#and i would have been equally perturbed by that statement

[ichorai]

pearls and pastries ; j.jk

pairing ; pirate!jungkook x baker!reader (gender-neutral)

summary ; a crew of pirates have been pilfering your village for several weeks now and one particularly keen buccaneer has stopped by your bakery practically every visit; whether it be for the delectable pastries or for the sweet baker he's taken an interest to, jungkook couldn’t say. but there’s a catch - the baker doesn’t know that he’s a pirate.

themes ; fantasy, angst, fluff, pining, slight action, pirate au, baker au, medieval au

words ; 3.6k

warnings / includes ; descriptions of weaponry, stealing (from the rich), jungkook being a sad lovesick sap, pirate!bts, poetic sadness but when do i not do angst lmfao everything i touch turns into written sorrow </3

a/n ; written for the @ficscafe fic exchange event for @sunshinerainbowsbts !! i hope you like it <3 i'm definitely considering writing a part two to this :D

Jungkook wasn’t quite fond of parrots. Well, his mislike wasn’t necessarily directed towards the multi-hued rotund bird itself, but the fact that the wretched thing was squawking out a poor rendition of what Jungkook had announced earlier whilst clambering down the crow’s nest.

“I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery! I’m going to the bakery!” the winged devil screeched from atop Jimin’s shoulder, ruffling its bright feathers as if taunting him.

Shooting it the nastiest of scowls, Jungkook reached behind his head to untie the vermilion bandana holding his overgrown locks away from his narrowed eyes. “You better shut that bird up before I toss it to the sharks, Jimin.”

“If I let you do that, I’d also have to throw you overboard. The both of you are equally annoying,” the other pirate snorted in contempt, glancing up at his younger friend striding across the ship before moving his gaze back to the knapsack he was emptying for the pilfer. Out fell several empty bottles of rum, a few gold pieces glinting in the harsh midday sun, two jewel-encrusted daggers, and a worn eyepatch that suspiciously looked to be the same as the one Yoongi always wore over his left eye. “You seem to forget that we’re here to steal from the rich, not buy fancy breads! You’re lucky that Namjoon has half the decency not to kick you off the boat. Jin, however fond he is of you, still calls you a moocher.”

Rouge faintly dusted across Jungkook’s cheekbones as he coughed into his fist, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “I steal stuff sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. It was useless to defend himself against someone who saw straight through him.

“Sometimes, my foot!” Jimin scoffed, hiking the bag over his shoulders. “Bringing back a goblet you found rolling down the street doesn’t count, you know that, right?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes to the cloudless sky, far too stubborn to admit that Jimin was right. With not another word, the young pirate clambered off of the large vessel and onto the rickety docks, grunting upon landing. It didn’t bother him much that Jimin was irked at his lack of contribution. They were rich enough as it is; what was the rush?

The air was tangy with sea salt and damp wood as he inhaled a deep breath, setting off for your bakery. Walking there took exactly three hundred and seventy two steps. Jungkook had memorized the shortest route to your little shop, mumbling the numbers under his breath with a growing grin blossoming across his lips. He subconsciously rolled the sleeves of his white tunic down, the fabric concealing the pirate tattoos inked all over his arms.

When the youthful sea wolf stepped foot into your store, a familiar chiming of the bell hooked atop the door echoed across the cream-walled room. At the reverberating sound, your head peeked out from the kitchen situated in the back. An illuminating beam danced on your features, eyes lighting up with mirth at the sight of Jungkook.

It made the muscle within his chest slam against his ribcage, desperate to be freed from its confines because it belonged to you, and only you. He wasn’t quite sure when the sudden fixation for the village baker his crew was stealing from started, but he had acclimated to his own change of heart by visiting you as often as he could.

“Fancy seeing you here today. Are you coming in or are you now my human door stopper?” Your heavenly voice floated towards Jungkook, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sheepish, he shuffled inside, engulfed by the warm scents of chocolate cakes, powdered pastries, caramelized fruits, and toasted almonds. His stomach gave an impatient snarl at the sight of tempting desserts. You had also walked to the front of the counter, dusting your flour covered hands on an apron. Some of the white powder had managed to smudge on your cheek, and Jungkook had to resist the urge to reach over and thumb it away.

“Hi,” he said with the brightest of grins. “I’ve missed you.”

At his bold statement, you suppressed a chortle. “I think you missed those chocolate cream puffs you like so much, not me. What’ve you been up to while you were gone?”

Jungkook hesitated at that. For the short amount of time he’d been visiting you, not once had he mustered the courage to tell you of his true origins. A savage pirate like him shouldn’t even be around the likes of you. You had no idea that he was part of the crew that was robbing your village, and the very thought of you finding out had him terrified. You were a taste of all the goodness in the world, and Jungkook was afraid you’d crumble into ash if he dared touch you. The sinner had no rights touching an angel, after all.

“Visiting family,” he hummed, quick to move on. If you noticed his strange demeanor, you didn’t say anything. For that, Jungkook was grateful. “I brought something for you.”

There was something about your smile that seemed to expel any and all feelings of gloom in a room. Jungkook was no exception to this feat, his knees almost buckling against the soft pink counters. He righted himself by leaning his elbows on top and propping his chin up with a palm. Gods, he didn’t know he was in this deep.

“Oh?” you set your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. “To what do I owe such pleasures?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “For those cream cheese tarts you made me last time I visited. Thought I’d repay you.” Whilst saying this, he used his free hand to reach into his back pocket, fishing out a string of authentic pearls, adorned with a glimmering clasp of gold the same hue as the sun.

Your smile melted into a confused pucker, brows knitting together in a muted painting of hesitance, yet you ogled the expensive necklace dangling by one of his spindly fingers nonetheless. Where on earth had he gotten such a valuable treasure? “But you already paid me with money. I really can’t take that, Jungkook.”

Disappointment was easily detected as he slanted his lips to the side. “Alright, then.” He tucked the pearls back into his pocket. It surprised you how easily he had complied.

The worrisome atmosphere was quick to dissolve when the bell jangled once more. A small child meandered in with a toothy beam, holding a small pouch of clattering coins in their palm. They were no taller than Jungkook’s midriff, and he liked it a little more than he should have watching a certain softness adorn your features at the sight of the kid.

“I recommend the cinnamon apple pie. Or maybe the brown sugar crepes if you’re looking for something sweeter,” Jungkook said, gesturing to the treat behind the display glass. The child angled their head to stare at the taller man with wonder. “Anything Y/N makes is to die for, though.”

The child excitedly babbled something in return, but you didn’t quite pick up what they had said. You were far too focused on Jungkook’s animated features when he kneeled down to point at some more desserts. Sure, he was a handsome man, you’ve known that since day one. You’ve never really looked at him in this light. It was as if he were carved from pure luminosity, whittled by the hand of the most skilled sculptor. Everything about him was practically perfect; the gentle slope of his nose, the angles of his raised eyebrows, the dappled rouge of his lips, the beauty marks mottling his dewy skin, the dangerous cuts of his jaw, the twinkle of gaiety you found in his irises. With the sunlight filtering through the windows, it basked Jungkook within a golden radiance, the shadows casted along his face only highlighting his best features, doing nothing to aid your fluttering pulse. Has he always been this beautiful?

“I’ll have a slice of apple pie!”

The sudden clinking of coins being dumped onto the counter snapped you out of your trance, and you kindly wrapped up what the child ordered and handed them the paper bag. Both you and Jungkook watched as they smiled in thanks and trotted out of the bakery. Curse his handsome physique.

A little flustered by your earlier thoughts, you busied your hands by sorting the coins the kid had coughed up. Jungkook, ever the kind soul, merely stood with you as you worked, engaging you in entertaining conversations to keep you occupied while your store was empty. Where did the sun go once it disappeared down the horizon? Why did everybody else seem to enjoy the bitter taste of coffee except him? Why did his heart beat so quickly when around you? The last question he couldn’t muster the courage to ask, and much to his perturbation, he already knew the answer. You enjoyed Jungkook’s company very much; to the point where you couldn’t quite remember what it was like before he had sauntered into your life.

Before the both of you knew it, the sun was already setting. Jungkook noticed the way you deflated just slightly when red kissed the sky. It was a telltale sign that Jungkook was long overdue to go back to his ship. Yoongi would have his ass if he was late again. The whole situation was ridiculous, really. He felt like a fairy tale princess running away from the ball before his clothes grew into tatters. Well, in his case, he supposed it’d be pirate-wear.

Your smile betrayed only the gentlest hint of disappointment as you thrusted a bag of warm cookies into his arms. “Take this for the road,” you had said.

And so Jungkook did, smiling like an idiot the whole way back. A part of him absentmindedly wondered what your face would look like when you noticed that he had left the pearls on the countertop for you.

The ship rocked as the young pirate scampered across the deck at a startling speed, flinging the doors to the cabins open. Six older pirates stared at his panting form, a few looking on with unsurprised indifference, most glaring at him in disappointment. Jimin merely stuck his tongue out, his childish way of saying I told you so. There was expectancy in the captain’s eyes, but it waned away at an instant upon seeing that Jungkook carried nothing of value. Namjoon pinched the space between his brows in mild frustration.

Stiffly, Jungkook jerked his arm to thrust the bag in his hand forward. “Cookie?” he asked. Nobody said anything. Jungkook slowly brought his appendage back down, guilt roiling in his abdomen. “I take it you guys don’t want the cookies?”

With a huff, Namjoon stalked forward. “Of course we want the cookies, give me that.” He snatched the bag out of Jungkook’s hands and tossed it to Taehyung, who caught it with eagerness vividly splayed across his ruffled features. “I do have to admit, we’re getting tired of you bringing back nothing but sweets every time we go on raids, Jungkook. C’mon, kid, this is a team effort here. Look, just today Yoongi managed to steal a dozen coffers from a nobleman. The least you can do is try.” True to the captain’s word, there was a mountain of chests and boxes full to the brim with gold coins and shimmering jewels piled to the side of the cabin.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jungkook nodded in understanding, though not without a miniscule frown twinging his lips. What was a pirate without his treasure, right?

Taking note of his glum demeanor, Namjoon clapped a hand to the younger man’s shoulder. “We’re not mad at you—”

Yoongi snorted at that.

“We just… want to help you help us,” Namjoon finished, ignoring the salty pirate’s quip from behind him.

The youngest man on deck raised his hand to his forehead in an awkward salute. “Yes cap’n!” Shame prowled within his chest; just thinking about the dishonor he brought to the pirate reputation by loitering in a bakery all day, ogling at sugary treats (and the sweet baker, but Jungkook digresses).

A part of him felt even worse knowing that he’d see you less and less, what with the other pirates breathing down his neck. He could only hope that you’d still look forward to his visits, though few and far in between.

Authentic bottles of expensive wines were shoved into his knapsack by Taehyung, lacing chains of aureate crammed into his hands by Hoseok, bars of cold silver wedged into the pits of his arms by Jimin, and more treasures thrown at the youngest pirate to hold as they lithely ran across the village. Being one of the stronger and more agile ones of the group had its downfalls, after all. He was being treated like a pack mule, hauling all the treasure for them. Not that he was going to complain; Jungkook knew that he deserved the rough-housing.

“Hold onto these for me, will you?” Yoongi gruffly uttered as he slid the thick hilts of gem-encrusted daggers into his belt. Jungkook complied hesitantly, but not without a suppressed groan of annoyance. “They’ll sell for more than a pretty penny, so don’t lose them.” The older pirate seemed to be in a grumpier than usual mood, considering he lost his eyepatch and the mottled scar crossing over his eye was on display for anybody to gawk at. It would’ve been worrying to Jungkook if he wasn’t aware of the fact that Jimin was merely prolonging his juvenile game of ‘keep away’, attempting to dance away from Yoongi’s inevitable wrath.

Perhaps being a pirate wasn’t his true calling, because Jungkook found that his mind kept wandering off to the matters at hand—running away from the guards. Though it was a relatively easy task (the guards were quite thick-headed in this village), he thought about the pretty plants dangling from the balconies of a building they jogged by, or the scents of exotic spices carried by the souq market not far from where they were. Most of all, much to his expectancy, his thoughts were centered around you. Had you gotten many customers for lunch rush? Were you lonely without him? How many times have you smiled today? Jungkook was all too fond of your smile.

Blinded by his unsaid affectionate ramblings, he only barely caught on to Namjoon’s quiet, “We shook the guards off for now. Be careful next time, Seokjin. The sun’s about to set soon; we should head back to the ship before it gets dark.”

Jungkook hissed out a small sigh of relief, bending over to catch his breath. Jogging across the village would have been no problem, but running with treasures twice his weight draped all over him was a different story.

When he righted himself back to standing, the sudden pit of shocked trepidation unfurled within his abdomen. There you were, beautiful as ever, but a terrifying sight to see. Normally you’d be the only person he would want to see, but as of this moment, you were the absolute last person he fancied bumping into.

Why now? He had the most rotten of luck.

Today you weren’t wearing your regular apron, but a pair of fitted grey trousers and a soft beige blouse far too large for you, hanging off of one of your shoulders as you cradled a basket of breads and cheeses and other groceries in your arms. It was a simple outfit, but one that made his heart clench nonetheless. The glinting of iridescent pearls draped over your décolletage had his breath stolen away from him as raw sentiment overtook his form. You were wearing the pearls he left for you and you never looked more beautiful. Jungkook, on the other hand, was clad in clothes that practically screamed pirate; a golden-clasped corset tightened about the small of his waist, a tattered white button-up tucked into his dark trousers, worn sea boots covering his feet. A large gun was also slung over the belt cinched around his hips, along with multiple daggers of the like, and not to mention all the riches and jewelry the other boys had thrown at him.

You couldn’t see him. No, it would absolutely ruin Jungkook.

Perhaps dropping everything he was holding in a panicked effort to dash away as quickly as he could was the worst possible thing he could have done to not warrant any attention.

The concerned and confused questions erupting from the other pirates as they whipped their heads towards their youngest comrade went completely ignored. He scampered away from them, lunging towards a shadowed alley and hiding behind a teetering pile of musty boxes. A stray cat nuzzled against his leg, but Jungkook merely shooed it away with a frustrated glare and not-so-subtle shushing gestures.

What a fool I am, the young buccaneer berated himself, pressing a knuckle against his temple in frustration. He waited for another minute, before slinking out from the shadows, peering around the corner to see if you were still there.

No sign of you. Relief seized his chest, but not without the gentlest flower of disappointment staining whatever solace he felt, a weed amongst the roses. Jungkook’s mind was still reeling from the fact that you were wearing his pearls.

Treading carefully, he strode out of the alley, turning the other direction before halting in his tracks completely. A queer, garbled noise tumbled past his lips.

It was you, a confused smile gracing your features, and all Jungkook could think about was how the sunlight was made for you, how you glowed in front of him, how he wanted to cradle you into his chest and murmur confessions of his pure, unadulterated love into your ear. But Jungkook didn’t do any of that. Instead, he merely stood there, as if he was imitating a statue in all of his pirate glory. Terrified, regretful, and ever so angry at himself.

Fate was a cruel game.

The pearls shone prettily on your skin. A reminder of the best mistake he’s ever made.

Your eyes had yet to wander down to fully take in his appearance, for your expression still held fondness for the man that’s visited your bakery so often, still having no idea that he was a filthy pirate, locked into his molten gaze. “I think you dropped something…?” The golden chains dangled loose between your fingers as you held them out to him. Jungkook didn’t take them, frozen on the spot.

It was as if he could pinpoint the exact moment you found out his true origins. Your brows furrowed upon seeing the weaponry strapped onto him, one of his pirate tattoos on display (Jungkook cursed himself for not thinking of rolling his sleeve back down), and the six other men watching in silent despondency behind them. You had always been a sharp one, far too smart for your own good.

Or, perhaps, it's always been obvious. Jungkook was only wishing for the impossible.

“You’re a pirate.”

The statement wedged a stake into his chest, splintering his heart into pieces. When you stepped away from him, confused horror marring your beautiful features, Jungkook knew that it was over.

He lost you.

A flurry of emotions, overwhelming and tumultuous, evidently took over you at his lack of denial. You looked to be just as heartbroken as he was.

“You’re a pirate,” you repeated, dazed. You wanted him to say something, anything. Much to his surprise, you didn’t sound angry. You took several steps back this time. The weight of pearls around your neck suddenly felt choking.

The sudden calling of his name had his head whipping around to look at his captain, watching the brutal exchange with gentle sternness. “We have to go.” The guards’ll be coming soon, no doubt.

Jungkook looked back to you, any and all words lodged in his throat. Despite the fear in your irises, a soft expression of acceptance folded over your visage, for under all his pirate exterior, he was still the same man that you thought so fondly of from your bakery. The look was short-lived however, quick to fade away when Jungkook reached out for you hesitantly. A part of him pondered how a simple baker managed to steal from the stealer. You had robbed him of his heart, and Jungkook didn’t even try to stop you.

Upon seeing you inch away in mortification at your new revelation, Jungkook retracted his arm and pursed his lips. The agony clawing at his stomach was begging to be set free. He wanted nothing more than to get onto his knees and plead for your forgiveness.

I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I’m not the man you thought I was. I’m sorry I fell in love with you.

His name came out again, this time from Yoongi. That meant it was serious.

“I’ll come back,” Jungkook said, tears rimming the bottom of his warm doe eyes. You watched him start to trek backwards. “I promise.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, like he was swallowing down a knot of thorned ivy.

Before you had the chance to say anything back, he was gone, bounding back to his ship with his comrades. Not long after, the distant barks of guards pursuing them rang throughout the village. You took that as your cue to leave. Swallowing down the urge to cry, you forced your eyes away.

You hoped he wouldn’t uphold his promise, for the both of your sakes.

[rhaenyratargeryn]

Title: sense

Pairing: Adam x F!detective

Summary: just a little scenario I imagine absolutely happened at some point.

Notes: ao3 link

***

“Oh, thank god— Nate, please be the voice of reason here.”

The detective’s tone was one of intense exasperation, her hand rubbing across her eyes as she stood in the Warehouse kitchen opposite of Adam, who was appearing equally perturbed. A deep line had settled between his brows and he had crossed his arms at her words.

Nate suddenly regretted having not gone the other direction.

“Yes, please. As sense has seemed to have completely evaporated.” Adam countered, his eyes trailing over to Nate expectantly.

At a loss, Nate smiled faintly, “... what am I voicing upon?”

“She is putting herself in a position of unnecessary—”

“Adam doesn’t want me sleeping with my windows open!”

The detective erupts over Adam’s voice, earning a cool glare from the other man. Upon moving his gaze to meet Nate’s utterly bewildered one, his pale skin seemed to flush just a fraction. Realization of just how preposterous the detective’s explanation made him seem flitted across Adam’s eyes for the barest moment before he shoved it down deep.

“It is an issue of safety. Anyone could enter through that flimsy screen.”

“I’m on the second floor!”

“As if such a thing would be an issue for a supernatural.” Adam said, rising up taller, as if he’d won with that statement, “You would be safer staying here if you wished to sleep in such a way.”

“If supernaturals are coming to break into my apartment I don’t think glass or locks would be an issue either!” the detective said, throwing a hand up and out to the side in a gesture of utter annoyance.

Adam had no retort for that.

Nate wondered idly if they would notice if he slipped back out. He got his answer when Adam turned to him, eyes as near to pleading as the older vampire could get.

“She has a point,” Nate said slowly, gauging the way Adam’s expression shuttered.

“Fine.” Adam said with bite, “But do not expect us to come running when you place yourself purposefully in harm's way.”

He turned and exited the kitchen, the detective’s words following behind.

“It’s just a window! For goodness sake!”

Once it was obvious Adam had no intention of returning to the conversation, she sat down with a soft thump into one of the kitchen chairs, attempting to return to her coffee and breakfast with minor success.

“How on earth did this start?” Nate asked after a moment, moving to take a seat across from her with a rueful smile.

“I just mentioned how I was happy the weather was cooling down in the evenings… the air is nice and I sleep so much better at home when it gets all cozy like this.” the detective sighed, “And Adam well— was Adam about it.”

“He just cares.” Nate offered, an insufficient excuse for certain, “This is how he shows it.”

The detective looked doubtful, but did not question the honesty of Nate’s words.

--

There was no way she would stay at the warehouse tonight after that display. The detective returned to her own apartment, throwing open both her bedroom and living room windows the moment she arrived and enjoying the chilly air that had settled in the twilight hours.

She brewed a mug of tea and settled into her plush papasan chair, tucked a few pattern pillows out of the way and opened a book. It took awhile for her to turn her thoughts away from her own act of stubbornness, which had in turn put her back into the argument from that morning.

Theoretical arguments with Adam were a constant daydream, right next to the ones where he didn’t flinch when she reached out to touch his face.

It didn’t help that the novel was littered with romantic subtropes and finally, with a sigh, she closed it after darkness finally settled across the room. The detective closed the living room window a fraction, as was her usual routine and shut off the lights, heading to the bedroom.

That window she left wide open, changing into her pajamas even in full view. No one was typically out on that section of the street this late and she was high up enough not to worry about anyone getting too much of an eyeful. Even so, she changed quickly, keeping her bare back to the glass as she tugged on a large t-shirt.

After, she shut off the lights and curled into bed, sighing contentedly at the way the ceiling fan spread out the chilled, night scent of fresh clean air. It was nice after having to spend so much time keeping the heat out to huddle beneath the blankets and slowly drift off.

The detective had just fallen into a soft dream when her phone chimed. Groaning, she turned her face into her pillow.

The phone chimed again. And again. And then finally began to ring.

Throwing her blankets off, she fumbled for the device in the dark and answered.

“...speaking.” she mumbled, barely annunciating her title and name. On the other end, the familiar voice of a patrol officer greeted her.

“Hey, sorry to bug you so late. You got a sec?”

“Sure, sure.” she yawned.

“We keep getting calls from folks in your apartment block. They say there is some weirdo hanging around. Big hulking type. Got folks worried about break ins. Have you seen anything? I’m halfway across town so I figured I’d save the trip if it was nothing.”

The detective took a deep measured breath, held and let it out.

“It’s okay. I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah. No problem.”

The officer thanked her profusely, apologized again for waking her and then once they hung up, the detective selected a number from her contacts and plopped back against her pillows.

The answer was quick.

“Commanding Agent Du Mortain.” came the clear, professional answer. Too clear. Too professional.

“Where are you?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I am patrolling.”

“Good, maybe you can help me then.”

“Is something wrong?” his voice lifted, the mask of disinterest fading.

“I got a call from an officer. Says a hulking, unscrupulous and unsavory character is loitering around my apartment parking lot.”

Silence.

“Have you seen anyone like that?” the detective continued, unable to hide the smile in her voice.

“Did you tell them it was handled?” came Adam’s terse, unamused response. The detective thought she heard the sound of his footsteps.

“Yes. Ya know, if you want to keep watch? In the future? Do it from inside.”

There was silence for a prolonged moment and then, the detective startled, sitting up and rushing to find the light at her bedside table at the sound that came from her hall.

“I am inside.” came Adam’s voice, both from the phone and the outside of her bedroom door, sounding way too smug.

The detective threw off her covers completely and marched to the door, throwing it open.

“As I said. Entirely unsound. You did not even hear me remove the screen—”

“Adam.” she said, voice terse and annoyed and tired. Whatever she hoped to say next was lost as her shoulders hunched forward and his expression softened a fraction.

It was then he seemed to note more fully her attire, standing before him in nothing but a thread-bare t-shirt that was so large it hung off one shoulder and a pair of boyshorts. The detective felt the sudden tension roil to the surface, warm and familiar and yet distant. Out of reach.

He swallowed thickly and the detective began to wonder just how long he had been outside her window.

“Just stay here… if you’re that concerned.” the detective said with a sigh, turning and crawling back into bed. She turned to look back at him, noting while his body was frozen his eyes had followed her every step of the way, blazing with vibrant green at the sight of her, half-dressed and lazing on the mattress.

“... I… I cannot.” Adam was at a loss, the prospect no doubt making his head spin and his heart hammer as intently as her own.

“You can. Since it isn’t all of the team, you should be able to find a place to sit out there.” she said with a nervous laugh, the spell breaking the moment Adam realized what it was she was offering. Tension rolled off his shoulders, relief in his exhaled breath.

“You meant in the living room.”

“Where else would I have meant?” the detective replied, making a point of lingering near one edge of the bed, leaving the side closest to him open and terribly inviting. For a moment she enjoyed watching the way his breath puffed from his lungs before catching. That tiny flicker of wanting that he snapped back up and hid down deep the moment it dared rear forward.

“I guess you could always bring a chair in here,” she said, yawning and stretching her arms above her head until the t-shirt rose up high on her waist, revealing the bare line of her thighs. She relaxed and watched Adam’s eyes follow the hem back down.

Without a word, Adam vanished from the doorway. For a moment, the detective felt her heart seize, worried she’d pressed too hard.

But in a moment he returned, one of the antique padded, high backed chairs from her small dining table in hand.

He set it by the window, making a point of glancing out over the parking lot before he sat down.

They lingered like that for a moment, the sound of insects, the soft breeze of the wind outside and the gentle whirl of the ceiling fan filling the silence.

“I’m going to turn the light off.” the detective warned quietly. Adam gave a nod. She leaned over and flicked off the switch, sitting for a moment in the darkness until her eyes adjusted and she could make him out.

He was watching her.

She settled under her blankets, stilling once she had become comfortable again and finding the sleep that had been right at the forefront of her thoughts suddenly illusive.

“...well, good night.” she said with a soft, nervous laugh. Her heart was beating fiercely in her chest. She wondered if he could hear it. No. She knew he could hear it. She willed herself to calm, letting her thoughts fade to the daydreams that helped ease her into sleep. Every once in a while she heard him shift, the sound of fabric, of the chair. His presence was a soothing one, even if it did also make her heart skip and patter in her breast.

It took awhile, but eventually her pulse settled and slowly she drifted back off to sleep.

--

The sound of her heart was like that of a rabbit caught in a snare at first, thrumming with beats and the flow of her blood, rippling like a stream. Adam had felt his own racing to match, falling in pace now as it settled and slowed.

He tried not to move. Not to make a sound. As if doing so would make his being here less— real. Less present.

It did not help.

It only took an hour or so before he could tell she was truly and wholly asleep, her soft breaths deep and even. At that point, Adam felt himself finally able to relax, able to set fully to the task of keeping a watch out over the complex.

This was why he preferred her to stay at the warehouse. Where he could stand watch without her ever knowing he was there. Which he did—every night she stayed with them. Distance made his chest ache, restrictive and demanding. Searching. As if his heart would escape his ribs if it could to seek her out, only calmed when she was near.

Adam knew this was not just fear for her safety. Knew it was deeper than that, but still refused to place the words that so obviously described the feeling to it.

But now, in the dark, in the quiet calm, he let them flit through his head.

He missed her when she was gone. Without reason. Without sense. Which was why he tried to attribute something rational, something vaguely resembling reason when he argued why she should remain at the warehouse. With them. With him.

This, Adam supposed, was suitable enough.

She shifted in her dreams, the blanket pulling from her legs as she clung to it. After a moment, she shivered. Adam stood, pulling one of the soft quilts from the bed out and laying it over her. He smoothed his hand down her leg from the knee, resting his palm on her ankle until she calmed once more.

He had to fight the urge to lift his hand, to retrace the soft path it had just taken. When the feeling was well under control, he returned to his spot by the window.

When the sun rose, Adam would be gone.

But for now, he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe.

[bilbobagginshome]

A Deadbeat's Journal 6

A Jotaro Kujo x blackfemreader fic

Jotaro’s thoughts.

Y/n’s mom is such a complex being such that I can't seem to fully wrap my head around. She is equal parts hot and cold, either sporting a calm disposition or extremely jovial, to the point of fright.Nowadays, she has a more neutral stance on almost anything , especially after the entire incident .

Do I like her? Like is a strong word. As a person raised by a loving mom and absentee dad , I empathize with the struggles y/n’s mom overcame raising her so y/n’s current mental health is not entirely her fault. Hell, I even went through an angsty phase of my own which makes me cringe at thought but in spite of this my mom never drove me mad. Is it unfair that I’m somewhat blaming y/n’s mental health on her mom’s past actions? Perhaps, but objectively speaking ,she is the common denominator in y/n’s ego fluctuations and idealistic world view.

We’ve been meeting at a broody french cafe after our work days so that I can sneakily give her updates on y/n’s improvement.And as usual she’s a few minutes late .Honestly this used to irk me a bit but i’ve soon come to learn that people in Mombasa are far too easy going to maintain punctuality. I experience this all the time. For instan-

“Jotaro, Good evening , sorry to keep you waiting.” Ms Faith said remorsefully.

“It's no problem , would you like me to order you anything ? perhaps tea alongside a slice of cake.” I questioned , slightly perturbed at how zoned out I was.

“That would be lovely ,thank you .” She responded politely as I gestured to the waiter.

“Anyway how have you been, how’s work, your mom told me you got a new grant. Congratulations.''She said enthusiastically.

“Yeah I did , I wasn’t expecting to get it but I’m grateful for it. Thanks, I appreciate it.”I responded calmly.

“No problem.” she says as she takes a sip of her milk ginger tea. I’ve never seen this woman drink a cup of coffee and she prefers milk in her tea .Maybe it's the reason she still looks 25 despite being twice as old.

“So , about y/n , is she bothering you? I know that she may seem entitled but she’s such a good kid but if you are unable to continue bearing with her , I can easily bring her home.”she asks with the encouraging afterthought of her innermost intentions which is always no-so-subtly shoved to my face.

“She’s fine. We recently got a cat , she loves her. She has also been practicing a lot of self control and how to deal with her sudden mood drops with her therapist.” I said , observing how she brightened up.

“Wow , that’s great news right Jotaro? She’s improving , so that means she can come home soon right?” her mom said .

Oh so that’s why she’s so happy ,she’s only preoccupied with the thought of bringing her home. This is why I’m not her biggest fan . She’s not overtly abusive and based on y/n’s childhood stories , her mom sort of revered her (still does ,to be frank), thus the reason she was very controlling . She kept y/n on a leash, practically monitoring her social circle . This led to her being a shut in kid and an isolated kid with no one but her mom who spews nothing but praises onto her was always bound to be a disastrous mix.

“Ms Khadija has advised against it.” Not really but why would I bring her back to you for the cycle to continue.

“Oh , I still am unsure about what that woman is feeding my child.” She remarked , punctuating her distaste with a click.

I didn’t comment on that statement . Retaining neutrality with Ms Faith is the most advisable route. She is an assertive woman and will easily take any remark you may say even in passing very seriously to the point of taking action especially if it pertains to her daughter . I am always encouraging mom to bite her tongue whenever she’s around her.

“Thank you Jotaro for taking care of her . You’ve always been such a gentleman so I’m ever grateful that you were willing to take your friend in during these trying times. May God have mercy on you.”she graciously said 

“Amen,”I replied. I’m a practicing buddhist.

“Well , this has been enlightening , I’ll cover the bill so we can head out.” she said , already removing her wallet from her handbag.

“No mom, please let me pay, I insist.” I pleaded whilst already removing the notes.

“No my dear, you are still a child. You can start paying when you are married with a child.” She asserted , quickly gesturing to the waiter. 

“Well , let me walk you to your car then.” I determinedly responded.

We spent the entire walk chatting up on other miscellaneous events. She left me with a kiss on the cheek and an assurance that she’ll visit soon.

No sooner had I opened the door, I’m met with Samosa who jumps off y/n’s lap to greet me and y/n who simply questions why I’m 30 minutes later than usual.

“Traffic hold up, what’s for dinner ?”

“Homemade Shawarma and fries.”

Buddha has once again favoured me.

                              prev  masterlist  next

Making Jotaro a practicing buddhist whilst being around christians and living in a largely muslim populated city is the best thought I’ve had all year.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Drifters ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Enter the Other Brother. Blue, welcome home! You might be in for a surprise!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge was not a Monster who cared very much for surprises. In his experience, they never led to anything good, not to birthday parties or unexpected gifts, but rather ambushes and dust. He preferred careful planning to the seat-of-the-pants schemes that his brother often came up with, every step made with strategy in mind.

He couldn’t say for certain if Blue was the same way, although he suspected he may be. His understanding of how the alternate worlds worked was more for the layman rather than the professional, but he wasn’t blind to the personality traits that he and Blue shared, the sort of twist in nature vs nurture that any sociologist would love to explore.

He had a fair idea of how he might react to finding this clown car of a domestic scene in his own living room and if he’d known that Stretch hadn’t even mentioned he and Red were here, much less the baby, he would have at least sent Blue a blasted text.

That might have at least braced him and given him a chance to come up with a better question than simply, “Is that a baby?”

His brother, ever the peacemaker, chose that precise to speak up, scoffingly, “sure can tell you two are brothers, ya share the same brain cell, your bro said the same damn thing. yeah, it’s a baby, good on you for noticin’.”

“blue!” Stretch scrambled upright and his bright grin was too wide, too wrong, tinged with poorly hidden guilt. “sorry, bro, i was gonna call and it slipped my mind. yeah, hey, everyone showed up on our doorstep yesterday. check out the snow princess, cute, huh?”

That much at least was the truth, but Blue didn’t seem to have heard a word of it. This wasn’t quite the reaction Edge had been braced for; he’d expected Blue to make a beeline for the baby, had been resigned to handing her over for plenty of excited cuddling and cooing.

This was something else entirely. The normal stars of his eye lights were overly bright, flashing between blue and yellow with seizure inducing intensity, set into a face that was like stone. He barely glanced at the rest of them past a brief, bizarrely sympathetic glance at Edge. The anger in his gaze was for his brother alone.

Stretch seemed equally confused, his oversized smile faltering, “bro?”

“How could you?” Blue said, his voice carrying despite its deadly softness.

“wha…me?” Stretch looked around the room as if perhaps another person had appeared, that it was to this stranger his brother spoke that way. He shrank back as Blue abruptly moved, slamming the door shut as he stalked over to the sofa, his small body radiating fury.

“How could you!?” Again, louder this time, not quite a shout but verging on one.

“coulda woulda shoulda? bro, what the hell—”

Blue ignored that, stamping his foot and sending out a spatter of rapidly melting snow from his boot to dampen the carpet. “Irresponsible!”

Stretch’s face was falling, going oddly blank, his false humor fading. Next to him, Red looked equally perturbed. “now hang on a sec, short stuff, ain’t no reason to go off on the honey bun.”

“Stay out of this!” Blue snapped and for a wonder, Red jerked back, his mouth snapping shut. His eye lights briefly guttered, leaving his sockets dark and black, returning only when Stretch spoke up next to him.

“yeah. stay out of this,” Stretch agreed, softer but no less sharp and from the look he shot Edge, he was included in that statement.

Edge said nothing and even the child was silent, a dab of runny banana sliding down her chin as she stared at the Swap brothers with wide sockets. Even if he’d wanted to intrude, this argument was between brothers and it was an unspoken rule through all the ‘verses that one did not interfere with brothers.

Despite the surface similarities, none of their relationships were exactly the same. Edge knew all too well that if he railed at Red over his laziness, his brother never took it to heart or soul. He let Edge rant, blowing off the steam that built within him throughout the day and his frustrated insults rolled off Red like water off the proverbial duck. The only fallout tended to be yet another sticky note added to the continuing line trailing away from a single, absurd sock.

Stretch was, well, lacking waterproofing. More like Edge in that way, truth be told, and if Edge could snipe at his brother all day long for his ridiculous puns and lazy ways, one genuine return jab from Red often left him deeply wounded, all the more painful for its unerring accuracy and rarity.

He wondered how he’d handle being under the weight of that much visible disappointment. Edge almost always agreed with Blue’s assessments of his brother’s behavior, but his delivery needed work and the unexpected impulse to protect Stretch from that disappointment took him off guard. He wanted to scoop Stretch up like he did the baby, hold him close, cradle him in his arms and protect him, and that was ridiculous, utterly; he was an adult, older than Edge, and yet the urge remained.

In the end, Edge could only look away, stirring the gloopy remains of the banana while the two brothers whispered furiously behind him.

“Of all the careless, irresponsible—” Blue took a deep breath, let it out, muttering out, “This is all right, this is fine. We can deal with this.” He scrubbed his gloved hands over his face and then squared his shoulders as he said, “You still should have called me.”

“probably,” Stretch agreed, and perhaps the unexpected storm had passed. He relaxed back into the sofa, the tension in the room easing. “didn’t want to interrupt your important training.” He flashed Edge a sharp glance and he tried to look as if that was the exact reasoning.

“Yes, well, that’s true,” Blue admitted. “And I appreciate you thinking of that, but next time…well, there probably won’t be a next time of this, I should hope.” Any lingering worry that Blue might object to them staying for a time vanished as Blue finally swung back to the baby, this time with a familiar, bright smile on his face as he gushed out, “Which is a shame because she is simply adorable!”

He rounded the coffee table with the haste Edge originally expected, grabby hands extended, and the moment Blue bent down to reach for her, the baby burst into sobbing howls, squirming away.

Automatically, Edge swung her up, settling her against his shoulder and patting her back gently as he soothed her with a bewildered, “There, there, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

Blue looked as if he might burst into tears himself, stumbling back a step and his eye lights faded from stars to unhappy circles. “I didn’t mean to—"

They both turned to look at Red as he let out a harsh laugh. “what’s wrong? he scared the shit out of her coming in like that, that’s what’s wrong,” Red snorted contemptuously, “don’t you know nothin’ bout babies? you’re almost as bad as my bro.”

“Not really,” Blue admitted. Shame filled his expression as he shuffled his feet. He noticed he was still wearing his boots and sat on the floor to pull them off, carrying them over to the door and automatically straightening the other shoes before adding his. “Most of my experience with children has been seeing them from a distance.”

That gave Edge a start and he realized he’d been expecting Blue to have some sort of knowledge about childcare, though he wasn’t sure why. This world was softer and tended towards kindness, but that hardly meant it gave them any innate parenting skills.

“Well!” Blue straightened, propping his hands on his hips. “I’m sure that the Magnificent Sans can learn!”

“sure you can, bro,” Stretch said, cautiously, and that Edge could understand, being very familiar with Blue’s brand of determination.

“yeah, well, here’s your first lesson,” Red slouched back on the sofa, picking at his gold tooth with a sharpened fingertip. “babies don’t like it when ya shout.”

“yep, that’s a good place to start. you know what, i’m gonna get everyone some coffee,” Stretch announced and fled to the kitchen, the coward.

Blue paid that no mind, already came back over determinedly when he spied the bowl Edge had hastily shoved on the table. The child was watching him warily as Blue picked it up, taking hold of the little spoon. “Here, let me help!”

Before Edge could stop him, Blue tried to poke the filled spoon into her mouth. The child refused to part her teeth, leaving a smear of mushy banana across them, and Blue’s brief confidence sagged, “Oh. Um. Maybe she’s not hungry?”

“Maybe.” Edge took the bowl back and immediately she began bouncing eagerly in his lap, mouth opening wide as she made urgent little sounds.

“fuck, you two are morons,” Red snorted, because of course he would stay to bear witness. “she don’t know you. kid is small, she ain’t blind. she ain’t gonna take her banana goop from just any plain asshole, she likes an asshole she knows.”

“Yes, thank you for clarifying that for us all, brother,” Edge said sourly. Somewhat gentler, he said to Blue, “Sit with me. Let her see you, it may make her more comfortable.”

“yeah, hold out a hand and let her sniff ya, that’ll do it,” Red chuckled meanly as Stretch came back out with a tray of mugs. He set it down before smacking Red on the back of the skull.

“will you cool it on the running commentary? let them work it out.”

Red rubbed his head and scowled, but he accepted the coffee cup when Stretch handed him one. “just callin’ it how i see it.”

“yeah, well, if they give up on trying, that leaves you as mary poppins, smartass.”

“good point. my teeth are sealed.”

The child grudgingly allowed Edge to settle her back on the pillows with the unspoken promise of more food. She watched Blue warily the entire time she was eating, but he made no move towards her. He sat obediently still the entire time, his gloved hands clasped tightly together in his lap as if to stave off any impulse to scoop the baby up. If nothing else, her attention on Blue kept her from messily sharing any more of her banana.

When the bowl was scraped clean, Edge wiped the child’s chubby face clean with a damp cloth then settled her back into his lap. “You see, little one?” he told her softly, “Blue is a friend.”

“I am! I really am! Want to come here?” Blue slowly held out his hands without getting too close, waiting with impressive patience. The baby looked from him to Edge, and he tried to look encouraging.

Slowly, she held up her arms to Blue. He lifted her a little awkwardly, but managed to get her settled into the curve of his arm without intervention.

“There we go!” To Edge’s relief, Blue kept his enthusiasm at a minimum, though he practically vibrated with excitement. Almost immediately, the baby began to loudly babble and if he didn’t know better, Edge would say she was scolding Blue for his part in the earlier brotherly dispute.

Soon enough, her chattering dwindled to murmurs, her sockets growing heavy, then closing entirely as she slept. Edge let Blue keep holding her as he gratefully took up his own cup of coffee and never had caffeination been so delicious.

Blue only looked at her in awe, lightly touching each of her tiny, perfect fingers. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered, turning the full force of his starry eye lights onto his brother, “but honestly, Papy, you should have told me you two were expecting a child!”

Stretch choked, spilling coffee down the front of his shirt. “wait, what? that’s why you were so pissed off?”

“I would have thought you would be more cautious about that sort of thing, but I suppose it hardly matters now,” Blue said philosophically. “You still should have called me though when she arrived!”

“but we didn’t…!”

“Here we have a new baby, and I wasn’t even able to give her a baby shower!”

“She’s already had a bath,” Edge said, confused. This was going entirely too fast and he was not in top form, how could they possibly have been expecting her, there was nothing about the past two days that Edge had expected in the slightest.

Rescue came from an unexpected and wholly unwanted source.

“fuck’s sake, blueberry, she ain’t their kid!” Red snapped.

“Don’t swear,” Edge and Blue said, nearly in unison. Then Edge nearly choked on his own coffee as realization clicked with the force of an open-handed slap. Blue thought that the baby was his, not simply his responsibility but his own and Stretch’s. Suddenly his earlier sympathetic look made more sense, by Asgore’s horns, of all things he could believe…!

“She’s not?” Blue asked, confused. “But, then where did she come from?”

“where the fuck do you think, numbnuts?” Whatever the patience Red usually had for Blue seemed to have found its limit. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, all but slamming his mug down on the coffee table, “she wasn’t flown in by the stork, kid was homegrown just like the rest of us and she’s got the fucking serial number to prove it!”

“Oh.” There was a wealth of meaning in that single, soft word, too many to properly interpret. Blue looked down at the baby sleeping in his arms, his fingertips hovering over her rib cage without touching, right over where her pajamas hid the healing scar. The same scar his brother and Red still had, faded and blurred, but still there. Then he wordlessly handed her to Edge, climbing to his feet and walked determinedly over to his brother.

Stretch only watched warily, allowing Blue to take away his half-empty coffee cup to shove it on table, ignoring the splash of coffee that slopped out and spread across the wood. He slid his small, strong arms around him, holding onto his brother tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Blue said simply. The words were muffled, buried into Stretch’s coffee-stained hoodie. “I shouldn’t have been so upset with you and I certainly should have let you explain.”

“aw, bro, it’s okay—” Stretch hugged him back, resting his cheekbone on top of Blue’s skull.

“It’s not,” Blue said, the words tainted with the hint of a sob. “I assumed you were being irresponsible, and I shouldn’t have.”

“not like i don’t give you a reason for that.”

“There’s a difference between a messy room and, well, this.” They stayed there a moment longer, holding on tight, and when Blue drew away, he swiped a hasty sleeve over his damp sockets. “Now!” Blue clapped his hands together softly. “I think we should discuss living arrangements.”

“We can,” Edge said, quietly firm, “but I hardly think that will be necessary. We won’t be here for long.”

The sudden trio of protests was loud enough to wake the baby and Edge turned away, bouncing her in his arms as he tried to soothe her back to sleep. He’d known there would be objections, but he couldn’t allow them to sway him. This child was his responsibility, his choice, and his alone.

He had a duty to her and Edge was determined to see it done.

TBC

[gumnut-logic]

Worth the Purple

I’m just going to dump this here and walk away. Quality is questionable as I’ve been mostly asleep while writing it. Happy Birfday, Johnny. Sorry it is a day late, I can only sleep type so much, eventually the brain collapses and refuses to function.

I hope you enjoy this anyway.

-o-o-o-

It was late and the sun had long gone down. The villa was quiet. Scott had wandered off to bed early. It had only taken a glare from Virgil to instigate his movement.

The words he had with his eldest brother earlier in the day were obviously taken to heart. Either that or the threat of calling in Grandma if he didn’t get himself some decent sleep had the effect Virgil desired. It didn’t really matter as long as Scott managed some shuteye.

His eldest brother needed management otherwise he’d work himself into an early grave.

Gordon had used his leverage as the injured brother to corner Alan into watching Buddy and Ellie with him after dinner.

Virgil attended to the situation before it became explosive.

Alan was ushered off with a video game and a plead from Virgil to go take a shower before his clothes gained sentience.

Alan’s remarked that John’s discarded trash gained sentience and it had worked well for his brother so, it might not be a bad thing.

The fact the video game in his hand let out a god-awful squawk and died after that statement was probably something Virgil, or at least John should investigate, but as it would probably teach Alan a valuable lesson in keeping his mouth shut, Virgil was willing to let it go for a little while at least.

He doubted Eos would do too much serious damage.

Gordon still had his feet up in their home theatre stuffing his face with popcorn and cheesewhiz.

Consequently, there were large portions of both all over the floor, the seat, his fish brother’s clothing, and the sling wrapped around his left arm.

A comment on Virgil’s behalf about vermin attracting vermin was received with a snort.

Gordon’s distracted answer was that there were no rats on Tracy Island and for the other creatures available, he was helping to keep the ecosystem running.

Virgil commented that he was pretty sure his brother might be capable of encouraging new types of mould.

Gordon told him to go be tidy somewhere else where he wasn’t interrupting a search for the giant cyclops.

Virgil rolled his eyes, checked his brother’s bandages and his vitals -mostly just to annoy him - and left him to it. After all, he had better things to do than tackle lost causes.

He ran into Grandma in the hallway and they swapped family reconnaissance. He knew Kayo was in Brazil for the night, but he hadn’t seen Brains for most of the day. Grandma reported that he had been fed and watered and had possibly developed a new polymer that could be used in the scuff pads on their uniform to help prevent what happened to Gordon from happening again.

It was no surprise. When technology failed, Brains got angry and solutions were the result.

Sometimes several.

Hell, that was how his exosuit was born.

Brains had been so angry that by the time Virgil made it out of hospital, there were five exosuits ready for testing.

Brains saw mechanical failure as personal failure and acted accordingly.

Gordon’s injury was small on the Tracy Scale, but the thirteen stitches in his arm were enough to ignite the genius engineer into a minor inventing fury at least.

Grandma’s hand on his arm squeezed just gently before she drew Virgil into a hug goodnight. He returned her embrace, as always so surprised at just how small his grandmother was, yet so strong.

Letting her go, he headed down to the comms room to chase up the one remaining human occupant of the Island.

John had been missing all evening and while that wasn’t unusual, Virgil felt the need to check on him before bed…otherwise he would be left wondering.

Wondering was never good for sleep.

He had his suspicions of where his star brother might be, so when he found the comms room empty, he wasn’t surprised. A step out onto the balcony and the second most likely place to find John also proved fruitless as the pool glistened in the starlight amongst the empty loungers.

Virgil looked up at the sky. It was a still night. Only the ocean lapping against the Island interrupted the silence. There was no breeze, no rustling of palm or pokey trees. The occasional bat chattered and a disturbed bird muttered, but it was eerily still for their exposed position in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

But the stars told him where to find his brother.

-o-o-o-

It was ever so silent as he made his way up the side of Tracy Peak. The steps he and John had carved into the volcanic rock did their job beautifully, though Virgil would admit that there was no way he would want to do this in bare feet.

That and it was dark despite the subdued lighting. He shone a hand-held torch on the stairs and tried not to kill himself on the steep climb.

He had begged his brother to light the steep ascent, and it had taken some persuasion even to allow the dim red lights that barely outlined the way. Light pollution was a thing and John was a little protective of his midnight vista.

Virgil always made a point of carrying his own torch for a touch of extra safety. After all, it would be really stupid for one of the famed Thunderbirds to kill themselves tripping on stairs in the dark.

As he neared the top of the steps, he lowered his light and shielded it as to not to betray his approach. It was likely John already knew he was there, but there was no reason to disturb his night vision more than necessary.

The observatory was little more than a rock platform high up on Tracy Peak. It sat at a natural lookout point and during the day you could see for miles.

At night it was just shadows and starlit ocean.

It was a good, few metres across and they had used some of the stone they had carved out of the mountainside for the stairs to build a balustrade around the platform’s edge and put in some very basic seating.

John had since added to it with a weatherproof cabinet and storage space for one of his telescopes and there was some technology up here as well.

But they had never built a shelter. John preferred to keep the sky as open as possible and be able to see as much as he could.

And tonight was just spectacular.

Virgil stood a few steps down and killed off his torch, allowing his eyes to adjust fully.

John was talking.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not listen to Gordon?”

“It would help if you hadn’t told me an equal amount of times that I should listen to Gordon. I do believe one of your threats was to ‘swap my processors with a pocket calculator’.” Eos’ voice issued from John’s tablet most perturbed.

His brother sighed. “It is situational. You know that. Gordon acting as an International Rescue operative is far distant from Gordon acting as the brother from hell.”

“And how am I to decipher the difference?”

“The bottle of purple dye and the fact he was requesting entrance to my personal quarters rather than docking with Thunderbird Five should have been a clue.”

“I fail to see how I could possibly have predicted the use of the dioxazine.”

“Then hopefully you have learnt from my suffering.”

“Noted.” There was a pause and Virgil opened his mouth to interrupt. “Should I electrocute Virgil who is currently on approach?”

“What?! No!”

John spun in the shadows and the sparkle of his eyes sought him out in the dark. “Virgil?”

Virgil bit his lip and unshielded his torch a little. “Parenting troubles?”

“Brotherly troubles. An injured and bored Gordon is a menace.”

“You mentioned dye? Shower rose?”

John’s grunt was the only confirmation he needed.

Virgil considered himself to be a nice guy and really, other than revenge, he would never suffer a brother the curse of dye in their shower rose. But he was still a brother and as a brother, a loving brother at that, he couldn’t help but raise the torch in his hand a little to illuminate his younger sibling.

John squirmed under the bright light and Virgil only flashed it up long enough to catch a glimpse of the purple patchwork of his little brother’s hair.

He had to bite back hard not to burst out laughing.  The almost pyrrole orange of John’s hair actually worked quite well with the vivid purple streaks all through it.

Once Gordon was recovered all hell was going to break loose.

It was never wise to piss off John.

“Did he give you a reason why?”

“Did you have to do that?” The astronaut rubbed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Well, he wasn’t going to lie.

John huffed. “Does he need a reason?”

“No, I suppose not.” A sigh. “You got a plan?”

“Not one I’m willing to tell anyone.”

“You don’t trust me?”

John snorted. “It is situational.”

“Gee, thanks.” Though John did have a point. He let out a sigh and killed off the torch. “Do me a favour and wait until I’m off the Island. Better yet wait until Scott is away as well. He doesn’t need it and I don’t want to listen to it.”

“FAB.”

There was definitely a smirk in that voice.

But Virgil hadn’t come up here to plot revenge on the Fish. He had come up here to check on his space brother who had kindly come down from on high to assist while Gordon was off rota.

Virgil straightened and settled his shoulders. “How are you, John?”

“Apart from purple spotted?”

“Apart from purple spotted.”

“I’m good.” John took a step away and looked out over the ocean so far down below. “Settling in. It’s a good opportunity to refresh a few skills I haven’t used in a while.” He looked over at Virgil. “And I’m getting to spend some quality time with you guys.”

A snort. “And paying the price.”

“And paying the price.” He looked back over the water again and Virgil followed his gaze. The night was moonless at the moment and, in the middle of the Pacific, the sky was an ocean of stars.

“Spotting some old favourites?” Virgil knew his brother could see far more from Five than he ever could here, but there was something special about this place.

“Yeah. Eos had some questions and I wanted to show her the difference between space-based star study and Earth-based star gazing.”

“A little daddy-daughter time?” That earned him an exasperated grunt.

“You could put it that way.” But his brother sighed. “I’m not sure I’m communicating the entire concept.”

“You said it felt like home.” Eos’ voice was tentative.

Virgil blinked.

“I did.”

“But home is on Thunderbird Five.”

John turned to look at Virgil. “Yes and no.”

“That is not a viable response. Further explanation is required.”

“Home is where the heart is.”

“Are you intending that anatomically or metaphorically?”

“The latter. My home is where my loved ones are. Which is why my home is both here and on Thunderbird Five.”

“You love the stars?”

“I love my family.”

Virgil was staring at his brother. John’s expression was somewhat hidden in the darkness, but the emotion in his words was clear.

There was a pause before Eos replied. “So that would make Thunderbird Five your family’s home as well when you are aboard.”

“Partially, perhaps. Though they would have less attachment to the station than I do.”

“Less attachment to me?”

“No, you are not Thunderbird Five.”

“Then Thunderbird Five is my home.”

“Yes.”

“But only when you are here.”

Virgil found himself holding his breath.

“That depends on your feelings, Eos.” John’s voice was quiet.

There was silence after that. The AI left them hanging. Whether it was from indecision on her part or a decision she didn’t want to or hadn’t thought to share.

“She is amazing.” The words slipped from Virgil’s mouth without thought. Perhaps it was the setting with the world beneath and the universe above. Perhaps it was just hearing a simple truth uttered by his usually very private brother.

Or maybe it was just the distance that usually separated John from Virgil that made sharing a moment like this so difficult.

“Yes, she is.” It was almost whispered, but Virgil could hear the smile behind it.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around his brother’s bicep. “It’s good to have you down with us, John.”

“I’m happy to be here.” A grunt. “Despite the gravity.”

“Worth the purple?”

It was almost a reluctant whine. “Worth the purple.”

Virgil grinned and squeezed his brother’s arm. Gordon was walking toast.

“Are you going to be long?”

That earned him a glare. “I can stay up past my bedtime.”

“Hey, I’m just concerned for your health. You don’t want to push it. You’ve only been down a few days.”

“I know the procedure, Virgil.”

“I’m just saying. Better me than Grandma.”

That earned him another grunt. “You may have a point.”

“I know I have a point, so don’t stay up here too long.”

John opened his mouth, but he paused and shut it again before turning away and walking over to the telescope that had been ignored the entire time Virgil had been up here.

“I’ll be down shortly.” It was said begrudgingly.

Virgil took his cue and aiming his torch at the stairs, flicked it on and started heading down.

“John?” Eos whispered his brother’s name.

“Yes, Eos?”

“Am I worth the purple?”

Virgil kept making his way down the stairs and he didn’t hear his brother’s response.

But he smiled anyway.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 143

SUMMARY: Madeline makes her way to Centre to see Mr Lambert to ascertain what exactly Colum Mackenzie had been relaying to him about the Rising Dragons’ mission, their operatives James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp and in particular Section One itself.

Chapter 142(S) and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  

THANK YOU all so much for reading, liking, reblogging and leaving your lovely comments about Jamie and Claire from last week’s chapter. I know it will be hard for them to leave such a beautiful place and return to Section but alas eventually they must to finish what they started. I hope that you will enjoy these next couple of chapters where new intel comes to hand that will have a significant bearing on how Section One proceeds next.  Thank you again for supporting my story. It is very much appreciated

 CHAPTER 143

Madeline glanced at her GPS. She was not far away and knew she would be at her destination within twenty minutes. It was not the usual protocol to have a leader of one of the other sections make a visit to Centre unless they were summoned there by Mr. Lambert himself. However, drastic times required drastic measures and Madeline was here to see the supreme leader of all the Sections to sort out what exactly Colum Mackenzie had been relaying to him about the Rising Dragons’ mission, their operatives James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp and in particular Section One itself. Operations and Madeline needed to get to the bottom of Colum’s ulterior interests in the triad as well as setting the record straight as far as Section One stood in regard to the mission for Mr. Lambert. They were flying blind as to what Intel he had been passing on and what, if any interference, he had instigated in the capturing of Sun Yee Lok and his cohorts. Madeline’s task was to make sure that Colum did not jeopardise the next phase of the Rising Dragons’ mission in any way to further his own agenda. It was agreed that she be the designated go-between as she could keep a more level head rather than Operations. He could easily have flown off the handle at the mention of his nemesis and brother Colum. There was no telling what he would have done if there had been any meddling so far by Oversight to usurp command away from Section One because of some ulterior motive by a self-serving megalomaniac that was their immediate leader. It was their perceived notion that Colum’s delusions of grandeur and lust for power knew no boundaries in his rivalry against Dougal however, they had little knowledge that he may have had ulterior motives for his frequent visits to Section One only suppositions. Therefore, it was imperative that she got a heads up on the proceedings as well as set Mr. Lambert on the right path as to how Section One was handling the Rising Dragons’ mission and Claire and Jamie’s continued involvement. But more importantly, they wanted Colum Mackenzie to be ordered to cease and desist with his interference in Section One business or they would deal with him in their own way. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Everything within Centre was stark … the walls … the hallways, even the operatives. Madeline made her way up one such austere hallway and walked up to an uncluttered desk behind which sat Michelle, the young woman receptionist. On hearing the footsteps stop, she looked up to see Section One’s Head Strategist standing in front of her desk. She addressed her professionally and with a little warmth in her voice. “Good morning.”  However, Madeline’s reply was less than cordial. “Is he in?” “He’ll be a minute. Have a seat,” Michelle intonated looking over to where there was seating with her eyes. Madeline ignored her statement and merely continued to stand for a moment, before leaning over Michelle’s desk to talk to her. She was not used to being kept waiting and her patience was running thin.

Her tone was a little intimidating. “How is Mr. Lambert doing this morning?”  However, the Personal Assistant was not in the least perturbed by her mannerism. Hearing the question, Michelle looked up at her slowly, which riled Madeline even more. The receptionist had a slight, secretive smile on her face as if all the tea in China wouldn’t persuade her to divulge any Intel about the elusive Mr. Lambert.

“You know that I can’t tell you that.” A little put out by the change in power roles Madeline changed her facial features and gave the girl a wry smile.

“Well what can you tell me?”  Averting her gaze from Section One’s doyen, Michelle ignored her question and glanced down at a small handheld LED device before her, which read … “Send Madeline in”. Looking back at the commanding, elegantly dressed woman waiting to see the Head of Centre she relayed his instructions with the hint of a reserved smile.

“He’s ready to see you now.”  Madeline nodded with a sombre face at the secretary’s words and made her way through the door that led into the office to join her superior, Mr. Lambert.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The Head of Centre sat behind his stark, white desk in a grey suit, hands clasped before him on the top waiting for his visitor. As Madeline entered the two figures eyed each other off warily before a slight smile appeared on Mr. Lambert’ lips. She in turn gave nothing away as to her mindset and stood with her hands behind her back. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife but Mr. Lambert initiated the first conversation. He addressed Section One’s second-in-command in a dry, humourless manner.

“Hello, Madeline. I’ve been expecting you.” “Mr. Lambert,” she replied equally as indirect. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to Centre?” He paused, waiting for an answer but when none was forthcoming, he continued,“Is this a personal matter or business call?” “A bit of both,” Madeline stated looking him in the eye with an enigmatic smile. “I see … Do we have something to discuss then?”  “As a matter of fact, we do.”  However, Mr. Lambert ignored her statement and instead gestured towards a leather winged chair with his hand. “Please take a seat I’ll just inform Michelle that we will be requiring refreshments.” He gave Madeline a surreptitious look and quickly summed up her demeanour adding knowingly, “We may be here for a while.”  Depressing his intercom, he made his requests succinctly. “Michelle … we require tea for two and some finger sandwiches ASAP.” “Very good sir. Will that be all?” “I’ll let you know if I have any further requirements.” “Certainly. I won’t be long.” “Thank you,” he relied then looked up at Madeline who was now sitting in the armed chair facing his desk. She’d watched the leader of all the Sections clandestinely as he’d spoken with his Personal Assistant but raised her eyes when he next spoke to her. “So Madeline, you were saying that we had something to discuss. Please enlighten me. You have my undivided attention,” he announced sitting back in his office chair while observing Section’s strategist beneath guarded eyes. He was intrigued as to why she was here and not Operations. “I would like to debrief actually. I thought you may like a woman’s perspective on how we are doing things at Section One Mr. Lambert.” “About the Rising Dragons’ mission no doubt.” He studied her face but Madeline gave nothing away as to what she may be thinking. She gave him a wry smile and a nod of her head, replying evasively, “And other things.” Mr. Lambert raised an eyebrow at her open-ended statement and elucidated, “Yes … I would like that very much ... we don’t meet nearly enough Madeline.” “Very true.” He then literally threw the cat amongst the pigeons, which had the Head Strategist seeing red with his next innocuous statement. “Colum informed me that you may have a situation at One that requires my attention.” “Is that so? What else has he informed you of … without our knowledge?” was her telling rejoinder. “The usual … a bit of this and a bit of that,” he replied in an elusive voice.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ It took all Madeline’s resole to bite her tongue at his evasive remark. Obviously, it was true then; Colum Mackenzie had been discussing Section One’s business. Section’s doyen was seething to think that Mr Lambert had been given Intel about them without their approval or prior knowledge. She needed to find out what Intel Colum had passed on and where they stood in regards to the Rising Dragons’ mission. It was obvious that damage control with Mr. Lambert may be crucial to offset any problems Oversight’s leader may have caused them or may cause them in fulfilling the mission and in capturing Sun Yee Lok. Madeline was forthright in her reply to Centre’s patriarch. “Please tell sir … I am most interested to hear Colum’s stance on how Section One is conducting the Rising Dragons’ mission. What has he been telling you?”  The smile on her lips failed to reach her eyes and Mr. Lambert knew immediately that not all was right between Oversight and Section One. He gave Madeline a shrewd glance realising that Colum Mackenzie may indeed have been interfering in the mission for some personal one-upmanship.  He knew that Dougal and Colum didn’t always see eye to eye on certain things when he had called all the leaders together on other occasions. There certainly was hostility between the two combatants but it undoubtedly kept Section One and Oversight on their toes and made for better results all round on missions. However, judging by Madeline’s forced demeanour, he was aware that One was in the dark as far as Colum was concerned. Obviously there had been some discrepancies in regard to the Rising Dragons’ mission and he was extremely interested to see where each differed. But first things first … he would like to get Madeline’s opinion on his statement about Colum and go from there.  Leaning back in his chair he crossed his hands on the desk in front of him and asked, “So tell me … is the situation at One under control?” Madeline gave the appearance that his question was superfluous. “I don’t know what Colum Mackenzie has been saying, but the situation he is referring to was a storm in a teacup. It was nothing significant for him to have bothered you about.” This will be interesting, he thought. “Colum said you had a breach. Are you telling me he was wrong?” “Categorically,” was her succinct rejoinder. “There was never a breach.” Mr. Lambert rubbed his chin deep in thought. “I see … he seemed quite adamant though.” He looked at her closely to see if Madeline flinched at his words. She didn’t. “There was no breach in security sir … just a malfunction that was quickly rectified by our communications expert, Mr. Claudel to Operations’ and my satisfaction.” “That is good news indeed.” He tried to make light of the situation and with humour in his voice he stated, “Obviously Colum jumped the gun as usual.” “He tends to do that a lot if I’m not mistaken,” was Madeline’s tacit reply hoping that by doing so she would have planted a seed of doubt about the validity of anything Colum Mackenzie had said recently about the running of Section One, Jamie and Claire or the Rising Dragons’ mission for that matter. He ignored her telling barb and continued. “Tell me how your two recovering operatives are. They are on downtime I believe.” “Yes they are.” “Colum informs me that there is a cloud over their recovery and hence has instigated his own plans for Oversight to intervene to bring the Rising Dragons’ leader to heel should they not be fit to continue on the mission.” “Really? I don’t know why he would infer any such thing. I can assure you that both our two top operatives, James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp are doing exceptionally well and will be returning to Section One sooner rather than later to take up where they left off with capturing the Rising Dragons’ leader and his cohorts. Their rehabilitation has been quicker than anticipated within the two weeks allocated for their downtime.” “I see.” “Sir … You mentioned that Colum has initiated plans of his own. May I ask … what those plans are?” Madeline asked nonchalantly in inquisitiveness rather than interest. “Hmm … I believe he said he has an informant chasing up leads.” Piqued by his information Madeline asked out of curiosity, “And who might that be? It wouldn’t be John Grey by any chance?” “Who?” “He freelances,” she replied to the intonation in his voice for more information. Mr. Lambert was happy with her explanation and replied accordingly. “No … Colum always uses an informant called Jurgen. They seem to have an excellent working relationship. Has Section One used his services too?” Madeline took note of Colum’s contact whom Operations had discounted in favour of Grey and for good reason obviously. “On occasion, but his reports were not always accurate, I’m afraid,” she added to infer that whatever he may have told Colum about the Rising Dragons or Sun Yee Lok may not be able to be verified. However, that was a telling piece on information they could use. John Grey could work to their advantage. Operations had made the right call. Madeline was confident that Colum’s informant was more removed from having direct data on the triad than would Grey, but it would be interesting to check him out just in case. Stopping information at the source could be arranged if needs be if Colum’s informant knew too much, she thought. Piqued by this update Madeline asked interestingly, “Has Jurgen managed to find any new Intel for Colum that we don’t know about?” However, before he could elaborate further, there was a knock on the door and Michelle entered with their refreshments. Once she had finished serving Mr. Lambert and Madeline their tea and snacks, she discretely left the two leaders to their discussion. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The last thing on her mind was partaking in the refreshments left for them by Mr Lambert’s Personal Assistant, but nevertheless she did so with civility. However, at the back of her mind she wanted to know if Colum had any new Intel from Jurgen that Section One could intercept and use. She also wondered how much Mr. Lambert really knew about the Rising Dragons’ mission and realised that this was her chance to convey to him the truth of the matter.  “As you were saying sir before we were interrupted,” Madeline stated nonchalantly sipping her tea but wanting to know exactly what it was that Colum knew about the Rising Dragons that they might not. “Ah, yes. Colum did say he had some dossiers on Jamie and Claire and their successes so far in the mission.”

Madeline glanced at Mr. Lambert. “That’s interesting. I wonder why he would need to keep files on our two top operatives?”

However, the Head of Centre was not at liberty to tell her the real reason why Colum Mackenzie was doing what he had asked of him, and instead gave her a plausible reply.

“I would assume he is interested in their strategic and execution procedures as an example to his own operatives. James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp are your two best operatives are they not?  They are exemplary in what they do and Section One must be proud of their achievements thus far in fragmenting the triad.”

“Thank you, sir.  Dougal and I are very aware of the contribution they have made and when they were injured it was only right that they have some well-earned downtime to recuperate.”

“Yes indeed, they need to be in top physical and mental shape to continue what they started and complete the End Game. Mental acuity and physical prowess are crucial for all operatives.  They need to have their wits about them at all times on a dangerous mission.”

“Agreed.”

Then she cast doubt about Oversight’s leader’s objectives for his involvement in the Rising Dragons’ mission per se. “Please continue sir; I’m fascinated to know what else Colum has relayed to you about the Rising Dragons’ triad. Can you shed light on that?”

Mr Lambert was conscious of Madeline’s skepticism but continued nonetheless. “Only that he had Intel suggesting that Sun Yee Lok was laying low after several of his hierarchy had been eliminated and that the triad was obviously trying to regroup their losses.”

“That is old news sir,” was her candid response. “Jamie and Claire were instrumental in achieving that result. I’m sure if his informant had anything substantial about Sun Yee Lok, he would have passed it on.”

“I believe he did say that the triad leader may also have interests in the lucrative casino business in Macau.”

This indeed was new intel and knowing too well that Colum had not revealed his source or that he had relayed this information to Operations or herself. Section’s Head Strategist held a wry smile behind pursed lips when she heard this statement. “Is that conjecture or fact?” she asked enigmatically.

“I expect he will pass that Intel on to you at One to verify Madeline.”

“But of course, sir, Oversight always has Section One’s best interests at heart.”

The Head of all the Sections, looked at One’s second-in-command sensing some cynicism in her voice.

Madeline bit her lip to hold back the dry reaching in her mouth at her subsequent words. “Perhaps you would like Section to work in tandem with Oversight if you feel that is warranted sir.” “I see no reason for that. I’m sure Section has everything under control with the mission.”  “We do.” Spoken succinctly, her words only emphasised that Section One was indeed up to speed on all things pertaining to the Rising Dragons and their leader Sun Yee Lok.

She took another sip of her tea and in a laid-back manner added, “Perhaps a word from you to Colum would be justified then to assure him that we do indeed have things in hand.” “I can certainly do that Madeline. I was surprised by his admission to such an interest in the triad, but there is really no need for Oversight to be involved at this late stage when Section One has done all the ground work over these past months.” “Of course sir.” Placing her cup on the table beside her, Madeline then asked in an offhand manner. “Did Colum have anything else to report?”  Mr Lambert followed suit and placed his cup on his desk. “Only that like us all, he would like to see a conclusion to the whole Rising Dragons’ saga ASAP. I guess patience was never his strong virtue though Madeline … certainly not like yourself or Dougal for that matter.”  The irony of his reply was not lost on her but Madeline didn't respond to Mr. Lambert’s observation. Rather she managed to set the record straight as to what Section One was doing even if it contradicted with anything that Colum may have told him. “We have already profiled an end game mission for when Jamie and Claire return from their downtime.” Her words were in direct contrast to what Colum had told him. His suspicions of his actions and the reasons why he would do such a thing filled his head. Something was certainly amiss. Although Madeline was responsive to his answers something about her bearing was not quite right either. Was Colum indeed interfering and putting his nose where it wasn’t wanted in regards to the triad?  Or did he have additional motives other than the directive he had given him in regards to James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp?

He would need to speak sternly to Oversight’s leader to sort this out.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, their recuperation was successful?” “Very … In fact, Jamie and Claire are due back at Section shortly and will be returning to the Rising Dragons’ mission to complete what they started in capturing the leader of the triad Sun Yee Lok.” “I see.” Mr. Lambert looked at her intently with a glance that indicated that he wanted to know the truth. “Tell me Madeline. Has Colum been interfering in the running of this mission in any way?” However, her response was an enigma which left it for him to make up his mind about the situation. “I feel that is for you to decide Mr. Lambert. What I can say … is that Section One has always been 100% focused on the success in capturing Sun Yee Lok and the downfall of the Rising Dragons.” Mr. Lambert was enthralled by an obvious cat and mouse game between Section One and Oversight. Colum Mackenzie had his explicit orders but if he was in any way jeopardising these that would alert Madeline and Operations as to his reasons why then Colum would need to be reprimanded. He tried to pin point where he may have gone rogue and voiced his opinion to see if it was indeed true. He furrowed his brows before speaking.

“If Oversight becomes involved, the success of the mission is not guaranteed. Is that what you are indicating Madeline?” “You can judge for yourself which would be the better option sir … Oversight or Section One … but I believe so.” He sat back in his chair and folded his arms on the desk intrigued with her answer, then solicited her response to try to get to the bottom of this conundrum. “Why?”

“Section One knows the members of the triad extremely well and can move expeditiously in capturing Sun Yee Lok and his other hierarchy.” “I see … please continue.” “So far Jamie and Claire have been extremely successful in that. We also have a window of opportunity for the next phase in planning because the triad believes that they are dead. This will work to our advantage.”  “Point taken.” “Although Colum has some Intel on the triad and triad members, he may unwittingly jeopardise the success of the mission. We have prior knowledge and have invested much in bringing the triad to its knees. Do you think it wise that Oversight enter the fray now when Section has achieved so much? I think not.” “You have a convincing argument Madeline. I am not surprised by your passion for the success of the Rising Dragons’ mission and I see no reason why it should not continue. I will inform Colum of my decision.” “As you wish.” “Is there anything else that I can help you with?” Seizing her chance, Madeline stated, “There is one thing.” “Name it.” “Mr Claudel will be in need of more support in Systems when the Rising Dragons’ mission is in full swing. Perhaps Frank Wolverton-Randall could be transferred back to One from his substation to assist him.” “That’s a prudent move given that he has worked with Mr Claudel before.  I think we can arrange for him to return to Section. Request granted.”  “Thank you, sir.”  Mr. Lambert stood and made his way over to Madeline as she rose from the chair. “It has been a pleasure Madeline … but don’t let your next visit be so long in-between …” “No, I won’t.”  “… and if you need to reach me for anything concerning the Rising Dragons’ mission, I’ll be available over the red line,” he added in clarification. The underlying meaning of his words was telling leaving Madeline with the impression that he would take care of Colum Mackenzie and his meddling. “Thank you, Mr. Lambert.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ He watched Section’s doyen retreat from his office. However, her departure had resulted in many conflicting thoughts. Their conversation had left Mr Lambert with too many unanswered questions and the possibility that Colum may have been trying to pull the wool over his eyes in regards to his interest in the Rising Dragons’ mission and as an addendum, Operations and Madeline’s handling of it. He was not happy. Leaning over his solid, wood desk, he forcibly depressed the call button. The tone of his voice was intimidating.

“Michelle … get me Colum Mackenzie on the line!”

“Yes sir.”

Meanwhile at Oversight …

In next to no time the connection was made and Colum Mackenzie waited to hear why Centre’s Head was calling.  However, when he answered the call, he could tell that this call was not a social one.  

“Hello Colum.” “Mr. Lambert.” “I have just had a very interesting visit from Madeline.” “You did?” was his surprised reply wondering why Section’s strategist would be visiting Centre. “Yes. I was debriefed on the Rising Dragons’ mission and Section One’s continuance plans. They seem to have everything in hand. Would you care to comment?” Colum took heed of his leader’s voice tone, but particularly his words, wondering if Madeline had alerted him to anything underhand that she may suspect with his continued visits to Section One. The silence at the end of the phone was deafening before a stuttering voice replied, “N … n … no.” “I thought not. Then let’s allow them do their job without interference from Oversight. Madeline is suspicious of your motives in regards to Jamie and Claire. We cannot let them know our reasons for your observations on their two operatives.  You need to be more clandestine.  You’re getting careless Colum. I expect better. Do I make myself clear?”

He breathed a sigh of relief that his thoughts were not mentioned in regards to his visits. “My observations have been fruitful sir and you will be pleased with my summation about them.”

“You don’t have other reasons for visiting One so often do you Colum?  

However, he had spoken too soon. The inference in his leader’s tone was obvious and the cautionary message it contained was not lost on Colum about his frequent visits. However, he was sure that Mr. Lambert was totally oblivious to any other ulterior skulduggery that he’d initiated in planting a mole in his thirst for information about Letitia Chisholm.   He could not and would not elaborate on the suspicions he had about Dougal and Madeline’s actions in her disappearance. That was personal. He needed answers. Instead he replied, “Of course, Mr. Lambert.” “Good. I will hold you to your word. If you fail to adhere to my orders ...” There was a slight pause as Mr Lambert let his words sink in, “… I don’t need to elaborate as you know the consequences only too well Colum.” “Certainly. I understand completely.” “Excellent. Oh, there is one more thing. Mr Wolverton-Randall is to be transferred back to One from the substation to help Mr Claudel with communications.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This was one piece of good news as far as Colum was concerned. He would have his mole under the noses of his nemesis Dougal and sanctioned by Mr. Lambert himself. Despite Madeline’s meeting with the Head of Centre, she was unaware that Frank Wolverton-Randall had already sent valuable Intel his way … now there was no telling what he might learn if Frank was at the heart of their modus operandi that he could use. It was a win–win for him to have inside information about Section One at his fingertips. Mr Lambert’s orders were no obstacle to his motives as far as One was concerned. He would just need to be more canny in what he was to say and do. With Frank Wolverton-Randall at the cold front of the mission profile he was in pole position to extract Intel that could help him achieve his ultimate goal despite the orders from his superior.  Having Frank at the cold face he could seek his help in locating any intel and in finding collusion between his brother Dougal and Section One’s founder and his lost love Letitia.

“That is a good plan sir, as I believe that Mr Wolverton-Randall is familiar with how One operates given his time there before. I’m sure Mr Claudel will welcome his appointment to assist him in whatever capacity.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Good … Now tell me how are things at Oversight …?”  “Of course.  As you wish Mr. Lambert.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued Friday 11th September

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

I don’t care

summarry: a reddie x daughter where the losers are over and the daughter comes home from school with a minor injury and they later found out she was bullied. so they give her tips and maybe even fighting lessons lol

A/N: this was requested by anon I hope you enjoy! 

warnings: homophobia as reason for the bullying

Water sloshes over the sides as Richie dives headfirst into the pool. It drenches Stan’s trousers, who shoots a murderous look towards Richie resurfacing with a deep breath.

‘Refreshing’, he comments, shaking a full body shiver at the change of temperature. Chloe watches from afar, disposing her bookbag on the grass with a loud clutter. Weekend arrives and she’s eager to start the plans scheduled. On Friday a pool party, on Saturday a trip on uncle Ben’s boat, and for the last day they’re going to see Richie perform live on stage.

All the losers promised they’d make it, and they did, it’s been a while since the group has reunited, work and personal issue getting in the way, but none of that matters. Sometimes Chloe thinks there’s no way they won’t get mad at one another when someone cancels yet again, but then the rejoins puts her at ease. They care for each other more than enough to stop a small, unimportant thing from ruining it. Most scattered around the pool, like uncle Stan and Chloe’s pops in the water, but her dad and uncle Bill stood a far end away from water range, a smart decision Stan begrudgingly had to admit.

'The prodicale child has returned, Richie enthusiastically announced, waving his arms back and forth. ‘Mini me is back.’

The losers greet her, warm smiles and gentle hands pulling her in a hug. Bill’s positively buzzed, the butt of many jokes at his expense of how much of a lightweight the man really is. The first try to capture Chloe in an embrace goes haywire, and if it wasn’t for Mike supporting his weight, he would have fallen face first.

It sends the rest of the groups in hysterics, not including Bill, blushing red tainted cheeks. ‘Already uncle Bill?’ Chloe goads, covering the underside of the drink in his hand in case he loosens his grip.

Waving of the concerns, Bill wobbles, aided by Mike, back to the sun chair to rest. Eddie motions a soda her way, wordlessly asking if she wants one.

‘Yeah, but I’m going to go change first.’

Her shirt is too tight for the humidity hanging in the air, and she longs for a swim, so she needs swimming attire in order to do that anyway.  

----

‘Oh absolutely not’, Bev declares stiffly, her mouth set in a straight line and hands on her hips. ‘There’s no way any niece of mine is wearing that.’

Richie cackles, his head thrown back in amusement over Beverly’s reaction, following her gaze to his daughter, wearing a Hawaiian long-sleeved shirt over her bathing suit.

Chloe follows his laughter, doing a pirouette to show off her t-shirt. ‘I think it’s cool.’

‘You’re only saying that because Richie brainwashed you.’

‘I agree with Bev, one Richie fashion disaster is more than I can adequately handle,’ Stan concurred, heaving a sigh at Richie’s childish reaction of sticking out his tongue.

‘It’s not like she’s wearing it to school Beverly, and if my daughter sees me as a fashion icon, than I think we should respect that. Fuck knows she’s the smartest among us.’

A little cough draws his attention, and Stan does nothing to hide his intend.

‘Okay well Stan is up there.’

‘Please kid, I’m begging, don’t become a second Richie. Fight those parts of you that stem from him.’

‘Hey fucking excuse you, she’s my daughter too.’ Eddie heatedly adds, chopping his hand through the air to drive the point home.

‘who’s w-w-who’s d-d-daughter?’ A stutter the predominant tell that Bill is well on his way to being hammered.

‘Shut up Bill, you’re too drunk to participate in this conversation.’

Chloe giggles, knowing that the teasing remarks from her family are just that, teasing. She then finally steps closer towards the pool. The grass beneath her bare feet is strangely relaxing, the sensations of little pricks reminding her of summer days and ice creams.

‘Come her,’ aunt Bev beckons, her hand circling around the small indents of nails in Chloe’s underarm.

Without realization, she hisses in pain, retracting her hand and covering the sore spot with her remaining hand. The playful mood everyone participated in pops like a bubble.

Beverly blinks in shock, surprised by the reaction. The chatting in the pool ends abruptly, the remnants of an engaging conversation ebbing away.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, just peachy.’ A bird flies overhead, chirping away, an excellent escape out of the conversation Chloe refuses the hold in front of everyone.

‘Uncle Stan, what kind of bird is that?’

Stan eyes her suspiciously, not uttering a word to help her, and Chloe glowers at him. Thanks for nothing.

‘Let me see please’, Eddie asks his cheeks blown out, worry etched across his face. At this point, Chloe is trapped. She can’t deny something is wrong, and she can’t withhold her arm because that would make everyone even more suspicious.

‘Fine,’ she grumbles, bunching the fabric of the long sleeved shirt to reveal indents of fingernails buried in her skin, not sever enough to be of any concern, but bad enough that it is visible.

‘Chloe,’ Eddie perturbs, his fingers hovering above the wounds while he mulls over what to do in his head. ‘What happened?’

In one smooth motions, Richie lifts himself out of the water and strides resolutely their way, blind without his glasses on but still thoughtfully studying the body-langue of both Eddie and Chloe. He stoops down to inspect the wounds himself, than straightens up and tries his best to stare straight in his daughter eyes, missing by half a mile.

‘Someone did that to you?’ The intentions makes it sound like a question, but it’s a statement, and one that is impossible to refute. Nail marks aren’t accidental.

‘Did you get these cleaned?’ Eddie frets, his left hand coercing her to move to the kitchen, where they keep an emergency kid. Richie has had one to many mishaps in there.

It’s a sure sign that Eddie is freaking out and building up to an anxiety attack, worrying and fretting over someone to release part of the stress before it bubbles over.

‘Dad’, Chloe mumbles miserably, planting her feet in the ground to resist any prodding. ‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Who did this angle cake?’

‘Just someone from school alright. It’s not a big deal.’

‘Honey, It is. No one is allowed to hurt you in any way,’ Bev argues, her chin jutting out, only calmed by Ben’s presence.  

‘Is there anything we can do? T-t-talk to whoever did this? A teacher? Say the word and we’re on it.’ Bill’s positively sobered up thanks to the severity of the topic of conversation, he fumbled over his words only once.

‘Beat him or her up? I’m not afraid if it’s a girl, I’ll hit anyone who tries to put their hands on my baby.’

‘Yes and don’t listen to uncle Ben, he might say something fucking stupid like we’ll talk to whoever did this calmly.’

‘Yes, cause that’s the best option Richie-‘

‘It has nothing to do with me okay? And I doubt she even planned on physically hurting me. I tried to remove myself from the situation, and instead of letting me walk away, she tried to keep me in place by grabbing me. Hence the superficially’, Chloe aimed the word at her dad, ‘scratches.’

‘It obviously has something to do with you. Why else go after you?’ Stan probes. The way he talks and demands thing without having to raise his voice is fascinating, like he can bend anyone to do what he pleases without breaking a sweat.

‘Because’, Chloe pinched the bridge of nose, contemplating her chances of resolving the situation without admitting what it was all about, but between her protective fathers and the solicitous of the losers, she estimated her shots slim to none.

‘Because she believes homosexuality is wrong and that dad and pops are wrong for loving each other.’

Richie grimaces bitterly, slumping his shoulders and sneering at the words sinking in. ‘Like Bowers all over again’, he spits furiously, bailing his hands into fist. Next to him, Eddie is pensively staring at the wounds on Chloe’s hand, shame speed racing through his body for him and Richie being the reason this happened to their daughter.

‘Chlo, I’m so so sorry.’

‘No. Don’t you dare apologies. It doesn’t matter. Not to me anyway. She’s a bitch, and she’s wrong for her opinion, but I can’t make her see your relationship the way I see this. I can’t force her to open her mind and broaden her horizons, then I’ll be equally as bad. I love you guys, and I don’t care you’re gay. If other people do that’s their problem and not mine. I hid the comments as I knew they would hurt you, but we know better than them. I’m going to continue living my life open and excepting of everyone and everything and she will walk around angry and upset at everything in the world she considers unnatural. There’s no outcome in which she wins, except if we let her words bother us.’

With a gentle pull, Chloe buries herself under her dads chin, tucked away in safety as her pops caresses her hair and presses a kiss there.

‘I’m so proud of you.’ Eddie confesses, barely understandable with his voice cracking through the lump in his throat. ‘Don’t ever forget how much we love you.’

‘We’ll have to discus some precautions. Like a buddy system or some shit. Or maybe Mike can teach you some strength exercises.’ Richie ponders, thinking ahead on how to avoid a situation ever again occurring. ‘But yeah, we really couldn’t have a better daughter.’

[redslilstories]

If it's love

Author: lilyme (aka. redslilpictures aka me ;)) Summary: Set sometime after 16x16. Callie and Arizona receive some upsetting news. But it is their place to be upset about it? Characters: Callie/Arizona, Sofia Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Grey's Anatomy". They were created by Shonda Rhimes and belong to her and the ABC network. No copyright infringement intended! All mistakes are mine.

About to enter the house, Callie was startled by her energetic daughter yanking open the front door and jumping out.

"Hi, Mama!" Sofia gifted her mother with a sideways hug, her head already on an entirely different matter, "I'm gonna feed the chicken and see, if they have any eggs for breakfast!"

"Okay," Callie smiled at the eagerness of her offspring and went inside. How anyone genetically related to her could be this perky in the morning, was a mystery to her. She herself most of the time was as cranky as a bear at this time of day.

But she knew whose notoriously good morning mood had rubbed off on the girl and soon found the perkiness personified in the kitchen of the house that kind of resembled this attitude as well. With its light colors, flowery decorations and overall pretty girly atmosphere.

It was the house Arizona had chosen to live in, and it fit her like a shoe. Including the coop full of chicken she had always dreamed of.

Callie had a mixed relationship with the fowl. The rooster of the bunch, King Louie, always tried to peck her, but only her. The chicks, Dolores, Selma and Agneta were nice enough, though. And the smallest of them, little Betty, seemed pretty fond of her and came fluttering over whenever she neared the coop. Which itself was a rare event, but if she did, she always found herself giggling at the little thing's antics.

The chicken owner smiled as she took notice of the woman's presence. "Hi! Did you get everything?" the blonde wondered, as she bustled about the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah, I did," Callie replied and held up two paper bags with freshly baked goods. "Even got some raspberry cream cheese danish". She knew they were Arizona's favorites, but not always available... because they were a lot of other people's favorite as well.

"Aww, you're so sweet," Arizona gushed, as she followed Callie into the dining room, where the brunette was arranging the assorted roll, croissants and danish on the table.

Since Arizona had relocated to New York as well, this Sunday breakfast was their weekly ritual. With their always busy schedules, caught between school, work and research, Sunday was often the only day that all three of them had off.

And they made sure to make the most of it. Callie bringing goods from the bakery, Sofia fetching eggs and Arizona preparing them a yummy breakfast they'd enjoy in all length together and talk about what was happening in their lives right now. Things Sofia was doing in school, talks about their projects at work and everything else they had on their minds.

And from the pensive look Callie wore on her face this morning, Arizona knew there was something massive on her mind right now.

"You look... kinda perturbed," Arizona tried carefully as she watched the brunette from the entrance to the room. She had known Callie long enough to notice that furrow in her brow. Even having been divorced for years she had never lost that ability to read her. Where other people maybe even saw a neutral expression, she could detect the slightest disturbance in her mood.

"Hm?" Callie looked up at the alarmed woman, smiling lightly at the blond emotion detector. Always on the lookout for the well-being of the people around her. A trait Callie had never failed to appreciate - even during their rockier phases. And now that they were on good terms again and she had Arizona as a constant presence in her life once more, she rarely hesitated to express her thoughts. "Oh, I just got a mail from Mer this morning. About things happening in Seattle and stuff".

"Huh," Arizona nodded at the explanation. They still kept in contact with their friends on the West Coast, as much as time and distance allowed.

Arizona still held pretty close bonds with April. April, who had settled in nicely with Matthew, Harriet, Ruby and their newborn son Philip and was living an uneventful and simple life.

And both of them still heard regularly from Teddy, Meredith and the others. But news from that front often more or less equaled a soap opera. A not necessarily well-written soap opera with too much what-the-heck drama and too many you've-got-to-be-kidding-me twists and turns for the worse. It would actually be funny to witness the ridiculousness of it all, if it wasn't happening in real life.

"Is something wrong?" Arizona subsequently wondered, and pushed herself off the door frame as Callie pulled out her phone, apparently willing to let her read the mail as well.

The brunette handed her phone after a few taps and Arizona began reading unusually long text, bordering on a rant she had received from Meredith.

And then she watched as Arizona read it, expecting to find the same emotions she had felt overcoming the blonde. Emotions of disbelief and a good part of anger.

After walking the length of the living room a few times while studying the text intensely, the blonde retreated to the couch, her face still surprisingly neutral. Eventually she let the phone sink into her lap and spoke softly, "Well... that's a major plot twist," her eyes still on the words written.

Callie was confused by Arizona's calmness. "Wh... That's all you're gonna say to that?" she asked as she sat next to the blonde.

"Well...," Arizona muttered, confronted with upset Callie, "as his mentor, I hope he finds a hospital that can really appreciate the outstanding doctor he's become," she spoke with a little sentiment, as she thought back on the years she had trained the man Meredith's elaborate text was about in peds.

Alex Karev had without a warning decided to leave behind Seattle and everything he had there to start a new life in the middle of nowhere. Or – as it was officially called - Kansas.

A move that in itself would be difficult to understand, since he had a promising career set in Seattle. But apparently there were reasons not in anyone else's control.

"As his friend...," she continued with a shrug, "I hope he'll find all the happiness he deserves. Though I have to say that ditching Jo via letter is so...," she shook her head, and finally Callie could see some emotion bubbling up in her, "God, I feel so awful for her. Believe me, if I had a brick right now, I'd hit him in the head from here!"

"Yeah!" Callie sighed, relieved that she herself wasn't just overreacting about all this, but that his behavior towards Jo really was a low blow.

Callie had seen him grow, witnessed the transformation from a fairly douchy intern who didn't particularly care about the women he slept with to not only a well-respected surgeon but also a man who had truly learned to invest into his relationships and cherish them.

And she knew that Arizona had witnessed it all even closer, having spent years working with him side by side on a daily basis. It had to be a letdown. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the blonde's grip tighten around her phone as the woman's thoughts now clearly circled around this upsetting new development. Carefully she wrangled the device out of the tense fingers before it met its fate as a substitute brick.

Arizona looked at the brunette and saw the mildly warning look telling her to let her phone live and released it with a faint smile. "It's a load of crap," she summed up her thoughts about Alex and Jo. Jo, who had also become a much beloved friend to her over the years. Their wedding... or rather all the mishaps happening on the day of their wedding... were among the last active memories she had of Seattle, with her and Sofia having left later that night to come to New York. Now she thought that maybe all the hindrances that day had been a sign for them. That some Powers that Be didn't think they belonged together. And rather wanted him in someone else's arms. "But... I don't know... if Izzie makes him happy..."

Immediately Callie scoffed beside her, and Arizona pressed her lips together. She knew Izzie was a sore spot for Callie. Understandably, after all the humiliation she has had to face back at the hospital in Seattle because of her. And that didn't even only involve Izzie sleeping with George.

And then there was everything else... "The way she's treated Alex... I mean, she's left him in debt with her hospital bills and just disappeared. That's not what you do. I know how long it's taken him to get out of that and get over her. And now he's going back to the person who's hurt him more than anyone?" she shook her head before letting herself sink against the backrest of the couch. "I don't see why. Think he's just doing it for the kids?" she wondered about the twins that Izzie has apparently given birth to five years ago.

She looked expectantly at Arizona, who had turned towards her and sat with her leg bent, her head braced on her fist and her face... sporting two raised eyebrows and a pensive look.

Callie countered the expression with a soft "What...?", unsure of what it was supposed to tell her.

"You know... that a lot of that is exactly what can be said about us, right?" Arizona voiced her thoughts carefully.

"What...!?" Callie repeated, though fairly shriller now, startled at the statement her girlfriend suddenly confronted her with. "We're not... I...," she stammered as she sat up, afraid that Arizona still held a grudge against her. Even though she had reassured her that she didn't.

"Easy, sweetie...," Arizona tried to calm her with a hand to her thigh. She knew what Callie wanted to say. "I'm don't mean the fight over Sofia's custody. Though it was... really painful for all of us," she exhaled deeply, thinking back on it.

And Callie bowed her head, not able to look the blonde into the eye. Because she knew she was the main cause for all that pain, having had her lawyer throw the worst accusations at her then ex in court.

"I...," Arizona continued, "there are the things that let up to that... The way I treated you after my amputation. The way I yelled at you, threw things at you, verbally and literally... It was a low that I never thought I could reach. But then... I cheated on you. And I realized I could go even lower. And I will forever hate myself for that," her voice trembled.

Callie looked back up at the blonde, who was obviously struggling to keep her emotions in check as she remembered that time. That time she had broken her ever-so-supportive wife. And Callie remembered too. It was something that still hurt her deeply.

"That you were even willing to start new with me then... after the damage I've done... it was more than I could have hoped for," Arizona began to sob, as her tears finally overwhelmed her, and Callie cupped her hand in comfort, wanting to show her that everything was okay now.

Only to have Arizona's train of thought steer back to where it had taken off. "But I guess we weren't ready then and it consequently ended in divorce... with all its unfortunate consequences. And a lot of people would say that it all should have ended there. That we are just no good for each other".

"But who are they to judge?" Callie protested, her face a whirl of confusion and fear, still not sure where Arizona was going with this.

No one else had a saying in their being together. Yes, part of her was scarred from the betrayal. And she knew Arizona was still reeling from the custody battle too... among other things. But they had learned to cope over the years. And had even learned to heal.

And when the blonde turned her hands in Callie's to clasp them with a teary smile and replied "That's what I mean," Callie finally realized her intentions. "We've made mistakes. It's blatantly obvious, and we both know it. But... the moment Sof and I landed in New York, and I saw you standing there, smiling impossibly wide not at her, but at me... I just...I knew it had been the right decision," Arizona remembered the first time she had seen the brunette after over a year of having only communicated via texts and phone calls. "That I was coming home".

And while Callie had changed, most obviously her hair style, now cut short and shaved on the sides, she was still the same woman Arizona had fallen in love with way, way back in Seattle.

Callie smiled at this, remembering how elated she had been when Arizona had told her, Sofia would come back to New York. That she would finally be with her daughter again. And she remembered her nervousness at hearing that Arizona would accompany her. Unsure of how the blonde stood towards her. After all, Arizona was giving up her established life because Callie had fled to the East Coast to pursue a relationship that had failed after only seven months. It could be cause for resentment.

But seeing Arizona again in person and hearing how excited she was, it had calmed her. And listening to her tell her about everything she had planned for her new life and showing true interest in everything the brunette had experienced in New York so far... Callie had known it would be good.

As it turned out better than good.

While their main priority was Sofia and the girl's well-being in her old, new, old life in New York, this priority had inevitably drawn Callie and Arizona closer again. In the first two months in New York they had spent more time together than in the two years between their separation and Callie moving to New York.

First as parents, then as friends.

And at some point the friendly parents had remembered what they had once loved about the other. And still loved.

Of course there had been trepidation about starting anew. After all, they had already screwed up massively and made life impossibly hard on so many people. Especially Sofia.

But with exactly that past, they were wiser now and knew what it took to make it work. Talking to each other, listening to what the other woman was saying, and also get help from outside, if necessary.

And so far they were doing extremely well.

Arizona's heart smiled as she saw Callie relax visibly. Now that it was clear to the brunette that they weren't in any trouble. That this was the opposite of trouble.

She cupped Callie's cheek. "I still you so much. More than ever before," she reassured Callie. "You make me happier than anyone else ever could. Despite what other people might think. They aren't important. We are. We belong together. And there's really no one else I'd want to spend my life with".

"I love you too," Callie whimpered and leaned forward to engulf her love in a fierce hug, so grateful to have Arizona back in her life. Despite all the evils that had happened to them and that they had partly afflicted on each other. But Arizona was right. They belonged together, despite their past. "And I'm so happy to have you back," she continued, and received reassuring kisses to her cheek.

It was only two months ago that Callie and Arizona had moved into Arizona's dream house. And while the situation was still somewhat new, and she was still getting used to its girly charm and the pecking of King Louie, she never wanted to leave this place anymore,

Because it held her love. It held her life. Her dream.

"So... Alex and Izzie... think you can handle it?" Arizona questioned as she eventually released the brunette.

"Hm," Callie pondered, "if she makes him happy, I guess" she simply returned, Arizona's reasoning that an outsider's opinion to this couple was not that relevant still in her ear. "Plus, it's not like I have to interact with her. Kansas is far enough, luckily. Though I have to say, I'd love to meet the kids".

Arizona laughed at this. "I know! If his genes hit through, they're probably pretty..."

"... grumpy, smart-ass and foul-mouthed?" Callie offered tongue-in-cheek.

"I was gonna say, quite a handful. But... yeah, that works," Arizona giggled. "But definitely adorable".

"Mami, Mama! I got some eggs!" Sofia came rushing inside with a little basket containing four eggs. "And I fed the chicken too. But Selma and King Louie weren't hungry. I think they were playing piggyback. Or they are making a baby chicken. Which is... eww...," she exclaimed.

The women laughed wholeheartedly at their girl. Sofia knew all about the birds and the bees, the roosters and the hens or the mamas and the daddies by now. And while she was fascinated by the concept of creating life, the way to make it happen pretty much appalled her.

Which Callie and Arizona were very okay with. At her age of eight, turning nine soon, they much preferred that attitude over too much curiosity about the act itself.

Eventually that would come, and they knew that in a few years from now they would be having a more serious talk about how human babies were made. Arizona had already joked that they'd probably decide over a party of Rock, Paper, Scissors about whether her or Callie would have to have that talk with their daughter.

But they were so happy they could experience Sofia grow up and learn new things every day together.

They had been given this new chance. And they worked every day to cherish this chance, despite outside opinions.

They wanted to be their best together. And they wanted to be their best for their kid.

And that made them understand Alex' motivations. His need to be with his kids. And his need to be together with the woman he had learned to love again despite their past.

And despite ambivalent thoughts they had on it all, they wished him all the best.

END

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 10: Influence

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 9 

I slammed the door as I came trudging in from the backyard. My grandfather looked up at me from where he was leaning on the counter. 

“In a mood are we?” he asked. 

“I’ve just been banished from the garage by Charlie and Larry,” I explained grumpily. “Apparently their working on something I can’t see but my book is in there somewhere” 

“Somewhere?” Alan questioned “don’t you remember where you put it?” 

“I remember where I put it but it has evidently been moved in the course of their work” I informed. 

Alan sighed and straightened up “well come on I’m sure I can negotiate for its rescue” 

I smiled slightly “thank you” 

He led the way out into the backyard and over to the garage. “Charlie you in there?” Alan called as we approached the door then he looked around the door frame “hey your niece needs her book that you two moved around in here” he explained. 

“Alright” Charlie sighed “she can look but I don’t want her messing with any of this” he gestured vaguely at the chalkboards and papers he had spread about. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it” I muttered looking around for my book. 

“What are you two geniuses into now?” Alan asked, looking at the work. “And what are my old city planning maps doing out like this? What’s happening?” 

“To me it looks like they’re working in probabilities based off the variables and labels. I'd say some kind of public location” I informed looking behind one of the chalkboards. 

“Abby what did I say?” Charlie snapped uncharacteristically. 

“Jeez I was just looking not messing” I stated in defense. 

Uncle C sighed looking exceptionally stressed “no one’s really supposed to know.” 

“Charles, perhaps it would be best to inform your father and the enigma of the impending Armageddon.” Larry objected. 

“Armageddon?” Alan questioned as Charlie muttered words of anger to his friend “No, don’t tell me you two spotted another one of those asteroids hurtling towards the Earth, huh?” 

Alan was joking but my stomach began to churn as I took a closer look at the math. All the locations were big public areas. Soft targets. 

“Several thousand, actually, but that Armageddon we have decades to resolve” Larry objected to my grandfather’s statement. 

“Charlie what is he talking about?” Alan questioned with a chuckle. 

Charlie was about to brush his father off when he was cut off by the high pitched exclamation of his best friend “a truck carrying nuclear waste was hijacked. Yesterday.” 

“What?” Alan questioned. 

That was when all the pieces clicked in my mind “wait so the locations you’re narrowing down their possible targets aren’t they?” I asked in shock. “My God” 

“Now wait a minute” Gramps spoke up “why didn’t I hear anything about this on the news?” 

“Because they’re not telling anyone” Charlie muttered with a pointed glare at Larry. 

“What do you mean they’re not telling anyone?” Alan asked with slightly irritation edging his words. “How the hell are people supposed to protect themselves? And what does she mean about targets?” 

“In the first place, uh, we- we’re not even sure that there, that there is a bomb, so-” 

“A bomb?!” Alan cut his son off. 

“Well, we don’t know where it’s going to go off.” Charlie advised. 

“Well, maybe not. But I would suggest that, uh, people quickly taking a ride out of town in an easterly direction might be of help right now.” Alan stated. 

“Well, possibly not, with these current wind conditions.” Larry mused. 

“Look, an evacuation without information will lead to mass public panic.” Charlie pointed out. 

“Well, speaking for the huddled masses, I’d rather not have some government official making that decision for me right now, thank you very much” Alan declared, picking up one of his maps off the table which revealed my book underneath. “And what are you doing with my maps?” 

“You really are something, you know that?” Charlie snapped at Larry. The two began to bicker as I stepped forward to grab my book. Then Larry finally got a word in edgewise with a sharp point. 

“He is a planner and she a budding mathematician” 

Charlie turned to his dad who was looking at the maps and realization seemed to dawn on him. “You know what, Dad?” he called “you can help us.” 

“How can I help you?” Alan questioned. “Charlie, I’m not a physicist and I’m certainly not an expert on nuclear contamination.” 

“But you were a city planner” Uncle C pointed out walking over to the man “you know about urban density, and these are your maps.”

“And another person to run equations would be quite helpful,” Larry added, looking to me. I picked up my book with a sigh. 

“I wanted to help. Now I wish I didn’t need to” I muttered Larry just nodded in understanding. 

We continued to look over the maps and crunch numbers Charlie and Larry guiding me through some of the more complex calculations. Then Charlie's phone rang. “Hey Don” we all turned to him surprised. “Well don’t we have-” a glance at his watch “-six hours… they pushed it-” he turned to those of us in the room “Ah, he needs to know now.” I looked to the boards raising my hands to my head in complete panic. There was no way to be sure, multiple possibilities. 

“Well, we still have algorithms to test and variables to explore here” Larry objected. 

“Okay, um… okay, we’ve pinpointed seven likely targets” Charlie spoke into the phone “there’s one in Westwood, there’s two in Century City.” Charlie paused as I presume Don spoke to him on the phone “Downtown. Okay. He needs downtown so,” we all eyed the map pointing out the two possible targets. “Okay, there’s, there’s, there’s two. One in Driscoll Plaza and another in Angeles Square.” Charlie looked at us after seconds of tension “he needs one just one, one of them” Charlie murmured. 

“Statistically, they’re both of nearly equal probability,” Larry explained. 

“Math can’t tell us which one” I breathed out. 

“Right. Mathematically, we have no justification for choosing one over the other” Charlie explained just as Alan reached over and grabbed the phone away from his son. 

“Donnie, go with Angeles Square.” The man declared into the phone “I know what Charlie says, but I know these maps, and I would choose Angeles Square. It’s the height of the buildings. It creates what we used to call an urban canyon. The air currents through the buildings spread the radiation much further. If I wanted to inflict as much damage as I could, that’s where I would go. Angeles Square. I’m telling you.” Alan pulled the phone from his ear. 

“Great now we just sit and hope” I muttered leaning on the table. Releasing the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. 

_______

“Well we didn’t do so bad today, did we?” Alan asked, coming over to the table a bit more chipper than any of us. 

“No, today, was good.” Larry voiced. “But what about tomorrow?” 

“Yeah and Don was still very close to a bomb that could have had nuclear material so” I shrugged picking at the frayed end of the ripped knee of my pants as they were pulled up to my chest. 

“Yeah, uh, you know I think I understand why you like helping Don so much.” Alan said “it’s not a bad feeling” he paused. Me, Gramps, Larry exchanged looks as the curly haired young mathematician in the room stayed uncharacteristically quiet. “What’s the matter, Charlie? You’ve got that look that you get when you can’t stop worrying about something” 

“He’s right. You seem a little perturbed” Larry agreed. 

“You’re still not mad about my pulling that phone out of your hand, are you?” Alan questioned. 

“I was going to say Driscoll Plaza,” Charlie admitted. “Before you grabbed the phone out of my hand I was- I was about to say Driscoll Plaza, and I would’ve been wrong.” 

“Oh” Alan murmured around the bite of food in his mouth “well, come on, Charlie. I was the one that didn’t give you the right variables. You know, the heights of the buildings.” Alan reassured. “Listen, if you’ve got one failing, it’s only that you don’t think like a criminal. Of course, what does that say about me?” he chuckled slightly 

“That you’re a great influence” I replied sarcastically. 

“I would’ve been wrong,” Charlie murmured again. 

__________

3rd POV. 

Don pulled up outside his brother’s house and hopped out of his car. His pace only slowed slightly when he saw Abby sitting on the porch reading. She looked up at him. 

“Did you catch ‘em?” she asked. 

“Got the guys not the cesium” he replied grabbing the door knob then paused. “Wait how did you..?” she bit her lip and glanced toward inside “ah damn it Charlie” 

“It wasn’t his fault. Blame Larry’s fear and my nosiness if anything” she objected. 

“So if Dad was helping I’m guessing you were as well then?” Don inquired and she nodded. He growled “Abby you can’t do that and if I wasn’t in a hurry you’d be getting an earful right now alright.” he flung the door open and headed inside Abby hurrying behind him. 

He stalked over to where Charlie and Larry were seated at the table “alright we have the guys but they aren’t telling us where the caesium is we think it’s still on the truck and in our perimeter but we have no idea where they stashed it.” He quickly briefed them on the situation. 

“Larry and I have been doing some research on tracking radiation signatures.” Charlie replied as Abby took a seat at the table “now between the sense that scan from planes and those you could install at random points in the area, we would be able to triangulate a location for that radioactive material.” 

“All right, well, that’s great” Don felt some of the anxious energy he had been feeling coming in here ease away. “How long would it take?” it started coming back as the three geniuses in the room all shifted in their seats. 

“Like a.. Like a week.” Charlie replied “or maybe two.” 

“A week? Charlie, the truck is leaking radiation, you understand?” Don said insistently. 

“He’s right, Charles.” Larry spoke up “I mean, these casks were not designed to contain cesium for extended periods of time. This material in particular has an insidious method of attack.” 

“Which is?” Don prompted sitting down next to his daughter. 

“Look, even in small amounts, whether ingested or inhaled,” Larry began to explain they spread throughout the entire body, they invade and destroy the soft tissue. Longer exposure and we’re talking acute radiation poisoning; the Walking Ghost phase.” 

“That sounds bad,” Abby muttered almost to herself. 

“The Walking Ghost phase?” Don questioned that tension within him building again. 

“Yes, like the people in Chernobyl. Somebody starts feeling nauseous, they vomit, they start feeling better, they think they are better. But no, it’s- it’s just a grace period. A week later, it’s internal bleeding and certain death.” 

Charlie let off a breath leaning back in his chair and Abby brought her knees up to her chest in her seat. “You said you have the guys that stole the truck, right?” Charlie asked, getting to his feet. 

“That’s right,” Don agreed. 

“They don’t know where it is?” the mathematician questioned. 

“Well, Charlie, they’re not talking.” Don explained. 

“None of them?” 

“No. they’re trying to use the truck as leverage if anything,” Don told them. 

“They had a plan going in.” Charlie determined. 

“We got ‘em separated. We’re trying to play them against each other, but” Don sighed dread creeping into his gut. 

“What about putting them together?” Charlie suggested. 

“No, Charlie.” Don objected “you keep suspects isolated in the dark. That’s how it works” 

“I understand that.” Charlie clarified “that, that’s not what I’m speaking about. I’m actually talking about something completely different. I’m talking about something called The Prisoner’s Dilemma” 

Abby straightened behind Don and Larry nodded “game theory” 

“Game theory” Charlie parroted his friend and continued “the mathematics of decision making. How to achieve the optimal outcome from a complex situation. So for instance, um” the man thought up an analogy “say two people were to commit crime. Now, if neither of them talk they each get a year. If one of them talks, he gets no time at all, and the other guy gets five years. If both of them talk, they each get two years. So you see, unless they can trust each other not to say anything talking is the best strategy” 

“Yeah, but I already told you they’re not talking” Don pointed out. 

“Well, maybe that’s because none of them realize how much the others have to lose.” Charlie advised. 

“Risk assessment” Abby muttered.

Charlie smirked slightly at his niece's insight “precisely.” 

_________

“I mean it was pretty impressive” Don voiced as he and his family left the restaurant. “These are three hardcore dudes, and Charlie’s up there scibbling all these crazy equations” 

“Crazy equa..? You hear that, Dad?” Charlie muttered as Abby started to giggle “Crazy equations. Now, I did a risk assessment analysis based on a model used to determine a bank’s exposure to mutual credit obligations. That’s what I did.” 

“Yeah, it’s a compliment. I mean, the point is, is that they bought it.” Don explained. 

“Don’s right. I mean the important thing is you’re getting the truck back. Isn’t that enough?” Alan pointed out. 

“Yeah, I mean, you know, you can get an award for a performance like that” Don congratulated. 

“A per..? It wasn’t a performance” Charlie objected. “It wasn’t a scam. That was math. That was actual math. I don’t make this stuff up.” 

“Want to hear about math?” Alan chimed in reaching into his jacket pocket “here, here’s math. Dinner was $102 divided four ways is 25 bucks apiece. Pay up.” 

“Wait I’m a minor dependant I don’t have money he does” Abby objected pointing at her father who pulled out his wallet. 

“Actually I gotta hit an ATM. I don’t have any cash” Don replied. 

“Now that’s a scam” Alan complained and the men descended into bickering as Abby laughed. 

“Hey keep laughing and I will make you pay your share” Don threatened. “Especially since I’m considering grounding you” 

“What?” Abby questioned her laughter quickly fading. 

“I told you I didn’t want you helping on cases math or not and you didn’t listen” Don replied firmly even though the expression on Abby’s face was beginning to weaken his resolve. 

“But I was helpful I didn’t get hurt there was no way for me to get hurt” Abby defended “what’s so wrong with crunching a few numbers in the garage every now and then” 

Don sighed biting his lip “because your sixteen and I don’t want you getting dragged head first into my world of guns and destruction” 

Abby looked to the ground and opened her mouth. Don got the feeling she was about to say something poignant but she hesitated and instead closed her mouth looking back up at her father with a determination that caught him rather off guard. 

“Fine I’ll stop whining about working on big stuff for now but once I’m eighteen I’m getting my clearance and you can’t stop me” she declared. 

Alan and Charlie both smiled slightly at the girl's stubborn statement. Don sighed knowing there was no way he was changing her mind. So instead he hooked her around the shoulders pulling her into his side as the family continued down the sidewalk “alright kid but right now you’re still grounded.” 

Chapter 11 ->

[prideandprejudice]

Hello ! Any questions about Lucrezia Borgia became "happy" with their marriages? Some of your children left an opinion about their mother? Thank you !

hi sweet anon! thank you so much for your ask and i’m sorry for taking so long... several things are happening to me and my intention was not keep you waiting like this! i ended up losing myself and my desire for perfection didn't help either, since when lucrezia is involved, i really want to write/ do something worthy, you know? she is my queen *cries* ok, i will cut the drama ~~help idk if i will be able to live up to her but i will try my best:

well, lucrezia’s husbands are:

giovanni sforza, lord of pesaro

alfonso of aragon, duke of bisceglie and prince of salerno

alfonso d'este, duke of ferrara

first of all, it’s a pity not to have more access to documents/ letters written by lucrezia herself about her deep feelings and thoughts especially surrounding her marriages. however, i do believe that early in her life, she have known how important a good alliance (through marriages) was to her and her family survival - as her impeccable education suggests. so.. it’s difficult to establish a real “happiness zone” about the set of marriages as a whole but there is a great chance of lucrezia having happiness and safety (which was equally important, obviously). we can get an idea of ​​moments like this with a quote about her first marriage with sforza: 

“Lucrezia, meanwhile, remained safely in Pesaro where life was pleasant enough in the princely palace in the main square and at the beautiful Villa Imperiale on the hill of San Bartolo above the city. Pesarese society, although less cosmopolitan than that of Rome, was far from being dull and provincial. It was, above all, secure: the French army, pouring southward without meeting any resistance, was intent on reaching Rome and taking Naples. In Rome, her father was isolated, supported only by Cesare. Juan was still in Spain, Jofre and Sancia in Naples.��� - Sarah Bradford

it's good to keep in mind that political alliances at the time were constantly changing, which clearly influenced happiness in a marriage, even if couples loved/ respected each other. btw, regarding the annulment of lucrezia's marriage with sforza, there is not necessarily evidence of an extremely deep feeling of sadness on the part of lucrezia. including, so far, scholars point out that lucrezia's most beloved husband was alfonso of aragon:

“If Lucretia really loved her husband, as there is every reason to suppose she did, his end must have caused her the greatest anguish [...] None of the reports of the day describe the circumstances in which she found herself immediately after the murder, nor events in the Vatican just preceding it [...] August 30th, Lucretia, accompanied by a retinue of six hundred riders, set out from Rome for Nepi, of which city she was mistress. There, according to Burchard, she hoped to recover from the perturbation which the death of the Duke of Biselli had caused her.” - Ferdinand Gregorovius

in relation to her third and last marriage (with d’este), we cannot fail to consider the political importance that this respective alliance has brought. no evidence that i have come across so far has shown me any disgust on the part of lucrezia towards her third husband:

“This moment was the turning point in Lucretia's life [...] what must she now have felt when the opportunity to ascend the princely throne of one of Italy's oldest houses was offered her! She was to become the wife of a prince famous [...] for his good sense and earnestness. She had seen him once in Rome, in her early youth, when she was Sforza's betrothed.” -  Ferdinand Gregorovius

“Lucrezia consented in mid-1501 to the proposal advanced by Alexander VI that she marry the heir to the Este duchy in Ferrara. Armed with a rich dowry of some three hundred thousand gold ducats (roughly comparable to between thirty and forty million dollars today), Lucrezia arrived in Ferrara in February 1502, becoming duchess after the death of her father-in-law, Ercole I d'Este, in January 1505. After at least fifteen pregnancies, ten of which ended in the birth of a child, she died of the complications of childbirth on 24 June 1519.” - Diane Ghirardo 

while the marriage of lucrezia and sforza did not generate any descendant, she had a son with alfonso of aragon (rodrigo of aragon) and more children with d'este like: ercole II d'este, ippolito II d'este and leonora d'este! some attribute giovanni borgia (infans romanus) to lucrezia but he was officially recognized as son of rodrigo in 1501! so... one more fact that we will never be sure, i suppose:

“Later, after Alexander's death, the little Giovanni Borgia passed for Cesare's son; he had, moreover, been described as such by the Pope in numerous briefs. It is not known who was the mother of this mysterious child. Burchard speaks of her merely as a "certain Roman." If Alexander, who described her as an "unmarried woman," told the truth, Giulia Farnese could not have been its mother. It is possible, however, that the Pope's second statement likewise was untrue, and that the "Infante of Rome" was not his son, but was a natural child of Lucretia. The reader will remember that in March, 1498, the Ferrarese ambassador reported to Duke Ercole that it was rumored in Rome that the Pope's daughter had given birth to a child. This date agrees perfectly with the age of the Infante Giovanni in September, 1501. Both documents regarding his legitimation, which are now preserved in the Este archives, were originally in Lucretia's chancellery. She may have taken them with her from Rome to Ferrara, or they may have been brought to her later. Eventually we shall find the Infante at her court in Ferrara, where he was spoken of as her "brother." These facts suggest that the mysterious Giovanni Borgia was Lucretia's son--this, however, is only a hypothesis.” - Ferdinand Gregorovius

unfortunately, lucrezia had little time with her son rodrigo, since she went to live in ferrara quite soon. several meetings reportedly have been scheduled but do not appear to have occurred. apparently, lucrezia kept in touch with her son through letters and even requested that rodrigo were raised by the family of alfonso of aragon, but rodrigo died before her in 1512. ercole II d’este became duke of ferrara like his father and had some children, including a daughter named lucrezia (like his mother) but apart from that, i couldn't find any more substantial details about the relationship of lucrezia and her children... i hope to be able to find more information in the future! i would definitely be happy to share!

again: i apologize for the wait and i really hope this ask hasn't been boring and confusing!

[historytaker]

King Versus King

Within the first quarter of the 14th century, it would be forgivable to let the king of England seem profoundly on top of the world. The setbacks of his father, Edward II, were crudely mended by his mother, Isabella.  England was swelling with military, political, and thereby economic success; So much so that the population had inflated to 4 million. Equally important to the crown, Edward II had a legitimate claim to the French crown. The Capetian dynasty was a long standing rival in European politics with the Plantagenets. The Plantagenets  out-bred and out-wed the Capetians, ultimately.  What’s more, the long time enemy of the English, the Scottish, had little affinity for their king, David II. To add to the seemingly charmed hand of state, when David II was struck in the head with an arrow and duly kidnapped by the English, the Scottish refused to pay a king’s ransom and had all but formally announced fealty to Edward II. This Plantagenet wore the crown of three kingdoms and ushered in an era of chivalry, fantasy, success, opulence and unrequited love for the dynasty overseeing an economic power that had heretofore been unprecedented in Christendom, save only for the early successes of Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II. The king was experiencing the apogee of an age in which the old order was in solid control of the comings and goings of the world. Bishops preached in Latin. Indulgences could be paid. Wealth buffered concerns on Earth and evidently in Heaven. For, one could compel a monastery to pray for your soul with such fervency and continuity that one’s stay in purgatory would be short, and Heaven’s bliss obtained in short order. Wealth could be and was hoarded. The lord of the manor had no reason to ever assume a change in the order.

               So sustained was the monarchy in England, Edward II felt it not at all unreasonable to fashion himself a modern Arthur at Camelot. His was a kingdom of gentlemen, of knights, of righteous conviction and marshal prowess. He started the Order of the Garter and created a round table to emulate the notion that the king was first among equals. Indeed, the top of the mountain granted a glorious view. Surprisingly, the view did not grant observation of a great encroacher, indeed a devastator of many kingdoms.  In fact, this was a king in a hurry; one that intended on conquering more than England, but the world. His march may have started in the steppes of central Asia, but by 1348, some 20 years after taking the throne, Edward II England was besieged by a rival king, King Death.

               The army deployed by King Death was, of course, the plague. It is generally believed that it was transmitted by rodents carrying bubonic infested fleas.  The Mongols took their dead infested and lunged them into the city walls of the Black Sea city Caffa. From Caffa and the Genoese merchants who ported there, the disease spread. The contagion was swift. At first, and with devastating swiftness, the cities were eviscerated. The fecal matter of the fleas could be inhaled or the bites from the bugs were death sentences. If the diseases spread to the lungs, the death would take 4 agonizing days of fitful coughs. The blood-laced sputum surely spread to those near, and in its turn spread to whomever inhaled it.

               What could Edward III do in the face of such rumors of malady in his realm? At first, not much. There were murmurs of a pestilence in the world by sea-fairing traders. Their contacts in Italy described the condition, its velocity of transmission, and naturally assumptions on what devil-worshiping cult had summoned it.  There were even numbers suggesting the dead of Venice reached 100,000. Even so, it would not be until the king’s daughter succumbed to the illness in her turn.  The Infante Pedro of Castile was to marry Edward’s daughter, Joan. But by September 2, news had reached him that she was dead from the plague. And in keeping with the stoic nature of the king, he is reported to take the news by first saying, “It is as it is.” Naturally, in a rare moment of looking behind the curtain, we can prize from his correspondence with Alfonso XI a father in morning. He laments with a piety mixed with a familiar grief that Joan had “been sent ahead to heaven to reign among the choirs of virgins where she can intercede for our own offences before God himself.” He is quick to remark that Joan had been his dearest daughter and whom “we loved best of all for all her virtues demanded.”  To underscore the pang sorrow the king was enduring and to put a point to how bereft he was of a solution he states “No fellow human being could be surprised if we were inwardly desolated by the sting of this bitter grief for are human too.” Among kings, it is incredibly rare to hear such claims to human emotions.

               So what does a king do when wrecked from the inside over a new foe as this? He reaches out to the only people who can have answers for pestilence. Naturally this meant the Archbishop of Canterbury. He needed prayers especially in the southern regions of the kingdom where this seem to be emanating from.  Alas, the plague caught him too. There was no Archbishop of Canterbury to pray for the people of Kent.  And what a perturbation it must have been when men on horseback would come into the city or village speaking of apocalyptic devastations only to then find themselves one of the dozens, or hundreds, or thousands destined for the mass graves.

               Perhaps most jarring to the people, rich and poor, man and woman, young and old, was the remarkable speed at which it worked. People pieced together the transmission method soon enough that heart wrenching moments of furtive relationships occurred. Parents abandoning children, husbands abandoning wives, all watching from a distance the quick death but slow agony of those they loved.  A welsh poet Jeuan Gerthin explained what we would have noticed among those struck down with the disease, “ Woe is me of the shilling in the armpit; seething terrible wherever it may come, a head that gives pain and causes a loud cry, a burden carried beneath the arms, a painful angry knob, a white lump. It is of the form of an apple, like the head of an onion; a small boil which spares no one. Great is its seething like a burning cinder, a grievous thing of ashy colour…an ugly eruption. They are similar to the seeds of the black peas, broken fragments of brittle sea coal…a grievous ornament…the peelings of the cockle-weed, a black plague like halfpence, like berries.”

               All told, by the end of the plague, nearly half of England would be dead and buried hastily in graves. Recent excavations from the 1990’s shown just how fast and chaotic the scene must have been. Traditionally the buried were oriented toward Jerusalem to rise from their graves upon the return of Christ triumphant. The graves revealed a final statement among the buried, jaws slacked open, limbs pointed jaggedly, a frozen protestation of the inhumanity.  As the plague meandered through the realm, it upended more than health of very much alive people from just 4 days prior, it upended the conventions and structures of society.  A Franciscan monk in Ireland, John Clynn noted with a sobering view to his own reality: “ Seeing these many ills and that the whole world is encompassed by evil, waiting among the dead for death to come, I have committed to writing what I have truly heard …and so that the writing does not perish with the writer or the work fail with the workman I leave parchment for continuing it in case anyone should be alive in the future.” With the all too familiar tone of understatement in British writing, it followed with a new hand, “Here, it seems, the author died.”

Who do the people go to if the king cannot save them? Who do they direct their frustration and hate to if the benevolent God in heaven is not manifesting through the sermons of the priest? How do people receive Christ for that matter now that there are no more priest to speak on their behalf to God? There were no bakers to bake bread, no physics to make med, no priest to receive the dead. Out of the uncertainty of the moment, truly inspired homespun remedies made the rounds. Whether by trial and error or willing a remedy, one potion is passed down to us by a herbalist; giving us a glimpse at the heavy ask but thoughtful response to what was by then considered a disease due to miasma or noxious air. It logically implies then that good smelling things were a kind of remedy. “If it be a man take five cups of rue, and if it be a woman leave out the rue, five little blades of columbine, a great quantity of marigold flowers, an egg, fresh laid, and make a hole in one end and blow out all that is within, and lay it to the fire and roast it till ground to powder but do not burn it, and take a good quantity of treacle and brew all these herbs with good ale but do not strain them – and make the sick drink it for three evenings and mornings. If they hold it in their stomach, they shall have life.”

               The booming 4 million population at the outset of the plague were still 90% agrarian. Among those who worked the land, few actually owned their parcel. And increasingly the population was fighting for a smaller and smaller share of land to fashion subsistence for themselves and their families. The plague, in some respects served as a pressure valve. But the correction was too sudden to accommodate the economic structure of England.

               The homes of the people, largely field laborers, lived in modest lime-washed structures made of wood felled from the local forest, with dirt floors. To add to the ambiance of the abode, the owners would have strewn loose straw on the ground mostly to collect the refuse of the fields and manure on their feet. The toiling masses did not have much to begin with. The world around them was hard enough before the plague, but with the plague came a psychological and physical damage that could scarcely be comprehended. Whole villages died. Naturally, the economy collapsed. Out of this collapse came the evolution of manorial economics to cash economics.  It would no longer due for the workers to simply work for a subsistence and get whatever graces the lord granted. Work needed to be done, the obligations of the lord still needed to be met, but he now had a shortage in labor. His laborers were demanding, with a level of self awareness scarcely granted to them, that the new economic reality was on the worker’s side now.

               Out of the plague did spur an opportunity for toiling folk to rise out of poverties oblivion. It was not fast, nor necessarily in one life-time. Sometimes it took generations, but generations as opposed to never at all, the working poor did have a chance. And it was this seeming conspiracy of the cosmos to upend all the structures that held the people together, their faith in the government, their financial inability to resist the rules or rulers, the unquestioning certainty on matters of God, death, hell and heaven by the priesthood, all went out the window. From the necessity of laypeople having to fill roles that were utterly foreign to their station came a new sense of capability to people who never otherwise would have ventured to change. Unwritten rules governing the village went to the wayside as power was exercised often by those who were in a position to exploit it. Meanwhile, Edward III was aging and his son and heir apparent, Edward the Black Prince, died leaving the succession in untenable uncertainty.

               Inevitably the old king died and that left government in the hands of a 10 year old, Richard II. Grant it, everyone that was anyone knew that power ultimately laid in the hands of John of Gaunt, Richard’s uncle and protector.  In fact, you might compare John of Gaunt to any of our modern day monopolist or business giants like Jeff Bezos. His wealth and holdings and influence could rival a king’s and in many cases did. Even so, the Lancaster stayed behind the scenes and guided the young Plantagenet through his early years.  Richard took to the role of king rather quickly, it seemed. His vows and all the mystique surrounding the trappings of monarchy went to his head. In the early years of his boyhood, perhaps with the structure of fixers behind the scenes, it proved useful and life saving. In time it would be his undoing. Nonetheless, the boy regent was pitted against one of the biggest moments in his career when, at last, a popular uprising threatened to upend government.

               If, as John Wycliffe supposed, people could find Christ in their own way free from the needs of the priesthood, this supposition unfettered the people from strict forms of social control or engineering. For as it was, finding Christ and following him meant a steady hand towards an egalitarian model. What concessions were made in the in-between years of the start of the plague and Richard’s reign were in-part at risk by the policies enacted by John of Gaunt. The toiling folk had definitively climbed the social ladder into the ranks of yeomen. They were solidly middle class, to borrow a later colloquialism.  By their estimation the government was keeping them suppressed and squeezing them for revenues they earned no thanks to the laxed reactions of government.  So it was no surprise that what began first as tax dodging by the villagers by shrinking into the forest soon bloomed into open hostility at the tax collectors or strongmen the king or lord would send. The usual deferential English country yokels were becoming intransigent. Dodging taxes soon became the least of it. The village leaders started violent reactions in the form of collecting the heads of those attempting to collect dues. The so-called Peasants revolt began this way. Not with a written manifesto, but with the gumption of survivors, social climbers, and increasingly self-indoctrinated Christians who took for themselves what bits they could of the point of Christ.

               The leaders, in part self ascribed and in others acclaimed to, were primarily Watt Tyler and John Ball. Who was Watt Tyler? Tyler was a charismatic man who was imprisoned for not having the money to buy his manumission. In the New Jerusalem being created in real-time, who could be a better general for this lot of revolters in the service of God and King Richard? The imprisoned Watt Tyler. John Ball for his part understood the egalitarian nature of Christ message. Our riches were not for this world but for our home in heaven. It followed then that the ostentatious life of the bishops was something to disdain and use as proof that these were not shepherds of men for Christ, but shepherds of evil and wickedness for earthly possessions. John Ball was the only bishop the people would need. He was one of them and would remain so. The movement was not to overthrow the king. Instead, with a fatal sense of deference for power and monarchy, the movement sought to save the king from his uncle and all bad advisors surrounding him. They, naturally, would save the king and advise him.

               The conflagration congregation indeed set fire to Gaunt’s holdings.  Richard beheld a terrible site. The skyline of London was ember red in the evening the group made it to the city gates. The leverage was on the side of the “peasants,” but they fully went the whole way. To his credit, Richard agrees at the age of 14 to ride out to meet them. Tyler asks and evidently receives in word the concessions of ostensibly a new kingdom with a Magna Carta written and affirmed for the common people. The overreaching by such low born and the ability to get a king to capitulate was evidently enough to drive one of the king’s retainers mad. Watt Tyler was sliced down and murdered on the spot.

               In a glorious sense of theatrics and prudent wherewithal, to allay the fears and ire of the crowd Richard rides out to them in a life-saving vague claim, “You shall have no captain but me.” It did the trick and bought the king and the other frightened aristocrats time to cut down the people one by one. The devastation was total. Upon retrieving the upperhand, when asked again by impertinent lowborn to be received as a king for them, Richard remarks with Plantagenet fury “You wretches, detestable on land and sea; you who seek equality with lords are unworthy to live. Give this message to your colleagues. Rustics you were and rustics you are still: you will remain in bondage not as before but incomparably harsher. For as long as we live we will strive to suppress you, and your misery will be an example in the eyes of posterity. However we will spare your lives in you remain faithful. Choose now which course you want to follow.”

               Evidently it worked. Richard was able to stymie the ferocity of a new social order ready to explode. Regardless if the upstarts were successful or unsuccessful, things had changed. While the plague took a century to run its course, and the slow death rattles of a dying dynasty took 100 years to finalize, and while it took 100 years for a modern sense of Englishness to take hold geographically as well as politically, the plague did bookend an epoch in the organization of labor, ideas, currency, and governance. And as with all moments of crisis and collapse, a germ of creativity can sprout into the first tree within a mighty forest of new possibilities. King Death then was the equalizer. Ultimately, it was that equality and need for it that had been festering for years before Edward’s reign even. It just took a different king to make the way and speed up the process, in this case, by necessity.

[sheikah]

My thoughts on Friki’s 8.01 leak

Ok so first and foremost I just want to say that this information is received second and even thirdhand. I do not speak Spanish and did not watch Friki’s video. As it was playing @adecila was kind enough to translate for @muttpeeta who was kind enough to chat with me. My bff @dracarysqueen was also feeding me some info (thanks my love!) and I read a somewhat broken English and at times unclear translation here. It gives you a gist of the video and I’m grateful to u/hang_the_dj2 for making it.  Edit: Here is @adecila‘s leak translation so that you guys can draw your own conclusions without my salt about these revelations haha. Her translation is the undisputed best and I didn’t see it prior to writing this post, though my response is still the same!

One of the first things I read about the leak was the bit about Gendry/Arya. Essentially Gendry makes a weapon to Arya’s specifications. He calls her “m’lady” purposely to fluster her. There is “sexual tension” between Arya and Gendry. HELLO??? I can’t fucking wait. This is going to take over as like the whole world’s GoT OTP lol calling it now <3 

Arya apparently also reunites with the Hound. My takeaway from that bit of the translation is that Sandor mentions something about how Arya didn’t go through with killing him, and I guess he’s grateful for that now? That part was a bit unclear to me in the translation I read. 

Arya also reunites with Jon (!!!!!) where they share a tender hug, compare weapons with one another, and generally have a sweet and positive interaction. Arya is wary of telling Jon that she’s a Faceless Man, and Jon asks Arya to try and talk Sansa into coming around re: Dany. It is obvious that Sansa dislikes or distrusts Dany and Jon is troubled by this and asks for Arya’s help. I’ve heard from one person that Jon also asks Arya to talk to Dany herself. I’m really pleased by the prospect of this because I knew that Arya would support Jon no matter what, and that that support would extend to Dany since they’re obviously in love. 

Speaking of, Friki did make note of the fact that Jonerys is obvious to everyone else: Davos, Tyrion, Varys, etc. Sansa can see it too and asks Jon point blank if he bent the knee out of love or if he did it to save the North. Apparently Jon is extremely taken aback that she would ask this question. We aren’t told more about this moment but I’m guessing Jon is offended that she would ever think he would do something as serious as swearing fealty to Dany simply because of his romantic feelings, and not with the best interests of his home and family at heart. I’ll be interested to see how that conversation ends.

Also, I realize we all already knew this (and have been knowing this literally forever) but these revelations all completely disprove political!Jon. Yeah, it was already disproven by the scripts and basically everything else about canon but this is just another nail in the coffin. Jon having apparently private conversations with both Sansa and Arya about his love for Dany pretty much solidifies that he isn’t secretly playing her in the interest of Stark supremacy or independence. 

That independence, though, is something that is still important to the Northern lords. Lyanna Mormont is outspoken in her disapproval of Dany as queen. She notes that they chose Jon as king, not Dany. Again, we knew this was coming, but I’m stricken again by how silly this is. It’s literally the end of the world. Can this discussion not wait?

Anyway, the Northern lords are not a fan of Dany and it is obvious. Apparently Dany attempts to ingratiate herself to Sansa. Something along the lines of her telling Sansa the North is beautiful. I guess this isn’t successful given the bit about Jon talking to Arya about how much Sansa dislikes Dany.

The Northern lords also tell Jon and Dany soon after their arrival at Winterfell that the Night King has turned Viserion into a wight and is riding him. Dany is distraught by this information and encourages Jon to ride Rhaegal already, in episode 1, BEFORE he finds out about being a Targaryen. They do this to try and get an edge over the Night King. 

Jon does ride Rhaegal while Dany rides Drogon, it’s a great time, and they have a pretty passionate makeout session afterward lol. Friki specifically said this was a good episode for Jonerys scenes. I obviously love this bit of info and think it’s hot and exactly what I want for them both. Who wouldn’t get turned on by riding a dragon with Dany???? (also, lol at how accurate @muttpeeta‘s fic is!!!!) My only wish is that the dragon riding happened after the reveal. I just think it would be a more significant acceptance of his identity for Jon to reach this milestone after discovering he’s a Targaryen. At the same time, I like this because it shows how much Dany loves and trusts him already. Before learning he’s a Targ, before learning he has a claim to the IT, she is already willing to share everything with Jon--even her “children.”

Also at Winterfell, Dany and Jorah break the news to Sam about the death of Randyll and Dickon. This is the part I really don’t like, so I apologize in advance for the rant here. So Dany shares this information and Sam is unbothered by the death of his father. Good. We expected that. He is, however, perturbed by the death of Dickon. While he thanks Dany for sharing the information with him, he is upset and apparently leaves to seek out Bran for more insight. Bran stresses that it isn’t important and that Jon needs to know the truth of his parentage. So Sam leaves Bran and finds Jon in the crypts. 

The first thing Sam shares with Jon, though, has nothing to do with Jon or his parentage. Sam finds Jon to tell him that Dany killed Randyll and Dickon. Jon, understandably, isn’t really phased. There are more important things to worry about, and Jon points out that not only do they need Dany, Dany is the queen. This is the moment when Sam drops the bomb. He tells Jon the truth of his parentage. Jon is shocked and denies it. Sam pushes further and tells him that Dany doesn’t have to be the queen because Jon is the king. 

This is the part that really, really bothers me. A lot. I knew there would be friction about Jon’s parentage. I knew there would be friction about Jon’s claim to the Iron Throne. What I didn’t expect was for the Tarly deaths to be brought up again (literally they brought these unimportant characters back in s7 just to kill them, just to cast doubt on Dany’s decision-making by her male advisers) in the same breath as Jon’s parentage reveal. These things are not of equal importance. The world is literally ending and we’re supposed to be worried about Dany’s judgment again? And to say she “killed” Randyll and Dickon is silly anyway. Let’s not forget: Dany didn’t break into Horn Hill with a dagger and kill Sam’s unsuspecting family in their sleep. Sam’s family betrayed Olenna Tyrell, sacked the Reach, wiped out the entirety of House Tyrell leaving no survivors at Highgarden, and allowed their liege Lady to be murdered in cold blood by Jaime Lannister. Dany retaliated on behalf of her slain allies and even offered mercy to the Tarlys if ony they’d swear allegiance to her instead. They refused, and died for their crimes. Why is this still being discussed? I genuinely don’t understand. 

By comparison, the Umbers and Karstarks betrayed their liege and were killed, but that act was seen as so egregious that Sansa suggested (and was supported in this suggestion by many Northerners) that even the descendants of the traitors be rooted out of their homes in retaliation for treachery. So why is Dany’s righteous vengeance on traitors still an issue? Why?

The episode apparently ends with Sam telling Jon that he is the heir. Again, I understand that. Westeros is built on male-preference primogeniture. Jon’s claim could trump Dany’s (for multiple reasons) and Sam and others would see that and likely push Jon to see it. The natural extension of that argument would be to suggest that Jon and Dany marry and unite their claims. Instead, Sam is possibly (again, we just had one brief video and multiple translations and interpretations of this video. I’m not sure exactly what Sam said) encouraging Jon to press his claim as king because 1. he has a potentially better claim and 2. because Sam might not believe Dany is an ideal queen due to the Tarly execution after the loot train battle. 

I just hate this. I find it massively OOC for Sam to use the huge moment of Jon’s parentage reveal to air his grievances about something Dany did. I find it massively OOC for Sam to be so concerned about Dickon in the first place, especially now. We have not been shown a positive Sam/Dickon relationship in canon, and Dickon was aware of Randyll’s abuse of Sam--he witnessed it firsthand--and did nothing to protect Sam or stand up to his father. On the contrary, Dickon loved and looked up to the brutal Randyll enough to willingly die at his side. This was not a man who was overly concerned about Sam, or vice versa. But now, suddenly, Sam loves his little brother enough to complain to Jon about Dickon’s death in a way that disparages Dany? Additionally, Sam is one of the few people at Winterfell who knows exactly how big of a threat the Night King and the White Walkers are, and we’re supposed to believe his main concern right now is what happened to Dickon? We’re also supposed to believe that Sam, Jon’s best friend, would think he could talk Jon into being king of the 7K, despite Jon’s multiple explicit statements about how much he abhors ruling?

So we’re going to have a delightful week between episodes 1 and 2 during which the antis compose dissertation-length dark!Dany meta like crazy. We have to suffer under what I consider to be a very poorly manufactured conflict that was written just for petty drama. I literally spent the day today at a conference on Women’s Leadership and one of the key topics discussed was how women with true power are seen as threatening and have to work twice as hard to be taken seriously. Glad to see Game of Thrones doing literally nothing to challenge that idea where Dany is concerned. 

Moving on. 

We also apparently learn that Theon saves Yara early on, early enough to be back at Winterfell in time for the Battle of Winterfell. I’m thrilled as a shameless Yara fangirl :)

In King’s Landing Cersei receives word of the Night King and wight!Viserion. She also sees that the Golden Company arrives but not with the force she expected. Apparently they were supposed to have elephants, and they don’t? She’s angry about this, but still sleeps with Euron as payment for delivering her army. I also read somewhere that back at Winterfell, Tyrion is aware that Cersei has commissioned the GC and that she plans to use them against the North instead of as aid against the Night King. This is interesting considering Friki’s other leak involving some treachery by Tyrion later in the season.

Overall, the episode sounds compelling at least and I’m excited about Gendrya, a Jon/Arya reunion, Jonerys getting horny from riding dragons together lol, and Yara living. But Sansa still being a constant voice of opposition for Jon, and the petty Jon/Dany/Sam conflict is really unsettling to me and I’ve very tired of hearing about Randyll and Dickon Tarly. 

[seehowsupplethespineis]

Tim Burton Crossover (Part 2)

(Things really start heating up in this chapter! I don’t have much else to say. Enjoy!)

(Warnings: Fainting)

Surprised for a moment that Edward had spoken up, Jack said nothing, but then realizing that the ball was in his court, he replied, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Edward.” He halted, not knowing whether or not he should continue, but then resolved that he should, “Do you know how you got here?”

Edward stared fixedly at Jack, “No.”

Alright, so there’s someone else involved in this. “Do you have any idea who could have caused this?”

Edward shook his head.

“Hmm… Well, Edward, I think it would be best if you stay with me while we sort this out. Is that alright with you?”

He nodded.

“Great!”

“Jack!”

The skeleton turned as Sally hoved into view over the ridge, and descended, in that uneven gait of hers. “I’m sorry I’m late, Jack. I-” She caught sight of Edward, “Oh, hello. What’s your name?”

Edward looked at Jack, who nodded encouragingly. “Edward.” he said.

“Hello, Edward. My name is Sally. Where did you come from?”

“A big house.”

“Oh, I see… “ she turned to Jack questioningly.

Jack shrugged, “He arrived out of thin air, literally, and both of us haven’t the slightest idea how he got here.”

Sally looked shocked, turned to the newcomer, “Oh my! What were you doing before this happened?”

“Walking.” said Edward.

That’s helpful! thought Jack, sarcastically, “Are you familiar with Halloween Town?”

The young man thought for a few moments, then shook his head.

“This is quite the puzzle… “ Sally murmured.

Jack nodded to himself, then turned to Edward, “This is Halloween Town, where we, the inhabitants, go about preparing for Halloween. Does that make sense?”

Edward blinked, “What is ‘Halloween’?”

Sighing, Jack rubbed his face, and tried to think of a way to explain. Finally, he resolved to just say, “You’ll find out later.”

“Why do you have scissors for hands, Edward?” Sally asked politely, changing the subject.

The one questioned looked down at his hands, rasping them together, “I always have.”

Seeing that that was the only response she would be getting, Sally just smiled.

“You’ll fit right in here.”

It was at that moment that Jack noticed another person had joined their midst; a lovely corpse, dressed in a long, white wedding gown, that looked as if it had been buried once or twice before. She appeared startled, and stared at them for a few moments before speaking.

“How in all the land of the dead did I end up here?”

No one had an answer for her.

The corpse bride scrutinized them shrewdly, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We didn’t!” Jack exclaimed hurriedly, “You’re the second one to materialize here.” He gestured to Edward, who, not knowing what else to do, nodded. Jack continued, “We’ve no idea what’s causing it.”

The undead woman looked unconvinced, but apparently decided to play along.

“What region of the land of the dead is this?”

“Er… this isn’t the land of the dead. I mean, there are dead people here, but this is Halloween Town.”

“Halloween Town?”

“Yes. Have you heard of Halloween?”

The stranger stared at him blankly.

“Nevermind.” said Jack.

Sally, whom had been listening attentively, decided to join in the conversation, in a more cordial manner.

“What’s your name?”

The corpse bride stared hard at Sally for a moment, then apparently deemed it alright to let them know, “I’m Emily.”

“Sally.” The living ragdoll replied, gesturing to herself, then gesturing to her companions, “This is Jack, Edward, and Zero.”

Emily seemed to brighten a bit as she noticed Jack’s dog, but then grew stony faced. “Dead people can only go to the land of the dead. How could you end up here?”

Jack didn’t know how to respond, “We’re not all dead here.” He finally said, lamely.

“We’re all mad though, right?”

Everyone gathered jumped at the unexpected new voice, accepting Edward, who simply fell over backwards. Spinning around simultaneously, they all laid their eyes (or the people that had eyes did) on an odd looking fellow. He was wearing a brown coat, a comically large dotted bow tie, and a top hat that had some sort of sewing instruments sticking out if it. His hair stuck out on either side of his head, and was curly and a bright, vivid orange.

The newest of the newcomers grinned at them, which was slightly disconcerting, as a result of his ghastly white face and startling green eyes, that bored into each and every one of them, not to mention the large gap between his front teeth. He spoke again.

“I know I’m the Mad Hatter, but this is mad even for me.” His voice had a strange, tremulous quality to it, so that sometimes it rose in volume and pitch, and sometimes it dropped. He was still beaming.

No one could think up an answer to that, so silence ensued this rather weird statement.

The Mad Hatter broke it, “Might I inquire as to what my mad imagination has called itselves?”

There was no response for a moment, then a voice from the ground said, “I’m Edward.”

“Ah! Thank you myself! Edward I say, eh?”

Everyone just stared at him. At last, Jack, feeling he was now some sort of host, decided to speak up, “Uh, hello! My name is Jack Skellington, this is Sally, Emily, and Zero. You’ve already been introduced to Edward.”

“What an odd array of names I have decided to call myself.”

Emily now deemed it wise to say something, “We’re not figments of your imagination. We’re real.”

“Who’s to say my imagination isn’t real?” said the Mad Hatter, spinning swiftly to stare hard at Emily, unblinkingly. He then erupted into a giggling fit at the perturbed look on her face.

This man is mad! Thought Jack to himself, Although, I suppose he did tell us in advance...

His train of thought was interrupted by a loud thump sound coming from behind him. He turned in time to see a man, a normal looking man, struggle to stand up, eventually succeeding. The man stared at them in horror, through a pair of strange goggles, that made his brown eyes look unnaturally large. He was dressed all in black, and had slightly tousled dark brown hair. He stared at them, silently gaping.

“Hi!” Sally said, in as welcoming a tone as she could.

The man uttered a faint “Oh…” and collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Sally, hurrying over to the prostrate man, followed closely by Jack and the others, except Edward, who still lay on the ground.

“Help!” he called nervously.

“I’ve gotcha, Ed!” the Hatter said, doubling back and stooping down to help him up.

By the time the two joined the assembly around the latest of the newcomers, Sally was frantically fanning him, everyone else watching and not knowing what to do.

“He reminds me of someone I used to know…” Emily muttered absently.

“Who is causing all this?” Jack asked of no one in particular, “How many more people are going to arrive?”

“Just a few, Skelly, including myself!”

Again, most everyone jumped at the new voice, and, again, Edward began to tip over backwards, though this time was saved by Sally, who pushed him back up so he wouldn’t land on the still senseless man on the ground.

Spinning round, everyone laid their gazes on a green-haired ghoul, wearing a black and white striped suit. He stood there, grinning at them through rotting teeth. Zero began to bark wildy at the phantom, who looked down at the ghost dog.

“Hey, how ya doin’?”

“Are you what’s causing this?” inquired Jack, drawing his attention to him.

The eccentric ghost grinned wider, “That I am! Who but the Ghost-With-The-Most could come up with as brilliant a scheme as this?”

No one had a response for that, so they all just stood in silence. The Hatter tittered.

“You laughing at me!” The ghoul was suddenly face to face with the Mad Hatter.

“No, I’m laughing at me, since you are me.”

The ghoul backed away, and muttered, “Yeesh, What a weirdo! Ya know what I’m sayin’?” he looked at Edward.

“No.” Edward murmured, fearfully.

“That’s okay, not many do!”

The green-haired so called Ghost-With-The-Most gazed at each of them in turn.

“Now, where was I? Oh yeah, time to bring the fun!”

And the flamboyant apparition disappeared, and suddenly new people arrived from thin air. The first was a pretty young woman with red hair. She fell to the ground and looked around her in fear, until her panicked gaze landed on Edward.

“Edward?” she said in astonishment.

“Kim!” Edward said, equally amazed.

“What’s going-” Kim’s statement was cut short as another person materialized next to her. The frightened girl screamed and scrambled away, as a skinny black haired man in a suit stood stock still near her, wide eyed.

“What… Have I died?” he said, shocked.

“Victor!” Emily shouted, hurrying to him, followed closely by Edward, who was moving as fast as he could over to Kim.

“Emily?” Victor’s face portrayed disbelief, “How… What… Am I dead?”

“No, you-” suddenly the green-haired ghoul appeared right in front of her and Edward. Emily gave a cry of surprise and stumbled back, Kim shrieked again, and Victor yelped, leaping away from the ghoul.

“Uh-uh, I don’t want any tearful reunions!” said the spectre, and with that grasped Victor and Kim firmly by the wrists, and before either of them could cry out, disappeared with them. Emily and Edward both cried the names of their loved ones simultaneously. The fiendish ghost reappeared. Furious, Emily rushed at him.

“What have you done with him?” She leapt at the phantom, arms outstretched to grip his throat, but he was already gone, appearing yards from them. Emily landed heavily on the ground, her arm popping off.

“Oh, that looked like it hurt,” said the ghost, “But just hold your horses, will ya? I haven’t shown you everyone, yet.”

Again, he disappeared, and soon two more people arrived. One was a young blond haired woman in a sailor’s outfit. She looked around her in alarm.

“Hatter!” she called. The Hatter, who had been watching all this transpire in confusion, turned to look at her.

“Alice…?” he whispered.

“Hatter, what’s going on?”

“I-I don’t know… I mean, I should know, since this is all in my head…”

“Hatter listen to me! This is not going on in your head. This is real!”

The Hatter looked somewhat unconvinced, but, on looking at Alice’s earnest face, he concluded that this may, in fact, be real. “I’m not that mad.” he said to himself.

The second person had long blond hair, that spilled over her cloak and dress. She looked around her frantically, and screamed when she caught sight of the odd characters amassed near her. It was then that she recognized the unconscious man, who was now muttering to himself in his troubled sleep.

“Ichabod!”

“Katrina…” he murmured.

“Ichabod, wake up!”

“Skeleton… Scissors… Corpse…”

“ICHABOD!”

The man called Ichabod sat up quicker than the eye could follow, making his temporary caretaker Sally yelp in surprise. His frantic gaze searched wildly until it fixated on Katrina.

“Katrina!” He jumped to his feet and raced over to her, and ran headlong into the Ghost-With-The-Most. He cried out in fright, dropping to the ground, as the ghost grinned sinisterly at him.

“Hey.”

The spectre suddenly appeared beside Katrina, and disappeared with her.

“No!” came Ichabod’s strangled cry.

By this time the Mad Hatter and Alice had reached each other.

“Hatter, who was that… ghost?”

“I don’t know, but I expect he’ll be coming for you.”

“He can try.” said Alice, with a grave face.

Sure enough, the ghost appeared again.

“Your turn, Blondie.”

“I don’t think so.” Alice swung a fist at him, putting all her power behind it, but it passed harmlessly through the spectre. She stumbled slightly, stunned, and the ghost made to grab her.

“Ye’ll not be touchin’ a hair on her head.” The Hatter’s voice had undergone a dramatic change. Now it was ominous, instead of giddy, and possessed a prominent Scottish accent. And his eyes, green before, were now yellow, with a murderous glint in them.

He leapt at the ghost with a war cry, but the ghoul was gone before he got there, appearing a little distance away.

“Ya know ya can’t win, right? May as well give up and play along.”

Now Jack, whom had been observing all this, not knowing what to do or how to help, saw his chance. In two easy strides (for him at least) he stood behind the ghost and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Hey, watch the suit, Skelly!”

Jack’s moment of triumph was cut short as all at once he felt a strange sensation in his bones, as if they were dematerializing. And suddenly he was gone. But he was only gone a mere instant before he landed painfully on the ground, yards from where he had been.

Laying there in shock, Jack watched for a few moments as the Hatter tried and failed to pounce on the green-haired ghoul, who appeared right beside Alice at that moment, gripped her wrist, which she tried to twist in order to free herself, to no avail. He watched as she and the ghoul disappeared.

“Alice!” The Hatter’s hand was extended towards where she had been. He slowly lowered it after a few seconds, still staring at where she’d been standing moments ago, his eyes slowly becoming green once again. Ichabod lay on the turf not far off, shocked and confused. Emily worked to pop her arm back into its socket, muttering angrily to herself. Edward stood, staring at the ground, oblivious to the world.

Jack made his way over to them. He was utterly dumbfounded. Never, in his wildest dreams could he ever have predicted any of this happening. He felt immensely sorry for those around him (even if he barely knew them), who had seen the people they cared for kidnapped by that horrible ghoul. He watched, still slightly stunned, as Sally dashed up to him.

“Jack! Are you alright?”

“Yes, Sally, I’m fine.” He smiled reassuringly at her, a gesture which she returned. And then the spectre popped into existence next to them.

“I’ll be wanting you, too.” And with that, he gripped Sally by the arm.

“Sally!” Jack’s quick, frantic hand that had reached out to grab Sally was only a second too late.

And she was gone.

[fanesavin]

The festivities ahead of the Coronation begin with Lords and Ladies settling in for the night ahead of an exciting and much anticipated day.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ] 

Curiously, Iann remained where he was as the crowed departed, watching the man who tried to attack Lady Faye of Lacroy. He wanted to speak to either Lady Faye or Inquisitor Savin, but then suddenly there was his little brother as well, being a bother. Iann made a snorting noise. “The honey makes the mead, you silly thing.” He looked a little closer at Miguel. “You looked…piqued. Did you enjoy that display of magic? Or - whatever it was?” Iann said, unwilling to just brand everything he didn’t understand as 'magic’.

“I would love a walk,” the priestess said to Bella. “Would you like to come along, Maya?” she asked her companion. “Unless you have pressing matters to attend to for your Lord?” It was her way of giving the other woman an out. “I’m a priestess /for/ the Lord of Light. I do His bidding. Go where he commands.”

Fane watched the man be dragged away and exhaled short and sharp. He turned to survey those lingering behind dragging his fingers back through his hair. Seeing Iann and Miguel he trailed over to them. “That was no magic.”

“I will also be going, specifically for that very reason. May I accompany you on your way?” She asked. “I am Octavia.” She said introducing herself to Lady Lacroy.

Iann looked at Fane. “Are you alright?” Another question followed. “Will she be alright?” And then a statement. “You no doubt heard what happened to our own sister-by-marriage earlier today, Inquisitor.”

Ephram interjected, from where he was standing near the princes of the island kingdom. “And a not inconsiderable number of barrels of mead are from Honeywild Holding.” He was still, like many of them, watching the aftermath of what had happened with the … witch, he supposed? … but it seemed like as good an in as any to strike up some conversation with the noble seafaring Princes and Lord Savin.  Ephram turned his focus to the little knot of gathering nobles; it seemed luck was on his side, when it came to ingratiating himself to them as swiftly as possible.

“If you wish,” Faye said, wiping her hands carefully on the cloth. “Faye. Faye Lacroy. A pleasure, Octavia.”

Iann scoffed. “Honeywild Holding. Any place that needs to claim its purpose is doomed to mediocrity….ah.” He turned to regard the tall blond man, a haughty once-over. “That makes sense, now that I see who makes such a claim. Lord…Pittypat? I forget your name.” And most other people would too in a few years, Iann thought silently. This poor lost Lordling.

Fane waved off the question for his own well-being good-naturedly. “If that display was anything to judge by… Yes, I think she’ll be just fine,” he said looking in the direction Faye had vanished equal parts amused, concerned and unsure quite what to make of what he’d just seen. Though what Iann said next drew his attention back aside to him “I did… and I’ve asked that some of my men do some investigating… Subtly of course. How does she fair now?” he asked of Cassandra.

“Likewise, Faye.” She said walking beside the woman. “I heard the mad spit the word witch at you.” Octavia pulled her long hair out of her face and tucked some behind her ear. “I had wished that with this 'peace’ the High Raj is restoring to the lands we would have a more open thinking society.” She said shaking her head. Finding someone that was also a witch was a rare occurrence. Octavia did not practice her magic, but it was certainly manifesting itself these days- and growing stronger each one that had passed.

“Pettaline. I’ve still got the name of my ancestors, Your Highness, and unfortunately the legacy of their unembellished naming customs when it comes to our lands.” Ephram smiled as if the jibe had been some sort of friendly joke between them. Over the years and the dwindling of House Pettaline down to nothing, he’d gotten very, very good at not letting humiliation show. “Are you talking of the kidnapping attempt that happened earlier? Between that and this bizarre attack and accusation of witchery, it seems the Capital’s not as prepared for so many people flooding into it as they thought they’d be.”

“She’s comfortable, with her precious daughter,” Iann replied, and seemed satisfied that Savin had taken it upon himself to look into that matter as well. He was not the 'Inquisitor’ for nothing, after all. A title that Iann understood (as his own House once underwent a thorough Inquisition, over three hundred years ago) and respected. Or, well, he specifically respected Fane Savin to be thorough. “Tell me what you find…” he saw the mix of emotions flit across Savin’s face, and then looked amused as well. “It seems some magic was afoot. Both yourself and my little brother have been successfully caught under some enchantment of The Witch of the Wilds.”

Fane nodded a little upon hearing that she was safe with her daughter. “I’ll see it handled… but the timing seems far too convenient,” he admitted honestly though as Pettaline added his opinion to the matter about preparations Fane could only make a small noise of agreement. “That’s true enough, you would think the Cloverry and Crown would have forseen some incidents… Yet I see little being done about it by the Royal guard.” As for Iann’s comment about the Witch of the Wild’s enchantment Fane merely shrugged a shoulder, “she’s an interesting one. A little stern and prickly perhaps but… interesting.”

Iann On the point the little (tall) Lordling made, Iann had to agree. He tapped at his beard. “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t all expect perfection just yet.” it was a blithe comment. Iann didn’t expect perfection at all. “Still, my heart is beating quick from all the excitement. No better time to compare mead and proclaim the Forty Isles caskets more worthy, eh?” He smiled, and clapped Pettaline on the back, hard. He looked around. “Now where’s my lovely White Lady gone? I’d like to enjoy myself in the confines of the Bluesprings Keep. Who will join me? Savin, I’ve yet to see you tipsy, never mind ten sheets to the wind.” He said it with a slow and careful smile though, so Inquisitor Savin didn’t see it as mockery, but a friendly invitation.

Bella walked alongside Faye as they made there way to the event. Lord of Light, no wonder Bella had felt her presence in the crowd of others. The darkness that was evident all over her person was a heavy contrast but Bella didn’t quite see it as anything that should make them enemies. Enemies came with a purpose beyond just a connection to something. “When did you feel the call to your Lord?” Bella asked, looking about the event as they walked into it. Food and drinks all over the place, her wolf salivating as it waited for her to fetch him some food. If he just rushed the table there would be screams.

Silent as the owl that Iann likened him to, the Prelate materialized in step with Faye and Octavia as they walked. “Lady Lacroy,” he said, and acknowledged the young woman accompanying her with a nod as well, “I’m deeply perturbed by what you just endured. Please be assured that I will be assigning some members of the Emerald Hand to watch for any such further attacks on your person.” Theodore didn’t offer a definition of the Emerald Hand with this announcement; either the woman knew of the shadowy agents of the Cloverry, or she didn’t.

“It’s hardly the worse thing I’ve been called.” But Faye agreed with Octavia. Peace would only hold if the old mindsets died with the war.

Fane looked at the crowds moving towards the main keep his features set into a slight frown. “We should discuss it more but later as you say… perhaps a few drinks.” With what had happened first to Grand Lady Cassandra and then Lady Lacroy Fane found himself a little perturbed and distraction typically made not a welcome companion for revelry. But a few drinks wouldn’t hurt he supposed. “Tell me you brought the Amber casket with you at least? I might be persuaded to have a few more if you have it.”

Ephram threw his shoulders back, straightening at Fane’s note concerning the lack of timely response by the Royal guard. “Maybe the Raj’s soldiers have orders to be on the lookout for threats to the throne,” he said, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Which, I’d reckon, would leave those of us capable of spotting other skirmishes and trouble-making the responsibility of keeping the peace. D'you think, Lord Savin? Highness Cardero?”

“I wouldn’t think that witch should be used as a slur.” Octavia shrugged. “When I think of witch, I think of power. Passion. Strength.” She said looking over to Faye.

Miguel kept mostly quiet, but he nodded to the man who proclaimed himself a Pettaline. Was this another noble being taken for granted like Lady Lacroy? And was he worth being friendly with? There was a lot of mental math going on in Miguel’s head. But he didn’t want to appear too friendly with anyone in front of Iann. “Hearts beating fast indeed. I wouldn’t mind a little friendly competition.”

The excitement, as it was called, only served to show the priestess that this place needed more guidance. Violence beget violence, after all. But she followed as the others moved towards the festivities that had been announced. The strange woman with the violet eyes drew her attention briefly, but she soon turned back to Bellamy. “I can’t recall ever not being in His service,” Scarlett answered. “It’s been my life.”

Fane hooked his thumbs into the loop of his scabbard. “Perhaps the Raj’s guards, but what about the City Watch?” Fane asked the other Lordling casting a look towards a few of those soldiers in question that dotted the streets, he couldn’t say he was overly familiar of the man or his holdings but he made a sound point. “Aye, perhaps but is it our peace to keep? We were invited here to witness the crowning of a King not to control his subjects.”

Maya excused herself briefly to purchase her spices. She haggled a bit less than usual, but still got a better price than most. Spices tucked safely away she returned to the party. Once there she picked up a pitcher of wine and began her rounds offering more to the guests.

And now the vultures descend on their quarry, Faye thought to herself. Faye knew the Cloverry. She knew of the Emerald Hand. And while never having any particular interaction or grief with them, she was always suspicious of anyone that said they only wanted what was best for the people. “Prelate,” she greeted, remembering what the entitled’s robes looked like. “It’s nothing that can be helped, I’m afraid. Please don’t use your resources for my sake, though it’s appreciated.”

Danian had chosen to take the long route to the Capital. They could have ridden to the nearest port and sailed down, but they rather enjoyed the road, to be honest. There was far more to see - and they could have the peace of traveling alone. As soon as they reached the city gates, they had dismounted from their steed to walk him up through the lower city. They weren’t bothered by the people there. They weren’t in their formal wear. They even chatted briefly with a 'commoner’ or two. It wasn’t their first time in the Southern city, but it never hurt to stop and ask a few directions. When they finally reached the courtyard, their horse had been secured in a stable and they were wandering freely throughout the streets, hand on the pommel of the sword at their hip - a habit they had never been able to shake. But something- or rather someone stopped them in their tracks. They stood and blinked. Once. Twice. Squinted their eyes. Then, with a swift step, they weaved through the crowd over to him, a small grin forming on their lips. “Tuah?” They certainly hoped they hadn’t mistaken the man, but they were quite sure. “-Or is Your Majesty, now? I’ve heard some very interesting stories coming over from the Peninsula.”

Iann was amused to have the little (tall) Lordling trailing behind himself and the Inquisitor. He didn’t find it absurd or annoying, but rather the norm. The higher one rose in ranks, the more the minor nobility clung close. Plus, the added bonus was that Pettaline fell into step with Miguel, thus setting the ranking quite smoothly as they made their way towards the Keep. “I will definitely like to speak of it more, when mouths are also more willing to speak,” he agreed with Fane. Iann could hold his liquor, and he suspected most of the nobility here would make the same claim. Still, Iann decided he was better at it, simply because he had to be. He noticed Lord Tuah hovering near one of the steps and gave him a courteous nod. “The Amber casket was brought and branded with your name on it, Inquisitor,” Iann crowed. And he gave Pettaline a passing nod. “I do however, love these spontaneous demonstrations of power.” Iann did not love it at all, as he continued. “It reminds the commonfolk why they are ruled by the likes of us. A very wise observation indeed, Lord Pettaline.” It wasn’t wise at all, but Iann was like a cat who enjoyed playing with his food.

“Thank you. Even if you’re one of a minority,” Faye smiled sadly. “Though I have no real magic. Not anymore.”

“Oh?” Octavia questioned, she tilted her head at the womans comment. “Could’ve fooled me.” She said with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

Faye smiled. “I"m clever, that’s all. What men see as magic is simply… using my resources wisely.”

The Red Priestess fell into the slowly moving crowd, taking in the new faces, the symbols of status and the way in which everyone was gathered together. So many names. So much bloodshed between families. Yes, the Lord had been right to send her here. To deliver the sword to the One.

Fane nodded upon hearing that there was wine for him but said little more, instead opting to walk beside Iann as they ended the Great Hall that was filling with people. A band nearby struck up a jaunty tune, light-hearted and enough to start getting a few people already in their cups to try their hand at dancing.

“Clever you are, you didn’t need anyone's help back there. You were fine without aid from the gentleman or myself.” She said complimenting the woman's tenacity.

Miguel held in a sigh. Iann was talking out of his rear, and he didn’t believe anything that was said anymore. In his mind it was all posturing. Might as well posture with them - he rolled up his sleeves and crossed his arms as they walked. “Lord Pettaline, what kind of flowers do you have in the Honeywild Holding?” He asked with a friendly smile.

Faye smiled again, though it was a little less bright. “When you’ve been on your own as long as I have, you learn to adapt. Or you die.” Not that it truly mattered. Her House was already dead. Faye was just too stubborn to let go. They moved on into the revelry, and Faye looked around for someplace to get a drink.

“I’d think that involving oneself in the safety of the people of the Bluesprings doesn’t count as control, or wanton shows of power,” Ephram ventured after a moment’s consideration after Fane and Iann had their say. “But then, I’ve only got a handful of families to be responsible for, nothing so grand as the Blackspire or the Forty Islands. Probably you lords have a much better estimation of the politics here than I do.” Acknowledgement of his lower rank made, Ephram turned his attention to the Threepenny Prince walking quietly beside him. “All politics is like having older siblings you keep reminding you that you don’t know as much as they do, huh?” He was bolstered by that pretty smile the Prince turned on him, though, and said, “We don’t cultivate flowers in the Holding, Your Highness. It’s all wildflowers growing where they like – mostly those yellow sailbushes, and a pale blue version of queen’s roses, and everywhere there’s these frenzies of tiny little white laceblossoms, the most blinding white you ever saw, when they’re all a-blooming.”

Bella could not relate, the darkness had come to her when she felt herself surrounded and unsafe, something that sought her out when she needed it too. “Perhaps our guidance comes to us differently,” she mused heading towards a table of food, pulling off some chicken for her wolf and holding it in her hand. “Does your lord let you drink?” She asked, wine and various other drinks covering the table along with the food.

Maya approached one of the women who seemed to be looking for something. “A drink m'am?” she asked holding out her tray.

“Perhaps,” the priestess nodded. “And my lord has no interest in what I do for myself, only for him. I’m allowed to do as I please, as long as I go when he calls.”

Prelate Theodore smoothly rejoindered Faye’s automatic protest, saying, “It’s already in motion, Lady Lacroy. Believe me, the deployment of the Hand is as much for the sake of the Cloverry and the Raj as it is for your safety.” He collected a goblet of one of the wines that was less palatable to most people, a resinous green vintage from an ancient vineyard to the West. “Do you foresee any other concerns arising during your visit?”

“Unfortunately true, M'Lady.” Octavia motioned to a woman who had glasses of mead and wine upon a tray. “Thank you, Miss.” She said nodding to the woman.

Tuah turned when his name was called out, his brow raised and head cocked slightly to the sight. It was obvious that he dreaded any interaction that was to be had with any noble families, seeing that he had nothing much in common with most of them. Or at least he assumed it so. His eyes scanned the newcomer, taking in the sword by their hip that seemed more practical than decorative. He tried to place the face to someone of his past. Someone from the Dawnguard perhaps? He could feel the tenseness from his confidante, raising his hand to ask him to stand down. “Danian?” he guessed, before it clicked and a wide smile as he closed the distance between them and gave Dani a hug. “By the Lord, look how you’ve grown. Well, only by a little,” Tuah couldn’t help but teased, crows feet appearing at the corners of his eyes as he smiled fondly at the other. “And it’s Tuah. There is no need for such things between us, hm.”

Miguel nodded in agreement. “Truly, that’s why I tire so easily of politics.” His broad shoulders pulled up in a small shrug. “I would rather talk about flowers,” he said, not entirely honest, but not an outright lie. “That sounds wonderful. You know, I’ve never had any honey from the Honeywilds, though now I understand the name better,” he exclaimed with a chuckle. “Honeywilds… we cultivate our honey a little more, with certain plants, like lavender - so we know which hives have specific tastes or smells….”

Faye turned to the young girl as she came close. “Please,” Faye nodded, and took a large goblet of wine. “Thank you.” Turning to the Prelate, Faye hummed around a long sip of her drink. “Ahh, so the asking was merely a formality, was it?” She was hardly naive enough to think that she was of the same importance as the Raj and the Cloverry itself. “None caused by myself, I can assure you.” She nodded at Octavia, glancing again at the girl with the tray. She seemed… strangely familiar. But no. Faye couldn’t know her.

Prelate Theodore took a measured draught of his wine, savouring the piney stripe it laid down his throat as he swallowed. “Did I give the impression I was asking? How peculiar of me.”

“Duty never sleeps. Didn’t your cousin say that once, Inquisitor? Or perhaps your wife. Someone beautiful enough that I was distracted both by her words and her face,” Iann said with a smile that was more clever than happy. He turned his head slightly, looking over his shoulder for a moment. “I see your Lovel ward is here, and our old friend the Oathbreaker.” He motioned for a servant, requesting the Amber mead from the Cipprian Island casket to be opened for himself and Savin.

“No. But you did give the impression you wished to know my opinion in matters regarding my personal safety.” Faye tipped an eyebrow at the Prelate. “But it’s no matter. Safety is always of prime concern at times like this. The Raj should count himself lucky to have someone so… willing to take things in hand.”

Maya listened as the nobles spoke, absorbing information. Knowing more was always useful. She brought wine and mead around too. When Lord Cardero asked for the Cipprian Mead to be opened, she nodded with a, “Right away sir,” before going to open the cask. It would be better to disappear from the room for am moment and from the thoughts of those nobles and religious folks who seemed to eye her curiously.

Lord Savin’s ruminations over the technicalities of military duties and the Driftwood Prince’s prods at his dignity started to fade into less importance as Ephram’s attention was won over by this lesser prince of the isles. “Are you all that particular?” he asked, slowing his long stride slightly so they fell a little more behind the others. “About tastes and cultivation, I mean.” Ephram drifted entirely to a stop, giving Miguel a sidelong smile. “It’s not so bad to let things go a little wild, sometimes.”

Fane hummed, “aye to a point perhaps but I just wonder is it our duty to see a city’s laws are upheld when there are men whose jobs it is to do that?” He was mostly just postulating really, it was all said and done now and little could change the fact of what had happened. Though the mention of his late wife by Iann caused Fane to dip his head, “my late wife did, but she knew my inclination to duty better than most I suppose, that said something always catches your eye when you happen by our Halls.” A joke, in part at least, considering how many broods of iann’s bastards there were about his city now. “It appears so… I might head and see them.”

As the Lady Bella excused herself, the priestess found her own goblet of rich wine, so dark it was nearly black. Glancing around the room, she made her way around the periphery, pausing to watch a dancing couple.

“I’ll join you, if you don’t mind,” Iann said, happy to abandon his brother in light of speaking to the Lovel boy, and finding out anything about his dear son Buttercup.

Octavia thought about her father war chieftain and clan leader- and of how she had been framed for his murder. Once she fled their kingdom they were overrun with the High Raj, every last one of her family killed. Octavia shook her head as if to shake the thoughts out of her head and looked back to Faye. “I am not here on behalf of him, I am only accompanying someone.” She said looking around the room for Bella. “I had only wished to keep you safe from that madman, I had missed when he lunged for attack but saw when he held the blade to your neck..” She said, bringing her hand up to her own neck. “I do not like to watch as women suffer at the hands of men.” She shook her head.

Fane gestured for Iann to walk with him, “I don’t mind in the slightest…” And while he was content to go and see his ward and fellow commander, his thoughts turned to checking on Lady Lacroy after the incident. Perhaps in a little while.

One side of Miguel’s mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. “Well, it could have its value, but tasting the small differences is interesting, a challenge almost.” His eyebrows twitched a little at the word challenge. He got a couple glasses of the Cipprian Mead once it was opened and handed one to Lord Pettaline. “Of course, I would be more than happy to try mead made from your honey if you would be so kind as to point some out. I’m sure a taste of the wild won’t hurt me.”

“Do you serve the house of the your Mistress? Or just your Mistress alone?” Faye asked. She had no quarrells with sellswords or hedgeknights. She was merely curious. “And as for that, I appreciate it. Truly.” Faye laid a hand on the other woman’s arm. “Neither do I.”

Iann let Fane handle all the re-acquaintances with his Ward and the Oathbreaker. Iann in the meantime looked around, hoping their moving didn’t lose the servant who’d run off to get his mead.

Prelate Theodore raised his eyebrows for a moment, looking even more owlish than usual. “Then that was clumsy, on my part,” he said. “I’d only intended to relay information. Nevertheless, Lady Lacroy, the matter has, as you say, been taken in hand. And I see that you have others willing to come to your aid, such as this young knight here.” He acknowledged Octavia with another nod, but then went still, catching sight of a rather … decorative personage appearing on the other side of the Hall. “Enjoy the festivities.” With that, the Prelate stepped away from the two women, making a wide arc around the perimeter of the Hall in Freddie’s direction.

It took Tuah a moment to recognize them, but that was understandable. The last time they had seen one another, Tuah had been a freshly appointed knight of the Dawnguard and Danian had been a highly enthusiastic ten-year-old aspiring for the same role. Though, his hug was- slightly unexpected. They weren’t exactly used to getting embraced by other members of nobility in public. Nevertheless, they returned it before stepping back to look him over. Quickly, their grin gave way to a harmless scoff, and propping one hand on their hip, they responded. “I would kick you in the shin for that if your confidant didn’t look so ready kick me back.” Not that he was wrong. They had grown and their boots gave them another two inches or so, but even then, their shorter stature was apparent. “Tuah it is then,” they smiled.

Fane as they neared Fane raised a hand and lightly clapped Tuah on the back smiling at him and then Danian the smile growing fonder. “Long time no see strangers.”

“I appreciate the information then.” Faye nodded to the Prelate. “And you as well,” she said as the man moved off in the general direction of a new arrival.

Maya returned only long enough to get the mead and gather her wits. Once done she delivered large goblets to the Lords Cardero as well as anyone else who desired them without a word. It was speaking, generally, that got her in to trouble.

“Hello again,” the priestess said, coming up behind Maya as she had delivered her latest glasses of mead. “I thought you served the House Savin? Not the capitol?”

Fane was surprised when Maya arrived with a tray serving drinks and after taking one off the tray gave her a sidelong look. He’d been about to open his mouth and point out the same, that Maya need not serve the drinks to the other nobles and could partake herself in some of the festivity. She was one of his cohort on this journey after all. But opted to close his mouth and leave the two women be for now.

Octavia laid her hand over the woman’s on her arm for only a moment before bringing it up to her collar. “Protection over women is the one thing I have unwavering belief in.” She said making eye contact with Faye. She studied her face for a moment before moving her eyes around the room, finding her mistress across the way with the two others she left her with. “I serve my mistress alone. I am a knight, protecting her above all else. She allowed me a place to take comfort in knowing I belonged, and for that I am grateful.” Octavia said, looking back to Faye.

Iann noticed the Blackspire crest emblazoned on the servant girl’s dress rather than the Bluesprings. He saw Fane about to address her, but it seemed a Red Priestess of the Light caught the girl first. Iann stayed silent and listened to hear the girl’s response. More out of idle habit, than the expectation to glean anything interesting or useful.

Danian returned Fane’s smile when he approached, offering a slight nod of greeting. “Lord Savin. It has, hasn’t it? What- two years? Things are still well for you up further North, I hope.”

Faye frowned slightly, noticing the other woman’s repeated gesture towards her neck. But she didn’t say anything about it. “I admire that.” She followed Octavia’s eyes towards her mistress. “Belonging somewhere can be hard.” FAye knew from experience. “I"m glad you found your place.”

Ephram accepted the glass that Miguel handed him, their fingers pressing together briefly at the handoff. “I’m not one to back down from a challenge, Highness,” he said, taking a bigger drink of the highly-regarded mead blend than was entirely civilized. “And surely not if it’s something you’d find interesting. The Hall is serving last year’s premium mead tonight, but I’ve got a few different vintages of Honeywild mead in my rooms, in fact. If the feasting and festing doesn’t tire you out too much, maybe you’d like to venture back with me afterwards? Sample the products of my Holding?”

Maya nodded, “I do, but I’m hardly one to let you all languish for lack of mead.” She gave a brilliant if porcelain smile. It was safer, usually, for her to fade into the background as a servants.

Fane didn’t stand so much on ceremony here with Tuah and his ward. “Two years too long hm?” he gave them a more stern look before his smile returned and he opened his arms to embrace them warmly. “The North is as it always is, unforgiving and unchanging. Though far less warm without your presence there. I do wish you’d consider returning back North.”

“I dare say none of the lords or ladies will languish if you don’t serve them their fifth glass.” The Priestess noted the girl’s expression, unable to shake the feeling that she knew her. Or should. “But… doing one’s duty is sometimes the hardest thing we can ask of another person, isn’t it?”

It was interesting to see the servant girl deliver such a dazzling smile. The falseness, Iann understood; but smiling with such dazzle tended to draw attention, compared to the blank, neutral stares of the other servants around them. He sipped his mead, looking over Tuah’s shoulder as Fane and Lovel got reacquainted. He smiled over his cup, at the Red Priestess’ reply to the girl. Those Priestesses were notorious for their sense of single-minded purpose, as well as the heat between their thighs. Not that Iann had ever bedded one, but the stories were intriguing.

Tuah chuckled heartily, hands on Dani’s shoulders. It was odd for him to show such affectionate display, seeing that he usually wore an almost permanent frown on his face. But it was such a relief to see such a familiar face that for a moment he couldn’t help himself. “Do you think I need his help kicking your arse? He’s only here to stop me from doing anything too un-king-ly.” He patted Dani on the shoulder before letting his hands fall to the ground. He turned his attention towards Fane and Iann, his expression now more guarded as he greeted them both. “Lord Savin. Lord Cardero.” If Fane had approached him and Dani alone, he would’ve embraced the other as well, glad to see such familiar faces. But that wasn’t the case, so Tuah decided to keep his lips tight and forced himself to flash a polite smile instead.

Iann licked his back teeth, his smile like a fox. “How goes your High Peninsula, Lord Tuah?” he asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve visited.” The last time, Lord Alexander had been alive; and for Iann it hadn’t been a pleasant visit.

“You may not think so, but I fear they would disagree,” Maya replied. Her expression softened considerably. “It is not mine to ask if duty is a difficult, only to do it.”

Her Majesty, Freddie really shouldn’t have been there. He was neither high-born, nor invited - nor terribly interested in the current monarch (beyond finding the Raj rather appealing physically, and just familiar enough to wonder if they’d met before under rather more intimate and insalubrious conditions.) But still, all that aside, a party was a party; and Freddie had entertained more than enough of the men attending thisone, back in his bed at Mab’s, to make attending it rather good fun. Especially when he happened across some of his more perverse patrons, puffed up with pomp and circumstance, their lady-wives on their arms.

Miguel blushed, a physical reaction that was far from the usual labyrinth of words and lies - there was no way to trick his body into doing that for him. Lord Pettaline’s words caught him off guard. Miguel still didn’t know where Pettaline would sit in his plans, or if he would even be worth the trouble. But he was charming, in a way, without such lofty ideas or holdings to be frustrating. Miguel cleared his throat of mead. “Perhaps. I imagine the mead you bring with you must be the best vintage. Pray, correct me if I’m mistaken.” He watched Pettaline’s face, trying hard to imagine what kind of man he was when he wasn’t around the other nobles. That was what mattered if Miguel was going to follow him back to his rooms.

Prelate Theodore finally completed his circuitous route to the Blue Diamond Whore, hissing at the back of Freddie’s head, “What are you doing here? Surely you didn’t take the Raj’s invitation as literally as to believe that strumpets and harlots should also attend the celebration?” One hand shot out to vice Freddie’s elbow. “Get out. Or – bloody Nines below, never mind that, it’ll make more of a scene than anything else.” His grip tightened in conjunction with his lips drawing to a thin line across his face. “Stay put. Don’t make a spectacle of yourself.” Even as he said it, he knew it was a vain request.

The Red Priestess looked at Maya with an expression that said that what the girl had just said had struck a nerve. A good one. “No it is not. You may yet surprise us all. Maya of No Importance.”

Danian didn’t hesitate to accept Fane’s embrace, even squeezing him for a brief moment before they released him. They couldn’t deny the familial sense of their relationship or the fatherly role that he had filled, even if they refrained from speaking of it. “Well, I’ve been traveling quite a lot here and there over those two years, so you can’t blame me entirely. Believe me- there’s nothing that aches me more than being separated from the North. I have stopped back home a few times, but it’s not nearly enough.”

Octavia felt stuffy in her layered clothes. The leather bodice feeling tight around her waist and the collared black shirt making her feel constricted. She usually wore only a shortened smock and a long sleeveless leather tunic. Octavia took a sip of the wine she received moments ago. “Yes, thank you. I have hopes that others find somewhere that brings them comfort. Or where they find intimacy with loved ones.” Octavia swirled the wine around in her glass. “From where do you hail?” She asked Faye.

“Little Danian, how is my Buttercup? I hear he blossoms whenever he sees you. The boy has a head for two things: blacksmithery, and you. All his letters are full of those two worthwhile subjects.”

Faye had no loved ones anymore. And as for any… intimacy… well, it had been a long time. “The Wildwood Marsh. Not too far from your woodlands, I don’t think.”

“No, quite close actually. The marshes are very interesting. I have only travelled through there once, twas before I came across my mistresses castle.”

Her Majesty, Freddie Initially taken a bit by surprise when he felt a hand close around his arm, Freddie smiled when he realised who it was that had caught him, turning subtly to look the Prelate in the eye, his own gleaming wickedly. “I was a spectacle before I even walked in tonight, darling,” he murmured, as unconcerned with titles and protocol here as he was in his own room at the brothel, “-but do you reallythink my leaving would make more a scene than anything else?” Freddie leaned a bit closer, his voice low, but rich and throaty. “What if I were to get on my knees for you right here? Would that be better or worse?”

Maya shook her head, “I have no intention of surprising anyone. She gave a small polite smile, "If you’ll excuse me.” But then without waiting for an answer she turned away to deliver the rest of the wine and mead on her tray.

Fane typically was more reserved in his affection than this but he had no particular reason to refrain. Iann’s presence was hardly a hindrance in his opinion though he noted Tuah’s sudden tension. Though wasn’t entirely sure why. “You’ll have to tell me all about your ventures… You don’t write nearly enough with updates of your antics.”

Iann chose to look over at the Red Priestess then, and raise an eyebrow at her. His tone was mild and friendly as he spoke to her. “It is good mead, the girl is right about that.”

“Is that so?” Tuah raised his brows when Iann mentioned that he had visited the Peninsula. Perhaps it was during the time where Alexander had been in position of power, since he had never met the Cardero personally during his time overseeing the land. “I hope that your stay was fitting to one of your standing.”

Ephram socked back the rest of the precious Cipprian mead, giving away his rural holding rough manners with the lack of delicate savouring of the liquor. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and leaned in closer to Miguel, a tall tree in a wind bending over a stouter one. “I’ll be honest with you, Prince Miguel,” he said, voice dipping low and confidential, “they’re not, in fact, my best vintages. Not all of them, not by the standards of–” he waved his empty wineglass at their surroundings, “–all this finery. We Easterners tend to prefer mead that goes down a touch raw.” He straightened up again, a corner of his lip lifting briefly. “Not to everybody’s taste, especially those accustomed to gentler handling.”

The Red Priestess watched Maya leave, not following after her. Things would work out as they should. In time. She turned to the group standing nearby, seeing the prince looking her way. “I prefer wine, but yes. She is.” She came over, looking at the adornments on the man’s richly tailored clothing. “I don’t think we’ve met, your grace.”

“I am afraid it was not a fitting stay, no.” Iann’s statement to Tuah was firm, but gently spoken. He didn’t elaborate, but he did look at Tuah square in the eyes as he said it.

“They were beautiful in their nature, every creature there more beautiful than the next.” She said before taking the last sip of her wine. “How will this wine ever give me enough movement for dancing when it is so weak?” Octavia asked. “I’ll need another.” She said shaking her empty glass. “And you?” She asked motining to Fayes glass.

“Not many people chose that road for travel. Too afraid of the witch to take a shortcut. Another,” Faye said, feeling the heat of the place as well. “Please.”

Prelate Theodore’s lips were in danger of altogether disappearing. “Shut up,” he growled, stepping in closer so that he could hold Freddie locked in place, visions flooding his head of Her Majesty prowling through the assembled crowd doing his best to unsettle unfaithful nobles. “I’ve warned you before about this nonsense. You take entirely too many liberties – it’s going to get you noticed by the wrong people, if you keep on the way you are.”

Miguel’s face was still red. When Lord Pettaline leaned down to tease him, his stomach felt full of bubbles. At the word raw all of Miguel’s muscles tightened as one. He needed a breath of fresh air. “We will see where the night takes us.” He needed time to think about it, but time was a commodity he didn’t have. Logic kept him in line, even if every primal instinct in him desperately wanted to taste Lord Pettaline’s mead. “I should…” All of his mind was working on self control, there was nothing left to come up with an excuse to walk away from the Lord of the Honeywilds.

“And yet I see no wine in your hand, blessed or otherwise,” Iann said, since the clergy of any religion usually loved their blessed wine. “No, I don’t think we have, Priestess of the Light. Care to guess?” He had no doubt the Red Priestess was aware exactly who he was; if she were here, she was likely a High Priestess. And in the world of religious fervour, one would make it their duty to know who they mingled amongst. He smiled, because the Red Priestess had already been bested on the semantics of duty, by a servant girl no less.

“Your Highness,” Danian chuckled at Iann with a nod of greeting. “It’s been some time since I last saw him, but I imagine he’s no less the energetic child he was then. He’s a very passionate boy, you know? As long as he keeps himself dedicated to his interests, I believe he has a very bright future ahead of him. And of course–” they turned to look back at Fane, “there’s loads to tell. What’s the point of adventures if you leave them with no tales to tell?” There was a small gleam in their eye when they said that. No number of years or titles imposed could completely erase the lord’s penchant for trouble.

“I’m afraid of many things; but a witch wouldn’t be one of them.” She winked. Octavia decided to share her most kept secret with this woman- only because she herself had been a witch before as well. Octavia reached her hand out to Fayes, touching only her pinkie slightly before retracting. She sent a cool breeze up her arm, swirling around it such as a long bracelet would; starting from her wrist and ending at her shoulder. She motioned towards a table that held bottles upon bottles of mead and wine. “I could bring them here, but to avoid a ruckus we would be smart to take the few steps.” She said tilting her head towards the spirits table.

Fane grinned at Dani’s words, “well then, you’ll have to regale all of us with tales of your adventures then. No doubt you’ve been venturing across land and sea – the latter no doubt of interest to Iann here.” As he’d been speaking with them he’d been sipping his goblet and had gradually depleted its contents. He’d been about to take another sip when he realised that it was empty and sighed, “I’ll return in a little while I need more drink.” With a wave of his goblet he wandered over to the table of caskets to refill his cup in the meantime.

Iann sighed, his eyes closing for a moment as he thought of Buttercup. He hadn’t seen the boy in so long; he was likely not even a boy any longer. When he returned the White Lady to the North, Iann knew he needed to visit his eldest child at Blackspire as well. “Thank you for the news.” Iann trusted Danian’s word. “It’s a pity that we’ve never crossed waves during our travels, Danian. But then again, it is a big ocean.” Multiple oceans of course, but the singular just sounded better.

“Blessed wine is swill watered down by priests who think it will last longer that way. I prefer the real kind.” Her own glass had sadly disappeared somewhere, but she was certain she could find another. The Priestess looked him over, casually reaching out to feel the edges of his robes before humming thoughtfully to herself. She named off his House and title without mistake, dropping the fabric from between her fingers as she did. “How fares your House? Well, I should think?”

A bolt of triumph streaked through Ephram’s belly as he watched the princeling – more baby-featured than his brothers, maybe a little less able to dissemble because of it – struggle to come up with some way to gain himself a reprieve. Ephram didn’t mind granting him one, for a few hours. It would only give Miguel time to keep coming back to everything Ephram had hinted at, stoking his ship’s fires, until he sailed himself right back into Ephram’s harbour when he was too full of mead and desire to resist anymore. “You should, yes,” Lord Pettaline nodded. “I should too, really. We wouldn’t want it to seem like we were giving any of our peers a cold shoulder, would we?” He gave Miguel a wolfish smile. “But don’t stay away too long, Prince Miguel. I’m not partial to tapping my casks with only my own company.”

“I see,” Tuah held Iann’s gaze with his own, unswaying. “I would apologise on behalf of the previous Lord, but it would seem unending if I start doing so.” He straightened his back and moved his shoulder in an almost a shrug. “You’re more than welcome to visit again, though I’m sure you’re far too engaged with overseeing your own nation to even bother with a small land such as ours, hm.”

Her Majesty, Freddie loved it when the Prelate got stern; his disapproval so complete and all-encompassing that Freddie couldn’t help but want to provoke it. But when Theodore’s grip tightened - Freddie would have bruises tomorrow (not that that was anything new) - Her Majesty did as he’d been bidden and stayed put. Though he was far from cowed. “You noticed me straight away,” the whore teased, “Does that make you the 'wrong’ people?” His voice softened slightly, one eyebrow raising. “Or was that some genuine care, and concern for my safety, that you just expressed?”

“That might be foolish of you,” Faye smiled easily, though she meant no harm by it. She watched curiously as Octavia reached towards her, and when the other woman touched her finger to Faye’s, and she felt… gods above… Faye sucked in a breath, her hand closing of it’s own accord as the power rolled up her arm. Something flickered in the depths of Faye’s violet eyes, a flame long forgotten by memory, but not by what was bound in her blood. Magic. “How…” Faye shook her head, and the light started to fade from her eyes, leaving them a soft violet once more. She could only nod as Octavia indicated the drinks table, and moved towards it without further prompting.

Faye was so shocked, so in need of something very very strong to push away the feeling of something she’d never experienced, but remembered nonetheless, that she didn’t see the Lord Savin. And ran right into him. “Fuck…” She looked up, instantly ready to snap at someone. “Watch where- Oh. It’s you. I… apologize.” She reached for the wine and filled her glass.

Iann was distracted by someone deigning to touch him - someone who wasn’t his children or Princess Addeline. He realized it was the Red Priestess, and he was surprised when it seemed she identified him by the seam of his shirt between her fingers. Seemed, of course, being the operative word. He’d never met someone who used this tactic before. “Yes, you should think that, Priestess. The Forty Isles thrives. Have you ever visited our kingdom? I know we aren’t much for the Light, but you’d still be treated hospitably.” Well, that was only partially true depending on what island she visited. But Iann wouldn’t reveal the inner politics of his islands to an outsider. This was all part of the game, anyway.

Miguel nodded, feeling like a mouse staring down an owl. He needed to get his head back in place, he was at the castle to make alliances. Though, wasn’t that a way to make an alliance? He was able to pull himself away from Lord Pettaline to stand in a corner and sip his mead.

Iann looked over at Tuah, extraordinarily pleased that the minor Lord (albeit not so minor now) did what Iann expected him to do, and invited him to visit the High Peninsula. “I value your invitation more than I do your apologies, Lord. They are not necessary.” Did Tuah understand, what the Heir to the Forty Isles visiting the Oathbreaker’s holding would mean to the world watching? He genuinely hoped so. Iann only did it for the strategic geographical advantage, and a mild curiousity of this mysterious minor lord who bested Lord Alexander. “Anyone who served in Savin’s Dawnguard is someone I consider well worth a visit.”

“Would I be privy to hear these adventuring of yours?” Tuah turned his attention towards Dani, “It’s been a while since I was able to travel so freely.” He heaved a sigh and swirled the content of his drink, still full as he hadn’t taken a single sip.

Fane was just helping himself to a few of the richer casks when someone bumped into his back causing him to spill it all over his sleeve “oh for gods sake…” he cussed under his breath shaking out the sleeve of his jacket. He turned with a stern glower to look at whoever happened to be culpable for the act where he’d been about to snap in annoyance he opted to shut his mouth once more. “Oh,” he exhaled and turned his attention back to his sleeve “Lady Lacroy… No it’s fine.”

Danian nodded to Iann with a smile. “Of course. In fact- now that you’ve brought him up, I’m probably long overdue to pay him a visit as well, the way he used to follow me around. Between him and Fane, it sounds like I might be heading there as soon as our visit to the Capital is over.” As they began talking of oceans, Danian gradually began stepping in the direction of the Hall. They had been on the road for… long enough to need a proper drink or two. “Aye, it is. I’m not the best of seafarers though, I’m afraid. The lands across the seas are worth the journeys, but I would take a horse over a ship any day, if I could.” Looking over at Tuah’s request, they grinned. “Yes, of course. Why would I refuse?”

“You flatter yourself.” It was an insipid scold, as reprimands went; particularly because Theodore knew quite well that even though Freddie did enjoy flattering himself – it seemed a favourite pastime of his – those boasts were far outstripped in number by the praise heaped on him by Queen Mab’s clientele. He hadn’t been coronated 'Her Majesty’ for no reason. “I want this night to continue without any more unexpected dramatics, at least of the bloodletting sort. And I can’t ensure that if I need to also keep an eye out for you making trouble, blast it.”

Octavia watched as Faye’s eyes lit up. This had been one of her favorite things about magic- seeing the look on other peoples faces. “My mother was like me, as was her mother. I was supposed to be taught by her how to use what was handed down to me, but she died while in childbirth. Her mother said that her death strengthened me, causing me to take what was hers and double my own. I just don’t really use it, and I don’t know how for the most part, my Grandmother died before she could show me as well.” Octavia sighed, taking a few steps towards the table. She picked up what seemed to be mead, and my the smell of it, strong mead. “Would this be to your liking, M'lady?” She asked. “Oh, more for me, then.” She laughed as she watched Faye fill her glass. Octavia took a sip, nodding along to a melody the band played. “Do you think we shall say in this formal wear all night? I would assume something a little more casual might be fitting for a celebration meant for all peoples.” Octavia shifted from one foot to the other, studying the varying outfits of the crowd.

The Red Priestess thought nothing of touching the prince. There was no law but that of the Lord of Light, and that of the common laws of the land. She meant no offence besides. The cloth was fine and soft, and the priestess could appreciate beautiful things. She glanced up at the prince as he spoke. “I’m happy to hear that. And I have. But it’s been some time. As High Priestess, I’m more needed at the sept than abroad. Though it matters not if you accept the Light, your grace. Our lord will be just as hospitable as your islands, I’m certain.” Did that mean she knew of what went on in some places in the Isles? Not necessarily. But she had heard rumors.

“We had it. Once. A long time ago. But it faded with time. I… thank you for sharing it.” They moved on to the table, and Faye felt bad for snapping at the Inquisitor. “I’m sorry, m'lord. Can I … get you something for your sleeve?” Faye asked. She glanced back at the lady knight. “I certainly hope not. It’s stifling.” Though her gaze travelled in one particular direction, to the long frame of the Lord Savin as he shook his sleeve that was dripping with mead.

Fane noticed the woman from earlier still with Faye deciding there was little to be done to save his sleeve. “Ah that’s kind of you but no, don’t worry, don’t worry… clothes might be dampened but thankfully spirits are not…” his smile returned more gracious now as he noted Faye’s companion and turned a charming smile in her direction. “Aaah! Lady Lacroy’s knight in shining armour, hm? I can’t say I caught your name earlier… Lady?”

“Ah, well. I too have something I’d like to return to the North, and therefore I’ll be visiting Blackspire as well. Did you come by ship or horse, Danian?” Iann asked. “I’d be happy to take you there, if you need a quicker way than hooves on hard packed roads,” he said, teasing the young Lord gently. He turned to look at the Red Priestess, and swept a glass of wine of a tray for her as well. “So then why are you here? To convert the commonfolk and nobility alike?” he asked, amusing himself at the thought. “Or do you come bearing a message or a portent? I know you Priestesses are renowned for those, for better or for worse. Or perhaps your'e here to report the Cloverry’s fanfare back to your sept?” He used the word 'fanfare’ with a friendly sarcasm, considering how austere the Keep was.

“Spirits indeed…” She took a long drink of her wine.

“Of course.” She dipped her head slightly to Faye. Octavia turned to the gentleman that had been with Faye earlier. “I would hardly define myself as such, she rescued herself.” She said turning back to her. “My name is Octavia, though I would seldom call myself a lady as I has not been raised as one.” She smiled at the man. “You must be Lord Savin, lovely to meet your acquaintance.” She said before taking a gulp of her mead.

Her Majesty, Freddie pouted for a moment at the rebuke, then sighed as theatrically as he could, given the accusation of dramatics that had been levelled at him, rolling his eyes to the heavens. “Far be it from me to distract you from your more godly pursuits, Prelate,” he said, resting a hand over his heart, “I’ll be as good as gold from here on out.” Freddie grinned, knowing that Theodore enjoyed a bit of goss - even if he claimed otherwise. “Though I can see at least 6 customers from here - including the one I told you about. With the Scold’s Bridle.” Freddie glanced down at the Prelate’s hand still on his arm. “But tell me about 'any more’ dramatics, yeah? Have I missed the best bits of the evening? I mean, if you’re going to hold me, darling, either fuck me, regale me, or dance with me - otherwise I’ll have to find my own entertainment.”

“No. Nothing so atrocious. I bring the Unnamed Blade to the rightful ruler.” She took the wine with a nod and took a long sip. “The Cloverry are of no concern to us, your grace. They are their own entity, and they do much good. Or so it seems.”

Now Iann was torn between hearing Danian’s tales of adventure, and hearing more about the Unnamed Blade. He’d be seeing Danian again; this Red Priestess, he might never see again. “What is the Unnamed Blade, Priestess? ” And why did it need to be united with the High Raj?

“The blade for the one true ruler. The one from the prophecy.” The priestess said this as if it was no large concern other than getting the blade to where it needed to be. Though it was glaringly not on her person. “Said to be the blade that will usher in a new age of peace.”

Fane pointed an index finger at Octavia before ruminating “indeed, indeed she did.” The same hand and index finger then turned to point at Faye then his brow tipping a little, “fireberries no? Very impressive I must say.” As Octavia introduced herself Fane gave a small nod studying her attire curiously though mostly in search of a sigil to denote who she served, but finding no obvious evidence he ultimately had to ask. “And who is it that you serve? And please, how would you prefer for me to address you?” Though her assumption of who he was earned a small dip of his head, “that would be me, and likewise.” His attention travelled to Faye then “I meant to come and ask at an earlier point in time but my kinsmen kept me busy…” his brow furrowed a little in apparent concern, “how fair you after earlier?”

Tuah internally sighed at Iann’s reply. He should’ve known that Iann wouldn’t say no to such invitation, perhaps even eagerly wait for Tuah to extend the invitation to him himself due to the strategic placing of his small nation. So much to hope that the Lord would decline. Still, Tuah tried his best to keep the polite smile on his face. Despite his personal bias towards other nobilities, it wouldn’t hurt to let themselves be allied with other Houses. He simply needed to find the right one to ally himself with so the past would not repeat itself. “I look forward to your visit, then,” he replied, “and perhaps, if fate’s willing, I’d be able to visit your land.” His smile was more genuine when he turned his attention towards Dani. But before he could reply he was quite distracted by the words of the Red Priestess, he believed what she was called, curiosity piqued his interest.

Faye smiled at Octavia as she spoke to Lord Savin of earlier. “Fireberries,” she nodded as he addressed her, draining her glass as he turned again to speak to Octavia. “Other than a bit of wounded pride and a new scar, I’m fine, m'lord. Thank you.”

“I serve Bellamy, Queen of the Dead Woods. I am her central protector.” Octavia said, finding Bella in the crowd across the great hall. “Just Octavia will do, if you may.” She said tipping her head back to him.

Prelate Theodore briefly and very vividly considered throwing Freddie across the mead table, unbelting his clerical habit, and strapping the saucy wretch within an inch of his reprobate life. The major flaw in that plan was that Freddie would enjoy it far too much. As a matter of fact, the Prelate would also enjoy it to an unseemly degree, and it was in an abrupt attempt to stave off that thought that Theodore adjusted his grip on Freddie to turn them facing each other, stepping smartly forward in the opening move of a traditional findlay dance – his ire only increasing as Freddie immediately, seamlessly, fell in elegant step with him. “The Grand Lady of Summerset was nearly kidnapped earlier,” Teddy told him as they moved in wide swirls across the Grand Hall floor. “And the Witch of the Wilds was attacked by House Kesley. Both attempts foiled, but all the same. It has me on edge.”

“Came by horse, from home. Not the shortest or easiest ride, but it can be a bit of fun if you know where to break,” they grinned at Iann. “I appreciate the offer, but there are a few things back at Wolfhaven I’ll have to settle after my visit here and it’s far more convenient then if I ride up from one Northern keep to another.” After fetching themself cup of mead, Danian indulged in a sip before tilting their head at Iann. “Do you journey much on horseback yourself, Iann?” Then they came to realize that everyone was having their attention drawn to the Red Priestess in the room. Sighing, they took another drink from their cup, this one longer than the last. It was good, but it wasn’t the ale they were used to.

Cassie was late. Which was just a smidgen of an understatement, but the good thing she knew was everyone in the Kingdom would party all night long if they liked, so she couldn’t have missed too much. Cassie finally reached the Keep successfully climbing the stairs and promptly finding a spare cup of mead to carry around with her as she circled the room. She saw many faces she knew and a few she did not. She took a deep breath, knowing her kidnap attempt would probably be brought up in conversation. It had bothered her a tad more than she’d let on earlier in the day, but so was the course of a royal life.

“Sounds fascinating,” Iann said to the Priestess; but it actually did not, unfortunately. He’d hoped to enjoy some fervour and passion from the Red Priestess regarding her Unnamed Sword. “And where, may I ask, are you keeping this sword you intend for the High Raj?” he laughed, glancing at Danian with a mischievous look. “There are many ways to give someone a sword, after all. And many types of…things…that one might refer to, as a sword.”

Her Majesty, Freddie smirked, having seen the little flare of angry lust in the holy man’s eyes, and carried on dancing gracefully, never missing a step or a beat as he asked, “Summerset, hm? Which one is she again?” He pretended at ignorance simply to provoke, punishment being a pastime they both enjoyed from mutually beneficial ends. “And I’m afraid you’ll have to refresh me about House Kelsey’s quarrel too, love.” Freddie’s smirk deepened. “You know I have a much harder time remembering Bluesprings’ ladies, than its gentlemen.”

Fane found himself smiling at Faye’s mention of fireberries shaking his head in amusement. “Truly inspired, I’ve heard of the idea of powdering them but always was led to believe they still remained too viscous to be turned into a fine enough powder.” Though at Octavia’s mention of who she served Fane perked up. “She’s here?” he asked curiously his eyes travelling around the room in search of anyone that might be fitting of such a title but not immediately coming upon her. “I’ve heard tales of your Queen.” Questionable ones he would admit but no less interesting. He found such figures intriguing. “Very well Octavia it is then.”

The Red Priestess raised and eyebrow over the rim of her goblet. “If you mean cock, then I’m quite familiar, your grace. As for the sword, it will come when it’s needed. Unlike so many men I’ve known.”

Iann laughed then, loud but hardly abrasive. “It’s a pity you have to give it away then, I would have loved to see you wield it,” he said. He always had a pleasant and mild tone to his voice, but at the moment his words were less about the game, and more genuine. The Red Priestesses were also known for their crassness. But as a sailor, he’d grown to appreciate such low humour. He raised his cup, looking from the Priestess to Danian, and even to Tuah who looked like he wanted to sink into the marble beneath them and die. “To the Unnamed Sword, may our High Raj use it often, and well.”

“Oh, I didn’t say it was for the Raj, now did I?” the priestess smiled over her cup. “I said the one true ruler.”

“Yes, she is here- in all her glory. Some of these tales are quite exaggerated, but many are true; if not an understatement for the power she wields.” Octavia said looking at Lord Savin. Many gawked at the queen, but she would rather have that instead of someone trying to take advantage of her.

Overhearing the conversation between her brother in law and the mysterious woman, Cassandra let out a slight snort and raised her goblet in agreement only briefly making eye contact with the group.

“Not if you know what you’re doing,” Faye told Lord Savin. “Don’t inhale them. Or you’re fucked.”

Prelate Theodore said acidly, “Since I’m hardly telling you these things for your analysis – seeing as the most you’d be able to offer me is information as to the girth of the cocks of any men even peripherally involved and what faces they make when they come – it isn’t as though you need details.” Theodore was grim, disapproving silence for a few turns across the floor, and then he said, “The auburn-haired sister-by-marriage to the Forty Isles is Lady Cassandra of Summerset. House Kesley,” he emphasized the unusual family name, “bears no love for witches, particularly those who factor large in popular mythos. I doubt they would make a repeat attack on Lacroy, however. At least not for some time, at which point she will not be my problem.”

Danian hadn’t entirely been listening to the words of the Priestess, so when Iann glanced down at them to deliver his witty comment, they nearly choked on their drink. After coughing a second to recover, their look back up at him bore the slightest glare- though they also had to respect the cleverness of his statement. “Well- you’re not wrong.” Luckily the group’s focus had stayed fixed on the woman and not their reaction, so they were content to join in on Iann’s toast. But this woman… she did seem to enjoy a bit of correction. Danian sighed and turned to look elsewhere around the room, spotting the woman who had joined in the raising of their goblets, but she had turned away, and they didn’t want to approach her, wary from her position that she might not be interested in interacted with any of the band Iann had brought together.

The Red Priestess glanced over at the Lady Cassandra, wondering if perhaps it would be her that could pull the sword from it’s casing. She doubted it. But only because she was already of great importance. Though the priestess had no say.

“I would hate for that to be the case, I’m glad I took a step back to avoid your line of fire.” Octavia said raising a brow at Faye. By this point she had been a glass of wine, and a glass of mead in yet the warmth that came from the alcohol hadn’t affected her. She felt warm in the layers, so she flagged down a servant. When they walked over she slipped off her cloak, handing it to them. She unbuttoned the shirt she wore under her leather bodice and slipped it off, attempting to be ride of it without pulling any of her long hairs. The neck piece she wore still in tact. “Now, that’s better, if I do say so.” She dismissed the servant, asking her take her belongings to her room in the castle.

Fane listened to Octavia describe her queen as any devotee would. All her glory. How many times had he heard people say that about their leaders? But he was no less curious about this Deadwoods Queen. “So she does wield blood magick?” Fane had long since believed fables to be just that, these lands had not seen the influence of such things in an age. Though it was the role of the Guard to keep such things in check… To know that there was a potential risk in the city, while it didn’t alter his outward expression he kept a mental note. Though soon enough the woman was occupying herself with stripping off her layers and Fane found himself sipping his drink. “I should hope not…” he raised both brows at Faye’s statement “well, at least in the negative connotation that phrase happens to hold.” He raised his goblet to her with a grin and took another sip of the rich contents.

“You shouldn’t be so dismissive of the size of men’s cocks and the faces of their pleasure,” Freddie said, smiling a bit inscrutably, “Wars have been fought for less.” When Theodore pointed out Lady Cassandra though, Freddie turned his attention dutifully in her direction for a moment, as though glancing upon her for the first time - he liked the Prelate to never be entirely sure if he was clever or not; a bubble-headed bauble or something with a bit more bite - then took his correction regarding House Kesley with an appropriately abashed inclination of his head. Though his eyes continued to smile. “And why is she your problem now, Prelate? Have you been sharing your excesses with witches as well as whores?”

Faye nodded. “The further away you are, the less the effects. Though if sprinkle a bit in someone’s drink…” She took a long swallow of her own.

“Godspeed then, Priestess.” He gave Danian a wink and squeezed Cassandra’s hand, before he headed off.

“I do not speak on behalf of my mistresses affairs, but I do assure you she is only here to celebrate with the others gathered here tonight. Look at these festivities.” Octavia said raising her glass.

“And yourself, your grace,” the priestess called after him.

Prelate Theodore actually gave a sniff of wry amusement at the prospect. “I’ve yet to meet any women arriving for the coronation who see the church as anything other than a pernicious tool of corruption or at best, misguided when compared to their own belief systems. So no, Insolence–” his sibilants sharp on what passed for a pet name, “–there’s been no dalliance of the sort with the witch. I’ve set a few of the Emerald Hand to watching her.” Theodore gave a parched laugh. “I even let her know I’d done it, so that she’d realize her actions are being monitored, but the subtleties of that seemed to escape her. I don’t know why I expect anything diverting when it comes to these self-important provincials, Freddie. Each of them the lone remaining member of their House, each bearing it with noble pained dignity.” He paused at the wine table, procuring another goblet of his favoured resinous green vintage. “Can you appreciate the place in which I find myself? Terribly weary of stoic suffering?” He lifted the goblet to his lips. “Me!”

Fane raised a brow at Octavia’s answer. Not a confirmation but also not a dismissal either. Interesting how you could read into what a person chose to say and not say. “Oh no doubt, no doubt… We’re all here to celebrate after all are we not?” He looked aside to Faye then dark eyes sparking curiously, “but on the topic it does have me interested… What is your opinion of magick? Considering the reputation that goes ahead of you… No doubt you have some opinions on it.”

“My family had magick once. But our ancestor squandered it. So it gradually dried up.” Faye shrugged. Other than the bit she’d just felt from Octavia, Faye had never felt real magic.

As Iann departed, Danian didn’t miss his brief interaction with the woman who had glanced at their group before. Taking it as a sign that they were free to approach, the Northern lord stepped toward her and offered a small smile of greeting. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met. Lord Danian Lovel of Wolfhaven.” They gave the lady a short bow. “I do hope I’m not a bother, but I couldn’t help noticing Prince Iann’s stopping by you just now. I take it the two of you are acquainted?”

“Of course I have an opinion on it.” Octavia said raising her eyebrow. “Who doesn’t?” She reached for a bottle of wine, emptying the remaining contents of it into her glass. “I think magick can be light, wonderful, powerful in the most peaceful of ways; but it can also be dark, dangerous. I think it depends on who’s wielding it.” She said looking back at Lord Savin.

Her conversation with the other small group waning, the priestess made her way towards the wine table. “Stoic suffering?” she said wryly as she came up beside the Prelate of the Cloverry. “Don’t tell me the Cloverry is falling down on their job? I quite admire their work,” she said genuinely.

“That’s a selfish thing for them to do.” She said with a shake of her head. “If this is the reality, then why the hateful vengeance towards you? Is it all just in rumor?” Octavia  asked Faye.

 “I’m no harpy, if that’s what you mean. And I don’t steal men away to father my monstrous daughters. I have no daughters. I haven’t seen a man in… ages.”

Cassie saw them coming over, and pulled the cup away from her lips when they spoke. She smiled gently and nodded. She had not met Lord Danian properly before. “It’s a pleasure, no bother. I know the Forty Isles heir quite well actually.” She couldn’t help but laugh, “We’re related by marriage. I’m Cassandra of Summerset…” Her gaze shifted around the room a moment, “No doubt, I’ve made a sliver of conversation tonight.” At the very least, Cassie could have sworn she heard the Prelate mutter her name. Her brow suddenly furrowed back at Danian, “You’re affiliated with Blackspire estate aren’t you?”

Fane tipped his goblet to the room, “people who don’t believe in it?” Fane offered up in answer to Octavia’s question considering the populus tended to view magick as being extraordinary. Far from commonplace and not well understood therefore a fearful thing. “Ah the eternal debate of good versus evil and innate power and how it’s wielded…” Far too heavy a topic so Fane opted to pick up the vase of wine and top of Faye’s drink considering the contents of her cup was waning “well… there’s plenty here for the picking.”

Gods but she sounded like some simpering waif lamenting her existence. Faye was lonely, yes. But it was simply how it was. Coming here had done nothing but set her out as a target, no matter what Lord Savin, or the Prelate, or Octavia even, wanted to say about it. She knew when she was being watched. But other than the reputation that followed her and the hatred some families had for witches, what did it matter? She only came because she’d been invited. “And they hate me because they can. It’s easy.”

Prelate Theodore looked at Freddie, then turned to the Red Priestess. “Unusual for a priestess of the Lord of Light to outright offer compliments for the promulgation of another faith,” he remarked. “At least, it’s unusual in my experience. Our tenets of penitence are rather at odds with your beliefs, aren’t they? Or am I behind in the latest developments? An entirely likely scenario.”

“Well, whoever is trying to bring you down is already below you.” Octavia said to Faye. “You should not worry about the people who are against you, not while you’re here at least. You are amongst friends, let the foes wallow in their pity.” She brought her glass up to her lips to take a sip. “Plenty here for the picking?” She asked Lord Savin. “Just of drink or has anyone caught your eye?” Octavia motioned around the room with her glass and smiled at him.

Her Majesty, Freddie smiled, almost to himself, at the endearment - because that’s what it was, from a man like Theodore - pleased to be set apart and given a name that would only ever cross the Prelate’s lips, then nodded his head in understanding, as they moved from the floor, their dancing done. “And what is the Wild Witch brewing that you feel needs the Emerald Hand’s attention, love? Is she a threat, or simply a nuisance?” The Blue Diamond Whore chuckled. “In either case, you might have done better to let the assassins take her.” Watching Theodore drink, that elegant throat reminding him of the last time he’d tasted it, Freddie took a goblet for himself, sipping it, and then subtly slipping a hand up the Prelate’s voluminous sleeve to drag an enticing finger over the slender man’s pulse point - there and gone in a flash. “I can sympathise though,” he said with a faintly wry little grin, “-there really is nothing more tedious that the company of those bearing up admirably under the strain of their own honour and fortitude.” He smirked again. “Though, half of those are quietly ready to cut a man’s throat for an extra half-acre of land, so even in their tedium, you can’t afford a moment’s distraction.”

Danian When Cassandra spoke her name, a spark of realization flashed in the young lord’s eyes. “Ah, Your Majesty. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” They couldn’t help glancing around the room as she did before turning their head back to her. At the mention of Blackspire, they smiled. “Yes, I am. I was Lord Savin’s ward there for much of my life. Iann’s eldest and I became quite close,” a quiet chuckle came from them at the thought. “He had a tendency of following me around throughout the day. Very enthusiastic young man- and passionate too. He’s got a bright future ahead of him.” They paused to take a sip of their mead. “I met Iann during one of his visits- and apparently I have been featured in his son’s correspondence as well. By now, I imagine he knows more of me than I know of him.”

“I have no worries that my faith will lose it’s followers simply because I have the ability to see things from a different perspective than most of my sisters.” The Priestess sipped from her glass. “Anyone who seeks to ease the suffering of others shares our most basic beliefs. We are the same in that at least. Why should we not rejoice? ”

Faye could only nod, as she was trying her best to drink away the shaking feeling the touch of magic had given her. Among other things. She had… liked it. And it would be dangerous to think too hard on it. “I don’t worry about them. Only the foolish would dare attack me a second time. I won’t be so kind.” She nodded at Lord Savin as he refilled her cup for her. “Good and evil are all made up by men.”

Fane wasn’t quite so sure he agreed with Octavia’s statements about those individuals being below Lady Lacroy. Recent events he was aware of - namely the attempted kidnapping of the Grand Lady of Summerset and also an attempt on the life of Lady Lacroy? Two events so close to the coronation yet also seemingly unrelated but also equally able to drum up discontent amongst different levels of the Kingdom. One for the nobles, another to raise the ire and suspicion of the common-folk… But also potentially a distraction from something more? Fane rubbed his chin lost in thought as he stood there. Though Octavia’s question, caused him to laugh quietly, “caught my eye? An amusing notion but… No. Not particularly. I leave indulging in such… mm… interests to other lordlings.”

Prelate Theodore directed his attention to the Red Priestess more pointedly; his body language made it very clear that he was no longer going to carry on any interaction with Freddie, that there had never been any reason for him to do so apart from a single polite dance at what was, after all, supposed to be a festival enjoyed by even the most base of commoners. The spot where Freddie had run his finger against Teddy’s wrist felt silvery hot-cold, and the Prelate couldn’t ignore the lingering phantom of that intimate touch – but he could ignore Freddie himself. Treat the man like the whore he was. Remind them both that certain boundaries could only be stretched, not crossed.

Cassie smiled, “I thought so. I know your guardian, business mostly but-“ She squinted, “I imagine I might have seen you in passing from time to time.” Cassandra laughed at the mention of one of Iann’s children, “He must inhabit some of his mother’s tendencies then.” For all his familial support towards Cassandra and her daughter, it didn’t ebb his more infuriating moments. “Lord Iann always makes it his business to know everyone’s business.” She rolled her eyes for emphasis but added wisely, “Just make sure not to give too much of yourself away.”

Prelate Theodore So Theodore spoke only to the Priestess, blocking out all else but theology. “Perhaps what is as yet a singular viewpoint of your own will in time be shared by the rest of your sisters, praise unto the Whole.”

“Praise, indeed. Though as High Priestess, my influence is… far reaching. At least within my own septs.” She watched the Prelate as they spoke, sensing the aura of his faith that he carried like a banner about his person. “I can see why you were chosen as Prelate. An open mind is a rare thing these days.”

Her Majesty, Freddie’s dismissal was sudden and complete - but by no means out of character for the Prelate - and the whore couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as Theodore turned his back, thinking, 'Right then, time to make my own fun…’, drifting off into the crowd, and heading in the direction of a small knot of men talking quietly in a corner - one of whom he’d seen only last night, who’d come to Queen Mab’s with a large courgette and a riding crop. Freddie didn’t intend to stop, but a picture really was worth a thousand words sometimes.

Faye frowned slightly as the Lord Savin said he had no interest in anything or anyone in the room. That he didn’t partake of those pastimes. Not that her mind had wandered there at all during the course of the evening. He was handsome, yes. And he had been kind to her. But such was his duty. Faye didn’t expect anything less. Or more. Certainly not more. But she overcome with a sudden wave of needing some air. “If you’ll excuse me…” Faye said. “We’ll speak later,” she said to Octavia. “Thank you again for earlier.” She glanced at the Inquisitor. “M'lord.” And moved off to find a dark corner to get quietly drunk.

“Well, I’m sure the other lordlings will have a wonderful time with that tonight.” She laughed. The people in the room had sunken into the drinks haziness. She could count more than three couples attempting to hide in the shadows. “Of course.” She replied to Faye. “Maybe I’ll make my rounds. Cheers to you, Lord Savin, Lady Lacroy.” She said, bowing to them. Octavia walked across the room to where a large table with a pile of food sat. She picked off a grape from a vine and popped it into her mouth.

“As long as you were visiting the North prior to the past two years, it’s fairly likely. Though, I tended to prefer the outdoors.” At the mention of Iann and his business, Danian sighed with another slight chuckle. “So it would seem. Unfortunately for him, aside from my travels, I doubt I’m all that interesting. From what I’ve experienced, Southerners like yourself live far more exciting lives than those of us in the North. We have to survive the weather before we do anything else. Still,” a nostalgic feeling turned up the very edge of their lip, a touch of sadness lingering there for the briefest moment, “our home is in our blood. It’s where we belong. Everywhere else I’ve been- I’ve never felt entirely myself.”

Fane had been left alone after Faye had made her excuse in need of air and Octavia in favour of doing rounds. He didn’t mind particularly and opted to take the time to pull off his jacket, the sleeve was ruined and would need a thorough wash out to try and save it from the wine that had been spilt on it. A shame, but ultimately a fixable issue. Waving over one of his servants he requested it be taken back to his room leaving him to roll up his sleeves to his elbows so they were now more out of the way.

Faye sat in silence, watching the room and the unfamiliar faces (besides Miguel and Lord Savin) chatting quietly. Others were more raucous, and Faye found a small bit of amusement in watching them. And the music. Gods it had been so long since she’d heard music… some time later and she was well into her cups, cloak put aside and hair falling a bit out of her braids.

Fane had by now had several more cups of wine. Enough to loosen the edge of his more severe nature and loosen his more uptight demeanour into something more pleasant. While he’d done several rounds of chatting here and there ultimately spied a familiar blonde now saw on the edge of the room. “Now… what’re you doin’ o'er ‘ere, hm?” his accent was thicker when he spoke goblet hanging loosely from his fingers as he stood in front of Lady Lacroy.

Faye looked up as a tall shadow fell over her table. She looked up with slightly bleary eyes to see the… the figures of Lord Savin. But she was in no mood to talk. “Getting drunk. Now go away.” She turned back the mug of whatever alcohol she was drinking currently.

Fane cocked his head at the abrupt answer, “can’t get drunk alone, s'no fun.” Promptly he swung one leg over the bench and sat lazily straddling it as he deposited the jug and his drink on it. “Quite the party o'er here,” he wiggled his finger indicating the general vicinity.

“Yet I’ve somehow managed it without you. Will wonders never cease.” She tried to glare at him as he sat - uninvited - down next to her, but she couldn’t decide which one of him to focus on. “A party of one. Now go away.”

Fane chortled at her attempt to glare at him over the table. “You’re funny, hm, yes, very funny” he raised his drink in a slight salute before taking a gulp. “Aah but no!” he laughed exclaiming a touch too loudly leaning forwards on his forearm and pointing at her. “Not one. Because… Now I’m here. So…. it’s now a party of… of two.” To embolden this particular statement of very, serious logical fact the Inquisitor held up three fingers.

Faye was not amused as he sat down very close inside her personal space. She leaned back slightly as he pointed at her, and nearly swatted at his hand. Except he held it up, along with three fingers. Faye’s eyes narrowed, and she looked between him and his…more than two fingers. “Can you /be/ an imbecile and really be the Inquisitor?”

Fane frowned as she narrowed her eyes looking at her and then his hand and back at her still very serious before a fourth finger flicked up to join the prior three. “Two… Twos, two split makes… two.”

“Four. It makes four.” She reached for her drink. “Do you really not have any skills at all? Or does the Guard just run on luck and watered down ale? Because this…” She held up two fingers. “Is two. And this.” She put one down. “Is you leaving.”

Fane shook his head forlornly. “No no no, see…” he kept his hands up as they were his index and middle fingers pressed together tightly as they were presently in the air on either hand “this is two but–” he tilted his head before splitting his fingers apart “this is four.”

Faye merely shook her head. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first man to think he’s more talented with his fingers than he actually is…”

Fane knew his brows had gone towards his hairline, a flush rising in his features and it was debatable if he was on the border between embarrassment or anger. That is until he snorted ungracefully and started to laugh jovially, “I see what you did there… Fingers and… hmph… Smart… You… are very smart.”

Faye knew he was drunk. But so was she. Normally she wouldn’t have dared speak so frankly, and she certainly didn’t /really/ think he was unintelligent. It was just… being here was a lot. Talking to so many people in one day had drained her. So what finally made her laugh was the way he started to flush. And the fact that the one thing he seemed to understand was her… innuendo. She snorted her own laugh. “Does that mean I’m mistaken and you do know how to use them?”

Fane waggled his brows and picked up his goblet tilting it a little at her almost spilling some but pulling it back just in time to take a sip. “That… now, that… Would be telling.”

Faye watched the wine nearly slop over the sides of his cup, but didn’t move away this time. She was afraid the room might spin out from under her if she moved too quickly. “Means no then?” She raised her own eyebrows at him. “I wonder if that pretty knight is still around… she probably knows a thing or two…”

Fane snorted again and made a face as he levelled her with a look across the table “why so… curious?” he questioned changing tact, “curious t'find out?”

Faye looked at him evenly, feeling overly warm in the heat of the party. “Maybe I’m tired of being lonely for once.”

Fane opened his mouth and closed it then before opening it once more and closing it again. He looked at her for a long time, though his brow furrowed deeply. “Being lonely’s a choice… You don’t… have to choose it.”

Faye returned the look, her eyes flickering slightly with something she didnt’ speak out loud. They were sitting close enough that she eventually reached out and toyed with the ends of the laces on his shirt. “And I choose not to be…” she said eventually.

Fane rarely indulged as he had tonight, typically having far more restraint than he was presently showing. But then again he was so damn tired, eight years since his wife had passed and he’d kept his own council. He served and performed his duties day in and day out without question. So what if he wanted something for himself for once? Though feeling eyes on him caused him to turn his head a fraction to the group standing nearby eyeing them with a stonier look. Though the play of Faye’s fingers drew his attention back to her before he said quietly under his breath so that she might hear but the others would not. “Go… Give me… a little time then… I’ll… walk you to your chambers.” He would take a different exit and walk around.

Faye looked at him evenly still. It had been years for her as well, since she’d shared her bed with anyone. Never marrying, but occasionally finding company in those that passed her way. It was very lonely, and Faye had chosen it. Because she was afraid. But this man had been exceedingly nice to her. When he didn’t have to be. She’d tried to get him to leave her alone, but he didn’t leave. And Faye knew that didn’t mean they would fall in love and get married or any of that, but for once she really would like to not be alone. Which is why she only frowned slightly as he told her to go first. A small nod was all she gave him as she collected her cloak and made her way out into the street, passing slowly beneath the torches as she waited on him to join her. Though a part of her thought he wouldn’t.

Fane lingered in the hall, making a point to finish off his drink and press the heel of his palm to his eyes exhaling shortly. Hawks, the lot of them, hovering for the smallest morsel of gossip to shred apart and this was his reputation they were wanting to grate. He made a point once he rose to stop and chat to several Lords and several minutes later circled slowly around to the staircases.

Faye waited, walking slowly along the walk as if she were looking out over the city below. But the longer she was there, the more she realized that this might be a trick. A few more minutes passed, and she realized that more than likely it was a trick. That him sending her out before him was nothing more than an excuse to give her the slip. And after she’d thought that he just might be genuine. But that was foolish of her. Why would a man like him want to be seen going back to the chambers of someone like her? He wouldn’t.

Fane glanced around, that is until he caught sight of his companion for the evening pacing on one of the walks. “Why are you pacing?” but lingering wasn’t a clever idea, explaining why Fane politely proffered her his arm. “Come…” who knew how many eyes were on them even in these empty halls.

When his voice came through the still night air, Faye startled slightly. But she was too surprised to do much else besides take the proffered arm and walk along beside him. “It’s kind of you to… walk me home, m'lord. It’s a dangerous place these days. For a lady… all alone.”

Fane dipped his head a fraction in response to her thanks. “The least I could do…” his eyes however scanned the walls cautiously. They walked in otherwise companionable silence back through the castle towards their destination.

[projectalbum]

All the best. 200. “Accelerate,” 201. “Collapse Into Now,” 202. “Unplugged 1991/2001: The Complete Sessions” by R.E.M.

After exhaustive touring, a greatest hits disc, and a dud album, the lovable lads from Athens, R.E.M., wisely took some time to figure things out before regrouping.

The four-year absence didn’t register with me, as I was collecting the back catalogue during that break. As far as I was concerned, new material was everywhere I looked, filling up my burgeoning record collection as I finished high school and started making my way through college. By the time Accelerate (#200) burst onto the scene in March 2008, I was a junior in film school, about to attend my first documentary festival. I put aside an extra $15 from my work study job to pick up the CD the day of release— the first time I’d been able to perform that record store* ritual for my favorite band. *(Though I didn’t have access to any record stores at the time, so it was likely procured from the closest Wal-Mart.) 

Fast, lean, gritty, produced by a guy who goes by “Jacknife,” this set of songs could not be more of a deliberate course-correction from the overly fussy, mid-tempo Around The Sun. Peter Buck’s skills on the axe, often mixed way down on the previous album, here announce Accelerate's punk-ish purpose in the intro to “Living Well is the Best Revenge,” leading off with a dexterous riff before the drums come trampling in. Stipe spits furiously, with the best use of his full-throated tenor since New Adventures in Hi-Fi, and the rare bar to inspire a Fuck Yeah fist-pump: "Don't set your talking points on me / History will set me free / The future's ours and you don't even rate a footnote.” Recorded and released in the tail-end of the Bush years, there are unmistakable references, drawn in anger and in weariness, to the emotional tolls of that reign.

“If the storm doesn’t kill me, the government will,” Stipe muses at the top of “Houston,” a hair over 2 minutes but suffused with poignancy. It’s an acoustically-driven Western-tinged ballad that hearkens back to “Swan Swan H” or “Monty Got A Raw Deal,” but here the drums are splashy and blown-out, the organ serves a bleating counterpoint to the vocal, and bowed electric guitar bleeds through into the verses, serious as storm clouds. The intriguing production choices are what mark it as the Accelerate twist on familiar R.E.M. tropes. The chorus: “Houston is filled with promise / Laredo's a beautiful place / Galveston sings like that song that I love / Its meaning has not been erased” is stirring, as if to absolve the Lone Star state for spawning the political dynasty that led to 2 disastrous presidencies. "Belief has not filled me / And so I am put to the test” are the last words before distortion drowns out the melody like a fatal wave. The song has never left my head.

“Until The Day Is Done” is a more familiar flavor of the band’s earnest political identity— it even ended up scoring a CNN-produced piece on environmental issues. The lyrics approach the first two verses of Leonard Cohen’s “Everybody Knows” in reflecting a distressing capitalist landscape, and to read them is to find that the “business-first flat earthers” have only doubled-down in the decade since the song was released. But the lack of idiosyncrasies leaves us with a folky protest song, and it has a tendency to become oatmeal to the ear, nestled amongst the bolder sonic moments.

By which I mean the muscular guitar sounds and fast n’ furious arrangements on tracks like “Man-Sized Wreath,” “Accelerate,” “Horse To Water”— the revitalized band blowing up the electronic, art school solemnity of the preceding Bill Berry-less records. I remember I once put on Accelerate during a day of recording drive-by b-roll footage with some new coworkers, who enthused, “We were a little worried when you said you were gonna play R.E.M…. but this is really good!” I just glided past the implied criticism and took the positive note.

In early 2011, songs for their follow-up began to be released on YouTube and rolled out by the pop culture press. I’ll admit I was underwhelmed by what I heard. Accelerate’s novelty, its flouting of the band’s cliches, had me expecting another quantum leap in a wild direction. Collapse Into Now (#201) was feeling more like a greatest hits mashup.

“Discoverer” at times sounds like an interpolation of “Man-Sized Wreath” (compare the chorus of the former to the verses of the latter.) That exultant wordless harmonizing on “It Happened Today” is straight from “Belong” on Out of Time (plus special guest Eddie Vedder.) “Blue,” the closing track, takes equal parts New Adventures’ “E-Bow The Letter” (dark grinding minor key, Beat poetry, plus Patti Smith-voiced chorus) and Out of Time's “Country Feedback” (the chords sound similar, and the aching Peter Buck solo is back). I’d never before been able to identify the sonic inspirations so easily. However, for all my creeping dissatisfaction, as a true fanboy I knew the record would grow on me. The prophecy was indeed fulfilled.

The song that most represented the sound of a modern-day R.E.M. was “Mine Smell Like Honey.” It was unmistakably them, with the inscrutable lyrics, Michael in gravel-throated rock mode, a Mike Mills vocal harmony line designed to carry its own trajectory while lifting up the chorus, Buck with an indelible riff that doesn’t show off for its own sake— but it would fit right on modern rock radio in 2011, if that still existed. I had another one of my Best Buy PA system epiphanies, clicking this track into place, proving sometimes you need some huge speakers with good bass to truly experience certain songs. In a similar mode, “That Someone Is You” rockets by in under 2 minutes; a live-in-the-room ode to the feeling of meeting that exciting new person who'll lift you out of the mud. 

The mid-tempo balladry is back as well, diversifying the sound from the previous release. In “Oh My Heart,” a direct sequel to “Houston,” Stipe croons a New Orleans spiritual with "a new take on faith," while Buck's mandolin comes out of retirement for another sweet, sad melody, and Mills fills in the mournful choir. As with the song’s predecessor, it’s a high-point in the track listing that moves me whenever I hear it.

Before I had warmed to Collapse Into Now, I comforted myself with the idea that New LP equaled New Tour. I could finally catch my favorite band live! They told the press they had no plans to tour behind the record. Odd, but they were an institution, so they could take a pause. I’d recently witnessed Paul McCartney tearing through his hits in person, and he’d already blown past age 64. Then in September 2011, R.E.M. announced they had decided to “call it a day as a band”— a phrase designed to wave away the idea of Beatles-esque acrimony. I was, you can probably imagine, more than a little heartbroken. The previous tour had come within 2-and-a-half hours of my town back in ’08. At that point in my life, that seemed like a hassle: why not wait, see if they made it a little closer next time? Now, I wish I had put in the extra effort.

With this announcement, the sense of Collapse as R.E.M.’s tribute album to themselves came into focus. Stipe is even waving goodbye, for god’s sake, on the first album cover photo to clearly feature the faces of the whole band since 1985’s Fables of the Reconstruction. "It's just like me to overstay my welcome, bless” he sings with sheepish glee on “All The Best.” Shrouded by the spirit-radio-filtered effect of his “Blue” recitation comes his clearest statement of purpose: "I want Whitman proud. Patti Lee proud. My brothers proud. My sisters proud. I want me. I want it all,” and then Patti Lee (Smith), one of his earliest lead singer inspirations, draws the narrative to a close… before the ringing jangle of opener “Discoverer” reprises and concludes. The book’s been closed shut… but the story of the band’s music continues.

There was the inevitable plundering of the vaults. An over-arching Best Of record, finally combining songs from the I.R.S. and WB catalogues (didn’t buy it), with 3 brand new recordings (they’re ok). Two digital-only “Complete Rarities” collections, encompassing hours of b-sides and soundtrack cuts (lotta great stuff, but this week WB removed all of theirs from Spotify, so I’m pretty perturbed).

In 2014, 3 years into my mourning period, they announced Unplugged 1991/2001 (#202), a 2-CD set of their appearances on the MTV show where bands play intimate, stripped-down acoustic sets… you know, in front of multiple TV cameras capturing every angle. Now this got me excited, maybe more than I had been for their swan song record— Bob Dylan Unplugged, Paul McCartney Unplugged, and The Unplugged Collection Vol. 1 had all got a lot of play in my home through the years. Other than my favorite version of “Half A World Away” closing out the Vol. 1 compilation, and a burned, hand-labeled CD-R I had once glimpsed on a coffee table during a realtor’s house tour, recordings of R.E.M.’s appearance on the show didn’t seem to exist until now. I pre-ordered that bad boy.

The set is a snapshot of two very different eras for the band: Disc 1 features them on the cusp of superstardom fueled by Out Of Time’s success, with the classic lineup of Berry/Buck/Mills/Stipe and support from Peter Holsapple. Disc 2 finds them down to a three-piece, supporting Reveal, a record that never got its due, with their frequent contributors Scott McCaughey and Joey Waronker filling out the sound. “Losing My Religion” is on both discs, of course, from the bright new hit that pumps up the crowd to a warmly-recieved old friend.

The treat in hearing these shows is also two-fold. There’s the way that familiar tunes get adapted to the setting: “It’s The End of the World...” is transformed into a Friday night Americana hoe-down, while “The One I Love” is slowed down to a gritty lament with a slightly varied vocal melody. After the 2nd chorus and an instrumental bridge in “Country Feedback,” Stipe folds lines from Dylan's “Like A Rolling Stone” into the tune, a goosebump-inspiring moment.

Then there’s the added benefit of songs that I’d once slept on revealing their power in the live arrangements. The 2001 show closes with several tracks from Reveal, and free of all electronic touches, the choruses of “Disappear” and “Beat A Drum,” well, revealed themselves to me, becoming new earworms and spawning a personal reevaluation of the album. “Find The River” had once been a pleasant-enough closer on Automatic For The People, but a step down from the iconic “Nightswimming” that precedes it. Now it’s a new favorite, and I’m prone to singing it loud with embarrassing over-earnestness.

With the band truly well and dissolved (and no cynical cash-grab “reunion tours” planned, those damn jerks and their integrity), the repackaging of older material is the only avenue left for unheard R.E.M. music. The studio albums are greeting their landmark anniversaries with special editions: Automatic’s 25th was recently celebrated with various configurations of physical release, including one with a disc of demos and a 5.1 surround sound Blu-ray that I WILL possess one day, damnit! Just this week, their social media team announced a sprawling set of BBC sessions and interviews, hopefully to be made available on streaming services in addition to the fancy 9-disc set (I know, sacrilege in my blog about physical media, but space is at a premium and I haven’t even COVERED the live DVDs and music video collections I already have of these guys).

There’s even a podcast exclusively about the band! The exceedingly silly interplay between Scott Aukerman and Adam Scott was enough to get me to listen to several eps of their previous U2-centric show (a band that I’m fairly positive towards), so "R U Talkin’ R.E.M. RE: ME?,” in which they go album-by-album through the discography, was appointment listening from the jump. I couldn’t help but sprinkle inside jokes from the podcast into my first entry. Fuckin’ stoked!

It’s hard to articulate how much R.E.M.’s music has meant to me. There’s undeniable power in finding art when you’re young and unsteady. To ally yourself with a favorite band, especially one that clearly creates from a place of conscience and empathy, is to find a solid stone floor that supports you when you’re at your most weighted down. It’s easy for me to hold onto nearly 2 dozen discs because there’s so much variety. They could uplift, interrogate the status quo, offer humor or succor or an outlet for the uncertainty we struggle with. Michael Stipe sang about identity, queerness, nature, hypocrisy, anger, tenderness, artists, politicians, outsiders, expressive freedom, and quiet contemplation. These lyrics came from what he saw and felt but they were conjured by the instrumentals constructed by Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and for years Bill Berry. Jangle-rock or country-western or chamber pop or folk or glam or electronica— they busted through genres with grace and power; immutability was not an option. They couldn’t finish a record until Michael had the words; Michael had their blueprint on tape to fill his ears until the images flowed.

“Here’s a little agit for the never believer / Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah / Here’s a little ghost for the offering,” Stipe sang in his 11th hour, one-take performance of “Man On The Moon.” Now I offer a 20-song Document of the R.E.M. songs that mean the most to me at this moment. It nearly killed me to whittle it down, and your favorite probably isn’t on it. The song I just quoted isn’t even on it! But that’s the power of R.E.M., where the subjective experience rules all.

[halothenthehorns]

THE DEMENTOR

This is more of replying to clh comments, so if you want to skip by this point I don't blame you, but here you go.

I'm inclined to believe that because JK said so herself, she's not very good at math and her statement of saying Charlie's age in relevance to Percy's is loosely interpreted, so I worked it this way because of the inconsistencies in the book saying how and when and what exactly he did there. I'm not inclined to go back and change it, because I like putting in those random comments in trying to explain the book's mistakes.

I'm sorry you didn't like the parts I put in about Remus, but when you get to this book you'll see that I've got a very big thing about trying to explain a lot of things that aren't even touched on about his character, so I threw in that part about wanting him to be Harry's godfather but the government wouldn't allow it to give him some extra backstory the books never do. I don't think it's too farfetched that the prejudices against werewolf's would try and stop him from having anything to do with kids, and allowing one to be any kind of part of a kids life would be an easy thing to pass in the laws. I do recognize and admit Godfather doesn't equal guardianship, like I made it sound, but it doesn't change my point either that Remus was very forcibly tried to keep out of Harry's life by the Ministry. Yes I know James and Sirius are just that little bit closer and that's why he got picked in the end, but that was just my headcanon and I'm sorry you disagreed.

Despite how that might have read, I love clh and everyone's continued comments and critiquing of these little things I add, please feel free to open any kind of discussion and questions you like!

HPHPHP

Sirius eyed his chapter with more weariness than almost any other before. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand being talked about like this before he really did have some kind of breakdown, and avoiding the issue just didn't seem possible at this point. Still, it's not like he could avoid it, he'd rather break his arm then try to cut off the story here. He still wanted to know more than anything about Harry's life. So with a heavy heart he went to the correct chapter and read.

Harry woke the next morning and packed quickly, then went to find Ron who was grumbling the sooner they hit the road the better, he was sick of being around Percy, who was now blaming Ron on getting water on a picture of Penelope Clearwater, his girlfriend,

"Wow, Percy really needs to figure out which brother he's talking to," James shook his head in disbelief, "I still can't see Ron doing something like that."

Harry began to explain what he'd heard last night, but then Fred and George popped in to praise Ron for further annoying Percy.

"So, the twins didn't do that?" Lily asked in confusion.

"So who did?" Remus agreed, more than puzzled.

"Must have been Ginny," James said with a frown, "there's no one left."

"Well if she takes after those twins, I'll be more than happy to hear it," Sirius agreed.

They headed down to breakfast and Ron asked what Harry was about to say, but Harry said he'd explain later, now surrounded by Weasley's.

Sirius grimaced, selfishly hoping that later never really came up as he didn't want to hear Harry trying to tell his friends there was a crazy person after him any more than he enjoyed hearing Molly and Arthur talk about it.

Everything was by the doors waiting for the cars, all the animals caged up, including Crookshanks who was unpleased to find himself in a makeshift basket.

"I'm sure that cat loved this," Lily giggled.

Hermione was promising to let him out when they got onboard, but Ron protested she couldn't, because Scabbers was going to be in there as well.

"This could be rather complicated," James agreed with a frown, while Harry sighed as he realized his friends had something new to bicker about, as if they needed any more fuel. He had a very bad feeling this one in particular lasted for some time.

The cars arrived and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all got in one, but before Harry could try to explain again, Percy climbed in as well, to Ron's protest.

"I agree, it would have made sense for one of the parents to go with the group," Remus shrugged.

"Guess Percy counts as adult enough," James offered.

They reached the station with nearly half an hour to go,

"A new record for the Weasleys it seems," Lily chuckled.

then the cars drove away, for some odd reason able to jump to the front of the line at the next light.

"Makes me kind of want to get a car," James grinned, "they seem useful, and I'd like to learn about that spell."

Lily furrowed her brow, not one hundred percent sure they really needed another motorized vehicle around here since she still was quite irked at Sirius' bike, and that car had been a disaster no matter the good end results. She didn't argue the point though, not just now anyways.

Mr. Weasley kept close to the trio as they went inside, telling Harry the two of them should go onto the platform first.

'He's not exactly being subtle' Sirius frowned, but didn't say that out loud, wondering if he was just being paranoid.

"I've never asked," Harry said, trying to take away Sirius' perturbed face, he might not have said anything out loud but they could all see it anyways. "How does the platform work?"

"What do you mean?" James asked, looking for specifics.

"How come Muggle's don't just wander into it, or notice us going in?"

"Oh," Lily said in understanding, "there's a muggle repelling charm on it, so they instinctively know not to go in or around the area."

"What about Muggle-borns parents?" Harry pressed.

"They can go in so long as they're lead by a wizard," Lily further explained.

Harry nodded, happy that this little detail had been put to rest. He also realized it must be the same for the Leaky Cauldron. His attempt had worked, Sirius was slightly distracted and looked just a little bit better again as he continued.

Once everyone was joined on the platform, Percy spotted his girlfriend, and puffed out his chest so that she couldn't miss his badge. Harry caught Ginny's eye, and the two had to turn away to stop themselves from laughing.

Harry gave a very happy smile of remembrance, thinking that was probably the first time Ginny had ever met his eyes and turned away for some other reason then blushing. That had been her first instance of finally showing she had a personality other than shy.

"Props to that girl for putting up with him," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Be nice," Lily chided, she wasn't the biggest fan of Percy's attitude either, but they were seeing him from Harry's point of view. She was sure he must have a kinder side, at least around his girlfriend. She also had to stop herself from pointing out at least Sirius and James were just as pompous about certain things.

They all loaded their stuff into a compartment then exited to say their goodbyes to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the mother going around and giving all of her children hugs and kisses, then Hermione, then surprisingly Harry.

"Aw," Lily smiled while the boys rolled their eyes at this mother act in front of school students, all the boys but Harry. He was blinking in surprised shock and pleasure, since no one had ever done that for him before.

He went red in the face from embarrassment, but was quite flattered when she gave him an extra hug.

"Think you were right before James," Remus grinned, "the Weasleys might just up and adopt Harry if he asks."

"I can only hope," James laughed, which was tinged with sadness all the same that this had to be a happy thing at all.

Molly began to hand out sandwiches to her sons, turning to Ron and giving him his while promising it wasn't corned beef this time,

"Wow, she remembered," Sirius grinned.

"Guess someone must have said something," Harry smirked.

"Where'd she make them at?" Lily asked. "Did Tom let her use the kitchen?"

"I guess," James shrugged, not really thinking too much about it.

Harry was pulled away though, by Mr. Weasley asking for a quick second.

"Now what's this?" Lily said in surprise.

"You think Arthur is going to tell?" James said curiously.

Sirius huffed and grumbled something under his breath, but none of them could think of anything to say to him that they hadn't already.

Mr. Weasley led Harry away from the group, but before he could get started, Harry admitted he already knew what he was going to say.

"Wow, not many people will admit too eavesdropping, " Remus said in a laugh.

"I did it so he technically still kept his promise to the Minister that Mr. Weasley didn't tell me," Harry shrugged.

Harry admitted to having overheard the conversation last night, and Arthur was now frowning as he said that's not how he'd liked to have explained this.

"How exactly was he planning to tell you 'hey some crazy guy is coming to kill you'?" Sirius demanded in a snarky tone of voice.

Harry gave him an anxious look, but he couldn't really answer that since he'd never given Mr. Weasley the chance to explain.

Harry assured him it was fine, because know he knew, but Mr. Weasley hadn't broken his promise to Fudge. Arthur tried to ask if Harry was terrified, but Harry shrugged, admitting he wasn't.

Sirius looked up and around in surprise as he said, "okay, I know why you mean it now, but why did you then?"

Harry gave an easy shrug as he admitted, "sorry Sirius, but you didn't exactly scare me more than Voldemort did."

They all grimaced slightly at that, still rather happy Harry wasn't actually afraid for his life since it just wasn't possible Sirius could ever hurt him, but hating the idea all the same that there really was someone out there who did want Harry dead.

When Mr. Weasley didn't look like he believed that, Harry said he was being serious,

Sirius released a surprised snort of laughter and made to say something, but stopped quickly when James smacked him across the back of the head before he got a chance. Giving him a haughty look, he continued anyways this time, "not as serious as I could!"

"Where is your off button!" Remus demanded, while Sirius gave them all satisfied smirks and continued.

how could Sirius Black be worse than Voldemort? Mr. Weasley flinched like all wizards did upon hearing that name, but then pressed on trying to make Harry promise him something, but Harry cut him off by grumbling that he was supposed to stay inside this year. Mr. Weasley said that wasn't what he meant, looking more serious,

"Ouch, dang it guys," Sirius grumbled, he'd been smacked even before he'd finished the word that time.

"How many times can you make the same joke and still think it's funny?" Remus demanded.

"As often as I want," he shot right back, a superior smirk now in place. This was such a turn around to his depressed mood of late that no one really felt that mad at him anymore.

then Harry had ever seen him as he told Harry not to go looking for Black. Harry was stunned, and asked why he would even do that?

That had them all stumped for a moment, until James snapped his fingers and said, "you think Arthur thinks you know everything? That you might know Sirius was a friend of mine, and you would go looking for him because of that?"

"But I didn't now then," Harry pointed out, "and even if I had, that still wouldn't encourage me to go find him, when I thought he wanted me dead." He finished, giving an apologetic look to Sirius for saying that.

They all shrugged then, not really having any better reason why Arthur would think this.

The train gave a warning whistle then, signaling it was about to take off, but Mr. Weasley was still talking, telling Harry to promise him that no matter what he heard but Harry cut him off again by demanding to know why he'd go looking for someone who wanted to kill him?

Sirius grimaced all over again, hearing Harry say that twice in a row made him want to vomit, cry, and scream all over again, no matter how Harry felt now, him thinking this to be true at any point in time tore him to little pieces. He wouldn't let anyone try and console him this time though, blasting on.

The train really was rolling now, and Harry had to bolt inside as it began picking up speed, then before he knew it the train was pulling from the station and the platform was out of sight.

"I notice you didn't actually promise him," Lily said in mild amusement.

Harry shrugged and said, "still don't understand why he wanted me to at all."

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all waiting for him, and when Harry said he needed to talk to his friends, Ron told his sister to get lost.

"Oh that was nice," Lily frowned.

"I don't blame him," Sirius rolled his eyes at her. "Who wants their sibling following them around."

Ginny snapped that was nice before storming off.

"So now you've mimicked Ginny as well," James grinned over at his wife, "are you going to mimic everyone by the end?"

Lily decided to ignore them in hopes they would stop this annoying gag.

The three of them went moving down the compartments, looking for an empty one,

"I thought you already stored your stuff away in another one?" James reminded.

Harry gave a disgruntled look as he said, "yeah, but some first years had come in and taken it, so we'd grabbed our stuff and decided to move rather than force them out."

but every one they came across already had people in them except for one, which had a man sleeping against the far window.

Harry suddenly went very pale and rocketed to his feet, shaking his head from side to side furiously. Lily reacted just as fast, clutching at his arm and demanding he calm down, or he was going to hurt himself. He relaxed, but didn't glance over at his mom at all, but instead focused on Remus like he never had before. His face scrunched up, and it was all too easy to picture the man before him with a little extra gray hair, sleeping in that compartment. So he had been right, he did know him!

The boys got up wearily as well, Harry reacting like this to something couldn't be good, and the way he was eyeing Remus set said man's intestines churning into themselves. Lily still had her hand on him, looking from him to Remus and back before finally demanding, "Harry, what's wrong?"

"I-" he began, before swallowing hard and still not answering, now rocking backwards on his heels in unease. There was no doubt in his mind, the man he suddenly remembered being in the compartment was standing in front of him, older yes but not nearly as dissimilar to Sirius' later unhealthy looks. He should say something now, because the bomb of a reaction to Sirius being alive was terrible for his family, so he should get it out of the way now, but the words wouldn't come out, jammed down his throat as he kept looking wistfully at Remus.

Sirius, still on his feet and wondering what on earth could be going through Harry right now, read to hopefully ease some of the stress.

They found this odd, since no adult had ever been seen except for the woman who pushed the food trolley around.

James and Lily exchanged uneasy looks, James starting to walk over to the pair in case Harry was going to react to something soon. Harry had been reduced to rubbing furiously at his temple, trying to get a word in, but of course he couldn't say anything even though he knew with every fiber of his being he was right. Remus stayed rooted to the spot, mind going a mile a minute as he prayed he was misunderstanding why Harry was looking at him like that.

They decided to go for it though, entering the compartment to find he'd stored away a battered suitcase above him. He wasn't that old, but between the patched and shabby robes, and the pale complexion with gray streaked brown hair he looked like he'd been through the run. Ron asked who he might be, and Hermione whispered Professor R. J. Lupin.

The book clattered to the floor and Sirius decked Remus so hard he fell with it.

Sirius was standing over him, shaking and pulling back as if fixing to swing again. James cursed wildly and flew towards him, tackling Sirius and all but dragging him away step by step while Remus stayed on the ground, hand pressed to his cheek in shock. Where to begin as his mind stayed on utter lockdown, unable to process too many things at once.

He kept hearing Sirius shouting, but the words didn't seem to be getting through, while Lily and Harry heard quite clearly as they moved to Remus side, eyeing Sirius like he truly had gone mad.

"-let me go! I'm going to kill him, that idiotic, manic depressive, self-loathing-" he tore into several other more colorful words for a few moments, while Lily got to her feet again and stood protectively in front of the pair, green eyes flashing as Sirius finally circled out and actually used proper words again, James still keeping such a tight hold on him it was a miracle he was still on his feet. "What the bloody hell is the matter with you, why weren't you there, huh? Where were you when all this mess was happening to Harry, oh I know, not there for him because you're more afraid of yourself then-"

"Sirius, you know damn well why Remus wouldn't be allowed near Harry while he was living with his Muggle relatives." Lily finally cut in, advancing a step towards him and jabbing him in the chest for emphasis.

He was still puffed up and looked ready to breathe fire at a moment's notice, but the shouting momentarily stopped as Lily's full words registered. There was a tick going on in one of his jaw muscles, but James took this small moment to continue dragging Sirius backwards, all the way into the kitchen and out of sight. Then Lily turned back to Harry still trying to coax Remus into saying something, while the man looked like he'd never speak again.

He'd landed on his arm, and had automatically sat up on it with his other hand pressed to the spot Sirius had slugged him, looking dazed and frozen. He'd known for a while Sirius was going to get over his shock and fear at what was going to happen to him and channel it into something more violent or at least something that involved a lot of his energy. He had not expected that to all be channeled at him, though in that moment he knew he deserved it and more; because Sirius was right. No matter the legal ramifications of his condition, why wasn't he there for Harry? He loved that boy like he would his own, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he had an inkling of what was going on while he was living with the Dursleys he wouldn't have joined Sirius in Azkaban, he'd probably be dead on sight for what he owed them.

His whole time he'd been at school, he always wondered if this happy feeling, the miracle he had in his friends, would end sooner or later. Hearing about what happened to his family now was physically tearing him apart inside, and he'd been wishing this whole time he had survived just so that he knew someone would still be out there looking after Harry. Now he'd found out he had survived, and shirked his duty, for what?

There was a light tapping on his forehead, and he finally blinked the static from his brain clouding him from truly registering his surroundings, to find Lily and Harry both watching him with more than concern on their features. Harry had been the one tapping him and trying to get his attention, while having a conversation Remus quickly understood as Lily was clearly explaining to Harry "-I meant that there are laws in place stopping Remus from doing certain things because he's a werewolf, for example he couldn't legally adopt you, but he's also not allowed within a certain radius of Muggle dwellings, or he really could be killed."

"But why?" Harry persisted, his brow ruffling up just like his father's did whenever he didn't understand something.

"All sorts of things dear, prejudices for one, they think he's some dangerous animal all the time and such. It's also to ward off temptations, after all not all werewolves are like him, some would purposefully seek out Muggle neighborhoods, so the law is a general sense that they have a right to kill one before they can do the act."

In the background he could still hear Sirius and James arguing in the kitchen, where James stood in this he wasn't sure he wanted to know since he was still considering slinking out the front door. Then Lily and Harry seemed to notice he'd come back down to earth, and Lily was quick to try and convince him otherwise of those actions. He said nothing, couldn't think of anything to say, as the guilt continued to eat him alive from the inside the longer he realized what Harry had been through all because he wasn't there. Damned those laws, he should have been able to write to Harry at least, set up something with Dumbledore so he could check on him, anything then what Sirius had implied what happened, which seemed likely by this point.

He hadn't ended up in jail, or otherwise physically stopped, he was clearly still alive and...why was he on the Hogwarts express? He blurted this question out before he had time to think on it himself, finally relieving Harry and his mother of the pent up stress they were clearly feeling. Harry was quick to say exactly what Sirius had just read, and stating, "I did recognize you, Professor Lupin, you were my favorite teacher that year."

Something twitched inside of him, a little niggle that he never would have believed he'd truly feel. Whenever Sirius and James had jokingly called him that in the past, he'd brushed them off and snap at them to quit it because they all knew he'd never actually get that profession, what school could ever allow such a thing, except perhaps the very school he'd attended in his youth.

Now, here Harry was, calling him that very thing he would long for, in a completely serious tone of voice. No mocking, no jesting, he meant it with a respectful tone and a sincerity that spoke volumes of truth. This flashed through him so fast, he'd barely had time to register the happy warmth before James and Sirius came back out of the kitchen.

Sirius still looked rather peeved, which he had every right to according to Remus; since he knew full well his friend would feel wronged at himself being locked away and forcefully stopped when Remus himself hadn't exactly been tied down and prevented from their personal duty of looking after Harry. As Sirius marched towards him, he half considered apologizing to Sirius, knowing he'd trade places in less than a breath. Then he was stunned all over again as Sirius bent down and offered his hand to help him back up.

After hesitating a few more moments he took it, getting uneasily to his feet and then rocking back on his heels and pushing his hand through his hair, still at a loss for words. Sirius filled in the silence, while avoiding eye contact and saying, "I'm sorry I punched you, I know it's not really your fault and...what else was it?" He asked, trying to force a joking tone in his voice no one else felt as he turned back to James, who simply raised one brow at him and made a 'go on' gesture.

Sirius released a huffy breath and slightly turned back to him, still looking more above his head then anything and trying to continue, but Remus cut him off and instead said, "honestly, I was going to let you take another swing at me. I can't say what's been going on those past twelve years any more than you can, but I was wrong. What made me stay away, is inconsequential." He came very close to adding on, 'I won't let it happen now,' but stopped himself as he realized that, possibly whatever had happened the first time to set up these circumstances, he may not ever really be able to prevent.

Sirius hesitated, but nodded and seemed to take this as some sort of apology, because most of his hostility drained out of him and he went back over to pick up the book. James hesitated and followed him, making Remus hesitate and ponder if James really was feeling just like Sirius, and just couldn't think of anything to add on. Lily and Harry exchanged uneasy looks, neither of them used to any kind of fight between these three, but when Remus finally decided to go back over and sit next to Sirius, who gave no protest, the other two wandered back to their spot as well.

There was a very sticky silence for a long time, Sirius rummaging for his page being the only noise, and once he found it he began again with a bit more anger in his voice then was normal, but no one said anything. Remus gave a very dark mental laugh, thinking that at least this got Sirius to stop thinking about his problem. *

Ron asked how on earth she could know that, and Hermione gestured above his head where he'd stamped his name on his luggage.

Lily frowned over at these boys, personally annoyed and affronted for Remus at them. She had a very good idea why he hadn't been allowed to go see Harry, and if they didn't cool it with the attitude soon she would shove it in their faces why.

Ron asked what on earth he was teaching, and Hermione pointed out the only position was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Or Care of Magical Creatures, since we've already established there's an opening for that job as well," Lily offered, watching them all carefully. No one said anything for or against this idea, in fact she was a little more concerned Remus didn't seem stoked at the idea of this happening. He loved teaching people, had always had a special fondness for younger students at school and was well known for being the most approachable of the Marauders little gang. Secretive, a little odd yes, Lily hadn't even figured out that Remus was a werewolf until her and James were engaged. So she had not the slightest problem with this, and would gladly curse anyone who said otherwise.

None of them spoke it, but they were all thinking of the jinx placed on this position that had stopped them or anyone else having a teacher in this job for longer than a year. Ron did voice that he hoped the man was up for it, as he didn't look like much.

Remus gave a wane smile, this wasn't the first time he'd heard this. He'd always been rather small and underdeveloped because of his condition, and Ron wasn't the first person to think he didn't have a source to his wand. It had led to a few instances of teasing and one memorable instance where he had proved a crowded corridor just how stupid it was to underestimate him.

Then he finally turned his attention back to Harry and asked what he wanted to tell them.

Sirius frowned, not at all pleased to be right back on this subject.

James had to force down a strangled laugh as he realized all over again how odd this wasn't for Harry. Twice now, two of his old friends had made an appearance in his life, someone Harry should have rightfully known since he was born, and Harry had not a care in the world for either of them. Then James frowned further, suddenly wondering at the coincidence of this. What on earth were the odds Remus would wind up at Hogwarts, on the same year Sirius had made his grand escape? Was it possible Dumbledore had sought out Remus for this very reason, like he thought one friend would know the other's mind set well enough that Remus would perhaps try to stop Sirius. The longer he thought on this, it actually brought up a whole new round of questions, like where was Remus when that big blowdown happened that wound up Sirius in jail. Did Remus really think he'd done it? That was ridiculous, right? He had defended him now, so what could change in the coming year that would stop Remus fighting tooth and nail to keep Sirius out of there. To be fair, even if he had tried to give credence to Sirius, not many people would have believed him anyways.

Sirius hadn't let himself stay on the matter long, and James was in no mood to bring up any of this, so the reading continued.

Harry told of all he'd heard, and Hermione looked more then freaked out as she demanded that Sirius Black had broken out of prison just to kill Harry!

That finally released a pitiful chuckle from all of them, even at the new tension, they all still found this stupidly funny in the context Hermione meant.

Then she warned Harry he had to be extra careful this year, he couldn't go looking for trouble, and Harry pointed out that trouble usually found him.

"If that ain't the truth," Lily grumbled, having noticed that pattern a while ago.

Ron pointed out that Harry would have to be mental himself to go after the guy who wanted him dead.

'Oh thank you Ron,' Sirius mentally grumbled, though still kept that one to himself.

Harry realized they were taking this a lot worse than he had as Ron continued by reminding that no one knew how Black had got out of Azkaban, which was the most well protected prison there was, and Black had been under twenty-four hour surveillance watch.

Sirius shuddered all over again, he had known at the start of this chapter he couldn't exactly gloss over this, but after the bombshell of realizing Remus was still alive, it almost had less of an impact on him. Almost. His anger at Remus abandoning Harry almost made reading about what was to become of himself semi-bearable. It also brought up the fun question of what on earth happened to Peter. Since their original theory of them all being dead turned out to not be true, exactly how untrue was it? Was Peter somewhere out there as well? Sirius decided right then he would kill him if so. Remus had the vaguest of reasons, Sirius would give him that even if he was convinced there were ways to get around them that Remus should have thought up, but Peter didn't have any reason to abandon Harry.

Hermione was beginning to convince them that he would be caught again, when she heard a noise. They all stopped for a moment, looking around for the tiny whistling.

Sirius couldn't help but let his voice pique with interest, finally bleeding out that angry tone, making Lily finally relax.

Harry found the source of it in his trunk, as the Sneakoscope Ron had sent him was going off.

"What do you suppose?" James asked mildly, deciding for now to at least try to act like this was as normal as before, though the feeling was getting harder and harder to force as they went.

"Maybe Remus was faking being asleep?" Sirius smirked, attempting to do the same thing as James and not let himself grit out his friend's name.

"It wouldn't be the first time he's pulled that trick, he's fairly good at it," James agreed in forced light tones.

Remus didn't add his opinion on the matter, and Lily and Harry had no idea at all, which let Sirius go on.

Ron scoffed and apologized he'd gotten one so cheap, it may even be broken as it had been going off when he'd mailed it to Harry, then he did reconsider that he wasn't supposed to be using Errol in the first place which may have been untrustworthy of him.

"Like I said earlier, those things should be taken lightly, since they go off so easily," Remus said uneasily, which bothered Harry and Lily at once. He shouldn't be trying to stop himself from commenting any more than anyone else.

Harry went to put it back away, not wanting to wake up the stranger.

"Nah," James scoffed, a real smile finally lighting his features as he continued. "I've known him to sleep through the worst of rackets, and it also depends on just how close to a full moon that was."

Harry cocked his head to the side in remembrance, but he didn't exactly watch the lunar cycles very often, so he had no real idea.**

Ron suggested Harry could take it to Hogsmeade to get it checked over, then began listing all of the shops they could go to. Hermione tried to butt in by saying how historically important the sight was to, but Ron was talking right over her, now thinking on Honeydukes. Hermione asked what that was.

"Only the best shop ever," Sirius smirked, wanting to drool again at once as he reminisced about all of the candy in there.

Ron told how it was the best sweet shop in the world! Then he began listing every item you could find on the shelves, including sugar quills which you could suck on in class.

"Those don't really work," Lily rolled her eyes, "the teachers know a student doesn't suck on feathers."

Sirius wasn't listening, he was too busy smacking his lips in appreciation at Ron's very good descriptions and continuing eagerly.

Hermione was still trying to talk about some more scholarly things that had happened, like the Shrieking Shack being one of the most haunted places in their country,

"Is that still running?" James asked in amusement.

Harry wanted to ask what he meant but Sirius, much like Ron, was rather bored at Hermione trying to put in historical type things into a conversation about sweets, so he was still continuing.

The two were still talking over each other, when Hermione turned to Harry and mentioned how much good it would do them all to get out of the castle for a bit. Harry told them he was sure the two of them would enjoy it, and Ron was flabbergasted to hear that the Dursleys hadn't signed his form.

"Ask why," Lily murmured, "please ask why and kick up a real fuss on the matter."

Ron tried to say that surely McGonagall would let him go anyways,

"Dammit," Lily cursed rather loudly.

None of the boys had to ask why, but Sirius rounded on Harry and demanded, "didn't you ever tell Ron and Hermione, anything?"

"They must have noticed something," Remus agreed, finally pushing the last of the general unease from the room as the boys all found something to rally against again, "they did note back during your second year that you lost weight without being told. You never got anything for Christmas from them, even their cryptic little comments about how they 'hope the Muggles were treating you alright' back during the summer."

Harry hesitated a long time, choosing his words carefully as he said, "they, well we never exactly sat around and had it out like you all seem to want to, but I think they were suspicious. Sometimes, I'd just make these snarky little remarks or whatever, but no I don't think they ever really knew. I didn't tell them anyways."

"What about the cat flap then?" James huffed, more frustrated that Harry hadn't at least told his friends about that excuse for a home life.

"What about it?" Harry repeated curiously.

"Surely Ron, Fred, and George all saw it and wondered, or even questioned why they had to unlock you out of your room," Lily pointed out, clearly not appreciating Harry's attempts to be daft.

He just shrugged and admitted, "Ron asked me once, and I just told him we used to have a cat. I also told him all of the rooms were like that, cause they were paranoid about burglars. Didn't really feel like explaining it."

They all sat there gawking at him for a moment, but Harry kept himself tight lipped as ever and was looking pleadingly for Sirius to keep going. Why on earth was the boy still hiding something, even from his best friends? It was driving them all crazy, but they still weren't even sure how to ask him themselves, since whenever they tried he would just shrug and do exactly as he was doing now. They could hardly force him to tell them, it would do more harm than good. So Sirius, grumbling and unwillingly, decided to keep reading anyways.

but Harry knew better as McGonagall was one the strictest teachers, even if she was head of their house. Then Ron said they could get Fred and George to help, as they knew every secret passage in and out of the school.

"Now there's an idea," Sirius said, going bright eyed.

"Harry should know those anyways," James agreed, "it's practically his birthright."

Lily really couldn't come up with a reason to protest this, it's not like Harry was doing anything particularly bad, just wanting to go out and spend time with his friends in a village. The more she thought about it, the more she'd rather endorse the idea, it really would be good for her son to get out more on undangerous missions like visiting the village.

Hermione began to tell Ron off for that suggestion, saying that Harry should be staying inside school with Black running around.

"So what?" Sirius rolled his eyes. "Can't really do too much to Harry in such a public place as Hogsmeade can I?"

"Sirius, I hate to remind you, but you do know what you were put in there for in the first place," Lily asked with a frown.

Sirius opened, then closed his mouth, before nodding and deciding to skip the argument that he really wasn't that stupid, it was a moot point in this future.

Ron tried to argue the point, saying no one would be stupid enough to do something to Harry with them around,

"He's got a point there," James said with a weak grin. "Sorry Padfoot, I really can't see you being able to do anything with Ron and Hermione there as well."

Sirius nodded in agreement, continuing with only the hint of a joke, "I can see them taking me down easy, I'm definitely no match for these three."

Harry smirked, but was honestly unable to decide just how much they were kidding.

but Hermione told him he was being an idiot, that he'd been put away for murdering a street full of people with witnesses abound.

"Thanks, cause I wasn't reminded of that enough already," Sirius huffed under his breath.

As she was doing that, she was getting to her feet and working the slip loose to let her cat out. Ron snapped at her not to, but to late, Crookshanks pounced onto the seat and stretched before going over to Ron and sitting quite close to him, eyeing the pocket Scabbers was in.

"Knew those two pets were going to be all kinds of fun," Remus murmured lightly.

Ron snapped at the cat to get while pushing it away, and Hermione told him don't.

"Don't what?" James frowned, rather on Ron's side for this particular argument. "Don't stop the cat from sitting on him? Don't yell at the cat for eyeballing his pet? Personally, I think Hermione needs to get a grip here."

Everyone else in the room nodded in complete agreement.

Ron was about to snap back when Lupin began to move.

They all brightened, but for different reasons. Lily, James, and Sirius were all dying for Remus to really wake up and get some explaining going on. Maybe he even knew more about Sirius' case that he would bring up, aside from his general explanation of where he'd been.

Harry simply wanted to replenish memories of him, already in these few days he had a high respect for Remus, now he knew he'd get to talk to him for at least a year.

Remus, while still personally thinking he'd never give a good enough reason for his actions to be okay, was simply hoping he and Harry could have a normal conversation about anything, he could only imagine how his life had been without both James and Sirius around. They still had no idea where Peter was, so if he'd truly been on his own for twelve years, the very idea he'd get to interact with Harry would brighten his day.

They all went silent as they watched him, but he only rolled his head and let his mouth hang open slightly as he continued sleeping.

"Okay," James and Sirius said together, "now I know he's faking it." The pair sounded so disgruntled about the fact, no one asked for details.

The weather outside began turning stormy as the train rattled on, and they found more pleasant things to discuss as the lunch trolley came around. Ron asked if they should wake their new teacher,

"Please say yes," Lily sighed, wanting to stop this delay to what she felt would be the most important conversation of this year to Harry.

pointing out he looked like he could use something to eat.

'Ge thanks' Remus mentally rolled his eyes, though he said nothing out loud since he knew quite well how he looked to others, it was one of the things that made him so obviously what he was.

Hermione went over to him,

This time they couldn't help but lean forward eagerly, Remus couldn't possibly ignore this.

and gently spoke his name, but he didn't even twitch.

James and Sirius muttered something foul under their breath, knowing quite well that wasn't exactly enough to wake him up normally, but having a fairly good idea he was faking it and knowing he was just stalling now. Remus snored like crazy when he was asleep, and hardly so much as twitched which had been the giveaway from before, his mouth wouldn't have flopped open like that unless he was just going to start snoring louder. Yet Moony had faked sleep a few times in their youth to listen in on them sometimes, so they knew he could do it well enough to fool most people. James and Sirius weren't most people. Even only hearing a description of him, they knew they were right.

The kind faced woman told them not to worry about it while handing over Harry's food, telling them that if he woke up later and was hungry he could come up to the front and get her.

"Probably the only time I've ever disliked that woman," Sirius scowled over at Remus as he said that, no one needed to ask why as Remus sunk into the couch cushions a little more, rather upset himself.

Ron wondered if the man really was sleeping,

James rolled his eyes, dearly wanting to point out to Ron what he had a good idea of, but resisted anyways for the sake of repeating himself.

then making the joke that he looked like he'd died.

Lily released a surprised snort of laughter, she remembered one time back during their first year where she had come into the common room and saw him passed out in an armchair and wondered the same thing.

Hermione reassured that his chest was moving.

"Well that's a relief," Sirius couldn't help but smirk, being able to picture that all too well.

Professor Lupin may not have been very good company,

"I think I should resent that," Remus remarked, smiling lightly over at Harry.

Harry was quick to return it, saying, "well, no person asleep is actually good company, so don't take it too personally."

James and Sirius couldn't help but laugh at that little exchange, it did help to relieve their mood a bit.

but he did have his uses as the day wore on and they were visited by far less pleasant people, Draco Malfoy, who as always was accompanied by Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

"Oh joy, cause this was just going so well before," James grumbled.

He opened up the compartment door and gave his common sneer at seeing them, making a clever joke he was sure that he'd found Potty and the Weasel.

"His excuse for jokes have actually gotten more lame," Sirius said in disgust.

"I didn't think that was possible," James agreed with a grimace.

Then he turned on Ron and admitted his surprise at the Weasleys having won that gold over the summer, asking if Mrs. Weasley had a heart attack from the news.

"Wish yours did," Sirius grumbled, then winced as he realized what he'd just said. He'd made joking death threats before, but now at the all too horrible realization he might have carried through with one of them, he didn't seem to find them quite as funny.

Ron jacked up to his feet with such anger he crashed Crookshanks basket onto the floor, causing Professor Lupin to snort.

"Now that might have actually gotten his attention," Sirius nodded eagerly.

Malfoy took a step back from shock while asking who that was.

"Your worst nightmare," James grinned, suddenly lighting up in a whole new way. After finally accepting and adjusting to Remus being alive and getting his dream job, it truly sank in that this meant Remus was a teacher at Harry's school! Once Remus 'woke up' and realized who he was sitting seats away from, Harry would finally get what he'd deserved from the moment his parents had died. He was still ticked at whatever reasons had stopped this from happening before, but the point now was that Harry couldn't get into any trouble this year! Remus would never let anything like the last two years happen to Harry! This raised such a giddy mood in him, he actually laughed out loud, and was forced to explain this to the others.

Lily and Harry beamed, both clearly agreeing with James on the matter. Sirius sulked and didn't say anything, trying to decide if this made up for his previous absence. He'd withhold judgment for now.

Harry pointed out that he was a new teacher, while getting to his feet too in case he needed to hold back Ron.

"Or back him up," Sirius scoffed. "Honestly don't you ever let your friend have fun."

"Not this time," Harry remarked, "for the same reason I knew Malfoy should have backed off, no one's stupid enough to go at it when a teacher's around."

Remus shrugged, honestly agreeing with Harry, while James and Sirius grumbled they didn't really think Remus would have done anything against Harry and his friends.

Malfoy backed down then, recognizing defeat as he and his friends left. Ron sat back down with a huff, stating he was done taking it from Malfoy, and if he said one more thing about his family, then he swung at the air.

"Good on ya," James nodded in approval.

"I'm more than sick of his crap as well," Sirius sniffed.

Hermione told him to keep it down, gesturing at the still asleep Professor.

"Still can't decide if he's faking that or not," James smirked, knowing the answer really, but trying to get a rise out of him and giving Remus an obvious look who just shrugged. He had no idea.

Sirius played along and pondered it for a moment before saying, "I don't know, even he isn't so dense as to snooze right through a bunch of kids being that loud, but then why would he still be faking it?"

Lily honestly wondered if Remus wasn't perhaps faking it out of fear of meeting Harry. This was going to be the first time he'd seen him in years, it was going to be more than awkward for both of them, so she couldn't blame him one bit for stalling.

The weather outside only continued getting worse, smashing against the glass like mini drums, the wind howling as they roared on, but still Lupin slept on.

"That's not the problem," James shook his head, "it's the other noises I'm not buying."

Darkness had truly descended outside when Ron voiced they had to be getting close, and just as he spoke the words the train began to slow. Hermione though was frowning at her watch, pointing out they were still a bit early, and Ron asked why they would have stopped.

Sirius frowned in concern now, his voice matching that expression. The Hogwarts express was one of the most magical objects he'd ever heard of, it hardly just broke down for any reason, and if Hermione said it was too early for it to be stopping, then what on earth could be going on.

Harry suddenly got a very hair raising feeling, something truly awful was fixing to happen, so he blurted out purely to delay it, "you know, I've never thought about it before, but how come school always starts on a Monday that's always September 2nd? That isn't really possible is it?"

"Its part of the Magic of Hogwarts, it kind of exists in its own little time pocket," Lily explained at once. They all noticed how Harry seemed to be slowly losing color, fidgeting and starting to rub at his temple, which were all horrible signs that something very awful was about to happen.

Harry asked for a bit more, still wanting to delay as long as he could, "so you mean the day of the weeks there really aren't the same as they should be."

"Not really," James agreed, "I asked Lily about this a few times, and she said she read it in a few books about how the magic bordering the school, keeping out anything but allowing students and teachers and such, that sustains that magic seems to make a skewed timeline. Apparently it registers the same, for example back during your second year when you got caught in the flying car, it was the same night to you as the rest of the world, but it wouldn't have been a Sunday night to them but a Tuesday...did I get that right dear?" He finished, giving her a cheeky little grin at Lily's indulgent smile.

"Mostly yes, you left out some details I'll forgive, I'm just impressed you remembered that at all." She returned affectionately, and Harry smiled to himself as he realized it had worked, however temporarily, and he was feeling almost at peace again.

Pressing further he asked, "but if the train is what causes that, how come Ron and I made it in the car?"

"You were following the train," Remus reminded, "in a magical object, so the magic the train gives off creating this effect would have affected that Anglia as well. It also would have registered you as two students, so if two adults had tried that same trick, they never would have been able to follow the train in that same manner, they would have had to been invited onto the grounds by Dumbledore, or at least another teacher."

Harry nodded in disappointment as he realized he was out of questions, but he'd done what he set out to do, the others looked far calmer as Sirius continued.

Then the lights went out.

"Sirius, relax," Harry tried to sooth, all the while his tone said the exact opposite was appropriate. His memory was very forcibly trying to show him, or warn him, of some very bad impending things.

Sirius did hesitate for a moment longer to give Harry a reassuring smile, giving them all a brief reminder that Harry was clearly okay with whatever was about to happen physically anyways, his attitude was still scaring them almost as much as the book itself. Now as tense and jumpy as a cat Sirius read on.

Harry asked if the train could have broken, but none of them knew.

"Not possible," Lily whimpered loud enough for all of them to hear, now clutching Harry's hand tightly in hers again just for that small reassurance. Harry had a very strong impulse, which he followed, to squeeze right back; instantly confusing him. What on earth could this memory have to do with wanting his mother?

Lily took the comfort from her son for a moment before properly explaining, "the Hogwarts Express is magically enchanted almost as much as the school itself, nothing could just make it brake."

"Then what's doing this?" James demanded of nothing.

Outside through the mess of the storm, Ron swore he could see people getting onto the train.

"What?" James demanded, looking ready to reach forward and take the book away from Sirius.

He stopped him, swatting him away, while Remus was frowning and offered, "they must have been invited on, there is no other explanation."

"I've never heard of anything like this," Lily groaned, her hand tightening on Harry's all the more. "Who would be getting on? Why?"

"Guess Hogwarts wanted to take pity on some hitchhikers," Sirius grumbled without any humor at all, now rushing on for a real answer.

Outside they could hear people moving about the compartments, all looking for someone else to somehow find an answer, and Harry heard their own door slide open again as someone came shuffling in, and Harry recognized him as Neville.

"Can't blame that kid one bit," James nodded.

Neville made to sit down, and accidentally sat on the cat.

That random comment released a surprised snort of mirth from Sirius, but it didn't last long enough for him to delay.

Hermione made to get up and go ask the conductor what was going on, but she ran into someone else at the door, which turned out to be Ginny.

"Aw, that's so sweet she'd go looking for Ron," Lily murmured.

"I don't like all of these students moving around though," Remus frowned, bouncing around in agitation now, "it's still creepy that something's getting on, it would be safer if they stayed still in one place."

"You can't really blame them for seeking out friends and older siblings," Lily chided at once.

"No," he nodded, "just my personal advice."

They were all talking at once now, trying to decide what was going on, when an unfamiliar voice told them all to be quiet.

They all lit up at once, having almost forgotten Remus was there in their new panic. After all it could hardly be anyone else, since Harry hadn't recognized the voice. James and Sirius at once took back any bad feelings they'd had, now knowing without a shadow of a doubt their friend could handle whatever was fixing to happen that had Harry so on edge in this room.

Professor Lupin had awoken at last, and he quickly drew the attention of all the children as he lit a blue flame in his hand,

"Why would you use the Bluebell Fire instead of Lumos?" Harry randomly asked.

"I prefer that spell because quite a few things are afraid of fire, and it provides just as much light," he shrugged.

showing his pale face, but intelligent eyes as he scanned the room. He told them all to wait here while he made for the door, but before he got there it opened on its own. Harry felt cold at once, a deadly chill creeping over him as he made out a dark hooded figure, a hand creeping out of the folds, which was skeleton gray but gleaming as if wet or still decaying.

Sirius was near fainting by the end of this description. No one, not even Harry after Remus' thorough description of these monsters, needed to ask what had boarded the train, or even why.

"This is ridiculous!" Lily spat hotly, her green eyes shining with light as she continued, "those bloody things shouldn't be allowed anywhere near these children! Sirius can't even get on the train unless a staff member from Hogwarts invited him on, so what do they think they're doing?"

Harry quickly asked very loudly, watching Sirius with concern to make sure he really didn't faint, "what do you mean? Remus was on the train?" He also had a vague feeling another teacher was on the train with him at some point, but that was only the hint of something he knew better than to try remembering.

James, still torn between wanting to yell all over again in defense of his friend, or hug him, answered Harry, "like we said, the train's got all sorts of magic surrounding it allowing its entrance to Hogwarts, not just anyone can get on, only the students. Why do you think the parents never help load their kids' luggage. So unless," then he trailed off, going bright eyed himself and turning to Remus, now almost beaming as he finished, "unless someone did invite him on?"

Remus cocked his head to the side in wonder as he pondered this. He would like to think Sirius would have contacted him after he got out of prison, and it's not like Remus would think twice about helping him. Why wouldn't he help Sirius get to Hogwarts, since as of right now he honestly wouldn't put it past his friend to be trying to get into contact with Harry as well? Aloud he said, "I've no idea. If I did, then I would be regretting it then."

Sirius had to swallow very hard around a lump in his throat, but when no one offered anything more, he finally forced himself to read again.

Then the worst part came, when a sound reached Harry's ears that resembled a drowning man gasping for breath, a soul sucking noise looking for something deeper than oxygen.

"Sirius, do you want someone else to read?" Lily asked kindly.

James and Remus gave her grateful looks, they had been fixing to ask themselves, the only thing stopping them was his response, which he gave to their predictions.

He fired up and went from stuttering and shuddered disgust, he couldn't help but think of himself in the future being crammed inside with those things constantly whenever they were mentioned now, to outrage that Lily thought he needed to be pandered. He snapped, "don't patronize me Lily, I'm a big boy," and went on in more huffy tones.

Lily smiled grimly to herself, and Harry wasn't the only one who realized Lily had done this on purpose.

Harry couldn't see, couldn't hear anything but the terrible noise. He could feel his eyes rolling into his head, cold the only thing he knew as he began falling, the terrible sound getting louder every second,

Then they frowned all over again, Sirius switching back to fearful as he could think of several things that would be considered this poor kid's worst memories. Voldemort sticking out the back of some guys head for one, being poisoned by a giant snake, the worst part is he could go on! Then he glanced over and saw Harry leaning in to Lily, which he found rather odd. Harry had been pretty stoic through most of these misadventures, so what on earth could he be remembering that would make him want his mother's touch now?

Still half afraid, and now half curious, he read.

when something new began to come forward, from far away he could faintly hear someone screaming.

Harry was shuddering, extremely white and going almost clammy as he remembered that sound all too well. The sound of his mother's voice cut in, making him almost jump... it couldn't possibly have been her screaming was it? Her voice now wasn't nearly as high pitched as the memory...but were they the same? Then her words sank in, and he forced himself to remember where he was and what exactly was going on. Giving his head a firm shake he focused back in on this world as Lily said, "-you alright? Harry, please, what's the matter."

He pressed his hand to his forehead, pulling it away when he realized he was sweating, and murmured, "don't know. I've no idea what that could have been a memory of."

This was a lie, his mind knew full well what was being repressed, and he almost wondered if this wasn't one of those moments he might not want to get that particular memory back. His words didn't make anyone else feel any better either. What on earth could Harry have remembered that would involve someone screaming like that? Obviously nothing they had read about covered it, it wasn't from his childhood or he would remember it...then what?

The four of them were exchanging panicked looks, but Harry had no clue what to offer them this time for comfort. Swallowing back bile, Sirius wondered if Harry might come out of it having a better idea, and hopefully tell Remus then, so read uneasily.

He knew he should do something, but there was cold and white everywhere...then someone was shouting his name and slapping him on the face, and he sat bolt upright to find himself on the floor of the train, which was moving along again.

'Thank goodness it's gone,' Lily groaned, hoping she wouldn't have to deal with those things ever again. They caused far too horrible reactions, now in two of her boys!

Ron and Hermione were on either side of him, terror all over their faces as they watched him. Neville and Lupin looked pretty similar as they stared down at him.

'What a lovely reunion,' Remus mentally grumbled, only imagining what he had been thinking of seeing Harry again in this future, and it being spoiled like this.

Harry still felt terrible, cold and sticky all over, and likely to be sick any moment, while Ron helped him back onto his seat and asked if he was okay.

"Oh yeah, he's just peachy," James scowled, hating to hear about his son in such an awful condition.

Harry said that he was fine, then asked who'd been screaming? Ron said he hadn't heard anything like this, and Harry glanced around to find the others saying the same, even Ginny who was huddled up in the corner and looking paler then Harry was used to.

They were all frowning for this poor kid, not even needing to guess that her worst memory was probably still plaguing her nightmares after last year.

Harry insisted he'd heard someone screaming, but cut himself off in shock when he heard a crack. Lupin had dug out some chocolate, and was breaking it apart.

"Why do you have that?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

"Is it so odd for him to have some food on him?" Harry asked, giving a weak laugh at what he thought was an overreaction.

James and Lily were both frowning though, James adding, "no, I agree with Sirius, bit of an odd coincidence that Remus happened to have something on him that makes people feel better after they run into a dementor."

"So, you think you did know about the dementors getting on the train?" Lily asked, still feeling rather odd asking anything in regards to Remus being present for this.

Remus threw his hands up in the air, looking rather agitated as he snapped, "how should I know?"

"Cool it Moony," Sirius grumbled, giving him a nudge in the ribs, "no one's blaming you but yourself. At least you got the thing out." Sirius knew exactly why Remus was on edge right then, he was most likely blaming himself for not acting faster and getting that Dementor out of the compartment before Harry had such a severe reaction.

Sirius' guess was exactly right, and Remus then gave Lily a sheepish smile and slumped back in his seat, still rather annoyed at his future self. He'd been in the room with Harry again for how long now, and he not only hadn't introduced himself to Harry properly, but he'd let that situation go on far too long. He should have used that charm the moment he had awoken, if the others' guess was right and he had been forewarned of Dementors would be on the train. It also answered his earlier question, that no he most certainly hadn't helped Sirius get on the train, the dementors would have found him no matter where he'd been hiding on it.

There was another long, drawn out silence after this horrible moment, and they were all wishing it would just stop soon. They hadn't even reached the school yet, and so far this was the worst book possible for all of them. Still, it's not like they had anything else to do about it, so Sirius forced himself to keep going.

He handed the largest piece to Harry, telling him to eat it. Harry took it, but then just stared at it.

"You don't realize how lucky you are," James said weakly, trying and failing for a joke, "Remus doesn't share food lightly."

Remus didn't raise to the bait, and Harry only gave a halfhearted grin at his father.

He instead asked what that thing was, and Lupin explained it was called a dementor, one from Azkaban. He stuffed the empty wrapper in his pocket, having given some out to all of them now, and told them to eat up while he went to go and find the conductor, before leaving altogether.

"What was that?" Sirius demanded, now scowling over at said man.

Remus shrugged and looked to the ceiling as he murmured, "that was me making a quick exit I presume."

"Leave it Sirius," James sighed, pressing his face into his hands as he finished, "I can hardly blame him for delaying that. It wasn't exactly a very nice time to get into such a topic with all of his friends around."

Remus looked a little better, making Lily and Harry chuckle to themselves that his actions being explained to him by James made him feel better. Sirius rolled his eyes, Remus had more impulse control then he did, since he was sure the moment he laid eyes on Harry he was going to try blurting out all kinds of things. He was positive if the Knight Bus hadn't interrupted, he probably would have already.

Hermione turned back to Harry and asked if he was really okay, and Harry just asked what on earth had happened. Hermione tried to explain that when the dementor had come in, Harry had kind of...she trailed off, and Ron explained that Harry seemed to go into some kind of fit as he fell off his seat jerking around.

"That's a pretty sever reaction to something you can't even remember now," Lily whispered, still keeping a maternal eye on Harry.

He simply shrugged, feeling shame start to replace fear. Why did he have such a sever reaction, when clearly Ron was fine?

Hermione jumped back in by saying that Lupin had stepped in then, telling that none of them were hiding Sirius Black, but when the dementor still hadn't gone he'd shot some silver thing at it, making the dementor go away.

Remus grumbled something foul about himself under his breath, bordering along the lines of he still should have reacted faster mixed in with a few choice words, but Sirius was still ignoring him.

Neville agreed it was the worst feeling he'd ever had in his life, Ron adding on it had given him the feeling he could never be cheerful again. Ginny was still curled into herself and gave a light sob.

"That poor girl," James frowned in concern, "like she really needed to be reminded of her last year."

Harry was frowning in real concern, wanting to go back and hug the girl now and try to make sure she was okay, but he'd been a little preoccupied with his own reaction at the time.

Hermione gave her a small hug, but Harry instead asked hadn't any of them fallen down as well? Ron was still watching Harry very carefully as he admitted that Ginny had been shivering like crazy, but no.

Remus was quick to explain the different reactions people would have to dementor effects. It was all too clear on Harry's face now what he was feeling, and none of them wanted him to feel like that when it wasn't his fault how he reacted to this type of thing.

Harry nodded in understanding, very grateful to have this explained to him now rather than sitting on it, and finally understanding why he might have a sense a Deja' vu about Remus telling him this. He very well might have asked him later this school year.

Harry didn't understand, he still felt like he'd spent a week running a fever, and why hadn't anyone else reacted like he had?

"Your reaction wasn't that bad," Sirius said bracingly, taking pity on his pup and admitting something he was very not proud of. "My first time running into a dementor, I remembered back to when I'd been locked up with that dragon in Gringotts and I ran for it. Didn't think twice about it, course I felt just as ashamed as you after the fact."

Harry gave his godfather a full blown smile then, realizing what it took for Sirius to admit to this. He still thought passing out was still a far worse reaction than running, but he understood what he was trying to do all the same and appreciated it.

Lupin came back in then, and when he saw all of them holding melting pieces of chocolate, he made the joke that he hadn't poisoned it. Harry went to take a bite, and found himself warmed all over.

"Lesson number one, take his advice when it comes to dealing with creatures," James told Harry wisely.

"I'm sure I remember that," Harry smiled right back, more than pleased some of that horrible mood was finally leaking back out of the room. All five of them were almost eager to keep reading now, wondering when exactly Remus was going to pull Harry aside so they could talk, hopefully with a simple and understandable explanation of why it hadn't happened already.

Then he told all of them that they'd be arriving at the castle very soon, before asking if Harry was alright by name. Harry didn't bother to ask how he'd known his name.

Remus' face twisted all over again with self-hatred and annoyance, Harry should have grown up knowing the answer to that dammit, but no one said anything about it this time.

He just muttered that he was fine before turning away with embarrassment all over again. They all remained quiet the rest of the trip, not having much to say as they went out into the weather,

Then they all felt a sinking feeling residing in them as they realized Remus hadn't exactly seized an opportunity quite yet. Then Lily said what they were all thinking, "I'm sure he just didn't want to risk being interrupted, the trains not exactly private after all. I wouldn't even be too surprised if he waits until tomorrow after all of your classes are over, and asks you to his office or something."

She said it with such confidence, it made the other boys feel better at once, but Harry was still frowning. Why wouldn't he believe his mother about this? Surely Remus did come talk to him, explain away what was bothering them all now...right?

and the cacophony of the many pets displaying their protest to the rain, even Neville's toad who could be heard croaking under his hat.

"Glad he didn't lose him again," James smirked, remembering back to their first year and the mysterious missing Trevor, glad Neville seemed to have found a way to keep a better eye on his pet.

They followed the short path up to the school carriages, said their hello's to Hagrid whose job was to escort the first years down a different way to boats, and then climbed into the warm seats pulled by invisible horses.

"Nah, you'll learn about those sometime in your sixth or seventh year," Remus shrugged.

"So, what are they?" Harry asked, feeling grumpy all over again at having to ask a question he should know.

This time Sirius explained, and Harry nodded as he remembered them mentioning these odd beasts earlier, but then asked, "so you can only see them when you've seen someone die?"

"Yep," Sirius agreed.

"Then how come Harry didn't see them after he technically saw Quirrell die?" James asked, now realizing this hadn't exactly come up at the end of the last two books when he would have taken the carriages back.

"Harry passed out before he actually saw Quirrell die," Lily reminded, "we didn't even know he was dead until Dumbledore told us."

"Oh yeah," he nodded.

Since Sirius had given Harry a pretty good description of the beasts, Harry let the matter go, but he was still wondering why he had a good idea he knew these beasts better.

Harry had started to feel better since he'd eaten the chocolate, but still weak. His friends kept throwing covert looks his way, like they thought he was going to pass out again any second.

"I really wish you had explained better what dementors were then," Sirius grumbled.

"So do I," Remus agreed, more than frustrated with himself...which was an odd feeling, being mad at something you hadn't technically done yet.

There were two more dementors hovering just outside the gates of the school,

"Yes, because I'm so sure I'm just going to come waltzing through the front gates, please give me a little credit," Sirius huffed. James and Remus rolled their eyes, but Sirius had said that with an almost normal tone of voice, a first since finding out and referring to himself, so they let the comment slide.

and Harry had to fight hard against another cold feeling creeping up on him again. Then they moved past, and he went back to feeling just semi nauseous until the carriages stopped and they climbed out, to a less then pleasant welcome as someone said behind him that they'd heard from Neville that Harry had fainted.

"Who did Neville tell that would be mocking Harry like that?" Lily said in outrage.

Harry defended his friend at once, still grimacing in annoyance as his memory recognized all too well that tone of voice, but he knew Ron had asked/ snapped at Neville about this later so he explained, "Neville and Ginny had been talking about it in their own carriage when they had been getting in one, and Malfoy overheard. He didn't mean to start this."

Lily backed down, mollified at once, but Sirius was still rather annoyed enough his tone showed it as he read.

Ron turned on Malfoy and told him to piss off, but Malfoy was still laughing, asking if the dementors had scared him as well? None of them had a chance to respond when Lupin got out of his own carriage behind them.

"Professor Lupin is the best," James said, then burst out cackling when he realized how much fun this could be.

Sirius was frowning at him though, slightly miffed as he said, "you couldn't have held off on that? I wanted Ron to punch him."

"So sorry my timing wasn't to your liking," Remus rolled his eyes at him.

Malfoy gave Lupin an unkind appraising look, taking in his thin frame and very old clothes, before giving an unconvincing no, adding on Professor at the end in the most degrading way possible before walking off.

"And I already hated this kid before," Sirius scowled down at the book now, "but if he really gives you crap I'm going to insist someone needs to knock his lights out."

"I think I can handle a third year picking on me Sirius," Remus smirked at him, still warmed all the same, and flashing back to a few times when Sirius had made that threat about any other kid who picked on him for his appearance.

The three of them went into the castle then, only for Harry and Hermione to immediately be called aside.

"What did they do now?" James demanded of nothing, Merlin they'd just stepped foot in.

"Why Hermione?" Lily puzzled, long since used to Harry seeming to get more attention than any of them wanted, "and I agree, what on earth could this be about?"

They turned to find McGonagall waving them over to her,

"Well at least it wasn't Snape or Filch trying to blame them for something before school even started," Sirius grumbled.

with a look on her face that made Harry think he was already in trouble.

"She has that effect on everybody," Remus smirked.

She clearly noticed this, telling them to relax and she just wanted to talk to them in her office.

"A word about what though?" Harry asked, still a little on edge at that remembered look.

All of them shrugged, not having the faintest idea.

Then she told Ron to go inside and escorted them to her office, starting on Harry and telling that Lupin had sent word ahead something had happened to Harry on the train.

"Oh Remus, you didn't," Harry groaned, going bright red with remembered embarrassment.

Remus however was smiling, finally pleased with something he'd done in this future, as he explained to Harry, "oh I'm very sure I did. You shouldn't be embarrassed about what happened to you Harry, but I'd still feel much better if you were double checked by someone."

Harry grumbled to himself, not in any kind of agreement because of the fuss he knew this would cause, but it caused the others to continue smiling more broadly. Finally, here was something they had all been hoping for since the very first book, someone who really was there simply to look after their little Harry.

Harry tried to protest, but then the school nurse came in, Madam Pomfrey, took one look at Harry and stated he must have been up to something dangerous again.

"She makes it sound like I do this on purpose," Harry fumed to himself.

McGonagall explained for him it had been a dementor, and Pomfrey was not pleased as she began checking Harry over, muttering her distaste at those things in this school, around delicate children,

"I'm not delicate," Harry said in outrage, causing Sirius to burst into unrestrained laughter.

He refused to explain why though, swallowing back more laughter as he read.

Harry rebutted he wasn't delicate!

Causing the rest of them to snicker as well at Harry's mirrored response. Harry crossed his arms and grumbled about them picking on him.

McGonagall asked what he needed, should he stay the night in the hospital wing?

"Oh he shouldn't be that bad," James rolled his eyes, "he's really had all the treatment that could be given."

Harry protested this at once, horror already coming to him as he realized what kids like Malfoy would have to say about that.

"I swear teachers were never young," Sirius agreed in disgust, they never seemed to understand what their actions could do to a student's status.

"I think I should resent that comment now," Remus butted in, grinning from ear to ear at being able to say that.

Sirius appraised him for a moment, before amending, "okay, most teachers."

Madam Pomfrey said he should be fine so long as he ate some chocolate, and Harry said he'd already had some, from Lupin. Pomfrey was pleased, saying that for once they had a Defense teacher who knew what they were doing.

"DADA huh," James said in approval, "well I couldn't be happier, at least now Harry finally has a competent teacher!"

"Thank Merlin," Sirius agreed, nearly bouncing in place in excitement. "I'm almost happy to be able to hold off on all those insults I've been coming up with, and push them off for another year."

"I am equally delighted you both have so much faith in me, and offended you think something's going to happen to me at the end of this year Sirius," Remus smiled indulgently at the pair of them, continuing by addressing Sirius again. "What exactly do you think is going to happen? I like to think I might even be able to break that stupid rumor, I'm not superstitious."

"Oh I don't know," Sirius shrugged, not looking very concerned by the matter, "in fact, you've got my vote of confidence for doing just that."

"Well now I'm all settled then," he rolled his eyes indulgently, causing the others to continue laughing at the pairs exchange.

Lily kept her lips pursed and her thoughts to herself, disagreeing with the boys and rather wishing he had been taken up for Care of Magical Creatures instead. There was no curse on that position after all to even be a worry, and the less of that the better.

When Harry confirmed that he really was okay, McGonagall asked him to step into the hallway because she wanted to speak privately with Hermione about her schedule, but to wait for them.

"McGonagall's probably telling her she can't actually take all of those classes," Lily remembered sadly.

"But she's already bought all of her textbooks," Sirius protested with a frown, "shouldn't they have done this before the year started, like last year?"

"Maybe they can come up with some sort of deal so that she can rearrange her schedule?" Harry offered, nodding to himself as he was pretty sure this answer felt right.

"Can't see how that would happen," James disagreed, "like we said, some of those happen at the same time."

Harry waited outside as Pomfrey went away, still grumbling to herself about the things around this school. He didn't wait long though when Hermione came back out looking quite pleased,

"Well lookie there," Remus raised a brow in surprise, "looks like Harry was right."

"How though," Sirius insisted, "private lessons?"

Harry shrugged when he realized they were actually expecting him to answer, saying, "she didn't tell me, that was just me trying to guess."

They speculated a few more ideas, but when they finally realized they wouldn't really know until lessons started, let the matter go for now.

then they all went down to the Great Hall where Flitwick was carrying away the standard stool and hat that was used to sort first years.

"Hadn't thought of that," Lily nodded, "McGonagall wasn't the one to do the opening ceremony. Guess I would have thought that the first years would have just waited on her."

"Something else I've never seen before," James grinned.

Hermione was disappointed they'd missed the event of watching the new students be sorted into Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw.

"I still don't understand why this book keeps randomly explaining things we all know," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Probably some weird catch that has to do with the spell these were created with," Remus shrugged.

McGonagall went up to the teachers table while Harry and Hermione went over to the Gryffindor, taking a seat on either side of Ron, while Harry was trying to ignore all the looks of students watching him, wondering if it was possible the whole school knew of his dementor debacle already.

"Sadly, I can believe that," James said with a wince for his son. Looks like another first week that was going to consist of people gawking at his boy.

Ron asked what they'd been doing, and Harry was fixing to explain when Dumbledore stood up to make his speech, and watching his headmaster Harry couldn't help but feel more at peace right then than he had since before his train ride.

While the boys couldn't help but smile at this, they did tend to feel the same way around such a calming and powerful figure that was their headmaster, Lily felt a sinking feeling as she suddenly wondered if perhaps Harry might even be projecting a sense of parent on Dumbledore? It's not as if he had anyone else to connect to like this.

He began by welcoming them all to school, but pointing out the search of the train,

"Was trying to forget that honestly," Sirius grumbled.

was instructed by the school itself. The dementors were on the grounds of Hogwarts this year by order of the Ministry of Magic, while pausing for a moment leading Harry to remember that Arthur had mentioned Dumbledore's distaste with the creatures.

"And now you know exactly why," James grumbled with his own distaste.

He went on by telling them that there were dementors at every in and out of the school, and could not be fooled by anything, not even invisibility cloaks. Harry and Ron glanced at each other.

"Why?" Remus grinned. "You know he knows you have it."

"Just thought it was odd he pointed that thing in particular," Harry shrugged.

Dumbledore warned that these were not things that could be reasoned with, and it was best to avoid them if at all possible. He then instructed that the Head Boy and Girl were given special permission to make sure no students did anything that had to do with the dementors. Percy puffed himself up, making himself look as important as possible in that moment. Dumbledore took another short pause, continuing on seriously,

"Not as Sirius as I could I'm sure," said man smirked, ducking instinctively as both of his friends made to smack him. He then quickly hurried on, still smirking.

that he did have some good news, and addressed the newest teacher Professor Lupin, who had consented to taking the Defense Against the Dark Arts job.

"Consented," James smirked over at him, "like you didn't faint from happiness when he asked you to."

Remus shrugged though, not exactly arguing with James, but also rather weary all the same. He knew for a fact he could put the same measures in place as he had when he was younger, and make absolutely sure he never did harm a student, but he also had the lingering fear as he did when he was a child. If anyone, students or parents, found out what he was he had no doubts he'd be forcibly removed from the school. Now though, a new tightening was also beginning to happen in his throat as he realized the circumstances he'd been planted in. Not only would he be locked up in the Shrieking Shack without his friends, but he'd be having the ghost of his memories haunting him in that castle. He shook it off, gave a weak chuckle for James' benefit, but Sirius still gave him a perturbed look before reading on anyways.

Very few people clapped at the announcement,

"Ouch," Lily winced in sympathy, but Remus quickly waved her off, saying, "I'm not heartbroken. You didn't hear them applauding Lockheart or Quirrell did you? Being a teacher is hardly a popularity contest."

"Please Remus, don't even bother comparing yourself to those two loons," Harry said, rolling his eyes in contempt. "I've known you for a few days and I don't need memories to know you'll be ten times better then them."

"That's what I was going to say," Sirius smirked, then pretended to pout as he continued, "though now I am slightly upset myself that I have to hold back on all those new insults I came up with for this position."

"My heart goes out for you," James snorted.

the only ones doing it with any real heart were the select Gryffindors who'd been in the compartment that Lupin had saved. Harry couldn't help but notice though how he looked even less then healthy and even more shabby compared to all of the other teachers.

Remus couldn't help but wince, having a pretty good idea his finances over the years hadn't gotten any better, but he wouldn't let anyone pause to give him sympathy for it, nearly pushing the book against Sirius' nose to make him keep going.

Ron then told Harry to take a look at Snape.

"Oh Merlin yes," James crowed, pumping his fist in the air and bouncing around like he had a sudden sugar rush.

Sirius wasn't any better, he started laughing so hard the book nearly slipped from his grip, while Remus rolled his eyes indulgently at the pair and couldn't hide a smirk himself.

Lily gave scathing looks to all three of them, knowing quite well what had them hooting like morons, but Harry was giving them all puzzled looks so she explained to him, "they're being childish idiots dear. You know as well as I do that Severus wanted the DADA position, so they're lording it that Remus got the job instead."

"It's priceless," Sirius insisted, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"It also means that Snape can't give Harry too much hell this year," James grinned, still squirming with happiness, "because if McGonagall doesn't stop him Remus will."

Remus bit at his lip, he didn't really know what his friends were expecting. It's not like he could sit in the back of the Potions class and tell off Snape for what he did to Harry. He also knew for a fact he was hardly going to dog him in the corridors to make sure Snape didn't unfairly punish him like he had in the past, he was also rather torn on if he did come along how much help he'd really be. Snape was a teacher just like him, and if Harry was doing something wrong, he would hardly want to let Harry get away with it, in fear of showing Harry favoritism. So he remained silent, still grinning slightly as Lily told them both to shut up. Sirius was still chuckling lightly as he read.

Harry easily spotted him. Snape was well known for wanting that position for himself, but Harry was still shocked to see the look of outright hatred twisting his features that he normally only saved for Harry.

"I would hardly be his favorite person to see again," Remus nodded, "though I didn't exactly go out of my way to bug him like they did," he finished, gesturing at his friends.

Lily narrowed her eyes in annoyance, and James and Sirius took that as a sign not to add anything on. What they didn't know was that Lily was actually getting rather annoyed at her old friend this time. She still hated the way he treated Harry, but if he turned and started acting that way towards Remus as well, she really was going to lose her patience with his actions. Remus was hardly innocent in his friend's actions, but she would be the first to snap at him; he was being childish if he was still going to hold a grudge against him now. She hated what these four boys had done, but she had learned to forgive and forget their stupid actions, why on earth couldn't he?

Dumbledore carried on, mentioning they had another staffing change,

"Oh yeah," James nodded in remembrance, "there's supposed to be a new Care of Magical Creatures teacher too," he leaned in eagerly to hear this one.

as the old Care of Magical Creatures teacher had retired, wanting to save his remaining limbs,

Sirius released a surprised snort of laughter, yeah he couldn't exactly blame him for that, though he was sorry to hear him go.

but Dumbledore had hired Rubeus Hagrid as his replacement,

"Really?" Harry beamed.

"Absolutely," Sirius nodded, grinning right along.

"That's awesome," James nodded eagerly, "no one could do better then Hagrid at that."

"Does that mean they'd need a new gamekeeper though?" Remus asked, just as happy as the others, but still thinking more big picture.

Sirius looked down curiously.

for the job, who'd gladly accepted along with keeping his original title of gamekeeper.

"Wow," Lily forced a laugh to hide her disappointment her idle idea clearly had no hope now, "well I'm more then happy to hear that."

"So, for once, Harry will actually get a good education all year," James smirked.

"Just so long as Hagrid doesn't try and bring another dragon to class for a lesson," Sirius muttered, mostly to himself.

The trio more than happily applauded this, noting Hagrid's look of embarrassment. Ron was laughing then, pointing out that it made sense he would be the one to get them all to buy a biting book.

That released surprised and happy laughter from all of them, yes it did seem Hagrid's type now they thought about it.

Hagrid was trying to subtly wipe his eyes on the tablecloth at the staff table.

"Aw," Lily cooed.

"Can't blame him one bit," Remus nodded in understanding. He more than anyone knew what it felt like to be something someone didn't particularly have much faith in, but had been given such a chance as this.

Harry knew what this must mean to Hagrid, as he'd been kicked out of school at thirteen for a murder he had not done, meaning he wasn't technically a full wizard.

"Doesn't matter," Sirius said, though no one had asked him, he kept going anyways, "you don't have to be a fully qualified wizard to teach Magical Creatures."

"Wasn't that charge dropped anyways?" James asked.

"Yes, but I never asked why he didn't chose to go back to school," Harry shrugged.

After the food was served and everyone else was heading off to bed, Harry and his friends went up to congratulate him in person, but Hagrid didn't get much coherency as he started crying with pleasure all over again and McGonagall told them to get to their dormitories.

"Aw," Lily squealed again.

Remus couldn't help but lean down and whisper something into Sirius' ear, causing him to laugh quite loudly, and Lily to shoot the pair poisonous looks, making Sirius quick to hurry on.

They caught up with the rest of their house and went up to their tower, waiting for Percy to get there and tell them the new password, making Neville bemoan. He was well known for commonly forgetting the secret word to gain entrance.

"Write them down on something?" Sirius suggested with a shrug.

"You're not supposed to," Lily said at once, "what if another student found it?"

"I'd rather he did that then get locked out," Remus said in sympathy.

They went inside to find all their stuff already in their rooms, and Harry beamed around finding himself home once more.

"I remember that feeling," Sirius nodded, passing the book along to Harry for his turn.

HPHPHPHP

*I know all of you guys have been hyped up for the big Sirius reveal, and I'm so glad you all found it to be good and in character, but this is the chapter I've been most anxious to get to. Remus is unabashedly my favorite character! (Have you ever noticed if you ask an HP fan who their favorite character is, no one actually says Harry.) I've spent many a long hours trying to understand why and where he was during Harry's life, and I do hope you guys liked the reasons I provided. More will keep coming the more they understand about Harry's and Remus' life later in books five and six, I've got some more theories and add on's then, but until then hope you enjoyed!

** I looked it up, and poor Remus, it was actually a full moon that night, even though Sept. 1st 1993 was actually a Wednesday, but hey logistics of magic means the true full moon was the night before/that morning. He's recovering from it, hence he was okay for the feast that night and why he slept most of the trip; he'd been awake all night as a werewolf.