#and it would eventually eat her from the inside when the raze went away

[raventrigonsdaughter]

I need people who are saying that caitlyn would not miss the shot to understand that yeah, we know she would not miss jinx, she would not miss Isha either BECAUSE THE KID WAS USING HERSELF AS A HUMAN SHIELD AND THEY MADE SURE WE SAW JINX'S HEAD WAS ALIGNED WITH HERS... caitlyn was going to shoot, she was not going to miss and we would have 2 dead kids instead of just one (because people forget jinx is around 17-18yo according to them)

I love caitlyn, but she WAS going to kill Isha as a consequence and vi knew it

[sp00kworm]

Black Oak

Pairing: Headless Horseman (Alcott Glyn) x Gender Neutral Reader

---

---

A great warrior stood on top of the hill, overlooking the town he had ridden out to protect to his right and the small army amassed to the left. It was an impenetrable force, a thousand strong. A battalion sent to raze his home. The horse underneath him shuddered and swayed, fighting left and right, twitching from hoof to hoof with the burning need to run. He looked back at the village as the children and women streamed up the hill to the manor, to hide away from the fires and death that would await below.

“Sir, we have the boulders ready.” A nervous boy spoke at his side, “You just ‘ave to lure ‘em up this here hill.” The boy pulled his small cap lower and looked at the King’s men, their swords shining at their hips and their lances poised.

“Good.” The man hefted himself around in the saddle to grab his great sword, the cavalry sabre curved for slicing at necks. He admired the steel before sliding it into its sheath and holding his hand out for his lance. There was no time to don heavy armour, so he sat, atop the great black stallion, wrapped in his tailcoats and a simple breastplate. His gauntlets were hastily fastened and his helmet missing. He was ill-prepared to face such men, “Wait for my mark, Matthew.” He whispered as he hefted the lance, the metal plating on his hand squeaking.

 “There’s too many…” Matthew whispered as the horse side stepped to and from, “This is suicide, Alcott.” He gripped the horseman’s boot, “She won’t survive if you die today! For God’s sake, its your wedding day!”

Alcott snapped his heel, his black beast whirring to bump the boy out of his path. With fury in his black eyes, he leaned over to throw the boy his wedding ring, “Then give it to her! Sell it for all I care. It is better for me to die here than to see her and my home slaughtered!”

Matthew caught the ring with a cry, but the horse turned again and threw him to the floor. The thunder of iron cast hooves made him peer down the hill as a stream of black hair and horse disappeared towards the battalion, lance lowered. Matthew averted his eyes as the black beast leaped into the group of soldiers, braying and kicking. He watched four men spew blood, skewered on the end of the lance, before Alcott drew his sabre and continued onwards through the bodies, trampling men underfoot as he howled bloody murder. Matthew failed to watch as heads started to fly.

 It wasn’t long before Alcott was rushing back, his horse cut and shivering, hot blood steaming from them both as they thundered back up the hill.

“Matthew! Now!” Alcott cried as he wheeled his horse through the trap. The men following him paused as boulders crashed from the hill above before they rushed into unstoppable speeds. The earth shook as the rocks crashed into the bodies, flattening soldiers, spraying blood from the stone as they rushed onwards towards the last remaining men. Alcott grinned from the hill.

“Run! Back to the manor!” He howled at the villagers. They rushed, leaving the blood-soaked warrior on top of the hill. The horseman reared his great horse and rushed back down the hill to catch the stragglers. Only young Matthew watched as Alcott was sent flying from his horse. The boy gasped from the long grass as the King’s men parted, revealing a witch among them. She raised her hands in fury before she grasped the horse in a swift movement, and sent the beast crashing to the floor, legs broken underneath its own monstrous weight by an invisible force.

 Alcott spat from the dirt as he gripped at his shoulder, bleeding over the ground. A great chunk of old tree branch protruded from his shoulder. He grabbed at the branch but howled in agony as the witch curled her fingers once more and dragged him through the short, trampled grass.

“Curse you! Vile witch!” He screamed as she made him eat the dirt in front of her feet, “I knew you were behind this! You have corrupted the King’s mind!” He spat the dirt on her feet before blood spewed from his mouth.

“The King is mine, little horseman, and so is your town.” Her long fingers turned his head, showing him the carnage that had begun to ensue, “Your own men have turned against you…”

Alcott coughed as the branch weaselled into his lung, puncturing it.

“This is not death for you, my sweet horseman.” She promised as he peered up into her green eyes. A maiden of the forest. A witch of nature turned against them all, “You will hang, just like all the other traitors, and then they will take your head.”

 Alcott was dragged into town with the corpse of his own horse, the two attached to the back of a grain cart, muddy and battered from the journey to the bottom of the great manor. He looked up through his matted, curly black hair and tried not to cry as the villagers parted. His wife. He dared not look at her as the witch pressed her hand to the old oak and addressed the town.

“Your horseman hangs, for crimes against the crown. You will swear fealty to your lord, or die, like him.” She stepped aside as the men coiled rope and attached it over the tree branch. The oak tree groaned as they pushed Alcott’s head through the noose. He looked at the great black horse and whispered his name.

“Mallor.” His horse did not reply, eyes lifeless and blood dripping from his nose. Alcott peered up and saw her, he hung his head as they dragged him to his feet. He felt anger burn in his gut and chest as he was stood before the home he had protected, and been betrayed by, “I swear, upon the tree I hang from, that I will be back. I will take what you all took from me. A payment of blood will be wrought for this betrayal!” He howled, spit and blood dripping from his lips before they hoisted him high into the tree. Alcott was silent as his face turned red and he gasped for air. His lips tingled and turned blue as the witch turned to the tree. Alcott’s blood dripped from the wood lodged in his shoulder and she watched as the bottom of the oak grew black with rot.

“Then let you haunt your beloved town, horseman. Take their heads as payment for what will be taken from you.” She hissed with delight as his body went still, swaying in the branches with hunting creeks, the background a picture of fire and snapping wood.  

 They eventually lowered Alcott’s body to the floor, his face pale and blue with suffocation. The witch watched with delight as they swung the axe and parted the man’s head from his body. Alcott’s hair rushed into the air as his pale face was dropped before his wife. Lace covered hand reached from the crowd as his new bridge cupped his face in her hands. The men watched as blood painted her lace wedding dress, dripping down her arms and onto her legs as she turned back towards the crowd. It was silent. She leaned her head forwards to kiss his dead lips and smoothed his waves of black hair back before she howled. A great, ringing scream of agony tore from her throat as she clutched her husband’s head to her breast. Blood drenched the bodice of her gown as she walked back towards the manor, ignoring the burning village and the soldiers as they tried to take back his head.

 They buried the horseman in the graveyard, a lonesome grave with no headstone. The villagers said that every year, on the day of his death, his young bride could be heard screaming from the church as she clutched his rotting head in agony. When the woman passed, the screams still resonated every year, on the date of the man’s death. The howling stopped only fifty years later, when a new resident took hold of the manor house on top of the hill and began to renovate and live on the property. No one ever spoke of the rotten, black oak tree, but still, it remained, looking over the town, facing the graveyard where the legend died.

 It was cold. The small town of Peswick was far from civilization, beyond the normal hills and nestled in a valley, sheltered from the wind but not from the harshness of the bitter winter. There wasn’t any snow thankfully, but the cold October air was far from kind to you. You shivered as you closed the car door. The main road was small but around you sat a village, not big enough to be named a town, but with enough people for a town hall to be important. It was a fairy tale town. You laughed as you peered up at the old manor house. It was large, yet old fashioned, standing only because of the strength in its design. Outdated brick colours and a great amount of old looking timber. It made you It made you feel even colder as you just knew the boiler would be barely able to keep the place warm. It was a long drive to the small town and you stretched out in exhaustion, your back popping pleasantly.

“Well…This is home.” You whispered as you pulled the key out of the bubble mailer from the solicitor. Your few possessions looked measly, strapped in the back of your car and on top of it. The rest would arrive with the moving van. A few pieces of furniture, your mattress and other things. The key was new enough, and you took a deep breath as you gripped your suitcase and started up the cobbled path to the front door.

 A cold shiver caught you as you passed through the black iron gate. You peered to the left and frowned at the gnarled, rotten oak tree, looming over the house with branched the colour of charcoal. Black. Dead. You continued up the path, looking back at the tree as you reached the steps to the porch and the new, fortified front door. You unlocked the door and peered inside. It was shady inside, dim with no sound. Dust swirled in the beam of light and you stepped inside, wiping your feet on the mat as you reached for the light switch and blinked. The yellow bulb blinked on and revealed a large entryway with a spiralling staircase up onto the second floor of the house. It wasn’t quite large enough to be a huge manor home, but there were five rooms on the ground floor and five large bedrooms with two en suites. It was a home big enough for a huge family. You flapped away the dust from your face as you stepped inside, to the bottom of the wooden staircase. It looked slippery. You stood your case up at the base and admired the walls, blue paper and dark wood panelling. Old world. It was like a home from a classical novel. You turned around in wonder, abandoning your case by the stairs as you opened the envelope again and pulled free the estate summary, walking and reading it as you looked around the estate. Once again, you found yourself looking through the new, double glazing, out at the tree that loomed over the side of the house, tall and decrepit.

 “Why are you still in the ground?” You wondered as you looked through the glass. A woosh of gas made you jump. The heating had clicked on, and the old pipes creaked with the rush of hot water. The boiler gurgled in the large cupboard beneath the stairs, chugging away with water. It was an old system, but you were thankful for the functional heating system in the winter months. You shuddered and placed your hands near the old radiator as the beginnings of the sunset started. The sky was beginning to darken with the purple and orange curling into existence. The last of the light shone through the branches of the tree and you peered closer at the rotten rope clinging to the middle of one branch. Another, cold shudder made your spine curl and you shook your head, rushing back to collect your suitcase and place it upstairs. You finished that task and headed back out to your car parked at the end of the drive. Just as you unlocked the car a voice startled you.

 “Are you the new geezer in the house?” A child asked from behind you.

With a gasp, you jumped, your head colliding with the roof of your car before you hissed and clutched at the forming lump on the back of your cranium.

“What?” You asked through the pain, teeth gritted as you tried to ease the pain.

“I asked if you were the idiot that bought old Miss Finch’s house?” The child asked.

“That’s a rude way of putting it.” You scowled at the little boy. He was small, and wrapped up in a thick parka coat, his mittens stitched into the cuffs of his coat. He looked up and scowled back at you with muddy brown eyes.

“Its haunted. Cursed, or so my Ma says…” He looked past you at the black tree, “Miss Finch died by that tree, ya know. When she died the screaming started again. The ghost came back to the cemetery.” He whispered conspiratorially, leaning in close to you, “But ever since its been sold, nowt. Silent. I can get to sleep now, so thanks.” He turned and you grabbed him by his arm before he could run away.

“What’s your name?” You asked the peculiar boy.

Muddy eyes glared at you again, “Matthew Shaw. Now lemme go! Ma will be…”

“Matthew!? You better get back in here and explain why your Pa is covered in sand, young man!” Matthew’s mother appeared on the drive; her feet planted firmly at the edge. She glanced at you but was quick to snatch her son’s hand, “I’m sorry for my son.” She muttered before she dragged her son away from you.

 The idea of a curse made you wonder what had happened to the small town. Obviously, it was an isolated population so local myth and folk lore was often taken literally, but a curse? You doubted it. Still, you wondered what the story was. Unpacking was suddenly a lot less interesting than seeing the town and finding out about the legend they seemed to believe. You plonked the box of kitchen items into the kitchen and pushed at the cooker’s hobs, lighting a few of them before you made sure the electrics were working as well. It was curious that everything was so pristine and in such good working order for your late, distantly related aunt. Even more curious was why none of your other relatives would take the house. You opened the box and carefully placed your dishes into the empty cupboards. You opened the cupboard to the right of the cooker and smiled at the sight of an old, stainless steel teapot. It was a little grimy. You plucked it from the shelf and rubbed the top before turning it around and frowning at the crest emblazoned into the side. A great winged bird with two heads peered back at you, the top of the shield crest decorated with a knight’s helm and ribbons. The name at the bottom was faded but legible. Glyn. Your aunt wasn’t named Glyn.

“Maybe it’s a collector’s piece.” You mussed as you peered inside and smiled at the tea stains. It had been well used once upon a time.

 Curious, you opened the rest of the cupboards. They were all empty in the kitchen. With a smile, like a small child, you rushed back into the other rooms and started pilfering through the cupboards. Most were cleared out and dusty. You huffed as you rushed into the lounge area and grinned at the great welsh dresser left in the far corner, by the fireplace. It was oak and old, made to last. You opened the glass and looked upwards. There was a heavy ornate box sat on the top shelf, covered by a small cloth. You looked at the ornate metal feet and gently eased it from its place in the dresser. The cloth fell away onto the floor to reveal a small chest about the size of your lower torso, deep enough to sit large perfume bottles in. It was old metal, shined with a metal cleaner many years ago. The lock was a simple key in the front. You gave the lid a tug and huffed. It was locked. Of course. With a frown, you placed the chest on the coffee table and turned back to your boxes in the hallway. The mysterious box would have to wait for you to be finished with your chores.

 Night fell rapidly in the valley. It seemed only a minute since you looked at the sunset, and now the entire room was bathed in black. The old house creaked a little in the cold wind that blasted up the little incline. It was bitter. You checked the central heating before yawning and opening some of the food you had brought with you. Microwaved food would have to do. You threw the meal into the microwave and headed up to quickly shower and change into something more comfortable for the night. You returned, after a shower that was lukewarm, to your meal and tried not to scald yourself as you turned it out onto a plate for easy consumption. With a blanket in hand, you sat yourself in the lounge and flicked on your tv you had managed to set up on the large cabinet. It flicked to life but the picture was staticky with the remoteness of your new home. With a sigh, you watched the news reels and yawned between bites of food. The old chest sat ominously in front of you. With a brief glance, you noticed it was emblazed with the same crest at the teapot in the kitchen. Glyn. You eyed the bird on the front again. The same family. The idea of treasure made you grin. With a huff you reached into the basket on the coffee table and tugged the list of assets out again from the envelope along with the keys. You played with the metal keys as you searched for the chest.

 It wasn’t listed.

 With a frown you looked back at it and the tarnished hinges. There was something odd about it. It was like it had been forgotten about, shoved away in the back of the dresser in a hurry. Like it didn’t want to be found. You picked up the box and eyed the keyhole again with a scowl, infuriated by the idea of not being able to open it. The ring of keys in your hand had no such key. It was small, like one for a secret love affair diary. With a tut, you placed the box away again and yawned, looking at the time on the large, thumping grandfather clock. It suddenly bonged with the hour, the hands pointing to ten and twelve. It was late, and you’d spent the day tiredly unpacking. With a sigh, you stood up, wrapped in the blanket as you took your plate away and turned off the lights, leaving the metal chest on the coffee table as you drew all the curtains, and headed up to bed. You snuggled into your fresh seats, peering up at the canopy hung above you in wonder as the cold wind slammed against the glass panes of the windows. With another deep breath, you closed your eyes, and listened to the wind howl as your exhaustion caught up, and you fell asleep.

 The noise of screaming woke you up. It was still pitch black. You scrambled from the sheets as the wind howled, carrying the sound of crying screams up into your room. There was a thunder of shoed hooves outside as you threw back the curtains. There was a man screaming up your drive, his hands thrown in front of him as he scrambled up the cobbles and reached your porch, howling blood murder before his fists started to collide with the door.

“Please! Please, let me in! I’m out passed the time! Please!” He screamed into the house as you rushed from your room, running down the stairs in time to hear a great braying cry of a horse. It screamed as you opened the front door and you looked down the path as the man rushed into the house, his eyes wide with fright and his jeans soaked from his own fear. He stank. He’d pissed himself in fear.

 A great, black stallion reared at the end of the drive, its hooves batting the air before it landed with a slam, the metal shoes clattering against the stone as it whirred around and around. Its red eyes were wild, glaring at you as it snorted blood from its nose and screamed again, turning the other way. Its joints were exposed and bled fresh blood as it jumped and reared again. The clouds in the sky rolled and you watched black matted fur disappear in places to reveal bone and muscle. It was terrifying. A dead horse screaming at your doorstep. It thundered up the path and it was then that you saw the rider. A headless man sat perched on top of the war horse, his clothes tattered, and dirt ridden, as though he had crawled from the grave. The moonlight shone over his tarnished armour and you grimaced at the sight of the bloodied, exposed stump of his neck, the spine peaking from the flesh. It disappeared into shadow again as the clouds blocked the moonlight. The man tugged you from the door as the rider’s lance was thrown and skewered the wood before you. His horse brayed and he clenched at the supple reigns in anger before he threw himself clear of the beast and stood in the doorway. He tugged the end of the lance, which was outside of the doorway, and effortlessly pulled the lance free from the wood, splinters spraying against your ankles.

 The headless man stood in the doorway for a moment, silent and still. With a twitch, he raised his hand and reached out his gauntlet towards the doorway. His metal covered fingers touched the wood before curling inside. His body appeared shocked by the revelation, but he was quickly inside, throwing you out of the way in the pursuit of his prey.

“Leave him alone!” You shouted, with as much conviction as you could muster.

The rider’s hands twitched but he ignored you and grabbed a hold of his victim, gauntlets gouging lines in the man’s face as he gripped at his cheeks as looked through him, with no eyes.

“I said,” You rushed to grab the creature’s arm and tugged, “Leave him alone!” You held on as the metal clad arm flinched and rushed back and forth, trying to shake you free. The horseman made no noise, but looked you dead in the eyes, his neck a black void until the moonlight cast over it and revealed muscle, bone and blood. A rush of air escaped the open hole of his trachea before it was cast into shadow again. He let go of the man but was quick to grip him by the back of his coat, holding him in place as he looked at you and your grip on his arm. His victim’s struggles were silence by a vicious punch to the back of the head, the metal creaking and leaving the hair, blood coating the joints of the knuckles. He leaned to the left and hefted the man’s weight before his free hand moved in your grasp.

 In shock, you let go of the monster. His gauntlet moved up towards your face, the fingers grazing over your chin before it tapped against your cheek. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, and you heard the noise of a clattering coming from your lounge. The chest. Light leaked from under the door, but the horseman didn’t move. He was rigid, still and listening. Dead. His victim was still firmly clamped in his hand. You rushed to the lounge and slammed open the door, looking at the tarnished chest as it leaked burning red light. It jumped on top of the wood again and you flinched as a scream echoed from within.

“What the fuck is going on?” You whispered as you rushed to grab the box and struggled to hold it as whatever was inside slammed up and down, “Please stop, please.” You cried as you gripped it to your chest, “He’s here please stop.” You babbled.

The light began to dim as the sound of greaves clicked in the doorway. The horseman took up the wooden opening, his gauntlet gripping the body behind him before he seemed to see the chest gripped in your hands. His body spasmed again, the hands turning into claws as he reached up to his neck and then clutched at his chest, as though he was in pain. The man in his grasp hit the floor with a thump.

 “Witch!” The box screamed in your grasp, shaking violently left and right as the red light burned between the lid and base. Suddenly, it creaked violently in your arms, as though the hinges were about to burst, but remained closed, shuddering in your grasp. The horseman reached for his neck again and then grabbed the man by the collar once more, escaping out of your door, his boots and metal armour clinking as he left. He grabbed his lance again on his way out, air puffing from his neck before he threw the man over the back of his great war beast and turned back to the door, seeing without eyes, staring at you and the chest clutched in your hands. His arm raised, slowly yet purposefully, and he pointed towards the withered black oak at the end of the yard. You gazed over at the rotten rope and swallowed as your vision turned hazy. You felt the chest drop from your arms as you toppled over, back towards the inside of your house. You gasped at the ceiling and the burning red light that bathed the entrance before your world went black.

 You awoke with a start and grabbed at the sheets around you as you bolted upright and peered around. You were back in your room. With a gasp you rushed out of the room, your vision still blurry and dark as you took the stairs and looked in the hall. It was pristine, as though nothing had ever happened. The hole from the lance was gone.

“What the fuck happened?” You asked yourself as you rushed into the lounge and looked around. The chest was gone. Then you remembered about the horseman and his final movement. You wrenched open the door and rushed to the black oak at the end of the garden. Its looming branches hung over the fence, dripping with dew from the foggy air. You heaved as you caught sight of the chest, placed at the base of the tree. You grabbed at it and revealed a hole between the gnarled roots. With a gasp you reached between the roots, flinching at the wet soil between your fingers until you hit a cold piece of iron. You snatched the metal and wriggled backwards, looking at the piece of metal. You brushed the dirt and cobwebs away to reveal a small key. It was rusted and in bad shape. You peered at the little key and immediately pushed it into the keyhole. The lock popped open with a sharp, grating squeak. With a shiver in the cold air, you pushed open the lid and peered inside the red velvet. A skull stared back at you from within the box, ivory and perfect, old and yellowed on the teeth. You reached for it, holding your breath, and held it up as you stood.

 It was then that you peered up into the tree. A creaking swing sounded as you gazed upon a decapitated body. It was the man who was chased, his head missing, and his body bloodied with slashes. You held the skull tightly and screamed.

[the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff]

The Song of the Sea

Here’s chapter 2, I hope you enjoy it. This one is just a lot of self indulgent fluff :D

Remus woke up the next morning to someone jumping on him and wrapping their arms around him like an octopus. “Julian”, Remus groaned exasperatedly, “get off”.

“Why?”, Julian whined.“You’re a very comfortable pillow”. He hugged Remus tighter.

“Because, little seal, I need to breathe.”

“Fine”, Julian grumbled, “I’ll get off”.

Remus took an exaggerated breath when his brother got off, making him giggle. He lifted his brother up and threw him on the bed before tickling him.

“Stop”- Julian said between giggles- “please stop”.

“Why should I”. Instead of answering Julian tried to bat Remus’s hands away.

Remus stopped after a few seconds, the last of Julian’s laughter echoing through the room. He let Julian catch his breath before picking him up, slinging him over his shoulder, and carrying him out of the room. Julian chose to just hang there, like a ragdoll, instead of fighting against Remus.

“Remus, please, put your brother down”. Their father had a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He left the room, trusting that they wouldn’t try to kill each other.

Remus groaned loudly before sitting Julian down on the floor. He laughed when he saw Julian’s glare at being dropped on the ground. “Was that really necessary?’’

He kicked Julian’s thigh softly before sidestepping him. “Yes, yes it was”, he said, smirking.

Remus heard Julian huff before he felt himself getting tackled. He fell on his hands and knees. He got up with Julian clinging to him, his arms wrapped around Remus’s neck.

“You are really trying to strangle me today, huh?”

“That’s what you get for throwing me on the floor”. Julian was trying to keep a glare on his face, but Remus could see the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“All right puppy, get down”. Julian got off of Remus’s back and ran out of the room after their father.

Remus was left alone with his thoughts, memories of the previous night still fresh in his mind. He had actually met a siren, and lived. Maybe the stories were wrong, but then again, people had disappeared before and it always happened after hearing the singing. Maybe the stories were right, and Sirius was just different.

He went to where his brother and father were having breakfast and sat down. They ate in companionable silence until Julian broke it. “Remus, could you take me to the beach today?”

Remus hummed before answering, “sure thing puppy.” He saw Julian light up. He started eating faster so that they could leave sooner. Remus laughed under his breath, he took the last bite of his food before getting up and going to his and Julian’s room to change from last night's clothes.

When he came back out Julian grabbed his hand and tried to drag him out the door. Remus chuckled lightly, following Julian outside and towards the beach.

Julian ran into the water as fast as he could, diving in when it was deep enough to swim. Remus shook his head fondly. He decided to walk around, he trusted Julian wouldn’t drown himself. He reached a small cave with a pond inside that connected to the sea, the light reflecting off of the water coloring the walls blue-green .

“Thought you weren’t coming back until tonight”. Remus jumped at the new voice reverberating through the cave. He saw Sirius floating in the entrance to the cave, a grin on his face.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Remus tried to get his breathing under control, “my brother made me bring him here.”

“Your brother?”

“Yeah, he’s over there”, Remus said pointing to where Julian was swimming and splashing around.

Remus found a rock where he could sit down and dip his legs in the water. Sirius approached him and settled in the water besides the rock. “So”, he sounded amused, “you aren’t worried that your brother is going to drown?”

“No,”- a mischievous smirk tugged at Remus’s lips- “there are no crazy strangers that will try to drown him.”

Sirius made an indignant sound, “I apologized for that already.”

Remus laughed at Sirius’s expression, “teasing you is so fun”.

“You’re so mean”, Sirius said, pouting.

He grinned when he saw Sirius’s pout, he wouldn’t admit it, but Remus thought Sirius looked adorable. Remus looked towards the entrance of the cave when he heard Julian calling for him.“Give me a moment Jules”, yelled back.

He turned to look at Sirius. “Well, I have to leave.” Remus thought he had to be imagining the disappointment he saw in Sirius’s gaze.

“See you tonight?” Sirius sounded hopeful.

Remus grinned, “of course”.

Sirius lit up at that, he really wanted to spend as much time as he could with Remus. He watched Remus walk out of the cave. Sirius had to hold back a gasp when Remus turned around to wave at him, Sirius thought that the sun made him look nothing short of ethereal. Sirius waved back, his mind felt dazed. When Remus ran to where his brother was waving him over Sirius let himself stare at the back of his head, he let out a dreamy sigh. I’m so gone for him, he thought to himself.

“What is it Jules?” Remus asked when he reached his brother.

“James is here”, Julian said pointing at someone that was coming out of the water, “he was asking for you”.

“Is Lily here too?”

“Really Remus,”- James tried to sound indignant- “am I not enough for you?”

“Oh of course not James”, Remus said jokingly, “your girlfriend is just better”.

James nodded in agreement. Remus would have thought the insult had gone over his head if he didn’t know James would always agree with anyone praising Lily.

“What are you boys doing?” Lily asked as she walked towards them.

“Lily!” Julian said excitedly, jumping into her arms when she opened them to pick him up. “Hi Jules”, she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi Lils”, Remus hugged Lily, a giggling Julian getting trapped between them.

Lily let Julian down so that he could raze James into the water. Both of them sat down on the sand.“I swear, James is only friends with me so he can play with Jules.” Apparently Remus said it loudly enough that James heard him, because he turned around. “You’re only friends with me because of my girlfriend anyway”, he yelled back jokingly.

Lily and Remus burst out laughing when Julian pushed James into the water. Julian jumped on him when he came out, water dripping from his wet hair. Lily looked at him for a moment with an unreadable expression, it made Remus nervous, she only ever looked at anyone like that when they did something she thought incredibly stupid.

“What is it Lily? You’re looking at me weird.”

“What were you doing out last night?” Remus tensed at her question. He had tried to make sure no one saw him, but of course she had seen him. Nothing ever happened to him without Lily finding out.

“I came down to the beach to clear my head.” He tried to keep his tone even. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” He stared straight ahead, not daring to look at her.

“Right”, she looked at him skeptically, “I heard singing while you were still down here,”-Remus stayed quiet- “ and you came back with wet clothes.”

“Where are you going with this Lily?”

She put her hand under his chin, gently guiding his gaze towards her. “Are you alright?”

“You didn’t answer my question”, Remus said softly.

“You didn’t answer mine”, she said, letting his chin go.

“I asked first”. Remus knew he sounded childish, but he needed to change the conversation.

Lily sighed, she knew what Remus was doing, but she decided to humor him. “Well, I heard singing last night and you came back with wet clothes, I just assumed something happened. I was worried.”

Remus flinched, he didn’t want her to worry about him. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok”- she put her head on his shoulder- “You’ve heard the stories. I think that gives me reason enough to worry.”

“You believe in that?” Remus needed to know how much he could tell her.

“I don’t really have any reason not to.” She grabbed a handful of sand and watched it slip between her fingers. “There’s been too many casualties after the singing for it to be pure coincidence.”

Remus nodded in agreement. He would have to be more careful when he snuck around, especially if Lily was onto him now. He would probably tell her eventually, they didn’t have secrets with each other, but he wanted to keep this particular secret a little longer.

Remus let his head drop onto Lily’s red hair. They fell into a peaceful silence, feeling completely at ease with each other. They watched Julian and James playing around for a while. Remus’s hand was buried in the sand, the other one layed on top of Lily’s.

After a few hours James came over to where Lily and Remus were talking, Julian asleep in his arms. “This one is not getting up until tomorrow.”

“Thank you James.” Remus looked at them fondly, standing up to take Julian from James.

“I have no idea where he keeps all that energy”, Lily said softly, standing up and shaking the sand from her skirt.

“Hey, could you take him home. I think I want to stay here a little longer.”

“Of course man”, James said. Lily took Julian from Remus’s arms and kissed his forehead.

Lily gave him a meaningful look, she would want to know everything tomorrow. Remus was really not looking forward to explaining all of this to her. He hugged them both goodbye and watched them both head towards the village.

He walked back to the cave where he had talked to Sirius earlier. Remus didn’t know why he had been so eager to talk to him again all day, but he wanted to see Sirius. When he reached the cave he saw Sirius sitting on a rock. This was the first time Remus had seen his tail properly.

What Remus had thought were black scales were actually really deep blue and purple scales, almost like raven feathers. He had silver scales scattered across the dark making it look like a reflection of the night sky.

“Enjoying the view?” Remus looked at Sirius’s smirking face, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks. Remus decided to ignore the question completely, opting to sit down besides Sirius.

“Hey”, it came out softer than Remus had intended. Sirius grinned at him, “Hi”.

“Did you stay here all day?” Remus asked.

“Oh”, Sirius seemed caught off guard by the question. “No. I went swimming for a while, found a pirate ship sailing near the harbour. What about you, what did you do all day long?”

“I just spent it here, mostly talking with Lily.”

“Who's Lily?” Remus noticed that there was an edge under Sirius’s teasing tone, but thought nothing of it.

“My best friend. Who, might I add, has a boyfriend.”

“So, there is nothing going between the two of you?” Sirius had to make an effort to keep the curious enthusiasm out of his voice.

“God no.” Remus seemed disgusted at the thought of dating Lily. “She’s like my sister. Besides, I don’t like girls. Not like that anyway.” Sirius let out a quiet breath at that, maybe he still had a chance.

“Speaking of Lily, she saw me coming here last night and heard you singing. She suspects something is going on and I can’t hide anything from her.” Remus felt Sirius tense a little besides him.

“Did you tell her anything?” Sirius’s tone had an edge of panic to it that Remus really didn't like.

“No, but I’m sure I’m going to eventually. Even if I don’t want to, she always finds a way to get whatever she wants out of people.”

“That is-”, he took a moment to collect his thoughts, “that is so weird. How does she even do it.”

“I wish I knew. Honestly it’s easy for her to get information out of James, I mean the guy would probably steal the moon if she asked, but I am usually pretty good at keeping things secret.”

Sirius hummed softly, but didn’t say anything. Remus looked at him, Sirius was staring down at their reflection in the dark water, but his gaze looked far away. “You can tell her.”

“What?” Remus was surprised, Sirius seemed so apprehensive of Remus telling Lily anything less than a minute ago. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah”, Sirius shrugged, “I mean, you clearly trust her. If you think she can keep me a secret, you can tell her.” Sirius could have sworn that Remus’s smile lit up the entire cave. “Thank you.”

Remus hugged him tightly. Sirius leaned into it, wrapping his arms around Remus. They broke off the hug, but didn’t move away, their shoulders touching. They stayed like that while they talked. At one point Sirius had laid down on the other boy’s lap, Remus’s fingers running through his black hair.

He felt content to just lay there and listen to Remus talk about anything until he had to leave again. The thought of Remus leaving in a few hours made him sad, but he would enjoy this for now. Because for the first time in a long time he was happy.

[anemone-arden]

(Annasophia Robb, 24(aprox.200), cis female, she/her) The war is about to start ANEMONE ARDEN. We see that you will be fighting for the NEITHER family as a SEELIE FAE reminds me of FIELDS OF FLOWERS, DAWN SKIES, SILKEN DRESSES, WARM CUPS OF TEA and HOPEFUL EYES. We wish you luck.

TW: Kidnapping, Torture, Uncomfy themes 

Once upon a time...

One hundred year ago, Anemone was a child, a young Fae of a frolick from the other world who, along with her sisters and mother, at the behest of their queen joined the New York city frolic. The year was nineteen twenty and the human city was like nothing Anemone had ever seen before, it was loud and bright, chaotic and orderly all at once. There was no serenity in New York city and a fair few dangers. Her mother told her and her sisters of the dangers, how humans wouldn’t understand them and so they must be glamoured, how vampires would crave their blood once they smelled it and how casters would want to use them for their spells. Anemone listened and it seemed she understood, the human world was dark and cruel...but she was so curious, so she snuck out and explored the city. 

Anemone appeared to be no more than twelve so she drew some attention going to the places she chose. She was quick enough to escape the clutches of almost every evil...except for one. Out of nowhere, in a darkened alley, iron chains surrounded her, circling and circling in until she was wrapped in them. Her skin burned and she cried out for help but no one could hear or no one cared. Something was stuffed up against her nose, she tried not to breath in but relented eventually, everything went dark...

City to Country 

Anemone woke up in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere, aside from her burns, she was uninjured. She explored her surroundings, she was in...a house? It was much bigger than the appartment in New York. She looked out the windows and saw fields of wheat, she checked every door and window and they all seemed to be locked. She tried to use her magic but she was so sleepy still...drugged, barely present. She wandered about, as if she was sleepwalking until she arrived...the woman who took her, the caster. Agnes. 

Agnes was a weak caster, a witch, she was from Cresthill and was banished from her coven for that weakness...among other crimes. Agnes told her that she was a wealthy woman, who used her powers to tell fortunes and craft miracles...but her power was borrowed, from Fae. The caster told her that she had a difficult time making her fae last, they would always die so early and she would have to hunt another but she was determined this time for her prize to last longer than a year. 

Agnes would start by cutting her hair for potions, telling her stories about the people who needed them, a dying child for one, someone going blind... Anemone couldn’t help but cry for them and for the most part, gave little bits of her hair willingly, as Agnes collected her tears. 

Agnes would go on long trips and Anemone had the chance to spread her wings but only a little. She could listen to the radio, clean the house, mend clothes but not much else. The house was a fortress. A year went by and she was still alive so she counted her blessings and tried to be ammenable to requests. what was a bit of hair or some tears...the tears especially seemed to be of use. She began to see herself as...useful perhaps? She thought she was helping people so as one year became two, became three...she stopped trying to escape. 

Ages of Agnes

The roaring twenties became the great depression and then came the great war and Anemone had lost hair...which grew back, tears, she had more to give...but then Agnes asked her for more, a tooth. She was held down, she struggled and screamed in agony as it was ripped from her mouth. She was sick for days, unable to heal as she’d been sapped of her power...or access to it. 

The war ended and the fifties were in swing, she was getting older and Agnes had done her the kindness of bringing her clothes. Anemone decided she really liked the new styles, the fun skirts and the little scarves to tie around her neck. It was around this time that Anemone noticed the grey hairs, the wrinkles on her captor. It occurred to her, just then, that she may outlive the caster. Anemone dared not say the words but...they gave her hope. 

The fifties became the sixties and then the seventies, she saw the fall of radio and the rise of TV and then in the Nineties, old as she was, Agnes fell one day in the kitchen. She beckoned Anemone over and she told her where the key was to the safety deposit box in the Cresthill bank where she kept her assets. She told her how her coven refused to pardon her for her crimes and that she would not see her earnings fall into their hands. By all rights, her victim would inherit the spoils, an insignificant means of payment for every part of her se gave, teeth, blood, sweat, tears, hair, spit...

The Body

Agnes had died but her spells had not worn off, she was trapped with the rotting body. Anemone did what she could to bury her within the house but she couldn’t be rid of the smell entirely. She waited in that house for years, it was fifteen years, the year Two thousand and Ten when the spells had finally worn off. She shuddered to think what kind of blood magic the witch had worked to keep her locked in.  

Once she was outside, she had to find out where she was, and most importantly, she needed food, she was so starving she ate the grass from the lawn around the house. In her glamour, and dirty old clothes, she walked along the highway, a truck stopped and offered her a ride.He was a man, a creature she was told to be wary of but he...he was kind. She told him she was lost and needed to get back to her family in New York, her stomach rumbled so she added that she was hungry. The man, who’s name was Todd, let her eat his chips, a snack food she was never allowed to have and a yummy one at that. He dropped her off where he was making his delivery, in a city called Topeka. 

She had nothing but the clothes on her back and the key to the safe, worn like a necklace on a golden chain. She had no desire to go to Cresthill but she took the key all the same, perhaps she would go with her family to claim the contents. The kind man surprised her by calling ahead to all of his friends using a fantastical device called a cell phone, setting her up with rides all the way to New York City. It was so confusing, how she’d been taught for one hundred years that humanity was cruel and wicked but here they were helping her and with no reward she could give them. 

Something lit up in her, a light that had long since dimmed, the desire to know the world around her. She was still weak but she had so much hope and the snacks they offered her were really something. 

Alone

She finally arrived in New York but when she did, she found no one, not one of her family. She found a frolic who explained that the previous New York frolic had been razed by vampires and casters, that her missing family was likely amongst them. 

Anemone was devastated, the frolic took her in, taught her what she needed to know about the modern world, gave her clothes and even a bit of money. They told her that she could be one of them, work at one of their bakeries or flower shops but the city held too many horrible memories, so in the year twenty fifteen, she spread her wings for the first time in decades and started off on another journey, from the big city, to a tiny town in Oregon. 

Cresthill

When she arrived, she was the only one of her kind in a town that, as fate would have it, was teeming with people who would have an interest in killing or harvesting her. She went to the bank and used the key, finding inside it the deed to a house. She showed the bank manager, who’s eyes bulged, she showed her on a map where the house was and away she went. 

It was just a little ways out of town, down a road that ran along a little river, a big two story brick home with a steep sloping roof, covered in ivy, surrounded by flowers on the other side of a wide pond. The house was as big and beautiful on the outside as it was inside and inside she found a safe which was full of stacks of bonds. Anemone sold these bonds, became a millionaire and then a recluse...that is, until a Seelie frolic came to town and gave her the courage to venture out and maybe find some ways to make a mark on the town...

[moviegroovies]

a timeline:

hans gets sent back to the southern isles and sentenced to manual labor in retribution for being an embarrassment to his family name.

he starts spending his nights studying every book on magic he can get his hands on, eventually succeeding in teaching himself fire magic

the events of fro2 take place in this window

eventually hans’ power grows to the point where he decides to fight back rather than allow himself to be thrown around. in the process, he razes the castle, killing his father and about half of his older brothers and anyone else who gets in his way and leaves, the skin on his arms barbecued for his efforts.

he sets off for arendelle

while he’d been undergoing his punishment, hans hadn’t had any access to contemporary gossip. when he makes it to arendelle, feverish from his exertions and sluggish with infection, he nearly goes up in an inferno when he overhears that he’s come on, get this: the day of queen anna’s wedding.

he’s so fucking mad. if he had just bided his time, he would have become king without even having to kill elsa? silly, frivolous anna just had that opportunity fall into her lap?

he crashes the wedding, dizzy with infirmary and a little drunk on top of it all. for all his pomp and circumstance and theatrics, hans only manages to fire off one solid fireball between anna and kristoff before collapsing. 

kristoff orders him taken away; it’s the one royal decree he ever feels 100% comfortable making.

(elsa wasn’t at the wedding, which is the only reason hans survives that stunt)

he’s taken down to the dungeons and put in a cell where there’s nothing to burn. in a delirious state, hans just starts trying to burn himself up, but a guard catches on and then he goes from burning to being water tortured.

anna and kristoff come down to the dungeons a few days later to see him being waterboarded. even they (particularly kristoff) are a little disturbed about this.

they decide to have him moved to a room in the castle. he’s in and out of consciousness, but a pitcher of water is kept by his bed to pour over his head if he tries to flame up. eventually, he’s conscious enough that he’s eating, at least, and anna and kristoff cautiously go to his bedside.

he sees them and tries to light up; kristoff soaks him. he sits there dripping pathetically.

basically they just want answers from him. why is he back? how is he doing this, with the fire? what does he want?

other than revenge, he doesn’t really know what he wants. to die, maybe. anna is upset by the whole conversation, but kristoff stays around and kind of takes over in nursing him back to health because he recognizes that hans is being treated badly. hans hates this... but sort of imprints on kristoff during this time. he’s like a morality pet, or a lifeline.

kristoff does not want this responsibility. anna doesn’t like it either.

hans recovers enough to start paying attention to the world around him and watches anna’s rule very carefully. he comes to understand that she’s... genuinely a very good and capable queen. she’s the kind of ruler his idealistic younger self dreamed he’d be, and hans starts to realize that he would have been responsible for taking her out of the world.

the only times kristoff is ever truly harsh with him, rather than just sarcastic, is when he tries to talk about anna. however, through the development, he starts to realize that hans’ mentality is truly fucked up; he legitimately doesn’t understand kindness, especially not when it’s directed at him. he tries to copy kristoff’s mannerisms and isn’t sure who he really is when he’s not mirroring someone else’s actions. kristoff’s reaction is basically “cool motive, still murder,” but it starts making more sense at least.

meanwhile, the southern isles have begun to recover enough from the blow he dealt to organize revenge. they send a search party after him; elsa gets word of this search through the elements and rushes back to arendelle. she thinks she’s there to warn anna, but once she gets back to arendelle and discovers that hans is inside the castle...

she’s out for blood.

anna only narrowly stops her from murdering hans in cold blood, and elsa is basically outraged at the fact that anna is protecting this asshole. anna just explains that she doesn’t want him dead on her account. he’s not worth it.

elsa doesn’t understand, but she acquiesces. 

hans doesn’t understand either. anna comes into his room, and they talk for the first time since he was sick. he needs to know why she didn’t let elsa kill him or freeze his heart or what have you; she shakes her head sadly.

“hans... i wish there had been someone out there who loved you.”

anna sort of understands how hans is a product of his upbringing, with what she’s heard from kristoff. she doesn’t forgive him, but she isn’t actively angry anymore. she kind of pities him.

Hans Will Now Die For You

kristoff starts bringing hans with him when he gets out of the castle, and hans appreciates it, even if he just ends up cold and soggy in the sled. he uses his fire powers for a constructive purpose for the first time, building them a campfire. kristoff gets hans to tell him about that, where those powers came from. hans has never been listened to before. 

his feelings get the best of him. before he even realizes he’s doing it, he’s kissing kristoff.

kristoff very briefly kisses him back, but pushes away. he can’t do that to anna. of course. hans nearly tries to run off in embarrassment, but kristoff keeps him there, grabbing his arm and holding him back because no matter how awkward the situation has become, he’ll freeze to death in the cold, and he’s still technically a prisoner.

when they get back to arendelle, kristoff is feeling confused and heady, and he’s torn between wanting to tell anna and needing anna to never, ever know, and he would like some space to think this over, thankyouverymuch, but instead, they walk back into a diplomatic landmine. 

great.

a servant meets them at the gate and tells them that anna’s orders are to hide hans immediately; she’s telling the southern isles diplomats that that haven’t heard from him, haven’t seen him, and will prosecute if they do. it very nearly works, except hans accidentally runs straight into one of his brothers while they’re leaving, and the southern isles decide that arendelle has been protecting him (just like they protected their snow queen!) and they declare war. soon enough, weselton declares war in solidarity.

they hold a council. elsa says that she alone can easily fend off the armies; someone else points out that if they use her magic to win, arendelle will be at war forever because people who fear her will never see her side of the conflict. anna refuses to let her people die in a war, especially one over hans (no offense). he agrees, and then tells them the obvious solution: just give him up. let him be brought back to the southern isles and killed or tortured. kristoff immediately objects but anna sees where he’s coming from. she... agrees.

hans admires her pragmatism, and is impressed with her nerve. he really does allow himself to be chained and soaked, and now that he has that horrible knowledge of what it’s like to care about someone, he’s willing to go so far as to actually let himself be turned over and killed...

except, they get there to trade him off (without elsa, who went to warn the northuldra, just in case, because she knows that getting involved w/ a war like this one that might break out would be devastating for them), and kristoff sees some sort of sniper lying in wait, aiming for anna, even after she’s given them hans. they never meant to let this go peacefully after all, they just wanted a convenient excuse to wipe out mysterious arendelle with its magic in addition to cleaning up the loose thread of their traitorous brother.

kristoff shouts to warn anna, but he can’t get there in time to save her. hans, however, can; he burns so hot that he incinerates the ropes holding him, even wet, then reduces the arrow coming for her to ash. he stands between her and the snipers like a guard dog, and snarls.

the armies of the southern isles and weselton emerge from behind some hills. anna only brought a small group of her guards; they’re horribly outnumbered. they need to run.

her guards tell her to run, that they’ll buy her as much time as they can. she refuses, telling then she can’t trade their lives for hers. hans is using his fire powers to keep the armies at bay, but his stamina has been hit hard by his illness, and he’s hardly practiced with his abilities in weeks, except for when he tried to use them to kill himself.

the guards insist she run. at anna’s insistence, and that of the other guards serving beneath him, mattias comes with her. anna, kristoff, hans, and mattias retreat.

hans is getting weak. he can’t keep up the defense much longer.

they try to lose their pursuers in the woods, and it might have worked, except that anna turns back to see the massacre of her guards and can’t handle it. one of hans’ brothers catches up to him and grabs anna, saying how he’ll kill her and then hans and then everyone else in the kingdom, and that’s when hans uses every ounce of his remaining strength to send up a signal flare he prays will alert elsa. she sees it, and within seconds, the temperature of the air drops fast. hans collapses.

they’re all battling furiously for their lives by the time elsa shows up. at anna’s instruction, she allows anyone willing to leave to do so with their lives, but freezes those who keep fighting against her. she freezes hearts. now that she’s learned to trust her powers, she’s not afraid to use them like this. 

weselton officially declares surrender in the conflict. the southern isles beats a hasty retreat, and the army stops obeying the orders of the king. elsa has killed the brother who had been ready to kill anna.

hans is dead.

like, mostly dead.

probably dead.

when the ice has cleared, anna and kristoff look around for him and see him collapsed on the ground, his arms raw from what he’s done. kristoff pulls him into his lap. he checks for a pulse. hans opens his eyes, just long enough to see that elsa’s there and that he’s done something good completely against his own interests, and he dies smiling.

anna cries. kristoff too, honestly. maybe, their tears fall on his face, then, and he starts to revive... it’s a miracle. true love.

kristoff carries him back to the castle. they nurse him back to health again, and once he starts to get better, kristoff teases him for milking it.

anna comes by and asks him why he did that. he tells her it’s bc he loves her. he’s got nothing to gain from this confession, honestly doesn’t know where he’s going to end up after he recovers from this, but it’s simple, and he owes it to her. she’s kind of stunned. 

she kisses him. even she doesn’t know where that came from, and she jerks back, apologizing.

kristoff stands in the doorway. he looks... lost?

hans tries to explain to him that he wasn’t trying to ruin things, and what just happened was his fault, not anna’s, but kristoff just stares, and wordlessly walks over to hans’ bedside like a man on a mission, and kisses him. now it’s anna’s turn to stare... except she’s just giggling.

hans is sort of shocked & offended when he realizes they talked about this. while he was unconscious, kristoff told her, and she told kristoff, and they’d negotiated it. now hans just looks back and forth between them and starts crying because he’s never been offered love like this from even one person without manipulating his way into it, has never been loved by one person for just being his real self before, and now there’s this promise of two.

he’s wrapped in bandages but he’s clean and healing and kristoff lets him curl up in his arms while anna holds his hand and the two of them share a quick kiss over his shoulder.

once he recovers, he’s officially staying in arendelle as a royal adviser to the queen, and that low position, nowhere near the throne, should probably rackle him, but he can no longer find it in himself to mind.

[quelynxyz]

pining headcanon for a chrobin au thing except i fucked up and now its just wao kinda fucked

chroms kinda ruthless. okay,,, maybe a bit more than kinda. 

im just,, , //stares at hand  what have i done. 

Title: Fools can’t play the same game.  Word count: too many ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Robin whispers, "I can’t..." and pulls away from Chrom's embrace. "We can’t." It hurts Chrom. But he's determined. He pulls Robin back in, his grip firm on Robin's waist. "Why not?" "You are the crown prince of Ylisse, bringer of a new Era of prosperity and pride. And I have naught to offer you in status nor power, in comfort nor wealth, in land nor resource. Yet still you insist for my hand like the bloody fool you are" "Well there's no changing that so I'm hoping you'll grace me to be your fool." Robin snorts at that.  "What a royal menace you must be to your council" And Chrom reaches out for Robins hand again. Gently caressing their palms. Seeing no resistance,  he boldly presses a kiss to their wrist, all the while eyeing Robin with hope.  And oh Robin wants to accept.  To give himself up to the sinful temptations of stealing a would-be-king from his nation. He hears Grima’s jeers from inside his heart and snaps out of it. Turns away. Can’t even bear to look at the kind of face Chrom is making. Asks him to leave all the while Grima’s amusement grows louder.  He doesn’t see Chrom’s face steel with resolve. Calculating, but grim. Chrom lets go of Robin. But only for today. He’ll be back tomorrow, like he always is.  (Someone’s going to give eventually, and Robin knows it’s going to be him. He only fears what would bring about it.) Later when he’s alone, Grima’s spirit comes out to harass him.Tells Robin he's a fool for expecting anything. With Chrom’s council all he can ever be is probably concubine. Does he really want that? Can he bear to see his beloved wed another, all the while being denied the social and legal recognition? Can he bear to know that Chrom would never be fully his because he doesn't have the status for it? And say they are fine with that arrangement. If Chrom had one concubine why can't he have more ? What if he finds more and better lovers than you. And you're tossed to the side. Again. Always again. (Grima keeps providing snide commentary because oh this is so fun) And the next day, Chrom comes back with some cards up his sleeves. He's determined to make this work. His first card is, he's willing to abandon his throne. Grima fucking cackles. “Oh this is too  precious! He's willing to uproot the very fabric and stability of his nation just so he can have you, aren't you charmed ? Frankly I'm disturbed but out of chaotic principles, you simply must agree”  Robin knows this side of Chrom. The one that won’t stop at anything until he has achieved his goals. The one that Grima noticed and took a liking to. Robin once thought it charming, but now that it’s directed towards him, he can see why enemy nations were always wary of the Ylissean crown prince... 

Chrom’s second card is just as ruthless as when he’s home on the battlefield. Before it’s even laid bare, Robin already knows the outcome of this discussion will be to Chrom’s favor.

“Like you said, Robin. I have the power to bring about change. But that change means nothing to me if you’re not by my side.”  So he denies Robin the peace, their hopes, and even hints at breaking the already fragile alliance with Plegia to raze them to the ground. After such a show of might, Plegia would be in no position to deny Chrom’s meager offering of mercy in exchange for Robin’s hand. And if he were to annex Plegia? Well, then there’s your desired peace, Robin. There would be no Plegia-Ylissean conflict if Plegia ceased to exist.

Grima is absolutely delighted. Had mortals always been this entertaining? Mayhaps he had been,,,, preemptive in his desire to wipe them out. Mayhaps. Grima comments on how the real fool here has always been Robin. “Oh what a bloody miserable fool you are. Falling for this madman of a prince who pines for you so, even to oblivion? Though you should be flattered that so many seem to want to war on your behalf.�� Chrom smiles inwardly as he sees Robin resigns himself to his fate. He doesn’t understand why Robin couldn’t just see it from his perspective from the beginning. Why he would even consider denying himself of a happiness that’s practically handed to him on a plate. But if he has to break Robin along the way for him to see? Well, he can just put him back together again. He plays his final card.  Tilts Robin’s chin up so Robin can’t avoid eye contact anymore. Asks Robin what he wants. Chrom has all the power to make it a reality. And all of Robin’s apprehensions about their relationship have no place in reality. Yes, he has nothing to offer Chrom, but he also has nothing to deny Chrom either. So what is keeping him from accepting?  Grima’s laughs softly this time. It’s a pitying one.  “You’re trapped Robin. Trapped between your duties as my vessel and this madman who will never let you go.”  Chrom leans in and whispers.  “Stay with me” Robin closes his eyes. He’s getting everything he’s ever wanted. Chrom, peace, a chance at happiness. So what is this uneasy feeling eating at his chest?

He doesn’t refuse. Grima is finally silent.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: uhhhhh yeah this was a wild ride, like, chrom just went feral as i was writing him. This wasnt supposed to be this way but yeah it is what it is now. Who would do such a thing tho,,, like, why would anyone do this,, why would chrom do this, ,, , ,    Also as a continuation or something, Chrom needs an heir to his throne so he shags some prostitute in a whorehouse and gets a daughter out of her, and then either exiles or executes her so that there would be no outside claim on the royal lineage. And Robin is just like, what have  i married. He still loves lucina tho, but every time he sees her, he’s reminded that all of this- peace, marriage, a family-  was done only because Chrom designed it to be. Robin just went along with it.  Grima is ever so snideful at Robin’s passiveness. 

[luxicorde]

Prompt 17: Obeisance

(2.7k words and posted at fuckin quarter till 1 in the morning.

I got an Idea and I hyperfixated.)

“Calum Odette, your presence has been requested by the Emperor of Ronka. You will need to come with us.”

The hall went silent as Calum and the other hunters turned, finding Ronkan soldiers sat in their doorway. It was no secret that Ronka had its eyes on the desert, and soldiers were becoming more and more common as a result.

But soldiers making demands, especially of the hunters and a blackblood to boot, was crossing an unspoken line.

Gera stood from his spot at the table, turning to them and keeping a hand loosely perched on the hilt of one of his blades. “Gentlemen,” he said, a sweet smile on his face but venom in his voice. “You’re awfully far from the jungle. Did you get lost, maybe hit your head on the way here?”

That got a few snorts and chuckles from the other hunters. One of the guards reached for the sword at his hip before the other threw an arm out in front of him, the thump to his armor getting him to back off. “This does not concern you, Drahn. We know Master Odette to be half-elfan, and if necessary we will search this entire establishment.”

“My, they’re mouthy little shits, aren’t they?” Several of the hunters had lost interest at this point, returning to their drinks and meals. To them, it wouldn’t matter if the Emperor himself barged in. Half of them wouldn’t give an amaro’s arse about it, and the other half were too stubbornly loyal to give Calum up.

“You dare insult soldiers chosen by-”

“Oh yes, I do dare. You don’t have any power here, lackeys. Leave.” It didn’t take long for Gera to grow bored of them. The game had gone from fun to annoying awfully fast with the hot-headed soldier and his high-and-mighty attitude.

The calmer soldier took a step forward, and most of the hunters rose from their seats, ready to defend their own. If the soldiers had stayed out of the hall, the hunters would have let them be. But trespassing was something none of them would tolerate.

“Put your weapons away. As my companion was saying, we have been chosen by the Emperor himself to bring Master Odette back-”

“‘Master’ Odette? I don’t know, Gera, it has a ring to it.” Calum had remained seated, not wanting to bother with the soldiers. His back was turned to them, but they seemed to hear him anyway. 

He heard the footsteps come closer, and felt Gera move from his side to put himself in between him and the soldiers. 

“Lay a finger on us, and the Emperor will have this place razed to the ground!”

“I’d like to see him try. It would be amusing to watch the little metal-clad bugs dash themselves against our walls.”

Calum heard the fight behind him, not turning to watch knowing it would be quick. He took a sip of his drink as he heard Gera unsheathe his blades, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a few more clangs before the second body hit the ground. The other hunters in the hall let out a cheer as Gera put his swords away again, bending over to haul the two soldiers outside. They were still alive, though bleeding quite a bit. Still, Calum didn’t doubt they’d be picked up and healed by some kind passerby.

Eventually, at least.

It had been a few weeks since the soldiers first came. Calum had forgotten about them entirely, making himself busy with hunts and training. It wasn’t until Madi, poor, sweet little Madi had burst through the door, panting like she had run a marathon just to get there.

The Dwarf took her breath before standing back up straight. “Which... one of you idiots... pissed off the Ronkans?!”

Slowly the hunters turned to face Calum and Gera, who had been talking about their latest battle. The two men looked a bit sheepish, not expecting there to be any sort of threat after defending themselves.

“Oh-! You foolish, idiot brutes! We have a whole host of soldiers waiting at the gates because of your pig-headedness!” She rushed over, pulling Calum from his seat and nearly yanking his arm off with her strength. “Come on, come on! They’re here looking for you, you blundering oaf! We need to get you out!”

The other hunters in the hall groaned and sighed, gathering their weapons as they muttered about Calum dragging them into another mess. Gera stayed by his side until Madi shooed him away. “Go!” she said, taking a moment to let go of Calum’s hand to shoo him out the door. “If it comes to fighting they’ll need you more than he does!”

Gera stole a glance at Calum before he allowed himself to be pushed out the door, only leaving when Calum gave him a nod.

Madi led him out of the back of the hall, dragging him along like her little legs depended on it. She didn’t stop moving until she nearly ran into someone after turning a corner. 

“It looks like we were right to sneak in.” Two soldiers stood before them, and Madi backed up the moment she realized what was happening. Calum placed himself in front of her, motioning for her to run.

“Grab the man, and we’ll get a nice fancy reward. Let the girl run.” With that, Madi bolted, and the soldiers moved forward. In a flash, Calum had his blade out, running his fingertips across the edge to stoke the fire to life. The first soldier was hardly a challenge, simply running forward and expecting Calum to move out of the way. The weak, almost pitiful slash barely clanged against his greatsword as he took the blow, easily countering with his own and ripping open the soldier’s back. 

He never liked killing people. It was always a terrible, terrible thing, but he wasn’t about to let himself be kidnapped to avoid it.

The second soldier was more of a challenge, using the thin alleyway to his advantage. His spear was harder to block, and harder still to dodge with how little room Calum had. He positioned his body to the side to dodge, using the movement to swing his blade down from above, but rather than meeting flesh, it clanged off the stone pavement, the soldier jumping back before advancing again to take advantage of Calum’s vulnerable form.

He brought the blade up just in time to deflect, the spearhead skidding off the steel and showering him in sparks as it hit the side of the building next to him. Calum spun to deflect the next thrust and give himself the momentum for a slash from the bottom, creating his own flurry of sparks as he brought the blade up. He caught the soldier’s hand, forcing him to drop the spear and give Calum an opening. He rushed forward, expecting to run the soldier through.

Then he felt a prick at the side of his neck.

And then another.

The world quickly started to spin, and he lost his balance as the third dart pierced his skin. He braced himself against the wall of a building, trying to shake the fog from his mind as he started to drift off.

“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” Calum heard as the guard moved next to him, first retrieving his spear before holding Calum back by the arms. He gave a weak attempt to struggle free, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open, let alone fight his way out of this.

The soft ‘thump’ of someone landing near him sounded like it was muffled through a thick layer of cotton. 

“Had to be sure he was the one. Has the eyes alright. Check his hand.”

Calum didn’t know what they meant. Didn’t have the time to figure it out as the world around him faded to black.

Calum woke to the soft rocking of a ship. He could feel more than see there was someone next to him, but it all soon faded away again as something was poured down his throat.

He woke several more times, but the only time he was allowed to stay awake was when he was somewhere else entirely. The smell of salt was gone, and the floor didn’t creak or rock as he got out of bed and landed. He was still shaky on his feet, and he felt like he was hungover, but he was lucid enough to know this wasn’t home. 

The floor was made from stone, a rug only meeting his feet halfway. It didn’t take him long to realize his armor was gone, and so was his sword. Whoever had put him there had decided to play dress-up, his undershirt traded for a clean white tunic and his pants and underclothes matching. There was a massive window, showing the lush green of a forest. He wasn’t so dumb as to not figure out he wasn’t in Amh Araeng anymore. 

The door to the room opened, revealing a servant dressed in a simple grey and gold robe. She smiled sweetly as she saw him, placing the tray she was carrying down on the table nearest to the bed. Calum cursed his traitorous nose for picking up the scent of freshly cooked meat, and he could only guess from the sickly sweet smell coming from the pitcher that it was some sort of tea.

“It is good to see you awake, Master Odette. The emperor has requested that you eat before seeing him.” The woman waved her hand to the tray, bowing slightly as she did so.

“I won’t be eating anything here. And don’t call me ‘Master.’”

“My apologies. But I must insist that you eat, the Emperor-”

“The Emperor can shove it up his ass for all I care. Take me to him, now. I want to know why in the seven hells he kidnapped me.”

The woman briefly had a stunned look across her face, but she quickly replaced it with her smile before bowing again and showing Calum to the hall.

Without his armor and sword, he felt naked, especially when being led in front of the doors to what he guessed was the throne room. The Viis guards there were armed to the teeth, and he’d heard the stories from Gera about how a Viis palace guard could kill a man with a single shot from a malm away.

The guards opened the doors, not sparing him a second glance as they did so. The woman led him inside, and Calum winced at the sheer amount of light pouring in through the windows. Once his eyes adjusted, he would have thought this place beautiful if the circumstances were different. Massive stone arches, wrapped in leaves and moss and all other kinds of foliage made the roof of the massive throne room. Windows stretched up to the green canopy above, letting in the morning sun and the gentle breeze from the forest. Birds flitted about high above, some more muted but others in dazzling reds and blues.

If he weren’t glaring at the man sitting in the golden throne at the end of the hall, he would have been mesmerized.

The Emperor was far from an imposing man. An older Hume, starting to go grey at the temples and dark skin just starting to pull against his face with wrinkles. The deep blue eyes he had were kind, but Calum wasn’t inclined to trust someone who had orchestrated his kidnapping. His robes were a similar shade to his eyes, deep blue and trimmed with white and gold. As Calumn was led closer to him, he stood, arms stretched out as if for a hug.

“Thank you, Amina. You may leave now.” The woman bowed low and turned on her heels, silently making her way out of the throne room and leaving Calum alone with the Emperor. 

Only, that wasn’t quite true.

Hiding in the shadows of the archway was another Viis guard, likely a personal attendant of some sort. Calum wasn’t surprised to see her. It would have been stupid to leave him alone.

“I hope my soldiers did not hurt you, but I was told you put up quite the fight.” The Emperor had a kind smile, matching his eyes. Calum only saw it as a mask, but what it was hiding, he couldn’t say.

“Why have you brought me here? All of Amh Araeng is going to know you kidnapped a hunter, and they won’t let your soldiers prance about after that.”

His smile faltered for a moment as he let out a small sigh, but he quickly composed himself again. “Your right hand, if you would, Calum?”

Calum covered his hand, not liking where this was going. The mark that had been there since he was a child was none of this Emperor’s business, and even if it was, he wasn’t about to show it to a stranger.

“Please, Calum. This does not need to be difficult.”

When Calum still refused, the Emperor snapped his fingers, and the Viis woman was at his side in a heartbeat. Still woozy from whatever they’d done to make him stay asleep, he couldn’t put up much of a fight as the guard peeled back the fingers of his left hand, showing the mark.

“So it’s true.” The Emperor almost sounded… choked up? Calum couldn’t place his tone, yanking his hand back from the Viis.

Just as the emperor had come forward to hug him.

Calum shoved him away, but quickly found an arrow leveled to his head. The red-haired guard would be having none of this, it seemed, but Calum barely flinched as he felt the bite of cold steel against his scalp.

“My son, after all this time...”

Those words settled in his belly like a stone. But once they set in, it was quickly replaced by a burning rage. He felt his blood start to boil as his mind connected the dots.

The Emperor had returned to him, taking his hands in his own. Calum went to yank them away, but the sting at the side of his head only got sharper as he tensed up. 

“Leave us, Almet.”

“B-but sir-”

“Leave us!”

The Viis swallowed her words, shooting Calum a glare before bowing and leaving.

As soon as she was gone, Calum ripped his hands away.

“Your son?” His voice was shaking with rage. He’d never met his parents, his mother died having him and… and…

His father, whoever that was, had never been there. Never even acknowledged he was alive. He’d been found in a box behind a whorehouse, left outside for passerby or animals, whichever found him first.

“Of course! When the reports reached me that a man had eyes like the emperor, I did not-”

“Enough.” It was all he could do to keep himself from strangling this man. He knew what that mark on his hand meant, Gera had told him, but he wouldn’t believe it. Call it a weird birthmark, fate, something, but he refused to believe it meant that he had been left to die and live in squalor while his father ate off of golden plates.

Calum was shaking when the Emperor spoke again. “I know this must be shocking, Calum-”

“Do not call me that.” His voice was firm, if only for a moment as he practically growled out the words through his teeth. “You have no right.”

“As your father, I-”

“You are not my father!” Calum stepped forward, his blood truly burning in his veins. “You did not raise me! I was left to die and cared for only out of sheer dumb luck!” He couldn’t hold back the anger any more, looming over the shorter Emperor as he spoke. “Why did you bring me here, after twenty summers of not caring?! Kidnapping me after twenty summers of living across the world?!”

He took a few shaky breaths, backing up after hearing shifting from the door behind him.

The Emperor had a worried glint in his eye. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Is seeing my son not enough of a reason?”

“LAIR!” Calum lunged at him, any sliver of composure lost with those words. He didn’t hear when the guards rushed in, barely felt their blows, blinded by rage as he was. All he could think of doing was getting rid of this man, this worthless filth in front of him. He heard shouting, and the world went black again.

[allisondraste]

What's the most interesting thing that Niamh and Solas did in the Fade?

So, it doesn’t count if it’s Fade second base? Listen, I went back and forth while writing this so many times, as to whether or not to go the obvious route with some good old-fashioned Fade Frolicking or not.  I took a hard left-turn somewhere and I don’t know what’s happening, but I liked the result and I hope you do, too.  Thanks for the ever-thought-provoking prompts, Cele.

Vhenadahl stood solidly, a grounding presence in the middle of chaos, as it always had.  Niamh examined it, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation, head tilted slightly to the side.  It was her Vhenadahl, the one that stood in the center of the Tantervale Alienage where had lived in her early childhood.  It was the tree of her people , a disembodied fist, shaking at the sky.

The world around the tree solidified, the quaint and clean buildings the city elves called home, children singing and playing as their parents watched from porches.  It was picturesque on the surface, as all things in the most pristine of Free Marcher cities had been.  Tantervale was a pleasant enough place for elves to live… if they prescribed to and abided by the utter nonsense of the Chantry.  Public execution was a merciful punishment for elves believed to be heretics.

Niamh smiled bitterly and shook her head.  The Fade was a cold-hearted bitch.

As she continued to observe the scene before her, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled upward.  Something, or someone, was nearby.  She turned around in a flash, her fist full of flames.  The light from her extended hand illuminated familiar features that did not even flinch.  Dusty blue eyes glittered in amusement — Or were they grey? Grey with violet flecks dancing about? She blinked twice and released the tension from her nose that she had not realized she had been wrinkling. She needed to focus on the matter at hand. His eyes were irrelevant.

“Solas,” Niamh asked, sounding more oppositional than she intended, “What’re you doing here?”

“I..” Solas began as he examined his surroundings, “I do not know.”

Her gut reaction was to scoff. It was unlikely that he, who so expert in the workings of the Fade, had happened upon her dream accidentally.  However, the crease between his brows and the curve of his lips seemed to say that he was genuine in his confusion. She blinked again and shook her head. How long has she been staring? His mouth was not that damn special.

His eyes. His mouth. The last time they had stumbled upon each other in the Fade, and walked through a Haven that no longer existed, it had been his eyes and his mouth. Then again on the balcony, when he said he had not forgotten, kissed her again, called her his heart. It was always his damn eyes and his damn mouth. Of course it was more than that too, but she could not put it into words. He was infuriating.

“Where are we,” Solas asked pulling Niamh from her internal chafing, “This place must be important to you, to remember it in such detail.”

Niamh nodded and looked down at her feet before turning her gaze to Solas and then back out toward Vhenadahl.

“This is home,” she said, her voice tinted with a twinge of sorrow.

“I thought you were Dalish.”

“I am Dalish,” Niamh spat, the Fade around her becoming dark and turbulent.

“Careful vhenan,” Solas warned her, his voice even and calm, “Your emotions are more potent here.”

He was right, and how she hated it. How dare he imply that she was not Dalish because she was not born into a clan. How dare he say that and then tell her to calm down. But he was right if the swirling darkness around them was any indication.

“Fine,” she said tersely as she inhaled slowly and deeply to calm herself, the atmosphere settling into its original state, “But you can’t just deny my heritage and expect me to be not be upset by it.”

“I apologize,” Solas said gently, shocking Niamh to her core,  “I misspoke. Of course you are Dalish, but you are also more. Most Dalish are not born in alienages.”

“I was, “ Niamh explained solemnly, “I was born here and lived with my parents until-“ She froze as the memories of what happened flooded her mind and sat like a stone on her chest. Solas moved to her side and placed a hand on her back. Before them, the Fade reflected her memories.

The patter of tiny feet fell against the stony ground as a young girl with fiery hair ran toward the tree. Her face was pale and bare of markings aside from the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. She was out of breath and crying. Behind her, a small group of other children followed, shouting slurs. “Abomination” was still a horrible thing to be called even when mispronounced by an eight-year-old.

“SHUT UP,” little Niamh shouted as she reached her breaking point, her entire body erupting in flames, “I hope the Dreadwolf catches you and…and EATS YOU.”

Gasps could be heard from the group of children as well as from older elves that had been nearby to overhear the exchange. Not only had the girl blasphemed against the Maker in earshot of Chantry authorities, but the flames that came from her body and singed her own eyebrows had spread to Vhenadahl. The tree was burning.

The scene before Niamh and Solas dissolved and they were suddenly inside a home. Niamh’s home as she remembered it.  A wizened man with long hair tied back into a braid clicked his tongue and paced about the small room. The young girl was cradled in the arms of a woman that looked so much like Niamh, only her eyes were dark brown instead of green. A man with blond hair and green eyes sat beside them with an arm draped protectively around them both.

“Hahren, you cannot possibly be suggesting that we send her to the Circle,” the blond man said, “Not here! With her spirit, she will be made Tranquil as soon as she is of age.”

“I’m sorry Hahren, I didn’t mean to burn down Vhenadahl. I don’t want to leave,” Little Niamh whimpered in her mother’s arms, large tears forming in her eyes as she rubbed the burn marks on her hands and  face

“Shh da’vhenan,” her mother soothed her as she ran delicate fingers through her hair, “We know it was an accident.”

“Accident or not, it has still placed our people in grave danger, Dasha,” the Hahren spoke, a pained look contorting his face. “We have to act to keep her safe, to keep us all safe.”

The scene faded away once again again leaving Solas and Niamh in a quiet forest. Niamh shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye. She had stopped the memories herself. That had been quite enough.  

“Mother knew of a Dalish clan called Lavellan that frequented the northern Free Marches,” she explained, “She, Father, and the Hahren all thought it would be kinder to send me with them than to let the Templars take me.”

“They seem to be very wise people who cared for you a great deal.”

“They should have let the Templars take me,” Niamh argued, fists clenched at her side, “It was my fault.”

“What was your fault, vhenan,” Solas asked, an undertone of concern in his voice as he moved forward and placed his hands on her shoulders. Niamh hoped she could control her emotions. She did not wish to immolate him. At least not this time.

“The smoke from the burning tree alerted the shemlen authorities, and they sent guards and Templars to the Alienage” Niamh explained, “Soon after I left with Keeper Deshanna, they began interrogating everyone. Eventually, one of the kids who had been teasing me that day confessed. The shem… they condemned the entire Alienge for so-called crimes against the Chantry. My parents and the Hahren were convicted of higher crimes and formally and publicly executed. I found out months later when Clan Lavellan stopped to trade in Tantervale.”

She lost her composure and fell into Solas’ arms, her face pressing into his chest.  His arms tightened around her and he rest his chin on her head.

“Ir abelas,” he whispered into her hair.

“The shem razed the Alienage, burnt it to the ground. They killed them all, Solas, they killed them and it was my fault. Had I been there… maybe it would have just been me.” Niamh’s body shook with sobs as she clenched the fabric of Solas’ tunic tightly in her fingers.

“How can you be certain of that,” he questioned, pulling away from her to meet her eyes with his own frustrating pair. She hated how they saw right through her even now. “It seems that those who would slaughter an entire group of people over the accident of a child would do so regardless. Your family, your Hahren, they protected you from sharing their fate.”

Niamh nodded and looked down. He was probably right. He usually was.  A tug at her chin pulled her eyes back up to meet his again, his mouth curled into a slight smile.

“The word vhenan and the word vhenadahl share the same root,” he began.

“I don’t think this is the best time for a language lesson,” Niamh muttered through sniffs of her nose.

“Vhen,” Solas continued as if he had not heard her, “It refers to the elves, to your people.”

“I still fail to see how this is relevant, Solas.”

“City elves keep Vhenadahl to represent their people. They carry memories from times long past and they instill hope.”

“Yes, and I burned that to the ground. So much for hope,” Niamh retorted, still not sure how this little lecture was supposed to be comforting.

“Vhenan, the heart, the place of the people, serves the same purpose,” Solas explained, “ I have been trying to determine what exactly about you is different from others I have encountered, why I am so drawn to you.”

Niamh could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as he spoke.  She examined his eyes, his mouth.  She did not make herself stop this time.

“It is because you carry your people, those who so selflessly cared for you, here,” Solas places a hand in the center of her chest as he spoke, causing her breath to catch. “Memories are powerful things.  You are who you are because they are with you always. You are Dalish, and you are more.”

A single tear trailed down her cheek as their eyes met again. The gravity of his words was overshadowed by the ever increasing awareness she had of his hand on her chest.  She looked down at that hand, and she felt his gaze follow. When she looked back up at him, there was something different in his eyes. She could not tell what it was.

His eyes did not matter for long as she closed the small distance between them and crushed her lips against his, tears flowing freely down her face. She was overwhelmed with emotion, both from painful memories and her present longing for Solas’ comfort.

She half expected him to pull away from her as he always did, but he didn’t. He pushed, pushed until he was as close to her as she could imagine him being, until she felt her back press against a nearby tree.

His eyes, his mouth, and now his hands, brushing skillfully across her as if she were one of his paintings. She could think of nothing else.

And then it stopped. Solas pulled away from her, brows furrowed, head shaking. She reaches out for him, but he recoiled further.

“What’s wrong,” she asked, pain present in her voice.

“It would be inappropriate to continue, no matter how much I desire to ,” Solas said with a sigh, “I would not take advantage of your vulnerability.

“You aren’t taking advantage of anything,” she said urgently longing for the return of his touch, “You are comforting me.”

Solas smiled weakly and answered “I do not wish to take advantage of my own vulnerability either. There is something about you that affects me deeply. Outside of the Fade it is indescribable. Here, it is maddening.”

“I—” Niamh began, but stopped when she realized she knew that feeling. It was the same infuriating confusion she experienced around him. It made her do stupid, impulsive things. Well, it made her do even more stupid and impulsive things than she did on her own.

“I wish to be intimate with you vhenan, very much,” he reassured her as he moved close to her once again, placing a quick kiss on her lips, “But I would prefer that both our minds be clear.”

Niamh nodded to show that she understood, and Solas turned to walk away in his typical fashion. She grabbed his arm abruptly and he stopped, looking back at her curiously.

“Please stay,” she asked, “I- I don’t want to be alone right now, after everything.”

“Ma nuvenin,” Solas agreed with a small chuckle as he returned to her side, intertwining his fingers with hers, “Let us go somewhere less… grim.”

“Yes, let’s,” she said, relieved, allowing him to lead her by the hand, away from the dark forest and burning Alienage, away from unpleasant memories and guilt that would never truly leave her. For the moment she could enjoy his company. Perhaps she could even allow herself to notice the way his eyes seemed to light up when they looked at her, how his mouth moved when he spoke of times long past, and how his hand felt against hers, if only for a moment.

[the-real-coronium]

A joke story written for a friend. 

Mercury Black was not having a good day.

In all fairness, it was hard to have a good day in the black and hopeless domain of Salem, the Queen of the Grimm. The whole place seemed like it was just nothing but sludge and blood and doom. In his personal opinion, the whole place was just asking to be razed to the ground. It reminded him of an infected wound in need of some serious treatment. But no one had asked for his opinion, and he certainly wasn’t going to volunteer it. Not here, and definitely not now, when Cinder, the only person who was keeping him alive, seemed to be going through what he could only describe as a mental breakdown.

Still, even as far as days in the Grimmland went, he had a feeling that today was going to be the day that he was put on the list of lost causes. Future generations would write and speculate on when he had started to lose it, and this would be the day they debated for. All day long, it seemed, every time he looked up, or in to a tree, or out a window, he saw them. They seemed to follow him around, mocking him. It shouldn’t be possible, not all the way out here, and yet every time he was alone, he could hear them.

Almost as if on cue, he heard the fluttering of wings, and turned towards the window. Sure enough, there they were again: A large Raven and Crow, staring at him with their beady little eyes, just as they had been doing all week.

At first, he had simply been surprised. Grimm and animals normally let each other be, and so it wasn’t too rare to see birds and nevermore in the same area, but not all the way out here. Out here the grimm were, understandably, very territorial. Not a single other creature lived this far out. He doubted that there were even enough food sources around to sustain any kind of non grimm life. These two birds, however, didn’t seem to care about any of that. They continued to stalk him through his day to day activities. He hadn’t seen them eat, but he had seen them take down a small flock of nevermore that had come trying to clear them out. Just another entry in to the long list of why these animals needed to be looked in to.  Unfortunately, today just did not seem to be going his way.

He found his boss in her usual spot, cooking Grimm that looked like that red hooded menace.

“Cinder.”

“Not now, Mercury,” came the irritated response.

“I know you hate being disturbed, but it’s important.”

“I said not now, Mercury.”

“Cinder, please, you know I wouldn’t bother you with something trivial.”

Cinder paused for a moment to let his words sink in. Eventually the flames around her died down, and she turned to him with a sigh.

“Very well. What is it.”

“Well you see, there are these birds . . .”

Her temper quickly, and quite literally flared right back up. Mercury could feel himself start to sweat, but the water evaporated as quickly as it generated.

“BIRDS!? YOU INTERRUPTED MY TRAINING REGIME TO TELL ME ABOUT BIRDS?!”

“Cinder, please, these aren’t regular birds!”

“Of course they’re not regular birds, this isn’t central park, where you have pigeons wandering about!”

“Cinder they’re wearing jewelery! One has a ribbon in its feathers and the other is sporting a necklace for god’s sake!”

“I don’t care if one is the friggin Spring Maiden! I have a silver eyed brat to kill, and I swear to whatever gods will listen, Mercury, if you interrupt me with this nonsense one more time, I will disintegrate you and turn your legs into decorative Christmas lamps!”

Mercury quickly got the message. He backed away slowly with his arms raised in surrender. Behind Cinder, he could see Emerald staring at the whole spectacle with one part wonder, two parts smug, and three parts incredible arousal. shaken, not stirred. He decided that maybe these two weren’t the best people to consult about this particular issue. He half ran, half scrambled out of the room.

After wandering around aimlessly for a while, he found himself sitting in a patch of relatively clean grass in the blackened garden. Unfortunately for him, almost everyone was out on their own personal errand for Salem, leaving the place almost abandoned, leaving him alone and at the mercy of the twin tormentors more often than he’d like. Sure enough, after a few minutes of relative peace, he heard the distinct flapping of wings, and the grating caw of a large crow. He looked up, and there they were, staring down at him from the branches of a nearby tree. He glared at them. Had he not known better, he would have tried to shoot them down, but his attempts earlier in the week had shown that they were better at dodging bullets than he was at shooting birds. The memory only further served to irritate him. He was just about to head inside when he heard a set of heavy footsteps coming outside.

Mercury almost cried when he saw who it was. Hazel Rainart, resident stoic giant. Finally, Mercury knew that he had found someone a little less insane, at least as long as you didn’t mention a certain body hopping wizard.

“Hey, Hazel!”

“Mn?” As always, Hazel was a man of few words.

“You can see those birds, right?”

Hazel looked to where Mercury was pointing, noticing the two birds for the first time. The birds, for their part, froze. Mercury found himself grinning at their panic, knowing it was finally about to be over. Hazel smiled.

“A rare enough sight in the Grimmlands. Always a pleasant sight,” he mused.

Mercury felt the grin slipping off of his face.

“. . . What”

“It’s nice to see life blooming, even all the way out here.”

“You can’t be serious. You don’t see anything wrong with this picture?”

“Of course I don’t, they’re not bothering anyone.”

“They’re bothering me! They have been all week!”

Hazel looked at him as if asking if he was serious. When it was clear that Mercury was very serious, Hazel only shook his head.

“Get some sleep.”

Hazel started walking away, but Mercury grabbed a hold of his elbow.

“Hazel, just look at them!”

Hazel looked pensively at the two birds as they engaged in their new activity, but he ultimately shrugged and kept walking.

“Let the birds drink from their flasks in peace, boy.”

Mercury just watched as the seeming last bastion of sanity in this ridiculous place left him to his fate.

He heard the rustling of wings, and a gruff voice behind him spoke.

“Same time next week kid? Great.”

Mercury spun around, but the only thing left was the sight of two birds fluttering away, and a distant, mocking caw.

As he slowly curled in to a fetal position on the grass, he suddenly found himself thinking that after years of murder and villainy, maybe now was the prefect time to use his vacation days. 

[itsthesinbin]

My Only Desire Is To Kick Your Ass (Chapter 3)

hey i actually stuck with an upload schedule for once

here’s chapter three- nothing rly happens beyond some backstory for wysira and scouting the hinterlands.

Read the fic on Ao3!

The Hinterlands were much warmer- although, it seems this place is just naturally cold. It made Wysira miss the desert that housed her home kingdom. She missed walking into the underground city, shaking sand off of her feet and onto whatever guard was posted at the gates. She never thought she’d truly feel homesick, until now.

“Something wrong, Violet,” Varric asked. It took Wysira a moment to realize he was talking to her. She glanced over at him from atop her horse. She was already feeling the saddle sores developing.

“Violet? Why that name,” she smiled, already knowing the answer. Varric snorted, motioning to her body vaguely.  Of course he’d pick violet. What a dumb nickname.

He really did remind her of Requa.

“Anyway… I was just… thinking of home. It is… much different than it is here”. Varric asked if she wanted to talk about it. Cassandra and Solas perked up a bit. They were all curious about her home, as she kept insisting she came from another world. Cassandra still believed her a creature of the Fade. Solas has tried to explain that she isn’t.

“... My home is a kingdom in the desert. It’s hidden underground, as the original city was razed to the ground centuries ago. Nothing more than rubble on the surface, but magic and hard work has made a flourishing cavern underneath it. It was beautiful, before the war”. “You speak of it as if you lived there,” Solas prodded. Wysira nodded, a heavy sigh leaving her body.

“I did. I was only eighty when the war began. I was a hundred and thirty when the main city went down- but by then, we were already underground”. Everyone was quiet, before Cassandra tentatively asked the question that she heard, eventually, from otherworlders. How old are you?

“I am seven hundred and eighty years old, human. Omnibi can live to be a thousand- royal Omnibi can live to be five thousand”. She heard a quiet “what the fuck” from Varric, making her chuckle.

“You said a war destroyed your city,” Solas said, cautiously, after a moment. “What was the purpose of this war?” Any humor left Wysira’s face, and her ears pinned back against her head.

“... Humans did not take kindly to us, as we would kill when we had to feed. That was… before we had to teach ourselves to drain in portions- which is why we need to eat so often,” she growled. “Humans, of the time, were also very entitled and self-centered, believing anything non-human was inferior”. Solas let out a slow exhale through his nose. He was familiar with the concept.

“You carry yourself as a soldier,” Cassandra mentioned, thinking back to their fight with Pride, and how she took charge when everyone argued with Roderick. “What was your role?”

“By the end of the Demon Wars, I was the lead Arcanist and Battlemage in the Queen’s army. I was among the highest ranking soldiers in the military, and created the Battlemage faction for future militaries. If it weren’t for me, arcanists and mages would still be in the backlines, no matter how good their combat was,” she laughed, a bitter tone to the noise. She let out another sigh.

“I was a child, forced to wield a staff- then a sword- because humans were too afraid to talk to us. Sure, what we did wasn’t great… we did kill people to feed… but we would’ve found out what we could’ve done to change it if they had just talked to us”. She gripped the reins of her horse tighter. She sucked in a breath, letting it out quickly. She shook her head.

“That’s enough. We should be near your camp, soon,” she mumbled, before anyone could say anything. She sped off, making the others rush off after her. They were far enough back that they could talk without her hearing.

“Do either of you really believe that story,” Varric asked, glancing over at the human and elf nearby. Cassandra grunted, saying she doesn’t. Solas suppressed an eye-roll.

“I… believe that she believes it,” he said. “I do not know if she truly is a Desire Demon, or if she is what she calls herself. I can tell she is not lying, though. She truly believes what she says”. Cassandra mumbled something the men couldn’t hear, before racing off after their Herald again.

After a brief chat with Scout Harding, the four left their horses at the camp and made their way- on foot- to the Crossroads. Wysira fiddled with the hilt of her sword, preemptively pulling her shield off of her back. The materials and shape of the weapons, and armor, were odd, and seemed much too weak to withstand an actual fight. Who uses gold to create anything for combat?

“You don’t intend to fight with those, do you,” Cassandra asked, a slight condescending tone to her voice. Wysira laughed, adjusting her grip on the shield.

“You don’t intend to make me use those brittle staves and sit around in robes, do you,” Wysira responded in a similar tone. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Cassandra staring at her with a bit of contempt.

“I didn’t hone my magic and combat- learn to create these weapons and armor sets- only to be stuck in the backlines, soldier. If you’re worried about my weapons breaking, don’t. My magic will keep them in shape”. Cassandra highly doubted that.

The Crossroads were… a horrible mess. Templars and Mages not only fought each other, but anyone who got in their way. Men, women, and children were being slaughtered, if they got caught in the crossfire. A deep, animalistic growl left the Herald’s throat, startling her teammates. Cassandra and Solas felt… some kind of force come from her. It felt like magic but… nothing they’ve ever come into contact with. Wysira closed the visor of her helmet, charging into the fight with a war cry. The trio followed closely, Cassandra telling the Inquisition soldiers to back them up.

True to Wysira’s word, whatever magic she uses keeps her armor from bending- keeps her weapons from breaking under the strain of a Templar’s blade. Cassandra was surprised, and disturbed, when she ran a mage through and electrocuted the man from the inside with it.

“Is your magic always this barbaric?” “Do you always critique people during battles?” The women glared at each other from across the field, before a blast of fire knocked a Templar away from Cassandra.

“Eyes on the fight, Seeker. We can talk about my magic later,” she yelled, ducking to block a child from getting an arrow to the chest. She ushered the little one into a safe spot, stationing a soldier nearby until they can escape the fight safely.

“You are quite proficient at elemental magic, Solas,” Wysira mentioned, after the fight had finally ended. She took her helmet off, knocking it against her horns slightly. “How long did it take you to learn it?” He looked at her, confusion crossing his face.

“An odd question- it takes as long as it would to learn any other spell. Why?” “... Where I’m from, elemental magic is very hard to master- if you are not born an Elemental, it could take an entire lifetime for certain people to learn one element,” Wysira explained. Cassandra stepped in, before they got into another talk about magic.

“Mother Giselle needs to be spoken to, Herald- then we need to find Dennet”. Wysira gave her a small glare, silently telling her how rude she is, before sheathing her sword and clipping her helmet to her belt.

“Fine, fine. We’ll talk another time, Solas,” she hummed, walking off towards the camp of injured soldiers. Cassandra pulled Solas aside.

“Do not entertain her, Solas”. “I do not see the harm in doing so, Seeker. She is no threat to us- or, well… to me, at least,” he said, a small smirk on his face at the end of the sentence. Cassandra glared at him.

“Besides, Seeker… if we go along with her delusions, perhaps she won’t try and possess someone, if she is capable of doing so,” he said snidely, following the Herald to Mother Giselle.

They spotted the demon speaking with Giselle privately. Cassandra tried to get closer, but a glare over Wysira’s shoulder stopped her in her tracks. Cassandra growled, leaning against a tree nearby.

“This is really bothering you, Seeker,” Varric laughed. “You could always pull rank- take control over the situation- if you really don’t want, eh… whatever she is running the show”. Cassandra crossed her arms.

“As tempting as that is, Leliana would have my head if I tried that. And I feel… she would not let the idea go so easily,” the Seeker huffed, glancing at the tall creature among the injured. Solas stepped forward.

“If it eases your mind, Seeker, I can assure you she is no Desire Demon. I have tried to find her in the Fade, and all I can find is the Mark. And Spirits have told me they have never seen anything like her. She calls herself a Demon, but she is not from the Fade”. Cassandra watched as Wysira began to approach, seeing Mother Giselle going back to tending to the injured.

“That unsettles me even more, Solas,” she said quietly, standing straight as the Herald arrived. Wysira motioned for them to follow her, saying they’re going to see Corporal Vale. After they talk to Vale, and help around the Crossroads, they’ll go to Dennet.

They spent hours hunting, foraging, and scavenging for the people of the Crossroads. Wysira was determined to help these people. Cassandra asked why she bothered- not to provoke her, just curious. She remembers Wysira mentioning that they are not her people, so the Seeker wonders why she feels the need to help them so insistently. To give the Inquisition a good name?

“I know how it feels to be driven from your home, and caught in the middle of a war… I want to help make it so these people do not have to suffer more than they already have”. At least she and Cassandra can agree on that. She doesn’t trust this demon, but she can respect her generosity and compassion.

Along the way to Dennet, they caught word of a group stationed in an old stronghold that held people who had begun worshiping the Breach. They almost weren’t let in through the gates, but Wysira insisted she go look at the rift that had opened in the back of the stronghold. The woman at the gates if she could prove she could close the rift, they’d follow her every word. Easy enough.

Until a terror demon poured out of the fucking hole in the air. Creator, Wysira hated these things. They were annoying, at most. She grabbed a hold of the demon’s skull, slamming it into the nearest rock and spearing it with her sword. It hissed at her as it writhed, making her sneer.

“Please,” she snorted, pulling her sword out of the now-dead demon. “Requa’s wardrobe terrifies me more than you do, you little pest”. She turned, moving to close the rift.

“Req-who,” Varric asked, putting Bianca away. Wysira chuckled a bit. “An Incubus whose clothing is just as loud as his mouth”. Cassandra glanced at Varric, relating to that statement more than she’d like. Varric caught the look, and put an offended hand on his chest, before winking at her and told her that she loves the way he dresses. The Seeker felt her cheeks turn a light shade of red, and she huffed as she began to walk away. Varric snickered as the four began to walk out.

The woman at the gate was in awe of what Wysira had done. She offered her people to be used however she saw fit.

“Open your gates to the refugees,” Wysira said, without hesitation. “People are overcrowding the Crossroads, and they’re dying because of it. They need help, and you have the room, and manpower, to help them”. The woman nodded, saying she’ll send scouts and escorts at once.

“That was a good decision, Violet,” Varric said, trying to keep the brisk pace the Herald had set. They were way behind schedule, and were trying to get back on time. Wysira smiled, thanking him.

“I just really hope they actually do it. I’ll make sure to send a couple soldiers to the stronghold- make sure these people keep their word,” Wysira sighed. “Anyway, let’s get going to Dennet. It shouldn’t take too much longer- and, hopefully, we can find a place to set up a new camp along the way”.

Dennet’s farmland was guarded by rabid wolves. Solas mentioned how these wolves seemed unsettled- as if the Breach was bothering them. Wysira said they’ll look into it, before they left the Hinterlands.

Dennet was an old grouch, but he was willing to help. They just needed to get rid of the bandits along the trading routes. Reasonable enough, Wysira supposed. In return for their help, along with the future horses for the Inquisition, Dennet offered a Ferelden Forder to the Herald. Said he was one of the best horses around.

“Thank you, Dennet. I’ll be back with news on the bandits,” Wysira said, heading out to go find her new horse. Her eyes widened at the sight of the creature, and she grinned.

“Oh… you are a beauty,” she purred, the actual noise resonating from her chest. She pet the beast’s nose, offering it a carrot from her pack. Nearly took a finger off trying to get it from her, making her laugh. The stable-hand nearby gave her the horse’s saddle and reins, and she hopped on once they were secure.

“We’ll take him back to our newest campsite, then get a move on,” she smiled, putting the horse in a small trot.

“What’re you going to name him,” Varric asked, curious. Wysira thought for a few minutes, staring at the horse’s mane. She thought about the centaur that assisted her in battle, all those centuries ago… A small, sad smile crossed her features.

“Nelotos… after a… friend of mine,” she finally murmured. Varric didn’t press the issue. If she wanted to tell that story, she would in time. The name was weird as hell, though.

Well… so was she.

“Most likely, we’ll be going to this “Val Royeaux” place once we get done in the Hinterlands,” Wysira said, dropping off her horse at the new camp. She looked at Cassandra, who glowered at her without thinking. Wysira smiled politely.

“Cassandra, dear, if you wouldn’t mind… would you be so kind as to fill me in on what this place is like?” Cassandra sighed as they began to walk. She let out a small chuckle, thinking of all the bullshit located in the Orlesian city.

“Where to start,” she said sarcastically, making the other three chuckle. Cassandra let out a small, huff-like laugh in return. She hopes her description can do the city justice.

[idontunderstandwhydoyouneedmyurl]

An updated version of Kitty’s backstory

Kitty was born on the hot and humid island of Romance Dawn, where her family has owned a pomegranate farm for four or five generations. Along with ordinary pomegranates, they made and sold pomegranate wine. The rise of the great pirate era, however, meant that the expenses to protect the shipments soon outgrew profits, and the farm threatened to go under. Kitty, only 9 at the time, didn’t know anything about their financial crisis.

Her father had the idea to take some of the crop and paint them to look like devil fruit. It took a long time of practice, and then of carefully getting the word out to the right people, before a wealthy buyer made an offer.

Kitty’s father accepted the money and shipped off the “devil fruit”, and all was apparently well. A few weeks later, a ship pulled up at the bay and marched upon the farm. The crew was pirates hired by the wealthy buyer, as revenge for conning him with a fake devil fruit. The pirates razed the farm to the ground, and dragged her parents to the ship to take them to the buyer. Kitty stood up to them, but predictably the pirates just laughed. They told her that her parents had swindled their boss out of fifty million berries, and they’d spent it before the boss realized the devil fruit was fake. Kitty offered to work to pay them back so that her parents could be free, and they grab her and drag her to their boss. He’s pissed that he was conned, but doesn’t see what good she can do for him. He throws her parents in prison, and gives her to the pirates to do with whatever they want. The captain decides he likes the steely look in her eye, and conscripts her into his crew. She asks that she be allowed to save money to buy her parents’ freedom, and he agrees.

Over the course of the next ten years, she works her ass off and saves up a moderate amount of money. At nineteen years of age, her crew is hired by the same boss from 10 years ago to search an island for a reported devil fruit. The boss tells Kitty, personally, that if she brings the fruit to him, he’ll pardon her parents’ crime and free them. She agrees.

The crew arrives at the island and they spread out. Kitty branches off on her own to search a wing of the ruins, and ends up falling into a trap that drops her into a sealed chamber. She’s stuck in there for several hours before she manages to find the hidden exit - but not before she succumbs to hunger and eats a small patch of berries growing alongside the wall.

Eventually all of the crew makes it back to the ship, frustrated at not having found the devil fruit. They drop anchor for the night, and it’s during that evening that Kitty discovers she has the sudden ability to summon sparks of electricity to her fingertips. She realizes to her dread that the berries she found must’ve been the devil fruit they’d been searching for. Frustrated at herself for eating the fruit without realizing its true nature, and knowing she’d probably be killed if her captain and the boss found out, and that her parents would likely be killed too, Kitty hides her new power as well as her inability to swim. She waits until after her captain has reported the failed mission to the boss, then quietly bows out from the crew.

Unfortunately, the boss has a suspicion of what happened, and he sends the crew after her. She’s been on the run from her old crew and boss for almost a year when she runs into an arrogant young man with tattoos on his arm and back finds her. She assumes he’s been sent to capture her and she tries to fight him, but he easily overpowers her. Turns out, Ace had heard about her through the grapevine, and wanted to see if she’d join his crew.

She agrees, if nothing else but so that she can have the protection of the famous Fire-Fist Ace. Over the course of the next two years, the Spades crew becomes her new family, and she becomes particularly close to Ace. He helps her train, and under his and other crew members’ tutelage, she improves her electricity skills considerably. Eventually, she and Ace end up sleeping together, and while it’s fun and she does really like him, she’s not emotionally ready for a real relationship, so she calls that off. Ace backs off, and they decide to just be friends, though their relationship is slightly strained from there on out.

After a time, Kitty made the decision to leave the crew and pursue getting her parents’ freedom and family’s farm back. She lost all of her saved money when she left her original crew, though she managed to get a fair portion back since. Ace drops her off at her home island, with the promise that she can rejoin his crew at any time.

Kitty sets out trying to rebuild the burned ruin of the farm. It’s hard, unforgiving work, but she’s made fair headway before a pirate ship comes up in the bay. To her horror, she recognizes them as the pirate crew that kidnapped her parents and razed the farm, then took her onto the crew. Knowing they could only be here for her, she hides, watching from a distance as the pirates terrorize the small bay village. She fully expects the village to give her up, but they don’t - despite the pirates’ cruelty, everyone claims they’ve been rebuilding it themselves.

This goes on for several days before a second pirate ship rolls up. Kitty fears it’s reinforcements, and barely an hour later the crew of the second ship shows up at the farm. Kitty panics and attacks, but is easily beaten back. They subdue her, and once everyone’s calmed down, they introduce themselves as the Straw Hat pirates (Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, Nami). They’d stopped here for a resupply only to find the people there under assault by pirates. After beating back the offending pirates for at least a brief time, the Straw Hats were told by the grateful villagers about her situation, and they’d come to the farm to see if they could help.

Kitty is shocked, but sarcastically says that they could help her break her parents out of prison. To her incredulity, they agree without hesitation. They all go down to the bay village and soundly beat back the bad pirates one last time, then board the Merry and set sail.

It takes nearly a week to reach the island where her parents were taken, and over the course of that week Kitty learns more about the crew and their pasts. In particular, she bonds with Nami and Zoro - over money and swordplay, respectively. Nami sympathizes with her over their similar backstories, and the two women become close friends quickly. Zoro is of course a little more prickly, but his interest is piqued by her use of a single short sword. She’s not as skilled as he is, nor Brook later on, but her sheer determination impresses him.

When they finally get to the island, they have to be extra careful. Kitty puts on a disguise of Nami’s clothes, and they make their way towards the main square. They agree to meet back at the square in 3 hours, then  separate into groups to try and do some recon: Sanji and Luffy head towards the food markets, Zoro and Usopp head towards a weapons shop, and Nami and Kitty head towards some clothing shops.

They each have their various shenanigans, but manage somehow to get back to the town square on time. The crew has learned where the town’s boss lives, and they head there as a starting point. The crew deals with various minor henchmen as they make their way through the manor, and eventually find the boss. They confront him, and in the middle of the fight the boss lets slip the location of the prison where her parents were kept. Luffy and Sanji stay behind to fight the boss, while Kitty, Nami, Usopp, and Zoro head to the prison to break in.

Unfortunately, the boss called ahead, and the prison guards were expecting them. Kitty and the others fight through them, but in the mayhem get separated. Kitty and Usopp end up in one area, Zoro and Nami in the other. Both groups continue on, continuing to beat back guards as they go, searching for Kitty’s parents.

With the help of one of the other inmates, Kitty and Usopp learn which cell had her parents, and make their way there. However, the cell is empty, and they find that her parents were just moved to a different chamber, because of the news that the Straw Hats were on the way. Meanwhile, Zoro and Nami find out the same thing from a defeated guard - but also that it’s a trap for Kitty.

Kitty makes her way to the chamber where her parents are held, but knock-out gas makes them black out for a while. When they come to, they find themselves chained in a cage suspended over a vat of water. There’s another cage a little ways away - with Kitty’s parents inside. They have a tearful reunion before they’re interrupted by none other than the boss that her parents had cheated and Kitty had run from for so many years.

He monologues about how her parents shouldn’t have cheated him, and how Kitty should’ve taken advantage of the opportunities he gave her and not run off with the devil fruit, etc. He then offers her a choice: she can let herself and Usopp die, or she can let her parents die. Of course, Usopp and her parents all wholeheartedly agree that she (and Usopp by association) should live, but Kitty does the noble thing and sacrifices herself (and Usopp, with an apology) for her parents. The cage starts to lower into the vat of water, right as Sanji and Luffy burst into the room. A fight breaks out between them and the boss and his lackeys, though Sanji and Luffy are kept so busy they can’t come after her.

The cage hits the water and sinks beneath the surface. Usopp struggles to get free the entire time, while Kitty slowly drowns. Just as they’re about to pass out and die, the cage slices open and someone grabs the two of them up.

When Kitty comes to, the boss has been defeated. Zoro and Nami had shown up just seconds after Kitty and Usopp went underwater, and Zoro had rescued the while Luffy, Sanji, and Nami beat up the boss and the remaining lackeys. They get the sea prism stone cuffs off Kitty and give her her sword back. She immediately goes over to the boss and poises as if she’s about to slit his throat. With electricity crackling along the blade, she quietly tells him that if he ever comes after her family again, she will personally wreck everything he holds dear. The defeated boss accepts this, and the crew walks free with Kitty and her parents bringing up the rear.

They grab one of the boss’ ships, so that Kitty and her parents can go back to their home island of Romance Dawn. Luffy stops her and asks her to join his crew, to the other’s apparent lack of surprise. She refuses, saying she has to go home now that her dream has been fulfilled, but her parents urge her to reconsider. They say how she’s always been fascinated by the sea, and how now piracy was in her blood after her years of self-sufficiency. Kitty is torn, but eventually relents. She agrees to join Luffy’s crew, to everyone’s satisfaction.

The crew offers to go back to Romance Dawn to help finish rebuilding the farm, but her parents decline, saying it’s something they needed to do themselves. They and Kitty have a tearful farewell before they all get on their different ships, and part ways once more.

[westword-stories-blog]

CrossSwords - Chapter Eighteen

The Castle was quiet, now that the majority of the participants had left back to their home town, others decided to reside in the Farza Town as a permanent resident. Others have disappeared without question and a few have decided to go on a little quest. This made Erie feel at least somewhat happy that everyone getting together made a difference on one another. The fact was that Erie was actually a pretty nice person who cared much for everyone she knew. But of course she couldn't show this since she was one of the higher ups in the Varska Knights.

She made her way to her suite where she would take off her heavy suit of armor. A silver breastplate, shoulder guards, chausses' with silver metal covering the main bit, greaves and sabatons. After she took off everything from the waist down she finally removed her helmet. Her long, orange hair fell right down to around past her shoulder blades. The only piece of armor she was left with on was a body piece made purely from chain mail. Once she took that off she was now only wearing a body suit that extended her entire chest, waist and went down past her thighs while the sleeves stopped at her elbows. There was a small zipper on the back of the suit starting from her nape going way down near her waist.

She pulled on the zipper, making the "zzt!" noise it would always make, having it reach her waist until she huffed softly. Slowly pulling each limb free of the grasp from the suit she finally was out of the body suit and gently placed it aside. "What a day..." She said to herself then walking over to a dresser, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes then placing them aside. She then opened one of the three doors in her room, one leading to the hall, the other to a personal armory and the one she was entering to a private bathroom.

The Commander of the Knights took an hour long bath, wanting to make sure she was feeling clean and refreshed. She exited the bathroom with a refreshing sigh. She covered her body up with a long, white, fluffy towel and walked over to her bed, sitting down near the clothes and body suit. "This really is taxing on a woman.." She spoke softly then suddenly came a knock on her door. "Commander Erie!!"

This startled the woman as she jumped up right and widened her eyes. "W-Wait don't come in!"

"Ah--? Okay. Well, Come quickly to the war room!" A voice yelled from the other side of the door. She was confused but she knew she had to handle this. "Damn it, no time to be comfy..." She clicked her tongue then tossed her towel to the side, grabbing a new body suit from one of the dressers and fitting into it, awkwardly she zipped the zipper right up the the nape of her neck and then got suited into her armor pieces.

Chapter 18: Time of Peace ( Part One )

Erie stomped down the rather empty hall, passing by various doors, statues and banners, taking a few turns until she reached a door at the end of a hall. She opened the door then walked forward, shutting it behind her. In front of her was a flight of stairs that led downward. She didn't think she would have to visit this room again for a while. So she descended, holding onto the wall as she made her way down.

When she got to the bottom there was a long hallway ahead of her, dimly lit by a small lantern every few meters. She walked down the long hall, her armor filling the place with noise as it clashed and clanked around.

When she finally reached the end of the hall there stood another door, she opened the door and walked inside. The room she entered wasn't a big room, but it had a table in the middle and there stood King Rose, Valerie, Matthew, William and now entering was Erie.

"My King, what's the problem..?" Erie asked the large man who was in charge of Varska Kingdom, the kingdom that reigned over the Mainland. "Commander Erie, it's been brought to me that one of the various villages and towns have been attacked yesterday.."

Erie - The Knight Commander gasped at this then walked forward, looking at the King. "W-What..by who..."

Rose looked up at Erie then back down. "Reports say bandits, but I don't think bandits have ever left the village engulfed in flames..." He stood there in silence for a solid minute before speaking once more. "Also..It's been said that, whoever attacked that village took something with them. One of the items of long past. The body of the Dragon's Flute"

"..The Dragon's Flute..?"

Rose nodded his head slightly. "Legends say it can summon a Dragon and if you can convince it, it may help you with whatever you want for a large price. But there are three pieces to this legendary item. The body piece, head piece and bottom piece. These three pieces exist within the Mainland as treasures. The Body was in the recently razed Ein Town. The head is in this castle and the bottom is the treasure belonging to Till Village."

Erie slammed her hand on the table. "If.."

Rose looked back up, as did everybody else who was quietly listening in on this conversation. "...If they're getting the pieces, wouldn't that mean they're summoning it!? Shouldn't we be protecting the villages with treasures even further?!"

"Yes, I agree with you, Commander." Spoke Matthew who had his arms crossed, standing beside Valerie who was staring at the table with trembling eyes. "While I think sending more reinforcements to the villages, I don't think it will help very much..See, the village that was attacked held an important treasure. As such, it needed to be heavily guarded. But whoever attacked was capable of destroying that place until there was nothing but charred wood and ashes. See...If we send reinforcements, we're just sending Knights to an early grave." William spoke up finally after standing in silence for a solid half hour.

Erie placed her hand above her face, looking pained. "Damn it...What do we do then?"

"We could send a large amount of knights to the villages and even have one of the higher ups go along too." Matthew suggested.

"But the nearest village with a treasure is more than a days travel!" Valerie stated, which made Erie's  choices very limited.

"Damn it! It'll take too long!" She exclaimed then looked down to the side. "...It'll take too long, but we have to try." Erie closed her eyes to gather her thoughts, taking in a deep breath. "We have to say something to the public, they're going to get scared, but if they stay within their houses due to fright. It may lower the chances of a high body-count if they ever attack Varska Castle and Town." Erie stated with a long exhale.

"Come on, let's set the event up..."

~ ~ ~

There was a certain wind to this day. We were about a day and a half away from Stacia Village and we were walking down a path with no destination within visible sight. Bradley heaved and slumped over slightly. "How long is this trip to Concord?" Asked the young man facing the slightly older one. "Well, Concord is the name of the nearest town to the Kingdom of Gaia-"

Ceri then popped from her slightly straight stance then darted her eyes to Jackson. "Hey, I gotta question."

"...Yeah, what is it?" Jackson turned his head over to the woman facing him.

"If the Kingdom of Gaia got it's name from the nation, why isn't Mainland called Varska?" She questioned, which made Jackson smile slightly.

"Well, for the longest time, Mainland was the entire country and the vast majority of it had yet to be discovered. But eventually people migrated and moved to the furthest reaches of Mainland to name their own place. The reason why our current 'Mainland' isn't called Varska is simply because the King has yet to make the change in name. It will happen eventually but for now it's name is Mainland. I personally think he hasn't changed it because it's the only remaining nation with the 'Mainland' title."

Ceri looked down in thought then nodded simply. "I see.."

"Anyways, the place we're headed - Concord is about a 2 week travel if we move fast in daylight. 1 and a half if we never stop moving..." He said while the sun gently reflected off the surface of his black-rimmed glasses. I finally then saw something approaching in the distance among all their blabbering, pointing a finger ahead of myself. "Hey, there's some trees coming up, this is the second forest we've crossed since leaving Staica, right?" I asked to which Bradley confirmed my question.

Before we approached the forest there emerged another group of people traveling the opposite direction of us, towards the Village we recently departed from. Ceri waved at them and they waved back, we exchanged some words then parted. Apparently they're headed to Stacia Village for a drop-off of supplies. Didn't know villages needed that kind of support but it could be for building that house Tessa earned.

We'd been traveling in the forest for the rest of the day until the evening sky was visible through the trees. We decided to call it a night and set camp up in a clean patch. In front of me was a small fire that emitted the burning red glow to help us see around our area. Meanwhile Bradley went to get more wood to burn, Jackson is still setting up our two tents and Ceri went to a nearby lake to bathe.

"Well, the tents are as set up, well..to the best of my ability anyway." Jackson sat down beside my eating self. I was munching on a handful of berries I was gifted at the village we had just left from. "You know, I thought by the end of the tournament. I would've shared some smiles and maybe made a friend...

Never would I have thought I would've went on a quest with 3 other people I just met awhile before the tournament." He fell silent after saying this, only staring up at the night sky. "..Yeah, I agree. I thought it was going to be a really fun time. But then suddenly my best friend gets taken away to some place I don't even know where, I get some vague mark on my hand by some supposedly malicious group and suddenly I'm miles from home..." I said in a bit of a melancholic voice, my gaze was fixated on the ground.

Suddenly the flame cast in front of us blossomed with more fire, it caught my attention and I looked up to see a male with a few more small logs and twigs in his arms. "Well, don't get so sad. At least you're doing something a lot more worthwhile then well, becoming a knight or something."

Jackson snickered then nodded. "Yeah, as cool as it sounds...Most knights are just stationed someplace and rely on a biweekly care package. I personally like the situation I'm in. We've established ourselves as a group, a clan, a fighting force. We're the ones who will make a difference in our world. We're nothing like the groups like Citadel, Solar Flare or even the Compassing Justice for that matter. But I do believe we can at least do some good, case in point: Tessa." Jackson let out a short breath then looked to the flame in front of us.

"I wonder if we'll ever do more than help small-time." Jackson added before falling silent. "Well, once Ceri returns we should head to sleep." He said while getting up and retiring to a tent. "Well, I might as well do the same, I'll see you tomorrow, Vince."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow.."

~ ~ ~

Almost a week had passed since the report of one of the villages being attacked. In this time-frame another one had been attacked: Till Village.

The fact that this place had been hit next was proof that whoever was attacking these places had the intent on getting "The Dragon's Flute". An item that would summon a specific Dragon to call, and if you could bribe said dragon it would help you with whatever endeavors you had in mind, the only problem was that the Dragon in question was a difficult one to convince and that he prioritized payment first rather than the helps and needs of whoever called him.

But it was okay. Because in order to actually make the flute work they needed the last piece, the head of the flute. So even if they did get both pieces they needed to plunge deep into the cellars of the castle in order to obtain it.

Today, King Rose stood in front of a large balcony settled around the front side of the castle. There beside him on both sides stood Valerie and Matthew who both seemed a bit uncomfortable at the time. Behind King Rose was a small group of knights and of course, leading these knights was Erie who was standing to the side of the balcony, standing straight and tall. Her sword was unsheathed and she had the point of it on the ground while she held the bottom of the grip with both hands, the sword itself reached up to past her waist.

The King raised his hand as to calm the citizens and people below who were all gathered around the gate of the castle, looking upwards at the royal figure.

"Attention my people!" The King spoke up after a long half hour of having people stand there confused and concerned. "We've lived in this Kingdom for a long while, some just leaving our world and some just joining it. All is quiet, all is peaceful..

But no longer."

There was a sudden uproar of gasps and murmuring before he raised his hand once again. "Do not worry. It is not war, famine or disease. However, it is brought to my attention that there are a wide range of bandits razing villages within my Kingdom. And so, I thought it be best to pass this word unto my followers.

My people! For the sake of your protection, and for the sake of my care. Please do stay in your homes until further notice. Our Knights will carry out supplies to each house and settlement. And if our town, our castle is ever attacked...I hope that you will all be smart and stay calm. For now, that will be all." The King bowed his head to his people who all seemed a bit shocked at his word. For the past long years it had been peaceful and no malice would take place for the longest time, not since the fall of the Sacred Eyes.

But they did not know that the Sacred Eyes was making a come back, and this time they were aggressive and merciless...

~ ~ ~

The consistent sound of a hammer against metal was satisfying to hear, the slightly dark skinned girl sat on a chair on a porch, under a small roof while watching the road of the village she had finally worked her way back into. The sun was slowly setting but there was enough light to see clearly, just being able to enjoy a mundane life was all Tessa wanted. She was happy. Ever since coming back to the Village she couldn't stop smiling, in fact. There wasn't ever a moment where she was frowning since her return.

"Alright, Tessa!" A burly voice called out, she turned her head to the right where the voice was calling. She got out of her seat and walked towards the source of the voice.

There stood a man, a blacksmith who finished his work after a long while. "Here it is.." He gestured her over where he and she would walk, eventually coming into sight of a suit of armor and a sword which was still cooling. She was taken aback at how the armor stood there, just about her size.

"You wanted a set, here you go." He said to her, smiling. The armor was mostly a thick leather with Iron covering a majority of the vital areas: Chest, legs, arms and neck. "Thank you! This is really cool! Can I try it on?!" She asked the man with a beaming smile.

"Of course, I don't see why not."

And with that, she ran off with the armor, leaving only the sword which would probably reach to her chest.

Once she came back out she was outfitted in the armor which hugged her body perfectly. She stretched and moved around in the set for awhile before returning to the blacksmith. "It works great, old man! I'm really really thankful!" The man simply laughed then nodded. "Well, if you're that thankful maybe you could stop callin' me that? I am housing you until you get your own after all."

"Oh, right..Uh, sorry!" She said with a nod of her head.

She took in a deep breath before taking the sword off from the rack, holding the grip in her hands and squeezing. "..It doesn't feel too heavy, nor is it too light." She gently brought it up and down then smirked. "This is perfect."

The man approached her in a laugh then she darted her eyes at him. "Stand back.

I wanna practice with this thing." She said while exhaling, he understood then returned to inside of his house. When he was gone she stepped out of the area and walked to a small field nearby the village. Taking swings at the air, vertical, horizontal, stabs and parries. She had already experienced some fights from when she was known as the "Forest Bandit" so a sword wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

Just then she heard a scream from her village, she turned around and saw that people were running and fighting back some strange silhouettes. Immediately she knew she had to do something so she began to run on back to her village which was in the middle of being attacked.

Next

"They're approaching!"

"This has been fun, really. But it's time to end this little 'battle' okay?"

"Not..Again..."

CrossSwords Chapter 19: Time of Defense ( Part Two )