#because good lord I couldn’t compress the coat-parts of it into a way that looked good from the side

[fuzzyminte]

Yoomtah Turnaround! One has a different Foot from the back, because I wasn’t sure which looked more correct

[ashleyswrittenwords]

Subtleties of a Suitor (Part 1 of 2)

Summary: Pre-calamity AU where Zelda’s powers awaken in time, but not everything is back to normal after Calamity Ganon is defeated.

Note: This is all @intangiblyyourswrites‘s fault. Also, the second part is NSFW -which also happens to be Kristie’s fault. Enjoy!

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Scrawling ink coated the underside of her hand and left light imprints on the edge of the paper. That paper was bound within leather covers that rarely left the Princess’s desk. It was a journal of upmost confidence; containing her deepest secrets and cresting moments of happiness. The highs and lows of her life caught between compressed papyrus.

It was hardly secretive that her lows were concentrated in the years before, caught in the repetitive cycle of failing expectations that were handed down to her from birth. This desk and this journal were Princess Zelda’s small reprieve. Even going as far as referring to it as an old friend because it felt better to write with purpose than to speak nothings into a void.

My dearest friend,

A worry line creased her forehead. The nameless friend was so accustomed to moments of happiness nowadays, it felt alarming to her that she was writing with distress once more.

These days have been nothing short of harrowing. In my last letter, I was convinced that he finally understood my intentions after Calamity Ganon was sealed away. I thought-

She paused her pen strokes and glared at the page, willing herself to connect thoughts to words and words to paper.

We don’t meet anymore, we haven’t since before the monster was sealed away. Even though the night prior haunted my dreams for weeks following my expressed wishes to cease these small moments of privacy. No matter how sweet and innocent they could be. As you know, in my heart of hearts I can’t bind him to me when-

When Zelda could never be his. When, in times of great enlightenment and prosperity, their fates have crossed and her father now sees him only as a valuable combatant in his army. When destinies have been fulfilled and they were no use to one another.

They both knew this in the beginning, but with the veil of ignorance and Zelda’s everflowing failure, she was convinced they were fated to die with the kingdom. It was a simple case of action and reaction. If she didn’t unlock her sealing powers, then Calamity Ganon would not be defeated.

The knowledge most likely drew out their passion. Pages upon pages recounted shaky hands and blushing cheeks that glowed hot and bright against starry skies. A string of months where she felt more warm than she had ever been and more loved than she thought she deserved.

Then, a week after the Calamity, when Link was pressing her against the railing of an empty stairwell far from the celebratory festivities, she broke their kiss after her guilt grew too heavy for her chest to bear. Zelda will never be able to forget the unmasked hurt on his face as she thickly told him that they couldn’t do this anymore. Among it all, Zelda told him she loved him.

I was under the impression he understood. Father offered Link a promotion and he didn’t even wait a day to think about it. The next evening another man was waiting by my door and of course it shocked me. A part of me wanted to be belligerent when Link hadn’t bothered to ask, another part was more than understanding. But now?

Now I’m rethinking everything.

It started two weeks ago.

The court was lively. Since Calamity Ganon’s appearance and subsequent defeat, Hyrule Castle had its fair share of celebrations. Three months later, the Zora was being hosted within its walls. Without looming dread over her head, Princess Zelda found herself in more social circles. The Zoran princess and Champion, Mipha, became an especially close contact. As opposing as the two princesses were, they had cultivated a solid friendship. Zelda assisted Mipha with fitting into Hylian customs and Mipha was a fantastic listener.

“Link hasn’t said anything about it to me,” Mipha said gently, swinging her little brother in her arms. Prince Sidon made a disgruntled noise and reached out towards Zelda once more.

The small prince smoothed the trouble in her brow as she heaved him in her arms. “Well maybe it’s for the best. We should both move on.”

They were taking turns about the court, trying to spend the dying summer days. Sidon giggled and reached out to his sister.. Mipha seemed to be debating what to say before opting for nothing at all and looked across the room. Her Hylian companion followed her gaze to find Link communing with her father and few other Zora. It was typical for him to parade around the Hero of Hyrule as if he were some trophy.

“I don’t know, Zelda,” Mipha softly said beside her. A joke from Link made the group laugh and suddenly the blond caught her eye. As if stung, Zelda looked at the marble tiles in front of her. She scorned herself when her mind would drift from the fact that he wasn’t wearing his Champion’s Tunic. “His burden is lifted, yes, but it’s not like him to so easily let go of someone.”

When Zelda didn’t respond, Mipha tried to reassure her. “I could be wrong. If anything, we can refer to Lady Urbosa.”

As they walked, they soon found themselves amongst a throng of Zoran and Hylian ladies who began to gossip about the affluential bachelors in the room. Although she was physically there with polite smiles galore, her head was miles from the court. There was something about wealth they were talking about when all went silent.

“Master Link!” a woman exclaimed, “What a pleasant surprise!”

Suddenly, Zelda was back with slight vertigo. The group moved from her and began asking a dizzying amount of questions.

“Tell us, how frightful was that monster?”

An excited Zoran was nearing jumping out of her draped fabrics. “Heavens! Recall to us how you slayed the dreadful Calamity Ganon, please sir.”

“Oh goodness, Catherine, not with my weak nerves.”

Why hadn’t they asked Zelda those questions? She was there too!

The man seemed caught up in the storm of women and it occurred to Zelda that she had the opportunity to slip away amongst the chaos. Right when she discreetly bid Mipha goodbye, Link began speaking.

“You’re all too kind. I’m afraid I’m not a very good storyteller,” he wore a graceful smile, but she could see the anxiety behind his eyes. She knew him. Then, she saw the skies in his eyes and any desire to leave dissipated. “I can tell you that Princess Zelda saved my life.”

All eyes fell on her and she felt the acute urge to stare at her feet. Her voice sounded foreign, “You say the most fantastic hyperboles, Captain.”

Those were the first words she has said to him beyond common pleasantries in three months.

“I assure you that there was no embellishment in the slightest.” Link was looking at her along with the rest of the ladies.

“Ah, well,” Zelda trailed off, “It was only fair when you saved mine.”

That caused a sea of hushed whispers around them. The woman that separated them spoke up excitedly, “Will you allow us a story or two, sir?”

“My apologies, I should be off to the barracks right now,” Link said, meeting her again. “I came to bid Her Highness goodbye.”

Another wave of whispers as the woman between them shuffled off quickly. Confusion ebbed at the Princess, but refined manners kept it at bay. Link reached out to her and she instinctively offered her hand, but his fingers grazed the underside of her forearm, the tips of his glove brushing down its length before finally clasping her palm. As he bent down low, he held her gaze, and it felt like they were the only people in the room. Warm lips pressed a long, searing kiss to her hand, and it revived the sensation of those same lips drifting up the inside of her thighs.

He pulled back, “You look lovely this evening, Princess. I hope we cross paths again.”

Zelda’s lips drew tight together and she nodded chastely, not trusting her voice to speak. Footsteps on marbled signified his leave and she looked at Mipha, who stared back with bewilderment. The two princesses thought the same question.

What was that?

Her ink quill scratched against the paper from added pressure, she readjusted her grip.

I thought about it for the rest of the evening. That one moment dredged up emotions I spent weeks burying. Logically, I had chalked it up to basic biology; chemicals in my brain that were ultimately a hindrance to my responsibilities. For a few hours, that had worked until I found out that that night would be the first of many where he would bid me goodnight.

The next day was no better because Father decided he was honored enough to dine with us.

“I’m so glad you can join us, Captain!” King Rhoam boisterously said. “There is a seat next to Princess Zelda.”

The woman stared holes into her empty plate as the chair beside her grated against the floor. When her father coughed to clear his throat she glanced up, “Isn’t it nice that he has joined us, Zelda?”

“Oh, yes,” she smiled tightly, hardly meeting their eyes. “It’s good to see you, Link.”

Her hands folded tightly in her lap. Zelda didn’t hear him reply, so she assumed he demonstrated his signature nod. Perhaps he didn’t want to be there either. Before the Calamity, he was never permitted to sit at the royal table, much less next to the princess. He was a simple soldier then, she reminded herself, someone with promise. Princess Zelda assumed this was another way for her father to show off the Hero of Hyrule to the lords and ladies at the table.

The thought made her bite the inside of her cheek. Didn’t he deserve better? Had he been asked what he wanted?

Supper crawled by painfully. Typically, she didn’t mind if someone sat by her but she hadn’t realized how common it was to brush arms with a neighbor. Each time they touched, she’d involuntarily flinch away. Sometimes he would mumble his apologies that were a little too close to her ear.

Like all things, the torture ceased and as Zelda was about to excuse herself, dessert was announced.

“Where are you off to?” Link said, watching as she was already half-risen from her chair.

The Princess swallowed her curses. “I’m excusing myself,” she lilted, not quite leveling with him. “A lady should keep her figure.”

It was a bold-faced lie. She knew that he knew she loved sweets and would easily endure three courses of her most hated dishes to reach them. Zelda dared him to say anything. The door to the kitchen swung open and revealed several servants. Her father suddenly eyed her oddly, “Are you not planning to stay? I requested fruitcake for this evening on your behalf.”

Oh.

Link looked away as she flopped back in her seat. Despite the rolling in her stomach, her cheeks flared in embarrassment and she rushed to say, “Thank you, Father.”

As much as Zelda wished it would, the issue hadn’t immediately folded. When a large cake was placed on the table, she had the full intention of taking the slice to her room under the guise of studying a fallen Guardian’s laser module. It would be an easy solution to this problem. The cake knife was in her field of view and she went for it, only for another’s to brush her hand away.

With accusation in her eyes, Zelda watched the smallest smile - almost unnoticeable - cross Link’s face.

“What are you doing?” she said under her breath, glancing around the table to assure no one was watching. It hadn’t seemed to be the case, but this was exactly what she didn’t want. The Princess knew this court and though they’re opinion of her had shifted, the lords and ladies would cling to any rumor no matter how innocent his actions were.

His eyes were carefully guarded and if he had been anyone else, she would have been offended by how large the slice of fruitcake was when he set it on her plate . Right when she moved to stand, he caught her with his words.

“Who is it that has you caring about the way you look?”

At the head of the table, King Rhoam was laughing at something an advisor said. By now, it would look uncouth to leave the table mid-course. With a heavy breath, Princess Zelda pulled her chair in and spread her napkin over her skirts. The cake was layered with lemon icing, which would usually make her exponentially excited. Her lips upturned into a soft frown. He shouldn’t ask questions like that. It wasn’t fair.

Annoyance surged into her chest. “Does it matter?”

He was quiet for a moment and conversations from others dominated the air between them. The fruitcake tasted stale in her mouth.

“Yes.”

She wasn’t looking at him - she couldn’t. A stirring feeling lodged itself in her throat and threatened to bring about everything she tried to undo. Memories of laughing so hard in Hyrule Field, doubled over in her saddle from something ridiculous he had said; learning in that moment that he looked at her like she was the moon on a cloudless night; his hands twirling her into a circle besides a campfire to the sound of her humming ballroom tunes.

He had asked me if I fell out of love with him or he had hurt me in some way. I hadn’t and I wasn’t then and I am not now. It wasn’t just about me, but him as well. If it came out to the court, to the public, that we were having an affair, of course I would be criticized. My character put into question and subsequently tarnished for as long as it stayed in the minds of my peers, but nothing would happen to my title. I would still be the Princess of Hyrule.

Link would be scrutinized and his reputation ruined. He could be subject to expellment and be banished from the castle or Castle Town entirely. That was a fear I had harbored and for me to perpetuate our relationship for selfish indulgence… that isn’t love. At least, not a love he deserved.

Daintily, Zelda set her fork beside her plate and partially turned to him. The man had been expecting her as if this was any ordinary conversation, his fork pressing down the spongy dessert instead of eating it.

“Only because you care so much,” she uttered with a stiff back. “The royal family of Labrynna will be hosted in Hyrule Castle in just a few days. I haven’t seen their prince since I was a child.”

His expression hadn’t changed, but he ceased his movements with the fork. Guilt pricked at the edge of her consciousness. Link placed his fork on his plate and reached up. Immediately, her faced flushed hotly and felt his coarse fingertips brushed her cheek. There wasn’t any movement to indicate that she would pull away from his touch.

Then, he smirked. “There was cream on your face.”

It was like he didn’t care! I was mortified.

Her ink pen ran underneath the last word several times to create a line deep enough to bleed onto the next page. The worry line on her forehead had creased deeper as she recounted the events that had happened.

I should have made it clear to him after dessert was over, but when we were taking leave, Father got caught up in a conversation with him. I couldn’t confront him at that point and when Link came to my door again to say goodnight, I shouldn’t have opened it. And when I did, I should have told him: Link, this is inappropriate and I’ve told you that I didn’t want this to continue. Especially in front of my father, no less!

But I didn’t.

Zelda’s face burned and she couldn’t get herself to write down that she might have liked it. She was someone who was both stubborn inside and out, and even her feelings wouldn’t leave with tumultuous effort on Zelda’s part. What was she supposed to say? That she really does miss him and that every second around him chipped deeper in the hole he left?

It was rude. Irresponsible. Ungentlemanly and without regards to propriety. OR my feelings for that matter! What if the way I felt about him is different? Three months is a long time.

And then she remembered his self-satisfied smirk when her face was hot under his hand. Her handwriting grew more frantic against the paper and she had to consciously apply less pressure before the quill-tip punctured through the surface.

Her mind shifted to the days after.

Labrynna was hosted in Hyrule Castle amongst continued celebrations of Hyrule’s success. Their King and Queen were welcomed with open arms, overwhelmed by the jubilations of Hyrulean citizens. Along with them was their son and daughter: Prince Tyrion and Princess Aurra.

Prince Tyrion had written to Zelda several times after the Calamity about their shared childhood, a time she hadn’t remembered at all herself and referred to Impa more than once to verify his stories and to write back to adequately pretend she had. The Labrynnian princess was someone Zelda wasn’t aware of whatsoever and even her father had leaned in during the processions to ask of her name.

Aurra, however, was acutely aware of Zelda. More importantly, she knew of the Hylian Champion who slew a monstrous being of myths.

Not long after making her introductions to Princess Zelda and King Rhoam, she skipped to who was at King Rhoams side and curtsied. Before Zelda could see Link’s reaction, Prince Tyrion took up her view. She offered the appropriate pleasantries and allowed him to take her hand, but she didn’t miss when Link took Princess Aurra’s.

She made note that he didn’t bring it to his lips.

Through the day, she didn’t wander from Prince Tyrion’s side. He was an interesting man; well read and well traveled. She found him to be a fantastic conversationalist nor was she blind to his charm. Dark eyes paired with brunet hair that was shorn close to his ears, which were notably shorter than any Hylian’s - a common trait amongst his people.

However, he was also arrogant.

As King Rhoam led the party through the castle grounds, a level above the barracks and training grounds, Tyrion spoke up.

“You know, Your Majesty, I am well trained in the arts of combat,” he said with a slight smile.

Rhoam raised a brow, turning slightly to face his daughter and the Prince. Two men sparred below, each clash of their swords echoing off the walls. The King of Labrynna nodded in affirmation, a certain pride in his face. “Yes, it’s custom for our prodigy to learn the blade from young ages. Tyrion has a special affinity to it.”

“Fascinating. I hope to see your skill during your stay, young man.”

“Well,” the smile of the Prince’s face and he gestured to Link behind him. “I would be honored to spar with the Hero of Hyrule.”

Princess Aurra stopped her chattering with Link and grabbed the sleeve of his blue tunic, “Oh, brother, you will surely lose. Isn’t that right, Link?”

Zelda swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with her familiarity with him after only hours. Even more was how unbothered he was by it.

“It surely would be quite the duel,” Rhoam mused, “As long as it has your approval, Captain.”

Link nodded Tyrion’s way, graciously, “The honor would be all mine, Your Highness.”

He said it to the Prince, but his eyes meandered to Zelda’s.

The preparation took an hour and by the time Princess took her seat overlooking the training grounds, the sun casted a golden glow over them. King Rhoam was incredibly eager for the duel, shooting secret smiles at his daughter as the two men shook hands below.

It was clear who would win to the Princess, Link was at the top of his class even before he became her attendant. She scolded herself, though, and told herself that she shouldn’t underestimate Prince Tyrion so soon.

Dimly, she could hear the two opponents giving their regards to one another. The Prince had changed into an elaborately designed sparring outfit that appeared to have leather padding laced at his forearms. Link, however, changed only into Hylian trousers.

Princess Aurra hummed next to Zelda, “Is that the magical sword? It looks normal to me.”

It wasn’t as he had chosen a Knight’s Broadsword to match Tyrion’s.

“It isn’t the Master Sword. We returned it to the pedestal after felling Calamity Ganon.”

Aurra blinked, “Together?”

Zelda politely nodded. That sword was an extension of Link and she remembered comforting him after he realized its purpose was served. The night of, she felt his tears through her nightgown and told him he was more than his destiny - they both were.

After Link gave his regards to King Rhoam and Princess Zelda, a man who had sparred prior held an arm out and shouted to begin the duel.

“Oh, how exciting!” Aurra squealed.

The two men  circled each other like vultures. Prince Tyrion was the first to push forward, a simple feint that Link sidestepped. He was testing the waters. Then, the Prince leapt forward and went for his opponent’s side, who parried without losing ground. There were several short exchanges of the Hero being passive, while Tyrion was assertive.

Before Zelda knew it, she was gripping the sides of her chair as they danced. Tyrion was grinning wildly at his stoic opponent. He hadn’t been bluffing earlier, he was skilled. The Hylian Princess had seened Link spar time and time again, never did it take so long for him to disarm his opponent in some manner. The sun beat down on them, creating glistening sweat on their skin that bled darkly through their clothes.

Suddenly, Tyrion had space for a large horizontal slash before Link could recover from a parry. Zelda let out a yelp and watched him duck into a lateral roll, regaining his senses and plenty of ground between them.

Tyrion harked out a laugh, “You are brilliant, sir!”

They were panting now and the comment brought a sideways smile to Link’s lips. “I appreciate the regard, Your Highness. You’re a remarkable swordsman.”

They took a moment to breathe and Link did the unthinkable. His Champion tunic was discarded easily to the ground and Zelda held her breath when his eyes found hers on the perch where she sat.

Princess Aurra gasped softly. Zelda didn’t blame her. Hard lines on his stomach were only more prominent in the sun and his chest heaved with his hard breaths. The lack of coverage revealed the flex of his arm as he readjusted his grip on the blade.

It wasn’t an oddity that he was now half naked. Tyrion had long let the strings that laced the neckline of his tunic loosen, leaving a large portion of his chest exposed. Considering that they were already in the heat of midsummer, the sight of shirtless men should be expected at this end of the castle. But Link, well, he was always different.

The Prince of Labrynna lunged forward with a grunt, thrusting his blade out. Where Tryion was tactful, almost mechanical, in his movements, Link was fluid. He took his opponents strikes like water, flowing into the gaps of his defenses and reevaluating in a moment’s notice. It truly was an art in Zelda’s eyes, a very dangerous art.

Much different than anything Tyrion had done, he brought his blade upward in a sideways slashing arch with a loud shout. Princess Zelda’s heart surged in her chest. Link grit his teeth and threw his weight back into a flip, landing on his feet.

Surprise registered in Tyrion’s eyes and couldn’t recover fast enough when Link brought his blade against the hilt of His Highness’s broadsword. The blade was sent skidding along the dirt.

“Ah,” Tyrion brought his hand up to further demonstrate his lack of weapon. “I yield.”

It was then that Zelda realized she was holding her breath. Her father and his guests had all stood and applauded, so she followed suit.

“Good show!” Aurra leaned on the stone wall. “Very well done!”

The two men clasped hands again with a few words of respect. The Hylian princess watched a short regaling and found an opportunity to slip away from the processions without another glance at the arena.

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 18

We’re close to the end! Adam’s rediscovered the concept of murder, oops. Warnings again for death, mind control, creepiness, reference to nuclear strikes and car accidents.

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 18

Madame Tracy gave a great scream, in what was clearly her own voice.

“Mister S, Mister S, say something!”

She flung herself down beside Shadwell. In an act of great bravery, she grabbed and tore open the alarmingly dirty coat the man was wearing, and started doing chest compressions.[1]

Crowley stood, unmoving, and a little stunned. His head whipped around to the four Horsepeople. Death’s head tilted down and left. He appeared to be having a quiet conversation with someone no-one else could see. Crowley felt a little shudder.

Madame Tracy counted chest compressions under her breath. Crowley could see it was pointless. There was no life there to bring back.

Madame Tracy suddenly twitched and paused her first aid.

“I’m very sorry, dear lady, there’s really nothing you can do for him now.”

“No…” she whimpered.

She wavered as Aziraphale gently but firmly reasserted control of their body. He grasped the gun that had thudded on the lawn at Shadwell’s side, and rose to his feet, mouth set in a grim line. He cocked the gun at Adam.

Then, his face twisted in desperation, and Madame Tracy was back.

“Don’t you dare!”

Wincing with effort, she wrested their body back onto its knees by Shadwell’s side. Aziraphale just barely hung onto the gun.

Spacedog let out a string of whines.

Adam looked pained.

“Stop!”

He jerked his hand.

It was like a wave of TV static. Crowley wasn’t the target, but a wave of fuzziness hit him and momentarily wiped out all thought.

Tracy stopped struggling. She sagged, almost falling forward onto Shadwell.

Then her spine slowly straightened out. It looked robotic. Crowley could practically hear the clicks.

She clambered to her feet in a series of jerky movements. The gun was in her hands. She held it in a relaxed, almost friendly way, like one might hold a guitar. She smiled as though hooks were pulled taut in her cheeks. Her eyes stared into space.

She revolved to face Adam, face and mind as clean as a newborn.

~*~

Newt scurried down the corridor after Anathema. He couldn’t believe they’d done it. Three days of planning, holed up in Shadwell’s flat, marking up diagrams and drinking disgusting tea with condensed milk. All that work, and it had paid off. They’d actually broken into a London military base.

“I can’t believe all the amazing stuff we just did,” he panted.

“Shh,” Anathema said. Her forehead was creased in concentration. She was checking room numbers as they strode by.

“This one,” she said, and pushed the door open.

It revealed a room full of computer monitors. An ominous-looking flashing display was counting down to a very final sort of number.

Anathema grabbed a computer chair and pulled herself up to the nearest screen.

“OK,” she sighed. “Time for us to do something really clever…”

~*~

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to see if I could make a real person stop existing, like the imaginary ones.”

Adam’s eyes held a shade of the same dull horror as when he’d shot Aziraphale. Already, though, he seemed far less affected from causing someone’s death.

Spacedog’s ears were pinned back. The little dog looked as if he were battling twin urges to back away from Adam and hide behind his leg.

The blandly smiling Madame Tracy stood like a statue drained of colour. A bead of sweat formed on her temple. Her smile flickered for an instant. Crowley’s heart thumped. That was Aziraphale.

He rounded on Adam. “Let Aziraphale go.”

Adam looked unimpressed with his lack of chivalry. “And that woman?”

Crowley would freely admit to caring far less about Madame Tracy. He had the feeling Adam was judging him, though, so he said, “Er, yeah, her too.”

“She’s still holding a gun,” Adam said, pragmatically. “But ok, I’ll let Aziraphale go. He shouldn’t’ve been in there. It’s not right, two people crammed into one person.”

He waved his arm.

Suddenly, Aziraphale stood next to Tracy, back in his own body.

Crowley almost yelled with relief. He held back the urge to bury his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. He looked at Aziraphale’s right hand, searching, and felt his head swim with gratitude. His gem was back on his finger. Adam had brought it back. He was ok.

He looked at Aziraphale’s face, and saw that he was very much not ok. He looked as though he had seen Hell, from the damned soul end of the equation. He stared about the garden, wide-eyed.

Crowley stepped towards him. “Angel. Hey. It’s me.”

Aziraphale’s gaze wandered over and alighted on Crowley’s face.

“Hello, Crowley dear,” he whispered.

Crowley grabbed his hand. He gripped it tightly and ran his little finger over the ring, a solid bump between Aziraphale’s knuckles.

Aziraphale’s eyes still roved around the garden. He took in the frozen, washed-out Madame Tracy beside him. His gaze slid down to the gun, held in her arms.

Adam took a warning step forward.

Madame Tracy revolved, slowly, to face Aziraphale. Her smile did not falter as she tightened her hold on the gun.

Crowley gave Aziraphale’s hand a gentle tug. Adam had made his point. They weren’t getting the gun back.

“How’d you learn to do that, anyway?” Adam said.

He sounded casual, like he was asking for video game tips.

“What?” Crowley asked.

“That thing you do where you turn into one person.”

“Oh. That.”

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, possessively. He wasn’t in the mood to share Zadkiel with Adam.

“That’s a long story,” Aziraphale said. A trace of a spark came back to his eyes. “I suppose it started in the Garden. He was a wily serpent, and I was technically on apple tree duty -”

“Natural disaster. Focuses the mind,” Crowley snapped. “What’s your plan here, Adam?”

Adam ignored him. “Can I do that? What d’you call it - fusion? Because we’re the same, aren’t we? We’ve all got one of these.”

He tapped his fingernail against Lucifer’s gem. It glowed red in the sunset. Crowley’s eyes darted upward. Was the sun setting, or was the sky just turning red…?

He tore his gaze back to Adam.

“Yeah, we’re the same,” he said. “If you like.”

“Am I an angel?”

Crowley laughed.

“Yes,” Aziraphale said, unexpectedly. “In a way, I suppose you are. Your father… was one.”

“My father?”

Adam stared at the ground. It was clear nobody was talking about Mr. Dowling.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “Well. The Book made that kind of obvious.”

Great. They were all singing from the same hymn sheet at last.

The sky was definitely red. Clouds churned overhead, bubbling like squid ink. Fish had stopped dropping from them, but in a way that made Crowley afraid of what might start dropping instead.

“So it’s all true,” Adam said. “I’m going to end the world.”

The Horsepeople grinned. War, Famine and Pollution leaned forward. Something oozed between their teeth. Crowley tried to ignore the sensation like creeping flies on the inside of his skull.

“But you don’t have to,” Aziraphale burst out. “You’re so powerful. You can use that power for anything. You could do good.”

Adam shook his head, slowly. “I don’t think I’ve got the good sort of power. I’m pretty sure all I’m made for is destroying things.”

“That’s not true,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale, at his side, looked briefly surprised. Crowley knew he was lying. But for a moment, he felt it would be pretty wonderful if it were true. Maybe it was worth a shot, anyway.

“You weren’t made just to destroy. That’s just something my people said to get you to end the world. But Aziraphale’s right, your power isn’t good or evil. Satan didn’t start out Lord of Hell. He was an angel, once.”

Adam contemplated, head on one side.

“So? Why do good instead? Why save the world?”

“Because you have to live in it?”

“Wasn’t really living, was it? My parents weren’t even my real parents. Everyone around me was lying to me. My Nanny was a demon -”

“Look, we’re not all that bad,” Crowley said, hastily.

“I don’t want to go back to that.” Adam gave a shudder. “Things’ll be better when I’m in charge of everything. It’s ok. I won’t kill any more people. I don’t think I need to. I think my destiny was to sort everything out by just being in control. Most people don’t really think, so I can do their thinking for them.”

Crowley tried not to look at the Dowlings.

“But you’ll be erasing them!” Aziraphale’s eyes were large and desperate. “They won’t even be human anymore, not really. It’s no better than killing them.”

“Adam,” said Crowley. “I know you’ve been told all your life you were put here to rule the world. But demons told you those things. No offence to me, but are you really going to trust them?”

Adam looked at him as though he was stupid. “My dad told me those things.”

Crowley had the terrible thought that he’d been right all along, and Lucifer was still in there, in his gem, lucid, planning Crowley’s horrific demise.

Then he cottoned on. “Wait - hang on.”

He looked at the slack-faced, smiling American ambassador.

Aziraphale caught on at the same time.

“Oh, no.” The angel paled. “He’s not demonic, he’s rich.”

Crowley swore. He hadn’t even factored American exceptionalism into this whole mess.

“Well, your dad was wrong too! What does he know, he’s a cultural attaché, whatever that is. He just… culturally… attaches things.”[2]

“So you’re saying I don’t need him?” Adam said.

He looked at his parents. They didn’t respond. They stood vacantly, arms floating at their sides. Like bodies washed out to sea.

“Fine.”

Adam stepped towards them, one arm already rising. Crowley and Aziraphale could do nothing to stop him.

A blood-curdling howl of rage rang out. Crowley’s skin wanted to turn itself inside out at the sound of it.

Adam’s hand dropped. He turned back, frowning.

Crowley was afraid to see what was making the noise, but he steeled himself and looked over.

The blood-stained, red-haired woman, whose skin gleamed unpleasantly like gun-metal, was screaming.

Crowley presumed this was War. Her scream was like the roar of a bomber coming in fast and unstoppable.

The two beside her clutched their heads. They also looked furious.

“What’s wrong with them?” Crowley shouted to Aziraphale.

There was no reason the angel would know, but Crowley was out of thinking room. He needed to at least outsource his bafflement to someone else.

Aziraphale winced, but looked like he was considering as he looked at War.

“You know, I think something’s gone wrong…”

~*~

Newt’s heart knocked at his esophagus as he sprinted up the road. The military base lay behind them. He wasn’t looking back to see if they were being followed.

Anathema was a step ahead. She held her hand back for him. Pulse leaping, Newt took it.

“Where are we going?” he gasped.

Anathema’s voice was grim. “To get my Book.”

~*~

“Something’s happened,” War screamed. Crowley felt the words hitting his organs like bullets. “The warheads are offline. There was supposed to be fire across the sky and now no-one’s going to die.”

Famine and Pollution, Crowley assumed, gnashed their teeth. Death just grinned. Although Crowley supposed he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Oh,” said Adam.

He didn’t look concerned. He’d also forgotten about killing his parents. Win-win, by the look of it.

“You are our leader, our master, our friend. Can’t you bring them back? Just bring them back online. Just think of all that death. Don’t you want that? All those clean strikes, falling from the sky, wiping everything away.”

War, Famine and Pollution looked feverish. Their teeth were on full display. It looked less and less like smiling.

Adam screwed his face up. “I dunno… I don’t see the big deal, pers’nally. What’s the sense in that? Just bombing everybody. I think I’m happy to keep them all alive.”

The three Horsepeople looked anguished.

“But humanity must end! It is written,” War howled.

“I can overwrite it,” said Adam.

The grass stirred in a nonexistent wind.

“I can overwrite anything.”

Adam’s voice had a sinister reverb. He stared into the sky, intent and hungry.

Crowley felt the sweep of a terrible power pass him by, as it crept out over the lawn and the house and the street, further and further, out across the world.

~*~

It was a ripple effect. Everywhere it touched, people stopped.

One by one, their eyes went blank. The colour drained from them. Their smiles turned vacant and ever-present.

Dick Turpin bounced up the road, squeaking like a wheelbarrow that hadn’t left the garden shed in quite some time. The wall of white static washed outward, through London, and passed through the car.

Dick Turpin rolled to a gentle stop. So did every other car. Some of them kept going just long enough to hit a building, or another car, or a person. Nobody reacted.

Newt and Anathema forgot about what they had been doing. Anathema had no thoughts of her Book.

Newt’s hands fell lax on the wheel.

They sat together, staring through the windshield, thinking of nothing at all.

~*~

Warlock cowered under the broken seesaw. He wanted to go home. He wanted his parents. He wanted to stop getting hit by fish.

On the last point, he got his wish. The sounds of the splats hitting the playground tapered off.

He raised his head, trembling.

Heaps of dead fish covered the playground. The three Them had fled back to the egg-shaped climbing frame thing. They were all huddled with their hands over their heads.

No more fish fell. Warlock got to his feet, wobbly kneed.

He wiped his grimy face and looked for Pepper.

She was helping the other two out of the cage-thing. All three of them looked spooked, but way less covered in fish-slime than Warlock.

Suddenly, they stopped dead. Their faces slackened. Their arms fell to their sides. Their spines jerked strangely, as though a marionette-holder had just plucked a string for each of them and reminded them they weren’t real.

Moving as one, they revolved on the spot and stared at Warlock.

Warlock stumbled back. No, it wasn’t even like they were staring at him. More like through him.

As if hooks had been inserted in the corners of their mouths, they smiled.

Warlock’s blood ran cold. He turned and bolted for the street.

He didn’t get far.

A wave of grey static hit him like a tidal wave. It wiped his brain clean. Every bit of anger, of unhappiness, of boredom, of anything at all. It left nothing.

There was nothing to do but smile.

Adam’s power rolled through Tadfield and onward, sweeping every mind it encountered.

The wave pushed on, relentless and pure, across miles, across land and ocean, until it covered the Earth.

---

[1] Madame Tracy took her obligations very seriously, especially for her clients who were a bit longer in the tooth. She took refresher first aid courses every couple of years.

[2] Crowley kicked himself for not having learned Tad Dowling’s job at any point during the many years he lived in his house. To be fair to him, it wouldn’t have helped.

(Link to next part)

[eirianerisdar]

Sins of the Father, Part 1

Summary: What if Claudia hadn’t managed to heal Soren and brought him back to the castle, still paralysed? Viren hears the news from the depths of his cell, and comes to terms with what he has done to his son.

More TDP fanfic! This will probably be a four or five-parter!

>In the end, they didn’t even have the decency to tell him in person.

Viren was sitting perfectly still, head tilted back against the grimy wall with his chains pooling around his wrists and ankles, when he heard it: the careless, too-loud whisper of a guard come to relieve the previous shift. Guards lined the corridor every five paces, Viren knew.

“Did you hear? His children have returned.”

Viren’s next inhale caught in his chest, and he very nearly tilted too far forward in his haste to catch the next words; his chains clinked softly against each other, and he held his breath for one long moment, fearful that the sound might alert the guards that he was listening.

For a moment, the two helmeted shadows slanted along the faint candlelight outside the bars of his darkened cell were still.

Then, the sound of spittle hitting stone. “Pah! Weren’t they sent out to seek the princes? What use was that? King Ezran was found and safely returned by General Amaya’s soldier yesterday.”

Viren ground his teeth. The guards had fairly flung that latter piece of information in his face a day previous as they slammed down his tray of food.

One of the shadows leaned closer towards the other, conspiratorially. “That’s beside the point right now - scuttlebutt is fairly on fire up in the barracks. Rumour has it his lordship’s children didn’t come back...whole.”

And just like that, Viren forgot how to breathe.

Not whole.

Not whole like he was, drained with magic and without access to the creatures he used to rejuvenate his appearance, or not whole as in...

And even as his heart paused before its next beat as though considering whether to go on, as the chains around his wrists and ankles grew instantly heavier - the question appeared before him.

The only question that mattered.

Claudia or Soren?

And perhaps, at this moment, if Viren had been allowed time to think, he might have shamed himself by entertaining the fleetest idea of a preference - but the guard had not stopped speaking, and the answer to the question was there.

“They made quite the scene, apparently. I have it on the authority of the guard at the gate that the Lady Claudia galloped in like there were demons at her heels and didn’t even dismount before she started screaming for her father.”

The second guard snorted. “Fair chance of that coming to any use. What was she screaming for?”

The next words would remain carved into Viren’s memory forever - beyond the image of his wife’s straight-backed form as she rode away to her homeland, beyond the horror in his heart when Queen Sarai’s breath halted right before his helpless eyes.

“Her brother. He took a dragon-tail to the chest and fractured his spine four days ago. He’s paralysed. Can’t even raise his head to drink.”

Viren jerked.

His chains clattered in an echoing cacophony across the grime-stained floor; there was a flurry of motion outside.

Viren halted, chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths.

A moment of silence.

“Do you think he-”

“Shh! Go, go. It’s my shift.”

In the half-shadow of his windowless cell, Viren began to shake.

There was a roaring in his ears that was louder than the memory of Thunder’s gaping maw descending on him and the late Queen; the grey-purple backs of his hands in the darkness, still blanched with the marks of dark magic, shivered in his gaze.

Soren was-

His son was-

Claudia’s lighthearted voice tumbled out of memory, a conversation in Viren’s study which had taken place only a fortnight previous but seemed an age ago now, here in the dank shadows of this solitary cell. “Let’s say we’re attacked by giant bumble-scorps and they’re all like bzzz! Bzzz! and flailing their scorps at us like bzzz! - and I’m forced to choose between saving the egg and saving Soren. What should I do?”

Then, Viren had found himself momentarily speechless - he had looked from Claudia’s dancing, joke-filled green eyes (his former wife’s eyes) and down to the carpeted floor, because she had, in the unassumingly brilliant way of hers, voiced the question he had refused to ask himself.

Claudia had laughed and poked fun at him for not recognising a joke when he heard it, but she had been only a dozen steps to the door when he spoke.

He had taken the guilt and the shame and compressed it into a sphere so tight beneath his sternum it burned, and made the decision for the good of Katolis.

Just as he had made the decision regarding Harrow’s life, and later, to abandon the princes.

For the good of Katolis, and for mankind.

“The egg,” he had said, with that firm, unyielding authority that he knew his daughter would understand. “If you have to choose, choose the egg.”

What horror and sorrow had now bred from his words then?

What had he done?

What had he done?

Viren’s blood flared to fire in his veins, and he scrambled forwards on his hands and knees even as a deep, warning hiss from the worm in his left ear whispered, “Be still!”

Four days ago he would have listened without question. Now, Viren raised his head and shouted with the barking, staccato voice of a throat completely dry:

“Guards!”

The clang of a spear against the bars of his cell. Contempt from the shadows of a guard’s helmet. “Quiet, prisoner.”

“Still yourself and listen to me!” Aaravos’s sly murmur hissed urgently in his ear. “If you do not-”

Viren wet his cracked lips with a tongue so dry it hurt. “Guards!” he snarled, voice snapping like his son’s back must have, out in the wilderness against a dragon he was not equipped to fight. “I need to speak to Opeli!”

A guard’s laugh reverberated down the half-light of the corridor. “Mere prisoners have no right to summon a member of the High Council at whim, no matter their station before their crimes, traitor.”

Of all the words the guards could have chosen, that was the worst.

Traitor. Traitor, he who loved Katolis best - had sacrificed anything for his country and his people, and now had even sacrificed the happiness of his firstborn son.

Viren’s snarl turned into a roar.

“BRING HER TO ME!”

He had no magic here with him, and the voice in his ear would not give it - but the words lashed out of him with such desperate power that for a moment he fancied that the walls shook and the flames of the torches wavered in the corridor.

A muffled curse outside the cell. The rasp of swords being drawn, steel-toed footsteps on the flagstones. A figure in the armour of the citadel guard, silhouetted before the bars of the cell.

“Lord Viren! This is your last warning! Quiet down or we will-”

Viren was straining at the very end of his chains now, and cared not that the taste of iron coated the back of his throat and that steel carved into his wrists and ankles.

“I NEED TO SEE MY SON!”

Whatever the guard did next Viren did not know. The world was spinning before his vision, and the drum of his heart in his head had drowned out all else.

Half-blind with desperation and shivering from unspeakable emotion, Viren laid down the last treasure he had reserved, even bound in the depths of the castle’s deepest dungeons - his pride.

His head lowered to press into his hands, fisted in the grime of the sawdust floor.

The worm was still and silent in his ear.

“I need to see my son,” Viren whispered, with none of the fire of moments previous. “Please. Let me see my son.”

Soren.

And there, curled in his uttermost fall from grace, Viren could only wait.

To be continued

This is part 1! I’m cross-posting this to FFN and I’ll continue with it when I have time. I’ve been pretty busy studying and I only started writing this an hour ago because I couldn’t study any more. For more TDP fic go to my masterlist on my blog, especially His Father’s Back, a look at Soren’s search for his father’s love since his youth.

Viren’s a very intriguing antagonist in the sense that he truly believes what he’s doing is right; I’m not defending him in any way, but I loved what tdp season 2 did for explaining the relationship between him and his children, and I couldn’t help but examine it. Credit to @wafflesrisa, my twin, for giving me the plot bunny in the first place.

I’ll also put some links in the replies since tumblr isn’t working with links so well! Thanks for reading and I welcome feedback!

[mumofadaofficial-blog]

C Sections - The ‘Easy’ way out

Firstly, what I have titled this is bullshit :) 

Secondly, no matter what way you give birth to your child whether it be naturally, assisted, c-section etc you are amazing for doing so. Not only have you grown that tiny human with your own body, you then bring he/she into the world in whatever way possible or necessary at that time - so fucking well done you! 

My mum told me from the start that every pregnancy and birth has its own story - and that is so very true. No two are the same and each and everyone should be celebrated for the greatness that it is. 

My personal experience was via an emergency c-section and I want to share that with you. 

From day one I had it all planned out, I wanted a water birth and I wanted it all to be as natural as possible. Id seen on one born, various videos and pictures on the internet of that special moment when a mother holds their child for the first time, I wanted that and the closeness that came with it. Unfortunately, having to be induced and the aftermath that followed that obviously wasn’t the way my story was meant to go. 

When you get told you need to have a section your all systems go, your ready for it, you just want your baby out and safe. You and anything else in the world suddenly have no importance anymore and all you want is to hear those little baby cries.

I remember signing a consent form that I never read, I don’t remember getting undressed and putting a gown on so god knows who did that and I remember going into theatre where they were talking me through things and getting me prepped for surgery. 

I don’t know what they said to me, I really wasn’t listening. All I can remember asking again and again is where Nath was and why wasn’t he in there. (Of corse, like the movies he was getting all scrubbed up - dishy).

It was that moment sat on the edge of the table that the panic set in, you suddenly feel very alone in a room full of people. I became scared of what was happening and the thought that I was about to undergo the first major surgery I’d ever had. Jesus Christ, I’ve only ever broke my little finger before and thats when I was about 8, so this was big time. I was told to curve myself over a cushion whilst they injected my spine, then immediately laid down on the table, and asked to lift my legs - couldn’t do it, job done. Thankfully Nath had come in by then and I felt more relaxed like I could cope with what was going on. 

When it was all underway I can remember saying to Nathan that it felt like the doctor was making a pizza with my stomach 😂 He thought I was high! It’s the oddest thing, to be able to feel that someone is doing something, but to have no sensation whatsoever. Within about 15 minutes of entering the room, Ada was born. I then had to be sewn up which took about three times as long as the birth! Also, absolutely mortified that it isn’t like one born every minute where you have a gown covering your modesty. Nothing modest about realising afterwards that the doctors have just been staring at your vagina for the past half hour or so and it definitely wasn’t covered up. (I mean they probably wasn’t looking at it at all, but you know what I mean). 

I was took into a side room afterward for recovery where they fitted a catheter, what amazing things those are! Don’t even know you need a wee and that things filling itself up! Definitely don’t get confused with catheter and cannula when talking afterwards…done that far too many times and got some strange looks! It was then that the mum guilt started to set in, not only was I worried about Ada, I felt like I had failed her. Everything had been planned so perfectly in my mind of how I wanted it to go, and I felt like I had failed to deliver that to myself and my child. I felt like I wasn’t capable of giving birth, so someone else had to intervene and do it for me. (I realise now that I was stupid to think that and I did what I needed to as a mother, but I’m sure a lot of people who have had a section will understand where I am coming from). I’ve since seen a meme that said ‘I had an epidural, then I had a c-section, then I bottle fed, and now I’m sitting here at the playground wondering what all the guilt was about because my kid is just as weird as yours’ Oh so true!!

Then the time comes when you’ve managed to get some movement and feeling back into your legs and you have to stand up. Now I was told ’Stand with your legs, don’t push with your arms and don’t pull on your tummy muscles’ Easier fucking said than done Susan! (I don’t think her name was Susan, but it fits) You’ve just had your stomach muscles and womb sliced through, but just use your legs that also have no strength because there definitely a bit numb still but your desperate to get up and see your baby. 

Now when that aesthetic starts to wear off, I am not going to sugar coat it, its fucking painful. Your fully aware of whats going on down there even when you just breath, god forbid you need to sneeze or cough! I think I definitely got up and about too soon, I was dizzy and lightheaded and felt like the blood had drained out of me when I got back into bed after seeing Ada. And I happily accepted any drug they wanted to give me, I couldn’t tell you what they were but they helped, so thanks for that part Susan. 

The first night was a bit of a blur with how I was feeling because of everything else that was going on but I know simple things, like moving in bed and trying to sit up was hard work. I was given medication throughout the night by a midwife, who informed me I had been given some sort of super ibuprofen up my bum whilst on the operating table 😂 - which apparently I consented too but I had no idea, good work doc, didn’t even realise. 

The following day I decided I needed to have a shower and sort my life out, all whilst Nathan was doing a great job of whizzing me around the hospital backwards in a wheelchair because we hadn’t quite got the hang of it going forward. Thankfully there was a seat in the shower, I’d never of had the strength to be able to stand for that length of time. It’s at times like that when you realise how much you take for granted being able to do everyday things. I remember sitting there and crying out of frustration, feeling like a massive, naked, deflated beach ball. Good job Nathan loves me because no one should have to see that haha. He washed my hair, washed me and then helped me up and got me dry.  Graphic bit coming up…sorry. SO for anyone who ends up having a c section, make sure you take your pad and fresh knickers into the bathroom with you. I am saying this after learning a lesson, I did not, and was most shocked and mortified when it looked like Satan had released himself all over the bathroom floor. Nathan was pretty shocked too, he ran and got a midwife - apparently its all normal! So relax 😅

Something else that comes with c-sections…knee high compression socks. Now if your by yourself, you better ask for help. There is no way whatsoever that you will get them bad boys on single handedly after that op, Nath had to pretty much choke slam me into mine. Also, really not the best fashion accessory when its 30 something degrees outside…I think mine lasted about two days!

And then comes the dreaded day, the first poo 😳 Id been taking iron pills, three a day. To try and counteract the affect that they have on you I’d been given lactulose. Nothing was happening, I think probably 5 days past and then the urge came! I remember sitting on that toilet and wanting to push but there isn’t a single thing in your body thats gonna let you do that, so you just sit and wait, like your waiting for fucking Christmas. That was no bloody Christmas let me tell you, black poop! Straight on google to check I wasn’t dying…turns out, just the iron tablets 😂 

Totally never realised you have to have injections after a c section either, absolutely fine when the midwives are doing it for you, then you get discharged…AND YOU HAVE TO DO IT YOURSELF! Theres something really hard about trying to give yourself an injection in your stomach, id have to psych myself up about ten times before id actually get it done. 

Before I was discharged I had a lady come and do some exercises with me, and show me the correct way to cough e.g. holding your stomach. All fine as you know when your going to cough, but a sneeze! Oh lord, they just pop up out of nowhere, no preparation, nothing. I sneezed unexpectedly one night and was convinced I had split my stomach open, obvs Dr. Nathan checked the situation out for me - just being a drama queen as usual!

You are also told ‘Don’t do too much, and don’t lift anything heavier than a kettle for 6 weeks’ Pretty sure Ada came out weighing more than a kettle so that was that one buggered! I definitely used to do too much around the house, washing etc, but you know about it afterwards. I think for a good few weeks I just ached continuously, Getting off the sofa, sitting up in bed, walking upstairs could all be pretty hard work somedays. 

Bleeding, who knew you could survive after losing so much blood. And just when you think it’s stopped, BOOM, guess who’s back, back again! Another thing I googled to see if I was dying, I wasn’t, and good old google informed me that everyone is different but it can last for a few months on and off, GREAT! What a glam life us mums have. 

Personally I am gutted that I won’t experience a natural birth, the chances of me having another baby is currently slim to none and even then I would book in for a c-section because I am too scared of what could happen after Ada. 

I think the point of this is to be mindful of what you say to someone, e.g. the easy way out, too posh to push etc. Not everyone has a choice, the ideal birth they have created in their mind has been taken away from them, some people won’t ever get the chance to experience a natural birth, a contraction, that first hold. Some people might opt to have a c-section, and that is totally fine! We all have to do what is best for us and has our Childs best interest at heart. 

So whatever choice you make or have to make, do it for you and your baby - fuck what everyone else says, this is your story, not theirs. 

Amy x