#and then elizabeth gets taken! and will storms in!! and he's all righteous anger over her capture

[thatsparrow]

they did norrington so right with the quiet, emotional but still restrained, "do not make the mistake of believing you are the only man here who cares for elizabeth"

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach​

Chapter 4: 14 Seconds (2)

                                                             When Jamie's car stopped just before the entrance of the gallery, it had already begun to rain in torrents. The sky had darkened to black and every now and then a loud thunder could be heard. The limousine driver parked near the entrance and then quickly jumped out of the car with a large black umbrella bearing the logo and name of the hotel in gold letters. He opened the door on the rear passenger side and held the umbrella so that Jamie could get out without getting wet. The chauffeur accompanied him the few steps to the gallery, then quickly hurried back to the car where he would wait for the guest to return.                As soon as he had entered, Jamie was greeted by a friendly member of the gallery staff. He paid the entrance fee and received the exhibition catalogue. Then he slowly started his way through the exhibition. It took him about forty minutes to reach the back room of the gallery. Already from a distance he saw the well-known photo showing the painter in front of his famous work "Wall". Only once had Richter had himself photographed in front of this work. This photo had then adorned the title page of the art magazine "art".                     Exactly in front of this two-meter by two-meter picture sat a petite woman, whose head was surrounded by an only slightly tamed, dark brown mass of curls. Carefully and anxious to make as little noise as possible, Jamie approached with some distance. A few minutes passed, then he heard the woman sniffing softly. She opened her handbag and was obviously looking for a handkerchief in a hurry. Jamie reached into the right pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pack of Tempo tissues, which he opened and held out to the unknown woman.         "Please, take one of these."

“Boston” by chabotphoto          The woman turned her head up to him and looked at him with big, red, weeping eyes.          Then she immediately looked back down to the ground.          "Don’t be ashamed. I know only too well how much this painting can speak to a person's soul," Jamie said softly.          "What?" asked the young woman and looked at Jamie again.          "I meant the picture..."          Jamie pointed with his right hand to the large photo she was sitting in front of. Claire looked over, then shook her head.          "I ... I didn't ..."          At that moment, the dark silk scarf she had wrapped around her neck began to come loose, revealing her ivory skin. To his horror Jamie discovered several dark red-blue strangulation marks there.          James Fraser had learned early on to hide his emotions well. Among the people who regularly dealt with him, he was known for the stoic mask he was able to put on. A mask that never betrayed what he really thought or felt. Ernst Neuenburger had once highlighted this characteristic of his Scottish friend as a further asset to his diplomatic missions, saying, that if Jamie ever got tired of his daily work, he could make a very good living as a poker player.                But at that moment every joule of stoic calm left him. A feeling of righteous anger pervaded his entire body and the desire to bring the one who had caused those marks and the pain and fears associated with them to justice almost overwhelmed him.                His emotions had obviously not escaped the young woman. Frightened, she grabbed her neck and immediately put the scarf back on. Then she looked down again. Now tears were dripping from Claire's face onto the floor. Jamie, who had not failed to notice this either, again held out the package of Tempo tissues to her.          "Please, take the whole package."              Claire reached for the tissues.          "Thank you."          "May I sit with you?" Jamie asked, pointing to the other side of the bench.          She nodded.

         Cautious not to get too close to her, he sat down on the other end of the bench.          A few minutes went by in which they both remained silent. But in James Fraser's head the thoughts were spinning. What could he do to help this young woman without endangering his mission? How could he approach her without frightening her timid nature even more? In what way could he gain her trust? And above all: How could he prevent her from being exposed to even more brutality?          In Claire's mind, too, one thought chased the other. Who was this man? What did he want from her? Could she trust him? Was he the help she had prayed for just a few minutes ago in a more or less conscious prayer? He did not look like an angel, more like the modern version of a tall Viking. And yet there was nothing about him that seemed threatening to her. His bright blue eyes gave her a feeling of ... a feeling of ...          Suddenly the soft, deep voice that had so kindly offered her the handkerchiefs before interrupted her thoughts:          "Excuse me, I haven't introduced myself. My name is Etienne Marcel de Provac Alexandre. I'm a wine merchant. I had a business meeting in town today."          Jamie gave her his right hand.          Claire, who had calmed down a bit, grabbed it and answered:          "Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp..."

“Hände” by Bru-nO    

         Usually, she would also have used the name "Randall", but she never wanted to have anything to do with that name again. Before she could even think about how to get rid of this name, the stranger's voice interrupted her thoughts again:          "Oh, from France too?"

         "Not exactly. My ancestors ... emigrated to England ... many centuries ago. Are you from France? You speak English with no accent?“          Jamie had to smile.

         "Well, my ancestors also left France centuries ago. Then they came to Germany ... through ... various countries. I ... I work as a wine merchant for a company in Berlin.“

         He reached into the right inside pocket of his jacket, took out a small silver case with business cards and handed one of them to Claire. She took the card and read attentively. Surprised, she suddenly heard herself wonder:          "How far is Berlin from here?"          Jamie thought for a moment.          "A little over 6,000 kilometers, I guess."          "And how far is it from London to Berlin?"          "About 1,000 kilometers."          "And you are in Boston on business?"          "Yes, I had a meeting with one of our business partners."          She nodded.          "I don't want to be indiscreet, but may I ask you something?"          Claire looked at him and Jamie realized that the trust he had just so carefully tried to build between them had disappeared from her eyes.

         But then the young woman nodded again.          "You ... you're not here for the exhibition?" he asked softly, almost whispering.

         "No," Claire replied just as softly, and then, to her own surprise, it flowed out of her:          "I ... I was looking for a place where ... I could have some piece, a quiet place to think, and since the church was closed ..."          "Sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t mean to."          Jamie made preparations to stand up carefully. But to his surprise, Claire had quickly put her hand on his arm as if she were holding him back. Was she? She didn't know it herself.          At that moment, the voice of the friendly co-worker who had greeted Jamie sounded from the ceiling speakers. She warned the visitors to the gallery that it would be closing shortly.

         Jamie looked at Claire.          "What are you gonna do now?"

         He did not need to wait for an audible  answer, her eyes told him that she did not know.          "May I invite you to dinner, Mrs. Beauchamp?"

         What did that man want from her? Could she trust him? Or was there some other purpose behind his altruism. She had truested Frank once ... But what if he really just wanted to help her? What if he really just wanted to be kind to her? Maybe because the thought of his French ancestors had activated a kind of feeling of solidarity? Did she have any chance? Did she have a better alternative?          Claire nodded.          "Thank you."          Jamie got up and waited until Claire had also got up and taken her bag. Slowly they walked towards the exit. Through one of the large windows they saw that the rain that had begun to cover the city a few hours earlier, had gradually turned into a real storm. Jamie grabbed his smartphone and dialed the chauffeur's number. Shortly afterwards Carl appeared in front of the gallery with two large black umbrellas and together they walked quickly to the car.

“Schwarz und Weiß” by Pexels

         "To the hotel, Mr. Alexandre?"          "Yes, Carl, to the hotel."          Claire looked at Jamie in surprise.          But he briefly put a hand on her right arm to calm her down:          "My hotel has a wonderful restaurant. I arrived yesterday and will fly back to Berlin tomorrow. I didn't have time to explore other restaurants."          Half an hour later they were sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant and had ordered dinner. Claire had decided that she would make the most of the time they had together. She had nothing to lose and so she began to question Jamie, alias Etienne. How had his family come to Germany? Had he grown up in Germany? Had he studied? Did he have brothers and sisters? How long had he worked for the company that sent him to Boston? Did he enjoy his job? Did he want to pursue this profession all his life?          As they ate and talked, Claire carefully glanced over his hands. He was not wearing any rings. So the question of whether he was married seemed unnecessary. Now he looked at her questioningly, obviously he had noticed something.

“Glashütte Original Panomatic Date“ by GFP via WikiMediaCommons

         "You are wearing a very beautiful watch, Etienne," she said, hoping that he would not notice that her attention had not been focused on the piece of jewelry on his left wrist. Already in the car she had seen that he was wearing a watch with a blue dial that matched the colour of his eyes.

         "What kind of brand is it?" she asked, hoping to distract him further.

         "It's a Glashütte Original. Model PanoMaticLuna," he replied. Then he cut off another piece of his steak.

         "Looks expensive," she said, then led another fork of lettuce to her mouth.

         "Let's just say it wasn't cheap," Jamie replied before he in turn brought his fork with the meat to her mouth.

         "So you make good money?"

         The question came briskly and Claire almost bit her tongue. She hoped she hadn't offended him. But Jamie didn't seem to mind her remark.

         "I was lucky enough to close a very good sale a few years ago and my boss gave me a percentage of the profits. That's how I afforded this watch. I'm not giving much about wearing ... jewellery, but I've always wanted a reliable watch.

         "What was that you were selling at the time? It must have been quite extraordinary."        

         Beauchamp! Your mouth will finally get you into trouble.

         She was about to apologize when Jamie grabbed his wine glass, smelled it and then took a sip. This gave him a chance to think for a moment before he answered.

         Claire also reached for her wine glass. She looked at him and saluted him.

         "Well," he began, after putting his glass down, "I can't, of course, talk about business matters. But let's put it this way: I located some very old bottles of European wine a few years ago and was able to acquire them for someone else, a collector, at a very good price."        

         Fraser, you nut. I hope she takes it from you.

         He'd read that this sort of business was really happening, but extremely rare. He also wondered if his answer had sounded convincing. Yes, he'd bought this watch on a bonus. But he had not received it for finding and reselling old wine bottles. For weeks he had been negotiating in the hottest weather with a North African group of bandits who had kidnapped a German-Austrian team of archaeologists. After finally returning the twelve men and women to Vienna and Berlin on a Gulfstream 650, Ernst Neuenburger presented him with a cheque. With this money he had bought the watch he had been wearing ever since.          As dinner drew to a close, Jamie decided to play at full risk.                  "Claire, I know this must sound ... strange to you. But ... I'd like to help you. How would you feel about me booking you a hotel room? My company can cover the cost. It's no problem. I'll check with my boss later. You ... you don't ... you don't have to ... go back to ... him ... tonight."          He had spoken softly, almost in a whisper. Yet she felt as if her ears were ringing. Before she could even answer, Jamie had called a waiter and asked him to ask at the reception if he could book another single room.          She looked at him speechless. He just smiled.          Shortly after, the waiter came back and explained that unfortunately there were no more free single rooms because of the Boston Marathon, which would take place in two days.          "So that's all right then, but thanks for the suggestion," Claire said and reached for her wine glass again.          "There's another possibility," Jamie started and reached for his wine glass as well, "there's a fold-out sofa in my studio. You can take my bed, I'll have it freshly made and I'll take the sofa."          Claire placed her wine glass on the table with such force that he thought the stem would break off.          "What do you think?!" she thundered at him. "I'm not that kind of woman."          He would have been happy to answer her at the same volume. But some of the other guests were already looking to them and he wanted to avoid further fuss at all costs.          "And I, Claire, am not such a man," he replied in a calm but very specific tone. When she had calmed down a little, he went on quietly:          "I have a family in Berlin and I don't travel the world to bring vulnerable women to my room on my nights off."

         He put his hands in front of his face and massaged his forehead lightly. When he looked up again, he saw her shaking slightly. Since she was silent, he continued speaking:          "All I want, Claire, is to help you. I don't know who inflicted those marks on your neck and I'm not going to ask you about. But I don't want you to have to go back to him - if you don't want to. And I don't want you wandering around this town in the middle of the night in this weather too. I want to be sure that you're safe and that you're getting a good night's sleep. Tomorrow you can decide what to do next.          Tears ran down her cheeks and Claire quickly reached for her napkin to wipe them away.          "Claire, please! Allow me to help you."          He reached out his right hand to her. When she had put the napkin aside, she grabbed it.          "Thank you. You’re kind."          Jamie waved to the waiter and asked him to arrange for the pull-out sofa in his studio to be preoared and his bed to be freshly made up. He also asked to separate the two sleeping areas with screens. When the waiter returned shortly afterwards and announced that the guest's wishes would be carried out, Jamie asked that dessert be served.

“Lemon Meringue Tart" by la-fontaine          After they had eaten the lemon meringue tart and emptied the rest of the bottle of wine, Jamie stood up and offered his hand to Claire. Together they walked out of the restaurant to the cloakroom where they received their coats.          Soon after, Jamie opened the door to his studio and let Claire go in. When he entered after her, he saw that the service had carried out his wishes to the point. His bed had been freshly made and there was a second bathrobe on the bedspread. The bedroom had been separated from the living room area (where the sofa had now been converted into a pull-out bed) by a bamboo screen about 2 meters long. Claire also looked around carefully and Jamie thought he saw something like an expression of satisfaction and relaxation on her face.

         He took Claire's coat off and hung it with his in the cloakroom.          "Take a seat, please," he said, pointing to one of the armchairs in front of the gas fireplace. Claire let herself fall into the armchair more than she let herself sit down. It seemed as if she suddenly lost all her strength. Her eyes fell on the wedding ring that she still wore out of habit. She tried to take it off, but she couldn’t. Overwhelmed by feelings of pain and anger, she burst into tears again and began to sob. Jamie, who stood at one of the windows for a moment and looked down at the street, turned around immediately and took two big steps towards her. Without thinking about it any further, he knelt in front of her and put an arm around her.          "Claire," he said softly, "trust me, we'll find a way. You don't have to go back to him."     When she looked at him with her redish weeping eyes, he could hardly bear the sight and pulled her to him.            

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

10,000 Follower Special: The League’s Path to Victory! The Time Plan?

In this thrilling installment of the League of Villains tale, Ganondorf and his team of dastardly devils make their big move, playing their cards big! Ganondorf’s ultimate plan is revealed, and the Super Smash Bros must race to both stop it, and save their friends!

Bioshock Universe: The Floating City of Columbia

For Booker DeWitt, life had taken a nosedive down the rabbit hole and just kept going and going all the way to looney-ville. As if a fascist/fundamentalist floating city in the sky wasn’t enough, a teenage girl with time-hopping powers whom he had begrudgingly come to care for topped tings off. Add in weird magical powers from drinking magical coca-cola and apparently machine-men and... yeah he was pretty sure that life would never make sense again.

How he had ended up on this quest to save the world from a psychotic religious zealot he’d never know. But by whatever God there might be he was going to kill him as painfully as possible.

And now, here they were. At the precipice of destiny, ready to end the son of a whore once and for all.

“Stand back.” Booker growled to Elizabeth, mentally deciding if he should split Comstock’s skull with his knew zipline claw, or just blast his head off.

He was leaning towards the skull splitting.

Elizabeth shot him a look. “Booker, no.” she said firmly. “This is between me and him.”

Booker shook his head. “You are WALKING into a TRAP.” growled the former soldier.

“I NEED to do this.” she said, the stubborn jut in her jaw announcing an end to the argument. The look was strangely familiar to Booker, but he mentally chalked it up to the girl being more stubborn than any human had any right to be.

The door swung open, Comstock awaited, in all his self-righteous glory.

The room was beautiful, illuminated by a stained-glass window with a small basin in the center, presumably for baptism.

Comstock smiled, looking for all the world like a loving grandfather. “Come here child.” he spoke with a smile as they approached. “Well come on! I don’t bite.” he said with a laugh.

‘He’s jolly for a man who’s been consistently getting his army killed. Is he just that arrogant?’ thought Booker to himself, not releasing his grip on his gun.

“My, oh, my how you’ve grown.” said Comstock gently as Elizabeth approached.

“...Tell me.” said Elizabeth. “What- what am I?” she asked.

Comstock extended a hand and Elizabeth allowed him to take it. “Look at you child, you’re a mess.” he said, removing the sponge from the full basin.

Feeling a surge of protectiveness and anger Booker ground out “Hey! Let go of her.”

Comstock ignored him. “Elizabeth, everything I’ve done is to keep you safe.” he said as he washed her hand.

“Safe from what?!” snapped Elizabeth.

Comstock sighed. “”The Seed of the Prophet shall sit upon the Throne and drown in flame, the Mountains of Man.”” quoted the self-ordained prophet. The his eyes turned grim. “But the Archangel revealed something else: “Beware, Prophet. Beware the False Shepard, Booker DeWitt, for he shall be as a Wall between her and Destiny.” 

“Why?” asked Elizabeth, practically begging for an answer. But Comstock no longer had eyes for her, he was glaring at Booker and Booker was matching it.

“Booker, I’ve been a fool.” he declared. “I’ve sent mighty armies to stop you! I’ve rained FIRE FROM ABOVE!” he cried, slowly walking around the basin. “I did all of that, to keep you from her, when all I had to do was tell her the truth!” snarled Comstock.

“That is the thing about lies, isn’t it.” drawled a smooth voice from behind them. “They have a short self-life. They go bad, and quickly.”

Booker spun around and his already weird day took another dive down the rabbit-hole.

The silver haired man in all black was the strangest man Booker had ever beheld. And not just his outlandish clothes and ridiculously long hair. He also held a weapon, a Japanese-style sword as long as a man was tall.

Booker leveled his shotgun at the man. “Who are you?” he growled out. “And how did you-” he began, but was shoved aside by Comstock who fell to his knees before the man.

“The Archangel!” he cried. “The Angel who came to me! The Archangel: Sephiroth!” cried Comstock, tears in his eyes. “You’ve returned.”

Booker felt like his hear had dropped into his stomach. There was no way. An Archangel? Really? It was impossible!

But... with all that had happened...

“You?!” cried Elizabeth incredulously. “You’re an Archangel?”

The now named Sephiroth chuckled. “I’m an Angel... after a fashion.” he said, before turning his attention back to Comstock. “You’ve done your duty well Prophet. The time has come. You shall be rewarded.”

Booker began to unconsciously backing up to stand with Elizabeth, putting the basin between himself and the ‘Archangel’.

“Yes, mighty one.” said Comstock. “I’ve... I’ve worked so long. I’m ready.” he said.

“Yes.” said Sephiroth, placing his palm upon Comstock’s forehead. “Your reward.”

“A quick death.”

There was a blinding flash of light, a blaze of unholy heat, and Booker instinctively grabbed Elizabeth and tackled her down, using the basin as a shield between them and the explosion.

Slowly, after the heat had dissipated, Booker and Elizabeth stood, looking towards Comstock and the Angel. Elizabeth screamed and buried her face into Booker’s chest. Booker could only stare dumbly.

Where Zachary Comstock had been, was a charred and black skeleton, bits of flesh still clinging to it, ablaze. The ground beneath it was blasted to high, holy hell, leaving Sephiroth staring dispassionately.

“Well, that’s done.” drawled the Archangel, for what else could he be but an angel, “Now,” he said, pointing his massive weapon at Booker. “Give me the girl, and this will go smoothly.”

Booker didn’t think. He didn’t wait. He grabbed his shotgun and blasted at the Angel, or Demon, or whatever it was.

Sephiroth deflected the bullet with the flat of his blade. Sighing, Sephiroth spoke. “Very well. We’ll do this his way.” And with that, Sephiroth snapped his fingers.

The stained glass window behind them exploded, and a monster entered the room.

It was huge. A twisted dragon-like purple monster even bigger than Songbird. The creature landed, crushing the basin beneath it. Booker raised his shotgun to shoot the monster, but it knocked him aside with a single back-hand.

“Booker!” cried Elizabeth.

Booker slammed into the wall, his vision becoming blurry as pain dominated his body. He was vaguely aware of the monster grabbing Elizabeth and taking off in flight. The Archangel followed, a single black wing flowing behind him.

As unconsciousness claimed Booker, he was aware of a massive mechanical monstrosity stomping towards him.

Columbia was burning.

Rebel and loyalist alike found themselves crushed under the furious attack of nightmare creatures. Mechanical nightmares, twisted mutated creatures that had once been human, and demons straight from Hell itself swarmed the streets as they slaughtered the all within the city.

Elizabeth saw all of this from the clutches of the flying demon as it flew beside Sephiroth.

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop! Those people are innocent! Just STOP!” she cried.

The demon laughed. “There are no innocents girlie. By morning, this place will be a smoldering ruin, sinking into the ocean.” it said in a mocking tone.

“Now, now, Ridley, no need to mock.” said Sephiroth to the now named Ridley. “Besides, we have a job to do.”

And that’s when Elizabeth saw their destination. The Angel Statue, her prison. All about the structure smaller ships flew, attaching strange machines to it, readying it for... something. 

Sephiroth spoke. “You see my dear, we needed your father for this task. To build us the Angel. To construct us this colossus for our own use.” his eyes flicked to her. “And to rear you. Our precious Lamb.”

Elizabeth glared at the so-called Archangel, tears in her eyes. “Why!? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?”

Sephiroth chuckled as they landed atop the Angel’s head. “Why, for exactly the reason we said. To rain fire down upon the mountains of man.”

There was a blinding flash of blue energy, and they and the Angel were gone.

Arcadia Bay, Life is Strange Universe

“This is my storm, Chloe.” said Max Caulfield quietly as she and her friend- no, they’d been through too much for Chloe to be a mere friend anymore- stood by the lighthouse, staring at the veritable hurricane bearing down on Arcadia Bay. After all, it had to be her storm. What else could it be? All that screwing around with time, it had all led to this.

The world was a cruel place. To bring her and Chloe back together like this, only to have this happen. She felt rage in her heart at the raw unfairness of this whole shitty deal. Both hers and Chloe’s. First Rachel, then that monster Jefferson, now this?! It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

“Max-” began Chloe, but she was interrupted.

“Oh my sweet summer child or some shit. You ain’t seen a storm yet.” sneered a voice that reminded her eerily of Nathan Prescott at his worst, and yet infinitely more malevolent.

Chloe and Max spun around, seeing the new arrival. He was about their age, maybe a little older, with ashen gray skin, blood red eyes, and bone-white hair. He was dressed like he was going to a Renaissance Fair, complete with a sword in his hand and a shield on his back. Except the sword looked very, very real.

 “What’re you talking about dipshit!” snapped Chloe, moving protectively between Max and the stranger. “And who the fuck do you think you are!?”

The stranger cackled, somehow over the wind. “Me? I’m a shadow. A reflection. The punchline to the bad joke you call existence.” he cackled. “And I’m the guy who’s here for your little girlfriend bitch.”

Chloe snarled and put her fists up. “Try it fuckwit.” she growled. Max felt her heart swell for Chloe, her brave punk warrior.

The dark stranger cackled. “Oh sweetie. It’s not me you have to worry about... it’s him.”

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Chloe and Max turned their heads, seeing their new adversary.

A towering mountain of metal armor and what seemed to be raw malice was marching towards them, a massive flesh-covered sword in one hand and a demonic looking claw flexing in the other.

Max was not afraid to admit that she voided her bowels in that moment,

:What the fu-” began Chloe, but the creature lashed out, seizing her in it’s clawed hand. Chloe screamed in pain, Max screamed in horror, and the monstrous knight roared as he pitched Chloe off the cliff.

“NOOO!” screamed Max, instinctively reaching out with her powers, but there was a sharp pain to the back of her head, and she collapsed into unconsciousness. 

Dark Link spat as Nightmare picked up the girl. “Well, that was easy. Hope Seph got his as easy.”

“Sephiroth was chosen by the Master. The Master does not fail.” proclaimed Nightmare.

Dark Link rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s go big guy. We got a schedule to keep.”

Nightmare nodded and Soul Edge pulsed with power. A massive red portal opened for them and they stepped through.

Neither noticed the winged mechanical monstrosity grab Chloe Price before she hit the sharp rocks below.

Songbird, the mechanical guardian of Elizabeth Comstock landed on the beach of Arcadia Bay, Booker DeWitt and Chloe Price in it’s arms. Before the mechanical beast were three people. A grown man and woman sharply dressed in khaki’s, and a small child in a blue and purple striped sweater.

The woman placed a hand on both Booker and Chloe’s limp form. “Excelsior. Both perfectly fine. Well done.” remarked Rosalind Lutece to Songbird. she turned to her brother, Robert. “You see? I told you it would work.”

“I never said it would not work. I merely predicted a 97.836% chance that the plan would fail.” he said. He glanced from his sister to the child. “You did well to come to us Frisk.”

*Frisk tells the Lutece’s that they’re happy the plan worked*

“Well there’s still plenty of room for failure. Don’t you worry about that.” said Rosalind dryly.

Robert picked up Frisk and placed them upon Songbird’s back. “Now, to the Smash Mansion, all of you. Tell the Smash Brothers that there is more at stake than they realize. Worry not, we will abate the storm.” he assured Frisk.

*Frisk thanks the Lutece’s again for their help.*

“Well given that we exist within time itself, we had better help you.” said Rosalind. “Now off!”

Frisk nodded and patted Songbird. The mechanical beast flew off, disappearing through one of Frisk’s shortcuts, learned from Sans of course.

“Do you think they will win?” asked Rosalind lightly.

Robert shrugged. “For once... I cannot see. And I rather like the not knowing. That’s more fun than I remember.”

“Indeed.” remarked Rosalind. “Now, the storm? Shall we?” she asked.

“Indubitably.” remarked Robert.

The Twins of Time began to glow with power.

Arbiter’s Grounds, Legend of Zelda Universe

Ganondorf stood before the mostly reconstructed Mirror of Twilight, painstakingly reassembled through massive effort after Midna had shattered it. Ganondorf stood upon the scaffolding, built around the massive Angel of Columbia, placed here by Sephiroth and Ridley after their mission. The Mirror now sat with the chest of the Angle, nestled between it’s collarbones.

“So that’s it?” asked Chara. “The Gateway?”

Ganondorf nodded. “Aye. The Mirror was a gateway between this world and the Twili Realm. But now, with the Angel to serve as a conductor and amplifier, it shall open the doorways between all worlds.”

Chara nodded, an evil smile spreading across their face. “And with the Time Power of those two brats within it...”

Ganondorf nodded. “All of Time and Space will be ours for the taking. And you, Chara, with your own Temporal abilities, shall be the one to open the way.” he said, lovingly ruffling the demon child’s hair. 

“I’m ready father.” said Chara proudly.

Ganondorf laughed. “Of course you are.” he said proudly. “And soon the Angel will be as well.” Ganondorf laughed as he turned from the mirror to face the rising sun. “Rejoce, my child, for Convergence is upon us. And our final victory.”

[kassandra-lorelei]

So, I've been sick in bed and went back through all your one-shots on here (why did I never do that before?!) Anyways... You're amazing and I love them all, but my favorite one was the AU where Niles was CC's carriage driver who got lost and they eventually run off together. It's so adorable and I was wondering if you could write a next part of it? Their wedding and /or them living on the run from her family maybe? I just want to know what happens next! Ha ha Thanks, Hannah!

Hey there, my friend! I’m sorry to hear you’ve been unwell - I hope you’re feeling better!

@missbabcocks1 @holomoriarty

Niles had been correct in his assumptions that the journeywould be long – they had left at first light and it had been very near dusk bythe time they’d arrived at the village where his cousin served as priest. Butto Chastity-Claire, there had never been a finer journey, nor a better timespent. Her fiancé, though but a servant by birth and profession, was truly themost remarkable she’d ever met. His wit matched her own, his kindness wasunparalleled, and his charm could win the heart of even the most cynicalcreature.

It had certainly won hers. She could not be completely firmin how many of her friends and family had married for love, but from the waymany of them presented themselves at dinners and balls, it was not themajority. She was amongst the fortunate few, and she would not trade her placefor all the wealthy suitors her mother would consider a more than adequatealternative.

Niles’ cousin was an amicable man, and though he had beensurprised to see them, he’d delighted in the opportunity to perform a wedding(even at extremely short notice!). He’d even gathered some of the localvillagers to serve as witnesses and as congregation, and some of the villagersin turn had provided Chastity-Claire with a fine bouquet of wildflowers, andNiles with a fresh suit. They had insisted that no man should look less than hisbest on his wedding day, and after many thanks were exchanged between allparties, they had begun the ceremony.

A faint blush had settled across Chastity-Claire’s cheeksfrom the onset, and she feared being the colour of the setting sun by the endof it. But from the gaze that Niles bestowed upon her (even from the merecorner of his eye), she felt as though she could be as red as an apple and hewould consider her no less than a goddess.

The mere thought sent a pleasant shiver through her verycore, and she beamed back at her love, before turning her eyes back to thepriest.

“If there is any person present who knows of a reason whythis man and this woman may not be married, you are to declare it now.”

There could be no reason. No person present knew-

“I demand that this wedding be stopped!” cried a commandingvoice, snatching the remains of Chastity-Claire’s thought from her head.

The replacement dread for her previous satisfaction feltcold, and with a soft gasp she spun to witness the objector’s entrance.

It was her mother, Lady Barbara-Beatrice Babcock, who hadspoken, and whose heeled shoes were marching with tempestuous purpose towardsher daughter through the murmuring congregation. Her father, Lord StewartBabcock, and her brother Noel both soon followed, appearing much more reluctant.The instigator of this interruption was clear, and though Chastity-Clairelowered her bouquet in one hand, she used the other to take Niles’.

She would not allow him to feel intimidated, which was oftenthe case when her mother approached servants. And though she knew her love tobe both sharp and stalwart in his own honour’s defence, her encouragement wouldnot be unwelcome.

“Chastity-Claire,” it was not a greeting that her mothergave. “Step away from that man this instant!”

Chastity-Claire would do no such thing, “Mother-”

“Silence, child,” Lady Babcock came to an imperious haltbefore them. “We did not leave the Goodhues’ home in search of you, only to beinformed by the landlord of an inn some miles away from your intendeddestination, that you had left in this direction with your fiancé! I will notallow it to continue! You are a highborn lady, you shall present yourself assuch, and you shall marry as such!”

Chastity-Claire had never heard such a silence follow anorder her mother gave. But it was to be expected – she was the recipient, andshe was not going to obey.

It was only broken by a clearing of the throat designed toattract attention.

“Perhaps,” Niles’ cousin leaned discreetly into the colloquy.“It might be more prudent if this discussion were to be conducted privately?”

Lady Babcock turned on the priest with the amount of respectowed to a man of his position, but also with an equal amount of condescensionthat was typical of her interactions with…well, any working man or woman shecame across!

“Good sir, I shall be the one to decide where my affairs arediscussed.”

“This is not your affair, Mother,” Chastity-Claire finallyfound herself able to speak. “This affair is between Niles and myself.”

Lady Babcock cast a disdainful eye over Niles, “It certainlyalmost was…!”

Chastity-Claire set her jaw hard to prevent it from gaping, butshe knew her eyes were alight with righteous anger.

“I am a woman of age, Mother; I may decide which man Imarry!”

“Not when your choice brings shame upon our family!” hermother retorted, her chest slowly swelling in indignation. “Unless, of course,you are choosing to renounce the Babcock name?”

That irked Chastity-Claire.

She slowly tilted her head to one side, “Is that not anobjective of marrying, Mother? To give up one’s maiden name and take up that ofone’s husband?”

Her mother’s eyes flashed, and her hand gestured, “This manis a servant! He has no name!”

Chastity-Claire felt Niles let go of her hand. In a momentof unprecedented fear, she thought that perhaps he had decided that her motherwas correct, and he was intending to step away so that she might marry a manher family deemed worthier of her. Though she would never do such a thing, whenshe now knew her love to be him.

But Niles did not step away. He merely stepped forward toaddress Lady Babcock.

“If I may beg your pardon, my lady, us of the lower ordersdo also possess surnames,” he said, calm and collected in his manner. “Though Icannot fault you for believing otherwise, Your Ladyship having never stooped tospeak to any man below the rank of Duke.”

More than a whisper of a gasp, intermingled with variousnoises of amusement, went about the congregation, and Lady Babcock was deeplyaffronted.

“How dare you address me in such a fashion?!” she turnedfrantically to her husband. “Stewart! Say something!”

Chastity-Claire’s father appeared composed. However, therewas a glint of mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Do I have permission, Barbara?” he asked, cocking his headin a similar fashion to his daughter. “I only possess the rank of Lord…”

The hilarity spread further amongst the congregation,including to Noel, who barked a laugh.

And though Chastity-Claire knew her mother would have deniedpulling such an unseemly facial expression, Lady Babcock gaped.

“You cannot possibly be in agreement with Chastity-Claire’sdecision?!”

“I am, in actual fact,” Lord Babcock wandered to theirdaughter’s side, placing a gentle hand on her upper back. “Our girl has becomea woman, Barbara. She has fallen in love. And I understand completely heraversion to attending any party or ball in which Elizabeth Goodhue is present.”

Lady Babcock spun on her heel, eyes searching for her son.

“Noel,” her voice was verging on desperate. “Your father hastaken leave of his senses! Speak to him at once!”

Chastity-Claire’s brother was concealing a full look ofamusement; she had always been able to tell when he was intending on mischief andhis current countenance matched each scenario.

“Unfortunately, Mother, that will not be possible,” Noelannounced. “I also choose to uphold Chastity-Claire’s decision, and I also hateElizabeth Goodhue.”

Lady Babcock’s eyes widened, her form growing weak as shelooked as though she might faint, “You…hate…?!”

Chastity-Claire restrained herself from laughing at hermother’s behaviour. The Goodhue family were the wealthiest amongst all thelocal families. Her mother most likely still had visions of her betrothal toJames Goodhue, Elizabeth’s son. Not that such a venture would come to fruitionanymore.

Noel smiled, “Vehemently.”

“With untold fervour,” Lord Babcock agreed. He then becameapparently thoughtful, though it was clear it was feigned. “Although, “untold”is a changeable factor. A factor which might easily be changed, say, out loudand at the next function we host, to which the Goodhues are invited…?”

Silence hung in the air before his wife answered.

“You would never dare to do such a thing.”

“For my girl and her happiness, I would live the very day Idid over, tenfold,” Lord Babcock replied. “A servant for a son-in-law ispleasing compared to the embarrassment of the scandal I would cause.”

The silence returned as Lady Babcock cast her eye over thewedding party, the flush of potential humiliation staining her cheeks. It wasobvious to all that she had been defeated on the matter.

“Well. Then I fear you leave me no choice but to accept thisappalling state of affairs. Though I want it noted that I do so under protest,”she huffed her declaration. “If I were not under duress, then neither bride norbridegroom would be welcome in my home!”

She followed her statement by storming away, no doubt toreturn to the carriage from whence the Babcock family had made their journey tothe village.

“Fortunately, they are welcome in mine and we share thathome together,” her husband called after her vanishing frame, before turninghis attention to the soon-to-be-married couple. “Though the blushing bride andher groom might find it more acceptable to have their own, might they not?”

There was only one possible implication that he could bemaking in his statement.

Chastity-Claire felt her breath catch in her chest, whichshe clutched, “Father…are you suggesting that you will…?”

Her father smiled, “The family along the way from us haverelocated to the city. They are poised to sell me their house, as well as allthe surrounding land. It shall be my wedding gift to the pair of you.”

A house. A home of their own, which Chastity-Claire couldnot imagine being long empty. Herself and Niles would soon move in, and then…well,it was inevitable that children would follow! Her mother had made sure she was very well educated in what to expect, after all, and the thought of being withNiles (while also slightly intimidating) was…well, more than stimulating to her.

She beamed, “Father, I…words cannot express how grateful Iam!”

He took her free hand, matching her countenance in return, “Thinknothing of it, my Kitten.”

Niles stepped towards them both, resting his own hand overhis heart, “I feel that I must express my own thanks as well, sir. I cannotimagine how many numerous fathers would have attempted to pay me to keep awayfrom their daughter, or perhaps given me a sound thrashing.”

Lord Babcock laughed, “I would not insult any feelings hereby offering money, sir. And you will receive no thrashings from me, for as longas you keep my Chastity-Claire happy,”

“You have my word when I say that I intend to spend my lifedoing exactly that,” Niles bowed.

Chastity-Claire watched as her father considered her futurehusband, before stepping away from her and offering Niles a hand to shake.

“Then you have my blessing,” Lord Babcock said. “It iswell-deserved; not many men can claim to have stood up to my wife, and evenfewer can say that Chastity-Claire would willingly forgo all she has known andloved for them.”

Niles took the proffered hand and turned a look of adorationon his future wife, “I already count myself amongst the most fortunate of menfor that very reason, sir.”

“As well you should,” Lord Babcock grinned, grasping Niles’hand tightly before releasing it. “And please, think of me as the mostunfortunate of men – I cannot stay for my own daughter’s wedding, and must insteadface the wrath of my wife the moment I set foot off these consecrated grounds.”

“Are you certain you cannot stay, Father?” Chastity-Claire asked,disappointed at the thought of her father or brother missing the ceremony. “Thevillage inn has offered us a reception after the ceremony…”

Her father took and held her upper arms, “I would lovenothing more, my sweet, but your mother will be waiting in the carriage toleave.”

Chastity-Claire turned to her brother, “Noel?”

The man returned an unfortunate look.

“Alas, I must assist Father in appeasing Mother,” he said. “Ourpresence would only spoil the ambience.”

If it were truly possible to physically deflate, then Chastity-Clairewould have achieved it in that moment. Though she knew they were correct – her motherwould never agree to sitting through a celebration for an occasion of which shedid not approve. Her father and brother would have to mollify her, somewherefurther away than the ceremony.

Niles must have noticed her displeasure, as he came closerto her and placed his own hand upon her back.

“Then we must all have dinner together when we return,” he stated. “I may have no living relations, but I will not allow my wife tomiss celebrating with hers.”

Chastity-Claire felt the warmth of affection coming over herheart, and she leaned carefully into his half-embrace.

“You truly are a gentleman. Niles, was it?” Lord Babcockasked, slapping his future son-in-law heartily on the upper arm. “We shallarrange a meal for the day after you come home, so that you may rest from yourjourney.”

The man then took one last look at his daughter, approached,and kissed her on the cheek.

“Farewell for now, my Kitten. I could not be prouder of you,or of your decision.”

Chastity-Claire returned the kiss, “Thank you, Father.”

Noel moved closer to do the same, “Farwell, little sister.Enjoy your elopement as though it had never been interrupted!”

The couple certainly intended to. And after Lord Babcock andthe future Lord Babcock left with more wholehearted farewells, the ceremony wasresumed.

The reception at the inn might not have been full of spectacle,but it had the warmth and true jubilation Chastity-Claire often felt ballslacked. Beer and wine flowed freely, joyous laughter and music floated throughthe air, and there was a wondrous amount of enthusiastic dancing.

The bride and bridegroom tired of it long before the guestsdid – they craved some time to themselves, and were thoroughly applauded asthey excused themselves for the night.

Chastity-Claire held her husband’s arm as they walked alongthe corridor, to the room the innkeeper had insisted on giving them for thenight, with the rent already paid.

“I had once imagined my wedding would be some grand affair;flowers and ribbons, a great feast laid out, all friends and relations upstandingto make a toast,” she sighed, relaxing in the quiet and the comfort of Nilesnext to her.

Niles also sighed, though it conveyed a very differentemotion, “I am sorry that we could not have had such a ceremony.”

Chastity-Claire stopped him outside the room door, windingher arms about his neck.

“There is no reason to be,” she told him, resting herforehead against his. “I preferred the one we just had to any fantasy, my darlinghusband.”

Niles began to smirk at that, “The night is not finishedyet, my dearest wife.”

Chastity-Claire matched his expression, thinking of how onlythe night before, they had been forced by decorum into separate rooms. And nowthey would share not only a room, but a bed.

She brushed her lips close to his, “Oh, yes…the matter of myhonour…”

Niles, understanding what she wanted, caught her lips in a shortyet passionate kiss. It felt like a foretaste of what was to come.

“Might I be allowed to escort you inside?” he near whispered.

“You may,” Chastity-Claire murmured in reply.

Without so much as a muttered word, Niles lifted her intohis arms, causing Chastity-Claire to let out a soft giggle.

Her husband smiled lovingly at her, “I might not have beenable to give you the ceremony you deserve, but I can certainly bring flourishwhere possible.”

Chastity-Claire stroked his cheek with one finger, “I shallbe holding you to that promise…”

Even from the sly grin he gave to her words, she knew hewould not disappoint. And as Niles carried her over the threshold into their room,using his foot to close the door behind them both, the celebratory music andcheerful laughter carried on below.