#and grims response is always just a sigh and “hades.”

[druidberries]

Hades got to work that day and was immediately called up to Grim's desk. Your average person would be worried, being called up to the boss' office is bad enough, but when your boss is the Grim Reaper? That's usually a cause for concern. Luckily for Hades, however, he's Grim's right hand man. Being called to his office was a usual occurrence and, most of the time, not something to be worried about.

previous // next

- transcript under the cut -

Hades: "I'm not spying on anyone."

Grim: "I didn't ask you to spy."

Hades: "It kinda sounds like you want me to spy-"

Grim: "Hades." [he pauses] "She just moved to Ravenwood, Mourningvale of all places. She's a human. Not to mention she's been snooping around since she arrived."

Hades: "I'm a human living in Mourningvale."

Grim: "That's different, you're a Reaper. Please, just find out what she's up to- I'm not asking you to spy on her- just figure out what she's doing here."

Hades: "Ugh...fine. Since when do you ask ME for this sort of stuff?"

Grim: "I trust you, Hades."

[hades-supremacy]

Hades x Reader

A little drabble of Hades reacting to his bro's death and reader being there for him the best they can. It is most likely out of character u shouldknow I am not waiting for his backstory :> nor am I rlly familiar with mythology. I really want to write more on here.

TW: Hades upsetti spaghetti over his bro.

It was dismal in the underworld as it always was. Yet, the ambience felt different. There was a note of anger and tension. There was a brief thought of what caused the change in atmosphere, but the thought formed a put in your stomach. It was preposterous anyways. The news traveled fast. The underworld was no exception and it spread like wildfire. Racing from soul to the next until Hades finally heard. When he did, a grim mood settled in, different from how hell typically felt.

"Poseidon died. Didn't you hear? He died! Against a human." Were the words leaving everyone's lips? Astounded that Poseidon lost in Ragnarok against a human.

When Hades heard, he said nothing. His eyes widened in shock, but not a single word came out of his mouth. When he finally comprehended the news, he rested back on his throne, his eyes still instilled with shock. A somber look grew in his eyes. Everyone took to leaving, no words needed to be said. Except for you. Hades fingers wrapped around your hand. He held your hand tightly, almost painfully. He couldn't believe it. No one could. It was ludicrous, but no one would dare tell a lie like that, not about him. He looked at you, his eyes grew softer. You gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek lingering for a little bit.

You ponder the news momentarily. You had a hard time comprehending Poseidon dying. To think he lost? Poseidon would never fall to a human, yet it appeared that was the case. It was hard to swallow. Hades lost one brother. How he felt about him, you are unsure of. Still, it could be easy. To lose a second brother? Was it harder to hear as the oldest? And to a human no less? You can only imagine how he must be feeling. However, the only thing on your mind was supporting your love.

Currently, you are in your bathroom. Dead quiet save for running water coming down from the head. Water trickles over your skin dipping in the space between your bodies. Droplets bounced from his skin onto yours. He sandwiches you in between the wall. His strong arms are wrapped around your body, holding you like he never wanted you to leave. Like you were going to turn to dust before his eyes and this was the only way to stop that. He stared at the wall, with a look you assume is sorrow.

You pull away slightly and, press your fingertips against his forehead, running over his tattoo. It was so beautiful. It's a simple, yet elegant look. He pulls your face up staring deeply into your eyes. Falters and kisses your forehead. He pulls you against his chest. He takes a deep breath while resting his chin on top of your head. Your warmth, your touch, the light floral aroma of your shampoo, and your enchanting voice as you sing his favorite song calms him for the time being. You sigh. It's nice being like this despite the reason why. Hades pulled away from you, seemingly taking it the wrong way. You are quick to reassure him with a kiss. You whisper, "It's ok. Just the water and being here is nice. My love... it's ok." He is a strong person, but for now, you will do all you can to be here for him.

He stays like this for a while, you in his arms listening to the sound of your voice. He pushed everything out of his mind save for you. You are the only person that matters right now. A pang of worry hits you. Your voice stops abruptly. He furrows his brows waiting for a response.

"Um.... mm' sorry I...."

You long for him to stay by your side, the last thing you'd ever want him to do is to fight. It's not something you can keep him from doing, but you can't bear to lose him. You push your worry aside, he is grieving, he is the one who lost someone. So, you carry on from the beginning. Tears well in your eyes, you sniffle trying to be as unnoticeable as possible but he heard you. That fear is unshakeable. You said nothing, however. He had too much to worry about. Too much to deal with right now. He didn't care for this fight, but you know that changed. You cannot change whatever he chooses to do. You pull him tighter against your body, and run your fingers through his hair. Your voice is muffled as you bury your head against his neck. He is taken aback by your change in mood, but he welcomes it.

It was a quiet couple of weeks, he is an unwavering man, so he quickly got back to his usual self. Tension lingers in the air, a little different from before but remains all the same. There's as a little tinge of anger and a sprinkle of sorrow, but you could have said it was fine from what you observed. Fine, for the most part at least. Rhats ntil you heard the news of his decision confirming what you had been fearing for weeks. Leaving a feeling of dread in your stomach making you drop to your news.

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Aw well I liked this more than I would have thought n I hope everyone likes it. 😌 I have the urge to make a part two where reader reacts to the dreadful news with lots of angst.

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 3 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Rhysand stalks around the townhouse all night, and into the next morning. His inner circle are concerned, but do not approach. They know him well enough to know that attempts at communication are fruitless when the High Lord is in this mood.

By evening, Rhys is back at the Spring Court, but Tamlin has placed sentries in the field where he used to meet Feyre. They trample the wildflowers.

Rhys makes his way to the manor, pulling the shadows tightly to him so he can move unseen. He unfurls his wings and glides over the roof, landing lightly on the tiles and listening closely for Feyre’s thoughts. Prior to now, he has refrained from listening into Feyre’s mind out of respect for her privacy. But now, he has no other way to locate her.

Rhys eventually hears her in a room on the top level of the house, in the east corner. Her mind sounds just like her voice: soft and curling like the wispy ends of clouds. He waits a moment to make sure no one is with her, and no one is approaching, and then slides easily in through the window.

“Hello little one,” Rhys says lightly.

Feyre whirls around from where she is sitting at the dresser, and her eyes go wide. She opens her mouth as if to speak, but then seems to think better of it and just crosses the room into his arms. Rhys strokes her hair, but feels grim even as she clings to him.

“Hello you,” she says eventually, and her voice shakes. “How did you find me?”

“We made a deal,” Rhys says in response. “I have to visit you every day for another three months, remember?”

“That’s true,” Feyre says, and the relief is heavy on her face. And then she smiles a crooked smile. “Or maybe you just finally had an excuse to make it into my bedroom.”

Rhys tugs her toward her bed and sits down on the end of it. Feyre moves to sit next to him, but Rhys pulls her into his lap instead.

“So,” he says. “This is your prison, huh?” His eyes rove around the room, and Feyre’s follow.

��As my father likes to point out, no prison has quite so many trinkets or soft furnishings.”

“Can you go out, or have people in?” Rhys asks.

“No, of course not.”

“Then it’s still a prison.”

Feyre’s eyes fill with tears, but they do not fall. “I know,” she says quietly. Rhys kisses her then, because he doesn’t want her to cry.

“Did you ever try to escape?” he whispers to her.

“Once,” Feyre admits. “Last year. I got locked in after I got caught with the stable boy. I tried to leave. I failed. And I was punished.” Feyre does not expand on this, and Rhys does not push any further. Tamlin’s temper is infamous in Prythian, and although Rhys’s father never liked him, nor did he provoke him.

“Well maybe I will steal you away after all,” Rhys murmurs. Feyre gives a brittle laugh. “What?” Rhys asks. “Would it be so terrible to be a member of my court?” Feyre tilts her head.

“Do you know what my father says about your court?” she says.

“Tell me,” Rhys prompts. Feyre takes a deep breath and then sighs, her shoulders lifting and then slumping with the movement.

“He says, in the Night Court they torture people for fun. He says they are a savage people, who rip out the throats of their enemies with their teeth. He says they live in the dark do depraved things that are not fit to see the sunlight.”

Rhys watches her for a moment. Feyre is playing with the lapels of his jacket, and looks at her hands while she talks.

“Oh yes,” he says eventually. “We bathe in the blood of those we have conquered, and dance naked in the light of the moon.” Feyre looks up, alarmed for a second. And then she laughs, and so does Rhys.

“I’d like to see you dance naked,” she teases.

“Anything for you, little blossom,” he says, and yanks at the top buttons of his shirt. Feyre laughs again, and swats his hand away. Rhys says “shhhh” and waves her to be quiet, and Feyre buries her face in his shoulder and shakes with silent laughter. “It’s not funny!” Rhys says. “I’ll be hanged if I’m caught in here.”

Feyre lifts her face, suddenly serious. “Don’t go,” she says. Then she shakes her head, and looks down again. “You can’t stay. You should leave.”

“Okay I’m getting mixed messages here,” Rhys says, trying to meet her eyes. Feyre doesn’t look up. “Hey,” he says softly. “I’m going to get you out. And you can come live with me in the Night Court, and I’ll make you Queen of the darkness.”

Finally, Feyre raises her eyes and looks up at him through her lashes.

“I’ll run the revels,” she whispers.

“You’ll sever heads.”

“I’ll sharpen my teeth.”

“You’ll howl at the moon.”

“I’ll spill the wine.”

“You’ll rule them all.”

“And we’ll always be together.”

“And we’ll always be together.”

Feyre’s hands have tightened on the back of Rhys’s neck, and he loves the fierce light that has sparked in her eyes. He puts his lips next to Feyre’s ear.

“And then one day, we’ll come back here, and burn Tamlin’s house to the ground. And I’ll put you on the Spring throne where you belong.”

Feyre looks at him, and he watches a hundred dreams and nightmares flicker in the ocean of her eyes.

And then watches them all blow out.

“You should go,” Feyre says. She kisses him with her hands clenched in his collar. “You’re not safe here.”

“Neither are you,” Rhys tells her, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I’m safe,” Feyre says. “I’m just not free.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“I don’t know. But you should go before my father comes, he always makes sure I’m still here.”

“Okay,” Rhys says. “Just one thing before I go.” And then he pulls her mouth back to his.

Rhys kisses her slowly, at first. Takes his time committing the taste of her to memory, the curve of her bottom lip beneath his tongue. Feyre is so warm in his lap, and despite the direness of their situation, Rhys can’t muster any worry for it. Not right now. When his tongue finds Feyre’s, she makes the sweetest moan, and he wants to wrap around her body until there’s nothing between them.

Feyre shifts in his lap, and suddenly he’s on fire. She burns him everywhere she touches him, or maybe he’s burning from the inside. Rhys isn’t sure, but he’s pulling them back to lie down on Feyre’s plush blankets, and now she’s beneath him and she’s still kissing him like she’s trying to destroy him.

“Put your hands on me,” Feyre whispers to him, and Rhys doesn’t need to be told twice. He grips her hip, and then smooths his hand up her waist to her ribcage. His thumb strokes the underside of her breast, and he savours the shiver this elicits from her. Runs the pad of his thumb back and forth gently, before squeezing her whole breast in his hand. He can feel her nipple against his palm, and the two of them exhale in unison.

Rhys squeezes her again, and then breaks the kiss to watch her face as he tugs at the lace in the front of her dress. Feyre’s face flushes, and he can feel her heart thudding. But she arches her back up toward him, and he undoes enough of her bodice to be able to slide his hand under it. Feyre’s eyes close and her lips part, and Rhys kisses her again as he touches her bare skin.

“You feel perfect,” he tells her. “I am undone. You are perfect.”

Feyre pulls his face back to her, and the way his hips rock into her is completely involuntary. He moves his hand on her breast, licks his tongue against hers, and forgets his own name.

Reality comes crashing in, loud and unwelcome, a minute later.

“Fuck!” Rhys says, his head snapping up.

“What?” Feyre startles.

“I can hear your father coming.”

“What?”

Rhys rolls off of Feyre, and she pulls her dress back together. “Go now,” Feyre hisses.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Rhys promises, and slides his hands under her jaw to kiss her once more.

“Don’t,” Feyre says. “It’s too dangerous."

“I don’t care,” Rhys replies. “I love you.”

“Rhys…”

“Tell me tomorrow.” He winks, and winnows.

When Rhys gets home, the court is in turmoil.

“High Lord,” Azriel says in greeting. His brother only uses his title when the news is very bad.

“What is it Azriel? What’s happening?”

Cassian and Mor step into the room then, and they’re all wearing the same look on their faces. Rhys looks to the Shadowsinger.

“Hybern is on the move.”

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

[shayclov391]

Twisted Hearts Chapter 1

Ok so here is twisted hearts, the story of where Sora found himself at Twisted Wonderland 

hope you all enjoy, fair warning

this chapter is long 

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‘This feels…familiar…’ he thought as he felt himself drifting into an endless abyss, he opened his eyes as he finally felt the ground; he slowly got up as nothingness surrounds him.

“Ah…my dearly beloved”

Sora looks around, searching for the voice. Yet found no one. ‘Another dream?’ he says out loud and starts to walk on the darkness, this feels familiar for Sora but at the same time, it’s also unfamiliar to him.

“A lovely and noble flower of evil”

“Truly, you are the most beautiful of them all”

Sora starts to walk into the darkness to hopefully find something, anything. Soon, he hears horses carrying a carriage, he looks around and sees something in the distance coming his way, he starts to run towards it. As he was getting close, all the sudden heartless start to appear between him and what he can see is a carriage.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall...”

“Who is the most...”

Sora did not listen to the voice as the heartless start to get near him; he summons his key blade, the kingdom key, and starts to fight off the heartless. Striking and slashing the heartless while dodging the heartless from coming at him.

After finishing off the heartless, he noticed something one on the ground at the last heartless he has defeated, hi pick it up in curious, it looks like a pen with a chain that looks like it could be attached to his keyblade, curious, he attaches the chain to his keyblade, the keyblade glows and disappear which made Sora surprised. He tries to summon it his keyblade but nothing happens, which confused Sora, and before he can think about it. The carriage finally arrives in front of him.

A black carriage carrying an ornate circular mirror with glass a deep emerald color, and skeletal horses at the front skeletal horse, it nearly looks like it’s a carriage that goes to a funeral. Sora disperses his keyblade and looks at the carriage warily as its doors open; he looks inside to sees nobody in it, only a mirror. Cautiously, he steps into the carriage.

“Those who are guided by the dark mirror”

“As long as your heart desires, take the hand that appears in the mirror”

As soon as the voice says it, he noticed a strange eerie light coming from the mirror the carriage had, and a hand appeared before him from the mirror. Sora stares at the hand, he could hear his heart beating fast. He slowly takes it.

“For me. For them. For you. We are all running out of time! No matter what, never let go of my hand.”

All of the sudden, the hand-pulled him through the mirror. He starts to lose consciousness, and darkness takes over his vision.

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Sora could hear something banging on something else, he opens his eyes to see that he is somewhere dark, he outstretches one of his arms, only to be met with a wood surface, he starts to feel around and realized, that he is in a box.

He then hears a voice on the other side “Crap, people are coming... Gotta get a uniform while… grrrr! The lid is too heavy!” followed by a rattle from the outside, he goes to knock on the wood.

“Hey, is someone there? Can you get me out?” he attempts to yell, but it seems that the box is too thick, that it can’t be heard from the inside. He thought about using his key blade but, the keyblade would be too big in the tight space that he is in.

“Grrr..It’s no use, time for my secret technique!” Sora then felt the box heating up, he leans to the surface of the box and then it starts to open, making Sora fall off

“Whoaaa!”

“Ffggnnnaaaa!?”

Sora falls to the ground, he groans and looks up to see a grey-furred animal that looks like either a cat or a raccoon, but the creature has blue flames coming out of his ears, it sort of reminds him of Hades from the underworld.

He seems surprised seeing Sora wide awake “Why are you awake? You’re supposed to be asleep!” the cat…raccoon? Creature says.

“A cat?” he wonders out loud, the cat thing? Looks annoyed “Who are you calling a cat! I am the great Lord Grim, y’know!? Treat me with respect, you pitiful human!” Sora tilted his head in confusion as Grim got on all fours “Enough chit-chat! Gimme those clothes! Or else I’ll roast you!”

Sora looks at his clothes, surprised to see that he is not in his regular attire, but in a black robe with gold and purples trim and pattern “Where did I get this?” he checks out his clothes.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! Fgggnnnnaaaa!” Grim starts to run at Sora, and jumps to pounce on Sora, but Sora side steps, making Grim jump into the casket behind Sora.

“Gyahh!” The demon-cat-raccoon exclaimed when it face-planted to the cushioned casket.

“Sorry” Sora says, but then he starts running away from the room, as he runs, he looks around over where he is ‘am I in another world, that means I can find a way back to Destiny Island’ he thought as he runs through the rather gloomy hallway.

He soon finds himself in a library, where he sees some books are flying “Where am I?” he wonders and soon see a fireball head to his way, but he dodges last second and looks to see that the cat-raccoon animal headed to him.

“Hehehe…you think you can get away from me, you dumb human” Sora looks at Grim and frowns “You again, the cat-raccoon?” he still has no idea what Grim is as he stomps in frustration “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not a cat or a raccoon, I’m the great and powerful Grim, now gimme those clothes”

“I’m not gonna give it to you, and you're being rude” Sora says, crossing his arms while narrowing his eyes at Grim as the cat smirks “Then it’s time for me to roast you,” the blue flames on his ears begin to grow.

He inhaled and aimed his fire at Sora, but he quickly dodges it and gets into a battle stance but have not summoned his keyblade yet.

“Stop it, you’re gonna burn the place down” he says, but Grim smirks “Then give me your clothes now” he got on all four and jump to pouch Sora again.

And then out of nowhere, there was a sound of a cracked whip. “Eh?! That hurts! What’s this cord?!” Grim cried out, trying to break free from the restraint.

“It’s not a mere cord! It’s the whip of love!” A voice corrected Grim from the shadows. Sora eases his posture and looks behind him to see a silhouette figure that came closer to them.

Sora can see the man up close. He was wearing a top hat that had a little mirror on it; he is also wearing a suit and a cape, on his side has three mirrors and chains of keys, half of the man’s face is covered behind the black mask, but Sora could see the glowing yellow eyes beneath the mask.

“Aah, I finally found you! I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He sighed, disappointment written across his face. Sora looks at the man in confusion “Umm…I’m sorry?”

The man sighs and crosses his arm, still holding firm to the ‘whip of love’ and look at Grim “Also, having a familiar that you haven’t tamed is against the school rules!” this made Sora and Grim look at each other “He is not-“

“I’m nobodies’ familiar!” Grim looks at the headmaster while continue to struggle “Let me go!”

The man brushes off Grim’s comment “Yes, yes, every rebellious familiar always says that.” He raised his hand which has a golden claw on each finger, he made a zipping gesture “Now, please be quiet and let us have a converse in peace.”

“hhmmpp” Grim’s mouth magically zipped as the man turns to Sora, who just looks confused “However, it is unheard of for a student to be able to open their door by themselves” he looks at Sora with a small frown. “Hold on, I was in there until he opened it by force” Sora says, explaining himself “I see, so the familiar is to blame” The man looks at Grim “Well then, If you brought him here, then it is your responsibility to look after him.”

Sora and Grim look at each other again “But he's not-“

“Ah that’s right. Come, come now the entrance ceremony started long ago! Let us not be later than we already are!” the man says cutting Sora off and ushers the boy leaving the library carrying the still tied up Grim who continues to struggle.

Sora is very confused, where is he? Why is he here? And why did is his outfit change? The last thing he remembers is that he was fighting Yozora in some sort of tower, and then, after defeating Yozora, he finds himself back at final world, but after that it all went blank. He looks to the man in front of him.

“uhh, sir?” Sora called out earning the man’s attention “Where are we exactly?”

The man stops and looks at Sora in surprise “What’s this? Are you still dazed?” he placed a golden claw on his chin. “It appears the teleportation magic has left you disoriented; that is a common side effect; let me give you a brief explanation as we make our way to the ceremony, for I am so gracious!”

Sora tilted his head in confusion as the headmaster continued,

“This is Night Raven College!” he motioned to the school around them. “Magicians that are blessed with a unique aptitude for magic gather from all over the world, here at the most prestigious magical academy in Twisted Wonderland.” He turned back to Sora. “And I’m the headmaster, appointed to take care of this academy by the board chairman, Dire Crowley.” He turned back and continued the way to the ceremony. “Only those magicians seen as worthy by the Dark Mirror can attend this school, chosen ones use the gate and are summoned here from around the world…an Ebony carriage carrying a gate should have gone to meet you as well.”

Now that he mentions it, Sora did remember about something about a carriage in his dream. ‘Or maybe…it wasn’t a dream’ he thought as the Headmaster ushered Sora again; “Come now, we have an entrance ceremony to get to.”

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“—Now then, are the entrance ceremonies and dorm sorting finished?” Riddle says looking at the last first year that has been sorted to a dorm. He stood among the other dorm Perfects as the first years got sorted to their dorm. They’ve already made their introduction of themselves and their dorm.

Riddle looked at Azul who nod and lower the papers that the headmaster is holding “yes, I believe so”

Riddle nods and looks at the new Heartslabyul dorm student “Listen up, new students. I make the rules in Heartlabyul. Anyone who breaks them will lose their heads—do keep that in mind.” He said sternly.

Leona, the Savanaclaw Perfect yawned. “This boring ceremony is finally done.” He placed a hand on his hip as he looked at the first-years. “Let’s get back to the dorm. Savanaclaw, follow me” he said.

“To all the new students, I would like to congratulate you on your enrollment here! I hope each and every one  of you're able to live a fulfilling school life!” Azul says as he took a step forward. He might seem smiling. He folded his arms over his chest. “As the dorm leader of Octavinelle, I will support you as best as I can!”

Vil, the dorm Perfect of Pomefiore look at the others “By the way, where’s the Headmaster? He flew off in the middle of the ceremony”

Azul was about to answer but got cut off by Idia, the Perfect of Ignihyde,  he speaks through his floating tablet “He abandoned his duties…”

Kalim, the Perfect of Scarabia dorm looks curious “maybe he had a stomachache and has to go to the bathroom?” He suggested. But as soon as he says that, the door burst open, revealing the Headmaster.

“Not at all,” the Headmaster says, followed by a student that the dorm Perfects see has a very spiky brown hair. “Oh, he’s here” Riddle says and looks at the boy. The headmaster made his way to the mirror with the boy who looks around the room in curiosity.

“I can’t believe you all, we are missing one new student so I went to find him” the Headmaster says as Sora looks at him ‘wait, student? I’m in a school?’ he thought as the Headmaster turned to him.

“Now, you’re the only one who we have yet to assign to the dormitory. I shall watch over the raccoon, step in front of the dark mirror” he says gesturing the mirror which holds a tight grip to Grim who still trying to break free from the ‘lash of love.’

“Hhmmmpp” Grim muffled as Sora took a step towards the mirror that has a face.

“State thy name” the dark mirror says.

“my name is Sora” he replies, “Sora…the shape of thy soul is…” the mirror says before going  silent for a moment until it finally says:

“I do not know”

“Come again?” The Headmaster says, looking surprised

“Forsooth, I feel a strong wavelength of magic power from thee. The magic that is both ancient but not. The magic that does has been forgotten and no longer exists from this world. Howbeit, thou art’s soul is not eligible for any dormitory.” The dark mirror explained.

Sora could hear many students whispering and muttering about him as The Headmaster looked at the mirror in disbelief “magic that does not exist within this world? How could this possibly have happened?” he wondered; this gave Grim a chance to finally be freed by the lash.

“Then I’ll take their place, I’m even more powerful than some ancient magic, check this out” Grim start to prepare his fire magic “Everyone get down!” Riddle says as Grim start to set things on fire. The fire even hit Kalim’s butt “AH, HOT, HOT, MY BUTT IS ON FIRE” he screams, tries to put the fire out.

Sora quickly make his moves, he uses his hand to use to cast Watera on Kalim and onto the fire to put it out before turning to Grim, “hey stop that!” he says as he uses Stopra on Grim, making the raccoon-cat freeze with a time on his head for around 10 seconds counting down, “he’s frozen in time...” one of the students says, looking amazed.

“only for a few seconds, hurry!” Sora says as Riddle took out his magic pen “off with your head” he raised his magic pen and placed a heart-shaped collar on Grim as the timer reach zero.

“—fgnah Gaaah! What’s this?!” Grim tries to take the collar off, but to no avail.

“Rules number 23 of the Queen of Hearts: You must not bring cats into areas of festivities.” Riddle huffed and crossed his arms looking at Grim. “As you are a cat, trespassing here is a serious rule violation. We will have you leave immediately.”

“I’m not a cat! A cat can’t burn things like-” Sora is getting ready his water spell but pauses seeing Grim fail to start his fire spell. “W—What?! My fire… it won’t work!!”

Riddle just smirk as he put his magic pen away “Until I remove that collar, you won’t be able to use your magic. It will get removed once you’re thrown out of the school.”

“wow, as wonderful as ever, all magic was sealed by your unique magic, Riddle” Azul says praising Riddle “I want it…no I wouldn’t want that cast on me” his tone change midway.

“You must do something; he is your familiar!” The Headmaster glaring at Sora as he groans, “I’ve been trying to tell you, he is not my familiar”

“eh, he’s not” The Headmaster looks surprised but then clear his throat “*ahem* if that is the case, then would someone take it out of the school. We won’t turn you into a stew. For I am so gracious” one of the teacher nods and grabs Grim to take him out.

“Gyaaahhh! Lemme go! I’m definitely, definitely—! Going to become a great mage!” Grim says before the door closes on him, shutting out his complaints.

“Now I kinda feel bad for him,” Sora says feeling a bit guilty “don’t be, with your help, we have stopped the beast from making more damage to the school,” Azul says looking at Sora politely, ‘a magic that able to stop time, what powerful magic he has’ he thought.

“Well…I guess your right” Sora says still looking at the door. “Now that is out of the way, after a whole lot of unexpected events, I shall bring this entrance ceremony to a close. Dorm leader, please show the new students to their respective dormitory”

“Hm? Now that I think about it, I don’t see the Dorm leader of Disomnia, Mister Draconia, around at all” The Headmaster says, looking around for the missing dorm leader. Sora heard many people mutter as the dorm leaders seem to discuss how they forgot to invite Malleus Draconia to the ceremony. ‘Seems like he is very popular’ He thought as one student came up to take the Disonmia first years, and with that, the students, and the dorm leaders left, leaving only Sora and The Headmaster.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

The Headmaster cleared his throat “now then, um…I’m sorry, what is your last name?” Sora look at Crowley and scratch his hair “I don’t have a last name, but it’s fine to just call me Sora” The Headmaster nods “very well then Sora, as for the term on where you shall stay, I’m sure I can figure something out”

“Uumm… actually Headmaster, I think there has been a mistake, I just really wanted to head back home,” Sora says earning a surprised look from the Headmaster “A-are you certain? The Ebony Carriage has never once made a mistake, you are in a very prestigious school where many students can learn very powerful magic, not taking it would be a waste”

Sora nodded firmly “I’m sure of it, I have made my friends worried about me far too much, and while being in this school sounds exciting, I want to go home and get back to my friends”

Crowley looks conflicted, the boy is carrying ancient magic that is unheard of, with him and Mister Draconia in Night Raven College, it would give a very huge benefit for the school. However, by the look of this young man, he seems to be very determined to go, with a heavy sigh he nods “Very well then, The Dark Mirror will promptly send you back home.”

He guides Sora to the platform in front of the Dark Mirror again. Once the boy stood there, Crowley stood behind him, hand still on his shoulder. “Now, visualize your home very clearly…”

Sora closed his eyes and visualized his home, the beach, the Island, where his friends are waiting for him. The mask in the mirror appeared once again from the green smoke. “Now, Dark Mirror! Guide this child back to the place they belong to!”

…

…

The Headmaster cleared his throat in embarrassment. “One more time. Dark Mirror! Guide this-”

“It is nowhere,” The mirror says.

“What?” Crowley drops his hand from Sora’s shoulder as he opens his eyes, he looks a bit worried.

“Nowhere in this world does this one belong. There is nothing.” The Mirror says. Sora sighs, he can’t say that he is not surprised, but he figures that it won’t be that easy. He has disappeared because he used too much of his magic and went past the limit, he figured that getting home would be a challenge.

“Oh my, for all the years that I have been The Headmaster. This is the first time anything like this has happened. I’m not sure what to do...” He looks at Sora “where do you come from?”

“I’m from Destiny Island,” Sora says looking at him “Destiny Island, hmm, I never heard of an  Island by that name before” Sora sighs, “it’s alright, I guess I have to search my way back, I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” he says.

“hold on a second,” Crowley says “there is no way I’m letting a child go on his own, as an educator, throwing out a penniless youth who has no contact with their guardians would just break my heart. Since I am so kind!”

Sora look at him confused “umm ok?” Crowley then says in a bit of a cheery tone “how about you stay in the school for the time being. In the meantime, I will search for anything about your Island”

Sora looked at Crowley surprised. “Really?” The Headmaster nodded, “but of course. Ahh, how kind I am~! Aren’t I such an exemplary educator~?”

‘And as a bonus,  I get to have this student in my school, ah, how lucky I am’ he thought gleefully.

Sora looks at him a bit weird but he smiles, “thank you, I appreciate it” then he looks at The Headmaster curiously “But where can I stay?” Crowley smiles “No need to worry. I know a place where you can stay. It’s a little old, but a tasteful building.”

[artificialqueens]

wild flower, chapter five (shalaska) 5/11 - freyja

A/N: guys, this chapter was so fun to write. so fun. Thank you so much to Frey for betaing - I love her and you should too. Also - I’m always overwhelmed by the response I get for this story. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

What happens: Alaska’s starting to feel some less than appropriate feelings, she and Sharon have several Moments™ as a result, and things continue to turn for the worse.

🌸

“Can’t you hurry this up a bit? I hear they eat dinner in Hades at twelve sharp and I don’t aim to be late.” – Black Jack Ketchum, just before he was hanged at Clayton, New Mexico on April 26, 1901.

🌸

Alaska dreams of her hands on Sharon’s skin.

She doesn’t hesitate to brush Sharon’s ribs as she rewraps the bandages, placing a soothing hand on her warm side as she tightens them. She’s lost the fear she’d held before, and now all she can focus on is the way Sharon feels in her hands. She holds power, here, and it’s a nice change of pace to have Sharon be the vulnerable one, to be the protector for once.

She lifts her hand to tie off the bandages, already longing to feel Sharon underneath her hands again, longing to slide her hands further up, or further down. She resists, glancing at Sharon’s closed eyes as she pulls back to stand back up.

She’s just grabbing the whiskey when a hand suddenly closes around her wrist.

She startles, gaze snapping down to Sharon’s face to find her wide awake, frowning just slightly.

“Wait,” she says, voice rough. It makes Alaska’s stomach pitch strangely. “You’re done?”

Alaska puts the whiskey back on the ground, eyes never leaving Sharon’s. “Yes.”

“Thank fucking God,” Sharon says, closing her eyes and relaxing fully. “I could kiss you right now.”

“Why don’t you?” Alaska asks, already leaning forward. “I thought you were a woman who kept her word?”

“I didn’t promise you anything,” Sharon says, a teasing smile on her lips. Alaska stops, face six inches away from Sharon’s.

“You’re right. Guess you don’t owe me,” Alaska sighs, smirking at the frown that suddenly darkens Sharon’s face. “I’ll come back–”

“You’ll stay right here,” Sharon says, opening her eyes. Alaska hums, and she begins to pull away.

The hands looping around the back of her neck stop her from going anywhere, and she allows herself to be pulled down into a kiss with Sharon Needles.

It feels like something shifts into place within her.

Alaska sinks into the kiss, moaning into Sharon’s mouth as the other woman deepens it, pulling Alaska closer. Alaska breaks the kiss to swing her leg over Sharon’s torso, her bandages suddenly gone in favor of smooth, pale skin, and straddles her. Sharon’s hands instinctively go to her waist.

“It’s nice to be in control for once,” Alaska says, leaning down, voice hushed and a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“I kissed you, remember?” Sharon says, and then Alaska returns the favor.

Alaska melts into the roughness of the kiss, biting Sharon’s lower lip teasingly and smiling as Sharon groans. Sharon yanks Alaska’s shirt out from where it’s tucked into her skirt, hurriedly sliding her hands up over her ribs and down her sides. The chill of her hands sends goosebumps all over Alaska’s body, and she gasps, burying her fingers into Sharon’s thick, dark hair.

“Sharon,” she sighs, her other hand going–

She jerks awake, breathing hard and fast and hardly knowing which way is up.

She’s practically swimming in sweat, and her underwear is hopeless. Her sudden disorientation is enough to make the heat in her belly fade away, and her eyes get stuck on a dark shape in the corner of her eyes when she suddenly remembers where she is.

Sharon’s tent.

Adrenaline floods her instantly, and she’s scrambling away from the warmth at her side like it’s a rattlesnake, her body suddenly going cold with the realization.

If she’d said anything in her sleep, and if Sharon had heard her, she would turn herself in to Solomon without a second thought. She’d even tie her hands for him.

She stops when she’s about a foot away from Sharon, rigid with tension and hardly daring to breath. She keeps her eyes trained on Sharon, a lump of dread forming in her throat as she waits for a reaction.

There isn’t one.

Alaska allows herself to relax by increments, staring at Sharon and unwilling to close her eyes just yet.

Sharon is motionless.

Alaska shuts her eyes.

She lays there for around thirty seconds before Sharon mutters something incomprehensible, and Alaska freezes, her eyes snapping open. Was Sharon mocking her? The thought makes something indignant shoot through her fear, and when she finally works up the courage to turn her head towards Sharon after several moments of silence, it’s with a harsh defense on her tongue.

Sharon’s still asleep.

Alaska stares at her face, looking for any sign of consciousness, but the only thing unusual is the small furrow between Sharon’s eyebrows. Alaska frowns at it - the expression doesn’t fit with her teasing theory - and just as she’s getting ready to just open her mouth and ask, Sharon moves and startles her back into silence.

Sharon mutters something else, the words impossible to decipher. Her frown deepens, and Alaska can see her eyes moving rapidly behind her eyelids. She shifts again, turning her head just slightly away from Alaska.

“Bastard,” she mumbles, and it’s punctuated with a sort of gasping sob.

Alaska nearly jolts as she realizes: Sharon is having a nightmare.

She doesn’t know what to do. Waking her up seems dangerous, like provoking a scared animal into attacking, but as Sharon’s face morphs into something more distressed, she thinks that leaving her to her dream is cruel - even if Sharon had put Alaska right into a real life nightmare. She lifts herself onto her knees, leaning over Sharon.

“Sharon,” she whispers, hand going to touch the other woman’s shoulder. Sharon flinches violently, and Alaska jerks her hand away like she’s just been burned.

“Fuck off!” Sharon shouts, her words still slightly slurred. Alaska jumps at the sudden noise. “I didn’t–” She cuts off, and something about the silence is incredibly disturbing.

Alaska’s blood runs cold, a sick feeling in her stomach, and as she reaches out to shake Sharon awake, Sharon begins to thrash around, fists punching out without direction. Alaska shies away, afraid of getting hit, but the expression on Sharon’s face has her leaning back in.

Ironically, what wakes Sharon up is punching Alaska in the nose.

Alaska falls back with a shout, clutching her nose and blinking away the tears of pain rapidly springing up in her eyes. “Fuck!” she snaps out, and Sharon’s eyes fly open.

Alaska watches, feelings now more bitter than tender, as Sharon’s eyes dart all over the tent, disoriented. She waits patiently for Sharon to piece it all together, and there’s a sort of grim satisfaction that wells up within her when Sharon’s gaze finally lands on Alaska.

Her face flattens with realization. “Jesus,” she says, slowly raising herself up into a sitting position, gentle on her injury and looking at Alaska with a mixture of guilt and wry amusement. “This is why Jinkx sleeps with Alyssa and not with me.”

“I just thought she didn’t want to see your face first thing in the morning,” Alaska says, still waiting for an apology.

“That too,” Sharon says, rubbing her knuckles, and Alaska realizes that an apology isn’t coming. Rage is almost a warm comfort after the cold fear she’s been feeling since the moment she woke up.

“What the fuck even was that?” she snaps, voice a little more shrill than she would like. “I mean–?” She motions to her nose, and then to Sharon, arching her eyebrows in disbelief. “Who fucking does that?”

“You’re acting like I did it on purpose,” Sharon says dryly, and suddenly the bags under her eyes are a lot more visible in the moonlight leaking into the tent. Alaska ignores them in favor of making a face.

“Like it’s that out of character,” she says. “Roxxxy told me what you do to your hostages.”

“You’re not a hostage.”

“Does it matter?” Alaska cries, voice more nasally than usual with her hand over her nose. “You punched me!”

Sharon deflates. “You’re right,” she says, and she sounds sincere. “I’m sorry. Here, let me look at it.”

And without Alaska’s permission, she takes Alaska’s wrist and pulls it away from her face.

Sharon immediately grimaces, sucking a breath in through her teeth. “Fuck.”

“What?” Alaska asks, worried. Her hand flies up to touch her nose, but Sharon catches it before she’s three inches from her face.

“Don’t touch it,” she says, voice quiet and a frown of concentration on her face. Her eyes don’t move from Alaska’s nose. “You might make it worse.”

Fear makes Alaska’s heart stop. “Is it broken?” she nearly screeches, her nose throbbing in tandem with her heartbeat, and Sharon gives her wrist a little tug, glaring at her.

“Shh,” she hisses, glancing at the tent flap. “Do you want to wake the whole camp?”

Alaska tries not to stare at where Sharon’s fingers are still looped around her wrist, hyper aware of the warmth of Sharon’s skin on hers. She stills under the guise of allowing Sharon to examine her face, but she’s also afraid of scaring the contact away. “Does it look bad?” she asks, lowering her voice. Sharon squints at her, fingers tightening imperceptibly on Alaska’s arm as she leans closer.

“I can’t see well enough. Hold on.”

“If you broke my nose,” Alaska says as Sharon stands with some difficulty, the place where her hand had been cold on Alaska’s wrist, “I’ll scream for real.”

“I didn’t fuck up your face,” Sharon says, voice distracted. She makes her way over to the lantern, grabbing the box of matches. “I wouldn’t do that to myself.” She strikes the match as she says it, and a small, warm light appears with a scratch, flickering between Sharon’s fingers.

“What, you’ll miss this pretty face?” Alaska guesses as Sharon touches the match to the wick of the lantern. The flame grows, and as the tent floods with yellow light, Sharon turns to give Alaska a mischievous look.

“More like I don’t want to look at an ugly one,” she says, kneeling back down in front of Alaska and flicking away the used match.

Alaska makes a face at her. “Hilarious,” she says, and Sharon gives her a bright grin.

“It’s a talent,” she says, leaning forwards seemingly without the concept of personal space. Alaska can’t help but look at her, unable to tear her eyes away from Sharon’s messy hair and the pillow creases on her cheek, the dark bags under her eyes. She looks more beautiful than Alaska’s ever seen her.

Alaska’s breath catches at the thought, and when Sharon touches her wrist again, she jerks it away quickly. “Don’t touch me,” she murmurs, dropping her eyes down to her lap.

Sharon sits back, giving Alaska an unimpressed look. “Well,” she says. “I have to, if you want to find out if I broke your nose or not.”

Alaska glares at her, but it’s without heat. Her nose feels strangely warm, pain still aching through it. “Fine. But only my nose.”

“Noted,” Sharon says, clearly annoyed. “I’ll make sure not to scald you with my touch.”

“Thank you,” Alaska says primly, and she sits up a little, posture straight, in order to allow Sharon to reach her better.

Sharon scoots forwards a little, concentration slipping back over her expression, but she still raises her hands up in warning before she reaches towards Alaska’s face. Alaska holds her breath as Sharon’s hand grazes her jaw, already breaking the rule, to keep her steady while her other hand gently presses down the bridge of Alaska’s nose.

It hurts, and Alaska flinches a little at the initial contact. “Shit,” she hisses. “That hurts.”

“I’m sure,” Sharon says, taking her other hand off of Alaska’s jaw to press down the sides of her nose. Alaska pretends she doesn’t miss it. “It’s so fucking swollen. You could give Bozo a run for his money.”

“He can keep it,” Alaska says dryly, amused despite her possibly broken nose and the fact that Sharon just made fun of her. “I’m not interested in clownery.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Sharon says, scooting back again and giving Alaska a look so fond that she briefly breaks eye contact to stare at the tent wall. “It’s not broken.”

Alaska sighs a little, giddy with relief, dropping her perfect posture and giving Sharon a small smile. “Thank god, I thought I was about to have the third most severe injury out of four for Katya to heal.”

Sharon laughs, and Alaska shushes her with how loud it is. “Don’t discredit Morgan,” she says, eyes twinkling in the flickering light. “Thigh wounds can be nasty.”

Alaska snorts. “I meant you, you idiot, yours is barely big enough to be called a cut.”

“That was my next guess,” Sharon says, grinning. “Because last place certainly isn’t Detox.”

Alaska grimaces, her brief glimpse of Detox’s injury sombering her a little. “God, no.”

“How is she?”

“Detox?”

“Of course.”

“I…. She’s fine. Katya got the bullet out of her, so she says she’s out of the woods.”

Sharon’s expression softens with relief, though worry still lingers on the edges. “Thank fucking god,” she breathes out. Her face flickers with something like regret. “I shouldn’t even have to ask you. I should have been in there with her, with Katya.”

Alaska frowns at her. “You really care about them, don’t you?”

Sharon looks at her, something in her eyes sharp. “Of course I do,” she says shortly. “What, do you think I’m just making myself some sort of army?”

Alaska raises an eyebrow. “I did,” she says, and Sharon’s expression darkens. “But not for a long time. If you can count two days as a ‘long time’.”

Sharon deflates, her face relaxing. “When they feel this long? Yes,” she sighs. “And I do care. Even when I know they don’t want it.” She gives Alaska a significant look, and Alaska feels a flush creep up her neck. She looks away.

“Sounds like a waste of your time,” she says.

“It’s not.”

There’s a long moment of silence. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just build an army?” Alaska eventually asks, a little shaken by Sharon’s implied meaning. “To get less emotionally involved in the fight?”

Sharon tilts her head, frowning. “Maybe if the point was fighting Solomon,” she says, after a beat. “But it’s not.”

Alaska snorts. “Sure.”

Sharon tightens her lips. “It’s not,” she repeats, irritation creeping into her tone. “It’s about freedom. Nothing else.”

“Freedom doesn’t exist,” Alaska shoots back, her own frustrations rising with Sharon’s anger. “Everything has a price, and I don’t want to pay anything.”

Sharon frowns. “Alaska, you don’t have to pay–”

“I do,” Alaska stresses, looking at Sharon again. A lump lodges itself in her throat at the expression in Sharon’s eyes. It frightens Alaska, but she can’t look away. “I either have to sacrifice society or what I want, and we both know the right answer to that is what I want.”

“The law isn’t always right.”

“Then how do we know what is?” Alaska says, and she’s horrified to feel a tear drip down her cheek. She turns her face away quickly, wiping her cheek. It makes her nose ache terribly and she feels like sobbing. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

A hand touches her wrist. “Alaska–”

“Please,” Alaska says softly, pulling her wrist away. “I’m tired.”

“Alright,” Sharon says as Alaska lies down, her lip wobbling uncontrollably. “I’ll blow out the lantern.”

Alaska doesn’t shut her eyes until long after Sharon’s breathing evens out. She makes sure she’s as far away from Sharon as possible, turning her back to her and crying softly into the pillow they’d given her.

She misses home, but home is beginning to feel less and less familiar, and that’s more frightening than anything else.

🌸

Sharon obediently follows Katya’s instructions of a week of rest for about one more day, and then she starts getting restless.

It’s annoying.

“At least let me take a walk,” Sharon is saying over breakfast, food only half eaten. “If I can’t ride Cerrone somewhere, at least let me walk.”

“You’d tear your stitches if you rode a horse!” Jinkx says, looking at Sharon incredulously. “You can barely bend your waist to sit down! Don’t act like we’re being unreasonable!”

“I won’t tear my stitches walking,” Sharon argues. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not even supposed to be out of your tent,” Jinkx says, unimpressed. “You’re lucky you’ve gotten this far.”

“Don’t worry about Katya’s orders,” Sharon says, waving a hand dismissively. “She’s in town. We’re safe for the rest of the day.”

“Injuries don’t go away just because Katya isn’t here to take care of them, Sharon.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Sharon whines, but when Jinkx raises an eyebrow, she amends, “that badly.”

“You’re staying here,” Jinkx says, standing and dumping the rest of her food into the fire. “That’s final.” She holds a hand out for Sharon’s plate, and she passes it to her.

“I didn’t realize being injured meant I wasn’t in charge anymore,” Sharon says, and Jinkx shrugs as she tosses the food.

“We can talk when you start making responsible decisions,” she says, taking Alaska’s plate as well. “And this isn’t a good first step.”

“Funny,” Sharon says. “But I was making a joke. I’m still in charge, and I’m going on a walk.”

Jinkx presses her lips together. “Alone?” she asks, in a tone that suggests that she will not be letting that happen.

“No,” Sharon says. “With Alaska.”

Alaska stares at her. “What? No.”

“I want to show you something,” Sharon says earnestly, seemingly oblivious to Alaska’s tone, and to the fact that she’s been avoiding Sharon for the past day. At least, as much as you can avoid someone you’re sharing a tent with.

Their conversation two nights ago has been echoing in Alaska’s thoughts constantly, her fear of returning home and her fear of staying with Sha- in the camp battling each other only to make Alaska angrier, especially at Sharon. After snapping at the other woman when they’d both woken up, Alaska’s nose still tender, she’d hung around Jinkx and then Katya, when Jinkx was with Sharon.

Unfortunately, Katya is in town, likely for a while, given the sneaky whisper about Trixie Katya had put in her ear, and Jinkx likes to take breakfast with Sharon. Sharon hasn’t even seemed to notice Alaska’s avoidance, and that somehow makes it all worse.

“I don’t….” Alaska trails off, wanting to argue, but suddenly blanking on an excuse. She has to give in if she doesn’t want to start a scene, and it’s with obvious resentment that she says, “I, um. Fine.”

“I’m taking Alaska,” Sharon decides, and she stands up slowly, wincing as her stitches stretch a little.

“This is a bad idea,” Jinkx says, watching Sharon struggle to straighten her posture. “And you’re an idiot.”

“What could happen?”

“Cougars, the law, um, Solomon’s gang, whatever Katya thinks might happen… there’s a list of things.”

“Why don’t you come, Jinkx?” Alaska asks sweetly, Jinkx’s warnings working better on her than they do on their actual target. “Sharon can’t draw her gun quickly, and I don’t even know how to work one.”

“Oh,” Jinkx says, raising her eyebrows and letting out a wry chuckle. “I’m not endorsing this. And I can’t shoot, either - if Sharon’s in danger, she’ll have to save herself.”

“Love you too, Jinkxie.” Sharon says, and she turns, motioning for Alaska to follow. “We won’t be gone long, anyway.”

“Thank god,” Alaska mutters, catching up to Sharon. Sharon glances at her.

“I heard that.”

“You think I care?” Alaska asks darkly, and Sharon’s smirk makes an appearance.

“At least a little.”

Alaska looks at her, her cheeks growing warm before she can even think of a response, her strange attachment to the camp and to Sharon the last thing she wants to think about right now. “No,” she says. “I’m not doing this.” She speeds up ahead of Sharon, easy due to Sharon’s injury, but the edge of the clearing stops her only a few seconds later.

“You don’t even know where we’re going!” Sharon says, by her side again almost immediately. “I don’t –”

“Wait!” A voice interrupts her, and they turn around to find Jinkx jogging towards them, something in her hands. As she draws nearer, Alaska can make out the shape of a pistol.

“Alaska,” Jinkx says, shoving it into Alaska’s hand. “Take this. You flick the safety and then you shoot. Aim with your hips.” Alaska takes it automatically, the gun a strangely comfortable weight in her hands, but before she can say anything, Jinkx is turning to Sharon with urgency.

“Shaz,” she says, taking Sharon’s hands in hers and squeezing tightly. Alaska feels a strange spark of irritation at the contact. “You’re an idiot. Please don’t go too far.”

“I’m too afraid of Katya to go farther than a mile,” Sharon jokes, although her voice is soft. “And I doubt I can walk that far, anyway.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just the field.”

Jinkx frowns at Sharon a little. “You’re showing her the field?”

Sharon smirks. “Why not?”

Jinkx gives her a look that Alaska can’t quite decipher, and it only makes her more irritated. She hates being out of the loop. “Just be back in two hours, and don’t get killed. If you’re not, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Noted,” Sharon says, and Jinkx gives her hands one last squeeze before turning to leave.

“Alaska,” she says, after she takes a few steps away. “Flick the safety, aim with your hips, and pull the trigger.”

“And I’m taking gun advice from you because?”

“Because Sharon’s a terrible teacher, and I’m the next best thing.” And with that, she’s gone. Alaska finds herself relieved.

Sharon frowns after Jinkx. “I’m a good teacher,” she says a little petulantly, glancing at Alaska. “At least - I’m not terrible.”

“Whatever,” Alaska mutters, ready to be done with Jinkx and to get to this ‘field’, her curiosity admittedly sparked. “Are we going?”

Sharon glances at the gun Alaska’s holding, looking skeptical. “Promise not to shoot me with that thing?”

“I won’t,” Alaska says, “I wouldn’t know how to, anyway.” She waves the gun for emphasis only to have Sharon still her movement by grabbing her wrist.

“That’s a good way to shoot one or both of us,” Sharon says, letting go before Alaska can jerk away. She’s smiling, laughter coloring her words, and it’s such a pleasant change from the whining they’d all been putting up with for the past day and a half that Alaska smiles back.

“Sorry.”

“Here,” Sharon says. “Put it in your waistband.” She taps Alaska just above where the waist of her skirt ends with the back of her hand, and Alaska slaps it away. Sharon just cackles.

“Fine,” Alaska says, upset with the heat in her face. “Just - don’t do that again.”

Sharon laughs. “I’ll try not to.”

Alaska tucks the barrel of the gun into her skirt, the handle sticking out, and then they start down the path to the creek in a comfortable silence.

“You interrupted my bath, you know,” Alaska says airily as they walk along the creekside, never one to tolerate much silence.

“Hm?”

“When you all came storming the camp.”

“Are you asking for an apology?” Sharon asks after a beat. She glances back at Alaska with a disbelieving smile. “For interrupting your bath?”

Alaska nearly rushes to apologize, but something about the way Sharon’s eyes sparkle makes amusement bubble up in her chest instead. “I wasn’t,” Alaska says, smirking. “But now that you mention it….”

“You are!” Sharon cries, but the grin on her face gives her away. “I was shot, and you’re thinking about your bath?”

“I heard somewhere that it was just a graze,” Alaska says, and Sharon cackles.

“Apparently,” she says as they reach a small hill, “grazes can be pretty serious.”

“Tell that to the woman who’s climbing a hill right now,” Alaska says as Sharon starts up, her hand almost instantly going to cover her ribs.

“I’ll tell her when it proves to be a problem,” Sharon says once she reaches the top, more out of breath than she should be. Her hand still covers her injury as she looks down at Alaska. Alaska shakes her head.

“What?” Sharon asks, widening her eyes with mock innocence. “The field’s just right here. Come on.”

Alaska sighs, but she starts up the hill, reaching the top much faster than Sharon had.

What she sees on the other side takes her breath away.

A field of wildflowers stretches out as far as she can see, breaking away from the pine trees and surrounded by green hills, their ridges covered in an ocean of long grass that waves when the breeze blows. The mountains stand tall, closer than they’d looked from her uncle’s house, and the foggy blue of them compliments the pale pinks and purples, the bright yellows and blues of the flowers bobbing in the wind.

She drinks in the sight, but instead of forgetting Sharon, knowing that the other woman is with her almost seems to enhance the beauty of the scene.

“You like it?” Sharon asks, and Alaska turns to look at her. She’s almost as beautiful as the scene before them, her blue eyes catching the sunlight and the wind playing with her hair, and Alaska takes more than a few moments to gather her thoughts. Sharon smirks, looking entirely pleased with herself. “You do.”

Alaska can’t even pretend to deny it. “How did you find this place?” she asks, looking back out over the field. The wind blowing through the grass is the only sound Alaska can hear, and it feels like she and Sharon are the only people in the world.

“Jinkx and I found it around a year ago,” Sharon says, her voice softened. “We’d just found the campsite and were doing a parameter check when we stumbled across this.”

Alaska feels suddenly as if she’s crashed back down to Earth, the mention of Jinkx making the colors of the wildflowers more real and less entrancing. She ignores the way her heart drops, a little confused at the feeling. It was stupid to think that she would be the first person Sharon told about the field - it’s stupid to want it.

“Well,” Alaska says, still looking out at the flowers and reluctant to even glance at Sharon lest her idiotic disappointment show on her face. “We should probably head back, now that we’ve seen it.”

“No!” Sharon says, and Alaska finally looks at her to find a disbelieving expression on her face. “You don’t want to go in?”

“And do what?”

“Pick some! Jinkx likes to stick them in her hat like some sort of storybook character,” Sharon says, already starting down the hill.

Alaska rolls her eyes, and she twists her mouth into an annoyed curl. “Well, if it’s for Jinkx, then I guess I– Sharon!” she shrieks, horrified, as Sharon stumbles and falls, landing hard on her side and rolling down the rest of the hill and into the wildflowers.

Alaska is after her without a second thought.

“Sharon? Sharon,” Alaska says, at Sharon’s side in an instant. She falls to her knees, the bent wildflowers acting as a nice sort of cushion. “Are you alright? Let me see your bandages.”

“I’m fine,” Sharon says, laughing a little, but her voice is stressed and she can’t quite keep the grimace off of her face. “I don’t think I landed on it.” Alaska can see her hand fluttering over her ribcage, however, too afraid to touch the injury even gently, and she slaps the hand away.

“Don’t touch it,” she snaps. She goes to untuck Sharon’s shirt, but Sharon stops her, grabbing her hand with both of her own.

“It’s fine, Alaska,” Sharon says, brow still furrowed with pain. “I’m–”

“You have to be a better liar than that,” Alaska says dryly, tugging her hand out of Sharon’s. “Now. Let me see your bandages.”

Sharon pouts, throwing an arm over her eyes. “Go ahead,” she says, shrugging. “Turn it into a production.”

“That must take a lot of effort,” Alaska says, gently tugging Sharon’s shirt out of her pants and trying to ignore the way her heartbeat elevates as Sharon’s smooth skin comes into view. Her dream comes to mind, unbidden, as it has for the past two days, but with Sharon right in front of her…. Ignore it, Alaska.

“What?”

“Blaming other people for the results of your mistakes.”

“Funny,” Sharon says, but despite the sarcasm her mouth curls up a tiny bit. Alaska’s heart skips a beat at the sight, and she tries to keep her hands from shaking as she pushes Sharon’s shirt up her torso, revealing the fresh bandages Katya had put on that morning.

Except, they aren’t white anymore.

“Sharon,” Alaska says, heart dropping. “I think you tore your stitches.”

Sharon lets out a short laugh. “Feels like it.”

“The stain is still pretty small,” Alaska tells her, worry and adrenaline flooding her system. She needs to do something. Now. “We should start heading back now before it gets any worse.”

She starts standing, but Sharon grabs her arm before she can straighten her legs, forcing her back onto her knees.

“Lasky,” Sharon says, and Alaska blushes at the nickname, too flustered and panicked to feel irritated. “It’s fine. If the stain is small we can afford to just lie here a moment.”

“We shouldn’t be risking anything,” Alaska says. “We shouldn’t –”

“Alaska,” Sharon says, and Alaska doesn’t know what to do with the expression that crosses the other woman’s face. “Let’s enjoy this. I want to enjoy this, just for a little while. With you.”

The last two words make Alaska’s breath stutter. “With me,” she repeats, voice soft.

“You’re a bad influence,” Sharon says, smirking. “I’m not normally one to break the rules.”

Alaska snorts. “I’m sure,” she says. “That lines up.”

She looks around at the wildflowers and how they sway in the cool breeze, and she glances at the two small red dots on Sharon’s bandages.

“Five minutes,” Alaska says, lying down. The flower stems and the grass prick her arms uncomfortably, but it’s easy to forget once she looks over at Sharon and sees the bright grin on her face.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Sharon says, and Alaska swats her arm gently, fondness rushing over her without warning.

“Are you telling me you lied to get your way?”

“I didn’t say I lied,” Sharon says, expression softening, and Alaska suddenly can’t look at her anymore.

“If that’s true,” Alaska says, putting as much skepticism into her voice as she can. Her heart is thrumming with nerves, the question she’s about to ask a scary one. “Why me? Why not - why not Jinkx?”

“Didn’t you hear Jinkx vehemently reject coming with me?”

Alaska looks at her to show her that she means the question, and Sharon’s expression relaxes into something serious.

“Because you’re the only thing that’s more beautiful than these flowers.”

Alaska needs to kiss her.

The feeling comes on so suddenly and strongly that she’s turning towards Sharon without a second thought, her hand coming up to brush Sharon’s cheek, but she’s jerked back into rational thought when Sharon abruptly flinches, her eyes flicking up above Alaska’s head.

“Sorry,” Alaska blurts out, jerking away like she’s been burned. Fear and regret are chunks of ice in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t–”

“Shhh,” Sharon hisses harshly, her eyes staying steady above Alaska’s head. Alaska freezes, fear dripping slowly into her veins. She stares at Sharon’s face, waiting for some explanation. Sharon nods behind her, and Alaska slowly turns to look.

A man on a horse stands at the top of the ridge behind her.

He’s small, with the distance, but it’s still the most frightening image Alaska has ever seen.

She looks back at Sharon to find her reaching for her gun holster, before she falters, muffling a cry of pain by pressing her lips together. She drops her hand, instead looking at Alaska urgently.

“I don’t think he sees us,” she whispers lowly. “But you need to draw your gun.”

Alaska blanks for a moment before she remembers that she has Jinkx’s pistol tucked into her skirt, and she pulls it out. She attempts to flick the safety off, but her hands are shaking so badly that it takes her several tries.

“Don’t shoot unless I say so,” Sharon whispers again. Alaska nods, heart pounding so hard she feels like she might puke.

She rolls over slowly, aiming the gun as best she can at the man, too tense to shake terribly, but still shaking. She closes one eye and lines the gun up with the man’s head, copying what she’d seen Alyssa Edwards do as a child. She can only hope Alyssa had done it right.

They remain stock still for what feels like hours, nausea burning at the back of Alaska’s throat and her finger a hairpin away from pulling the trigger, until the man finally trots away on his horse, apparently unaware that he’d been witness to anything other than the flowers.

As soon as he’s vanished from sight Alaska drops the gun, hands shaking so terribly that she can barely get a good grip on it.

“Alaska?” Sharon asks, voice still low, as Alaska stumbles to her feet, staggering a few yards away to puke into a bundle of blue sage.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasps out, wiping her mouth. “Who was that?”

“Probably just a mountain man,” Sharon says, attempting to sit up before falling back with a cry of pain. “But he could have been a lawman.”

“A lawman?” Alaska says faintly. “I almost shot-?”

“Get over yourself,” Sharon says, voice suddenly harsh. “Yeah, you almost shot a lawman. He would have shot you if he’d been given the chance.”

“I’m a civilian,” Alaska says, still a little queasy. She can’t believe she almost shot a lawman. A good man. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Being with me is enough,” Sharon says, bitterness creeping into her tone. “Trust me.”

“Like I would ever trust you,” Alaska sneers, irritation coming in hard and fast at Sharon’s unintentional innuendo. She can’t believe she’d been about to kiss– she feels sick to her stomach again.

Sharon is silent for a beat. “Tough,” she eventually says. “Because I’m your best bet. Now, let’s get back to camp.”

They stare at each other for a long second, scowling, before Alaska sighs her defeat, rationality kicking in.

Renewed anger still churns in her gut as she moves to help Sharon up, residual panic making her move quickly, and she lets go of Sharon’s hands the moment she’s on her feet.

She hates Sharon. She hates this life, hates what it brings out in her, and she wants to go back to where things make sense.

Back to where she’s nervous to shoot a man because it would be murder, and not because she’s afraid she’ll miss.

🌸

Alaska isn’t in the mood to talk on the way back to camp, and so they spend most of the journey in silence, Sharon in too much pain to say much anyway. Alaska would make space between them as they walked as well, except Sharon has to cling to Alaska’s arm like an older woman does with her husband, straightening her posture too much for her injury to handle. Alaska tries not to think about Sharon’s warm hands on her arm and instead thinks as hard as she can about the gun tucked into her waistband.

It’s easy to avoid Sharon when they get back to camp. Alaska elects to shove Jinkx’s gun back at her wordlessly, instead of following Sharon and a now-returned Katya into their tent, and she makes sure to stay away from anyone and everyone as much as she can. It leaves her lingering alone by the fire long after dark, sitting on a log and warming her hands over the dwindling fire, and it’s how Jinkx finds her around an hour after Katya goes to bed.

Alaska just looks at Jinkx when she sees her come into the fire pit, the thought of talking to someone, especially Jinkx, less than desirable. Jinkx pauses at her stare for a moment.

She gives her a long, searching look back before she suddenly turns to the fire, ladling whatever is in the pot into a mug. She holds it out to Alaska.

“Coffee?”

Alaska looks at her. “Thanks,” she says, after a moment, and she takes it. The metal is warm in her hands, and she doesn’t dare to sip it yet, fearing it will burn her tongue.

“What are you still doing up?” Jinkx asks, settling next to Alaska on the log she’s on. Alaska glares into the mug, irritated by the question.

“I could ask the same thing.”

“I asked first,” Jinkx says. “But I think I can answer easier. I have first watch.”

“You have watches?”

“Why do you think Sharon caught you that first night?” Jinkx asks, laughing a little, and Alaska snorts, irritation forgotten.

“I thought she just knew,” Alaska says. “She already seemed to know so much - it felt like she was some sort of witch.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s much of a stretch,” Jinkx giggles, smiling slowly. “Have you heard her laugh?”

“Who hasn’t?” Alaska cries. “You could hear it for miles!”

Jinkx laughs at that, her own mug of coffee sloshing dangerously. “We love it, though,” she adds, and Alaska opens her mouth to agree before she catches herself. Associating ‘love’ with Sharon doesn’t feel like a safe thing to do, and the fear from earlier helps her work her anger back up.

“Speak for yourself,” she says instead, forcing the smile off of her face. It only makes Jinkx laugh again.

“Is this why you and Sharon didn’t come back with flowers?” she asks. “Did you offend each other too much?”

Alaska feels a truer irritation spark at the mention of the field, the bond Jinkx and Sharon seem only seeming to annoy her further. “Yeah,” she says, staring into her coffee. “That’s what happened.”

“It clearly isn’t,” Jinkx says, still smiling. “Is it that embarrassing? Were you doing something else? Sharon’s stitches were torn somehow–”

“I almost shot someone,” Alaska blurts out, irritated, and a spike of adrenaline shooting through her heart at the implication that Sharon’s stitches were torn by something other than falling down the hill. Almost immediately a lump of tears wedges itself in her throat, the shocked numbness she’d been feeling all day suddenly wearing off.

“Oh,” Jinkx says, surprised.

“There was a man,” Alaska continues, voice wobbling. “He was just watching us. Sharon told me to aim m– the gun because she couldn’t, and I was this close to pulling the trigger.” She stumbles over her words, the ‘my’ nearly slipping out without a thought.

She doesn’t have a gun, and sometimes that feels like the only thing that separates her from these women.

“I doubt you would have hit him,” Jinkx says, and Alaska looks at her.

“Does it matter?” she asks, voice quiet in an effort to keep it from breaking. “I was - I was ready to murder someone. I didn’t even think twice about it.”

“Alaska,” Jinkx says, and Alaska nearly jumps at the hand that lands on her back. “You weren’t ready to murder someone. You were ready to defend yourself.”

“No,” Alaska says, dropping her eyes to their feet. “I was–”

“You were doing what was necessary.”

“I don’t even know if he was part of the law, Jinkx. I could have shot a man for no reason at all.”

“Sharon would have made sure,” Jinkx says, voice almost as low as Alaska’s. “But you had to be prepared. You couldn’t have done anything else.”

“I could have let him arrest us,” Alaska says. “Or let him come closer, so that he could see there was nothing wrong.”

“Tell me, Alaska,” Jinkx says, tone a little harder. “Can you say with complete confidence that he wouldn’t have just shot you first?”

“What? He wouldn’t have,” Alaska says, looking back at Jinkx’s face. The other woman’s expression is serious, head bent to try and catch her eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“He would have seen Sharon’s face,” Jinkx says. “And he would have shot her.”

“She’s wanted dead or alive,” Alaska says, but her stomach flips over at the thought of Sharon, lying helpless in the flowers, getting shot point blank by some stranger, and all for a reward. It’s a disturbing thought, and it sticks - she couldn’t wipe it away even if she tried.

“You say you don’t want to murder,” Jinkx says, voice suddenly hard. She stands up, a peculiar expression on her face. It takes Alaska a moment to realize that it’s betrayal. “So what about that makes it okay?”

Alaska startles a little at the shift. “I–” Alaska stutters, and she stands up as well. “It’s - it doesn’t - I don’t know.  But I have to trust the law.”

“The law isn’t always right,” Jinkx says, but she deflates a little, the anger on her face fading quickly into something more like disappointment. It makes guilt curdle in Alaska’s stomach.

“If I had a dime every time I heard that,” she jokes weakly, and Jinkx just looks at her.

“I think you have some things to think about,” she says. “You need to develop your own ideas, Alaska, before I can respect them. Get some sleep.”

Alaska flushes, insulted. “You think I don’t know my own morals?” she asks heatedly.

“I know you don’t,” Jinkx says. “Go to bed.”

Alaska doesn’t know how to respond, and, still fuming, she pours out her coffee and goes to bed.

🌸

Alaska wakes up feeling the most comfortable she’s been since New York.

She sighs happily, not bothering to open her eyes, and snuggling further into her pillow, pleasantly warm even with the lingering chill the mornings at camp carry. She moves the arm she has wrapped around the pillow a little further down, nearly drifting off again, until her pillow makes a small, pained noise.

Alaska’s eyes shoot open to find that she isn’t, in fact, lying on her pillow that magically grew overnight - she’s lying on Sharon.

Alaska’s blood goes cold, and suddenly Sharon’s pleasant warmth feels useless.

Alaska jerks away on instinct, horrified, only to find that Sharon’s arm had looped around her somewhat. She can’t go far, but she yanks on Sharon’s arm, and Sharon awakens with a pained gasp.

“Jesus fuck!” she hisses, pulling her arm back quickly, and Alaska freezes, afraid of making the situation worse.

“Sorry!” she blurts out, still just inches away from Sharon and sweaty with nerves. Sharon flinches, whipping her head around to stare at Alaska.

“Alaska?” she asks, frowning, and Alaska feels a blush run all the way up her neck to her cheeks. She wouldn’t be surprised if her forehead was red, too. She’s speechless. “Is that your hand on my–?”

Alaska snatches her hand back from where it was resting on the curve of Sharon’s waist. “Who else’s would it be?” she snaps back, and Sharon raises her eyebrows.

“Jesus, if you wanted to do–”

“I don’t want to do anything,” Alaska interrupts, alarmed. She scoots back further, putting around a foot of distance between them and trying to ignore the way the cool morning air makes her shiver. She will not long for Sharon’s body heat. She will not.

“You were awfully close,” Sharon tells her, smirking. “You wanted to do something.”

“It’s cold,” Alaska sniffs. “It’s basic survival to want to be close to the warmest thing around.”

She waits for Sharon to shoot something back, her own ‘and I know a way to make things even warmer’ haunting her mind, but Sharon frowns instead.

“It’s cold–? For Christ’s sake, I’m sweating. Are you feeling alright?”

Alaska frowns back at her, shivering a little. “What are you talking about? It’s always cold in the mornings.”

“Not every morning,” Sharon says, and she motions to Alaska with her right arm, her left still covering her ribs. “Look, you’re sweating.”

“Only because you were so warm,” Alaska says, and it’s true. Sharon had seemed comfortably warm compared to the morning chill, but now that Alaska is looking, she can see that Sharon is also sweating, and realizes that she was unreasonably warm. She narrows her eyes at Sharon’s flushed cheeks, bright against her otherwise pallid skin. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just a headache,” Sharon says, pressing the palm of her hand into her forehead. A few strands of hair have plastered themselves against Sharon’s skin, dark ribbons against marble. “Nothing new there. And it’s so goddamn hot.”

Alaska sits up, cold and embarrassment forgotten in the name of concern. “It isn’t hot,” she says, coming closer. “I think you might have a fever.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sharon mumbles, eyes still shut.

“Let me feel your forehead.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Alaska asks, exasperation coming on quickly. “Do you have to make everything difficult?”

Sharon just shrugs, and suddenly, Alaska is over it.

“I’m getting breakfast,” she snaps, standing up. “Have fun sweating by yourself.”

Alaska ducks out of the tent as soon as she’s finished, Sharon’s ‘I’m used to it!’ following her out like a trail of cigarette smoke. She hesitates by the door, guilt a small prickle in her conscience.

Sharon’s fine. She would say otherwise if she wasn’t.

It’s not true, but the idea of going back into the tent sends a jostle of emotions through Alaska - fear, excitement, anger, fear - and all it does is make her irritable. What was she even thinking, trying to feel Sharon’s forehead like some worried housewife?

She storms off to where Katya and Alyssa are huddled by the fire, the meager ingredients for breakfast strewn next to them on the grass, and promises to herself that she’ll go see Sharon after breakfast if Katya doesn’t first. It appeases both the irritation boiling in her chest and the twinge of guilt in her gut, and she arrives behind the other women feeling fairly self satisfied.

Katya is in the middle of speaking, voice lowered in order to not wake the women still sleeping in tents, the sun having only just peaked out above the horizon.

“We need money,” she’s saying, Alyssa nodding with her lips pursed worriedly. “But with Sharon and Detox down I’m not sure we’re going to be able to–”

“Alaska!” Alyssa interrupts, noticing her first with a coincidental glance behind her. “Baby! I pegged you as a sleeping beauty - what are you doin’ up so early?”

“Your omnipotence is failing you,” Alaska tells her, even though she’s right. The mention of how early it is has exhaustion tugging a yawn out of her, but she holds it back, unwilling to discuss why she’s up and out of the tent so early.

“Excuse me?” Alyssa asks, widening her eyes in offense. She turns to look at Katya. “‘Omnipit’– is she trying to get a dig at me?”

Katya laughs, her wide grin bright. “You wish. She’s saying you are not psychic like you say, but something tells me she’s lying.”

Alaska frowns at her, pulling the corners of her lips down in confusion. “What?”

“You’re a late sleeper,” Katya says. “Obviously. You’re just up because you fought with Sharon again.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Alaska cries over Alyssa’s cackles.

“I have my ways,” Katya says mysteriously, sitting down on the tree stump closest to the fire. “Now. Tell us what it was about.”

“I don’t think–”

“Come on, girl!” Alyssa says, giving her a crooked smile. “There ain’t no secrets here, even with Sharon.”

Alaska looks between them, defeated, and Katya gives her a sly smile when she starts talking. “It - I just - Sharon didn’t let me feel her forehead,” she finally gets out, feeling incredibly stupid. Alyssa laughs, but instead of the wheezing laughter Alaska expects to accompany it, Katya frowns.

“Why would you need to feel her forehead?” she asks, standing.

“She was sweating,” Alaska says.

“But it’s freezing,” Alyssa points out, tugging her shawl tighter around her.

“You think she has a fever?” Katya asks, her face growing pale. It sends a spike of alarm through Alaska, and her heart begins to pound as she stares at the other woman.

“She might,” she says. “I figured she’d be fine for a couple of hours.”

“Shit,” Katya hisses, and she points at Alyssa. “Alyssa, get my kit. I’ll be in Sharon’s tent. Alaska, come with me.”

“Why?” Alaska asks, following Katya closely as she walks briskly to Sharon’s tent. Her heart feels like it’s going to beat itself out of her chest, her twinge of guilt multiplying tenfold. “It’s just a fever–”

Katya pauses just before she pulls open the tent flap, looking at Alaska with urgency and too much worry in her eyes. It makes Alaska’s stomach bottom out, the world seeming to slow down around her as Katya tells her what she has to say.

“If she has an infection, it’s not just a fever.”

“And if she has an infection….” Alaska starts, feeling like she’s a little out of her body, realization starting to dawn on her. She feels so stupid.

Katya looks at her, a strange expression of anger and sympathy on her face. Alaska can’t begin to think of who either might be directed at as Katya finishes her thought, voice unusually soft:

“And if she has an infection, she might die.”

[wish-upon-a-sapphic-star]

Chapter 2: The Snake

Part 1 AO3

~

“You alright, Love?”

Remus snaps his head towards Sirius, blinking a few times. He has been staring at the wall for so long it’s difficult to keep his eyes focused. “Yeah, sorry. Just... thinking.”

“Liar.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re lying. I know what your thinking face looks like.” Sirius reaches up and traces the crease in Remus’ brow. “This is your worrying face.”

Remus laughs, though there isn’t much humor in it. “You know me too well.”

“Maybe a little.” Sirius smiles. “But I still can’t read minds. Tell me what you’re worried about.”

“The wedding,” Remus sighs.

“Really? Because I thought it went perfectly.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“The torch,” Sirius concedes.

“Yeah.”

“Again.”

“Yeah.”

Sirius takes Remus’ hands in his own. “I know you’re worried, but it’s been two months, and we’re fine. I really don’t think it meant anything.”

Remus shakes his head, staring at his feet. That’s not how these things work. A god was present at their wedding, and it was his torch that went out. That’s not something to be taken lightly. “You don’t know that.”

“No, I don’t. But…” He looks down at their hands, then back at Remus. “Look at me.”

Remus lifts his head and their eyes meet.

“I love you. More than anything in the world. The only thing that can keep me apart from you is death.”

Remus’ heart pounds in fear. “Don’t. Don’t say that. Don’t tempt fate like that.”

Sirius makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, come on. It was just a torch!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Remus rips his hands from Sirius’ grasp and rubs his temples in an attempt to keep his headache at bay. He can’t remember the last time he got a full night’s rest. “This is the gods we are talking about, Sirius. Nothing is just anything. There’s always a deeper meaning behind it. Always.”

“Maybe there wasn’t this time,” Sirius says, voice hushed.

“You don’t know what it’s like.” His heart feels like it’s cracking apart. “I grew up surrounded by gods. There are no coincidences. There are no mistakes.”

Sirius looks at him with sorrow in his eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.

Remus wants to say it will be alright, that it is nothing, that Sirius was right. But Sirius needs to know just who they’re dealing with. He needs to know what may come. What will come.

“Hymen’s torch went out on our wedding day. That is an omen.”

~

I really don’t think it meant anything.

Sirius’ words echo in Remus’ head a million times, a cruel reminder of the life he never truly had. The life he has lost.

He is numb. This is shock, he knows, but that doesn’t mean he can think around it, feel around it. Everything is still.

Just as still as the lifeless body on the table before him.

He is dead, the healer pronounced. That was some time ago. Remus hasn’t moved since.

He is dead. Sirius is dead.

Remus’ eyes shift back to the snake bite on Sirius’ ankle. One bite and he was dead, the venom coursing through his veins and leaving him choking on his own breath. One bite and everything Remus loved was taken away from him.

He does not understand. Every second he expects Sirius to open his eyes, to tell him it wasn’t real and they can live the rest of their lives together, free from worry. Remus blinks, and he expects Sirius to take a breath. To wake up.

He blinks, and nothing happens. He blinks, and Sirius is still dead.

He does not know how long he stands there. No one disturbs him, though the healer returns to light a candle in the tent when the sun sets. Otherwise he is completely and entirely alone.

Waves of grief crash over him, formed in the tempest of his shattered heart. He feels like he is drowning. It’s hard to breathe. It’s been hours, and it’s still so hard to breathe.

He does not know how to say goodbye. He is not ready. But hours have passed, and it is time for him to leave.

He does not know what to say, so he opens his mouth, and he sings.

~

“Father! Father, please!” he shouts up to the sky, voice cracking. He has not sung or spoken a word in days.

Remus stands on the rock he once sat on when his father gave him his lyre. He does not know if his father will come. It has been years since he last saw him. He has to wonder if Apollo even remembers he exists.

“Father!” he cries.

There is still no response. He heaves a sob, chest aching. He has cried so much the past few days he has no tears left, only chest-wracking sobs that send him into a fit of pain.

“Apollo!” he finally demands.

He blinks and when he opens his eyes his father is standing before him.

“Father, please. Please help me.” He trips off the rock and falls to his knees.

“Remus. Your gift is song, and yet you do not sing. Why?” His voice is stern, a stark contrast to the warmth Remus remembers from years ago.

“My love is dead. How can I sing?”

Apollo nods his understanding. When he speaks again his voice no longer carries the sharp edge. “I know the pain you feel. But it will get better. You will find someone else.”

“No,” Remus spits. “There is no one like him. There is no one I will ever love but him.”

“You received Hymen’s warning. His death should come as no surprise. You must learn to live on.”

“I will not sing for another mortal until Sirius is by my side.”

Apollo blinks, the only sign of surprise he shows. “Is that truly how you feel?”

“Yes.”

He sighs. “Rise.”

Remus stands, his resolve slowly sinking in. He will not sing again in this world until he is with Sirius.

“You are my son, and thus can enter the Underworld alive once. Only once.” Apollo speaks slowly to ensure Remus understands his every word. “I cannot help you beyond that. You will have to bargain with Hades himself for the life of your husband.”

“Then I will journey to Hades, if that is what it takes.”

Apollo sighs once more. “Good luck.”

With that, the god disappears.

Part 3

[toushindai]

Mother’s Comfort

Megaera would find her place in the House even without Nyx’s guidance, but to reassure her when she falters under Hades’ graceless pressure is not a task Nyx despises.

An expansion of one of the conversations between Megaera and Nyx that Zagreus overheard. Writing it immediately pre-Nighty Night was a risk which did in fact result in a rewrite being necessary. It’s back in line with canon now.

[ Read on AO3 ]

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Once again, Hades is berating Megaera. Nyx can hear his ranting through the stone walls that set her space apart from the main hall as he scolds the eldest Fury for falling to Zagreus and questions both her dedication and her ability. He is frustrated not specifically with Megaera but with his own impotence against Zagreus’s desire to escape—but Megaera will not separate his general ire from that pointed at her specifically, and the assignment itself is distressing enough for her. Nyx would prefer that Hades did not insist upon making it worse. He has often exhibited this tendency, to take his dissatisfaction and inflict it on those who toil beneath his yoke; he believes, wrongly, that this forcefulness is what keeps the House running in order. If only he would not behave in such a manner, perhaps his son would not be so justifiably determined to leave.

For now, he finishes his scolding with a quieter affirmation that he trusts Megaera to do what is necessary: half reassurance and half threat. Then there is silence from the great hall. It is possible that Megaera will retreat to the lounge to lick her wounds over a drink, but Nyx suspects that instead—

Yes.

Here she is, standing at the entrance of Nyx’s office, rigid and tense.

“Nyx,” she says, her voice tight. “If you have the time, may I visit with you, for a minute?”

She does not need to ask, but she does for formality’s sake. Nyx sends her a serene smile. “Of course, daughter,” she says. “You know that you are always welcome in my presence.”

“Despite the circumstances,” Megaera mutters to herself. She practically throws herself into the chair most shielded from the sight of the east hall, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her wing tight around herself. Nyx silently averts her attention from the way her breath hitches as she fights tears. It is the kindest thing she can do for her daughter. If Megaera wants to speak, she assuredly will.

At last, Megaera says, “I don’t even want this job.”

It is an incomplete thought, and her forceful tone does not conceal the tremble in her voice. Nyx waits. Megaera uncoils herself and stands to pace tightly across the small space. “I cannot abide the way Lord Hades keeps changing my assignment. First he told me to marry his son but insisted that I not develop affection or sympathy for him. Then it was somehow my fault that Zagreus lost patience with that and refused to see me any longer—as if that were what I wanted out of it all, as if I drove him away on purpose! And that—isn’t even my point, I…”

Megaera falters, perhaps surprised at the vehemence with which the whole tale has burst from her. It is no surprise to Nyx. She had watched the relationship gain its footing and then she had watched it dissolve, and the suffering it had inflicted on both of them had pained Nyx’s heart as well. It is a suffering that Megaera has refused to feel at length, but of course these new circumstances that force her to face Zagreus over and over would bring it to the forefront again.

But Megaera will not want to know just how visible her pain is. And so Nyx does not speak of the pain specifically, for fear that to call attention to it would drive Megaera away from facing it, as she must. Instead, she says, “Does your relationship with Zagreus complicate your latest assignment, my daughter?”

Megaera gives an aggravated sigh and scrubs her face with her hands. “I—it isn’t even a matter of everything with Zagreus. It isn’t about the fact that Lord Hades wants me to kill the man he originally ordered me to marry.” (It seems she has convinced herself this is the truth, though it is clearly false.) “Nyx, I have so much work to do right now. It was bad enough when Tis and Alecto got called away, and now I have to constantly drop everything I’m doing to put Zagreus down. And I’m doing all that I can, but I think… he’s surpassed me. For good.”

She sags, her pride clearly wounded. And before Nyx can find words that might guide her to break free of the pressure that stifles her, she speaks again. “What is Lord Hades thinking, Nyx? I feel like he’s setting me up to fail, tasking me with impossible assignments and then despising me for not completing them. What am I supposed to do?”

Nyx looks at her daughter with love’s shadow cast long in her heart. Megaera’s determination and certainty have often served her well, leading her to be exactly the person she wishes to be, but on the occasions that they lead her astray she is unequipped to face that truth. Although the questions that she asks now are not the ones that will bring her peace, she knows no better ones. Nyx stands and reaches for her.

“Have faith that he does not wish for your failure, daughter,” she says, taking Megaera’s hands in hers. “Your martial skill is the best of anyone in the House, surpassing even Achilles—and so, who else is there to be depended on? You are a trusted overseer, Megaera. Your station is no accident and there is no one better fit for what you do.”

It is the language that Megaera speaks best, that of responsibility and dependability, and Nyx sees that it fortifies her. But she sees, too, that it locks the Fury’s heart further away. And she cannot let that stand. She holds fast to her daughter’s hands and speaks seriously. “I urge you to look inwardly. How you approach your work is vital to the end result.”

She would find comfort in her duties if only she would acknowledge what she feels and act accordingly. Nyx is certain of this.

But the words that she intended as encouragement seem to perturb Megaera instead. It is a long moment before she speaks again, and when she does, there is a grim, comfortable resignation in her tone. “Thank you for the advice, Nyx. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Or what this House would be if not for you.”

Nyx inclines her head in acceptance of Megaera’s gratitude. “We all do that which is within our power,” she says. Megaera would find her place in the House even without Nyx’s guidance, but to reassure her when she falters under Hades’ graceless pressure is not a task Nyx despises.

Megaera squeezes her hands. “Thank you again, Nyx,” she says. “Now, I think I’d better take my chance to rest while I can get it. Zag will be back soon enough, and then I’ll need to head out again.”

Nyx notices, but does not draw attention to, Megaera’s easy use of Zagreus’s nickname and the sardonic edge of fondness to her tone. Megaera tries to release her hands, but she holds onto her still. “One more thing, my daughter…”

“Hm?”

Nyx speaks in a voice that will not be denied. “If you have ever cared for the prince, it will only serve you poorly to deny that truth now.”

Megaera’s gaze wavers, and she glances away. Nyx knows that this is a complicated matter. But it will be best for Megaera if she lets herself know it, too.

“I’m not denying it, Nyx,” Megaera says at last, her voice soft. “He knows exactly how I’ve felt about him and how I feel about him now. But that isn’t relevant to what either of us must do. And it can’t change the fact that we are opposed, now.” She meets Nyx’s eyes, guilty. “I’m sorry you have to see us like this.”

“Do not apologize, daughter. I only ask that you honor your own heart in all of this. Do not let this inspire hatred for Zagreus within you, no matter how bitter the task. I believe that he cares for you still.”

Megaera’s attempt to smile is a bit too much like a grimace. “Despite the circumstances,” she says, and sighs heavily. “I don’t think I hate him, Nyx. You needn’t fear there.”

“Then I will trust you to discern what is necessary in this time of difficulty. Take care, my daughter.”

With that, she finally lets Megaera go. She returns to her chair, and the House’s many moving parts continue in their eternal overlapping circles around her, their paths shifted ever so slightly from what they used to be.

[faveficarchive]

Visiting Hours

By Ella Quince

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Gabrielle helps Xena escape from her predicament through unorthodox means.

Upon waking, Xena immediately assessed her situation.

She was sitting on a straw-covered stone floor, her upraised arms securely chained to the brick wall behind her back. None of the other prisoners in the cell were bound like she was, but neither did they look inclined to help her out. In fact, they were all keeping their distance. Evidently they'd heard how many men it had taken to render her unconscious ...and how many had died in the attempt.

Not surprisingly, her weapons were missing, as was her armor. Hades only knew where it all was now -- beyond her reach, that much was certain. She listened to the guards chatting somewhere out of sight. She counted at least five voices, and there were probably three times that number of armed men throughout the prison; her fight had drawn quite a crowd. She tested the strength of the chains. No give. And judging from the quality of light that was filtering down from the single high window, her execution was scheduled to take place rather soon.

In other words, her situation was desperate.

This was going to be fun, Xena decided, and a familiar thrill of excitement pulsed to life in her veins, that jolt of heightened energy and awareness that always accompanied a brush with violence and death.

Senses alive to everything around her, she heard the distant scuffle of footsteps and muffled sobbing. The unruly sounds were drawing nearer. Good. Any break in the pattern of the guards' routine provided opportunities she could exploit. Xena fully expected she would escape from her imprisonment and avoid execution; the only question was how.

With apparent nonchalance, Xena raised her head to study the group of women — some of whom had progressed from sobbing to wailing — as they approached the cell. Her eyes narrowed when she caught a glimpse of a familiar reddish-gold color on the other side of the bars.

"Everyone keep your hands where I can see them," growled the guard who was unlocking the gate to the cell. "You've got fifteen minutes... for those that need that long."

The other guards guffawed at this witticism and snickered as the women rushed into the cell. One slender figure detached itself from the crowd and strolled over to the corner where Xena was chained.

"Hi," said Gabrielle with a cheery smile. She straddled Xena's outstretched legs and settled down on the warrior's lap. "Did you miss me?"

Xena's sardonic expression almost, but not quite, masked the glint of amusement in her crystal blue eyes. "Not that I'm complaining, but how did you wrangle this visit?"

"Easy. King Phrates is a sentimental despot. All the condemned get a final visit with their family."

"You convinced the guards we're related?" said Xena incredulously, then laughed. "I'd like to have heard that story."

"Oh, I didn't claim to be a blood relation." Gabrielle nodded her head toward the men and women who had rather quickly sorted themselves into embracing couples. "This is more in the nature of a... conjugal... visit."

"What!" cried Xena in an outraged whisper. "You told them we were lovers!"

Gabrielle shrugged. "Why not?" Pitching her voice low enough to escape eavesdropping, she said, "As soon as you escape, they'll think I was lying just to help you, and... well...."

With a grim smile, Xena finished, "And if I don't escape, it won't really matter."

"Something like that," muttered Gabrielle as she struggled with the laces of her green top.

Xena stared at the bard. "Gabrielle, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're taking your clothes off!"

"I knew you could figure it out for yourself."

"Stop that, Gabrielle! Gabrielle...." Xena trailed off, swallowing hard as the front of the bard's vest parted to reveal two very firm, full breasts. Fortunately, at least a portion of the warrior's mind was sufficiently detached to notice the dagger nestled between them. "Very clever."

"I thought so, too. In case you were wondering, I used beeswax to keep it in place."

"Ah," Xena said. With effort, she pulled her concentration back to her current dilemma. "But there's a slight problem." She shook her upraised arms; the chains rattled softly. "My hands are a little too visible to take advantage of your... gift."

With a wicked grin, Gabrielle said, "Then we'll just have to improvise." She wrapped her hands behind Xena's neck and pulled the warrior's head forward until she could feel warm breath between her breasts.

After a long moment, the bard said, "Xena?"

"Ummm?"

"The knife, Xena."

A muffled voice answered, "Oh, right."

Gabrielle felt a slight tugging sensation as Xena's teeth grabbed hold of the dagger's handle and loosened it from her skin. She giggled softly. "That tickles."

Xena's response was unintelligible.

"What did you say?" asked Gabrielle, leaning back.

"Now... what?" said Xena, carefully enunciating around the handle between her teeth.

"Just drop it down into your cleavage."

Xena's eyebrows shot upward in alarm. She shook her head. "Uh uh."

"Wimp."

The warrior just glared.

"Okay, okay. Are any of the guards watching us?"

Xena cautiously craned her head up to peek over the bard's shoulder, then ducked back down with a heavy sigh.

"All of them, I take it." Gabrielle pondered another tactic, but it was difficult to concentrate with all the rather vulgar grunts and groans coming from nearby. Then she was struck by the obvious. "Of course! If I keep playing my part, the floorshow should distract the guards from noticing what I'm really up to."

"Uh uh!!" protested Xena, but the knife between her teeth blunted the force of her argument.

"Let's make this look good." Gabrielle cupped her hands around the black leather covering Xena's breasts and began to knead. The leather was wonderfully soft and pliant, as was the flesh beneath it. "Try something louder than a gasp... yeah, those moans are much more convincing."

Positioning her body so that her back momentarily shielded her movements, Gabrielle slid one hand between Xena's breasts. "Okay, drop it."

With a twinge of apprehension Xena parted her teeth, releasing the dagger. To her relief, Gabrielle caught the blade and quickly tucked it inside Xena's leather bodice. The metal was still warm, heated by its contact with the young bard's bare skin, skin that was tantalizingly close, as were those two luscious....

Shifting again, Gabrielle returned her hand to Xena's breast, letting the guards see just enough of what her fingers were doing to allay their suspicions. "Xena, are you all right? You look a little... flushed."

"Yeah... yeah... I'm fine. It's just a little... warm in here, that's all."

"Actually, it's kind of cold and clammy." For the first time Gabrielle paid attention to what was happening beneath her palms. She rubbed a thumb over a leather bump that appeared to be Xena's stiffening nipple. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were really enjoying this." She eyed the slight sheen of perspiration on Xena's upper lip. "Really, really enjoying this."

"Nonsense," said Xena hoarsely. "I'm just concentrating on my predicament."

"Is that so?" Gabrielle squeezed her knees against Xena's thighs, then smiled slyly at the low moan that resulted from the pressure. "Why, Xena, how come you never told me you were into bondage?"

The warrior gritted her teeth to keep from pleading with Gabrielle to do that again. When she could trust herself to speak, she said, "Not funny. You caught me at an... awkward... moment."

"What?" The bard puzzled that over. "Oh, I get it. You mean when your 'juices' were starting to flow."

"Yeah." Xena could feel her hips straining to push themselves up against the bard; by sheer force of willpower she managed to keep them from moving. Unfortunately, Gabrielle wasn't helping the situation any by running her hands up and down Xena's torso. "I wish... you wouldn't... do that." It felt entirely too good.

"But Xena, if I stop touching you, the guards will wonder why I'm here. So, just to be on the safe side..." Leaning down, the bard brushed her lips over a jutting collarbone, then worked her way up the side of Xena's neck. The beat of Xena's pulse was becoming quite pronounced. "By the way," she whispered into Xena's ear, "I saw your armor and chakram in the anteroom outside this cell."

"Thanks... oh, goddess...." The rough, wet touch of Gabrielle's tongue outlining the edge of her ear was sending shivers up and down Xena's spine. "I'll pick them up... later."

"Mmmmm," said Gabrielle. She bit down ever so lightly on a fleshy lobe and was rewarded with the sound of Xena's throaty growl. The bard settled herself a little more forcefully onto the warrior's lap.

"Yes, oh, yes!" With dismay, Xena recognized that frantic, gasping voice as her own. In fact, her entire traitorous body had stopped listening to her orders to behave. Her back arched, rocking her hips against Gabrielle's muscular thighs and pushing her chest against the soft cushion of Gabrielle's bare breasts. Dimly, she registered the voice of a guard shouting into the cell, but she was far too distracted to make sense of his words.

"Oops," said Gabrielle. "Looks like we're out of time." And the bard abruptly pulled away.

"What!" Xena hissed, shock jerking her out a sensory daze. "Gabrielle! Don't you dare leave me like—"

"Sorry, but these things happen," said the bard with a shrug. She eased her weight off Xena's body and grinned at the deep groan of frustration from the warrior. "This will just have to wait until later."

"Now!" insisted Xena, as the corded muscles of her arms strained against their chains. With a gasp, she collapsed back against the wall, but not before she felt metal links begin to unfold. "or... I'll... make... you... pay," she panted out.

"You have to catch me first," said Gabrielle smugly, as she rose to her feet. "Meet you back at camp — soon, I hope." She deftly laced up her top. "Oh, and bring the chains. You seem to like them."

She jumped back, startled by Xena's sudden lunge forward; the incoherent snarl was also a little intimidating. On the other hand, the bard noted, with one more heave those manacles were going to fly to pieces.

"I'll bring the chains, all right," said Xena with a dark glower. "Only you'll be wearing them tonight, not me."

"Promises, promises," said Gabrielle airily.

As she walked out of the cell, she waggled her fingers in a final wave good-bye to Xena. The warrior looked sufficiently enraged to kick her way through every door in the prison complex.

Passing by the guards that lined the corridor, Gabrielle let loose a quiet sigh of relief. When she'd first entered the prison she'd been rather worried about the odds against Xena. Fortunately, though, she'd managed to shift those odds in the warrior's favor. Granted, the task had involved some slightly unorthodox behavior this time around, but she was willing to take advantage of whatever worked.

In fact, the bard mused as she walked out of the prison fortress, she felt rather sorry for the squadron of guards that would soon be facing Xena's wrath. They didn't stand a chance.

Gabrielle handed over a dinar to the street urchin who had guarded her staff. Then with a feigned look of puzzlement she leaned on her weapon, trying hard to look like a weary traveler deciding where to go next. As she waited, she considered Xena's parting words. Although the warrior princess had been under considerable stress at the time, she rarely uttered idle threats. So this evening promised to be very interesting indeed — her paybacks always were.

The bard grinned at the sudden outburst of shouting coming from behind the prison wall. Xena was on her way.

"I hope she remembered to bring the key," muttered Gabrielle as she raised her staff into fighting position and dashed toward the prison gate.

[muses-darling]

Fire & Fury - A Star Wars AU - Ch.7 Monster

Ignis sat upon the imperial throne, his hands threaded in front of him under the mask he wore a bored expression. If the Republic Senate was anything like the council meetings of the Sith then he felt some sympathy for the Senators that worked there. There was so much bickering, infighting, and idiotic ideas thrown over how they were to destroy the Republic or to not destroy the Republic or to only destroy the Jedi. Hades stared at the one currently throwing words that they must have thought when strung together made a coherent thought, how bad would it be to kill them? Plenty of Sith killed each other over such petty things but this one was a discredit to the whole of the Darkside. “Enough.” He said they didn’t hear him. “ENOUGH!” He stood from his throne in a quick motion. “You are all of you squabbling sychophants!” He glared from one to another though they couldn’t see it he knew they could feel it in the force. 

“Then what is your idea oh Emperor?” A voice said from the walkway leading to where they all plotted.

Ignis looked up and snarled, “Darth Ceres, Darth Lykaios. I thought you were both gone.” 

They smiled. “Oh no we heard there was a meeting, So we came to investigate.” 

“And what have you found?”

“Pettiness.”

“Is that your great addition to this council?”

“I did ask you for your’s.” Darth Ceres smirked as she walked towards them. 

Hades swallowed, “It is true I have no idea on what attack to mount in response to our intel on the Republic forces. But we cannot throw our troops needlessly at the republic how else will we rule what remains or keep control?”

“I could offer up a solution, the Republic is headed to our neighboring sector, yes?” Darth Ceres asked. 

“They are yes,” Ignis looked her over. “What is your idea Darth Ceres?”

“There is a planet Malachor V if you will, that has much use to us, we could set up a trap to destroy much of the Republic’s forces without loosing so much of our own. With a proper Scientist I think we could weaponize the gravitational fields to our advantage.”

It was a sounder plan than the ones he had heard, Sith were always trying to take each other out but as long as she wasn’t trying to kill him here there was no reason to start anything. Not when he could take her out during the battle and never have to worry about her ever again. Besides Kit was likely safe wherever he was. “Very well. Then that is the plan we will put forward once we find a engineer then it should all fall into place.” Ignis sat back on the throne.

“I have one in mind, my partner and I can acquire his services.” Darth Ceres walked up to him. “My Emperor.” She bowed. 

Ignis wanted nothing more than to cut her down but for the time being she was of use, he was not one to waste useful things. So long as Kit was out of danger that was all that mattered. HK-47 hadn’t checked in but that could be for a number of reasons. He just hoped that he was right about Kit. 

________________________________________________________________

The Prison Cell Block of the Palace of Garuja the Hutt was not even remotely humane. The place smelled of rotting, the decrepit that lay strewn about in their cells waiting for their fate beyond the terror occasional shifting of chains, dimly lit areas, and the torture the guards placed upon them. Alucard was lashed upon the chair the torture implements above him lowering.  Alucard tried to put on a brave face before the pain set in and then then the screams started. This was not part of the plan. It had not been considered. It should have been as what felt like fire flooded his veins. He reached out in the force sending the torture device back.

“Jedi!” A guard snarled raising a blaster.

The blaster flew from him to Alucard who shot them all dead. The force then metal bands that clamped him down to the chair off of him as he used it. A man entered and Alucard raised the blaster not looking and firing. 

Finding his sisters without raising alarm would take all the focus he had so he gave it into the force letting it guide him as it had so far. 

-

The first guard that led her into her cell stepped close and Layla elbowed him hard grabbing his blaster from him she fired into him.

“Oh thank the stars I was about to do the same,” The other guard said as he came near her voice muffled by the helm he wore.

Layla pointed the gun at the other.

Throwing up his hands and knocking the helm off, “Hey woah, whoa! It’s me! It’s me!”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, who else would be so stupid as to get twisted into this situation.”

Layla looked relieved and hurried to him before stepping back and glaring. “What are you doing here?”

“Godwin got worried then even more when we heard about the failed mess on Cantonica sent me.” Arthur was Godwin’s main informant, occasionally they hit it off. “I’m just glad you are alive.” Arthur continued. 

“I’m glad too, can you undo these?”

Arthur pulled out a key and unlocked her.

“Thanks,” She pulled him in and kissed him. “Now to save my siblings.

“Already saved thank you,” Nikki said blood splattered on her. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Is that blood?” Arthur asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nikki said.

“I feel like I should what did you do to the guards.”

“Don’t worry about it!” The Sister’s said in unison. 

There was a relieved sigh from the door to the cell as Alucard hurried up to them. “Thank the force.” He took a moment to frown at Nikki before shaking his head. “We need to find Grimm’s wife and Honey then get out of here.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now where do we start in finding Grim’s wife?”

“I think Honey may have that covered,” August said. “They keep the slaves in a different place. Honey is likely there already. I just pray my sister will not be traumatized.” 

________________________________________________________________

Kit sat meditating his Father and Mother sitting with him it was now he was starting to feel the true effects of their dark choices, their dark deeds twisting the force around him. He was trying to find a way out but there was so much, it was pushing him down a dark path. A dark path... He had a flash of Ignis? What was he was calling him Hades, they were together? Why would he be with such a man? They seemed happy? 

Darth Ceres/Demeter flooded them in the dark side of the force bathing them all in it sweeping Kit up in its’ sickly embrace. 

Darth Lykaios was doing the same, as he reached out to Kit’s mind the dark side was powerful and without the memories of training with Crowley Kit was defenseless. Tendrils of darkness snaked their way deep into Kit’s mind and surrounded him trapping the man with it’s ensnaring grasp. 

Warmth, joy, and love fled Kit’s mind as only coldness, sadness, and hatred took it’s place. They twisted his memories against him what memories he did have. Molding him into the perfect soldier of the dark side. His eyes opened no longer the serene green when he had closed them. It had been a few days just meditating as they made their way to the facility where the Engineer needed worked. It had been more than enough time to twist the gentle Kit into the monster his Mother and Father wanted him to be. 

_______________________________________________________________

Crowley sat up breathing terribly as the vision the force had given him faded, “Kit, oh Kit.” He breathed feeling the calming hands of Aziraphale taking hold of him pulling him into his arms. 

“What is it my dear?” Azriaphale calmly asked cupping Crowley’s face in his hands. “What is it?”

“The darkness I felt it swallow him whole and what it spat out was terrible, Azirpahale I fear for him. I felt it as though I were there. All resistances I taught him all that he learned from me is gone. As if he never learned it to begin with.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help the look on his face, the look of utter horror. It wasn’t in Crowley’s nature to admit worry so deeply. For Kit to fall so deeply to the dark side sent chills through the man. “Well if that is the case then we need to bring him back from the darkness, back to the balance.”

“Agreed Angel,” Crowley rested his head on Aziraphale’s chest for a moment needing the gentle warmth of Aziraphale before pressing a kiss to the man’s lips. “I’m going to get everything ready we leave at first light.” They would need what light they could to get off of the planet through the trees. “We will find him Azirphale.”

“We will Crowley and we will save him.” Aziraphale smiled. “I believe in us. We are after all his family.” 

[herrdoktorat]

Hearth And Home

Also available on FF.net and AO3, this is a sequel to Searing Red.

The boy walked across the temple in small, careful steps, his face a cracked mask, every movement a far cry from his usual demeanor. Kiki had assisted his master and the other Saints many times in the past, but in the chaos that followed her ascension as a goddess, he'd had very few opportunities to speak to Miss Saori, and never inside her own Temple, past every other.

There, on the path underneath her very statue, he was learning how her world really worked in ways that none of the Gold Saints could explain to him. For one, he'd walked past several handmaidens, which he never knew Athena had. The Cosmo she sent forth from her temple was always so lonely, that he thought there couldn't be anyone else up there with her, but maybe that was due to her worries.

Every single handmaiden had bowed to him, their faces betraying no emotions, their Cosmo a peaceful lake under the stars. There had been rumors of female Saints who'd obey and protect only Athena, rather than the Sanctuary or peace on earth, but Kiki had thought them outlandish, even for his standards. Now, though...

The boy sighed. Those thoughts were just distractions from what was to come. There was only one door separating him from Athena now: the door to her quarters. No Saint had ever gone in there.

Well, maybe that wasn't strictly true. The previous Pope had certainly gone in there to murder her, and more recently, there was Seiya, and maybe Miss Shaina too.

Kiki allowed himself a smirk, and with his heart light, opened the door.

Athena was certainly different from Miss Saori. The latter, as the boy had known her, was haughty and stubborn to a fault, hiding her compassion, insecurities and indecisiveness behind anything and everything she could. Kiki had sneaked into her room, once, and felt he'd walked right into a palace.

This room, by comparison, was bare.

Everything in there was white and untouched. The room might have belonged to Athena, but there was nothing in there that was hers, save for a lone golden statue in the bedstand. Athena herself was sitting in a fancy chair. With her short brown hair swaying in the wind, she looked right at home while simultaneously completely out of place.

Kiki realized he'd been staring at the room for entirely too long, and hurried to Athena, kneeling before his godddess while trying to subdue the inexplicable sadness he suddenly felt inside.

The goddess Athena rose from her chair, high and wise and powerful, and then sat on the spotless marble floor, right in front of him. She lightly brushed her fingers against his cheek, then gently raised his chin, so they could look each other in the eye. That was when he realized.

Miss Saori had always been a goddess.

As the boy entered her room, the goddess Athena breathed a sigh of relief. This boy, the boy whose arrival she had been dreading, the boy whose Cosmo had made her tremble as he approached, whose flames could burn her sanctuary to the ground... his smile told her that those were not flames meant to burn her, but a warmth to shield her from the rain.

Perhaps the battle against Hades had worn her down, for her to be so guarded against one as loyal to her as that child, and the god he carried within.

"Hephaestus," she said, knowing that the boy would be asleep once he raised his head.

"My sister," said Hephaestus.

Not once since truly awakening to her godhood had Athena experienced so many memories, her countless human lifetimes flashing before her eyes, into a past so distant even the gods themselves referred to it as the Age of Myth, her last battle with an immortal body, but before she could even find the words, the blacksmith god spoke.

"The gods are angry," he said.

"Our father Zeus promised that none would interfere as long as we settled our disputes through our power and our armies," she said, annoyed that she had to once again discuss the fate of the Earth as though it were a big playground.

Hephaestus shared her discomfort. "Yes," he said, his composed expression turning into a bitter smile which Athena almost wished to mimic, "and we all know how good Father is with promises."

Athena closed her eyes for a moment, contemplating the possibilities. The Sanctuary could not possibly stand against the might of Olympus should they decide to wage war, but most likely Zeus would settle for a display of force instead, and were that the case, she could...

"There is more," Hephaestus said, interrupting her thoughts. "Hades being defeated was one thing, but they are also upset that Poseidon helped your Saints."

"The Greatest Eclipse would have ruined his seas, surely that is reason enough to..."

"Not to mention what you did to bring some of them back," he finished, and to this, she had no argument.

"They think Poseidon and I have joined forces to take over Olympus," Athena said, her mouth set in a grim line.

Hephaestus simply nodded.

"Did you come here only to deliver this warning?" she asked.

"I am no messenger, Athena," Hephaestus answered.

Then:

"Do you remember how the first holy war started?"

The earth sunk as the blood of thousands

Tinged red oceans and skies alike

Screams were lost in the howling wind

As the Sea King watched from his throne

Pain that he would know in time

"Yes," she said, quietly averting her gaze. The memory was clear in his eyes, more vivid than even her mind could make, but he waited for her to say it all the same. "The gods sunk the continent of Mu, out of fear that its people surpass even your abilities as a smith."

"In time, they would have," he declared proudly. "Poseidon has his Cyclopes and Hades had the Hekatonkheires, but none compared to my children."

"Hephaestus..." she started, but he ignored her.

"Mortals that live as gods should be punished," he continued. "That was something Zeus said to me, back then. What those fools truly feared was—"

"I know."

"My children now live and die as birds in a gilded cage," he said, and she winced. "Except for two."

"What do you mean to do?"

"I mean to thank you, my sister."

Hephaestus lowered his gaze as Athena raised hers, sorrow and surprise interwoven.

"Olympus is as you remember," he continued, "a place of false warmth, where we gods discuss how to toy with the lives of mortals, and our own. Were not for your efforts, my children would have been completely destroyed."

Athena considered what to say as she watched the dwindling embers, his fiery hair a hearth more comforting than any she had ever known. Though she could remember all of her lives, the one she led as a goddess was but a distant speck in the cosmos, eons that felt lesser than even a single day as a human. Yet, she remembered Hephaestus. Not fondly, for there was a time he... well, that mattered very little now. The mind is a plaything of the body, she reminded herself, and his body was that of a child, drowning in remembrance of the forgotten. Yes, she remembered Hephaestus, and his people; the decision being made to wipe them out, and his desperate pleas to the contrary; and the pristine marble floor of the Olympus, reflecting her displeased expression and quiet determination, for that was but the beginning.

"What do you mean to do, Hephaestus?" she asked again. More war, more death... this she could see in the future, but not within her brother's fire.

"I mean to stay," he said simply, confirming her suspicions.

"You would do this to a boy?" she asked, her voice pleading, but Hephaestus scoffed.

"Do you not use children as soldiers in your battles?" he asked, and the fire raged within once more. Four Saintias came forth from the shadows, but Athena raised her Cosmo. The budding flame in the clock was extinguished.

"Calm yourself," she commanded, not only Hephaestus but the Sanctuary as a whole.

"The boy wants this," he said.

Athena grimaced.

"Does he have that choice, still?" she asked.

Hephaestus averted his gaze.

Saori Kido bit her lip. There was something different about the fiery Cosmo coming from Kiki, something that arose only when he snapped back at her... or perhaps the real change had come from her own understanding? She didn't know. The thought made her smile, briefly. Once, not knowing would have meant the end. Now, it was just one of the many little things that drove back the voice in the furthest corners of her mind, the one that whispered that she wasn't really human.

Regardless, there was a change.

The raging fire, a searing inferno that she feared would burn everything down, made her once again feel vulnerable, but not because it was so great. Rather, when raising her own Cosmo, she realized that she could extinguish it as easily as the flames of the clock. There was a determined but terrified child underneath it all, this she knew. What she didn't know, not before his little outburst, was that this child both was and wasn't Kiki.

"When you descended to the Sanctuary, you'd already made that choice for him," she said, raising her Cosmo once more. "You took him as your host, and made it there was no way to undo it."

Hephaestus had no response.

Saori signaled her Saintias, who raised their Cosmo in turn.

"You were wrong," she said, and now she was more Saori than Athena. "There is always a way. I will smother your fire with my Cosmo, and make it so you can never return."

The Sanctuary trembled as all twelve flames burned, suddenly and intensely. Rose petals were carried in by the wind. The distant stars seemed to shine brighter. With a flourish of her hand, the golden statue by her bedside became Niké. Saori was ready. Athena was ready. Now, the raging inferno was but candlelight.

"Wait!" he cried as she brought down her staff, her face stone. "Miss Saori, please wait!"

Niké an inch away from his forehead, she stopped. In the Sanctuary, silence.

Kiki was sweating, eyes creased and brows furrowed, mouth quivering and arms wide open as though he was protecting a charge.

"Kiki, you know what he did," she said, almost a warning.

"I know," he said. "I mean, I already knew."

Saori blinked.

"Hephaestus apologized to me, back when he took my body," he explained.

"No matter how benevolent, being host to a god erodes your soul," she said, "There is no way for you to coexist, not permanently."

"There is a way," he insisted, and suddenly Saori found herself facing her own words.

Cautiously, she lowered Niké.

"Miss Saori, he's hurting. There were things he wanted to say to you, but he couldn't. This conversation kinda got away from him, and he's sorry."

Not for the first time, Saori wondered how could one Cosmo be so many things at once. Once his fiery Cosmo seemed insurmountable, but very fragile. Now, she could feel why: eons of emotions, unstable, uncertain, unpredictable. Conflicting, and most of all human.

"You can talk to him?" she asked, more out of curiosity than any sort of purpose.

"No... well, maybe. I couldn't before, but now I can feel what he's feeling without really trying, so maybe we can talk. A-Anyway, the thing is, there is a way for him to stay inside me without drowning me out."

Kiki called Saori closer to him, and she consented. Then, he whispered:

"That was a pun, 'cause he got the idea from Poseidon."

Saori couldn't help but giggle. Only a little bit, though.

Poseidon. When he helped her during the battle against Hades, she thought she had felt something, and now she could name it: his Cosmo was as though a peaceful lake, rather than a furious ocean. There was something beneath the surface, and that something was the source of his power, but that power didn't comprehensively account for his being, and it would have, previously.

"Poseidon helped out in the end, right? I mean, you probably wondered how he escaped your seal."

(In truth, she hadn't, partly because the gods somehow escaping her seals was almost old news, but also because she was too busy saving the world, and then Seiya.)

"Poseidon chooses his hosts based on a connection he has to them, and when you sealed him back, that connection remained. I think probably his other hosts all died whenever he was sealed, but because that whole thing with him was so complicated this time around, it didn't happen."

"What are you getting at?" she asked, trying to hurry him along. Athena didn't want to hear another word about Poseidon and frankly, neither did Saori.

"Right. I guess the point is, the amphora was leaking. Poseidon was returning to his host, but unlike last time, only his soul. The brunt of his power is still sealed."

"Kiki," she said. Not that she didn't want to listen to him, and she did understand how they might coexist, now, but hearing the ramblings of a little boy was not doing any favors to her increasingly diminished determination to show Hephaestus the door, so to speak. "Hephaestus could have simply reincarnated as a human," she continued, "he didn't need to use you as a host. The burden of a Saint alone is too great for anyone to bear."

Kiki started fidgeting, which meant her words were getting to him. Good. Now she just needed to—

"Hephaestus said he wanted to see us."

The boy suddenly looked very small.

"Miss Saori, you're not like the other Athenas who just stuck seals to everything and carried on."

"How dare—" one of the Saintias interjected, but Saori shot her down with a look.

"I know you want to do the right thing," he continued, "and yeah, I know being a god isn't easy, and that him being here, and being me, will bring a lot of problems, both to me and to you, but... but I feel like this is something no one else can do, and something that we can do. We can handle it. I can handle it. I won't be alone, and he doesn't want to be. The reason he didn't give me a choice was 'cause he thought I'd refuse, and he was scared."

Athena.

Saori blinked away from from the intense expression Kiki was directing at her, and turned her head towards the faraway Aries Temple. Mu?

My apprentice can be quite stubborn. I know not what you two discuss, but know that I stand by whatever decision comes to him.

Saori closed her eyes. There was no arguing with her Saints, especially not when what she arguing against was exactly what she stood for. Saori understood this, and if Kiki was so committed to it, then...

"Very well," she said, drawing for him a sigh of relief. "I know you two are not in sync yet, so, can you please bring him forth? I want to ask him a question."

Kiki nodded and closed his eyes. Not a moment of hesitation... This boy really was loyal to her. Saori hoped she would never stop being surprised by this sort of thing, never take for granted love and loyalty her Saints displayed.

Eventually, his hair started burning again, and he opened his eyes as Hephaestus.

"What do you mean to do?" she asked, for a third time.

"I mean to stay," he answered. This time, though, there was more: "I mean to slumber deep within his consciousness, to rest and experience life through his eyes, until he and I are one and the same, and my fire home."

Saori smiled, knowing peace would not come to her brother in any other way.

"Very well."

[savemidoriproject]

Chapter 19:  [Dimension H → M  |  Worldline 1]  –  Midori Liminality

“The conference starts today.”

All four of us were gathered together in Dimension H: me, Mark, Ene, and Midori.  Several holographic projections were floating above the sea of teddy bears, with Ene standing at the center.  She was wearing a white T-shirt with a bright yellow suspender skirt on top of it.  The suspender’s pockets were decorated with pink floral patterns, which matched her light pink sneakers and her red hair accessories.  In contrast to Ene’s child-like outfit, Midori’s attire was much more elegant in design: an indigo one-piece dress lined with white bottom edge, collars, and sleeves.  The long white sleeves managed to outline her slender arms against the royal blue background.

Ene’s announcement filled the room with heavy silence, outlined only by small background noise of the countless computer machines.

“It was hard to hack into the YMMR database, but I managed to succeed.”

Ene’s triumphant expression was reminiscent of the moment she announced her theory of worldline shift for the first time… in her green summery dress.

“How did you do that?  I remember Saijo-san mentioning polymorphic code—”(*1)

“Oh, he already told you about that.  The conversation will be much more straightforward then.”

Ene reached her hand out to one of the projections and dragged it in front of us.  The projection was displaying a schematic of two identically shaped objects whose shapes were in continuous flux…  One of them was slightly lagging behind the other one, as if trying to block its pathway.

“YMMR database is protected by what I call a mimemorphic system – MIME to put it short.  MIME is a type of algorithmic metadata just like Do, except its only capability is mimicry of external systems that try to access the database.”

After seeing me and Midori staring intently at the schematic, Ene continued.

“I first used Do to access the database, but our attack patterns were immediately recognized, mimicked, and blocked by MIME.  Clever, I would say, but this method has a loophole.  Any guesses on what it might be?”

Ene looked at each of us, like a teacher looking for a volunteer in the class.  I turned toward Mark, but he only managed to reciprocate a pair of shrugs.  Midori commented pensively.

“Well, you would have to make a move quickly enough before the system can mimic you, but that seems unlikely…”

As her voice tailed off in uncertainty, Ene pointed at Midori and answered the question herself.

“That’s right, which means there is only one way to outwit MIME: It cannot mimic more than one type of system at the same time!  So I created another Do, essentially.”

Ene said the last part a bit too matter-of-factly, as if such solution was the only plausible alternative that anyone could have figured out.  Perhaps that was true… at least in hindsight.

At this point, Do appeared in front of us in her usual holographic form.  Standing next to her, however… was her identical twin.  She looked exactly the same as Do: the only difference was in her hairstyle.  Unlike Do’s straight black hair, she had a ponytail, which made her feel a bit less aloof, compared to Do’s reticence resembling that of a cold, solitary flower.

“Everyone, I introduce you to SDo, where S stands for supersymmetric.(*2)  I always wanted to see Do in a ponytail, you see.  Now I can enjoy both hairstyles at the same time!”

Ene squeezed her teddy bear in both of her arms and stared at SDo with a pair of shiny eyes, as if she got a new doll to add to her already gigantic teddy bear collection.  Midori looked enchanted, her mouth slightly agape with fascination… while I couldn’t help but be a bit bothered by the term supersymmetric.  Ene stopped cuddling her teddy bear and looked at me sharply.

“No, Ryan, we’re not talking about particle physics here.  Do and SDo are metadata, not matter-data.  Although technically, supersymmetrization of matter-data is possible in principle.”

What she said last bothered me in more than one ways…  Either her ability to read other people’s mind had reached a clairvoyant level, or I was simply being too impressionable as usual.  She put on a mischievous smile as I sighed.

“I could have made an exactly symmetric copy of Do, but that would have defeated the purpose, of course.  I made Do engage in a standoff with MIME, and used that opportunity for SDo to hack into the database.”

She then dragged another set of projections toward us, which consisted of four blueprints showing a set of complex layout.

“Before I let Mark take over, I was able to find out that there are currently two ICAs working under YMMR.  It turns out one of them is Inaba, which is not a big surprise, considering his direct affiliation to YM Corp.  I am not sure about the other one, but I have a vague suspicion—”

“Inaba?  He is involved in this as well?…”

Midori interjected abruptly upon hearing Inaba’s name, as Ene crossed her arms and put one of her hands on her chin in a thoughtful expression.  Midori’s melancholic expression reminded me of the time when she talked about him at the dessert café…

“But Ene, surely Inaba couldn’t have been the one responsible for manipulation of Midori’s mind data.”

Ene responded to my question with her serious expression unchanged.

“That… is still a work in progress.  SDo has been scraping the database searching for information related to the incident.  It seems like there are multiple firewalls she needs to overcome.”

As Ene took a brief, uneasy pause and started biting her nails again, Mark took that opportunity to take over and ameliorate the tension somewhat.

“While Ene was busy with MIME, I was examining the perimeters of the YMMR facility, and I found that the area is quite heavily guarded by the military.  But as you already know, conventional military arsenal means nothing to us, as we are shielded with a force field.  The only way it could become problematic is if our task involves actual neutralization of the threat.”

After seeing Midori’s concerned expression, Mark dispelled her worry.

“Not problematic for me or Ryan, but problematic in terms of collateral damage.  Which Ene can undo with her information control… technically.”

As Mark knowingly turned his gaze toward Ene, she crossed both of her arms and responded sternly.

“Yeah, I don’t do that unless absolutely necessary because such spatial structural data reconstruction always consumes large computational power.”

Mark gave Ene a smile and continued.

“We have reported our preliminary findings to Mizuki-san.  At this point, given YMMR’s involvement in HADES, it is quite likely that we be asked to preemptively neutralize, if not totally decimate, their military capacity, in addition to gathering further information on-site.  In that case, we must request Mizuki-san to back us up with JS’s privatized SWAT team at our next meeting with him.”

“JS has its own SWAT team?”

Midori answered my question while staring at the ground with a grim expression.

“Yeah.  It was formed mainly in reaction against YM Private Security.  I was rescued by them when I was kidnapped.”

I remembered her telling me about this after we visited the record store together.  The room was filled with heavy silence again, until SDo suddenly broke the silence.

“Everyone, our schedule starts in half an hour.  Please allow me to brief you on the list of agenda relevant to us today.”

I was surprised by SDo’s voice: it was much lighter, higher pitched, and energetic than that of Do.  She gave off an image of a pleasant secretary.  All of us turned toward the holographic projection that appeared next to her.

“The first in line is the meeting with Mizuki-san and the JS board members to go over the details regarding the YMMR infiltration plan.  Next, Midori and Ryan are scheduled to meet with Mayu-san, while Mark is to oversee the main conference hall in preparation of the following joint YM-JS meeting.  There, we will be introduced to Nagisa-san, as well as members of YMMR and the Ministry of Defense.  Any questions?”

I could see that Midori was feeling nervous.  SDo looked at Midori and smiled.

“Throughout the duration of the conference and the subsequent infiltration, I will be the one to assist you via augmented reality, as Do will be busy systematically engaging against MIME.  I look forward to working with all of you.”

By this point, her amicability was brought in sharp contrast to Do’s aloofness.  Ene was smiling confidently as the atmosphere was now filled with a heart-wrenching mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

“Shall we go now?”

Mark put on his eyeware, smiled professionally, and created a portal next to him.  I turned and looked at Midori.  She had a serious and determined expression.  Upon noticing my gaze, she smiled, almost imperceptibly… and we all stepped into the portal.

The same hallway lied ahead of us, covered in black tiles, illuminated only by regularly spaced columns of bluish white light on the walls, hermetically sealed with deafening silence.  We approached the black door, knocked, and heard Mizuki’s deep voice.

“Please come in.”

The dark room was occupied with the same board members as last time, illuminated only by the cold projector light.  The atmosphere was filled with uneasiness and restlessness.

“Let’s get started right away.  Mark, please give us an overview of the YMMR layout.”

“Right away.”

Mark stepped up to the front of the room, and the same blueprints of the YMMR facility appeared on the projection.

“The facility is divided into four major sectors: nuclear, land combat, aircraft, and mobile weapons.  Extra caution must be taken with the nuclear sector containing the three main pressurized water reactors.  In case an explosion is incurred, our current force field capability allows us to counteract mass-energy-data corresponding to only one reactor.”

A few people were murmuring with concerned expressions amongst themselves.  Mark continued.

“There is one extra sector that is not publically known, which is their Special Operations Division.”

At this point, a different set of blueprints appeared on the projection.

“This is where their ICAs operate.  The division is led by a person currently unknown to us, in addition to Special Officer Inaba.  Based on the limited amount of information we obtained, it is conjectured that they are developing a set of special matter-data manipulation techniques that they can incorporate into military use.”

Special Officer?  Does that mean that Inaba is a military personnel?

“Do you mean to say that they are trying to use the annihilation and creation techniques Ene has mentioned?”

Mizuki interjected sharply with a critical tone.  Mark responded swiftly.

“No, not at all. They are not interested in shifting worldlines.  Maintaining their dominance within this worldline is their main objective, after all, at least to our best knowledge.  We were able to deduce that they have been developing a type of virtual missile system involving pure energy-data.  Nothing that we cannot achieve, of course.”

As I wondered what virtual missile system could possibly look like, Mark put on his customer-service smile again as a means of reassurance.  Mizuki stood up from the central chair and started walking back and forth in between the side walls, with his hand on his chin deep in his thought.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.  First of all, let’s stay out of the nuclear sector.  We’ll come back to this issue later.”

Mizuki was now facing toward us, speaking with a composed urgency.

“With that in mind, our priority is to find out the exact power underlying their virtual missile system within their Special Operations Division that you mentioned.  It is highly likely that HADES’ next move will involve the ICAs, and in order to effectively counteract or even be able to preemptively neutralize them, we need a complete understanding of their capabilities.  In cases of close combat, I would like both of you to actively neutralize the threat while minimizing any extensive collateral damages outside of the facilities.  Does that make sense?”

Kirishina-san, the same middle-aged man who spoke up last time, interrupted at this point with an impatient overtone.

“Mizuki-san, why don’t we just go ahead and destroy their manufacturing facilities in the remaining three sectors once and for all?  That would effectively cut off their main supply chains.”

Mizuki responded to Kirishina-san’s question while firmly shaking his head.

“No, we cannot have that happen.  The resulting warfare would only manage to amplify the atmosphere of fear in the general populace and undermine our Finance sector, which is precisely what YM Corp is trying to accomplish.  We must keep tomorrow’s conflict localized within the YMMR facilities.  Is that clear?”

As Kirishina-san crossed his arm in subdued discontent, Mark and I nodded, and I managed to speak up in order to make the necessary request.

“Mizuki-san, we would like to have your SWAT team back us up.  It will make our plan go much smoother.  Of course, they will all be shielded with Ene’s force field control.”

Upon hearing my request, Mizuki gestured enthusiastically toward Bob, the bodyguard we met on the first day, who was standing in front of the door.

“Yes, of course.  You’ve met Bob before, right?  He is in charge of our privatized SWAT team.  Bob, you are to provide strategic and firepower support under the directions of Mark and Ryan tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

After bowing his head lightly with his brusque reply, Bob turned toward us.

“I look forward to working under your directions tomorrow.  We will try our best to provide support as effectively as we can.”

I nodded briskly while Mark waved his hand at him with a smile.  I could see Midori’s long eyelashes were directed downward again….  She was fiddling with both of her thumbs on her lap, but her expression was a subtle mixture of uneasiness and disillusionment.

At that point, a singular set of knocks reverberated dryly on the door.  Bob moved aside and opened the door, and a tall secretary in a suit stepped inside.

“I apologize for interrupting the meeting, Mizuki-san, but it is now time for Ryan and Midori-san to meet with Mayu-san.”

Upon the arrival of the secretary, the entire room grew dead quiet, as if everyone here knew the significance of the name Mayu-san.  Mizuki responded to the secretary with controlled criticality.

“Ah, thank you for letting us know, we have just finished going over our agenda.  Midori and Ryan, I will see you at the main YM Corporations branch later.”

Upon Mizuki’s remark, Midori stood up and turned toward me...

… with her dark brown, lucid, bottomless eyes, and a cryptic smile.

“Let’s go, Ryan.”

As I accompanied her to the door, Mark stayed next to Mizuki, and I saw that everyone in the room was averting their gazes uncomfortably…  It was apparent that Midori and Mayu-san’s consolidation of power within the corporation was undoubtedly real and palpable.

We followed the secretary into the elevator.  Upon pressing the button “60,” she brought her ID card to the card detector, and the elevator started moving upward, rather than downward to the basement where Midori’s private library was.  There was a real floor 60, after all.

The elevator door opened and revealed a very large private lounge.  The entire lounge was surrounded by wide windows, displaying the nighttime city view in its magnificence.  The atmosphere was dimly lit with low-key lamps located next to sofas and tables dispersed throughout the room.  There was absolutely no one in the lounge, until I noticed a small bar at the corner with a single bartender…

… and that was where Mayu-san was sitting.

I was struck by how similar she looked to Midori.  She had a longer hair that fell down below her shoulders, and she looked surprisingly young… almost too young, it seemed.  It would have been entirely possible to have mistaken her as Midori’s older sister had I not been told beforehand.  I realized instantly that almost all of Midori’s beauty came directly from Mayu-san… including her lucid, bottomless eyes that exuberated clarity and authority.

She turned toward us, stood up, and approached us slowly.  Her attire was much more casual than I expected: a simple black woolen sweater and a slim pair of dark jeans.  Perhaps that was part of the reason she looked so young.  Her cryptic smile was identical to that of Midori… but upon closer examination, I realized that her eyes were actually dark purple in color, which gave her beauty a somewhat exotic and ominous aura that was suggestive of… a sort of subliminal danger.  So this was the head of the Japanese Conglomerate Federation...

My instinct was telling me she was not an ordinary person to be taken lightly.

“My dear Midori.  It’s so good to see you again.  How long has it been… almost two years?”

Midori put on an empty smile and responded to her rhetorical question.

“I believe so.  How was your trip to Germany, mother?”

So she does call her mother, after all…

“Very busy, everything went well.  We ended up purchasing a company that manufactures automated microfluidic pumps for around 12 trillion yen, and it will now be a subsidiary of JS Electronics.  But, I didn’t open up my schedule tonight to talk business with you.  Why don’t we all first take a seat?”

She looked at me and accentuated her cryptic smile before turning away and walking toward the sofas sitting next to the wide window.  As we sat down, the secretary asked Mayu-san if she wanted anything to drink.

“Espresso is fine.  Would you two like anything?”

“Espresso please.”

“Same for me.”

As the secretary nodded and walked away, the three of us remained silent for a while.  Mayu-san was staring at the city view outside the window.  The sharp outline of Midori’s face was illuminated by the warm lamp light next to her.  She was staring at the small coffee table in front of us with a lucid expression.  It was quite a tense atmosphere.

The secretary brought our espressos to the table, bowed, and walked away.  Mayu-san took a sip of her espresso, rested her arm along the back edge of the sofa, and spoke up while facing slightly toward the window.

“How have you been, Midori?”

Midori was holding her cup with both of her hands on her lap.

“I have been doing well, thanks to your unceasing patronage.”

Mayu-san smiled and turned her gaze toward Midori.

“I am happy to hear that.  It is my duty to keep you as my protégé, after all.”

Based on a few exchanges of curt remarks so far, I was able to deduce two things.  First was that there was no presence of any sort of personally meaningful ties between Midori and Mayu-san whatsoever.  But second, perhaps a bit more unexpected, was that I could sense Midori was taking extra care in choosing her words so as to make sure that the appearance of her loyalty toward Mayu-san constantly remained unadulterated.

Mayu-san took another sip of her espresso and continued.

“So, I have been briefed of the situation from Mizuki.  You must be Ryan who has been in charge of overseeing Midori, right?”

As I nodded with a short “Yes,” Mayu-san placed her cup down on the table and crossed her arms.

“Good work so far…  I very much appreciate your and Mark’s efforts.”

She gave out a sigh and started shaking her head lightly from side to side.

“So it seems Nagisa is planning to cause quite a commotion these days.  He hasn’t changed at all, has he, ever since the incident seven years ago…  Don’t you think so, Midori?”

Midori took a brief pause, as if to prepare her mind to digest the manifestly unpleasant nature of the question, and managed to respond back with a certain sense of neutrality, along with a vague smile.

“Yes, he has caused distress to all of us here… much to our inconveniences.”

As my mind was busy analyzing the precise tonality underlying her choice of words, Mayu-san turned her gaze toward me.

“Ryan, do you know what my philosophy is when faced against a threat?”

Upon her question, I couldn’t help but immediately realize how strikingly similar the question was to that of Ene when she realized for the first time that YMMR was behind Midori’s mind data overload.

“What would it be?”

She put on an enigmatic smile and answered my question.

“It is to turn them into our friend.”

Her philosophy was indeed quite different from that of Ene...  Ene’s child-like voice echoed in my mind: To destroy them before they destroy us!

At this point, Midori interjected sharply.

“I wonder what that is supposed to mean precisely?”

Mayu-san leaned back on the sofa and announced her plan in a low voice.

“I am going to merge YM Corp into JS Corp.”

Midori’s eyes became slightly larger and was filled with a surprised overtone.  What Mayu-san said also came to me as completely unexpected.  Having noticed our subtle reactions, she uncrossed her arms and picked up her cup again.

“Of course, this is contingent upon removal of Nagisa from the main YM board, which I am currently working on right now.  In fact, the main purpose of today’s conference is to set up the preliminary motion for this to happen.”

Upon finishing the last sip of her espresso, she smiled gently, looked at her watch, and waved toward her secretary.

“I am sorry to cut our meeting off so shortly, but I now have another important meeting to attend before heading to the main YM Corporations branch.  I need to speak to a few people in the Ministry of Defense, you see.”

She gave us a small wink before standing up.  Midori and I stood up as well.  After putting on a dark navy blue coat which the secretary brought to her, she spoke to me with a slightly more serious expression.

“Ryan… in case Midori actually disappears, I am counting on you to bring her back.  All of us here at JS need Midori.”

After seeing me nod, she smiled lightly and turned to Midori.  She stared at her for a few seconds with her dark purple, lucid, bottomless eyes… and she asked her the question that most likely would have been better if it were left unasked.

“Midori, do you like Ryan?”

Midori froze instantly… as if her veil of carefully chosen words was about to be shattered.  A sharp current of electricity ran through my body as I was thrown a bit off-guard by the question as well.  Her big eyes became flustered as she attempted to gloss over the question… albeit in a rather disconcerted manner.

“Umm, I – you see, –”

Mayu-san sighed and interjected her series of fragmented phrases.

“You haven’t changed at all, Midori, have you?”

She turned away toward the elevator… with her long eyelashes pointing slightly downward.

“Woefully sensitive to your own emotions… and woefully insensitive to those of the others.”

As Mayu-san started walking away, the secretary bowed to us and followed her as they disappeared into the elevator shortly afterwards.  Midori remained standing where she was, staring down at the ground… just like the time when Inaba told her that she can’t be running away forever.

By “others,” could she have meant me?

“Midori, are you okay—”

“She’s right.”

A tinge of disappointment started mixing into her melancholic expression.

“I am woefully self-absorbed, after all…  Funny how she looks straight through me even after not having seen each other for over two years.  Maybe it’s because I really am transparent.”

The indigo color of her dress was endowed with much more warmth upon the lamp light.

“I don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with being self-absorbed.”

She looked up at me with a slightly surprised look.

“What do you mean?”

I answered her question with a reassuring smile.

“Well, it might be a bit sad to be self-absorbed if you’re completely alone by yourself...”

I turned toward the wide window and looked into the pitch black sky.

“… but being self-absorbed together with someone can actually be quite consoling, I think.”

Her dark brown, lucid, bottomless eyes continued to stare at me.  I returned her gaze and finished my thought.

“That’s what you meant by singular normalcy, and abstraction thereof, after all.”

Midori smiled and walked toward me.  She stood next to me facing my right side and grabbed my right hand.

“Ryan, promise me something.”

“I can try.”

“Promise me to come back alive tomorrow and find me.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and make sure to come back with a box of donuts from Don Don Donuts.  You know, the new shop that opened recently?”

“Donuts?  Ahh… can’t you ask one of your guards to bring it for you instead?”

“No, I can’t do that…  I will end up eating them all by myself if I do that.”

Her eyes were flooded.  I wiped them off with my other hand and forced a smile.

“Okay, I will definitely bring those donuts back.”

“It’s an absolute order, got it?”

“Anything for you, Midori.”

(*1) Reference to polymorphic code (*2) Reference to supersymmetry

Ch. 19 Illustration 1  |  Illustration 2

Ch. 19 Soundtrack 1  |  Soundtrack 2

Go to Chapter 18: Midori Memories  |  Chapter 20: Midori Divergence  |  Chapter List