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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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*pokes head in through your door* Did someone request OC asks? :D

How did your Warden react to Zevran’s failed attempt on their life? Were they amused? Angry?

Did Alistair’s parentage surprise your Warden? How did your Warden’s feelings on the nobility affect their relationship with Alistair?

How did your Warden respond to Wynne’s comments if your Warden romanced someone? Did they tell her it was love or that the relationship was purely physical?

Did your Warden believe that Leliana was telling the truth about her vision from the Maker or were they skeptical?

How did your Warden speak to Sten? Did they fight with him often or were they more humorous in their responses?

How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?

*whips my head around smiles* That's meeeee! The OC asker in the flesh! Or well, digital. But, pah! 'Tis I! >:D

*rubs hands together* Let's do this! I've itching to share more of Elise, so thank you so much! X3

How did your Warden react to Zevran's failed attempt on their life? Were they amused? Angry?

Gonna be completely honest, Elise found it amusing. XD

At first.

She's lived her entire life in the Circle, a dismal cage with gilded bars. When she was conscripted, Elise looked at the world around her and went, 'I love it. I love it.' Tomes and stories that told of grand assassinations, trysts, and all manner of political intrigue were riveting to a mind that only knew stone walls and high, unreachable windows. So, when Elise found herself apart of an attempted assassination, a Crow assassination no less? Her heart sped up, her palms turned sweaty with excitement, and her magic sparked to life with more ease than she had ever thought herself capable of.

Obviously, when faced with Zevran after the fact, questions and answers holding dark shadows, Elise snapped out of her romanticizing. She saw that pretty bound books and an author's 'personal' representation of events they knew nothing about was merely fantasy; they weren't true, they weren't idyllic. They were cold. They were hard. They were just veneer to paint over the atrocity of war and power-mongering. People suffered for what she found so enthralling, and Zevran's attack, and later his past, makes her realize that she is truly naive of a world that she claims she loves.

Elise knew nothing about the outside world. Just like those authors knew nothing of the suffering of the people caught in the crossfire of war--those that had to do ungodly things just to survive.

Did Alistair’s parentage surprise your Warden? How did your Warden’s feelings on the nobility affect their relationship with Alistair?

Alistair's lineage did surprise Elise somewhat. However, in Ostagar, when she had met Cailan, and then went on to meet Alistair, something...stuck. There was a resemblance; Elise could see it in the faces of two seemingly different men. Cailan and Alistair don't look exactly alike, of course, but there are a few characteristics that made Elise pause while speaking to Alistair and go, 'Where have I seen the slope of his nose before?' or 'If his hair was just a shade lighter, he would be..' So, when Alistair finally shares the truth of his birthright, Elise takes it in relative stride, but it also makes her heart sink a bit.

By Redcliffe (in my play-through at least), Elise is beginning to development feelings for Alistair. She finds his presence comforting, his views refreshing, his resolve endearing, and his gentle awkwardness lovable. He's been with her since the beginning, when she was mildly frightened and unsure of a cage with no bars, but still a cage due to what she was; a mage. Alistair saw that, knew what she was, and still, he treated her like an equal--reaching out when nightmares took her, offering her a witty quip or a playful smile to try and lift her back up from the mud, and reassuring her she wasn't alone in this long and bloody task of their's.

Alistair treated Elise as a person, and Elise offers that same kindness when he reveals his connection to the throne. However, she can see the warmth in his eyes fade a little upon telling her, a crooked, wry smile replacing the jovial air of another, and Elise knows that Alistair knows.

She's a mage and he, a king. There is no happy ending in store for them, but love is as persistent as it is fleeting, and they fall into each other's orbit despite the pain it later brings them both.

How did your Warden respond to Wynne’s comments if your Warden romanced someone? Did they tell her it was love or that the relationship was purely physical?

Elise was kind of belligerent, not going to lie. It's actually the first time I envision that hardened side of her beginning to shine through.

When Wynne points out the fact that she and Alistair are both Wardens, and that he's the son of a king destined to follow in those heavy footsteps, it only succeeds in bringing those painful fears to the fore and reasserting to Elise that she can't be happy because of what she is. This conversation happens after the Broken Circle quest, so Elise is still haunted by those horrors of a home sundered, and most of all, Cullen and his words towards her. So, two sources have said to her, 'You can't have this because of what you are.', and that tears into Elise's slowly hardening heart. She knows her duty, she knows what she is and she's proud of it, and Elise believes that shouldn't bar her from what others are freely given.

"I am a mage. I am a Warden." Elise spat, fists clenching and unclenching sporadically as she glared into the elderly mage before her. "But, I'm also a woman--a person, Wynne. I have feelings, and I won't sweep those aside just because you think it's best, because the 'world' somehow suddenly demands it!" Magic tingled at her finger tips, sparks latching onto tiny energy nodes of the Fade as her hands began to shake. "I care for Alistair. I want to see him happy because this world hasn't let him be so! So...so, fuck your concern and wisdom! I have choices, Alistair has choices, and if that's irresponsible to you, then leave because my heart won't change. No matter what pain it could bring me!"

Did your Warden believe that Leliana was telling the truth about her vision from the Maker or were they skeptical?

Now, I think I've mentioned that Elise is somewhat religious. She believes in the Maker and Andraste, but like Dorian says in Inquisition, she doesn't believe in the Chantry's rhetoric.

In regards to Leliana's vision, the magically curious side of Elise comes out and she ponders if the vision was the work of it. She doesn't outright ask Leli that, knowing that it would probably be rebuffed or met with a, 'I'm...not sure.', but it lingers in the depths of her mind and Elise tries to do some research into similar occurrences, to no avail. All Elise knows is that Leliana finds strength and hope in what she saw, so she doesn't challenge it and spoil it with practical applications. After all, the nature of faith is shaped by the unknown, and Elise always did like a good mystery. So, even if she didn't completely believe it herself, Elise knows what it meant to Leliana to have that warmth long denied by a Chantry brazier.

How did your Warden speak to Sten? Did they fight with him often or were they more humorous in their responses?

Elise was fascinated by Sten. She had only read of the Qunari in the few meager tomes she could find--most struck from the records by the Chantry due to 'heresy'. So, when at camp, Elise took the time to learn from the stoic man. She asked questions, listened to his answers, sat, mouth agape at some of the more profound stories Sten would opt to share, and soaked it up like a sponge. Elise would challenge some viewpoints of Sten's, those concerning mages and the general people of Ferelden, but mainly because she wanted to hear his side. Elise was eager and undeterred by Sten's brusque, aloof, and outwardly annoyed demeanor. She just saw a person--a person who she could learn from. And I think Sten responded well to that curiosity and open-mindedness, even if he didn't show it all that well.

How did your Warden react to Loghain’s fierce love for his daughter? Did they share a strong sense of loyalty to their own family?

So, to start, Elise doesn't remember her family very well. She was taken to the Circle at young age, barely able to remember how she even came to the tower. But, her found family is everything to her and she would die, be tortured, and branded every manner of beast if it kept them safe.

And I'm not lying when I say that Loghain's love for Anora, and she for him, was what made Elise want to spare him.

In that moment, as the teyrn knelt upon the floor before her, sword limp, eyes downcast with all manner of emotion, and blood dribbling from wounds she had managed in a duel unnecessary, unfair, Elise didn't see a traitor, a murderer of Wardens and kings, or even a man whose sense of duty had been so warped that it led him astray.

No, she saw none of that. Instead, she saw a father--a father of both daughter and country.

Elise drew her lips tight, tasting the salt of her sweat and a hint of iron. Her hand shook upon the hilt of her sword, suddenly feeling too heavy, too much as she continued to keep it trained upon the defeated man. All eyes were upon her, their gazes like wildfire and bramble--burning, piercing, anticipating. Yet, she could not move. She could not do it.

She could not take a father from his child! She could not! Not when it wasn't necessary! Not when the Queen had asked, pleaded with tears in her blue eyes for a way out of this foolishness, for an end to the constant suffering! There was a way! There was!

"I--", Elise began, as shaky as her arm that brandished a sword instead of a staff. The tremors increased as the wildfire upon her back blazed, and her grip faltered, sword plummeting to the ground with a harsh clang. "I...won't kill you. I accept your surrender. I accept."

There were gasps and whispers of disbelief, but she blocked them out as tired eyes traveled from that abandoned weapon to her face, searching, seeking, and quietly suspicious. But, before any words could be uttered between them or explanations could be voiced, there was a shout--a familiar, but dreaded shout of anger, of disbelief, of betrayal most foul. One word. Just one, and it was sharper than her sword that lay upon the ground, coated with blood of thought up foes.

"What!?"

----

*drags hand down in front of my face in an elaborate fashion* And scene!

Thank you so much, friend! I hope you like the answers even if they are a tad long! :D

#oc: elise amell #dragon age #dragon age origins #asks #ask #my writing #*wants to write elise drabbles now* i'm insufferable aren't I? XD #elise is a blend of many different sides and i love her for that :3 #the inspo slapped me with these questions so i had to unleash it! *cackles*#i haven't played origin in a while but maybe i should for ADVENTURE >:D

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heclingmuzik · 3 years

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TIMELINE OF PAST AND CURRENT EVENTS

Some dates are inaccurate from the posted date and some don’t have dates, BUT I’ll be changing dates around just to fit her story a bit better and hopefully make sure things are more easier to understand. If I’ve forgotten to add any importantance between your muse and mine, please shoot me an IM!

-----

Arrived in Isola on January 24th, 2021.

Upon arrival these are things that Ismael has gone through

On her first day arriving, Spirale was covered in sheets of snow with diamond creatures and diamond anything that would block the way.

She was rescued by someone from those diamond yetis!

She found out that you can actually break diamond with diamond, and also FOUND KYRIE!

On January 26th, 2021

Curious about the hole, she decides to revisit it.

This is where she meets the unpleasantries of the shadowy figure. She never got his name, BUT that shadowy figure looking thing is the cause of her first death. He pushed her into the hole. to this day, no one knows. To this day, Kyrie does not know that Ismael has a tiny fear of heights now.

{CAN’T FIND DATE} Was hired to work at Lovelyloaves by Mizi

On February 21st, 2021 she joined Big Dipper Talent!

Ismael has met and befriended plenty of people!

On April 1st, 2021

Game time? It’s weird and Ismael still doesn’t entirely understand what was going on, but it was fun. On her birthday, as part of the game, Ismael and Kyrie went diving....from the sky. Certainly a big step in that little fear of her’s!

She got a present afterwards! She hasn’t taken them off since!

She met someone shortly after. Nero.

He’s looking for a way out, and despite hearing that it is impossible he seems extremely hellbent in returning home. Says he’s got someone waiting for him. Someone waiting for him shares the same name as her friend Kyrie. WHAT are the odds, huh! She has been searching for answers since to help aid him in this quest.

On April 6-20, 2021

On her way in search for parts for Nero, she decides to expand her searching by going to Yesteryear, attempt at Mistwood, and going through Fibonacci’s Shadier sides.

April 6 - In Yesteryear, she didn’t find anything, but instead met a man with a strange looking bird. Is it a crow or a raven? She still doesn’t know, but she’s beginning to think the bird is....pretty cool.

April 10 - In Mistwood she didn’t even go in to check it out. This place will have to wait until she’s either with someone who can get them out in a pinch or just...when she feels she’s ready. Badou says there’s Deatheater? Deadeaters? Whatever the fuck. She’s not about to be eaten by no eatereaters.

April 18 (Afternoon close to Eveningish) - Ismael tells Nero she wants to fight alongside him when he brings up that he might actually have to change his plan a bit. Says he’ll have to face the Stars first in order to prevent being brought back here. He won’t let her fight and that upsets her. They have a small argument about it. She’ll have to check up on him. Make sure he got home safe and make sure he’s okay.

April 18 (Nighttime) - Ismael miscalculated the time and got overly cocky. If that’s what you can call it. She got stuck in the crowd and was rescued by a rather tall and scary man. He showed kindness, despite her screaming and lashing out because of fear. Same man decided to show her who he truly is by taking her to some building.

IN an attempt to save the three men that were unlucky enough to meet Yamazaki in the same building for some shady business???? Ismael may have failed and may have actually been the result in them dying.

During the time she is captured and held captive, forced to watch whatever unfolds before her eyes with Yamazaki and these poor unfortunate men, Nero sends in a text about finding someone who is willing to make his arm. She’s unable to get to the message until 2 days after in the evening.

On April 21st, 2021

She finally steps out of her lone house to finally go grocery shopping that she’s been trying to avoid for the past couple of days since she got back from that night. A lot of stuff that she’d suppose to get done neglected.

In her attempt to be quick, in and out of grocery store, she meets Grimm. Someone she’s spent a lot of time with talking about music, playing, and listening. .....If Grimm can see that something is wrong.... She’s really going to have to avoid seeing everyone else.

On April 24th, 2021

It’s proving difficult to be at the house, let alone just the ward entirely. She used to actually enjoy being in Fibonnaci. Some of the people there are nice, but...Well, now she just wants out. No where is technically safe, but man, she really wants out of Fibonacci.

She’s been crashing at....one of the Branches. Yesteryear is one of them. She’s beenn sleeping outside in her makeshift camp for a little over two days. She will stop by her home to get more supplies and the things she needs, but only then.

She’s more than likely going to check with the Stars. See if they will let her move houses.

She wants to ask the stars to move her, but again, the thought of ‘nowhere is really safe’ lingers at the back of her mind. She can move anywhere in the Wards or branches if that’s the case, but....HE will be there....Even if he isn’t.

On April 27th, 2021

Ismael finally gaining the courage after talking to Dune, decides to text Grimm and Nero.

She tells them what happened that night with Yamazaki. She’s not ready to talk to Kyrie about the event and isn’t quite sure when she will be ready.

Currently she is crashing at Grimm’s. Occasionally will crash at Nero’s, because she doesn’t want to just burden the one. Sometimes, she’ll be outside, in one of the branches. Sometimes she’ll tell the two where she’s going and other times she will not.

Kyrie remains to be in the dark about the whole situation, as through text, Ismael can pretend that everything IS fine to a perfect T.

On April 30th, 2021

She hits V up in hopes that he and his friend would be available to help her with a task. She’s been working on her archery skill and decided that in order to work on the small fear of heights, she’d pick up parkouring. Makes sense, right? Let’s see how this all goes.

On May 1, 2021

Ismael was once again debating on if she should venture into Mistwood or not. Only this time, instead of it being Badou to stop her in her tracks, it is none other than V. Where did he even come from? And will she ever actually check the woods out?

Don’t remember exact date

Ismael’s purchase of her Bow and fire elemental fragmentation were delivered to her. She’s been practicing more often. She also received her hoverboard as well.

On May 2nd, 2021

Ismael has once again come across Yamazaki. This time nothing happened and weirdly enough, it...was as if he was trying to help her get rid of that fear? Too bad he’s extremely unpredictable and what’s done is done. Though, she can’t deny that she hopes that ONE day she can actually look at him without fearing. That one day she can say his name without the memories of what happened...Or even if the memories are still there, she’s able to hold her ground and stay strong.

Until then, she’s practicing. She’s working on bettering herself, strengthen herself both mentally, emotionally, and physically.

She is getting a little better. Still nightmares plague her during the night, but she’s able to talk about what happened. May not be in full details, but it’s enough to understand ‘ah, so that’s what Ismael went through.’

Trying to face her fears is a lot harder than she thought. BUT she’s working on it. She’s hoping that even through fear she will be brave.

And every day, Ismael is reminded that she does have people here who cares for her and her them. It just makes these little horrible moments just a tad bit more bearable. She has so many people to thank!

And yes, this very same day she’s made her way into the woods. It may have been because she wasn’t thinking where she was running until it was too late. Whoops. Here, she’s met Mew. The pink cat that Nero helped.

On May 4th, 2021

Ismael decides to ask Nero a favor. She asks him if he would be okay in going to that building where she had been held captive and check for those bodies that she had left behind.

Nero ended up sent to the hospital when an unexpected turn of event led him and another guy there.

She feels guilt and blames herself for Nero’s injuries.

At the hospital on the same day while waiting for Nero, she meets Yamazaki again.

On May 8th, 2021

Ismael takes Nero’s words to heart from before when he got injured. When they were at the park he had said something along the lines of not holding something from someone. That being honest was more better. She decides to tell Kyrie of the things that she had suffered through.

Ismael is significantly getting better at not just archery, but handling things that has been happening in her life. The nightmares are still there. Sometime she catches herself in tears when she wakes, or a yelp in the middle of her sleep. Still, Ismael is doing her best!

On June 4th, 2021

There was an art museum that Ismael decided to attend to. Upon seeing a portrait, she finds out from Kyrie that the art is Yaira.

That very same day, everything in the museum comes to life and starts attacking people, including there being monsters added onto the chaos.

Ismael does not make it through. She ends up being injured fairly badly and passes away from said injury by the very hands of Yaira (an evil portrait.)

In the moment of her passing, she gets to meet Yaira (The good portrait that Kyrie made.)

On July 10th, 2021

Ismael undergoes a extremely life-changing situation. The stars manages to throw Ismael back into her world but reverse time with Ismael’s memories of Isola intact and was told that she’d remember bits and pieces and the more she continued onward the more memories she’d remember.

With the option to leave at any time, Ismael continued through her memory to the end and found out that Yaira was her sister all along.

Currently Ismael suffers from guilt, anger, self-hate, and so much more. She hasn’t been taking care of herself but still continues on with music, training, and her faith....If only to try and push through.

On July 21st

Ismael decides to contact Kyrie after a few days of just sending them texts to ask them about Yaira. She has a lot of questions and hopes that Kyrie can help her with them. She’s not entirely sure how she’s going to take any information if it turns out that Kyrie knew something and kept it from her.

MORE TO BE ADDED

will be updated accordingly!

#tw kidnapping #Tw #Trigger warning #Tw death ention #Tw Murder mention #long post #Timeline

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

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Fic: A Spark of Life and Hope

First fic in a brand new fandom. I always forget how nerve-wracking it is to start playing in a new sandbox. Enjoy!

Summary: There’s longing and desperation in his kiss, the pain of a parting almost but not quite upon them, wanting to draw this moment out as long as possible…

“Please,” she whispers as he finally lets her up for air. “One last time before you go.”

When Hohenheim leaves, he doesn’t know he’s left behind a spark of new life in Trisha. When he contemplates the possibility of having done so a couple of months later, it changes everything.

Hohenheim returns, Trisha lives, and as the years pass, hope and peace come to the Elric family as light comes to the shadows of Xerxes.

Rated: Mature – there’s some brief sexual content at the beginning, but it’s not the focus of the fic.

A Spark of Life and Hope

Hohenheim isn’t asleep. Trisha can tell. He’s staring up at the ceiling, thinking of tomorrow morning and what he’ll leave behind when he goes. He’s all packed ready, suitcase standing in the corner of the room like an ill omen, and she sees his eyes slide over to it every now and then.

She doesn’t know exactly what he’s leaving to do. He’s been open with her about his past and his nature and everything surrounding it, wanting her to know the truth before she committed herself to him, but she’s never pried too much into the work he does.

This is about more than just regaining his mortality, though. He’s left looking for leads on that before, but what he’s about to do is more important, more all-encompassing, and it will take him away for a lot longer. He’ll be away for years this time. He’s covering Amestris in its entirety, looking for something to prevent a crisis that only he, with his unusual traits, can prevent.

Trisha just wishes that it didn’t have to be him on this one-man mission to save the world.

She rolls over and pushes herself up on her forearms, leaning over him.

“Don’t think,” she says. “Don’t think about tomorrow. Just kiss me now.”

Hohenheim obliges readily, pulling her down with strong arms around her shoulders. There’s longing and desperation in his kiss, the pain of a parting almost but not quite upon them, wanting to draw this moment out as long as possible. Trisha gives in eagerly, shifting to straddle his hips.

“Please,” she whispers as he finally lets her up for air. “One last time before you go.”

They don’t do this very regularly. After so many years of people warning her that men were only interested in this one thing, Trisha was rather surprised to find that this is the one thing Hohenheim really isn’t interested in. She assumes its because of the souls, although she’s long since accepted that they’re there, and they can’t help being there, and she’s told him over and over that she doesn’t mind that they’re there. He’s still affectionate, with kisses and cuddles and soft touches; it’s not that he’s not intimate with her at all. Just the act itself he can take or leave.

He’s happy to participate when she wants it though, and now he nods, slipping his hands up under her nightdress and skimming his fingers over her breasts as she tugs it off over her head. His pyjama pants and undershirt go in short order too, and then he pulls her down to kiss her again, one hand slipping down between them to the apex of her thighs. He brushes over that sweet spot with his thumb, and Trisha gasps against his mouth, rocking her hips into his and feeling him begin to twitch and respond under her. She remembers their first time together: awkward, clumsy, fumbling and altogether wonderful.

They’ve come a long way since then, and they know how to make each other fall apart.

When Hohenheim finally pushes into her wet heat, they’re so close that Trisha can’t tell where she ends and where he begins. There’s almost no space between them, and yet they’re still not close enough for a goodbye that will last such a long time…

She comes with a cry, pressing a hand over her mouth in case she wakes the boys, and she feels Hohenheim’s fingers dig into her backside as he follows her over just a moment later. They stay panting in the afterglow for a while until Trisha sits up again, letting him slide out of her and grabbing a handkerchief from her nightstand to clean up with.

She’s going to miss this. She’s going to miss pondering the marvel of his unchanging body whilst he gazes lovingly at her scars and stretchmarks and fluctuating weight, all the things he says make her human and remarkable. She’s going to miss the way his hair looks when it’s loose and spread out over the pillow, the way that it shines in the moonlight showing its colour as truly gold instead of blond. She’s going to miss mapping him with her hands and lips.

The comparative infrequency of their love-making makes each time all the more beautiful and passionate, and it’ll be lost to her for a long time.

Maybe that will make their reunion sweeter.

“Trisha?”

Hohenheim reaches up to touch her face, and Trisha realises that she’s weeping. She twines her fingers with his, keeping his hand pressed against her cheek.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to leave.” He brings her hand down, kissing the palm before pulling her back down against his chest and holding her tight, face buried in her hair.

If only they could stay like this forever.

Eventually she slips off him, curling in close to his side and getting comfortable for sleep, but she doesn’t think it’ll come. Not tonight, and not for either of them. There’ll be time enough for her to sleep once Hohenheim is gone. For now, she just wants to savour this time that they still have together.

“Just promise me that you’ll come back, ok?” she whispers. “Don’t get yourself killed in your quest to save the country and your own mortality.”

“I promise. No matter what, I’ll make it back here. I promise we’ll grow old together.”

They lie together until the grey dawn chases the shadows into the corners, and Hohenheim sighs.

“I want to leave before the boys wake up. I don’t think I’ll be able to go through with it otherwise.”

Even as he says it, neither of them move for a long time afterwards. Eventually, though, Hohenheim unwraps his arm from around her and untangles their legs. Trisha watches him get dressed and pull his hair back, the couple of strands escaping at the front like they always do.

“Promise me you won’t cut your hair, either.”

He laughs. “I’m not likely to change my style after four hundred years.”

Once he’s ready to go, he comes back over to the bed and leans in to kiss her forehead.

“Wait for me. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She nods, and he’s just about to leave the room when she scrambles up, pulling on yesterday’s clothes.

“Wait. I want to see you off at the door.”

They walk through the silent house hand in hand, but Trisha’s fingers are shaking as she goes to unbolt the front door. Hohenheim’s hand closes over hers.

“It’s ok. I’ve got it.”

He hands her the suitcase and unlocks the door, but he doesn’t open it. For a long time he just looks at her, as if he’s trying to drink in the sight of her as much as he can, a mental photograph to cling to whilst he’s away.

Then he’s kissing her again, a final frantic kiss, his hands on her face and his legs bumping the suitcase awkwardly against hers. Trisha doesn’t care, letting go of it with one hand and pulling him in closer.

“I love you,” Hohenheim whispers.

“I love you too.”

It can’t last forever, as much as they might like it to, and eventually they have to break apart.

Trisha sighs. “Take care of yourself. Don’t get into trouble.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And…” Trisha trails off as she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and the boys come into view. She sees Hohenheim freeze when he realises they’re there, sees him withdraw into himself. The very reason he wanted to leave early, and now they’re here and he’s here on the threshold.

She’s not surprised that he leaves the house without a word, not when she can see the tell-tale little tremble in his throat and the set in his shoulders that means his stoicism is only hanging on by a thread.

The fact he didn’t say goodbye still hurts, though.

When she gets back to the window after sorting the boys out, she can just about see him in the distance on the path down towards the town, head bowed and shoulders drooping. With the boys safely back in their own beds, Trisha crawls back into hers, burying her face in the pillows that still smell like him and crying her eyes out.

Two weeks after Hohenheim leaves, there’s no blood in Trisha’s underwear when there should be, and a few days after that, she feels the same kind of distinctive, curdling nausea in the pit of her stomach that she’s felt twice before.

Something has been eating at Hohenheim ever since he left. Whilst at first he put it down to the pain of leaving his life behind him, the more that he’s gone on and the more that he’s been unable to let go of it, the more he’s been thinking about it and the more he’s fixated on it.

That last morning, that last kiss at the front door… Something was different about Trisha and he hasn’t been able to put his finger on it. He keeps telling himself that it’s just her sadness at him leaving, but that feeling that something was off about her, not wrong per se as different to normal, won’t let him go.

He’s dozing on a train to Western City when it hits him, and he jerks into full and very aware consciousness.

He’s felt that same kind of oddness around her before, he just didn’t register it properly at the time, not until a lot later.

Alkahestry relies on being able to feel the flow of life through the body and the earth - the chi, as the Xingese call it. Hohenheim has spent so long helping to develop alkahestry and tying it up with alchemy; he’s become so used to feeling it that it’s just second nature to him, like the hum of the souls in his veins.

During that last desperate kiss, pressed in so close against Trisha, his hands on her face, there was something different about her chi. It was just a little bit more forceful, just a little bit hotter. Barely noticeable, but there.

He’s noticed it about her before, a couple of times, but not usually until it became much more obvious, until the balance was very clearly tipped.

It was more forceful and hotter because there was more of it.

There was more of it, and it hadn’t split off to become someone separate’s chi yet. It was still a part of Trisha’s. A part of his, too.

Trisha is pregnant.

He’s glad he’s on a train in the middle of nowhere when he realises, because his first reaction is silent panic, and at least he has until Western City to think what to do next.

On the one hand, he intended to leave and not return until Homunculus was defeated, and everything would be well in the world, and he could return knowing that he wouldn’t have to leave again.

On the other hand, that was before Trisha was pregnant with a child he might not get to meet for years. Trisha did not have easy pregnancies with Ed and Al, and he would never want her to go through a third on her own.

By the time he gets off the train in Western, he has at least some semblance of a plan. The change in Trisha’s chi was so small that it could be that it never took and never became a pregnancy; she might be none the wiser that it had ever been there in the first place, so maybe he should check first before he starts panicking afresh.

He doesn’t have to go far to find a payphone, and the ringing as he waits for it to connect is far too loud in his ear.

“Hello?”

“Edward, it’s me… It’s Dad.”

“Dad! Where are you? Are you coming home?”

“I’m… Is your mom there?”

“Mom’s sick.” There’s a shuffle on the end of the phone as Al comes over to investigate on hearing that AWOL-for-two-months-Dad has resurfaced.

“Ed, how is she sick? Fever, flu, throwing up?”

“She’s throwing up all the time. Granny Pinako says we won’t catch it though.”

Well, no, they’re definitely in no danger of that.

“I’ll get Mom!” Hohenheim hears Al’s footsteps patter up the stairs and out of earshot.

“No, if she’s sick just let her rest…” He knows it’s fruitless, and just listens to Ed chatter on about everything that’s happened since he’s been gone until he hears Trisha’s voice.

“Love?”

“Trisha.” It’s such a relief to hear her voice that for a moment he can’t say anything else.

“Boys, could you go into the other room please so I can talk to your father in private? Thank you.” She returns to him. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine. I was calling to see how you were.”

“I’m…” There’s a long sigh. “I’m ok. I just miss you.”

“Are you sure you’re ok? The boys said you were sick.”

“It’s nothing, I’ll be fine, and it’s not catching.”

“Trisha, are you pregnant?” He hadn’t intended it to sound so blunt, and there’s silence at the other end of the phone for a long time.

“Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Yes, I am. It had to have happened that last night before you left. I… It’s your baby, my love, I just didn’t want you to worry, or feel like you had to come back before you’ve finished what you’re doing…”

“Oh Trisha, I never thought for a moment it wasn’t mine.” He leans against the side of the phone booth, resting his forehead against the glass. “I’ll be home in three weeks; I’ll need to pick up some research materials from Central.”

“You need to do what you set out to do.”

“I will. I’ll just have to go about it a different way.” He paused. “I want to meet my third child when they’re born, Trisha. I’m selfish like that.”

She laughs on the other end of the line, soft and musical.

“I want that too.”

There’s such wistful yearning in her voice, and it makes something inside Hohenheim clench to hear it.

“I love you, Trisha. I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

Three weeks later, he’s halfway up the lane to the house when he hears a long shout of ‘DAAAAAAAAD!’ and Ed and Al come barrelling down the hill towards him. He tries and fails to brace himself for the impact and they all end up in a pile on the path.

“You’re back,” Al says triumphantly.

Hohenheim nods, winded. “Yes. I’m back.”

They let him up and Al attempts to drag the suitcase up the hill. In the end it takes both of them, and Hohenheim trails after. He hadn’t intended to be back so soon, but if there’s one thing that has always been certain in his life, it’s that nothing ever really goes the way he plans it. This is just another one of those things. The fight to stop Homunculus will continue, but for now, it’ll continue in theory and calculation only, in things he can be here in Resembool to do.

“Mom, Mom, Dad’s back!”

As he enters the house and closes the door behind him, Hohenheim hears retching from the kitchen, and he goes through to find Trisha hunched over the sink.

She glances over her shoulder at him as she turns the taps on hard.

“Not exactly the romantic reunion I was planning,” she says lightly. “It’s ok, the sickness is getting better. It’ll have gone in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, Trisha.”

She melts into his arms, squeezing him tightly.

“Thank you for coming back,” she whispers. “I know that…” She tails off. “Thank you.”

Later, when they’re curled up together in bed, Trisha pressed in close against his chest, she voices the thought that will go on to change everything.

“I think you should tell the children your story.”

“I think you’re insane.”

“Maybe not the overnight death of the entire country and the accidental immortality and the half a million souls sharing your headspace. Maybe not yet. But I think you should tell them about your life before. About Xerxes.” She pauses. “The boys kept asking me about you when you were gone, and it made me realise just how little they really know you. It’s their heritage as well. It’s their culture, their language. They’re a part of you, and so it’s a part of them. You used to speak Xerxian to them all the time when they were babies.” She laughs softly. “That’s how I knew just how deeply and unconditionally you loved them. You did it without even thinking.”

“That makes it sound like I don’t love you deeply and unconditionally because I never speak it with you.”

“That’s because you met me long after I learned to talk and understand Amestrian, silly.”

“I love you,” Hohenheim says in his mother tongue. It feels odd to be speaking it to Trisha. He’s so used to not using it with anyone, in any situation where it might mark out his otherness. Everyone is wary of people who speak what they can’t understand, and a long-dead, completely unrecognisable language is even more suspicious.

But Trisha knows him and knows his story and knows where he’s from. Why shouldn’t he be himself with her?

She raises an eyebrow. “Can I guess what that was?”

“Probably.”

She leans in and kisses him. “I love you too.”

There’s silence for a long time, and Hohenheim thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks again.

“I mean it. The children are half-Xerxian. They deserve to know where they come from.”

Many years later, Hohenheim will think back on this conversation and realise that of Trisha’s many good ideas, this was definitely the best one she ever had.

Although Trisha feels a little guilty for pulling Hohenheim back from his quest when he’d only just got started on it, the sheer relief at him being back more than cancels it out. The last two months of morning sickness, trying to remain upbeat and look after the boys at the same time, have been awful, and him being here just makes everything so much easier.

The sickness goes, replaced with aches and cramping and general discomfort. Trisha is not one of those ladies who enjoy being pregnant. She felt lousy the entire time with both Ed and Al, and she knows she’s going to feel lousy with this one, too.

But in return for suffering through it, she’s going to get a beautiful son or daughter, and that’s the thought that keeps her going.

It takes some persuading for Hohenheim to come around to her idea of telling the boys about himself, but one night, when she’s already in bed feeling even worse than normal and Hohenheim has been in charge of the evening routine, she hears him settle on the floor in the boys’ room to tell them their bedtime story.

“Edward, Alphonse… Do you know I’m not from Amestris? Well, this is the story of the country I was born in. This is the story of Xerxes…”

He weaves his tale into their bedtime stories for the next few nights, and the boys lap it up eagerly, voracious in their desire to learn more about the country that might have been theirs if history had turned out different. Trisha listens equally spellbound, tucked up in her own bed, nursing her aching baby bump and feeling too feverish and breathless, more so than the previous two pregnancies.

It’s only the woozy next morning, when she can’t quite wake up despite Hohenheim’s panicking voice sounding far too loud in her ears, that she realises this isn’t just the baby making her feel horrible. She hears him call the Rockbells, hears him pack Ed and Al off to stay with them for a few days, hears the words isolation, infection, quarantine, hears him argue with Yuriy and Sarah and Pinako, hears the vague but true affirmation I’ll take care of her, I don’t get sick.

She doesn’t remember the next few days. She remembers broken, fitful sleep and fighting for breath. She remembers the red crackle of Hohenheim’s alchemy.

She remembers waking up properly conscious at last. Still very much unwell, still feverish, but with clear lungs. She remembers Hohenheim taking care of her until the boys come back – safe, well and unaffected. She’s on bed rest for the next month, and in the dead of night, Hohenheim sleeping the sleep of the completely exhausted beside her, Trisha dreads to think what would have happened if he had not been there.

There are no secrets between them, but even after years have passed, she will never breathe a word of that fear – that she would have died and left the boys on their own – to him.

Like the first two both did, their third child arrives at night.

The boys are in bed asleep, and the evening is wearing on. Trisha has been uncomfortable all day, unable to find a position that doesn’t cause her aches or pains somewhere, and she finally nods when Hohenheim asks if she wants to have a bath. He helps her into it, says he’ll come back in half an hour, and goes back downstairs thinking nothing of it, going back to his study and the reams of paperwork spread out all over it. He’s nearly at a breakthrough, he can feel it.

All thoughts of alchemy and solar eclipses go clean out of his head when he hears a loud splash from above him, a splash much louder than Trisha just moving around in the tub, and he takes the stairs two at a time, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Trisha? Are you all right?”

There’s a whimpering groan in response and he goes in. Trisha’s on her knees in the tub, gripping the edge with white knuckles, forehead resting on her hands. There’s water all over the floor.

“Trisha? What’s happening?”

“I’m nine months pregnant and due in three days, what do you think’s happening?”

Oh good grief.

“The pain’s been coming ever since I got in the bath, but now it’s really, really coming, and I felt my water go as well.”

Oh good grief.

Considering that this has happened twice before and he was definitely around both times, Hohenheim feels completely clueless in that moment. He crosses the room to the tub and closes his hands over Trisha’s, prising her fingers away from the metal before she breaks all her nails. She latches on to him instead.

“It hurts more this time,” she says. “With Ed and Al it was more gradual, I had more time to get used to it. This time it’s…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, her words becoming a high keen of pain, and Hohenheim hears the boys waking up and talking to each other about the noise. He tries to move away, but Trisha’s hold on him is like iron.

“Don’t leave. Please don’t leave, I’m scared. It’s all happening so quickly.”

“I’m not leaving.��

“You ran off and hid when Ed was born.”

“I’m not doing that, I swear, but we need to call Pinako.”

“Not enough time.”

“We can’t do this by ourselves.”

“We’ll have to.”

Outside, the boys are still whispering urgently. Hohenheim pushes Trisha’s damp hair out of her face.

“I won’t leave the room, ok?”

She nods, letting go her limpet grip. Hohenheim goes to the bathroom door and peers around it; Ed and Al are looking out of their room.

“Boys, I have an important job for you. I need you to go downstairs, call the Rockbells, and say that Mom is having the baby now. And stay downstairs, please.”

Ed drags Al down the stairs, and Hohenheim returns to Trisha, settling on the floor beside the tub and offering her his hand to squeeze again.

“It’s coming,” she pants. “Pinako warned me that it gets quicker every time.” Her nails dig into his palm to the point of pain. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here.”

“Van Hohenheim, don’t you dare leave me now!”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He means it, although he can well understand why Trisha needs the reassurance considering the last two times. It’s strange how comparatively calm he feels now. For Ed’s birth he’d been so frantic that he couldn’t stay in the house, let alone the room, leaving it to the Rockbells to get Trisha through it whilst he dealt with half a million panicking souls not including his own. For Al’s, he hadn’t panicked quite so much, but he’d been watching Ed so again, he hadn’t been in the room.

Now the boys are old enough to look after themselves for a while, and he’s here with Trisha whilst she’s labouring, and although there’s an undercurrent of panic, he’s objectively calm, because Trisha’s body has done this twice before, and she can tell him what she needs, and he knows he has enough medical knowledge through alkahestry to be able to help him out if necessary.

He really hopes that it won’t be necessary.

It’s nice having Hohenheim here with her. With Ed, he was a nervous wreck and vanished off somewhere until Yuriy went and found him and brought him back after Ed was born and safely tucked up in Trisha’s arms and Pinako had dealt with the clean-up. With Al, he was much calmer and more collected, but also looking after an inquisitive eighteen-month-old, so he didn’t really have a lot of choice in the matter. Now, with this little one, he’s here with her, one hand rubbing her back whilst the other one offers itself up to her vice grip on him.

She really doesn’t think that Pinako will get here in time. The pains are faster and stronger than she remembers them from the last two times. Everything is quicker and more intense this time around, and she heaves a shuddering breath as another contraction pulls through her belly.

You’ll know when the baby’s coming, Sarah says in her mind, preparing her for Ed’s birth, almost six years ago now. She’d just had Winry, so she’d know. There’ll be so much pressure that you just have to push it out; it’ll be the only thought in your head.

It was like that the first two times, and it had been at this stage that Pinako had told her to push. It’s like that now.

“It’s coming now,” she says, digging her fingernails into Hohenheim’s hand and feeling the crackle of his innate alchemy fixing him when she scratches and draws blood by accident. It doesn’t seem to bother him.

“Ok.”

“You’re so calm. Oddly calm, for you.”

Hohenheim laughs nervously and pushes her butt back down under the surface where she’s shifting and wriggling in her discomfort. He must be covered in water by now. “Oh, I’m screaming on the inside.”

Another pain comes, the pressure is unbearable, and Trisha goes with her gut, howling as she pushes the baby down.

“It’s coming, it’s coming NOW!”

“Ok, it’s ok.” Hohenheim doesn’t sound quite as calm now. “Just go with your instinct.”

Instinct is telling her to push the baby out by any means necessary. Instinct is telling her that it feels like she’s being torn apart from the inside out. Instinct is telling her, in the midst of the pain and the pressure and the tears rolling down her face, that this baby is a girl.

“I’ve got to get her OUT!”

The pain is blinding, just like it was with Ed and Al, and Trisha screams.

“I can feel the head. Keep going, my love, you’re doing so well.”

Pain, squeeze, pain, push, pain, scream, blessed relief.

“I’ve got her.” Hohenheim sounds as if he’s about to faint. He guides the baby between her thighs and Trisha flops down onto her back, sending water careening over the side of the tub.

Then a new-born’s cry is echoing around the bathroom tiles, and Hohenheim is placing their third child on her chest, tucking in a towel around her.

“Girl?”

“Girl,” he affirms. Trisha checks for herself just in case. One perfect little girl, pink and loud and angry.

“Hello, baby,” she coos, stroking the hot little cheek. “Hello, my little one. Open your eyes for me, baby. Let’s see if you’ve got your daddy’s eyes.”

Her daughter does not oblige, but she does quieten down as she latches on to Trisha’s breast. She looks up at Hohenheim. He’s completely drenched, and he looks like he might keel over any moment, but he’s smiling, and Trisha can’t remember the last time she saw him express such unbridled joy since he first met Ed and then Al.

Trisha hears the commotion downstairs as Pinako and Sarah arrive, Ed and Al exclaiming that they’ve heard the baby crying, but it doesn’t really register with her until they come into the bathroom.

Pinako takes a look at the scene and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know which one of you is wetter. Is there any water even left in the tub?”

Trisha just laughs, and Pinako gives a good natured sigh. “All right. You’ve done very well, all things considered. I’m surprised he hasn’t fainted yet. Let’s get the cord cut and the afterbirth out, and then we’ll deal with this mess.”

Sarah takes the scissors out of her medical bag and offers them to Hohenheim. “Would you like to do the honours?”

“No, I don’t think I should be trusted with sharp objects right now.”

Sarah fails to smother her snort of laughter at that. Within minutes, the cord is clamped and cut and Pinako is massaging her belly to encourage the afterbirth out. Hohenheim leans against the side of the tub beside her, and Trisha nudges her forehead against his.

“Hey. You did good.” He did more than good, but she’s too addled to think of a better word right now.

“I think we can safely say you did all the work.”

Baby finishes nursing and Trisha looks down into her eyes, now open and glorious Xerxian gold like her father’s and brothers’.

She barely notices delivering the afterbirth, and everything afterwards becomes a bit of a blur. Sarah takes the baby to weigh and measure her and check her over so she can make notes for the birth certificate, and Pinako finds a mop and tells them she’ll deal with cleaning up the room, whilst Hohenheim carries Trisha to their bedroom wrapped in a towel. She only really comes back to herself once he’s dried her off and tucked her up in bed in a clean nightgown, and Sarah brings their wiped down and tightly swaddled daughter through to them.

“I told the boys to wait downstairs, but I can see that they’re literally on the bottom step,” she says. “They’re very eager to meet their sister.” She looks Hohenheim up and down. “You should probably change before they see you though.”

Considering he’s still soaked to the skin in slimy bathwater, Trisha has to agree, and Sarah leaves them alone to go and help Pinako.

Baby settles into Trisha’s arms and closes her eyes, and Trisha can’t help brushing a finger over her little nose and puckered lips, so small and perfect. “She needs a name before we introduce her to her brothers.” She pauses. “Come here.”

No longer looking quite so dramatic, Hohenheim comes over and sits on the edge of the bed as he finishes buttoning his shirt. Trisha doesn’t mention the fact he’s buttoned it skewed.

“You haven’t held her yet.”

“I caught her as she was being born. I held her before you did.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.” She carefully passes the bundle of blankets over, and although for a moment he looks like she’s given him a live hand grenade, he relaxes and tucks baby in close against his chest, gazing down at her in wonder like he did when he first held Ed and Al. He’s lived for so long and he’s seen so much, some good and lots more of it bad, but the miracle of life is still a miracle. Creating a brand new person with a brand new soul is something alchemy can never do.

“Ada,” he says softly. “It means noble, like her mother.”

Trisha smiles. “Ada Elric it is.”

She knows that Ed and Al are champing at the bit to come and meet the baby, but for now she wants a few more minutes to enjoy this time that’s just the three of them, her and Hohenheim and the little girl they made. Hohenheim is murmuring to her in gentle, sing-song Xerxian, and Trisha doesn’t understand enough yet to know what he’s telling her, but she recognises I love you so much.

He drops a kiss on her forehead and passes her back to Trisha. “I’ll go and get the boys.”

Trisha glances at the window as she strokes Ada’s pink cheek. It’s the middle of the night and they’re all still awake and heaven knows what tomorrow will bring, but it’s all right, because tonight is a momentous night.

The door opens carefully and Ed and Al peer around it, Hohenheim shepherding them inside.

“Come in, boys. Come and meet your baby sister.”

They creep over to the bed, clambering up onto the mattress and leaning over to take a look. Ada squints and crinkles her face up. She’s so little she probably can’t even see them, and definitely not to take notice of them.

“She’s tiny,” Ed breathes. “What’s her name?”

“This is Ada.”

“Was she really born in the bath? How didn’t she drown?”

Trisha laughs. “You’ll learn that when you’re older. But she’s here, and she’s perfectly well.”

“Can we hold her? Please?”

“Not tonight. She’s had quite a big adventure already and she needs to rest nice and snug. But you can meet her properly and hold her tomorrow.”

They’re all so caught up in their admiration for the little one that no one notices Sarah step in with her camera.

The picture she takes becomes one of Trisha’s favourites, and one of the few pictures she has of all five of them together. Hohenheim tends to shy away from photos, knowing that they provide an indelible record of his unchanging state. It’s just a simple candid snap, none of them looking at the camera, and it's beautiful in its honesty.

Ten years later, it’s the one picture Trisha will put into her bag when they travel. Just in case they don’t make it back to Resembool. Just in case the children never see their father again.

It never fails to amaze Trisha how quickly they settle into a new routine after Ada’s birth.

Hohenheim still spends most of his time in his study, but now the door is open a lot more and the boys dart in and out, practising alchemy in the corner under the watchful, empty gaze of the suit of armour. They continue to learn bits and pieces of Xerxian, and Trisha’s privately impressed with how much she understands now, as well. They’re starting to teach it to Winry too, and the three of them conspire in the garden, perhaps not realising that Trisha can interpret more than they anticipate, absorbing it by osmosis.

She notices that Hohenheim is not quite as distant with them as he was before. Beginning to teach them about himself and where he comes from, and where they in turn can also claim their heritage from, has been good for his relationship with them, bringing them closer together.

Trisha always remembers with fondness the first time she left Hohenheim alone with all three children. She had been so nervous at the time. She’d had visions of coming home to find the house burned down. Not that her husband is a complete disaster - he managed to fend for himself for hundreds of years, after all - but to say that he’s absent-minded at times is an understatement.

Sarah had laughed at her as they walked down to the village. “How much trouble can they get into when one of them is only two months old?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

When she had returned, the house was still in one piece and blessedly quiet, and she’d entered the living room to find the floor completely covered in paper where the boys were drawing basic transmutation circles. Ed waved at her to be quiet, and she’d looked over to see Hohenheim dozed off in his chair in the corner, with Ada sleeping soundly on his chest. It was one of those moments where she really wished she had a camera handy.

Trisha can tell when Hohenheim is reaching a crisis point in his research, because the study door shuts and there’s a worried frown line between his brows that won’t go away. He withdraws into himself again, pulling away from them, and she wishes she knew why.

It’s just before Ada’s first birthday that she sits him down and asks him to tell her everything about what’s going on.

He tries to demur, but Trisha already knows that what he’s planning and plotting against is something so far-reaching she might not even be able to comprehend it. He had planned to leave them for a very, very long time to accomplish his goals, and although she knows that his perception of time is all over the place due to having lived so long already, she knows that he knows the significance of a decade in their lives. He’s been back, away from his quest but still working tirelessly towards it, for almost eighteen months. Eighteen months that he could have been away doing things in other parts of Amestris.

Finally, he gives her the whole story.

It’s almost too large to comprehend, and it certainly takes a long time to tell it.

Trisha agrees that the children shouldn’t hear a word of it. Not now, at least, and maybe not even when they’re older.

At least she understands the immense gravity of the situation now.

(She already felt a deep sense of dread when Yuriy and Sarah were called up to the Ishval front and now she feels sick, knowing what the conflict is truly for.)

After Ada turns one, their routine changes.

Hohenheim starts to travel again; it’s unavoidable in what he has to do. He has to follow the path that his strange nemesis has already taken. He tries to be regular in his habits though. Three months on the road, one month back in Resembool. He misses Ada’s first word, only learning in a phone booth on the Cretan border that it was ‘dog’, but more poignantly, that it was ‘dog’ in Xerxian, not Amestrian.

It startles him when he actually hears her speak for the first time. She’s scared of the telephone and won’t come near it to talk to him when he calls. He’s only just come in the front door and put his suitcase down and kissed Trisha when he hears daddy daddy daddy babbled in the language of the sun and Ada toddles over and grabs his leg.

“She is, without a doubt, your daughter,” Trisha says smugly.

Time goes on. Months pass. Years pass. Hohenheim has to spend longer and longer away, but everyone is always pleased to see him when he returns, no matter what’s been going on in the meantime. Gradually, the children learn more and more of his history and of the work that he’s doing as he trails around the country leaving souls in the ground.

Then, all of a sudden, it’s four months until the Promised Day, and Hohenheim knows he won’t see his family again before that dread event.

It feels like only yesterday he left for the very first time. He’s missed so much of his family’s lives. He’s missed almost all of Ada’s milestones. At least he had five uninterrupted years with the boys.

At least, once this is all over, he’ll have time to make up for lost time.

He hopes he will.

Edward comes into the bedroom as he’s packing to leave for this final time.

“I want to go with you.”

It’s the fact he’s speaking Xerxian that convinces Hohenheim of his unyielding sincerity. Both he and Al are fluent now; Ada’s been bilingual since she could talk and prefers her father’s tongue to her mother’s. Trisha knows enough to get by comfortably and she understands far more than she speaks or writes; she can always follow Ed and Ada when they get into motormouth mode even though she replies in Amestrian.

Hohenheim looks at his eldest child. He’s fifteen, and he’s just as fiery and headstrong as Hohenheim himself was when he was fifteen, before he became Hohenheim. Before everything happened. His mastery of alchemy is paralleled only by Al’s. Hohenheim could not be prouder of his son, but he can’t say yes to him.

“Edward, I appreciate your offer, but no.”

“Why not? Surely you need all the help that you can get against this bastard.”

“I do. But not you. You are my son, and I love you, and I will never put you in danger like that. I need you to take care of your mother, and your brother and sister. I need you to follow the plan and keep them safe for me.”

The plan was put in place a while ago, after Hohenheim had travelled through the smouldering remains of Ishval and learned that some of the refugees had made their way to the ruins of Xerxes and found shelter and peace in a place with such a bloody history. The survivors he had met had known he wasn’t Amestrian, had known he was something… other.

He had helped them, and they had said that his family would be welcome in the sanctuary that had once been his home.

Ed nods. He’s not happy, Hohenheim can tell, but he’s accepting.

Hohenheim does not expect the hug. Ed is not tactile in the same way his siblings are. Sometimes Hohenheim wonders if that’s because he never really hugged his son when he was younger.

Whatever the reason, Ed throws his arms around his father and buries his face in his shoulder.

“Don’t leave us.” He knows he’s not talking about this latest trip, but a far more permanent departure. “Please come back. You’ve always come back before.”

“You have my word.”

For someone who has never left Resembool, the prospect of a journey to a ruined city in the middle of the desert is a daunting one. Nonetheless, Trisha knows what she has to do. She feels terrible to be leaving her country on the brink of disaster – especially a disaster that they don’t know is coming. She feels awful to be leaving her friends and neighbours. She feels awful to be leaving Pinako, although Pinako tells her to stop being silly and take care of Winry on their journey.

“Everything will be fine, and you’ll be back before you know it,” she says as she helps them pack up. “You’ve always had faith in Hohenheim before, haven’t you?”

Trisha nods. She still has faith in him now. She doesn’t want to leave; it feels like a betrayal of her trust in him, but he had insisted. He would not be able to live with himself if something went wrong, if he didn’t succeed, and if his family was caught up in the crossfire. So, for his peace of mind, knowing that he doesn’t have to worry about them whilst he does what he has to do, Trisha and the children will leave Amestris before the Promised Day. They had tried to persuade Pinako to come with them, but she steadfastly refuses, saying she’s needed in Resembool. She concedes to let Winry go away with them, though.

The trip to the ruins of Xerxes is a tense, nervous one, the vastness of what’s at stake making everyone jumpy and irritable. The Ishvalans are expecting them, and although they keep their distance, there’s definitely a mutual curiosity there.

It’s the language that brings them together, that first evening. Trisha and the Ishvalan elder who welcomed them, Miriam, speak Amestrian to each other, but within the family group, they lapse into Xerxian without thinking – Winry’s been part of their extended family for long enough to be able to follow in the same way Trisha does. It just seems natural to speak it here.

It’s the language of this place, Ed explains to the Ishvalan boys who venture to ask about this strange tongue they’ve never heard anyone from Amestris speak before. It’s the language of Xerxes, the language of their ancestors. The language of their father.

There’s so much enthusiasm and just sheer pride in Ed’s voice as he explains. This place may not be their home, but it is their homeland, and although the circumstances that have brought them here are bleak, they’re excited to explore it, to match it up to the bedtime stories that Hohenheim told them when they were small.

Then, the Promised Day comes. Despite telling herself that she’s not going to, Trisha can’t help but stare over at the horizon in the direction of Amestris, towards where Hohenheim is facing his destiny. She sees the shadows of the eclipse, the swirling storm of alchemy. It’s so far away, and yet it still takes her breath away.

Miriam comes over to where she’s keeping up her vigil and squeezes her hand.

“I’m sure your husband will be all right.”

Trisha has every faith in him, but that doesn’t stop the gnawing fear from eating away at her insides.

Four days after the storm, Trisha thinks that she sees something moving in the heat shimmer on the horizon, and she keeps glancing across at it all day. By lunch time, Ada sees it too and stations herself at the edge of the city, keeping a stubborn watch despite everyone’s best efforts to get her to move. Eventually, Trisha comes and sits in the shade beside her, and they keep their eyes on the figure until its shape emerges; a person on horseback cloaked against the desert sun, leading a packhorse. Trisha’s heart leaps to her mouth.

On the one hand, Hohenheim promised that he would come and meet them in Xerxes after the Promised Day. On the other hand, horses hate him because of the overabundance of souls.

On a third, purely hypothetical hand… Trisha doesn’t even dare to hope.

“It’s Dad,” Ada says firmly, and Trisha has to physically pull her back from running into the desert to meet him.

“We don’t know that yet, sweetheart. We need them to get closer.”

Al comes over with a telescope borrowed from one of the Ishvalan kids, and he peers through it.

“I can’t tell,” he says. “They’re too bundled up against the sand.”

“It’s Dad.” Ada’s so confident, and Trisha’s heart goes into overdrive.

The sun’s started to go down by the time the figure gets close enough for Al to make out features, and Trisha doesn’t hear Ada’s smug assertion that she knew she was right. She just throws her arms around her son, crying with relief.

It’s another couple of hours before he reaches them, and this time Trisha doesn’t stop Ada from running out across the sand, with Ed, Al and Winry hot on her heels. She watches Hohenheim dismount and get lost in a group hug; she hears the strains of their voices in rapid Xerxian but can’t make out individual words.

She sees Al point across towards the city, to where she stands silhouetted against the worn down sandstone walls.

Trisha can’t help herself, and she runs out to join them. The children part like a wave and she throws herself into Hohenheim’s arms, clinging to him like a limpet. She feels him bury his face in against her neck.

“Is it over?” she asks.

“It’s over.”

“Did you win?”

“We won. It’s all over. It’s all done. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She kisses him then, pouring all of the worry and fear and sheer relief that he’s alive into it, her fingers tangling in his hair and trying to get him even closer as his hands cup her face, brushing away her tears.

There’s a slight commotion beside them, and when she finally lets go, Trisha sees that Ed has clamped his hands over Ada’s eyes, Ada is complaining about this, and Al and Winry are just killing themselves laughing.

“I think we should… go.” Ed shepherds his siblings back towards the city and Hohenheim chuckles, putting his glasses back on where they were knocked askew in the exuberance of the reunion before resting his forehead against Trisha’s with a sigh.

As Trisha untangles her fingers, she notices that there are strands of Hohenheim’s hair shining silver in the moonlight, contrasting against the gold. Stepping back and looking at him more closely, she sees the beginnings of lines around his eyes that weren’t there before.

He’s aged.

“The souls…”

“Just one left,” he says. “Just mine. Everything’s very quiet now. I’d forgotten what it felt like.” He kisses her again. “I promised I’d come back and grow old with you.”

“Yes. Yes you did.”

They walk back to the city holding hands as they lead the horses. Trisha still can’t quite believe that it’s all turned out for the best. She can’t believe that it’s all over, that Hohenheim is back and he won’t have to leave again. After seeing to the horses, they wander through the city, Hohenheim pointing out all the places he remembers from his distant youth until they reach their campsite.

It’s a long time before anyone sleeps that night, everyone too excited and overwhelmed by everything that’s happened, Ed and Al pressing Hohenheim for details of the final battle that he won’t give.

(Maybe later, when they’re adults and they can fully grasp the horrific reality of everything that went on, but Trisha thinks that Hohenheim will take those secrets to his grave.)

Even when they finally cuddle up together under their blankets, Trisha still has to press her hand over Hohenheim’s chest to feel the steady thump of his heart to reassure her that it’s not just a fever dream brought on by the desert sun.

“You’re really here.”

“I know. I can’t believe it either.”

She bats his chest. “Don’t start. I knew you could do it.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Oh, you.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way, though, would you?”

“Never.”

Trisha drifts off with Hohenheim’s arms around her, his breath ghosting through her hair.

When she wakes up alone, she’s not at all surprised. She gets up and checks on the children – Al is awake and gives her a little nod of understanding, gesturing the direction Hohenheim went in.

She finds him on his knees in front of what had been the palace, gazing up at the once-magnificent building with tears streaming down his face.

His home is destroyed, and his people are gone, and it’s no less painful now than it was four hundred years ago. Maybe even more so now that the souls are all gone too.

She sits down beside him and takes his hand in hers, and there’s a profound silence between them for a long time.

“I think it’s good that you’re here,” she says eventually. “This is where you lost your mortality, and this is where you regain it.” She touches the silver in his hair. “This is your absolution.”

Hohenheim nods.

“It’s not just that.” His voice is quiet, choked with emotion. “It’s the knowledge that despite it all, despite the devastation and the loss, it’s not all gone.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This place is a home again,” Hohenheim says. “The Ishvalans have made it into a home again. They’re the new Xerxians. This place is theirs now, and in time they’ll build it up and make it beautiful again. It’s not my home; it hasn’t been since I left it. My home is in Resembool with you and our children. It’s theirs, and I can’t think of anything more fitting. And my people… My people are still here too.”

Trisha wonders if he even notices he’s slipped into his native tongue.

“They’re still alive. Edward, Alphonse, Ada… They’re alive and they know about this place and its people, they know who they are. It’s not all gone, it’s not all lost. Even after I’m gone, they’ll still be here, and they’ll still remember.”

Now, Trisha understands.

“I love you, Trisha. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too. It’s been a pleasure.”

As the sun begins to rise high over the desert, Trisha knows that true peace has finally come to her family.

#FMA Brotherhood #Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA fanfiction #Trisha Elric #Van Hohenheim #AU #Trisha lives #unplanned pregnancy #some discussion of asexuality #I seriously considered calling this 'The Law of Inverse Fertility'#Fic: Spark

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legobiwan · 5 years

Note

I know there's this trope in fanfics of sending post-AotC Obi Wan time traveling to some point in the past, but they always de-age him or place him in the body of his younger self. But can you imagine if crazy old desert wizard Ben Kenobi was the one sent back unaltered? How would Obi Wan in that state of mind react? All the other characters in the past? Anakin? Obi Wan's younger self, if he's there?

So I know this is a trope that was very well-covered in elfpen’s Reprise series on ao3, but I am happy to dip my proverbial oar into speculation on this point. (About 3 months too late, but such is life.)

It’s interesting, trying to get into the mindset of “Old Ben Kenobi.” We are offered precious little insight into that aspect of his character - we know he lands on Tatooine and is essentially shattered, that his early years (according to the Legends novel Kenobi, which is a masterpiece, and the short in From a Certain Point of View) are a mix of coming to terms with what happened, training himself, trying to reach an ephemeral Qui-gon for advice, and perhaps settling into his supposed wise Jedi role.

So I suppose the first question would be, at which point would we send him back? 20 years is a long time, and people can change wildly (ask me about the year 2000, or better yet, don’t. Eek.) But since you came into this ask explicitly referencing “crazy old desert wizard Kenobi,” we can assume this would later into his Tatooine years, after he was able to build up a bit of a reputation for being an irritable and inscrutable fixture of the Dune Sea. (And after he perfected his Krayt dragon routine, which is sheer Obi-wan, because come on, Kenobi.)

Who is Ben Kenobi? We don’t get a ton in canon about his later years. We know in ANH that he is a mysterious, capable fighter who still refuses to actually deliver any hard cash upon demand, but beyond that, the best characterization we have comes from “Twin Suns,” which - let’s break it down. (And cry forever, I am still emotionally compromised by this episode three years later.)

We get very little real Kenobi content in this episode - about 10 minutes’ worth. But it tells us a lot. First of all, there is this:

Ben Kenobi already knows who Ezra Bridger is. Now yes, Force shenanigans, etc., but Obi-wan Kenobi is not dumb and he would have kept abreast of the Rebellion and would have figured out a way to learn information, even on Tatooine. He may have sensed Maul, but Ezra was a known quantity and he would have put 2 and 2 together. Which tells us Obi-wan is still invested very much in the defeat of Palpatine. He hasn’t given up yet.

Oh, Obi-wan. The man has kept his very subtle, very dry sense of humor, even if it is a joke only to himself, as Ezra would have zero idea what Ben Kenobi is referring to. Crazy old wizard, indeed.

This is a great line for two reasons. One, I truly believe Obi-wan is tired. Tired of fighting old demons, especially demons that were only lesser pawns in the grander scheme of Palpatine’s. If Obi-wan only hadn’t been distracted by Maul, if he had seen past that smokescreen to discover the true villain - I think there’s a lot of regret Ben Kenobi has had to work through and his only true fight now is to keep Luke safe. But the second part of that line - “though that seems inevitable now” - is pure Kenobi snark. He’s still Obi-wan. Just a very weathered version of himself.

Oh, Ezra. Foot-in-mouth disease, anyone? Destroy the Sith? Really?

Ouch.

I also find the next few lines here to be edifying.

Yes, Ben is famous for his “from a certain point of view” line, but remember where this comes from. “The truth is often what we make of it. (Anakin is the Chosen One. Anakin will stay good. Hell, Obi-wan knows that Qui-gon’s belief in prophecy was his truth and Obi-wan chose to believe it.) You heard what you wanted to hear, believed what you wanted to believe. (The Jedi are good. The Republic is good. Dooku is lying. Qui-gon’s belief in prophecy has meaning. Anakin will not turn.) And now, the only one who has gained anything from all of this is…(Palpatine.)

That whole set of lines could be Obi-wan talking to himself, probably was Obi-wan talking to himself and Qui-gon’s ghost on Tatooine. He’s had Time To Think About Things.

Okay, so “me” as in Maul appears and Obi-wan sends Ezra on his way. I will never be over this confrontation, because check this out. First of all, Obi-wan tries to talk his way through this, which is extremely in-character (he even did this during The Lawless, before Maul gutted Satine.) But also, he is not afraid of Maul. Because he knows precisely how he is going to goad Maul into combat and win easily.

As has been documented, Obi-wan switch from his Soresu to Qui-gon’s Ataru stance in an explicit reference to their first duel on Naboo. Maul catches on to this immediately (you see the widening of his eyes) and switches into his opening stance on Naboo. Maul cannot let go of the past and Obi-wan knows this, which is why he anticipates the maneuver Maul tries to pull (the Qui-gon special, as it were) and Obi-wan wins so easily. Meaning…Obi-wan has learned from his own past mistakes.

NOW.

What does this all spell for a time-traveling Ben Kenobi?

That he would keep his trademark dry humor, but given his time on Tatooine, it would be more arid than the Mojave in the summer. (Which is pretty damn arid, let me tell you.)

He would waste no time forming a plan to get to Palpatine. He already let disaster occur once (and despite everything, I still have no doubt that Obi-wan hadn’t worked through all of his guilt surrounding Anakin, even if he managed to mitigate the more (self)destructive aspects of it). If the Force is giving him a second chance, he will not squander it for anything. Which is interesting, because it might make him more likely to form alliances with shadier characters and in a way, make him more like Qui-gon or even Dooku because he knows at this point how the Jedi fall prey to both Palpatine and themselves. And wouldn’t a confrontation between Old Ben and Dooku be fascinating? I have the feeling Ben Kenobi would come out the victor there, and it would have nothing to do with physical combat.

Ben Kenobi would go out of his way to hide his identity, perhaps even hide his Jedi abilities. Especially around Anakin. But Force, to be given another chance with Anakin, to be a stabilizing entity in Anakin’s life and not a too-young father who never had time to process an avalanching number of tragedies in his own life while barely keeping it together in so many ways and still being bitter about Qui-gon’s actions...not to mention the war, Anakin’s training, and everything, Obi-wan never had a chance to deal with 15 years of chaos until he was stranded on Tatooine, which is a relatively good reason we see him go under that personality shift between RotS and ANH. He’s finally had time to deal. But this time, he is going to do right by Anakin, he will defy the Council whenever he has to and screw prophecy, and it’s weird kind of Qui-gon but kind of not set of actions?

But Ben Kenobi would also troll the hell out of the Council because he could. Let’s be honest - he’s still Obi-wan.

Now a younger Obi-wan meeting an older version of himself - I think they would clash, horrifically. Assuming that young Obi-wan has no idea who this old coot is, I think Obi-wan would Ben frustrating, condescending at times, too smart for his own good, and too skeptical of the Jedi Order and Council, even is the old man is right half the time. We all tend to carry versions of our parents with us, and it’s possible Old Ben carries enough Qui-gon with him to seriously irritate Obi-wan Kenobi.

I think the bigger question in Old Ben coming back is if he would stay 100% light Jedi, or go a little grey in his quest to Save. Everything. And it depends on how far he is willing to go. Which is why I think he and Dooku interacting would be the most fascinating of all possibilities in this scenario.

#Anonymous #hello there #ask legobiwan #this got long #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #darth maul #ezra bridger #qui gon jinn #am i going back and finally answering some ANCIENT asks?#YES #because I am back people #this really turned more into an analysis of twin suns but yeah i'll never be over twin suns good lord

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flickityfics · 4 years

Text

Part 3 of Don't Play With Fire. A Zukka fanfic

Things A Girl Needs

Suki I've been cursed into a woman! I need your help please. I know this sounds like a joke but I've really been cursed or spelled, freaking magicked into a girl! I got clothes for my new body but they're not right? These lumps on my chest keep swinging as I move and it's so uncomfortable plus sweat underneath and it feels so gross! I lied to Katara and the gaang that I'd be helping with some construction on Kyoshi island but it's really because I don't want to face them like this. Please believe me, I have a plan just still don't know what I'm doing or how this body works and how to work around it. They're has been an incident that I'm to embarrassed to say and there's no books about women's anatomy yet plenty for the male anatomy that's unfair and makes like no sense, what's up with that? Anyways hope you can write me back as soon as you can please and thank you.

-Sokka

______________________________________

Yikes Sokka that is a lot to take in but don't worry I believe you. do you think it could also be spiritual magic? Maybe you pissed off a spirit, it sounds like something you'd do. About your new breasts, you'll need a bra to hold them up and keep from moving so freely, you could also use a binder or strips of fabric but those take more time to get used to. When you go into a women's shop be sure to get measured for the right ones and buy multiples. The sweat underneath your breast are normal and at times it'll be uncomfortable but it's just something you deal with. What was the incident? I won't make fun of you. Honestly laughed out loud at how upset you were when there are no books about women, it's not that shocking at all Sokka there's hardly any books about women let alone written by women sadly but you'll see that in time. I'm kind of liking your new predicament, hah! Oh, I'll try asking around here about any type of curses like this and let you know as soon as possible.

-Suki

______________________________________

Sokka was so grateful to Suki, she was the only girl he knew his age that he could truly rely on and feel safe to ask for help. Sokka was taking Suki's advice and instructions very seriously, this new body was terrifying. He was just laying in bed at night when he felt his well girl parts twitching pulsing throbbing whatever it was and freaked out running to the bathroom, it didn't feel at all like the times he had to pee. It was wet and slicky, what was worse it just happened out of nowhere so randomly as he was just trying laying in bed. he didn't touch it just clean himself uncomfortably and went back to bed trying to forget the incident. How was he supposed to tell the kyoshi warrior that? He'll just have to mention it in his next letter but for now he had to go shopping.

Sokka stood nervously in front of a woman's clothing store. He's never been in one before, never had to. What was he supposed to do? Luckily a nice lady came to him instead.

"Hi, Would you like to come in? "

All he could do was embarrassingly nod back letting the lady drag him inside like a little kid.

"All right, what are you looking for today?" She asked kindly.

"Um, a bra. I don't have any and I don't know my size." He mumbled out.

"Oh my goodness, how so? hasn't your mother ever taken you to your first bra shop? Have you never worn a bra, that's quite inappropriate miss!" The worker lady was quite shocked. There's no way this young girl should have been without proper undergarments.

Sokka gritted his teeth from the anger and sadness that quickly ran up his body. "My mother died when I was a child."

"I'm so sorry! Please forgive my loose lips, it is just unheard of for a girl your age to go wit-well you know what nevermind let's help you now." The shopkeeper felt bad for her words, she should have just kept shut and tended to the young girls needs respectfully without question.

"Thanks." Sokka was surprised by the apology most adults never do that so he offered her a kind smile taking her help.

"Okay, let's get you measurements first." The lady guided him to dressing room and he and comfortably stood as she measured him over his clothes.

"you're a 40D , so we'll bring you different types of that size to try out till you find some you're comfortable with." She informed.

"Different types?" Sokka asked worriedly.

"Yes, there's tons with different styles, designs and materials. It's quite a process you must find the one that fits you perfectly and to your liking. Finding the right bra gives you much more confidence so it's worth taking all the time you need."

"Thank you so much." He was starting to feel much more comfortable with the ladies helpful information.

The process was long and tiring for him but he found eight new bras comfortable to wear and embarrassingly feeling powerful with them now but he thought it was best not to linger on those thoughts. He is finally ready to ring up his purchases.

"Hope you found everything to your liking." She smiled to the young girl putting everything in bags and adding extra items.

"What are those?" He queried noticing the extra small packaged items.

"Ah, you get free pads and tampons with every two purchased bras." She told him unaware of the shocked look she was given.

"T-tampons and pads are..?" Sokka left open in the air for her to clarify.

"Goodness child don't tell me you still use cloth, get with the times young lady. They've invented these new one wonderful products years back." The shopkeeper just kept getting shocked by this young girl. "Do you need help with how these work?" she felt bad for the girl but was willing to do what she could for her.

"Uh, yes please if you don't mind." Sokka was mortified but he knew he may need this information. He didn't know if this body would bleed every month like other girls but it's best to be prepared.

After the awkward information and demonstration he decided to prefer the pads and would leave the tampons in his bags on touch. He was glad now he did the bra shopping first since he didn't have to be uncomfortable with his chest moving about and getting odd looks from everyone staring disgusted or pervertedly at him. Since it was still early and finding he still had plenty of money left he next went to find a library.

______________________________________

The library he found was quite modest sadly, there didn't seem like he would find much here. He scanned the rows of books on spells, curses, enchantments and the spirit world that Suki mentioned in her letter. Going throughout the library was quicker than the bra shopping earlier. He found a few books I went up to the librarians desk.

"Hi, I liked to check these out." Sokka was out of the library in no time feeling a little bit dejected at not finding more references to his predicament. 'well there's still the bookstore.' he thought moving on to his next errand.

The bookstore was also very limited to his quest but at least here he was able to buy journals and writing utensils. Sokka was now left holding five shopping bags and needing a place to rest and eat, he scanned the nearby places before settling onto a place that looked promising.

______________________________________

"Hello, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon."

#zukka #genderbender #fanfic #avatar the last airbender #atla #boylove #zuko x sokka #temporarygenderbend

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kayteewritessteve · 5 years

Text

Love and War - 11/16

Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 4,530 ish.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG for now. May become 18+ later.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all these errors and this story, so there’s that.

And oh my Gods! What—what did he just say?!

“Wait!” You quickly yell, reaching out to grab his wrist so he can’t leave. “What did you just say?”

He glances towards you, and you release his arm and step back as he turns to you. “That you refusing to hear me out would break his heart.” He smiles, “I was hoping that you’d be more receptive to hearing me out if I mentioned him. So I’m glad that was the case.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything just yet,” you glare at him, still uneasy about his presence in your room. “How do you know Alarick?”

“Alarick?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Yes, my husband. The one you claim to know,” you cross your arms, Wanda still hidden protectively behind you.

“Ah yes,” he nods. “Sorry, I do not refer to him by his first name. And to answer your question, I work for him.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I do not believe you.”

“Well then what will it take for you to trust my words?”

You think it over for a second, then a question comes to mind. “What was his nickname for me?”

He smiles, “My Moon.”

Your eyes widen a little, but you quickly correct it. “When did we get married?”

“The night before you were supposed to marry another.”

Now you falter slightly, this would probably be a lot easier if you could remember more. You don’t really have much to go on currently, let alone many questions at your disposal. “Who was the other man?”

“Hepha,” he nods.

You glanced back at Wanda, unsure what to do now. But her shrug in return lets you know she isn’t too sure at the moment either. You sigh then turn to face him again, “fine. I will hear you out, but once you have said your piece, I’d like you to leave. Is that clear?”

He nods, “of course, My Lady, I only came to tell you everything. Once that is accomplished my job here is done.”

“Alright,” you nod, ushering Wanda towards your bed. “Please have a seat,” you gesture to the armchair, as you and Wanda perch yourselves on the edge of your bed. “Start when you are ready.”

He nods, making his way to the chair again. Once he is fully seated he looks to you, “may I ask a question first?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Why haven’t you sought out Alarick in all this time?”

You falter again, glancing at Wanda for backup but you know she can’t actually help you. Your eyes then drift back to Brock’s, “I didn’t know where to even begin looking for him.”

“And you didn’t think to just return to the kingdom?”

“The kingdom?” You repeat, raising a brow at him.

“Yes, Mytikas, our home,” he confirms, nodding his head. “I just don’t understand how you ended up here,” he glances around the room slowly. “In this place, with that wretched man,” his face scrunches up in disgust.

You glare at him again, feeling slightly protective of Steve for some reason. So protective that you barely pay any mind to anything else he’s said. “I would advise that you keep your snide comments to yourself, or we are done here. Now, get on with what you needed to tell me,” you cross your arms again.

He chuckles, “of course, My Lady, sorry to have offended you. I was merely just stating my opinions on a man with whom I’ve been acquainted for many, many years.”

His patronizing tone begins to anger you, feeling like he is taking a stab at you now. Pointing out the fact that you’ve only actually known Steve for a week. You’re about to snap back at him, telling him this conversation is over and to get out. But Wanda lays her hand on your leg, above the knee and your eyes snap to hers. You guess instantly that she could probably sense the tension in you, and is trying to ground you. Trying to calm you down before you make a hasty decision.

You take a deep breath, uncrossing your arms and taking hold of her hand. Then nod your thanks to her for stopping you, before flicking your eyes back to the snake. You just have to get through this little chat, then you don’t have to talk to him ever again. Unless you want to.

“Let’s get on with this, shall we?”

He nods his confirmation to your words, then begins. “I’ll start with the basics, I work for Alarick, as his attendant. Have for many, many years. When you first went missing, I was tasked with heading up the search efforts. So I made trips to every and all of our neighbouring towns and kingdoms, to inform them of your disappearance. I gave them all a description of you, and advised them of the substantial reward for your safe return. And should anyone have found you, they were given a way to both contact us and collect on the reward.”

You just nod, following along.

“I then came to King Steven, to ask that we could hire some of his men to help in our search. As he is rumoured to have the best trackers in the world within these very walls, and we needed all the help we could get. He refused to lend any aid, stating that a missing woman wasn’t his problem, nor his mens. That was just over a year ago now.”

“He refused to help?” You whisper, confused. But then another thought smashes into your mind. “Wait, he knew that I was missing, and what I looked like?”

“That is all correct,” he nods. “He refused to help, and knew about all of this within days of your disappearance. We offered him a great many things to try to sway him, but he continued to turn us down. That is, until a few months ago when we were finally able to strike somewhat of a deal with him.”

You furrow your brows, this all just doesn’t make any sense to you. The Steve you know just doesn’t seem like the type to not help a woman in need. How can everyones opinions and ideas of him differ so greatly from your own? Why does it seem like everyone sees a different side of him than yourself? Are you just naive to believe he is a good man. Are you so blinded by your intense feelings for him, that you can not see the truth of his character, of his personality, of him.

“And what was this deal, of which you speak?” You finally ask, after a moment of just remaining silent to think.

“In exchange for him and his men keeping an eye out for you, I was to do a series of tasks for him,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “Jobs, if you will.”

“Jobs?” You question, curious what the cost of just watching out for you truly was.

“Horrible things for which I do not feel comfortable explaining to any Lady,” he shakes his head. “And certainly not my Queen.”

“Queen?” Wanda gasps, speaking for the first time since you both entered your room. Your eyes snap to hers and you are sure that your face now mimics your sisters, both gaped and wide eyed.

“But how,” you shake your head and turn your gaze back to Brock. “How is that possible?”

“What do you mean,” he raises a brow at you now. “You don’t remember?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t aware I was to become a Queen one day. What with Alarick being a prince and all. I more meant that I had no idea he’d become King,” you shake your head. “What of King Athos?”

Brock frowns, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, My Lady. But he passed away 7 months ago now.” A deep sigh passes his lips, “all the stress of you being missing for so long finally got the better of him.”

You cover your mouth with your free hand, you may not remember much of the man. Nor have any happy memories of him, nothing aside from him trying to force your hand. But you do remember the fondness in his eyes when he looked at you, even if you angered him so, that adoration was always present. He cared immensely for you, and you believed you also did for him, in return.

“Oh Gods, how truly heartbreaking to hear of such horrible news,” you mumble as you glance down at your lap, just needing a minute. Wanda squeezes your hand, still clutched firmly in her own. Most likely in reassurance, and to show that she is here for you. Both things for which you are greatly thankful for, in this moment.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she mumbles, just for you to hear.

You nod, glancing over to her and whispering back, “thank you.” Then you squeeze her hand in return and take a deep breath, you need to put this news aside for now. You need to get through the rest of this conversation, then you can mourn. You look back up to the man, “I have been here a week, so why hasn’t Alarick come for me yet?”

“That’s because we didn’t actually know you were here to begin with. Not until I laid eyes upon you that day in the hallway, when you were with that General,” he growls. “They lied to us, and kept your being here a secret. Even after I saw you with my very own eyes, they still tried to deceive us, and say you were someone else. Some woman named Petra Maximoff, who was staying here as his guest with her siblings.”

Wanda gasps, and you just sit there, deathly silent. Everything now starting to click, calling off the search once they found you. Everyone’s perceptions of the King being so greatly different fron your own, all of them painting him as a ruthless, merciless King. Steve not allowing you to leave the castle walls, and then his out of nowhere need to always have you guarded—come to think of it, that only happened after he was interrupted during dinner by Brock.

Then how Sam reacted to seeing Brock in the hall that day. First trying to stop you and when that failed, he tried to hide you, before finally cutting Brock’s words off. And then, Steve allowing your family to stay here without a single moments thought.

Oh Gods, is Steve only keeping you here for his own personal gain? Is he going to use you as a bargaining chip down the road, should the need arise? Why are you truly here, what does he truly want with you? And are Wanda and Pietro only here to not only placate you, but to also back up his story about who you are? He even went as far as you learn their last name and give you a fake first name.

Everything you’ve witnessed and heard over the last week now feels like a giant farce just to deceive you. Just to keep you compliant and docile. Was it all a lie? Was everything they told you, all the little things they allowed you to know, was this all just a game? A way to keep you distracted from what was actually going on?

You clench your jaw, feeling a damned fool in this moment. The thick tendrils of rage slowly moving around your body, slowly filling every space within you. How dare he! Who does he think he is?

“Thank you, Sir Brock,” you start, barely able to push the words out from between your clenched teeth. “I believe I have heard enough for today. I just need some time to think this all over. But where might I reach you, when I am ready too?”

He nods, “it is a lot to take in all at once, I just hope you don’t take too much time. You have been gone far too long as it is.” He stands from the armchair, “and I am staying at the Shield Inn, in Triskelion. Give the owner my name, and they will retrieve me for you.” He bows then makes his way towards the door, “thank you for hearing me out, My Lady. Alarick will be greatly pleased to hear of this all.”

“Is he,” you stand, going to walk him to the door. “Is he here as well?”

He shakes his head, “no, he needed to stay behind. Running a kingdom without your Queen by your side isn’t an easy feat,” he frowns. “But he is only a few days ride from here. He could be here shortly to retrieve you, once you are ready.”

You nod, “I just need a day or so to let this news settle, I promise to be in touch soon.”

“I look forward to it, My Lady,” he bows once more and then swiftly exits the room, the door making a soft click as it shuts.

You just stand there, the iron fist of rage clamping down upon your very being. You wait a moment to ensure Brock is truly gone, feeling the desperate need to confront the King now. The unwavering urge to give him a piece of your mind, to tell him that you now know the truth of this place. Of their lies and deception.

“Y/N?” Wanda says softly, rising from the bed and slowly moving towards you. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” you snap your head towards her, “I don’t want to talk. I want to yell.” Before she can stop you, you grasp the door handle and fling it open with a bang. Uncaring of the damage you may have just caused to your gilded cage. Wanda’s desperate calls of your name go ignored and unacknowledged.

You are on a warpath now, you are going to get to the bottom of all of this. Once and for all. No more excuses, no more passing off your questions or concerns. No more beautiful fables to dazzle and beguile you with.

You run down the hallway, taking the stairs faster than ever before. You are a woman on a mission, and come hell or high water you will be victorious in this. He doesn’t know who he messed with. He is stupid to have believed he could keep you in the dark for long. He must really think you a damned fool, if he did in fact believe that.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and head for the direct route to the Kings office, knowing that’s your best bet for finding him. He is always there, doing Gods know what and probably perfecting all his damned lies.

You scowl the second you notice Sam walking down the hall towards you. He smiles at you but as you near him, the apparent anger etched into your face and the fire in your eyes, cause his smile to drop.

He steps into your path. “Y/N,” he softly says, putting his hands up to gently try to stop your determined pace. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

And you almost believe the sincerity and concern in his voice. Almost. But you are no longer the simpleton you once were. You won’t be fooled by the pretty words, or the fabricated stories any longer.

“Get out of my way, Sir Samuel,” you growl as you go to step around him. “I have nothing to say to you at the moment.”

“Woah, woah now,” he gestures for you to slow down. “Back up the carriage for just one second. What happened, Y/N? What’s going on?”

You give him the fiercest glare you can muster in this moment. “Like you don’t know,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “And here I thought we were actually friends, how truly stupid of me. But my eyes are wide open now, I see this place for what it really is. And I won’t be making the same mistakes again.” You push passed him, and continue down the hall, not even so much as glancing back. Sam isn’t the one you are after currently, you want to retain all your anger and outrage for the true monster in all of this. For the one who deserves the most severe form of these emotions. Which isn’t Sam, yet.

You reach his office door, but you don’t knock, nor give him the chance to allow your entrance. You grasp the handle and fling the door wide open, causing it to also slam into the wall with a bang. But as your eyes land on the three current occupants of the room, you notice that not one was even remotely caught off guard or surprised by your abrupt entry. Clearly they heard you coming from a mile away, them and their damned beast hearing.

“Did you know!?” You seethe, crossing your arms.

The King frowns slightly, just enough for you to notice, and then he glances towards Buck and Nat. Both standing near the side of his stupidly large desk, probably modelled after is ridiculous ego. Since he was so sure that he’d be able to keep the damned wool over your eyes forever.

Buck and Nat nod once to him, and then make their way towards you—or rather the door that you just came through. You side step to allow them to both exit, but your heated glare doesn’t miss them. Doesn’t allow them to leave unscathed. They quickly bow their heads to you and then exit the room, shutting the door behind them.

And once you hear the soft click, you turn back to the King, and you just know that the fire in your eyes has now kicked up a notch. As if it had not only been stroked but that a new log has just been added as well.

He stands from his desk, his eyes unwavering from you as he makes his way slowly around it. But then the bastard has the nerve to speak, “Little One, what happened? What has angered you so?”

“Do not call me that!” You snap, not even remotely close to being in the mood for his delusive charm. Nor the ambiguous nickname, which now only feels patronizing, at best. “And what happened is, I know the truth, your Highness,” you sneer his title. “All of it. Sir Brock just finished telling me everything. All of your lies, of your deception. I know about everything. So, I ask again, did you know?!”

His steps falter, before halting entirely in his spot upon hearing your venomous words. He stands many feet away from you now, but even that is far too close for your liking at the moment. But you refuse to back down, refuse to give him that satisfaction.

“What are you talking about Y/N?” He asks confused. But then a scowl forms on his face, as his voice rises, “and why were you alone with that snake? Where were my Generals?”

“That doesn’t matter now,” you growl. “Do not try to change the subject, I asked you a question and I demand an honest answer this time. No more lies!”

He narrows his eyes at you for a moment, before sighing, “fine. What is it you wish to know?”

“Did you know who I was when you found me? Did you know I was missing, and that people were searching for me?”

“What did he tell you?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “everything. I know about Alarick, Steve. I know he has been searching for me, I know Brock informed you of this. And that you told him a week ago that you had no idea who, or where I was. Is that true?”

He rubs a hand down his face, taking a deep breath in. “It is,” he mumbles.

“So you lied to me!” You yell, now you are fully seeing red. You thought you were angry before, oh boy were you wrong. This is an entirely new level of anger for you. “I trusted you and you lied to me! How dare you!”

“I didn’t lie to you, Y/N—“

“You did!” You cut him off. “You knew about all of it, and you kept it from me. You deceived me.” You glare at him, “what I don’t understand is why? Huh?” You cross your arms, “why are you keeping me from him? What do you stand to gain from all of this? From keeping me away from my husb—”

A deep menacing growl echoes through the room, your words getting caught in your throat instantly.

“Because you are mine,” he growls, stepping towards you finally, and you instantly notice his eyes are now jet black.

You take a hasty step back, no longer caring about looking as though you are backing down. No, now you need to put a little more distance between yourself and Steve’s wolf. As much as you can at least, before your back inevitably hits the door. But even with that all said, the fire is still very much raging inside you, “I am not yours! I am Alaricks!”

He shakes his head, “no, you aren’t. You’re mine. I don’t care what lies those imbeciles come in here spewing. You are My True Mate, and I won’t let anyone, especially Brock,” he spits the name like a curse, “take you from me. Not now. Not when I’ve finally found you.”

All your fight leaves you instantly upon hearing his words. You are stunned silent, utterly and completely caught off guard by what he just said. Though you somehow manage to mumble out, “I-I’m your True Mate?”

He nods, taking a tentative step towards you. And when he sees that you don’t step back in response, he continues towards you slowly, cautiously. Finally coming to a stop right in front of you, his eyes having not left your face once. You tilt your head back slightly to properly look up at him, all these emotions running wild through your mind. Happiness. Longing. Confusion. Heartache. Love.

He gently takes your hands in his, looking at the spot where your skin meets. But you just continue to stare up at him, just taking every detail and feature of his breathtaking face in. “I wanted to tell you, that day in the garden. I was going to, but we were interrupted.” His eyes flick up to yours, fear clearly in them now, “yes, I knew of Brock’s master looking for you. But I did not lie to you, Y/N, I could never lie to you. The Mate Bond won’t actually allow me to, I am physically unable to lie to you. Nor would I ever wish to, even if I could, even if the Bond would let me.” He shakes his head, “but that does not mean that others can’t deceive you, the Bond doesn’t prevent that.” His jaw clenches as he lowers his voice to a growl, “I do not trust that snake. And neither should you.” And then he promptly takes a deep breath, looking away from you. And you assume it’s most likely to calm himself down.

You just stay silent, giving him the chance to quell his emotions. However you give his hands a reassuring squeeze, just to let him know you’re still here. You’re still listening.

After a moment he glances back to lock eyes with you again. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Y/N, that was never my intensions. I just,” he sighs, “something in me just doesn’t believe he is being true about any of this. I have this gut feeling that he is lying. And I was going to tell you, I promise you on my life that I was. I just wanted to make sure his stories were true first. I needed to be sure that he wasn’t deceiving us both. Then I was going to tell you everything, I was going to give you the choice to pick whether you wanted to stay or,” he pauses, taking a deep breath in, before continuing in a whisper, “or leave.”

You just stay silent for a moment, staring up at him. You have learned so much in the last hour, so many things have come to light and now you are desperately trying to weed through all of it. Trying to figure out what you truly believe now, and whose words you trust more.

Something in you is begging you to trust Steve, to believe his words and to forgive him. To throw caution to the wind and choose to stay here, with him, forever. To give up your forgotten life and find true happiness in this new one.

But you can’t do that right now. You can’t foolishly follow your heart, not when the Mate Bond is clearly affecting it so. You have to be logical now, more than ever. You have to let your brain lead the way for now.

“Thank you for telling me all of this, Steve,” you squeeze his hands to confirm your words as true. But then release them and take a hesitant step back. “But I just need some time to process all of this. To allow it to fully sink in, and to give my mind a chance to breathe afterwards. I don’t know what I want at the moment, or where I want to end up.” You see the pain in his eyes clear as day, and the heartache that follows close behind. “I’m so sorry, but I just do not have those answers for you at present. But I will soon.” You give him a small smile, though you’re aware you both know it’s forced. “And I will tell you as soon as I have figured them out. I promise. I just need some time, a few days at most.”

He frowns slightly, but nods his head. “Of course, take as long as you need. I would never force you into making these choices now, nor would I ever demand them from you. I will give you all the space you desire.” He takes a step back, even though he looks truly pained to do so. And it’s taking all of your willpower to not cave, to not run to him and make it all better. Take away all his pain. But you need to be firm with yourself here. You need to stand your ground on this one task. “And when you should come to your decision, you know where to find me,” he turns and heads back towards his desk.

“I do,” you say quietly, knowing for sure that he heard you. Then you turn and head for the door, and just as you open it you glance over your shoulder. Seeing Steve slumped in his chair, his chin resting on his fist, as he just stares out the large window off to the side. His brows furrowed and a deep frown upon his lips. That desolate image of him burns into your mind as you exit the room. And all you can hope in this moment is that you are making the right choice. You pray that you aren’t making the worst choice of your life right now.

But deep, deep down you know that you won’t know the answers to those two thoughts anytime soon. And only time will tell just how this all unfolds, you just desperately hope things turn out well for you all.

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

@caps-lockdown @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @saturngirlz @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @secondstar2disney

#au fanfiction #fanfiction #long post #long read #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #medieval!steve rogers x reader #medieval!steve rogers #medieval au #fantasy!steve rogers x reader #fantasy!steve rogers #fantasy au #love and war #chapter 11

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minah-delacroix · 4 years

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games, changes, fears

Minah Delacroix, Paris - France, Summer of 2019

There’s a two-pound Scottish lobster staring at Minah.

Surrounded by luscious fresh salad and an array of exotic sea fruits, with its gray blueish tail and saffron-colored pincers, the crustacean stares at Minah with its lifeless dark eyes full of judgment and disapproval.

Truthfully, the dead animal is not genuinely staring at Minah. And she knows it, but she’s been sitting at Alain Ducasse’s best table for over an hour now, and her mind is starting to run wild amid the voids within the conversation with her boyfriend and the spans of uncomfortable silence settling between them.

Julien Toubeau is all cheerful smiles and gentle eyes, hair perfectly tussled to the back and impeccable outfits that seem to cost more than Minah’s couture dresses. He’s the kind of devastatingly handsome that could easily fit the main role of any rom-com movie or a modern Jane-Austen-esque literary character. However, today Julien Toubeau is all frowns, curt answers, and intimidating glares. If Minah was a little bit lesser of character, she would probably be afraid of him.

But she isn’t.

There’s also a sharp sting of guilt preventing Minah from saying anything that can potentially hurt her boyfriend or simply leaving the premises of Paris’ most exclusive restaurant with some sort of dumb excuse. Not to mention her strong love and respect for Julien. Because yes, they’re probably going through some issues at the moment and she might doubt her romantic feelings for him, but she truly loves Julien. It might not be the kind of love he expects in return, but at the end of the day it’s love nevertheless and it’s what’s stopping her from breaking his heart.

For now.

The Delacroix residence always seems to radiate the same dainty and sublime glow that’s reminiscent of palatial historical constructions. Even for someone with Julien Toubeau’s ancient lineage and aristocratic heritage, it results impossible not to feel the tiniest bit intimidated by the majestic air of “La Maison de Breteuil”, in the chic 7th arrondissement of Paris. The young man is briefly pulled off from his concerns regarding Minah and their feeble relationship as the giant building materializes on the horizon and his car goes through the main gate. A message etched on the stone of one of the columns reads “Bienvenue à la Maison de Breteuil.”

Once the driver parks Julien’s grandfather’s Alfa Romeo Lugo Spider in front of the marble staircase, Julien pushes the door open and offers a hand to help Minah out. She smiles politely —almost forcefully, in Julien’s opinion— and grabs his hand.

“Thanks for the lovely evening,” Minah says. Unsure of what else she’s supposed to tell, she tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll... see you around?”

“Okay” Julien nods simply. There hasn’t been that many moments in his life he could consider ominous, but there’s something in the way Minah looks at him that makes Julien understand this is definitely one of them. He knows perfectly well what’s to come. He’s known for weeks now and while it is quite evident for someone who’s known Minah since she was a little girl, demanding and mischievous, that always managed to get whatever she wanted, the way she wanted; somehow, Minah seems not to be fully aware of it yet. Or maybe she is, but she’s still refusing to let go of what Julien represents…. The security of a relationship that has apparently always meant to be, that safe place where she’s always known she’d be able to return even if the entire world failed her.

Minah and Julien have grown up together since the earliest of their years. They became partners in all their childhood exploits and they’re each other's first love. It has never been a secret for any of them that their grandparents regard a potential relationship between them as a means to an end, which evidently is to consolidate the power of their families. There are not many households the Delacroix consider deserving and of the same social status as theirs, so such incipient romance is considered to be the perfect alliance to merge the wealth of two of the most renowned families of the Wizarding World.

Almost a bulletproof plan if it wasn’t for Minah’s unplanned change of heart.

The details of how Minah Delacroix ended up head over heels for a childhood acquaintance, —turned best friend, turned the boy who broke her heart—, followed by a whirlwind of short-lived romances that came to a head when she started dating the guy of her —teenage— dreams are still up for debate.

But now there’s an invisible line separating the old Minah —the one who adored Julien with the intensity only young giddy love is capable of—, and the Minah who’s chased some type of thrill in the arms of several boys over the past few months. There’s a before and an after for Minah Delacroix and as terrible as it sounds it was the realization that not even her privileged status or the beauty everybody claims she possesses could guarantee her being loved back. It’s turned Minah’s world upside down.

Lee Sungjae has ruined her, or better said, his rejection and disregard for her feelings have.

But she doesn’t blame him. After all, everybody is bound to experience the struggle and trauma of unrequited, one-sided love at least once in their lifetime. And despite her It-Girl status and celebrated model-esque attractiveness Minah supposes she’s not any different.

It’s nearly been a year since Minah saw Sungjae the last time and in her quest to avoid the embarrassment and heartache, she’s basically cut everything —and everybody— remotely related to him of her life. She moved back to Paris, much to her aunts' joy and now she’s trapped in a relationship that initially looked like a magic formula to mend her heart, but now only makes her feel constricted and depressed.

The first days with Julien by her side were thrilling and beyond fulfilling. Minah felt elated, beside herself; nothing was important enough for her to get her head out of the clouds. Everything was almost perfect. The excitement of their respective families, the triumphant looks in their friends’ faces, even the relief with which they looked at her... It all satisfied Minah in a way she could hardly explain. But all those feelings were as short-lived as her romances with the son of the Hermé-Fontaine widow or that one Griffyndor guy from her Potions class, —whose name she never learned—, and now all bliss, delight —whatever it is Julien made her feel— has worn off and she’s just tired and guilty. Not to mention Julien himself looks off. He keeps trying but at moments like this, he barely seems interested in keeping her anymore.

Minah has started to believe all the time she has dedicated to whatever they have, would probably go to waste. She would be lying if she claimed she’s not disappointed, but most of the time it’s Sungjae and his gummy smile that occupy her thoughts, the way she still misses him although she hasn’t seen him in what seems to be forever, their long conversations about everything and nothing... and she simply doesn’t know how to deal with that.

Some nights, before going to bed and with the mental clarity she only seems to find when she’s about to drift off to Morpheus’ territory, Minah thinks that maybe this is all her fault, that she could’ve saved herself all the pain and moping with a simple visit to London or an even simpler phone call to Sungjae. Sometimes she dreams about going back to England and for very brief and fleeting moments everything makes horrible sense in the back of her mind. There’s only one way to solve things and it’s crystal clear that it starts by walking away from Julien. For good.

At times Minah is truly convinced she’s gathered the determination to let go of him…

But tonight is not one of those times so she slowly turns around, ready to walk into the enormous castle-like construction the Delacroix Manor is, thoughts racing through her mind and melting into the obscurity her brain has been harboring for weeks now.

“Goodnight” she mutters a barely audible farewell and begins to walk away, leaving a very appalled-looking Julien behind her.

“Minah” In one last impulse of remaining hope, Julien dares to call his girlfriend’s name. She turns on her heel before reaching the front door and eyes him expectantly —nervously, judging by the way she fidgets with the ends of the cashmere scarf wrapped over her shoulders. “I love you” he says simply.

Now it’s time for Minah to stand motionless and stare at Julien as he turns around and walks back to his car. It’s a sight that forces Minah to admit she has been dragging this too long simply because she refuses to face the reality of potentially losing Julien as a friend and the pain her own stupidity will cause them both. But it’s hard to see reason past the pain, and so Minah would rather avoid the very obvious solution than having to pronounce the words she dreads so much.

When she calls after him with the endearing “Jules” she’s used for as long as their memories allow them to remember, Julien is startled, but he still blinks in surprise when Minah strides toward him and wraps her arms around him pressing her cheek against the soft fabric of his turtleneck.

“Stay” she whispers like she might startle him if she speaks too loud.

Once Minah shuts the carved door of her room behind her, Julien wastes no time before pressing her against the wall, lips ghosting over her shoulders, hands sliding down the exposed skin of her back, where the Marchesa dress she’s wearing dips low enough to reveal her spine. Minah does her own part helping Julien off his blazer, her hands are soon pressed against the firm muscles of his chest as he moves to kiss her mouth, sealing their lips together in quite a harsh movement that misplaces Minah for a quick second.

She tries not to think too much about it, but it’s strange to realize that only minutes ago she thought about putting an end to this. As sad as it is to recognize, Minah becomes aware that in spite of her wishful yearning, the only solid and real thing in her life at the moment is Julien. But it’s still not enough.

Minah refused to accept it at first, but as Julien’s fingers grasp her thighs, her legs wrapped around him and their fronts pressed against each other, she finally understands that all the things that ever thrilled her have suddenly lost their appeal. Champagne tastes bitter in her mouth, trips to the French Riviera no longer interest her and even Julien with his tall stature, sharp features, and generally sweet smile has been deprived of his charm in her eyes.

The mindless fucks with no strings attached that she used to enjoy are not quite as thrilling and Minah’s body doesn’t respond eagerly to Julien’s touches anymore. When she clasps her hands around the back of his neck, Minah doesn’t feel the warmth of his body sending a frenzy through her nerves. For some reason, she hates it now and desperately wishes this would end soon. But Minah has been defining herself through her relationship with Julien for so long that it’s almost devastating to realize she might not love him as nearly as much as she thinks after all.

At this point, Minah should probably admit that she misses Sungjae desperately and that maybe she never really forgot the way her lips meshed against his although she’s been trying to replace the haywire in her chest he made her feel with a long list of boys that couldn’t even be compared to him.

By now, Minah should probably admit that It is Sungjae who owns the flutter of her heart.

Minah’s head spins with the reality of it all when Julien throws her on top of the jacquard silk covers of her bed. However, she doesn’t tell him to stop yet because she keeps trying to brainwash herself into believing she doesn’t want him to.

“Minah” Julien’s voice whispers right before his lips crash against her neck “I’ve missed you” he says peppering her jaw with kisses

The girl nods dismissively, short gasps escaping from her mouth as his hands move to cup her breast, something that would usually have Minah melting, but only makes her back press against the mattress as though she didn’t want him to touch her at all. She doesn’t want this anymore, she doesn’t enjoy the physical contact and Julien’s presence. Hell, she doesn’t even want to talk to him.

Sungjae, she thinks in some insidious part of her brain, the one that only seems to be working when she’s trying her best not to think at all. ‘You want to talk to Sungjae’ a voice echoes in her mind, but Minah is determined to keep going, to stop her mind from straying to that goddamned night she wants to forget once for all.

Minah attempts to silence the voice inside her head by letting her hands travel from Julien’s back to the front of his chest and down towards his pants.

“I’ve missed you too” she simply says, pulling away from his lips to unbuckle his belt, fingers moving almost reluctantly. Julien doesn’t miss that last detail.

“Minah, just stop” he lets a frustrated sigh, pushing her hands away and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What?” She asks looking positively confused, the mattress dipping as she takes a deep and weary breath. She’s too mentally exhausted to even push herself to sit up, so she closes her eyes and covers them with her hands, suspecting what’s to come.

“You don’t want this” Julien is shaking his head, frowning at Minah as though he is expecting her to deny it so he can finally snap at her.

But Minah doesn’t. She bites her tongue in an effort to stop herself from further hurting Julien. Though honestly at this point there’s no use denying it. Minah doesn’t even think she wants to deny it anymore. She doesn’t want any of this. That she knows for sure.

It’s quiet in the room for almost a minute that seems to stretch for hours when Minah finally gathers herself and slowly sits up.

“It’s not that-“ her words trail off into silence, suddenly beaming aware that she’s spent so much time running away from the truth and she can’t keep escaping anymore. In some sort of devious way there’s a sense of relief invading her chest.

“It is what it is, Min” Julien attempts to keep his tone unwavering when he calls her shortened name —a sign of affection between them— but ultimately fails “You’re not thinking about me, are you?” The question takes Minah by surprise. She stutters puzzled, but Julien doesn’t wait for an actual answer —which Minah is thankful for—, before going on “And it’s painfully obvious this is not working anymore. You might be here physically, but your mind is somewhere else” A sense of hurt flashes in his eyes as quiet settles between them once again.

It’s the sort of quiet that makes every thought in your head amplify ten times in volume, so Minah’s brain becomes a jumbled mess of thoughts that range from guilt to self-awareness. And then mental clarity kicks in.

“I’m sorry, Jules” she simply says, placing a hand over his that’s resting on the bed.

“So am I” he says, his Adam’s apple visibly moving up and down.

Minah wants to tell him there’s nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes people just fall out of love. One moment someone is the center of your world and the next day all those things that used to make your heart flutter make you feel nothing. That’s nothing to be sorry for.

“It’s the British guy, no?” Once again it’s Julien who dares to speak the words Minah is not brave enough to say. She doesn’t reply but to be honest she doesn’t need to because the way her expression morphed, has already given her away. There’s a granting silence and then Julien chuckles softly “I wish I could be mad at you, but apparently I have no self-respect when it comes to you” his words could’ve easily come out as bitter, but he says them as he sneaks an arm around Minah’s shoulder and his hand caresses hers soothingly.

“I’m sorry” She repeats, convinced that the words are not enough, but she might as well try.

“It’s fine” Julien goes quiet for a moment and Minah rests her head on his shoulder. “But maybe you should back to London”

This is where she is supposed to say something, maybe deny that she is breaking up with him to go back to London or attempt to fix what’s left of their relationship, that lifelong friendship they both treasure so much. But she doesn’t say anything, she only shallows heavily as she catches a glimpse of herself in the golden mirror of her vanity.

There’s a pale, lifeless face with sunken cheeks and lipstick smeared looking back at her. Minah supposes this is how endings look like, but somehow this one is not as nearly as painful as she imagined them to be.

...

#story #minah #julien #oc

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fanfichideout · 4 years

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Chapter Four - A Bloody Elf And A Grumpy Dwarf!

As Nyzz and the rest are sitting around the table laughing they are suddenly startled by a loud shriek coming from somewhere in the hobbit hole. “Nyzz look at this pretty, shiny thing I found!” Misthel yells excitedly as she comes running around the corner, grabbing the doorframe with her right hand to stop herself from going too far. In her left hand a very shiny and very sharp, huge knife...!

“AN ELF?! YOU BROUGHT A BLOODY ELF?!” Dwalin shouts outraged as he slams a fist on the table while standing up. The others who was just as confused also starts complaining loudly, before Gandalf yells at them to calm them down. Dwalin still outraged stomps threateningly over towards Misthel, only stopping within a meter of her. “Listen here you selfish, living statue! You think you can just storm in here with your smooth, beardless face and threaten us?!” He grumbles loudly at her.

Meanwhile in the background Nyzz feels her face for a lack of facial hair, Bofur sees this and lays a comforting hand on her shoulder “ Don’t worry lass, it's not your fault you can’t grow a beard” He tells Nyzz reassuringly and leaving her truly confused.

“First of all!....thank you? Second of all!....How in the world am I threatening you?!” Misthel says swinging the blade in her hand as she talks, causing Dwalin to take a step back to avoid getting hit. “Wait a minute! That's one of my knives!!!” Fili suddenly yells in realisation.

“Nooooo?.... I found it so i am pretty sure it’s mine now!” Misthel defends before turning back to Dwalin “And you! Just how in all of middle earth are you able to fit all that grumpiness in such a short body? Along with the broomshaft that appears to be stuck up your arse!” Misthel yells at Dwalin while poking him in the chest, which was surprisingly firm... she noticed and was already getting slightly distracted. This caused the other dwarves to struggle to hold in their laughter.

“Short?! You’re no taller than I am!” Dwalin yells back. “Are you that daft?! You’re much shorter than me!” Misthel accuses even though the dwarf went all the way to her eyebrows, and even if none of them were right, but both were too stubborn to compromise...

As the two are staring daggers at each other, one of the younger dwarves, Kili, breaks out laughing and is soon followed by the everyone else. This causes both Dwalin and Misthel to look at them offended.

As the laughter slowly dies down Gandalf looks highly amused. “And just where did you happen to “find” this weapon, if one may ask?” He questions Misthel. “.....In a pile...of other weapons?” She mumbles as she avoids eye contact. “Yes in MY pile of weapons!” Fili cuts in reaching his hand out as if to say ‘hand it over’... Misthel did not return it to him. “I can’t help but wonder what your father would say to this.” Gandalf chuckles. “Low blow old man!!!” Misthel hisses at him as she throws the knife towards Fili and Kili, who quickly ducks out of the way to avoid getting hit, before Fili stuffs it back in between one of his many layers of clothing.

Which causes Misthel to turn offended around on her heels and storms out of the hobbit hole, slamming the “newly” painted green door behind her.

After awhile Nyzz starts to worry about Misthel and thought it was best to check up on her, as she was about to raise and excuse herself from the table. When Bofur lays a hand on her lap as a gesture to sit down again “Don’t worry lass... she’ll come back!” He says comfortingly and send her a reassuring smile. “Bah! As if I’M the one with a stick up my arse! I’m pretty sure elves were born with one showed up there!!” Dwalin spat mockingly as he tried to refill his mug. “If not.. we surely don’t mind such fine company tagging along on our quest...” Kili said as he and Fili winked in sync at Nyzz which made her slightly uncomfortable and unsure of the sudden topic and moved Bofur’s hand away from her lap. “It isn't safe for such a pretty little thing like her out there!” Spat Glóin back at Kili as Dwalin slapped the back of Kili’s head for his inappropriate suggestion. Nyzz looked awkwardly around on the loud and debating dwarves… before she slide down off her seat...lucky...unnoticed.

As Nyzz is about to take a hold on the door handle, she is suddenly startled by a certain hobbit. “A-are you...leaving already?” asks Bilbo with a hint of sadness in his voice. Nyzz looks at him with a blank expression unsure what to say at the moment. The silence makes Bilbo a bit worried and asks “It’s not because..of what I said earlier? If it is… I am truly sorry! I didn't mean it! I should think before.. I speak...” He said as his eyes landed on the wooden floor. “Apology accepted!” Nyzz beamed and smiled at Bilbo. “Although I understand, that you must have been very frustrated and challenged tonight, with all us uninvited party crashers” She says as she winked at the last part, before she continued. “I’m not leaving...yet. But! I was about to check up on Misthel, she seemed very... troubled...” She finished which caused Bilbo to sigh aloud in relief. “Misthel?! I hope that she’s alright!” Bilbo exclaimed and smiled kindly, as he opened the door for Nyzz.

It’s was already getting quite dark outside… she better hurry to find the elf… before it becomes impossible.

Nyzz looks around and can’t seem to spot the elf anywhere… Did she just wandered off without her? Nyzz thought to herself as she continued her search. Hopefully she haven’t gotten herself lost…”again”. But it’s Misthel… so it was quite possible...

Maybe if I holds up something shiny, it’ll lure her to my location...?

As Nyzz wonders how to find her troublesome traveling companion she feels a soft ‘thud’ on the top of her head…….and then another one?! She runs her fingers through her hair and finds a couple of small sticks tangled in it. As Nyzz was wondering where it was coming from, she turns around only to spot Misthel sulking on the roof of the hobbit hole.

With a bit of a struggle Nyzz makes her way around the back of Bilbo’s home and up onto the roof, where she plops down besides Misthel…..

” Uhh! It's quite comfy up here!” Nyzz exclaims surprised. “.....I know….that’s why i picked it!” Misthel mumbles slightly proud of her great discovery. After a couple of seconds of silence Misthel suddenly exclaims “UGH! THE NERVE OF HIM!... I mean who does he think he is?! He can take his stupid staff and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!”

Nyzz looks at Misthel with wide eyes, slightly shocked by the outburst “Is that an insult you elves often use? This is the second time you tell someone that within the last two hours..” Nyzz asks confused, is elves very…focused... on others behinds? That seems rather odd, but who is she to judge?

“W-what? No!..... and we aren’t focused on others arses!” Misthel yells, which causes Nyzz to realize she had mumbled the last part out loud.

“.......I just...panicked, okay?! I mean, how was I supposed to know such a thick headed dwarf was gonna appear and insult me?!.. I mean just how stubborn can someone be?!” She continues in an attempt at defending herself and her actions. Nyzz sat for awhile just listening to Misthels explanation, until she realized something… as a slightly mischievous smile formed on her lips.

”But… you’re just as stubborn…..if not more..” Nyzz says, whispering the last bit as she tries to avoid eye contact. Unfortunately for her Misthels elven ears picks it up easily and Nyzz feels another slightly harder ‘thud’ on top of her head where Misthel bumped her with her fist. Which causes Nyzz to slowly turn her head, on which the fist is still placed, and Nyzz then ‘boops’ Misthel, making Misthels eyes cross from following the hand reaching her face. After a second or two of silence they both starts laughing at the ridiculousness of their conversation.

After a couple of minutes they finally catches their breaths. “It’s getting quite dark, should we head back inside?” Asked Nyzz suggestively as she looks up on the night sky, while getting up on her feet. With a deep and slightly annoyed sigh, Misthel stands up as well “I suppose we should go back in there, I have been needing to pee since we got here…...RACE YOU!” Misthel shouts at the end as she runs towards the door…. directly towards the door….. She falls off the roof, but luckily lands softly, though she does hear a pained groan beneath her.

Nyzz on the other hand calmly walks down the way she came and walks to the front of the hobbit hole, where she sees Misthel and……. is that Bilbo under her?......it’s rather hard to see considering that the person’s face is being smothered by Misthels chest, but the curls appear to be Bilbo's.

“Uhm….I thought it was a different kind of race…?” Nyzz blurs out at the sight before her. “Just what are you suggesting?” Asks Misthel genuinely confused as she looks over at Nyzz as she get a bit more up on her hands and knees. She still hasn’t noticed the poor hobbit beneath her. “Seems like you are feeling WAY better now…especially in that position!” Nyzz chipped teasingly and winked at Misthel, as she starts to giggle from her own amusement, before she walks closer towards them. “Position?” Misthel mumbles to herself. What kind of position is the tiny woman hinting at? Misthel thinks to herself as her mind starts to wander…and she is then distracted by her own thoughts.

Nyzz shakes her head slightly at the elf… ‘I surely hope it gets better’… she thinks to herself. As this already has happened way too many times since they had met….and that was only yesterday!

How can she not feel him under there? Are hobbits that soft? Nyzz thinks to herself…as she places her hands on her body and feels around, trying to figure out… if she was soft too…

“W-well this quite an… A-awkward position for…ME!” A blushing Bilbo exclaims muffled and shocked from beneath Misthel.

“What was that?!” Misthel asks confused and looks up on Nyzz in hopes the tiny woman had an answer. Nyzz looks back with a - ‘are you seriously asking that?’ Expression on her face. Misthels expression does not change however, but just remains as confused as before… Which causes Nyzz to roll her eyes at the clueless elf, before she tells Misthel. “Well…the one… who is laying right underneath you…,” informs Nyzz as gestures with her hand that causes Misthel to look down.

“BILBO!?!” Exclaims Misthel loudly, clearly in shock after realizing the hobbit, who was underneath her and hurriedly gets up on her feet, letting the poor hobbit free… from his temporarily Misthel-Prison.

“Are you alright Bilbo?” Nyzz asks with a hint of concern, as she offers her right hand to help him up on his feet, which he gladly takes. “I-I’m alright thanks…, I just wasn’t really expecting being squashed by…w-well.. uhmmmm” Bilbo says, still red faced as he tries to dust himself off. He trails off not wanting to comment on the placement of his face just a couple of seconds before, which he honestly didn’t mind that much, but he did not expect to happen!

Especially after realizing Misthel is eyeing him like a hawk, who is ready to swoop down and attack its prey. Which cause Bilbo’s eyes to widen and gulps nervously and is slightly afraid of what mind happen next… as he remembers her earlier verbally fight with Dwalin.

Before Misthel had a chance to get her claws on Bilbo, Nyzz comes to his rescue by changing the subject. “Has it quieted down in there?” She asks as she looks between the two of them. “W-well… as quietly it can be with twelve dwarves and… a wizard,” Bilbo grumbles and opens the door before them.

“Well if we’re done here, then you must excuse me!” Exclaims Misthel hurriedly and rushes through the entrance, leaving Nyzz and Bilbo behind at the door. Bilbo is genuinely confused of the elf’s sudden outburst and looks at Nyzz for any clues. Nyzz smiles kindly back at him and says, “She has hold it in for a long time…” Bilbo kept his gaze on Nyzz, clearly not catching the point… “W-what…?” asks Bilbo confused. “Let’s just say it’s been a while since we’ve been somewhere with a bathroom…” answers Nyzz calmly and giggled a bit of Bilbo’s cluelessness. “Oh….” Was all Bilbo manage to blurt out, before his eyes widen and he hurriedly rushes after Misthel… after he realized that she probably doesn’t know where the bathroom was... and he definitely didn’t want her to have to witness the horrors of what the dwarves has done to his plumbing!

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

!❤ ! (>’o’)>”Bootylicious”<(’o’<) !❤!

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So... poor Bilbo got cought in a bit of an awkward position..let's hope he keeps an eye out for falling Misthels in the future! XD

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admiralty-xfd · 5 years

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Culmination

Splitting the next chapter into two, so this is Chapter 6A. To go to the beginning click here.

CONVICTION

MULDER

(Amor Fati/ Millennium)

She comes to him at last.

Just out of his peripheral vision, she approaches his hospital bed. He feels like it’s been weeks since he’s seen her and he wants to take her hand, but he can’t move; the drugs have rendered him motionless. It isn’t fair that he can’t look at her. He knows it’s her, though, because the room felt gray before, and now it has light. He tries desperately to turn his head towards her voice.

She comes into view and he can tell by her expression she wasn’t expecting him to be this bad. Her lips remain closed but he can still hear her.

He can hear her thoughts, plain as day.

Don’t give up. Please stay with me, Mulder. Fight. I can’t do this without you. Please hold on.

He tries to speak to her, but she can’t hear him at all. He is screaming inside.

Scully! SCULLY! I’m here! I’m right here!

He thinks this might be it. He’s probably going to die this time. Evading death is something he’s been good at for a long time but perhaps his number is finally up.

She takes his hand and her touch overwhelms his senses. It’s the only comfort he’s felt since he arrived in this hospital, and he wishes he could give her some kind of sign he can hear her.

She’s trying to tell him about the spacecraft she’d found in Africa, but she’s keeping it simple. His comprehension at the moment isn’t the best. First and foremost a doctor, she’s well aware of the pain he’s in.

But as he watches her, listens to her, in an instant he realizes the one thing he should have known all along: when she speaks to him, her words and her thoughts are one and the same. Diana, Kritschgau, even Skinner… all of them liars in one way or another.

But Scully isn’t like them, not with him. She is true. She is his truth.

She squeezes his hand, and he knows she’s trying her hardest to be strong. She thinks that’s what he needs, is for her to be strong for him. But she’s trying not to fall apart.

Most importantly, above everything else, he can hear her love for him. Confirmation of something he’s hoped for and wanted for so long has finally arrived: the truth, here in her very thoughts.

He feels as if he’s been given the world and denied it all at once.

***

He is standing at the edge of his driveway, surveying the neighborhood. It’s tranquil here, pleasant. There’s something about it he likes.

He sips his coffee and waits. He’s not sure for what, but he knows something is coming, something important.

As if on cue, two figures approach on the opposite side of the street, walking along the sidewalk. It’s two women and one of them is walking a dog.

As they get closer, he sees it’s Scully and her sister, Melissa. The dog is little Queequeg. They are laughing and talking together. As they get even closer, he notices Scully is pregnant, and her hand goes protectively to her belly. He smiles and is about to wave, when he realizes something disturbing.

She doesn’t know who he is.

She looks at him and gives a polite nod, then continues walking along, away from him. No recognition whatsoever. It is as if they are two strangers passing on the street.

This is what his life would be had they never met. This is what her life would be.

He feels an ache in his heart that he cannot deny. Seeing Scully existing without him feels unnatural, wrong.

But she looks so… happy. She is safe, and content, and free.

***

The days pass slowly, in a haze of semi-consciousness. His mind slips in and out of darkness as it heals. He’s lost his ability to read minds, and he’s glad to be rid of it. He doesn’t envy Gibson Praise, wherever the poor kid may be.

He is, however, very aware of Scully, always with him, always near. Although the hospital has released him, his doctors have suggested he not remain alone. Scully takes him home and stays with him without asking, without being asked. It is merely understood.

He hasn’t dreamed since his ordeal but he is afraid he might. He’s relieved she is here so he can be near her while he sleeps. She lays next to him in his bed, again without asking, without being asked. He anticipates waking up in a panic and sensing her calming presence at his side. He’s grateful she is here, in whatever capacity she deems appropriate.

She kisses his forehead when she leaves for work every morning without him, and makes him dinner at night while reading over new case files. It’s such an odd feeling and even odder that he actually enjoys it. After all his visions associating domesticity with doom, he’s been left even more confused about his feelings on the matter.

Those visions were all wrong. He’d completely abandoned his true mission and for the first time he saw what his life would have become had he chosen a life without Scully by his side. Had Diana never left, her powerful hold on him would have ultimately spelled disaster; for his quest, and for the world. Maybe only metaphorically, but it was certainly the end of his world.

And then there was the boy. The young boy he’d seen means something. Was it himself as a young boy, full of dreams and promise? Or is it a boy from his future? These thoughts slip in and out of his mind, and his heart, thoughts of what it would be like to be a father. He’s still not sure what he wants, but he’ll remember the boy for a long time. He was one of the only hopeful things he will hold onto from his dream.

Scully had been the only one to understand, and she was the only one who helped make him understand. She was the one who would join him by his side to help complete his mission, not divide him from it. He knows for certain she would never betray him, would never leave his side, and will always be his forever partner.

A week into his convalescence, Scully stands in his doorway and delivers the news of Diana’s death, as well as the information that she’d actually helped save his life in the end.

He’d written Diana almost completely off that night she brought him home, after he’d passed out in the stairwell. She hadn’t exactly been subtle when she’d removed her shirt and attempted to climb into bed with him, but he was no longer interested in anything she had to offer. And that was when he heard her thoughts for the first time. As clear as a bell, he heard her speaking even though her mouth was closed.

She knew about the spacecraft, the rubbings, what caused his illness, all of it. She’d known all along and let it happen. And worse, she was working with the cancer man after all.

He knew then for sure she was lost to him. And when she realized that he knew what she knew, everything went black. The last thing he remembered was calling out Scully’s name. When he awoke in the hospital his brain was on fire.

Diana had chosen the quest, the work, over him. She truly believed that her cause had been just. She thought she was doing what was best for mankind, but was having to do it at Mulder’s expense. She truly believed he, of all people, would understand.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not from her. Even as she stood over his bedside and declared her love for him, he could not return it. He believes she did love him, right up until the end. But not enough. That was the biggest difference between the two of them: he would never have betrayed her, not for anything.

It would have ended badly for him if she hadn’t given Scully the means to save him. But Diana hadn’t come for him herself. She knew it wasn’t her place anymore. She knew he’d heard her thoughts, and it was over for them, no matter what she wished might happen.

She may never have known his heart already belonged to Scully, but he suspects she might have.

Ever since he’s been home he cannot stop thinking about the vision of Scully walking down the street. It fills his mind with doubt. Seeing how happy she was having never known him, having never been sucked into his vortex, having never lost all the things she was doomed to lose by choosing a life by his side has shaken him.

He feels responsible for all of it. He made his choice, and Scully made hers too, but he fears the consequences of those choices will haunt them both forever. The guilt he feels for everything that’s happened to her has been eating away at him, and now that he knows she’s in love with him the guilt is even worse.

He’s been afraid for years that she doesn’t love him the way he loves her. Now he is afraid because she does.

Being with her would make him happy. But could being with him make her happy, after everything she’s been through because of him? Would she still choose him, love him, in spite of everything? He doesn’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve any of this. Believing that, knowing that, and also wanting to be with her more than anything in the world is tearing him apart.

As they stand in his doorway, he gazes into her eyes; the eyes of the only person he should have placed his unwavering trust in, all along. The only person who will ever understand him for who he is. His one true love, regardless of all his fears and doubts on the matter.

“You were my friend, and you told me the truth. Even when the world was falling apart you were my constant, my touchstone.”

She smiles, tears in her eyes. “And you are mine.”

He doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know she means it.

Curiously, the inner conflict he feels seems to dissipate when she’s standing in front of him, looking into his eyes. It seems to fall away, and the only thing remaining is the two of them. Maybe this is what being in love is, he wonders. Maybe he’s never really felt it before. Because when he looks at her, and she looks back at him, his resolve strengthens. He endeavors to deserve her because she is everything he needs.

She holds his face in her hands and briefly grazes her thumbs along his lips. He can see the longing in her eyes that he can now properly identify and appreciate.

She loves him. He is loved.

He thinks of the boy on the beach, and how right now, he is exactly where he is meant to be. He smiles contentedly, because regardless of their romantic status, or lack thereof, they are together. They belong to each other. He is satisfied.

As she heads back down the hallway, he watches her go. He makes a promise to himself that before the year is out, he will start showing her he loves her too. He will do whatever he can to make her believe he deserves her.

***

New Years Eve.

He has only ten seconds to make a decision or he will have broken another promise to himself.

Do it, do it.

He turns to look at her. He wonders if she’s really as engrossed in Dick Clark as she appears to be, or if she’s feigning interest to avoid his gaze, but he decides it doesn’t matter. He’s going to do it. He can’t wait another second to know what it feels like to kiss her.

He leans closer and as if she senses what’s happening, she turns and closes her eyes, letting him in for the first time ever.

He closes his eyes as their lips meet and time seems to slow down.

The kiss is sweet, a bit cautious, and decidedly romantic. It may not appear earth shattering, but it feels so completely huge. He’s made a move, and she’s allowed it. It’s something, something new and different and hopeful.

As he pulls away he opens his eyes to search her face. Hers are still closed and he takes this as a good sign, a sign he may have even pulled away too soon. When she opens them she is smiling.

She cocks her head a bit, as if to say, well, well, well. Look what we did.

He smiles at her and shrugs. “The world didn’t end.”

“No, it didn’t,” she agrees.

And it truly didn’t. In fact, the world feels new.

#txf #msr #fanfic #msr fanfic #amor fati #millennium #culmination

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distant-rose · 6 years

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A Once and Future Thing Epilogue (7/7)

Notes: After moping around about not being able to write, I got a nice kick in the pants and lovely coaxing from @optomisticgirl and finally had the strength to write the last bit of OAFT. It’s not a perfect ending and there’s a few loose ends but that’s life and this was never going to be something that would be solved over night and it hasn’t. I just feel it’s a good place to end this particular tale. I might write about Jim and Beth��s reconciliation later but I felt considering the connection between Beth and Killian, this interaction would be a better epilogue. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. A special thank you to @katie-dub, @welllpthisishappening, @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl for constantly listening to me whine and complain about this dumb ass fic. Summary: Beth’s quest for vengeance against her boyfriend’s killer goes a bit haywire when she and her former best friend Jim Hawkins are sent into thirty years into the past. Now, they must figure out how to find a way back to the future without wrecking the first meeting between Beth’s parents, Emma Swan and Killian Jones. Rating: T+ Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue | Coda I Word Count: 3,500+

Two years and six months later...

It had been three years since Beth Jones had seen the Storybrooke Harbor but the sight of it was so familiar that tears nearly burned in the corners of her eyes. It seemed as if nothing had changed, as if time had stood still once more, since she had taken the Jolly Roger as her own, leaving the sleepy town and her family behind in order to slay Circe of Aeaea.

It was five-thirty in the morning on Saturday in late September and there was not a soul to be seen, not even one early morning fisherman. Beth preferred it this way. It allowed her to dock the Jolly without the awkwardness of human interaction. She still wasn’t certain she was going t be able to handle the amount of gawking and squawking that would inevitably happen as soon as her return was discovered. She needed a moment to herself, a second to gather what little sense she had left and settle herself.

As she went through the motions of docking maintenance and procedure, she watched the sun rise over the ocean with a soft smile. It helped somewhat relax her fraying nerves. She had been fraught with anxiety since she set sail and it was nice to have a small reprieve from the oppressive weight that had been pressing down on her shoulders.

However, the sense of calm she held was fleeting. The heaviness returned as her feet hit the dock, alongside a slight tremor in her fingers and an uncomfortable tightness in her belly. She let out a shaky breath, brushing her overgrown bangs out of her face and tucking them behind her ear.

She could do this.

She had to.

Beth was many things, but she had never been a coward and she wasn’t going to start now. Her list of sins was long enough as it was.

She stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of the marina and listening the ocean lap against the sides of each vessel. It was amazing just how little had changed in three years, including the sight of her old ship, the Cygnus, which was docked on the other end of the harbor.

The longer she stared at it, the more she trembled. There was a yearning inside her, an invisible rope that had bound itself around her and was tugging her towards the old ship Jim had given her all those years ago. The old girl looked like the rest of Storybrooke, untouched and simply waiting for her.

Thoughtlessly, she walked towards it; emotion twisted her stomach with every step. She was home but hadn’t truly sunken in yet. She had dreamed about being back in Storybrooke so many times before and a part of her was scared that she was going to wake up back in Montressor, still a realm away from the ones she had left behind.

And that was the kicker.

She had left them behind without so much of a goodbye or even a backwards glance. She had no idea what her family would say when they saw her or even if they wanted to see her at all. She couldn’t imagine that they would be too happy about the near three years of radio silence and she wasn’t certain she was emotionally prepared for that or for anything for that matter.

As she reached the dock where the Cygnus was moored, she was shocked to see that a gangplank had been placed down. She stared at it in a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Someone, more likely than not her father, was on the ship. She couldn’t imagine anyone, especially in her family being so careless as to leave a gangplank down if there was no one on board.

There wasn’t a soul crazy enough in Storybrooke to steal a ship…unless, of course, their name was Beth Jones.

She let out another heavy sigh and squared her shoulders. She was made of iron, the same hardened steel as the blade she carried. She wasn’t afraid of anyone.

Not even her father…

Who she hadn’t seen in three years…

Aside from her stint as Marty McFly.

(She wasn’t sure that counted.)

Tentatively, she walked onto the gangplank to board the ship. The old wood creaked and protested under her weight, complaining noisily with each step. Her heart hammered somewhat awkwardly in her chest; faster and slightly out of pace. It had been in her chest in nearly four months now, but it still felt strange and uncomfortable. The twin discomforts of her newly housed heart and her near-crippling anxiety made her feel like live grenade; ready to explode at any second.

As soon as she was halfway up the gangplank, she was greeted with a loud bark. The sound nearly paralyzed her as the Swan-Jones family dog Black Spot came trotting down from the quarterdeck. Her tail wagged vigorously as she spotted her. Black’s muzzle was now nearly white, and she was limping, but it was clear that despite her advanced age, she was still in good health and recognized Beth as one of the many children who used to antagonize her.

Without even thinking about it, Beth went down on her knees and outstretched her arms, making loud kissing noises. It came to her as natural as breathing. The old black lab quickened her pace and nearly attacked her face with hearty licks. Tears streamed down Beth’s cheeks as her arms curled around the dog, fingers digging into the grizzled coat. She stroked Black’s fur with violently shaking hands as she returned the dog’s kisses with some of her own, crying loud ugly sobs as she did so. A squall of emotion was storming inside of her and try as she might, she couldn’t seem to hold it at bay.

She was home.

“So, the prodigal daughter returns.”

Beth froze, not even bothering to chastise Black when she licked a little too close to her mouth for her likening. She looked up from her dog to meet her father’s eyes.

Killian Jones was no longer the cunning and opportunistic pirate that Beth had met two years ago when she had traveled into the past with Jim. His hair was a light shade of silver and there were more than a few lines in his face, but he was still handsome. There was a lot more bulk to his frame, no longer the slender man of his youth but Beth wouldn’t categorize him as chunky yet. Instead of pirate leather, he was wearing a ratty old t-shirt that had ‘Storybrooke Football’ emblazoned on the breast pocket and a pair of black jeans covered in wood varnish and had a few holes that were more obviously more accidental than style.

This Killian Jones wasn’t Captain Hook.

This man was her father.

Beth stood up stiffly, ignoring Black’s whine. A part of her wanted to run over and hug him, but she wasn’t sure how to interact with him anymore. She teetered on the spot, still emotionally fraught and unsure what to do.

“Yeah…” she said dumbly, her hand instinctively going to her right ear and scratching at it nervously.

“It’s been awhile.” His remark held a casual air but there was nothing casual about the intense look in his eyes as he regarded her. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show up. I figured you would someday if you weren’t dead. On the worst days, I thought you might be…but your mother was kind enough to remind me that you’re more like me than her and that you’re a survivor…which as you can imagine, wasn’t really that reassuring…but I think your grandmother’s philosophy is a bit infectious because I never lost hope…”

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Beth said honestly.

“I don’t expect you would,” Killian said, sweeping over her with his eyes. When his younger self had done it, it had been lecherous, and she had felt a bit dirty. This time it was done out of obvious paternal concern, but she stiffened more nonetheless.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“How old are you?” he asked quietly.

As she did with any conversation where she was uncomfortable, Beth opened her mouth and a smart-ass response came out.

“Really Dad? I leave for a few years and you forget how old your only daughter is?”

He scowled and gave her an unimpressed look. Beth watched his hand curl into a fist at his side. She knew he wouldn’t do anything with it, but it was telling sign that she kicked a hornet’s nest as per usual.

“You and I both know that there are realms where there is no such thing as time and you can remain there ageless,” Killian replied. He licked his bottom lip, his tongue smoothing over a sore that was beginning to form. “I only ask because you look twenty-three, but your eyes look much older, love.”

“I’ve been through a lot of shit,” Beth replied after a small pause. “Shit that tends to age you, you know? I would say I went through hell, but you’ve actually been there and that would be a tad disrespectful.”

“Hell isn’t always a place, Elizabeth,” he replied softly. “Sometimes it’s a state of mind.”

Beth shifted slightly, focusing back on the dog at her feet. She bent over a bit and scratched Black behind the ears. The dog let out a pleased whining noise and leaned back in order to give Beth more room to maneuver.

“I can’t believe she’s still alive,” Beth breathed, changing the topic to something safer because she honestly wasn’t sure how much heaviness she could take. “She has to be like what? Fifteen?”

“Almost sixteen we think,” Killian responded, leaning back slightly against one of the masts. “My old lady is a tough one. She’s got a bum limb now, just like me, but she’s making the most of it. Stubborn old thing, much like your mother.”

“I don’t think Black nor Mom would appreciate being called old.”

“I suppose not, but I guess that can be our little secret.”

Another bout of silence fell between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Both of them didn’t quite know what to say to the other. The conversation so far had been like a tight rope walk, teetering and just a toe away from falling into dangerous territory. It was very clear they were both afraid to say something to set off the other. Killian studied his daughter intently, the frown lines around his mouth deepening. Beth, meanwhile, ignored his staring and moved her hand away from Black’s ear to scratch just under the collar. The old lab’s tongue rolled lazily out of her mouth as she leaned back into her touch, unaware of the tension around her.

“I’m assuming since you’re here that you managed to get your revenge,” Killian said softly.

“You assume correctly,” Beth said looking up. “Ding dong, Circe’s dead.”

He didn’t react right away. It was as if he was frozen in place. In the back of her mind, Beth wondered briefly if she should get up and make sure he was still breathing. A few seconds passed before the line of his shoulders shifted and he gave her a curt nod. Beth waited for him to speak again but he didn’t. The silence was stifling.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked, voice cracking.

“What is there to say? You accomplished what you set out to do.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get? No anger? No disappointment? No scorn? No judgment? Elation? Or congratulations? You have no reaction whatsoever?” she asked in disbelief, straightening up and looking at him with an apprehensive look.

“What would you like me to say, Elizabeth?” he asked, bringing his hand up and worrying the skin under his right eye. He looked tired and exasperated.

“Something! Anything! Yell! Shout! Laugh! Do something!”

He gave her a smile that was almost pitying. “My reaction, whether it be my anger or elation, won’t change anything, love. What is done is done. As you were so adept to point out to me the last time we spoke, you are an adult. There is very little I can do in regard to your life as you’ve very clearly shown over the past three years.”

She flinched at his words, averting her gaze. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sure you are,” he responded. She could feel the intensity of his stare. “And if it makes you feel better, I’m done being angry at you. And believe me, I was furious with you for a long time before I realized that the one person I should really be angry with wasn’t you, but rather the man looking back at me in the mirror.”

Beth’s eyes widened at his words. She whipped her head back in his direction, staring at him in shock. He was no longer looking at her but rather down at the wooden rail underneath his hand.

“What?”

“I was not a good father to you, Elizabeth.”

“What are you talking about? I loved you. You were the best father ever.”

“You see, that’s it right there. I was more concerned with the thought of you loving me than I was about teaching you to learn from my failures. I let you idolize me, idolize Captain Hook. I filled your pretty head with ideas that I was heroic…that I was a good man.” It was at this moment, he looked up and back at her. “And I am not a good man, love.”

“Dad, I know, I”— “No,” he cut her off. “You don’t know. For centuries, I committed nearly every crime imaginable and more depraved acts that you could dream of. I kept that from you because I was more concerned with you viewing me as a hero. I let my pride and greed get in the way of teaching you valuable lessons. I let you think my pursuit for revenge was noble when all it did was blacken my soul.”

“No, my sins are my sins. My bad decisions, not yours,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Besides, you don’t need to tell me you were an asshole. I kinda figured that out on my own. Turns out you and Mom aren’t the only Marty McFly’s in the family.”

“What?” It was his turn to stare at her in surprise.

“Yeah,” she laughed awkwardly. “Remember good ole Elizabeth Swann? That was me.”

She raised her hand and gave him a stiff little wave. His eyes went even wider, to the point that she thought they were going to pop out of his skull.

“That was you? I nearly killed you, Elizabeth!”

“Yeah, well, you were going to kill Mom, so I had to stop you.”

“I was never going to kill your mother. I was merely delaying until you actually came after me with lethal force! I would have killed you, if it weren’t for that navy boy of yours!”

“And yet, that was a lot less traumatizing than you hitting on me. It was really gross, Dad.”

“It’s not like I knew it was you. You weren’t born for another bloody seven years.”

“Still traumatizing.”

“Not as traumatizing as your only daughter going on a suicide mission without so much as a backwards glance.”

And just like that, all the humor and teasing she had been feeling left her like air escaping from a popped balloon. Her shoulders sagged.

“Yeah, I deserved that…”

His silence in response was deafening. An icy feeling grew in the pit of her belly and she felt it spreading, creeping slowly across her internal organs until it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Black whined, trying to get the attention back on her. When neither Killian or Beth gave her the attention she wanted, she trotted back up towards the quarterdeck; leaving father and daughter alone.

“Answer me this…” he said quietly. “Was killing her worth it all? Was it worth breaking our hearts? Stealing my ship? Committing the atrocities that you did? Darkening your heart? Was it worth it?”

“No.” The word was bitter on her tongue as tears stung at her eyes. “No, it wasn’t. I…I always thought it was going to feel good…I had been just angry and hollow for so long that…I thought when I cut her head off, it will make it go away… But when it happened… I… I felt nothing. Only tired. And even more empty. I…I haven’t been in a good place…”

“I can understand that.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done…”

“And nor do I care to,” he responded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t need that heartbreak in my life. I’ve had enough of it. But I have a very good idea, as I’ve spent centuries in that state of mind and let me tell you something...and it's something your mother taught me and that's all sins can be forgiven...but that's on you to do to the work. It's not easy road to take, but if you're willing and you put in the effort...you can get there."

“How?”

“I can’t tell you that. You have your own road as I’ve had mine. It helps when you have someone who loves you…” He said gently. “And you have a wealth of people who love you, sweetheart...you have me…and your mother…and your brothers…and your grandparents…hell, you even have your navy boy.”

“My navy boy? What navy boy?”

“The bloody navy who was mooning over your every move back in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago. It was nauseating. It was obvious from the beginning how besotted he was for you.”

“Jim?” She hadn’t spoken his name in so long, more than two years now. It hurt more than she expected. “He’s not my navy. Never has been. Especially not now.”

“Bullshit, Elizabeth.”

“I’m serious. He doesn’t love me. That much I can tell you.”

“I know love when I see it.”

“He left me!” Even as she said the words, her heart quaked with pain in her chest. She absently brought her hand up to massage it.

Her father fixed her with an even look.

“And you left me,” he replied.

“That’s different.”

“How so? Did leaving us make you love us any less? Because I can tell you right now, I never stopped loving you, not even for a second and every one of those seconds without you, little love, was a knife to the heart…I didn’t know if you were alive…if you were okay…it’s a hell I don’t wish upon any parent, but there was never a minute were I stopped loving you. And I’m sure he feels the same.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, her heart heavy with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

“You’ve long been forgiven, my little minnow, but maybe you need to do some forgiving yourself.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

“Of course, you can, you love him. He wasn’t the only one mooning and even when you were with Will, like it or not, you always talked about him...You’ve loved him for a long time...And when you love someone…you love all of them…the good, the bad, the ugly…You’ve probably already forgiven him in your heart. The hesitation here isn’t a lack of forgiveness, it’s fear…You’re afraid that if you let him back in again, he’ll hurt you..”

“What do I do?”

“Well, you need to decide what you feel more – love or fear. As I’ve told you a hundred times before, a man who doesn’t fight for what he wants”— "Deserves what he gets,” she finished impatiently. “I know, I know.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “You don’t need to decide any of this right away. You have time…For now…you can come home…”

“Home.” The word felt strange on her tongue, like the first time she tried pitaya fruit. “I’m allowed…?”

“You always were. You will always have a home here.”

“Mom is…Is Mom…?” She struggled to find words. “I’m scared.”

“I imagine your mother is still quite furious with you, you might be in for a slap, but she wants nothing more than to see your face again. I can’t promise things are going to be alright and that this is going to go smoothly, but we’ll be okay…eventually…someday…I promise…Just come home, love…we need you to come home.”

He stepped forward tentatively, holding out his hand. She bypassed it completely and hugged him. And though, not everything was fixed and not everything was perfect, for the first time in what felt like forever, Beth felt like everything was going to be okay. His arms went around her instantly, embracing her tightly as if he was afraid that she was going to vanish again.

“By the way, I’m taking my ship back,” he murmured into her hair.

“Your ship?” She repeated incredulously, her words muffled against his neck. “I think you mean, my ship. I stole her fair and square.”

“We’ll discuss the merits of that over dinner, but for now, welcome home.”

And for the first time since Will had died, a true and genuine smile crossed Beth’s lips, strange and foreign feeling but hopeful.

Because her father was right.

She was home.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs fanfiction #cs au #little pirates #little pirates fic #my fic #my shit #a once and future thing #beth jones

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divinebird · 6 years

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edge of the universe | sheith | 2.7k | Keith searches for Shiro in a dead world.

aka TLOU AU that @brighteststarus and I talked about ^_^

Keith stares up at the medical research facility with trepidation, thumb brushing over the raised lines of his Firefly dog tags—a soothing habit that’s been with him as long as the tags.

He spent about two weeks traveling to get to this place, going by faded roadmaps and blood-splattered signs. Keith expected to see some guards patrolling the area, since it was a Firefly base after all, but all he’s seen so far is a few infected here and there.

“I hope someone’s in there,” he mutters, forcing himself to take a step towards the front doors.

I hope he’s in there.

Releasing the pendant and tucking it beneath his shirt, Keith pulls out his machete to be prepared.

He slowly pushes one of the doors open and peeks inside, only heading in when he sees no infected stumbling around. Even if he didn’t spot them right away, he would have as he headed deeper into the building—their glowing eyes always shine brightest in the dark, and the raspy moans and monstrous snarls echo throughout the buildings. Runners and Stalkers, the easiest to kill since they’re the weakest stages of infection.

If he hears clicking, then he knows it’s time to be careful and silent. Clickers are dangerous with their use of echolocation, but all he has to do is make no noise as he takes them out from behind or sneaks around them.

Kill them before they kill you.

Keith steps around the pieces of broken glass that came from the skylight, ignoring the smears of blood across the floor as he moves towards the door that’s just past the front desk.

It leads into a long hallway that has doors leading to different offices and test labs, none of which have what he’s looking for. Trying not to feel frustrated, Keith hopes for better luck as he climbs the stairs to the second floor.

He almost cheers in excitement when the fourth unlocked room he checks has something, crumpled up papers and folders that are signed with the name that beats in time with his heart. Keith also finds a small recorder in one corner of the room, settling down on one of the stools and readying himself for whatever he’s about to hear.

“Please,” he whispers as he presses down on the play button. “Tell me where you are.”

Like all the other recordings he’s heard, the voice comes out loud and clear—low and smooth, exhaustion clear in the tone.

“Log number… something, I’ve lost count. The Fireflies have been conducting more tests on people who have been bitten, promising them a cure when we all know that there isn’t one.” A sigh. “I thought I would be able to see this job to the end, that I would be able to gather up enough information to take them down from the inside, but I can’t bring myself to be a part of this anymore. I have to leave.”

Keith hears the telltale sound of a door opening in the recording, followed by a rustle of fabric that muffles the audio. Keith taps his nails along the desk in front of him as he waits, perking up when the voice returns.

“I’ll be heading west where the Fireflies have yet to spread. This is Takashi Shirogane, signing off.”

“West,” Keith breathes, a smile stretching across his face. “Shiro went west.”

It’s the most he’s gotten since he first set out to search for his best friend, combing through countless abandoned Firefly bases for any clue. All he’s found so far are recorders like this one, Shiro logging what the Fireflies have been doing in their quest to find a cure for the infection.

He’s about to shut the recorder off when he hears the sound of his name, the softness of Shiro’s voice making his heart ache.

“Keith,” Shiro says. “I know you’re out there, somewhere, and I hope you know that I’ve been trying my hardest to find you.” His voice wavers.“When I see you again I swear I’ll tell you that I—”

The recording stops there.

“Tell me what?” Keith asks into the empty room, staring down at the recorder. He plays it again, just in case it was a mistake, and slumps when it cuts off at the same place. “What do you want to tell me, Shiro?”

He pulls out the Firefly pendant and traces over the letters as he’d done so many times before, mouthing the name that is etched in the smooth metal and his memory for all of time.

Takashi Shirogane.

“I’ll find you,” he promises, metal growing warm when he curls a hand around it. “I’ll never give up on you.”

☆ ☆

“Dammit,” Keith mutters, staring at the spores that fill up the room ahead of him. He ties his hair up into a ponytail with a rubber band and swings his backpack to his front, pulling his gas mask out and putting it on.

He doesn’t really need it, but he hates the feeling of the spores in his throat.

His companion, a wolfdog, nudges his side with a small whine. The animal is black in color, a long stripe of grey going from the back of his head to the tip of his tail, and white covering the top of his head and around his eyes. Keith found him as a puppy when he was traveling through a forest, and the wolfdog quickly grew to reach his waist. He hasn’t left Keith’s side since.

“I know, Cosmo,” Keith murmurs soothingly, scratching behind his ears. “I don’t know what the spores will do to you, so you’ll have to find a way around. Understand?”

Cosmo whines again and licks his fingers before edging away from him and running off. Keith knows that he understood, the wolfdog is much more intelligent than one would guess.

Keith cautiously makes his way through the building, going from room to room to search for any supplies. He scavenges up a pair of scissors and a few bullets for his gun, but what he finds in the seventh room is even more surprising.

A man is sitting on the floor, head turned towards him. He rises after a few seconds of staring, and Keith is quick to pull out his gun and point it at the man’s forehead, voice low when he says, “Step any closer and I shoot you to hell.”

“Okay, okay,” the man says, and that’s when Keith notices that he only has one arm—which is raised up in the air while Keith’s finger rests on the trigger. “I’ll keep my distance, I’m sorry. Just… don’t shoot, please? I swear I won’t hurt you. I don’t have any weapons on me.”

“Your word isn’t enough to prove that,” Keith says, but he does lower his gun after a while. He keeps it at his side to show that the threat is still there. “Why are you hiding out in here? You stuck or something?”

“Yeah,” the man answers with a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “My friends and I got separated when a few Runners came after us. I hid in this room when I realized I was alone. I may have gotten better at protecting myself with just one arm, but I don’t think I can take on six infected and live.”

“Most people can’t,” Keith replies dryly and is rewarded with another laugh.

Now that Keith knows that there are Runners in the building, he swears he can hear them in the distance. If there are really six out there, then there’s no way he can take them on himself (even if he does have his secret advantage).

He sighs and holds out his gun.

“Take it,” he tells him. “Only shoot when you have to, I don’t like wasting bullets.”

“What?”

“Take the gun,” Keith says in exasperation. “I’ll lead you out of here, okay? I’m passing through anyway, might as well.”

“Oh!” The man shuffles forward and takes the gun, keeping a tight grip on it. “Um, thank you. Most people would have left me for dead.” He snorts. “Or killed me themselves.”

“Good thing I’m not most people,” Keith says, pulling his knife out from the sheath that’s on his lower back. “Stay behind me and wait for me to kill them, I’ll try to come at them from behind so we aren’t swarmed. Don’t make any noise or sudden movement, I don’t want to lose the element of surprise.”

“Got it.”

“Name?”

“I’m… Ryou,” he says hesitantly. It’s obviously not his real name, but Keith isn’t going to push.

“Akira,” Keith replies smoothly. He’s more used to giving out a fake one, because he’s learned that nothing good comes out of people knowing who he truly is. “Are your friends going to be right outside?”

“Probably not, but I do know where they’re going.”

Keith nods and walks over to open the door. “Then let’s get going.”

Ryou listens to his instructions, and also quietly informs him of how many Runners are in the rooms they’re passing through. Keith is able to kill the infected by coming up behind them and sinking his blade into their heads, carefully laying them out on the floor before moving onto the next one. It’s easy to do, but he fucks up and makes too much noise—causing a Stalker to turn his way and rush at him with a screech.

Keith has to kick it away from him, stumbling as he tries to get his footing back, and tries to pull out his machete when it starts charging at him again. Ryou comes in clutch and fires the gun when it gets too close, bringing it down with a bullet to the head.

“Thanks,” Keith mutters, receiving a nod in response.

There were actually eight infected in total, all taken care of with no bites or scratches, and they leave the building without any more trouble.

Cosmo is waiting outside for him and rushes forward with a happy bark, nearly knocking Keith down when he jumps up on him. Keith lets out a laugh and pets through his fur, commanding that he sit and giving him a treat when he obeys.

“He doesn’t bite,” Keith says when he notices Ryou standing farther away. “Cosmo’s a very good boy and he knows that I won’t give him pets if he’s bad.”

“That’s very reassuring,” Ryou replies wryly.

The wolfdog merely looks at Ryou and then proceeds to ignore him in favor of nudging Keith’s hand for more pets like the spoiled creature that he is. Still, Keith indulges him for a while before walking over to Ryou.

“I think we’re safe now,” Keith tells him, eyeing the area around them to make sure they’re clear of infected—they are, and even if he missed any he knows he can count on Cosmo for backup. “Where are you supposed to meet your friends?”

Ryou slowly turns in a circle, facing to the right of where they’re standing and pointing at a tall building that’s marked with the words ‘Red Lion Hotel.’ “Over there,” he says. “We’re going to stay there for the night and hunt the area for more supplies before moving on.”

Keith reaches up to pull his mask off when Ryou starts doing the same, removing the rubber band from his hair so he can shake it free. It’s almost long enough to obscure his vision, he’ll have to cut it soon.

He’s about to offer to take Ryou to the hotel when he looks up, breath lost once he gets a good look at Ryou’s face.

“Shiro,” he whispers in shock, eyes wide. His mask slips from his fingers.

Ryou—Shiro is staring back at him in equal surprise, looking so different with the shock of white hair and the scar across the bridge of his nose. “Keith!” he exclaims, visibly swallowing. He stammers for a bit and then stops to take a deep breath, looking at the ground. His eyes are warm when he lifts his head again, smile soft when he says, “You saved me.”

Keith can’t help but smile back at him. “We saved each other,” he replies, stepping closer.

He wraps both arms around him, relaxing when he feels Shiro’s single arm circle around his waist after a few seconds. His eyes slip shut as he breathes in the scent of his best friend and a lump appears in his throat.

Finally, finally, he found him.

☆ ☆

“So… tattoos, huh?”

Keith takes a big swig of his water and glances over at Shiro, who is staring at his exposed shoulder with a strange look on his face. He looks around to make sure that they’re truly alone. With the exception of Cosmo sleeping in the sun, they are—it’s just a force of habit by now. Keith sheds his hoodie, showing the tattoo that spreads from his right shoulder and down his entire right arm.

“Yup,” he says, turning to show off the ones on his left. “Got them to hide the scratches and bites. Didn’t want anyone to shoot me before I could explain.”

“Scratches?” Shiro asks in surprise. “Bites? What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keith is quick to reassure. Damn, he forgot that Shiro didn’t know. “Okay, look. This is going to sound crazy, but… I’m immune.” He turns his arm to expose the scarred skin on his right wrist. “See this? I got it a couple of years ago when I was sneaking out of the quarantine zone for some fun. Thought I was done for and waited to die, found out I was immune when I woke up the next morning.”

“Jesus,” Shiro exhales as he brushes his fingers over the healed bite. The touch sends sparks down Keith’s spine. “How many more bites do you have?”

“Another on my shoulder,” Keith answers, touching it with his free hand. “I got lucky, it wasn’t too deep. Coulda torn out my throat if I didn’t have my knife on me.” He kicks his left foot. “I have one on my ankle, too. Got it when I was still wearing sneakers and wading through water that went up to my chest. The scratches are mostly on my arms, so those are hidden beneath the tattoos.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Shiro whispers. He pulls away and pushes the sleeve up what’s left of his arm, revealing scarred skin. “Had to get it cut off after I got bit, didn’t want the infection to spread.”

“What?” Keith asks, heart stopping in his chest. “You got bit? And you’re okay?”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m okay, I did lose an arm,” Shiro says with a weak smile. “But at least I’m here.” He reaches out and grabs one of Keith’s hands, squeezing it. “At least we’re here.”

Keith gently frees his hand so he can throw himself forward and wrap his arms around Shiro. They fall back on the roof but he doesn’t care, he’s certain that they both need this right now.

“At least we’re here,” he echoes, burying his face in Shiro’s neck while Shiro’s arm snakes around his waist.

After a while, Keith starts to move away. He stops when Shiro’s arm tightens around him, peering down at him curiously. Shiro’s cheeks are dusted pink, and there’s an intensity to his gaze that makes Keith’s insides squirm.

He suddenly remembers the last recording he found.

“Shiro?” Keith says softly. “Your recordings, um. I found them.”

“Did you?” Shiro asks. “And you… listened to them?”

“Yup. All of them.” Keith doesn’t mention how he spent most of his nights playing them, wanting to hear Shiro’s voice again. “In your last one, you said that you were going to tell me something once you saw me again. Well… I’m here.”

Shiro’s cheeks darken further, eyes going wide. “Oh, um…” He releases his hold on Keith and shifts, so Keith sits up the rest of the way and helps Shiro up. They’re sitting across from each other now, and Shiro looks… nervous.

“I wanted to say—” Shiro starts, stopping and taking a deep breath. “I-I was going to tell you—” Shiro visibly swallows. Their eyes lock, and then Shiro is muttering, “Fuck it,” as he moves forward and captures Keith’s lips in a kiss.

Keith stills for a second, melting into the kiss once it registers and pushing him back onto the roof again. He eagerly dips his tongue into Shiro’s mouth, their desperate sounds muffled as the kiss escalates into a full on makeout session.

The world is in ruins and things may never go back to the way they were, but they’re together now—and nothing will keep them apart ever again.

#sheith #;writes #zomb au #mild gore;#mentions of amputation;#i loved this so much okay

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abitoflit · 6 years

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Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: Archetypes and Hero’s Journey

“‘It is our choices… that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities,’” (Rowling 333). J.K. Rowling’s novel entitled Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets is a novel shaped by the choices that its characters make. Do they choose to give into their fear of what is foreign and unknown, or do they take the time to explore it and understand it better? Do they choose to stand idly as their fellows are terrorized, or do they choose to try and stop it? Do they choose to fight for what is right, for good, or do they give into their own ambitions and fight for the forces of darkness? As each of Rowling’s characters follow their own paths, their archetypes emerge, further defining them. Perhaps most importantly, as Harry faces the obstacles presented to a novel’s hero, readers get the chance to experience his journey alongside him. As they develop a fondness for him because of his relatability, they can only hope that he makes the right choices and triumphs over evil at the end of the novel.

Harry Potter embodies the Hero archetype in Rowling’s novel because his status as an individual “distinct from” the rest of the story’s characters makes him easy for readers to relate to, (Vogler 29). At the onset of the novel, Harry is depicted as being different from the Dursleys because of his past—he was adopted by his aunt and uncle. Harry’s status as an outsider is accentuated by the fact that he is a wizard and the Dursleys are Muggles who fear his power, especially when he makes empty threats. At school, Harry stands apart from the other students because of the fame he gained after defeating Voldemort and his ability to talk to snakes. As several of Hogwarts’ students begin to fear that he is the Heir of Slytherin on account of his being a Parselmouth, he is ostracized and even feared by more and more of the student body. As Harry begins to feel increasingly unwelcome at school, readers find it easier to relate to the boy wizard. Their ease stems from the fact that they’ve all been in Harry’s position before—they’ve all been unwelcome in social situations; they’ve all been outsiders.

Harry is also the novel’s hero because he is “the most active person in the script,” (Vogler 31). He is present in every chapter and every major event. Furthermore, the novel surrounds his experience during his second year at Hogwarts; it is driven by “his will and desire,” without him, the novel simply could not exist, (Vogler 31). Harry is also the individual “who learns or grows the most in the course of the story,” (Vogler 31). His instructors continue to teach him magic, his allies teach him about wizard culture—the meaning of words like “Mudblood” and “Squib,” the ingredients necessary to produce Polyjuice Potion and its use, etc. At the end of the novel, Harry sacrifices his own safety and well-being in order to ensure that no one else is attacked by the basilisk and that Ginny’s life doesn’t end prematurely. As he descends into the Chamber of Secrets, readers notice that Harry is riddled with both unease and self-doubt. Rowling writes “every nerve in Harry’s body was tingling unpleasantly. He wanted the tunnel to end, yet dreaded what he’d find when he did,” (304). His fears aren’t unfounded—without the help of Fawkes the phoenix and Gryffindor’s sword, Harry would have succumbed to the chamber’s horrors. With the basilisk blinded by Fawkes’ talons and the sword to replace his lost wand, Harry managed to defeat the basilisk, but it cost him. The basilisk bit him and its blood was poisonous. Slowly, his life ebbed away from him—he had sacrificed himself for his best friend’s sister. “Thick, pearly tears were trickling down [Fawkes’] glossy feathers,” falling into the wound the snake had inflicted, (Rowling 321). Knowing of the great lengths that Harry would go to protect his friends, that his heart was pure, Fawkes used the curative properties of his tears to resurrect Potter. He rewarded him for his sacrifice and Harry was born again, a newer, stronger wizard who would finish the task of bringing Ginny home.

Three Mentors arise to help Harry on his quest. The first is his best friend Ronald Weasley, who continues “teaching [and] training” Harry in various aspects of wizard culture, (Vogler 40). For example, Ron shows Harry how to “de-gnome” a garden, explains that “Mudblood” is a derisive term, that a Squib “‘is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic powers,’” etc. (Rowling 145). Hermione Granger is the second of Harry’s Mentors. Hermione can be classified as a Mentor as well because she crafts a Polyjuice Potion and explains its use. She also realizes what monster lurks in the Chamber of Secrets before anyone else. Although she had been petrified and couldn’t tell Harry directly, she had torn a page out of a book and scrawled “pipes” beneath the entry on basilisks, (Rowling 290). As a result, she was able to express her thoughts to her friends upon their discovery of the paper she clutched in her hands. Finally, Dumbledore is the third of Harry’s three Mentors and he certainly looks the part. He is an elderly wizard with a long white beard and half-moon spectacles, but it is not his appearance alone that makes him a Mentor. Dumbledore may be classified as a mentor because he teaches Harry a valuable lesson—that it is one’s choices that define who they are. At the end of the novel, when Harry struggles to view himself as a Gryffindor because of his similarities to Salazar Slytherin, Dumbledore explains what differentiates them. Although Dumbledore admits that they do in fact possess some similarities like “‘his own very rare gift, Parseltongue — resourcefulness—determination — a certain disregard for rules,’” he also expresses the idea that Harry’s choice to ask the Sorting Hat not to be placed in Slytherin made him a different person, (Rowling 333). Harry’s decision to voice his desires is what separates him from Slytherin and Voldemort, who chose very different paths for themselves. Thus, Dumbledore satisfies another aspect of the Mentor archetype because “giving gifts is… an important function of this archetype,” (Vogler 40). Dumbledore provides Harry with peace of mind because he explained what made Harry a Hero and Voldemort a villain. By extension, he also explains how Ron and Hermione’s continued support made them both friends and Mentors.

Threshold Guardians provide the hero with “obstacles,” which they must overcome in order to continue on their quest, (Vogler 49). Thus, “testing of the hero is the primary dramatic function” of this archetype, (Vogler 50). Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets contains two Threshold Guardians. The first is Dobby, the house elf. Upon their initial meeting, Dobby says “‘Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts,’” (Rowling 16). In order to make it easier to convince Harry to stay home, Dobby withholds Harry’s mail so that he will think that no one cares about him and the Special World will seem less inviting. By expressing his wishes and alluding to the reasons behind them, Dobby challenges Harry by forcing him to uncover the truth about why he hadn’t been receiving letters. He also forces Harry to find a way to defy his will. When Harry refuses to give in, Dobby bolsters the gateway leading to the Special World by making it more difficult for Harry to continue his journey. He accomplishes this feat by magically dropping Aunt Petunia’s pudding onto the floor, causing Harry to get into trouble with the Ministry of Magic for what they assumed was the underage use of magic outside of school. This put Harry at risk of expulsion. Dobby’s actions spur Vernon Dursley, Harry’s second Threshold Guardian, to tighten his grip. In addition to having all of his magical supplies locked away, Vernon “paid a man to fit bars on Harry’s window... [he] let Harry out to use the bathroom… Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock,” (Rowling 22). Thus, Vernon issued his challenge: if Harry could find a way out of his room, then he could go back to Hogwarts. To a Muggle, this was an impossible task, since Harry couldn’t use magic and had no way to communicate with the outside world. So, Vernon relaxed, knowing that Harry had no way of returning to the “accursed” school he and his family hated so much. Unfortunately, Ron sensed that something was wrong and came to the rescue with his two older brothers Fred and George, freeing Harry from his prison so that he could continue his journey.

Dobby also serves another important function in Rowling’s story; he fills the Herald archetype. “Herald characters issue challenges and announce the coming of significant change,” (Vogler 55). When Dobby insists that Harry should not return to Hogwarts, he issues a challenge. He forces Harry to defy him in order to obtain what he wants—the chance to return to the Special World. When Dobby begins to betray his master, explaining why Harry should remain with the Dursleys, he carries out the latter portion of the Herald’s description. Dobby states that there is ‘“a plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts… this year,’” (Rowling 16). He alludes to the danger that awaits in the Special World, suggesting that what Harry will find at Hogwarts is anything but peaceful. Although life isn’t pleasant for Harry at the Dursleys, readers can expect that his life will be just as unpleasant at school. Furthermore, they can expect a shift from a relatively safe world devoid of magic, to one filled with magic and mayhem. It is obvious that Harry’s life is about to change.

Shapeshifters are “shifting and unstable… [making them] difficult for the hero and the audience to pin down,” (Vogler 59). Ginny Weasley wears this archetypal mask in Rowling’s novel because her personality is constantly changing before both Harry’s and reader’s eyes. When we are first reintroduced to her character at the Burrow, Ginny appears to be a shy individual who is infatuated with Harry. She constantly blushes around him and has a tendency to make a fool of herself in his presence. For example, during breakfast one morning, she “put her elbow in the butter dish,” after Harry asked her a question, (Rowling 44). At Flourish and Blotts, Ginny appears courageous when she defends Harry from Malfoy’s ridicule. After the basilisk’s first attack on Hogwarts, Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, is petrified. Most of the student body doesn’t care because they associate her with Filch and detention. However, Ginny’s softer side is expressed by her being “disturbed by Mrs. Norris’s fate” because it demonstrates her ability to sympathize and empathize with others, (Rowling 146). When the school begins to suspect Harry of being the Heir of Slytherin, Ginny’s brothers Fred and George begin to crack jokes about Harry’s affairs with his “fanged servant,” (Rowling 210). Ginny doesn’t find the jokes funny, suggesting that she is deeply upset by them and how Harry is viewed. Since she doesn’t want anyone she cares about to be viewed negatively, she can be described as both loyal and protective. On Valentine’s Day, Ginny reverts to the reader’s initial view of her—that of an adolescent girl infatuated with a boy she hardly knows, when she gives Harry a valentine. When Ginny tries to tell Harry and Ron about Riddle’s diary and the Chamber of Secrets, she appears both craven and uneasy. When she tried to talk, “no sound came out,” and when Percy appeared, she “jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified,” (Rowling 286).

Finally, when Ginny lies unconscious in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle explains how he fed on her secrets in order to grow stronger. When he reveals that Ginny stole the diary back in order to protect her secrets from being divulged, Ginny is humanized as she grows more and more relatable. Our ability to relate to Ginny is enhanced by the types of things she revealed to Tom: ‘“how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books… [and] how she didn’t think [the] famous… Harry Potter would ever like her…’” (Rowling 309). Ginny’s secrets make her more relatable because everyone has been teased or ridiculed, everyone has gone out in clothes that embarrass them, many people struggle with poverty, and many people have had fears that those they love don’t love them back. Thus, Ginny’s character and her secrets prove to be extremely profound because she speaks directly to Rowling’s target audience: children and adolescents, who are struggling with all of the same things as the young witch. With her last shift, she becomes “one of us,” an individual riddled with self-doubt and social problems. By having her act as the Shapeshifter, Rowling ensures that Ginny can speak to everyone, guaranteeing that they all feel as though they “belong” in her readership.

The Shadow archetype “challenge[s] the hero and give[s] her a worthy opponent in the struggle,” (Vogler 66). The Shadows in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets are Tom Riddle and the basilisk. The basilisk is a Shadow because it petrified several students with its gaze. One of these individuals was Hermione Granger, the intellectual in Harry’s trio. Without her help and guidance, Harry and Ron struggled in their classes, trying to uncover the truth about the Chamber of Secrets, etc. If it hadn’t been for the page they discovered clutched in her hand, they may not have realized what was going on and Harry may not have satisfied his role as the novel’s Hero. The basilisk also proved to be a physical threat when Harry was fighting it in the Chamber of Secrets. This is in part because of its size and brute strength, in part because of the powers of its gaze, and the poisonous properties of its blood. Although Harry managed to slay the beast with Gryffindor’s sword, the basilisk had bitten him, causing “white-hot pain [to] sprea[d] slowly and steadily from the wound,” (Rowling 320). It made his vision “foggy,” (Rowling 320). If Fawkes had not been present to heal Harry with his tears, then Harry would have died in the Chamber of Secrets.

Tom Riddle fills the Shadow archetype as well because he was the individual who orchestrated the attacks on Hogwarts. He was the individual who first opened the Chamber of Secrets, unleashing the basilisk, which killed Moaning Myrtle. He also led to Hagrid’s expulsion from school, because the attacks were blamed on Hagrid’s pet spider, Aragog. His second wave of attacks, which occurred fifty years later while Harry attended school, caused several more students to be petrified. Riddle also provided Harry with a mental and emotional challenge because he used Ginny Weasley, his best friend’s sister, to gain power and obtain a corporeal form. With Ginny as his unwilling puppet, Riddle managed to minimize the threats posed to the basilisk and his power because “‘she strangled the school roosters,’” whose crow has the capacity to kill it, (Rowling 310). As Riddle gained more and more control over Ginny, her own power waned, causing Harry to realize that Riddle held her life in his hands. Thus, Harry knew that he had to tread lightly because Ginny’s life hung in the balance—if he made one false step, each of them could die. Thus, he had to devise a way to stop Riddle quickly and without magic, not only because he wanted to live, but because he didn’t want Ron and his family, whom he considered friends, to suffer the pain of Ginny’s demise. Finally, Riddle writes “I am Lord Voldemort,” forcing Harry to push aside the pain of their past history together in order to triumph, (Rowling 314). Since Voldemort killed Harry’s parents and harmed several of the people he loved, this proved to be a challenge because Harry knew firsthand what Voldemort was capable of.

Allies are often “friendly figures who fight [at the hero’s] sid[e], advise and warn them, and sometimes challenge them,” (Vogler 71). Hermione Granger is one of Harry’s two allies. She may be characterized as an ally because she is Harry’s friend who often advises him on how to proceed. For example, when Harry begins to suspect that his rival, Draco Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin, she devises a way to question him. She explains that Polyjuice Potion “‘transforms you into somebody else,’” which would allow them to turn into Draco’s closest friends, (Rowling 159). As a result, they would be able to convince Draco to confide in them, which in turn, would allow them to stop him from harming anyone else. Furthermore, Hermione realizes that a basilisk is the creature terrorizing the school. She also assumes that the beast is living in the pipes. When Harry and Ron discover her theory by uncovering a note she held when she was petrified, they become more capable of stopping Lord Voldemort.

Ronald Weasley is Harry’s second ally because he is a loyal friend who fights at Harry’s side. Ron demonstrates his loyalty when he chooses to put aside his fear of spiders and follow Harry into the Forbidden Forest. After following the trail of young spiders, they encounter Aragog, who explains what transpired fifty years prior when the Chamber of Secrets was first opened. When Aragog’s children attack them, Harry manages to escape with Ron’s help and Mr. Weasley’s enchanted car. Ronald Weasley proves his loyalty again at the end of the novel when he follows Harry into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny and destroy the basilisk. Following a cave-in, he becomes trapped behind a rock wall and cannot support Harry with his presence anymore. However, he agrees to “‘try and shift some of this rock…so [that Harry] can get back through,’” (Rowling 304). His words lend Harry strength—they demonstrate that Ron knows that Harry can succeed in rescuing Ginny and defeating the basilisk. They also demonstrate Ron’s willingness to help despite his limitations because they show that he will still be there for Harry when he returns and help ensure their return home.

The final archetype is the Trickster, which “embodies the energies of mischief and desire for change,” (Vogler 77). Often, the archetype provides “comic relief,” (Vogler 78). Peeves is one of the story’s Tricksters because he is always wreaking havoc. For example, he dropped a “vanishing cabinet… from a great height,” destroying the expensive piece of furniture and giving Filch more to clean up, (Rowling 128-129). He also calls attention to the individuals who had been petrified by screaming “‘ATTACK! ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!’” (Rowling 203). Since Harry had been alone in the corridor, people began to suspect him of foul play. Thus, Peeves accomplished what he set out to do—he changed the calm atmosphere to one filled with fear and panic simply because he appreciated mischief. The Weasley Twins are also Tricksters because they do their level best to break rules and provide comic relief. An example of their comic interludes includes the time that Fred “bewitched [Percy’s] prefect badge so that it now read ‘Pinhead,’” (Rowling 212). An example of their mischief-making would be the time they fed fireworks to a salamander, causing a “spectacular display of tangerine stars [to] show[er] from [its] mouth,” (Rowling 131). As a result of their actions, readers can surmise that they strive to change dull or unpleasant moods to lighter and happier ones. Alternatively, when they make mischief, it would appear as though they strive to create a sense of unease because they derive pleasure from other’s discomfort.

The Ordinary World is the first stage of the Hero’s Journey. In Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, the Ordinary World is the Dursley’s home. It sets “a baseline for comparison” to the Special World, which allows readers to view it as the author intended—as being special, (Vogler 87). The Dursley’s residence contrasts sharply with the Special World presented at Hogwarts for several reasons. First, Harry’s school supplies are locked up so that he has no access to magic. Second, Hedwig is locked in her cage for the entirety of the summer, so he has no contact with the outside world. Third, the Dursleys don’t appreciate Harry for several reasons, including the fact that he is a wizard. As a result, they treat him harshly and make his life as unpleasant as possible. Finally, being that Vernon Dursley “paid a man to fit bars on Harry’s window,” the boy wizard experienced limited mobility and a lack of freedom, which kept him from doing the things he wanted, (Rowling 22). By describing all of the things that make Harry’s life at the Dursley’s unbearable, Rowling establishes what the Hero “[is] lacking,” (Vogler 91). As a result, readers can surmise that Harry will find all of the things he is lacking in the Special World—the ability to perform magic and to communicate with others, a sense of love and acceptance, and freedom.

The Call to Adventure is designed “to get a story rolling,” (Vogler 99). This stage suggests “that it’s time for change,” (Vogler 100). In Rowling’s novel, this stage of the Hero’s Journey occurs when Dobby comes to warn Harry not to return to Hogwarts. When the house elf reveals “‘there is a plot… a plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts,’” the plot begins to pick up and readers sense that the story’s mood will become even darker, (Rowling 16). Despite Dobby’s insistence that Harry should stay home, the Call is issued because Dobby’s words allude to both the horrors and the adventure that await Harry at Hogwarts. In addition, it clearly states that the safety he experiences at the Dursleys will not be found at Hogwarts. As a result, readers come to the conclusion that Harry’s life is about to change drastically.

The third stage of the Hero’s Journey is Refusal of the Call, which involves the Hero “trying to dodge the adventure,” (Vogler 108). This stage was not present in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets because Harry was eager to return to the Special World. He says, “‘but I’ve got to go back… It’s all that’s keeping me going. You don’t know what it’s like here. I don’t belong here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts,’” (Rowling 16). He refuses to give in to Dobby’s wishes and insists on returning to the Special World for another adventure because he recognizes that the Ordinary World is no place for him and that it’s slowly stifling him. Furthermore, Harry wishes to return to the Special World in order to protect the individuals that may be imperiled by the insidious plot that is unfolding. In sum: this stage of the journey isn’t present in Rowling’s novel because Harry feels obligated to use the information Dobby provided him. He needs to play the role of the Hero again in order to protect the Special World, to keep it from becoming as dark and as miserable as the Ordinary World he longs to leave behind.

Sometimes, characters “refuse a Call until [they’ve] had time to prepare” for what lies ahead, (Vogler 117). Often, this involves meeting with their Mentor who may give them advice or some other form of assistance. This stage occurred when Ron and his twin brothers Fred and George came to rescue Harry from the Dursleys. Although Harry accepted the Call by insisting that he return to Hogwarts, he had no way of returning to the Special World because he had been locked in his room. As a result, he needed to devise a way to escape in order to continue on his quest. Although he could not communicate with Ron, Ron sensed that something was wrong when he failed to receive any owls from Harry. When he arrived at the Dursleys and realized what had transpired, Ron “pulled [the bars] clean out of the window” with the help of his older brothers and his father’s magical car, (Rowling 25). As a result, Harry was set free. Harry also gained the ability to prepare for the journey ahead because he gained access to both Hedwig and his school supplies. As a result, he could arm himself with magic and communicate with Hedwig’s assistance. Finally, he regained access to one of his three mentors: Ronald Weasley, who would continue to coach him in wizard culture.

The next stage in the Hero’s Journey, Crossing the First Threshold, “is an act of the will in which the hero commits wholeheartedly to the adventure,” (Vogler 127). It is the point at which Harry cannot turn back. This portion of his quest transpires when he and Ron take Mr. Weasley’s flying car to school because they missed the train. As “the Hogwarts Express… streak[ed] along below them,” the boys managed to follow until they arrived at Hogwarts, (Rowling 71). Upon their arrival, the boys finish Crossing the First Threshold because they’ve arrived in the Special World. With little chance of escape, both boys are now immersed in the world of adventure and the danger that Dobby promised. As a result, readers come to the conclusion that Harry’s next venture is about to begin.

Tests, Allies, Enemies is the next stage of the Hero’s Journey. It is a “period of adjustment to the Special World” known for “testing” the Hero, (Vogler 136). During this time lines are drawn as both friends and enemies reveal themselves. This step on Harry’s journey transpires while he is at Hogwarts. This is due to the fact that he is tested in many ways. First, he is tested by his teachers in various subjects as they help to prepare him for the upcoming Ordeal. Harry also strengthens his friendship with both Ron and Hermione, who help him to uncover information pertaining to the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione helps by suggesting that they use a Polyjuice Potion in order to question Draco Malfoy about the Heir of Slytherin. She explains that the recipe can be found ‘“in a book called Moste Potente Potions… in the Restricted Section of the library,’” (Rowling 160). After devising a plan to acquire a copy, she brews the potion, allowing their plan to gain information to unfold. Ron assists Harry by questioning Malfoy under the guise of the Polyjuice Potion. He also helps by following Harry into the Forbidden Forest so that they can question Aragog about the first time the Chamber was opened. As a result, the group’s ties are tested as they put themselves at risk of discovery and their lives on the line. The Hero and his Allies are also forced to race against time—they have to discover who the Shadows are and stop them before more people are hurt and the school is closed.

During this stage readers begin to see signs of the Shadow as well because the basilisk has begun to attack the people of Hogwarts, petrifying several individuals. Draco Malfoy, Harry’s rival and “competition in love, sports, business, or some other enterprise” reasserts himself during this stage of Harry’s journey, (Vogler 138). First, he challenges Harry in sports because he was named Slytherin’s “new Seeker,” (Rowling 111). As a result, he will be in direct competition with Harry, who is the Seeker for Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. Furthermore, Draco’s access to the latest model broomstick, the “Nimbus Two Thousand and One,” gives him an advantage over Harry who uses a slower model, (Rowling 111). As a result, Harry’s skill will be tested as he is forced to make up for the difference in speed between the two brooms. Second, Draco’s view on who should be able to attend Hogwarts differs from Harry’s. Harry wants the school to be a safe place where everyone can learn magic, while Malfoy wishes it was populated with only pureblood witches and wizards. As a result, when the basilisk begins its attacks on the school, Malfoy cheers it on and hopes that it kills Hermione. Malfoy’s support of the Shadow’s actions adds another degree of depth to Harry’s problem—if Draco discovers the Shadow’s identity, Harry will be forced to contest Draco in the dark arts as well.

The Approach to the Inmost Cave lies at the “heart” of the Special World. It is an “intermediate region between the border and the very center of the Hero’s Journey,” (Vogler 143). This stage transpires when Harry, Lockhart, and Ron open the Chamber of Secrets and make their way inside. I have made this characterization because the Chamber lies “miles under the school,” (Rowling 302). The Chamber’s physical location suggests that it rests at Hogwarts’ core, making it the school’s heart. Furthermore, the Chamber rests at the edge of the Special World and leads into a subset, where Harry will face his Ordeal. He is willingly leaving the relative safety of Hogwarts’ familiar halls behind in order to challenge the Shadow in a place that is both novel and unfamiliar to him.

The Ordeal involves “facing the greatest challenge and the most fearsome opponent yet,” (Vogler 155). This event transpires when Harry reaches the end of the Chamber of Secrets and encounters Tom Riddle because Riddle is Lord Voldemort’s living memory. He was the Shadow that arose in Harry’s first year at Hogwarts, and he is the Shadow that haunts him now. Furthermore, since Harry initially failed to realize the danger Tom posed, he lost his wand and his ability to use magic. As a result, Harry is forced to find another way to defeat him. In addition, Tom is the individual who controls the basilisk, which presents another set of dangers because the beast possesses brute strength and “a murderous stare… all who are fixed with the beam of its eye… suffer instant death,” (Rowling 290). Therefore, Harry is forced to fight a battle on two fronts—a physical battle with the basilisk and a mental battle with Riddle, who will not cease to taunt him. Eventually, Harry manages to slay the basilisk with Gryffindor’s sword and Fawkes’ help, but “one long, poisonous fang was sinking deeper and deeper into his arm,” (Rowling 320). As Harry’s life begins to ebb away, he carries out the latter portion of this stage: “heroes must die so that they can be reborn,” (Vogler 155). In Harry’s case, he is reborn in the Resurrection stage of his journey.

Following the defeat of both Tom Riddle and the basilisk he controlled, Harry “lay[s] claim to [his] Reward” in the next leg of his journey, the Reward stage, (Vogler 175). Being that Harry walked away from the Ordeal with his life, he earned three rewards. Harry’s second reward was Ginny, who “stirr[ed]” following Riddle’s demise, (Rowling 322). As “they stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk” and retraced their steps through the Chamber of Secrets, they returned to both Ron and Lockhart, leaving the horrors of the Ordeal behind, (Rowling 323). They had both survived and Harry was able to give the Weasleys a gift: the life of their family member. Harry’s final reward arose when the Weasleys discovered what Harry had done—they were beside themselves with appreciation. “‘You saved her! You saved her!’” Molly Weasley exclaimed, awarding Harry with the knowledge that he had brought peace and happiness to a distraught family, (Rowling 327).

The tenth stage of the Hero’s Journey is the Road Back. It involves “returning to the starting point or continuing on the journey to a totally new locale or ultimate destination,” (Vogler 187). This leg of Harry’s journey transpires directly after he receives his reward for overcoming his Ordeal. It involves his return to the entrance of the tunnel with his rewards in hand and his escape from the Chamber of Secrets with both Professor Lockhart and the Weasleys. “In a rush of wings, they were flying upward through the pipe… [then] it was over — all four of them were hitting the wet floor of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” (Rowling 325). The Road Back occurs during this time because Harry returns to two starting points. First, he returns to Ron and Lockhart, who were trapped by a cave-in at the onset of his Ordeal. Then, he finds his way back to the Special World where his adventure first began.

The Resurrection “is the climax… the last and most dangerous meeting with death,” (Vogler 197). Since Tom Riddle stole his wand from him, Harry was forced to fight the basilisk with the help of Fawkes and the sword of Gryffindor. Despite the odds that were stacked against him, Harry managed to slay the Heir of Slytherin’s monster, but in so doing, acquired a fatal wound as the basilisk’s poisonous fang sank into his flesh. He could feel the poison burning him, “his vision went foggy,” but Fawkes saved Harry because he recognized him for what he was: a hero who was willing to sacrifice his own life for another, (Rowling 320). Fawkes cried into Harry’s wound, “thick, pearly tears” that reversed the adverse effects of the basilisk’s poison, (Rowling 321). Thus, Harry was “cleans[ed]… of the smell of death… and retain[ed] the lessons of the ordeal,” (Vogler 198). He cheated death and was purified by Fawkes’ tears as they washed the basilisk’s poison away. As he was resurrected, Harry was reborn into a new life where he possessed all of the knowledge he had learned on his journey—that phoenix tears had restorative properties, Ginny’s secrets, the events that transpired each time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, etc.

The final stage of the Hero’s Journey is the Return with the Elixir, in which the hero “return[s] to their starting place, go[es] home, or continue[s] the journey,” (Vogler 215). At the end of the novel, Harry “walked back through the gateway to the Muggle world,” leaving the Special World behind, (Rowling 341). By choosing to go back to the Dursleys, Harry returned to the place where his journey began. He returned home, completing the cycle of his Hero’s Journey. He also set the stage for the onset of his next adventure in the third novel within Rowling’s series.

Light vs. Darkness is the only symbolic archetype, “a representation of a specific person, act, deed, place, or conflict,” present within Rowling’s novel, (“Symbolic Archetypes”). This archetype manifests itself through the actions of the story’s Hero and its two Shadows. Harry represents the “light” aspect of this archetype because he fights against the forces of evil. He sets it upon himself to discover what is attacking the school and the significance of the Chamber of Secrets. He fights to find a way to keep the attacks from happening so that Hogwarts can remain open and everyone can feel safe. When Ginny is stolen, he descends into the Chamber and confronts the novel’s Shadows so that he can rescue her. He thrust Gryffindor’s sword “into the roof of the serpent’s mouth” and “plunged [the basilisk’s fang] straight into the heart of [Riddle’s diary],” destroying both Shadows, (Rowling 320 & 322). The novel’s Shadows—Tom Riddle, Heir of Slytherin, and the basilisk, represent the “darkness.” They are the embodiment of evil because Tom uses the basilisk in order to further his agenda. He uses the beast to petrify the students who lack pure blood, so that Hogwarts can be made to reflect the image of what Salazar Slytherin felt Hogwarts should be. The basilisk is evil because he is a tool: he inflicts harm upon the people of Hogwarts because he petrified several individuals and struck fear into their hearts; no one felt safe. Thus, within the context of Rowling’s novel, the “light vs. darkness” archetype can be viewed as the classic fight between good and evil, in which good always triumphs.

The inclusion of the “light vs. darkness” symbolic archetype within J.K. Rowling’s novel entitled Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets enhanced the story by providing it with something that Rowling’s audience would find both familiar and easily recognizable. Being that the archetype embodied the fight between good and evil, it alluded to a comfortable pattern of occurrences and the story’s outcome where the “good guys” save the day. As a result, readers knew from the novel’s onset that they would not be disappointed or depressed by its ending because the darkness simply could not win.

I appreciated Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets for its nostalgic value, but didn’t enjoy it as much as the first novel in the series for a few reasons. First, this novel included a large amount of recap, which I don’t enjoy. Second, I wasn’t particularly fond of the new characters who were introduced into the story—individuals like Moaning Myrtle and Lucius Malfoy. Third, while I liked the idea behind Rowling’s story, I didn’t feel as though it was executed particularly well in part because of her writing style and poor use of grammar, and in part because there was too much going on. There were too many subplots detracting from the heart of the story. With that being said, I felt as though it was a good novel to analyze for archetypes because it possessed a strong representation of each of the eight archetypes described in Vogler’s book The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers.

In conclusion, J.K. Rowling’s novel entitled Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets contains at least one example of each of the major archetypes. Harry is the Hero because of his growth and the sacrifices he makes, Dobby and Vernon Dursley are Threshold Guardians because they try and keep Harry from returning to the Special World, Dumbledore, Ron, and Hermione are Mentors because they each teach Harry valuable lessons, Dobby is the Herald because he hints at impending change, Ginny is the Shapeshifter because our impression of her character is constantly changing, Tom Riddle and the basilisk are the Shadows because they embody evil, Ron and Hermione are allies because they help Harry on his journey, and the Weasley Twins and Peeves are the Tricksters because they provided mischievous energy and comic relief. Harry’s Hero’s Journey begins in the Ordinary World, where he is living with the Dursleys. It culminates in the Special World where he defeats the Heir of Slytherin and his monster before returning home.

Works Cited

Jamerson, Joyce. “Symbolic Archetypes.”

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. N.p.: Scholastic, 1999.

Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure For Writers. 3rd ed., Michael Wiese Productions, 2007.

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The Closest Sean Connery Ever Came To Playing Sherlock Holmes

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In the course of his nearly 50-year career on the screen, the late Sean Connery portrayed many famous characters, both fictional and non-fictional. Among those were, of course, Ian Fleming’s suave spy James Bond in seven films; Daniel Druvot in 1975’s The Man Who Would Be King; King Arthur in 1995’s First Knight, Robin Hood in 1976’s Robin and Marian; Dr. Henry Jones Sr. in 1989’s Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and many more.

One role Connery never got to play was Arthur Conan Doyle’s legendary detective, Sherlock Holmes. But he did come close, playing a character who was based at least in part on Holmes, in the 1986 movie The Name of the Rose.

Based on the best-selling 1980 novel by Italian historian, philosopher and author Umberto Eco, the book and the film are set in 1327, as a Franciscan monk named William of Baskerville (Connery) and his young novice Adso of Melk (Christian Slater) travel to a remote abbey in northern Italy that’s home to an order of Benedictine monks, ostensibly for a high-stakes debate between the Franciscan order and emissaries of the Vatican over the poverty of Christ.

Once there, however, William is asked by the abbot (Michael Lonsdale, a Bond villain in 1979’s Moonraker) to help solve the mysterious death of a young monk. William, whose vast intellect is piqued by mysteries, is at first hesitant, as previous investigations have led him into direct conflict with the then-powerful Inquisition. But as more monks die, with the deaths apparently connected to a forbidden book of which no copies allegedly exist, William is drawn deeper into the puzzle and once again must eventually face the Inquisition in the form of the fanatical Bernardo Gui (F. Murray Abraham, in his first role since winning the Best Actor Oscar two years earlier for Amadeus).

Directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud (Quest for Fire) and starring an international cast that also included William Hickey (Moonstruck), Ron Perlman (Hellboy) and others, The Name of the Rose was and is a truly unique story and film: it is a detective story set in a medieval monastery, with a lead character inspired by both Sherlock Holmes (the “Baskerville” is a nod to Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles) and the real-life 14th century Franciscan philosopher and theologian William of Ockham.

Shooting in Italy and Germany, Annaud was reportedly obsessed with getting the period details correct, right down to the illuminated manuscripts that are such an integral part of the plot. The film is certainly unlike any detective story one might have seen previously: the abbey is a forbidding, dank, oppressive place, while the monks almost to a man appear unhealthy, decrepit or deranged. It feels like the 1300s. Grisly killings, torture and — of all things — an explicit sex scene are all part of the proceedings.

Yet at the same time, The Name of the Rose is a dense work — almost too dense in some places — that features labyrinths both literal and metaphorical as well as rich thematic conversations on the nature of love, the existence of God, the power of laughter and, ultimately, whether knowledge is dangerous and should be repressed lest it weaken one’s faith in the Almighty.

The movie was the last of what one might call Connery’s “wilderness years,” before his Oscar-winning 1987 turn in The Untouchables put him back on Hollywood’s A-list. Following his final official appearance as Bond in 1971’s Diamonds are Forever, the Scottish actor embarked on a 15-year stretch of 20 films that featured both hits and misfires. Among his movies during this period were the well-regarded crime drama The Offence (1972), the deliriously loopy sci-fi epic Zardoz (1974), the desert war film The Wind and the Lion (1975), the adventure The Man Who Would Be King (1975), the spacebound High Noon reimagining Outland (1981), an unofficial Bond return in Never Say Never Again (1983) and the cult fantasy classic Highlander (1986).

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It’s safe to say, however, that Connery’s career throughout this period did not reach the same heights of success that it did during his years as Bond. Columbia Pictures even pulled its backing from The Name of the Rose because the studio didn’t think the actor was a draw at that point, and Annaud reportedly did not at first want to hire James Bond to play the more intellectually-minded and philosophical William.

Annaud was eventually won over, and as screenwriter Andrew Birkin recently recalled while paying tribute to Connery in The Hollywood Reporter, the actor requested changes to the script to make William of Baskerville even more introspective than envisioned. Birkin said that Connery “brought pensiveness and thoughtfulness to the part. Things he wasn’t able to play in Bond. Bond is a man of action. Here, Sean played a man of words.”

Not surprisingly, Connery is magnificent in the role. His William of Baskerville is an empathetic, quick-witted, marvelously intelligent pursuer of knowledge and truth, quite willing to buck the conventional dogma of the Church at the time — at least privately. He is fatherly and compassionate to his novice Adso, especially when the latter inadvertently experiences his first stirrings of love for a woman (which, William points out amusingly, presents “certain problems” for a monk).

20th Century Fox

William is also a flawed character: as we learn, his intellectual pride in the past led to accusations of heresy against him and a man he was charged to protect, with William thrown into prison for several years and the man consigned to being burned at the stake. Reluctant at first to solve the murders at the abbey, he ultimately stands up for the truth once again, putting himself in grave danger.

It’s a complex performance in a complicated, dark but challenging film, and what’s strange is that even though Connery won a BAFTA Award for Best Actor (the British equivalent of an Oscar), The Name of the Rose is extremely difficult to see today.

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The movie failed in North America, grossing just $7.6 million, but did better in Europe, earning around $77 million internationally. Yet it is not streaming on Amazon or Netflix, hasn’t been released on Blu-ray in North America and is out of print on DVD. You might have better luck if you have an all-region player, although the quality of the DVD and Blu-ray editions released internationally might be sketchy (we love the movie, and all we have is a crappy Italian DVD from some years back).

If you can catch it, it’s worth the time: The Name of the Rose not only features what we think is one of Connery’s best performances, but it’s a riveting historical/philosophical mystery on its own terms even if it condenses much of the esoteric musings that made Eco’s book a favorite with readers around the world. As for why this excellent movie did not take off at the time of its release and is not easy to see or remember today, that’s an enigma that even Sherlock Holmes might have trouble solving.

The post The Closest Sean Connery Ever Came To Playing Sherlock Holmes appeared first on Den of Geek.

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pumpkinofthedale · 7 years

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themxerte replied to your post “With the introduction of Moira, and the discussions and scandal a lot...”

Universes. And yeah those are maybe weak spots but I simply don't believe that a company that has the whole game dedicated to the grey moralities of how you see good and evil differently from a different point of view (World of Warcraft) would make such a damn boring, not complexed evil character.

Heya friend, I was wondering if you had actually taken the time to read my entire 1.5k word post detailing how I think Moira fits into the reaper story line.

However if you have read it and still feel that I feel that way about his characterization, allow me to elaborate and include and cite actual evidence. I love Gabriel Reyes and I firmly believe that he will be the epitome of grey morality within the story.

That being said there is nothing, nothing within the story saying that Reyes didnt get some of his powers before the fall of overwatch. In fact given the track it seemed the devs would go down earlier, I’d argue it was canon that he had at least some of them since SEP at the very least. I still think it’s canon that he had some of them before the explosion.

I also never said that he got his smokey wraith powers before the introduction of Moira. I said that I believe something was wrong DNA wise because he was an earlier test subject within the SEP program than Jack, and that his DNA, the fabric of his existence, was deteriorating causing a boatload of problems that no one was willing to risk getting caught up in major legal trouble to fix. I believe his body smoking is part of that. It’s probably something completely out of his control until Moira enters the picture.

The way the devs worded their unveiling of Moira at blizzcon and her relationship to Gabriel Reyes, they implied that it’s plausible that Reyes didn’t necessarily get his powers from Moira, but instead Moira got her powers from studying Reyes’ DNA and it’s degeneration. A theory heavily backed up by in-game lore:

“Repairing Degenerative Genetic Structures” with a large post-it note that says “Draft”

Not to mention the blizzcon panel

Geoff Goodman: “It [Her Fade ability] has some similarities to Reaper’s wraith form…uh which is…it’s funny how that works out.” Michael Chu: “You know, we obviously - there’s a…there’s a close relationship between Moira and Reyes-slash-Reaper, and I think one of the fun things we were able to do is to sort of hint at some of those things in her, uh, abilities.” Geoff Goodman: “She’s helping Reaper out and is like, ‘You know, I think I could make this better, I have an idea.’”

Blizzcon 2017

On to my other points:

“We sort of saw Overwatch really open up to the world, and listening to players and the stories they were telling and what they imagined the Omnic crisis to be really made us second guess what we were doing in First Strike,” said Kaplan. “We thought, ‘Hey, if we go down this path, it really closes all these doors.’”

Fan theories about the Overwatch cast’s pasts abound, and players produce fiction, art and other original content in droves. Although animated shorts and digital comics have had success in filling out the game’s universe — particularly the most recent comics, “Uprising” and “Reflections” — the Overwatch team found that a 100-page graphic novel no longer made sense as supplemental reading material, six months into the game’s life.

“Part of the magic is that everything is not tied off and explained to players,” Kaplan said of keeping Overwatch’s canon less defined. “There’s a lot going on in Overwatch right now where I think that the story in players’ heads is often even cooler than what we can deliver to them.”

Jeff Kaplan May 2017 during a polygon interview

One very important thing to remember is that early previews of that 100 page graphic novel showed Gabriel Reyes as an ominous figure with heavily shadowed lighting. I believe that fan input especially on how Reyes is characterized, and the theories involving him had a lot to do with the cancellation.

Yes, Gabriel Reyes manipulated Overwatch into helping innocent lives in Kings Row during the uprising comic. Even as Reaper he’s shown to kill very very few people. Like 2 people on screen max, and neither of those people were innocent. They worked for Vialli one of the top talon “bosses”.

I’m not saying that Reyes is going to just let innocent people get caught in the crossfires of his plans. Kings Row can’t boil over into a full out omnic uprising because that will absolutely be a catastrophe that could trigger another full-out omnic crisis. He’s shown to be more pro-active in making sure people are safe than Jack is.

And Talon doesnt know about his involvement with the capture of doomfist or Overwatch’s intervention. This is extremely important information to remember. Gabriel Reyes is a man who works in the shadows, and I firmly believe that he has no firm allegiance to anyone, but rather to the ideal of making sure that nothing like the Omnic crisis ever happens again while he still lives/functions.

Every single one of his talon missions that would have brought the world closer to an omnic crisis (Katya’s assassination, retrieving information about the whereabouts of former overwatch agents, stealing doomfist’s gauntlet, killing Jack or Ana) has completely and utterly failed. The man is a tactical genius and so far every mission save picking up doomfist and infiltrating talon and killing vialli’s men, has failed. Against people he’s worked along side before.

There is absolutely no way he doesn’t know what they’re capable of. The dude outsmarted god ai programs, you really think he wouldn’t have been able to calculate his former friends’ actions and adjust his missions accordingly? Hell, he even knows it was sombra that fucked up the assassination, and he did nothing about it.

Gabriel Reyes is an incredibly intelligent and calculating man. He was probably the president of the chess club in high school, and as every chess player knows, you have to be at least 2-3 steps ahead of your opponent. On any normal type higher level you should know the next ten moves and each possible outcome. Someone on Reyes’ level has hundreds of different moves calculated at any given time.

So now imagine for a moment, that Gabriel Reyes is not some soft goober of a man some people make him but instead a calculating morally grey person who understands exactly what is at stake if talon wins. He’s lived through one crisis, but the world is only just beginning to truly bounce back. It was essentially Armageddon. It cannot happen again.

Talon has infiltrated overwatch.

Talon has infiltrated blackwatch.

Talon has has most likely infiltrated the UN.

Conventional methods of tracking and dealing with spies hasn’t been working. The head of the Overwatch anti-talon task force is dead and his wife is missing. He is doing what he can to help, ie sending mccree to kings row to deal with the uprising situation as well as manipulating overwatch to help. Sending Genji to help apprehend doomfist. Things that talon doesn’t know about because it isn’t strictly blackwatch shit going on. It’s a man on vacation, a commander checking in with his friends and updating them on a situation. It isn’t direct involvement at kings row. It’s manipulation.

But overwatch is strangled in even more red tape and controversies and it’s failing. It cannot properly do its job anymore and Gabriel Reyes is running out of options. Mccree and genji have left; who can he trust but himself.

I believe he did plant the bomb to blow up the zurich base. But I also happened to notice that only Jack was caught in the blast besides him. None of the main overwatch agents were caught in the explosion. He has cool smokey wraith form so he can probably survive, that’s probably one of the ways he was able to survive, though there were obviously some serious complications. I’m sure other overwatch members died in the blast, but he seems to have waited until the base was relatively empty.

Talon can trust him now. Something went wrong of course he has a vendetta.

Except, he is ineffectual. His direct actions with winston to secure the names and locations of former overwatch agents in order to fulfill that vendetta prompts winston to recall the old agents. His actions with Hakim and talon reunite Jack and Ana when he has a chance to kill both of them. Overwatch is being reformed except this time, it’s not under the UN’s control.

Meanwhile reaper, seeming terrorist with a vendetta against overwatch who “inadvertently” cause overwatch to reform a few years after the fall as an independent organization away from the control of the UN and likely away from the clutches of talon’s shadow puppets there.

But he also has their trust which means that innocent people have also likely died by his hand in his quest to infiltrate and take out talon. I also have no doubt in my mind that he probably would kill Jack or Ana or any of his friends if they do actually interfere with his plans just as i do believe that if he felt that it was necessary, he would let innocents die.

“What’s important to us is that their motivations are not purely rooted in being evil, despite how they might seem on the surface. As we reveal more about these characters, we want people to be able to empathize and understand their beliefs. Because sometimes what makes a villain a villain is the extent to which they’re willing to go to reach their goals. And one thing that we find most important when we’re talking about our villain characters is that there is nothing to say that a villain cannot be as charismatic or more charismatic or as likeable as a hero character - because, like the old saying goes, ‘every villain is the hero of their own story.’”

Michael Chu early March 2017

Reyes has a lot of potential to be an almost antihero. Someone who does some shady under the table shit, but only because he thinks it will help the world. I think Blizzard has realized this and why it hasn’t cemented a lot of things in canon. They want to wait and see what it is that fans could seriously enjoy. They love fan feedback. That’s why they created Moira! That’s why they cancelled the 100 page graphic novel about the omnic crisis! Because they want to be able to see their story evolve just as much as the fans do.

anyways. I’m not putting this one under a cut so people don’t have to take the time to click the button to see ALL of what i have to say about the subject (even though I have tons more to say, but I’ve spent so much time on this that I kind of want to be done rn)

#themxerte #gabriel reyes #moira overwatch #overwatch #fan theory #w34ry words #i hope ive explained my thoughts even more #because i love gabriel reyes and would die for him

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