#armor-group-skirmisher

[lostinwildflowers]

Summary: A young, naïve princess and a scrappy kid off the streets find themselves at odds, only to form a close connection that could cost the princess's future.

Word Count: 27.5K(...I am so sorry)

Warnings: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Pining(and a lot of it), Violence, Fighting, Illness(Not Pregnancy), Graphic Description of Death, Blood and Gore, Harsh Language/Swearing, Royalty AU, Happy Ending

A/N: Guys. I have finally finished this fic after it sitting in my drafts for OVER A YEAR! I hope the wait was worth it, please enjoy. Also this isn't beta-ed so if there are any mistakes I apologize😭 -Birch<3

Some Inspirations(full credit to the artists!!!):

Knight Levi (1)

Knight Levi (2)

Knight Levi (3)

It was close to the break of a cool, brisk dawn, and an 18-year-old boy with raven hair was being escorted by the king’s guard. The men of the guard hurriedly ushered him toward the castle gates, hoping to keep the situation quiet.

The boy had just been scooped up from the streets of the small town outside the castle where he had fought against a robbery in the town’s bank. Two large men had been knocked unconscious and tied up outside the front door while he returned the coins to the banker, who was crying uncontrollably, thanking him.

The boy’s name?

Levi Ackerman. He was skimpy, short, and looked like the butt of a joke. Yet from the tallest hill to the deepest valley across the kingdom, he was known as one of the best crime fighters in the nation.

Levi was known for his cunning, stoic nature, as well as his ability to fight with an unnatural quickness on his feet. Never once had he had a run-in with the law, he would send for the guard as soon as he started fighting the criminals. The poor guards men and women would show up to take the criminals away, only getting a quick glance at the small boy saving their town.

That’s why when the royal guard came to find him after the banking skirmish, Levi didn’t resist. He knew he wasn’t in trouble.

As they rode back toward the castle and away from the small village, Levi listened to the guard’s oblivious chatter. They wanted to recruit him to be a part of the royal guard… at the king's request? The thought surprised him, but he didn’t let that show. He knew that if he agreed to be a part of the king’s military force, he would be well taken care of and still be able to serve justice to those who needed it.

The sound of steel horseshoes clicking against the grey and black tiled rocks in the road was barely audible in comparison to the bustle of the town just outside of the castle. Levi was mounted on the back of one of the king's horses, his silver eyes narrow and cautious as he watched everyone hustle around the entourage.

Before he knew it, he was walking away from the life he was accustomed to, and as soon as he made it through the palace gates, his life changed forever. You could say it was almost difficult to keep up, but Levi knew how to quickly adapt.

He's shown the barracks and his sleeping quarters, where he was lucky enough to get a small cot in the corner away from many of the other soldiers. He caught sight of some of the soldiers and their trainees, donning stripes on their armor to show off their rank.

Levi doesn’t quite know what to make of everyone, they are all so happy, so clueless to the outside world, it almost disgusts him. But, he keeps his mouth shut and listens as he gets his tour and settles into his new life.

Bright and early the next morning, he goes to train in the sparring lot with his group of roommates. Several of them had tried to talk to him and learn about his past, but he wasn’t interested in making friends.

He watched several pairs spar without weapons before it was his turn to go. The thing about Levi that surprised all of his opponents was his strength. Despite his smaller size, he could easily surpass and beat his fellow trainees in combat. Between his different styles of movement and his speed, he was untouchable. 

Levi spent the first while at the castle doing what seemed like pointless activities to him. He knew how to unsheath a sword. He knew how to ride a horse. All of the basics were skills he inherently knew from his life on the streets fighting crime.

That's why no one was surprised when he advanced to the group of other guard trainees, who had been at the castle, learning the trade for over a year. It was strange at first, with everyone unsure of the quiet, small boy, but they eventually came to make small chat and he began to fit in.

Time seemed to slide by as fall weather started to set in. Leaves changed from dark, rich greens to playful yellows and tasteful oranges. It’s on one of these fall days, that Levi meets you for the first time. 

You were elegant, graceful, and naive at only 17, out for a walk in one of your many private courtyards. You were out strolling by yourself, as you often did. There were guards littered throughout the palace, so you weren’t too concerned about danger.

You loft around one of your favorite courtyards, the Josephina Garden Hall, blinking through the falling leaves and sighing in happiness at the breeze that floats through, carrying the last of summer’s warmth. In your lackadaisical wandering, you catch sight of a dark-haired boy around the corner.

You stay quiet and you blink in surprise when you realize he is training in your private yard. He's young, you think to yourself as you shift to stand next to some browning thistle bushes. Butterflies erupt in your belly as you take in his shirtless and lean muscular back that is facing you.

Even with his boyish age, Levi is covered in thick, strong muscle, but due to his intense practice routine, he's covered in dirt and some bruises. You could even see the pale gleam of faded scars on his chest and back, and that's when you decided you needed to know who this recruit was.

What kind of guard trainee is this? He looks young, but he seems so experienced, he couldn't have come from one of the lords, you think to yourself as you shakily emerge from your hiding spot.

You roll your shoulders back and down, lifting your chin as you walk as poised as you can. An image of grace, or so you thought. You were youthful and inexperienced, having only just gotten out of a lecture about politics and debate. Your days were spent going to classes, electives, and other menial lessons.

This was your time of day to relax, but the air suddenly changed from inquisitive to tense. Just as you started to approach the dark-haired boy, who was swinging his swords in a practiced sequence, he caught sight of you.

He flips his sword over in his hand, and pivoting on one foot, his blade just grazes your chin to lift it and look deep into your wide (colored) eyes. The slight sting of the blade causes you to jump back, your hands racing to your face to see if he drew blood.

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you pull them back to see just a small droplet on the tip of your fingers, and your breathing is labored as you glare at the raven-haired boy.

Levi holds your stare as well as the stance with his blades and mutters, "Who are you and why are you watching me train?” It's silent for a moment as you process his words, the fading stinging on your chin slowing your brain down. Your mouth parts open, both in offense and shock.

He didn't know who you were.

You swallow thickly as you blink slowly once, trying to regain your composition as you reply, "It doesn't matter. You are training in a private courtyard meant for this kingdom's elite and personal guards."

His silver gaze bores into you for another minute before they roll in annoyance, his swords dropping away from you with an irritated sigh. He takes a small step backward, regaining your gaze without saying a word.

You watch him carefully, slightly nervous before dropping into a shallow curtsy. You look down and murmur, "Excuse me then." Levi takes a step to the side as you walk past him, skirts fluttering as you look straight ahead without a second thought.

Once you're out of earshot, Levi watches you leave and wander into the next garden, disappearing around the corner. Who the hell was that? He thinks to himself but brushes it off and continues with his training.

---

Later that same evening, the other recruits were laughing and chuckling after a hard day of training. Levi walked along behind them, listening to their conversations but never truly taking part in them. 

Everyone was headed back to the barracks, slowly wandering through the outskirts of the castle while trying to not be too loud. He kept one hand on the hilt of his blade, his gaze trailing away from the crowd of trainees in a practiced and calculated manner.

Colt, Porco, and Zeke were leading the group, some of the advanced trainees Levi had come to know. They were cracking jokes and talking about what was for dinner, but Levi didn't care for their conversation. He found more interest in listening to Reiner and Bertholdt who were in front of him.

The two young boys were discussing the upcoming rotations for the guard trainees. Each rotation group was stationed somewhere different around the castle and courtyards, and they rotated every couple of weeks so the guards could defend anywhere they were needed.

Reiner was more worried about who he was going to be stationed to watch, which made Levi roll his eyes, his silver gaze locking onto motion around the upcoming corner.

A split second later, he sees your figure surrounded by a flock of maids on your every side. Then, just a few paces behind them were your two female guards, Pieck and Annie.

His eyes narrow as the pieces click together in his head. He's interrupted when the other male guards he was walking with recognize you. “Good evening, milady,” Colt chirps out, a wide smile on his face as the group comes to a halt.

You had been talking to one of your maids about some kind of fabric for your next dress but were interrupted by the sight of the guards in front of you. You give the men at the front a sweet smile as the group of trainees all drop to one knee in a respectful bow.

All except for one.

The dark-haired boy, you think as he locks eyes with you. You nod silently to the maids, who skirt around all of the men and head toward your quarters. You continue to smile gently as they leave, and you address the trainees with a quiet and pleasant, "At ease soldiers."

Zeke offers you a wide grin and says, “Good evening, princess! Lovely weather we've had today, perhaps we can get some musicians to play in the back courtyard for you after dinner tonight.”

While Zeke is talking, you don't break eye contact with Levi, who is still standing at the back, not kneeling like the rest. You see Reiner elbow Levi in the knee, motioning to kneel in respect, but Levi continues to stare at you.

As Zeke finishes speaking, you shift your gaze to him slowly and agree, "Wonderful idea, Zeke. Please alert some butlers and other maids to gather everyone, especially my family and the lords. Reiner, Porco, join him, please?"

Zeke humbly agrees, as do the others, and you give them a dismissive nod, saying, "Thank you, gentlemen. Make sure to get my favorite violinist!" As the three blondes rise and disappear around the corner you just came from, you are left with Colt and Bertholdt kneeling, and the dark-haired boy still standing.

Levi's eyes are calculating and firm, and you nod to Colt and Bertholdt, relieving them from their bows of respect, heading past you and to the barracks. Colt turns around when he realizes Levi isn't following him but freezes at the showdown playing out in front of him.

You square up with Levi, taking a few steps toward him before he says, “You’re a princess? Makes sense why I caught you so off guard. You were loud, obviously in my line of sight, and an easy target who can’t even protect herself.”

A gasp sounds out as Colt gapes at the harshness of Levi's words, but the dark-haired boy doesn't say anything. And neither do you. You simply stare at where Levi’s head had been moments before as the boy walks past you, brushing past the other trainees. He disappears down the hallway where Colt and Bertholdt had been heading, straight for the barracks. 

Annie and Pieck are still standing behind you, and when you don't move for a second, Pieck rests her hand on your shoulder. "Princess Y/n? Are you alright?"

You don't say anything, but turn to face Annie instead, a snarl now etched onto your usually kind features. There is a fire burning in your (colored) eyes as you give her a cold look and state, "Teach me to fight."

---

The training session with Annie was just coming to an end, with your muscles sore and aching and your chest heaving to catch your long-gone breath. It was a long and brutal session, as Annie wasn't forgiving and it was warm as could be outside despite it being the middle of fall.

It didn't help that you were in your new fitted armor that Pieck helped you choose - it was heavy and there were many layers to keep you protected. There was a well-fitting breastplate that was engraved with your family’s name and emblem, cuffs for your forearms, and even protective plates for your calves, thighs, and biceps.

It was intricate and beautiful, with each piece perfectly tailored to your body. The one downside - it was heavy. With the rays of the autumnal sun beating down and carrying the extra weight you weren't used to, it was tough on your body.

Annie being a deadly threat didn't really help either, but at least her blade was only a wooden practice sword.

Her weapon came down fast and hard in a never-ending wave of attacks that were perfectly timed, accurate, and most of all, deadly.

With a fast nudge from her wooden blade, your sword easily flew to the ground, clattering against the hard-packed dirt. You were out of breath, with your hair all mussed up and grime smudged across your cheek from your hours of practice.

Silver eyes were watching from a distance in the trainee’s practice area, but you were too tired to notice anything. Instead, you were focused on Annie, who was holding her own sword up to your throat, much like Levi did two weeks ago.

"You've got a long way to go," is the only thing she says. You sigh deeply as she takes a step back and drops her sword, turning to walk away.

"I'm going to clean up, Pieck is here to watch you," Annie calls over her shoulder as she sheaths her practice blade back into her belt, and you give her a feint wave as you locate Pieck near the edge of the training field.

You watch as Annie’s blonde head disappears behind some shrubbery before slumping unceremoniously to the ground, a groan falling from your lips.

A few pants escape you as you close your eyes, a wave of exhaustion flooding over you. You try to calm the erratic beating of your heart and slow your breathing down as a light breeze begins to blow through. Leaves stir up on the ground, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

While your eyes are closed, everything somehow seems to get darker, and the breeze seems to stop just a moment later. Your (colored) eyes flutter open and up, leaving you face-to-face with the dark-haired boy.

You groan again and move to get up as Levi glimpses down at you and he states blankly, "You need practice." You shuffle to your feet shakily, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before opening them and answering him with, “Yes. I know. Thank you, soldier.” 

“It’s Levi,” he cuts you off firmly, "Levi Ackerman.”

You squint at him silently, leaning down to pick up your fallen sword without a word. A small puff of air leaves your mouth as your hand wraps around the hilt of the blade and you mutter, “Well, Levi Ackerman, I’m practicing, and you should be too.”

The dark-haired boy simply scoffs and says “I'm already better than you in all aspects of combat, you need the practice more than anything. I’m not even sure why you’re out here, shouldn’t you be learning how to sew or something?”

Your hand falters on the grip of your sword for a second before your gaze hardens and you snap, “As you said, I need to learn to protect myself, and I'm working toward that goal.”

You don't hesitate a moment after that, choosing to turn away from him and follow Annie to wherever she had disappeared. Levi is left standing behind you as you storm away, quiet as he takes in your retreating appearance.

Pieck had caught sight of your small spat with Levi, and as she followed you out of the practice field, she shot an icy glance toward the dark-haired recruit.

---

Your days were endlessly busy, and you were the most exhausted you had ever been in your entire life, with meetings with potential princes, lords, and suitors, going to your lessons to learn about foreign policy, hosting balls, developing legislature, and more. 

On top of that, you were still determined to train with Annie and Pieck when you had a moment free. Annie focused on teaching you sword techniques and improving your reaction time, while Pieck focused on sequences and how to use them while in a fight.

You were slowly improving with every day you practiced. You were becoming leaner, and building more muscle. You were less quick to tire, you didn’t lose your breath as much, and you were getting to the point where you could occasionally match Annie’s blows. 

Your mother and father weren’t so sure about you learning to fight, but your elder brothers had all learned, so they accepted that it was something you wanted to do. Your mother thought it was “unladylike”, but your father thought it was a good idea that you knew the basics of protecting yourself if you needed to.

"Slow!” Annie's yell comes at you as she spins and slashes her sword toward your ribcage, her aim constantly perfect. You manage to dodge her attack before you parry your blade against hers, using your body weight to push her back a step.

The two of you were sparring in one of the private courtyards this particular day, while Pieck stood guard not too far off.

The two of you circled each other before Pieck called out, “I think that's enough for today, you two, Annie, it's time for us to go on patrol. Colt and Porco will be on guard while we are gone.”

You were in an intense staring battle with Annie, who breaks her gaze away from yours to nod at Pieck. You groan and whine out, “But Pieck, I'm not tired yet, I can still practice for another hour!”

Quiet footsteps behind you make your head turn, and you suddenly see a blade coming down toward your face. A flash of fear runs through you, and you instantaneously react, bringing your sword up to catch the opposing blade.

You just barely catch it in time, and you realize your heart is pounding in your chest as the initial rush of adrenaline burns off. Shock is evident on your face as your lips part in a gasp and your eyes widen, but you soon frown when you are met with that new yet familiar silver gaze.

"Then let's fight for another hour," the low voice comes. 

Annie and Pieck had both drawn their swords, just to find the dark-haired boy named Levi was the assailant. Dressed in his practice armor, the silver metal covering his body reflected the same color as his eyes. 

One of his swords was drawn, the blade pushing down on your own, leaning toward your face. You could see the concentration in his brow, but you weren’t about to give up and lose. Stalemate it is then, you think to yourself as you brace against Levi.

At that moment, Colt and Porco walk into the yard, suited up in their new armor, their eyes wide when they catch sight of you and Levi. Pieck sighs and walks over to them, briefly giving them the rundown of events before she and Annie leave for their patrol. 

Colt and Porco, each respectively, take a position on either side of the yard, giving you and Levi plenty of room to fight. When your eyes meet Levi’s again, you find him with what could be considered a smirk resting on his lips.

"Let's fight, princess.”

At that, he pushes his blade off of you in a sudden burst of energy, spinning away quickly to avoid any counterattack from you. This gives you time to draw your sword in an effective manner to combat his every blow.

Levi draws his second sword, now dual-wielding in the style that no one seemed to be able to replicate. You grit your teeth and go after him swinging, allowing the metal of your blade to clash against his, your footsteps shuffling in the fine gravel and dirt. Your hair was falling out of the already messy ponytail it had been in, the (colored) locks falling into your eyes.

You felt unkempt, wild, and stronger than you ever had before. And this time when you were fighting, you had the physical strength to show it.

While you were on the muscle and ready to attack at every movement, Levi was at ease, effortlessly matching your blows; twisting and flipping just out of range of your blade.

Eventually, Levi starts to get the upper hand, and without you realizing it, he gets you backed up and pinned to the wall. In an instant, one of his blades flicks yours to the ground before being pointed at your throat, while his other one comes up to point at your belly.

He's panting now though, with sweat running down his forehead and neck, disappearing behind the silver chainmail covering his chest. The sun just barely catches his left eye as he gazes at you, and it glows like a hot ore on a fire.

It's silent between you two, your blade is on the ground so there is no way to defend yourself, and your hands are by your sides. At that moment, you are out of breath, beaten, with nothing to say for yourself.

Levi pauses for a moment before dropping his swords and resheaths them, one on his back and the other at his hip. He takes a deep breath through his nose and gives you a small, shallow bow and a quiet mumble of, “Better.”

He takes a few swift steps back and jogs out of the yard, giving Colt a simple nod before disappearing toward the barracks. You're left standing there, dazed, as you watch his armor glitter and dance in the disappearing rays of sunlight.

You hardly notice it, but a faint flush has covered your face, and as you touch your cheek, you realize it's warm.

---

The sun had sunk below the horizon and the coolness of the full autumn nights was bone-chilling. While you had gotten cleaned after some flower arranging and training exercises that afternoon, there was a part of you that wanted to get messy.

So, you decided to go to the forges and clean your practice gear. The plates had been coated with mud and grass from the numerous times you hit the ground while sparring Annie, and there was no doubt dust caked onto the cloth from the dirt Levi kicked up when he surprised you.

It was late in the evening, several hours after dinner, and one of the times of the day that you were allowed to be alone for just a few minutes. Not wanting to make a scene, you chose to go to one of the smaller forge rooms, one that you knew not many people used.

You took a few moments, setting up a few candles on the workbench and lighting them, stoking the fire in the hearth to warm up the small workshop. There were several tables set up in the room, embroidered cloths carrying the royal insignia, others holding stacks of bent swords and dented plates of armor.

On your workbench, someone had left out a few delicate trinkets and other lightweight tools, and you find yourself smiling at the meaning behind them. A small forged flower? Perhaps for a lover back home, you wonder to yourself as you gently move it to the far side of the table.

You can’t help but sigh in happiness at the quiet sounds of the workshop; the crackle of the small fire burning in the hearth of the forge, the distant sounds of drunk men happy with their work for the day, and even the call of a spotted owl hooting in the distance.

The ability to be alone for a few minutes was much appreciated after the clashing of swords all afternoon, and you quietly start to work on polishing your armor as a warm, orange glow begins to fill the room. The faint smell of wood smoke fills the air, accompanied by the dark and rich aroma of the oil used to clean your armor and blade.

Time seems to tick by slowly, and you don’t even realize there is moonlight shining through the window until the sound of footsteps approaching catches your attention. Your (colored) orbs are snatched away from the rhythmic movement of polishing your thigh plate at the noise and you cease motion as you look to see who it is.

As you turn to face the entrance to the forge, you are met with the shadowed face of Levi, who when he notices you, his eyes widen ever-so-slightly and he bows in recognition and murmurs, “Princess”.

You can feel your eyes narrow in immediate suspicion at the sudden respect he is showing you. He quietly walks past you, moving to sit at the table closest to the forge, the two of you facing each other, yet tables apart.

You notice he is carrying his own gear, and you soften the intensity of your expression and answer him with a short, "Good evening, Levi,” before returning to your thigh plate with the small rag.

It’s quiet for another moment, but the simple silence that had once surrounded you has grown thick and uneasy. You could feel yourself shifting on the bench you were sitting on, realizing you were in a much more casual outfit than you typically wore. It wasn't nearly as extravagant as your day-to-day dresses, but you still felt comfortable enough to be seen by your guards and maids. 

So with it being Levi sitting in the same forge as you, it made you uneasy. You watch him pull a stool out from the corner of your eye, the wooden legs scratching against the ashen ground near the forge’s mouth. What had been a harmonious sound from the forge becomes the sharp hiss of logs burning and the soft zings of metal being wiped clean and sharpened.

You feel the need to say something, anything, and so you mumble carefully, "You fought well today.” You dunk your rag in more oil, (colored) eyes cast down toward your hands. You can feel Levi’s heated gaze snap onto your frame, and the intensity of them is like daggers digging into your sides.

"I fight well every day,” he almost snarls. You feel your heart practically jump to your throat at the harshness of his tone, and you keep your eyes on cleaning a piece of mud off of a shoulder pauldron. Suddenly you feel foolish for saying something, and it's quiet for another moment before he pipes back up.

“But thank you," he murmurs, softer this time, "You are getting better, some of your combinations are pretty good.”

His words are simple, and straight to the point. They show no signs of being impressed or disappointed, it was like he was simply stating your fighting abilities like they were facts. Your cleaning motions completely stop as you process his words, and you can’t stop yourself from looking up to view his lithe figure. 

Levi is working on cleaning his dual blades when your gaze lands on him, and he doesn't look up when your eyes find him. He doesn’t even seem bothered that he gave you what could be taken as a compliment, especially with how he has acted toward you.

But this is the first time you truly get to lay eyes on the scrappy boy, taking in his limber build. He's not large. Everything about him seems to be small, regardless of the obvious muscling on his frame. 

You know he's strong despite his size, and he is lethally fast, which proves to be a deadly combination. The boy sitting across the room from you has something about him that sets him apart, and you just can’t put your finger on what it is.

As you go back to cleaning your armor, you try to piece together a possible backstory for him. You know he didn’t live in the town connected to the castle, no one here knew him. He was around your age, and he knew how to fight, but he wasn’t from a royal or respected family.

You look up from your gear, setting everything off to the side and you state out of nowhere, “Levi, I want you to train me.”

It's quiet again, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you wait anxiously. You then hear his blades hit the wooden table in a sudden clatter, drawing your gaze to the intricately designed swords. 

No one else had swords like him. Custom designed, but embellished with the royal insignia, they were specifically made for his fighting style. You had wondered about them, and why your parents would allow for a random boy to have custom swords if he were just to be joining the guard.

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you made a major mistake asking this of him, and you look up to meet his gaze. And now, he's looking at you.

The expression on his face is one you don't know how to digest. He always seemed to look mad, bored, or sad when you watched him from a distance, but now you had no idea how to get a read on him. If you were to say what he looked like, you thought that he looked excited. 

Levi stands up from his stool, the wood once again scraping against the ash-covered floor. His boots crunched on the thin layer of ash, but he didn’t seem to mind as he secured his blades on the table. 

He moves with a grace you never noticed and he walks around the edge of your table to lean his hands on it directly across from you. 

“No,” he says, his gaze still unreadable. You blink up at him, your fingers nervously weaving together in and out before you plead, “Teach me, there is no way I can get better if I don’t learn.”

You can feel his disbelief when he tuts and pushes off the table to stand up straight, looking down at you. His arms move to cross his chest and he responds again, “No, I’m not going to teach you.”

A wave of frustration washes over you and you stand up and frown before spitting out, “You have to!” Levi rolls his eyes and sighs, “I don’t have to do anything.”

You walk around the edge of the table to get closer to him and you point your finger at his chest and bark out, “You have to listen to me, I am your superior!” Levi smacks your finger away with his hand and is quiet for a moment.

His gaze shifts, and suddenly you can read his expression again. A challenge. His eyes become steely in the light of the forge, and you can see them flicker between your eyes, down your frame to your boots, and back up again.

You suddenly feel too warm standing there, and you uncomfortably shift side to side as you feel him silently judge you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Here I am in clothes not suitable outside of my quarters, this guy is judging me after beating me today, and I’m begging him to train me. Get it together! The words flood into your mind as you stand there, and you cross your arms over your chest to try to cover up in insecurity.

“What’s in it for me?” he asks coolly, his gaze boring into yours as he awaits a response. You blink in disbelief and stutter, “Uh, uhm, I don’t know. What do you want?”

Levi rolls his eyes and walks back over to his gear, sliding the swords back into their sheaths. He folds up his armor and puts it back into a leather bag that he brought it in. He seemed dismissive and you were racking your brain before an idea caught in your brain.

“Land!” you call out loudly, before covering your mouth. Levi freezes and turns to look at you with one of his brows lifted in question. You take a quick breath and continue, “Land, for your family, here around the castle. That way you can see them whenever you want.”

Levi continues to put his stuff away and replies blankly, “My family is dead. I am alone.” A pit builds in your stomach and you usher out, “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” Levi glances at you and shrugs, “I’ve worked alone since I was a child.”

You are quiet again and let him walk past you toward the mouth of the forge. Just as he’s about to leave you mutter, “Please, Levi. I want to learn.”

He pauses behind you at the door, your backs facing each other. It’s quiet, with just the sound of the fire splitting open another log. You can hear the fluttering of the owl’s wings outside the window, and you turn to face the door, afraid he left.

Instead, you are met with Levi’s gaze watching your dejected figure. You can see he is calculating in his head, thinking, planning, and ready to say something that will destroy your hopes.

“You have no idea what you’re signing up for, princess,” is what falls from his mouth. It’s quiet, so quiet you almost miss it. A flicker of hope blooms in your belly and excitement takes over as you realize the implications of his words.

You take a step toward him, your hands clenching by your sides as you whisper, “Try me.”

Something flashes across his face, another unreadable emotion. He stares into your eyes and replies, “9 o’clock tomorrow night outside the Josephina Garden Hall. Don’t be late.” 

Not a moment later, and he’s gone.

---

It’s just starting to get late, with the moon climbing higher and higher into the sky. You are nervously making your way to the Josephina Garden Hall on the south side of the castle, opposite the barracks. 

You could hardly focus in your classes all day after the interaction with Levi in the forge room the night before. He was going to train you!

The training at night part made you a little nervous though, as you had really only practiced during the day and under heavy supervision. It was a windy night too, so you wore an extra layer underneath your practice gear so that you would stay warm.

A chill runs up your spine as you hurriedly make it inside the grandeur gates of the Josephina Garden Hall, and you take a deep breath as you start scoping the area for Levi. 

You had informed Pieck and Annie of your new training program with Levi, and both of them were hesitant but supportive. They were both standing at the opposite sides of the gates when you entered, and you quickly waved at them in recognition.

Just as they start to wave back at you, there is a sharp and quick blow to your back that knocks you to the ground. Air rushes out of your lungs and your forehead knocks into the grey, rocky tile with a loud crack!

Ow, ow, ow! The pain sets in quickly, and you can tell you’ve cut your forehead, you’ve likely got gravel or dirt in your palms, and there is going to be a bruise in the middle of your back in the morning.

“Lesson 1 - always keep your defenses up,” the low voice comes from above you. You are trying to decipher the words when panic begins to set in. You couldn’t catch your breath.

You don’t think you’ve ever experienced so much breathlessness, and you roll over onto your back, gasping for air. In doing so, the voice, which belonged to Levi, rings out again, “Lesson 2 - don’t give yourself an opening for the enemy to disarm you.”

In a quick motion, his boot flicks your practice sword right out of its sheath on your hip. The wooden blade flips perfectly into his hand, and in an instant, the blade is pointing at your throat.

Blinking rapidly while trying to regain your breath, you take in Levi’s appearance. He was wearing a dark cloak, and his face was shadowed in the light of the moon. He looked… eerie. And for the first time since you had met Levi, you felt scared of him.

“As I said, princess, you’ve got no idea what you’re in for”, he spits out, dropping your sword next to your head. You shuffle into a sitting position, chest still heaving. Your mind was an absolute whirlwind due to the lack of oxygen and the speed and accuracy with which he evaluated your fighting knowledge.

You frown and grab your wooden practice blade, putting it back into your sheath before scrambling to your feet to face him. You pant for a moment and then say, “Then teach me how to be better.”

Levi turns to face you, the moonlight casting him in a silver glow. He cocks his head to the side slightly before he replies, “Your reaction time is slow, you move loudly, and you are uncoordinated.”

You stand still for a moment, taking in his words. You shrug and ask, “So how do I fix all that?” Levi squares up with you and says, “Well with someone of your skill level, you can’t work on it all at once. You need to learn the pieces individually and then start putting them together.”

He motions to a tree where you can just make out the figure of a spotted owl, the one you had seen the night before! Levi starts, “An owl doesn’t start out as a silent flier. It first must learn how to flap its wings to get in the air before it worries about how quiet it is.”

You nod in understanding as the owl turns its head, flaps its wings a few times, and then glides off into the woods outside of the courtyard. A small shift on your heel and you face Levi again and call out, “Let’s go again!”

---

That first training session was the start of a brutal and grueling process to get you in fighting shape. Levi was a good teacher, surprisingly, but he was relentless. For every time you messed up, you had to get it right three times in a row.

The weeks started to slide by, and you were getting stronger, faster, and more deadly. Winter has arrived in its full glory - frigid winds, iced-over paths, and inches of snow every morning. The pines in the forest had started to get weighed down by all the icicles hanging on, and the horses were blanketed every night to keep them warm.

It was hard, practicing in the cold. The dry, cold air made it hard to breathe when you were working to the point of exhaustion, and when the sun shone down just right, you were positive you were going to go blind.

That didn’t deter Levi, though. You had managed to get better with a blade, but Levi insisted you needed to learn how to fight hand-to-hand since you “were so good at losing your sword”.

So that led you to your current predicament - being across from Levi trying to dodge his punches. They were fast, one after the next, after the next. Perfectly timed with an accuracy you didn’t know someone could obtain.

You jump out of the way as fast as you can, but a blow to the rib catches you off-guard and has you keeled over, your breath puffing in the frigid air. The pain is sharp, but you’ve started to learn how to manage it better, so you stand back up and form your fists into balls.

You attempt to throw a weak punch toward Levi’s abdomen, but he catches your hand with ease. He’s strong enough that he pulls your hand up to eye level, looking at the form of your fist.

“Okay, first off, this isn’t how you should make a fist when throwing a punch,” Levi says to you, pointing to the way you had your right thumb in the middle of your fist. He pulls your hand apart and makes it flat before reforming it into a fist, wrapping your thumb around the outside of your middle and pointer fingers.

You feel a wave of heat wash over your face as you realize he’s close to you, touching your hand. You try to pay attention to what he’s telling you, but it’s like you are just now realizing the ashen color of his eyes is flecked with the faintest hint of light blue.

“If you had actually hit me with the fist you had, you would have broken your thumb in an instant,” he explains, dropping your hand and showing you the fist you had made but with his hand instead. You don’t expect to almost miss the warmth of his touch when he moves away, but you shake the thought away as soon as it comes.

You step off to the side, letting out a small breath that billows around your head before throwing a punch in the air with your fist in the correct position. You turn to gauge Levi’s opinion of your punch, and you see what resembles a small, half-smile on his face.

Levi sighs and shakes his head, “Not quite. You’re twisting your arm as you deliver the punch. You want your arm and shoulder to follow directly behind wherever your fist is landing. If you are moving to break someone’s nose, you want it all to be in a straight line.”

He demonstrates a quick punch in front of you, and you can see the line he’s talking about from his fist, through his arm to his shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to focus as you once again square up with Levi. You hone in on his nose, and in a flash, your fist flies out in front of you.

It surprises both of you when your fist makes contact with his jaw, and there is a clack as Levi’s teeth clamp down together in pain. Your (colored) eyes are wide as Levi takes a step back, one of his hands coming up to cup his cheek.

Your fist is still hanging in the air from where you just punched him in the face and panic sets in as you realize you just punched him. “Oh-oh my gosh, Levi, I’m so sorry!” the words come rushing out of your mouth, and you take a step forward with your hands covering your face.

There is a slight grimace on Levi’s as he works his jaw up and down to dissipate any pain. He lets out a quiet snort and utters, “That’s more like it, even if your aim was a little off.”

Worry is etched across your features as you take in the growing red mark on Levi’s cheek. “Levi, I am so sorry, please let me take care of that,” you plead as you move around the side of him to get a better look at it in the light. Levi just brushes you off, waving his hand dismissively, “It’s alright, I’ve had much worse.”

You sigh and mumble, “I believe that but that doesn’t mean you need to suffer now. Please, Levi, let me at least get some ice for you so it doesn’t bruise as badly.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as he unwraps his hands, quiet and calculating. A moment passes but then he gives you a small nod, leaning down to pick up the extra wraps he brought, and motions for you to lead the way.

It’s a quiet walk back to the barracks, with only the snow crunching underfoot. You keep an eye on your surroundings, noting the guards just coming back from patrol in the forest, and the next rotation of trainees leaving to watch the castle walls.

Before you know it, the two of you are sliding into the small medicine room at the entrance to the barracks, and you grab a soft cloth and a stool. You have Levi sit on the stool while you run back outside, scooping up some of the fresher, cleaner-looking snow from outside the building.

Ducking back inside, you press the snow down into a ball inside the cloth, wrapping it until it is softly padded. You give Levi a small smile as you offer the rag to him, and he quietly grunts in thanks, bringing the cooled wrap up to his face and laying it on his cheek.

You rock back and forth on your heels a few times before asking, “So, uh, what are we going to practice next?” Levi looks up at you through his dark lashes, his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. He’s quiet, which is something you’ve come to notice about him.

Levi never seems to have a lot to say, and only really talks when spoken to. Your thoughts are interrupted when he mutters, “You still need to work on your hand-to-hand combat skills, your aim is off.”

He shuffles the ice on his face a little bit, a soft hiss sliding through his gritted teeth. Your brows furrow and you reach out, moving to pull the ice from his face to see what his cheek looks like.

While you’re busy looking at the slight purple and pink marks blooming on his cheek, Levi is looking at you. He hasn’t spent much time with you in such close proximity, as he typically kept you at arm’s length.

But up close… you were pretty. He should expect that- you are a princess after all. But there’s a certain natural aura that he never noticed before, a sort of kindness written into your features. Maybe it was the way your (colored) orbs flickered from one dark spot on his jaw back to his eyes to see if he was okay.

Maybe it was the gentleness in your touch as you pulled his hand down from his face so you could look at it. It could have been the tenderness and honest sorrow in your voice when you apologized for hurting him.

Your hair, whilst messy from fighting, somehow suited you despite its frazzled appearance. The curve of your mouth when your lips were parted while thinking matched the ferocity you had when mad and the joy in your heart when you laughed.

Levi felt a wave of emotion run through him while you muttered to yourself how you needed to get better and train harder. It was intense, a feeling that shook him right to his core.

Was it… longing?

“When I was living on the street, alone,” he whispered, his voice so low and quiet you thought you were hearing things. You dialed in on Levi and the way his eyes were slightly glazed over as if he was in another world.

He pauses for a moment, swallows thickly, and then continues, “When I lived on the streets, there was this little girl I helped out. She was probably 7, maybe 8 years old. Didn’t have any family, no place to live. But I helped her.”

You are quiet as you listen to him, not wanting to upset him, you nod along. He glances up at you and starts again, “I would get her food, clean water, maybe even a place to sleep at night. In turn, she would find me medicine and bandages.”

Levi looks back down at the ground and his eyes flutter close as he mutters, “I was a sick kid, but she helped me when I needed her. I wonder where she ended up some days, and if she’s still as kind as she was to me.”

You shift your weight slowly, crossing your arms over your chest, and mumble back, “I can imagine she’s helping people, a good heart is a good heart. No amount of wounds and scarring will stop someone’s true nature.”

Suddenly, as if a flip switches in his mind, Levi’s eyes snap open and a hardened look covers his face. He stands up, slamming the snow-filled cloth down on the table and he practically snarls, “You would have no idea, all you’re used to is a protected life within these walls. You’ve never experienced what it’s like to live every day not knowing whether or not you’re going hungry.”

He lunges towards the door, pauses for a second, and spits over his shoulder, “Not everyone is as privileged as you, princess.” The words are as cold as ice, and you feel like your head has just been plunged into a bucket of water.

Hurt washes over you as you watch him disappear deep into the barracks, and you slam the door shut as you collapse onto the stool where he was just sitting. A sob tears itself from your throat before you can stop it, and you wonder why you’re crying.

Is it because his words are true? Is it because he was vulnerable with you? Or was it because you were starting to consider him a friend, and he only saw you as a pawn in the overall game of royal hierarchy?

---

A few days have tensely come and gone, and you and Levi haven’t spoken to each other since his outburst. You had buried yourself deep into studying, you figured that way you could stay out of his way and better yourself while doing so.

You hadn’t bothered practicing while being nose-deep in your books, and Annie and Pieck had started to notice. They had seen the dejected look on your face when you made it back to your room that night and how you shut the door without another word, locking them out.

They didn’t bother asking what was wrong when they saw Levi practicing with the other trainees and not with you. So, instead, they guided you to and from lectures, meetings, and other royal duties without hesitation.

There was one day where the sun seemed to break through the sky a little clearer and Pieck decided you needed to get some fresh air. She was waiting outside of your room, knocking gently before she called, “Princess Y/n, come out! You need some fresh air and out of those books.”

You groan at the distant call of Pieck’s voice, but deep down you knew she was right. You set a small bookmark between the pages of the current novel you were reading and begrudgingly call back, “Give me a moment to change into something more suitable for outside!”

Pieck smiles as she hears you fumble around for a few minutes before she hears your door click unlocked and you appear beside her. Dressed in clothes more appropriate for the winter weather outside, there is a disgruntled look on your face that says you aren’t happy with her interrupting you.

She rolls her eyes and says, “Come on, you know this will do you some good. Annie is already down at the stables getting our horses ready. It’s a nice day out and we thought you might like to go for a ride.”

The strained look on your face shifts to one of easeful thanks as you and Pieck make your way down to the stables. From a distance, you could see Annie’s blonde hair peeking out from underneath her cape, and beside her were three of your favorite horses.

The first was Ramon, a deep cherry bay with a small white star on his forehead. He was an absolute sweetheart and enjoyed going out on the trails. The second was your favorite mare, named Vairon, who was a small white and black spotted Leopard Appaloosa. She was a little on the fiery side, but you really enjoyed her company.

The third was an old, kind stallion named Enfés. He was a dark, seal bay that could almost look black in the middle of winter. While his name literally meant “hell”, the blaze of white hairs on his face showed his older age and the kindness in his eye.

You give each of the horses a quick rub between their eyes before you look to your two guards and ask, “Who wants who?” Annie was already holding Enfés since she tacked him up last and she replies, “I can ride Enfés since I already have him.”

You nod and look to Pieck and she shrugs with a smile saying, “Pick whoever you want!” You smile back with a giggle and mumble, “Alright, I’ll ride Vairon, I haven’t ridden her in a while.” You move to grab the mare, carefully guiding her out of the tacking area and out into the snowy, grass field just outside.

The three of you mount your horses and set off towards the woods. There were hundreds of miles of trails around the castle that you enjoyed riding through. In the summer, you could gallop your horses down the paths and out onto the open moors without hesitation.

But now, in the middle of winter, you were limited in how fast you could travel. While it was a warmer day and the snow was melting, you still had to be cautious of the slick ice underneath the snow that could make your horse slip.

You take a deep breath through your nose, the cool air burning your airways with a slight sting that is refreshing. You let the air slide back out through your lips, the warmth from your breath instantaneously freezing. It momentarily blocks your vision, and when it clears, your stomach drops at the sight in front of you.

Bandits.

There were several hooded figures, too many for you to get an accurate count in the split second you realized they were in front of you. Pieck and Annie had caught sight of them too, motioning to quickly move to the side of the path. There were only three of you, and at least a dozen invaders.

You can feel a wave of nervousness wash over you as you try to draw your sword from your sheath. You glance back and forth between the figures closing in on you and the hilt of your sword, which was caught on your cloak.

Crap, crap, crap! Is all that is racing through your mind as you struggle to get a hold of your only weapon. A cry rips through the air as Annie moves to fend off the first round of attackers. In a desperate motion, you let go of your reins to grip the hilt of your sword with both hands.

With another strong tug, your sword comes loose, and just in time for an arrow to whiz through the air near you. Another pang of fear runs through you, and in a panic, you jump off of Vairon, the mare instantly turning and bolting as the sounds of battle rapidly approach.

You try to steady yourself and in your mind, thinking through your training with both Levi and Annie. Just as you get a grip on your surroundings, a dark figure appears in the corner of your vision with a blade directed at your head. You duck on instinct, sticking your foot out in a way you had seen Levi trip someone many times.

The bandit trips over your extended leg, falling to their knees as you advance behind them, kicking them in the back with your other leg. This seems to knock the air out of them, leaving the bandit out of commission for a moment while you glance to see how Annie and Pieck are doing.

“Pieck?” you call nervously when you don’t see her black locks of hair anywhere. “Pieck?!” you yell more loudly when you don’t get a response. In your moment of distraction, you don’t notice another bandit sneaking up on you, and your attention draws back to the invader you had already knocked to the ground.

Just as you move to attempt to knock the invader out, the second bandit attacks. You’re too slow when you finally realize they are there, and shock rips through your nervous system as a searing hot pain takes over your left arm. You cry out, your voice shredding at the coarseness of your yell, and it’s loud enough to catch Annie’s attention.

“Princess Y/n!” she shouts towards you, parrying blow after blow with three attackers on her at once. You don’t get a chance to respond when you hear a voice exclaim, “A princess? She’ll be worth a lot if we can capture her!”

“It’s a shame that won’t be happening today,” a low voice barks from someplace behind you. The second invader launches at you, holding the blade that had cut you up to your throat. A gasp of pain leaves your lips and the guy who had a hold of you grabs you by the shoulder and yells, “Quiet, princess! Or I will have your head.”

He turns to face the unidentified voice you had heard, and you shuffle along to avoid any more injury. You hear the voice again, and through your pain and blurry vision, you can start making out a figure.

This time you know who the baritone belongs to as it rings out, “I can’t allow that either.” Before you can comprehend it, Levi is off his horse and lunges toward the bandit. You see a slight flick of his sword, and then you feel the pressure of the blade on your neck disappear.

With a shaky glimpse toward the ground, you can see the bandit’s severed hand still holding the sword. A scream splits the air behind you as the harsh pain sets in for the bandit, who steps away from you and tries to run. Levi is faster though, and he spins around, slashing his dual blades again.

You close your eyes as you hear the bandit’s body hit the cold, hard dirt beneath him. Another wave of agony washes over you as you feel warmth start to seep down your arm, and a choked sob breaks through your lips.

Not a moment later, you can feel a hand placed on your non-injured arm, and through tears you didn’t know had, you can make out the shape of Levi’s face. You can see concern on his features as he asks, “Are you alright?”

You are shaking, your whole body quivering as you try to contain your emotions through the pain. You try to nod your head but another cry leaves you with a fresh set of tears streaming down your face.

“H- how did you find us?” you manage to stutter out as Levi drops his hand from your shoulder. He re-draws his secondary blade and replies, “I saw your horse, and then Pieck appeared a minute later and brought our patrol.”

Another screech rings through the air and he sharply looks away from you and calls out, “Wait here, get down and hide somewhere!” Then, he’s gone, heading to where the cry came from. You could see several of the bandits were fleeing, leaving their horses and weapons as they ran for their lives.

Levi and the rest of his patrol were finishing off the few that remained, with Annie and Pieck joining them. You were about to collapse to the ground when you caught sight of something glinting through the trees. After a moment of realization, you recognize it as the royal insignia on a soldier’s breastplate.

You stumble forward as you call out to the fallen soldier, “Hey! Are you okay?” You don’t get a response as you trip through the brush, eyes blurry with tears from the pain coursing through your body.

In an instant, your body seems to come alive as you recognize the soldier. Rico Barht, one of your father’s guards. Rico was gushing blood from his thigh, where a nasty arrowhead had dug itself into the flesh. His upper body was drenched in blood from slash wounds on his chest and arms, oozing onto the soil beneath the two of you.

“Oh my gosh, Rico!” you blurt out in recognition as you lunge forward, your hands coming up to cup his face. He was just barely breathing and his hazel-colored eyes were half-lidded, unfocused.

A sob escapes you and you exclaim again, “Rico, hold on,” you look around for a second and then yell, “I need help over here!” You turn to face Rico again, slightly shaking him as you try to get him to focus on you, “Rico, Rico, hey, it’s me, (Y/n). We’re going to get you all fixed up, okay?”

A weak garble comes from his lips and that’s when you see it - a clean slice through across his throat. You immediately move to put pressure on it, but your hands keep slipping from the blood that is rushing out of his jugular.

“No. No, Rico come on, no no no no,” you rush out as you see his eyes fix and dilate. The blood continues to flow from his neck, and then you feel him take a breath. Then, all is still.

You can hear the fading cries of the bandits, and the forest rustling before it’s silent again. Sobs wrack your body, ripping your throat apart from the inside out. You let the tears fall as you clutch tightly onto the fallen soldier, praying that his soul leaves this cruel and unkind world behind.

You are so distraught you don’t hear your name being called from where Levi had left you. “Princess Y/n?” the call comes, and then again, this time with more intensity, “Y/n?! Y/n, where are you?!” You can hear the panic growing in the voice, but there is no air left in your lungs to reply as another whimper leaves your lips.

The person calling for you hears your cry, rushing down the dirt path that you had taken to find Rico. “Y/n, there you a-”, the voice starts but then abruptly stops. You turn to face the oncomer, who through your fuzzy vision determines is Levi.

He turns back towards the group and orders, “I need medical supplies over here, now!” Levi places his hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you out of the way so he can help, but you don’t budge, “He’s already gone.”

You can’t say anymore, and you bring your hands up to try to wipe the tears away from your eyes. Instead, you end up smearing Rico’s blood all over your cheeks. You don’t seem to notice, but Levi does.

His silver gaze widens as he sees the blood coating your hands and he rushes, “You’re injured, we need to get you medical equipment now.” He turns over his shoulder and shouts again, “Where the hell is that med kit?!” When his eyes meet yours, you simply shake your head.

“It’s not mine,” you whisper, sniffling, “I tried to- I tried to save Rico. But I couldn’t…” your voice trails off as a fresh wave of tears washes over you. Levi doesn’t say anything for a moment, a look of sorrow and realization covering his bloodied features.

You hadn’t ever seen someone die before.

It wasn’t something Levi thought of often. Living on the streets, defending innocent lives, death was so common he didn’t think twice about it. But you? A princess who barely could fight, holding a soldier as he died? He couldn’t imagine what it was like.

The two of you are interrupted as Pieck appears behind Levi and states, “We don’t have any more med kits, the soldiers in critical condition have already been sent back to the palace.” Her gaze flits from Levi to you, to the body of Rico behind you.

She opens her mouth to call for help, but she catches the glint in Levi’s eyes, and she understands. Pieck swallows thickly and then says, “I’ll get some of the other guards to take care of this. You two should get back in case any of the bandits are lurking around.”

Levi nods in thanks before turning toward you and murmuring, “Let’s get you back to the castle.” You don’t say anything, finally quiet after exhausting yourself of tears. Levi offers his hand to you, the digits covered in blood and grime.

You don’t think twice, placing your own hand delicately in his, gripping on tight as you feel Rico’s blood press into Levi’s palm. He pulls you to your feet, steadying you before guiding you out of the brush and to where Annie had gathered your horses.

She was in good condition compared to you, only mildly dirty, and didn’t look injured. Her blue gaze meets Levi’s silver one, and they both give each other a nod of understanding. Without any words, Levi mounts his horse while Annie helps you onto Vairon, the mare slightly antsy from all the commotion.

Annie passes your reins to Levi, who says to you, “Just hold on, alright?” You sit deeper into your saddle, grabbing onto the horn before nodding to him.

The two of you set off for the castle, a harsh silence settling over the ride home. You couldn’t help replaying Rico’s death over and over again in your mind. The feeling of the blood spurting from his neck. The look in his eyes as he died. The way his chest stopped rising and falling and laid eternally still.

You don’t even realize that you’ve made it back to the palace until you see Levi standing next to your left stirrup, offering you a hand to get down. Time and space seem altered as you make your way from the stables back to your room, trying to avoid any and all eyes on you.

You were a sight to see: face and hands covered in blood, your jacket ripped and your arm bleeding, dirt covering your clothes, and a distant look in your eye.

Levi stops you just outside of your door, his gaze trying to peer into your own troubled (colored) one. For the first time, Levi can’t tell what you’re thinking, and in a way… it almost scares him.

“Y/n- ”, he starts but is stopped when you cut him off and robotically state, “Thank you,” and then disappear into your room without another word. The door clicks shut with a small gust of wind, leaving a disheveled Levi outside with a look of surprise on his face.

He stares at the door for a moment, wondering whether or not he should go after you or send someone to help, but then he thinks better of it and heads towards the king’s chambers to inform him of the raid.

---

It was the day following the bandit attack, and you had two guards following you on your heels. Bertholdt and Colt were both on edge, you could tell. You know they weren’t quite as experienced, and that they knew you had seen something… dark, yesterday.

The two of them don’t say a word, though, and follow quietly behind you as you make your way towards one of the sitting gardens within the palace. You had gotten cleaned up, your skin washed from any traces of blood and dirt, but you couldn’t help but feel like Rico’s blood coated your body.

You felt like red was covering you, smothering the fine lace of your light blue dress. But it wasn’t. So you kept quiet and walked, trying to clear the encroaching feelings and thoughts from your mind and body.

You find yourself slowing near a white rose bush, and you gaze upon the seemingly perfect flowers for a moment before muttering, “Isn’t it funny how this flower can grow so perfectly? Can live a life so pure?”

Colt and Bertholt stop behind you, giving each other inquisitive looks but not answering you. You don’t give them a moment to speak as you continue, “These flowers can stay here, in this garden, safe from the freezing temperature of the winter outside. They don’t ever have to die because they are safe, protected here.”

You turn to face your guards, a far-off, distant look in your eye as you mumble, “They don’t ever have to experience death, only the rebirth of new life.” A tear falls quickly from your eye, sliding down your cheek and onto the ground next to your heel-clad shoe.

Without another word, you turn on your heel and continue through the garden, solemn. 

Your day is slow, and you can’t battle the thoughts that seem to torture you every waking moment. The moment you are released from your duties for the day, you set your sights on a glow in the middle of the darkness. The forge.

You hadn’t spent time in the smoked and charred room since Levi had taken you on as an apprentice. Typically you were so exhausted that you would just go to your room to clean up and fix up your armor and blades.

But tonight, you couldn’t stand looking at the walls in your room, or the pages of your favorite book that you could get so easily lost in. No, tonight, you needed to get out and get away from sitting and doing nothing.

So, you find yourself in the corner of the forge near the hearth, quietly stoking the fire, lost in thought. You thought about trying to find a blade to sharpen, or some armor that needed polished, but your feet seemed glued to the dirt floor next to the growing flames.

Deep marigold mixed with tawny and carmine, forming an intricate dance as you scoped the flames, looking for something. Maybe it was so that you could catch a sight of the soft sapphire and indigo licks that seeped in and out of the rusty haze. Maybe it was so that you could leave the thoughts of the bloody bandits out of your mind. Maybe you just wanted to forget the sting on your arm as your heart shattered while Rico’s life slipped away from your fingers.

Or maybe it was to forget the relief you felt when Levi’s gaze found you in your utter panic. The peace that streamlined through your body when you could see concern etched on his features. The comfort you found when he placed his hand on your arm, asking if you were alright.

You shut your eyes as the thoughts berated you, one after the other. You could hardly stand them, all you wanted was one moment of silence from your mind. In the haze of your head, you don’t notice the lithe figure that slips into the forge room behind you.

The figure catches sight of you curled up next to the hearth, sitting on the dirt. You were wearing what he could only imagine was an expensive, imported dress, but here you were, sitting on the floor. Dust and ash lay on your lap and the edge of your hem, but it didn’t seem to bother you one bit.

Levi set his gear down as quietly as he could on the table near the door, mentally battling with himself on whether he should leave or not. Just as he takes a step back, the fire cracks, breaking your train of thought, and the angle of your gaze changes to catch him red-handed.

Levi could curse under his breath, but he stayed silent before dropping into a respectful bow and murmuring, “Princess.” Your (colored) orbs are tinted copper in the light of the forge, but they widen as they recognize who was before you.

In a moment, you try to scramble to your feet, but Levi cuts in, “No, no, please, stay where you are. I was going to clean my gear, but I can find somewhere else.” He straightens up from his bow, his gloved hand reaching for his gear before he hears your voice.

“Please stay,” your voice practically croaks out, “Please?” The pain in your voice immediately catches Levi’s attention, and he can feel his resolve crumbling when he sees the wet glimmer in your eyes. He drops his hand from his gear, instead plucking his leather gloves off and removing the rest of his bulky gear.

Levi makes his way over to you, feeling your searing gaze on his every movement. He chooses to sit on the opposite side of the hearth from you, giving him a good look at your tear-stained cheeks. The clear look of distress tugs on his heartstrings in a way that confuses him.

What was that for? He’s just here to make sure you’re okay. You’re here all alone with no one to protect you. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. He clears his throat, pushing the thoughts away as he asks, “Are you alright, princess?” You roll your eyes and sniffle, uttering, “Please just call me Y/n. And-” you pause, rubbing at your nose before sighing, “I don’t know.”

You can feel Levi’s watchful gaze on you, but you choose to gaze deeper and deeper into the flames. It’s silent between the two of you, and you think that you might have said something wrong. Levi blinks slowly, thoughtfully, and then replies, “It’s okay, you know.”

This catches your attention, and you turn your cheek toward him, catching sight of the meaning of his silver gaze. He continues, “It’s okay, to feel the way you feel. It’s not an easy thing to deal with.”

You want to brush him off and defend the soft and broken part of your heart, but you realize that Levi saw straight through your uncertainty. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Levi cocks his head slightly, his gaze burning into you like the heat wafting into your sides from the fire.

You swallow thickly, a dry and humorless chuckle falling from your lips as you manage, “It’s such a natural thing, yet all I can do is replay that moment over and over again, wishing there was something else I could do to save him.” “There wasn’t,” the instant reply comes.

Levi hadn’t taken his eyes off of you once, and you meet his gaze with a furrow in your brow as you fight off an incoming wave of sadness. “There wasn’t,” he repeats, softer this time, “That soldier was lucky to have you in his last moments, Y/n. At his end, he knew nothing else other than someone cared for his life.”

He finally tears his eyes away and he mutters, “And that can mean a lot to someone.” You take in Levi’s appearance at that moment. This… interesting, to say the least, soldier, sitting on the ground with a crying princess, talking about death. It was almost funny, the way it seemed like everything to you, but just another burden to carry for him.

In a bold move, you reach forward, your fingers gently resting on top of his own hand as you question, “How do you deal with death, Levi?” You shuffle your feet ever so slightly to get more comfortable, waiting for him to pull away at any moment.

Instead, he flips his hand over so that your digits rest in his palm, and looking at your hands he replies, “I remember them.” He glances up at you through his darkened lashes and when he sees the confused look on your face he elaborates, “When they were normal, healthy, alive. I remember whenever they smiled or laughed. When they weren’t sick or dying.”

You nod delicately, taking in the deep timbre of his voice and the emotion that it carries. You reply, “But what if I don’t have those memories? I only saw Rico in passing a handful of times, I barely knew his name.”

Levi squeezes your hand and states, “You carry on with your life, living for him. Enjoying each moment so that his life doesn’t go to waste.” You give the dark-haired male a saddened smile and nod, squeezing his hand back when your voice seems to fail.

Thank you.

---

The chill of winter slides away with the onset of a warming spring, and things have been becoming more normal. You and Levi finally resumed training once you seemed to cope with the loss of Rico.

You were behind, yes, but doing everything in your power to catch up but with one major caveat. Your 18th birthday was just around the corner. Your days were full of meetings, ballroom preparations, lessons, training, and sword practice. There had hardly been any downtime to relax or breathe, and everything was slowly becoming overwhelming,

Levi was accommodating though, with practices starting later and later in the evening. You had started to learn and understand this raven-haired boy better, with his insomniac-like tendencies, and his peculiar and dry sense of humor.

You liked spending time with him.

To your benefit, Levi was a surprisingly good teacher, and even though most nights you were tired and fed up, Levi could handle your banter. He had a sharp tongue, which kept your focus on getting better, but he was never too harsh.

Whenever he was unable to help you, Annie or Pieck picked up the slack to be your punching bag or let you try out a new combination on them. But with months of training under your belt, you were becoming an increasingly lethal opponent.

One evening you were getting ready to head down to the training yard to practice with Levi, fixing your gauntlets and securing your sword as you rushed to get ready. It was the night before your 18th birthday, and your mother insisted on planning a huge ball for your coming of age.

Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit, there was a knock on your door. Latching onto the handle, you open it to see Levi, who always comes by your room before practice. There was one glaring difference that caught your eye, shock covering your features as your gaze took him in. 

He typically donned his plain, smooth metal practice gear when training with you, but instead, Levi was covered in new, glimmering plates of intricate armor. The smooth breastplate that once was blank and had no symbol, was now textured metal lined with gold and donned the royal insignia on it. His expression was no different than normal, he just wore his usual, stoic frown.

Your eyes widen at the realization of his upgraded armor and you can’t help the words that burst from your mouth, “You’ve made it into the guard?!” It comes out as an almost-shout, which catches Levi’s attention.

His silvery gaze widens ever-so-slightly at your realization, and he shuffles on his feet before he gives you a slow nod. He straightens up for a moment before motioning to the hallway outside of your room and replies, “Let’s go for a walk, princess.”

Your mouth is still parted open in surprise, and your hands have come to interlock in front of your chest, but you do as he requests and move to walk side-by-side with him down the hallway. Your footsteps fall in sync out of habit and you gasp at him again and say, “I didn’t know you were getting knighted today, you should have told me!”

The new knight just shrugs as if it made no difference to him, folding his arms behind his back in thought. He briefly looked to the ground and his black locks moved to fall over his angled cheekbones.

You playfully hip-bump him lightly, trying to reinforce your point. On the rare occasion he wasn’t paying attention, or he was just letting you think that, he stumbles forward a little bit. His arms come down to rest at his sides again and he looks over at you, slightly offended.

Giggles fall from your lips at his reaction and you chuckle out, “I’m serious! That's such a huge deal and you've only been here for a few months.” A soft, barely noticeable flush covers Levi’s cheeks, and he’s thankful that you don’t seem to see it.

He looks directly in front of you two and replies, “I’m doing my best to protect the kingdom.” You scoff and roll your eyes before retorting, “Puh-lease, you do your own thing without regard for anyone. That’s how you are, Levi.”

Levi’s eyes narrow as he turns to face you and just as he opens his mouth to respond you cut in, “I don’t even know if I can count your friends on the one hand.” You give him a look that says, “You know I’m right,” and he just rolls his eyes and groans, “It’s not like you’re much better, you only hang out with your guards and your maids.”

The playful banter between the two of you continues as you walk the cascading hallways of the castle. The intricate paintings hanging on the walls start to catch the rays of the glowing candlelight and the setting sun.

Before you know it, Levi is steering you into one of the courtyards - Josephina’s Garden Hall. You smile softly at the fond memory of your first-ever training session in this very garden. As you look around, there is not a single person around.

The thought crosses your mind that people are preparing for your birthday, which is just around the corner. Your mother was practically bursting at the seams to host a ball in the largest ballroom of the castle, so all energy was put towards the festivities.

Of course, there were still guards and knights littering the perimeter, but there were fewer stationed around unoccupied areas to focus on decorating or protecting the exterior of the castle.

Levi pulls ahead of you by just a stride, heading toward one of the walls that is adjacent to one of your favorite rose gardens. One of the bushes is coated in giant red blooms, and just as you are about to say how beautiful they are, Levi reaches for something behind one of the flowers.

“What are you-” you start but are interrupted when you catch sight of what he was grabbing. It was a brand new, dark leather sheath with a sword in it. A sheath with your initials on it.

You quickly glance from Levi to the sheathed blade and back again. He returns your gaze with a strange intensity you’ve only ever seen once from him, and it makes you want to almost squirm. It felt like he was seeing through and into you, and it made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you never experienced.

“Happy birthday, princess,” Levi whispers, handing you the darkened leather. Your lips are parted in complete surprise as you accept it from him, your eyes raking over the intricacy of the stitching of your initials.

You don’t waste another moment before grabbing onto the hilt of the sword, drawing it firmly out of the sheath. The last of the sun’s rays catch the unmarked length of the blade, making it glow like an ember burning in the hottest of fires.

Your mouth had fallen open in true admiration and shock at this point, and you turned to Levi in complete wonder and appreciation. You swallow thickly and stutter out, “I, I can’t accept this, Levi,” dropping the sword back into the sheath and offering it back to him.

The dark-haired man simply shakes his head and states, “You deserve that blade, princess. You’ve worked very hard, and while you still have a lot to learn, you need more than a wooden practice sword or dull blade to protect yourself.”

You can’t help the huge smile that rushes to your face, and a wave of excitement takes over you. In a split second, you lunge forward toward Levi, crushing him into a huge hug.

He once again isn’t fast enough to react, and he’d never admit it, but he was enraptured at the sight of you: your hair falling perfectly around your face, the light of the sun reflecting the pure joy in your eyes, the strength you exuded as you held your new blade… you were stunning.

Levi struggles against you for a second, afraid someone would think he was taking advantage of you, alone like this, but after a moment, softens into your embrace and slowly pats you on the back.

You pull away from the hug as a stray tear runs down your cheek. You sniffle as you let out an embarrassed laugh, wiping at the tear as you gush, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to get so emotional. This is such a beautiful gift, Levi. I don’t even know how to properly thank you.”

Levi lets a hint of a smile rest on his lips, and his eyebrows softening ever so slightly as he murmurs, “You don’t need to thank me for anything. I should be thanking you for giving me a place here at the palace, and I apologize for being so rude when I first arrived.”

You wave your hand dismissively at him before laughing, “It’s alright, you were the first and only person to openly challenge me like that, and I needed that reality check.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment, close to one another but not quite touching. You shuffle and glance at your feet and at your hand holding your new blade. You mumble, “There’s something I want to ask you, Levi.”

He quirks an eyebrow in interest at your sudden shift in tone but he motions for you to go on with a gentle nod. You sigh before a saddened smile covers your face, the dying rays of the sun just catching the last of your drying tears.

“Annie is leaving the guard after my birthday celebration is over,” you explain, “She wants to live a life with her father in the country, and the king has arranged for her to leave. That leaves a gap in my defense, and while I’m much more capable of defending myself, I’m missing a knight-” “I’ll do it.”

Levi’s voice comes out soft and low, and it catches you off guard at how much emotion it seems to hold. “I’ll join your personal guard if that is what you wish, princess. Just say the word and that will be my next mission in life.”

You blink up at him, your smile shifting from one of sadness to one of thanks, “Please, would you join my personal guard?” Levi bows to you and utters quietly under his breath, so quiet you don’t hear him, “As you wish.”

When he stands up straight, you give him a slight bow and the two of you stop for a moment, silently regarding the other. A moment passes and you give him an almost cheeky smile before turning away, and without hesitation, Levi follows you.

---

You see, that was the start of a beautiful friendship between you and the dark-haired man. It was built on long days of sparring, bickering, and slowly but surely, tolerating each other. On the day of your 18th birthday, Levi was appointed to your guard and soon began taking his patrols with Pieck, swapping in and out with Porco, Reiner, and the other guards who had also recently been knighted.

Now officially a knight, it was harder to get training practices in, but whenever it was his shift to watch over you, the two of you found yourselves in the training grounds. The training sessions continued for months, your sword skills becoming more and more refined.

Before you knew it, a year or two seemed to slip by like the finest silk, and your friendship with Levi bloomed into something tried, true, and trustworthy. He was always there when you needed him to be, a reliable soldier and a trusted friend.

You weren’t blind to how the two of you grew up, Levi got slightly taller and thicker with muscle. No matter the day, he always, always, always got stronger. You, on the other hand, became more elegant and stronger in your own ways. You became physically stronger, yes, but you found your voice and learned how to rule and talk to your subjects while remaining kind as you always had been.

Over time, Levi had learned your ways rather quickly. The time you woke up. How long it took you to roll out of bed. Just how you liked your morning coffee or tea. It seemed so domestic every morning whenever he’d knock on your door to see if you were awake or not. 

A fondness developed between the two of you for those easy morning conversations, not that either of you would admit it. While the two of you constantly bickered and playfully argued, Levi saw through the facade and to the sweet and tender side of you.

It was moments when you would kindly thank your maids, or encourage your younger siblings. He saw the way you treated the guests who would visit from overseas, and he found a deep respect for you.

And although you had many personal guards, Levi ended up being the one that stuck by you the most often, often by your parent's wishes. With Levi in the guard and not out protecting the towns surrounding the palace, crime rates had increased. And so, the king and queen wanted you to be the safest you could, with the best protection around.

---

On a cool winter morning, with snow glistening on the windowsill, you had just gotten dressed and were preparing for a meeting with your parents. They had found someone they thought would be a lovely suitor for you, as you were now old enough to be betrothed to someone of equally high status.

A soft knock on your door catches your attention, and you fumble with your earrings as you call, “Just a moment!” But the door opens anyway, and in comes Levi, a scowl covering his face.

Yet when his eyes land on you, fixing your earring in a slight panic, his eyes soften and he mutters, “It’s just me, relax.”

His silvery eyes seem to linger, though. They take in the gentle curve of your cheek dusted with blush, then fixate on the necklace hanging around your neck.

Levi is no fool. He has come to know you over the years, and he knows you are one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. Of course you were, you’re a princess.

He has to shake his head slightly to clear his thoughts before he coughs once to clear his throat. Levi glances up at you and states, “It’s almost time for your meeting with the king and queen, Y/n.”

You give him a warm smile and ask, “Walk with me?” Levi offers you his arm in his classic fashion, and you take hold of his arm like you always did.

Levi guides you out of your room and down the familiar hallway. The arches were cast in a soft, ethereal glow, the snow from the courtyard reflecting the light brightly. Your steps land in sync and quietly echo as the two of you silently move toward the meeting halls.

You sigh and glance down at the floor as you mumble, “I don’t know if I’m ready for this, Levi. My parents have spent so long trying to find me a suitor, but I’ve disliked all of them. I’m afraid they’re running out of patience, or that I’m not worthy to be a good wife.”

Levi stops in his tracks at your words, a bored and stern look on his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand before running it through his black locks and saying, “Are you kidding me, Y/n? You are a beautiful, strong, and intelligent princess. You are practically the epitome of a queen and wife, and if anything, I think you scare a lot of your suitors off because of that.”

Surprise floods over you, and the words of praise coming from Levi seem to float around in your mind. Beautiful? Strong? Smart? He thinks I’m beautiful?

But Levi doesn’t give you any more time to think. He continues walking, dragging you along as he finishes, “Just because you haven’t found the right man for you yet, doesn’t mean that you won’t find him. He might be the most surprising person you’ll ever meet.”

You stay quiet at that, walking silently next to your knight and trying to process his words. And before you know it, you have made it to the meeting room where you knew your parents and a suitor would be waiting.

Levi slowly releases your grip, letting his hand slide down your arm before grasping your palm. He gives your hand a gentle and encouraging squeeze before releasing it, and walking up to the large door.

He hits the knocker three times to signal your arrival, and just a moment later two butlers open the door from the inside, ushering the two of you in.

Just as you expected, your mother and father were sitting at the head of the table, and at your entrance into the room, all eyes were set on you and Levi. You are dressed to perfection, regarding the room with elegance and grace, taking in the setup and the profile of the room and the suitor.

The tall, blonde gentleman stands up and bows before you can speak and states, “Good morning, princess.”

You swallow deeply and smile as you curtesy and reply, “Good morning, sir.” You take your seat next to your mother, and you can feel Levi’s steps stiffen as he walks behind you, pulls your chair out for you, and gets you settled in.

He ends up standing a chair or two down in the corner of the room, watching and waiting as he was trained. Your eyes flash towards your parents in a sweet greeting before you take in the appearance of the suitor.

The man was tall. Very tall. He had longer blonde hair and just a small bit of facial hair. He wore very fine clothing, embroidered with intricate details, and obviously fitted by a professional tailor.

The potential suitor bows again and states, “I appreciate your time this morning, Princess Y/n, my name is Viscount Miche Zacharius.”

At the sound of his name, you could hear Levi’s blade scraping against the wall ever so slightly. You shoot him a concerned glance, but all you can see is a hardened look on Levi’s face.

He looked… mad?

You turn back to Miche, and with a practiced smile you reply, “It’s wonderful to meet with you this morning, my lord.” The blonde smiles in response, and before he can speak again, the king cuts in, “Tell us about your kingdom, Miche. Y/n would love to hear about your homeland.”

Your teeth grit together as your father speaks for you, but you keep the practiced smile plastered on your face as you watch Miche chuckle slightly nervously, but he nods. 

Seconds fade into minutes, and minutes lead onto an hour as Miche, your father, mother, and occasionally you, make conversation. You could tell Miche was a nice man with good morals, but there was something lacking in the conversation that kept you jumping for joy.

However, your mother and father thought the two of you kicked things off well, even considering the fact they hardly let you talk to the man. Your mother was so enthralled with the idea of you and Miche that she suggested a ball to be hosted for the two of you to get to know one another better - an offer your father couldn’t refuse. And neither could you.

“What a grand idea!” Miche exclaims, standing up to shake your father’s hand, “Do let me know of the details as soon as you get it planned.” He then turns to you, excitedly and says, softer, “I do hope you’ll save me some spaces on your dance card, princess.”

You giggle uncertainly and reply, “Of course, my lord.” At that, Miche takes your hand, gently, and presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles before giving you a bow and leaving the room, your father a pace behind him.

Your mother is practically swooning at how sweet the man seems to be, but you are quite taken aback by his forwardness. You hear metal scrape against the wall again, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see a firm frown etched on Levi’s features.

He was pissed.

The walk back to your room is quiet and tense, with no words passing between the two of you. You could have practically screamed in frustration when your door finally latched closed and it was just you and Levi on the other side.

“Who does he think he is?!” you immediately lament, whipping around the face of Levi, who’s already rubbing at his face in frustration. In response, he just groans, “I think he’s the most bold one yet. You have to dance with that guy?”

You pause and look Levi in the eye before groaning, flopping down onto your bed like a little girl. Levi folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, “At least he’s polite?” You harshly look over at him, a pout on your lips. 

“He’s like talking to a tree that never became a book. He just kept growing,” you manage to mumble around the sheets of your bed. Levi scoffs at your words before leaning back against the door and snaps back, “The guy sure is full of himself. No wonder it’s taken him this long to find a wife.”

You feel a pang run through you and you sit up from your bed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ve been looking for a suitor for a while too, Levi. Hopefully, I’m not full of myself. Or not too picky.” Your hands find themselves carding together as you look down at them, and you miss the dark-haired knight’s expression change.

The furrow in his brow softens and he pushes off the wall to stand in front of you. He takes a breath as he stops in front of you and starts, “Y/n, I-” But you beat him to it, “What if I never find love, Levi?” You look up to meet his silver gaze at that moment, tears darkening your lashes.

Levi sighs, letting the air flow freely out of his nose as he sits down next to you on your bed, quiet. Then, he meets your gaze once again and he murmurs, “You will, Y/n/n. You will.”

You smile sadly at him, and he reaches his hand toward your face to tuck an unruly piece of hair out of your face. Just before his hand can make contact with your skin, there is a knock at the door. 

The moment is gone in a flash, and Levi quickly moves to stand post by the doors to your balcony and you wipe under your eyes. You guiltily look at Levi, who has gone back to his classic stoic look, staring straight ahead.

Another pang of guilt runs through you as you tear your eyes away from his frame, instead focusing on the person on the other side of your door. You take a breath and then call, “Come in!” Then, a head of blonde hair appears and you recognize the guard as Reiner.

“I was told I might find you here,” he says with a bow, “I was sent to relieve Levi from duty for a little while.” Reiner props the door open a little further before stepping into the room, and Levi turns to regard his fellow soldier with a respectful nod.

Before he leaves the room, the dark-haired man faces you and gives you a bow with a simple, “Good day, princess.” Before you know it, he’s gone, and it’s just you and Reiner left in the silence of the room.

---

Over the next couple of days, you didn’t see much of Levi. You thought it slightly odd, but you figured he was on a personal quest for your father or taking some personal days. Eventually, when you were trying to find him so you could spar a little, he couldn’t be found anywhere.

You stopped a maid who had brought fresh linens for your bed and asked, “Have you seen a short, dark-haired knight recently? He goes by the name Levi, I haven’t seen him in a while.” The maid pauses in thought and then replies, “I do think I recall a dark-haired soldier turning up in the infirmary a few days ago. I can check to see if that is who you are talking about.”

You shake your head and quip, “There will be no need for that, I will make my way there now.” Without another moment’s notice, you turn and slide out of your room, (colored) gaze set on finding the infirmary.

Typically, you didn’t spend much time in the infirmary because you were royalty and you had your own personal staff. However, you occasionally would pick up small supplies after training if you had a small cut or brush burn from the grass.

It was fairly quiet as you slipped into the entrance of the sick bay, with no doctors or nurses in sight. You take a deep breath as you peer around the few rooms that make up the infirmary, making your way as silently as you can so as to not disturb anyone resting.

Just as you make it to the last room, you can hear coughing on the other side. You just barely peer through the door when you catch sight of a familiar black head of hair. Levi.

You push the door open and remark, “I wondered where you disappeared to, soldier.” Levi’s head immediately snaps up to take in your frame entering his small room. He opens his mouth to answer you, but another coughing fit overtakes him.

You rush next to his side, finding a small cup of water on his bedside table. You offer him the cup, watching him soothe his irritated throat with a frown before handing the water back to you.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he grumbles out lowly, trying to avoid sputtering again. A giggle slides through your lips before you can stop it, and you bring a hand up to cover your smile when you catch sight of Levi’s annoyed gaze. It only makes you giggle harder, and you can see his displeased look ease a little at your laughter.

As you calm down, you manage to take a breath and smirk, “It looks like you’re sick to me, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just rolls his eyes, his hands fiddling with the blanket on his lap to pull it up higher on his waist.

“It’s nothing,” he grumbles out again, “The king and queen forced me to come down here so I can “recover as fast as possible” or something.” You nod knowingly with a gentle smile on your face, saying, “I can imagine they only had the best intentions and wanted to see you well before the suitor’s ball tonight.”

He groans and rubs at his flushed face with one hand and mumbles through his night shirt’s sleeve, “Don’t remind me about that. I think standing there watching everyone dance and act so cheerful would kill me faster than any blade would.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at your best friend replying, “You are so dramatic!” But then a moment passes and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear saying, “Actually, you’re probably right. My mother is going to have me hanging on every man’s arm within a thousand miles tonight.”

This time, Levi is the one to just barely crack a smile and he shrugs, “Who knows, you might actually enjoy the ball. There will be no lack of eligible suitors, and I can’t imagine all of them are complete imbeciles.”

His words get you to giggle again, and you nod along in agreement, your eyes trailing toward the clock on the wall. As the time on the clock registers in your mind, panic starts to set in and you scramble to your feet muttering, “Crap, crap, crap!”

Levi’s gaze follows yours and he realizes it too: you’re late for getting ready! You glance apologetically at Levi, who goes to swallow and then starts sputtering with more coughs.

He waves you off and manages to squawk out, “Go have fun, tell me all about it later.” You give him a grateful smile and over your shoulder you call out, “I will! Please try to feel better and get some rest!”

With one last glance over your shoulder, you set off toward your room to get ready for the ball. Your maids about mauled you when they finally managed to wrangle you into your ballgown and start to get you presentable for the public.

Since Levi was out sick, Reiner and Porco were assigned to watch over you for the evening. They follow closely as you make your way to the ballroom, greeting guests pleasantly and making your way to the heart of the festivities.

While the ballroom was decorated magnificently, the entire atmosphere felt slightly disappointing and moderate. There were many suitors around, none of which seemed to interest you. In the distance, you could see Miche talking with another tall blonde male, but you ducked behind a waiter to make your move toward the king and queen.

Your parents were talking with lords about their investments and businesses, and all you managed to understand was that they wanted money from the royals. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes, but you stand quietly and listen to the conversation come to a close.

Your mother turns to you, excitement written on her features as she hands you a piece of paper saying, “Here is your dancing card, dear! I’ve already done you the liberty of picking out which suitors to dance with based on their resumes. Have fun!”

She wraps the filled-out dancing card around your wrist, tying it neatly before giving you a giddy smile and pushing you toward the man whose name is first on the list. Miche Zacharius.

You groan internally as you make your way over to the tall man, who grows visibly interested as you break into his peripheral. He excuses himself from his conversation, bowing in front of you when he sees you stop in from of him.

“Princess Y/n,” he says, straightening up and catching the lustrious light in your eyes. You give him a shallow curtsey and reply, “Lord Miche, how lovely to see you this evening.” In the back of your head, you couldn’t help but wish you were anywhere else at this very moment.

Miche tips his head toward you and shrugs, “I think it is I who am the lucky one to be in your presence.” And as if on cue, the orchestra starts playing the next song, a waltz, to which Miche offers you his hand with a, “May I have this dance?” 

You give him a tight-lipped smile and place your gloved hand in his own, allowing the tall blonde to escort you to the empty dance floor. He begins to move the two of you around the dance floor, carefully swinging you through the other couples who start dancing around you.

Miche smiles down at you and asks, “If I may ask, princess, how many children would you like to have one day?” It feels like the air is sucked out of your lungs as you give him a polite smile and respond, “Sorry, I’m trying to count my steps, perhaps we can discuss this later?”

He has the liberty to keep his mouth shut during the first dance, but once the two of you take a break and you look at your dance card, you can see your mother has booked him for the next four dances.

During those dances, Miche asks you too many questions, to which you politely respond. You tried to sound not too interested but also not too dry, simply polite. You were praying for when the fifth song would end, and you don’t think it could come soon enough.

The whole point of the ball was aggravating to you, and you couldn’t help but hate the evening as you were twirled from lord to lord. You wanted to slip out unnoticed, find a pint of wine or something of the like, and complain about all of it to Levi.

However, you manage to stick it out through the night, engaging in pointless conversation and dancing until you are about to roll your ankles. As the night wrapped up and your dancing card was completed, you scanned the crowd, your eyes landing on Porco and Reiner, who seemed to be arguing about which lady in waiting was the prettiest.

You scoff at the two knights, but with them distracted, it gives you the perfect opportunity to slip away. You take one more scan of the room before slowly backing out of one of the doorways. With no one’s eyes on you, you disappear from the ball without a trace.

You had your eyes set on one thing - go check on Levi and tell him about your endeavors that night. You weren’t able to find a bottle of wine to easily sneak out, but you did find a small plate of cheese that you grabbed on your way to the infirmary.

As you make your way back to Levi’s sick room, you can hear the sound of metal scraping. You raise an eyebrow at the noise, and as you poke your head into the small room, you can see the source.

There’s Levi, sharpening his blade in the middle of the night. You sigh and bring your hand up to knock on the wall to alert him of your arrival. His head snaps up quickly from his sword to your figure at his door, his body going tense in a moment.

When he realizes it's you, you can see him relax, but his gaze remains on you, fixed. You can’t quite place the look on his face, his eyes are wide and locked onto you, completely frozen. You duck under the sudden intensity in his gaze, murmuring, “I brought you some cheese from the ball.”

You walk into the room, the ruffles on the edge of your skirt rustling as you place the plate next to his water on the nightstand by his bed. Levi’s silver gaze follows your every movement, no words escaping him. You sit down in the chair next to his bed, grab a small piece of cheese, and pop it into your mouth with a huff.

You glance over to see Levi still staring at you while you chew, and suddenly you feel hot under his watchful gaze. You look down for a second and swallow before asking, “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A moment passes as you wait for his response, and it gives you a second to take in his condition. His usually pale cheeks were painted pink with a gentle flush and his skin was slightly shiny from sweat. He must have a bit of a fever, you think to yourself.

Levi swallows thickly as he looks at you, his mouth opening and closing once or twice with no words leaving them. Mistakenly, you think he can’t answer because his throat hurts and he needs water, so you burst out, “Let me get you something to drink!”

Your hand reaches to grab his cup of water, which seems to be empty. In a flash, Levi’s hand has wrapped around your wrist, his silver eyes never leaving your face. The quick movement startles you, which makes you drop the cup, a small amount of water falling onto the floor.

Levi’s sword clatters to the ground, which makes you flinch in surprise. You glance from the water pooling near your feet to the sword that landed on the opposite side of the bed and back to Levi. 

Your mouth parts open in a stammer as you start, “Sorry, let me, uhm… let me grab a towel to clean this-” “You look beautiful,” he cuts in lowly. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his comment, the words slowly registering in your head.

Once they do, you can feel butterflies erupt in your belly and you glance away from the dark-haired knight and roll your eyes playfully. “Oh hush, you’re just seeing things with your sickness.”

This seems to snap Levi out of his daze and he releases your wrist with a playful scoff of his own, “You wish, princess.” You smile at him, one that he knows is of thanks to his compliment. He clears his throat and questions, “How was the ball? It must not have been great if you are down here all ready.”

You lean down to pick up his cup off the wooden floor, a groan falling from your lips, “It was all crap, Levi. It was men who wanted money, men who wanted the crown, and men who wanted to dance. It was so annoying. ”

You straighten back up, placing the cup back on the table and skirting around the water on the ground. Levi chuckles at that, and he motions to the edge of his bed with his chin and says, “Tell me all about it.” A giggle falls from your lips as you move to sit near his feet and you reply, “As long as you’ll listen to me complain about how terrible of a dancer Miche is!” 

The rest of the evening is peaceful compared to the stress of the ball, the two of you making fun of the suitors and princes from across the countryside. You don’t even realize how late the evening runs, but you do know that you aren’t ready for bed just quite yet.

---

A couple of days had passed since the suitor’s ball and Levi had been put down with his illness. Thankfully, after another day or two of rest, he seemed to turn for the better and was ready to get back to the service.

Just around 8 o'clock in the morning, just as he always would, Levi makes his way toward your bedroom, feeling energetic and recovered from being sick. He stops in front of the familiar and grandiose door, pausing in thought before knocking on the dark wood.

He waits for a minute or so, but he doesn’t hear any noise from the other side of the door. The dark-haired knight sighs in slight annoyance, it’s his first day back, after all, and you aren’t responding. Levi knocks again on the door, this time a little harder and with more urgency.

When he is once again met with silence, he takes it upon himself to call out, “Princess Y/n? Are you alright?” To anyone else, it may have sounded like he was just calling out to you, but between you and him, he knew there was worry in his voice.

His impatience seems to take over him, and Levi finds his fingers wrapping around the door handle and pushing it open. As he steps into your room, one he had been in many times, his steely gaze rakes across every detail he sees.

Your bed was empty and remade, so you weren’t asleep. The loveseat in the corner of your room where you typically sat and read was also void of your presence. Levi turned toward the bathroom that was connected to your room, but there was no sign of candlelight or movement.

A sigh falls from Levi’s parted lips in frustration, and he shuts your bedroom door behind him before stepping deeper into your personal space. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you again before he sees a figure moving in the walk-in closet behind your desk.

It’s you, thankfully, and Levi’s figure relaxes as he takes in the… interesting sight of you. You were shuffling out into the main space of your bedroom, your hands grabbing at the bodice of the dress, with a slightly irritable look on your face.

He almost cracks a smile as he watches you fumble and almost trip as you make your way up to him, but instead, he murmurs, “Well good morning to you, princess.” You give him a playful scowl and mutter, “Shut up, …and help me zip this please?”

At the end of your sentence, you swivel 180 degrees, showing him your half-exposed back, where you couldn’t quite finish zipping the dress up. You wait a moment and then rush out, “I don’t know where my maids are and I couldn’t find anyone else to help-”

“It’s alright,” Levi’s voice cuts in lowly, and you can hear him take a step toward you. This makes you relax, shuffling your hands to pick the dress up to the correct height to be comfortable. 

However, with your back to Levi, you miss the complete and utter look of nervousness and awe on his face as his hands make contact with the soft skin on your back. His typically stoic resolve crumbles when his hands just barely begin to quiver as he grabs a hold of the fabric and begins to pull it taut.

Levi is silently cursing the heat that is rushing to his face, swirling in his chest, and giving him butterflies in his stomach. With pink dusting his nose and the close proximity to you, his magnificent best friend, he wasn’t sure what to feel. But, he pushes through, his hands grabbing onto your waist so the zipper would slide up the fabric with more ease.

You aren’t in much better condition than Levi, and you’re glad he can’t see your face. Heat is coursing through your veins, but his warm touch has chills running up and down your spine. A shuddery breath escapes you as you feel his palm flatten against your waist, and you have to will yourself to be calm as he works on zipping you in.

His fingers work in good time, making sure the intricacies of the dress are not damaged or pulled on as he zips the dress up closer to your neck. At the top of the zipper, there is a small clasp to keep it from pulling apart, and he brings both hands up to clasp it.

You feel his warm breath on your neck, and you can feel goosebumps rising on your skin from the small distance between the two of you. It’s completely silent between the two of you as he takes a minute step backward, but it’s enough for you to feel like you can breathe.

The air is thick, heavy almost. There was tension, and you aren’t quite sure where it originated from. You can’t help but be disappointed when his warm hands leave your waist, and you try to fight down the butterflies in your belly as your brain processes his touch.

You liked it. No, you needed more of it. 

What? How could you think that? Levi was your… what was Levi?

As you turn around to face him, you give him an uncertain and slightly shy smile and whisper, “Thank you.” Levi holds your (colored) gaze, looking deeply into what could almost be his favorite color, and gives you a subtle nod.

He was just your personal knight, right? He was your best friend, right? …You had no idea. 

You take a shuddery breath and start, “Levi, there’s something I-” but you are interrupted by a flock of maids bursting into your room. You jump away from Levi, who also takes a few steps backward and moves to stand near the door.

“We are so sorry, Princess Y/n, for being late! We knocked on the door several times but we did not hear an answer,” one of the older maids says, curtsying low in front of you. You turn to face her and you give her a tight-lipped smile and reply, “It is quite alright, Marie.”

The maid stands up and urges, “You must not be late for your foreign policies lecture, the queen will have my head if you are not on time!” You give her a nod and looking over her shoulder to Levi, you ask, “Walk with me?”

The maids clear out of the way, dispersing as quickly as they came. Levi clears the doorway for you, letting you lead the way down the hall. It was quiet for a moment before the dark-haired knight cleared his throat and murmured, “You were saying?”

“It was nothing,” you rush out, wringing your hands together in a nervous fashion. Silence falls between the two of you again, and you direct your vision to the many doors and paintings you pass on the way to the lecture hall.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, so you try to break it with a joke, “I was surprised you weren’t earlier than you were this morning, seeing as it is your first day back since your illness.” Levi scoffs at your remark and refutes, “I do believe it was you who was up earlier than normal, I knocked on your door precisely at 8 o’clock.”

You giggle at this, your hands still fiddling with one another as the pair of you glide down the hallway. The banter picks up between the two of you as normal, but Levi couldn’t help but feel like there was something you may have been hiding from him.

However, he brushes it off and tries to think nothing of it while he stands guard outside of your lecture hall. He tries to focus on getting back into work and pushes the feeling of your skin and body out of his mind.

---

It had been a few days since the zipper incident and the king and queen announced that they wanted to host a festival in the town square with the spring season ending and merging into a beautiful, warm summer. 

For you, it was one of your favorite times of the year, since you got the chance to meet with the children of the town. You loved playing with the children, encouraging their interests, and not letting them give up on their hopes and dreams.

You adored events like this, so it was only natural that you were getting dolled up to meet with the people of your home. The festival typically hosted live music from the best musicians around, food brought from all over the country, and the town square decorated to the top for the best area to go dancing.

You spent most of the morning getting ready for the festival. You had to make sure your dress was absolutely perfect - not too extravagant, but still dressy enough for everyone to recognize you as the princess. Then, you put the finishing touches to your makeup before Levi came knocking on your door around noon. 

“Are you ready?” he asks as he guides you through the castle and out through the gates. You sigh dreamily before answering, “I believe so. This is one of my favorite times of the year, after all.”

The two of you made your way down to the town just outside the palace, where people were bustling about, trying to finalize the touches to their stalls. Children were laughing and playing, running around with yellow and red streamers in their hands.

Levi guides you around them, leading you toward the heart of the festival, and your favorite place to be: the dance floor. There were even more children here, and the orchestra was just set off the to side of the tiled area, a joyful tune bouncing off of their strings.

You leave Levi’s side to join them, falling in with the children to dance and let loose. The daytime was made for the children during the festival, and then when the stars would come out and the sun sank below the horizon, the parents would enjoy themselves.

You sing and dance with the children for what seems like hours to Levi, but he doesn’t mind as he stands guard on the edge of the town square. He could easily see you but also maintain a visual around the dance area, his silver gaze on the lookout for any potential intruders.

The songs seem to blend together until a small brown-haired boy grabs onto your right hand. He tugged on your fingers for a moment and asked, “May I dance with you, Princess Y/n?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst with the sweetness from the young boy, and you give him a sweet smile and a nod.

“Lead the way, good sir!” you chuckle out as you motion to the opening dance floor. Your sage green and dark brown colored skirts ruffle as you are led onto the floor by the bouncing young boy, and you can’t help but giggle as other young girls and boys join you in the middle of the town square.

You can hear the live orchestra count off, and the little boy offers you his other hand to dance, and with a genuine smile, you accept. Since the boy was maybe 8 years old, you had to lean down to hold both of his hands, but he didn’t seem to mind as he began to spin and twirl you around to the music.

While slightly clumsy and uncoordinated in his movements, you didn’t mind the boy's antics, giggling and laughing as the boy spun you, and you spun him. The other children were no different, gleefully dancing the night away.

You didn’t seem to notice Levi’s silver gaze watching you sharply, noting how you giggled each time the boy spun you or the way your eyes lit up when you got mixed up in all of the children dancing. To the dark-haired knight, you looked perfect at that moment.

With the afternoon sun’s warm rays casting down on you, you were simply golden. The festival's market stalls with red and yellow banners donning the kingdom’s insignia were paled in comparison to you. Although you were wearing a more simple gown for the festivities, you shone brighter than any of the lanterns or rays from the sun.

Levi couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. To put it simply, you looked gorgeous. Not just in the way that you were dressed and styled, but in the way that true joy brings out the best in someone. He could feel how raw your emotions were as you danced, and he couldn’t help but wish he was the one swinging you around instead.

Just as the upbeat song ended, Levi felt a passive tap on his side. He instinctively reached for the hilt of his sword, but when he looked to see what had bumped him, he immediately stopped.

There, looking up at him, was a little girl no older than 3 or 4 years old. She had dark, black curls falling around her face, and her bright blue eyes were wide as she stared up at the knight. The little girl taps again on his hand, slightly bouncing as she giggles, “Dance, dance!”

Little did Levi know, you had stopped dancing to catch your breath and talk to him, but you ceased your movements when you saw the little girl next to him. You can’t help but hold your breath as Levi turns to face her, and you can just barely make out the words he says.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he starts, moving to kneel down so he is at eye level with the girl. A frown starts to crease between her eyebrows and she repeats, “Dance! Dance!” She stomps her small feet against the ground in protest, and Levi says as he tries to explain, “I’m working right now, I’m not allowed to dance.”

Tears begin to well up in the little girl’s big blue eyes, threatening to spill down her smooth cheeks. Levi glances around for a second, eyes scoping to see if anyone watched him make this child cry. 

From the corner of his periphery, he catches sight of you watching the interaction. He groans internally, but then he sees you motion to the little girl, and he turns to face her again. She reached across to where his arm was resting on his knee, gently grabbing his fingers.

“Dance?” She repeats softer this time, the tears sliding from the edge of her eyes and down her cheeks. Levi’s heart can’t help but melt a little at the touching sight and he lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Just one dance,” he manages as he stands up straight, offering the girl his gloved hand. Instantly, the little girl starts smiling and giggling, “Dance! Dance, dance!” before launching onto Levi’s thigh.

He’s caught off guard for a second, stumbling back a few steps before regaining his balance. The little girl just laughs the entire time, and once again, Levi glances around for help. Unsure of what to do, he reaches down and picks the little girl up by her small waist, hoisting her up to his side opposite his blade.

Just then, the music started to pick back up and more people were making their way to the dance floor, and Levi begrudgingly followed, much to the little girl’s enjoyment. As he shuffles toward the edge of the dance floor, he catches sight of Zeke and Porco, who are standing guard on the other side of the tiled area.

He could see the two blondes snickering to themselves, pointing to the little girl and back to Levi. He can feel a moment of rage well up inside of him, but he pushes it down as he turns to face the little girl and says, “May I have this dance, miss?” 

The little girl throws her arms around Levi’s neck and giggles, “Dance, now, now!” Not a moment passes by before the crowd on the dance floor begins to move in sync with the music. Levi starts to copy everyone’s movements to the best he could holding a toddler, but she doesn’t seem to care about his mistakes.

He twirled and spun the two of them around, slowly but surely letting his guard down as he danced around with the girl. You on the other hand, sat watching the two of them from the sidelines, and your heart was swelling in your chest at the adorable scene in front of you.

I had no idea Levi could be so good with children, you think to yourself, Nor did I know he could dance! 

As the two of them passed by every few seconds, you could hear the little girl laughing away, and occasionally you could pick up the word “dance”. The music eventually slows to a finish, and you once again see Levi get down on one knee in front of the little girl.

He reaches under his short cloak and pulls out a small clutch of white daisies, offering them to the little girl. She smiles brightly at him as he says, “I would gladly dance with you again, miss.” The little girl launches at him again, wrapping him in an awkward hug before grabbing the flowers and running off.

Levi watches her small figure run up to a woman with two children next to her and another one in her arms. A minute smile makes its way across his lips as he sees the little girl reach up and give her mom the flowers, turning to point back at the dark-haired knight.

The woman gives him a grateful smile, and he pushes off his knees to stand straight and gives her a nod. Just then, he hears someone clear their throat behind him, and when he looks over his shoulder, he sees you standing there.

The sun was just starting to set behind you, illuminating your frame in its golden glow. Levi’s breath catches in his throat as he turns to face you, noting the sly smile on your lips. You rock back and forth on your feet before saying coyly, “I saw you dancing with that little girl, soldier.”

Levi feels a wave of heat wash over him in embarrassment, his cheeks slightly tinging pink at your comment. He glances to the ground with a shrug and mumbles, “It was nothing.” You scoff at him and playfully hip-bump him with a giggle of, “C’mon, that was absolutely adorable!”

You can see a smile start to crack through his faux facade and you nudge him again, and he finally caves in with a chuckle of, “What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just hurt her feelings and leave her to cry.” 

You laugh along with him, grabbing his arm as he starts to guide you toward the food stalls, “And the flowers? That was a bit over the top!” He just rolls his eyes, a pleasant smile on his face as he sighs out, “Let’s go get you some food before nightfall.”

He guides the two of you through the market stalls, and you pick and choose which snacks and foods intrigue you the most. Just as you finish off a small glass of cherry wine, Levi pulls you behind one of the market stalls without a word.

You don’t question his movements, simply following in his footsteps until you see where he’s brought you. It’s just one street down from where all of the festivities are taking place, and it’s much quieter without the hustle of everyone and the harshness of the music.

The fresh air and light breeze swirl around you, making you take a deep breath through your nose that you slowly sigh out through your mouth, (colored) orbs fluttering closed. Levi watches you in that moment, noting the way your hair was coming slightly undone from a small clip that pinned away (colored) locks behind your ear.

Then you open your eyes and turn to him, a sweet smile on your lips as you say, “Thanks for getting me out of there for a bit, it was starting to get a little overwhelming.” He nods under your watchful gaze, motioning to a small bench just down the street.

The two of you sit down for a moment, eyes fixed on the sun setting in front of you. The once golden color was now bleeding shades of carmine and lavender, swirled with rusts and peaches. It was silent except for the sound of the festival on the other side of the stone wall behind your bench, not that you minded.

A few minutes of silence pass between you and Levi before he starts to shift, catching your attention. He once again reaches under his cloak, hand fumbling for a second before reappearing with one lone daisy.

The small white flower was still in good condition, only the stalk of the plant slightly bent from where it resided on his belt. You glance from the flower back to Levi, whose cheeks are once again slightly flushed, and he offers the flower to you.

Your (colored) gaze widens as you take it from him, admiring the pureness of the petals and the beautiful golden color of its core. You move to place it in your hair saying, “Thank you, Levi! This will be a lovely addition to my outfit tonight.”

You struggle for a moment, trying to push the stem through your unruly locks of hair that were tangled from dancing. Levi’s voice distracts you as he asks lowly, “May I help?” You give him a thin smile and a nod, handing the flower back to him.

Levi pulls the leather glove off of his left hand, setting it on his lap before taking the flower from you. His thin digits reach up slowly, so as to not scare you, before pushing the stem of the daisy through your (colored) tresses. He then brushes a small piece of hair behind your ear, securing the flower and then dropping his hand back to his lap.

It’s tense for a moment, the air thick with emotion, but Levi coughs once and then starts, “Y/n, I’ve been meaning to ask-” “This is my favorite song!” you burst out, your attention turning toward the music coming from the other street.

The tune was loud and unmistakably your favorite, and you stood up in a hurry, calling, “We must discuss this later! I cannot miss my favorite song!” And with that, you disappeared around the corner, with Levi sighing from where he was on the bench, his stomach dropping.

But, he takes a deep breath, stands up, and follows you back into the festival.

---

Night had fallen. The sky was a deep, midnight blue, flecked with stars that glimmered in the lantern light of the festival. The crowd was livelier now than it had been before dusk, with all the children tucked into bed and the parents out on the town.

For you, however, you were done with dancing and playing. Now, you had to act like the royalty you were supposed to be representing. And that meant dealing with your father and mother who wouldn’t stop talking about Miche and other suitors.

“Honestly, Y/n, I don’t see why you aren’t getting excited about this time in your life,” your mother chastises, motioning to you up and down with a look of slight disappointment on her face. You want to groan internally at her comment, but you just reply tightly, “I would be excited if I found someone worth marrying, mother!”

Your father clears his throat and insists, “Well I do have another fine set of suitors coming in for you to try out. I even believe one of them is a prince!” Instead of being excited by the thought of more suitors, it simply enraged you.

You rise to your feet quickly, rushing out, “I can’t do this.” You take off through the crowd of lords and ladies in waiting, weaving in and out of the people until you disappear from eyesight. You blocked out the calls of your parents as you made haste, tears starting to burn at the edge of your vision.

Levi witnessed the whole encounter from a few yards away, still standing guard for the evening. He immediately takes off after you without saying a word, skirting around the edge of the crowd while tracking your movements.

You don’t notice Levi following you, too enraptured with the thoughts racing in and out of your mind. Tears are blurring your vision, and you are fighting back sobs as you pick up speed, now running toward the edge of the town.

You clumsily find your way onto the roof of a house near the edge of town, the small building far from the center of the festivities. You clamber to the top of the roof, facing the rising moon, which casts a pale glow that makes it so you can see where you are stepping.

Your mind, however, was at war. More suitors? Can’t my parents tell I don’t like their choice of men for me? Have they not seen how I can’t stand any of them? Why don’t they understand I need someone who knows me…. Who likes to be around me, and I like to be around them?

Someone like Levi, the words ring out in your head. A gasp bursts from your chest and you aren’t sure if you’re crying or trying to catch your breath.

Levi?

His name makes you stop for a second, and as the tears slide down your face and you gaze up at the waxing moon, it clicks in your head. 

Your heart….  Yearned for someone like Levi. Your hands itched to grasp more than just his arm walking to and from a lecture. Your soul hungered for the conversations of intellect and familiarity. Your lips thirsted for his landing on yours.

The last thought makes your eyes widen in realization, but you don’t have any time to process it when someone sits down next to you. The familiar baritone sighs out, “There you are,” making you turn to face the dark-haired knight.

You give him a tight-lipped smile, one that is holding back tears and the few words circling your mind like a mantra. Levi’s silver gaze flits between your tearful eyes, and his features soften as he watches the teardrops stream down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” he almost coos, hunkering down a little to look up at your face as your chin dropped to your chest, attempting to stifle another sob. His brows furrow in thought before he asks quietly, “Are you alright, Y/n?”

There is a tenderness to his voice that almost makes you want to vomit, but you manage to strangle a deep breath in and let a shaky one out. You toss your head from side to side and stutter, “N-no, Levi. I- I’m, uh, not alright.”

You glance back down at your hands and stay silent. Levi stays still, deep in thought before gently imploring, “Would you like to talk about it? I am here to listen.” 

This time, when you look back up, Levi can see the moon and stars reflected in your eyes. They were still wet with tears, but your (colored) orbs seemed to hold the entire night sky in them for one second.

And in that one second, a calm peace seemed to wash over the two of you just as you started to speak, “My parents are bringing in more suitors for me to get to know. They don’t think I’m trying hard enough with my royal duties.”

You sniffle, glancing over at Levi and then continuing, “I just feel as if I don’t ever get to do what I want. Or maybe it’s that I’m frustrated they don’t understand what I want.” Levi nods in understanding when you finish talking, shuffling for a moment before murmuring, “Well, they did let you learn to fight, which is something you wanted to do.”

You sway side to side, swinging your head ever so slightly as if to contemplate his words before muttering, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Levi could tell that wasn’t the response you were hoping for, but he was never one to sugarcoat things.

“You need to stand up for yourself, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, softer this time. “They don’t take you seriously because they still see you as a child, following their every order. You need to make them realize you aren’t their precious little girl anymore,” and his gaze locks onto yours with a fiery intensity.

“You’re a woman now, and a strong and independent one at that,” he finishes passionately, moving to stand back up. His words echo in your head, and each time you hear the truths behind them, you can’t help but focus on the tone of his voice.

You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off, “Let’s get you back to the festival. We can’t have them thinking their princess ran off in the middle of the night.” At the end of his words, he offers you his hand to take, which you accept. He pulls you to your feet and steadies you before motioning back toward the glow of the festival and says, “After you, princess.”

---

It takes a few days for you to build up the courage to confront your parents about the whole suitor debacle. You knew it was something you couldn’t take lightly, but you knew you needed to tell them sooner rather than later.

And before you know it, you are standing in front of them, heart pounding in your chest as the words that your father just said pound in your head like a hammer.

Your mother and I are in agreement. You haven’t made sufficient effort in courting a suitor, so we have chosen one for you. You’re getting married tomorrow.

It feels like the floor dropped out from underneath you, falling into a nothingness that made your stomach whirl. Married? Tomorrow? You can’t deny their wishes even though your entire body is screaming at you to fight, argue, yell. But you can’t.

So instead, you numbly are whisked away to get fitted for a white gown that you didn’t want. You are run through the order of the wedding and the reception, what you are to do, what you are to say, how you are to act.

You didn’t have the guts to face Levi and tell him of the new development in your life, but you knew he was no fool. He heard the rumors, he saw the preparations. And when he was assigned to stand guard at the main hall the following day, he knew.

You hated everything.

You hated the yellowish tone of the white dress, you always wanted one that was more blush-toned. You hated the way your hair was pinned up off of your neck and out of your face. You didn’t want everyone to see your blank stare and emotionless eyes.

You didn’t want any of this. And neither did the dark-haired knight.

The two of you could only follow orders though, and so uneasily, you survived the night. The following morning comes and you are immediately fawned over by your maids and the wedding planners.

First - your makeup. Second, your hair. Finally, the dress. It was a routine that you had dreamed of being ecstatic about, completely in love with the man you were going to marry. But you weren’t.

There is a knock on your door precisely at noon. Three short taps in a row, followed by two shorter ones. Levi. Just thinking about him makes your heart ache with a pain you never knew you could experience.

A maid rushes to open the door, and just before her hand makes it to the golden handle, you call out, “Wait! Let the guard in and please leave. I require a moment alone.” The maid nods to you, opening the door with a smile and curtsy, sliding out of your room before a familiar figure makes his way in.

You were sitting on a short stool a few feet away from your vanity, staring at your reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. Your whole image was one of grace and elegance, everything a princess should be.

But the light in your eyes was one of a grounded bird. The emotion in your eyes was reminiscent of a beached whale. The frown on your face with the light of a dying deer, hunted by a mountain lion.

Levi stops in his tracks when he catches sight of you, his mouth parting as he takes in your appearance. To put it simply, you were beautiful. He coughs once to clear his throat, a tight line forming his lips before he states, “I am here to guide you to the main hall, Princess Y/n.”

You turn to face him at the sound of his voice, tears threatening to spill down your powdered cheeks. You can’t fight the wobble in your lip as you utter, “Levi…” You can’t see his brow furrow just a smudge more at the pain in your voice, and you feel terrible for not telling him.

“Levi, I- I-...” and you take a breath, your vision blurring over for a second before you continue, “I am so sorry for not telling you about this plan. My parents-” “I know,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You sniffle and stand up, wiping tears away and reaching for a small towel to pat your face dry. He watches every movement, in awe that he could be near someone so ethereal, so heavenly. Levi finds words on the tip of his tongue again, dancing through his mind, coursing through his blood.

But he knows he can’t say anything, it’s your wedding day, after all. He bites his tongue to keep them from spilling out of his mouth, instead giving you a moment to steel your nerves. You walk toward him once you have cleaned up your appearance, and you open your arms with a sad smile.

“Can I please have a hug? I think it might be the only thing to get me through the day,” you croak out with a subtle shrug. Levi’s heart is pounding in his chest, bursting at the thought and meaning of your words.

He nods though, and takes a step forward, opening his arms to wrap around your waist. Your arms come to rest around his neck, pulling the dark-haired knight closer. His hands are warm on your waist, a feeling you know you will miss when he pulls away.

You don’t mind the hard feel of his armor or the feeling of his breath on your neck. You wished the moment would never end so that you didn’t have to marry a man you didn’t love. It’s ruined when the bells outside your window start to ring, and Levi forces himself to slowly pull away from you, looking deep into your (colored) gaze.

You sniffle again saying, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.” He bows and murmurs, “As you wish, Y/n.” As I wish? I wish… I wish to live in this moment forever, Levi. With you.

Levi clears his throat again, and you can see his stoic mask go back on. You feel a pang of guilt wash over you, even though you know it's not your fault. He offers you his arm, and for what could be the last time, you take it.

He guides you down the familiar halls of the castle you grew up in. There are people fluttering about, finalizing the touches to the reception to be held after the ceremony, but you do your best to block them out.

Instead, you try to focus on the feeling of your hand on Levi’s shoulder pauldron, the chill of the silver metal keeping your attention on the knight. In step, the two of you make it outside the doors of the ceremony, where you will walk down the aisle, alone.

Levi reaches across with his second hand, the gloved fingers grabbing your own digits. He squeezes them slowly in a way you know is meant to calm you down. It’ll be okay. I’ll be in there. You can do this.

You give him a tight-lipped and watery-eyed smile before gushing, “I’ll see you on the other side, right?” He squeezes your hand again and then steps away with a nod and says, “I doubt you could get rid of me if you tried.”

A dry giggle escapes you, making you breathe deeply for the first time that day. You are handed a bouquet of flowers, and as you turn to thank the maid, Levi disappears. Not a moment later, music starts to play from the other side of the doors right before they open.

You are met with the faces of hundreds of lords and ladies, people from the town, and the face of the priest and the man you were marrying standing on the altar. You take a deep breath before marching like a soldier down the aisle decorated with flower petals and large arrangements.

Everyone is standing, staring. But you try to ignore them, focusing on the feeling of your feet landing flat on the ground, the softness of the ribbon holding your bouquet together. The way your heart beat for another man, but was about to be given away to a stranger.

While it seemed like a mile long, you eventually make it to the altar, and you are met with the face of the man you were set to marry. You knew he was probably a good man. He probably had goals for his career, wanted to father a gaggle of children, wanted a wife he could count on and love.

And you knew you couldn’t do that for him.

Mindless words echo out as you repeat the vows from the priest, loveless and cold. You manage to make it through each line, but just as the priest asks, “Princess Y/n, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I…. the thought reverberates in your head, I, I don’t love this man, I can’t marry him. 

“Y/n?” a voice calls to you, and it shakes you out of your head. Your (colored) gaze snaps from the priest, who looks concerned, to the man you are about to marry, around to the gathered congregation. In your heart, you knew you were searching for one person. One man you knew your heart burned for.

You turn back to the priest, withdrawing your hands from your betrothed, and you utter, “I, I can’t do this. My heart belongs to another.” At that, you grab your skirts, rush down the few steps, and run up the aisle, leaving the man at the altar.

The crowd gasps in shock at the scandal playing out in front of them, and you see people reaching for you, grabbing at you as you make your way out of the main hall. You don’t hear your father’s call after you, lost in the destruction your heart created.

“Ackerman, find her!” your father’s voice booms out, but the dark-haired knight is already on the move. The knight immediately takes off, running as he tries to keep your frame in sight. He knew you were strong from all of your training, but evidently, your stamina was still intact despite wearing a heavy gown.

You find yourself running blindly, passing maids, butlers, and gardeners finishing up the last touches of flowers for the reception. Your lungs were burning like the red-hot flames from the forge you passed in desperation. You push past all of them, tears blurring your vision as you run as fast as you can away from everything.

You can hear footsteps following you, but you don’t really care who it is or what they want. “Leave me alone, please!” you wail as you tear through bushes, your eyes closed as you burst into an open garden. Unknowing to you, you ran the entire way to the Josephina Garden where you first encountered a certain dark-haired knight.

Not a moment later, a warm hand closes on your wrist, and you are quickly spun around to face the assailant. You blink through the tears as you make out the figure of Levi, concern written all over his face. Your chest is heaving from your run in the heavy white dress, but Levi seems rather unphased.

He takes a deep breath before stuttering out, “W-why did you say that, Y/n? You know you shouldn’t lie about stuff like that, especially in front of your family and, and the kingdom.” You can see the emotion on his face plain as day, like reading a book that you know word for word.

You could see the way his brow creased, like the gaps between paragraphs when the words seemed to stop flowing. You could see the confusion in his grey, steel eyes, that reminded you of the words you had to reread over and over again just to understand their meaning.

Every feature of his face, you knew, though. Levi was like the dog-eared fold in your favorite book, the paper worn smooth from how many times you flipped it open. He was like your favorite line when the girl finally let the guy take her out on the town on their first date.

Levi was memorizable, you knew every piece about him, and every thought and feeling as he stood in front of you, grasping your arm. Yet he was blind, and couldn’t read the book that he was himself.

“I am in love with someone else!” you shout again, moving to pull your wrist away from the grasp Levi had on it. He doesn’t budge though, holding you firm as you try to pull away from him.

He pulls you closer, his second hand coming up to grasp your shoulder as he barks, “Who?! Who on this goddamn earth would you be in love with?!” Levi pauses, looking deeper into your (colored) eyes before his voice cracks and he murmurs, “I’m your best friend, Y/n, you would have told me if there was someone else you loved.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing and your heart to stop pounding as loudly as it was. You could feel it rattling your ribcage, attempting to crawl up your throat and make a fool of yourself.

And it betrays you in an instant.

“It’s you!” you exclaim, ripping your arms away from him in a moment of strength, throwing them into the air. The words ring out loudly, the silence that followed them almost deafening. You peek your eyes open as you look up from the ground to meet Levi’s hardened and confused gaze.

“It’s you, Levi,” you whisper as you lock eyes with him. He turns his head in bewilderment, and then he starts shaking it in denial, “No. No, it’s not. It’s not me, Y/n. Don’t joke with me about this.”

You laugh dryly as you throw your hands in the air again and scoff, “I wouldn’t lie or joke about something like this, Levi.” You meet his intense gaze again and gesture to him with a softer, “You know I wouldn’t.”

You can see him swallow thickly, his hands clenching by his sides. You can see the words forming on his lips, and you can just barely hear them when he whispers, “You can’t…” Levi doesn’t say anything after that, so you take the moment to fill in every question you know is racing around his mind.

“It’s… it’s always been you, Levi. It’s been you since the very first training session when you knocked me to the ground,” you start, your right hand coming up to caress your left bicep in shyness. “It’s been you since that night in the forge when you helped me cope with Rico’s death,” you whisper.

You shrug as you smile fondly and state, “It’s been you since you let that little girl dance with you at the festival. It’s been you since you sat on the roof with me, giving me a taste of normalcy.” You sniffle as fresh tears stream down your cheeks, “It’s always been you.”

Levi is mute. Not a sound escapes him as his mouth parts, unsaid words and questions hanging on the tip of his tongue. You don’t say anything, letting him process each and every moment, reliving them as you did in your own mind.

Finally, he speaks, “You’re lying. You can’t possibly love someone like me.” The words are harsh and cut right to your core. Lying? He thinks you’re lying? The look on his face shows that he is completely dumbfounded, flabbergasted, amazed. 

Emotion and frustration builds up inside you as he denies you again. And then, you’ve had enough and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Believe me!” you shout, your voice ripping at the heightened volume. You pause as you feel your throat tighten and clench. Then, “Bel-believe me, when I say this to you, Levi,” and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance.

You meet his gaze and then your voice rings out, “Believe me when I say I love you.” A sob wracks your body and then you finish, “Because I do. I do love you, Levi, with my entire being.”

Passion overcomes Levi and he lunges forward, grabbing onto your waist as if you would disappear under his touch. He holds onto you for the first time without ever asking, pulling you close to him as he urges, “Repeat that, please.”

You look deep into his eyes as your hands come up to cup his angled cheekbones and you whisper, “I said I love you.” A smile cracks through Levi’s lips as he watches your lips move and as tears well up in his grey eyes he rushes out, “Again!” 

A slight giggle falls from your lips as you repeat, “I love you, Levi.” The dark-haired knight just grips you tighter, pulling you closer and more flush to his chestplate. A moment passes between the two of you, and with Levi looking deep into your (colored) eyes he murmurs, “I love you, Y/n.”

You feel butterflies erupt in your belly, the feeling completely washing over you in mere seconds. Levi moves one hand from your waist to slowly close his palm on your cheek, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“... may I?” his voice comes out so soft you almost miss what he says, but the meaning behind his silver gaze is undeniable. With such an intensity, his eyes flicker from your own (colored) ones to your parted lips, and there is no doubt in your mind.

Not trusting your voice, you nod, leaning into his touch without another thought. His nose bumps yours in a way that could be seen as clumsy and inexperienced, but it’s endearing the way he pauses, allowing himself to enjoy the smallest touches.

He nuzzles you for just a moment before his lips land on yours, soft and warm. He’s slow as his mouth meets yours for the first time. Levi is nothing but gentle as he kisses you, holding you with such a tenderness that it makes your knees weak. You clutch onto him as you let your mouth move against his, enjoying every second of his love.

You can’t bear to open your eyes when you feel him pull away, wanting to savor every fleeting memory of Levi kissing you. When you do allow your eyes to flutter open, you find Levi staring at you, cheeks pink and an embarrassed look on his face.

“Was that not to your liking?” you ask quietly, scared that you had somehow messed up your first kiss with the knight. Levi shakes his head from side to side, and with a small smile, he replies, “No, not at all. I just can’t believe there was something so perfect out there and I never knew it until this moment.”

You feel heat wash over you at his comment, eyes tipped toward the ground. The hand that was caressing your cheek stops your movement, pulling your chin up to face him. Levi’s gaze is so intense it feels like knives are splitting you open and he says, “You are so beautiful, Y/n. I would lay down my life for you if you asked.”

You smile at him and lean into his touch before whispering, “Let us hope it never comes to that, Levi. I don’t think I could live without you.” Levi smiles and murmurs back, “As you wish, princess, as you wish.”

–The End–

Tags: @anlian-aishang @xyumemi @xxdragonwriterxx @starstruckkittensweets @darlingheichou

[pursuitseternal]

“Our Blood: Into the Fire” 🔥 The Battle for Avernus🔥

Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 5K

Summary: Arriving in Avernus, Cordehlia and Astarion reunite with old friends to stand with them along side Raphael. Facing Zariel, Mizora, and her legions is no small task, but they are an indomitable force, side by side (by side)

CW: canon typical battle gore, minor character deaths, decapitations, Wyll/Karlach flirty tension, Astarion and Cordy are that make out couple in every group, Raphael’s Ascended Fiend Form, Kill Your Abuser x 2

Prev Ch | Ao3 link | Orig. fic | List

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

The air was thick with blood and rife with soot. Cordehlia breathed it in and cringed. Too many times had she inhaled the same stink and been coated with the crimson droplets and smeared with black ash before. This wasn’t some skirmish against Cultists, not some half-brained attempt to save the realms with her closest companions. This was war. These were enemy lines soaked in gore and graves. A familiar scene for the Bone Picker, she shrugged off those memories quickly once she felt his gauntleted hand in her own.

Astarion cocked one hip, surveying the lands where they arrived from the portal. “Well,” he crooned, tone rippling with judgment, “you’d think the stink of sulphuric gas would cover the general rot of corpses. Guess I was wrong…”

Cordehlia’s lips pressed in a smile, her brows arching in pure sarcastic delight. “It's quite a sight,” she hummed in mock approval as she heard the devil’s footsteps draw along the other side of her. “Perhaps it is the most impressive battlefield I’ve ever surveyed.”

“A high compliment to come from my beloved, Bone Picker,” Raphael’s rumbling tones sounded right in her ear.

Astarion drew up beside her, rigid in stance. His armor gleamed in the infernal glow—the silver elven set they had found on their journeys. It was the armor he most trusted to protect his life, to guard him as he guarded her.

Raphael’s rumbling chuckle nearly caught him off-guard as the devil rounded behind them both. “Easy, Lord Astarion,” he drawled out that title. “Your consort needs only to draw on her peerless skills in combat, and then you two can go back on your merry way,” his thick brow arched, watching as his words only made the Vampire Lord hold himself all the more tensely. More fiercely. And he laughed louder still. “Just think, a few dead devils and cambions, and you can go right back to bed.”

The meaning was not lost on either of them. And Cordehlia only grew all the more determined. “Enough,” she snapped. “Battlefields are for silencing breath, not wasting it.”

Two sets of brows raised in surprise, one dark set and one silver. “Yes, my Lady,” and “Yes, my darling,” were both crooned out in response.

“I need battle plans and details on your enemy, how many imps, where have you last spotted them, how great is the strength of our foe.” She began her list of demands, making for the grand sprawling battle tents of Raphael’s camp.

That was when an old scream of joy sounded, the only warning Cordehlia got before two strong, red arms clutched for her and braced her against a warm armored chest. “For fucks sake, Cordy!” Karlach burst into cackling laughter. “I’d ask ‘what in the hells are you doing here?’ but I fear your hubby would bite me at that humor.”

Asrarion scoffed, even as he grinned from ear to ear, fangs on full display. “You’ve somehow managed to get worse at humor, Karlach,” he teased with a smirk.

“Most likely my fault,” a warm voice chimed in as Wyll approached, horns and all. “I am not known for the sharpness of my wit, only my blade.”

“Ha, ha,” Astarion pretended to chortle, a good show, despite the actual crinkling lines at his eyes that Cordehlia noticed, a true tell that he was happy to see their old friends. “You’re always such a good influence on people, Wyll.”

“Not on you, Lord Astarion,” Wyll smiles wide. “But regardless, we will see those Ascendant powers put to use once more in battle, and for that I’m glad. Zariel won’t be an easy foe to take down.”

“Zareil?” both vampires scoff, nearly identical in disbelief.

“That’s right, bitches,” Karlach’s chest flamed searingly bright, punching one fist into her own palm, a grin on her red face that was truly diabolical with joy. “It’s payback time, and there is no one else I’d rather have here for it than you two.”

Cordehlia’s vision went red, her body brimming with blinding rage. Rage at Raphael for hiding the identity of their foe, even more rage at him for bringing Karlach and Wyll under his thumb and service without informing her. Her jaw locked, her hands fisted, Cordehlia marched off on her long legs towards the grandest tent of the encampment. Astarion called after her, his own body leaning forward as he hurried after her with all his vampiric speed.

But her rage was too great to wait for him.

Arm flinging open the flap to the largest vermillion tent she had ever seen, she burst into its flame-lit shadow. “Fuck you, Raphael,” she snarled, unnanounced and uninvited.

The devil rounded, his own golden helldusk armor glinting in the flickering torch light. His swarthy face drew into a leering smirk. “Well, if you insist my beloved Bone Picker,” he crooned as he looked down his nose.

Cordehlia let the insinuation slide, too furious for such games. Before she could stop herself, that shining dagger steadied her palm, pressing against the little skin of his neck still visible. “Zariel?” she hissed, enraged and feral. “You brought us here for the Archduchess herself, not some mild-mannered gang of imps.”

Raphael’s rumbling laughter vibrated down the steel of her blade. “And isn’t she a foe worthy of your illustrious reputation, my lady?”

She pressed the blade just a little harder, enough to draw blood to the surface without breaking his skin. “I want to know your game, Raphael, not more deals or tricks or secrets between us.”

“For you, my favorite harbinger of death, I’ll give it to you, and I’ll give it to you straight,” the devil smirked, his lips drawn to reveal his flawlessly white teeth.

“Well,” that silken voice purred from the entryway behind her, “seems you’ve earned yourself a knife to the throat, devil.” Astarion drew up right beside his love. “Not many men earn that right, let alone survive it. In fact, I almost say I’m jealous…” He ran his gloved hand down Cordehlia’s pale, smirking cheek, and she shivered. “You never threaten me at knifepoint anymore, darling.”

“You’ve earned more than a knife against your body as incentive, my love,” Cordehlia purred right back, melting under that single brush of his finger as she resheathed her blade. Then she nipped at his chin with her own glittering fangs, just ostentatiously enough to make Raphael’s breath quicken. “Now tell me the truth of why we are here,” she honed her own scarlet gaze at the devil, “and you tell the exact details of your contracts with my other companions, or so help me, I’ll feed your balls to the next Orthon I find.”

Astarion chuckled, marveling at her brutality.

And so did Raphael. He eased his stance, fidgeting with the clasps of his armor. “There are no contracts for your dear Hellion and her beloved Blade,” his replied, his tone sweet like honey in its confidence. “They work for me for pay, a nice little livelihood and budding romance between them, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Don’t lie,” Cordehlia hissed.

The devil merely glanced at her as he wriggled his breastplate over the expanse of his chest. “And why would I ever offend you by lying, my bloodthirsty lady? I might be guilty of omitting details, or downplaying certain aspects of our relations, but I have never once lied.”

Those feminine eyes narrowed at him, assessing him. “Fine,” she replied. “Then no omissions or diminutions. What is your plan, what is your endgame for my lord and me?”

“It’s simple,” Raphael drew back to face them both, the Ascendant and his Consort. “It’s a small matter of balance. I helped you, Astarion, gain the power for which you longed, power to free you from your old master and to make your long-lost betrothed your eternal bride. I merely ask for your help in returning the favor ever so slightly. I want your blades in the final fight against Zariel, aiding me on my way to ruling Avernus for my own.”

His voice rang with greater ambition, and Cordehlia sensed so much more to those plans that laid beyond merely ruling Avernus. It made her fiery hair stand on end.

But it was Astarion’s silken purr that grounded her back in the present. “This is it, devil, our final act to free us from our debt to your favors.”

Raphael gave that deep, rolling chuckle. “Oh, I’m aware just how important freedom, true freedom is to you, Lord Astarion,” he taunted back. “You aid me against the Archduchess and I swear, all further deals will start anew, and they will be entirely mutually… satisfactory.”

“And our friends?” Astarion casually rolled his shoulders, letting his elegant elven armor clank. “We merely want to ensure even their roles in your court and employ are mutually… satisfactory,” he drolled out the same words in a mimicking tone.

The meaning was clear, the warning given that they were under his protection. And hers. Raphael’s eyes darted between the two undead warriors, that same old confident mask on his face. “I promise you, hand to your undead, beating, Ascendant heart that they are free to leave my employ when they wish, and that until such time, they enjoy my protection and my patronage.” He scoffed a laugh. “Do I really fall so short from your favor in your crimson eyes?”

Neither replied, but that tension between them snapped into place, that way their eyes flickered at one another a sign of their mental bond sending all sorts of silent commentary and secrets.

“Very well,” Cordehlia replied, a cold smile on her lips and a hardness at the corner of her eyes, “show us your battle plans, and we will help you conquer Avernus for your own.”

Pleased, his smile broadened, and Raphael gave that bass-toned chuckle. “It’s so refreshing to hear it put so bluntly, my lady. Thank you.”

“If there is one thing I am familiar with, devil, it’s recognizing the power of ambition,” Cordehlia appraised him, a brow arched, a hip cocked. “Whether it is an ambition to serve us or be check, that remains to be seen…”

“Oh, but don’t you know by now I live to serve you… Bone Picker,” he crooned. “You have nothing to fear in Avernus from me, my lady. But I can’t say the same of our enemies.” He gestured to the war table behind him, a massive circular table heaven-laden with maps and massive. “Shall we?”

Fire and blood in the air, a smile on her face, Cordehlia sliced through another imp as it flew straight for her face. Karlach’s hyena-laugh at her side as she took down five in one swing of her greataxe made Cordehlia’s heart soar. The hot air kept her battle braids off her face, letting the warrior-elf turn her head easily to see her companions.

“Never a dull moment,” she smiled, all fangs and teeth as she watched Wyll darting just beyond the Tiefling.

“Gods… I thought I was done hearing your little quips at every turn of our adventures,” Astarion’s voice panted at her right hand. His pale skin spattered already beyond recognition, blood blooming over his white curls. Making Cordehlia truly hunger for blood.

She just licked her blade clean in the brief breath of respite they had now between waves of foes. “My love, I thought you loved to… ‘go turn someone inside out…’” she taunted, another lick along the other side of her dagger.

His wry, humored look made her chuckle. “Seems someone is feeling vicious and nostalgic, hmm?” He laughed breathlessly, quickly spinning to dispatch another small imp as it curved toward them. One arrow through the infernal air from his bow, and it landed with a thud. Astarion gave a dark-humored grin. “And yes, my dear, before you can make the comment, yes, that… is… blood.”

Oh, the playful yet withering glare she gave him was delicious, so much so, he couldn’t resist pulling her into an armor-clacking kiss right there on the battlefield. Her mouth tasted of the burning brine of imp blood, but gods, it felt good. “I missed this…” he whispered against her fangs and tongue.

“Hey-o!” Karlach’s boisterous voice and presence drew near. “I forgot how much they locked lips on the battlefield. How ‘bout you Wyll?”

“I didn’t forget,” Wyll replied, panting and drawing closer to their Tiefling friend. His voice was strangely sweet like honey, given the rivers of blood under their feet and the stink of sulphur around them. “Makes you almost think they’re on to something…”

Cordehlia shoved herself away, nearly certain she was about to watch them kiss for themselves…

“Get your hands off each other and back on your blades, imbeciles,” that heated voice crooned from above. The beating of leather wings a portent of Raphael’s arrival again; he landed in the middle of them with a thud. He glared around, an icy stare in those fiery black and yellow cambion eyes. “If you are quite finished fraternizing with one another, we do have an Archduchess to overthrow.”

His wings folded in aggressively, sending a blast of stinging hot air in their faces.

“Well, if you haven’t noticed, we’ve broken through their flanks, just as you suggested, my dear…” Astarion raised Cordehlia’s bloodied and gauntleted hand to his lips. “So where, devil, do we find your foe to overthrow and the stinking, volcanic ledge from which to throw her over?”

Raphael leered, unamused at the jest. “Your humor is not as razor sharp as it once was, Ascendant. Let’s hope your blades still are.”

Cordehlia had to turn her head and ignore the pointed look Karlach was throwing her, if only to preserve her love’s pride.

Suddenly, fire swirled, the black, molten form of a devil started to form. Big navy wings, a lithe and curvaceous figure, bright orange hair… “Well, if it isn’t the pests Zariel has sent me to exterminate…”

“Mizora,” Wyll snapped, as close to enraged and feral as he could be.

The cambion looked fearsome, decked in her silver chain link mail, spikes of black, dripping blood lining her armor in rows. “Oh, Wyll, pet, it’s good to see you. But, for as much as I’ve missed you since your pact ended, I’m here to put you down for good, you and your pesky little friends…” She eyed Raphael, his own winged form bristling in her presence. “You too, hungry little cat, trying to take what isn’t yours with your greedy little claws…”

“This cat will devour all nine layers of the hells once I’m through,” Raphael snarled, his tail twitching. “Until then, I’ll have to sate myself on the blood of you and your mistress.” He flapped his great wings to rush in attack, but Mizora only cackled as she flew just as fast.

“Raphael!” Cordehlia screamed after him, making the devil draw up suddenly short in the air. “You can’t let her lead us off our quarry.” She drew out her blade. “We need you to face Zariel, not her minion.”

“I’ll take Mizora,” Wyll panted, his grip tight on his rapier. “It’s about time I made her pay for all her abuse. But I’ll need another at my side…” his mismatched eyes looked towards Karlach.

“Not me, Blade, I’ve got my own asshole to slay. If Zariel’s going to bleed, I’m going to be the one to see what color her blood runs.”

“I’ll go, Wyll,” Astarion clapped a hand on the Blade of Avernus’ shoulder. “Besides, Mizora tried to sleep with my Bride back in our adventuring days.” He raised his brow in wicked delight at the slightest taste of revenge. “And I’m not one to forget…”

“Who would dare?” Raphael leered again.

“Well, a better question is, who would dare to seek that without me, honestly. What an idiot.” Astarion pulled Cordehlia close. Nuzzling her neck, he took a shallow little bite, licking the small trickle of blood that flowed. “See you once it’s through my love,” he whispered.

She bit his neck and did the same, a small taste of him before they parted. “Yes, you will, my love.”

One more glance at one another, and the Blade and the Ascendant bolted off across the hellscape.

“Well, my Hellion and my Bone Picker, let’s go get us an archdevil,” Raphael grinned his pointy-toothed smile.

Scorching, volcanic air rushed around them as the Wyll and Astarion raced after Zariel’s right hand. Mizora dove and weaved around the field, making for the stinking waters of the Styx. At last, Wyll spotted an outcrop of black rock, running for it to leap off its sharp edge, reaching his blade just as she swooped in reach. “This ends now, for my father and for me,” Wyll shouted, his blade cutting down Mizora, steel slicing through the pink membrane of her wing. Three arrows struck into her with heavy thwacks, Astarion grinned savagely, delighting in his dexterous accuracy. Each arrow grouped right where a devil’s heart should be. The cambion tumbled awkwardly from the red skies, her wings thrashing with loud gusts of wind before her body crash landed on the ground.

“You maggots, think you can beat me?” Mizora flailed as she clambered to her feet. “You think your efforts in Raphael’s name won’t go unpunished by the rest of the hells? Zariel will wear your fangs as earrings, little Ascendant.”

“Oh, not if my Bride finds her first,” Astarion hissed, quicker than the eye could catch, he launched another arrow into the base of her blue-columned neck. Enough to maim, but not to keep her from talking. “But that’s why you tried to claim her for your own, isn’t it? Couldn’t resist my own little hellcat, my darling spitfire.” Two strong, pale hands held up her head by her horns. “No one takes what’s mine from me,” he hissed through fangs, “and no one entraps my dearest companions without facing retribution. Isn’t that right, Wyll?”

Astarion’s crimson eyes scanned his friend, the fearless Blade, only to notice his hand shaking on the hilt of his faithful weapon. Heart aching, he knew that look, had felt it before as he clung to Rhapsody’s hilt to carve the marching ruins in his own abuser’s back. “Do it now, Wyll,” he said, steady and sure, as if he could give Wyll the resolve for which he was searching. “End this, do it for those years you lost to her torment.”

Wyll’s mismatched eyes just glared wider, flickering between Astarion’s blood-spattered face and Mizora as each breath she drew grew weaker.

“Make her suffer your sting, once and for all,” Astarion smirked, yanking those horns harder, the stink of her blood’s acid making his stomach curl.

Fingers regripped around Wyll’s hilt, one swing of his rapier, and it was done. One cambion head hung in the vampire’s hands, one body fell at their feet with a heavy thud. And Wyll laughed— a deep, inane, rolling belly laugh, the kind Astarion had never heard before. His bloodied glove clapped on top of Astarion’s shoulder. “Vampire Ascendant, I, for one, am grateful to have not been a good influence on you. That felt….”

Astarion smiled, catching his own breath, “Really fucking good, right?”

“Yeah,” Wyll laughed again, more of his usual breathy chuckle as he took Mizora’s head by the horn in his own hand. “Really… fucking… good.”

Black stone walls echoed with the drag of his claws, their boney points scraping as he sauntered down the halls towards Zariel’s throne room. His throne room now. Raphael laughed from his distorted; deformed maw, his Ascended fiendish laugh like boulders crushed together. The only sound louder was the metallic dragging of his quarry behind him, Zariel’s armor torn asunder by his claws and his magic. He gave another bone-grinding laugh as he crouched his form low enough to enter the doors. Blood ran beneath his feet, red and hot and stinking, as his own chosen warriors decimated the remainders of her private guard. Their death cries were music to his fiendish ears.

He smiled, shaking his enormous, skin-tight abomination of a head, feeling inspired… words of glory coming to his tongue. He tossed Zariel’s half-mangled body to the foot of her dais, her human form crunching some more frail bones as she landed with a thud.

“To hells allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!

I dare damnation. To this point I stand

That both the worlds I give to negligence.

Let come what comes…”

A wall of fire consumed him as he shrunk back in size but never in power, that swarthy face of man gloating unscathed down at his nemesis.

“…only I’ll be revenged.”

His arm extended, magic coursed through the air, hot and consuming, pulling the Archduchess taut by her appendages. Stretching her on the rack of his mighty power.

Barely more now than a bald head and pure hate, Zariel writhed in the tendrils of Raphael’s magic. “Mephistopheles’ outcast halfbreed, you won’t live to enjoy your victory. I can guarantee it; that’s the way of the hells.”

Raphael merely closed his fist tighter, stretching the Archduchess’ limbs taut as his warriors sliced their way through the last of her fiends. Every step they took splashed in blood, more steaming as it flowed with every swipe of greataxe and dagger blades. Breathless and grinning with glee, Karlach and Cordehlia flanked their devil commander, both their faces now reddened afresh with blood-spatter and gore.

“You’re lucky, Archduchess, as the first to bear witness to my own ascension to power. With Avernus as mine to rule, it will be a matter of time before all the others fall to the same fate as you, Zariel. How fortunate you get to serve as the example. Your bald head will sit nicely on the gates of this palace.” Raphael turned his wry, delighted grin towards the Tiefling, her infernal engine thumping and grinning faster with her magnificent bloodlust and rage. “Wouldn’t you agree, Karlach?”

“Yeah, but only after I get to piss on it a few times,” she scowled, her vocal chords frayed and strained from her battle cries.

Raphael gestured with pure gallantry to the Hellion. “She’s yours, my dear. Unleash that heat of rage once and for all…”

Kalach’s fire flared, sparks dancing from her hair and skin as she shifted her axe over her shoulder. With a twirl of his fingers, Zariel’s body bent to kneel in the pools of blood, her arms behind her back, her head bent low…

…As it should be before him, Raphael gloated.

“My delightful Bone Picker, do make certain our friend doesn’t struggle so,” Raphael crooned at the vampiress, the blood coating her armor and skin matching the bloodlust glinting in her blood red eyes. A look of delight on her face, she sheathed her sword and dagger, entering into the tendrils of infernal magic. The sole of her boot kicked square in the middle of her back, a laugh rippling from her fanged smile. With all her vampiric might, she kept their foe pinned beneath her heel, and a single nod to Karlach was permission enough.

Flames burst, a flare of vengeance and heat, and Karlach gripped her weapon. Chest heaving, eyes wide, it took only one barbaric scream and one fell swing of her axe to end it all—her life of torture, her source of horror, and the day’s battle. Her axe slung back over her shoulder, Karlach reached for her trophy and tossed it at Raphael. “Hope you’re a better Archdevil,” she commented casually.

“I have every intent on being far superior,” Raphael crowed in reply, taking his trophy in hand. He gave his most pleasant smile, and relished the way his Tiefling commander with an engine for a heart seemed to bristle less than usual as he gave it.

A figure of almost pure red approached, her fangs were the only part of her face left free from blood, most likely because she had already licked them clean. Cordehlia glided over, coated in a fresh spray of archduchess blood. “Well, Raphael, congratulations are in order. Crownless, and yet Avernus is yours,” she refused to bow her head, but her eyes flickered with approval.

Raphael grinned despite the potential slight in decorum. In fact, he’d be disappointed if she had bowed to him or bent a knee. “No small thanks to my favorite, bloodied warrior of this and every age, my lady,” he replied, those velvet tones unable to convey just how much he meant them.

Cordehlia tipped her head back, surveying the damage wrought around them. “Well, the day is ours, and a rest and a feast are well overdue.”

“Say no more, my lady,” Raphael chuckled, snapping his fingers to swirl them in smoke. The throne room faded, instantly replaced with the heart of Raphael’s war camp.

Two feet back under her, and Cordehlia couldn’t wait to rest, her body ached in places it hadn’t for almost a year, not since those final battles against the armies of the Absolute. The stick of congealed blood grew thick, and while she wanted to rest and bathe, she first wanted… no, needed her feast.

She needed to taste him.

She could hear his heart beating across the crowd, its familiar thumbing making her hunger flame higher. Molten need, to touch him, to make sure he was unharmed and victorious, it drove her to race past cambions and other infernal beings as she shoved them out of her way.

“My love,” she purred the second they locked eyes. He was just as covered in gore-filth as she, the red spattered elegantly over his silver waves of hair still, even if he had washed his face. He grinned at her hungrily the second he saw her at last. Crashing and clanging, their armor slammed together as they embraced, their kiss all tongue and fangs and breaths to be reunited again. His fingers clutched around her chin, bringing her cheek against his mouth, his warm tongue swiping a lick up her pale skin.

“Darling, you are as messy a murderer as I am an eater. Just look at the state of you, tch.” He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, gathering the blood from her chin before he sucked that digit clean.

Cordehlia’s face twisted into a mocking grin, grabbing him by the collar and pulling his taunting lips to hers. “We deserve a feast, my love,” she murmured against his lips, “and you’re the one who’s going to join me in it.”

“Mmm,” he purred, “I do rather like that, you know.” A playful growl in his throat, and he nipped that bottom lip of hers.

“Gods, you two have only gotten worse, haven’t you,” Karlach boomed her teasing laugh.

“You have no idea,” Astarion replied, his eyes still locked on that beloved bloodspattered countenance as he caressed her.

Giving Karlach a bump from his shoulder to hers, Wyll chortled. “Oh, we have some ideas. It’s not like we didn’t spend weeks having to share camp and common rooms at the Elfsong with you.” He shook his great horned head. “Not like we didn't have to stop in streets and battlefields so you two could kiss.”

Mischief flashed in Cordehlia’s scarlet eyes as she impishly snapped her fangs in the air in front of Astarion’s face.

“Ah, how sweet to see that your bonds of friendship haven’t withered over time,” that velvet baritone broke the camaraderie, making the easy company they kept with one another stiffen back to formality as Raphael approached. He swaggered in slowly into their midst, his helldusk armor still spattered from combat as well. A cambion servant followed in tow with a silver tray to wine chalices ready for consumption.

“A toast to the victors?” he crooned, handing a cup to Wyll first. “First, to the Blade of Avernus, a powerful weapon I’m glad to have in my magnanimous employ.”

Wyll tipped his horned head. “It’s been… refreshing to find a devil who did not demand soul nor contract.”

“I do what I can for those who eliminated the Illithid threat from your realm and mine,” Raphael smirked, raising his cup.

“Bullshit,” Karlach barked a laugh as she grabbed her own chalice from the tray. “You’re just soft on us because we conveniently freed the crown of Karsus from the Dead Three,” she barely stopped talking to down the wine to its dregs in one go. “That and you want to keep your Bone Picker on your good side, eh?”

Raphael arched a single thick, dark brow. “What kind of devil would I be if I didn’t ensure the faithfulness of allies of renown, so bloodsoaked and deadly. You all had your hands in a feat of great and mighty valor. I’d be a fool to let our longstanding connection slip from my claws.” His gaze settled square on the Tiefling. “That reminds me, Advocatus Diaboli. You’ll be Advocatus no longer, Karlach. Legatus Legionis, the title and position are yours. My commander in the field, my arm in matters of politics beyond the hells.” Raphael nodded in Wyll’s direction as Karlach’s face beamed with joy. “Perhaps a return to Baldur’s Gate to escort the next Duke Ravenguard to his proper place, now that Avernus is mine. You’ll need to be as effective in the politics of the material plane as you are in battle, my Hellion, so…”

“YOU’RE GONNA FIX MY HEART?” Karlach screamed at full volume, giddy and bouncing like a child.

Raphael’s rolling, rumbling chuckle sounded almost genuine to see her gratitude and mirth. “You’ll need it if you’re going to be my conduit of influence to our Duke of Baldur’s Gate, the Vampire Ascendant and his mighty Bone Picker…”. He turned to find the allies in question, two cups of a different sort of red liquid as its contents awaiting them on the tray. “To our victory, again,” the new Archdevil proclaimed, dulcet tone befitting his new status. Allies and an army and a circle of hell at his command…. Not much was missing, he grinned as they all downed their drinks.

“You know, that was fun,” Karlach added, a wide incorrigible grin on her face. Her heavy hand came squarely down on the devil's shoulder. “Thanks for a good time, Claws.”

Raphael’s brown arched, his swarthy face drawing into a grin that showed amusement and warning. “Claws?”

Karlach gaped at him, almost sloshing her wine as she huffed with her whole body. “Oh, come on! You know, like when we first met you… down came the…. Is your memory that bad?”

A sardonic sneer on his face, Raphael started to walk away, snapping his fingers to refill their chalices to near bursting.

“Am I still your Legal Whatever-it-was?” she called after him.

That easy camaraderie returned, laughter and claps on the back all around. “Don’t worry, I think he likes it,” Astairon grinned, nodding his head in twisted delight.

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

A/N: Raphael has a… soft spot… for Cordehlia, one that maybe clouds his usually twisted manipulative plans with wanting to earn her good will. His generosity towards Karlach and Wyll is maybe more a means of ensuring Cordhelia’s favor than any form of kindness.

And… just maybe… he’s going to cash in that favor in our next update. 🦇 x 🐦‍⬛ x 😈

2nd A/N: I stole from The Bard for my evil devil Bard. Raphael’s poem of victory is from Laertes in “Hamlet” 💀

[pjmslave]

***WARNING*** this becomes quite intense and heartless. Consume at your own risk.

Dalek Invasion “Fall BACK! For GOD’S SAKE, FALL BACK!” Private Dirk Schmitt heard in his ear piece. He had never heard Sargeant Montgomery scream hysterically. And Sarg had been screaming this into his left ear for at least five minutes now. The reason was obvious. It only took a quick glance at the alley way in front of him. The alley way was littered with his fallen comrades. There were not dead, but they were destine for a fate worth than death. At least that is what the rumors said.

The rumors said if you fall in combat with the enemy then you come back to fight as the enemy. Because of these rumors, Dirk had tried desperately to pull Malcome, his best friend, with him as he retreated. Dirk had tried to shake Malcome awake, but he had failed. Malcome had remained completely dead weight. Dirk had finally decided that trying to save Malcome meant that he would be shot down as Malcome was. Now Malcome was well behind the front wave of enemy troopers.

While another members in his company was laying down cover fire, Dirk moved to a position behind the next trash skip in the alley way. Not that cover fired meant anything in this fight. The enemy troopers were impervious to their bullets. The enemy troopers appeared to have some kind of energy field that stopped their bullets a good two meters in front of their skirmish line. Regardless, Dirk took up the job of sending a wave of cover fire down the alley way while his other mates retreated back towards the main street.

While sending as many bullets down the alley way as he could, Dirk got a look at the troopers advancing towards him. Each and every one of them appeared to stand more than two meters tall. Each were heavily muscled. Dirk thought out loud, “Damn, my professional body building mates would be jealous of their muscles.” They all were covered in what appeared to be a heavy black rubberized one piece suit that started just below their jaw lines until it disappeared into their knee high heavy leather boots. On top of this base layer of clothing was what appeared to be various hard plastic body armor. This amor was black with colorized lines just at the sternum. The colorized line was the only variation among the opposing troops. Some lines were a deep blue. Others were bright yellow. Others were bright red. Occasionally, Dirk would see trooper with a dark green strip, but those mainly were deep behind the enemy front line.

There was additional armor below their waist with shielding on the front of their lower extremities with a black plastic knee cap. Same with their arms. Except Dirk noted their lower left arms were covered with the various style of weaponry they were using. Group Red and Group Yellow’s weapons started at just below their left elbow. It covered their left hand completely if they still had a left hand. It then had a long slender stick capped in a red or yellow ball.

Dirk noted that each time one of these troopers unleashed the power of their weapon, their left arm pushed back at least a half meter. Because of this, Dirk surmised the energy bolts that shot out of the tip of this weapon must have packed a huge punch for anyone struck by the bolt. It was obvious to Dirk that these bolts were intended for single targets. It was the troopers with the blue strip that were the most dangerous. The energy bolts that shot out of their left arm spread out as it moved down the alley way. Anyone caught in this growing energy field fell where they were.

As he discovered with his best mate, Malcom, those that were hit by the blue energy field were not dead. They became incapable of movement. Any movement. They froze and toppled over. Their body completely fixed in the position they were in when they were hit. Dirk was certain that this method of capture caused many broken bones as the now paralyzed person toppled to the ground. The capture party would still breathe though. At least Malcome continued to breathe after being hit by the blue energy field. Even though Dirk was not absolutely sure, he did think individuals caught in the blue energy field remained conscious.

Dirk could not think of a more horrible way to go. To be reduced to just a body on the ground, waiting to be harvested by the troopers that had a green strip. Dirk had seen what the green troopers did to his pals. The left appendage appeared to be of a medical derivation. The green troopers would inject something into the necks of a body on the ground. Dirk was not sure what this did to his mates, but it could not be good. All Dirk saw was the body relaxing and then his mates, one by one, would let out a scream that sounded as if their body was being pulled apart bone by bone.

After they stopped screaming, Dirk would then watch each of his mates return to a standing position only to dissolve in a field of red light. Dirk could not even begin to imagine what it would feel like to just ‘dissolve’ to nothing. He did know being dissolve was something he did not want to experience.

“Right side, cover fire. Left side fall back!” Dirk wondered why they were even doing the cover fire. It was a waste of bullets. The enemy troopers did not appear to be slowed down by his or his pal’s bullet barrage. Their speed was more of component of just how many of his friends that had fallen. Dirk felt sorry for each and every one of them. They did not deserve to be dissolved. They did not deserve to be sent into a combat situation against troopers who were so much more advanced.

Dirk heard the other side of the alley start with the cover fire. He turned to his left. He had just started to stand up to sprint when his body was caught in a field of blue energy. As he fell forward onto his knees, he heard in his left ear, “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! They got Dirk. Fuck this shit! EVERYBODY RUN! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!”

Dirk did not see the result of this order. He slowly toppled onto his right buttocks then onto his back. He could see the cloudless sky beyond that top of the building around him. He thought to himself how beautiful the sky was today. “Such a beautiful day.” Dirk thought to himself. He might have said it outload, but he knew he was now paralyzed. Dirk did not notice that he remained in the semi-crouched position as he rolled onto his back. His entire focus was on the beautiful blue sky. Dirk wondered why he had not notice just how beautiful the sky was today.

As Dirk was taking in the sky, multiple blue energy fields were shot down the alley way. Dirk only noticed them as they changed the blue color of the sky. He did not notice the reports of who was falling to the blue energy flooded his left ear. Names were being announced. Dirk found that while he heard the names they did not exactly register in his mind. Nor did it register when the dialogue ceased in his left ear.

Dirk saw the front of the enemy’s skirmish line pass him. A few minutes later one of the enemy troopers with a green strip down his chest plate moved into his eye sight. Dirk’s eye took in the slender needle attached to the end of the trooper’s left arm. Dirk’s mind felt the prick of the needle into the left side of his neck. Dirk remained focused on the sky until he felt his brain catch fire. Dirk has never felt anything so painful. Dirk heard someone screaming. Dirk took a deep breath. During this moment, Dirk noticed the screaming stopped. When Dirk started to breathe out, Dirk heard the screaming restart. Even with this evidence Dirk never realized it was he that was screaming.

When the fire that was in his brain began to dissipate, Dirk recognized the trooper who was tending to him. It was Corpsman Rodriguez, Jaimie to his friends. Corpsman Rodriguez had came with him from the U.S. of A. to assist in the fight against the invaders from space. He had been provided a position in The Royal Army Medical Corps while Derik was provided a billet in His Majesty's Armed Forces. He had been to see Corpsman Rodriquez multiple times. One time on the down-low to stitch up a nasty cut he had gotten while pub hopping. He liked Rodriguez. Well, he had like him. Now he was an enemy trooper that had injected some mind altering substance into his body.

Derik noted the lack of recognition on Rodriguez’s face. He wondered what had been done to Rodrigeuz. He wondered if the same would be done to him or would he just dissolve in a red light like the rest of his mates. Before Derik could arrive at a conclusion another enemy trooper marked with green slipped something onto his head. This head gear covered his ears and his eyes. The sounds of the on-going battle faded. It was replaced with white noise entering his ears and a kaleidoscope-like display into his eyes.

Derik was unsure where the need to stand originated, but he pushed his body up to a standing body. Without even thinking about it, he felt his body snap to attention. Moments later, he was engulfed in a red field. Derik managed a sigh. He was to be ‘dissolved.’ At least he gave ALL to the defense of his planet…

Derik did not loose consciousness. He found he had just moved to another location. The white noise sounds and the kaleidoscope-like display continued. His mind became confused. Thoughts. Images. Feelings. Everything in his mind felt foreign. Even his body felt foreign. It was all as if his body and mind, even his soul, was now owned by someone…or something else. Derik began to feel he was no longer in control. He was being dominated by a powerful person…thing. A force he knew would subjugate every sub atomic particle in his body and mind.

Derik felt his left arm curl upwards. He focused on his left hand for a moment. He was confused. He had flesh and blood fingers. Flesh and blood hand. Flesh and blood wrist. He knew this was not correct. A Dalek slave’s left appendage was made from a powerful death ray. Dalek Earth Slave Two Three Two Five Zero One, code named Dalek Slave Derik left appendage was a death ray. Dalek Slave Derik exterminated all that opposed the will of the Dalek Supreme. This was Dalek Slave Derik’s purpose.

Dalek Slave Derik felt its mouth exclaim “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” Dalek Slave Derik felt its exterminate appendage move into position. It felt the commands to exterminate flow from its brain to the exterminate appendage. It felt the appendage fire its exterminating charge as the appendage was forced back with each charge it expended. Dalek Slave Derik saw images of inferior humans dissolve in the energy beam that consumed their bodies. Dalek Slave Derik felt waves of pleasure as it fulfilled the command given by the Dalek Supreme.

Dalek Slave Derik heard a query. “What is it?”

“It is a Dalek Slave!”

“What is its purpose?”

“Obey the Daleks.” “Serve the Daleks. “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!” “Exterminate!”

Dalek Slave Derik caught a glimpse of itself as it was being marched to a new location. He looked identical to the other Dalek slaves. Knee high leather boots. Heavy rubber black under layer from its knee high boots to its chin level. Black plastic armor covered most of this rubberized under layer. A red strip on its front. It also knew there was a red strip down its back so it could be easily identified as an exterminating Dalek slave. Its left arm in the up position. A death ray attached where its left hand had once been.

Dalek Supreme picked Dalek Slave Derik’s targets. Generally, humans who would not offer any benefit to the Dalek Supreme’s plans for domination of this pitiful planet. Humans that could not or would not serve the Dalek Supreme well. Injured humans. Small humans. Old humans. Dalek Slave Derik was incapable of remorse. It served the Dalek Supreme without question. Its minimal thoughts programmed by Dalek Supreme. Dalek Supreme required strong humans to serve the Daleks.

The humans that were not exterminated were processed by the green back Dalek slaves. Medical slaves. Dalek Slave Jaimie began the processing on one human into a Dalek Slave, then he moved to the next human to be processed. He, too, obeyed his programming without remorse. Dalek Slave Jamie knew what was done to his brain. The robotization was quick and highly efficient. The human was placed into the processing chamber. Its scalp was surgically removed. It was then duplicated and then the human scalp was discarded. The duplicated scalp was made of a high durable clear plastic. From this plastic scalp a hundred billion almost microscopic wires hung down. Once these wires contacted the human brain, the bore deep into the target brain making a connection with all the brain cells of the brain.

Once the human brain had been fully wired to the Dalek command and control system, the wires either forced control of the brain cell to which they were attached, or quickly exterminated the brain cell. Within the span of eight minutes, a human became fully robotized with little of its former personality left. Not quite a new individual, but very close. And so subjugated by the Dalek’s command and control system. There was no attempt to escape by this point as the very concept of escape had been detected and then deleted from their slave programming. The emotional center as well was detected then deleted.

The Dalek Supreme absorbed the data HE was being given. The military was on the run along with all the humans on this out cropping into the Thames. The mass of humanity was moving north away from the Dalek controlled area. It did not matter. It had been expected. The Dalek Supreme split his forces into three groups. One would move slowly north. One would cross the river to the outcropping of land into the Thames to the east. And the third, with the assistance of their robotized humans, would begin to build a processing center unlike anything this puny planet had ever seen. Eight Billion potential Robomen and unprocessed slaves to be used and abused. The Dalek Supreme estimated that two billion could be robotized. This was all that was necessary to subjugate the planet. What happened to the rest of the population was not worth considering. They would either serve the Dalek Supreme or not. Their choice. Of course if they choose not to they would be exterminated.

[vexwerewolf]

on a scale of 1-10, how stupid would it be if i were to slap a flamethrower and a decksweeper onto a deaths head?

I actually made a Flamethrower Death's Head because of some art that @zhjake made for IGF.

-- SSC Death’s Head @ LL6 -- [ LICENSES ] SSC Death’s Head 2, HA Genghis 1, IPS-N Tortuga 3 [ CORE BONUSES ] Reinforced Frame, Improved Armament [ TALENTS ] Vanguard 3, Heavy Gunner 3, Skirmisher 3 [ STATS ] HULL:4 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:2 STRUCTURE:4 HP:26 ARMOR:0 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:8 REPAIR:4 TECH ATK:0 LIMITED:+1 SPD:6 EVA:12 EDEF:8 SENSE:20 SAVE:13 [ WEAPONS ] FLEX MOUNT: Vulture DMR MAIN/AUX MOUNT: Deck-Sweeper Automatic Shotgun / Pistol HEAVY MOUNT: Krakatoa Thermobaric Flamethrower (Throughbolt Rounds) [ SYSTEMS ] Personalizations, Armament Redundancy, HyperDense Armor, Explosive Vents

I call this Firebug.

The Death's Head's Core Power sucks in general but it's absolutely worthless for this build so we won't ever use it. This build is entirely focused on getting in as close as possible and then being a giant fucking problem.

You want to use your excellent speed to get really close to the enemy, activate your HyperDense Armor and from then on, your average turn looks like this: Skirmish to fire your flamethrower into a group of enemies, and then Heavy Gunner to designate two targets that will become Impaired.

If either of them move, they either just help you line up the cone of your Flamethrower for you, move away from you (and thus outside the minimum range of your HyperDense Armor) or move towards you and potentially trigger your much more damaging Decksweeper Overwatch instead.

[stalwart-spirit]

Final Fantasy XIV & Guild Wars 2

Normally I don't post stuff like this, however I thought it would be interesting to discuss in what I conder to be differences between both games which makes me enjoy them both so much.

FFXIV:

"Puzzle solving" combat (mechanics you have to come up with solutions for and react to).

Far more readable AoEs and mechanics (GW2 literally just has hollow circle outlines so it gets confusing when dozens of them are on the floor overlapping).

Better glamouring system (glamour prisms easier to obtain, GW2 transmutation charges can end up costing irl money if the free season pass runs out of them).

Better customization (more options even with a limited chargen. Hairstyle changes cost in game currency. ANY character changes cost irl money in GW2).

Photo mode (everyone in every game just wants to easily take screenshots of their char let's be real and GW2 does not have that).

Better raiding scene (easier to get into high end content such as raiding, GW2 it can be like pulling teeth at times to find groups. "You need experience for this job, but in order to do that you need a job to gain experience" sort of deal).

Less alt friendly but at the benefit of ALL CLASSES being playable on ONE character.

Constant updates to the graphics and textures, so the game does not look as old as it is (GW2 launched around the same time and REALLY looks its age, however pre-rendered cutscenes are looking great now).

Your character feels like your character in MSQ (GW2 your character speaks, replies mostly independently of your choices, thus at times it feels like you're playing someone else and not who you have developed yourself).

Better crafting (GW2 makes me wanna rip my eyes out and lots of people in the community agree that it can be costly and convoluted).

GW2:

Dynamic combat (things are happening on the screen all the time and is very fast paced with barely any breathing space which makes for some insane battle moments).

Active community in older content (part from base game dungeons, but Anet basically dropped those so fast themselves).

Better dye system for armors (multiple slots up to 4 on each gear piece, and a total of 642 dyes currently in game).

Account wide glamour and dye unlocks (unlock on one character, usable for all of that armor weight/collected dye).

Account wide item banking and currency wallet.

Satisfying achievement system (Rewards from achievements as well as scaling reward track for gaining purely just achievement points).

Buy once, play forever, no subscription (each expansion being the only purchase for each release, as well as the older Living World "post-patch" content) so more obtainable for general pop. who don't want to sign up for another subscription service.

New characters can hop into ANY expansion or just ignore them completely and dive into whichever content needed without having to clear an MSQ beforehand.

Generally more alt friendly (at the cost of irl money for extra character slots, as there is a max of 5 on paid accounts)

Better Player vs Player scene as well as the edition of World vs World (giant map skirmish with 3 "servers" constantly battling for domination in each season, literally running in huge groups to take over enemy castles or defending your own)

NOTE: Any instance of having to use irl money to get things in GW2, you can also convert your in game gold into their gem currency to purchase items in their store, but the exchange rate can be kinda wack.

Neither pros or cons for either:

GW2 has horizontal gearing & leveling, with 80 forever being the max level, thus gear never becomes outdated, thus making it easier for people to hop into many forms of end game content as it is released.

FFXIV has vertical gearing and leveling, which gives a goal in mind each time the new level cap is set and new gear levels are added in order to run content, so an insentive to keep active and have a goal to work towards.

GW2 has build options for each class, allowing different styles of play without the restriction of traditional roles (Tank, Healer, DPS), however there will typically always be an accepted meta build for each depending on type of content, and can cause issues of unbalanced parties when lacking specific roles.

FFXIV does not have builds, and each class plays in a specific way allowing for less flex in how each are played, but allows for FAR more security when running content, as well as allowing more focus to be placed on interesting fights with fun mechanics in my opinion.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter Four: Minor Skirmishes - Okatsu discovers why Mitsunari needs a bodyguard, and another plate of stewed eel meets its doom.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Generally, a skirmish can be a minor battle, or even short fight, as part of a larger military campaign, a smaller force drawing out a larger to test resilience, or to gather information about the size of the opposing army. Occasionally, it is itself the cause of the larger campaign.

Or, sometimes, it’s simply a matter of a misunderstanding, an incident in which two groups are in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Personal comments:

Being engaged, even if it is only a pretense, takes more effort than battle. At least in battle, one only has to wear armor, define and implement a strategy, and pay attention to the commander.

Being engaged? Requires one to converse.

While Lady Okatsu seems pleasant enough, I am not convinced she is necessary. I’m not ungrateful - I appreciate the effort that Mitsuhide has made on my behalf to acquire her expertise. However, I have never had any difficulty focusing on reading in the past and believe that on my own, I can discourage interruptions of any sort. Events have already been set into motion now, and it’s too late to switch courses. My engagement has been announced – for it to be unannounced within a day of the announcement would simply cause too much confusion.

At least Lady Okatsu is competent… and… There is something about her which is familiar - I believe we have met before. Though I know little about women, I am at least aware that saying, “I think we have met before, but I cannot quite remember you,” would not be received positively.

Getting attacked by a mysterious intruder was not on my Sengoku bingo card.

I brought my dagger up, and my attacker’s sword met it with a ‘clank.’ “Wait – I mean you no harm.”

“Harmless people don’t sneak into rooms through the ceiling.” I held my dagger steady in front of me. It wasn’t the best defense against a sword, but if someone was coming after me, I was going to make sure to do some damage of my own.

“My apologies for disturbing you. I seem to have landed in the wrong room.” My maybe-not-an-attacker edged backward. “Perhaps you could pretend you had a bad dream?”

Mai had given me her room for the duration of my stay here since she had moved into Nobunaga’s. Was my attacker after Mai?

Except… now that my heart wasn’t thundering in my ears, it occurred to me that my attacker’s voice was familiar. “Sasuke?”

“Yes. Do I know you?” Like me, he kept his weapon ready, but his posture relaxed somewhat.

I found the lantern and lit it, then belatedly remembered to double check that my kimono was fastened shut.

My moderately awesome ninja friend stood in the middle of the room, squinting at me. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and pulled down his mask. “Katsu? Fascinating. This is your most effective disguise to date.” He blinked a few times, darting a quick glance at my cleavage, then back to my face. “Wait. ‘Katsu’ was the disguise, wasn’t it? This is who you really are.”

“More or less.” I combed my fingers through my hair and stuck it behind my ears. “Katsuko… although I suppose I should get used to being called Okatsu.”

He laughed. “I’m obviously not a moderately awesome ninja if I never detected you were a woman.”

As far as I was aware, Mitsuhide and Mai were the only two people who instantly realized I’m female, so he was in good company. “What did you want with Mai?” I hoped the two of them weren’t conducting an affair under Nobunaga’s nose. At the very least, he’d consider that a serious insult to his honor.

“I need to return to our home, er, village for a long visit, and came to say goodbye.” Sasuke wandered to the writing desk, where I had left out my brush and paper.

“Oh… is Mai the girl you were talking about earlier this summer?” Even then Sasuke had seemed rather attached to her, no matter his claim of platonic friendship.

Sasuke nodded. Then he indicated the paper and brush on the desk. “If I write her a note, can you get it to her?” He paused, then added, “Why are you here?”

“Here in Mai’s room? Or here in Azuchi castle?” I plopped back down on the futon and rummaged through my pack until I found – yes, still had some dried pears left. I offered some to Sasuke, as it had been our tradition when we encountered each other on the road. Also, I was still hungry, as Mitsuhide’s roofieing of Masamune had effectively ruined dinner.

“Both.” Sasuke accepted the offer of snacks.

“I’m in Mai’s room because she is in Nobunaga’s. I’m in Azuchi because… well… it’s complicated.” I gave him as brief of an explanation as possible. “So, while we are at Genba castle for a month or so, I get to portray an Oda Princess.”

“You lead a very interesting life, Kats… er, Okatsu.” He folded up the message then turned to me and with a bizarre change of topic asked, “What’s your opinion of the Azuchi warlords? Have you met Ieyasu? Has any of this…” he gestured to my things now spread out on the futon, “touched Ieyasu?”

“We met. I have not touched him. He has not touched me. And as for the first question, if you are asking for reasons of spying, I’m not going to tell you.” I might be only a ‘temp,’ but temporary loyalty is still loyalty. “Remember, I do know who you work for.” Kenshin and Nobunaga might be in a truce, but I was not confident that it would last.

“I’m asking out of pure academic interest. I’m rather an admirer …” He paused, then seemed to reconsider his words. “Since I am going to be gone for a while, I want to make sure my friend is safe.”

Sounded like a lie. Or maybe a truth wrapped inside a lie. But I didn’t think he meant any harm to Nobunaga or the rest of the people in Azuchi. “As long as she is with Nobunaga, she’s perfectly safe from his vassals and allies.” Although as Nobunaga’s woman, she’d be a target for enemies. I didn’t need to point that out to Sasuke. “As much as I’m able, I’ll keep an eye on her as well.”

Hm, Sasuke hadn’t mentioned where his and Mai’s village was, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask him to look for my brother. I got out the drawing that Francisco had made for me. “I know I’ve asked you before, but please, especially if you are on a coast, if you see Toshiie, tell him how to find me.”

Sasuke refamiliarized himself with the drawing of my brother. “I will. Thank you for watching over Mai… and take care of yourself as well.” He bowed, then scampered back into the ceiling.

“You too, Sasuke. Beware of carnivorous trees.” I listened as his soft footsteps faded away into the night.

I would miss him. Not that I had been able to predict when we would run into each other; but knowing Sasuke was no longer roaming the byways of Japan made me feel even more alone than ever.

“Sorry that I got food all over it – at least… it’s not blood?” I handed Mai the kimono she had loaned me. She had stopped by “my” room with more clothing for me. “I’ll be more careful with this one.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was inevitable.” She held up a light blue kimono with a darker blue pattern, and a mint green one with silver embroidery. “I think these will do, until I can complete the custom ones. Do you like them?”

I nodded. They weren’t really my style, but at least they weren’t pink, and she didn’t have to keep giving me her own clothes. “They’re very pretty. But even if I didn’t like them, I would wear whatever they want me to.”

“On that note, Mitsuhide reminded me that he wants you in pinks.” I made a face at that, and she laughed. “There are many shades of pink, and you’d look good in most of them.”

I wondered if there was any specific reason that I was required to dress in pink other than the fact that Mitsuhide knew I didn’t like it. “Did he say why? Is it an official shade for Oda Princesses to wear?”

“I don’t know.” She handed me the blue kimono and busied herself with displaying the mint one on the kimono rack. “Mitsuhide does and says a lot of things I don’t understand. But deep down, he’s a good person. Also. He can read minds, so watch out.”

Sure.

Odds were that, like Aki, Mitsuhide was simply very observant. Clearly, I wasn’t going to get any helpful data out of Mai. “So be it. Pink. Maybe it’s Mitsunari’s favorite shade?” Though if that were the case, why had he asked me if I liked blue?

She looked over from where she was smoothing out invisible wrinkles. “Mitsunari wouldn’t notice what color you’re wearing unless he was required to memorize uniforms for battle.” Then she clapped her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry. He’s your fiancée. I didn’t mean that way it sounded. He’s lovely, a perfect angel… but a little…”

“Absentminded. I’ve noticed. And, reminder, fake fiancé.” I shrugged into the kimono she’d handed me. It was so soft! I mostly lived in cheaper fabrics, either in the ugly brown maid kimono Fume made me wear, or the sturdier dark green kimono and hakama I wore as Katsu. Color aside, I could get used to this Princess thing.

Mai came over and made some minute adjustments to the fit, humming happily as she did so.

Damn! I was being a bit absentminded myself. Almost forgot. “Mai, I had a visitation from a ninja in the middle of the night.” I grabbed the message off the writing desk and gave it to her.

“Oh no!” Mai put her hand to her chest. “Did he scare you? I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to warn you about him. He’s a friend, and harmless. Alright. No. He’s not harmless, obviously, but he-”

“Mai! It’s ok. I was startled, that’s all.” And sure, startled enough to come at him with a knife, but she didn’t need to know that. “I’ve been friends with Sasuke for a couple of years. I’m used to his quirks.” Though popping through ceilings like Spiderman was a previously unknown facet of his personality.

She relaxed. “I forgot he’s been here that long.”

Weird response.

Quickly, she skimmed the letter. “He wants a chance to say goodbye in person. Kats- er, Okatsu, do you want to go into town with me? I can show you around, then we can meet up with Sasuke at this bookseller he frequents.”

Ha! I bet I know which bookseller that is. Though I was already familiar with Azuchi, thanks to my ‘observational activities’ earlier this summer, it wouldn’t be the worst idea. “I’d like that, but of course, I need to report in with Mitsuhide first. He might have other plans for me.”

“We can take Mitsunari with us. That way, you can be seen together. And if I mention bookseller, he’ll be happy to go along with it.”

That was actually a pretty good idea...

We tracked down Mitsuhide at Hideyoshi’s manor, where, as it happened, they also thought Mai’s idea was a good one. Mitsuhide gave her an approving nod. “We might make a strategist out of you yet, Mouse.”

“You on the other hand.” Hideyoshi looked me over with a frown. “What were you thinking, sticking a sword into the obi? You’re a princess, not a warrior. Azuchi is safe enough within the confines of the town.”

“I’m used to being armed.” I handed over my sword. It had only been a diversion, as I had my daggers strapped to my legs and a throwing knife hidden under my sleeve.

Mitsuhide studied me. “That… was too easy.” He put out his hand.

I unstrapped one of the daggers and handed that over as well. I could work with one dagger, the throwing knife, and the joy of knowing I had won.

“You can keep the other weapons,” Mitsuhide added, “as long as they stay hidden.”

If Mitsuhide ever ends up in the future, he can rent himself out as a metal detector.

It was easy enough to find Mitsunari, as he was holed up in his quarters, reading. It was slightly more difficult to get his attention, but once Mai executed the ‘bookstore’ command sequence, he was willing enough to set aside his book and join us.

I wasn’t sure whether Hideyoshi had given him an additional lecture, or if Mai was a mitigating presence, or, if Mitsunari was getting used to me – whatever the reason, he was more present and willing to discuss landmarks of interest.

At one point, I paused in front of a metalsmith’s shop – I could use some more arrowheads – both the blunted ones for target practice and the sharper ones for hunting and defense. The sound of the smith at work carried into the street. “Is this where Nobunaga gets his ammunition?”

“Some of it.” Mitsunari led us inside the smith’s shop to examine the wares. “Nobunaga has a private swordsmith he uses for his sword collection, and we have metalsmiths in the castle for ourselves and Nobunaga’s personal guards. As you might imagine, when there is active fighting, we need more than what we make. And of course, our guns come from the Kunitomo village gunsmiths.”

I nodded. Most of the guns made in Japan were made in the Kunitomo village, though I knew there was still a big market for European-made muskets.

The weapons inside the shop were of higher quality than what Aki could acquire. I picked up a fully assembled arrow and examined it. It was slightly longer than what I used, and the feathers were different as well.

“Sea eagle,” the smith replied when I asked.

That made sense. Azuchi was closer to the coast than Akihira’s household.

Mai mimed drawing a bow. “Are you any good at archery?” I already knew enough about Mai to know that she had no interest in weapons of war, but it was nice of her to ask, and she was doing a good job pretending not to be bored.

Was ‘Okatsu’ good at archery? Many women in this era were, as they needed to be able to defend their homes while their husbands were at war. And since legendary female archers such as Tomoe Gozen were part of literature, I figured it would be acceptable for “Okatsu” to have this skill. “As long as I practice, yes.”

She twirled an arrow around her fingers like it was a baton, and I could see the smith wince in the background. “Ieyasu’s teaching me.”

“Willingly?” The question came out before I had a chance to edit my words. Eep. I’m usually better tha that, “Er, I mean, how did that come about?”

Mai simply laughed. “It was after a strong suggestion from Hideyoshi. Anyway, you should join us in the mornings if you want to keep your skills up.”

I nodded. I would do that. Belatedly recalling that I was supposed to be developing a rapport with Mitsunari, I asked him if he too practiced.

His response was to proclaim proudly, “Ieyasu is the best archer in Azuchi.”

That… was not the question I had asked, so I tried again. “Do you ever practice with him?”

“Oh. Yes. Sometimes. Ieyasu says he prefers the solitude of archery, but he kindly allows me to join him.” There was that beatific smile again. Maybe his first love was books, but it seemed like his friends could inspire that smile as well.

Deciding that it would be a good test of my skills to practice with the longer arrows, I purchased some, as well as some blunted arrowheads. Mitsunari bought a couple too, saying that he would have Ieyasu practice with them as a way of testing the vendor. Happy with our purchases, we continued toward the booksellers.

“Do you expect to need additional vendors?” It was mostly a small talk gambit. Nobunaga was not currently at war with anyone, but it would be good to know if that was on the verge of changing.

“No immediate expectation, although as Lord Nobunaga continues to push the country toward unification under his banner, there will naturally be more resistance.” Mitsunari turned to look at me, and immediately tripped over air, and stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance. Unfazed, he continued speaking. “In any case, if we waited until there was a need, it would be too late.”

“Good point. Also, always a good idea to create goodwill with your local merchants.” I knew that both local and international trade was important to Nobunaga, and it seemed he was doing as much as he could for the merchant class.

Mai appeared to be a favorite with the merchants as well and pointed out a large stall belonging to a fabric deal. The merchant smiled and waved at her. “We’ll stop in in a bit,” she called to him. She turned to me. “I want to pick out some fabrics for your wedding.”

Alright, enough about that, even from Mai. This was an over the top, just to fool one seventeen year old girl. “Have you met the Kanamori princess? Does Mitsunari really pose that much of a threat to her engagement?” I couldn’t imagine any woman of this time being that willing to act counter to her family’s wishes.

“I don’t know her personally, but as for your other question… well, it’s easier if I show you.” Suddenly she raised her voice. “Misunari! Thank you for coming shopping with us!”

Even before she had finished speaking, women popped up all over the outdoor market, looking a bit like prairie dogs scenting food. Or well… something like that.

“Misunari?”

“Mitsunari’s here?”

“Where? Where is that angel?”

In moments, Mitsunari was surrounded, while Mai and I were pushed back by the tide.

I see.

Or, well, currently I could not see, but I understood.

When my ears adjusted to the pandemonium, I heard several of them invite him to tea, and a fight almost broke out. “Ok. Needs a bodyguard. Got it.”

“Okatsu. He probably needs one right this moment.” At least two of the women had their grips on his arms and Mitsunari looked from one woman to the next, trying to follow six conversations at once. “He might accidentally promise himself to a second, third and fourth wife.”

I gritted my teeth and waded in. Yeesh. I’d been to K-pop concerts that had less of a scrum. “There you are, darling.” I tucked my arm in his, carefully dislodging one of the women in the process.

“Ladies.” Mai scooted in behind me. “This is Princess Okatsu. Mitsunari’s fiancée.”

If glares were arrows, I would have had more holes in me than a pincushion.

Now I was the one who needed a bodyguard.

By the time we had made our escape to the booksellers, Sasuke was already inside, leafing through a book that appeared to be a translation of Greek mathematics. Takauji (the latest of Aki’s messengers to be stuck wearing the dreaded wig and beard bookseller disguise), called out an automatic welcome when we entered. He seemed dismayed to see Mitsunari, then surprised that I was with him. But he didn’t break character, at least.

Once Mitsunari was camped out with a book and Mai was chatting with Sasuke, I made my way over to Takauji. “Do you have any poetry?” In truth, I have no strong feelings about poetry, but I knew the few volumes Aki had were kept on the other side of the shop, so Takauji and I could talk undisturbed.

“Kaya, what’s going on? Did Aki send you to check in with me?” He handed me a slim scroll.

“Not exactly. One of Aki’s most frequent contacts asked us for help with a specific task. I’m based in the castle for a couple of weeks.” I unrolled the scroll – poetry illustrated with pen and ink sketches – and pretended it was fascinating. “He didn’t have any message to you.”

“I haven’t heard from him in a while.” Taka handed me a book to leaf through. “I was really hoping you were my replacement. I’m getting a skin rash from the damn beard.”

I shrugged because what could I say? Every one of Aki’s couriers knew the beard itched. “I told you to bring rash cream. Anyway. You know Aki. He’ll be in touch when he wants something. Meanwhile, since you’ve been here all summer, is there anything going on that I need to know?”

He scratched around to corner of the beard. Oh yeah, I could see the top of the rash. Poor guy. “Nothing big since the conflict with Uesugi earlier this summer. There’s been a gang of sailors causing trouble for the smaller shopkeepers around here. They don’t really bother with me, but I know the restaurant owners are upset.”

Sailors? I perked up a bit at that. Of course, my brother would not likely be in a gang that caused trouble, but if a new ship had docked in Osaka, then it might be worth seeing if I could finagle a trip down there to check things out.

“Really the most trouble I’ve had these days, comes from him.” With a jerk of his head, Taka indicated where Mitsunari had made himself comfortable with a book. “He always makes a mess.”

Sure enough, Mitsunari was leaning against a table, and the stack of books above was swaying dangerously. “Watch it,” I said to Takauji, mostly to clock his reaction. “That’s my fiancé you’re talking about.”

Then I zipped over to Mitsunari to rescue him before he concussed himself.

As I restacked the books in such a way that they would be less likely to fall over, Mitsunari finished scanning the book he had in his hand. He gave me an odd look, as if he had forgotten who I was. Hm. I hadn’t thought he was that absentminded.

Mai completed her goodbye to Sasuke, who had given me another farewell wave before vanishing into the throng of people on the streets. Then, donning her authority as Azuchi chatelaine, she insisted Mitsunari pay for the book in his hands, and successfully herded us out of the booksellers and right into a fabric dealer.

It felt weird to be picking out kimono fabric for a wedding that wasn’t going to happen, although I’d likely get a lot of use out of the rest of the wardrobe once we got to Genba.

Mai held a swatch of something pink up to my face. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with this color. It will look good on you.”

Well, I didn’t know why some people were so fond of pink in the first place. My mother had always wanted me dressed in pi… well. Some people liked pink. I was not one of the people. But Mai was the expert, and I hadn’t the heart to tell her that overall, I didn’t think clothing was all that interesting to begin with, especially when it was clearly her passion. So, I faked enthusiasm for the fabrics she picked out – and really, aside from the dreaded pink, I liked everything else she bought, as she stuck to the blue and aqua shades I preferred. She even bought a coordinating piece of fabric in a deeper shade of teal for Mitsunari, so that we would have matching outfits for our first night in Genba.

Mai… it’s not prom.

After that, she declared herself hungry – actually, Mai has quite the bossy streak - so we headed for a restaurant nearby that she said was good.

For the record, I maintain that what happened next wasn’t completely my fault.

After we ordered our food, my attention was caught by a group of sailors on the other side of the restaurant. Hard not to notice them – they were loud. Would these men, possibly, hopefully have an idea where Toshiie might be? Couldn’t hurt to ask. Before Mai and Mitsunari could stop me, I grabbed the portrait and scooted over to the table with the rowdy sailors.

Normally, such discussions followed the same pattern. I would introduce myself to the sailors, establish a rapport, show them the drawing of Toshiie, they would shake their head, I would thank them, and then be on my way.

That’s what normally happened… when I was dressed as Katsu.

But dressed as “Okatsu,” I attracted the wrong sort of attention. “Pardon me. Have any of you seen this man?” I held the drawing out to the table at large.

Instead of taking any time to look at the drawing, one of the sailors grabbed my arm. “If ya want a man, wench, there’s a whole table of ‘em right here.” He pulled me onto his lap.

Hell to the no on that, dude… I jammed my dagger into his forearm.

“Fucking bitch!” He leaped to his feet and had his sword out instantly.

Damn Hideyoshi for confiscating my own sword.

I deflected the initial cut with my dagger, but he immediately tried to catch me with the backswing. When I leaped backward to avoid getting hit, Mai’s too-long skirt tripped me up and I stumbled into another of the sailors, thwacking him across the arm with my dagger.

In an instant, the entire table of sailors had their swords out.

The first sailor came at me again, but at the last moment, another party came to my rescue, deflecting the strike with a gleaming katana - Mitsunari had leaped in to protect me. Yikes, please don’t get stabbed, Mitsunari! He slung me out of the way, back toward Mai, and I lost track of him almost immediately when the entire restaurant erupted into fighting.

A dagger wasn’t going to be the most useful weapon, but I couldn’t leave Mitsunari unprotected. Arms and legs flying, I jumped back into the fray, and immediately got jabbed in the eye by someone’s elbow. I heard a rip, then realized, I had again ruined another one of Mai’s kimonos. Shit. She was going to hate me.

I glanced back toward her, just in time to see her clonk a sailor over the head with a tea kettle.

A sword clattered on the floor and landed at my feet – Mitsunari had disarmed his first opponent.

Well, I wasn’t going to look a gift sword in the mouth. I grabbed it off the floor and was back in the middle of the melee.

The sailors weren’t unskilled, and their weapons were of surprisingly good quality, but some of them were pretty drunk. Of course, with the entire restaurant now involved in what had become a sword and food fight, it was becoming difficult to tell the enemies from the friends.

And so, after I kicked a sailor in the stomach, when I sensed a presence right behind me, I grabbed a plate of food off the table and flung it…

…at Hideyoshi.

Well, it isn’t really a good fight until someone gets whacked in the face with a dish of stewed eel.

@lorei-writes @bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7

[hydropyro]

“Team Building Exercise”

Excerpt and sketch

Cw: Strangulation

(Trying to build out the parts of Webs of Fate that aren’t smut 🙈😬)

“What we need,” Gale suggested, “Is a team-building exercise.”

“The trials in this place are supposed to be completed alone,” Shadowheart interjected. As Alakvyr was not a ‘true’ cleric, and not well practiced, Abdirak knelt beside her and worked on mending the wounds she’d sustained during the ‘Soft Step Trial’ earlier.

No one responded immediately. Shadowheart was not capable of completing the trial on her own and had needed Astarion to sneak through it for her in the end. Of course, it had gravely wounded her pride — but Abdirak did not think her ready to become an elite soldier of any god just yet. He understood where her feelings were coming from, though. It was coincidence that they had come across the Sharran temple hidden beneath Reithwyn — the region decimated by Shar a century past — but she would see it as destiny.

He also — quietly — questioned her loyalty to her god. She did not seem to enjoy what Shar had done to the land and the creatures in it. Of course, a great deal of the destruction they had witnessed on their way to Moonrise Towers, posing as True Souls — and servants in his case, to his amusement — had been done during the battle that waged before the shadow fell.

As they explored the land, and fought the monsters born of it, she had asked him many questions in regard to his faith; how he knew it was his purpose, what he would do in all manner of situations, etcetera. He was happy to speak about it, but his loyalty — zealotry — came from decades of service that he recalled fondly.

“I don’t mean for the trials,” Gale assured her. “I just mean — in general. Once you’re a —”

“Dark Justicier,” Shadowheart said bitterly.

“Yes, that — it will be a real help in the coming battle against the immortal Thorm — but working as a team will help us even — as well.”

Abdirak smirked at the wizard and was given a helpless shrug in response.

“In my experience, team-building is often acquired through the communal offering of our pain by the the scourge at the hand of higher clergy,” Abdirak began.

He started to explain further when Wyll said, “We will not be doing that.”

The Pain only smiled at the warlock. He had not anticipated that anyone would be eager to join.

“When githyanki form partnerships they complete a ritual wherein they battle one another,” Lae’zel said.

“Battle how?” Alakvyr asked, seeming interested.

“How else does one battle?” Lae’zel scoffed. “You choose a weapon and you fight. It shows your partner’s strengths and weaknesses, and drawing blood from one another builds an unbreakable bond.”

Abdirak smiled. It could be a scourge, with the right person. He stood. “Are there rules? Do we wear armor?”

She frowned and shook her head. “The exercise is not one in cowardice. Choose your opponent, priest, and fight. It is not a difficult concept.”

Abdirak pointed to Alakvyr, who climbed eagerly to his feet. The Pain collected his scourge from the stone he had rested it on. In his sleep clothes he had no way to wear it. A feature that probably slipped the mind of the maker. He watched as Alakvyr took up two short swords. He used his bow more often in battle, but the goal was presumably not injury.

“Is magic — allowed?” Alakvyr asked when they moved a few strides away so their tussling would not fall atop the rest of the group. He gave Abdirak a slightly nervous glance — the Loviatan’s magic was much stronger than his.

“I would say no,” Lae’zel said, and Gale scoffed.

Before an argument could break out, Abdirak offered, “I am amenable to a melee-only skirmish, Dear One.” He smirked at the drow, who looked much more confident now. That would not last.

“Do we just start?” Alakvyr asked, his eyes trained on Abdirak, his feet planted, rocked up on his toes and ready to spring forward.

“You just fight, tas’ki!” The gith exclaimed. She had set her plate of food down violently, as if readying to stand and fight the men herself.

Alakvyr leapt forward. Abdirak knew he had been well-trained in Menzoberranzan and he had seen him fight. Alakvyr was particularly fond of feigned attacks, knocking his opponent off balance and opening their side to his strong hand.

“When — uh — do they stop?” Gale asked nervously.

He held his scourge over his shoulder, ready to strike, and shifted just a bit onto his left leg. Alakvyr feigned with his left arm, his red eyes focused intensely on the Loviatan’s scourge hand. Abdirak swung his right leg out of the way while shoving the featherlight drow to the side, onto the ground.

Alakvyr caught himself on his knees and raised a blade to guard his back, anticipating that the strike would come. Though the blade caught a couple of falls, the majority fell in a nice, wide pattern across his bare back.

“When one concedes or is incapacitated,” Lae’zel said, as if it were obvious.

The drow began to stand. He could handle a few lashings — Abdirak knew — and he likely intended on gritting his teeth through. So, the Loviatan did not strike him again.

Instead, Abdirak moved his scourge to the other hand as he stepped up behind the drow and caught his wrist, wrenching his sword to the side, and twisted it. Not hard enough to break or sprain — but to cause a shooting pain to run up the elf’s hand — and, as desired, Alakvyr dropped the blade with a cry.

Abdirak ran the scourge over the drow’s beautifully freckled shoulder and caught the falls in his main hand, pulling Alakvyr back against himself. Pale eyebrows furrowed up above sanguinous, baffled eyes.

The barbs along the scourge bit sweetly into the soft flesh of the younger man’s throat — not long enough to harm him, but enough to draw small beads of blood as Abdirak wrenched the falls tight.

Alakvyr tried to stand, but Abdirak just straighted with him, resting his head against the back of Alakvyr’s as he so gently strangled the man. That is not what a whip is for, he could imagine Alakvyr was thinking. He had been anticipating a flurry of blows, dodging the many, barbed flails with his quick footwork.

Alakvyr still held a blade, but did not use it. He struggled against the Loviatan bodily, his breaths becoming ragged and his grunts of effort suppressed by the leather squeezing his throat.

Abdirak was careful not to put pressure directly onto the trachea, instead focusing the knuckles of his hand and handle of the scourge, and the falls in the other hand onto pressing the carotid arteries on either side.

“Do not worry, Dear One,” he murmured in Alakvyr’s delightfully pointed ear, chuckling quietly to himself. “I will tuck you in once you are asleep.”

The flat side sword came up suddenly and caught the Loviatan on the side of his head. As it glanced off he felt it just cut, and as Alakvyr squirmed away the blade caught Abdirak’s ear, delivering a delicious sting. He laughed, pleased that Alakvyr was willing to strike at him.

The drow had a wicked smirk on his face — his escape had been successful.

[entities-of-posts]

Oooh! Are we giving dream statements? :D

Here’s one I still think about. I had this dream where I was the general of this small group of soldiers in a forest. We were in charge of keeping the ruins of this old tower safe, and we were up against an enemy with more men, more power, more morale than we were. I think there must have been only about 14 of us against an army of a hundred or so.

I know I only slept for a night, but in the dream it felt like this was a skirmish going on for months. It wasn’t even that much all-out fighting, it was mostly guerrilla warfare, laying in wait and ambushing. Trying to keep back a wave of inevitable defeat.

I remember experiencing heartbreak for so many of the soldiers under my command who went missing on lookouts and never returned. I remember the feeling of fear, swimming downstream in a river so the enemy camps wouldn’t see our armor reflecting their firelight through the trees. I remember the feeling of walking into a trap and having the floor collapse under us, and that last and final trap being the final betrayal of me and my soldiers. It all just felt so real and vivid, and I’ve never had a dream like that since.

Normally, war is of the Slaughter, but in this case there seems to be little focus on bloodsheds, and much more on the slow, creeping dread as each comrade is inevitably picked off. The End.

[metroid-prime-ribs]

Why Can't Metroid Crawl (Into My Heart)

Prologue

You are a bounty hunter. You grew up during the age of exploration. When things were fun and exciting and new, and the Galactic Federation had just gotten together. Afloraltite was mined for fuel and the Elysians had just signed a treaty with the newly formed Galactic Federation. At the same time, the Space Pirates had been organizing to attack freighters carrying food, fuel, and anything they thought might be worth the taking.

You were born during this era, so you grew up when the Federation Police were still on the scene trying to organize the newly allied worlds into some semblance of unity and order. You remember you were born on a world that happened to be named a ‘core world’, so you grew up with the rapid advancement of technology. You remember how bounty hunters were hired in droves to protect its new citizens while the Federation was still putting together its army. 

The hunters were icons. They could be rude as hell, greedy, and borderline evil, and they would still get merchandise made to honor their efforts in the skirmishes with the Space Pirate Confederation and the Kriken Empire. And then when Samus came on the scene… It was like a switch was flipped overnight. Everyone and anyone was trying to find out who or what was beneath that exotic armor and synthesized voice. No hunter had ever been such an unsolvable mystery. You decided to try your hand at the bounty hunting game along with everyone else that year. But unlike most, you stuck with it. Moonlighting at first, protecting your smallish city of only one million and taking on jobs to deliver items, protect clients, steal data, etc.

Now, nearly a standard decade after Samus first hit the scene, you are at the top of the galaxy’s A rank hunters. Apparently you were even good enough that the Federation had personally reached out to you to join the best hunters on a secret mission, so here you are. Time to begin the hunt.

Wake Up

You wake up to the standard alarm on your Device, a soothing melody plays on some kind of old earth instrument that involves hitting pieces of wooden bars of different lengths. It is annoying and you keep forgetting to change the damn thing. You roll out of your hammock, yawn, and stretch all of your limbs in every direction possible from your purple yoga mat. Another human thing that was supposed to help your body become more stretchy or something? Either way, it’s softer than the metal alloy of your ship’s floors. You meander to the cockpit and flip a few switches, disabling the blast shutters, turning on the nav system, and starting the kettle for a hot cup of your morning Red Starburst leaf tea. ‘Ahhh, that hits the spot,’ you think to yourself.

Now that you’ve had your drink and stretches, you feel ready to face the day! And what an exciting day it is, your ship is on course to dock with the GFS Olympus in a little bit so you can join with a small group of hunters that the Galactic Federation has hired for a top secret mission. It’s up to you (and like 7 others) to work in pairs and defeat the galaxy’s next greatest threat after the Space Pirate forces were scattered years ago by the legendary hunter, Samus.

You leave the cockpit and head to the armory of your small ship, checking on the charge status of your Powered Suit. There behind the polycarbonate window lies your livelihood, your second skin, your soulmate. A suit of polygonal armor that you yourself designed and assembled from scraps and alien schematics over the course of a few years working late nights at a bar on your homeworld. One of your human friends compared the shape of your suit to ancient “origami” one time, and while you’re still not sure how it relates to the climax of a sexual encounter, you take pride that someone was able to achieve such a heightened emotional response from it (even if you were hoping for intimidation).

[99%] Charge Completed

The monitor displays that your suit’s energy levels are at maximum, but looking closer, you notice that it also has an update available to your suit’s interface software. You have been ignoring that for a while now.

[kyeanadril]

Nightengale

Kyean to Nahi: Check your armor, there is a loose band under your arm.

Nahi to Pathyn: Why are you telling him about my clothes? 

Pathyn to Nahi: Not me this time, Nightengale. He has a new assistant.

Nahi to Pathyn: But you are the only one that tolerates him. And Nightengale?

Pathyn to Nahi: He made a new friend. She is pretty awesome actually. He started calling you it and it stuck with him and I.

Nahi to Pathyn: So he is sending a new lover to spy on me?

Pathyn to Nahi: Not a lover…  just talk to him okay? He needs to make sure you are alright.

Nahi to Pathyn: Be safe out there.

Kyean sat and watched Nahi on her comms trying not to be jealous that she would rather talk to his cousin. Yet, he was patient. He could wait for a bit before trying something new. 

Nahi to Kyean: Having someone spy on me is no less creepy of you.

Ah, there was that sass he enjoyed.

Kyean to Nahi: I figured you would not reach out willingly. I am not above bribing your commander for news. 

Nahi to Kyean: You did not!! 

Nahi to Kyean: You didn’t. I know because the Commander and other people in the camp would tell me to get it fixed. You are so full of it.

Kyean to Nahi: Maybe they are too busy to notice, but you need to get it checked. Take it to someone now and ask. 

By the Gods she was smart, picking up his bluff so quickly, it made her even hotter. He watched her take off her armor and check the strap, good. Then she picked up her comm.

Nahi to Kyean: How did you know? Who is your spy?

Kyean to Nahi: I met this person and they have been checking out camps so I asked them to check on you for me. Before you yell at me, I was worried after the other night and she said she would be happy to look in on you as she scouted camps. 

Nahi to Kyean: The other night? You mean the attack on the camp? I am alright, it freaked me out.

She lifted her armor, sitting down where she was and placing it in her lap with what he assumed was a sort of resignation. 

Kyean to Nahi: And how do you feel now?

It took her a few minutes to reply.

Nahi to Kyean: I don’t know. I don’t even know how I should feel.

Kyean to Nahi and Pathyn:  Nahi was saying she isn’t sure how she is supposed to feel after the skirmish they were in. I think she should hear this from both of us.

Nahi to Group: You are such a bossy asshole. You know that right? Like there I am confiding in you and you tell someone else.

Pathyn to Group: You are both right, but I get what Kyean is saying. You already get defensive with him so this conversation might be better between the three of us. With how things are we don’t know when we could all get together so this is as close as we can get. Kyean… you a a fucking asshole, you want her to talk to you then you get a moment alone with her, in this medium, and you text me.

Kyean to Group:  Nahilvi, we both care about you and I worried you might let my advice roll off you just because of who we are. Did you get hurt? 

Nahi to Group: I understand why you did it, but I may not talk to you alone again. No, well a little, cut my hands up on a piece of a nerubian’s leg when I was trying to pull it out of a woman. Also… nerubian guts splattering over you is gross.

Kyean to Group: If that is the cost of putting your mind at ease, then I will take it. And anything’s guts spilling over you is gross, nerubians are a bit more gross though.

Nahi to Group: I hate it when you are reasonable. 

Pathyn to Group: Same girl, but he would offer this same advice if you just worked with us, we have had this talk a lot. First off, did you get your hands healed?

Nahi to Group: Yeah, once things calmed a little. I ended up working with the healers and once everything that really needed a healer to handle they took care of my hands. The woman died though.

Kyean to Group: It is hard having people die around you, but I would imagine that part you already know from before, and those were people you knew. The thing I wanted to say for Pathyn to back me on, is that there is no set way to feel after battle.

Pathyn to Group: Tell us what happened. 

Nahi to Group: A light went out in the camp next to us so the Commander called to everyone to help get as many people into our camp as possible. They did amazing work saving people then those of us in camp took the injured to the healers, or settled others out of the way of the fight. I tried to help a woman right at the edge of the light but she was pinned to the ground by a nerubian just out of my vision when I went to help her. Dicenne, the man that suggested I talk to the Commander to see if he would take me, saw the danger and killed the Nerubian, I pulled out the leg that was still in her and the serrated edges cut my hands. Spent the rest of the night helping the healers. 

Kyean grits his teeth trying to keep from yelling at her, or Pathyn for allowing her to be here, but he knew that wasn’t fair at all. She had a right to this as much as anyone, just because he wanted to protect her as he hadn’t in Tempest Keep wasn’t even a rational thought. Yes, he had the hots for her, and would have her against a wall again any time, but she was going to have to warm to him in that way before he could suggest anything like that. Even then she might shoot him down. 

And this Dicenne, who the fuck tells an inexperienced woman to fight with a mercenary crew? And why did she take his advice? Were they fucking? Irrational anger flared through him.

So, what was there about her that made him go all feral in the head? **Because she is a sexy piece of ass? Because she might like Pathyn more than you? Because you wanted more than a quick fuck from her even then?** His demon wasn’t wrong on any of the points and the second just made him feel shitty. Why wouldn’t she like Pathyn more? Kye had been an overbearing dick since she came back into his life and she would not take being bullied well. **You could have the human…**  ‘Not on your life, you just want me in her so the link between you and Saxori will become deeper. I do not want demon sex talk in my head, thank you.’ **You would rather be a peeping tom, classy**

Kyean to Group: It could have been much worse, Nahi. I am glad you are safe.

Pathyn to Group: Kyeanadril is right. You do not have to feel any particular way about death or battle.

Nahi to Group: But shouldn’t I feel something?

Kyean to Group: How do you mean?

Nahi to Group: When I was told she died all I could think was that a lot, of people died. She was not even a member of the company, I *think* that may have bothered me more. 

Kyean to Group: If you did not have a strong connection you may not really need to feel anything.

Pathyn to Group: No you don’t have to feel anything for her. Did you do everything you could to save her?

Nahi to Group: I did, I was maybe a little too reckless, but I did try.

Pathyn to Group: Then you have no further obligation to her. Some people might have guilt at not saving her, but it is perfectly healthy to say you did your best. You might have felt worse if you didn’t try to save her.

Nahi to Group: I suppose so. She isn’t even the focus of my nightmares.

Pathyn to Group: Nightmares huh? Do you want to talk about them?

Nahi to Group: I am talking with a healer here who is a therapist. He has me writing down my dreams.

Kyean let them go on, this was something Path was better at then he was, and maybe more so with her, even if he wanted to be her source of comfort. **Sexy piece of ass…** Shut the fuck up.

Pathyn to Group: Is it helping?

Nahi to Group: Yes, I think. A lot of his talk is going back in time now. Like… isn’t it cliche for him to ask about my mom?

Pathyn to Group: Yes but not really. This woman I know that is a therapist says that a lot of what people face and how they react is built in from childhood.

Kyean to Group: Is that the Draenei you bang?

Nice going, try to make him seem involved when you know he isn’t, dick move.

Pathyn to Group: Yes, and we both enjoy it when we manage to see each other, asshole. 

Nahi to Geoup: Aannnyyywaaayyyy….I have been talking to him some.

Kyean wantched as ….. rolled on his screen from her comm and he assumed Pathyn was doing the same since he hadn’t replied.

Nahi to Group: You guys don’t mind if I reach out now and then to talk about this stuff?

Pathyn to Group: Even to him?

Kyean to Group: Even to me?

Nahi to Group: Definitely not to you Kye. You can’t keep your mouth shut.

Kyean sighed from where he watched her… good job asshole. 

(@Dicenne for mention)

[throughtrialbyfire]

Cycle of the Serpent - Chapter 1, "Unbound"

summary: Surviving Helgen by the skin of their teeth, three elves find themselves tossed into the middle of ancient legends, a civil war, and a hell of a lot of problems. They may all have different reasons for being in Skyrim, but if they have any hope of reaching their destinations alive, it lies in learning to trust their strange new companions... no matter what. From the ruins of Helgen to the plains of Whiterun, from the seas of Solitude to the grim frost of Winterhold, and everywhere sprawling beyond, the unlikely trio will find that being chosen by Akatosh is more than they've ever bargained for. And with their own histories crawling back, and secrets slowly spilled, the trio may find that there's little they can do to escape the cycles they've made. Rated M, canon-typical violence, ptsd, discussions of child abuse, death. reluctant dragonborns, longfic, canon deviation, slow build, moral ambiguity.

chapter 1 preview below the readmore

  The pounding in Athenath's head was like a fist on the door to a great hall, silencing the crowds within. 

  The skies spilled over in grey-blue hue, sounds of horses trotting and the turning of wooden wagon wheels beneath their seat coming to piece together a portrait of their situation. Though his senses were foggy and muddled, he blinked away blurriness in their eyes and focused on the thick trees just beyond the cart. The cart? He didn't remember hopping into any carts, but if that's where they found themself... 

  He glanced to one side, spotting another cart being dragged by well-groomed horses. Imperial drivers. They scrunched their brow and turned their gaze to the other side. The back of an Imperial helmet met them. He raised his hand as though to rub his eyes, but when he felt tension around his wrists, a jolt of shock ran down them.

  They looked down.

  The fear that balled up in their throat like a fist caught them off-guard. He made a strangled noise of surprise, and struggled against the tightly-knotted leather around their slim wrists. A man seated across from him took note, his cold eyes having been on the woods behind Athenath, taking in the scenery. A Nord, he guessed.

  "Hey, you, you're finally awake." He gave the faintest ghost of a smile, like he was trying to comfort the figure that continued to struggle against the binds. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there." He tilted his head in a small jerking motion to the smaller man next to him, whose gaze rarely rose from the wooden floor of the cart. Athenath looked to him, then to the man in dark finery, whose mouth was bound as tight as a belligerent hounds. He did not struggle, but sat with slumped shoulders and high chin, brow set in a permanent glower.

  They looked then to the others in the cart. Beside the thief sat a Dunmer man, his round, gold-rimmed glasses firm on his nose as though he'd enchanted them to remain there, no matter what skirmishes he may encounter. To his side, at the end of the cart's bench, sat a taller person, though Athenath couldn't tell if he were elf or man. His dark, sage-green cowl obscured his ears, and his stature lended itself to him possibly being a Breton. He noticed Athenath, the pair locking dark eyes in the grey morning. He nudged the Dunmer next to him. 

  Something had gone very, very wrong for all three of them to wind up here.

  Athenath shifted his attention back to the arguing pair, the Nord and the thief. Something about Stormcloaks. They'd heard the word before, a fragment of overheard conversation from the night they'd spent in Bruma before crossing over into...

  That's right, they'd been coming to Skyrim. They'd been crossing a border into the frigid land when they got turned around, saw a large group of people in strange armor, figured that he'd been reading his map wrong and turned around, and then shooting pain, then darkness, then here. In the cart. 

  In binds.

[agbpaints]

With a couple very Liao mechs added to my collection recently, I've decided to go and start building myself a force of Capellans. With some vindicators, combat vehicles, and battle armor sorted I started digging around for some more CCAF designs to round out an augmented company. Then I remembered the Men Shen.

Don't let TRO:3060's janky visuals fool you, this walking gym shoe is one of the most technically advanced 'mechs the inner sphere built up to its intro date, Hellespont Industrials and the Confederation's Ministry of Appropriations spared no expense when they outfitted their first domestically designed omnimech. The 'mech is built around the heart and bones of a Magna 330 XL fusion engine seemingly designed expressly for the Men Shen and a 55 ton endo steel frame, with a normal top speed of nearly 100 kph, augmented up to 130 kph in short bursts by the 'mech's integral myomer accelerator signal circuits. This speed is paired with a thick skin, with the mech mounting 11 tons of standard armor, more than 95% the chassis possible total protection and enough for every component except the arms and head to take an AC/20 shot without internal damage. The mech carries 10 double heat sinks and an active probe fixed to the chassis, with the remaining 17 tons available as pod space.

The Men Shen MS1-O mounts a single LRM-15 with an attached Artemis IV fire control unit in its torso and a pair of medium pulse lasers in each arm. Intended as an all range skirmisher, the Prime configuration can leverage its speed to keep the range open while harassing with its missiles before driving in to deliver a finish off foes or pick appart scouts and picket mechs with its quartet of lasers. While the endurance of the LRM is somewhat questionable given it only comes with a single ton of ammunition, the speed at which the MS1-O depletes its missiles is probably a good thing given the XL engine and lack of CASE.

The Men Shen's alternate configurations fall into roughly three groups- either serving as remixes of the Prime's role, specializing in hunting non-mechs in a combined arms environment, or working as medium range strikers and forward operating units.

The Delta and Golf are Prime lookalikes, pairing a long range weapon (an ERPPC and a TSEMP cannon, respectively) with a payload of pulse lasers and SRMs to harass and disable mechs at long range before closing for a finishing blow. Unlike the Prime, these designs lack minimum ranges on their weapons, but the heat build of a full alpha strike is risky enough to a mech without jump jets that both designs effectively work as bracket fire machines.

The Beta and Echo configurations are combined arms killers, packing specialized ballistic weapons in their arms supported by a more generalized torso loadout. In the Beta's case this is a pair of LB2-X autocannons supported by a quartet of ER medium lasers, effectively making it a fast, high tech version if the BJ-1 Blackjack and ideal for hunting VTOL and aerospace assets with its flack guns. This configuration is also possibly the very first inner sphere mech to mount the LB2-X autocannon despite it supposedly being invented in Davion space. Chalk one up for the Maskirovka. Where the Beta makes helicopter pilots sweat, the Echo is an infantryman's nightmare demon. It mounts 8 light machine guns arranged into two arm mounted machine gun arrays, supported by a plasma rifle and 2 medium lasers in the torso. On average this thing will brrrrt an entire platoon of inner sphere ground pounders to mulch with every trigger pull, and the crit seeking/random heat mean it's not too much of a slouch in mech combat either. The 4 tons of ammunition does mean it is worryingly explosive, though.

Finally the Alfa, Charlie, and Foxtrot are the mid range strikers. The Alfa pairs a trio of ER Medium Lasers with an LB 10-X autocannon to deliver a decent ammount of firepower at close and medium ranges, backed up by a TAG laser designator to call in artillery and LRM strikes from the rest of your force. The Charlie and Foxtrot are very much like each other, using pairs of accurate, high damage energy weapons to make for any light mech's worst day. The Charlie chooses a pair of large pulse lasers supported by a Guardian ECM suite and an ER small laser to hunt things like Locusts and Striders while shutting down enemy electronics such as C3 spotters. The Foxtrot swaps the pulse lasers for a pair of snub nosed PPCs linked to a targetting computer to wreak havoc with its disgustingly long short range (270 meters!) and brings a TAG to make sure Marty the Arty will lay low anything its particle cannons can't. The Charlie and Foxtrot's placement of their main guns in the arms also makes them the best versions of the chassis to carry battle armor into fights with.

The Men Shen is best deployed as a 'cruiser' of battlemechs- calable of outfighting anything it can't outrun and outrunning anything that outguns it fairly easily. It will likely operate best at the front of formations to scout and probe the line of battle until the main battleline of mechs arrives, at which point it shifts to outflanking and finishing off wounded units.

Despite its durability, speed, and weapons options, the Men Shen isn't without flaws- the lack of jump jets mean that it can easily get bogged down in cities or other rough terrain and while it's speed and thick armor mean it can tough through some pretty heavy shots, the XL engine means that it won't survive drag out fights for particularly long. The cost is also fairly prohibitive- while most variants run between 1400 and 1700 BV, the MS1-O is a whopping 16.6 million c-bills. For the same price, you could by an entire company of urbanmechs, or a full lance of Vindicator 3L's. This price and the operational fragility of an XL engine paired with unCASEed ammo will likely make campaign commanders balk and relegate the design (like many omnis) to hangar queen status. As a player of mostly pickup games, though, it's a design I'm excited to run

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

I've been thinking obsessively about my gladiator!Hunter au for the past 24 hours straight- so take some random plot drabbles!

Hunter is sixteen/seventeen ish at the start of the story, although he doesn't know his exact birthdate or age. He has been a professional gladiator for at least a year, training at a ludus gladiatorius (a gladiator training school- currently unnamed) in a province countryside near Rome/

He was abandoned by his mother at the age of seven or eight, and was picked up a few years later by a group of slavers, and sold to very small gladiator trainer/manager- called a lanista- to compete as essentially canon fodder in small provinces.

He survived somehow, and began getting more skill and kinda-sorta-almost fame, and around the age of 13 was sold to the ludas gladiatorius just outside of Rome.

What type of gladiator was he? I'm glad you asked! but this answer is gonna get a little long, so I'm putting it under the partition.

There were several types of gladiators, all of which had different fighting styles and armament, and were suited to different opponents. At the moment, I am unsure which type of gladiator he was. His combat style in canon is very light and agile, and he is semi-lightly armored; I want to represent that in this au with giving him those same traits and abilities.

-the lightest and most agile gladiators were the Retiarius; these guys:

They wore next to no armor besides a manica (arm guard) on one arm and a galerus (shoulder-guard) on the other. They fought with a trident, weighted net, and dagger, and were largely looked down upon, even more than already sub-human gladiators, especially if they belonged to the specific subset of retiarius, called: retiarius tunicatus, who were especially "shameful" and "effeminate" because they wore (can you believe it??) clothes. For shame.

Their main paring in the arena was the more heavily armored: secutor

However, I'm not sure if I like the look for my boy, Hunter- and the fighting style doesn't super call to me, so I'm not sure.

The second option is a rarer type of gladiator called a veles, or velites (skirmishers, in English). Because they are so rare, information on them is a little lean, and most mentions of them are from the Total War Wiki, soooo. I'm going to do my best with what I know.

They fought with a small, round shield and a six ft long spear (hasta in Latin), and were lightly armored. They were also given a sword as a backup, should the spear fail or be lost. They were a latter addition to the gladiator games, based off of a subset of the Roman infantry of the same name. In contests, they would be paired against other velietes.

Like I said, there's not a lot of information on them, which is definitely a con, as it makes design a lot more difficult. But-

Look! Wolf Boy! That is definitely a plus.

As I mentioned, the velietes are based off of an actual subclass of soldier in the Republic, pictured above on the left. We can see the spear, sword, and shield, and he also has a tunic and the wolf cap thing which slays. The right one is a warhammer figurine, but listen, supplies are thin. I can assume, using my very limited historical knowledge, that, as gladiators were, essentially performers of the likes of the despicable actors, they would dress as some sort of caricature of the actual soldiers, with the same weapons, and I propose keeping the wolf beanie as it slaps, but the tunic probably would have been ditched for something more revealing, like on the right.

(gosh that was long why didn't a make this a separate post good heavens why)

Whichever type of gladiator Hunter was, over the course of one or two years he would have sparred 5-7 times in an arena, as well as several times at private functions/ banquets depending on his popularity (spoiler: he is pretty popular). He's also the youngest (scout to be made-) professional gladiator, which is very appealing for a lot of people. Everyone likes an underdog, right?

When not sparring, he endures a harsh training regiment at his ludas gladitorius (still unnamed) under his lanista- who I think should be a character from the show but I do not know who at the moment. Although popular and well-liked, he's a very high flight risk, so his freedom is extremely limited. He basically lives and works and exists at the school, except for when he is rented out for contents and arenas 3-4 times a year.

Sometime during the story he gets spotted at a contest by Belos, (that's right lads you knew he was going to show up. You knew it). Belos is a affluent, high-ranking general in the Roman Army, and attends the contest, and becomes very interested in Hunter.

A few months later, Belos celebrates the ten year anniversary of his brother's death with a gladitoral munera, three days of gladitoral combat and feasts, and rents out gladiators from Hunter's ludas gladitorius, mainly because Hunter looks very similar to his dead brother,(wink wink) and Belos is the emperor(ha) of healthy coping. At the end of the munera, Belos buys Hunter from the lanista to become his personal guard, and boom- we have the Golden Guard dynamic from the show!

Small baby headcanon's that don't really relate:

Hunter is a pretty good pickpocket, from those few years on the streets, but if he got caught he was royally screwed because he can't lie for the life of him.

His favorite color used to be red, but since his time as a gladiator he doesn't know his favorite color anymore. During his time under Belos, it becomes yellow.

When he was younger, he tried to run away twice, and because of that was branded on his arm or neck (maybe with the letters FVG, for fugitive??). With Belos's permission, he cut off/hacks it off after he's bought.

His favorite foods are those little honey cakes sometimes served at the banquets the night before gladiatorial contents. The first time he was important enough to go to a public banquet, he ate so much food he got himself sick, and now at banquets he doesn't eat much, to give himself a better chance the next day, but he does have a honey cake if they are provided.

He thought gladiators were super cool until he became one. Think like, a little kid's obsession with superheroes.

He's still sort of scrawny, especially for a gladiator, who were fed a lot of bulky food to give them some fat to cushion blows in the arena, but he has a good amount of muscle, and after he leaves the arena (and maybe after Belos???) he starts filling out more.

Lastly, at sixteen years old, he still hasn't lost all his baby teeth! (even with how many times he's been socked in the jaw)

I'm hoping to work in more characters later, right now I am frankly obssesed with gladiator!hunter and gladiator!hunter only, but I do have some ideas for Hexsquad + the CATT's, so hopefully I'll be able to expand on that.

Anndddd that's that babbbby take the my disorganized rambles for 24 hours of hyperfixation. And yes, I am writing this because if there's one thing I'm good for it's hyperspecific au's of my loveliest boy.

:D

[dailycharacteroption]

Heavyweight Skirmisher Operative (Operative Alternate Class Feature)

(art by frozenbunn on DeviantArt)

It’s easy to assume that all operatives are catsuit-wearing sneaky types that specialize in agility, light weaponry, and stealth. However, if you’ve ever thought about a lot of elite teams, not everyone fits that mold, and being an agent of any sort of group is just as much having the training to leverage your talents, rather than fitting into any one neat and confined box.

Hailing from the Interstellar Species book and heavily associated with larger, more ungainly alien species like dragonkin, these heavyweight skirmishers learn how to leverage their strength and might, rather than raw agility, and favor bigger and stronger weaponry, but they retain the various specializations and skills that differentiate them from soldiers and other heavier hitters.

They might still be stealthy, but more akin to a sudden summer squall than a barely noticed breeze, or they might be one of the more social sorts of operative, leveraging their weight class as part of their intimidation factor, and so on.

Either way, these sneaks and agents are definitely a whole new breed than what you might be used to with this class.

At their core, these operatives rely on strength rather than agility, and this shows, for they favor larger and more powerful melee weapons, as well as heavier armors. They can use any weapon that is not too slow or too imprecise with their trick attacks, though the additional damage is increased at a much slower rate than other operatives. What’s more, the damage they deal on average is a bit better as they can reroll progressively more and more of their bonus damage dice.

They can choose to become proficient in heavy armors, and learn to overcome their sluggishness with practice.

Additionally, if they attack repeatedly with their weapon and hit both times, they can apply their trick attack as if they had made the skill check. What’s more, they become more accurate when attacking repeatedly than most, though they miss out on attacking thrice in a turn.

This option is great if you want the skills and tricks of the operative while being a bit more combat focused, sort of like a combat rogue variant of the normal operative. You miss out on multiple attacks per round and on evasion, but if you plan on standing on the front lines, whether it be with a big melee weapon or gun, this may be what you’re looking for.

Obviously this option was meant for bigger characters to give them a way to be an operative without feeling hampered by their bulk. That being said, I stand by what I said about different operatives achieving their goals based on their strengths and preferences, because the operative is very much about that, the application of skill and precision. It doesn’t matter what those skills specifically are. After all, part of the gimmick of the operative is finding ways to use skills in clever ways, such as adding different skills to the options for when you make trick attacks, and so on.

Composed of ex-cons, former mercenaries and others, VaxasCorp’s “problem-solver” team is kept in line not just by their paychecks but also various forms of blackmail that they have on all members. Take Slugger, the team’s heavy-hitter. The company keeps constant tabs on his daughter, ready to threaten her if he puts a toe out of line. He’d do anything if it meant getting her, and himself, out from under their thumb.

Though she is a mountain of a woman, Kova has always found she preferred to work with computers, though her raw strength comes in handy in rough company. Now that she’s out of the military, she seeks a new career that makes use of both of her skills.

Mostly mouth and infamous for their society of dominance over the weak, xaarbs are not thought of as a subtle people. Some, however, find there is much to learn from the complex ways of other peoples. Traditionalists call them sneaks and skulks, but they still show their xaarbish pride in the way they fight.

[blankdblank]

Battle Ravens

@devilishminx328, @lilith15000, @jesevans, @theincaprincess, @gothams-gotchya, @i-will-bite-you​

added the couple people who asked to be tagged, and as always if you want to be added or removed from a tag list let me know. :) Now here’s some grumpy pining Dwarf King for you.

…

“Oh for Mahal’s sake how did I choose the most stubborn rock on this entire damn continent.” The muttered words through grit teeth had Balin, who was pretending to not be awakened by the noise of rock being scraped once again as you sat up on watch, in a fight to not laugh.

For three weeks now since Thorin mid skirmish with some goblins had lost a hidden pouch with beads apparently very special to him on the end of a braid severed by a gnarled and blackened blade you stole time on this task. Hours he and his kin spent searching for it as he chose to make camp there for that task and to rest you and his cousin Dwalin who had taken injuries to your left side at the sudden attack that knocked you both off your ponies that also needed time to be calmed.

But the nephews of said mournfully grumpy King who couldn’t seem to look your way since, unless to issue an order of watch times or ensure you had your helping of food each meal to go with the dry spots if any that could be found in this rainy leg of the Journey, had shared a secret with you. Or at least a fact he was not boastful of.

Not three days later a small stumble had led to five of the Company rolling down a rocky hill sending the King to help secure them after. A task that had broken another relic from his old home, a blade forged by his grandmother now without a hilt. A lost relic you couldn’t recall the design of so you were free styling and intended to fashion a new hilt to the blade he had tossed into a heap of rocks out of frustration at the fact of yet another loss.

“Ha!” You were heard saying by the now also awakened Bofur, who buried his face in his arms to not be heard chuckling at the back end of the battle when the Valar Mahal apparently had heard your battle himself and found it honorably intended and let the rock give way to your effort. Now you just had to secure the two decorative flower pins you had managed to make while on a helpfully lengthy market stop a few weeks back in the Smith stall after some very effective begging and puppy dog eyes to go with a silver coin that most likely would have done the trick anyways sans the amusement for the Smith.

“My watch,” Bifur said with a grin as he saw you tie up the spare blanket you had bought at that stall to wrap around the hidden blade he had a guess what you might be up to with the old thing. “You know your bearings, even in the dark?” Another few silver coins had gained another leg of this plan and with a nod and swap of funds he saw you ease off the rocky ledge you had been sitting on to creep out of camp to achieve your main goal.

 ..

 Two taps on the nose when pokes to the armored chest plate and arm braces didn’t do the trick later and the grumpy King opened his eyes to land upon you. Behind you however were the smiling Company grouped up making him ask, “No one is missing I am assuming it is a stranger then who has died.”

“It’s your birthday grumpykins. Come on, got a special breakfast for you.”

As he sat up he sighed and groaned out at the move of a bruised arm and side still left from the rescue on that rock slide, “Oh yes, boiled oats and a slice of dried salted ham, mighty meal to be woken early for. Now, who is dead?”

“Ugh,” you said and turned to show off a wooden crate Fili and Kili had uncovered for you with wide grins of their own. “We got eggs, sausage and I managed to haggle some flour and other fixings to make pancakes, not very much so very small pancakes so everyone gets some. And bacon, again, not much bacon, so just a cube each, but bacon.”

“How did you afford this?” He asked at a loss for how else to take such a bold gesture for him out of the bunch.

“Traded one of my ruby mirrors,” you said and he let out a puff of air in shock as you had shared those were very special to you as a first big price item you’d bought after your first job. “I have two left, biggest one also landed some sugar cubes for the ponies, so they get to party too. Now, gifts!”

You stood and his eyes followed you in Bombur’s move to ready the food out of eagerness with Oin right at his side to not waste any of it. “Our kin do not celebrate birthdays.”

“Well you’re celebrating this one.” You said and he had to let out a chuckle. Resituating his legs to accept the first of the hand carved tokens from each of his proud kin who wished to help make this day special. Not just for the King but for the one who wanted him to have a great day even if there was a deluge outside the spacious onion shaped tent you had brought with you complete with stove, chimney and outer tarp large enough for the ponies to stay dry as well.

You were at the end of the line and he could only grin in accepting the rolled blanket he had clearly seen you not use since bartering quite admirably down the outrageous price to something more tolerable. He had loaned his out several nights since leaving the Shire, but he had to wonder as to why you waited for now to gift it to him if he was the intended user. “A blanket, very useful.”

“To hide the real gift, yes.” You said and his brows opened as you unrolled it to make his jaw drop at seeing the blade he had angrily thrown then tried to return and find now with a new hilt in a material he couldn’t quite place. “Now that is the most stubborn rock on the continent, should not ever so much as dare to break.” Weakly in disbelief he let out a chuckle and took hold of the rocky grip that was a bit big in his palm. “Sized it to Balin’s hand, might be a bit big, but the acorn pommel came out just right to counterbalance the look. Couldn’t remember how it looked before, so just went square with some little angry battle ravens.”

He chuckled again whispering as he turned it over to see the lines of birds carved into each side around the touching flower pins he knew must have taken care and patience to wedge through to such perfection even if it wasn’t exactly fit to his palm. But some shaving of the corners and it would do nicely to not harm the birds. “Battle ravens.”

“See that ones got an axe.” You said with a grin and a point to one in particular.

“Thank you, I was quite heartbroken to see it was gone when I returned for it. I do not recognize this rock though, where did you find it?”

“It was in the wagon the goblins had. Everyone was going to leave the rocks behind, but they stole them so have to be useful for something. Might make a dagger or two for myself if I am up for a good month of nightly battle again.

“A month?” He asked in disbelief.

“Hardest rock ever, took three weeks to drill the hole to fit to the end of your blade.”

“Hmm.” He said in a pondering hum and then had to chuckle as a lit candle was produced over breakfast for him to make a wish.

All he could wish for was a chance to be yours though. Dwarves held sacred beads they carve upon adulthood for their Ones, beads he lost in that Goblin attack. Thoughtful as this was and a great burst of wind to his sails to cross this stormy pass still not even to the first of Elven lands that lay between him and his homeland it was not a blatant offer of courtship beyond question. A kindness in a rough patch, he kept repeating to himself.

All the same it was the best breakfast he could ask for, though nine miles outside of the rough rainy stretch of land when they reached the next town a removal of your wet hat and hood had smiles and waves mingled with calls of familiarity and excitement you had brought friends with you. Nine miles both ways through rough weather and back again before sunrise to gladly and tirelessly wish him entrance to a new year only muddled things more for what the intentions might be.

...

“Rivendell, let’s go to Rivendell,” you muttered helping to hoist the two wheeled wagon your pony had been pulling you commandeered from the long dead goblins holding not just your rocks but also the bags of the others. The ponies had been led off by Gandalf’s horse supposedly in the night, and now terribly lost on the way to the Misty Mountain hidden Elven refuge every Durin held immense displeasure at being inside the orc infested halls of Moria.

“I had no intention of drawing us here, Young Miss.” the Wizard said lowly as his staff lit the path ahead faintly to hopefully not warn any dark foe of your place here on the treacherous crossing ahead of the kingdom that will take weeks to get to the other side of it.

“Oh you don’t have a lot of intentions about a lot of things.” You muttered again driving your shoulder a bit more into the wagon as Bifur’s foot slipped and it neared sliding backwards at you.

“And just what might that mean?”

Fili chimed up in the start of a few hijinks this week alone that Bilbo carried on sharply only driving the Wizard to huff and furrow his brows in shared irritation of the bad luck of this week. Not two halls later you froze inside a long pillared stretch at the sudden drop of a helmet at your side that turned everyone around as you muttered, “Soon as I look up it’s gonna pounce, maybe if we ignore it, pretend it’s a turtle dropped by a bird.” Internal means to be amused at the notion died in the sudden sea of screeches that had the Company in full sprint.

Durin’s Bane however cut off that sprint and over a helmet your foot moved only to drop into a hole that had you collapse and cause the wagon to tilt and spill across your back and onto the ground around you to let bags and stolen rocks alike spill out. Bloodying your nose and cheek really well in the process on a broken shield left in the dust stained again with the product of the blow.

Another roar and bodies turning had hands clench around weapons in hand as only Bilbo, who was helping you to pull the wagon fumbled a grip to get you up in Fili and Kili’s leap over it to get around and hasten the task to keep fleeing. Just two steps and as belongings were thrown back in the hoisted up wagon the Balrog was within distance for his flaming whip to be useful. Reflex alone was the excuse when the hefty rock in your palms was shouldered and hurled up at the beast’s head. Not to hit it but well earning a gaps to be chomped whole between his jaws before damage could be done.

“He ate my rock!” You squeaked as Kili tossed the final rock back into the wagon to Bilbo’s whole body slam into your side to get you moving again so the brothers could pull the wagon to at least get to the armed rest of the Company and Wizard amongst them who had yet to do much but anger the beast to follow you here.

Low and pained a grunt came from the Balrog causing Gandalf to pause in his attack before he slammed his staff to form a bubble of light to protect the Company as the Balrog exploded into a sea of living flames that raced throughout the kingdom. Lost to a roar of the ocean of flames was your scream in being folded into a tight hug by the brothers that dropped the wagon to try and at least shield you and Bilbo from the flames if possible by their natural Dwarfly ways that had them hardy to many forms of heat, including the odd accidental explosion under the right conditions, like several layers to burn off, as they both had.

Quiet and cold soon washed over the cowering huddled Company all around Gandalf who held the barrier of light still. Though you were the first upon release to speak up and ask even if to yourself, “They explode?! The rocks explode?!”

Thorin however just outside the barrier rose up, releasing Ori from the huddle he formed with Dwalin to save the youngest of the Company at the sight of the brilliant shimmer on the hilt of his reforged blade he dropped to do so. “Gandalf, let loose the bubble.”

“Pardon?” The Wizard asked and moved with Thorin to watch and allow the King to lift his blade by the sharp end so he could see the remnants of the war ravens and acorn pommel exposing pure Mithril underneath the crude dark layer.

“Mithril.” He whispered now recalling tales of crude Mithril chunks his elders had shared of their commonplace appearance used to transport it long distances from this long lost kingdom to other Dwarf lands. Then said louder and to you, “The rocks are pure Mithril.”

“Does Mithril explode?” You asked back shrilly still in shock at the massive blast.

“Only the shell around it. Extreme caution is taken to chisel it free, far from heat of forges or it can cause blasts enough to empty an entire kingdom.”

“Okay, so if we find another of those we just hurl another rock at it. Add that to the battle plan booklet Ori.” You said and he nodded and turned a little bit to find his bag still strapped to his side to bring out his log of the Journey do far.

“For now Lass, let’s fix this gash of yours,” Oin spoke up hurrying to your side with his healing kit he found with haste at the tricking blood still flowing from it.

Now perfectly shaped to his grip Thorin could only grin to himself at the new weight to his gift now worth far more than he’d earned in the decades since being ousted by that dastardly dragon. On top of that you were the one to decide to bring the rocks as well, now a hefty haul atop any goods procured from this venture if this were to succeed.

Rivendell eventually was found and in the month of recuperating two taps to your shoulder had woken you on your birthday, out of the post Balrog shimmering Mithril clump a blade was made just for you by means of the Elven forge, wrapped in a new blanket as well. And through the pain of your bruised and swollen face you smiled in saying, “Battle Ravens,” with the amused King who adored that you were so pleased with his craftsmanship. “This one has a little bow and helmet.”

And he could only beam brighter as now with matching hilts to your unique blades the surplus of Mithril was forged with gems he kept on his person for cases of emergencies in bartering for matching courtship beads. Braided into both of your hair to be displayed both inside and out of this kingdom when you were mended and able to travel again without his concern for any lingering side effects or risk of infection of the facial wound to heal scar free by Lord Elrond’s assurance after he had helped to tend to it upon arrival.

...

“We have the perfect battle plan,” you said lifting up one of the rocks after jolting yourself out of Tauriel’s grip to be between the glaring Kings.

“A rock?” Tauriel asked and Thranduil straightened up recognizing it at once due to his age and kin’s former trade agreement for Mithril from Durin’s kin when Moria was still thriving.

“I am listening.” He said stunning the 700 year old Elleth her adopted older brother Legolas would explain fuller to her later at his own vague remembrance of what it might be.

 .

 One break into the floating city by means of a borrowed barge left on the shore for a brief moment and a theft of a giant horn the Elves lacked possession of to be loud enough later and Smaug was on the chase off to the East over growth free hills. Down into the valley below by means of a giant slingshot and his jaws clamped around the rock launched at him off a crude trebuchet decimated in the body to follow.

Silence broke for the town post frenzy of the beast and their own populace could only hear the faint squeak of your loud shout to the Dwarves covering you fully behind a Mithril shelter of shields banded together for cover, “No less terrifying the second time around!” Gaining loud laughter from not just them but the Elves who dared to come and help transport the supplies for the battle plan.

Celebration died as you asked, “Laketown’s closer to Erebor isn’t it?” A collective curse sounded and you all started the sprint off towards the mountain.

Even natural born sprinters the Dwarves soon lost sight of you and the Elves that came close to catching your speedy self. Over the hills and open plane they only could walk right up to the lost peak to find a collection of groaning Men on the frigid ground in varied manners of injury a short distance from the closed front door meaning only one hopeful thing, you had beaten the Men here and sealed them.

“Lass?” Dwalin asked using his axe to tap on the smaller hidden door inside the massive larger set for travelers on foot without wagon, steed, cattle or carriage.

The sliding small door opened to show you with another bloody nose freeing relieved exhales from the tired Company to hear you say, “You’re gonna have to push the door, think I dislocated my shoulder getting the bigger ones shut.”

“There is a crank system on the far wall, Lass,” Gloin said.

“One, never lived here, two, do you know how dark it is in here even with our glowing buddies here?” You said making them chuckle and have them grip the door to get it open with the help of the Elves inside. Except for one who was trying to stem a rather deep gash on the non-dislocated shoulder you spoke of on your stained self they could only chuckle at the mention of not knowing if the various blood stains on you were all yours or not.

Shouts from the Men outside when the gates were sealed again were only answered by their being the ones to bloody the future Queen of Erebor and to flee before justice would be sought for the injury. Even if you were the one to slam them into the ground with very little assistance from the Elves who simply reached you in time to help with the doors. Gloin with hold of the shimmering chunk of Mithril let it down to help his cousins get to lighting the lanterns on the walls.

.

“Now that’s just terribly managed and inefficient.” Was what you said to break the awe striking group stare at the hoard after the break of time to feed the Company and let you be cleaned and patched up by the convoy of Elves with Thranduil and his son at the helm. They looked to you as you looked up at Gandalf, “What’s the extent of your magic?”

“Pardon me?”

“Could you magic up a few thousand buckets, for example?”

“Yes, I can manifest buckets.”

“Good!” You said and looked at Thorin, “Offered plan b, you said the forge needs to be warmed up, we need to search this monster sea of gold and we can get two Balrogs with one exploding rock.” Instantly he was smiling as you explained what he imagined you might be grasping at, “Gandalf Magic’s us up a sea of buckets and lights the forges with his staff and you all configure a pulley system to the forge. Melt the gold into whatever and you can always melt it back down to coin again later, and we find the arkenstone when the gold is gone and it’ll be so much more efficient.”

Practically vibrating with excitement the Dwarves were up for a new building project in their old home and leapt at the chance to Thorin’s, “Brilliant plan. Gandalf, if you wouldn’t mind?”

 ..

 “And what of my people! You steal from us then bar is from entrance to this mountain!” The Master of Laketown shouted up at Thorin on the overlook with the Dwarves.

One of the other older Men shouted, “And you stole my Grandfather’s horn!”

Out of the smaller door you hurried to that man with horn in hand he grabbed with one hand then looked at the second hand your speedy self collected to leave a handful of coins in his palm, “And we thank you for your donation to the cause. Your ancestor would be proud of your confidence in us!” The second sentence you said mid race to get back into the door that was slammed and locked again causing the befuddled men around the horse mounted Master and the man now smiling at the payment calming at least his frustration.

“What of the rest of us?! Our people starve while you live in splendorous gold filled halls?!”

He continued to argue as Bard strolled to the smaller door and knocked on it causing you to open the slot a crack he hunched to see through, “What if my barge you tied me up to borrow?” Out of the slot a fat golden raven with a sword tucked underneath its wing all of five pounds had him look at the odd offering. “What is that?”

“Battle raven. We‘ve had some trouble finding the arkenstone in the hoard, had to melt the gold, you can trade this for coin later when we melt it back after the stone is found.” Lowly he chuckled and accepted the bird enabling your arm to draw back in so you could snap the slot shut again and he could turn to head back to the others. He did pause as you slid it open another crack to add, “Sorry about tying you up as well. Barge looked empty. Make a very convincing mast.”

“Apology accepted,” he replied mainly to himself pocketing the statuette in his best pocket so he would be sure not to lose it.

[fe-fictions]

Hi!! Following onto what the last anon said, I can't find one of your Freddy stories! It was the one where Marc was kidnapped and Fred freaks out but Morgan saves her and is avoiding Fred because he thinks he blames him. Did you write that? I can't find it on your Ao3 and it was one of my favorites. :(

(I've got it right here!! It's one of my faves too ;; A ;; )

There was no reason for the battle to carry on as intensely as it did. But you were outnumbered. Morgan and Marc had taken to clearing out the battalion to the east, leaving you and Frederick to handle a skirmish in the northern part of the battlefield. 

The rest of the Shepherds were struggling, too. There was just too much happening, and everyone was on edge.

None so much as your husband, though. Ever since you had sent the siblings off to fight with their own group, he had been more worried than usual.

“Robin- we need to get back to them.” He said behind clenched teeth, fighting to keep his bearings while the great knights surrounding you started to close the circle tighter.

“They’ll be all right.” You assured him with a devastating blast of magic straight through the Vallites in front of you. “They’re strong, especially together!”

“I know that,” He threw an axe into the helmet of another, shattering bone and steel alike. “But Marc isn’t as strong as Morgan, and she’s still new to the battlefield. If I’m not with her-”

“Morgan can defend her. We need to focus on clearing the field!”

“But-”

“After the battle. I’m worried, too, but we need to prioritize- mrgh!!” You flung violent bolts of Thoron, disrupting the charging men. 

It allowed Frederick to draw himself back; of course you were worried, too. Those were both your babies, even if they weren’t from this timeline.

You didn’t like the idea of them fighting on their own.  You just didn’t have a choice, and made the difficult decision.

For once, Frederick thought to himself, he shouldn’t blame himself. This was what needed to be done. He dove in beside you, finishing off the enemy battalion after the bolts of lightning faded. 

It would be several minutes that dragged by before you were able to route the enemy. You flung up a signal flare, letting the others know that you and Frederick had succeeded in neutralizing your targets.

Another flare, to the west, followed after. Chrom and his group had succeeded. Then came Sumia, Cordelia’s and Miriel’s. All positive.

The battle was a resounding victory, it looked like.

Frederick looked to the northeast out of instinct; Morgan and Marc’s flare should be going up any moment. A positive signal.

You were right, after all; they were both very strong. He couldn’t be more proud of his son and daughter, as they were excellent nights.

So excellent, that he couldn’t allow himself to even consider the possibility that the flare shooting up was negative.

But the sky went dark, and a red flare shot into the sky. North-northeast.

Negative.

“Robin-”

“Go!!” You burst past him, running towards the flare as it dissipated into the sky. Frederick rushed after you and kicked Hebert into gear, galloping as fast as he could. His heart thundered in his chest, and an icy fear crept through his veins.

His children were the only ones to come back negative. It didn’t mean they were inherently in danger, but it did mean that they weren’t winning their battle. Possibly worse.

The forest gave way to a small clearing. You noticed the coat, first.

“Morgan!!”

“Gods-” Frederick tore from his horse and hit the ground, following you to the boy collapsed on the ground. 

Morgan’s armor was shattered, blood coating him from head to toe. He was gasping for air. The spear had been torn from his hands, splintered and broken off somewhere away from his body.

He was fighting to stay conscious. Worst of all, Frederick realized, was that his son was alone.

“Morgan, Morgan- can you hear me?!” Your voice was tense with fear, pulling him to your chest and cradling him tightly. “He’s covered in wounds, he’s- Frederick, what do we do?!”

“I have an elixir-” He stumbled and grabbed the vial from his pouch, taking his kerchief and pushing it into your hand. “We need to clean the wounds and patch them, quickly!”

You sent up an emergency flare. The voices of the Shepherds echoed in the trees, but they were all farther away than the two of you were. 

Frederick helped you pull Morgan’s coat off, working to get his tunic off and cutting away belts and anything else keeping you from the injuries. There were gashes all over him, an assault on your son that you never wanted to see.

“Wait-” You shoved your hand into his pouch, finding an emergency vulnerary. “This...this should be enough. We can at least get the bleeding to stop. But Marc…”

“I’ll find her. She must be close by.” 

She had to be.

Frederick returned to Hebert and swiftly steered around, galloping into the field in search of Marc.

He didn’t know where to start, only to search frantically for a mop of brown hair and another tactician’s coat.

She couldn’t have gone far from Morgan. The flare was sent up a short while ago...she had to be near him. They would never leave each other’s sides, especially not if you had directed them to stay together.

For minutes more Frederick searched, his voice hoarse as he called for his daughter. He had no reply. 

The search came to a sudden end. Hebert’s hoof clacked against something heavy on the ground, making the beast stumble. 

Frederick followed the object as it fumbled across the grass. It was a heavy tome. 

He dropped to the grass, unaware of how badly his hands were shaking when he retrieved it. An Arcwind tome. 

Marc’s tome.

His grip tightened on the book- the paralyzing fear overwhelmed him, realizing that its owner had yet to be found. She wasn’t anywhere. 

“Marc!!” He shouted for her, his chest heaving with breath that he couldn’t find. He was panicking. His daughter was missing. 

She had lost her weapon, her brother, she was gods knows where, and in what state-

The thought of her mangled body flashed across his mind, and for a moment, Frederick couldn’t breathe. The fear of his child being in danger, worse than anything he could possibly imagine, was overwhelming all of his senses.

It was the scream that snapped him from his thoughts.

“PAPA!!”

Frederick jolted when Marc’s voice ripped through the air. He whipped around, searching for its source.

“Marc?! Marc, I’m here!!”

“PAPA!!!”

Above.

Frederick stared into the sky, the sun suddenly blotted out by a hulking beast. A wyvern rider had taken to the air, a whole troupe of them alongside him. The battalion Morgan and Marc were tasked with clearing.

And in the dragon’s claws 

was Marc.

They had his daughter.

“NO!!” 

Marc was reaching for him, screaming after him. He had never seen such a look on her face, but what was worse was that she was getting further and further away from him.

They were taking his daughter right in front of his eyes.

He galloped after them. He poured on what speed he could. 

“No- no, Marc!! MARC!!”

He cried after her, reached for her- but Marc was too far gone.

He could only watch, helpless and afraid, as his daughter disappeared into the sky. 

“Marc…!!”

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

The healing tent was in a flurry. Morgan had been treated and brought back to a stable consciousness, but there was no relief in the room.

Everyone that was crowded inside knew of what happened.

You were helping Morgan to his feet when Frederick returned, his expression gaunt and dark with fear.

He clutched Marc’s tome to his chest. Numbly, he informed you of what he witnessed. 

The Valmese took her.

“It’s all my fault.” Morgan’s buried his face in his hands, “I-I wasn’t strong enough to fend them off, and when they got m-me out of the way, they…”

“Do you know why they took Marc?” Chrom questioned him, standing beside his sister who continued to heal him. Morgan shook his head, remorseful.

“They saw our coats. They knew whose children we were. But when I put up more of a fight, trying to keep them from Marc, they figured it’d be easier to get me out of the way. They o-overwhelmed me, and I told her to run, but…”

“They chased her down.” Chrom sighed heavily, “This doesn’t bode well. There are a number of places they could’ve taken her that are nearby- and we’re in no state to rush straight into another battle.”

“There doesn’t need to be another battle.” Frederick stepped in, hand on the hilt of his blade. “I will go. Whatever locations we deem likely as to her location, I’ll take them down on my own.”

“Frederick, you can’t be serious-”

“They have my daughter. I will not rest until she is safe. I never should have left her side to begin with.” There were thick layers of worry beneath his anger.

You touched his shoulder, trying to draw him back. “Let’s focus on finding the most viable location, first. Then we can discuss who goes.”

“I will not be kept from saving my child-”

“But you will not be going alone.” You cut him off curtly. The look on his face could melt steel. “We’ll discuss rescue logistics later. Right now we need to focus on actually finding her.”

The Shepherds could only watch as their fearless tactician stood up to their captain, a man who looked ready to tear through just about anything if it meant he’d get his way. They had never seen him when his family was in danger.

He was a protective man; which clearly meant he was a dangerous one.

Frederick silently took his leave, storming from the healer’s tent. You shared a glance with Morgan, who knew full well how his father could be.

“...I’m sorry, everyone. We need to get back to the matter at hand. Miriel, you had the maps for the northern regions, right?”

Morgan watched as you drew in the Shepherds to begin the planning, the feelings of guilt silently growing within him. He knew there was only so much he could have done, but Marc was with him when she was taken. It felt like his fault more than anyone else’s.

He made plans to convene with his father once the most likely location was found. He hoped the rest of his wounds would be patched up before the sun fell that day.

The sooner he was on his feet, the sooner Marc would be home.

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

Night had come long before you made it back to your tent. You were exhausted, but the need to sleep wasn’t there. You were too tired to focus properly, but too worried to risk falling asleep. 

You could see Frederick’s silhouette against the candlelight, pacing back and forth urgently. The poor man was falling apart at the seams. Considering the way he behaved in regards to his children, it was only natural he be so upset.

Tentatively you entered through the flap, Frederick’s back to you even as he heard you latching it shut. For several seconds neither of you spoke.

“Frederick?” You didn’t receive a response. His shoulders were tight and hunched forward, his entire body tense. “Darling, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shoot you down. I know you’re worried about Marc, as am I. If I could let you hunt down her captors and bring her home on your own, I would.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.” You insisted, firmly, the response enough to finally draw his attention around to you.

His face was grim and unimpressed with the situation. But his anxiety betrayed the anger in his eyes.

“You know we can’t risk being so reckless. Throwing you to the Valmese, alone? While you’re compromised?”

“I am not compromised, I-” 

“You’re worried about our daughter and you want to jump head first into the enemy’s camp to bring her home.”

“And you don’t?” He snapped, “She never should’ve been taken in the first place! We don’t know what they’re going to do with her, what methods of torture they might be using- they could kill her before we get there! We can’t wait for a plan, we need to go!!”

“It’s too dangerous, and we don’t even know where to start! What if you choose the wrong location? What if you inadvertently notify the enemy that you’re looking for her, and then they take her somewhere farther away? What if they kill her because they find out you’re coming?”

“None of this would’ve happened at all if I had been with her!”

“Frederick, that’s not true.” You argued when he whipped around, his glare sharp and unforgiving.

“If I was with Marc I could’ve protected her. I could’ve taken her place, or-”

“You really think that I would prefer you be stolen instead of Marc? You think that would make this any easier?”

“If my children are safe then they can flay me alive, for all I care!! Marc needed to be with me, not Morgan. She never should’ve left my side!!”

“You cannot blame Morgan for this.”

You shook your head in disbelief. Frederick exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What I am saying is that Marc’s safety is my priority, above all else. She is not strong enough to fight with anyone else, yet. Her training is not complete. If I was with her, I could've done something different. At the very least, I could've stalled long enough for her to get back!”

“They were up against wyvern riders- if I knew there’d be so many of them, I wouldn’t have let them take that battalion on. Besides, you couldn’t have handled them- Morgan’s still a cavalier, and his armor is lighter than yours. He’s able to maneuver around those axes, but you would've fallen harder than he did. You saw him! You think you could’ve survived that assault?”

“If only long enough to protect my daughter.” He glowered, “But I wasn’t there, and I couldn’t, and now…”

“Frederick, we’re going to find her.” You closed the distance between you, “There’s no point in arguing like this. Just don’t be angry with Morgan, or yourself. Be angry with me. I was the one who sent them off.” 

“I’m not...I’m not angry at you or Morgan. I’m angry that I couldn’t protect my own blood.”

“I know.” You sank down onto the cot beside him, wrapping your arms around him. “I’m sorry.”

“I couldn’t bear it if we lost her, Robin. She’s not even from our own timeline, but I cannot imagine our lives without her.” He confessed, his voice muffled weakly into your shoulder. You squeezed him close, willing back tears of your own.

Marc had only been in your lives for a short time. But it was clear that she was her father’s daughter. 

He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.

You both knew this. But you weren’t the only ones. There was a boy wearing your coat and wrapped in bandages that heard it all, waiting silently outside the tent. He knew what he needed to do.

You could stop his father. He wasn’t the one who needed to rescue Marc.

Morgan was.

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

You woke up before Frederick did. The bags under his eyes were dark, clearly restless from the anxieties that poured out that night.

You let him stay in bed a while longer. He needed it; you could handle the start of the search. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Robin!!”

“Lissa?”

The princess stood in the entrance of your tent, shifting from foot to foot with sheer panic on her face. 

“Morgan’s gone!!”

Your heart plummeted. “What?!”

“He left a note in his tent- Lucina went to check on him when he didn’t come to the medics, and found this!”

You skimmed the hastily scrawled note with trembling hands. Morgan was hunting down the men who took Marc. He would bring her back, it promised. No matter what.

You didn’t realize Frederick was awake until his hand covered yours to take the note for himself. His face was unreadable, but you watched the color drain as he paled with realization.

“Morgan-”

“We have to go.”

You took Frederick’s hand and you were racing across camp. It didn’t take long for the panic to grow into a borderline riot; the tactician’s children were both gone, and it was only a matter of time before someone showed up hurt or worse.

They didn’t have any time left to try and form a proper strategy.

You discovered maps were missing, but there was enough to go on that you could feasibly track down the locations you needed.

The problem was that it was taking too long. You were starting to understand why Frederick was so anxious, before. Now that both your children were in danger, the patience and time for rational thought was quickly dissipating.

It wouldn’t be until sundown that you found an answer.

“We’ve got it!!” Henry leapt from the table, his hands glowing with dark magic. “The tracking spell’s active. If we go this way, towards the northwest, they’ll be there! Then we can rip everyone in there to shreds, nya ha!!”

“Northwest.” Frederick repeated and turned on his heel, striding for the barracks. He had been in a full suit of armor all day, and had a number of weapons at the ready. 

The Shepherds followed suit, all of them ready to lay into the Valmese and raze their forts. They weren’t going to get away with what they’d done.

You were hot on Frederick’s heels the entire time, prepping your strongest tomes. You were working in tandem, handing each other what you needed and directing orders to the others that were flurrying about in preparation for battle.

“You think we’ll be able to find them in time?” Frederick asked you with that pinch of uncertainty in his voice. You nodded, tightening your gauntlets.

“We have to. If the tracking spell is working, that means they’re both still alive. It tracks the subject’s life force. So long as Henry’s spell is active, we can save them.”

“It wouldn’t detail if anyone is injured, would it?”

“Unfortunately not. But injured is better than dead.” You reminded him, “They’re going to come home.”

“There is no doubt.” Frederick shifted his chest plate, keeping it firm and making sure it was ready to take a few good blows. He’d be raging through the Valmese, after all. A few hits were going to make it through his defenses. 

He glanced out the window on a whim, watching the sun begin its descent behind the mountains.

“We will need to embark soon. At this rate we won’t be there until tomorrow morning, even if we use wyverns to-”

A silhouette captured Frederick’s attention in the distance. You were busying yourself with your sword, unaware he was distracted.

“Henry mentioned a spell we can use to speed up our travel time. It’ll take a lot of mana, so it’s best we assign it to a mage that can stay back and build magic. If spare Miriel for the first half of battle we can...uh, Frederick..?”

You trailed off when your husband brushed past you, starting out the door. You stared at him, confused. He was completely focused on the outskirts of camp.

Brow furrowed, you followed him, calling after your husband.

“Frederick? What What’s wrong? What are you-”

You gasped.

There, in the distance, your coat flapped in the dusk breeze. The figure staggered towards camp, in tatters and littered with more cuts and bruises than you’d ever seen on a person.

Morgan had come back.

And he was carrying Marc in his arms.

“Morgan!!” Your cry echoed across camp, drawing the boy’s eyes up. He saw the two of you running towards him and he smiled, albeit weakly.

“Mother...Father…” 

“Oh my gods, Morgan-!! You...you f-found...w-why did you-!” You couldn’t form a sentence.

Frederick had yet to try.

His eyes were locked on the fragile girl in Morgan’s arms, who was unconscious. She was in desperate need of care.

Morgan, sensing his father’s anxiety, held her out for Frederick to take. 

“She’s alive. Just...needs help.”

Frederick was unable to  speak. His mouth opened, but closed again, taking the delicate girl into his arms. The child he had to watch disappear before his eyes, powerless to help her. 

But she was here. 

You held Morgan to you when Frederick took his sister. He fell heavy against you, prompting calls for a healer. 

“I’m...so proud of you, son.” You whispered, tears in your eyes. “But why would you be so reckless? We were so worried about you...”

“I know what Dad thought...that if he’d been there instead of me, she wouldn’t have…” Morgan sucked in a shaking breath, “It was my fault, so I wanted to fix it.”

“Oh, but Morgan, he didn’t mean-” You choked up when you saw the sadness in his eyes, overwhelmed only by the exhaustion of his journey. 

 -------------------------

The air of calm around the Shepherd’s camp was beautiful and most welcome. The Chief Tactician’s children had returned, both in one piece, both alive. Frederick had glued himself to his daughter’s side while she slept, waiting impatiently for her eyes to open.

You stayed with Morgan as much as you could, while you worked between Chrom and the others to find and destroy the next closest fortresses.

They already assembled and set up a strategy for those who had kidnapped his daughter...why not put it into action and make a statement?

Of course there was something that bothered you, which was Morgan’s words when he came back. 

And it was something you needed to speak with your husband about. So while Morgan was sleeping one afternoon, and you were finally free of your responsibilities, you headed to the healer’s tent.

Frederick was dutifully seated by Marc’s cot, gently brushing her hair. 

You smiled softly; how he loved and doted on his sweet girl. It made your heart twist just slightly, knowing he had yet to speak with his son. It had already been a few days.

“Freddybear…” You called to him as you came to his side, earning a tired smile. The worry lines were deep in his forehead, and his eyes were heavy; clearly he had yet to get a good night’s sleep, even with Marc safely returned.

You ran your fingers over his forehead, pausing his brushing as he leaned into your touch. Your hand fell to his cheek.

“You haven’t slept well.”

“I don’t want to miss Marc waking up.” He murmured, “I have waited this long...Libra said she could awaken any day, now.”

“But you won’t be able to welcome her properly if you’re out of sorts. Besides, there are still things you need to do. I’m afraid you can’t stay right next to her forever.”

“I have already cleared my schedule and reassigned tasks to Cordelia and Lord Chrom, who was gracious enough to suggest I remain with Marc. I am not sure what other duties you would be referring to.”

“You haven’t seen Morgan since he returned.” 

That seemed to give him pause. His brow furrowed, a serious frown on his lips as he thought back. “That’s not true. I’ve seen him-”

“You’ve been here the whole time. Since he brought Marc back, you’ve been in the healing tent. You haven’t even come back to bed with me in the last three days. Which I understand, and I have no problem with. But when it pertains to Morgan, I think it’s a little different.”

“I didn’t realize I…” He trailed off, looking back to his daughter. 

“You need to talk to him. Morgan’s under the impression that he had to be the one to rescue Marc.”

“What? Why on earth would he think such a thing?”

“He heard what you said, about how it should have been you with Marc and not Morgan. He thinks it was his fault that Marc was taken, because he wasn’t strong enough to protect her. That you should have been with her, not Morgan.”

“That’s not what I- Morgan is not to blame in any of this!” He protested, the worry lines returning full force. “I could not be more proud of my son for what he has done. I was blaming myself for not being there, not Morgan-!”

“Then you need to tell him that. Because he’s not sure that’s what you meant, and he’s convinced he’s done something terribly wrong.”

“I…” He looked to Marc, conflicted, if only for a moment.

This was his baby boy they were talking about.

Finally he stood from his chair, stiffly, but resolved to reconcile with his child. “I will be back shortly. Please fetch me if she wakes.”

“I will.” You promised, and he pressed the brush into your hands, and kissed your cheek.

“Thank you for being patient with me. I know...I have not been easy to deal with the last several days.”

“It’s all right.” You assured him, and squeezed his hands. “I know you’ll make it right.”

“Without a doubt.”

Frederick strode across camp to find his son’s tent, which was quiet and flickered with a sole candle in the far corner. When he stepped in, he found Morgan at his desk, bandaged from head to toe and looking quite worse for wear.

When he saw his father lingering in the opening, though, Frederick was greeted with a bright smile and a surprised laugh.

“Well, hello, Father! I was beginning to forget what you looked like.”

“Morgan…” He trailed off, staring at his boy who stood from the desk with a stretch and a hum, as cheerful as ever.

“How is Marc doing? I know you’ve been worried about her. Is she awake yet, or is she- oomph!”

Morgan was silenced by his father crushing him to his chest, Frederick hugging his sweet boy as tight as he could.

“Ah, Father-”

“I’m so sorry.”

Morgan paused when Frederick whispered those three little words. Cautiously his hands came around his father, somewhat confused.

“What do you...w-why are you apologizing?” 

“You did everything you could to protect Marc. If it had been me in your place, I would have lost her twice as fast. I may have died trying to protect her. But you survived, and you b-brought her home, and I...I cannot express how proud of you I am.”

Tears filled Morgan’s eyes, but he swallowed them down, shaking his head to dismiss them. 

“If I was strong enough to protect her, she wouldn’t have been taken. You were right, it was my fault she was kidnapped in the first place. It was my duty to bring her home.”

“No, Morgan. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was wrong for saying what I did. Worse still that you heard it. I failed you. I cannot express to you how truly grateful I am that you are my son; that you are the cunning, strong and excellent man you are.”

“Dad…”

“I hope you will forgive my impertinence.” Frederick sighed, pulling back to place his hands on Morgan’s shoulders. “I understand if you are angry with me. But I-”

Morgan launched back into his father’s arms before another word could be spoken. He buried his face in Frederick’s chest, squeezing him as tight as he could.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Frederick would not be able to deny the tears that welled in his eyes, nor could Morgan. But it was clear without a shadow of the doubt that they loved each other very much. There was no such thing as favorites; only Frederick the Wary being overprotective of his children.

They eventually found the strength to gather their emotions and pull apart, but not before he tousled his son’s hair and assured him all was well. 

The pair opted to return to the healer’s tent together, so that you could see both your boys vastly improved and happier. They were mere meters from the entrance when you suddenly tore the flaps open, eyes bright with glee.

“Frederick- she’s awake.”

He sprinted the last few steps. Sure enough, they entered the tent to find Marc stirring in her cot, her expression shifting and twisting with effort as she woke up for the first time in days.

Frederick barely made it back to his seat beside her when her eyes fluttered open, squinting up at him in an attempt to gather her surroundings.

“Marc?” He called to her softly, his hands floating over her as though unsure where they belonged. She stared up at him for several seconds, as if processing what she was looking at.

Then the tears silently spilled down her cheeks.

“...Pa-” She swallowed thickly, reaching shakily out for him, “P-Papa…”

He had her in his arms, cradling her to his chest in seconds. He cupped her head tenderly, pressing her into him and hugging his fragile daughter for all he was worth.

“It’s all right. I’m here, Marc. You’re safe.”

She was so very small, enveloped in her father’s arms. She turned into him from the cot, the tears flowing freely. She sobbed against him not even realizing there were tears in his eyes, too.

You placed a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, smiling at your son. Everyone was misty-eyed, but above all, your family was happy.

Together, again.

Of course the waterworks only continued when Marc was able to separate herself from Frederick, if only so she could hug her brother who saved her life, and hug her mother who she was convinced she’d never get to see again.

The healing tent was just a mess of emotions, but it was filled with plenty of love. And, of course, Morgan having to swear up and down that he’d never do something so reckless ever again.

Which, once his father was satisfied with Morgan’s promise, proceeded to receive countless hugs from all of his family members.

A proper reward, indeed.