#anyway i can’t stop thinking about him quietly asking her about her faith in camp one night

[shadowglens]

i keep thinking about gale and olympia and the deep conversation they probably have at some point around faith and gods

[heliads]

Are You Happy With Him?

Y/N is a Med-Jack in the Glade, who happens to be dating Gally. Newt happens to be completely in love with her, but he may have more of a chance with her than he’d first thought.

masterlist

The night is dark, the air is cool. Sparks dance away from the fire, and the Gladers mill about watching Gally pummel whatever boy had the misfortune to step into the circle with him, all the while pretending they can’t see the looming walls of the Maze rising up around them. Thomas is seated on the ground a distance away from everyone else, back leaned up against a fallen tree trunk while he listens to Newt explain everything there is to know about the Glade and the Maze and whatever else Thomas asks him. 

The sound of footsteps draws close, and seconds later another boy swings into a seat next to the two of them. Newt grins to see his friend. “Thomas, this is Minho. Think you’ve seen him around before, he’s a Runner.” Minho waves a greeting to Thomas, then glances back in the same direction as the two boys. “Newt talking you through life here in the Glade?”

Thomas nods. Minho keeps glancing around the campfire, then chuckles slightly when his eyes fall on the lone girl standing among the other Gladers. “Newt mentioned her yet?” Newt groans, but Thomas shakes his head. “No, not once. Who is she?” Minho adjusts his position so he’s facing Thomas, holding up his hands as if the runner’s about to deliver a key piece of information.

“That right there is Y/N. She’s a Med-Jack, although we all call her a Med-Jane because we’re a bunch of shanks who like to mess with our friends. The reason she’s so important is because Newt here is head over heels for her.” Newt rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, Minho, and you know that. Besides, it doesn’t matter how any one of us feel about her, because she’s seeing Gally. End of story.”

Minho groans. “Come on, Newt, there’s not a single person here who’d believe that klunk. Newt’s obsessed with her, but to be fair, we all kind of are. Anyways, the point is she’s one of the best Med-Jacks here, but you wouldn’t know it because Gally gives us a death stare whenever we talk about her for more than thirty seconds.”

Thomas looks up to see Y/N approaching the three boys. She jerks her head at them, and Newt and Minho move over so she can sit down. “I heard my name being mentioned. You telling the Greenie about how I’m the best person in the Glade by far?” Minho laughs. “We were saying that if he ever breaks an arm he should go to Clint instead.” Y/N lunges over to hit Minho on the shoulder, and the friends break into laughter.

Newt reaches behind him to grab a glass full of a frothy (and somehow dirty) amber liquid, taking a sip to Y/N’s disgust. She makes a face at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand that stuff. It’s foul.” Newt grins at her. “Your own boyfriend makes it, I feel like you should at least pretend to stomach it like the rest of us.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Not even our relationship can make me want to look at that poison.”

She sighs suddenly, eyes travelling across the campfire to where Gally’s pummeling yet another Glader into submission. “And it wouldn’t be the only habit of Gally’s that I disagree with.” Minho nods slowly. “It’s the Med-Jane impulse. Stops you every time.” Y/N gives him a look dripping with outrage, and she and the boys dissolve into laughter.

After a while, limbs get stiff and the four stand up to take a tour around the campfire. Newt points out the different groups of Gladers, and they’re doing fine until Gally ‘accidentally’ shoves a stumbling opponent into Thomas’ back, causing him to lose his balance. Thomas dusts himself off, but looks up when Gally approaches him. “What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you’re made of?”

Thomas stares at him, uncomprehending, but Y/N makes a quiet sound of annoyance. “Come on, Gally. It’s the guy’s first day here. Give him a break.” Gally ignores her, speaking even louder to Thomas to explain the rules of the fight. Newt drifts over, gently pulling Y/N away from the ring. “Let Thomas have a go. Gally probably won’t rough him up that much.”

They step aside, hanging on the outskirts of the group. Y/N winces as Gally shoves Thomas face-first into the dirt. “It’s barbaric. Does he really have to do this?” Newt stares at the ongoing fight, at Gally clearly reveling in the chance to rough up another Glader, then looks back at Y/N. “Are you happy with him?”

Y/N turns to him, a look almost like outrage on her face. “Of course I am, why would you ask me that? Maybe he has a few habits that aren’t my favorite, but he’s still one of the best guys in the Glade.” Newt shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Gally’s necessity as a Glader. I’m talking about how he makes you feel. Are you happy with him, Y/N? Actually happy?”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. “I should be able to answer that.” She’s silent for a moment or two longer. “I don’t know.” She stares back at the fight, flinching slightly when Gally’s fist crosses Thomas’ face as if she’s already mentally figuring out how much time she’ll have to spend in the Med-Jack hut trying to put the Greenie back together.

“I don’t think I am. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that in a very long time, and I haven’t thought about it in even longer.” Y/N tilts her head down, sighing quietly. Newt glances back at her, then carefully slides an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder.

The morning is bright, heat already pouring into the Glade. Newt is about to take his break for lunch, but he looks around and realizes he doesn’t see the one girl who should’ve been out to eat before him. He taps Zart on the shoulder. “You seen Y/N?” The Track-Hoe nods. “She had some argument with Gally, then headed out to the Deadheads for some peace and quiet. I don’t think she’s come back since.” Newt considers this. “I’m going to go get her, tell her it’s time for lunch. See you after the break’s over.”

The trees of the Deadheads sway slightly, offering some much-appreciated shade and cool despite the burning heat of the sun. Newt doesn’t have to walk far before he finds Y/N seated on a high-reaching tree branch, head leaned back against the rough bark. He climbs up after her, and they both pretend not to notice when his bad leg gives out, making him slip for just a second.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in the middle of the forest?” Newt asks, and Y/N smiles ever so slightly. “I’m here to avoid Gally. I broke up with him and now he’s passive aggressively building things as if every hammer swing could kill.” Newt frowns. “At least he’s being passive.” Y/N laughs. “Focus on the aggressive. It’s mostly just aggressive.”

She sighs suddenly, looking up at the tree branches around her. The leaves seem to form a slight crown around her head. “I never thought I’d be the one to end things. Always thought he’d get tired of me and that would be that. I don’t feel any different than I did before. Maybe a little more free, like I can finally complain about things and not have to mince my words around him.”

Newt nods. “He’ll come around after a while. He’ll mess around and be bloody angry for a while, but then he’ll be back to our usual easily-bothered Gally.” Y/N smiles. “You do have a way with words. I feel better already.” Newt laughs at that, then jumps down from the tree, holding out his hand to help Y/N down. “You’ll feel even better when you have your lunch. Come on, I’m sure Frypan’s outdone himself, or at least he’ll pretend he has.”

The afternoon is late, and Y/N’s still working in the Med-Jack hut despite the fact that she should have left long ago. Gally finally warmed up to her again a couple of days ago, and he’s sent in a torrent of injured Builders to join the already large number of wounded Slicers that occupy the hut. She’s been busy all morning, and finally finished sending the last boy out with bandaged hands and a promise to stay out of trouble.

Y/N’s just doing the last checks to make sure her workstation is clear and ready for the next morning when she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. She turns to see Newt lingering by the door, and smiles. “You’d better not have cut yourself too. I don’t even want to have to look at a bandage ever again, or maybe just until tomorrow.” 

Newt grins, padding into the room to come stand next to her. “No injuries here. We’re all good.” His focus shifts to the cabinet open above him, and Y/N’s failed attempts to reach the door to put a faded glass bottle of ointment back inside. “Here, I’ve got you.” He takes the bottle from her hand, reaching up over her head to slide it inside and shut the door. When he looks back down, he realizes that his slight movement had shifted him close to Y/N, and they stand only an inch or two apart. He stands there for just a second, then leans forward with the air of someone taking a leap of faith and kisses her.

His hands slip around her waist, and Y/N presses her palms against the small of his back. When he breaks away, her eyes are light, and happier than he’s seen in a while. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.” She says, and Newt finally allows himself a smile. “I’ve been wanting the same.”

When morning breaks, it brings with it fear and overwhelming terror. After the doors to the Maze didn’t close at nightfall, the resulting Griever attack had left the Glade weak and unprotected. Newt walks with Y/N to the opening of the Maze, and wraps a protective hand around hers as they watch Gally prepare to sacrifice Thomas and Teresa to the Grievers in the hopes of protecting the rest of the Gladers.

Teresa, already tied to a wooden pole, argues desperately that their deaths will do nothing to save the Glade. Gally grows angry and orders Thomas to be tied up as well, but Thomas fights back against his would-be captors. The second Thomas lashes out, Y/N drops Newt’s hand, and the two of them join Minho, Frypan, and a score of other supporters to turn the tide, forcing Gally back with weapons drawn.

Y/N remains silent as Thomas speaks to the rest of the Gladers, urging them to escape the Maze with him. More walk away from Gally to join Thomas and the others, but still more remain on the other side. Finally, when the last of the Gladers willing to leave stand by Thomas, Y/N steps forward. She speaks directly to Gally, her voice cracking slightly.

“Gally, please. Come with us. You won’t survive here if you stay.” Gally shakes his head just slightly. “Good luck with the Grievers.” Y/N looks at him, remembering all of the love she’d once had for him in that moment. “Don’t do this, Gally. Please.” But Gally turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there to watch him go. Newt stands silently beside her, and Y/N looks at him with pain before allowing him to wrap his arms comfortingly around her. “He made his choice. There’s nothing you can do.” She nods hesitantly, and they walk together into the Maze.

The journey through the Maze is fraught with peril, and Y/N watches with horror as friends she’d known for months died at the claws of the Grievers. Finally, amazingly, a small handful of Gladers make it through the Maze and into the broken rooms of WICKED. Y/N holds Newt’s hand as they walk through the rooms, broken glass crunching under their feet. They do not intend to let go.

There’s a voice from across the destruction, from one of the other rooms. The Gladers group together instinctively, Newt pulling Y/N close to his side. A figure steps out from the darkness, and Y/N’s breath catches in her throat when she recognizes the boy. “Gally?” Her voice echoes across the room and he nods ever so slightly. Newt steps in front of her protectively when he notices the gun in Gally’s hand.

Gally shakes his head quickly when he sees the boy move. “I’m not going to shoot her, Newt. That’s not why I’m here. I could never hurt her.” Y/N speaks in a calm voice. “Put down the gun, Gally. We can talk about this, about why you’re here.” Gally shakes his head again with even more fervor than before. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to do this.” He takes a shuddering gasp, and his eyes clear for just a second even as tears begin to pour down his cheeks.

“Are you happy with him?” Y/N nods slowly when she hears his question. “Yes. I am.” Gally forces something that looks almost like a smile, but with the overwhelming twist of his face from the tears it looks bent and broken instead of joyful. Gally redirects his attention to Thomas, who is asking him to put down the gun. Gally shakes his head, sobs still racking his body. “I belong to the Maze. We all do.”

It all seems to happen at once. Gally pulls the trigger, Minho moves in a blur of movement to throw a spear through Gally’s chest. Gally stumbles and falls to the ground. Y/N lets out this quiet scream, her breath rasping sharply against her throat. Newt covers her eyes with his hand, making sure that she can’t see the dead body of the boy she’d once loved.

It is then that Thomas sees the blood starting to spread from Chuck’s chest, then that he sees the way Chuck’s breathing falters and he starts to collapse to the ground. Thomas bends over him, frantic. “Y/N, Clint, somebody! He’s been- he’s been-” Thomas can’t finish the sentence. Y/N kneels next to him, ignoring the blood beginning to stain her hands, but at last she stands up again and shakes her head almost imperceptibly at Thomas.

Silent tears run down her cheeks as Thomas stares at her in mute incomprehension, then turns back to Chuck. Y/N buries her face in Newt’s shoulder, unable to watch as the young boy breathes his last in Thomas’ arms. When it comes time for them to leave, Thomas’ screams echo down the empty hallways. Newt takes Y/N’s hand, whispers in her ear. “There was nothing you could have done.” She looks at him sadly. “I know. And it hurts even more for it.”

The two of them head back down the halls together, hand in hand. She won’t leave him, not now. Not ever. He needs her as much as she needs him, as much as the sun needs the moon and the earth needs one more chance to heal. They do not intend to leave each other, never again. They do not know if they will have a choice about it, but it does not matter. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth to give themselves the chance to stay together.

[hellpotter]

Hi! I love the one after Battle of the Labyrinth so much!!! Since you’re obviously amazing at writing percabeth angst, can you do 14 with annabeth and someone like silena?? Thank you so much!!

i have nothing left | percabeth

okay so i wrote this as some kind of continuation or like annabeth’s pov for this fic, but it’s not attached

Annabeth doesn’t even realize when she starts running. She’s leaving the stables, jaw clenched to stop the tears in her eyes from coming down. One minute, she’s thinking about getting back to the Athena cabin as soon as she can, to deal with her feelings alone and in peace as she explores her Dedalus computer. The other, her legs are working on their own and running through the green lawn from Camp Half Blood, automatically following the instructions of “getting there as soon as possible”. Until she bumps in Silena Beaugard and her ass lands loudly on the ground, as she falls back.

That’s also the moment she notices she’s failed on her task not to cry publicly, since she can feel tears slowly coming down her already wet cheeks.

“Ouch!” Silena turns around, half bothered, half hurt, but her expression rapidly changes when she sees Annabeth on the ground. “Annabeth?”

“Hey,” she takes the hand the Aphrodite’s daughter offers her and gets up. “Sorry, Silena. I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s ok.” They look at each other other for a moment, until Silena reaches out and dries Annabeth’s cheek softly. “Are you okay?”

Annabeth decides to pretend she doesn’t know Silena’s talking about the crying. “Yeah, it was nothing. Again, I’m really sorry for bumping into you.”

She only nods slightly and keeps looking at her empathetically. Annabeth waits for a moment, expecting she would say something, but there’s only silence, so she takes one step to go away. That’s when Silena grabs her wrist, and she stops.

“I have something to show you. Can you come with me?”

Annabeth frowns, slightly annoyed. It is obvious that she was upset, and she just wants to be alone and cry in peace. Out of all things, one she’d never associated with Silena was insensibility. But there she is, asking Annabeth to go and see something when she clearly isn’t up for it.

“Sure,” she says, taking a deep breath to swallow her tears as she follows her friend towards the beach.

They walk in silence until they reach the beach, where Silena keeps walking and looking for something Annabeth doesn’t now what it is. This is the last place she’d wish to be at this moment. A part of Percy is the ocean itself, and being there is almost like him being all around her.

“Here,” Silena stops suddenly at a opening between some rocks that meet each other in different ways and places, forming some kind of cave. She goes in and turns to Annabeth, “Come.”

Annabeth walks behind her and they sit on some rocks, quietly. Somehow, it’s comfortable and cozy. The rocks protect them from the wind and sand, but they’re so close to the sea that every time a stronger wave comes, Annabeth wonders if it won’t reach them.

They sit in silence for a while, staring at the ocean as the sun starts to come down in the horizon. Silena doesn’t say anything, which Annabeth actually finds weird, since she’s a very talkative person. So they just sit there.

Until a stronger blow of salty wind suddenly comes and rustles their hairs and makes Annabeth’s eyes burn, and then the ocean in front of her and the waves and everything is just too much– too Percy for her... And she can’t hold it back anymore. And then she’s sobbing desperately and her face is just so wet she can’t tell how much of is from crying and how much is from the salt air. And Silena holds her and caresses her hair and, thanks Athena, doesn’t try to calm her down or say things will be fine. She’s just there, and Annabeth couldn’t be any more thankful.

After a while, she’s stopped sobbing enough to breathe, and she’s just too angry and desperate and hurt not to say anything.

“I- I can’t lose him,” when she speaks, it becomes harder to breathe and easier to cry. “I can’t- I...”

She finally looks Silena in the eye, and she’s so glad she does. She never would imagine it, but it feels like coming home to a lightened fireplace. Annabeth realizes she’d never thought about it that way – probably because love had always hurt her and left her alone -, but love could also be about comfort. And permanence.

“You’re not gonna lose him,” Silena speaks softly, pulling one of Annabeth’s blond curls behind her ear. “He’s right here.”

“But he’s not, though. He’s not here enough. He’s not here enough to train and learn. He’s not here enough to make sure he’s not gonna be killed soon. He’s not-,” she sobs. “He’s not here enough to notice that I- That I lov...”

She’s crying too much to complete her sentence again.

“To notice that you love him,” Silena whispers.

It’s too cruel. Annabeth’s sure she doesn’t deserve this. She knows demigods have difficult lives, but she’s had enough trouble for a lifetime already. She didn’t deserve to be pulled into this whole mess. She didn’t even want to be friends with him in the first place. And now she has to deal with these stupid feelings and it’s just too complicated and too much for it not to hurt so bad that he doesn’t even care. And that, even if he did, he might die in a few weeks and it wouldn’t matter anyway.

“I hate love,” she finally says.

“You don’t hate love. You hate that you care about it. And that it leaves you,” Silena’s voice is gentle, but fierce. “You don’t know if you’re gonna lose him, Annabeth.”

“I just- If he leaves me, I’ll be alone again. If he dies, I’ll... I have nothing left.”

Annabeth just knows he will leave. Like her father. Like Thalia, in some way. Like Luke.

“Percy’s strong,” Silena says. “He’ll survive. I- I believe he will.”

Suddenly, her voice is cracking and she stares at the ground. Annabeth can’t figure out why exactly.

“I- I kissed him,” Annabeth’s not sure why she tells Silena that. She just does. Her friend looks up at her, mouth opened. “At Mount St. Helen, last summer. When I thought he was gonna die, I... I kissed him.”

“What’d he say?”

She shrugs. “We never talked about it. I don’t know how he feels.”

“Oh dear Aphrodite, the two of you...”

When Annabeth looks at Silena again, she’s smiling softly.

“Annabeth, I’m pretty sure he loves you too. Maybe he doesn’t understand it yet. Boys are stupid that way.”

That takes out a slight smile from her.

“I know you’re tired, and scared, but... Have a little faith on him. And on us. You’re not alone, and you won’t be.”

Annabeth nods calmly.

“Now c’mon, we have to get ready for dinner,” Silena gets up and offers her one hand. “Also, I’ve been thinking of something we could use in our favor for capture the flag. And maybe we can get ourselves some dates for the 4th of July with that...”

Annabeth has no idea what she’s talking about, but it sure sounds like a plan. And, well, plans are definitely her thing. So she follows.

[irishmacguirefucker]

Home

Or alternatively, Charles Smith loves his new family and would follow arthur anywhere

(4 pages of writing brought 2 u by me blacking out and typing a lot. TW: Hunting, non-descriptive skinning/harvesting of animals, Wolves)

Charles may be a newer member of the gang, but he was there long enough to be just as loyal as any other.

He found a family in these people, brothers and sisters and friends. He would stick with them until the end. An end that seemed to be rapidly approaching.

Charles Smith wouldn't consider himself much of an intellectual, but it doesn't take much to see that the gang life is dying out. As he and Arthur got close, they spoke of it a lot.

Arthur's new focus on treasure hunting was really confusing. For the second time, Arthur asked Charles if they could take a detour on a hunting trip to go find some treasure stash or another that he heard about.

They weren’t exactly in a rush to get back, so Charles didn't exactly have a reason to decline. And Dutch was in a foul mood lately anyway, so maybe coming back with a little treasure might help with that.

So he agreed and followed Arthur and his weird map, all the way up assfuck nowhere Amberino, AKA Coterra Springs.

The whole way there, Arthur seemed off. Neither of them are exactly talkative men, but this wasn't their usual comfortable silence. Arthur barely stopped, not taking the time to comment on landmarks or interesting animals, they even passed a herd of paints and he barely glanced at them.

Getting there was somewhat of a blessing, Arthur seemed happy they had made such good time and immediately wanted to try and find the treasure. Charles had to be the one to pull him back and point out the obvious signs of a wolf pack living nearby.

This seemed to ring a bell in Arthur’s mind, and he pulled out his journal, flipping to the back where he had various maps tucked away. Pulling out his Legendary Animals map, he showed it to Charles. Should they encounter wolves today, they would be dealing with some dangerous ones.

They made a plan, Charles would keep an eye out for movement along the treeline (as well as pull a distracted Arthur away from the geysers), and Arthur would search for the next piece of the Jack Hall Gang's treasure.

(Charles had broken the silence on the way there to ask. “Jack Hall Treasure...as in the gang? What were they doing hiding maps and treasure?”

Arthur responded lowly, not wanting any passersby to hear what they were out for. “Apparently ‘fore they died out, they robbed some banks out in California, ran out here to escape the law. Buried the gold they stole an’ wrote out the maps to find it again, but Hall got his gang killed and arrested with a bad robbery ‘fore they could go back for the money.”

“Huh, some story. Song don’t quite hold up, specially with Sean and Uncle singing it.” Arthur chuckled at that, “Most songs don’t with ‘em.” The break in heavy silence was nice, but short lived as Arthur set back to studying the map.)

Arthur seemed to be getting more and more frustrated with the doodles on the map, trying to compare it to his regular map, and his surroundings. Charles said nothing, focusing on what looked to be shifting forms in the trees, wondering if it was elk or wolves.

By the time he realized it was wolves, it was too late. They had herded the men and their steeds without the knowledge of either. Just as Charles was about to quietly get Arthur’s attention, the man spotted what he was looking for.

“Charles, I think I found the damned treasure!” He said loudly, and pulled out a rattling bag of coins, effectively scaring the nervous horses into rearing and setting off the wolves.

It was a close call, the wolf of legend was massive and more intelligent than the average wolf. The pack was bigger than either of them had seen. A few of them ran off after the fleeing horses and the men could only hope they would be alright as they dealt with the majority of the pack and the biggest of them all.

The wolves seemed to run at them in waves of 3 or 4, always outnumbering the men and getting mighty close to biting distance before they were shot down. It was almost sad, having to take out such a large number of mighty animals, but it was the wolves or them.

Just when the pack seemed to be thinning out enough that they might start to retreat, the massive legendary wolf made his move. He took down Arthur from behind, and it was pure luck that Charles landed a shot through its massive head with his rifle.

The moment the legendary wolf went down, the rest of the wolves seemed to realize they would not be getting their prey and retreated. Several wolves ran back from the direction of the horses and based on the lack of blood covering their muzzles, they were unsuccessful in their pursuit.

Before Charles could even be relieved by the horse's success, Arthur groaned from beneath the massive animal. Charles quickly fell to his knees and dragged the wolf's carcass off Arthur, briefly marvelling at its weight.

Arthur groaned again in relief and heavily pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Christ, I'm too old to be getting knocked down like that. Creature outta be nothin but muscle, taking me down like that.”

Charles laughed, half in relief and half at Arthurs commentary. “He was huge, I’ll give you that. He was likely nearing 150 pounds, very large for a wolf. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just outta breath. Caught me off guard.”

Charles looked at the bag of gold coins sitting on the ground a few feet away. “Was it worth your treasure?”

Arthur seemed to remember it and quickly reached for the bag, apparently not wanting to get up yet. “Suppose we’re gonna find out.” Inside the bag was another map, that Arthur sighed at, but tucked aside to look at after.

He quickly counted the money. “15 dollars, not quite a damn treasure Hall.”

Charles was confused. They had been finding stashes of money like this for a while and as far as he knew, Dutch was just putting it away and it had barely been spent on anything. “It's not a bad haul Arthur, especially not for us. Why are you so focused on treasure lately? We could earn more if we went back to robbery.”

Not that robbery seemed such a good idea right now, after the mess that chased them out of Valentine. But it would certainly get them a larger haul than chasing ambiguous treasure from a years-old map like pirates.

Arthur was silent for a while, what he was contemplating, Charles had no idea. He seemed to be thinking mighty hard on it though. Finally, he sighed deeply and seemed to make up his mind about something.

“It’s quite the story if you wanna hear it. It's a pretty big secret too, not that I've ever been worried ‘bout you running your mouth or nothin.”

Charles smiled warmly at his friend, attempting to put him at ease. “You don't have to tell me Arthur, but you never have to worry about me sharing secrets with anyone. And we have nothing but time, we’ll be skinning these wolves for a while anyway.”

Arthur sighed before dragging himself to his feet. “Suppose you’re right. Let’s start getting these dogs together and I’ll tell you all about Hosea’s plan.”

Arthur did just that. He told the story from the beginning, every detail he remembered as they carefully skinned the wolves and salvaged what meat they could. Partway through, the horses had found their way back, a little antsy but no worse for wear.

By the time Arthur had explained the entire plan, night had fallen and they were finding a spot to camp. (Away from the spot where they left the stripped carcasses, lest they be attacked by a damn bear in their sleep.)

Charles had a lot of thoughts. The plan itself seemed rather solid and safe, definitely a result of Hosea being the one to make it. He would definitely need some time to think about it before he could make any real comments on it. For now, he could only say; “Certainly explains why Dutch is so irritable lately.”

Arthur laughed loudly, and Charles smiled. Arthur seemed so excited about this plan, happier than he had seemed in the whole of their friendship.

“Yeah, he weren't a fan of our lack of faith...Do you think you’ll go, Charles?”

Now that was quite the question. Such a life wasn’t anything Charles ever thought of as a possibility for himself, though he expects that how most everyone feels about it.

He thought about his family. Not so much his father, but his poor mother. She had always wanted a peaceful life for her family, and he can’t help but think she would have been thrilled at the idea of her son finding a ‘proper’ home after just wandering since he was 13. The lone wolf was never a title she would have wanted for him.

He also thought of the rest of his gang, his new family. He would never say it to her, but he had always hoped that one day Abigail would take her baby and find herself a safer home, he never wanted that boy to end up an orphan like him and many of the other members. Them and everyone else in the gang could be safe and fed and happy, and in a way, he felt he deserved to be a part of it. After being a lone wolf so long, he had earned a home to share with his family.

“I think I will. I’d like to see what it's like to have a real home. I haven't had that since my mother was taken.” He hadn't meant to be so open when he started speaking, but he supposed that Arthur is his closest friend now, so why not.

Arthur seemed surprised at his open words, but it shifted to happiness. “You know, I think that's somethin’ I’d like to try as well.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while as the fire got properly warm, and Charles couldn't help but notice that this silence felt so different from Arthur’s silence on the way here.

And on their way home, Arthur stopped to study the herd of American paint horses, and Charles knew all was well once more.

[enkelimagnus]

A Castle in the Forest

Percy x Vex’ahlia, Chapter 11, 2942 words,

A Modern AU, in which Vex is a park ranger taking over the Alabaster Sierras post, and finds much more than she bargained for.

Read on AO3

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

Vex had succeeded in evading Vax’s questions about the bow.

She hadn’t really given him the option to speak at all. After resting for the night, her exhaustion had melted away and left all the space for anger. She’d driven out on her truck, not on the motorcycle, but that was only because the bike wouldn’t go on the snow very well. She’d just wanted to get to one of the temples fast.

They let her walk right into a fucking trap. They hid this from her and she could have died. There is going to be a scar on her shoulder, even with the healing she’s received. She wants to scream at all of them.

What if she’s not the first one to get hit by whatever the fuck the fiend is capable of doing? What if there are bodies literring that castle, bodies of innocent people who walked in on a fiend and died because no one fucking warned them?

Her rage carries her through the whole drive, until she stops in a furious screech of tires not far from the temple and basically runs to it. It carries her as she slams her whole body into the door and it bursts open. She doesn’t care about the bruises she’ll have after this.

She’s lucky, she guesses. They’re all there. Pike, and Grog, both priests and Cassandra. Somehow, the latter’s presence is no surprise. They were acting a little weird about everything, after all.

“What the fuck is up with the thing in the castle and why did none of you bother telling me about it?” Vex roars.

She can feel her hands shaking as she balls them into fists, trying to canalize her anger at least somewhat. She’s a professional, she can’t go and yell the heads off of clergy. Or maybe she can. Maybe she needs to, right now, because they let her walk into an incredibly dangerous situation.

Grog is still holding up his axe. He doesn't look specifically aggressive but she knows he’s ready to defend his friends against her if necessary. She appreciates that, even in this situation.

“You saw him?” Cassandra asks, standing up. “Does he… look alright?”

Vex blinks.

She wasn’t expecting this. Cassandra seems concerned, but more about the thing than about the fact Vex was in close contact with it and could have died.

“He’s a smoking fiend in the shape of a humanoid and I don’t know what kind of shit he packs but it made a hole in my shoulder. A big one!” Vex snaps back. “That doesn’t sound alright to me.”

Cassandra’s face hardens in as neutral of a face as Vex has ever seen. Pike reaches for them, gently putting a hand on their arm, beckoning them to sit back down.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Pike says quietly. “Do you need more healing?”

Vex shakes her head. “No. I have a couple of Healing Spells, and my brother gave me a potion. I’m fine.”

She’s mad that they’re showing concern, when they should have told her this was a threat. Pike and Grog make it all worse. They knew, when they took down the Barbed Devil, that it wasn’t the fiend Vex had sensed. And yet, they let her be fooled, let her believe that she’d done her job correctly.

“Lady Vex’ahlia, I think you should sit down,” Father Reynal says then, with his serene priest façade that Vex wants to smash through right now.

Grog gets up to bring another chair and they all stare at her until she moves and sits down at the table. They all settle back down.

There’s a large file on the table, closed and title-less. Vex raises an eyebrow. Father Reynal takes it and pulls it off of the table, away from her prying eyes and wandering hands. Smart of him. Suspicious too. Vex is on high alert and everything right now is a threat.

“I’m not a lady,” she mutters.

“I know,” Father Reynal nods. “But I’m being polite.”

Vex rolls her eyes. “Cut to the chase. What the fuck is going on here? What is that thing and why didn’t you tell me?”

They all settle back in their seats, all tense, all very unwilling to talk. Vex isn’t budging until she’s given answers though. She’ll camp here and harass them until they crack. She doesn’t give a fuck how long it takes.

“We didn’t tell you,” Keeper Yennen starts. “Because there was no reason for you to know. The fiend cannot walk out of the castle, the trail had been condemned by our work, and the secret tunnel was… well, secret.”

Vex sighs slightly. “Until Keyleth told me about it.”

“Our dear Keyleth is not skilled in the art of deception,” Father Reynal adds then. “We should have expected this would happen. But we couldn’t take you into account when all of this started. Your predecessor, Ranger Regae was not… exactly zealous. He was either oblivious to what was happening or didn’t care enough to stop it. All the contrary to you, my lady.”

“Not a lady,” Vex repeats. “Please stop calling me one.”

They nod as well. “Apologies,” they mutter. “Now. As for your other questions…”

Cassandra bristles. “His name is Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III,” they rattle off without even blinking. “Depending on which succession law you follow, he’s either Lord of Whitestone, or just my brother, in which case I am Lady of Whitestone.”

Vex takes a second to take in all of what she’s just been told. The De Rolos are not all dead. At least two remain. She’s staring at one of them, and the other is the thing in the castle. And they’re all covering it up.

“What happened? Because that’s not a person in there anymore,” Vex points out. Cassandra flinches at that.

Well… The eyes flashing to blue and the humanoid voice could belong to a person. The part that had yelled her to run… that could be a person.

“We don’t know exactly,” Cassandra continues, despite her flinching and obvious uncomfort. “We know that he’s been possessed by a fiend. Which I’m guessing you sensed and came in contact with.”

“Do you know how he came in contact with the fiend? What kind of fiend it is?” Vex crosses her arms.

“He.. came back to Whitestone with the fiend already with him. I haven’t been able to get more details from him.”

Every time Cassandra or anyone else says something, it just adds more questions to Vex’s plate. Where was he before coming back? Why had he left in the first place?

“As for the kind,” Father Reynal interjects. “I haven’t gotten to see it up close since he became possessed by it the way he is now, but from Keyleth’s description, it seems like a demonic creature. Perhaps a shadow demon of some kind.”

Shadow demons are more difficult to take down than barbed devils, but they’re not… impossible. Between Keyleth, Pike, Grog and the others, they should have been able to take it down a long time ago… Though it isn’t just a fiend. It’s also Cassandra’s brother. That changes things, she guesses, for all of them. There’s a person trapped in there, the one that made it so Vex could get away.

That’s the thing with possession. There’s always someone else than the creature involved in it.

Vex sighs heavily, putting her hands over her face. “You haven’t told any sort of authority, I’m guessing?” She asks.

“They’ll just… kill him to take out the creature,” Pike points out. “None of us want that to happen. We want him safe. As safe as possible.”

“Or they’ll fuck up the barrier we put up and he’ll be free to roam and probably kill more,” Keeper Yennen adds. “That’s another one of our concerns, and one of the reasons we didn’t tell you. We’re aware rangers have some spellcasting abilities and we did not want to risk you messing with the barrier.”

Vex huffs. “Well, I can’t promise I didn’t do anything but I don’t think my encounter with it fucked up your spell.”

They all fall quiet then. As she looks around the table at these people, these people of faith, of knowledge, of ability, it suddenly dawns on her the mess she’s gotten into. There’s a nobleman possessed by a fiend, with a weapon from the nine hells that shoots holes into people. They’ve been dealing with it for who knows how long, and they’re not getting anywhere. They seem at a standstill.

It’s all terrible. She should run away now. Grab Vax, pack her bags, and never come back to Whitestone again.

She’s not going to succeed at her job here, not when the fiend in the castle is much stronger than she is, not when there are people who won’t let her deal with it quickly and efficiently because it would mean murdering someone. Not that she would murder someone to do her job, but… it’s just another thing to think about.

She should give up and leave.

But where can she go? She can’t go back to Syngorn. Syldor’s made it incredibly clear in the letter she read yesterday. It was only yesterday but it feels like weeks. The emotional distress and the encounter with the fiend, or Percival de Rolo… It all seems so far away.

So she has to stay, and she has to deal with this somewhat. Because there’s no way she can go back to her life when she knows about the thing in the castle. No way. She’s too… stubborn.

“I have many questions,” Vex starts after a moment. “And I want you to answer them to the best of your abilities. If you want me to help in this matter, you’re going to have to be straightforward with me. Honest. If I catch you in a lie, you’re fucked.”

She doesn’t really think she’ll tell any authority about this, but she is going to use every bit of power she has to get her way and get the answers she’s desperate to have.

“Fine,” Cassandra nods. “I think that works with us.”

Vex doesn’t reply that they don’t have a choice anyway. She’s not that big of a dick.

“My very first question,” she moves forward. “How did you know my last name?” She stares at Father Reynal, with his chestnut eyes.

He sighs heavily and takes out the folder that had been on the table when she came in. He slides it over the table towards her and she takes it, and opens it.

Everything. They have everything. They have her grades and report cards from the schools she attended in Syngorn, from the noble general educations to the specialized ones, to the ones from her training with the TWC. Things on Vax as well. And then the Shademurk. Reports on the fire, a copy of the report she wrote for the TWC about what happened. Pictures of her and Saundor at the official parties he dragged her to, both because she was the ranger attached to the Shademurk, but also because she was his trophy, and he wanted to show her off.

She remembers the specific day this photo was taken on. She remembers the pretty green silk dress with the completely open back, almost the exact color of his skin. He’d insisted she made her hair in a way that uncovered her ears. He’d made a braid of vines that wrapped around her neck in a necklace. He’d called her perfect. She’d been the only non-fey in attendance, and all eyes had been on her, and on him, because he’d brought her.

She’s smiling in the photo in front of her. It was taken when she was already tipsy on sweet and heady fey wines. That was why she was smiling so much. The evening hadn’t been pleasant. Some sort of anniversary of something where she’d obviously been there for people to stare at, for Saundor to have. He had not let her move out of his side all evening, arm wrapped around her waist, hard as stone, unmovable. Possessive. She’d already known better than to try and break his hold on her, it had been months after she’d realized he was much, much stronger than her. When he decided to hold her, there was no getting out.

She slams the folder shut when it gets to more details about the fire.

Her hands are shaking when she looks up at the priest in front of her.

“Why?” She asks. Her voice is weak. It’s shaking, it’s ugly.

“We had to know who you were, who had replaced Regae. If you’d be a threat for us and Percival,” Father Reynal explains. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not. It’s obvious he’s not. Vex gets it, but it doesn’t qualm her anger and betrayal. She grabs the file in her hands. “I’m keeping this.”

None of them deny her that. Good. She would have exploded if they did.

Her mind is swimming. The pictures of those nights in the Feywild, the reports on the fire and her escape, the fiend, the trapped noble, her father’s hatred of her, these people… all of it was too much. She needs a fucking break. But they won’t let her have one.

“I need to go for a moment,” she says. This time her voice is steadier, and she’s so incredibly glad.

“You have some decisions to make,” Keeper Yennen nods.

Vex stands up. She’s not as shaky as she expected she would be. “I’ll be telling my brother all of this. You’ve involved him.” She points at the file. “Non negotiable.”

Cassandra looks a little uncomfortable at that but says nothing. Good. She’s getting Vex to help in saving her brother, Vex is involving hers.

This is too much to deal with alone, anyway. She needs Vax by her side with this. Despite everything, she needs his presence, she needs him. They’re both unsteady and neither of them are the rocks the other needs, really. But they’ve got each other and that’s at least something. It would be horrible if they couldn’t have each other.

She walks out of the temple with barely a word. She can’t do the goodbyes and everything else right now. She can’t pretend her mind isn’t full of questions and fears and anger. She needs to take time with all of this.

It’s hard. A part of her feels for Cassandra, and even the rest of them. She can understand why they did what they did, why they hid it from her, from the world. But she’s still so deeply angry about all of it.

And the file just made it so fucking worse. It’s all there, all the things she wishes to forget, all the things she prayed there were no traces of. She hoped the fire of Shademurk destroyed all evidence of her presence there, of the months spent in Saundor’s thrall.

Just like the memories and the scars she bears, just like the bow under her bed, it’s not going to go away this quickly. She should have expected pictures to be taken of the parties, she should have expected the reports to exist somewhere in the system.

What kind of research power did they even have, to acquire such information from her schools in Syngorn and the TWC?

Fuck. She gets into her truck and punches the leather outside of the wheel, cursing out loud. She puts the file down on the passenger seat and exhales. She needs to calm down. Her hands are shaking and she needs to be calmer to drive home, or she’ll drive herself into a fucking tree.

She would have thought being researched would be the worst part. But the worst part is the memories of Saundor the research brings. She’s fought so hard to put this behind her, she’s spent months bothered by horrible nightmares, every time she fell asleep. She’s better now, but this is a lot to deal with.

She really thought she was going to be safe from him now that she was hundreds of miles from the nearest portal to the Feywild. But the memories will not leave her and the scars are still obviously on her skin.

She can’t be safe. Not when she has her memories intact and his bow under her bed. It hasn’t been long enough. Maybe she’ll be done with him in a few years, or a few decades. Hopefully it will fade away faster than what her father did.

Falling from Syldor to Saundor was to be expected, now that she thinks about it. She was desperate for approval from some sort of authority figure and Saundor was that. And he had her wrapped around his little finger within days of meeting him.

Gods, she loved him. At least somewhere in the middle. Not at first, no. It had been all for comfort and pleasure. And then… at the end, it had been fear and hopelessness. But she had loved him in the middle. She’d worshipped him.

The great powerful Lord Saundor the Forsaken.

Her forehead hits the leather covering the wheel and she sighs heavily. She’s so tired. Her fingers find the key and turn it, sending the engine roaring on. The radio turns on with it as contact is made. It’s still on that pop channel since they went for a groceries run whe Vax arrived.

It feels like it happened weeks ago. The onboard calendar says it’s the 28th of Cuersaar. Vax has been in Whitestone for three days.

[whootwhoot]

»»—— 𝘛𝘛𝘛𝘊 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 2: "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘴" ——««

Akaashi Keiji x Fem! Reader

author’s notes: holy shit im so sorry for the not posting in such a long time ;-; i had stuff i needed to clean up + i was lazy- anyways this is the second chapter for my first long fic “Third Times The Charm” sorry for the delay ^^ compared to the previous one this one involves more conversations since im not good at writing movements lmAO enjoy uwu

☕ synopsis: Iwaizumi Y/n, a student who goes to Aoba Johsai as well as the second year manager for the school’s male volleyball team. What happens when she sets eyes on the cute setter from Fukurodani?

[ CHAPTER 2 - First texts ] 

“Oh shit.” 

Your phone screen fades to black as you sit there biting your lip. Baffled by how stupid you were, you slam your face into the pillow next to you.

“You had one chance, one chance and you did what? You forgot about it, your stupid brain forgot about it. Are you kidding me?”

You let out a loud groan as you sit back up, the bed sheet wrinkles while you release that breath of air you’ve been holding. Your hands wandered around your phone’s keyboard, too nervous to reply but too anxious not to. 

Akaashi seems like a genuine guy, he doesn’t show off or boast about himself. He’s just always there, the way he smiles when he successfully makes a perfect set, the way his delicate hands toss the ball, his eyes only focusing on you…

“Y/n! Get a grip! What are you even thinking?!” a couple more groans and turns on your bed and you are more awake than before. 

Honestly you never expected a reply from him at all. Sure, the idea of that crossed your mind, maybe more than several times but the thought of it actually happening? There’s no way.  

“It’s like my brain short circuited somehow.” you whisper while sitting up, leaning against the headboard of your mattress. 

Maybe the impression of you from your previous lover affected you more than you want to admit. “You’re annoying.” “Undeserving of love.” “No one can even stand a clingy person like you.” 

Your vision turns blurry as you feel cold tears gently running down your face. You wipe them away, hoping to erase the emotions bubbling up inside of you away too. 

The insecurities you try to push away seem to have formed a wall, a never ending wall that just stacks higher and higher. Just when you thought you have gotten over it, the tiniest shard of the most fragile moment can make you fall back down again.

The creaking sound of your room door makes you jump as your brother peeks his head inside your room. 

“Haji? It’s 2am you, you should be sleeping!” 

“You didn’t close the lights in your room so I thought I’d check up on you.”

“Your eyes look reddish, are you okay?” 

You lift your shoulders in a shrug, Hajime comes into your room and stands right in front of you and folds his arms. 

“Is this the older brother's lecturing time?” you ask while raising your eyebrow

“And for the record, I’m fine. You don’t have to-”

“I think I do.” Hajime stares at you intensely 

“You should've gotten over that jerk ages ago.”

“I know, I know” you release your breath and repeat the sentence he once told you  “The first love cuts the deepest, but not every cut leaves a scar.” 

“And?”

“Well, I don’t know but just… what makes you think I deserve love?”

“Iwaizumi Y/n, you are my sister. No one knows you better than I-”

“DOUBT! THERE’S NO WA-.”

“SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH.”

You laugh in amusement while Hajime licks his lips as his mouth forms a small smile. 

“Ok but the point is, you’ll find someone who’ll love you as much as you love them eventually. No one in the world is undeserving of love.”

You rest your chin on your palm while eyeing and slyly grinning towards your brother.

“Eww since when have you learned to be so cheesy?” 

“It’s called quality love advice, you should try them sometime.”

“YOU DUMBASS”

He ducks just in time to avoid the pillow you flung at him. 

“Stop yelling or the neighbours are going to hear you!”

He continues to laugh while rushing to the door. He stands at your door and gestures his hand at the light switch.

You grab your blanket and nod your head while laying down, the bed softly creaking causing him to chuckle. Hajime closes the lights and leaves your room quietly.

His warm words hang around  in the cold room as you slowly drift off to sleep. 

“Thanks Haiji-nisan.” 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Hello, it’s me  😓

The girl who was randomly texting you last night 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

No reply

You furiously type on your phone while staring at the screen intensely in hopes that he sees your messages. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I forgot about that photo 😓 😓 , I'm sorry if it seemed weird or uh rude

And uh i just hope that maybe we can get to know each other

Unknown:

Okay.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

Okaayyy he replied,  so that’s a good sign… right? 

Biting your lips, you place your thumb on the phone to prevent the screen from fading and eventually closing. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Soooooooo I’m Iwaizumi Y/n  😇 😇

Unknown:

Akaashi Keiji.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“God damn it, he’s such a conversation killer.” you mumble under your breath 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I’m from Aoba Johsai!! 

Akaashi: 

You’re the spikers younger sister? Iwaizumi?

Y/n:

Well duh  😂

Where are you from? 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You ran your hand through your hair, cringing at how hard you're trying. 

Maybe you could just tell him, you know like “Hey hot stuff, I think you attracted me with your stunning good looks so I want to date you.” you mock while pointing finger guns at the mirror. 

Just then, the familiar ringtone of your phone notification rings and you scramble to see who it was. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Heyyyyy, you got the text yet? 

Y/n:

Yeah

El is best girl:

Daaaaaaamn I take it you're disappointed that it wasn't him who appeared on your notification?  😔 😔

Y/n:

NO NO NO OF COURSE NOT 

I love texting you  😘

El is best girl:

Awhh save it lmAO 

Did you text him back?

Y/n:

😤 He’s not giving anything to work with here 

El is best girl: 

Pshhh I mean just ask him how his day was or like 

At least try to keep the conversation going 

Y/n:

I'M TRYING

LIKE  😩

REALLY HARD HERE

El is best girl:

lmAoOOOO

Y/n:

HOLD UP HE JUST TEXTED ME 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You hurriedly press into your chat with Akaashi

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Akaashi:

I’m from Fukurodani.

Y/n:

Isn’t that just a few minutes away from my school 😮 ?

Akaashi:

I think so.

Y/n:

Cool 

Anyways

Um how was your day?

“Akaashi is typing”

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“I can’t decide if he’s typing really slow or he’s sending a long text…” You decide to place your phone down and doodle on your papers while waiting for his reply. 

----

“Bokuto-san, she asked me how my day went.”

“Don’t reply to her anymore! Let her wait for you to text back, it builds a sense of mystery.” 

Bokuto suggests while winking. 

“Bokuto-san it’s not really nice to leave people on read.”

“Akaashi, I’m the ladies man, listen to me and your love life this time wouldn’t end like the last two.”

Akaashi can’t help but grin at his confident “wingman”, it’s no secret his past relationships were… well not that good, but to ask for Bokuto for help? 

“But-”

“Hey you were the one who asked for help when a girl texted you.” “Plus, didn’t you find her cute too? The short girl manager watched our match at camp.”

“What?”

“You were staring when she wasn’t looking, and after the first time you saw her from the bus you were trying to get to know which school bus it was.”

Akaashi’s jaw almost drops at his friend's observant nature that he didn’t know existed, apparently when it comes to love Bokuto isn’t as… well, dumb, as he seems. He tries to form words to deny Bokuto’s accusation but he can’t seem to find a reason to do so. 

“Also just play hard to get, girls love a challenge.”

“...” “Maybe I’ll wait a little longer before I reply to her.”

---- 

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Um Akaashi?  😅

Uh  😅 😅

You know, if you’re not interested in talking to me you could’ve just said so

Akaashi:

Sorry I was busy, I had volleyball practice.

Y/n:

OH I’M SO SORRY 

I didn’t know you have practice on weekends ;-; 

Akaashi:

It’s all right.

Y/n:

Anyways how’s practice^^ was it fun?

Akaashi:

Yeah, it was like usual.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“HE’S” “SUCH” “A” “DRY” “TEXTER” “AAAAAAAAAAAA”

You scream inside your head while holding yourself back from banging your head on the table. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Do you think we can maybe, meet up?  👉 👈

Like 

Uh  😶

Akaashi:

Date?

Y/n:

NO NO  😲 

I mean we never met of course not haahahahaha 

Akaashi:

Meeting up just to get to know each other then?

Y/n:

Ah yes that’s it, like a gathering

If you don’t mind 

Akaashi:

I’ll see if I’m available. 

Y/n:

Cool! Is next Sunday fine?

Akaashi:

We’ll see. 

Y/n:

...

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Wowww playing hard to get huh 

He sure is a tricky one

Y/n:

I don’t think I like where this is going

El is best girl:

It lowkey kinda ruins the impression you have of him huh 

Ah well 

It’s probably his first time or something

Have a little hope  😔  

Y/n:

Well 

I have one week to prepare 

HAVE FAITH  😍 😍

El is best girl:

Hell yeah 

Any thoughts on where you’re taking him 

If you don’t I mayyyyy have suggestionsssssssss 

AHHAAHAHAHAHA

Y/n:

God damn it El 

We’ll just be talking okay 

I do have a place in mind though

El is best girl:

Go on

Y/n:

You know the ice cream shop? At the street? 

El to is best girl:

Ohh an ice cream shop 

Very intriguing  🥺

Don’t tell me it’s because of that article 

Y/n:

I mean

El is best girl:

LMAO you 

You seriously believe you can tell someone’s personality by their favourite ice cream flavour?

Grow a brain Y/n 

Y/n:

You’re one to talk  🙄 🙄

Anyways I’m off to prepare dinner for tonight

El is best girl:

Owh Iwaizumi-kun teaching you to cook again

Let’s hope you don’t bring the kitchen down with you okay dear

Y/n:

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends

El is best girl:

Nah it’s simple really

You looooooooove me uwu

Y/n:

Ew

Go away 

El is best girl:

😳 😳 😳

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

- end of chapter 2 -

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(author’s end notes: i hope yall enjoyed this lmAO its pretty long ^^ anyways im writing their texts from y/n’s POV so the nicknames she gives her contacts might change owo)

[buoyantsaturn]

I Feel a Little Lost in This World (5/5)

chapter title: Percy’s Birthday Party Takes a Dark Turn

word count: 2,133

read on ao3

Camp was quiet for the rest of the summer, many of them eager to return home to their families for the school year, or simply struggling to process everything they’d gone through in the span of a few days.

Nico had performed funeral rites the day after the battle, and then had to do it again and again as campers continued to succumb to their injuries.

Then, one morning, the dying stopped. Campers began to heal physically, though it was clear that the mental toll would have lasting effects on all of them.

When August finally rolled around and Percy invited the questing group back to his mom’s apartment for a birthday celebration, Nico was excited to go. He wanted to pretend to be normal, just for a few minutes.

They finally got to see that movie they’d meant to see back in June, though they watched it from the comfort of Sally Jackson-Blofis’s couch. They had cake that had been dyed blue with food coloring. They all sat in a circle on the floor in the living room when conversation turned from the lighthearted to something more serious. Nico had wanted to double-check that they’d hit every point on the prophecy - wanting to be extra cautious considering what had happened after his first quest - though none of them seemed to think they knew what the last line had meant. Before they could get too far into it, though, Percy brought up a different prophecy instead.

“You know, I don’t really think it’s fair that the two of you get to know more about the Great Prophecy than us,” Percy complained, leaning back on his hands. “I mean, it’s about a kid of the Big Three, right?”

“That’s what Bianca told me,” Nico said, hugging his knees to his chest. Talking about the prophecy made him want to give Bianca a call, but would she answer? “She said that it’ll come to pass when a child of the Big Three turns sixteen.”

Annabeth nodded. “That’s right. It’s just a matter of...well, figuring out which one of you is closer to sixteen.”

Nico and Percy shared a look. How were they possibly going to figure that out?

Percy shrugged. “Well, chronologically, I’m, like...eighteen? And Nico’s like, a hundred, so...rock, paper, scissors?”  

Nico kicked him. “We celebrated your thirteenth birthday last year. So you’re fourteen now.”

Annabeth turned to Nico. “And how old are you?”

Nico blinked. “Uh…”

“He’s fourteen,” Will said quietly. He hadn’t spoken up since the conversation turned to the topic of prophecies, and Nico had almost forgotten he was there. “He was ten when he got to camp, so he’s fourteen now. Almost fifteen.”

“I guess that means I turn fifteen in January,” Nico told Annabeth.

She nodded. “Then, to me, it sounds like the prophecy is yours. You’ll turn sixteen about half a year before Percy.”

“Great,” Nico said with a huff.

Percy nudged him with an elbow. “Hey, don’t worry about it! It’s only if you live that long.”

Nico shoved him back. “I wonder if I could bribe Persephone to turn you back into a tree.”

“Maybe she can turn you into a tree,” Percy suggested, “and that way you can just sleep straight through all the bad stuff.”

“So, you’re cool with taking the prophecy, then?” Nico asked. “Because I’ll gladly let you have it.”

Percy raised his hands in surrender. “Oh, no way, never mind! I’d like to live, thanks.”

“Wow, you think I’m gonna die? Thanks for having any faith in me.”

“Can you two please stop arguing?” Annabeth cut in. “If anything, we should be making a plan so that Nico doesn’t die.”

Nico frowned. “So...you also think that I’ll die? Damn, I expected it from Percy, but it hurts coming from you.”

Will suddenly got to his feet and said, “I need some air.” For a second, he didn’t move, except to glance at Nico before quickly looking away. “Um. Nico, could you come with me? There’s something I--  I need to talk to you. Alone.”

Nico blinked. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He got to his feet, not-so-subtly kicking Percy when he gave Nico a weird look, and then he had to practically jog down the hall to catch up with Will. “Hey, wait up,” Nico said when Will ducked into Nico and Percy’s shared bedroom, and then climbed out the window onto the fire escape. “Will, what’s going on?” Nico asked when he finally joined Will outside.

Will had sat down with his back to the exterior wall of the building, and when Nico sat down beside him, he realized that they wouldn’t be seen by someone passing by the window. Will was hiding - he truly didn’t want anyone but Nico to hear what he had to say. Will reached out for Nico’s hand before he started to talk.

“That...line in the prophecy,” Will said quietly, “I think I know… Lose a love to worse than death. I asked you before if… If Charlie had died, and you said he hadn’t, but that…” Will shook his head, gazing off into the distance away from Nico and letting his head thunk back against the wall behind them. “It’s worse than death. He’s… He’s gone, but now we-- You have to take him out...for good.”

Nico squeezed Will’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Will. I never realized you and Charlie were that close.”

Will laughed humorlessly, almost sounding embarrassed. “It’s...more than that. I--” He groaned, pressing his free hand over his eyes. “How can I explain this?” He dropped his hand and shifted to face Nico, reaching out to take Nico’s other hand as well. “When I was on Calypso’s island, we had a lot of time to...talk. I… I told her about you, mostly.” Will smiled nervously at Nico before dropping his gaze to their hands, his thumbs slowly brushing across Nico’s knuckles. “She got me thinking about some stuff, and helped me process a few things, and I’m realizing now, after… After losing Charlie and...and Lee, I don’t want to risk losing anybody else. And inside, just now, talking about how you--” He choked on his words as he said, “How you might die... Nico, I need you to know how important you are to me. I--” He lifted his gaze once more to meet Nico’s eyes. “I like you, Nico.”

Nico felt his face start to heat up, and for some reason, he couldn’t look into Will’s eyes any longer. He dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “I like you, too, Will. I mean, you’re my best friend, and I--”

Will sighed. “No, I-- I mean, yes, you’re my best friend, too, but-- No, I mean that I like you.”

Nico frowned. He nodded slowly and said, “Right. And I like you, too.”

“No, you--” Will cut himself off with a groan and pulled his hands out of Nico’s, though Nico tried to grab his hands back.

“Wait, hang on a second--”

For half a second, Nico actually thought Will might hit him to try to knock some sense into him, but then he did something that surprised Nico so much more.

Will grabbed Nico’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Nico was sure it only lasted for a second, but at the same time, he wondered if Kronos had appeared and frozen time around them. Then, Will pulled away, taking the warmth of his lips and his hands with him, and all Nico could do was watch him and blink.

He watched as Will opened his eyes, and the way the crease between his eyebrows disappeared. He blinked, and suddenly Will no longer looked determined, but shocked. Another blink, and Will was afraid.

“Oh,” Nico whispered, not sure which part he was reacting to.

Will scrambled back, burying his face in his hands and suddenly rambling, saying, “I’m sorry, oh gods, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that! Please don’t be mad at me, I’m so sorry.”

“Woah, hey!” Nico exclaimed, finally managing to unfreeze himself and reaching out for Will. He took him by the shoulders and tried to lean in to make Will look at him, but it wasn’t until Nico managed to pry Will’s hands away from his face that Will finally lifted his eyes. He hadn’t started crying, which Nico took as a good sign, but his hands were shaking in Nico’s hold. “I’m not mad. I promise, I could never be mad at you.”

“You…” Will blinked. “You’re not? Then...how do you feel about...this?” Nico thought he heard an unspoken question: How do you feel about me?

“I...don’t know,” Nico answered honestly. “I don’t know how to say this in a way that won’t hurt you.”

Will’s hands went weightless in Nico’s. “Oh.”  

“No, wait!” Nico squeezed Will’s hands and forced Will to keep his eyes on him. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. I need-- I have to process...all of this, but no matter what, I promise, you will always be my best friend. It’s just that… I mean, it’s like Percy said. I’m, like, a hundred. I know things are different now from when I was a kid, but in my head, it’s all still...jumbled up. I never even let myself think about you in that way, because I never thought it was possible for you to like me like that. So… I can’t really tell you how I feel, because I don’t know yet, but I know that I like you, and I’ll always like you, I just need to...figure out if it’s in the same way that you like me.”

Will held his gaze for another few seconds before tipping his head forward to press his forehead against Nico’s. “Okay, I get it.”

“You’re acting like this is a rejection,” Nico commented, “and it’s technically not.”

Will’s nose scrunched up. “It’s not... not a rejection.”

Nico hummed. “That’s too many negatives.”

Will laughed, and Nico felt his heart soar. He pulled back, releasing one of Will’s hands as he did so, and sat down at Will’s side again. He rested his head on Will’s shoulder, and felt Will’s head tip over onto his.

“What would you want to date me for, anyway?” Nico whispered. “I could be dead in a year.”

Will pressed his lips to the top of Nico’s head. “All the more reason to spend as much time with you as I can. Besides, if something were to happen to you, I can’t imagine that I won’t be far behind.”

Nico frowned and lifted his head. “If I die, it’s probably because I’m trying to protect you. If I die while protecting you, and you still die I’m going to be so pissed.”  

Will grinned. “I meant more along the lines of how if you die, then Kronos might kill us all.”

“Oh.” Nico laid his head back down. “You don’t think Percy could take over and save the world?”

“A world without you? I don’t think I’d want him to save it.”

Nico elbowed him in the side. “Gods, have you always been this cheesy? Or do you think you have a free pass just because you confessed your feelings for me?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” Will answered with a laugh.

They were quiet for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s company, until Nico said, “I think I should go back to my training.”

Will paused. “Like, with your dad?”

Nico nodded. “I barely visited him at all last year while I was in school, and now that we know the prophecy is...well, probably about me, I feel like I should be training harder than ever. To make sure I’m ready for whatever happens.”

“That’s a good point,” Will replied. “Maybe I should stay back this year, too. Michael’s going to need help with the counselor stuff, and maybe Chiron can teach me more about healing, and archery, and...everything I can get better at while there’s still time.”

Nico squeezed his hand. “What about your mom? Don’t you want to spend as much time with her as you can, just in case?”

“I don’t even know if my grandparents will let me see her,” Will said quietly. “But...when it gets to that point, will you take me to Texas so I can say goodbye?”

“I’m not letting you die, Will--”

“I don’t want my last conversation with my mom to be over the phone,” Will cut in. “Please, Nico.”

Nico took a deep breath. “Yes, of course. Anything for you.”

Will shrugged his shoulder lightly, just enough to get Nico to look up at him once more. “So, I guess this means I’ll be seeing you around camp a little more often.”

Nico grinned. “Yeah, I guess you will.”

thanks for reading!

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[teamfreewilllover]

Almost Lover: Part 3 - Xavier Plympton Imagine

Part 1 Part 2

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Y/N inquired, holding the map out in front of her.

“Definitely” Xavier replied, trying to make his voice sound convincing.

“Really? Because the directions said to take a left at the phone box” Y/N stated.

“Forget about the map, we have something much more reliable” Xavier told her, as she raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that?” Y/N questioned.

“Instincts, baby” Xavier grinned.

“We’re doomed” Y/N teased, as Xavier shook his head fondly.

Y/N turned her attention to the back of the van, and sniggered when she saw Chet and Ray with their shirts off, seemingly comparing their abs.

“C’mon, Xavier. You next, let’s see what you’ve got” Chet announced, as went to sit behind the pair’s seats.

“I’m driving” Xavier retorted.

“So? I’ll take over for a couple of miles. Let’s see if your jazzexercise has managed to put any meat on those bones” Chet insisted, as he patted his biceps.

“Dude, I’m trying to concentrate on driving here” Xavier rolled his eyes.

“Alright...wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of the ladies anyways” Chet mocked.

“Well, do you know what the ladies really like Chet? A tall guy. As in 5’10 and over” Y/N smirked.

“Hey, I’m only a centimetre off 5’10” Chet grumbled.

“Well, a centimetre makes all the difference. You should know” Y/N teased, looking down to his crotch.

The group erupted into a fit of laughter at the comment, as Montana practically fell off her seat she was laughing so much.

“Yeah well...whatever” Chet mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Thanks” Xavier smiled at her, feeling less insecure.

“No problem. I’ve always got your back” Y/N grinned, as she reached out to pat his leg.

She meant it in a friendly gesture but she found her hand lingering on his thigh longer than it needed, causing Xavier to turn to her with a questioning look.

“Look out!” Brooke suddenly shouted from the back, as Xavier looked back to the road.

Y/N gasped as they lurched forward, her head almost hitting the dashboard. She slowly sat back up, her eyes widening when she saw the body of a man lying a few metres down the road.

“Oh my God...” Y/N trailed off, as everyone jumped out of the back on the van.

“Hey, are you okay?” Xavier inquired, but Y/N’s attention was solely on the injured man outside the van.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Xavier insisted, reaching out to touch her face lightly and turn her to face him.

“Yeah...yeah. Are you?” Y/N stuttered, as Xavier nodded.

In the next second, she was rushing out of the van towards the group that had crowded the man, who looked to be in his mid-twenties.

“Stop! What are you doing?” Y/N yelled, when she saw Ray was about to lift the man’s head up.

“I...I was just going to check his airway...” Ray mumbled, sounding unsure of himself.

“He’s clearly breathing, idiot! Are you trying to break his neck?” Y/N scolded, as Ray took his hands away from the man’s head.

All of a sudden the man’s eyes shot open, as he looked around with a terrified expression.

“What’s your name?” Brooke queried.

“I can’t remember” He replied, letting out a shout of pain as he seemed to wake up fully.

“Hey, no, no. Don’t move” Y/N insisted, as she and Chet held him down.

“Look...look at his cuts. The dried blood. He didn’t just get those injuries...he’s been out a long time” Xavier suggested, ushering to his bloody hands.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re in the middle of nowhere. We can’t just leave him!” Brooke exclaimed.

“He’s going to die if we don’t do something, X” Y/N told him, as Xavier sighed.

“We’ll take him back to the camp with us then, but let’s get our stories straight. We didn’t hit him!” Xavier announced, as Y/N glared at him.

“None of that is going to matter if we don’t get him help soon. We need something like a stretcher to move him” Y/N informed them.

“Oh! I have a surfboard in the van” Chet exclaimed, as everyone turned to give him a confused look.

“Why did you bring...nevermind, that’ll work. Go get it” Y/N told him, as Chet hopped up to his feet.

“How’re you so good at this?” Brooke inquired, as Y/N went to check the man’s pulse rate.

“Y/N’s off to college in the fall...leaving all her friends behind” Montana shrugged.

“That’s not going to happen” Y/N scoffed, as she noticed Xavier had turned away from her.

“You guys don’t really think that do you?” Y/N frowned, but no one would meet her eyes.

The drive to the camp was almost unbearably awkward, as Y/N chose to stay in the back with the hurt man, while Chet took her place in the front seat. She couldn’t believe she had been so dumb as to realise that her friends might have been hurt by her leaving for college. Could that be why Xavier had been avoiding her? She was brought out of her thoughts as the Nurse at Camp Redwood, Rita, started to check out the man’s injuries. Y/N frowned when she saw the nurse had set up an IV drip, but seemed to have trouble with putting a cannula in his hand.

“You alright? You look like your about to throw up” Y/N pointed out, seeing Rita’s hands begin to shake.

“I’d be doing better without an audience” Rita retorted.

“Okay, shutting up” Y/N said, holding her hands up in mock defence.

“Come on. I can show you all a tour of the camp” The Camp leader, Margaret suggested, ushering them away.

Y/N started to follow the group, turning around in the doorway and frowning when she saw Rita was having to look away as she tried to once again put the cannula in.

“C’mon” Xavier insisted, placing his arm around her shoulder and dragging her along.

He kept his arm around her as they walked towards the kitchens, as she couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face.

“This is Chef Bertie, a Camp Redwood veteran” Margaret announced, ushering over to a large, middle aged woman with a cigarette in her mouth.

“Dibs” Xavier leant down to whisper in her ear.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it, handsome” Bertie teased, as Y/N’s mouth dropped open, in amusement.

Y/N started to giggle when she saw Xavier’s incredulous expression, as he dropped his arm from her shoulder with a huff.

“Put those scrawny arms to work and help a lady fill her pantry” Bertie ordered, as she handed a shocked Xavier a crate.

“I seriously love you” Y/N exclaimed, as everyone began to laugh.

“Your not the first to say so, sweetie” Bertie grinned.

While the others continued on with the tour, Y/N offered to stay behind with Bertie, thinking the sweaty chef seemed much more fun than their stuck up leader.

“So you worked here when Margaret was a counsellor?” Y/N questioned, as she began stacking the crates up in the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve got many good memories of this place. The minute I heard Margaret was reopening the place I was the first to volunteer” Bertie explained.

“Why’d it close in the first place?” Y/N inquired.

“One bad Apple ruined it for everyone” Bertie shrugged, as Y/N opened her mouth to question the comment.

“So, how long have you and the smart mouth been together?” Bertie asked, lightning up her cigarette.

“Me and Xavier? Ha. No, you’ve got that wrong” Y/N mumbled, as she started emptying the first crate.

“Oh lord, your not one of those pining teenagers are you?” Bertie suggested.

“I pine quietly, don’t worry” Y/N joked, a sad tone to her voice.

“So he’s single then? Maybe I’ll have to bring my old moves out” Bertie grinned.

“Give it your best shot, Chef. I reckon you’ve got more chance than me” Y/N giggled.

“More chance of what?” A familiar voice made Y/N jump, as she turned around.

“Uh...” Y/N trailed off, as she saw it was Xavier and looked to Bertie with pleading eyes.

Thank God he didn’t come by a few seconds earlier, Y/N thought to herself.

“More chance of getting laid” Bertie winked at the blond, as Xavier raised an eyebrow.

“You could definitely get laid, Y/N. Just not with Chet...or Ray...” Xavier shrugged.

“Fine, maybe I’ll have to drive down the road and see if the creepy gas attendant wants a quickie” Y/N rolled her eyes, as she walked past him.

“Ha. Right. Your joking, aren’t you? Y/N?” Xavier exclaimed, rushing after her.

“Kids” Chef Bertie shook her head.

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[until-the-sun-rises]

Virgil’s Promise

AU Intro Post

AU Creators: @a-valorous-choice and @ironwoman359

Summary: Virgil, his mother, and his little brother Thomas have been living in the woods since a virus outbreak wiped out most of the population, including Virgil’s father. Life can be bleak, but they make the most of what they have. However, when Virgil’s world is turned upside down again, will he have what it takes to keep his little brother safe?

Content Warnings: Apocalypse AU, angst, character death, death of a parent, guns, knives, violence, mentions of blood, zombies (called terminals in universe), mentions of eating people (in a zombie sense, not a cannibal sense), crying, grief, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, cursing, bittersweet ending. PLEASE let us know if you need anything else tagged, and stay safe! There are moments of comfort sprinkled throughout but this is mostly an angst piece with, again, a bittersweet ending. Do what you need to do to protect yourselves <3

Word Count: 5,464

Read on AO3 Here

Author’s Notes: Here it is, the first installment of the AU! I had such a fantastic time writing this, I’m really really proud of it, and can’t wait to hear what you guys think! Looking ahead, you can expect more introduction fics like this for our other main players, then we’ll get into other details of the main plotline! In the meantime, asks are open if you’d like to scream at us about the AU, we’d love to scream back! Love you guys, thanks so much for the support! -Taylor ☕️

--- --- ---

“Mom, I found more berries!” 

Virgil looked up to see his eight-year-old brother holding out a handful of dark purple berries with a wide grin stretched across his face. 

“Thomas, put those down!” their mother Emma cried, rushing over to Thomas’s side. “Those are pokeweed berries, honey, you can’t eat those. They’ll make you very very sick if you eat them, okay?” 

“Oh...okay. Sorry.” 

Thomas’s lip wobbled a little, and Emma smiled, smoothing back Thomas’s hair. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, you didn’t know. They’re very pretty berries, aren’t they?” 

“Uh huh,” Thomas agreed, nodding. “That’s why I thought they were fine to eat.”

“There’s lots of things in the woods that look pretty, but not all of them are safe, okay? Pokeweed berries are never fine to eat, they make you really sick. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Good boy.” Emma smiled, and pointed over his shoulder. “Now, see those white flowers behind you?”

“Uh huh.” 

“Those are Queen Anne’s lace flowers. And their roots are actually wild carrots! Why don’t you go over and dig some up for us, okay?” 

Thomas nodded eagerly and skipped over to the patch of flowers. Emma sighed in relief, and sat back on her heels, smiling fondly as she watched her son. 

“I thought pokeweed was okay sometimes?” Virgil asked, coming up behind her, causing her to jump a little. 

“Virgil! You startled me, who taught you to move so quietly?” 

Virgil grinned. 

“You did. When you insisted you take me paintballing for my sixteenth birthday.” 

“Fair’s fair,” Emma laughed. “What did you ask me just now?”

“Pokeweed,” Virgil repeated. “I thought you could eat it sometimes?”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Well, that’s true, but never the berries, or the roots. You can eat the leaves sometimes, but only if the plant is young. If you see the berries start to form, even if they’re still green, you shouldn’t even try. And you should boil the leaves first too. If you’re not careful, you could get vomiting or diarrhea...and that’s something we want to avoid when we’re fighting for our lives, isn’t it?” 

She said it in an upbeat tone, but the sombering nature of their reality couldn’t help but settle over Virgil’s shoulders anyway. He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, gripping the soft fabric tightly. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Emma said softly, and Virgil shrugged. 

“S’not your fault. The whole world is kinda upsetting right now.” 

It had been three months since the outbreak, three months since Virgil’s father had died and he’d been on the run with his mom and brother, trying to stay alive. Fortunately, Emma was an avid camper and lover of the outdoors, so the three of them had been able to avoid towns for the most part. Sure, staying away from civilization meant that they were living off of mostly foraged plants and birds eggs, and it’d been ages since Virgil had taken a real shower, but those were small prices to pay for being able to mostly avoid the terminals. Thy tended to be in larger groups closer to towns and cities, so sticking to the country meant fewer encounters with the deadly infected creatures. 

People, Virgil thought grimly. They may be like monsters now, but they used to be people.

“I know it is, sweetheart,” his mother said, pulling him from his thoughts. “And it’s not fair, how fast you’ve had to grow up now.” Emma sighed, looking over to where Thomas was eagerly digging up roots for their supper. “You should be enjoying your summer, deciding on a college or a career...not this.”

Virgil shrugged. 

“I didn’t really know what I wanted to do anyway.”

“I know that,” Emma said, giving him a sad smile. “But you had time to figure it out, to explore the world and decide what kind of man you’re going to become. Now that’s a luxury you don’t have anymore.”

Virgil looked down at his shoes, swallowing nervously. It wasn’t like his mom to be so openly melancholy; if anything, since they’d gone on the run she’d become even more upbeat and cheerful than usual. He had a feeling that she was trying to keep a brave face up for him and Thomas, but just because he knew it was partly an act didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate it. Some days he could almost pretend that this whole thing was just an extended summer camping trip, and then they’d go home and their dad would greet them at the door and they’d tell him all about it while sitting on the sofa in front of the TV. 

That illusion shattered every time they came across a terminal. 

“Virgil, listen to me,” Emma said, and there was an urgency to her voice that made Virgil look up. “Right now, the only thing we can be certain of, the only thing we can rely on, is each other. It’s my job to look out for the both of you, and it’s your job to look out for Thomas. Protecting him has to be the top priority, alright?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I...I won’t let anything happen to him.” 

“Oh, honey, come here,” she said, and Virgil let her wrap her arms around him. 

He felt exceptionally small in his mother’s embrace, but not the bad kind of small where he felt powerless and afraid. He felt safe, protected, shielded from all the horrors of the world. Her grip tightened, and Virgil realized with a start that she was trembling.

“Mom?” 

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “You’re so strong, and so brave. Thomas is lucky to have you for a big brother.” 

Virgil didn’t feel strong most days, and he certainly didn’t feel brave. Most of the time he just felt scared; strength and bravery were attributes he’d be more likely to apply to his mother than himself. But the way she held onto him now, as though he’d disappear if she let go for one second made him realize that she was also scared. Scared for herself, but scared for him, too, and for Thomas; scared that she couldn’t keep them safe in this new world full of dangers. 

Virgil may not have had much faith in himself, but he had faith in his mother. And she was putting her faith into him, and he’d be damned if he let her down. 

“I won’t let anything happen to him, Mom,” he repeated, hugging her back tightly. “I promise.” 

--- --- --- 

Virgil’s heart was pounding so heavily he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest. Wouldn’t that just be his luck, he’d escape being eaten by terminals only to fall over dead from a heart attack. His lungs were on fire, and his legs threatened to buckle underneath him more and more with every step. But then Thomas whimpered in his ear, burying his face deeper into Virgil’s neck, and Virgil took a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on Thomas’s legs and pressed forward, his mother’s instructions echoing in his ears and urging him onward. 

The old cabin had seemed deserted enough, with no trace of the previous inhabitants anywhere, so they’d gotten a little too relaxed as they searched the building for supplies. But it turned out the area wasn’t as deserted as they thought, and the sound of his little brother screaming had brought Virgil barreling out of the bathroom and into the main room to see three terminals bearing down on his family. Virgil’s mother was gripping a tire iron like a baseball bat and standing between Thomas and the advancing creatures.

“Virgil,” she’d said in a low voice. “Take Thomas and get out of here, now.”  

Virgil hadn’t wanted to leave her, but the look in her eyes had left no room for argument, so he’d scooped his brother up piggyback style and fled towards the back door, wincing as he heard his mother let out a primal roar, followed by a sickening *thwack*.  

Virgil didn’t stop running until he stumbled back into the clearing where they’d made camp, collapsing to his knees and letting Thomas climb off his back. Every muscle in his body ached, and for a moment he just stayed on the ground, gasping as he fought to get his breath back. 

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, voice wobbling, and Virgil looked up to meet his brother’s tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil gasped, managing to give his brother a small smile. “I’m...I’m okay...just...just catching my breath.”

“Is Mom okay?” 

Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it again. Part of him wanted to lie, to promise that their mother would be just fine and would come and get them when the scary monsters were all gone. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and he met his brother’s gaze with a grim expression. 

“I...I don’t know, Thomas.”

Thomas fell silent, and for a moment neither of them moved, Virgil still gulping down breaths of air, trying to get his wind back. Then, so suddenly that it made Virgil jump, Thomas crawled forward and nestled himself into Virgil’s lap, wrapping his arms around his middle and laying his head on Virgil’s chest. 

“Your heart is beating really fast,” he said, and Virgil nodded, wrapping his arms around Thomas and drawing him closer. 

“Yeah, it is, buddy,” he said quietly. 

“You should count your breaths like Mom says to do. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea,” Virgil said, grateful for something that could distract them both. “How about we do it together? Remind me how it starts again?” 

Thomas scrunched up his nose as he thought. 

“You breathe in for four counts, right?”

“That’s right, good job. Let’s do that together, okay? In, two, three, four…” 

Virgil led them through the rest of the breathing exercise over and over again until Thomas drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the stress of the day. Virgil wanted nothing more than to join him in a nap, but he couldn’t sleep now, he had to stay up and keep watch, to see if their mother...or anything else, would approach the camp. 

He waited for what felt like hours, every sense straining for any sign that somebody was coming. Finally, just as the sun was starting to dip in the sky, he caught sight of someone slowly walking towards the campsite. His heart leapt as he recognized his mother’s silhouette, short but strong with hair pulled up into a high ponytail. 

“Thomas?” he murmured, giving his brother a small shake. “Wake up, Mom’s here.” 

“Hmm?” Thomas asked blearily, still half asleep. 

“Mom is…” Virgil trailed off as he looked back towards where their mom was walking. 

Something was wrong. 

Oh no...oh god, no, not this, please not this…

“What about Mom?” Thomas asked again rubbing at his eyes. 

Oh god, I can’t do this, I can’t deal with this, please…

Virgil’s grip tightened on Thomas, and he scrambled to his feet, backing away while keeping his eyes trained forward. 

“Virgil, what’s–” 

“Thomas, listen,” Virgil said urgently, setting his little brother down. “I need you to hug this tree here and close your eyes, okay? Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t open them until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Virgil, is Mom–” 

“Do you understand?” Virgil asked desperately, and after a beat, Thomas nodded. “Good,” Virgil breathed, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s for a moment and taking a deep breath. “Close your eyes now,” he whispered, and he stood back up, turning back towards his mom. 

No. That’s not Mom. Not anymore. 

The woman that was lumbering towards him moved her limbs in broken, jerky motions, as though she was a poorly controlled marionette. Her eyes were bloodshot and empty, and saliva drooled out of her open mouth. A low moan escaped her lips as she came closer, and Virgil’s heart tightened in his chest. He’d seen terminals before, knew how they worked and how to kill them. But this...this was different. 

This was his mother, and now she was a monster. 

Virgil scrambled towards the log at the edge of their campsite where they’d stashed their supplies. There wasn’t much there, just one change of clothes, a few handfuls of food, the last of their bandages, and...there. His mom’s .22 rifle. 

“We only have one bullet left, Virgil. So until we can find some more ammo, we’re not going to hunt or travel with this anymore, okay? We’ll keep it here in case there’s an emergency.”

Virgil’s hands shook as he pulled out the gun and checked to see that their last bullet was properly loaded. He’d never cared much for shooting, but after they’d made a run for the woods, his mom had insisted he learn to use it, teaching him how to hunt rabbits, possums, and other small animals that she’d then showed him how to clean and skin before cooking. 

He’d never shot a terminal before. 

Realistically, one of three things would happen. One, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would die, leaving their mother to feast on their remains. Two, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would turn terminal themselves, which basically boiled down to being brain dead while your body shuffled around in search of food. Or three...

Virgil raised the rifle up, tucking the butt to his shoulder and blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then he squeezed the trigger. 

The gunshot echoed through the forest, and though Virgil’s ears were instantly ringing, he could still hear the sound of Thomas’s scream from behind him. Everything seemed to slow down as Emma’s body dropped to the floor of their campsite, instantly going still. A blur flew past Virgil, and he just barely dropped the rifle in time to catch Thomas as he rushed towards their mother.

Thomas struggled desperately against Virgl’s grip, sobbing as he tried to get free and run towards her. Virgil just held him tighter, ignoring his own tears as he pulled Thomas away. 

“Thomas,” he choked out as Thomas kicked and struggled. “T-thomas, no, it’s not safe...th-they can still turn you when they’re dead if you’re not careful…”

Thomas just kept kicking and sobbing, and Virgil could do nothing but hold him back, even as his own tears fell. Eventually, Thomas went limp against him again, though his little body still quivered with sobs, making Virgil’s heart ache even more. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball with his baby brother and sleep, sleep until all the anguish bled away and left him empty. 

But a steely voice inside him insisted that no, he couldn’t do that. The terminals were drawn to loud noises, and the gunshot was sure to attract more of the creatures to this spot. They needed to move, and quickly, if they wanted to avoid any more confrontations with the creatures, and with only his hunting knife left to defend themselves with, Virgil would rather avoid running into more of the terminals. 

“Thomas,” he said, drawing away to look his brother in the eyes. “Thomas, look at me.” 

Thomas looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears trailing down his cheeks, and Virgil had to resist pulling him close for another hug. There would be time for grief later. 

“I need you to go to the log and gather up all our things, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

“M-mo...M-mom–” Thomas choked out, and Virgil cupped the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I know, Thomas, I know,” he said, more tears pooling in his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, but it’s not safe for us here. More of them will be coming, and Mom would want us to get far, far away so that we can be safe. Okay?” 

Thomas sniffled, but nodded, and Virgil smiled at him through his tears. 

“There’s a brave boy. Now go gather up our things, we need to move.” 

Thomas stumbled over to the log, and Virgil took a deep breath before turning towards his mother’s body in the clearing. His stomach churned as he approached, and he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. It wasn’t pretty, but he knew what he had to do. 

Virgil pointedly kept his gaze away from his mother’s  face and carefully knelt down, sliding the straps of her knapsack off her shoulders. He took care not to touch anywhere near her now foam filled mouth, remembering what the news reports had said about the creatures when the outbreak had first occurred...back when they were still running news reports. 

The virus is transmitted via bodily fluids; even if the infected subject is deceased, their corpse may still infect others if their blood or saliva comes into contact with open wounds.

Virgil tugged the bag out from under her, stepping away as she fell back against the ground. A quick rifle through its contents revealed most of the supplies that they’d gathered from the cabin, and his heart twisted again in his chest. By the looks of things, she’d managed to fight off the three terminals from the cabin and had stayed herself long enough to gather up their supplies and head back towards their camp. She probably hadn’t even realized she’d been infected until it was too late. 

Virgil took one last look at his mother’s body, and paused as he saw a glint of gold around her neck. He looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was packing up their bag, then bent down and quickly pulled a heart-shaped locket from around his mother’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, allowing himself one brief look at her face. “I’ll look after him, Mom, I promise.” 

He slipped the locket into his pocket, then turned and walked over to Thomas. 

“Hey, buddy. Got everything?” 

Thomas looked up at him and nodded solemnly. 

“Good. It’s time for us to leave then, okay?” 

Thomas looked over at their mother one last time, then back up at Virgil. 

“Can you carry me?” he asked. 

Virgil could already feel exhaustion creeping over him, and his limbs still ached from their earlier escape, but right now? There was no way he could say no to his little brother. 

“Sure, buddy. I’ll need you to carry the backpack though, okay?” 

Thomas nodded, and after Virgil had helped slide it over his shoulders, Thomas climbed up and linked his arms around Virgil’s neck. Virgil gripped Thomas’s legs and stood up with a grunt, taking a moment to readjust his hold now that he was standing. 

“Ready?” he asked, and he felt Thomas turn his head to look behind them again. His chest ached, and he reached up and gave Thomas’s hands a squeeze. 

“Yeah,” Thomas said eventually, laying his cheek against Virgil’s back. 

“Okay,” Virgil murmured, grabbing hold of Thomas’s legs again and stepping away from their campsite, one thought repeating over and over again in his mind as he walked. 

I’ll keep you safe, Thomas. I promise.

--- --- ---

Keeping an eight-year-old alive and safe in the woods during the apocalypse turned out to be harder than Virgil had anticipated, and it wasn’t long before he was completely desperate. He’d tried to replicate the traps his mother had set, and tried to fish using makeshift spears or reels, but he was either doing something wrong or had horrible luck, because the traps remained empty, and he was unable to catch more than one or two tiny fish per attempt. It wasn’t long before their meager food supplies ran out, and eating roots and leaves could only satisfy a growing boy for so long. Virgil was out of options. 

So he found himself here, gripping Thomas’s hand and standing on the outskirts of a small town at the edge of the woods. 

For most of their time living wild with their mother, they’d avoided towns. Areas that were once populated may have meant more supplies, but they also meant more chances of running into terminals, and Emma had wanted to avoid that at all costs, choosing instead to rely on her history of camping rough with her family as a child for survival. 

But Virgil simply wasn’t good enough to scrounge up enough to feed the two of them from the forest alone, so here they were. 

“Okay, buddy, remember what we’re looking for?” he asked, looking down at Thomas. 

“Canned food, clean clothes, blankets, and medicine,” Thomas rattled off, and Virgil smiled. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “Now, anything you find, you bring to me first to check the expiration date first, okay? We don’t want you eating something and getting sick.”

“I can read the dates myself, you know,” Thomas muttered, kicking at the pavement. “I’m not a baby.” 

“Right, of course,” Virgil agreed with a smirk. “You’re not a baby, you’re just a pipsqueak.” 

He reached down to ruffle Thomas’s hair, but his brother ducked away. 

“I am not!” he huffed, glaring up at Virgil, and Virgil held his hands up in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Just let me look at the food before eating it anyhow, okay?” 

“Fine,” Thomas grumbled, and Virgil held back a sigh. 

The two of them had been on their own for just about three weeks now, and while some days were perfectly fine, other days there was an unmistakable tension between the two. It was worse when they were hungry, and with nothing but flower roots to eat for the past three days, it was fair to say they were pretty hungry now. 

“Thomas?” Virgil said, kneeling down so that he was eye level with his brother. “Can you look at me?” 

Thomas glanced over at him, and Virgil offered up a small smile. 

“I’m sorry if I seem too...overbearing. You know why that is, don’t you?” 

Thomas shrugged, and Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s because I want to make sure that nothing bad happens to you. I know I’m not always the best big brother to have, but all we’ve got is each other now. So if I...make some mistakes along the way, just know it’s because I want to keep you safe, okay?” 

Virgil was expecting Thomas to nod and move on, so he grunted in surprise when instead Thomas threw his arms around Virgil’s neck in a suffocating hug. 

“Okay,” he whispered, and Virgil didn’t care that he could barely breathe, he hugged his brother back just as tightly. “You were wrong about something though,” Thomas added, his breath tickling Virgil’s ear as he spoke. 

“Oh? What’s that, buddy?”

“You’re the very best big brother to have,” Thomas mumbled into Virgil’s shoulder, and suddenly Virgil was blinking back tears. 

“Thanks, Thomas,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling Thomas closer. 

He was about to let go when suddenly Thomas gasped, his whole body tensing up. Virgil’s eyes flew open in an instant and he stood up on instinct, gathering Thomas into his arms as he did so. There, barely a hundred feet away ambling into the street from behind one of the houses, were two terminals. It didn’t seem like they’d noticed the two brothers just yet, but searching the houses on this street had just become last on Virgil’s list of things to try that day. 

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed in Thomas’s ear as he slowly stepped away. 

He tried to turn back the way they’d come, but froze as he saw three more staggering towards them from that direction. He spun around, his eyes scanning the street, and his heart slowly sank into his stomach. There was no way out of this neighborhood that wasn’t blocked off by private fencing or didn’t involve going past the growing number terminals. 

Well. 

Not for him anyway. 

“Thomas?” he said quietly. “Listen very carefully, okay?” 

Thomas nodded, his cheek brushing against Virgil’s, and Virgil held his breath for seven seconds. 

“I’m going to put you down,” he said slowly. “Then when I tell you, you're going to run straight down the street back the way we came, do you understand?” 

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil pried him off his neck, setting him on the ground and staring at him intently. 

“Do you understand?” he asked, and Thomas’s wide eyes filled with tears, but he nodded. “Good,” Virgil whispered, squeezing Thomas’s hand. 

The terminals were ambling closer now, and he straightened up. He allowed himself one more squeeze of Thomas’s hand, then he let go and opened his mouth to scream. 

All of a sudden there was a *thwap!* sound that came from between the houses, and then the terminal closest to Virgil and Thomas had an arrowhead sticking out between its eyes. The creature fell forward and Virgil froze, too stunned to move. 

“Woo hooooooo!” a voice yelled from the direction the arrow had flown from, and the terminals turned towards the new source of sound. “Perfect headshot!” 

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil dropped to the ground again, gathering his arms around Thomas and pulling him close. 

Another arrow flew into a nearby terminal’s chest, accompanied by more cheers, then a wild looking man in a dirty green t-shirt with a white streak in his hair burst out onto the street, a machete gripped in his hand. 

Virgil barely had time to wonder where on earth that maniac had gotten a machete before he was charging the terminals with it, squealing with delight every time his blade connected with a creature’s neck or head. It wasn’t long before every last one of them was no more than a bleeding corpse on the ground. 

“Coast is clear!” he called over his shoulder, wiping his blade off on his already filthy pants. “Oh, no...wait,” he added as his gaze found Virgil and Thomas crouching beside a house. “Looks like we’ve got a live one, Dee!”

Another man emerged from across the road, a yellow beanie on his head and a bow and quiver strapped to his back, though Virgil’s eyes were first drawn to the large burn scar covering the right side of his face. 

He approached calmly, ignoring the way Virgil scrambled to his feet and shoved Thomas behind him. He stared at the two of them for a moment, at Virgil’s narrowed eyes and Thomas’s hand clutching at Virgil’s leg before turning to his companion. 

“Remus, put your blade away, you’re scaring them.” 

The wild man, Remus, apparently, rolled his eyes but slid the machete into a sheath on his back and gave the pair of brothers a toothy grin. 

“Whoopsy! Wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, as long as you’re not a terminal or about to turn terminal or about to steal our stuff or hurt our friends or just be a dick in general!” 

“Forgive Remus, that’s just how he greets new people,” the man with the burn said, rolling his eyes in a fond sort of way. “He really does mean no harm...as long as you don’t fall into any of the aforementioned categories.” He raised an eyebrow at the pair. “Do you fall into any of those categories?” 

“We’re not thieves, if that’s what you mean,” Virgil growled, and the man raised his hands. 

“No need for the hostility, how about a ‘thank you for saving me and my…’” he raised a questioning eyebrow at Thomas, and after another moment of silence, Virgil mumbled,

“Brother. I’m Virgil, and this is my brother.”

“I see,” the man said, then he surprised Virgil by squatting down so he was at Thomas’s eye level. 

“What’s your name, little man?” 

Thomas looked up at Virgil, who placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod. 

“Thomas,” he whispered, and the man smiled. 

“Thomas? That’s a wonderful name. How old are you?” 

“Eight,” Thomas said, then he puffed out his chest a little. “Almost nine.” 

“Almost nine, my my! So grown up!” he smiled, then glanced up at Virgil. “And what about big brother?” he asked, standing up.

Virgil frowned, and pulled Thomas a little closer to his side. 

“What’s it to you?” he growled, and the man quirked an eyebrow. 

“Just wondering if big brother is grown up enough to take care of an almost nine-year-old all by himself.” 

Virgil should have found the question insulting, but oddly enough, meeting the stranger’s eyes, Virgil didn’t sense any malice from him. 

“I’m eighteen,” he admitted quietly, and the man nodded. 

“Got anyone else in your party?” he asked, and Virgil clenched his fist at his side. 

“No,” he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes dry. “Wouldn’t be trying to scavenge alone with an eight-year-old if I did.” 

“Almost nine!” Thomas insisted, tugging on Virgil’s pants, and Virgil allowed a small smile to pull at his lips. 

“Okay buddy, almost nine,” he said quietly. 

“Right,” the man said, a smile flitting across his face as he looked down at Thomas. “Well, if scavenging alone on the streets with an almost-nine-year-old is getting a bit much to handle...I may have somewhere you two could stay for awhile.” 

“You’re offering them a space at Eden?” Remus asked behind them, shaking his head. “Wade’s not gonna like that much, Dee.” 

“Fuck Wade,” the burned man grumbled. “If he doesn’t like it, he can leave and they can take his bed. They’re just kids, Remus.” 

“Hey, I didn’t say I had a problem with it,” Remus said shrugging. “And I’ll take any opportunity to fuck Wade. Not the fun kind of fucking, mind you, the violent kind.” 

“Virgil, they said a bad word,” Thomas whispered, tugging on Virgil’s pants again, and Virgil didn’t know whether to attempt scolding the strangers or to laugh. 

“Seriously, though,” the man called Dee said, turning back to Virgil. “We have a place out in the woods. Nice and secluded, hardly any terminals around, and plenty of people to fight them off in case a few do show up. We don’t have much, but we can offer you a warm bed and a roof over your head.” 

It sounded tempting, Virgil had to admit. He could barely remember what it felt like to sleep under a roof, let alone in a bed, but he was skeptical. 

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “What do you have to gain by taking two strangers in?”

Dee shrugged. 

“We’re not a charity, if that’s what you mean. You’ll be expected to pull your weight around the place. But if you’re up for that, then you’re welcome to join.” 

Virgil thought it over, but it didn’t take him long to come to a decision, really. He couldn’t ensure Thomas would be safe and fed every day if he stayed on his own. If there was even a chance that what these men were saying was true, Virgil would have to take it. He leaned forward, fixing Dee with a glare.

“Anything happens to him and I’ll kill you, you got that?” he asked in a low enough voice that Thomas didn’t hear. 

Dee grinned, not unkindly. 

“Got it.” 

“Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath, then looked down at Thomas. “What do you say buddy, do you want to go somewhere safe with these, uh, gentlemen?”

Thomas seemed to consider it, staring up at Remus and Dee, then his stomach growled audibly. 

“You have food?” he asked, and Dee chuckled. 

“Yes little man, we have lots of food.”

“I wanna go then,” Thomas said, and Virgil smiled. 

“Okay then,” he said, holding out a hand to Dee, who shook it. “We’re in.” 

“Yay, new friends!” Remus said cheerily, bouncing on his heels. “This is gonna be fun, it’s been way too long since anyone interesting joined the camp, it’s no fun having only stinky Wade to share patrols with…” 

Remus continued rambling on, about what exactly Virgil wasn’t sure, but he didn’t really care. He looked down at Thomas’s hand in his, then up at Dee who was watching the two of them with an unreadable expression, though it morphed into a smile when he saw Thomas looking up at him. 

“Thank you,” Virgil mouthed at Dee, and the man nodded back. 

Virgil couldn’t say exactly what he was getting himself into with these two, but he hoped that whatever it was, it would mean he could keep his promise. He slipped his free hand into his pocket, fingering his mother’s locket. 

I’ll keep him safe, Mom. No matter what.

--- --- ---

Until the Sun Rises Taglist:

@the-permanent-fixture @maybe-i-like-the-misery @paint-in-flames @antisocialdragonenby @certified-demon @nonasidesstuff @idiot-annonymous @weird-spooky-broody-dude @ao-koshka @viana-dascolli @snail-giggles

[my-personal-writing-wonderland]

You truly are something else

Part 7 

Part 6 Part 1

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Warnings: self doubts, one or two slightly sexual references and Joffrey being Joffrey in the future chapters

Summary: You’re the younger sister of Margaery Tyrell and you accompany her to Kingslanding. Since you are a child you feel inferior to your sister and the fact that she is about to get married once again doesn’t really help to build your self-confidence. You dream of a man who loves you for who you are and makes you feel special but are you able to find love in a city reigned by a tyrant like Joffrey?

A/n: This is the last chapter of my little series and I’m so proud I actually finished this story. I really hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did. 

Important: Sandor didn’t leave Kingslanding during the battle of blackwater in this story.

(Pictures aren’t mine)

Your POV:

All you hear is the screaming and begging of men, it's hard to heard who they are but you recognize at least one voice. Oliver, one of the younger and newer guards, has a unforgettable high pitched voice which annoyed you since you arrived. In this moment, it seems like Oliver begs for his life before you hear more screams. Is he dead? Did someone really kill the guards who have been sitting together only a few feet away from you just minutes ago? Who killed them? And more important, why? Before you're capitale to clear your mind and to think of something to do (not that there are many options), the door of your cell opens. - On the other side you can see Sandor standing in front of you, his amour is bloodied and his face looks distressed but he's actually here. 'Are you alright, girl?' 

The youngest Clegane makes his way towards you to examine your wounds. There is no way to not notice the bruises on your arms and legs, as well as your split up lip and your deeply violet and green bruised left cheek. You can witness the range raising inside of Sandor when he sees what the guards have done to you. He's angry at them for hurting you, at Joffrey for allowing this and himself for not coming sooner to stop this from happening to you. 'I'm fine. What are you doing here? If Joffrey sees you-...' 'Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the Kings guard. Fuck the King. I get you out of here,' he states matter of factly without being able to hide his aggressiveness. 'But if you get caught-...' 'It's a bit too late for that now, little rose. Come on. We need to get out of Kingslanding now!' With that he takes your arm in his large hand and leads you outside, pass the dead guards, always cautious someone will see you. You can begin to describe how glad you are that Sandor is with you, right now all you're able to hear is your heart beating like crazy in your ears.   What if Joffrey finds you? What if other guards find you? Surely, Sandor could fight off quite a few of them but even he has his limits. And what if the sound of his fighting attracts more guards? By the gods, there is no way this is going to work. You try so hard not to start panicking. What will Joffrey do to you when he finds out you tried to escape? Will he kill you? Marry you off to a even more brutal man? Will he kill Sandor? You really hope you don't have to find out because no matter what punishment Joffrey will choose you know he'll make sure the two of you suffer. As fast and quietly as you can you two make your way out of the castle. You two have already left the castle and jog to the stalls where two horses are waiting for you when three guards suddenly spot you. 'Hey, Clegane! Stop, stop immediately!' Without wasting a second Sandor grabs his sword, walks vastly to the men and begin to fight them. You never saw him fight before and you honestly don't want to see it again. The whole time you're scared he'll get hurt or even worse, killed. The first guard is down easily, he clearly hadn't the chance to gain much fighting experience but the other two seem more skilled. You can't even decide where to look. At Sandor, trying to fight off the other men or at you surrondings in case more guards appear? But even when others notice the fight, what could you do? After all, you don't know how to fight and don't even have a weapon. In this exact moment (maybe it's faith or maybe your bad luck finally comes to an end) you see a huge dagger on the dead guards waitstbelt. Suddenly, you hear a small, deep scream-like growl.  When you look up to see Sandor holding his bloodied arm. Shit! Without a second thought you run to the corpse to grab the dagger before making your way to one of the guards who stands with his back to you. All you can think of is preventing Sandor from getting hurt worse. After taking one last deep breath you collect all your power to stab the dagger into the guard's neck. This shocked the other guard enough for Sandor to kill him without more troubles. For a few seconds you can only stare at the man you just killed. You murdered another person just like that, you never thought you would be able to end a life like this.   '(Y/n), we need to go. Are you alright?' Finally able to look away from the dead man, you give Sandor a small nod before you eyes fill with concern again. 'You're hurt. We need to stop the bleeding somehow.' 'It's only a scratch and we don't have time for that shit. Others will come soon. We need to leave before more fuckers get what's going on.' Sandor doesn't even wait for an answer before he grabs your arm once more to finally reach the stables. In there, two light brown horses are already waiting saddled up for you. Sandor really thought of everything. After helping you mounting your horse, he leads you both through a secret passage the hound discovered years ago, thankfully without another encounter with Joffrey's people. For hours you ride through the woods before Sandor decides it's save enough to build a camp for the night. Finally you're able to treat his wound and to your surprise it's indeed nothing more but a scratch. After sterilizing his wound the best you can you carefully bandage the wound with a piece of fabric you cut out from your tunic. After a little 'thank you' from Sandor which sounded more like a grunt than an actually thank you, he tends to treat your own wounds as best as possible.  Only when the last bit of adrenaline leaves your body you realize what just happened. You fled from Kingslanding, people will search for you and either try to kill you or want to bring you back to Joffrey and Euron. Now you'll never see your family again. Of course you would have been forced to leave your them after your wedding anyway but you wished you could have said your good bye before leaving them forever. Without even noticing it, tears begin to fall down your cheeks. It's all just too much for you in this moment. 

Sandor’s POV: When Sandor notice you're crying he's obviously overchallenged. He isn't sure why you're crying and doesn't know what to do to make you stop. Hesitantly, he decides to make his way towards but to sit down on the ground next to you. 'It's okay, little rose,' he says in a surprisingly soft voice while laying his hand over yours. Sandor doesn't even know what's okay but he hopes knowing he's there for you will help you somehow. To his surprise you hug him as tightly as you can as a respons and start sobbing into his shoulder. With a shaking voice you tell him everything that makes you cry and he listens patiently while he awkwardly pets your back with his right hand. What seems like an eternity later, you haven't anymore tears to cry and slowly look up at him with big eyes. 'Thank you so much for saving me, Sandor. You didn't need to do that.' 'It was nothing, no need to thank me.' 'It was not nothing. You risked your life to save me. I mean, why would you do that for me?' Shit, Sandor was afraid you would ask him that sooner or later. It's not like he can tell you he can't stand the thought of you suffering or that he wants to see you happy, no matter the costs. He cares too much for you, it nearly scares him but he knows he can never tell you this. You would laugh at him, no one can love a dog after all. 'No one deserve the treatment this little cunt put you through,' he tries to avoid the question, even through he knows you probably won't be satisfied by his weak attempt of an answer. To avoid any further uncomfortable questions,  he begins to stand up in order to make his way as far away from you as possible but much to his dismay, you grab his arm to stop him. 'You know what I think? I think you saved me because you truly care for me.'

Your POV: You don't know where your sudden bust of confidence comes from, maybe it's caused by the events of the last days and hours but in this moment you know it's now or never. You hid your feelings way too long. 'And you now what? I care for you too. I know you probably don't feel the same but I just have to tell you. I fell in love with you, Sandor.' Without giving him much time to process what you just said (and according to his shocked face he could have used it) you lean in to softly press a short kiss on his lips. You never kissed a man before. Therefore, the kiss is very shy and innocent but you hope Sandor gets the message nevertheless. After you end the kiss Sandor's face still shows nothing like shock and confusion, like he couldn't believe you just kissed him.  Immediately, panic rises inside you. What did you do? How could you thought that's a good idea. 'I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have kissed you without your permission...' 'You're just tired, you can't think straight, girl.' Wait, does he think you didn't mean it? How can he not see how serious you are. 'Of course I can think straight! In fact I wanted to kiss you since a while now, I just were too shy and then Joffrey imprisoned me before I was able to tell you,' you confess with bright red cheeks. 'Are you serious? Is this some kind of sick joke? Why would a pretty, little noble lady like you ever love a monster like me.' 'What are you talking about, Sandor? You're not a monster and I could never see you as such. You just saved me from Joffrey and my marriage with Euron. I won't ever be able to thank you enough for that. A monster would've never risked his life and left everything just to help me. You're a good man, Sandor. Believe me in that. And I love you more than you can imagine.' You're so nervous to hear his respons you even begin to unconsciously hold your breath. 'Oh little rose, I love you too, so much. Of course I do, how could I not? But I don't deserve you. You should marry a wealthy lord, I can't give you anything.' 'Sandor, stop it. I don't want anyone else and certainly not some wealthly lord who is no different than Joffrey or Euron. I only want you, I only need you, please.' With that you kiss him again and thankfully  this time he actually respons to it. It's all you have ever imagined of a kiss and so much more. Even through he's still hesitant, he brings so much softness and love in the kiss, it melts your heart. From this moment you know everything will be fine somehow. Maybe the two of you are able to find a small village and build a new life there. But no matter where you go you know you will be happier and safer than you have ever been in Kingslanding. As long as Sandor is with you know everything will be alright somehow. After all, this man isn't Joffrey or Euron. This man truly is something else.

- The End - 

[moe-lazyeye]

A Long Overdue Explanation of a Deplorable Act (botgd flashback)

Blunt found himself wandering the camp outside of the Grounded Dungeon lost in thought. He was battered and bruised...but mostly confused. The strange feeling in his stomach that had been plaguing him had not let up. But know at least he knew why. He just didn't know what to do about it. Blunt had watched himself slowly transform from an effortless flirt, to someone saying and doing things with a sense of sincerity that he had never known before. The division bothered him. And the only two people he felt he could talk about it with...were the very two people it concerned. One of them...had already walked away to be with the King...again. While the other...the one he had perhaps said less about but thought just as frequently of...he now saw sitting not to far away from him. Blunt didn't know what he wanted... But he did know he needed a friend in that moment. Akkey saw Blunt ease himself down next to her with a wince, hissing a little as he rested a hand on his knee.

Finally seeing a chance to get off her feet, Akkey had sat down off to the side as people busied themselves with the aftermath of the battle. She stayed there unmoving for a long while, feeling the fatigue washing over her. She only glanced up at Blunt when he settled beside her, an eyebrow raising at his grimace, "You alright?" she asked softly.

An exhale rushed out from between Blunt's lips as he waved a hand at the scene of recovery before them. "By some miracle...I think so." He reached out a hand to place around the side of her head, giving a quick glance to see if she had any lasting injuries. "You...?"

"Fine," she answered a little too quickly. She turned her head away from him to look at where her hand hovered near her abdomen. It ached, as did everything else, but luckily Hunter patched it up well. The scar would never go away, though. "I'm fine," she said again, gentler this time. She flicked her eyes back up at Blunt to stare at him, remembering his promise of an explanation after their fight with Eir, "So is it time for tea?"

Blunt smacked his lips once as he looked about the area before them again. Even though Hel had provided more than mere tunnels and caves for them prior to her departure, it would still be some time before everyone was recovered enough to set up their shops and stands again. Nevertheless, that didn't have to stop them from getting a fire and kettle going. "Indeed..." He declared as he stood up and stretched. "I'll get some wood."

"Okay," she exhaled as she also got to her feet and started for the kitchen, "I'll grab the rest."

Soon the two found themselves seated at a makeshift table, a mug of hot tea cupped in each of their hands. Blunt gave a slow, whistle like exhale. "So..." he said, thankful that the conversation had turned to something a little easier to talk about. "Where should I start?"

Akkey frowned into her drink, knees drawn close to her chest. A thick silence hung in the air for a moment, punctuated only by an occasional call from the one rebels to another. "Why'd you leave," she asked quietly.

Because I wanted to prove everyone wrong... Blunt thought of the rebels ,who trusted him. Of Orakaf, who thought he would betray them. Of the other rebels who didn't trust him, that he surprised. Everyone...for whatever reason... Of course, Blunt wasn't sure how to say all that. But he ventured forward anyway. "I uh...I was dealing with a lot of conflict of interests." He ducked his head as he remembered his grandfathers words the last they spoke. looks like there are two heavy things I need to ask her ow... "Can I tell you something?" Blunt asked meekly.

She glanced towards him, her thumb resting idly on the rim of her cup as the drink warmed her cold hands, "Of course."

Blunt pretended to to cool his drink, but really it was to disguise an exhale of nervousness. "I...I never really came to the rebellion with any honest intentions...Basically you were right about me, right to be suspicious." He took a careful sip, his foot tapping on the ground. "I came here to...do a lot of bad things actually. None that I ever could go through with though. On that list of things was stealing, and I guess in some ways...I tried to do that when I left..."

She sighed deeply, dipping her head back to peer up at the sky. A million thoughts ran in her head, and she wanted to... scream, or kick herself, or something, but she was just too tired to move. "So why didn't you?" she continued in the same tone.

"Well..." Blunt rubbed the back of his neck. He once again wondered how he could describe his inexplicable drive to prove everyone wrong about what he was like. He didn't know how. Not yet at least. But then another thought came to his mind, two actually. The same two thoughts he had starting this conversation, only in a different light. "I realized...I had made friends...real ones...for once."

Akkey saw Blunt's gaze drift away as if he were trying to process this reasoning as much as she was. "I remember, the day I smoked a bowl with Stonegit, and the day I tucked you in. And how he said he had never received such a birthday surprise, and how you said no one had ever told you how much of an exemplary friend you were before…

"And...as I was pulling things around to rob you...I suddenly realized I wanted to do what I was about to do to help you. So I used the dragon nip and supplies to get Port Krum warriors over here to aid in the war. Of course..." Blunt suddenly looked sheepish. "I didn't tell anyone about that sudden change of plans cause...I'm a scoundrel."

She was holding her drink close to her face, and she could feel the vapours warming her cheeks... or maybe it was something else. Him bringing up the day she got back from Purgatory gave her a start. "Idiot," she mumbled to herself, taking a big gulp of her drink and burning her tongue in the process. "You definitely are." she said, a little louder, a slight smirk on her face, "Have you explained to Stonegit yet?"

"Um...not really." Blunt admitted. "But he and I are good. I can give him the details later." He pressed his lips together, and tapped the mug on the table a few times in thought.

Akkey leaned her cheek against her hand, letting the quiet settle as she sorted out her own thoughts. Her gaze drifted to him. She thought she would be reacting differently than this, but literally barely surviving a world ending battle can change things. "I mean, your timing was amazing," she admitted, "Those damn dolls were overwhelming us." "Just tell people next time. Especially your... friends." she said with a grin.

Blunt looked at her, and although he wasn't sure why he needed to reaffirm what he was about to say, he knew he needed to so. "When I told you how much you meant to me...I meant every word of it Akkey. Honestly, I don't know why you bothered to be the friend that you have been to me...but I hope you know that in the face of any of my ill intentions, and despite all my lies...that was never one of them. And I can't say that to everyone I care about now..."

Her fingers paused on her cheek, watching him and considering her words very carefully. She nodded simply and fondly, "Thanks." But in it held the weight of her trust, the leap of faith she chose to take to believe him despite all adversities that she had literally just lived through in the past months, and he could tell by the way she looked at him.

Blunt nearly blurted out his inner most thoughts right then. The feelings finally coming to clear thoughts and might have also been words. But Akkey's single word, and the feelings behind it, stopped him. He knew now, he really liked Stonegit, and he really liked Akkey. It was the reason his thoughts always wandered and stomach turned in that little, almost giddingly way when he was with them...but he loved what he had with them more. Orskaf's image, the rumors of Hemlock and Dust. The trials they had been through. The found families, both new, and old ones thought to have been lost. In the face of all that, the last thing anyone needed was crush from the likes of him. Not when that crush already loved both of them, and their friendship, deeper than he had ever, actually, loved anyone or anything before. Blunt looked strained. He was so used to talking, easily as well. But now he found himself at a loss for words as these truths became apparent in his mind.

Akkey watched his face fold into a pained expression, and she worriedly sat up, "Are you okay?" she leaned towards him, "What's wrong? Does something hurt?"

Blunt met her eyes for a silent minute, and then drummed his fingers. "Oh...I'm thoughtful is all. I think the battle and adrenaline has gotten to a few of my associates..." he spread his hands and gave a smirk. "You see...I have two people that just begging to go out with me and they're nice, nice looking and so on...but I don’t want to wrong either of them, shocker right?" He paused to rub his chin. "Well...I'm not entirely sure what to do about it." 

"I wonder sometimes why I worry about you," she wrinkled her nose in usual amusement, "That's called being a decent person, Sir Blunt. I don't know how I can help you with that, though, I'm not exactly the most experienced in that regard."

Blunt had many lovers in his past... But he hadn't had many friends...and no real, true ones to boot. He had already acted a fool regarding Stonegit, in some attempt to prove himself more desirable than Haddock. And honestly speaking he doubted he would do much to curb that. He wanted to start doing the same for Akkey as well, as far as desirability was concerned. But he knew now...that perhaps both...were going to be beyond him. Two inexperienced and hurt people that had tucked themselves right into his cold, calculated heart. A decent person indeed... He reached out a hand and held hers for a moment. "Well miss Akkey I think you have." I never want to lose these two...and for once...I think it's because I care more about them...than I do about myself... "I think I'll focus on being a decent person...if you could believe it."

Under usual circumstances she would've scoffed and snatched it away, but something compelled her to stay her hand where it was, cold fingers against warm. She smiled gently, "That's great. I'm rooting for you."

Blunt kept hold for a moment longer, and then let his hands slip away. She likely has a lot of family to catch up with...people to reunite with...events to process... He stood with a mighty stretch, realizing that he had much of the same to do as well...minus that first part that is. "Well then Miss Akkey..." He took a few steps away, and then turned his head around with a wink. "Drop by sometime after a build myself a house?"

She gave a quick sniff and grinned back, taking a big gulp of her tea, "I suppose I can make some time for you. There better be cake waiting for me when I do."

Blunt let the winking eye slowly open. "Three tiers." He assured and then, with a slightly awkward wave lacking his usual elegance, he trudged off into the mingling crowd of recovering rebels.

[writeforself]

Elysium Dream

Alexios x Adonis

A/N: It’s been a while. Extra note in the end.

To Adonis, Elysium is a prison.

He never has a voice in the decision, to be shared between two deities, and to be separated from his love, love itself, for one-third of a year. He never gave much thought to it. Like most of the mortals, he just accepted his fate.

During his time in Elysium, all he could think of is Aphrodite from above. The grandeur and tranquility of her palace, their time together as they tread across the most magnificent field he has ever seen, the charming words of the most alluring voice in the world, the affectionate touches between the exhilarating embraces. After all, what more could you ask when you’re loved by beauty itself? All he ever asked is to be returned back to her.

His mind wanders while he saunters across the field of Elysium. Persephone’s sweet praises sounds like nothing but the tedious autumn winds, her touch like the burning chain that gashes his glowing skin. A prisoner receives no love from his captor. Love justifies all behaviours; love deceives all. However, indulging himself in melancholy merely enriches suffering.

His time in Elysium provides him with some ideas. As he walks among the mortals and eavesdropping their conversation, he has learned the idea of rebellion. Freedom is not given but something to fight for, so he has heard. If he wants to spend more time with his love, he has to find a way to do it, even if it defies the will of gods.

His has set his goal. But how to achieve it? Although he might have some knowledge in hunting, or even fighting, he knows no arts of conspiracy, strategy, nor war. Not to mention the mortal in Elysium would ever think of defying its ruler. From the conversation he heard, he couldn’t distinguish if other mortals were afraid of the deity, moreover dare to defy her. He has no ally nor help, all he has is his stubborn self.

Adonis has a dream, to escape.

***

He only just notices the solitary branch of an apple tree creeping along the desolate wall. The white flowers glitter under the eternal sunshine. Faint fragrance of the tiny blossoms travels into his nasal with the gentle wind sneaking through the crack of the room. Chatters and laughters flies into his ears as the grasses around him rustling in the breeze.

He wakes up from a light slumber, and climbs up to the top of the ruined building for the panoramic view of their camp. It has grown so fast since Alexios’ arrival in Elysium. Until now, he still couldn’t believe that Alexios is not here to act as a spy of the gods, but solely here to help.

Nevertheless, he still has doubts that Alexios is sent by gods, without conscious, to evaluate Adonis’ loyalty to Aphrodite. He is not easily fooled. That’s what they do best, trickery. He won’t fall for it. No matter how Alexios possesses a different beauty compared to Aphrodite; no matter how honourable Alexios has been acting so far; no matter how his heart fluttered when Alexios first clumsily winked at him with those silly words. Although they have been flirting for a while he wants to fight against the temptation. He believes only belongs with one being. Gods are not fond of sharing. If this be a test, so be it. But a little spice to add up difficulties would be exciting.

Out of the corner of his eye he glimpses a familiar shadow moving between the rebels. He can hear a clear voice among the clamour of them calling his name. Then he remembers his dream from the slumber. His fingers dig into the gritty walls. Standing still, he watches and holds his breathes, as the person looks up to the ruins and meets with his eyes. He turns, running into the shade of the building.

He quivers.

He is certain that there’s something in those chestnut eyes under those rugged eyebrows calling for him, luring something resting deep inside him. But he has Aphrodite.

“Ah there you are, Adonis.”

He saw him climbing into the room from the broken wall. He always finds a direct way. When he speaks, his expression seems to light up the room. The sun in Elysium has never been so ablaze before he arrives. No, banish these thoughts Adonis.

“Alexios! Back already?” He puts on a smile to welcome Alexios back. It doesn’t matter who Alexios might be. He has been a great assistance so far. “Your task was simple. I figured you would want it done as soon as possible. Plus, your presence brighten up this place.”

Alexios’ body shakes as he chuckles. The blood clinging onto his bare chest has already dried up. Adonis can see the splashed blood tangled with the chest hair, those strings of dark fibre looks even clear under the dark crimson. They rise and fall along the wave of soft laughter.

“A warrior bathed in blood is not a bad sight as well. Anyway, we have more urgent task at hand. Meet me at the collapse tower later.”

He smiles as he replies. Yet the muscle around his lips feels rigid. He turns his head to another side to concentrate. It is a great place to get a bird’s-eye view of Elysium. Butterflies drift in the warm breeze around them aimlessly.

“Alright, I’ll meet you there.”

Alexios leaves without asking further questions. Adonis is unsure whether he would like to hear more from Alexios. But there are formal matters at hand, no time for idle words.

He presses down his desire and ventures on his quest.

***

With the clear evidence in hand, he still could not assimilate the truth. He has been betrayed by the love of his life, the only motivation pushing him to escape from this place. Now he finds out that her love was as hollow as this paradise, her love as vain as Persephone’s. 

He has sent Alexios away on a trifle. He wants to be alone… needs to be alone. Doubts rise inside him, battering against his commitment. He needs to think, but what’s there to think about when the naked truth rips him apart like executioner’s bloody axe?

He retreats himself to a cottage located high on the peak north of Iapeto’s Ruins. Usually there’s only Leonidas who wanders around here, but right now he’s training the rebels. Therefore, Adonis can claim this place as his own, for now.

Little does he know, someone has arrived before him.

“Alexios? What are you doing here?”

Next to the tree lies Alexios. His dusty armours scatters around him, lying around as if he just took them off in a hurry. There’s nothing on him but a dark fabric hanging around his waist. He beams at Adonis as he approaches.

“Adonis! What a pleasant surprise!”

Alexios pulls himself up to make a seat for Adonis. Then he pushes the armour out of their sight, until the only thing left in front of them is the bonfire quietly grilling sticks of fishes and the small cottage standing beneath the blue sky. Elysium has never seemed so peaceful.

“What are you doing here?” Adonis questions again, still confused. “Having some fish of course. What does it look like?” Alexios laughs as he stirs the burning wood to make the fire stronger. “I mean HERE. What are you doing HERE?” “Oh, right… You see, this is actually my home. Well, my grandfather’s… this is where I grew up. Not here, back in Sparta. Actually I grew up in another island, it’s a long story. Anyway, this is the only place in Elysium I can feel somewhat relaxed.” He rambles on while he turns around the fishes. “It’s funny they have my home here, in Elysium. Maybe it’s because my grandfather was a great warrior. Well, still is…”

Adonis has stopped listening when Alexios started to ramble. He merely stares into the bonfire and Alexios. The dream from before comes back to him as he watches Alexios’ bare back shines beneath the sun. He gazes at how the muscles tense and soften with Alexios’ every move, trying to remember how his hands wandered across that glowing skin in his hazy dream.

He realises that he doesn’t care about anything right now. Looking at Alexios is all he needed. To hell with the god of love. He is sick of the flimsy promises and grievous betrayal. Two can play this game.

When Alexios is done with the fire, Adonis throws himself on him without a second thought. He buries Alexios with kisses that could take one’s breath away. Pinning down Alexios on the ground, he feels the coolness of the grass in shade contrasting the heat radiating from Alexios flesh. It reminds him of war, of quarrel, of violence. In the end, all things seem to be the same for him, delight, hatred, devotion, nonchalance… all are the two sides of the same coin. At the moment he just wants to detach himself from everything but Alexios.

Alexios remains still as he takes in Adonis’ unexpected action. His hands hang in the air, afraid to repay this affection. Then he gently lays his hands on Adonis’ back, like he is trying to provide consolations for a wounded child. He can taste salt in his mouth; drips of tears struggle to slide down those silky cheeks.

There are no transition of seasons in Elysium, yet Alexios could taste the essence of four seasons in an instant. The blossoms had fallen, tore down from the tree. Leaves had lost their chance to revive before desolation devoured all. It reminds him of the snowy peak of mount Taygetos. All lives kneel before thee, almighty oblivion, sweet despair. There is no hope in paradise.

Eyes closed, face twisted, breathes shortened, Adonis finally pulls himself away from Alexios as he trembles.

Alexios says nothing. He holds Adonis in his arms while caressing that his dark lustrous curly hair. His silent weeps ripple Alexios’ heart, nourish his faith.

“I will take you out of here.” He whispers into Adonis’ ears, as the burnt wood cracks inside the blazing flames. A voice like the soft west wind Adonis has never experienced. “I promise.”

p.s. If there be a sequel, the mechanic canon will be out of the window. I can’t write much with just simulation. :)

[starcunning]

4. Shifting Blame

And to knock at my heart is to beat on my grave

For @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s FFXIVWrite 2019. [Title] [AO3 mirror]

The scent of smoke still hung in the air. It had been weeks since the last fire had been extinguished, and the True Brothers of the Faith had been forced to give up their hostages, but the aftermath remained. If Odette walked to the end of the street and stood in the little garden, she was sure she could look down and see it—the black smudge in the Brume where the row houses had once stood. It was not nearly distant enough in her memory for her to be wholly comfortable with it.

The house she stood outside was modest by Ishgardian standards—and certainly by hers, being used to the grandness of the manor. It had belonged to one of the clergy before Odette had bought it. The man had spent his life in the Vault, trying to keep her from the Archbishop. Odette was not sorry he was dead. He had no family to speak of, and the house had stood empty until she had gone to the Vault a second time.

It was not so now.

Their belongings had always been meager, and much had been lost in the fire, but Fray and Sidurgu had found some furniture, at least, and curtains for Rielle’s windows, and a log for the hearth. There was a scattering of books over the kitchen table—as likely Fray’s as Rielle’s, and either of them before Sid, if Odette knew them at all. And she had come to, in the year since she had met them—first Fray and then the others. It was not merely the crackling of flame that made the home seem cozy; Dzemael Manor had a hundred fireplaces and no warmth.

Fray came in from the kitchen, and looked surprised to see her standing there, in the little room. “I didn’t know you were coming,” he said. “I was in the neighborhood,” Odette replied. “Actually, I was going down to the Crozier, so I wanted to check and see if there’s anything you still needed.” Fray turned his face away, his gaze sliding from her silk habit to the daub walls. “We’re fine,” he said. “Rielle has clothes enough?” “She’s fine,” he insisted. “Sid thinks …” Odette let that pause hang between them a little while until it became clear that Fray wasn’t going to tell her what Sidurgu thought. “Where is he, anyway?” she wondered. “Either of them.” “Out,” Fray said. “They’ll be back for dinner.”

Odette nodded, as though this satisfied whatever unease gnawed at her heart. The walls were too close around her, and Fray was strange, out of his armor—for all that she had seen him in greater dishabille before. Perhaps it was merely that he was out of his context, as she was out of hers, being far more suited to grand halls of cold stone. Camp Dragonhead had been like this, too, and Grandpère’s study, before he had abdicated and adjourned himself to the Churning Mists.

“What does Sidurgu think?” she said at last. Fray lifted his golden eyes to hers once more. “It’s not important.” “Then tell me, and I’ll think no more on it.” He answered her with a sigh, waving her to follow as he retreated to the kitchen. She went, shrinking from the cooking-fire as Fray prodded at it. “We’re fine,” Fray said. “We’re settling in fine. Sid thinks your money would be better spent elsewhere.” Odette reached out to brush his hair back from his dark skin. “What does he think I should be doing?” Fray shook his head, and when he straightened he reached for her hand. He stopped just short, seeing the white gloves she wore, and shoved his hands into his pockets like a sulky schoolboy. “We’re fine,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time. It landed differently, though. “And I can hardly blame you for only addressing the problem that’s in front of you. He and I, we aren’t much better. Sid thinks it would be pretty hard for you to buy a house for everyone who lost theirs in the fires.” Odette nodded. “My allowance is not that generous,” she agreed. “And he feels awkward,” Fray added. The way he glanced back at the cookpot told her that perhaps Fray was feeling awkward about her largesse himself. “Why?” she laughed. “I had the money; I can do what I please with it.” “I know,” he said. Odette tilted her head: “He didn’t seem to have such a problem when I was using my resources to deal with the Countess de Caulignont,” she noted. Fray shrugged. “It’s different,” he said, turning away and opening all the cupboards until he found the bowls. “Are you staying?” he asked, glancing back at her. “For dinner? I can’t,” she said. “Not for dinner,” he said after a moment, suddenly very interested in arraying the bowls before him.

Despite the heat of the kitchen, she felt very cold. It was as though the Coerthan winds had cut through the very heart of her—as though the Echo had shown her what was to happen in the coming moments just a moment too late to stop it. “Rielle likes you,” he said, breaking apart a loaf of bread with those broad, scarred hands. “And Sid won’t say so, but … well, he tolerates you about as well as he tolerates me.” Odette swallowed. It was no use. Her throat was dry. “What’s your point?” she asked. Her instinct was to pray to Halone, but there was a part of her that thought to call out to her opposite number instead—as though Menphina could rectify this feeling that seized upon her. “I think perhaps Sid wouldn’t feel half so awkward about you supporting this household if you were part of it. You’re good for us.” “I’m the Warrior of Light!” Her voice cracked on the last syllable. He turned to face her then. “I know,” he said. “So you won’t stay here all the time. I’m fine with that. But there’s always a log on the fire—” “I have a home, Fray,” she interrupted. How had it come to this point, that she should have to say such things? She hated the shrillness of her voice, the obvious panic of it. It must have been showing on her face—that wouldn’t do. What could she be instead? Angry? Derisive? “Remember? It’s in the Pillars.” “Odette,” he said. She rode roughshod over his interruption, laughter lurching from her throat. “It’s been in the family for years! The Dzemael family!” However funny she was forcing herself to find this whole situation, Fray remained composed. “But you’re not like them,” he said slowly.

Wasn’t she? Why wasn’t that enough? The kitchen was far too warm, the walls far too close. Fray’s eyes were much too immediate. But she could not look away from him. “Are you so sure?” she asked, quietly vehement, and at least she had the pride of getting her voice back under her control. “How did we meet, Fray?” “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “How did we meet, Fray?!” “In the arena,” he replied. “I was trying to kill you!” Her eyes were hot. That was an impossibility; that she would not bear. She lifted her chin instead, and looked down her nose at him. “And then I ran and told all your troubles to the Lord-Commander.” Perhaps that reminder would convince him to put her back out into the cold. Instead he only shook his head. “Because you thought he would be able to help, and he did,” Fray said. “Odette.”

There was such tenderness in his voice as could not be borne. She recoiled from it, stepping backwards out of the kitchen with such haste she feared she might stumble, but half a lifetime at balls stood her in good stead enough to be graceful. She could be composed; she could hide the cold fear that dwelt in her, she could … she could …

She could make him hate her.

“He only listened to me,” Odette said, “because I was fucking him.” Fray said nothing then. His face was an unreadable mask; he might as well have been wearing that adamantine helmet of his for all she could read of him. He was far, far better at this than her. She shuddered—or perhaps it was laughter that shook her shoulders. “Oh, come now,” she said, remembering every lecture her mother had ever given her about a lady’s diction. “You can’t be surprised.” She was so close to the door then; she could make good her escape, so long as he put the blame for her deficiencies right where it belonged. “I am exactly like them,” she said, in the loftiest tone she could manage. “And you want nothing to do with me.” “Get out,” Fray said, and it was only then she knew she had accomplished her aims.

[write-havoc]

Of Sons and Daughters Ch. 9

Summary: Arthur is tasked by Dutch to watch over a young woman who had just lost the last member of her family she had left. That young woman just so happens to be the daughter that Dutch told no one else about.

This is a non canon AU with no major spoilers

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Status: Ongoing

Contains: swearing, PG 13 smut

Intended for readers 18+ of age only

Masterlist in my bio

Arthur and Emmeline ride the whole rest of the day, only stopping a handful of times to relieve themselves and get a bite to eat. They are mostly silent the whole way, except for when Emmeline points out that they’ve double backed for the second time.

“Just in case someone’s following us,” Arthur explains.

Arthur’s meandering trail makes the ride all the longer. It isn’t until well after the sun sets that they finally start to ride into a little town.

“Stay close to me,” Arthur comments back to Emmeline. “The people here ain’t exactly trustworthy.”

She looks around at the dilapidated buildings, half sunk boats docked beside ruined docks, and drunks stumbling around the street openly. “What is this place?”

“Van Horne,” Arthur answers. “There’s a hotel just down the road. We’re gonna get a room and stay a couple days.”

“Here?”

“Law don’t come around here much, so it’s the best place for us to lay low.”

After they hitch their horses and pay for the room, Arthur leads Emmeline upstairs. Once they’re inside their room, Emmeline looks around with an uncertain look on her face. The room is well worn, the wood on the walls and floors are cracked and gray and the sparse furniture looks like it may break at any second. “We’re staying here ?” she asks again.

He lets out a sigh. “I know, Emma. This ain’t exactly the best accommodations, but it’s better than wherever them Pinkertons woulda took us to.” He brushes off the bed then pushes his hand into the mattress to test it. “Ain’t bad. Go ahead and take the bed. Get some rest. I’ll stay up and keep watch.” He turns his back to her to turn down the thin blanket, hoping she’ll take his suggestion.

“Arthur.”

He doesn’t turn back. “What?”

“Was all that true?”

He stops what he’s doing and turns to face her. “You need some rest.” He gestures to the bed, still trying to delay this conversation.

“You promised you’d tell me,” she pleads quietly.

He scratches at the back of his neck before he starts. “I did, didn’t I?” He sits down on the edge of the bed and looks up to her. “It’s true,” he admits as he takes off his hat and sets it on the nightstand.

Emmeline moves to sit down next to him and takes a moment for that to sink in. “Dutch? The man that took you in? He’s my father?”

“Yes,” Arthur answers simply.

“So my mother...” she gets choked up, “stepped out on my father-“ she stops herself, “ Joseph ,” she corrects.

“No.” Arthur lets out a breath. “I weren’t there for all this, but Dutch told me what happened all them years ago. He...” he thinks of how to say it, “ visited your mama every few months after they met. One time when he saw her, she was pregnant with you. I guess Joseph stepped up before Dutch even knew she was with child. Joseph agreed to marry your mother and raise you as his own. All three ‘a them agreed that would be best, that you never know Dutch was your real father. He agreed to stay away.”

She blinks a few times trying to come to terms with all of this. “So they lied to me. My whole life.”

He lets out a sigh. “You gotta understand, it was for your own good. They didn’t want you around the outlaw life. Your mama was so scared of you getting hurt because of the way Dutch lives. But when she knew she was gonna pass, I guess she was more afraid of you being alone in the end, that you wouldn’t be able to take care of yourself. That’s why she wrote Dutch and asked him to look after you.”

“But you looked after me.”

“Dutch... He still didn’t want you to get too close to us. That’s why he sent me. And that’s why he didn’t want me to tell you about him.”

“Oh.” Emmeline isn’t quite sure how to take that.

“But he, uh,” Arthur continues hesitantly, “he knows that we... He read your letter. And he weren’t too happy with me about... what happened. He forbade me from seein’ you again.”

“What?” she bites back. “Is that why you never came back to me?”

“Well...” He scratches the back of his neck in nervousness as he casts his gaze down. “I agreed with him,” he admits. “I didn’t mean to...” he searches for the right word, “have those kinda feelings for you. And then it happened and I was scared cuz...” He lets out a breath. “Cuz I don’t know if I can be the kinda man you deserve. So I thought it would be best if I just left. I thought you’d just forget about me and go on with your life.” When he finally looks up to her, he’s surprised to see her slightly angry expression.

“So I don’t get a say?”

“Well-“

She doesn’t give him the chance to finish that thought. “So you and a man I’ve never met know what’s best for me better than I do?” she asks, anger leaching more into her voice. “You have no idea how lonely I was after you left. I thought I did something wrong. I thought you hated me,” she explains.

Arthur casts his head down, understanding why she’s feeling the way she is. Not to mention that Hosea had expressly told him that it would be a mistake to just run away without talking it over with her first. It turns out, he was right.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he says genuinely. “I’m a fool.” He looks over to her with a serious expression. “But the way I live is dangerous. I know I shoulda told you all this sooner when we got close, but I really just wanted you safe. And now...” His eyes trail over her stomach automatically without him thinking about it.

She follows his gaze and sets her hand on her still flat belly. “Are you angry with me?”

His eyes flick up to hers. “Angry? For what?”

“For falling pregnant?”

“Of course not, Emma. I ain’t mad atcha. It’s just as much my doing as it it yours. More so, probably.”

“So you’re happy about it?”

He pauses, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know,” he finally answers truthfully. “Ain’t thought about children in years.” He looks away. “I was engaged once, when I was younger. I thought we’d have kids one day. Looked forward to it, actually. But she broke it off in the end.” He lets out a sigh. “I know she loved me. Parts of me, anyways. But it was those parts of me she didn’t love that kept her from marrying me. After that, I knew that no woman would love me. Not all of me.” He lets out a heavy breath. “No woman should love me, the way I am. The things I’ve done...” he trails off.

“That’s not true,” Emmeline replies quietly. “Everyone can be loved.”

“I ain’t so sure. Some people just ain’t meant to have good things happen to them.”

It breaks her heart to see just how deep seeded Arthur’s hatred for himself is. It’s pretty evident that she’s not going to change his mind about himself overnight, but she’s willing to take the time to try. That is, if he wants her in his life in the future.

“What do you want to do?” she finally asks.

He just gives her a puzzled look.

“I-I can go back home, call on one of those midwives and go it alone-“

“No.” He cuts her off automatically. “I ain’t gonna make you do this by yourself.” He places his hand on hers, hoping that she’s okay with the contact. “I’m gonna be there for you. No matter what.”

Relief washes over her. The thought of having a child with no support had been weighing heavily on her since she left the doctor’s office. She hadn’t known what Arthur’s true feelings would be, so she thought it quite possible that he would want to cut her off completely. Thankfully, that’s not the case.

“Will you live with me back home?” she asks naively.

“We can’t go back there, Emma. Yet, anyway. Those Pinkertons know who you are, so you ain’t safe. We’re gonna stay here for a few days then head to my camp and tell Dutch about all this. Then... we’ll see what we can do.”

“Oh. Okay.” She feels a sense of apprehension at the thought of meeting the man that she’s only just found out is her father. She’s heard some things about him from Arthur, but she’s still going to be meeting a complete stranger.

“We should keep it between us about... what the doctor said, though,” he suggests. “Just... for now.”

She nods. “Yeah. I suppose that’s what we should do.”

He pauses before he asks, “Are you happy?”

“I...” she starts. “I always wanted children, but I never thought seriously about it since I never had any suitors or nothing. But I guess I am getting older...”

He lets out a little chuckle. “You ain’t old.”

“My mom was only twenty when she had me, so I’m a year older than she was.” She tucks some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m a little afraid, I guess. But... I don’t regret it,” she replies genuinely. “Do you regret it?” she asks softly, afraid of the answer.

He thinks a moment. “Nah,” he finally says. “I don’t regret this happenin’. But I guess I’m afraid, too.” He can feel his eyes start to well up a little as he finally allows the emotions to come up to the surface. “There’s a kid back at camp, just four years old, born into the gang. Good kid. We all love him, take care of him the best we can... but we all know that ain’t no way for a kid to live. Always on the road, away from other kids. I think he’s lonely.” He looks away to shake his head. “I’d never wanna raise a kid like that. But I don’t know how to live any other life than the one I am. How could I leave everyone I’ve ever known? And I ain’t never had an honest job in my life. How am I gonna provide for you and a little one if I don’t steal or grift?”

She gently swipes her fingers under his cheek, ridding it of a tear that had fallen. “We will figure it out. And I have all the faith in the world that you are capable enough to use your talents to make money in an honest way.”

Her genuine words ease some of the fears inside him. He places his hand on her face and gently brings her forward to kiss her cheek. “I did miss you,” he whispers without pulling back.

Her lips curl into a soft smile. “I missed you, too.”

He gently caresses her cheek with his thumb as he leans back to look at her. “You should get some sleep.” He stands from the bed then kneels down in front of her to take off her shoes.

With her shoes tossed aside, she pulls her legs up under the blanket. “What about you?”

“I’m gonna stay up for a bit.” He tucks her in and kisses her forehead. “Goodnight, Emma.” He blows out the candles lighting the room and moves to sit on the floor beside Emmeline with his back pressed up against the bed frame facing the door. Once her breathing evens out, signaling that she’s asleep, he unholsters his pistol and sets it in his lap, ready in case someone comes to the door.

They don’t leave the room the next day (except for Arthur to check on the horses, which he does as quickly as possible). Fortunately, Arthur has enough provisions in his satchel for the both of them not to go hungry, though Emmeline finds that the salted meat turns her stomach. The canned fruit she’s luckily able to eat just fine. After the sun goes down, Arthur gets into position on the floor with Emmeline in the bed just like the night before. She finds that her concern for Arthur is causing her to have trouble getting to sleep.

After a few minutes, she speaks up. “You need to sleep, Arthur.”

“I’m fine,” he replies, his gravely voice betraying him and conveying just how tired he is.

“If we’re gonna leave in the morning, you need your sleep. You need to rest.”

“I’m alright,” he insists, but Emmeline isn’t buying it.

She hops out of the bed and goes over to the dresser on the front wall. When she starts to push it towards the door, Arthur jumps up and walks over to her.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He pulls her back gently so she’ll stop. “What are you doing?”

“I know you’re worried about someone coming in, but you need to sleep. Instead of you watching the door all night, we can barricade it so you can actually rest.”

He lets out a sigh, knowing that she’s right. He certainly is tired and the ride to the camp outside of Rhodes isn’t a short one from here.

Letting out a huff, he concedes. “Alright.” He pushes the dresser the rest of the way to block the door then moves to lay on the floor.

“Take the bed,” Emmeline suggests.

“No. You sleep on the bed. I’m fine on the floor.”

“We can share,” she provides easily.

He looks up at her. “You sure? You gonna be comfortable with me in the bed, too? It ain’t very big.”

“That bed’s not comfortable as it is,” she answers with a laugh. “You might make it a little better.”

He chuckles back. “Alright then. If that’s what you want.” He didn’t want to impose on her by thinking that she’d be okay sharing a bed with him. Even though they have shared a bed before, he would never want to assume she’d want to without her specifically telling him she did. As far as he thinks, most women wouldn’t want to be so close to him, which is, of course, not true.

As they finally lay down together, Emmeline cuddles right up to Arthur immediately, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his chest. The ease with which she relaxes next to him has it clicking in his head that she truly does care for him. As he allows that to sink in, he relaxes as well. He wraps his own arm around her back, putting his hand in her waist and savoring the feeling of her close to him.

“You comfortable?” he asks just to make sure.

“Yeah,” she answers easily and cuddles into him more, reveling in the comfort he provides her.

Before the sun even fully rises the next day, they’re on the road. Arthur makes sure to use the less travelled trails in case Milton or any other Pinkertons are still around looking for them. When they finally ride up to the camp at Clemens Point, it’s late afternoon.

“Who’s there?” Charles, on guard duty,  calls out from the trees at the edge of camp as soon as he hears the approaching horses.

“It’s Arthur,” he answers. “And Emma.” He slows to a stop as Charles walks out to greet him. “Will you watch over her for a minute?” Arthur asks, gesturing back to Emmeline.

She starts to dismount as soon as Miss Sparrow is stopped, the long rides both from today and before taking a toll on her legs and back.

“Yeah. Everything okay?” Charles asks Arthur as he helps Emmeline down automatically.

Arthur completely ignores the question. “Micah here?”

“He left this morning. Hasn’t been back.”

That’s good news to Arthur.

“Just stay out here with her,” he commands to Charles with a meaningful look.

Charles just gives him a nod in reply.

Arthur continues to follow the trail through the trees until he gets to the clearing of the camp. He hitches Sparrow at the closest hitch and feeds her a carrot before he moves from the spot. As he walks further into camp, he sees Dutch and Hosea talking with each other just outside of Dutch’s tent.

“Arthur!” Dutch calls out jovially once he sees his approach. “I was about ready to send Charles to see after you.”

“We three need to talk,” Arthur says to the two men, only pausing his motion slightly before walking out toward the lake shore. He makes sure to look around camp, noting who is around and more importantly, who isn’t.

“What’s this about?” Hosea asks as he follows the younger man, Dutch falling into step, too, behind him.

Arthur doesn’t say another word until they get far enough away from camp that he’s sure no one else can hear. “I talked with the Pinkertons,” he blurts out as he turns back to the older men.

Dutch gives him a confused look. “What do you mean you talked with them?”

“Agents Milton and Ross. They was outside Emmeline’s waiting for her,” he answers.

Dutch whips his head to Hosea, then back to glare at Arthur at the mention of his secret daughter.

Hosea lets out a huff. “I’ve known about her for years, Dutch. You really think I wouldn’t have figured out where you was headed off to all those times when you left money for her and the red haired farm girl?”

“You knew all these years? Why didn’t you say anything?” Dutch asks.

“I was waiting for you come clean,” Hosea asks.

“That don’t matter now.” Arthur gets them back to the matter at hand. “They knew about Emmeline, Dutch. They knew she was your daughter.”

Dutch’s eyes go wide with worry as that sinks in. “Where is she?”

“Outside. With Charles.”

Dutch narrows his eyes on Arthur. “What were you doing at Emmeline’s?”

Hosea jumps in before Arthur can answer. “Start at the beginning, son.”

Arthur lets out a sigh. “I ran into Emma in Valentine and she got upset,” he starts, then skips the part at the doctor’s office. “I escorted her home and when we rode up, two Pinkertons were there waiting for her. They was gonna take her to get you to go after her so they could arrest you.”

Dutch scratches at his chin. “How did they know about her?”

“They didn’t say,” Arthur says. “But I think it’s obvious.”

“What’s that?” Hosea asks.

“Someone here had to’ve overheard us talkin’ about her.” Arthur holds his arms out then drops them. “And we all know of someone that’s always eavesdropping on what he ain’t supposed to.”

“Micah,” Hosea provides easily.

“We don’t know we even got a mole here,” Dutch says, unwilling to accept what Arthur is saying. “I know you’ve never liked Micah, but we can’t go accusing him of something this serious.”

Arthur can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Why can’t you see it, Dutch? The way he treats us all. All the shit that’s happened since he’s been here. The ferry job-“

Dutch doesn’t let him finish. “You weren’t there!” he booms. “You don’t know what happened!”

“I know that all our money was safe until you asked me to go get it!” Arthur bites back. “Then suddenly two dumbasses are smart enough to find it. Almost like someone knew where it was and told them to go get it before I could!”

Hosea steps between the two men before it gets any more heated. “Alright now.” He holds his hands up to them. “We’ll keep our eyes on Micah. If he’s innocent, no harm no foul. If he’s a rat, we’ll put him down accordingly.”

Arthur lets out a heavy breath. “I don’t trust him.”

Hosea gives him a pointed look. “We can’t go executing him unless we’re sure .”

Arthur picks up on what he’s implying. The only way to convince Dutch is to catch Micah red handed.

“Hosea is right,” Dutch comments, completely missing Hosea’s subtext. “Micah’s one of us until he isn’t.” He gives Arthur a pointed look. “And if he is informing on us, why haven’t the Pinkertons come here yet?” he adds, not believing the man could be that disloyal. “Surely they’d know we’re here if they’ve been talking with him.”

Arthur just stares at Dutch for a moment. “Well the Pinkertons are onto us, regardless. As soon as they saw me, they asked me to get you out in the open. They said they’d spare everyone else if I did. I think they’re just tryin’ to make it easy on themselves.”

“What’d you tell them?” Dutch asks.

“That I haven’t seen you in months.”

Dutch steps forward to pat Arthur’s shoulder. “Good, good.” He takes his hand back to smooth his fingers over his mustache. “Emmeline... she knows then?”

Arthur nods. “She knows everything. Who we are. Who you are.”

Dutch nods and flicks his eyes to Hosea for a moment before putting them back on Arthur. “Guess it’s time we meet. Bring her out here.”

Arthur walks out through the camp and to the trees to fetch Emmeline. As he walks her back through their living space, everyone’s eyes are on the newcomer following behind Arthur curious as to who she is and why she’s here. No one says anything, though.

Once Arthur leads Emmeline to the water’s edge where Dutch and Hosea are standing, she recognizes the dark haired man.

“I saw you once. In Valentine,” she mentions to Dutch.

He walks over to her with a soft smile on his face and places his hand on her cheek. “I’m not surprised you’re a clever girl.” He lets out a sigh as he looks her over more closely. “You look so much like your mother. I cared deeply for her. She was a good woman.”

“She was,” Emmeline responds sadly at her memory. “Arthur told me about you. That you’re my father. And that my parents lied to me about it.”

Dutch lets out a sigh. “I expect that was quite a shock to you. But know that it was all for your own good.”

“Like forbidding Arthur to see me,” she bites back quickly.

Hosea can’t hold back his laugh.“This girl is sharp. I like her already.”

Dutch lets out a strained chuckle. “Yes. That was for your own good, too. I love Arthur like a son, but I didn’t want you involved in our way of life. I knew if the two of you continued to see each other, it would be impossible to keep you separate from us.”

“I may not be worldly, Mr. Van Der Linde,” she replies, “but I can make my own decisions about who I want to be with. And I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

Dutch flicks his eyes to Arthur, but the younger man averts his gaze. “I am sorry Emmeline. I just wanted to keep you safe.” Dutch takes a step forward and slowly wraps his arms around her in a somewhat awkward hug. “I am so glad you’re here, though.” After he pulls back, he leaves a kiss on the top of her head. “You can never know how much I’ve wished to actually meet you.”

As Dutch moves away from her, Hosea steps forward with his hand outstretched. “I’m Hosea. I hope Arthur has spoken well of me.”

Emmeline gives him a warm smile as she shakes his hand. “He’s told me that the two of you took him off the streets and raised him as your own.”

“That is true,” Hosea confirms.

Dutch jumps back in. “For now, I want to keep your parentage quiet, alright?” he says to her.

She nods. “Okay.” Now she has two secrets to keep from everyone. She hopes she can pull it off.

“It’ll cut down on all the questions,” Dutch adds. “And it might lead us to how exactly the Pinkertons knew about you. That is, if we find someone that knows when they shouldn’t know.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything, though he’s still sure Micah is the rat.

Dutch walks over to Arthur and lays his hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to keep her safe, you hear?” he commands in a way that leaves no questions to be asked. “She stays with you at all times.”

“I was gonna suggest the same thing,” Arthur comments, already on board with that. There is no way he’ll et anything happen to Emmeline. Especially now.

“We introduce her as Arthur’s woman,” Dutch says to everyone. “We’ll try to stick with the truth as much as we can. We say her mother knew Hosea and I years ago and wrote me to help her out after she died. We sent Arthur to see her and the two got sweet on each other. He decided to bring her here. We don’t mention she’s my kin. We don’t mention the Pinkertons know that.” He looks to Arthur again. “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees.

“Yes,” Hosea says, too and Emmeline nods.

“Good.” Dutch stands up straight and squares his shoulders as he straightens his jacket. “Lets go tell the gang we have a new member.” He puts on his most charming smile and starts to head back into camp. “Everyone! Gather around. We have some news!”

[moariin]

let’s pretend this isn’t late at all lol, but here is my supposedly gift for the new years! so i thought it’s nice that i show a chapter from these hungry dogs to you guys, even though it’s only the first half since i didn’t realized it would be that long! anyways no one wants to see all 5k+ words or something but uhh the second half may be posted but who knows? now behold your eyes to this mess, i haven’t edit them yet!

CHAPTER: Twenty Eight, part i

WORD COUNT: 2,184

WARNINGS: minor description of body horror

TAG LIST (asked to be added/removed):  @montevena @hajaara @noloumna @syposium @marscults @katabasiss @the-ichor-of-ruination @medusaswrites @kowlazovdi @lefttowritee @omgbrekkerkaz @adrestaie @brekkerings @honeyedmonikers @endymions

"WATCH IT, these shells do not come easy," Novak barked, her eyes were distasteful and offended. She pried the rifle from Emil's fingers before she spat at him. "Terrible form, no wonder you're the last one stationed with us."

Emil flashed his eyes at her, seizing his jaws closed. "Well if it isn't the war prodigy claiming titles of her own," He said, seething but whatever proclamations came after were drowned by laughter and cheering. He stumbled back, quickly tore his gaze from Novak and watched the commotion with disbelief. "Speaking of which, you really think you could compare yourself to Nadja Gerharde?"

Novak stopped on her tracks, reeling her body around as she stumbled in front of Emil. Her eyes shadowed with annoyance. Her mouth fell open to say something but shook her head instead, mumbling to herself as she retreated into the dark.

They were heading to Dreufelsn Palky, and like their sounds of their footsteps, the smaller, lithe chasm came to them like drums beating, only to carry them forth. It was a twisted maze filled with intricate rocks setting them far from their path but a fool would have claimed it was the last gateway into The Scheisygh.

Leon allowed himself to shroud with the stillness until they forgotten of him. He liked it that way but he still felt the cold brewing from Novak's cautious eyes despite her entire body were sealed with blackness.

The ground underneath them became sharper, almost misaligned as it rose abruptly, marking its elevation.

Leon gripped the corner of the strap that tied Klemens’ rifle on his back and with each steps, his breath were shallow and quick. Their words did not comfort him, however, it was the only thing that he knew he was heading in the right direction. He did not know night well and its obsolete bleakness covered the others entirely.

"Would you look at that, you idiots are really out there comparing shells," Joch mumbled, slurring his words together. He stopped besides Emil as he glowered towards Novak. "Doesn't matter anyways, the Myrgenvai would heard us bickering."  

"We shouldn't take this long to circle along the borders," There was Ineke, trailing behind them, and her voice caught them the most. Leon saw Joch lurched forward, shoulders pinched slightly. "Commander Schichau wouldn't like it either."

Leon looked upon the others, tethering off the side. His hands fumbled across Klemens' rifle as he lingered his eyes to the others, hoping to avoid their devout attention.

"Well, he's not here, yes?" Novak hissed, rolling her eyes. "Besides," she expanded her arms wide with a burning smile etched. "We are miles away from the Myrgenvai camp, why should we worry if Emil blasts his rifle again?"

Without warning, she cupped her hands together as she shouted, her lungs pulling up against her chest before Ineke rushed over, seizing the girl to her side. The expression of terror were imprinted across Ineke's face.

"It shouldn't be a worry since you have his rifle in your hands," Leon observed which made Novak blinked, staring at him silently. His face heated almost instantly and he turned his face away. So much for staying quiet.

Novak let out frustrated groan as she shoved the rifle back to Emil, quickly turning her back.  

There was a brush of laughter besides him and Novak distastefully leaned forward, drawing a handful of mud and threw it at Ineke.

Ineke allowed the mud to stain her coat, lightly tossing a grin. "But," she suddenly dropped her voice to a whisper. "We are out in the open, vulnerable, to say at least. We can't be entirely sure if they are drinking their guts out in their camp or ridding along with us. You still know that-"

"Yes, yes, of course I always know, my knowledge cannot go unscathed whenever your wise words were summoned," Novak curled her lips as she spoke quite hastily. "And I know we had recovered their bodies too," she paused as her eyes gazed back to Leon, inclining her head. Almost briefly, she caught a glance at the rifle he's holding but immediately turned away to face Ineke. "So let's not forget why we are here."

"Then we'll part ways, hiding in our tents, until we remember we have war to accomplish before the Myrgenvai does," Joch grumbled to himself.

As quick as their words came, their minds were wrapped around their own fate, drinking from the silence as they trudged on. They travelled far on foot, carrying nothing but their rifles and flasks to drink from. The weather wasn't any better for them either. Leon struggled on his own, bearing the weight of the rifle as he slowly paced alongside them. His eyes flicked towards Novak, strolling ahead of them.

She, too, struggled, climbing up the narrow, slippery rocks until her back was bent, digging her nails into the ground for more leverage.

Leon shuddered on, pulling himself up the steepness of the hill. At most, his arms began to tire after a while, digging hard onto his heels. He evened himself, gripping on the edges before his eyes lifted when he heard a soft whistle. Immediately leaning on his side against the rocks, the rest followed suit, as Novak adjusted the rifle strapped across her back and peered down at them.

She quietly mouthed, "I'll go first," before she slipped from the view.

Then stillness. Nothing but the mourning from the wind as it settled around his ears, wailing.

Straining his lips together, Leon didn't know how long it went for him, perhaps it was the way his skin pricked under the roughness of his uniform that urged him to evened himself along the rocks before he pushed himself up. His fingers lifted from the ground as he straighten himself, climbing forward. He started off slow, balancing himself but he was tethering and there's a loud hiss that followed him.

"What are you doing, mute?" he heard the commotion below him. It was Emil.

Leon almost tethered, toppled against his weight, but he did tore his gaze back. His neck strained at the slightest as he watched them, half-willingly, craned their heads back, gaping their eyes at him. Though their faces were covered, hidden from the blackness of the night, he could hear their harsh eyes, an act of disbelief and tension ridden across their lips.

"He's a fool, he'll get himself killed out there or worse, we have shells to compare in our bodies," Ineke shot back to Emil, almost a baring whisper.

But Leon heard them but still he hadn't move an inch. He was listening, not to their words, the ones towered over him. There hadn't been a movement, a cry that resonated from the air. The dark and cold shrouded him like a blanket of its own, Leon brought himself to stare the palm of his hands. The silence threatened him, jolting awake as he exhaled sharply. A growing voice came through his mind, keeping him intact as he thought of them. Slowly, he pried his mouth, little by little, until it stopped.

Leon did not know the worse that would come out from him but he carried a small smile, hidden from the night before he turned his head to where Novak last vanished.

Then he set forward as she carefully weaved her way up, bracing the rough edges of the earth as her fingers dug deep into it to keep her steady. Before she scaled to the top, his fingers pried something loose from the rocks, suddenly feeling the softness that lingered in her skin.

He kept on despite his face twisted with puzzlement.

His hands reached the air, catching onto nothing and he toppled over, only to feel something seized to his side. It was a moment later that Leon heard a shuffle besides him as small pebbles cascaded besides him.

Next to him, Novak appeared, her face masked in absence as she bore her eyes over to him. Then with a swift jut of her chin, she pointed to the distance. Leon, slowly, followed the soundless gesture as his eyes fell upon a shimmer. Faint but it was pronounced in the dead of the night. Peering closely, he leaned far as he could as he held himself firm against the slope. A couple yards away, the flicker of light began to settled as the night drew close to them.

There was a sharpness rose from his chest the more he looked at the dead below him. It rested fruitfully on its side, caving in to the ground.

He passed another look to Novak but she was making her way over the rocks, pushing herself up.

"Wait, what," Leon said and watched Novak climbed near the top before her eyes melted back to his.

"I'm being a smart of a fool, and what about you?" Novak replied curtly but she stayed, lingering. She hesitated, Leon knew.

He knew. How the Zeimar feared death more than their ever-growing hunger, to feel their bellies satisfied from war. But it never came to them and the balance were erupted when the alter vater came to be. Corrupted as soon he were claimed by the chains of death, strangling him at last. Only the faithful would ever see the passing of the dead, channeling their journey upon The Scheisgyh. But never with Dreufelsn Palky.

So he started moving, quickly grasping his feet onto the solid ground of the hill. He was down a step before Novak realized his intentions. She called out, a low hiss spilled out from her tongue. Leon paused as if he had the patience to heard the rest.

"Just where do you think you’re going?" Her words chased after him but it was soon consumed by the wind as he swooped down to the bottom of the rocks. "The corpse could be the Myrgenvai's doing."

Leon trained his eyes back to the corpse, the quiver of the wind made tears to form around his eyes. He lifted his arms slightly just enough to shield his eyes from it. "Perhaps it would be my doing as well and fashioned it as my prize," he said to her, but his face remained clouded as he heard her stiffened.

"This isn't your righteousness to begin with, if I may even call it that," the girl retreated back her anger and went on, "You have no claim to it either for it is ours and ours to take. You have nothing to claim in your hands except the decency to act as if we're one. Perhaps it was a lie you so wish to give when you first stumble upon us, bare-handed and frozen with fear."

The word shot through him, wild and sudden. He tasted it before slowly he seized it tightly. Righteousness. A word that existed with him but was stolen from him the moment he made it into the manor. His hands was still reek of Werner Bohrganz and he had believed it. But it didn't justified his act, no, not entirely.

"But look at you, ridden with fear now," Leon calmly stated. "It's true, I have nothing to give to the Nascherein or to you but I am here now, my death or my living won't be your concern for I never plan to make myself honorable, like you."

When she didn't made a sound, he quietly watched her in the distance before he turned his gaze away. He stood straight before his feet moved on its own, striding towards the decorative canvas of the body. A pile of ivory-colored bones settled on the ground as he slowly inched down, crouching. His fingers lightly traced it, bringing the pieces of the remains before he felt coolness seeped into his skin.

His thumb followed the material of the uniform, uncovering the silver of it across his hand. Leon frowned at color of the blood and without warning, he quickly snapped his head up. He froze, listening intently, yet the wind were close to him, watching his every movement.

His eyes swept down to came across the face of it and under the faint glint of the discarded rifle off the side, he could fully see the dead soldier. A Zeimar. Yet her skinless face was parched and devoured whole. It was ruined, a large slash split her face evenly enough to show him the white-ivory teeth and skull being picked clean.

Transfixed, Leon did not hear the slightest change in the air, followed by the string of words above him. He threw his head around wildly after his mind cleared and realized it came from Novak Czerniak.

Before alarm rose against Leon’s throat, a soldier emerged from the crevice of the rocks that scattered below the Dreufelsn Palky. It didn't took Leon long to realized the rifle was pointed directly at his chest and sounded.

It sounded when the dead shifted its hands.

The dead never looked so peaceful, stripped clean off her blood, as her eyes followed him.

"My kundersdt."

A fatal claw collided around his neck.

[qethnehzul]

Tongues - Chapter VIX

The Greybeards summoned Casil and Sterlas to the main hall in the midst of their packing the following morning. The monks waited around the diamond Casil had stood in the middle of the previous day, eerily silent.

Casil and Sterlas stopped a few feet back from them, waiting for them to speak first. Casil tried not to let herself hide behind Sterlas. Even if her pride still hurt, she didn’t want to let them humiliate her again.

Arngeir took a deep breath, looking Casil over. “We have come to an decision,” he said solemnly. Casil tensed, bracing herself for the worst. “Though you may not be able to use your Thu’um, we have decided that there is… no reason not to let you attempt our test anyways. Fetch us the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, and perhaps there may be hope for you yet.”

Casil looked at them in mild surprise, but soon she pursed her lips. She wasn’t fond of how they phrased that. But a fetch quest…? That shouldn’t be difficult. Casil hated having to be people’s errand boy, but Casil couldn’t imagine that there was anything about retrieving a single, simple horn that would require this mystical Shouting they talked about. Casil nodded her head firmly in response. She would get it.

“Where would we find that?” Sterlas asked, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“You may find the horn in Ustengrav, in Hjaalmarch. That is all I can offer you,” Arngeir said, bowing his head.

Sterlas nodded, glancing to Casil. Her eyes looked steadily forward, trying to keep things together, but Sterlas could tell she was avoiding eye contact. Sterlas grunted. “We’ll fetch it,” he replied gruffly, turning to return to packing.

The other Greybeards began to disperse at the response, quietly returning to the recesses of the monastery. Arngeir lingered for a moment longer. “Be warned, hower, that without the Thu’um, you may not be able to reach the horn,” he cautioned, a frown tugging at his weary face.

Casil finally lifted her gaze to the monk, locking eyes with him for a moment. Her jaw tensed, but she lifted her head pridefully before signing.

“We’ll see about that,” Sterlas translated, waiting until Casil had turned away to walk ahead before following her.

Casil swiftly walked back to the alcove they’d rested in, quickly packing the remains of her bag. Her gaze focused and determined, but the worry was still there.

Sterlas picked up his bag, making sure that the holes he’d roughly stitched together with what little string he had held tight. “Hey. Ya got this, alright?” Sterlas said, reaching out to give her a firm pack on the back.

Casil’s facade dropped, worry flooding her face again as she looked up at her companion. ‘You have a lot of faith in me for this,’ Casil signed, sighing as she slung her bag over her shoulder.

“Don’t matter if you’ve got that Voice shit or not. Ya plenty capable on ya own. Besides, ya the Dragonborn too, right? Maybe ya destined to finish this one way or another,” Sterlas said, grinning at her.

Casil’s face didn’t light up. She trudged towards the door, biting the inside of her lower lip as she shouldered her way through the door and out onto the front stairs. It was hard to believe that she was the Dragonborn, and she still didn’t even know what that all meant.

The wind howled and immediately stung her ears as she exited the building, making her pause to pull her hood up as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. Once she could see, her gaze immediately fell on the skeleton of the dragon they’d killed just a day prior. Snow had gathered up along the edges of some of the remains, but besides that it hadn’t changed or moved. It simple remained as a monument to what she’d done.

To the fact that she’d absorbed its soul.

Sterlas stepped out behind her, resting a big hand on her shoulder when she didn’t continue down the stairs. “C’mon kid. Let’s get off this Divines forsaken mountain, yeah?”

Casil looked up at him, before taking a deep breath and nodding.

The trip down the stairs was much faster than it had been on the way up, and to Casil’s relief they didn’t encounter a troll or a dragon. Their horses awaited them in Ivarstead where they’d been left, ready to take them away to their next destination.

“So, ya wanna get the horn?” Sterlas asked, saddling up his horse.

‘I don’t have a choice, do I?’ Casil signed, climbing up onto Maehaur’s back. The horse snorted, shaking his mane out as he awaited for Sterlas to get up onto his own horse.

“I mean, ya could just. I don’t know. Ignore it? Leave Skyrim? It ain’t like the Greybeards probably control any of this, ya know? They ain’t even tellin’ ya what ya supposed to be doin’. Maybe they don’t even know.”

Casil nudged Maehaur forward as Sterlas got situated on his own horse, taking the moment to consider that. ‘You told me that I can’t turn my back on everyone if i’m the only one who can do this. Whatever this is.’

Sterlas shrugged. “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.”

The frozen marshland of Hjaalmarch was still deep in the grips of winter. Ice created mosaics over the wetland water, and the permafrost and mud crunched under the hooves of the horses as they made their way across the landscape. Snow still fell from above, covering their muddy tracks only a few minutes after passing. Sterlas was fine with that though. It meant the horses could travel easier, and it meant that they wouldn’t be trudging through the mud either when they got off.

Casil eyed a few spots where Death Bell plants were starting to poke out of the snow again, trying to distract herself from the task ahead.

Sterlas glanced to her. Casil had been relatively silent for the whole trip from High Hrothgar, and it was obvious she was deep in thought. He couldn’t blame her though. They didn’t even know what this whole Dragonborn thing entailed, or anything about saving the world. The only thing Casil knew about for certain was that she was probably saving the world from dragons (a task she wasn’t sure how you finish), and that nobody else could do this task. Oh, and of course,  that she didn’t have the ability to use the Voice, one of the whole of two things that seem to come with being dragonborn.

It was frustrating. Everyone expected her to already know what she was doing, where she was going, how to use her powers… Where was she supposed to have gotten this information? Was it just supposed to be something she inherently knew? Because if it was, Casil would be happy to inform them that she knew absolutely nothing about what was going on. The nords seem to have some idea, and she was starting to wonder if she should just go into the nearest town and just ask at this point, since she wasn’t figuring it out herself.

Divines. Part of her had been hoping that things would work out like they always seemed to in the tales she’d heard when she was a kid. The great hero miraculously gets access to great powers, and is guided to their glorious victory over a very obvious evil. Casil had ‘obvious evil’ down in the form of at least a dozen or more dragons, and ‘great powers’ down in the form of… absorbing dragon souls? But nothing was obvious or tying together well beyond that.

She slouched, feeling more and more irritated about the situation.

“Ya doin’ alright back there?” Sterlas asked from ahead, glancing at her from over his shoulder.

Casil jumped up a bit in her saddle, snapping her head up to look at him. She waved a hand dismissively, nudging Maehaur to catch up.

Sterlas slowed his horse down, digging into the pockets of his jacket to pull out his map. He looked it over, trying to shield it from the wind before he surveyed the surrounding landscape. It was hard to make out where things were through the snowstorm. “I think we’re getting close,” he said after a moment, folding the map up again so it wouldn’t get damaged.

Casil nodded, distantly scanning the area herself.

Sterlas frowned, before sighing. “We’ll get this figured out, alright?” He dug around for his compass, checking their direction before steering his horse a few feet to the right.

‘Will we?’ Casil signed once Sterlas had a chance to glance at her again.

“Of course. It ain’t like ya haven’t figured out everythin’ else before. Don’t doubt yaself, alright?” Sterlas said.

‘Hard not to,’ Casil signed, her gaze dropping again. The only people who seemed to be able to give her any direction or help doubted her ability to complete her task. All because she was mute. All because she couldn’t scream power or whatever the hell it was the Thu’um was supposed to do. Immediately, Casil returned to introspecting, angrily squinting at the ground ahead of them.

Sterlas wanted to snap her out of it, but he didn’t know if anything he was going to say would help. He’d tried, but Casil kept finding her way back into being miserable. Which, was fair. This wasn’t exactly optimal. Casil was a hermit and a necromancer. Outside of him, he’d never seen her spend any extended amount of time with anything that wasn’t a skeleton. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and lived by nobody’s rules but her own. And now people were expecting her to be a hero and play by their rules? Sterlas was certain he’d have a better chance at getting a horker to live in a desert.

Ustengrav was not a particularly notable looking ruin from the outside, looking almost like any other nordic ruin sunk into the Hjaalmarch muds. And, like many of them, they could tell that bandits or other skeevy wanderers had been there recently. The two tied up their horses in a grove of trees, hoping they’d remain hidden, before heading inside to clear out a few rooms and set up a camp.

Sure enough, the first few rooms were occupied by a warring faction of bandits and necromancers. Casil and Sterlas were more than happy to linger back while the two groups continued a fight that had broken out long before they’d gotten there, before picking off the stragglers once the action had died down. After a night of rest, the two headed further down.

The ruins did not start off interesting.

“What do the Greybeards think is so special about this place?” Sterlas muttered, dislodging his weapon from a simple draugr. “Are we even in the right place?”

Casil was starting to wonder the same. Past the bandits and necromancers in the upper floors, there had only been a handful of draugr, and so few of them that Sterlas hadn’t even felt the need to turn into a werewolf. Casil stuffed a handful of old gold coins she dug out of the bottom of a burial jar into her pocket before shuffling to push the next door open.

Instead of opening into more nordic ruins, the start of natural cavework stretched out before her. Casil paused, gingerly stepping forward to get a look around. A huge cave. A rough path lead down from the door into a massive cavern, and the edge immediately in front of her lead to a drop that Casil guessed was at least 100 feet down. Several crumbling pillars stretched up into the cave’s ceiling, and a few questionable stone bridges connected between them and other levels of the cave. Most of the bridges had collapsed, and Casil was certain that she didn’t trust any of the ones that remained. Light filtered down from a few holes in the ceiling above, allowing for a decent amount of plantlife to sprout on the ground below the ledge. A massive waterfall cascaded from the rightmost wall, creating a river and a small lake around which full pine trees sprouted up along. A word wall was nestled to one side of the waterfall, covered in moss from the mist, while the other side of the cave was the start of some subterranean ruin. Casil could feel the tingle of necromancy, and from their lookout she could see a few animated skeletons slowly making their rounds through the cave and ruins, following paths worn for hundreds if not thousands of years.

Sterlas looked out, careful not to bump into Casil as he looked over the edge. “Well, forget what I said,” he said, lowering his voice as he arched a brow and examined the ceiling.

Casil nodded in agreement. She’d seen some caverns with plants in them, maybe even a tree or two, but not quite to this extent. At least, not in places she’d call real caves. Skyrim certainly had its fair share of unusual hideouts that could only be reached by caves and that started as caves full of plants, but all of them opened up to more sky than rock. Those didn’t count, at least not in Casil’s book.

She turned to follow the path, reaching a hand out to place it on the wall to steady her descent down the gravel path. The skeletons wouldn’t be much trouble. They were ancient and brittle no doubt, relics of necromancy cast centuries ago. The moment they were in range, Casil used a well-aimed fireball to take them out, reducing them to a pile of ash and fragile bones. And, to her dismay, triggering a trap on one of the upper floors of the ruin. Fire burst out of the ground where the skeleton’s weapon had fallen, directly in the middle of a set of stairs Casil was certain they’d need to take.

“Great,” Sterlas grunted, watching a few of the skeleton’s now-scorched bones clatter down the stairs.

Casil made a face, finishing the descent to the ground level. If there were any skeletons left, Casil hadn’t seen them, and she wasn’t that worried. Her attention shifted to the word wall next to the waterfall. It was safe enough, she imagined, to give that a look. Sterlas wandered over to idly kick a skull across the ground, glancing to Casil as she turned from the ruins and followed the path down to the word wall.

The fir trees were much larger than she’d originally thought. They stretched up towards the holes in the cave, their boughs healthy and glistening in the waterfall’s mist. Despite the cold temperature outside, the constantly flowing water and general lay of the caves seemed to keep the temperature from dipping below freezing. Casil wondered where this was in comparison to the entry. The holes were covered by a layer of frost and snow, which would make them all the more dangerous to walk over if this was level with the rest of the ground.

Carefully, Casil walked to the giant slab of stone, careful not to slip on the algae growing across the flagstones in front of it. She reached up, running her fingers over the moss-covered letters. Water squeezed out under them, running down the front of the wall to join the rest of the water that collected from the waterfall’s spray.

Though she still could not read most of the words, some of the words felt like they carried a deeper meaning to them, something more to them. Her fingers lingered on one of the words, feeling as if the moss and stone under her fingers was vibrating softly.

“Got anythin’ down there?” Sterlas called from across the lake, still up by the ruins.

Casil glanced up at him, tilting her head for more explanation.

“Like, does it tell us where the horn is? What to do? Anythin?” He added, shrugging.

Casil shook her head, hoping Sterlas could see what she was saying. ‘I think it’s a Word of Power, like the Greybeards said? I think it’s the word feim,” she signed, looking back to the wall. She could read what the word was, but she didn’t know what it mean. She could feel what it meant, but she couldn’t put a Tamrielic word to it. She furrowed her brow at that, bringing her hand up to touch the wall again.

Sterlas looked around where he was. “Well, i’m gonna keep lookin’ over here. I think I found a path, but we can go when ya ready.” He stepped away, disappearing out of Casil’s sight.

Casil watched him leave before backing away from the wall, pulling her journal out of her bag. Making sure she was out of the way of the worst of the waterfall’s spray, she pulled out a stick of charcoal and scribbled down the words on the wall, adding another page to her long list of word walls that needed to be translated. Once the journal was put back into her bag, she examined the wall again.

Feim. She closed her eyes, feeling the word in the back of her mind. She tried to pull on that feeling, that understanding, opening her mouth to try to say something.

But of course, nothing came out. She clenched her fists in frustration, exhaling sharply. What was she expecting? She glowered at the wall, angrily slugging the stone before sulking back up the path towards Sterlas.

Sterlas waited for her to come back up, almost knocking her to the ground with a pat on the back when she passed. “Ya don’t need shouts, kid,” he said simply.

Casil glanced back at him, frustration in her eyes, but she just forced a nod and continued forward.

Sterlas immediately regretted saying anything. Three gates blocked the hall to the next room, and three stones lay spaced out in front of that; two to the left, and one to the right. What the shouts could have done to help this, Sterlas had no idea, but if there was anything in this cave so far that would need something unusual it was this.

Sterlas waited back by the first rocks, hands on hips as Casil investigated what lay in front of them. Casil passed in front of the first rock, and in response the runes on its front lit red and the first of the three gates slid open. Casil jumped a bit in surprise, looking between the rock and the gate to make sure nothing dangerous was about to come from the ominously glowing stone. After a moment, the stone dimmed, and the gate slid closed. Casil stepped forward to the next rock, and like the first it lit up red. This time, the second  gate slid open, and similarly after only a few seconds the runes fizzled out and the gate slammed closed with the sound of grinding metal.

Casil stepped out of the line of rocks, walking back around to the start of the rocks. Casil took a few deep breaths, dropping into a sprinting posture before she made a mad dash towards the gates. The rocks lit up along the way, but by the time she’d reached the third rock the first two had dimmed out. Casil slowed down, sighing.

Damn it. Casil exhaled in frustration, turning to face Sterlas. Well, she knew she was not going to be able to close that gap fast enough, especially not with her short legs. Sterlas reached up and scratched his beard. Maybe this was what the Greybeards were talking about.

“Alright, let me try,” he said, motioning for Casil to get out of the way. She stepped aside, waiting next to the gate to see if he could make it. Sterlas took a few steps back, shaking himself out before he made a dash himself towards the gate. Though he was much faster and had longer legs, the runes closed faster. The first gate slammed closed at the third rock, and the second closed shortly after. Sterlas managed to pull up before bouncing into the gate, letting out a loud curse. Closer, but not quite there.

Casil made a face at the gate. ‘Try running again, and i’ll see if I can slip through?’ Casil signed to him, raising a brow.

“Good plan,” Sterlas said, pacing back around to the first stone.

Casil waited for him to step in front of the first rock, watching the gate begin to slide open. The second it was high enough for her to duck and try to move under, she slid a foot forward, but the moment it crossed the threshold to the hallway the gate slammed down at blinding speeds, only avoiding crushing her foot by the spikes driven into the ground on either side of it. Casil tensed up, pulling her body back sharply. With hands hugged tightly to her chest, Casil stared wide-eyed at the iron gate, so thankful she hadn’t lost anything trying to do that.

“Okay that… isn’t… going to work,” Sterlas sputtered, his voice going up an octave.

Casil nodded in agreement, scooching backwards and away from the gates. So they would have to trigger all three rocks at the same time.

Maybe if both of them triggered multiple rocks? Casil looked to Sterlas, motioning for him to get the first two as she moved to the third. Sterlas sprinted through the first two, and before the first one could close Casil tried jumping in front of the third. Instead of triggering, the two open gates slammed shut at the same dangerous speed as before. Clearly, whoever had built this had thought about ways to cheat it.

Casil’s lip twitched. There was no way that she was about to lose, lose, to a stupid puzzle. There was no way that the thing that she needed her voice for, the thing that her stupid dragonborn power was supposed to allow her to do that other people couldn’t, was to run through a stupid gate.

She was not going to fail at being a dragonborn because she wasn’t a fast runner.

Sterlas didn’t need to be asked to go to the next line of thought. He turned into his werewolf form, shaking out his fur before pacing back again. Casil moved out of his way, watching in eager anticipation. If he could get close as a human, then he had to be able to make it as a werewolf. He was much faster on all fours.

Sterlas turned around and faced the gates again, dropping onto all fours. He sized up the distance, before breaking into a rapid sprint. The first and second gate went blazing past him, and he could almost taste the third one-

He was certain he was just a paw’s length from the last stone when the first gate shut. Sterlas tried to pull up, but he was going to fast. The werewolf rammed into the gate head first, sending his back haunches up before he flopped down onto the ground.

As frustrated as Casil was, she had to cover her mouth to hide her smile. Sterlas grunted, laying there for a moment before he lifted his head and shook it. Once he could see straight again, he got back up, pacing back around to give it a second go. Similarly to the first time, he had almost made it, but even his werewolf form wasn’t enough. As Sterlas lay in a pile in front of the gate again, Casil picked her brain for something, anything, that could fix this. They were so close, and Casil refused to let this best her.

Of course. Casil hurried to the first of the rocks, waiting for Sterlas to get up and walk back to try again. The werewolf gave her a unhappy look and trotted back to her with his tail down, but he was willing to give it another go. He wasn’t sure how many more tries he could give though- his head was killing him from hinting the gate, and he was afraid that one of these tries he was going to get his head wedged between the iron bars if he wasn’t careful.

Before Sterlas could run, Casil reached out and pressed her hands against his side. Magicka channeled through her and into Sterlas, and immediately he could feel a surge of energy and adrenaline. Sterlas waited until he felt the full effects of the spell, before taking a deep breath. This had to be enough.

His claws scraped across the floor once more, blitzing through the first two rocks faster than ever, and finally through the third rock. All three gates clicked open as Sterlas continued to run through them, slowing down when he reached the end. Casil’s eyes lit up, wasting no time in hurrying after him. To her relief, the gates stayed open when she passed under them, allowing her to get to the other side with her companion.

Sterlas’s tail wagged, giving Casil a toothy grin when she managed to reach him. She reached up and gave him a thankful pat on his shoulder, sighing in relief. That was done. She hadn’t needed a shout to get through it. Just a good friend and a little magic. She glanced back at the gates as they slid closed again behind them, urging them ahead.

The next room was no doubt more dangerous, but even then Casil found herself relieved to see that there was nothing there that might require anything beyond what she had to complete. A room full of pressure plates stretched out and around several corners, clearly intended to be done without… touching the entire floor except for places at the end? Casil had no idea how it was intended to be done, but enough parts of the ceiling and pillars that supported the stone overhead had collapsed to make patches of ground that had smothered the fire traps on the ground.

Casil made a running jump for the first pile of dirt, and Sterlas followed with ease. The werewolf made a motion that he was going to go ahead, before leaping and bounding from one safe place to another. Casil followed at a slower pace, but there weren’t many gaps she was worried about. In a few places she fell a tad short, but each time she was able to lean forward and get to safety before the fire could singe her. And, each time, she could here Sterlas jump back to ensure she was alright.

By the time Casil had made it into the next room, Sterlas was stretched out in front of a pair of giant spiders. Both had been slain, and a third was in the process of slowly being reduced to charcoal on top of one of the traps it had been knocked onto. Casil waved at him once she reached the last pile of dirt, eyeing the distance on the jump. This one was… much bigger. She pursed her lips as Sterlas got up and moved to wait at the edge of the platform, ready to grab her if needed. Casil paced back and forth uneasily like a caged animal, trying to hype herself up before she sprinted and lept.

Too short. She came to land on one of the traps, hearing the loud click of the pressure plate as her weight sunk it into the ground. Sterlas quickly leaned forward, catching the edge of her shawl in his claws before hauling her forward and just out of the way of the fire. Casil winced as she slammed into his meaty arm. Too close again. She gave her companion a thankful but guilty grin.

Sterlas snorted on her, covering her with werewolf snot before he turned to look to where they’d head next.

Casil made a face of disgust, wiping her face off before following his gaze. Another task completed that didn’t need any extra power. Her robe was looking a little singed, but she was alive and they walked through the next doorway just fine. She didn’t need no Voice.

Casil paused again as they entered the next room. Before them stretched a walkway of stone that ran down the center of the room, framed on either side by water. Giant carvings of dragons arched up on either side, their vestiges covered in water plants that made Casil think that they’d previously been underwater not that long ago. That made Casil purse her lips a bit, before she looked to the other side of the room.

A altar and a sarcophagus lay on the far end. That had to be it. Casil looked to Sterlas, giving him a slow nod. The werewolf waited, letting her take the lead. Slowly, Casil stepped down to the bridge, nervously passing between the dragon statues. They made no movement to her relief. As they reached the end, Casil slowed. Sterlas’s ears perked up, head tilting until his gaze rested on what Casil had noticed.

A carved stone hand reached out of the altar, palm towards the ceiling and fingers curved enough to hold what they assumed would have been the horn, if it had been there. But, instead, a scrap of paper lay in the otherwise empty palm.

Casil swallowed hard, her brow twitching as she stepped up to the altar and plucked the note off the hand. She carefully unfolded it, eyes scanning over the words scribbled onto it.

Dragonborn --

I need to speak with you, urgently. Rent the attic room in the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I’ll meet you.

-- A Friend

Casil read the note once, twice, three times, before looking back flat-faced at the altar. Slowly, she crumpled up the paper into a tight ball in her hand.

Sterlas walked up next to her, ears perked up in curiosity. He sniffed at the paper, and Casil finally looked at him. ‘An IOU,’ she signed in explanation, before turning and throwing the paper angrily to the other side of the room.

Sterlas shook his head, pulling it back in surprise. Did he hear that right…? He must have. The smell on the note wasn’t super recent, but it was recent enough that he could tell someone had actually been there, so it had to have happened in the past year or so at least.

‘I can’t believe someone else made it down here too, and who knew I was going to be down here. They told me I couldn’t get down here on my own and some other random fucker beats me to the horn anyways. Unless they’re a dragonborn too, in which case they can just take it,’ Casil signed angrily, before throwing her arms up in disbelief. She absolutely couldn’t believe it. All that drama, all that everything, just to have had someone else get down there and get the horn.

Sterlas snorted, sniffing at the statue before he trotted around to find where the ball of paper had ended up. He picked it up gingerly, walking back to hand it to Casil. It was still important, and they needed to go there- even if he was a bit weary about someone who knew so much apparently.

Casil sighed, reaching up and taking the ball of paper from him. She shoved it into her bag before turning to give the altar a firm kick, immediately wincing in regret.

Sterlas rolled his eyes, motioning for her to follow him. They needed to get going and get to the bottom of this. Maybe, for all they knew, this person who’d taken the Horn could actually help them.

Casil followed after him, trying not to limp from nailing the stone with her foot. All this was just turning out to be one waste of time after another.