finnick gives him a fun smile, “Let’s just say that District Four just inherited the best mentors they could ask for.”

The interview ends, you and Finnick are brought to a large banquet. There’s music, soft chairs, tables with more food than you could ever imagine. The floors are polished, the ceiling is dark. You and Finnick are on camera the entire time, so you have to work together if you want to do anything. You two find your spot at the dessert table, and continue to sample the cakes, cookies, cupcakes, puddings, among other things. Finnick and you bet on who will get sick first, and you end up losing.

Eventually it gets out that you’re stationed at the dessert table, because people start coming around. You take pictures, and exchange names and conversation. You try to be polite and friendly, you’re just glad that they move on relatively quickly to allow others get their say.

Finnick enjoys his second slice of raspberry cheesecake, you get a cold bowl of ice cream and find a new spot to stand. You silently wish they served dishes like this back home. You wonder if someone has a cookbook, you’ll start cooking like this if you can. You’ve got the money for the ingredients, you just need the recipe.

Anchor and Mags come around to check on you and Finnick, and then suggest that you get real food into you besides all the sweets. They warn you to stay away from the drinks that’ll make you puke up your food, and wish you good luck on your next round of fans. You and Finnick go to a table with soups that warm the throat and make you feel hungrier than you were before.

When the music picks up to something more upbeat, you decide that it won’t hurt to dance once. You try to follow what Elysia had taught you two, but give up halfway through and decide for a more traditional dance from Four. It works, you and Finnick have more fun than you were before.

“Had you come up with that idea earlier into the victory tour, I can’t imagine how giddy we would have been throughout the whole tour.” you say, letting Finnick spin you.

“It would have been criminal.” he laughs, you join, “District One seemed like a pretty bad place to begin with.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” you agree. Considering that Trink and Lennox were the last two tributes that could have won. Their families weren’t very thrilled to see you two, either.

At this point, you don’t really care. How are they going to significantly affect you? Do they think them glaring at you is really going to do anything? The only time you’re afraid of Lennox in your nightmares is when he’s choking and beating you to death. If you could go back and do it all again, you’d kill Allio in his sleep and move on with your life.

He was stupid and egotistical. It’s his own fault that you’re alive and he isn’t. The Hunger Games is a fight to the death, a survival of the fittest. It’s an embarrassment to him that he had trained for years and still wasn’t fit enough to win. Him, seventeen, you, fifteen.

After dancing, you and Finnick take a break and wait for Elysia to come around. She picks you two up around midnight, the two of you go around and say your goodbyes and collect the prep teams, stylists and mentors. After that, you all get into separate cars to get back onto the train on time.

The prep teams are drunk and go to bed immediately. The rest of you stand around for a little while, talking about how tomorrow will go. Just before you go to bed, Elysia presents you with a recipe book straight from the kitchen. You thank her, bid everyone goodnight, but find yourself with Finnick in your room, going over what you’ll be making.

In the morning, you’re prepared for cameras again. You make sure to give a big smile and wave when you see Four again, glad to be home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to see your family until dinner. Everyone is brought to Mayor Burrula’s house to get ready for tonight’s celebration.

You’ve never been inside of his house before, but it’s huge. Three floors, the third is where you’re brought. You’re prepared, just like you’ve been for every evening for the past couple of weeks. You’re dressed in a knee-length, navy blue and silver dress. You’re still not allowed heels, so Laurel settles for leather sandals and begs you to not do anything that might make your foot bleed.

When you’re done, you have about an hour to wander around the house. You don’t exactly feel comfortable, but Finnick goes right ahead. He holds onto your hand and brings you through each and every floor. On the second one, you come across Mayor Burrula’s twins.

They’re both eighteen now, seniors. Ameer and Mirza are the most popular in their grade, and considering that they’re both boys, they’ve got a bigger voice than you could ever have with Finnick. It’s an easy business opportunity, and it doesn’t take long before Finnick catches on. Neither of you mention it, instead you take the hour to get close to them.

When the hour is up, you’re brought around to be with your teams again. Elysia reminds you what you’re supposed to do, you and Finnick are fussed over for the final time. Once again, everyone slowly descends down the stairs and outside, where the district is loud with whistling and clapping.

The prep teams, Elysia, the stylists and finally, your mentors all leave. In the end, it’s just you and Finnick standing there.

The tour is almost over.

Finnick offers his arm to you, “One last celebration.” he says.

You slip your arm into his, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“One last celebration.”

[notapaladin]

and this faith is gettin’ heavy (but you know it carries me)

Me, a simple fool: what if I wrote heavy angst (with a happy ending!) with Teomitl MIA/presumed dead & Acatl only realizing he’s been in love this whole time while he mourns?

Me, crying at 2 AM over my own words: that would be fun!!

ANYWAY, here there be lots of grief, Acatl lashing out in anger (it’s at Quenami, though, so like...he deserves it), Mihm trying to help, a very tense family dinner, and significant dreams. Oh, and reunion makeouts. Also on AO3!

-

Acatl grimaced as he stepped from the coolness of his home into the day’s bright, punishing sunlight. Today was the day the army was due to return from their campaign in Mixtec lands, and so he was forced to don his skull mask and owl-trimmed cloak on a day that was far too hot for it. Not for the first time, he was thankful that priests of Lord Death weren’t required to paint their faces and bodies for special occasions; the thought of anything else touching his skin made him shudder.

He’d barely made it out of his courtyard when Acamapichtli strode up to him, face grave underneath his blue and black paint. “Ah, Acatl. I’m glad I could catch you.”

“Come to tell me that the army is at our gates again?” They would never be friends, he and Acamapichtli, but they had achieved something like a truce in the year since the plague. Still, Acatl couldn’t help but be on his guard. There was something...off about the expression on the other man’s face, and it took him a moment to realize what it was. He’d borne the same look when delivering the news of a death to a grieving family. Ah. A loss, then.

He’d expected Acamapichtli to spread his hands, a wordless statement of there having been nothing he could have done. He didn’t expect him to take a deep breath and slide his sightless eyes away. “I have. The runners all say it is a great victory; Tizoc-tzin has brought back several hundred prisoners.”

It should have pleased him. Instead, a cold chill slid down his spine. “What are you not telling me? I’ve no time for games.”

Acamapichtli let out a long sigh. “There were losses. A flood swept across the plain, carrying away several of our best warriors. Among them...the Master of the House of Darts. They looked—I’m assured that they looked!—but his body was not found.”

No. No. No. A yawning chasm cracked open beneath his ribs. He knew he was still breathing, but he couldn’t feel the air in his lungs. Even as he wanted, desperately, to grab Acamapichtli by the shoulders and shake him, to scream at him for being a liar, he knew the man was telling the truth. That his face and mannerisms, the careful movements of a man who knew he brought horrible news, showed his words to be honest. That Teomitl—who had left four months before with a kiss for Mihmatini and an affectionate clasp for Acatl’s arm—would not return.

It took real effort to focus on Acamapichtli’s next words. The man’s eyes were full of a horrible sympathy, and he wanted to scream. “I thought you should know in advance. Before—before they arrived.”

“Thank you,” he forced out through numb lips.

Acamapichtli turned away. “...I’m sorry, Acatl.”

After a long, long moment, he made himself start walking again. There was the rest of the army to greet, after all. Even if Teomitl wouldn’t be among them.

Even if he’d never return from war again.

Greeting the army was a ceremony, one he usually took some joy in—it had meant that Teomitl would be home, would be safe, and his sister would be happy. Now it passed in a blue, and he registered absolutely none of it. Someone must have already given the news to Mihmatini when he arrived; she was an utterly silent presence at his side, face pale and lips thin. She wouldn’t cry in public, but he saw the way her eyes glimmered when she blinked. He knew he should offer her comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to lay a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. If he touched her, if he felt the fabric of her cloak beneath his hand, that meant it was real.

It couldn’t be real. Jade Skirt was Teomitl’s patron goddess, She wouldn’t let him simply drown. But there was an empty space to Tizoc’s left where Teomitl should have been, and no sign of his white-and-red regalia. Acatl’s eyes burned as he blinked.

Tizoc was still speaking, but Acatl heard none of his words. It was all too still, too quiet; everything was muffled, as though he was hearing it through water. If there was justice, came the first spinning thought, every wall would be crumbling. No...if there was justice, Teomitl would be...

He drew in a long breath, feeling chilled to the bone even as he sweated under his cloak. Now that his mind had chosen to rouse itself, its eye was relentless. He barely saw the plaza around him, packed with proud warriors and colorful nobles; it was too easy to imagine a far-flung province to the south, a jungle thick with trees and blood. A river bursting its banks, carrying Teomitl straight into his enemies’ arms. They would capture him, of course; he was a valiant fighter and he’d taken very well to the magic of living blood, but even he couldn’t hold off an army alone.

And once they had him, they would sacrifice him.

Somewhere behind the army, Acatl knew, were lines of captured warriors whose hearts would be removed to feed the Sun, whose bodies would be flung down the Temple steps to feed the beasts in the House of Animals, whose heads would hang on the skull-rack. It was necessary, and their deaths would serve a greater purpose. He’d seen it thousands of times. There was no use mourning them. It was simply the way nearly all captured warriors went.

It was what Teomitl would want. An honorable death on the sacrifice stone. It was better to die than to be a slave all your life. But at least he would have a life—all unbidden, the alternative rose clear in Acatl’s mind. Teomitl, face whitened with chalk. Teomitl, laying down on the stone. Teomitl, teeth clenched, meeting his death with open eyes. Teomitl’s blood on the priests’ hands.

Nausea rose hot and bitter in his throat, and he shut his eyes and focused on his breathing. In for a count of three, out for a count of five. Repeat. It didn’t hurt to breathe, but he felt as if it should. He felt as if everything should hurt. He felt a sudden, vicious urge to draw thorns through his earlobes until the pain erased all thoughts, but he made his hands still. If he started, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to stop.

Still, it seemed to take an eternity for the speeches and the dances to be over and done with. By the time they finished, he was light-headed with the strain of remaining upright, and Mihmatini had slipped a hand into his elbow. Even that single point of contact burned through his veins. They still hadn’t spoken. He wondered if she, too, couldn’t quite find her own voice under the screaming chasm of grief.

And then, after all that, when all he yearned for was to go home and lay down until the world felt right again—maybe until the Sixth Sun rose, that would probably be enough time—there was a banquet, and he was forced to attend.

Of course there’s a banquet, he thought dully. This is a victory, after all. Tizoc had wasted no time in promoting a new Master of the House of Darts to replace his fallen brother, with many empty platitudes about how Teomitl would surely be missed and how he’d not want them to linger in their grief, but to move on and keep earning glory for the Mexica. Moctezuma, his replacement, was seventeen and haughty; where Teomitl’s arrogance had begun to settle into firm, well-considered authority and the flames of his impatience had burnt down to embers, Moctezuma’s gaze swept the room and visibly dismissed everyone in it as not worth his concern. It reminded Acatl horribly of Quenami.

Mihmatini sat on the same mat she always did, but now there was a space beside her like a missing tooth. She still wore her hair in the twisted horn-braids of married women, and against all rules of mourning she had painted her face with the blue of the Duality. Underneath it, her face was set in an emotionless mask. She did not eat.

Neither did Acatl. He wasn’t sure he could stomach food. So instead his gaze flickered around the room, unable to settle, and he gradually realized that he and Mihmatini weren’t alone in the crowd. The assembled lords and warriors should have been celebrating, but there was a subdued air that hung over every stilted laugh and negligent bite of fine food. Neighbors avoided each other’s eyes; Neutemoc, sitting with his fellow Jaguar Warriors, was staring at his empty plate as though it held the secrets of the heavens. He looked well, until Acatl saw the expression on his face. It was a mirror of his own.

At least his fellow High Priests didn’t try to engage him in conversation, for which he was grateful. Acamapichtli kept glancing at him almost warily, but he hadn’t voiced any more empty platitudes—and when Quenami had opened his mouth to say something, he’d taken the unprecedented step of leaning around Acatl and glaring him into silence.

If they’d been friends, Acatl would have been touched; as it was, it made a burning ember of rage lodge itself in his throat. Don’t you pity me. Don’t you dare pity me. He ground his teeth until his jaw hurt, clenched his fists until his nails cut into his palms, and didn’t speak. If he spoke, he would scream.

Somehow, he held it together until after the final course had been cleared away. He rose jerkily to his feet, legs trembling, and fixed his mind firmly on getting home in one piece.

Quenami’s voice stopped him in the next hallway. “Ah, Acatl. A lovely banquet, wasn’t it?”

He didn’t turn around. “Mn.” Go away.

Quenami didn’t. In fact he took a step closer, as though they were friends, as though he’d never tried to have Acatl killed. His voice was like a mosquito in his ear. “You must not be feeling well; you hardly touched your food. Some might see that as an insult. I’m sure Tizoc-tzin would.”

“Mm.”

“Or is it worry over Teomitl that’s affecting you? You shouldn’t fret so, Acatl. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not dead after all; there are plenty of cenotes in the southlands, and a determined man could easily hide out there for the rest of his life. He probably just took the coward’s way out, sick of his responsibilities—“

He whirled around, sucking in a breath that scorched his lungs. It was the last thing he felt before he let Mictlan’s chill spill through his veins and overflow. His suddenly-numb skin loosened on his neck; his fingers burned with the cold that came only from the underworld. He knew that his skin was black glass, his muscles smoke, his bones moonlight on ice, his eyes burning voids. All around him was the howling lament of the dead, the stench of decay and the dry, acrid scent of dust and dry bones. When he spoke, his voice echoed like a bell rung in a tomb.

“Silence.”

You do not call him a coward. You do not even speak his name. I could have your tongue for that. He stepped forward, gaze locked with Quenami’s. It would be easy, too. He could do it without even blinking—could take his tongue for slander, his eyes for that sneering gaze, could reach inside his skin and debone him like a turkey—all it would take would be a single wrong word—

Quenami recoiled, jaw going slack in terror. Silently—blessedly, mercifully, infuriatingly silently—he turned on his heel and left.

Acatl took one breath, two, and let the magic drain out of his shaking limbs. He hadn’t meant to do that. He made it to the next courtyard, blessedly empty of party guests, and collapsed on the nearest bench like a dead man. I could have killed him. Gods, I wanted to kill him. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my life. All because...all because he said his name...

“...Acatl?”

Mihmatini’s voice, admirably controlled. He made himself lift his head and answer. “In here.”

She padded into the courtyard and took a seat on the opposite end of the bench, skirt swishing around her feet as she walked. Gold ornaments had been sewn into its hem, and he wondered if they’d been gifts from Teomitl. “I saw Quenami running like all the beasts of the underworld were on his tail. What did you do?”

“...He said…” He swallowed past a lump in his throat. “He said that Teomitl might have deserted. He dared to say that—“ The idea choked him, and he couldn’t finish the words. That Teomitl was a coward. That he would run from his responsibilities, from his destiny, at the first opportunity…

She tensed immediately, eyes going cold in a way that suggested Quenami had better be a very fast runner indeed. “He would never. You know that.”

Air seemed to be coming a bit easier now. “I do. But…”

Of course, she pounced on his hesitation. “But?”

I want him so badly to not be dead. “Nothing.”

Mihmatini was silent for a while, wringing her hands together. Finally, she spoke. “He would never have deserted. But...Acatl…”

“What?”

“I don’t know if he’s dead.” She set a hand on her chest. “The magic that connects us—I can still feel it in here. It’s faint, really faint, but it’s there. He might…” She took a breath, and tears welled up in her eyes. “He might still be alive.”

Alive. The word was a conch shell in his head, sounding to wake the dawn. For an instant, he let himself imagine it. Teomitl alive, maybe in hiding, maybe trying to find his way home.

Maybe held captive by the Mixteca, until such time as they can tear out his heart. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the sound of his own breathing. It didn’t help. He hated how pathetic his own voice sounded as he asked, “You think so?”

“It’s—“ She scrubbed ineffectually at her eyes with the back of a hand. “It’s possible. Isn’t it?”

“...I suppose.” He took a breath. “I think it’s time for me to get some sleep. I’ll...see you tomorrow.”

He knew he wouldn’t sleep—knew, in fact, that he’d be lucky if he even managed to close his eyes—but he needed to get home. He refused to disgrace himself by weeping in public.

&

The first dream came a week later.

He’d managed to avoid them until then; he’d thrown himself headlong into his work, not stopping until he was so tired that his “sleep” was really more like “passing out.” But it seemed his body could adapt to the conditions he subjected it to much easier than he’d thought, because he woke with tears on his face and the scraps of a nightmare scattering in the dawn light.

The next night was worse.

He was walking through a jungle made of shadows, trees shedding gray dust from their leaves as he passed under them. His legs ached and his lungs burned, but he couldn’t stop. Ahead of him, someone was making their way through the undergrowth, and it was a stride he’d know anywhere.

Teomitl. He thought he called out to him, but no sound escaped his mouth even though his throat hurt as though he’d been screaming. He tried again. Teomitl! This time, he managed a tiny squeak, something even an owl wouldn’t have heard.

Teomitl didn’t slow down, but somehow the distance between them shortened. Now Acatl could make out the tattered remains of his feather suit, singed and bloodstained, and the way his bare feet had been cut to ribbons. He still wasn’t looking behind him. It was like Acatl wasn’t there at all. Ahead of them, the trees were thinning out.

And then they were on a flat plain strewn with corpses, bright crimson blood the only color Acatl could see. Teomitl was standing still in front of him as water slowly seeped out of the ground, covering his feet and lapping gently at his ankles. There were thin threads of red in it.

“Teomitl,” he said, and this time his voice obeyed him.

Teomitl turned to him, smiling as though he’d just noticed he was there. His chest was a red ruin, the bones of his ribcage snapped wide open to pull out his beating heart. A tiny ahuizotl curled in the space where it had been.

He took one step back. Another.

Teomitl’s smile grew sad, and he reached for him with a bloody hand. “Acatl, I’m sorry.”

He awoke suddenly and all at once, curling in on himself with a ragged sob. It was still dark out; the sun hadn’t made its appearance yet. There was no one to see when he shook himself to pieces around the space in his heart. It was a dream, he told himself sternly. Just a dream. My soul is only wandering through my own grief. It doesn’t mean anything.

But then it returned the next night, and the next. While the details differed—sometimes Teomitl was swimming a river that suddenly turned to blood and dissolved his flesh, sometimes one of his own ahuizotls turned into a jaguar and sprang for his face—the end was always the same. Teomitl dead and still walking, reaching for him with an apology on his lips. Sometimes it even lingered afterwards, clinging stubbornly such that, just for a moment, he thought Teomitl was truly by his side and had a moment’s joy before reality reasserted itself. Those ones were the worst.

He started timing his treks across the Sacred Precinct to avoid the Great Temple’s sacrifices to Huitzilpochtli. Sleep grew more and more difficult to achieve, and even when he caught a few hours’ rest it never seemed to help. He even thought, fleetingly, of asking the priests of Patecatl if anything they had would be useful, only to dismiss it the next day. He would survive this. It wasn’t worth baring his soul to anyone else’s prying eyes or clumsy but well-meaning words.

Still, when one of Neutemoc’s slaves came to his door asking whether he would come to dinner at his house that night, he didn’t waste time in accepting. Dinner with Neutemoc’s family had become...normal. He needed normal, even if it still felt like walking on broken glass.

Up until the second course was served, he even thought he’d get it. Neutemoc had been nearly silent when he’d arrived, but he’d unbent enough to start a conversation about his daughters’ studies. Necalli and Mazatl were more subdued than they normally were, but they’d heard what happened to their newest uncle-by-marriage and were no doubt mourning in their own ways. Mihmatini’s face was as pale and set as white jade, but as the meal wore on he thought he saw her smile.

“More fish?”

Neutemoc’s voice was too careful for his liking, but he nodded. Fish was duly set onto his plate, and he ate without really tasting it.

Mihmatini picked at her own dish, and Neutemoc frowned at her. “You’re not hungry?”

She shook her head.

Silence descended again, but It didn’t reign for long before Neutemoc said, “Acatl. Any interesting cases lately?” With a quick glance at his children, he added, “That we can talk about in front of the kids?”

“Aww, Dad...”

Neutemoc gave his eldest the same look his father had once given him. “When you go off to war, Necalli, I will let you listen to all the awful details.”

It was almost enough to make Acatl smile. “Well,” he began, “we’ve been trying to figure out what’s been strangling merchants in the featherworkers’ district…”

Laying out the facts of a suspicious death or two was always calming. He could forget the ache in his heart, even if only briefly. But even when he was done, when he’d started to relax, Neutemoc was still talking to him as though he expected to see his younger brother shatter any minute. The slaves, too, were unusually solicitous of him—rushing to fill up his cup, to heap delicacies on his plate. At any other time he might have suspected the whole thing to be a bribe or an awkward apology; now, he just felt uneasy.

When the meal was done, he declined Neutemoc’s offer of a pipe and got to his feet. “I think I’ll get some air.”

The courtyard outside was empty. He lifted his eyes to the heavens, charting the path of the four hundred stars above. Ceyaxochitl’s death hadn’t hit him anywhere near as hard as this, but gods, he thought he could recover if only the people around him stopped coddling him. Everywhere he went there were sympathetic glances and soft words, and even the priests of his own temple were stepping gingerly around him. As though he needed to be treated like...like...

Like a new widow. Like Mihmatini. He sat down hard, feeling like his legs had been cut out from under him. Air seemed to be in short supply, and the gulf in his chest yawned wide.

But I’m not. I care for Teomitl, of course, but it’s not like that. It’s not—

He thought about Teomitl sacrificed as a war captive or drowned in a river far from home, and nearly choked at the fist of grief that tightened around his heart. No. He shook his head as though that would clear it. He wouldn’t want me to grieve over him. He wouldn’t want me to think of him dead, drowned, sacrificed—he’d want me to remember him happy. I can do that much for him, at least.

He could. It was easy. He closed his eyes and remembered.

Remembered the smile that lit up rooms and outshone the Sun, the one that could pull an answering burst of happiness out of the depths of his soul. Remembered the way Teomitl had laughed and rolled around the floor with Mazatl, the way he’d helped Ollin to walk holding onto his hands, the way he sparred with Necalli and asked about Ohtli’s lessons in the calmecac, and how all of those moment strung together like pearls on a string into something that made Acatl’s heart warm as well. Remembered impatient haggling in the marketplace, haphazard rowing on the lake, strong arms flexing such that he couldn’t look away, the touch of a warm hand lingering even after Teomitl had withdrawn—

He remembered how it had felt, in that space between dreams and waking, where he’d thought Teomitl was by his side even in Mictlan. Where, for the span of a heartbeat, he’d been happy.

There was a sound—a soft, miserable whine. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from his own throat, that he’d drawn his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. That he was shaking again, and had been for some time. As nausea oozed up in his throat, he regretted having eaten.

It was like that, after all.

And he’d realized too late. Even if he’d ever been able to do anything about it—which he never would anyway, the man was married to his sister—there was no chance of it now, because Teomitl was gone.

He forced his burning eyes to stay open. If he blinked, if he let his eyes close even for an instant, the tears would fall.

Approaching footsteps made him raise his head. Mihmatini was walking quietly and carefully, towards him, as though she didn’t want to disturb him. As though I’m fragile. You too, Mihmatini?

“Ah. There you are.” Even her voice was soft.

He uncurled himself and arranged his limbs into a more dignified position, keeping his fists clenched to stop his hands from trembling. At least when he finally blinked, his eyes were dry. “Hm.”

She sat next to him, not touching. There was something calming about her company, but gods, he prayed she couldn’t see the thoughts written on his face. She stretched out a hand and he thought she’d lay it soothingly on his shoulder, but instead she traced a meaningless pattern in the dirt. “...It’s hard, isn’t it?”

His dry throat made a clicking noise when he swallowed. “It is.”

“At least we’re both in the same boat,” she murmured.

The words refused to make sense in his head at first—but then they did, and he reared back and stared at her. No. I’ve only just realized it myself, she can’t have...she can’t be thinking that. “I beg your pardon?”

Her voice lowered even further, so that he had to strain to hear her. There was a faint, sad smile on her face. “You love him just the same as I do, don’t you?”

He drew a long breath. He knew what he should say, what the right and proper words would be. No, like a son. Or like my brother. But he couldn’t lie to her, not even to spare what was left of her broken heart, and so what came out instead was, “Yes. Gods, yes.” Hate me for it. Tell me I have no right to love him, that you’re the one who has his heart. Tell me I’m a fool.

She lifted her head, and her faint smile grew to something bright and brittle. “Good.”

Good?! He blinked uselessly at her, gaping like a fish before he could find his voice again. “You—you approve?”

“You’re my favorite brother,” she said simply. “And...well.”

She fell silent, her smile fading until it vanished entirely. He waited. Finally, in a much softer voice, she continued, “If you love him, there’s no harm in telling you what he swore me to secrecy over.”

Dread gripped him. Of course Teomitl was entitled to his secrets, but he couldn’t imagine what would be so horrible that Mihmatini wouldn’t tell him. At least, not while he lived. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “...What?”

She blinked rapidly, fingers going still. She’d traced something that looked, from a certain angle, like a flower glyph. “...He...he loved you, too.”

No.

But Mihmatini was still talking. “He didn’t want me to tell you; he was sure you’d scorn him. But he loved you the same way he loved me...gods, probably more than he loved me.”

It was the last straw. His nails bit into his palms hard enough to draw blood, and he barely recognized his own voice as rage filled it. “Why are you telling me this?!”

Mihmatini took a shuddering breath; he realized she was fighting tears, and had been since she’d spilled Teomitl’s heart to the night air. “In case he comes back. If he does...you should tell him.”

He rose on shaking legs. “I think I need to be alone.”

Without really seeing his surroundings, he walked until he came to the canal outside the house. The family’s boats were tied up outside, bobbing gently on the water. When he sat down, the stone under him was cold; the water he dipped his fingers in was colder still. Neither revived him. Neither was as cold as the pit cracking open in his gut. Mictlan was worse, true, but all the inexorable pains of Mictlan were dull aches compared to this.

In case he comes back. In case he comes back. I love him—I am in love, that’s what this pain is—and I will never see him again in this world. Mihmatini says he loves me too, and it doesn’t matter, because his bones lie somewhere in the jungle and his flesh feeds the crows and I will never get to tell him.

Between one breath and another, the tears came. They spilled hot and salty down his face; he let them, shoulders shaking, because he no longer had the strength to stop them. And nobody would come to offer unwanted sympathy, anyway. Mihmatini had her own grief, and the hurrying footsteps he’d grown so used to hearing would never run after him again.

Eventually, when he was spent, he wiped his face and left. It was time to go home.

&

The rest of the month ground on slowly, and his dreams began to change.

At first they were minor changes—the blood was less vibrant, the forests and plains brighter. Teomitl bled less. He woke without tears welling in his eyes. And if that was all, he might have simply thought he was beginning to deal with his sorrow. Such things happened, after all. Eventually the knives scraping away at his chest would lose their edges, and he would face a life without Teomitl’s sunny smile.

But then other things intruded. He dreamed of a sunsoaked forest in the south, and woke feeling like a lizard basking on a rock. He dreamed that Teomitl was fording a fast-flowing river—one that did not turn to blood this time—and when dawn broke his legs were wet up to the shins. Teomitl barely bled at all in his dreams, now, and his wounds were only the normal ones a man might get from traversing hostile terrain alone. Despite himself, Acatl started to wake with a faint stirring of hope. Maybe he had only been separated from the army. Maybe he was on his way home. And maybe I’m delusional, came the inevitable bitter thought when he’d finished his morning rituals. It had become much harder to listen to.

It was almost a surprise when he dreamed about a city he knew. It was a small but bustling place about half a day’s walk from Tenochtitlan, and as he walked through the streets he realized that the torches had been lit for a funeral. He could hear the chants ahead of him. There was a darker shape in the shadows which spilled down the dusty road, and he knew the man’s stride like he knew his own.

“Teomitl!” He hadn’t been mute in his dreams for a while now.

Teomitl didn’t turn. He never turned. But he stopped, and by the way his head tilted Acatl just knew he was smiling. Wordlessly, he pointed at the courtyard ahead.

A funeral pyre had been lit, and it was so like the rituals he presided over that he felt a distinct sense of deja vu. There was the priest singing a hymn to Lord Death; there were the weeping family members of the deceased. There were the marigolds and the other offerings, brilliant in the gloom.

“That could have been me,” Teomitl said, and Acatl heard his voice as though he was standing next to him in the waking world instead of only in a dream. “But it’s not yet, and it won’t be for a good long while. So you don’t need to fear for me. I keep my promises.”

They’d never touched before. But this time Teomitl turned to face him, and the hand he held out was free of blood entirely. Slowly, giving him time to pull away, Teomitl pressed his palm to his. Their fingers laced together, warm and strong and almost real.

“Teomitl,” he said helplessly.

“Acatl.” Teomitl’s smile was like the sun. “I’m sorry I made you worry, but I’ll be home soon.”

And then he woke up, the dream shredded apart by the blasts of the conch-shell horns that heralded the dawn. For a long moment, he stared blankly up at the ceiling. He could still feel Teomitl’s hand in his; each little scar and callus felt etched on his skin. He lives. The slow certainty of it welled up in him like blood. He lives, and he is coming back.

He rose and made his devotions before dressing, but now his hands shook with something that was no longer grief. As soon as he left for his temple, he could feel the change In the air. Scraps of excited conversation whirled past him, but he couldn’t focus long enough to pick any out. He concentrated on breathing steadily and walking with the dignity befitting a High Priest. He would not sprint for the temple, would not grab the nearest housewife or warrior or priest and demand answers. They would come soon enough.

They came in the form of Ezamahual, rushing out of the temple complex to meet him. “Acatl-tzin! Acatl-tzin, there is wonderful news!”

Briefly, he thought he should have worn the hated regalia. “What news?”

Ezamahual’s words tumbled out in a headlong rush, almost too fast to follow. “The Master of the House of Darts—Teomitl-tzin—he’s returned! Our warriors met him at the city gates!”

Even though he’d half expected it—even though the recurring dreams, his soul journeying through the night at Teomitl’s side, had kept alive the flickering flame of hope that now burned within him—he still briefly felt like fainting. He clenched his fists, the pain of his nails in his palms keeping him upright. “You’re sure?”

Ezamahual nodded enthusiastically. “The Revered Speaker has reinstated him to his old position, and there’s talk of a banquet at the palace to celebrate his safe return. I think he’s at the Duality House now, though—they’re like an anthill over there.”

Right. He exhaled slowly, forcing down joy and disappointment alike. Of course Teomitl would want to see his wife first above all, to reassure her that he was well, and of course he had no right to intrude. Nor would he even if he did—Mihmatini deserved her husband back in her life, deserved all the joy she would wring from it. The things she’d told him didn’t—couldn’t—matter in the face of their union. “I see. I suppose we’ll learn more later. Come—tell me if there’s been any new developments in those strangling cases.”

Ezamahual looked briefly baffled, but then he nodded. “Of course, Acatl-tzin. It’s like this…”

The latest crop of mysterious deaths turned out to be quite straightforward in the end, once they tracked down their newest lead and had him sing like a bird. He nodded at the appropriate times, sent out a double team of priests after the perpetrators, and had it very nearly wrapped up by lunch. He was settling down with the account ledgers to mark payment of two gold-filled quills to the priests of Mixcoatl for their aid when he heard footsteps outside.

Familiar footsteps.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the tightness in his chest eased. But he didn’t have a chance to revel in it, because he knew the voice calling his name.

“Acatl? Acatl!”

He dropped the ledgers and his pen, getting ink all over his fingers. As the entrance curtain was flung aside, he scrambled to his feet. Had he been tired and listless before? It seemed like it was a thousand years ago now. He thought he might weep for the sheer relief of hearing that beloved voice again. “Gods—Teomitl—“

He had a confused impression of gold jewelry and feather ornaments, but then Teomitl was flinging himself into his arms and the only thing that sunk into his mind was warmth. There were strong arms wrapped around him and a head pressed against his temple, and Teomitl’s voice shook as he breathed, “Duality, I missed you so much.”

Slowly, he raised his shaking hands and set them at Teomitl’s shoulderblades. He could feel his racing heart, feel the way he sucked in each breath as though trying not to sob. It was overwhelming; his eyes burned as he fought to blink back his own tears. He couldn’t speak. If he opened his mouth, he knew he’d lose the battle—and there were no words for this, anyway.

Teomitl abruptly released him, turning his face away. His voice was a soft, ragged thing, and his expression was a careful blank. “Forgive me. I was...Mihmatini said you’d be glad to see me. I wanted to look less like I’d been dragged over the mountains backwards, first.”

He swallowed several times until he thought he could risk a response, even as his eyes drank in the sight of Teomitl in front of him. He looks the same, he thought. His skin had been further darkened by the sun and there were new scars looping across his arms and legs, but he had the same face and body and sweet, sweet voice. “It’s—there’s nothing to forgive. I’m glad you’ve returned.”

“They told me everyone thought I was dead.” Teomitl bit his lip. “Except for Mihmatini. And you.”

He steered his mind firmly away from the shoals of crushing grief that still lurked under the joy of seeing Teomitl before him. He is here, and hale, and whole, just as I dreamed. I have nothing to weep over. “I knew you weren’t. You wouldn’t let something like a flood stop you.”

There was the first glimmer of a smile tugging at Teomitl’s lips. “You have such faith in me, Acatl.”

“You’re well deserving of it,” he replied. And I love you, and even in dreams I could not think of any other path than your survival. That, he refused to say.

Especially because Teomitl still wasn’t looking at him.

They stood in agonizing silence, and he couldn’t bring himself to break it. Teomitl was so close, still within arms’ range; if he was brave enough, he could reach out and pull him back into his arms. Could bury his face in his hair and crush the fabric of his cloak in his hands and tell him—what? It didn’t matter what Mihmatini had said to him. There was simply no space for him in the life Teomitl deserved, nothing beyond that Acatl already occupied. He wouldn’t burden him with useless feelings.

But then Teomitl shook himself like an ahuizotl and turned back to him, holding his gaze. “Do you want to know what got me home, Acatl? What sustained me?”

Mutely, he nodded. He still didn’t trust his voice.

“You.”

He felt like he’d been gutted. “I...Teomitl…”

Whatever Teomitl saw in his face made his eyes soften. He took a step forward, hands coming up to—gently, so gently—rest on Acatl’s waist, and Acatl let him. “I thought about you. I—Southern Hummingbird blind me, I dreamed about you. Every night! I made myself a promise while I was out there, in the event I ever saw you again. Scorn me for it all you’d like, but I’m going to keep it now.”

Oh, Teomitl. I could never scorn you. They were very, very close now, and Teomitl’s gaze had fallen to his parted lips. His mouth went dry.

And then Teomitl kissed him.

It started out soft and gentle, lips barely tracing Acatl’s own. Asking permission, he thought with an absurd spike of giddiness—and so, leaning in a little shyly, he gave it.

Teomitl wasted no time. The kiss grew harder, fingers digging into Acatl’s skin as he hauled their bodies together. They were pressed together from chest to hip but it still wasn’t enough, they weren’t close enough; blood roaring in his ears, he wrapped his arms around Teomitl’s back and clung tightly. His mouth opened with a breathy little whine stolen immediately by Teomitl’s invading tongue, and when he dared to do the same, Teomitl made a noise like a jaguar and let go of his waist in favor of clawing at the back of his cloak, grabbing fistfuls of fabric along with strands of his hair. It pulled too hard, but he didn’t care. The pain meant it was real, that this was really happening.

Teomitl only drew away to breathe, “Gods—I love you—“ before claiming his mouth again, as though he couldn’t bear to be apart.

Acatl twisted in his arms, knowing he was making a probably incoherent and definitely embarrassing noise, but shame wasn’t an emotion he was capable of at the moment. He loves me. By the Duality, he loves me. “I didn’t think—Mihmatini told me, but I didn’t think…”

Teomitl jerked back, brow furrowed. “Wait. Mihmatini told you?!”

His grip on the back of Teomitl’s cloak tightened at the memory. “She was trying to reassure me, I think. I’d just told her...well.” He couldn’t say it, even with Teomitl in his arms, and settled for uncurling one fist and running his hand up the back of Teomitl’s neck in lieu of words.

He was rewarded with a shiver, and the near-panic in Teomitl’s eyes ebbed into something soft. “What did you tell her, Acatl?”

He’d asked. He’d asked, and Acatl had always been honest with him. He’d be honest now, even if it made his heart race and his hands tremble. “That I love you.”

Teomitl made a desperate noise and kissed him again. There was no gentleness now; he kissed like a man possessed, hungry as a jaguar, and Acatl buried a hand in his hair to make sure he didn’t stop. Teeth caught at his lower lip, and he moaned out loud. This seemed to spur Teomitl on, because his mouth left Acatl’s to nip at his throat instead; the first sting of teeth sent a wave of arousal through him so strong it nearly swamped him. “Ah—!”

Teomitl soothed the skin with a delicate kiss that didn’t help at all, and then he returned his focus to Acath’s mouth. This time he was gentle, a careful little caress that gave Acatl just enough brainpower back to realize that he’d probably been a bit loud. Which is Teomitl’s fault, anyway, so he can’t complain. “Mmm…”

Even when they eventually pulled apart, they clung to each other for a long while. Acatl stroked up and down Teomitl’s spine, tracing each bump of vertebrae and the trembling muscles of his back. Teomitl dropped his head onto Acatl’s shoulder, breathing slow and deep. He’d twined locks of long hair through his fingers, gently running his fingers through the strands. Acatl had to close his eyes, overwhelmed. The stone beneath my feet is real. Teomitl’s skin under my hands is real. This—this is real. He is in my arms, and he loves me.

“I don’t want to let you go,” Teomitl whispered. “I never want to let you out of my sight again.”

Neither do I. He tilted his head, nosing at the nearest and fluffiest bit of Teomitl’s hair, and let out a long sigh. “You’ll have to eventually.” Even though he hated the thought, he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re the Master of the House of Darts, aren’t you? You have an army to help lead. Wars to wage. Glory to bring to the Empire.”

“Hrmph.” The arms around him tightened in wordless refusal.

He smiled against Teomitl’s hair. “But first, why don’t we see about lunch?”

Teomitl made an undignified snorting noise. “I have been gone a long time. You’re remembering to eat for once.”

It was the first time in a month he could remember feeling actually hungry. He decided not to mention that. To his regret, however, lunch meant that they both had to actually let go of each other. Reluctantly, he began the process of disentangling them; after a significant period of hesitation, Teomitl deigned to help. Even when they were no longer wrapped in each other’s arms, though, he stared at Acatl as though he couldn’t get enough of the sight.

And since Acatl was doing the same thing, cataloging the precise shade of Teomitl’s brown eyes and the exact path each visible scar took, he couldn’t blame him. I might have gone my whole life without this. What an idiot I was.

It took longer than Acatl liked for he and Teomitl to be properly alone again. It wasn’t until they were finally ensconced in a small receiving room with a plate of fried newts to share and strict orders not to be disturbed that he could do more than look; just when he was getting up the nerve to maybe hold Teomitl’s hand, though, his beloved leaned in and kissed him. It was chaste, but it still made him blush.

Teomitl was smiling when he drew back. “I missed doing that.”

“It hasn’t even been half an hour,” he muttered. “You’re insatiable.” But there was no heat to it, and he found his hand resting at Teomitl’s waist. The skin under his palm was just so warm.

An eyebrow went up in stunning imitation of Mihmatini. “And I’ve waited years for even one kiss, Acatl. There’s a backlog to get through, you know.”

The blush had just started to fade, but now it returned with a vengeance. “Years?”

“Mm-hmm.” Teomitl’s eyes gleamed. “I’d like to make up for lost time, if you wouldn’t mind.”

He swallowed hard. He’d wanted to know how Teomitl had survived, how he’d managed to make it all the way back home, but his questions suddenly didn’t seem that important anymore. “...I would not.”

And so their mouths met. Teomitl’s idea of making up for lost time was long and hungry; Acatl’s lips parted for his tongue almost before he knew what he was doing, and that was a little strange but far from unwelcome. Especially when Teomitl drew back, mouth wet and red, to catch his lower lip between his teeth in another one of those stinging little nips that made his blood sing. A breathy noise escaped him, but this time Teomitl didn’t soothe it.

No, this time he lowered his mouth to Acatl’s neck and did it again. It was light and delicate, unlikely to leave marks, but Teomitl’s teeth were sharp enough that he felt each one in a burst of light behind his closed eyelids. He had to bury one hand in Teomitl’s hair and wrap the other around his waist just to keep himself upright; he couldn’t entirely muffle his own gasps. “Ahh—gods—“

Teomitl hummed, low and wordless, and slid a hand down his stomach. Acatl’s fevered blood roared in his ears, and all of a sudden it was almost too much. “Teomitl.”

Teomitl lifted his head, eyes bright. “Mm?”

“You.” He sucked in a breath, willing his heartrate to slow down. “You can’t keep doing that here.”

“You don’t like it?” Teomitl grinned at him. “Or do you like it too much, Acatl?”

If by some miracle all the rest of it hadn’t already made him blush, hearing Teomitl purr his name like that would definitely have done the trick. He had to turn his face away. “You know damned well it’s the latter. I can’t very well take the rest of the day off to…” Flustered, he gestured between them.

“Hrmph,” Teomitl said, and kissed him again. This time it was slow and sweet and came with warm arms sliding around him, and he lingered in it for long, long minutes.

By the time they finally remembered their food, it was stone cold. They ate it anyway; Acatl couldn’t bring himself to care about such a mundane thing as cold food when Teomitl was leaning against him as they ate, with one arm still slung loosely around his waist.

When the afternoon light started to turn gold, they reluctantly stood up. They stood without touching for a moment that was just long enough to be awkward, and then Teomitl pulled him into a fierce hug. Acatl knew it was coming this time; he marveled at how they just seemed to fit together, with one hand buried in Teomitl’s hair and the other pressed flat between his shoulderblades to feel the steady beat of his heart.

Teomitl took a long, slow breath. “Lunch wasn’t long enough.”

“It wasn’t,” he agreed softly. “But there will be others. Many others.”

Teomitl made no move to let go of him. In fact, he squeezed a little tighter, turning to bury his face in Acatl’s hair. “Mrghh...”

He wanted to laugh, and had to bite the inside of his cheek to quell the urge. He made do with stroking Teomitl’s hair—gods, it was so soft—and taking a deliberate step back so that Teomitl had to release him or be pulled off-balance. Now Teomitl was glaring at him, but nothing would stop the slow upwell of joy in his veins. “Go on,” he murmured. “I’ll see you at the banquet tonight.”

Teomitl’s eyes were fierce as an eagle’s. “And afterwards? Will I see you afterwards, Acatl?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t an answer he even needed to think about, not with the way Teomitl’s lips parted in wonder. For the rest of my life. Whenever you want, for the rest of my life, I’ll be there.

Teomitl didn’t reach for him—he seemed to be deliberately holding himself still, tension ringing through his body like a drawn bowstring—but he looked like he wanted to. He looked like he wanted to yank Acatl back into his arms and finish what they’d started earlier, and the thought was exhilarating. “My chambers in the palace? They’re closest.”

Acatl flushed, shaking his head. That was a risk he refused to take. “My house. I’ll—I’ll be waiting.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” There was a wild, radiant smile.

He smiled back.

Though he honestly hated the idea of separation too, he knew it would be alright. Teomitl had promised, after all.

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Seven

wc; 2433

You had assumed that you'd end up in prison one day. But not the one time you haven't actually stolen anything.

"I wasn't stealing anything!" You protested loudly as the guards dragged you along. "I'm not a thief!"

Of course, they hadn't believed you, which was why you were currently curled up on the cold, stone floor of the castle prison.

According to the guards infernal teasing, you were one of multiple thieves caught that day alone, and incedently the last straw for the kingsguard. They had been instructed to bring any other thieves directly to the castle instead of the general prison in the lower settlements of the city for the irritated kingsguard to personally deal with.

Just your luck.

You sat in the tiny cell; 3 rough cobblestone walls and a dark iron gate you have to call home for god knows how long.

Huddled on the ground, your mind wanders back to Yeosang.

Back to Yeosang and how he simply abandoned you in the market, allowing the guards to drag you away and throw you in this dingy castle cellar.

You knew deep down that finding someone as generous and selfless as Yeosang was too good to be true, his immediate welcoming aura should've been suspicious to you. Nobody is ever that nice.  It was a shame that he ended up proving you right.

You just hope he didn't truly leave you here.

He's all you have.

With a groan, you haul yourself off the floor and stretch your limbs out; you can't see the outside from your cell, but you're certain the sun has set in the hours you've been confined in the castle prison.

Pacing back and forth through the cell, you don't notice two guards- different from the ones who arrested you- unlock the heavy metal door.

"Prancing about like a little fairy, are we?" One of them sneers.

The other grabs you harshly by your wrists, pulling them behind you and binding them together with a scratchy length of rope.

"Kingsguard wants to meet you, little fairy." His face contorts into the ugliest expression you've ever seen. You think it's supposed to resemble a menacing grin, but the lack of joy this vile human has ever experienced prevents him from actually being able to smile.

"He's intrigued about our sweet little thief," the other continues. "Not often we get a lady prisoner down here."

You don't need to be a genius to figure out what they're thinking.

So instead, you stay quiet and let them push you through the cobblestone hallway of the prison, up until you're face to face with giant, mahogany doors.

The guard tugs the ropes impossibly tighter around your wrists and you wonder whether or not your hands are getting any blood circulation.

Probably not.

"You try anything in front of the kingsguard..." The second guard flashes his glistening sword threateningly around the side of your neck, running the edge of the blade gently across your skin and making you shudder.

You're pretty sure you understand what he's getting at.

They carry on escorting you through the castle, through hallways lined with plush crimson rugs and exquisite paintings hanging on the walls. Floor to ceiling curtains hang on almost every wall, illuminated a deep wine red by the torches glowing throughout the passage.

You pass a set of grand doors on your right, only allowing you a brief peek inside, but you're stunned.

What you assume to be the grand hall of the castle, is absolutely breath-taking.

You only catch a glimpse of the polished brown tile floor and the oak dining tables stretched out from one end of the hall to the other, which seem to extend for miles. You can't even begin to imagine the extravagant balls and banquets the king holds in there. The guards quickly whisk you into a room just beyond the hall doors, ripping you from the luxurious daydream you had begun to imagine.

The room is a neat, box-shape, with pale grey stone walls and the same blood red curtains decorating the walls to your left and your right. In front of you, the stone walls are replaced with gorgeous stained glass windows, which you can only imagine filter in a spectrum of colours in the sunlight. However, the darkness offers no beauty to the glass pictures, and the colours sit stagnant, miserable and dull in their panes.

Between you and the windows, was a large, oak desk, littered with various books, letters and empty ink bottles. Whoever wrote at this desk clearly had an issue with organisation, you think.

You needn't look very far for the culprit; to your right is a very tall and slender man (not as tall as Yunho, you note) standing before a exceptionally carved bookcase, pouring over a book he's holding gently in his hands.

The guard holding your bound wrists coughs, and the tall man snaps his book shut with a start.

"Have you never heard of knocking?!" He seethes, whipping his head round to glare at the source of his interruption.

Momentarily, your brain stops and you're sure you feel your jaw drop. (It does).

He is...

"Handsome?" The man quips with a knowing smirk. "I know"

He places the book back into place with ease, slotting it between the other books like he's done it a million times before, and slowly makes his way over to you.

You watch as he moves, almost like a cat he's wary and precise, but in the same way he's sleek and graceful. He wastes zero movement, not making any unnecessary steps and always being on his guard.

His figure is tall and lean, with a narrow face and cheekbones that Aphrodite herself must've sculpted. He's got huge, rich brown eyes, piercing but you sense enough softness in them to make even the coldest heart melt. His hair is raven black, a fair portion of it hanging down over his left eye. Dressed in a fitted, raven black coat and trouser ensemble, he looks incredibly intimidating. In short, he is very, very, very attractive.

He's also far from impressed at your presence.

"So, another thief caught in our market today, hm?" He towers over you threateningly and you find yourself refusing to meet his gaze.

"Yes, sir," The guard begins. "She was ste-"

"I wasn't talking to you." The painfully beautiful man snaps sharply, his piercing glare boring straight into the guards eyes and halting his flow of speech abruptly.

"Right," the guard nods meekly; if he had a tail you're certain he'd be tucking it between his legs. "Sorry, Seonghwa, sir."

Seonghwa sighs deeply and takes a step back from you, placing his palms flat against the desk and leaning on it, observing you in a way that makes you incredibly uncomfortable.

"I'll be honest, a sweet little thing like you was the last thing I expected these lumbering fools to bring through my doors." he chuckles almost dismissively, like he suddenly thinks you're not worth the time and effort to speak to just because you aren't the typical drunken fool he usually has to deal with.

You frown as he speaks; were all royal employees patronising arseholes?

Despite your distaste for his character, you still couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye, instead keeping your gaze fixed adamantly on the lavish carpet underneath your filthy shoes.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." his voice plummets an octave or two, and your head tilts upwards to meet his gaze before you even register the movement.

It seems you forgot exactly who this man was. You'd never met a kingsguard before, (probably because you'd never been in a castle), but you knew he was extremely powerful and important.

Essentially the king's right hand man, Seonghwa could order you to be killed purely for his own amusement.

"That's better." He has the audacity to smirk, and you want nothing more to slap it off his stupidly handsome face. But considering how your hands are still tightly restrained behind your back, you don't.

"So," Seonghwa sighs. "Would you like to tell me why you thought stealing from the market was a good idea?"

You scan his face carefully. You can tell he's already on edge, what from the countless other thieves he's dealt with today, as well as other pressures from holding a key role in the kingdom. You don't particularly care about the condescending kingsguard has to deal with day to day and how stressed he is, but you do care about your own head, so trying your best not to anger him even more would be the safest course of action.

"I was-wasn't!" You stumble over your words, groaning internally when Seonghwa's eyebrows knit together.

"Oh?" He pushes himself off the table towards you once more, piercing your eyes with his own penetrating glare. "Now you think it's okay to lie to me?"

"No! I didn't steal anything I swe-"

Your rambling is cut off by Seonghwa grabbing roughly at your shoulders and bringing his face level with yours.

"Be quiet." He growls. "I was willing to listen to you, but clearly you think lying to me is accept"

Seonghwa turns his attention back to guards, straightening out his posture and somehow looking even more menacing than before.

"Take her back to her cell. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment. More important than some filthy street rat, anyway. I'll visit later and we can discuss the situation then."

With that he turns away from you, and you don't see what he does next because the guards have already shoved you out of Seonghwa's study and halfway down the hallway.

They waste no time locking you back up like some common criminal, although to them that's exactly what you are.

You throw yourself down into the corner and eye the guards, who are now standing on duty just to the left of your cell.

"Seonghwa's in a right foul mood today" one of them grumbles.

"King's been banging on about that fuckin' prophecy again." the other replies. "You know how hassled they get over it."

Prophecy? What on earth were they talking about?

"It's a load of horseshit if you ask me. Written in the stars? There's more truth in the shit on the bottom of my boots." the guard mocks with a short laugh, which sounds more like the grunting of a very large pig.

"Whatever it is, the king goes mad over it so shut your trap. If he catches you takin' the piss he'll have your head for it."

You tune out the rest of their conversation, wondering whether or not the plan formulating in your head could work. It's not like you have any other choice though, is it?

Yeosang left you here, in the clutches of the stuck-up royal assholes. You doubt he knew they took you directly to the castle, but that was besides the point. He left you. And you didn't know if he would try and get you out. So the only person who can help you, is yourself.

And you had just the plan.

---

Hours pass until you hear the unfamilar clacking of shoes echoing through the prison hallway, bringing you out of your slumber.

"Sleeping, little thief?" your sleepy eyes snap open and you find yourself staring up at Seonghwa, who is unfortunately, still as stunning as before.

You pick yourself up off the floor, moving slightly closer to the iron gate, but not too close.

"Scared?" he questions mockingly. "I won't bite".

You remain silent, only eyeing him with a steely gaze.

"We have two options here, my love." Seonghwa looks at you with an expression you can't quite read. All you can tell is that the kingsguard loves to mock and play mind games with you. And this is a game you do not have the time, nor the patience for.

"I can let you go, at the price of risking you stealing from our poor merchants again, which, and I'm sure you'll understand, is something I and the rest of the royal court do not want."

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the catch. There's always a catch.

"Or... I can order to have you killed. Meaning there's zero possibility of you thieving, bothering, or annoying me ever again, which, and once again I'm sure you'll understand, works out much better for me."

He stands on the other side of the gate, a smug smirk painted on his face. You'd love nothing more than to punch him straight between the eyes.

"I'm not too sure you'd want to have me killed though, Mr. Kingsguard." you quip, watching his face contort into one of both intrigue and confusion.

"And why would that be?"

"Because I have information I'm sure the king would be thrilled to have." Seonghwa's face drops somewhat, the traces of sarcasm wash away and are replaced with caution. He's wary of you; you can see it in the way he's standing with his arms folded tightly across his chest, signifying he doesn't quite believe you yet, but the way he's ever so slightly leaning forward towards you shows you that just one more tiny push and the kingsguard will be wrapped around your little finger. Here goes nothing.

"Information regarding what exactly?" he asks.

"The prophecy, of course." you reply matter-of-factly.

Seonghwa's jaw falls open and his eyebrows band together. His deep hazel eyes lose their patronizing glint and he stares at you in bewilderment.

There's a brief pause and a tense silence between you while the kingsguard collects his thoughts.

Suddenly, he clears his throat and straightens his posture, tugging the collar of his smart, black uniform around his neck.

"Very well," he responds at last. "I'll arrange a meeting with the King himself, and if I catch even a whiff of bullshit from you, little thief, you'll be buried six feet under quicker than you can say kingsguard." Seonghwa departs with a growl, turning on his heel and marching out of the prison, his polished, heeled boots clacking against the stone as he strides.

You exhale heavily, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

You didn't know whether meeting the King and attempting to convince him you were an expert on something you had literally never heard of before was better or worse than being executed and buried six feet deep underground, but now it was clear you really had no choice.

What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Eight

[olivia-anderson-gifted]

Chapter 1: Teaming up with a criminal she hates? A good plan, truly

Edit: Yeah, remember how I said the beginning hasn’t changed in a while?

Well... heh...

But still, enjoy this slightly less canon chapter anyways.

“No one knows the exact moment or reason why the Gifted became this way.

“Some believe it was the consistent radiation due to the nuclear war in 1948; with the chemicals floating through the air and giving a few who survived abilities to gain the upper hand. This combat led to the planet we live in today. According to elders, there used to be an abundance of resources and technology, but the wars had decimated nearly everyone who knew how even an ‘automobile’ worked and the fuel required to use them was impossible to obtain.

“Others think it was an insane mutation that occurred in our species, not unlike the anomaly that caused humans to have larger brains and become more developed than many other species of their time. This is my personal belief, because, from what I can infer out of the 100 years of suffering, Gifts seem to be somewhat passed down within families.

“Still more believe it to have been geneticists of the era splicing genes of certain species beyond recognition, and they forced the Gifted to be a reality instead of one’s nightmare. Though, this is unlikely, due to the amount of the Giftless who have given birth to a Gifted person.

“A minuscule fraction of people think humans got it by mating with animals in order to obtain those traits and therefore gain a biological advantage. Those ones are, undeniably, incorrect. I’m pretty sure the constant exposure to radiation messed with their minds.

“But what truly are Gifts? They are, to state it simply, magical abilities. Usually, they develop by age ten, but they tend to crop up around five years old — typically adding features that hadn’t been there beforehand. They currently have little to no history, but they’ve started becoming more and more varied throughout the generations (or maybe that’s just because people are more willing to have kids now)-.”

Cal Montello looked up from his book just in time to avoid getting trampled by a horse. “I thought you were paying attention for us,” he whined at his twin, but the slight smile on his face told her that he wasn’t really all that upset. He probably should have been, he had almost gotten run over, but since it hadn’t happened he didn’t care. Crisis averted, stay tuned for next time to see whether or not he got killed.

“Technically, it is your turn to pay attention,” she argued. “Besides, why are you even reading that book? The author sounds biased.”

“Well, Mrs. Plinthe happens to agree with this bias. If I’m writing two, five page essays tonight I’d better get a perfect score.” While their mentor had never been particularly lenient on them, she had amped up her teaching style the past year, and it took an undeniable toll on him: even makeup could hardly conceal the dark circles under his eyes. Alexia certainly pitied him, but she couldn’t help being grateful that she had been born twenty minutes later — she did not envy him in the slightest. She’d take not having to try over a crown any day.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a banquet tonight, though?”

“Er… probably,” he said after a few moments.

The iron gates of the castle came into view and, as if by magic, all the broken down homes and beggars seemed to disappear into neatly rolling hills, flowered gardens, and pathways lined by clean homes. People still bustled about with the same urgency, but they tended to keep their distance from everyone around them. A few chanced waves at the twins, who smiled and waved back to seem polite, but none approached them.

The pair slumped unanimously as they reached the gates. They passed through, a stiff silence between the two siblings as they sulked through the gardens, a pair of bodyguards on their heels.

Their guards left them without a word, joining the others walking along tiny footpaths into the flowers.

The royals pretended not to notice a gardener attempting to cover up what they assumed to be a plant that had died to the Frost. Most humans had expected a wasteland full of mutated creatures but instead had gotten a nuclear winter. Humans had only survived by going into hiding with a few domesticated animals.

The snow made the castle look warm and inviting. That’s what snow does, right?

Despite the exterior, the castle was gorgeous once you made it inside. Flowering plants dotted the rooms, giving much-needed splashes of color. Smiling portraits were hung in every room. Stone floors were decorated with bright mosaics. Numerous attendants could be found in any given room.

They hounded the pair the moment they recognized their faces in the door.

“Alexia, would you like us to iron your dress for you?”

“Your hair must be fixed.”

“Cal, what did the queen say about you wearing those glasses in public? And where are your contacts?”

The twins had never had a normal life, but they figured it felt something like having a hundred moms around the moment they got home… except for the fact that they only did it in order to be paid.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Ah, no, thank you all, though. I would like to be alone for a minute, then I’ll work on my appearance.”

Alexia crossed her arms over her chest. “Won’t you need help getting into your outfit?”

“I want to be alone with Cheshire to recharge a bit. I will call someone when I need help… but thank you. See you later, Alex,” he chirped. He gave her one last kiss on the cheek before he disappeared down the many halls. Alexia didn’t think much of it.

Until he wasn’t at the party, that is.

Once a week the queen met with the other six rulers of the kingdoms and other powerful people throughout what had been England. It existed solely as a way to boost both her popularity and ego. The richest and most influential came, such as the Hans (well, the father did, everyone else was almost always sick), that one princess that for some reason wouldn’t leave the twins alone, the entirety of Gardenia’s royal family, and many more people Alexia struggled to really care about.

Cal and Alexia had to go every time no matter what; Alexia knew something was amiss when Cal didn’t show. The queen made up an excuse about how Cal had gotten sick and ended up being unable to come to the banquet. Alexia gave a smile, nodding her agreement wordlessly.

She mumbled that she wanted to be excused as soon as she deemed it acceptable. When questioned on it, she said that she wanted to make sure Cal was okay, which really wasn’t a lie. She got a few coos about how good of a sister she was, then left.

She broke into a sprint once she had gotten out of earshot of the guests.

The room looked as if it had been hit by a hurricane — the sheets strewn across the floor, the drawers forced open in a rush, books and papers littered the floor, the list containing their secret codes in tatters on the ground, their food stash had been depleted and so had a large portion of their money. It looked as if Cal had run away.

Alexia knew better. Sure, Cal had voiced his distaste of the castle many times before, the fact that he hated being there enough to leave was pretty much common knowledge. However, if he was ever to leave he would have certainly asked her to go with him, or at least warned her of his departure. No, he’d been forced out, and rather suddenly.

Alexia looked at her suitcase and began packing the essentials: clothes, food, books, maps, clothes, sheets so she wouldn’t have to lay on the ground, weapons, money, clothes… the list went on and on until she had filled seven bags. The essentials were getting less and less essential, she noted, and put down the tiara that she had considered taking in order to look cute. She looked through her bags and removed a bit, but honestly couldn’t part with much.

Who should I take with me? Obviously not the castle staff, I can’t tear them away from their occupations, and the other royals couldn’t care less. I’m not getting someone else injured because I mess up, she mused. So, who could hypothetically get injured without impacting Mandalo? Maybe… She made a decision and walked to the stables. She freed her prized horse, a strong black one named Blackjack, and loaded her up with all of her belongings.

She clambered onto Blackjack’s back and set off to the other side of the city where the slums were located, pulling her hood over her head so fewer people would recognize her. The princess had hidden her bags under a blanket so she didn’t look too wealthy, though she did feel people staring at her as she made her way to the thief’s house.

Not everyone owns a horse, Alexia, might as well have worn a giant sign saying ‘rich person’ on your back.

She rapped on the door twice and waited. The house was not at all what she expected of the thief: small, dingy, one of the windows broken, in general disrepair. The twins gave him far too much money for what he did, so she couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t afford a better house than the decaying one-roomer.

Alexia regretted her decision the moment she spotted Nathan Green’s face in the doorframe. The male was unhealthily skinny, with matted hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Yellow freckles were dull under a thin layer of grime. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he gave her a once over. Both twins had long since used to this, the general Which one is this routine. She could have lifted her bangs to give him an easier time, but she didn’t. Once he came to a decision he motioned for her to get on with it.

“Hello, Nathaniel,” said Alexia, toying with her fingers.

“Evenin’, princesa. Why are you here?” He asked. If there was anything to like about the criminal, it was that he always got to the point.

“Your ‘occupation’ is finding things us royals lost, is it not?”

“Sometimes…” Nathan said carefully.

Alexia straightened to her full height. He wasn’t impressed. “I lost Cal, help me find him,” she ordered.

“No,” he said, moving to close the door. Alexia put her foot out to stop him. He seemed to consider breaking her foot with the door for a minute.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” She whined, more than aware that she sounded like a four-year-old who wasn’t allowed a new toy.

“I mean ‘no’. I could say it in Spanish if you’d like.” He moved to close the door once again, almost crushing Alexia’s foot in the process.

“I’ll pay you, of course,” Alexia said quickly, wishing she had started with that. The male paused for a moment and she flexed her foot a few times to make sure it was okay. “One hundred lous if you come with me,” she added before he lost interest.

He opened the door fully, leaning against the frame.

“Listen, it’s not that I don’ like you… actually that’s exactly it, you suck. I have things to do other than help you, princesa.”

She couldn’t miss the greedy look in his eye, though.

“I’ll give you an extra fifty lous if we do find them. You have a baseline of one hundred even if we fail,” she offered, and she could immediately tell that he was sold. Nonetheless, he pretended to mull it over.

Really, just say yes. We’re losing valuable time.

“I guess I could help you find them, it’s only a month or so anyways if we can get this done quickly,” he said after a while, cracking a devilish grin that almost made Alexia nervous. “I’m finally growin’ on you, then? Took, what, thirteen years?” He teased, before disappearing into his home. Only a few seconds passed before the thief popped out with only a small bag slung over his shoulder.

“You don’t want to bathe before we go? Whatever, I suppose, let’s get started. If we leave now we might be able to catch up to him. He’s going on foot,” she said.

“Do I get un caballo?” Alexia stared at him until he started motioning to the horse.

Nathan and his family were from Spain, so she wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t aware of certain terms. What did she do with this knowledge? Attempt to trick him, of course.

“You mean a ‘school’,” she lied. The male looked offended.

“Honestly, how dumb do you think I am?” he whined with a defeated expression, as if he already regretted agreeing to help Alexia. She chose not to answer his question and he pretended not to notice. 

A true friendship.

So, they went to the royal stables and Nathan tried to pick a horse. The horses all whinnied as if in protest as he neared them. Smart animals.

“Honestly, which one of them am I supposed to choose? They’re all so creepy and…” He trailed off. “Caballos,” he whispered disdainfully, before choosing the one that seemed least likely to murder him. It obviously wanted to, but he stuck to his decision anyways. “AYYYYYY- c’mon, Lance, I just want to live-” he stopped speaking as he was distracted — he had fallen over Lance’s head and laid in a pile of hay dejectedly.

“Horses can sense fear,” Alexia said ‘helpfully’ as she watched him climb on again.

“So, it’s called a horse.” He pumped his hand in the air victoriously before almost sliding off the tail-end of his steed.

Getting outside ended up being relatively easy. No one came up and bothered them for fear of upsetting the princess, the guards pretended they didn’t see her sneaking out, and Nathan managed not to magically die.

This good mood did not last.

While it was clear there used to be a forest outside, little had actually survived. The only living plants were pioneer species attempting to break through the snow. There wasn’t an animal in sight, it wasn’t obvious any had ever existed.

Sure, she’d been outside before, but only in a carriage, and she tended to sleep during trips. To actually see the world was horrifying.

Alexia pulled her map from her many, many bags. “There’s a part where the path forks up ahead. One leads to Gardenia and then the other kingdoms, the other leads to the Giftless Camp. Which one do you want to try first?” She questioned. Though she had asked, she didn’t want to head off to where the Giftless were; it was criminal territory, and traveling with one of them was more than enough for her.

Nathan idly twirled his knife through his fingers, which she figured would end up with a few missing. “Cal probably went towards the place with all of the Lames,” he said.

“Giftless,” she corrected. The Giftless were exactly what they sounded like, people without any form of ‘magical’ ability, though there were so few of them that they had been renamed ‘Lames’ by the general population. Discrimination against disadvantaged minorities? That’s basically unheard of! Nonetheless, they were to be taken to a labor camp once they reached eleven years of age. Most people avoided the topic like the plague.

“Are you going to explain your reasoning, Einstein?” She muttered sarcastically after a few moments.

He sighed so loudly he must have broken a rib.

“Obviously there would be fewer people in that direction. Whatever he was runnin’ from was clearly terrifyin’, he would go where it would be harder for them to find him,” he explained slowly, as if explaining two plus two. It annoyed Alexia that he made sense.

“Whatever, I suppose we should find a place to sleep before it gets too dark,” she mumbled, holding out a hand and concentrating for a short moment. The light around them gathered into a ball in her fingers, but even that was faint with so little to work with. She figured they had about an hour before even her Gift would be useless. She found herself actually glad for the lack of trees, as they would have run out of light long beforehand. “Maybe they’re at an inn or something,” she tried, though she doubted it.

She wondered if she would be able to find him if he didn’t wish to be found. He’s been gone for less than a day, don’t give up yet, Alexia scolded herself mentally, looking around. Nothing but dead shrubbery as far as the eye could see, certainly not any buildings.

“A place to stay out here? We’ll take shifts. Go ahead and sleep.”

The princess wanted to argue, but she couldn’t deny that sleep sounded really good. She pulled a pillow and blanket from one of her bags and promptly passed out.

[the-foxes-fangs]

I Wish I Was the Moon: Epilogue Pt. 3

Read the fic here and interludes here

Tagging @otomediary, @you-mass-effect-my-dragon-age, @louveau, @wingedtreecookiesludge with a special shout out to @vhaena who has been graciously waiting for this particular part of the story

                                       ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He toweled himself dry meticulously, took stock of the austere little room he had been given and allowed himself a solitary sigh of frustration. He had expected Kenshin to have his little revenge for Sasuke but it was unpleasant seeing the flash of trepidation in her eyes just the same.

He went to sit on the veranda and stared idly out into the well tended garden. The guard had told him to wait for an attendant to show him back to the audience hall for a welcoming banquet in a tone that told him he’d be catching up on his foot dangling for awhile. He had made some tea and found whatever was at hand in the kitchen, and had settled in to wait.

The rain had passed into weak afternoon sunshine that gave everything a freshly scrubbed look, with the grime of winter rinsed away. He watched a few white rabbits poking around the greenery, apparently quite tame.

Too tame to notice the narrow face of a small, equally white fox poking through a hole in the wall that had been widened by the storm. He sat quite still, observing the little drama unfold as it squeezed its thin body through and slunk quietly and cunningly toward a particularly oblivious rabbit.

The fox looked bedraggled and more than a little hungry, which was probably why it didn’t notice the maid who came around the corner and catching sight of it gave chase with broom in hand.

“Get away from Lord Kenshin’s rabbits you vermin! Pest! Out! Get out!” She cried, chasing the poor creature around the garden until it squeezed back through the hole. She stomped away huffing, and silence fell on the garden again.

He glanced down at the dried fish he had been nibbling on, and sighed again. “I really am getting soft as hell,” he murmured to himself as he stood and made his way to the wall, crouching down to stick his arm through, fish in hand.

He waited patiently as the wet grass tickled his feet, and was about to give up when he felt a cold nose on his fingertips and smiled to himself as the food was snatched away. “Let’s both protect our reputations and pretend this never happened,” he said softly as he felt the brush of soft whiskers across his empty hand.

He withdrew his arm and rose to return to his seat. When he turned he found the creature had followed him, sitting just out of reach watching him with exceedingly hungry eyes.

“Well I’m not getting up again. If you want to eat you’re just going to have come over here.” He said, smiling as it cocked its ears and watched him with sharp, narrowed eyes.

“Do I look like I’m in need of a mangy fur?” He asked, waving a fish invitingly. The fox slunk forward cautiously, pausing to sniff the air and study him until it finally reached his feet and looked up at him expectantly. “Already plotting, I see. Well, I can respect that, but you’ve really got to learn the art of subterfuge, my little friend.”

He tossed it a fish, which promptly disappeared, as did the next two. “You know, Hideyoshi would’ve just given you a lecture on not giving up when things are difficult and sent you on your way, you’re lucky I’m such a soft touch.” He said softly, blinking in surprise as it jumped nimbly up onto the veranda, eyeing the basket of fish thoughtfully.

“Now see here, I respect your ambition, but these things require subtlety, my would be vassal.” He said, sliding the basket a little further out of its reach but passing it another fish. “First you earn my trust, and then you commit your inevitable betrayal. There’s an order to these things.”

He was withdrawing his hand when the maid came back around the corner muttering to herself, causing the fox to panic and dive for the nearest hiding hole, which happened to be right into his sleeve. He caught it by its scruff and folded his arms to his chest, slouching over as she passed by.

It poked its head out cautiously when he loosed his grip, but didn’t seem in any hurry to depart. “No. Absolutely not. That was strictly a fox to fox favor. Unless you’ve got a wishing jewel hidden in that muddy tail, no deal,” He said, shaking his head at it. He could feel its ribs as it shifted to look up at him questioningly.

“You audacious little beggar,” He said, laughing despite himself, as he laid the basket on his lap with a welcoming gesture. Upon closer inspection it was a young vixen, her tail waving happily as she devoured the food. She finished it and sniffed at his other sleeve inquiringly.

“Listen, just because I can’t taste it doesn’t mean I’m willing to share it. A little mouse made it for me.” He said, pulling out the carefully wrapped chimaki dumpling and unwrapping it and taking a bite. She had learned how to cook dumplings to the exact chewiness he preferred, despite swearing up a storm in the kitchen. He smiled at the memory and then looked at the expectant fox with a raised brow.

“Fine,” He said, dividing the remainder of the dumpling in half, “but I’m only sharing this because she’d want me to.”

The vixen licked her whiskers daintily after she finished her half, and looked at him with a curious sniff, before bounding down to make a dash back out of the garden.

“There’s just no loyalty in this world,” he complained with a laugh, and rose to return to his room and change into more formal clothes.

He heard the shuffle of vassals heading toward the hall as the shadows lengthened into early evening, and opened the door before the wide eyed attendant could knock. “Yes, fine, spare me the announcement. Let’s go,” he said with an impatient gesture and followed the man.

“…Lord Shingen and Lord Yukimura arrived just an hour ago! It will be like old times!” He heard an enthusiastic retainer say as they passed, and groaned inwardly.

Kenshin was bad enough, but Shingen was a canny bastard with a sense of humor and an axe to grind.

She was nowhere to be seen as he entered the hall, already abuzz with low conversation, which dropped even lower in his presence. Kenshin waved him over and gave him the seat his rank demanded with a curt nod of greeting.

“Well if it isn’t the great spy himself, out before sundown, even,” Shingen said with a broad smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“The peaceful life does wonders for one’s habits and health,” Mitsuhide replied smoothly, “How’s Kai treating you these days? No problems governing?”

“We’re still recovering from the occupation.” Shingen shot back, curtly.

Their exchange was cut short by the sound of excitement when she appeared at the door with Sasuke behind her, looking so lovely that for a moment everything else receded except the smile she gave him alone, and the light in her eyes as they met his as she came to take her seat at Kenshin’s side.

“Seeing a goddess grace us with her presence was more than reason enough to make the trip, but besides that, it’s delightful to welcome you as new family to an old friend,” Shingen said smoothly, elbowing a blushing Yukimura.

“Uh… what he said.” Yukimura mumbled and nodded.

“We’re not friends. I’m still going to kill you both.” Kenshin interjected with a frown.

“Now, now, let’s keep the conversation pleasant for the lady,” Yoshimoto admonished with an amused smile directed squarely at Mitsuhide.

She glanced between them with raised brows, until Sasuke leaned in to whisper something to her, handing her a flask to pour for Kenshin, who acknowledged her with a polite nod and filled her cup.

“Let’s drink to the princess of the Uesugi,” he said, and lifted his cup to a surge of noisy approval as all of his retainers followed suit and drained their cups. The general consensus appeared to consider it a score against the Oda to have adopted one of Nobunaga’s favorites.

Mitsuhide drank and gave her the flash of a smile, drinking in the sight of her in an elaborately beautiful formal kimono bearing the Uesugi crest. “Why, you make that drab shade of blue look positively lively, my dear.”

She laughed softly and looked him over approvingly as Kenshin glowered at him, hand drifting toward his sword.

“I think it’s a lovely shade of blue myself. Not so different from the one you favor,” she replied graciously, her expression neutral except for the faint rebuke in her eyes. “I’m honored to wear something so beautifully made.”

Kenshin relaxed and the color returned to Sasuke’s face as Shingen snickered into his cup and Yoshimoto watched with detached amusement. Yukimura clicked his tongue in exasperation as a maid brought Shingen a plate of sweets.

“I thought you promised–” he began, cut off by Shingen’s airy wave.

“Yuki, it’s an occasion! We’re here to celebrate!” Shingen said with a charming smile.

“Yes but you haven’t even eaten dinner yet!” Yukimura replied with a defeated sigh as the rest of their food was served.

“Ah, but we’re already drinking, and you know I can’t bear to drink without something sweet. Never trust a man who drinks without a snack, Yuki. He’ll stab you right between the ribs every time.” Shingen countered, glancing meaningfully at Mitsuhide.

“I’m not sure how that sugary garbage counts as a snack anyway, the only proper snack for drinking is a good pickled plum.” Kenshin said dourly.

“Nonsense! Sweets are the best with sake, isn’t that right, princess?” Shingen asked her with a flirtatious wink that set Mitsuhide’s teeth on edge.

“There’s merit in everyone’s personal preferences I’m sure,” she answered courteously, giving Shingen a polite but bland smile as they began to eat.

“You’re my daughter as of tomorrow, you should take my side.” Kenshin said bluntly, holding his cup out to her.

“A lifetime of seeing the beauty of diversity will be difficult to overcome, I’m afraid,” she answered sweetly, “but I’m deeply grateful and honored at the favor you’re showing me.”

Mitsuhide kept his expression fixed, but felt a surge of pride at her adroit navigation of a situation that was surely more than a little surreal for her.

“You should be grateful that someone with such a fine sense for diplomacy is even willing– what on earth are you doing to the food?” Yoshimoto said, recoiling at the sight of Mitsuhide mixing everything together in his bowl.

“Oh dearest me, I didn’t mean to shock your delicate sensibilities, my lord. This is simply the most efficient way to eat.” Mitsuhide said with a sharp smile.

“Well that’s just plain weird,” Yukimura muttered.

“I can, much to my dismay, confirm that lord Mitsuhide is acting entirely consistently and means no insult. He always eats that way,” Sasuke interjected with a despairing gesture.

“What was it you said, you’d rather not waste time eating when you could be drinking? I’m sure that you can appreciate the sentiment, lord Kenshin,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“I can respect a man who appreciates the finer points of a good brew.” Kenshin said, with the faintest hint of a thaw in his tone.

“Well if nothing else it will be fun to watch these two try to drink each other to death, which leaves me to bask in the company of a beautiful woman on a lovely moonlit night.” Shingen said, with a dreamy look in his eye.

“Why, bad or good, it’s all the same to me. As long as it’s cold in the summer and warm in the winter I’ll drink anything,” Mitsuhide said, pointedly ignoring the bait that Shingen was waving.

“That’s an insult to the art of brewing sake, you know,” Yoshimoto said, needling him in tandem.

“Is it? I rather think it’s a compliment. Those who make swill need to live just as much as those who make elixir.” Mitsuhide answered levelly.

“I’d almost like to see you two duel, just to see who could actually lift a sword,” Kenshin remarked dryly.

“The best victories are the bloodless ones, my lord.” Mitsuhide responded ignoring the flash of heat in his chest at the sight of Shingen leaning close to her to fill her cup and practically breathe down her neck.

“Eccentricity is novel for awhile, princess, but the peculiar soon becomes grating. A man can be unconventional without straying into the uncouth.” Shingen said rakishly.

“Bloodless? What kind of rot are you talking? There’s no glory in that!” Kenshin exclaimed with a sharp gesture.  

“I’ve always favored outsiders myself– the more everyone picks on and dislikes someone, the better I like them and the more I take their side,” she said demurely, and took an elegant drink.

Mitsuhide downed his cup quickly and hoped that they’d blame the flush on his face on the alcohol and not the lovesickness that had him firmly in its grip. He prided himself on his self-discipline and patience, but it was all he could do not to take her by the hand and drag her to the nearest bed to show his appreciation of her unnecessary but perfect defense of him.

“Here’s to outsiders,” he said quietly and raised his cup to her.  

“I always thought you were kind of a dummy, but that’s actually pretty nice.” Yukimura said, oblivious to the hangdog silence that had descended on the others.

“Yukimura, please don’t throw your life away like this.” Sasuke mumbled, holding his hand to his forehead despairingly.

Shingen flicked him hard on the forehead with a rueful smile. “Y-u-k-i what have I told you about how we talk to women?”

“Ow! Why would I listen to you? You flirt with anything that moves!”

“Well, the delivery was rough, but I appreciate the intent, lord Yukimura,” she said with a beneficent smile that brought a bright blush to his face.

“Well I’m glad to see that you can keep up with these fools.” Kenshin said, casting an approving glance at her with unusual softness in his sharp eyes.

“I learned from the best,” she answered with an affectionate nod at Mitsuhide.

“Why, that’s a bald faced lie, you were exactly this adept at getting your way from the moment I saw you,” he countered fondly.

“Watch your mouth, Akechi, think about who you’re calling a liar.” Kenshin said sharply, the ice back in his tone and face.

Sasuke sighed, shoulders sagging defeatedly. “They’re flirting, my lord. Trust me, this is that man at his sparkling best.”

“Hmmph.” Kenshin said, studying her happy expression curiously.

“Flirting as a concept has been buried in a shallow grave tonight, in that case.” Shingen said with a shake of his head.

“Someone explain why it’s fine when he calls her names, but I get a smack to the head!” Yukimura muttered moodily.

“There are certain cosmic mysteries best left unexplained, Yukimura.” Sasuke said, and patted his arm fondly.

[snappedsky]

Fanatics Adventures in Space Part 24

The Night Terrors attend a party. Previous! Next!

--

The Banquet

           Our heroes have been gone for over half a year. And while their friends and family miss them, time continues to pass normally.

           Winter has struck the Nameless City as hard as usual: clear streets one day, snow the next. Many of the citizens are used to it and prepare around this time. But a couple are just unable to. Like the Night Terrors and their roommate, Aron.

           “I hate this time of year,” Aron mumbles, shivering and curled up in a blanket next to their space heater. The Night Terrors are in much the same position.

           “Yeah, I thought California was supposed to be like hot,” Eff whines.

           “You really gonna try and apply logic to this city?” Reverend Meat grunts.

           “At least the van is warmer than it was before it got tricked out,” Sickness points out.

           “Cold is still cold,” D-boy grumbles.      

           The door is suddenly thrown open, letting in the freezing air and biting wind.

           “Close the damn door!” everyone barks as Serena enters.

           “Relax,” she snaps back, shutting the door behind her. “Look at this.”

           She throws a newspaper on the floor in front of them. On the front page they recognize a photo of her father- Charles Von, the mayor of the city- shaking hands with another smartly dressed man.

           “Who’s that?” Eff asks.

           “Uh Vincent Pimento?” Serena replies impatiently, “I’ve been talking about him for the last couple months.”

           “You can’t expect us to listen to everything you say,” D-boy states, “normally it’s only about men you’ve fucked and eaten.”

           “I like those stories,” Reverend Meat says.

           “Well, to catch you up,” Serena growls, “with Celio Mussolini imprisoned, people are considering Pimento to be the new ‘most powerful man in the city’. And he’s taking that very seriously. I think he might try to take over the city like Mussolini did.”

           “But he looks like he’s making good friends with your dad,” Sickness points out as she looks over the article.

           “That’s just a front!” Serena snaps, “Dad doesn’t see it either, but he’s dangerous. I’m sure he’s gonna dig up some dirt on Dad and use it to blackmail him later. We have to stop him before he gets too powerful.”

           “We do?” D-boy questions.

           “Yes! You’re supposed to be protecting the city, right? Wouldn’t your ‘Little Boss’ want you to take care of a threat before it got too bad?”

           “Alright,” Reverend Meat shrugs, “but what are we supposed to do?”

           “I’m glad you asked,” Serena grins, “Pimento is holding a banquet at his mansion tonight. We’re gonna crash it and-.”

           “And kill him?” Eff suggests.

           “I considered that but his death would be too noticeable,” she replies, “so we’re just gonna find some dirt on him to use as blackmail.”

           “Sounds fun,” Sickness smirks.

           “Not to be the voice of reason,” Aron says, “but you might be able to sneak into a rich banquet, but do you really think these guys can?”

           “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eff asks critically.

           “You stand out?”

           “Oh. Yeah, that’s true.”

           “Don’t worry, I already have a plan,” Serena grins, “I’ll get in with one of you as my date. After, we’ll sneak upstairs and let the other three in.”

           “Okay,” Reverend Meat nods, “so who’ll be your date?”

           “D-boy.”

           “What?” he questions with surprise. “Why me?”

           “Yeah, why him?” Eff questions scornfully.

           “D-boy is the least likely to make a scene,” Serena replies.

           “I am?” he questions.

           “And once I clean him up, he’ll look like a half-decent socialite,” she adds.

           “How are you gonna clean him up?” Sickness asks.

           “At my dad’s house, obviously,” she grunts, as she gets into the driver’s seat. “So buckle up cause the party starts at 7. And I’m guessing it’s gonna take a couple hours to get D-boy clean.”

           “Is no one gonna ask how I feel about doing this?” D-boy asks.

           “No,” Reverend Meat replies plainly.

           “Alright. Just checking.”

           Serena drives them across the city to the richer part of town, where her family home is. She parks the van at the curb and they all get out and hurry up to the house, eager to escape the cold.            

           “Serena!” her mother chimes as they enter. “Always so nice to see you home. And you’ve brought your…little friends…”                

           “We’re going to a party tonight,” Serena explains, “I gotta help them get ready.”

           “Take off your shoes please,” her mom requests.

           “Trust me, none of us want that,” Reverend Meat says.

           She grimaces as they pass and follow Serena upstairs. She leads them to a large, sparkling washroom and shoves D-boy towards the shower.

           “Get clean,” she orders, “while you’re doing that, I’ll find you a tux.”

           “Fine,” D-boy groans as he takes off his hat.

           Serena hurries down the hall to her parents’ bedroom and goes into their walk-in closet. She goes through her father’s clothes before finding a nice, simple tuxedo and nods agreeably.

            As she leaves, she runs into her little brother, Jeff, in the hall. He’s leaning against the wall, watching her suspiciously.          

           When she gets back to the washroom, she finds D-boy in his spotted briefs sitting on the toilet while Sickness scrubs at his face, Eff, Reverend Meat, and Aron watching from the sidelines. D-boy’s hair is wet but he’s still covered in make-up.

           “What’s going on? Aren’t you done yet?” Serena asks as she hangs up the suit.

           “He showered but his face is covered in layers of paint,” Aron explains.

         “I haven’t washed in a while,” D-boy adds, “I just touched-up my face paint when I needed.”

           “Jeez, we need a freekin trowel to scrape all this off,” Sickness complains as she scrubs his cheek raw.

           When D-boy’s face is finally clean- albeit red and tender- Serena helps him into the tux and does his hair all nice and neat. By the time he’s finished, he’s barely recognizable.

           “May I present, Psycho of Doughboy,” Serena says, bowing dramatically as she shows off the finished product to the others.

           “Wow, Dee, you almost look like a respectable person,” Aron comments.

           “Which is more than can be said about any of us,” Reverend Meat remarks.

           “How’s it feel?” Sickness asks.

           “Not too different,” D-boy replies as he straightens his necktie. “I miss my hat though.”

           “Beauty is pain,” Serena grunts. “Now, we have about half an hour before the party. Wait downstairs and try to stay clean while I get ready.”

           “It takes you half an hour to get ready?” Eff asks judgementally.

           “Hardly. It usually takes me two hours. I didn’t expect D-boy to take so long.”            She shoos everyone out into the hall and starts preparing. By the time she’s finished, it’s almost seven o’clock. She’s wearing a long, dark purple dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up the left leg; her black hair is done up in an elaborate up-do and she has bright red lips and smoky eyeshadow.

           “Wow, you look great,” Sickness comments.

           “I know,” Serena smiles.

           “So how are we getting there? The van?” D-boy asks.

           “They can take the van,” she replies as she nods towards Eff and the others. “I got our own ride.”

           “Okay, guys, meet us at the Pimento residence- the address is in the paper,” she orders as she leads D-boy away. “Wait for us on the roof and we’ll let you in when we can.”

           “Okey dokey,” Reverend Meat salutes and the others wave as they walk away.

           Serena leads D-boy to the garage, where a limousine is parked. Her younger brother, Jeff, is leaning against the hood.            

           “You owe me for this,” he states, pointing at Serena before knocking on the driver’s door and walking away.

           Serena opens the back door and ushers D-boy in. “After you.”

           He looks around in awe as he slides onto the leather seat. There’s a fully stocked mini-fridge, a cooler with champagne, and best of all- a working heater.

           “Wow. Swanky,” D-boy grins.

           “Welcome to the highlife, Dee,” Serena smirks as she sits beside him. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”            The limo exits the garage and they head to the party.

           Expensive vehicles line the street leading up to the Pimento manor- a large, cream coloured three-story building with a big, clear yard surrounded by a brick wall. There are bright lights streaming out of the first floor and dozens of people crowded around outside the front door, where a bouncer can be seen.  

           “So how are we getting in?” D-boy asks.

           “That’s the easy part,” Serena replies, “I’m the mayor’s daughter, remember?”            As they exit the limo and head up the front door, Serena hooks her hands around D-boy’s arm.

           “Hey,” he grunts.

           “You’re my date. Act like it,” she hisses, “and stand up straight.”

           They pass by the line-up of potential, wannabe guests and approach the bouncer. He doesn’t even look up from his clipboard.

           “Name?” he grunts.

           “Serena Von,” she replies calmly.

           He glances at her with surprise. “Ah, Miss Von. Your father is already here.”

           “Yes, well, I like to be fashionably late,” she chirps, “do me favour and don’t mention to anyone I’m though, okay? I prefer to keep my presence separate from his, y’know?”

           “As you wish, Miss Von,” he nods and steps aside allowing the couple inside.

           “Will your dad being here be a problem?” D-boy asks as they pass through the foyer.

           “It’ll be fine,” Serena replies, “he’ll be too busy getting his ass kissed to notice.”

           They enter the large where the banquet is being held. There’s a large, crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. On the right side of the room, all kinds of clearly rich folks are milling about, being waited on by servants holding trays with fancy, little finger foods. On the other side, couples are dancing to classical music. A large staircase is on the far side of the room, blocked off by a velvet rope and guarded by two suited men.

           “So what’s the plan?” D-boy asks quietly as they walk through the room.

           “Blend in, wait for an opportunity to get those guards away from the stairs,” Serena replies.

           Meanwhile, the other Night Terrors have arrived as well. Having parked the van a couple blocks away, they made their way to the mansion through the back alley and jumped the wall surrounding the yard.

           “Jesus, it’s cold,” Eff whines as they make their way to the side of the house.

           “Okay, where are they?” Sickness asks as they peek through a window to get a look into the party.

           “There,” Reverend Meat replies, pointing at Serena and D-boy amidst the crowd.

           “Wow, D-boy really is unrecognizable, isn’t here,” Eff comments.

           Serena and D-boy start to head over to the serving away when Serena stops short and abruptly turns the other, pulling D-boy after her.

           “Ah, jeez! What?” he grunts in surprise.

           “My dad’s over there,” she whispers, keeping her head low.

           D-boy glances over and spots Serena’s dad, Charles Von, talking to a group of people. One man with short, neat black hair in a three-piece suit seems particularly interested in everything he’s saying.

           “Who’s the guy drooling all over him?” D-boy asks.

           “Vincent Pimento,” Serena hisses, venom dripping from her words.

          She leads D-boy to the dance floor, placing his hands on her hips and grabbing his shoulders.

           “I don’t know how to dance,” he whispers.

           “It’s fine, it’s not hard,” she replies, “just sway a bit and follow my lead. And don’t stare at your feet.”

           They stick to the middle of the dance floor, semi-hidden from her father’s view from the other dancers. While Serena watches him and Pimento talk it up, D-boy eyes the guards at the stairs.

           “So how do we get rid of them?” he asks.

           “We need some sort of distraction,” Serena replies.

           “I can come up with something.”

           “Okay, just be subtle-.” She flinches and looks away when she makes brief eye contact with Pimento. “Shit.”

           “What?” D-boy questions.

           “I think they spotted me.”

           D-boy glances over and notices Pimento whispering to Charles, pointing at them.

           “Damn. What do we do?” he asks.

           “We have to throw them off our trail; do something to make them uncomfortable,” Serena replies.

           “Like what?” D-boy asks as he tries to avoid making eye contact with Charles.

           “I have an idea. It’s a little crazy, but just roll with it,” Serena says.      

           “I like crazy.”

           “Good.”

           She throws her arms around D-boy’s neck and kisses him flat on the mouth.

           D-boy’s eyes widen slightly with surprise. Eff, Sickness, and Reverend Meat exclaim with shock and nearly fall over. Around them, the dancers grimace and make an effort to look anywhere else, as do Pimento and Charles.

           Serena breaks the kiss and they both glance towards her father.

        ��  “Wow, it worked,” D-boy says.

           “Yeah, now it doesn’t have to be weird,” Serena remarks.

           “It’s not weird. Just a little gross.”

           “Right,” she grunts and wipes her mouth. “Do you paint the inside of your mouth?”          

           “Sometimes it gets through my lips,” he shrugs.

           Serena scoffs with disgust and smiles. “Okay, so, what was your distraction idea?”

           “Oh, right,” D-boy nods, “okay, just let me lead for a minute.”

           D-boy carefully directs them across the floor, doing his best to stay on-beat to the music, and nears another dancing couple. As they take a step, D-boy sticks his leg out, tripping the women and knocking both of them to the floor.

           “Nice,” Serena comments.

           Everyone’s attention is immediately drawn to the sprawled out couple and the men guarding the stairs rush over. While the couple is helped up and checked over for injuries- and the on-looking guests say rude things about their dancing under their breath- D-boy and Serena race up the stairs.

           “There they go,” Reverend Meat says, “let’s go.”            The three of them easily scale the wall up to the roof and wait for a window to open.

           D-boy and Serena hurry through the house to the third floor. Fortunately, it’s completely empty, any residents seemingly at the party or just out. They find a room with a window on the side of the house and quickly open it.

           “Nice work, guys,” Reverend Meat comments as he, Eff, and Sickness swing in.

           “Now time for phase 2,” Serena grins, “follow me.”

           She leads the crew back to the second floor and she quickly checks every door until she finds Pimento’s office.

           “Okay, look for something, anything,” Serena orders as she begins pulling out drawers and rifling through papers.

           “What exactly are you hoping to find?” Sickness asks as they follow suit.

           “I don’t know. Evidence of money laundering, human trafficking, child pornography.”

           “Wow, that really escalated,” Eff comments.

           “Just look for something we can use against him,” Serena demands.

           “Ahem.”

           The obnoxious fake cough makes Serena and the Night Terrors whip around to the door, where Pimento is standing with four of his servants. Serena glowers as he steps forward.

           “Serena Von,” he says, “I knew it was you. Why are you here? Why do you hate the friendship your father and I have?”            “You’re not friends with my father,” Serena snarls, “you just want to use him and throw him away. I know your type. You hate that my father uses his wealth for the sake of others and you want to destroy him.”

           “Why do you care what happens to him?” Pimento asks, “didn’t he kick you out and cut you off from the family’s wealth.”

           “He means well. He only did that to teach me responsibility.”            “And that sure didn’t work. Now you and your…odd friends are gonna be arrested and you will besmirch your father’s name.” He laughs cruelly. “I don’t have to ruin him when his family does it so well for me.”

           Serena growls as he chuckles. “Okay, time to for Plan B.”

           “Plan B?” D-boy questions.

           “The ‘B’ stands for ‘Beat ‘em up’.”

           The Night Terrors smirk with understanding. Before the guards can even blink, Sickness is on top of one and knocks him to the ground; Reverend Meat punches the other in the chest, immediately knocking him unconscious; the Doughboys finish off the last two by slamming their faces into the walls.

           Pimento can hardly register what just happened, his jaw slung open in shock. Before he can say anything, Serena grabs the front of his shirt, tugs him into the room, and throws him onto the desk.  

           “Here’s the deal, Pimento,” she hisses, baring her vampire fangs inches from his quivering face. “If you do anything to try and hurt my father or my family, I will hunt you down and make you watch as I drain your pathetic body of every last drop of blood. Got it?”

           He whimpers and nods pathetically.

           “Good,” she chirps and steps back. “Let’s go, guys.”

           She opens the window and they climb out.

           “You know,” D-boy says as they scale the building. “If you had just done that like a week ago, we wouldn’t have had to attend this party.”

           “Yeah but this was more fun,” Serena shrugs.

           “So are we gonna talk about the fact that you two…uh,” Reverend Meat says, awkwardly pointing between the two of them.

           “Nope,” they declare.

           “Okay. Just checking.”