#as well as the beasts + ho oh returning once they find trust in humans again

[gen4grl]

karens “strong pokemon weak pokemon” quote is such a great piece of storytelling for the player, silver and lances dynamic it really sucks its become a giant joke and now no one can appreciate what it actually adds to the story of johto arghhh

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.VIII (Finale)

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai​. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.VII

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, well, well well well well well well well well!” Bill’s voice echoed from Gideon’s mouth. “Good to see you again, beast, you’re looking good.”

“You,” Dipper snarled. “You’re the one who cursed him.” “Hey, hey, you’re not as dumb as you look, Pinetree.” Bill taunted. “You’re gonna pay for that!” Dipper suddenly broke from Stan’s hold and charged at Bill, but when he raised his hand, the boy suddenly floated and couldn’t move. “What?!” “Possession and curses aren’t all I can do.” Bill shared boastfully. He suddenly fell back and rolled as a giant claw left-hooked him in the face. Dipper fell face-first and was assisted up by his sister, free from Bill’s spell. “RUN!” Stan shouted back at the kids as he moved towards Bill swiftly, but neither Dipper or Mabel moved. “You think you can defeat me?!” Bill cackled maliciously. “I’m the Master of the Mind! The Demon of the Nightmare Realm! You’re just some unwanted monster! A disgusting creature! You’re vile! You’re foul! You’re flawed!” “Also CUTE AND FLUFFY!” And Stan pounced for the kid, but Gideon suddenly floated in the air. “Maybe you can fight me, but they can’t.” Bill snarled and dove for the kids. “NO!” The three rolled down onto another balcony and Bill had Gideon’s hands around Dipper’s neck, choking him. Mabel elbowed him off of her brother and Bill had no issue hurting a girl, so he punched her and they began to fight. Bill quickly kicked Mabel away and Dipper hurried to her. Bill clapped his hands together and made a long dagger appear between his palms, grabbing it and ready to fight. “Let’s get this over with.” Dipper buried Mabel’s face into his shoulder and he stood in front of her protectively. He closed his eyes and winced when Bill suddenly moved forward, but no pain came to him and he heard a loud, agonizing roar. He looked up to find Stan between the kids and the enemy, and Bill had stabbed him. Stan had taken the dagger for Dipper and Mabel. “NO!” The kids screamed and hurried to his side and he fell on one knee, his paw clamped over his wound, trying to ignore it and face a bigger issue. Bill dropped his dagger, which disappeared once it hit the floor, and laughed, first a low chuckle but then an ear-splitting cackle. Something gold emerged from Gideon’s body and the boy fell, unconscious. Bill, kicking his legs and holding his triangular body, laughed down at the suffering mortals before him. “Oh ho, this is just too perfect!” The demon declared. “What’s even better than killing those kids?! Killing Stan! Now the curse will never be undone and Sixer will be gone soon enough! Good job there, beast! Thanks for making my job es… AAAAAGH!” Stan had gathered the last of his strength and punched Bill right in the face. Because Stan was directly connected to the curse, he could touch the demon in a way no one else could. Bill crumbled under Stan’s knuckles and the echo of his horrible scream rang through the night. Stan gasped for breath and fell back, completely drained as so much blood was leaving him from his side. Dipper and Mabel gasped in horror, shaken from their shock of Bill’s demise, and were at his right side. Mabel, the closest to his head, petted his cheek and the side of his face. “Stan? Stan?!” She begged, his eyes closed. The old beast forced his brown eyes open and they sparkled up at the kids. “Hey,” He grunted. “You’re back.” “We told you we’d come back.” Dipper said shakenly. “We couldn’t… this… this is all our fault.” “No,” Stan firmly pushed that notion away, his breath staggering as he winced in staggering agony. “No… it’s okay… it’s better th-this way…” “Don’t talk like that.” Mabel scolded and cupped his furry face with her little hand. “We won’t lose you… we can’t lose you. You’ll be okay. We’re all here now, it’ll all be okay.” Stan smiled at her hope, the kind of hope he wished he had, and as he struggled to breath, he lifted a shaking paw up to her to return the kind gesture. Mabel held his hand up to the side of her face and let a tear fall on his thumb. Stan combed her hair gently with his claws and, despite being at Death’s hand, despite the pain, despite the end being so close, he was happy. He chuckled weakly. “Heh. Looks like I was good for something after all.” Mabel shut her eyes and held his hand even tighter. Dipper blinked hard, refusing to cry, and then looked back down at his friend. Stan closed his eyes with a smile, and then his breathing stopped. Mabel dropped his hand and stared, tears rolling down her face. “No… no…” She frantically tried to wake him up, to bring him back. “No, no, no!” Dipper watched in horror. He was so overcome with grief and shock that he seemed to shut down. As his twin desperately tried to be hopeful and tried to find a solution, he knew that, once again, he would have to be realistic and make Mabel see the cold, harsh reality. Finally, she looked up at her brother’s own wide-eyed, grief stricken face. “It-It’ll be okay, right? Right? He’ll be okay… right?” He was the smart one; if he could somehow see a possible way for this to all work out and for Stan to be okay and for them to be a family… Dipper somehow found it in him to shake his head, a tear escaping his eye. Mabel, shaking, collapsed on Stan’s still chest and clang to his shirt and fur for dear life, sobbing in agonizing grief and pain. Dipper cried and hugged his sister with a trembling arm around her shoulder, his other grasping Stan’s shirt. “You can’t go, you can’t!” Mabel cried. “You just c-can’t…” Her voice cracked halfway through her pleas. She was heartbroken and tired. Dipper swallowed, and together they whimpered, “We love you,” preparing to say goodbye. Dark clouds rolled over the skies. Dipper and Mabel both cried unashamed over their loss. Neither of them had any idea what to do, so they just stayed there and sobbed over Stan’s limp body. They didn’t even notice a bolt of sparks falling down. Or the next. Or the next two. But Dipper thought he heard something and glanced up as more silver and gold magic fell from the heavens. “Mabel,” He lightly shook her shoulders. “Mabel, look.” She forced herself to look up and she gasped at what was happening. Even more unhindering, Stan’s body slowly began to rise. Dipper dragged Mabel back and they watched with tears in their eyes as Stan’s blood-soaked cloak wrapped around him and he became engulfed in golden light. Terrified, Dipper and Mabel held each other, worried that his body might be taken away. When the light vanished, the maroon cloak was free of blood and a man wrapped in it was being set down carefully, the magic fading away. The kids noticed, though his back was to them, that this man had pale skin and long, gray hair, and was in Stan’s ripped white shirt and torn dark pants. The mysterious man slowly made his way to his feet, as if he was moving his body for the first time in his life. He stared and flexed his hands and arms, clutched at his stomach, savoring everything. And then suddenly he turned around. His brown eyes were bright, not at all faded like his hair, and his eyes immediately locked on Mabel and Dipper. The boy tightened his hold on his sister, still traumatized and very paranoid. The man moved his mouth, struggling to form words, his jaw shaking, until he finally spoke one word. “Kids?” They knew that voice. No one else had that voice. And the look in his eyes, his warm brown eyes, the same ones he had. As he stared at them with shock, wonder, disbelief, awe, and love. There’s only one person it could be. “STAN!!!” He got on one knee and let the kids hurl themselves into his strong arms. With each child on his shoulder, crying their hearts out, Stan held them tight and grinned with shut eyes, savoring this moment. He chuckled warmly and just having him here and alive was all Dipper and Mabel could have ever wanted. So much so that it took them a minute to fully understand what had happened. Dipper lifted his head and wiped his tears away. “But, how?” He breathed. “How is this possible?” Mabel turned so she could see Stan’s face, but she kept her cheek on his shoulder. “Turns out we messed up Bill’s message.” Stan said with a warm smile. “He didn’t say anything romance.” His eyes moved down to Mabel, who was looking at him misty-eyed. She was still crying. Stan smiled at her and tried to make her feel better with a comforting look. The little girl smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek, cupping the side of his face, feeling his five o’clock shadow and long hair. Stan smiled and rested his cheek in her hand, his eyes closed, but then his eyes popped open and his hold on the kids loosened as a sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “STANFORD!” Stan hurriedly put the kids down and then ran into the castle for dear life. Dipper and Mabel gasped and tried to follow, but they just couldn’t keep up with the old man fueled with so much adrenaline. Ford had turned back into a human a few minutes ago, but after going thirty years without using a body at all, he found he had no strength and was too clumsy to function, so he chuckled helplessly at himself and trusted that Stanley would be there soon. Until then he relished in the feeling of breathing, of seeing and hearing properly, of the wonderful feeling of a night’s breeze in his hair. Moses, how he had missed it all. And, somehow, Stanley had done it. The door was thrown open and without a single door Ford was suddenly pulled up and thrown into a bone-crushing hug, but he just laughed, delighted to hear his own voice again but even more delighted over his brother’s touch. His twelve fingers clung onto Stan’s shirt and his twin buried his face in his shoulder, shaking. What had happened since Gideon picked the journal up was all an excruciating haze to him, but none of that mattered now. Ford finally felt like he had his brother back. He took note of Stan’s heavy, breathing. Ford just held onto his dear twin and said into his ear, “I love you, Stanley.” Stan sagged a little, making them both sag since he was mostly holding them up. “I love you, too.” Ford isn’t sure if Stan believes him, so he repeats himself and then Stan does the same. This goes on for a few minutes, with an occasional “I’m sorry” sprinkled in. Stan moaned this even more woefully. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” “No, I’m sorry.” Ford insisted upon, his speech muffled by Stan’s ripped shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how much I love you years ago. Then we wouldn’t have had to go through this.” “It’s fine.” Stan’s own voice is hard to hear through Ford’s brown jacket, “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” Ford tightened his grip around Stan, his voice taking a hard edge to it. “You’re wrong. I was the one who was tricked. You were the one who tried to clean up the mess I made.” “Yeah, well...” “You’re both wrong!” A voice interrupted and the brothers loosened their hold to look at the door. They found Mabel and Dipper standing at a distance. “It was neither of your faults, you dum-dums! It was the evil triangle’s fault. Geez, I thought adults were supposed to be smart.” She said with a roll of her eyes. “She’s right, you know. “ Dipper smiled at them, a teasing gleam in his eye. It was unclear which statement, exactly, he was referring to. Stan and Ford stared at the younger pair of twins for a moment. Then, a low chuckle escaped the eldest, growing into laughter steadily, while the younger brother shortly followed suit. Soon, both were laughing against each other, barely keeping themselves sitting upright. Finally, Stan spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess… yeah. I guess you’re right, kid.” “Of course I’m right!” Mabel grinned, hands on her hips. “I’m always right!” Their laughter quieted and the old men noticed the grand distance between themselves and the children. Stan motioned a hand for them to come up to them while Ford smiled shyly, excited to be formally introduced to them. Dipper and Mabel slowly walked towards them and Stan took each of their little hands with one of his own and also took Ford’s. He had his brother lay his hand out flat and he put the kids’ hands on his. “Kids, this is the author of the journal, my brother.” Mabel and Dipper soaked in his appearance. He was definitely Stan’s twin, but he had his own unique differences. His hair was charcoal gray, shorted and fluffier, and had a gray stripe in the middle of his hair. He had a gold-rimmed monocle over his right eye, his eyes were also a soft brown, and he had a cleft chin. He wore shiny black shoes and fancier clothes, decked in a brown coat with a red scarf tied around his neck. Mabel and Dipper looked down at their held hands and saw that this man had six fingers, just like the journal. They grinned excitedly and Mabel even kissed his hand before leaping into his arms and nearly knocking him over, but Stan luckily had a strong hand on his brother’s back. “Ford!” Mabel cried out in joy as Dipper hugged him, too. “You’re back!” Ford chuckled wetly and blinked away his tears. “Thanks to you two. Thank you so, so much.” The door burst open and Soos stood there, chubby and grinning as a human again. “DUDES! Look at us!” Wendy was soon by his side, a beautiful redhead, and cheered, “You guys! You won’t believe it! Everyone’s back! Pacifica, Candy, Grenda…” “Abuelita!” Soos called and ran to his grandmother, who was sitting in an armchair and taking a nap. “Soos! Mi precioso!” Stan helped Ford up to his feet as the kids got off of him. They held his hand again and they all just stood together, overcome with joy and happiness and love. ~~~~~~~~~~ Almost immediately after the curse was lifted, the two sets of twins fell asleep in front of the fireplace in the lounge, too exhausted from the day’s events to do anything else. Stan was so tired and focused on Ford and the kids that he didn’t even change out of his torn clothes first, but no one cared at all. Everyone’s hands touched in their sleep. Mabel and Dipper held hands, and they had their hands over Stan and Ford’s. Stan had his arm over Mabel, used to hugging her and Dipper when they snuggled together over stories by the fire days ago, while Ford had his arms wrapped around Dipper, almost using the boy as a teddy bear. He desperately needed to feel the comfort of human contact that holding someone brings. Ford had sat somewhat awkwardly because he was not used to having a body again, but no one minded. Mabel and Dipper both used Ford’s arm as a pillow; poor Ford would feel it in the morning, but again, no one cared. Against pillows propped by on a couch, Stan kept an arm wrapped around his brother. Even in his exhausted state, he had the need to keep him safe. In the days to come, slow adjustments had to be made. Ford required a lot of assistance, learning how to use his body again, but Mabel was only happy to teach him how to eat and Dipper assisted in walking and Stan was a little too quick to picking him up and carrying him. Stan and Ford invited the kids and Fiddleford to move in with them permanently and they joyfully agreed. Ford and Fiddleford made fast friends and soon little explosions of experiments gone wrong from the study would become normal. But that was all in the future. For now, they only rested and dreamed. Right now, Dipper was remembering a distant memory. It was bedtime, and he and his sister at five-years-old were stubborn and didn’t want to go to sleep, but Grandpa Shermie only chuckled and told Fiddlford he could handle it and was left alone with his grandchildren. “Come now, my shining stars.” Grandpa Shermie said as he picked up Mabel and put her in the big bed she shared with her brother to keep the nightmares away. He combed her hair. He took in a deep breath and sang a song Ma used to sing to him and his brothers a long time ago. “How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto, never easy, but we try. Sometimes our happiness is captured, somehow our time and place stand still. Love lives on inside our hearts and always will.” At the same time Dipper was having his pleasant dream, Stan was having his own. Ma was brushing his hair with her fingers and then scooped up Ford to put him in the top bunk as she sang. “Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone. But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. Maybe some moments weren't so perfect, maybe some memories not so sweet, but we have to know some bad times or our lives are incomplete. Then when the shadows overtake us just when we feel all hope is gone, we'll hear our song and know once more our love lives on.” ~~~~~~~~~~ The next evening, Stan found himself panting as he awoke. He felt sick to his stomach and his head was spinning. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm down. In the neighboring bed, Ford was already awake, staring at his hands on his lap. He looked up at Stan with a concerned look. The younger twin sighed and looked away in shame. A small, timid knock was at the door. “C’min.” Stan called. The door opened and the masters of the castle smiled to find two children and a pig wishing for their company. They could tell by the look in Dipper and Mabel’s eyes that they must have suffered a nightmare, too. Stan smiled and opened his arms. At once, they ran into his hold and got under the silk covers. Stan squeezed them and tolerated the pig at the foot of his large bed. Mabel looked over at Ford and freed a hand for him. He smiled, honored that they wanted to include him, and he climbed into the bed, as well. Snuggled together and slowly sinking back into their sleep, Mabel began to mutter a lullaby under her breath for her boys. “How does a moment last forever? How does our happiness endure? Through the darkest of our troubles. Love is beauty, love is pure.” The elder twins exchanged looks as Dipper began to whisper with his sister. “Love pays no mind to desolation. It flows like a river through the soul. Protects, perceives, and perseveres, and makes us whole.” “Minutes turn to hours, days to years, then gone.” Stan and Ford sang quietly together, making the kids look up at them with astonishment. “But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on. How does a moment last forever?” “When our song lives on.” The kids sunk into the adults’ comforting hold and soon they were all sound asleep. THE END

Dedicated to @artsycrapfromsai​.

[queenofnohr]

Cu Alter Interlude 2 - Kill Like a Beast, Fight Not Like an Asura

Got commissioned by @tainbocuailnge for this one! Narration has no tags, player options are in block quotes if they both lead to the same dialogue, results of player choice are in block quotes if there is variant dialogue (for whatever reason this Interlude draws A Lot of attention to how tumblr does not have the best setup for this sort of stuff). Anyway, enjoy!

—He said that to understand himself is pointless. Understanding leads to hate. Hatred invites error. One must not think they can understand a Berserker. Because they are a Berserker.

Cu Alter: Tch…….

> You okay?

Cu Alter: I’m fine. Right now, I must keep winning.

> Can you fight?

Cu Alter: ……A good question, Master. But unfortunately, asinine. I am always able to fight. After all, I’m alive, aren’t I.

Cu Alter: Even though this is the worst possible situation. Leyshifting is impossible, communications are down, and I’m the only Servant here. On top of that, all the enemies seem to of the normal Classes.

> And on top of that, we don’t even know what era we’re in

Cu Alter: Yeah. No matter where we go in this untouched forest, strong magical energy pierces the surrounding air. It might be on the level of the Age of Gods.

> Do you think it’s a Demon Pillar?

Cu Alter: Who knows? It doesn’t matter.

> I wonder what the cause is

Cu Alter: It could be a Demon Pillar, but it doesn’t matter.

Cu Alter: What’s important are the seven other warriors. If we can’t defeat them, it’s pointless. Whether we defeat one at a time or seven all at once— To correct the singularity, this is unavoidable. We’d better get started without delay if we want to get this done. Because, in the first place…… you’re about to reach your physical limits. Isn’t that right?

> But……

Cu Alter: If you’re going to tell me to value my life— Then you are not qualified to save humanity. Now that the Grand Order is complete, it seems you’re just a shadow of a Master, fine with anything.

> Are you okay?

Cu Alter: Do not worry about my wellbeing. Crush that necessity regarding Servants for the sake of existence.

Cu Alter: Your hesitation will lead to an easy annihilation. Do not compromise, do not deign to protect me, do not treat me as a person. ……It will only blunt the tip of my spear. With that, I’m done talking. Fight, fight, fight until the bitter end - do whatever it takes for you to return. Are you prepared?

> ……Yes > Let’s go!

Cu Alter: The first two Servants……!

> Watch out for Robin Hood!

Robin: My, my, what a cautious Master to yell something like “Watch out!” in regards to a second-rate Servant. Well, I don’t make a habit of torturing Masters to death, so you can breathe a sigh of relief at that, at least.

> Watch out for Semiramis!

Semiramis: Hou, what a discerning Master. But the Servant is a Berserker; it’s like having pearls thrown before swine. It’s alright, though. When I am victorious I will express my respect by giving you a pleasant death.

Cu Alter: Save it. From the start, you two had no chance of winning!

[battle]

Cu Alter: There!

[attacks Semiramis]

Semiramis: Hmph, so I was only able to get this far……. I’m not happy about it at all.

[she disappears]

Robin: Oh well, the end is the end. I’ve done my duty so I guess this is fine…….

[he disappears]

Cu Alter: ……tsk.

[Cu coughs up blood]

> Poison……!

Cu Alter: Tch…… So that’s it. Don’t worry; even if I don’t recover, I’ll be fine.

> You need medical attention!

Cu Alter: Don’t waste your time. It’s poison from the world’s oldest poisoner…… Semiramis. You can’t treat it by normal means.

Cu Alter: Now about the remaining five…… I’ll defeat them before the poison can spread.

[at the sea cliffs]

Cu Alter: It seems there isn’t anything to identify the age or signs of a singularity, huh…… That’s fine. More important is being able to find where the other Servants are. ……What’s with that look. You’re worried about the poison, aren’t you.

> I’m worried about that, but……

Cu Alter: Oh?

> You don’t seem to consider anything about yourself

Cu Alter: ……It’s always the same with you.

> I don’t understand you

Cu Alter: It’s fine if you don’t understand. A Servant is just a machine. You can give affection to a machine, but there’s no point to it.

Cu Alter: ……I’ll return to what I was talking about before. This singularity is strange. It’s like it’s both the Far East and South America. Furthermore, it seems like a place humans haven’t found. There’s a limit to how much we can search. What shall we do? Master, do you have a plan?

> Can’t we go somewhere by sea?

Cu Alter: ……Stop. Both of those are bad leads. We won’t be able to get anywhere on the sea or in a cave.

> What about a cave……?

Cu Alter: Well, we could. Would it be wise to search for a cave, if it’s only so you can rest……?

Cu Alter: For the time being, I’ll aim for a cave. But before that—

[Karna and Medb appear]

Cu Alter: I’m going to strangle these nuisances to death. Stand back, Master. Karna: ……No hard feelings - this is simply work. Medb: Look at that, Cu-chan is the enemy. What a shame! So, what will you do? Won’t you turn traitor? Cu Alter: Very funny. That functionality does not exist within me. Karna: That’s wrong. You are simply faithful. Even as an Alter, that is a constant. Medb: Either way, a Cu-chan who betrays is not Cu-chan. So, with how things are in this Holy Grail War, I’ll be happy if you kill me! Cu Alter: “This Holy Grail War”? Karna: There’s no point in talking to those who are about to die. Let’s go. Medb: Taking on a poisoned Cu-chan feels as shameful as locking him a Geis for life, but— Just kidding. Just like before, my heart is pounding! I’ll mercilessly corner you, then kill you! Cu Alter: That’s fine by me. I’ll grind you both into dust……! Karna: I see. Of course one with such a ferocious disposition is a Berserker. Is it because the scope of vision is narrowed that one becomes greedy for purpose? But you would do well to remember this, O Warrior of Ulster - that part of yourself is a burden to your Master.

[battle]

Every time I breathe, a dull pain hits me. My thoughts are hazy, indistinct. What I must do is unclear. So, I tear through the enemies before me. I can devote myself only to this. From the start, I’d been a warrior like that. That side of me has only grown as a Berserker. Karna: A true hero kills —with his eyes! Cu Alter: Tch……! Medb: Come, now! Chariot My Love! Cu Alter: Don’t underestimate me, Medb! Medb: He stopped it head on……! Cu Alter: I’ll return the favor, Karna. Take this……! Karna: ……! Medb: Karna! Karna: ……So this is as far as I go…….

[Karna disappears]

Cu Alter: You let your guard down, Medb. Medb: ! Damn i— Cu Alter: Gae Bolg—!

[screen blood splatter]

Medb: *cough* Cu Alter: It’s over, they’re both dead. Medb: Fu- Fufu…… It hurts……. It’s okay- Ending it here…… This time, I lose. But…… I wonder if you can win against the remaining three with your body like that? Cu Alter: Shut up. Medb: Fufu……. I’ll be waiting for…… next time…….

[Cu coughs up blood]

> Cu Chulainn! > Alter!

Cu Alter: ......Next…… Let’s move on…… to the next one…….

> Let’s rest for a bit

Cu Alter: ? ……Yeah, alright. You stay here. I’ll…… go settle things with the remaining three Servants.

> You can’t trust me?

Cu Alter: ……No, it’s not a matter of not being able to trust you, it’s about both of us not getting killed. ……. ……. ……Karna said my way of being is a burden to you……. Maybe this is the correct answer. Without regard for myself, no matter what must be done……. I will end this my way, by myself. Friends, partners, brothers-in-arms…... Properly speaking, I am to shoulder your burden, but it’s something too heavy for me to bear. It’s the same for you, too, Master. My way of being is burdensome for you to try and take on, just as you are burdensome to me. So, wait in the cave. I will go forth to settle this.

[in the forest]

> He said that and left me behind, but- > I can’t accept this……

???: Oh ho, what do we have here? You must be Chaldea’s Master.

> Anderson……!?

Anderson: Right you are. It is I, the singular person in this entire war to voluntarily drop out, the third-rate Servant, Anderson. If you know me, saying any more than that is superfluous. Now then, why are you here of all places? Is your Servant not participating in the Holy Grail War?

> Although you say it’s a Holy Grail War……

Anderson: The form this one takes is certainly different than the classic battle royale. We seven are the defensive players, tasked with protecting the grail to the bitter end. The single offensive player must charge through our defenses. Well, my presence has no bearing on the battlefield. Therefore, I’m spectating from over here. In the first place, no matter how many are defeated, one will remain in the end. The great hero of Greek Mythology, Heracles, as your enemy.

> Heracles……!

Anderson: Indeed. If a normal Servant is a gorilla in heat, he’s a starving dinosaur. Fighting him is a fool’s errand. So. Why are you here, Master of Chaldea?

> Actually……

Anderson: Hm. So you’re fine with being alone, is it? I wonder if I can pin down Cu Chulainn Alter. The original seemed to be a Celtic warrior who could be friends with both enemy and ally alike depending on his mood, but— That is why Cu Chulainn Alter rejects everything. Other people are weak, is the way his logic goes, if I am alone, I am strong, and that is good. To keep away from those that should be protected, being injured is acceptable. What a comical script! And on the side of who is being protected, what tragedy! With the way it is, it seems you too will be hurt, cowering.

> I see

Anderson: Oi, if you understand, go.

> So that’s the feeling……

Andersen: Were you convinced? If so, there’s only one thing to do.

Andersen: Hurry and go to him. Past this forest and to the left there is a cave. That is the battlefield.

> Thank you

Anderson: Your words of thanks are unnecessary. This isn’t a situation where I can charge you the price of a book. Hurry on, now. And fulfill your duty as a Master. If you defeat the remaining two Servants, this singularity will disappear.

[in the cave]

> I hear them……!

Cu Alter: I’ll kill you———!! Heracles: *roaring* Cu Alter: *pant* *pant* *pant* ……! ……. ……. Master, you…… Why are you here?

> I came to fight > For your sake

Cu Alter: ......Tch. Do what you want.

> Right back at you

Arturia Alter: —So the Master has appeared. But, you’re too late. No blade will reach me. This Berserker will be the victor. Heracles: *roar* Cu Alter: ……! Not yet. I can still……! My body is breaking down. My spirit is breaking down. The strongest hero in Greek mythology. A man who overcame the Twelve Labors and became immortal.  Even though he should have been killed many times over, each time he revives, and destroys. My bones are cracked. My flesh is torn to pieces. And for what. To win, to continue to win, that is what I am here for. ……I have no need for a Master. They should be unnecessary.

Cu Alter: Tch……!

> Healing! > Strengthening!

Cu Alter: I’m grateful, but move away. ……It’s fine if you stay over there.

—Yes, it’s extremely annoying. My power, my spear, seems only to increase in power by having her here……! Arturia Alter: —Hou. So you’re trying to hit me with your spear without defeating Heracles. ……So be it. Then I shall draw my sword as well. —Come, Warrior of Ulster. I will engrave this holy sword into your body. Cu Alter: Unfortunate. Master, don’t just stand there. Win.

> Yes……!

Cu Alter: All curses unleashed, no limits.

[Cu starts glowing]

Cu Alter: —Your death comes. Curruid Coinchenn……!

[battle]

Cu Alter: Haughhhh!!

[dark screen blood splatter]

[Heracles disappears, Arturia Alter is disappearing]

Arturia Alter: —Splendid. Cu Alter: A Caster isn’t showing up, but…… It seems you were the last one. Arturia Alter: Correct. Cu Alter: Then why were you summoned in the first place? Arturia Alter: —I do not know. There is only one thing I understand. We did not fight amongst ourselves, but simply waited for your arrival. We were given orders to kill you, nothing more. As for intention— It seems there’s someone out there who despises Chaldea - despises you. Cu Alter: ……I see. So this was a test. Arturia Alter: Perhaps. ……Be careful, Master of Chaldea…….

[she disappears]

Cu Alter: It’s over. Da Vinci: Heeeey, Gudako! Oh, thank goodness. It seems that more than anything, you’re safe and sound. Audio communications broke down, and we couldn’t track your vitals……. But it seems like you’ve been stable since the beginning. Did anything happen out there?

> I’ll tell you when I get back

Da Vinci: Hoho, my interest is piqued.

> Well, something like that……

Da Vinci: I see, I see.

Da Vinci: Well, seems like you finished up over there. Prepare to return. Well then, I’ll be waiting. Cu Alter: ……Resentment, huh? Is there a surviving demon pillar somewhere out there with a grudge? To be hated for restoring the human order seems like a rough life. But, well— If you need me to kill an enemy, just yell. I’ll come any time. That is my role as a Berserker.

—Ah, it really is annoying. When I die it will be in a truly wretched manner - that is inescapable. But it seems, perhaps, that in my final moments……. There will be a single person to mourn me.

[coaldustcanary]

fic: Thrown to the Wolves (1/?)

Werewolves are pack creatures, but Emma "Swan" Blanchard has always preferred to work alone. When a missing wolf and a dead body smell like imminent trouble for the werewolves of Portland, she returns home to the city to track down whoever's responsible. She soon discovers that she's not the only one trying to figure out what's going on in her old stomping grounds, and soon finds herself stuck with a partner - the infamous Killian "Hook" Jones - in more ways than one.

Author’s Note: At long last, my contribution to the @cssns - my self-indulgent World of Darkness/Werewolf: The Apocalypse AU. Due to unavoidable issues entirely on my part, this work is dropping without any associated art - my apologies.

Also available on AO3. Rated M for mature themes, sexual content, violence, and shady werewolf politics.

The park on the south side of the bay was large, dotted with clusters of trees and spread over a vast hillside overlooking the water, meeting it directly at high tide, and with a rocky, muddy beach when the tide was low. It was shaded by a passing bridge and highway, and offered the perfect vantage point from which to see ships coming and going, or the array of vessels large and small moored in Portland across the way. From massive cruise ships making their way from warmer climates to stolid cargo ships laden with containers from Scandinavia all the way down to the squat little lobster boats and the rare elegant tall ship looking like something out of time, Portland’s harbor bustled. It was both a working harbor, with heavy trade in international shipping, and a tourist’s playground, clustered with restaurants and bars. Just beyond the harbor, on Commerical Street, for a few blocks both groups created a busy throng of cheerful humanity.

Even here, across the harbor and the Fore River in South Portland, gentrifying neighborhoods and a fair view made for more traffic, more tourists – and much less parking. Emma cursed under her breath as she eased the Bug into a narrow spot along the road that bound the south side of the park and the crest of the hill, turning the wheels into the curb and applying the parking brake to keep the old beast from rolling on into the sea. Turning off the ignition, she laid a hand lightly on the car’s dashboard, closed her eyes, and let her consciousness seep down into the sun-warmed metal.

“Blend in, buddy,” she murmured. A grumbling, mildly offended vibration was the only reply the car deigned to give, but as she opened her eyes, the sunny yellow on the car hood seemed to fade, and without any conscious thought, her gaze slid away from the car to the park and the flowered bushes just beyond. With a small smile, the opened the door and stepped out into the summer heat, walking away from the vehicle that even she had a hard time laying eyes on, now, let alone anyone else passing by. The Bug might be a difficult car to keep running, but decades of “life” had given the car a powerful spirit inhabitant that could be coaxed into cooperation nearly as easily as a dog could learn new tricks. It was more than worth the trouble, even if it meant the odd game of fetch with a bicycle tire now and again to keep it happy.

The warm, humid air was thick with the scent of mown grass and the beach roses that dotted each cluster of bushes. Beneath the heavy scents of summer the pungent, salty earthiness of a receding tide mixed with the acrid exhaust and oil from cars and ships filled Emma’s nose, nearly overwhelming her senses. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and smiled.

“So they finally believe after all.” Emma’s breath caught briefly in her throat, but she forced herself to exhale slowly, and only then open her eyes. The sight of August’s face prompted both a pang of relief and a certain undercurrent of shock. His familiar features were far more careworn than she’d ever seen them, and both his hair and scruff were peppered liberally with gray. When he’d found her as a child on the streets, sick and panicked, her body fairly vibrating with the need to become the wolf for the first time, he’d been barely out of his teens himself. Now he seemed, if not old, older than he ought to have been. The life of a city wolf came with certain benefits, but nobody would ever call it easy. Emma looked down, away from his faint smile and forced a smile of her own even as her chest tightened with guilt.

“It’s good to see you. Despite circumstances,” she said. August smiled crookedly.

“It’s good to see you, too, Emma. Looks like the woods and wilds have been good to you,” he said, tilting his head to look her over with the same curious scrutiny she’d paid him, his gaze lingering.

“Though I can’t imagine that jacket is very good camouflage,” he added, a hint of teasing humor in his tone. Emma shrugged and tugged at the red jacket’s hem pointedly.

“It’s not. The jokes I hear about hunter’s orange are really old and unoriginal at this point, but I’m not changing my style for any stuck up, stuffy werewolf nobility with more names than brain cells. They all wear clothing out of last century. Or camo. Or even plaid, when they’re obliged to blend in with the humans,” Emma grumbled. August snorted, shaking his head.

“You can take the wolf out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the wolf,” he said gently. “I did warn you. And them. But I don’t think your mother wanted to hear it.” As August spoke, he turned and gestured down the path for her to walk with him into the park territory of the city wolves. Emma hesitated, eager fondness to return warring with cautious instinct to hang back The scents of this place were so familiar, but at the same time every wolf’s instinct in her body urged her to stay back, out of this place marked and claimed by other wolves, wolves who weren’t her family any longer. August was at her side suddenly, his hand very lightly resting on her shoulder.

“It’s still your home. It’s always your home,” he said firmly. Emma swallowed and nodded once, jerkily, taking a few cautious but deliberate steps down the path, the tension in her shoulders easing a fraction. She let out the breath she’d held onto for too long in a steady stream, and looked sideways at August who paced her, stealing regular glances in her direction. When their eyes met, she held them briefly – not long enough to hint that she was challenging him, mindful of how the wolf could take eye contact – and managed a small smile.

“Thanks.”

“It’s only the truth. I just wish…” He paused, and at Emma’s searching look, managed a tight smile in return.

“Never mind. You’re where you need to be. But I’m glad they understand how risky this situation is for us all, and let you come back to help us.” The edge of relief in his voice was palpable, and Emma grimaced.

“Well. Gotta be honest, here. They still don’t exactly agree with you on that,” she said slowly. August’s brow furrowed.

“Then why-“ he began, and then stopped abruptly, his eyes widening. “Oh, Emma. You didn’t…”

“She didn’t outright forbid me from coming.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I might not have told her that I was leaving, though.” August groaned, clutching a handful of the hair at the back of his head in frustration.

“No, don’t act like that,” Emma started, pointing a finger at him. “You taught me the rules just as well as anyone-“

“Yes, as we follow them, here in the city. Loosely. Subject to interpretation and balanced with our need to survive among humans,” August said intensely, pitching his voice low and for her ears only. Some subjects it was best not to let strangers overhear.

“I haven’t broken any of our laws, August. I’m respecting claimed territory, both yours and theirs. I announced myself when I came, and I was permitted entry, or did you actually mean to tell me to go to hell instead of welcoming me ho-here?” Emma drew herself up straighter, a sharp edge to her voice. August abruptly turned from her and started walking, pulling Emma along by her sleeve. She fought down the snarl of anger and jerked her arm free, though she kept pace with his rapid stride, even as he snapped a reply.

“And what of your responsibility to your mother? To your pack? I sent word to you about what’s going on here because I knew you’d believe me. I thought you could convince the Storybrooke wolves that a wolf gone missing like this is just as much a danger to them as it is to us here. Even if a Kinfolk’s death is nothing they will care about,” he growled. Even as he spoke, August continued walking out on the dock that extended from the wedge of parkland tucked under the highway bridge overpass to the city. The sun was sinking below the horizon to the west, casting long shadows into the river, and though it remained humid and still, the temperature was dropping quickly. August only stopped walking once there was nowhere else to go but the river itself, staring pensively across its modest expanse to the city on the other side.

“She didn’t forbid it, August. That has to be enough. And you know my pack would stick out here like a sore thumb. They’re very good at being werewolves, but they’re not at all good at keeping a low profile. Even if I could convince them to help me, it would be a disaster. They’d talk to spirits right and left and look crazy to the humans. And if that wasn’t enough to get the cops called, they’d probably come armed to the teeth with medieval-looking weapons and wearing armor. Can you imagine Mulan casually toting her sword around the city, looking for an enemy to stab?” August sighed

“We could use their help, though. They might not trust city wolves much, but we’re all in the same boat, here.” Emma shook her head, fighting to keep her voice even.

“You’ve visited Storybrooke, what, twice? On formal occasions only? You don’t know how they are when they’re being honest. Merida told a grand tale at the last full moon gathering, you know, about how great it was that the wolves had taken out all the rest of the shifters. It was this incredible story about how great it was that the werebears were all dead, and how her father had gloriously slain one himself in single combat. She’s a bit extreme, maybe, but it’s not even unusual up there. It’s been a decade since a wereraven has been seen anywhere in the North Country, let alone Storybrooke, and they used to be our allies. And the other wolves don’t even pretend they don’t wish that they could go hunt down the last few werecats for fun.” August held up his hands against her tirade.

“As if they’d find them…” he muttered with a roll of his eyes. “But I know, Emma. I know. They’re self-righteous to a fault, but it’s not a bear or a cat we’re talking about here, it’s a wolf. It’s Will. He’s gone, and we can’t find hide nor hair of him, not the slightest trace.”

“And Liz?” Emma asked. She knew the truth of it, likely better than he did, but she had to hear it in his own words.

“Traces…everywhere.” He blew out a breath, settling on an overturned bucket with slumped shoulders. Emma crouched on her heels, squinting slightly against the glare to peer across the river before she began to speak, reluctance in her tone.

“The cops are still confused. Official investigation theory is that animals got to the body, but it doesn’t fit the timeline at all. She had not been dead long when they found her.” August looked at her sharply and Emma shrugged. “We don’t really do the high tech stuff up in Storybrooke, but Dad’s still the town sheriff. We have Kinfolk in every position of authority there. I had him pull the file from the state database. Walked him through it, step by step.” She’d hated to do it, to prevail upon the man she’d known for only a scant few years for a favor, the kind she’d wheedled as a bounty hunter from Portland police contacts under Cleo’s training. But as hungry as she was to know her family and understand their strange ways, they were just as eager, just as quick to try to connect with her in whatever way they could.

Even if for her father it meant providing illegally-obtained crime scene photos that she could pore over for evidence that one of her old acquaintances had committed a gruesome murder that could put every werewolf in Maine in jeopardy. And when push came to shove, and she had formally asked her mother for permission to return to the city, he had supported her mother’s stern denial. Not that it mattered. He was only Kinfolk, of course. Hardly more than human, and outside the city, that meant useful and little else.

Oh, her parents loved one another. That had been a strangely comforting realization, to see that even traditionalist werewolves who lived outside of human civilization as much as possible could still see the value of individual human-like Kin for anything besides breeding and propagating the next generation of werewolves. But when your spouse, or your parent, or your sibling couldn’t take the wolf form or speak with the spirits to learn their secrets, it made them less for many werewolves, particularly those who lived in their own private fiefdoms, like her family and the land they ruled, protected by magic. Kinfolk were plentiful – they outnumbered werewolves by a significant margin, with the magic, or genetics, or whatever it was that created them a fickle thing – but in the town of Storybrooke, they played a role more than anything.

David, her father, might be the town sheriff, but when your wife was one of the highest-ranking werewolves on the North American continent, what did it matter? When your mate could take the form of a terrifying wolf-human hybrid and have any mere human gibbering with fear, had slain vampires, fought off multiple challenges for her throne, and bartered with powerful spirits for secrets beyond mortal understanding, a badge and a service revolver meant precious little.

So he’d been glad to help her – he was so fond of her, so proud of all she’d become, and her mother was, too, in her way – but when it came to a decision, when it came to action, his voice was silent. It wouldn’t have mattered a whit had he spoken, of course. But Emma wished, vaguely, that he’d tried. But sometimes when Kinfolk tried to take a stand, especially if it disagreed with a werewolf, particularly one they were close to…

“Will’s probably hiding, August,” Emma said, admitting what she’d begun to suspect days ago, as soon as he’d sent word. “I don’t think he did it intentionally – he’s not that stupid and he’s not cruel – but he probably lost control of the wolf. If Liz cursed him out or got tired of his bullshit antics or even breathed funny and he took it the wrong way, and couldn’t control himself…” August had sagged on his seat, his elbows on his knees, but at Emma’s suggestion he straightened and shook his head, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline at the implied accusation.

“He wouldn’t. He can be an idiot, and impetuous, but he wouldn’t,” he said firmly.

“All it takes is one moment of weakness. You’re the one who taught me how important control was, and how quickly you can lose it. I’m sure he feels terrible about it, but I saw the pictures. If it wasn’t Will, then some other werewolf killed Liz.”

August didn’t argue the point; he knew it to be true as well as she did. They sat in silence on the docks, only the soft sound of the tide coming in, raising the slow-moving river by inches surrounding them. With the light reflecting on the soft waves and the cries of the gulls overhead, it might have been peaceful. In another time, but in this very same place, she’d spent many peaceful hours in August’s company, and with Cleo, Lily, Will, Jefferson and the handful of other tough, tradition-flouting werewolves and Kinfolk who preferred to live here surrounded by humanity. They’d found her and taught her the ways of the world when the bitter feuds among political rivals had left her a veritable orphan. It would be sweet to pretend that nothing had changed and she still belonged here, but then she’d been “rescued” from the hardscrabble city life and whisked off to a fairy tale existence as freaking fantasy-creature royalty. But Cleo was dead, Lily gone, and whatever August might say, this place was no longer her home. Emma abruptly pushed up from her crouch and walked back along the dock to the park with purpose, her eyes adjusting swiftly to the growing dark.

“Either way, I’m going to find out. Don’t wait up."

The old cobblestone streets of Portland could be treacherous even for a cautious driver – dimly lit and thick with pedestrians – but Emma took the Bug across the bay into the city nonetheless. To let the car stay hidden for too long was risky in general, so she’d coaxed it into dropping the camouflage, instead only keeping the usual distraction magic in place to keep anyone from looking too closely at the car’s registration, or lack thereof. She avoided the Old Port area where tourists thronged easily enough, skirting the west side of the city only to turn for the northern part of the peninsula where Will lived in Bayside.

Here the city mixed historical buildings with industrial warehouses, and though no housing could be considered cheap in Portland, not any longer, it was at least cheaper than anywhere else in the city proper. Whether it would remain that way for long was doubtful, however. Will lived equally quite close to both the city’s homeless shelter and the Whole Foods grocery store, and new apartment buildings sprung up every month alongside multi-million dollar renovations of old buildings. Emma’s mouth twisted with distaste at every visible change she catalogued as she pulled the Bug to a stop along a sidestreet curb. Will’s apartment was on the third floor of an aging multi-family dwelling. The first floor housed the elderly Kinfolk gentleman who owned the building, while on the second floor lived a family of city wolves and their Kin. She could check in on old Percy at least, before she went up to Will’s place. He might have a sense for where Will would be laying low. She mounted the porch steps lightly, ready to pull open the door to the building’s shared common stair, when she glanced up briefly and fell perfectly still.

The third floor window was softly illuminated from within. A human wouldn’t have seen it, or at least dismissed it as a trick of their eyes and the ambient light from streetlamps. But Emma could see the light move through the window above, concentrated and small, like a flashlight. Emma’s eyes narrowed as she considered the possibilities. Any of the building’s other inhabitants would turn on the light – they had no need to hide. If it was the cops, they’d have lit up the building like a Christmas tree at the very least, and parked cruisers all along the street. And if it was Will himself he would hardly need or risk a flashlight. That meant that while the obvious suspects were unlikely to be up there, someone taking pains not to be seen was in a missing wolf’s apartment. Steadily, her step light and cautious on the old creaky stairs, Emma crept up the first flight next to Percy’s apartment door, listening carefully.

There was the soft hum of a radio from Percy’s apartment, and that of conversation and laughter from the second floor, but beyond that Emma couldn’t make out any particular noises from above. She passed the second floor landing and continued to the third, testing each step carefully and taking her time. The apartment door was slightly ajar, and she could see the faintest glow of light and soft movement, of someone walking carefully over the creaky floorboards. As she reached the third floor landing, Emma pulled in a breath slowly, weighing her options, and then bent to pull a slender knife from her boot. She might rue the idea of Mulan bringing her sword to the city, or Merida striding down the street with her bow, but she wasn’t entirely averse to being armed. Straightening, she gently nudged the door open, pressing it with a fingertip, and thanking whatever spirit of the night or silence was looking out for her that the door swung freely and without a sound.

Will’s apartment was a single room with a high ceiling, and in the late summer heat the air was stiflingly thick and warm. A running ceiling fan squeaked rhythmically, spinning in a feeble in an attempt to keep the air moving, but it accomplished very little besides covering the sound of Emma stepping into the room, her gaze fixed on the black-clad figure shouldering a satchel with its back to her as it held some kind of light over the room’s unmade bed. She inhaled delicately in the space of a heartbeat, scenting the room’s occupant – a man and wolf-blooded, but not a werewolf. Whoever he was, he was definitely Kinfolk, but not someone she knew, and that was all she had time to decide before action was required. He paused in his apparent search, and started to turn. The room was four strides across for an average human. The muscles in  Emma’s legs burned as she leapt across the room in a bound, setting her shoulder into the figure’s back and pressing him down onto the bed. The figure crumpled with a grunt, the bed’s springs screeching in complaint, and Emma swiftly brought her knife to his throat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed. A breathless wheeze was her only immediate answer as his gloved right hand convulsed on the source of the light he’d been carrying. Emma’s eyes widened and she pressed the knife more firmly against her captive’s throat.

“Drop. It.” The light source dropped to the sheets with a soft noise, and the room was plunged into full darkness. Emma swiftly moved her free hand from his back to the piece of carved wood he’d carried, picking it up and jamming it into her boot. Only then did she ease her weight from the man’s back a trifle, and he drew in a rough, gasping breath before answering her, voice muffled into the rumpled bedclothes.

“Could ask you the same question, love.” His voice was accented, but despite the playful words, he didn’t move, remaining absolutely still. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers in his dark hair and steadily pulled his head back, free of the bed. He hissed in pain, and she carefully scraped the edge of the knife a fraction higher against his neck.

“You were saying?”

“I said, ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a wretched place like this?’” Though the skin of his neck slightly indented from the blade’s pressure, his tone was somehow light. Emma used her handful of his hair as leverage, turning his head to the side so that she could get a look at him and in the relative privacy of the pitch blackness, she took a moment to take in his features. Dark stubble, good cheekbones, and thick lashes that fluttered prettily when he blinked. Not at all bad to look at. When his blue eye met her own unerringly even in the darkness, however, she froze and sniffed again, carefully, to confirm her original suspicion. His scent carried the edge of wolf-blood, but not the specific, powerful scent of a fellow werewolf. There were ways for werewolves to hide their scent, but even that trick had a price – he wouldn’t smell of anything at all if that was the case. But he smelled very much like a man, and like a Kinfolk, and no werewolf could pretend otherwise. At least not that shew knew of. Her grip tightened a fraction, and he grunted in pain.

“I do apologize if my scent offends, my morning ablutions were so long ago now,” he ground out, teeth flashing in a sharp grin.

“Is this really that funny to you, wise guy? Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she tried again.

“If you let me up, I’ll answer any question you like, but this is rather uncomfortable for us both, don’t you think?” He shifted, trying to get his feet beneath him, most likely. Emma sighed and let the entirety of her weight settle on his back for a moment, leaning close his ear as he wheezed once again.

“Stand up, both hands where I can see them, and keep it slow.” With that, she slipped to her feet and took half a step back, yaning the satchel from the man’s shoulder as she went and dropping it to the floor. With a groan, the man rolled to his side, pressing his right hand against his ribs with a wince. She stepped back away, giving herself room to maneuver.

“Just the one,” he ground out, using an elbow pressed to the bed to lever himself slowly to his feet, keeping his arms raised slightly afterward. In the dark, his smile was pained, but still disarmingly charming.

“What are you talking about?” Emma snapped, unamused. “One what?”

“Hand, darling.” The fingers of his right waved in her direction, but the left was still and lifeless. It tickled a memory, but then it was gone and she frowned, shaking her head.

“Oooo-kay, that’s just fascinating. Let’s try this again. I’m going to ask you one more time who you are and what you’re doing here, and if you don’t start answering instead of flirting pronto I’m going to lower your total number of hands further one finger at a time.” The smile on his face faltered.

“Brandon Smith. I’m doing the same thing you are, I presume – looking for Will Scarlet, but as you see, he’s not at home,” he snapped, an edge of sullen impatience to his voice.

“What’s the spirit for?” He smiled again, tilting his head.

“Why, the flask in my pocket is for my own consumption, but I’d gladly share-“ Emma growled over his lilting invitation, a rumbling, thunder-like sound that couldn’t have come from a human’s throat. His smile returned, though it was more a baring of teeth than anything.

“I don’t have your nose, darling. The carving hosts a dog spirit who can sniff and track. But you know Will’s not been here for a week or more.” She lifted her chin slightly, but he wasn’t wrong.

“And your name?”

“I told you-“

“Bullshit,” she cut him off sharply, raising the point of her knife to point directly at his face. “I know a lie when I hear one. You can deflect and dance around a topic, but when you lie to me I damn well know. Tell. Me. Your. Name.” He let out a breath through his nose, somehow still unerringly able to meet her eyes in the dark. He couldn’t possibly see her face, and yet…

“My name is Killian Jones. I am, as I’m sure you know, Kinfolk.” Truth. The first plain statement he’d made this whole time, and it was the truth. But he wasn’t done.

“You probably know me by another name, though,” he continued. Still the truth. She made a soft noise of inquiry, lifting an eyebrow, the knife blade unwavering.

“Hook. The wolves, they call me Hook.” The room fell silent, save for the steady squeaking of the overhead fan. The urge to take the wolf form swept over her like a cold wave and she inhaled sharply, his scent prickling with uncertainty despite his steady expression. The blade point wavered as she gripped it so hard her hand trembled as she fought down the howling need to have fur and teeth and claws. Hook. She’d heard stories, of course. Werewolves were nothing if not tale-tellers, particularly when it came to their enemies. Their traitors. In some he had chosen to become a vampire, in others inviting his possession by a spirit of vengeance. But in all of them, he was Kinfolk – blood of the wolf who had betrayed his own people. Murderer. Hunter. He watched her – though he couldn’t be in this lighting, not really – almost expectantly.

“It’s just there,” he said finally, breaking the silence. His arms remained slightly raised and still. “In my bag.” Without lowering her blade, Emma crouched, slowly reaching her left hand into the satchel. Her fingers brushed over the few items inside, until they settled around the one she was looking for. Gritting her teeth, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal shape and pulled it free, hissing softly under her breath. It prickled at her fingers sharply, alternating between freezing numb cold and needle-sharp pain as she held it up. The wickedly curved hook seemed to glow in the dark of the room, the enchanted silver casting its own light. They both stared at it for a long moment before she looked away, back at the man who seemed to be waiting on her, his arms slowly dropping to a defensive position in front of his body.

She was leaping for him with a snarl, body contorting and sprouting thick silver fur, before either hook or knife had hit the ground.

[silavut-the-wizard]

Silavut the Wizard, Chapter 23

They deal with a very sticky situation.

The Dragon

The dragon descended with a great gust of wind and thundering landing. The villagers scattered back to their homes, screaming.

Silavut looked up at the dragon with indifference, seemingly not caring what happened next.

Sehlan looked at the dragon with dread on her face. “Silavut! What the hell was that?” she asked furiously. “Did you purposely lure the dragon here?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the dragon.

“Hello, little morsels. I see the villagers have prepared yet another scrumptious sacrifice.” Its voice was in their heads.

“We’re—ugh—not—ergh—your—gah—snack!” Sehlan grunted, still trying to find a way to free them. “Silavut, help me! What are you doing?” She looked back to see him just sitting there, staring at the dragon.

“It seems your friend has given up trying to escape.” It produced a deep, rumbling laugh. “All the easier for me to devour.”

Sehlan let out a frustrated grunt. “I wish I had a blade so I could cut these damn things! Then use it to kill you!” she said, turning her attention towards the dragon.

“Me? Why kill me? I’m not your enemy. I’m just like any other living thing. I need to eat to survive, and this village has provided little snacks like you to help with that.”

Besides the village’s yearly sacrifices, she had to admit the dragon did have a point. She had an idea. “Let me ask you something, then. Why do you come to this village? What is it that draws you here?”

The dragon was taken aback. No one had ever asked it anything before. Everyone always screamed and ran away or tried to escape.

What no one knew, however, was that it never actually ate anyone. It would pick them up and carry them off somewhere else and let them go, the villagers being none the wiser as not a single one ever returned; mainly because being sacrificed was a deterrent to return.

The main reason the dragon never actually ate anyone was because dragons never ate humans if they could avoid it for various reasons.

After a moment of thought, it decided to answer. “To seek the one who destroyed another dragon nearly thirty years ago. An evil one with power even dragons dare not meddle with. It was in this village that happened, and when the weave of balance started coming undone. It has frayed and the world became fractured. The only way to restore them is by destroying this wicked being.”

Sehlan gasped. So it knows! “We, too, have been seeking this evil one. She is an insane sorceress who became immortal and has been wreaking havoc ever since she fully came into her powers. We know not where she dwells. We have been travelling long and have been through several ordeals, this one certainly not being the least. We wish to destroy her as well. We may well be able to help each other.” She stopped to let this sink in with the dragon.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? You could be lying to get out of being eaten. Many have tried such tactics before and failed. I should just devour you right now.” It opened its jaws and they could see the massive, sharp teeth built to puncture just about anything, and its long, slimy tongue ready to slurp them down.

“No! Wait!”

It stopped, pulled back and closed its mouth, and waited, one large eye turned towards them, watching closely.

“I’m not lying.” Sehlan tried to think how it could know they were telling the truth. Then she remembered something she heard as a child. “I know dragons have a way to tell if someone is true or false. I also know the risks involved. You can do it to me. If I am lying, then you can eat us, right here and now.”

Silavut continued to stare blankly.

After several moments of contemplation, the dragon agreed. It performed its test on Sehlan and found her to be truthful. She nearly collapsed from the mental strain and was breathing hard with the exertion.

“You see,” she said between breaths, “it’s true.”

“Yes. I do see.” The dragon slowly circled them a few times, still contemplating devouring them. “Though you do still look tasty.”

Silavut suddenly jumped up, fire in his eyes. “You will not have us, dragon!”

“Silavut!” Sehlan nearly screamed in both elation and frustration. “What…the…hell??”

“Sorry,” he said with a crooked smirk and half-hearted shrug. “Couldn’t ruin my plan.”

“Your plan? To do what exactly?”

“Well, free us, of course.”

“OK, so you’re free, but what about me?”

“Let me deal with this conniving beast here.”

“Wait! It’s not what you think.”

The dragon watched, amused, as the two went at it.

“Then tell me, what is it?”

“It can help us. Did you not hear it?”

“I heard nothing but lies. Dragons cannot be trusted. Don’t you know that?”

Sehlan sighed. “Yes, I know. Normally I would agree with you, but not now. Would you please get me loose, and then tell me how the hell you got loose?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He went over and cut her bonds, still wary of the dragon.

Sehlan stood and rubbed her wrists where they were bound. “Now, tell me your plan and how you got loose.”

He hesitated, looking between her and the dragon, then explained. “Ever since I left Vorin’s, I’ve always had a hidden dagger. It was one thing he taught me, to always be prepared and how to keep it hidden, even with thorough searches. I didn’t want anyone to see me pull it out, so I yelled, assuming the dragon would show, which it did.” He nodded at the dragon. “Once the villagers were gone, I manoeuvred enough to slide out the dagger and cut the bonds. After getting free, I thought we might be able to distract the dragon long enough to escape, find our packs, and get the hell out of here.”

“OK, but distract it how?” Sehlan shrugged at the dragon, bemused.

“I hadn’t figured that part out yet. I figured we’d come up with something at the time.”

“Great. Just great.” Sehlan threw her arms up and let them drop as she rolled her eyes. “So we were just going to randomly distract it with nothing. Nice.”

Silavut became sheepish. “I didn’t know what else to do! I’m sorry.”

The dragon then let out a roaring laugh. “You little ones amuse me. I may not eat you after all.”

“Gee, thanks,” Sehlan said.

Silavut sighed and sat back down. “So, now what do we do? We need to find our packs and get out of here.”

“Let’s go see our oh-so-generous host and see what they know.”

They made their way to the home of the one who drugged them. Upon their barging in, the owner, who was making a meal, yelped and tried running out the back. Sehlan was too quick, though, and caught them before they could get out the door.

“Where is our stuff? What did you do with our packs?”

Stammering, they answered, “H–ho–w–d–d–di–d–y–yo–you?” She shook them. “Th–th–they–o–over–p–p–pl–please–l–l–let–m–me–g–g–g–go—”

“Where?” she asked with more force, shaking them harder.

They yelped and cowered in her grip. Finding their voice, they said in one long string, “Over-there-in-the-storage-room-please-let-me-go!” They pointed towards the room.

“I should leave you to the dragon!” Sehlan dumped them on the floor and went over to the storage room. “You sure they’re in here?” she asked with danger in her voice.

“Y–yes! I–I–I’m sure!”

“They better be. Silavut, watch them.”

“My pleasure.” Silavut stood over them with the blade ready in case they tried anything.

Sehlan opened the door, and sure enough there were their packs, still intact thankfully. “They’re here. Good.” She dragged them out, the sword scraping the floor, leaving a gouge. Looking down at their abductor, she said, “If I ever hear of any more sacrifices, I will personally come back and hunt you down. Do you understand?”

Silently, they nodded vigorously.

“Good.”

Silavut smiled down at them and waved. “Bye-bye now.”

He helped gather the packs and they met the dragon back in the village square to plan their next move.

[firegrilled]

Prompt: You Can’t Protect Me (Jean/Marco)

Jeanmarco Month Day Two: Canonverse/Mirrorverse In this case)

For this I gave Marco’s background in my ongoing story Second Chances at the Battle of Trost. It’s a parallel canon world that’s slightly different from the original where small things changed and this covers Marco from Trost until he meets canon Jean. Happy ending I promise!

This is for the anon who requested the pairing and the prompt too!

This was all wrong. Tomorrow was supposed to be graduation, their chance to join whatever branches their hearts desired. Eren and Armin would pursue the Survey Corps to fight titans and explore the outside world with Mikasa protecting them. Connie and Sasha probably would go wherever their carefree hearts desired while the Annie, Bertholdt, and Reiner trio would likely climb the ranks of the Military Police together. Ymir and Historia? Marco could see them taking a Garrison position where they could enjoy their company. As for Jean and him, the chance to protect the king together brought great joy Marco.

All the assurances of such paths came crashing to reality with the gigantic boulder that broke the gates of Trost. Just as Eren made his early declaration to kill all the titan, a swift message was returned by the gigantic ape-like titan on the horizon. Its loud roar signaled the call to battle as many smaller titans began to flood into the city. Along the sky more rocks came raining down on the cadets and citizens of Trost.

“We know our squads, let’s go!” Eren shouted to the shell-shocked cadets.

“Not everyone has seen a titan like you, Jaeger. Give us a moment,” Jean spat back. His normally cocky façade vanished the moment that new titan showed itself. His hands trembled as he tightened his straps.

“The more time we let pass the more people die. Families torn apart. I won’t let someone else suffer the way we have.” Eren gestured between him, Mikasa, and Armin. “And what if the Armored and Colossal titans show again? We need to evacuate and kill as many of those bastards as possible.”

The mention of the other titans dropped everyone’s mood further.

“Not everyone is as gung-ho about throwing their lives away like you, ya suicidal idiot. These are titan, not training dummies. They fight back!”

“And we hit them harder! We’ve spent the last few years of our lives preparing for this. We’re ready and we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“On the battlefield you’ve got to watch your own back. You can’t protect everyone, Jaeger. You can’t save Armin like you did during training all the time. Reiner can’t keep an eye on Bertl and Annie during every second just like Marco can’t protect me! Quit living in that little fantasy head of yours and start recognizing reality.”

Jean glared daggers at Eren but he simply responded by making the salute.

“We took a pledge to protect these people and have each other’s back. We have the skills and the tools to fulfill that pledge. Come one!” Eren shouted, earning cheers and nods from his fellow classmates. Those assigned to Eren’s squad threw their hands up in the air as a show of solidarity before running off to meet the initial wave of titans.

Jean rolled his eyes and got to his feet. The remaining cadets gathered themselves and their belongings.

“Jean, you’re gonna make a great leader one day,” Marco commented as he clapped a hand on Jean’s shoulder.

Jean quirked an eyebrow but offered a tiny smile. “I’d never be a good leader, Marco. You on the other hand can be. You know how to somehow protect those around you and they inherently trust you. You have the skills and the empathy. That’s the key to your success.”

“You didn’t mean that though right? That I couldn’t protect you. We have to have each other’s back in combat, it’s essential.” Marco frowned at the thought.

“In some regards, no. Of course we’ll do our best to defend each other btu there are times where you just can’t watch everyone. A battlefield is large and messy. Unlike training your thoughts and allies are scattered. But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” Jean explained, scratching the back of his head halfway through.

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Don’t worry about me though, I’ll be fine. I mean have you met me? I’m me! Just keep yourself alive today and then well climb the ranks of the Military Police together.”

Jean placed his hands on Marco’s shoulders, offering a reassuring grin.

“I guess. There’s something I want to tell you by the way… once this is all done.” Marco bit his lower lip, confusing Jean. His face flushed a bit as he pondered the confusing thoughts he’d been fighting for the last few weeks of training.

“What is it?” Jean wondered, dropping his arms to his side.

“A-After the battle. It’ll take a bit to discuss.”

Jean shrugged but kept his warm smile. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah… see you then, Jean.”

Both Jean and Eren were correct in their predictions for the battle. Their last several years of training proved invaluable to targeting titans and eliminating them, as well as their use of the 3DMG. Marco was also sure they saved many lives and thankfully none of the other notable titans appeared during the fray. Even the ape-like titan refused to approach the city. Unfortunately that was all Eren was right about.

Jean’s pessimistic outlook had many truthful aspects that Marco wanted to ignore. While they had training to kill titans, moving targets were a different story. Many cadets fell to basic mistakes and miscalculations. Marco even came close to losing himself or a limb a few times. Seeing his fellow soldiers perished left him deeply saddened but that shellshock also cost many solider their lives. Some refused to accept the death of a loved one like Franz. Others gave their lives trying to avenge their comrades. Even Eren supposedly died pulling Armin from a titan but was lost in the fray. Jean was wrong about that at least.

The biggest shock came once the battle ended thanks to Reiner’s surprising titan abilities, supposedly something the government knew about.

Once the commotion settled, Marco joined in the clean-up. His thoughts remained preoccupied by the trauma of watching those he grew close to over the years, those he watched struggle to pass through training, those who shared their life stories all get swallowed up by the titans. It was cruel.

It wasn’t until he turned a corner on a nameless street that he felt the world he’d so precariously built come crashing down. Laying against a building with a chunk of his body gone was Jean. Or what was left of Jean.

“Jean?” Marco’s weak voice called out. His legs trembled as he took big clumsy steps towards the body. He collapsed next to the body as he tried to observe it.

While missing part of his head and the left side of his body, the two toned hair was unmistakable.

“You recognize this soldier?” A medic called out.

“Jean… no…” Marco felt the tears begin to well-up in his eyes. Their future, their plans, his confession. It all died here.

“Do you recognize this solider? It’s important so we can tell his next of kin. We have to burn his body before a new plague can begin spreading.” The callous tone of the medic stabbed Marco right in the heart.

This was a soldier that gave his life for humanity and this medic simply saw it as a burden?

“Jean… Jean Kirschtein. Cadet of the 104th and the smartest soldier I knew.” Marco struggled to get out.

“I see. Thank you. Please bring the body to the nearest pyre.”

After scribbling down the information the medic left Marco with the body.

Ultimately a group of the surviving 104th carried Jean’s corpse to the fire. Many mourned their friends that evening, but Marco mourned Jean the hardest. He almost burned himself grasping at one of the charred bones.

“Damn it, Jean. I know… I know I said I wanted to protect the king. But after today I can’t ignore the cold truth. Humanity needs my protection,” Marco trembled as he grabbed the bone tightly. With tears in his eyes he faced the cadets around him. “Guys, I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to join the Scouts.”

After Trost more of the cadets joined the Scouts than anticipated, and Marco never looked back. Taking Jean’s words to heart he did his best in the ensuing battles for the next seven years. He and the others even earned a place on Levi squad once the original members decided to retire for their own variety of reasons. The Beast titan, the Colossal titan, and Armored titan never showed their faces during that time until one night reports of attacks at Castle Utgard forced the Survey Scouts to deploy.

By the time they reached the castle, the bulk of the titans were decimated. Rumors that the Beast titan initiated the attack spread along with the rumors of a brave soldier that cut down the horde. Marco had long since steeled his heart to all the death that can come from these battles and expeditions but he still remained empathetic to the plight of the soldiers. As he and his fellow Levi squad members returned to the castle to meet up with Levi and the others, he continuously offered water to the weary.

At the doors of the castle, a shocked Armin pushed his way past Marco.

“How? It- Marco? Don’t go in there,” Armin suggested as he left in a hurry.

That reaction puzzled Marco. Something got under Armin’s thick skin?

Suddenly Commander Smith pushed past him to enter the building. Marco hesitated between entering to see the commotion as well as report some findings to the commander, and going back to check on Armin. Duty came before friends during battle though. He walked inside and heard the conversation better.

“C-C-Commander Smith?!” Someone stumbled over his words.

“Yes?” Erwin asked.

“Oh, so you do know the commander,” Levi half-heartedly laughed.

Marco quickly approached his superior. “Commander, sir! We finished surveying the walls, however no breach was found. We did find a few attacked villages as well as one decimated one: Ragako.”

A stuttering sound caught Marco’s attention and he turned to see the soldier on the floow in front of Levi. The two toned hair, the lanky frame, the sharp face… Marco’s blood ran cold at the impossible sight.

“M-M-M-M…” Jean couldn’t bring himself to say his dead friend’s name.

“Jean?!” Marco’s eyes widened as his shoulders slowly sunk.

The shock must’ve been as great for Jean as it was for Marco since he immediately passed out. Marco’s conflicting feelings made him want to do the same but he managed to at least stay upright.

Over the next few days he learned Jean was the heroic soldier that nearly sacrificed himself fighting everyone, and ultimately he learned Jean hailed from a world similar to theirs but slightly different. And while it wasn’t the same Jean he grew up with, he had the same ticks, the same mannerisms, and the same charm that captured Marco’s steel heart long ago.

It took a lot of internal debate but he eventually settled on welcoming this new Jean back into his life. And he’d be damned if he couldn’t protect this one.

If you want to read more of this universe you can find the story here

[leiyahime]

Fanfic - Stand by me

Just a little rewrite of their reunion after those ten years. And my theories what the world may have changed to without sunlight.

Stand by me

 Prompto, sighed when he looked out into the night huddled into his blanket, his fire burning behind him. This eternal night that held the world in its strong grip for years. The only thing that changed was the temperature. It grew colder the longer this night lasted. Of course. The planet had not felt a warming ray of sunlight in a decade. How did it feel like when the sun burned on your skin? What did a sunrise look like? Suddenly the man felt sorry for all the children born the last ten years who knew nothing about natural light. Well there were not many kids born. This world held no space for humans. Daemons lurked everywhere nowadays. The only place left with a bit of light was Lestallum with its power plant. Only skilled hunters dared to leave the town. Hunters like him. Or could he be counted as a hunter? He hunted daemons, yes. But he rather said he was a waiter: a person waiting for another person’s return. It had been ten years. But he knew his best friend would reappear one day. And for that day he waited.

He heard steps and jumped to his feet.

 “Good evening. I hope I don’t disturb you, but I look for a place to rest a bit. May I stay for a while?”

 A broad grin appeared on Prompto’s face and he relaxed. He instantly recognized the voice of another close friend.

 “But of course, Ignis. My fire is your fire!”

 The man who just stepped into the flickering light of the fire looked weary but a smile appeared on his face.

 “This is a nice surprise, to see it’s you. I thought you were in Hammerhead.”

 “Cidney threw me out. Said she didn’t want to see me for a while.”

 Ignis chuckled when he sat down next to Prompto’s fire and fed it a few pieces of dry wood he had collected on his way to the camp. It hadn’t rained in weeks so there was much dry wood around.

 “How long has it been since you’re out here?” Ignis asked.

 “Dunno? It’s hard to keep track of time when your phone’s battery died. I haven’t seen any civilization in… quite a time.”

 Ignis pulled out his own phone and after a short while of tapping on the screen the device blurted out the day and the time for both of them to hear.

 “Oh… It’s been a bit over a month I’ve last seen her. And what about you?” Prompto asked while handing Ignis a plate with the rest of his food. It was nothing like the things Ignis could prepare but it was there and they all had learned to live from what they could get.

 “I’m fine. I’m currently out observing the changes out here. I don’t even know why they asked a blind man to do this, but I guess there are too few people left who dared to explore the world. The daemons grow in number, the beasts get eaten or simply starve… Plants can’t grow, the rivers dry out or get polluted by I don’t know what kind of darkness-loving stuff… I’d say this world is dying.” The way Ignis stated these facts sent a chill down Prompto’s spine.

 “He has to come back soon. He’s our only hope.” Prompto stared into the flames.

 “He will. He is our rightful king. Fate will not allow him to stay away until it’s too late. We have to believe in him.” Ignis’ voice was calm, but the way he frowned told Prompto enough. Ignis was also worried.

 “Let’s go to Hammerhead after we rested.” Prompto proposed. “I want to take a shower and Cidney should have calmed down.”

Ignis nodded and finished his meal, before he pulled his own blanket out of his bag to get some rest.

 ~~~~~

 “Finally.” Prompto sighed heavily when they reached the outpost. “I guess I can throw these clothes away… And you need a new shirt…”

 “I thought so. The last mile was a bit cold on my back.”

 The daemons they had to fight on their way had been very aggressive and their clothes were torn on several places.

 “Well if everything’s lost we still have those Kingsglaive uniforms.” Prompto joked and instantly regretted his words.

 “We will not wear those unless there is a king who’s Glaives we can be!” Ignis scolded sternly.

“The day will come.” A female voce interrupted them. “Trust in him… And welcome back. Prompto! You should have given a word! Do you know how long you’ve been out there? You should at least have turned your phone on!”

 “Ugh… I’m … sorry Cidney! Really!” Prompto asked for forgiveness.

 “I was worried! Don’t ever dare to stay out for so long without messaging from time to time!” The young woman held up her lantern so that she probably could read in his face whether he really sorry or just played it. And Prompto could read in hers that her words were sincere as well.

 “I’m really sorry… It won’t happen again!” He lowered his gaze.

 After a while Cidney took a deep breath. “Thank god you’re back in one piece.” She said and slapped his shoulder. “And good to see you again as well, Ignis. Come on, you smell like you could need some clean water. I’ll prepare everything for you.”

“Thank you, Cidney”

 About another hour later the two friends sat in the old diner and had a small meal. They had taken a bath; Prompto had sorted all problems out with Cidney and was allowed to stay here again for a while – until she threw him out again in a few weeks.

 They both looked up when someone else entered the building and came directly in their direction.

 “Yo. Has something happened that I find both of you here?” The tall muscular man stood in front of their table and grinned.

 “Nothing special,” Prompto said. “We met last night by chance and decided to come here. And what about you, Gladio?”

 “I see. I just felt the urge to see some civilization again. Is it just me or do the daemons really grow in number?”

 Prompto nodded. “Not only in number… Also in size.”

 “We have more than enough to do… Until he comes back. We have to go on fighting”, Ignis stated and the other two nodded. Gladio also got himself some food and while they ate they discussed the situation. How long this world would still be able to survive the darkness.

 “Perhaps one day, when all beasts are dead the daemons will have to kill each other in earnest and at last also be dead.” Gladio tried to see something good in the current circumstances.

 “And then all humans also turn into daemons and in another ten years this whole planet will be nothing more than a dead, cold world covered in ice. Even the cockroaches will be dead by then.” Ignis prophesied bitterly and shoved is empty plate away. There was not much hope left.

 “Nah. I give the roaches ten more years until every last remaining part of anything once living here has become their food.” Even Prompto’s mood was far from good.

 “Huh? Another visitor. Hammerhead sure is busy tonight.” Gladio had noticed a truck rolling on the place before the diner.

 “It’s two in the afternoon.” Ignis corrected but Gladio shrugged. It has been night the past ten years.

 “It’s Talcott! We should say hello!” Prompto proposed. “Perhaps he has more information how things are over at Lestallum.”

 The other two nodded and got up to greet the boy who had lost his granddad ten years ago and had since become a loyal ally to their task.

 When they left the building they noticed that Talcott was not alone. He brought someone with him and Prompto and Gladio froze when they recognized Talcott’s passenger.

 “What is it?” asked Ignis who couldn’t see it but sensed the excitement in his friends.

 Prompto came back to his senses first and shook Ignis’ Arm. “Its… it’s him! He’s back!” he whispered excitedly and all three of them approached the person they all had missed so much during the last ten years.

“Ho!” Noctis greeted them. His clothes were dirty, his hair a mess… But there was no doubt. The king had returned.

 “Don’t you ‘Ho’ us after all this time!” Gladio hollered and couldn’t hold back but ruffled through Noctis’ hair before he pulled the much smaller king into a bear hug. “Welcome back!”

 “Thanks!” Noctis nodded and then he approached Ignis and put a hand on his advisor’s shoulder but Ignis was not having any of this polite behavior. Not now. He could return to his usual behavior later. Now he gave Noctis a tight hug. It was just too good to see him again. “Good to have you back. We have waited for you.” Then he let go of his king and nodded with a fond smile. “Welcome”

 “Thank you, Ignis. Good to see you’re fine.”

 And even before he could turn to Prompto he stumbled back because the lively young man had just jumped into his arms. “God, Noct! Thank god! I thought you wouldn’t make it in time!”

 “Oi, don’t cry! I’m back. I can’t let this planet die. And I can’t leave you worried for the rest of your lives. I have a task to fulfill. Will you still stand by me?” Noctis asked. “After all this time?”

 “What’s that supposed to mean? We didn’t wait ten years for your return just to leave you alone in your most important battle.” Prompto bristled at these words, still sniffing and the others nodded.

 “We will defeat the darkness together.”

 “We’ll always be by your side, king.”