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hongism · 4 years ago

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mists of celeste ➻ nine

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 4.6k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, tw: violence in this chapter ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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mists of celeste act one ➻ part nine

The air is hot and stagnant around you, and the black ecosuit over your body isn’t helping block that heat in the slightest. You shift on the sand under your body. Sweat trickles down the crown of your head, and the muscles around your left eye are already tired from you squinting so much. There is no movement in your scope; it’s a clear and still area in front of the warehouse below. Yeosang is on your right, squatted beside where you are lying down on the cliff side and watching the ground as you do.

“Nothing,” you say as you pull away from the scope. Glancing up at Yeosang, you await his next order but it’s not for you.

“San, Jongho. You are clear to drop down. Good luck.” Yeosang releases his wristband after giving the order and pushes a loose clump of blonde hair off his forehead. “Stay put and watch the front door from this angle. I’m doing to wrap around to the other side of the cliff and watch the back entrance. I’ll keep in contact with you over the headset. Here’s a pistol in case of emergencies but try not to use it without telling me you’re in trouble first. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Will do,” you mutter in response, bringing your chin back down so you can stare through the scope again. When you pull up and check your right side again, Yeosang is gone. The only evidence that he was ever near you is the lone pistol at your side. You snag the weapon and pull it under your body, eyes trailing over the landscape surrounding you.

It’s the first time you’ve ever been to Medra, but you were expecting much more than what you are currently faced with. The area you’re in is pretty much just a rocky desert, filled with small cliffs and shallow canyons at every turn. Even in the dead of night, there is no breeze. The air isn’t cool either despite the sun being gone from sight. Of course, it doesn’t help that Yeosang landed the transport ship a couple miles back out of fear of being seen by someone, so you already worked up a sweat from that.

You shift your weapon to aim the scope at the roof of the warehouse. Two bodies move quickly across the flat surface – San and Jongho – dark shadows over the roof, and you follow them with your scope for a few moments before returning to the main entrance. Your earpiece crackles to life as you do, and Yeosang’s voice carries over.

“Do you see anything?” He asks. You sigh, reaching for your wristband and speaking against the metal.

“No, it’s quiet on my end. All I see is San and Jongho.”

“It’s clear on my end too,” Yeosang mutters back. You pull away from the scope and heave another deep sigh.

“How long is this supposed to take?” You ask. A chuckle comes in response at first, and you press your lips into a thin line as you wait for proper response.

“Are you impatient already, Y/N?” You neglect to respond to his snarky remark, prompting him to keep talking. “It should take two hours at most. One hour if we’re lucky.”

“What do you mean by lucky?”

“I mean if San can keep his head screwed on the right way then there will be no trouble.” There’s a hint of venom in Yeosang’s words, and you are quick to pick up on it.

“You don’t seem to like San all too much,” you say in a quiet tone. Yeosang releases another laugh.

“You do realize that San can hear us both over the comm? We didn’t switch channels.”

“You’re the one who insulted San’s abilities,” you counter. His tone and attitude cause a twinge of annoyance to stir in your gut, but you push that aside and refocus your attention on the scope before you.

Yeosang makes a sound somewhat like clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You’re quite defensive of San, aren’t you?”

You inhale sharply, his voice alone grating at your annoyance.

“I don’t believe in minimizing someone without knowing what they can do first,” you argue back. Your index finger slips over the trigger of the sniper even though there are no targets before you. “Besides, San saved my life by getting me to Yunho.”

“That’s a strange paradox in and of itself.” Yeosang pauses, and you hear the comm line die out. For a moment you think he’s spotted trouble, but his voice starts up again in the same calm tone as before. “Saving lives isn’t like him.”

“Would you say the same about me then?” You inquire. You pull your finger off the trigger, letting it rest on the sandy ground instead.

“Have you suddenly saved a life recently? No. At least, I don’t imagine you have. You – Y/N L/N, Ghost of Eros – are a killer. An assassin. A weapon. That is what you were bred to be. You were made to kill, and that is what you know how to do, is it not? Would you tell a lion to stop before his prey and have mercy? No, because lions are not capable of mercy. San is the same way. He is a weapon, and that is what he has been used as his whole life. It’s a fact that he is well aware of. As a member of the crew, he has one singular purpose and that purpose is to execute and assassinate. To use his abilities as a Spectre to do what Hongjoong wants.”

A scoff escapes you, and you make sure that the comm picks it up so Yeosang can hear you.

“So Hongjoong is running a slave ship then? One slave wasn’t enough, so he has to treat the rest of his crew like slaves as well? If he thinks for a second that I will let him treat me like a slave then he is sorely mistaken. The military couldn’t keep me in check, so a fucking loose-cannoned pirate sure as hell won’t either.”

Quiet comes in response to your rant. You wait for any sort of answer from Yeosang, but a minute goes by in absolute silence. Then he laughs. It’s more of a huff than a laugh, and you can hear the disbelief in the sound.

“Hongjoong isn’t treating anyone like a slave. He gives each person the freedom to decide for themselves how they want to be treated, what their position is, how they can be most effective on the crew. The only person he decided for was Seonghwa, but seeing as Seonghwa was the first to join the crew, that makes sense. Otherwise, he never made that decision for anyone. Even if you can’t see it yourself, he is giving you flexibility of your own. San chose what he is, and he chose to be a weapon. He chose what he is on the crew for one very clear reason.”

“And what is that?” You forget that said man is on the comms with you for a minute, prying to get an answer out of Yeosang before he decides not to say anything at all.

“It’s all because that’s how San views himself.” Yeosang lets silence hang in the air for a moment, and you drink in the information. It’s a sad and sinking reality that washes over you with the force of a tsunami. “No one influenced it, Y/N. Not Hongjoong or anyone else on the crew. If San wants to be treated that way, then I will respect that.”

Part of you wants to ask how that is an act of respect when it’s so harsh and harmful. The other, more prominent part of you is stunned into silence as you mull over what Yeosang has told you.

How can a person subject themselves to being nothing more than a tool for others to use?

“Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” Yeosang inquires, tone almost lilting. The image of San’s Cheshire smile rises to the forefront of your mind, but it only fills you will sadness as you picture it. “Status update.”

“It’s still clear,” you mutter back. Yeosang awards you with a hum of approval before falling back into silence. Something still nags at the edge of your thoughts though, overtaking the sadness behind San’s image of himself. “If Hongjoong isn’t treating any of you like slaves, then why keep one himself?”

“What do you mean? No one on the crew is a slave. And Hongjoong certainly isn’t the type to keep slaves, despite how he might come across sometimes. There’s a difference between being harsh and inhumane.”

“Then what’s the deal with the one in the collar then? Wooyoung? Is he not a slave?”

“Of course he’s not,” Yeosang snaps back in an instant, barely letting you finish your sentence before he’s denying it. “He hasn’t been a slave for a very long time. That doesn’t mean those scares have fully healed though.”

You opt not to answer this time; instead, you let your gaze return to the scope and check the entrance to the warehouse again.

“God, I fucking hate Medra.” Yeosang’s voice crackles through the earpiece. “So fucking hot and sandy. The damn winds will start any minute now too.”

You don’t have time to ask about the winds because something twitches in the corner of your scope. Your index finger finds the trigger immediately, shot lined up on a wandering head, and you find two soldiers walking towards the main entrance. Your muscles twitch as you itch to just pull the trigger, but you stop yourself at the last second.

“Movement,” you hiss. “San, Jongho – you’ve got two soldiers moving into the front door. Both armed with what looks like laser rifles. Helmets and chest padding.”

“Damn, why are you getting all the fun over there?” Yeosang complains. You ignore him in favor of following the soldiers with your eyes until they disappear into the building.

“They’ve entered the warehouse,” you report.

Once they’re completely out of sight, you let the tension roll off your shoulders and relax against the ground again. Your fingers shake as you pull them away from the trigger. In one swift movement, you swing your legs around and sit up, bringing your left hand to touch the material over your bandage. The kevlar is damp to the touch, and even through the darkness, you can see the scarlet hue of blood on your fingertips.

“Well, fuck…” You keep your lips away from the wristband, making certain that Yeosang and the others don’t hear you. You wipe your fingers against your thigh and settle back to the sandy ground.

For a moment, it feels like you’re elsewhere. Outside the palace of Eros in the dead of night, waiting with your sniper just like this for the king to step into sight and earn himself a bullet in the head.

For a moment, you feel the cool breeze of Eros’ winter on your skin, the cold sweat on your brow, and the burning tears on your cheeks as you sought to line up the shot.

For a moment, you see the scene of that fucking public execution that you could not stop no matter how hard you tried. Maybe putting the bullet in sooner would’ve done something, but it didn’t. You had to settle for failure.

“Does this take you back to the good old days of the military?” Yeosang inquires. He breaks you out of your reverie, and you feel the heat of the air around you again.

“Which days are you talking about?” You ask, tone slightly shaky despite your efforts to hide how shaken up you are.

“You mentioned being on a covert mission and assassination team. Surely you got good at shooting people in the head through that.”

You are already sensitive thanks to reliving the memory, so you blame that fact for your very short patience with Yeosang.

“Why is everyone so fucking intent on that one fact?” You hiss out with venom in your tone.

“It’s impossible to think of anything else. That’s what you are known for. We know you because of that and that alone. Sure, you have an extensive list of crimes on your record, but to everyone who has seen the record, only one thing stands out. Without killing the king, you would be nothing and probably not even alive. Hongjoong wouldn’t have seen you as valuable in the slightest. Hell, San probably only saved you in the cargo bay because he knew who you were. As for myself, I want to know what the real reason for it was. You’ve already denied it being a revolution or something grand and fantastic. And you seem to hate taking responsibility for what you did. So that really begs the question: why?”

You swallow roughly. The words nearly make you slip back into that structured mind space of your memory, and you feel the ghosting touch of cold air on your nape. A searing pain down your spine.

“It was a personal vendetta,” you force out, breaking yourself out of the memory again. You can feel your chest heaving from the efforts to keep it at bay. You know if Daichi were here, he would be lecturing you on what a shitty job you’re doing, but you can barely keep your eyes on the ground below you. “Something I had to do. A score to settle, and that’s what I did. Do I regret it? Absolutely not. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. I would do it ten times over. But I can’t call it murder. Call it justice for the fallen who died when their king was supposed to be leading them and protecting them. Justice for the king who failed them in so many ways.”

You hope that your answer will shut Yeosang up, but it has the opposite effect, unfortunately.

“A vendetta? Is a vendetta justice then? How can that not be murder? You talk about justice as though it’s something to be attained through murder when it’s not. You claim it wasn’t for anyone but yourself, yet here you are contradicting yourself? I won–”

“What would you have done in my shoes then? Would an obedient little prince have killed the king?” You can almost hear the way Yeosang’s jaw snaps together, a slight click over the comm. Maybe you’ve finally managed to get him to shut up long enough for you to breathe, but your luck evidently isn’t that good.

“I wouldn’t have been able to. Even after everything that went down prior to the order for my execution, I could never bring myself to despise the king enough to kill him.”

“Would Kang Minhee have killed the king?”

“No, just as I said.”

“Would Kang Yeosang?”

Yeosang laughs but doesn’t respond this time. It’s an answer in and of itself.

“Without those chains on your wrist, you are nothing more than a slave to the monarchy. The chains just make you seem like a traitor to the outside world, but it’s quite obvious that you aren’t actually one.” You pull back from the sniper in front of you, sitting up on your heels. A sigh leaves your lips.

“An interesting take, Y/N. Something tells me you wouldn’t understand even a sliver of the truth though.” Yeosang’s tone is final. You don’t want to say anything else either, but you can tell that you’ve upset him with your words. You hardly feel guilty though, considering his incessant remarks about your decisions.

“I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for nothing,” you announce. Not even as second later does Jongho’s voice crackle in your ear.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“What are you talking about?” Yeosang hisses.

“San went ahead without me. Darted out of sight without warning, I couldn’t catch up to him because he was using his abilities. A guard saw him moving. I haven’t been spotted yet, but the guard is already calling for backup.”

“Fucking hell. Jongho, stay out of sight for now. I’ll come down and handle this myself.”

“I’ll go with you,” you demand, falling back to the ground to check for said reinforcements in your scope.

“No, you are staying put. Keep an eye out for reinforcements but don’t you fucking dare shoot anyone.”

“Absolutely not,” you refuse. “You have zero reason to trust that I will stay put and not run away first chance I get. Or that I’ll tell you the truth about how many are on the way. I am offering my help. You ought to take it.”

A small squadron of soldiers rush into the corner of your vision. You line up a shot without hesitation, aiming for a soldier just in front of another. You pull the trigger, the shot echoes through the canyon, and the bullet ricochets through the head of the first soldier and into the one adjacent him. You yank the bolt handle, letting the empty cartridge fall into the sand, then push yourself up. You snatch the spare pistol up in your right hand and reach around your back to feel for the knife strapped to your back.

“Don’t you fucking dare jump down from this height!” Yeosang yells through the earpiece. “You need to stay put, especially with your arm!”

You ignore his shouts of protests, yanking the knife out and propelling yourself off the edge of the cliff. You swing down and collide with the rock roughly. Just before you begin to skid down and fall to what would most likely be your death, you jam the edge of your knife into the sandy rock. The stone is so fragile and porous that the blade cuts right through and hooks. You brace your feet on the cliff side, ignoring the burn that emanates from your suit skidding across the rock, and let the momentum carry you down to the remaining three soldiers.

They’ve spotted you, and you can hear their shouts as they fumble to line up their assault rifles and fire at you. Yeosang yells something incoherent in your ear but your body is so wound up on adrenaline that you don’t process a word he’s saying. You twist your head to look down at the soldiers and wait for the right moment to push off the cliff. All three have their guns trailed just beneath your feet, going lower and lower as you slide further down. You hear the gunshot before the first soldier calls for open fire.

In that moment, time seems to slow to a standstill, you yank the knife out of the sandy rocks and push yourself towards the group below. You underestimated how many bullets would be fired in your direction, however, and without a second thought, you close your eyes. The markings on your back burn like hell as you let the slightest hint of your powers slip through before the bullets can hit your skin. When you open your eyes again, one of the soldiers screams.

You propel your knife into his neck and aim your pistol at the second soldier on your right side. The bullet hits him square between the eyes at the same moment that your knife hits the one on the left. Your body barrels into the remaining guard in the middle, letting him cushion the brunt of your fall. The momentum and whiplash of his head smacking against the ground are probably enough to end his life, but you don’t take any chances and fire one last bullet.

Your legs feel like jelly as you pull yourself off the guard. Once you’re on your feet again, you glance up at the cliff side in search of Yeosang, but you can’t see his figure atop it anymore. Your earpiece is silent as well. You look around, bending down to grab your knife out of the corpse. You wipe the blade on his uniform before tucking it back into the sheath on your lower back.

You hear the thud of boots hitting the ground before you see the perpetrator on the edge of your vision. You turn to face Yeosang, expecting him to yell at you, but instead of speaking, he grabs you by the arm. With an unprecedented amount of force, he throws you against the cliff side. The breath is knocked out of your lungs. You choked on dust and sand. The duffel bag across his shoulders hits the ground as he steps closer to you.

“You are fucking careless, selfish, and ignorant. You can’t listen to orders for two seconds?” He spits at you, hot breath cascading over your face. You shove against him, hands hitting his chest and sending him back a couple feet.

“Remember that I am first and foremost a traitor. That’s it. I apparently have an issue following orders ironically. I create opportunities, and if you expect me to wait around for one to appear, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You should be riddled with bullets and dead on the floor. That would be better for everyone at this rate.”

“Say it with a bit more enthusiasm, pretty boy! I didn’t quite hear the fire in your tone.” You push off the cliff side and start to move around Yeosang. His hand catches you by the throat. He shoves you back against the rock with little to no effort, fingers squeezing around your neck. The pressure only continues to increase, and for a split second, you think he might actually kill you. Your hands fly up to tear at his, trying to pull his fingers off your with depleting strength. He’s cutting off your airway just enough to make it uncomfortable.

Blonde hair blurs across your vision as his face moves closer to yours. You try to duck away to no avail; his grip keeps you in place.

“What would you do if I let you go now?”

The question confuses you at first, and you can’t quite understand what he means by it. He clears things up with his next question though, an echo of one he’s spoken to you before.

“How does this end?” He loosens his grip on your throat just enough to let you speak.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out.

“What are your goals now?”

“I… I don’t have any.” You continue to struggle against his grip as you speak in attempts to free your throat more. “The only thing – the only thing I wanted in life was a chance to live a no-normal one, but that has been robbed from me. Revenge was th-the only thing that mattered to me up until I k-killed the king. I – I have no more goals for myself.”

Yeosang’s grip tightens as you finish speaking. He squeezes harder than before, and the air leaves your lungs at an alarming rate. Black spots dance in the edge of your vision. Your head pounds as though someone has hit you three times over. Then the pressure on your neck dissipates. You choke in air, doubling over and bracing yourself on your knees as you rush to catch your breath.

“There’s no point in killing you then.” Yeosang steps back, watching you collapse with unamused eyes. “I’m going to figure out what your true intentions are. There’s a reason you were aboard The Revenge and there is a reason you came aboard The Horizon. I’ll make sure you stay alive long enough for me to figure it out.”

Something about Yeosang’s tone and stance above you exudes ruthlessness. You feared Hongjoong and all the possibilities surrounding him, but this is a different type of fear with Yeosang. It’s like he’s a predator chasing its prey, circling you with a hunger that you don’t know. You rub at your throat where his fingers just were. The skin is already sore to the touch, and you imagine that it will be bruised within hours.

Jongho and San make a timely appearance just then. The Berserker rushes out of the warehouse first, and San follows close behind albeit at a much slower pace.

“We need to leave. Preferably quickly. We got what we need but without the stealth part. So…”

Yeosang nods and taps at his wristband, turning away from you. Jongho’s eyes go to the carnage you left near the doors then over to the spot where you’re huddled against the cliff side.

A loud rumbling suddenly starts up from somewhere beyond the cliff. Yeosang glances back at the three of you, his expression suddenly calm compared to the one you saw moments ago.

“We’ll be making a loud exit then. The transport ship is on its way. Be ready to move fast.”

You push yourself up and glare daggers into Yeosang’s back. A sudden gust of hot air sweeps through the valley, and blinding iridescent lights hit as the transport ship lowers to the ground. Yeosang steps onboard first, and you follow behind quickly. You sweep past him to get to a seat.

“San, I’ll be taking your spot in the pilot’s seat since you can’t seem to do as told,” Yeosang hisses between gritted teeth as San steps onto the ship. The dark-haired man merely nods and finds a seat across from you. You glance over at him, trying to read his expression but it’s completely blank. Jongho and Yeosang file into the pilot’s cabin. Neither you nor San speaks for a few minutes. The rumble of the ship is the only thing audible, along with a few clicks here and there as Jongho and Yeosang fiddle with the controls. You keep rubbing at your throat.

“Yeosang is wrong.”

You jerk your head in San’s direction, eyes blazing as you meet his gaze.

“What?”

“Yeosang is wrong,” he repeats.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“What Yeosang said about why I brought you to Yunho… it’s wrong. He’s wrong.”

Oh. Oh. You had forgotten that he could hear that entire conversation. Of course, he could. You were speaking on the same channel Jongho and San were dialed to.

“It wasn’t just because of your identity.”

“You don’t have to justify your actions to me,” you respond. San shakes his head.

“I do. I most definitely do. There’s a reason why Yeosang and the others view me in that regard. Why they would assume that to be my intention. But I want you to know that I didn’t save you. Yunho did. Because that’s his job.”

“No, actually,” you refute before twisting your lips to the side. You glance up at the ceiling, a deep exhale leaving your lungs, then continue to speak. “You did save me, whether you like it or not. I’m grateful to Yunho, yes, but I’m also grateful to you. Because without you, I would be dead in a crate of fabrics.”

“Thank you… for saying that.”

You nod and look away from the Spectre, focusing your attention on the floor under your feet. Yellow grains of sand are spread across the metal, and you mindlessly drag your foot through the scattered sand. A thud breaks your attention. You whip your head up again to where San was just sitting, but he’s no longer there. He’s crumpled on the floor of the transport ship, body limp.

✧✧✧

a/n: surprise it’s early yeEHAW i got too excited about this chapter and just had to write and post it now bc im sdjfoisdjfoi vibrating at a high frequency!! let me know what you think about this chapter i’m so so excited to share it with you guys!

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skylanders-after-the-end · 5 years ago

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Jailbirds

Snap Shot opened his eyes. Grey. That was the first color he saw after waking up every morning. The cold grey ceilings of Cloudcracker Prison. The reptile lifted himself off the uncomfortable bed inside of his cell. The former Skylander has spent months behind bars and got used to the daily back pains caused by the mattress. Some of his former Trap Master allies were on their morning duty to check on the prisoners. He saw Tuff Luck slowly walking down the long hall surrounded by villains. She soon walked past Snap Shot. The blue crocodile looked at her and was hoping for some kind of greeting. All the feline gave him was a cold, emotionless stare, just as she did with every other villain. Snap Shot sighed and got out of bed. The doors of the cell were open, and the villains could go to the cafeteria to eat breakfast. As Snap Shot made his way through the building, he remembered the time when he made his rounds as a guard, but he would always remind himself that that wasn’t the case anymore.

The inmate soon arrived at the cafeteria. All heads turned towards him as usual. The villains who he used to hunt down and trap were sitting in that very room and now he was one of them. The reptile was always treated poorly by them, as they were angry for being in there because of him. Some even teased him for getting a taste of his own medicine. Snap Shot felt miserable, but he thought that he deserved it.

After taking a few heavy steps along the cold steel floor, he spotted Wolfgang sitting alone at a table. The werewolf fidgeted with the bone from a chicken wing he just devoured and attempted to use it as a drum stick against the table, but it sounded rather dull and empty. Snap Shot slowly got closer to his former nemesis until they both faced each other. “Hi.” The only word the crocodile could speak out loud.

“Hey.” Wolfgang responded before Snap Shot sat down at the other side of the table.

Things between them have been complicated ever since their capturing. The Doom Raiders rejected them both and they were the only ones they could talk to inside the prison. However, both couldn’t deny that there was more than just wanting to talk to someone as the reason they spend time together.

“Sleep well?” Wolfgang briefly looked at the reptile before focusing on the bone between his fingers again.

Snap Shot gave him a stare. “On that bed?” Wolfgang knew best how uncomfortable the cells were and barely slept either when he first got imprisoned.

“Yeah, dumb question.” Wolfgang attempted to smile and showed his row of dangerously sharp teeth for a second before closing his mouth again. “Did anyone else talk to you yet?”

“You mean besides insults? Nah.” Even though it was quite depressing, the conversation stayed casual and the former Skylander already got used to the downsides of being hated in prison.

“There’s gonna be a show in a few hours in the yard. Wanna come?” Wolfgang kept eye contact with Snap Shot as he asked him to accompany him.

“Sure thing.” Snap Shot smiled faintly. He couldn’t help but feel like that was Wolfgang’s attempt to get closer to him. He currently had too much on his mind to worry about his feelings, but he never did confess them to Wolfgang. Maybe he would get the chance today.

As the day went on, many Skylanders who weren’t busy looking for the Golden Queen came together to chat and train. Among them were the Senseis Tidepool and Boom Bloom. After the Quickshot’s rather rough parting with Wild Storm, she became quite lonely. Luckily, she soon started to enjoy the company of the Ninja Boom Bloom, who always wanted to get to know the spy better.

“What do you think about having these at your window?” Boom Bloom picked up a couple of glowing white water lilies from a pond and presented them to her friend. “They are held in water so they could suit you.” The plant mutant is very fond of nature and especially flowers. Possibly because she was one of them herself.

“They look lovely Bloom, but I think my squids would be bothered by flowers in their tank.” The Water Skylander referred to her squid guns which had their own little aquatic rooms inside of her own. They help her out so much that she wants to treat them as good as she can.

“I understand… how about wearing one in your hair then?” The Life Sensei gently tucked one of the lilies in between Tidepool’s seaweed hair. “You should take your helmet off some time, I think your hair is fascinating.”

Tidepool couldn’t repress a slight blush and moved a few strings of hair behind her ear. Her expression shifted immediately when she saw something behind her friend. Like paralyzed, the Sensei just stared into one direction. Boom Bloom soon took notice of that and turned around to see what had her so shocked.

Turns out that Wild Storm was just walking by and caught Tidepool’s attention. The Sensei was accompanied by the Magic Bowslinger Buckshot, who joyfully strolled next to the calm knight. The Air Skylander turned his head as well and spotted Tidepool. They were both like frozen and just stared at each other before quickly looking away and going on with their day. The two haven’t interacted with each other ever since their last conversation which was months ago. They decided that it would be best for both of them to spend time apart after their relationship was getting increasingly problematic.

Buckshot gave Wild Storm a confused look whilst tilting his head. “You alright?”

“Yes, I was just lost in thoughts for a moment.” Wild Storm didn’t want to admit that he was looking at Tidepool and felt guilty for not talking to her after so many months of silence.

“Okay…” Buckshot didn’t entirely believe the knight, but he didn’t want to bother him with more questions. The two Senseis have never talked much before, but after Buckshot noticed Wild Storm being lonelier than usual, he decided to approach him. From there they have been getting along pretty well. “Sooo, what do you wanna do today?”

“We could go to the training field.” Wild Storm didn’t do many activities besides practicing and improving his skills at the Academy.

“Again?” Buckshot has joined his friend in many sessions and was slowly getting tired of it. “How about we do something more… fun?”

The Air Skylander turned his head to face the faun. “Fun?” Wild Storm asked with a somewhat irritated tone.

“Yeah! You know, that’s what you call something you enjoy.” Buckshot teased his companion and his lack of humor.

Wild Storm released a brief laugh. “Fine, we can do something fun for a change.” The knight decided to finally loosen up a little.

“Great! I already have an idea!” The goat didn’t hesitate to speed ahead and lead the way for the knight.

Tidepool looked after the two leaving her sight and felt a longing desire while doing so. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

Tidepool snapped out of her trance-like state and directed her sight back to Boom Bloom. “Uh… no actually. Did you have something in mind?”

“I heard there was some show at the prison. Skylanders are invited too, to have a somewhat peaceful event with the villains.” Boom Bloom was interested in the event and would like to treat the villains with peace rather than violence, unless there’s no other choice.

“That sounds nice. Count me in!” Tidepool smiled and was glad to have an activity with her now closest friend. Yet she couldn’t help but miss something. She looked back to see if Wild Storm was still there, but soon stopped and forgot about him.

As the sun was slowly setting and most of the Skylanders returned from their missions, the villains at Cloudcracker Prison finished their daily routine. They were allowed to go outside before the sun fully sets but had to be in their cells during the night. Snap Shot sat on a rock near the energy barrier around the building. He tossed a small stone at it which was just reflected by the transparent blue wall. He sighed and gazed at the sky. It made him feel free and calm, but the blue taint of the barrier kept reminding him that he was one of the villains that he used to lock up himself.

The reptile’s lonely moment was interrupted by a familiarly haunting voice. “Feeling down, Snap?”

Snap Shot turned around to see Dreamcatcher, for once without a sarcastic smile on her face. The former Skylander knew better than to believe that she genuinely cared about him, but he has gotten used to her by now. “Just the usual.”

The head floated next to crocodile and stared outside of the barrier as well. “How are things with Wolfgang going?” The Air villain was curious if her advice was of any use for the oblivious lovers.

“We talk more, but I’m guessing that’s because no one else does.” Snap Shot looked down on the ground before pushing himself up from the rock. “I’m not waiting for him to confess, and you shouldn’t be either.”

Dreamcatcher seemed disappointed, but she didn’t care enough to be upset. “Whatevs, your dreams are more than enough for me.” She grinned at the blushing Snap Shot before they both headed back to the yard of the prison.

Dr. Krankcase and Chef Pepper Jack were busy building up a wooden stage in the middle of the field. Some other villains carried a few tools and spotlights while Trap Masters carefully observed them.

Snap Shot saw Wolfgang tuning a ridiculously small guitar in a corner. It was so small that the werewolf could fit it into one hand, but it was the only guitar available.

“Getting ready for the show?” Snap Shot approached his friend while he was struggling with the guitar.

“I’m trying.” Wolfgang grunted when his pitch-black nails slipped off the knob of the guitar. “Krankcase told me it doesn’t require a musical number, but I’m sure some of us could use a little rock n’ roll.” He smirked and looked at Snap Shot who returned a calm smile.

“I’m sure it’ll be great.” Snap Shot hasn’t admitted his true feelings to Wolfgang yet, but something was still holding him back.

“I gotta look for some boxes around here. See ya’ later!” Wolfgang walked past the reptile and started to search for some surround sound device.

“Wolfgang!” The wolf turned around after Snap Shot’s call. The blue reptilian wanted to use the moment to confess his feelings, but he suddenly became nervous. “Good luck.”

Wolfgang smiled and turned back around. Snap Shot sighed and felt embarrassed for backing off again. While he wasn’t happy about his current situation, Wolfgang made his stay in the prison far more bearable and he wanted to be closer to the musician. He was afraid that a confession could ruin everything.

The sun has finally set and even though the prisoners should be in their cells by now, due to the special event today they were allowed to stay outside during the show. Surprisingly, many Skylanders arrived to see the show as well. It was a peaceful event to lighten the distrustful relationship between the Skylanders and villains. Among the visitors were also Tidepool, Boom Bloom, Wild Storm and Buckshot. The Senseis had the same idea and the now separated friends Tidepool and Wild Storm were quite surprised to see each other there. It didn’t take anyone long to find a seat and patiently wait for the show to start. There were some suspicious looks going around, but overall there were no arguments or even rude remarks.

The crowd went silent as the curtains of the stage were pulled back and Krankcase revealed himself. The scientist held his hat in one hand and bowed down before starting the show. “Ladies and Gentlelanders, I am proud to host today’s special show at the famous Cloudcracker Prison!”

Clapping emerged from the crowd and everyone was keen to see what the doctor had in store.

Krankcase was silent for a moment and looked at the expecting faces in the crowd. “Normally something would get blown up at this point but due to legal reasons that can’t happen.”

Some laughs could be heard before it all went quiet again and Krankcase just stood in the spotlight awkwardly. He soon spotted a familiar green figure in the crowd. He was surprised when he recognized Boom Bloom, who kept looking at him with a cold glare. He hasn’t seen his creation ever since she rebelled against him and ruined his plans of conquering the Skylands with an army of mutated plants. Krankcase gulped and remembered that he was in the middle of a show.

The Tech villain clapped his hands together and continued. “Anyway, to start the show the enchanting Dreamcatcher has prepared a magical act!”

Krankcase gave some villains in the back a hand sign upon which the lights dimmed, and they set something up on the stage. The visitors looked curiously what was happening until the spotlight went back on in a darker purple and blue color and revealed Dreamcatcher floating above the wooden boards. She had a table with a purple cloth and a crystal ball on top of it behind her and smiled.

“Welcome everyone! I have been working hard on presenting you all a fascinating show that will reveal never before seen things or something.” The head attempted not using too much slang during her talk to not irritate the others as usual. “Any volunteers?”

Before anyone else, Buckshot immediately raised his hand and jumped up excitedly. He waved to make sure the villainess would see and pick him. Wild Storm shook his head after seeing how eager his companion was about, as he thought, nonsense.

Dreamcatcher looked through the crowd for a few seconds before seeing how Buckshot became increasingly impatient and started to jump repeatedly. “Ugh, the… goat in the back?” She thought to herself that he would stop jumping if she picked him, so she did exactly that.

Buckshot smiled and squeezed himself through the crowd before hopping onto the stage and almost pushing Dreamcatcher down, who was already annoyed by his hyperactive behavior.

“Now just stand in front of the table and think of something and I will tell everyone what it is.” Dreamcatcher explained to the faun and the audience before turning on the light underneath the crystal ball with her telepathic powers.

Buckshot was very excited to see what the head had in store and didn’t hesitate to stare into the ball and think of something. “Should I close my eyes?”

“it doesn’t matter.” Dreamcatcher quickly shot further questions down and started to use her psychic abilities to see into Buckshot’s mind. “You’re thinking of… pizza?”

“I’m really hungry.” Buckshot smiled and was a bit embarrassed about that being the thought everyone could see, but at least Boom Bloom laughed upon his response.

Dreamcatcher rolled her eyes. “Then think of something else.” The strange being had to hold herself back to not become rude with the Skylander.

Buckshot focused once more and thought of something more sensible. The villain increased the light coming from the mystical ball and read the Sensei’s thoughts again.

“You… are happy to have such a good friend.” Dreamcatcher replied. She turned around to investigate the crowd and see Wild Storm. “That guy with the mask.” She turned once more. “And those two ladies.” She was referring to Boom Bloom and Tidepool.

Buckshot blushed instinctively. “Did I think of that?” He looked at his fellow Senseis and then back to Dreamcatcher. “Heh, I guess it’s the truth. I am glad to have such good friends after being trapped in a labyrinth for years and feeling completely cut off from society.

The crowd went silent, but the three Skylanders were glad to hear about their friend’s feelings, even if it had a dark background.

“Okay then, I think that’s enough for today.” Dreamcatcher decided to finish her show, mostly because she had a hard time navigating through Buckshot’s rather chaotic mind. “Give it up for…”

“Buckshot.” The Magic Bowslinger finished her sentence.

“What he said!” Dreamcatcher quickly left the stage as the crowd was applauding and Buckshot returned to his seat next to Wild Storm.

Krankcase made his way back into the spotlight to continue the show. “Thank you, Dreamcatcher for the… enlightening presentation!”

“Moving on, our infamous chef cook Chef Pepper Jack prepared a special meal for two volunteers from the audience!” Krankcase moved out of the way for the walking vegetable to enter the scene with a humongous pot of burning hot sauce.

The crowd applauded as the cook bowed down and introduced himself. “Thank you, thank you. Here I have a very special dish which took me the entire day and most of the kitchen’s resources to make. A hot sauce which adapts to the taster’s personal favorite flavor!”

Impressed voices could be heard from the crowd and a couple of villains and Skylanders were interested in the odd creation.

“Now, I will need two brave volunteers to try a spoon of the sauce and prove to you that it is not just any regular hot sauce.” As proud as the Fire villain was, he wanted to get rid of any suspicions the audience may have.

Pepper Jack looked through the crowd until he finally picked someone. “You there! With the horns and glowing white eyes! Get up here!”

Wild Storm didn’t raise his hand and wasn’t exactly happy to be picked either, but after seeing Buckshot’s expecting face, the knight decided to play along.

Chef Pepper Jack looked back into the crowd and chose another contester. “And you! The blue lady with the freckles!”

Tidepool pointed her finger at herself to make sure she was the one he meant. Both her and Wild Storm became uncomfortable as Tidepool made her way to the stage and the two stood next to each other. Chef Pepper Jack grabbed a spoon and dipped it into the pot before approaching the stiff Skylanders. “Now you two will each taste a spoon of the sauce and then you tell me what flavor it has for each of you. Understood?”

The Senseis nodded without looking at each other and only focused on the spoon with the burning red sauce.

“You go first, big guy!” Wild Storm was the first to try it. He moved the food towards the dark inside of his mask and into his mouth, even though no one could see that. Right after that, Pepper Jack gave Tidepool another spoon, who also put it in her mouth. The two tasted it for a few seconds before they both choked up in disgust. Tidepool spit the sauce out after a few moments and held her stomach. “That tastes terrible!”

Chef Pepper Jack looked at the disturbed Skylander in shock. He may be a villain, but he truly didn’t want to serve anyone bad food. He looked over to Wild Storm who turned his back towards him and was completely unresponsive. The Air Skylander suddenly started to shake and he slowly moved out of the spotlight. The terrible taste of the sauce caused the knight to lose control over his beast form and it was about to overpower him, but before that could happen, he quickly ran off and left the show.

“Wild-” Tidepool took notice of his outburst and wanted to go after him, but she stopped herself and simply stood there watching her former friend run off. Buckshot immediately got off his chair to run after the bewildered knight and leave the facility as well. Meanwhile Tidepool returned to the seat next to Boom Bloom, who made sure that her friend was alright.

Boos echoed through the crowd and Chef Pepper Jack started to panic. “Well, I guess I should have a look at that recipe once more. That’s it for today!”

The villain quickly left the stage and ran back into the prison before anyone could harass him further.

Krankcase returned to the stage with a very nervous expression and wasn’t sure what to say anymore. “Uh… that was not part of the script…”

The crowd started to boo once more and before Krankcase could go on, all the lights went out. Everyone was confused as to what was happening and questioned the sudden blackout. After just a few moments, all the spotlights went back on and pointed at the very top of the stage. Everyone gasped after seeing Wolfgang standing up there with a guitar that he quickly painted in black and red colors a few minutes prior.

“Looks like I have to get this show started.” The werewolf smirked before he dropped onto the stage, throwing Krankcase aside and starting to play a wild guitar solo on his instrument. He connected a bunch of boom boxes earlier which increased the sound and forced everyone to cover their ears. Snap Shot was one of the plagued crowd members and just stared at the display in shock. “Wolfgang… what are you doing?” The reptile was thinking to himself.

Wolfgang wasn’t bothered by the terrible notes and kept on playing until the entire stage started to fall apart. The spotlights started to shift colors and there was a fascinating light show which could be seen all the way from the Academy. The guards of the prison had enough and quickly pummeled Wolfgang as the stage crumbled into a ruin. They handcuffed him and the remaining Doom Raiders and escorted them back into the prison. “Hey, you can’t do that! I was just getting started! Everyone else got to finish their act!” Wolfgang protested and tried to resist, but he was overpowered by the Skylanders and dragged back into his cell. The remaining villains from the audience, including Snap Shot, were also sent back into the building. As Krankcase was about to enter the prison, he turned his head to see Boom Bloom standing in the middle of a crowd of Skylanders about to leave. She gave him a dangerous stare that made Krankcase’s skin crawl. The look didn’t last long as the doctor was soon pushed back inside the prison.

The night has fallen over Skylands and while the Doom Raiders were already back behind bars, some other villains still roamed around the big halls of the prison, trying to find their cells. Snap Shot passed Wolfgang’s cell and noticed the wolf laying in his bed and staring up at the wall. It reminded him of himself and he felt sorry for the lonely musician.

“That sure was a show back there.” Snap Shot leaned himself against the bars in front of the small room, catching Wolfgang’s attention who sat up on his bed.

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” Wolfgang sounded genuinely sorry and disappointed in himself.

“Kinda.” Snap Shot smirked in an attempt to lighten the mood. “But if I’m completely honest, I didn’t find it that bad.”

Wolfgang got up and moved closer to the bars the reptile was leaning against. “Really? Is that why you covered your ears like everyone else?”

“Well, it didn’t sound bad when it was dimmed through my hands.” The two prisoners laughed shortly and looked into each other’s eyes. It may have been brief, but they both felt something they haven’t felt in a long time.

“Anyway, I gotta go back to my cell, otherwise a guard will handcuff me as well.” Snap Shot straightened himself back up and was about to leave before he could feel a grip around his hand. He looked down to see Wolfgang reaching through the bars and holding it.

“See you tomorrow?” Wolfgang asked while not letting go of the reptile’s hand and looking into his yellow eyes with a soft smile.

Snap Shot smiled back and grabbed Wolfgang’s hand in return. “See you tomorrow.”

The hands of the former enemies slowly parted as Snap Shot walked away. Wolfgang longingly looked after the blue crocodile, feeling way calmer after the short conversation. Snap Shot on the other hand hid his intense blush by turning around and quickly heading to his cell. Now he was sure that there was something more between him and Wolfgang.

#skylanders #skylanders after the end #after the end #fanfiction #original story #snap shot #wolfgang #dreamcatcher #dr krankcase #tidepool #wild storm #buckshot #boom bloom

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 7 years ago

Text

My Father Will Hear About This!

“My father will hear about this!” The familiar sentence had several teachers lifting their heads up, each wondering if they were undertaking a form of déjà vu.

The same blonde hair, neatly in place. Same hue of silver eyes. The identical regal stance and the prominent sneer was visible. Despite the obvious resemblance to the boy’s father, it was clear that this was not Draco Malfoy and was actually Scorpius, his son.

“Oh no.” One of the newer teachers bemoaned over her porridge. “I was hoping that it wasn’t nearing the time for the Malfoy heir to join Hogwarts.”

“It’s obvious that the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.” A derisive snort could be heard. “Just look at him, strutting around as if he owns the place.”

Minerva peered down at the eleven-year-old with keen eyes and a small smile. “I think he takes after his father more so than anyone else.”

She was receiving a few odd glances at her remark but knew that explaining her reasoning wouldn’t change their minds. Minerva watched as young Scorpius approached Elizabeth Macmillan with a nervous aura that didn’t quite meet his cold eyes. She could see the courage it took to approach the Hufflepuff and had to marvel at the implications. Inner house unity had come along ways over the years but seeing Slytherins being so open was something that she would never tire of watching.

“I guarantee you that he is going to bully poor Elizabeth something fierce.”

Minerva didn’t bother holding back her eye roll as she tuned out the gossiping teachers. She had learned long ago that biased opinions would never change. So, trying would only result in frustration.

It really was like watching history repeat itself. No teacher could hear just what was said between the two young students but Scorpius was left with a hand stretched out and an angry face when his attempt at friendship was shot down.

“Serves him right.”

With that being the last straw, Minerva stood up and made her way back towards her quarters. But not before shooting Scorpius a small smile.

“My father will hear about this!” At the beginning, a few teachers and many students had tried keeping a tally of how many times the sentence was uttered but ultimately the number was too high to keep count.

Scorpius tended to say it often enough to merit notice but not enough to become too grating. Minerva watched the boy make a small number of friends within his own house but none that would do him well. After the public rejection from Elizabeth, she knew that only issues would be arising soon.

Which is why when the two were caught out of bounds attempting to duel each other, she knew it was time to reach out to the boy’s father. Hopefully, he could be the one to talk some sense into his son. Because detentions, docking points and extra homework was doing nothing. Scorpius was determined to keep up the animosity, as well as young Elizabeth. If she really did want to keep the peace, things needed to be straightened up around here.

“My father will hear about this!”

Harry blinked rapidly as he looked to Draco with a wicked smirk. “Brings you back, doesn’t it?” He laughed at the disgruntled look on the blonde’s face.

“Potter, don’t make me regret coming here. I was rather busy you know. It’s your fault that we both have to be here in the first place. Your child is always starting problems.” The haughtiness had never faded over the years but Harry didn’t expect it to.

That had Harry arching a brow. “My child?” He shook his head incredulously but also in a resigned manner. “Why is it that when Scorpius does well, he is your child? But at times like this, you push his wrongdoings off on me?”

Draco smirked widely as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. “Because you are the fall guy, love. No good Slytherin shares equal blame. Plausible deniability is the key to success.” His smirk melted into a smile when he heard Harry’s whispered complaints. Something about, ‘Fucking Slytherins and their stupid ideals.’

“Father!” The excited voice not only drew their attention but also most of the room as well.

Draco rolled his eyes as he stood still and folded his arms across his chest. He watched the way his son lost proper decorum and ran to them. That simply wouldn’t do. Elegance was required in public settings such as this.

“Father, I have so much to tell you. It’s been a nightmare having to deal with so many plebian people.”

Harry kneeled on the floor as Scorpius ran right up to him and began hashing out the same details he had already written home about. Despite the way his son liked to conceal things behind a cold attitude, he knew that Scorpius was hurting and lonely.

“I’ve missed you, you know.” Harry whispered as he picked up his son, ignoring the adamant protests from both Scorpius and his husband.

“This is why I can’t go anywhere in public with you.” Draco grumbled. Although, he couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight of Scorpius’ shy but pleased smile.

The mischievous glint to his son’s eyes had Draco narrowing his own in suspicion.

“Which is why father does it.” The tone of the young boy’s voice held mystery, as if he was giving away a treasured secret.

Harry shook his head rapidly. “Don’t give away my best secrets. A Gryffindor never reveals battle tactics.”

“You made that up.” Draco pointed out with a shake of his head. It honestly wouldn’t surprise him if Harry really did embarrass him just to get under his skin. It was something the brunette would take pleasure in. “Besides, he’s in Slytherin and not in your house of gaudy colors and a lack of rational thought.”

When the mischievousness to Scorpius’ eyes didn’t go away, both Harry and Draco felt as if they were missing out on something.

“I would like to think I am a nice blend of both houses.”

At his pointed look and vague tone, Harry smirked smugly at Draco as the blonde let out a small groan. “You really do take after your father.” Draco reluctantly admitted. “If it wasn’t for your looks, I wouldn’t even know you were half of me.” Figures their son would be hard to place as well. “Just tell me that you chose Slytherin on merit?”

Scorpius nodded his head as he wiggled his way down Harry’s arms, till he was standing again. He leaned forward so that his voice wouldn’t carry. “The hat said that I would do well in Gryffindor.” Both Harry and Scorpius grinned at Draco’s groan.

“But I just felt like Slytherin was where I needed to be.”

Draco sighed heavily. “I am counting it as a win. You chose Slytherin and that’s all that matters.” A pause. “Not that I wouldn’t have supported you if you were in Gryffindor.”

Identical doubting snorts could be heard from his family and it had Draco wondering why he bothered showing up at all.

“It’s cute when he tries to lie to us, isn’t it?” Harry said softly as he ran his fingers through his son’s hair.

Draco watched his son try and fail at suppressing an amused smile. “Why do I subject myself to this? I knew better but still showed up.”

“Because you love us.” Harry replied simply.

“Accurate.” Draco conceded. “But is it enough?” He watched the way both of them glared at him and took in matching stances. They really were alike in startling ways.

“Alright. I love you both and it is enough.” The admittance cost him a smidgen of pride but it was worth it to see Harry’s happy but stupidly goofy smile.

It became even better when his husband leaned over and kissed him softly.

“So, it was nice seeing you both but I have homework to do.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Harry mumbled against Draco’s lips as he expertly grabbed the back of his son’s robes. “This was not a social call. We are here because you seem to not know how to play nice.”

“Playing nice will show the opposition tactics that can be used against you.” Scorpius told Harry seriously.

Harry shot Draco a weak glare. “Will you stop teaching him your Slytherin rules?” By the way Draco said nothing but was clearly proud, showed him that his husband had no intentions of stopping any time soon.

“What happened?” Harry asked Scorpius as he bent back down, making it so that any eavesdroppers wouldn’t hear a single thing. The way his son looked all around had him realizing that it was probably embarrassing.

“Elizabeth Macmillan turned down my friendship. I really wanted to be her friend. But I think I went about it the wrong way.”

Harry snapped his gaze to his husband and watched surprise flicker across the blonde’s face. He looked down to his son as he bit his lip, not sure how to go about this.

“Did you insult her or her friends?” Draco asked as leaned over, he was not about to kneel on the floor like Harry. He hadn’t sunk that low.

“Possibly.”

“Have you fought with her since then?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you still wish to be her friend?”

“Can we come back to that at a later date?”

That had Harry rolling his eyes as he listened to Draco and Scorpius talk.

“Do you like fighting with her?”

“Depends on my mood.”

“Have you apologized?”

There was a long pause as Scorpius refused to look up to his parents. “… No.”

Draco looked to the ceiling before he steeled himself. “Apologizing doesn’t have to be a weakness. Sometimes, it feels like defeat but other times it is really salvation. Because when you are forgiven, it can save you in ways you never thought could exist.”

It was obvious that Scorpius had no idea of the deeper meanings to his words but Harry did. This right here was the man he fell in love with and married.

“If you want to be her friend, you will have to apologize. Whether it’s today, tomorrow or many years down the road. You can choose to hold in the hurt that her denial gave you and allow it to fester and make you bitter. Or, you can look past this and realize that this is only temporary.” Draco lifted his son’s chin till he could peer into his face.

“When I was your age, I didn’t have someone giving me advice. I chose to hold a grudge and made a potential friend and enemy for years. Who’s to say what could have happened if I apologized? But, I did eventually say sorry and it was the best thing I ever could have done.”

While Scorpius was frowning in confusion, Harry’ heart was beating wildly.

“But you and father love each other. I don’t like Macmillan like that!”

“We do.” Draco agreed as he sought out Harry’s hand. “But that wasn’t always the case.” He smiled at the disgusted look on Scorpius’ face. “You don’t have to like her in that way, unless you want to.” It was way too soon for him to think about his son finding love. He hoped they wouldn’t be having this conversation again until Scorpius was older. Much older.

“You know.” Harry began as he interrupted whatever his son might have said. “I can’t speak for Elizabeth but I know that it wasn’t hard for me to forgive your dad. If the possibility of her denying your apology is what is holding you back, then don’t let it. If she truly can’t forgive you then it wasn’t meant to be. You will find other friends, hopefully more lenient ones.” For the sake of his son’s heart, he hoped the girl really would forgive him.

“You don’t have to decide now.” Draco pointed out as he straightened up and kept his fingers entwined with Harry’s. “Think it over and we will support you no matter what you choose to do.”

Scorpius nodded his head with his brows furrowed in thought. He bade both his parents goodbye before walking slowly back towards the Slytherin table.

Harry waved once to Minerva, catching sight of her slightly smug smile as neighboring teachers appeared to be surprised. A good story was there, he would have to ask her about the next time she came over for tea. He pulled Draco along towards the hall and out the door. Before he could speak up, Draco stopped moving.

“Look, there is the proof that I give great advice.” Draco pointed at their son who had stopped near the middle of the Hufflepuff table to engage a girl who looked a lot like Ernie Macmillan. They couldn’t tell what was being said but the girl didn’t appear to be upset, she seemed to be considering things. When the conversation appeared to be over, the girl had a small smile on her face that was quickly hidden behind her cup.

Before Harry could point out that he too had given their son advice, they saw a boy around Scorpius’ age stop and say something to him. Whatever it was didn’t sit well with their son, if his narrowed eyes were anything to go off.

“My father will hear about this!”

Draco smirked widely when Harry covered his face with his hands. “I am so bloody thankful that he is talking about you and not me.” He honestly admitted gleefully. “If only my own father was around to hear about it.”

That turned out slightly longer than anticipated! If you are interested in more woks of mine.

#Drarry #harry x draco #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #scorpius malfoy

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mademoiselleseraph · 7 years ago

Text

Like Pluto and Persephone chapter 2

Chapter Two of my Roméo et Juliette: de la Haine à l'Amour AU fic. ~~~~

The sun had set and La Muette was to slink her way to the exiled Montaigu. She had a letter the young man needed to read, and promised her lady that it would reach him.

The circumstances reminded her of her previous life. Everyone prophesied that Granada would fall, and the civil war between those supporting the sultanic claims of the one called Boabdil by Spain and Muhammad al Zaghal made the emirate vulnerable to the armies of Castile and Aragon. She did what she could to protect her homeland. She was literate, which was more than anyone expected from a skinny bastard girl living in destitution. In fact, no one expected a little deaf girl to be in the business of selling secrets, but that’s exactly what made her so effective.

She was snapped from her thoughts by the sudden sight of a young man on a horse, dressed head to toe in Montaigu blue. It was Benvolio, Roméo’s cousin. Of course, once he saw her, he commanded his horse to stop.

Whenever Benvolio meant to communicate with her, he spoke and signed at the same time. She appreciated the gesture, even if he usually intended to mock her with it. He had asked her why she was on the way to Mantua, and why so late. By way of response, she held up the note she was tasked with delivering. He, of course, snatched it up in turn, carefully separated the wax-bound ribbon stuck to it and unfolded it, meaning to read it in what was left of the twilight. And then he looked quite confused.

A noble effort, she thought, but she knew that there were astoundingly few people of Verona, if any, that could read or write Arabic. Much fewer than lived in Granada. It made her job easier. Writing that came so naturally to her could now be read by practically no one.

She reached her hand out, open and expecting, and he gave her back the note.

“I saw the lady Juliette’s name,” he stated. “Is this going to Roméo?”

She gave a curt nod and scampered off in hopes of not wasting any more time. He grabbed her arm.

“Wait,” he asked. “Let me take you to him.”

She turned without response and was about to start off again when he grabbed her shoulder.

“It’s a long way and it’s not safe for a woman alone. Please.”

She pulled a knife from her garter and replied with her hands, “Bad luck, attacking a woman alone.”

“I understand,” he told her. “It’s a day’s walk there and back. If you want a chance at being home by tomorrow I can help. Even if it’s just the way there and not the way back.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him with suspicion, then tapped her forefinger on her forehead to ask why.

“In all honesty,” he replied, “I am alone as well, and I am not armed. Sharing the road with a fellow traveler would be good, one with a knife even better.”

She considered for a bit and accepted. She mounted behind him and rode side saddle so as to more easily reach her tucked-away weapon and dismount. She kept hold of his shoulders in order to not fall off.

Benvolio had often offered rides to others who went without. It was his way. His horse was a sturdy crossbreed named Janus, not the most agile beast or a particularly tall one, but gentle and strong enough to carry two. He had a special saddle constructed for the express purpose of allowing someone to sit behind him and make the weight of two separate people easier to bear.

Even with her behind him, he could see flashes of her red skirt out of the corner of his eye.

How do they afford the kermes to dress even the servants in red?, he often wondered, but he never needed to ask anyone. It was well-known that the Capulets kept a hold of their wealth through strategic marriages within the family. One second cousin once or twice removed would marry another and their child would then be wed to a third cousin God-knows-how-many-times removed and so on. Even the current Comte Antonio Capulet and his Lady, born Giovanna de Gondelaurier, were fourth cousins, though Benvolio couldn’t remember if they were any times removed. Marriages between first cousins weren’t too uncommon either, but the family tried to limit it to one every three generations, and maybe a second in case of emergency. The truth of the matter was, plainly put, that anyone born a Capulet was as inbred as a prized horse.

Or a mad dog, Benvolio thought, remembering how Mercutio would describe Tybalt. “A mangy crazed cur foaming at the mouth whose parents were pups of the same litter!,” he would say. It was only a few nights ago that Mercutio talked of a masquerade ball celebrating some Capulet brat’s betrothal. “And why not celebrate so lavishly?” he had laughed. “They never marry outside the family, so this is really quite an event!” But Mercutio was gone now. He would never shake the world with his laughter again.

La Muette would never honor the offence with a reply. That is, not a reply of words. Her hands would answer, but by forming fists instead of signs. Her anger was a rare sight, but that only made it all the more startling to see. It was not unlike a tiger that would slink out of the woods to drink at a stream where children often played and women washed clothes. Insulting the House Capulet was one way to bring forth her wrath, the other way was to call her a Spaniard.

The Comte Capulet took his own ship to rescue her and her elder sister; then starving, penniless, and recently orphaned bastard daughters of some great-uncle Capulet’s stepson. He brought them to his home as serving gentlewomen before their city fell to the Reconquista. Everyone knew of it, as discreet as it was intended to be, and murmured about from Venice to Florence and as far west as Savoy. They were charming girls, it was said, so much that a man could get drunk on their presence alone. Benvolio refused to believe it when he first heard it, but when he saw the younger sister laughing and shaping her thoughts in the air with her hands, he reluctantly admitted to himself that perhaps there was some truth to the rumor.

Her hair is red as fire, he’d thought, and there’s a passion burning as bright and hot in her eyes. She even moved in lithe and flickering sequences like a gentle flame and bore a sense of dignity befitting the sun.

And now she sat behind him with a beautiful, expressive hand on each of his shoulders. He wanted to reach for one, to touch it and hold it, but she was already suspicious of him and the knife she kept in her garter could without a doubt kill him before he could explain.

Alternating between trot, gallop, and rest, they arrived in Mantua just under two hours later. After some asking around about a recently settled exile, the pair were on their way to Roméo’s new dwelling.

It was smaller than anything he lived in before, more a room than a proper house. La Muette noticed it was about the size of the servants’ quarters only without all the beds. Roméo was trying to help the young servant boy he brought with him build a fire. Upon hearing steps at the door, he looked up and embraced his cousin without having to think about it. When he pulled away again, all could see tears streaming down his cheeks. They didn’t seem to match his smile.

“Benvolio, my friend,” he called, squeezing his arms and giving him a playful shove, “the Prince has cheated me. He seems to find banishment more merciful than death. He must not realize how lonely it is to be surrounded by strangers. I hadn’t until I arrived.” He took a breath and regained his composure. “Now,” he continued, “I appreciate your company, but tell me, why are you here?”

Benvolio cracked a smile and let out a chuckle. “Your mother sent me, as you could have guessed. She’ll not rest until I bring back news that you are not dead in a ditch.” He looked around his cousin’s miserable lodgings. “It’s seems her fears were not wholly unfounded.”

The servant boy, named Piero La Muette remembered, was taking Janus to a tiny stable outside. Roméo shot an irritated look at the wood in the fireplace. “It’s too green to light,” he explained. “We shall have to pile on blankets and pray for a mild night.” His eyes fell on La Muette dressed in Capulet red and he asked why Benvolio brought her.

La Muette answered herself by handing him the letter.

“The seal is broken,” he observed.

La Muette gestured toward Benvolio. Roméo nodded and unfolded it. It smelled of his love and that reassure him, but he couldn’t read the script. He turned it around, trying to see if he was supposed to be seeing something else.

“Arabic,” she explained with her hands. “Should it reach the wrong people. Lady Juliette’s words, she signed. I can interpret.”

“Pray do!” he implored. “I’ve a pen, ink, and paper. There’s a table you can write on.”

“Only for you,” she explained, her hands moving in subtle flickers, as if they were whispering. “Not with him.” And she moved her eyes in Benvolio’s direction.

Roméo nodded, instructing his cousin to stay near the door in case Piero should need any help. He did as he was requested and La Muette set to rewriting the letter so Roméo could read it.

My love, Roméo, it opened;

My Lord father and Lady mother know nothing of our union, and perhaps the secrecy has damaged more than helped. With he that they had betrothed me to dead, they decided to wed me to my own dear cousin, Tybalt. He has revealed to me that he intends for the marriage between us to be nothing but an act to appease our family. Worry not. We shall be together soon. With deepest and most ardent affection,

Juliette

His heart swelled and burst. He could have kissed the maid in red without realizing it, had he not his one shred of self control. He almost did anyway.

“Should I write a reply?” he whispered with clumsy signs.

“No,” she answered, her fingers still whispering like ember. “Only more trouble, more to hide. Ought to burn that translation. Soon as you’re able to light a fire.”

He nodded, crumpling the paper into his boot when he heard Benvolio open the door for Piero. The two approached the table and Roméo prepared to play the host.

“Unfortunately,” he started, “due to circumstance, all I have to offer is water and stale black bread.” He turned to La Muette. “Would our welcomed messenger like any?” he asked her.

She in turn explained that her business was finished and she needed to return home. He insisted she take a slice of the bread for her journey and wished her safe travels. She signed a thank you, curtsied, and left, thinking about how Benvolio looked at her when he thought she couldn’t see.

Meanwhile, her sister Carmina and Tybalt were sharing his bed.

He had so often invited her to spend the night in the large featherbed he inherited from his father that she began to make nightly visits as she pleased. He couldn’t be happier for it. He found comforting security in her arms and steady tranquility in her words. She was like stone, stoic and immovable, happy to listen and share her wisdom without moralizing.

In fact, with all that Carmina told him about her upbringing with La Muette, it often seemed the sisters were tossed into a fire pit. The younger sister became the fire, passionate and boisterous, and the elder chose to harden like clay rather than be consumed and crumble to ash. Tybalt was fond of her, thought her pretty, respected the simple and objective logic she used in her advice, but more than that, he trusted her.

Trust wasn’t something he gave freely, not even to women. She was the only one he told about Juliette, though he was sure she wasn’t the only one to know. He asked her if it was wrong to desire one so close in blood. She asked him in turn if it was wrong to want to kill every Montaigu when it was written by God “Thou shalt not kill”.

When he couldn’t answer, she told him, “Morality is often too ambiguous and life often too complicated for the two to ever align. Think instead of results. Right and wrong are questions for your confessor. You ought to ask yourself instead who will be hurt and if it’s worth it.”

She had said this with her fingers in his hair. He laid his head on her lap as he’d been violently sobbing into his wine. It had been the eve of sixteenth birthday after spending the better part of a year in France, and he asked her to keep him from making rash decisions. He felt safe with her, even in so vulnerable a position; with his throat bared to her and his hair loose and available to forceful hands.

He told her everything about it. About the woman in France his aunt sent him to, how she told him to kill her husband and her greedy touch and the way she filed her nails like she was honing a blade. He told he of the Lady Capulet as well; how she pushed him against the wall and slipped her tongue into his mouth when he returned home. He pushed away and hadn’t been able to look her in the eye since.

The two had quickly become inseparable.

And now Carmina sat at the edge of the bed, combing her fingers through her hair, saying, “This is our last appointment, isn’t it? I know that with any other woman you would consider, but you wouldn’t dishonor the little comtesse by keeping a mistress.”

“No,” he said. “My keeping a mistress couldn’t possibly dishonor another man’s wife.”

“So there was a wedding,” she snarked in conclusion while adjusting a stocking.

“And a consummation,” Tybalt added.

“You Capulets waste no time, to be sure,” she mused with a dry chuckle. “How do you know for certain? I doubt the boy would have lived if you caught him in the midst of it.”

He tried not to imagine the boy in the midst of it as he explained, “The bed was still a rumpled mess and it smelled of someone else. The window was flung open. She had a blush about her face as women get when they’ve just….” He trailed off and took a moment to shake off the shame. He hated thinking of her in so compromising a state and was disgusted with the jealousy it produced in him. “And, of course,” he continued, “he left a garter.”

“Then what does that mean for your union with our Juliette?”

“The two shared a confessor who agreed to marry them. I’ll talk to him and arrange for him to perform the ceremony in a way that’s not legally binding. We’ll retreat to the villa and I’ll take her to visit her true husband. From there, I can only hope they have children and no one suspects.”

“And if they do suspect?” she asked. “If they have reason to believe that there was no consummation, they might demand a display with witnesses. Even if she was your true wife in flesh and soul and loved you as such with all her heart, she would die of shame if pushed to that.”

“The betrothal will happen tomorrow,” he thought aloud, “and there will be at least a week until the wedding proper. I have time to figure it out. Not much time, but I have time.”

“And what am I to do with the ring, then?” she asked, looking intently at her left hand.

She wore an old Capulet signet ring like a wedding ring. It had been Tybalt’s and he gave it to her. It was something of a joke between them. Everyone knew what they were to each other and what they did behind closed doors and bed curtains. Even Juliette knew. Her Nurse told her that they were “off being husband and wife” and the little comtesse walked in on them one morning before Carmina had a chance to dress.

“Play the part you think fits best. Keep it on your finger and be bitter, if you think you should. Or wear it on a different finger and weep, if you think that would be better. Or wear it round your neck and look to suffer silently. I don’t know.”

She stroked his hair, whispering, “I don’t have to leave. I can stay if you need me to.”

He took her hand in his and slid it down to his cheek. “I would like that.”

She laid in the bed again with his head on her shoulder and her fingers combing through his hair.

“I was unkind to you the night before last,” he muttered. “I don’t expect forgiveness for it any time soon, but I swear to you it will not happen to that degree ever again.”

“I know,” she said.

~~~~

#retj #roméo et juliette #fanfic #like pluto and persephone

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