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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

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Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Language, Blood, Death, and Smut.

Chapter 9

It all lead to this.

Every harsh word, side glance, and argument lead your team- your family, to this breaking point.

You stand between your love and your friend. Tony’s eyes fixed on the other half of your team’s leadership in front of you, Steve.

Tony couldn’t stress enough how avoidable this all was. He still thinks he can avoid it.

While you had hoped this could’ve been avoided, you know it’s too late. That doesn’t stop Tony from trying though.

“You’ve been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. Rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep,” Tony pauses exasperatedly,“ I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart.”

Steve doesn’t budge,“ you did that when you signed.”

If rolling your eyes was apporiate you would do it.

This whole thing stopped being about the Accords the second Barnes popped up. At this point it’s just Steve trying to hold on to the past, which you get, but holding on so tight that he screws with the present and future? It’s a bit much.

“Steve it’s us for crying out loud,” you’re more than fed up with all of this.“ Just turn Barnes over and come with us before some J-SOC guys show up and force you to, cause that won’t be pretty.”

Natasha looks into your eyes and Tony continues to look at Steve.

“Come on.” Tony sighs.

Steve’s silence lasts, before an arrow sails through the air and cuts through Spider-Man’s web.

Tony’s mask comes down and he looks in the direction the arrow came from. Spider-Man is seemingly punched by a ghost, but a man appears, flipping off him.

“What the hell was that?” You and Rhodey ask.

No one is happy about what’s starting.

“Alright, there's two on the parking deck. One of them's Maximoff, I'm gonna grab her. Rhodey, you want to take Cap?”

“I’m coming with you Tony.”

He looks to you, before grabbing the back of your suit, and flying off. Your current teammates call out their targets through the comms.

You hear the fighting in your ear, eyes trained on Clint and Wanda as Tony shoots missiles toward them. Obviously he isn’t trying to blow them up but it still puts you a little more on edge.

Tony lets you go and you roll before jumping into a fighting stance.

“Wanda, I think you hurt Vision and Y/N’s feelings.”

The green eyed girl looks at you, but can’t maintain eye contact,“ you locked me in my room.” She directs to Tony.

“Okay. First, that's an exaggeration.”

“And he did it to protect you.” You add, emphasis on protect.

Wanda’s head tilts, almost in disbelief at your words.

Tony carries on talking,“ hey, Clint.”

“Hey man.”

The two speak for mere seconds, the whole time you look at your best friend. She can’t meet yours eyes and it drives you mad.

If she’s reading your thoughts now she knows how hurt and upset you are.

Having not been paying attention, you’re surprised to be shoved away by red magic, only to see that same magic being used to pull cars on to Tony.

Your eyes widen and you look at Wanda. She stops after Tony’s practically buried.

Their slight distraction give you just enough time to run up on them.

Snapping your batons into a staff, you swing it at Clint’s legs, forcing his back to smack into the ground. Then you wrap the staff around Wanda’s waist, holding her hand behind her back.

“That’s a little excessive don’t you think?” You say, mouth inches from her ear.

“Not at all.” She grunts back, her magic pushing you away and into a car.

Air forces itself from your lungs as your back smacks into the metal and you land face first on the ground.

“Fuck me.” You groan, pushing yourself up and looking to Tony as he gets from under the cars.

You two are flying back to Steve, Tony dropping you once again, and you help Nat up. Smoke billows from the exploded truck.

“Is this part of the plan?” Natasha looks from you to Tony.

He walks closer,“ my plan was to go easy on em.”

“Then let’s switch it up.” You roll your shoulders and rub your hands together.

Steve’s team runs toward the Quinjet, only to be stopped by Vision, who literally draws a line.

He tells them to surrender as your team regroups.

You all stand off for a moment, before walking towards each other. You all pick up the pace and collide.

All your attention is on Wanda. You know she won’t hurt you, not seriously anyway.

Punches are thrown, repulsor beams are shot, arrows fly.

It’s hectic to say the least.

Wanda does her best to keep you and Spider-Man at bay, but two targets makes things difficult.

You’re able to get closer since she’s throwing cars at the young kid.

Not wanting to hurt her either, you sweep your leg into hers. She falls backwards but catches herself.

“Wanda, I’m asking you one last time to stop this.”

She pushes herself up,“ and I’m telling you one last time- no.”

You narrow your eyes and charge at her.

Her magic gives her the upper hand but you’ve trained much longer.

You manage to trade blows with her for a good minute. That is until she wraps your hands in magic and forces your legs from underneath you with that same magic.

When you hit the ground, your head smacks into the concrete, disorienting you briefly.

By the time your sense snap back into place, Wanda is already running toward Natasha and Clint.

A frown forms your eyebrows when Wanda’s magic grabs Natasha’s ankle and she’s thrown away.

Your girlfriend grunts in pain and you run over to her, head pounding.

“Let’s go Pretty Girl, we’ve got friends to stop.”

She accepts your outstretched hand and you pull her up for the second time today.

Looking around, you take in how quickly your team loses the upper hand.

“Okay, anybody on our side hiding any shocking and fantastic abilities they'd like to disclose? I'm open to suggestion.” Tony says.

You and Natasha share a look before going your separate ways again to keep fighting.

“Does my charm and witty sense of humor count?” You ask, eyeing the giant on the airfield.

“Afraid not Y/L/N.”

With mostly everyone handling the biggest situation, you follow after Natasha to Steve and Bucky. Just as Vision phases through the big guy and cuts down a tower.

It nearly stops them, but Wanda catches it just in time.

You pick up speed and tackle her, her focus shifts and she drops the tower.

“Stand down Maximoff.”

She glares at you, chest heaving with each breath.“ I never thought I’d be fighting you.”

Your gaze softens,“ I don’t want this to be happening. You’re my best friend Wan.”

“Still, you let Tony lock me up.”

“I didn’t let-” groaning in frustration, you roll off the girl, resting on the concrete,“ I told you I didn’t know.”

An engine roars and you look up to see the Quinjet taking off, Rhodey chasing after it.

“Do you really think it was worth it?” You look into her eyes.

She doesn’t answer.

Vision flies over and kneels beside Wanda. You get up and walk away before they start talking.

Your eyes follow the action in the sky, and just when you think Rhodey might catch up to them, Falcon appears.

Explosions go off and Rhodey calls for Visions help. A yellow beam shoots past your head and into the sky.

For a moment you can’t make out what’s happening but you watch as Falcon dodges and Vision hits Rhodey instead.

Suddenly he’s plummeting toward the ground. Vision takes off after, Falcon and Tony trying to reach him. But they don’t.

Rhodey crashes into the ground with a cloud of dust and you feel your heart drop.

You listen as closely as possible, hearing Tony ask FRIDAY for vitals. You very very faintly hear the A.I. tell him there’s a heartbeat.

Despite the relief you feel, you know Rhodey’s badly injured.

You’re about to go towards them when you hear the distant rumbling.

Turning around, you see multiple black trucks pull up.

If the logos on them weren’t clear enough, the soldiers pouring out clarified it. J-SOC.

They start rounding everyone up: Clint and the once giant man. By the time you’re standing beside Wanda they’re coming over to get her.

But instead of the normal cuffs they pull out a shock collar.

“Hey what the fuck!” You shove the soldier with the collar away from her, taking a protective stance in front of your best friend.

The other soldiers aim their guns at you and Natasha walks up with T’Challa lingering behind.

“Y/N,” Wanda’s hand finds your arm but you don’t stand down.

“You better put that thing away. She isn’t some goddamn animal. You cuff her like you did everyone else.”

No you don’t want her arrested but let’s face it there are consequences to her actions. But not those consequences.

Natasha steps closer, green eyes bore into yours,“ I would hate to see you get shot.”

“Step away from Maximoff or we will be forced to remove you.” The soldier shouts.

“Oh I’ll move,” you look around Natasha,“ when you put the collar down. And you can bet your ass if you come at me I’m taking half of you down before you can get a shot off.”

Not entirely true, but with the anger and slight fear cursing through your veins you’ll say anything.

Soldiers have run past you to get Sam and are currently bringing him back. As well as medics wheeling Rhodey by.

Tony hesitates beside the scene you’re causing but continues on behind Rhodey.

“Y/N stand down.” Natasha tells you.

Knowing you won’t, Wanda cautiously moves to stand beside you, her hand now on your shoulder.

“It’s okay.” Her voice holds no conviction. She’s scared and angry, but she doesn’t want you to get hurt because of her choices.

“No it’s not Wanda. Not even a little.”

The soldiers close in as Wanda steps away from you, the same one with the collar standing behind Wanda.

“I swear to god if you put that on her-” he does before you even finish and you instantly charge toward him.

A soldier grabs at your arm and you immediately shift your weight and throw him over your shoulder. Another comes at you and you kick into his knee making him fall down. Before a third one can get to you Natasha grabs you.

Her warm body presses into your back, hands gripping your arms.

Not at all wanting to hurt your girlfriend, you stop moving, but anger still rolls off you in waves.

“Calm down.” Natasha whispers into your ear,“ you’re going to make it worse.”

“How could it possibly get worse.” You mutter, stepping out of her hold.

She sighs,“ Y/N-”

Her words catch in her throat when you turn to look at her.

You don’t want to say something you’ll regret, so you don’t speak simply because you’re that angry.

Not just at the Wanda thing, that made you angry but as the severity of everything that happened rushes towards you, you get pissed.

“I need a minute.”

She nods, hand slowly leaving your body, but eyes holding your gaze for a second longer.

That “minute” lasts until your on one of Tony’s jets.

An attendant offers you a hot towel which you decline, only for Natasha to accept one and angle her body towards you.

The silence remains as she wipes the dirt and blood off your face.

You weren’t even aware you had blood on your face.

“You know, as sexy as your angry silence is, its starting to worry me.”

As of late, when you look into Natasha’s eyes there’s something hidden beneath. She’d allow you to see certain emotions but whatever it was, she was hiding it with everything she has.

“I’m fine Tasha.”

“There’s no way you’re fine. Not after all that just happened.”

You chuckle humorlessly,“ of course I’m not but what else am I supposed to say? I can’t even comprehend what the hell just happened and I was actively apart of it. None of that should’ve happened but it’s not like any of us had any other choice right?”

“Tell me what I can do.” She speaks softly.

“I don’t know Nat. I don’t think there’s anything any of us can do.”

A beat of silence.

Unsure of what to say, but not wanting to take your frustrations out on Natasha, you reach up and take the hand she left resting on your cheek.

You press three chaste kisses on her knuckles, before reaching down and pulling her legs into your lap.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m incredibly grateful to have you with me Pretty Girl.”

A gentle smile curves her lips, nothing like the warning smirks and expressionless faces she’s been pulling the last few days.

You stare into those eyes you’ve come to love and in them you find fear, hurt, uncertainty.

You’re hit with how selfish you’ve been with her.

She’s been asking you how you are, reassuring you, but this team is her family even more so than it is yours. While you’ve only been here a couple months, she’s been here since the beginning.

If this hurts you, there’s no doubt it’s hurting her more.

Wrapping an arm around her back, you pull her into your lap. Her arms wrap around your shoulders and her cheek lays against your head.

You tighten your hold on her waist,“ we’re gonna get our family back Nat.”

You don’t see it, but determination sets in those green eyes. She knows everything you don’t.

“I know.” She says, eyes trained outside the jet window.

********

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#Thin Line

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arse-crack-thistle · 4 years ago

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a firstprince meet-cute

the heroes of olympus au

in which the roman son of apollo meets the greek son of themis

Henry—the quiet son of Apollo and Centurion of the 3rd cohort—leads a team of five demigods through the Long Island woods. Their task: spy on the Greeks and bring information back to Octavian. The golden-haired boy wishes he could’ve refused, but anyone who goes against the Pontifex Maximus gets severely punished and he will not let any harm come to his legionaries. Not again.

The group weaves through the trees, dodging the sight of any patrols. Henry has no idea how he’ll get close enough to hear anything, but he might be able to interpret some battle strategy from the Greek’s night preparations. As his fellow soldiers fan out beside him, Henry inches up the hill. He’d say a prayer to his father if he thought it would help, but he doesn’t. After many unanswered prayers about his sexuality, about his rather fucked up influential family, he doesn’t bother with Apollo anymore.

Henry gestures for his right-hand man—Pez, son of Mercury and the only one who actually knows he’s gay—to peer over the hill with him; the others stay back, keeping watch. The Centurion readies an arrow just in case, while Pez has his hand on the hilt of his blade, and they watch Greek demigods reinforce their buildings, sharpen their weapons, and prepare medical tents. None of them are practicing formations, which doesn’t help Henry or Octavian at all. He has to come back with something, so he puts the arrow away and crawls forward.

This could be really stupid, but he has to try—not for Octavian but for New Rome. It’s the only place that’s felt like home to him. Back in England, there’s his grandmother, the CEO of an underwhelming home goods empire. The stuff is cheap, but they’re still the number one seller back home. His mother and brother have a part in it. His sister ran off a few years back, and he has no idea where she is or if she’s even alive. His father—or rather ex-step-father—hasn’t wanted much to do with him since about three years ago when he found out Henry’s mother had an affair at a music festival fourteen years before.

They had a scandalous divorce, covered by every major news outlet, and Henry found out his true identity when a handsome demigod knocked on his door and told him he was in danger and had to be take to California. Several monsters, a few thousand miles, and a few months with a wolf goddess later, he found himself at Camp Jupiter. Everything that happened to him up until then—the blurry images of creatures at the corner of his eyes every time he turned a corner, the dyslexia that made his passion for writing frustrating, the way he never really fit in with his family—finally made sense. He was a demigod! And when the sign of Apollo appeared over his head after he made his first bullseye at the archery range, he truly felt like he found where he belonged.

Pez whispers for him to come back, but Henry lifts a hand in warning. Just then, someone—a dryad probably—screams an alert to his enemy, and all Underworld breaks loose. His legionaries get in formation behind him, readying themselves for the Greeks. They were taught never to run from a fight, but Henry can’t allow this to happen. He’s been in enough battles to know when he can win and when he can’t. Eventually, they’ll be outnumbered because Octavian won’t send him reinforcements if he can help it. He doesn’t know how violent the Greeks will be, but if they willingly fired on New Rome when their defenses were down, then he can’t take the risk. And he won’t repeat what happened in the Titan war.

Henry orders his soldiers back, telling Pez to take temporary control of the cohort and share the minimal information they gathered with the Pontifex. If they’re to be any casualties tonight, it will only be Henry and the Greeks he can take down with him.

•••

The last thing Alex—the wise-ass son of Themis—wants to do in the middle of the night is go to a counsel meeting at the Big House. He wipes the sleep from his eyes as he walks up the creaky steps. Inside, Chiron and the other counsellors gather around a table. It’s times like this he wishes it was a year ago when the children of minor gods were left out of meetings and decision-making. But as soon as he slaps himself awake, he regains his undying need to get involved and raise hell—fair and just hell, of course.

He sits down next to Nora, the temporary head counsellor of the Athena cabin. She’s bouncing in her seat—no doubt high on caffeine and nectar and ready to get back to developing war strategy. She gives him a wink and taps her fingers like she’s back home typing on a computer. Chiron clears his throat and tells the demigods of a Roman scout team that was spotted an hour ago. Unfortunately, most of the soldiers got away, but they did manage to capture one. He’s being held in one of the Big House’s guest rooms.

Now it’s Alex’s turn to bounce. He’s been waiting for an opportunity like this. A prisoner of war means they’ll need to get information. There will need to be a lawyer present—or a lawyer in training that is. He can preside over the questioning, be the voice of justice, and maybe even get the Roman to see the right side is his. He can picture it now: Camp Half-Blood safe from the Romans and that dude reformed in his ways, joining them to stop Gaia. Yes, this is his chance to step out of his sister’s shadow.

He volunteers to mediate for whoever is charged with the interview. Alex ignores Chiron’s obvious hesitation; just because he can get a little heated—thank gods Leo isn’t here cracking a dumb pun joke at that, which would inevitably leave them both laughing on the floor—doesn’t mean he can’t be objective. So he hates the Romans’ guts and thinks they should go back to their stuck-up little camp, so what? Once he’s in the real world, going to college, running for congress like his father, he’ll have to deal with a shit-ton of people he doesn’t like. Looking at you, Bitch McConnell.

Just as Chiron decides he, Nora, Will Solace, and reluctantly Alex will talk to the Roman boy, a camper from the Aphrodite cabin bursts through the door and tells him one of the Hephaestus girls accidentally blew up a boy from the Ares cabin. Apparently, armor strapped with projectile explosives wasn’t the best idea. So Chiron declares they will talk to their guest in the morning, and in the meantime, they’ll take shifts in pairs guarding him. Alex raises his hand to get the first watch, but Chiron appoints Drew Tanaka and Connor Stoll. They both roll their eyes at the idea of being stuck together for the next few hours. Alex’s chest deflates.

Ever since his sister left—he and June are some of the rare demigods that have the same mortal and immortal parentage without being twins—the responsibility of the Themis cabin has fallen on his shoulders. He wanted it, of course, but his siblings also elected him to the head counsellor position, thinking he’d follow in June’s footsteps: ruling with truth, justice, and wisdom. Just like their mother.

Back in his cabin, Alex stares at the marble statue of her that presides over her children. Her iconic image—blindfolded, holding a sword in one hand and balancing a scale in the other—reminds him he’s definitely no June.

She was a leader of quests; Alex has never been on one. June was the voice of reason at counsel meetings; he struggles just to sit still, let alone calm a room with one enlightening sentence. When the children of minor gods were finally given their own cabins, there was no question who should run theirs. Now, he hears his siblings whisper whether they should hold another election. Gods, you call out your conservative brothers one time—it was way more than once—and suddenly, you’re imposing your opinion on everyone.

That’s not it though. Alex has never been given a chance to step up. No matter how many times he tries to convince the counsel they should establish a court system at camp—nothing settles an argument like a nice, fair trial—he always gets shot down.

Not anymore. He’s not going to sit back this time. Not when the threat to camp is this great. He’ll get what he needs from that Roman. If June were here, she would’ve been trusted to go ahead without Chiron, so Alex will do the same.

•••

Henry wakes up to angry whispers outside of his door. The twelve Greeks overtook him easily, but he did put up a good fight. At least, he did until he was knocked unconscious. On the table beside his bed, a note sits atop a plate of food.

Eat well. Hydrate. Rest. We’ll speak with you soon. -Chiron

A glass of juice spiked with nectar sits next to the plate. Why would those imbecilic Greeks give him what’s essentially strengthening serum? He intakes his surroundings: a bed, a table, a dresser, and a chair. Window to the left. Only door out to the right. There’s a clean set of clothes at the end of the bed, but Henry would rather go to Tartarus and back than put on another camp’s shirt.

He jimmies the window, but it’s locked and to hard to break. He lightly tries the doorknob, but it’s locked as well. By the sounds of it, three maybe four people argue outside his door. Romans never had this much trouble changing guard shifts. Henry fiddles about the room, looking for anything to 1. unlock the door and 2. use as a weapon. He can handle four Greeks, and he’ll do everything in his power to get back to his cohort.

Henry hears the click of the door unlocking. Gods, they’re thick, aren’t they? He grabs the wooden chair, and as the door swings open, he thwacks the person walking in with it. Just as he suspected, the chair breaks, and he uses one piece to press against the throat of the careless demigod he’s pinned to the floor.

The boy beneath him groans. He’s got light brown skin and dark curly hair, and if Henry weren’t about to kill him, he’d think he was quite cute.

“Gods, can you Greeks do anything with finesse? Even your hero, Percy Jackson, as talented as he may be, flies by the seed of his trousers.” Henry grits his teeth.

“Ha!” the boy coughs out. “Jumping to conclusions, are we? I thought you guys were supposed to be strictly trained soldiers. You miscalculated.”

He points behind him, and when Henry looks up, a girl stands battle-ready with a sword in her hand. The distraction is enough for the boy below to wrap his legs around Henry and flip them. The Greek holds a dagger to his neck.

“Listen here, pretty boy, are we going to talk or am I going to go all American Revolution on your British-ass?” He presses the dagger, and Henry yelps.

The boy’s brown eyes peer into Henry’s, and some strange part of him likes it. The Greek looks about his age and, while clearly not as capable as he, definitely has some fight in him.

“I’d like to see you try, graecus. But be forewarned, if you send me to the Underworld, I’ll drag you and your camp down with me.” He keeps his face plain and uncaring, though he can feel the heat in his cheeks. Apollo help him.

The girl interrupts them to remind her partner what they’re here to do. She sheaths her sword and closes the door.

He’s called Alex. Henry swallows. And they need information.

Alex releases him. The two get up off the ground. No one moves to sit or get more comfortable. The boys just stare at each other, long and cold.

Henry can tell this guy is a complete and total arse, and yet he can’t shake the swirling feeling in his stomach. A memory from a quest eighteen months ago flashes in his mind. In Vegas, a priest of Venus dressed like Elvis told him great tragedy would befall his love life, but with the goddess’s blessing, he’d find happiness again.

He already lost someone. The demigod who found him, Daniel, son of Ceres, his sponsor when he joined the camp, his Centurion. Everything was quiet between them—few words needed for mutual understanding. Daniel brought him fresh lavender; Henry played him a tune on the lute. But then the Titan war came. And Daniel disobeyed the Praetors’ orders to save the boy he loved. Henry barely had time to grieve before he took control of the 3rd cohort and lost four other demigods in the process. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t think of the five who died because of him. Because of love.

No. This feeling he has is the desire to beat the Greeks, nothing more. He doesn’t give a damn about happiness in love or this obnoxiously hot demigod before him. Like even as Alex breaks eye contact first, puts his sheathed dagger in his boot, ruffles his hair, puts his hands on his hips, and sighs, Henry feels nothing. Elvis can go fuck himself.

“So,” Alex says, “what do you have planned, and how can we convince you to stop? We’d really like to prevent another demigod civil war.”

Henry laughs, and even though nothing would make him happier than to stop fighting, to rest as Chiron suggested, he tells Alex, “You’re really a dickhead if you think I’m giving you anything.”

•••

“It was an accident!”

“You expect me to believe with our two camps in a centuries-long feud that the one time we let down our defenses, your lot just attacked us on accident? Right, and I suppose Pluto is actually a sweet guy once you get to know him, too?”

“My buddy Leo was being controlled by Gaia!”

“Your mate Leo should come up with a better lie.”

“You’re impossible!” Gods, Alex really hates this guy. “Nora, can’t we just—”

She shakes her head before he can finish. He’s not really sure what he was going to say. Have Drew come back and charmspeak him? Feed him to the harpies? Pin him down again? Wait—what?

“Listen, dude. We’re really on the same side here. Right now, both Greeks and Romans demigods—our friends—are fighting against a greater threat than the world has seen since the beginning of time. That’s got to count for something,” he says.

The Roman is quiet. Alex hates how he looks like a goddamn prince even after a fight. But maybe he got through to him. After all, it is true. For all the shit he talks about Romans, he knows they’re not bad, just different. They actually have more in common than they’d like to acknowledge. Jason Grace taught him that. If there was ever a Roman WASP he could get behind, it’s Jason.

So Alex tries a different approach. He gestures to the bed. “You want to?” The blond boy stiffens, and Alex clarifies, “Sit?”

“How about we start over?” He sits. Nora takes the opportunity to march to the other side and bellyflops onto the bed. “I’m Alex, son of Themis, the goddess of justice. And you are?”

He watches the Roman look from the undefended door to Alex and back again.

“You could run,” Alex says. “But then we’d have no chance to broker peace. Hera thought she could do it by trading heroes, but I think you and I both know it takes more than one person to heal two armies.”

Power swells in his chest. Alex can’t know for sure, but maybe his mother is looking out for him. This is how he can bring the demigods justice for Gaia’s destruction. June would be the better choice, but Alex is here and he has to try.

“Let’s work together. Or at least, get along long enough for the prophesized seven to come back home,” he says.

The Roman hesitates. Alex can see in his light blue eyes the number of strategies racing through his mind. But ultimately, he decides to sit. Nora snores next to them. Five a.m. and a caffeine/nectar crash will do that to you.

“So your name?” Alex asks. “It’s only fair.” Dumb pun but he winks.

The boy coughs, but then he looks into Alex’s eyes. “I’m—er—Henry, son of Apollo, Centurion of the 3rd cohort.”

so this is a little late but we’re just going to ignore that...

i just finished reading toa a couple of weeks ago, and i can’t stop thinking about it!! so when i saw the meet-cute prompt, i couldn’t resist a percy jackson-ish fic! i hope you enjoyed this little short piece. <3

rwrb romance week | @rwrb-fests

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eleanor-devil · 4 years ago

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Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.13 - What Matters Most

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05

The chill of the earliest hours of the day were gaining upon them as the large group made its way through the woods, as discreetly as possible. But no chill could've rivaled the one that was growing in Sasame's heart at that moment. She couldn't help the way in which her thoughts kept drifting to her husband. It had been twenty years since she had known Hideyoshi, they had met briefly before she left for her mission to find her cousin. He had always been honest, caring... Especially for those younger than him. And he had always been a man of honor... That was the trademark of the Oberatsu after all, their penchant for honor... Why would he attack a child? Was it possible... that she didn't get to know him at all...? "Mama?" The voice of her eldest, Kazuhiro, was enough to snap her out of it. The young boy was looking at her through worried dark brown irises. Sasame's sad eyes took a softer look. "Kazuhiro..." (1) "Are we... going to see my dad again...?" That was the question she had feared. The orange haired kunoichi closed her eyes for a moment as memories flooded her mind...

[Flashback] "I am begging you, you mustn't go!" The woman's eyes showed nothing but desperation as she watched her husband packing his weapons. The arrows, his small bow... And the truth that she could do nothing to stop him made her heart ache, so much so that it was almost unbearable... "This is a great honor. You should understand..." "What is a great honor?" Sasame almost cried out. "To build a village from the ashes of another? Where is the honor in that?" "Our village was destroyed, shunned, cursed... All because of that one cursed ninja who was pardoned for his crimes while we stayed aloof, fending for ourselves - barely..." "And blaming everyone else but ourselves for it!" the woman yelled. "We couldn't form a unity because each one of the clans are too egoistic to put personal matters aside and name a leader for the prosperity of Otogakure! Why should we go wage war on an innocent nation because of this?! Why can't we make allies out of them instead of enemies?!" "No, we suffer because of Orochimaru!" Hideyoshi spat, spinning around to look at her. "And if disrupting his peace meant attacking his former village, so be it! What did that so-called peace treaty bring upon us?! Otogakure was cast aside as if a useless doll - no one gave us a second thought!" "No one has to. We could solve all of our problems ourselves if we had enough backbone and a clever and selfless enough leader!" "That's enough." The man's voice was cold and hard. "You ordered Fuma out of this mission but the others all agreed to it." "And your leader hand-picked you and brainwashed you enough to repeat his own words to me. You can fool anyone but me - your heart is not entirely in this mission, either." Hideyoshi only avoided her gaze for a second, but when he looked back at her, his gaze was determined. "I know where my loyalties lie. Oto will be reformed, brought to glory. If it was to be on the blood of your friend, the Hokage..." His words were like a knife through her heart. "...so be it." Regaining her composure, Sasame straightened her back, her gaze and voice just as cold. "If you get out now... You can't come back as Fuma Sasame's husband." Hideyoshi stopped dead in his tracks as he reached to get out of the tent, and turned to look at her with sad, almost heart-broken eyes... And for a moment, Sasame couldn't even breathe as guilt and sadness washed upon her... [End of Flashback] Sasame opened her eyes with a tear, and saw Kazuhiro was still gazing at her carefully. "Mama..." "Kazuhiro, you have an important mission from now on." she mused softly, looking at the boy with a broken smile. "You are gonna have to take care of your brother and sister..." "He is not coming back..." the young boy stated, not as a question, just as a means of voicing the simple truth. "I'm afraid not, my dear child..." Sasame tried to control the trembling in her voice. "So you will be the one to fill his void... The best as you can..." As he nodded grimly, the woman was wondering how she was ever going to fill the void in her heart... ... The young woman knelt before the other two, who were finishing their preparations. "God dammit! They are here! There are twelve Konoha ninjas out there!" Hearing that, Suzume's heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening. That was what she had feared - although now to think of it, most likely what the Yoshida and the other clans planned when they left her with this punishment. She was a disgrace... If she could manage to go back unscathed, she would be allowed to have a clean slate. If not... It didn't really matter if she died here. She had just counted on the possibility that the Konoha ninjas wouldn't reach Oto this quickly. "Okay, we have to come up with a plan. This means four ninjas for each..." "Wait. Who told you we would be fighting?" The woman's head turned to her comrade. "What?" "They are here for you, not us." the second woman said matter-of-factly. "We are not gonna stand here and risk our skins." "Together we have a better chance against them!" Suzume spat, a fire burning in her eyes. "What makes you think they won't come after you if I don't make it out?!" "Then you better make sure to stop them. After all... that's the least you can do after how you failed so miserably." And with that, the two women sprinted towards the trees, leaving a horrified Suzume behind... ... The forest was quiet. Only sounds of nature waking up surrounded him as Konohamaru walked further into the clearing, his keen eyes searching everywhere, detecting every simple movement. Letting his breath out in one curt sigh, Konohamaru took another step forward... And came to a stop as he felt the sharp and cold tip of a kunai against his throat. "I assume you are looking for me." came the cold, unconcerned voice of a woman behind him. The young jounin didn't even think about it as instinct took over. In one quick motion, he dodged the blade, bent down on his knees and spun around to kick the woman's legs out from under her. Then he jumped back a little to put some distance between them and as the woman got up, he got his first glance of her. And he did take in all aspects of her appearance... Recording all of the details of this hated woman into his memory... from her black hair tucked back into the bandana of her protector with only two bangs falling before her eyes to the black eyes, black as coals... "Yoshida Suzume." he practically spat out her name, his voice filled with so much disgust. "I am here to exact justice on you for the crimes you committed against Konoha." His eyes narrowed. "And for harming my student." The woman chuckled. "Oooh, how touching... But for that..." There was a flash of light, and the next second the brunette looked, Suzume was no longer standing a few feet away from him. "...you have to catch me first." came her voice from above, from the canopy of trees. ... "Lord Sixth," Kakashi heard Kiba's voice in the ear piece. "We are closing in on them. What is our next..." Before he could finish, there was an explosion of a loud, high-pitched and ringing sound and Kakashi had to pull out the earpiece in the nick of time to protect his hearing. As the powerful blast died down slowly, the former Hokage brought the piece to his ear once again. "What is going on? Is everyone alright?" No sound came, only a weird buzzing. Cursing under his breath, he did a quick hand seal, and was suddenly surrounded by lightning... ... "You moron!" The woman ran to her friend. "I told you not to do it! You're still not an expert on sound blasts!" The woman on the ground tried to get up, but it was apparent that she wasn't doing a good job - her balance was too set off. "We needed to stop them - they were about to catch us!" Hearing a buzzing sound, the other looked up and around, gritting her teeth. Nothing could be seen, but she was sensing a powerful chakra... an insanely powerful chakra. "Good luck with that, you idiot! I'm out of here!" "What?!" the woman yelped, positively alarmed. "Wait!" But the former had already started to disappear through the trees. Clenching her jaw, the woman got to her feet, slowly, shakily... Her hands then moved to the crossed swords on her back, extracting two thin and long swords.

If it had to come down to a fight, they might as well have a taste of the Fujaku Hisho Shoken. (2)

... So that was how she wanted to play it, huh? He had made his plan as soon as she got lost between the trees. Without wasting any time, Konohamaru used a fire jutsu to create a huge fire wall in front of him, then punched the ground, which caused a whirlwind to be born. Using the air currents to his advantage, the jounin then sent the whirlwind, powered by the flames, directly to the cluster of trees. She wouldn't just stand around to get roasted. She would have to come down. Sure enough, he saw a flash of blue that probably meant she was using a water technique to meet the inferno. Light smoke began covering the area - which gave him a chance to prepare his second attack. Inhaling, the brunette let out a huge cloud of ashes from his mouth and then, jerking his head back to activate the trigger, he watched as flames instantly covered the area... A huge explosion went off, illuminating the dark sky. Konohamaru then took out eight shurikens, one in between each finger, and waited... "Geez, you're indeed going all out, aren't you?" Turning around quickly, he saw the woman for a moment before he threw half of the shurikens at her, but the next he looked, she wasn't there at all. "That kid must have really meant something to you." Turning to the second direction, Konohamaru threw the second group of the shurikens. Suzume tut tutted, her voice almost sounding like she was enjoying herself. "Now now, these rash actions won't do, will they?" "You bit-" "Hey, watch out that tongue. This is not how you talk to a lady." "News flash, I will never consider you a lady." "Hah. Guess I will have to show you, do I? Torpedo Nails!" When he heard that, the brunette jumped into the air and away from where he was just standing, just as small pieces of whatever weapon she was using embedded themselves into the ground. Not wanting to take any chances, Konohamaru put his hands together to create shadow clones. Precariously, three of the clones walked forward. As soon as they tried to take another step, though... They couldn't. Then hundreds of nails shot from the ground, and Konohamaru jumped behind a tree as the clones disappeared with a poof sound. Suzume had also hid herself behind a tree, hiding with the camouflage technique. Damn, this wouldn't do... She needed some extra help. ... Just before she used the swords to launch herself into the air, she saw someone, someone shrouded in a bright armor of lightning as it seemed, running into the clearing she had just been. Okay... lightning shouldn't be hard. Landing on a branch, the woman quickly did a set of hand signs, and then held her hands in a triangle, positioning them so that she could see the person in between them. "Curse Mandala!" she shouted, and her opponent came to a dead stop as a glowing green pyramid shape materialized around him, trapping him inside. Smirking, the woman began pulling her fingers closer. As the pyramid got tighter and tighter, though... Suddenly there was a poof sound, and the man was no longer there. "Excuse me," then came a drawl from behind her, and she immediately turned back, only to gaze into the face of a white haired man. "But I think you got the wrong one." Thinking quickly, the woman used the swords to slash at him, but next she saw, he was not there. Losing her already unsettled balance, she fell from the tree, but thanks to her wind cutter technique, she landed safely. "Passing Fang!" Without catching her breath properly, she saw something... a ferociously spinning something, which looked like a drill, heading to her way and raised her swords to counter it, but hard... it was so hard to maintain her ground like this... The power forced her to take a few steps, driving her back. Gritting her teeth, she tried her best to resist it... But it was futile. Not long after that, she felt the force of the technique throwing her back, like a rag doll, right into a rock. As she tried to get up, bringing a hand to her head, she heard the two men talking among themselves. "Are all of you okay, Kiba? What happened back there?" "It was nothing we couldn't handle, Lord Sixth, we were just caught unprepared for a second." Lord Sixth?! The woman's eyes widened. Did... a village leader... come seeking them out?! Well, shit. "That's right. I'm the Sixth Hokage, Hatake Kakashi, and it’s not possible you could escape judgement after attacking the Leaf." she heard the drawl once again as she straightened herself up. "It would be in your better interest if you surrender now without resistance..." "Well... I'm sorry, Rokudaime-sama," the woman said from between gritted teeth, emphasizing the last word sarcastically. "But I'm Kamiko from the Yoshida clan, and the Yoshida knows no such thing as surrender." She then brought her hands together to create balls of flame and threw them randomly towards the space between them, causing explosions and creating an opening for her to go into hiding. On Kakashi's signal, Kiba jumped towards the trees to take another place. "If you think you can run from us forever, think again." the former Hokage said, bringing his hands together to create lightning. Out of the charge came two hounds, who growled at him in recognition before running away. ... Suzume bit her thumb and let a bit of blood trail from the wound before slamming her hand on the ground, creating a black shape. "Kuchiyose no Jutsu!" A huge, poisonous green and yellow snake erupted from the ground, coiling around itself before meeting her eyes. "Kessha, bury him to the ground!" Hissing once, the snake rose high into the air before slamming on the earth with a huge bang that shook almost the entire forest, and slid underground. Konohamaru had heard her move. Acting quickly, he also slammed his palm on the ground and yelled, "Kuchiyose no Jutsu!" A huge monkey wearing a Konoha headband appeared in front of him, and as soon as he did, he yelled, "Jump!" Without hesitation the brunet did as he was told, and just when he jumped, a snake burst through the ground, baring his fangs at him. With a primeval shriek, the monkey transformed itself into a long, black and yellow staff and cloned itself right before Konohamaru landed, creating some sort of a prison wall in front of him. The snake's bared fangs collided with the many staffs that had made the wall, but the prison itself wasn't even shaken. At that time, the snake caught the eyes that were protruding from the staff, and its eyes widened. Without going for another attack, it slid back into the hole and disappeared from the view. The staff returned to its original size, releasing Konohamaru from where he was trapped, and the jounin held the staff in one hand in an attack pose while reaching for a kunai with the other. "Enma..." (3) "No words needed, boy. Better not let your guard down." the monkey king spoke from the staff. "We have faced this enemy before." ... The woman's eyes widened when she saw Kessha returning to her. "What do you think you are doing?! Keep attacking, he is not dead yet!" "Are you serious?!" the snake asked in a feminine voice, obviously furious and panicked. "You want me to fight with the fucking monkey king Enma?! Are you out of your mind?!" "So what?!" Suzume yelled, equally pissed off. "Stop being a hebiko (4), and finish them off!" ... "Wait, what do you mean we faced them before?" Konohamaru asked with a frown, thoroughly confused. "You remember back when you summoned me in the orphanage attack?" Enma's arm stretched out from the staff and he touched the adamantine with it, as if tapping his nose. "My nose never failed me. That snake the woman just used was one of those who were present in that attack." For a moment, the brunet didn't even know what to say. "W-what...?" "As you just heard it," the monkey said, glancing at him. "This woman was definitely involved in the attack against Konoha." Konohamaru's mind was reeling, so many questions and thoughts... What did this even mean? That the Sound was once again playing as Orochimaru's pioneers? Was there an even greater scheme behind all of these? Or... he didn't want to think of this, but he was a jounin and he was supposed to look at it from all angles, no matter how disturbing they might be... Was there a possibility... that the sannin wasn't involved in it... at all? He was lost in thought for a moment, he didn't notice the impending threat until Enma called out. "Watch out!" Looking up just in time, the brunette used the staff to ward off the lights, but one of them came too close to his arm, and he hissed in pain as something seared it. Then he heard the woman's high, cold laughter. "Uh oh, guess we just got busted, aren't we?" she said in a sing-song voice, which irritated the man even more. "You couldn't deny the mastermind behind the plan, though, admit it! You numb skulls didn't even suspect a thing!" "What the hell are you talking about?!" "Did you know it took us a lot of time to finally copy that damned curse seal so we can frame that bastard? It was no easy feat, and even harder to create three snakes all at once - just a couple of months ago I could only call forth two." "You..." words were failing him, he was so outraged. There was a whoosh sound right behind him then, and using the kunai he drew out earlier, he slashed, only to meet the air. “Oooh wait… did I see that blade somewhere before?” These words drew the young man’s gaze back to the kunai, and he did a double-take. He hadn’t even realized he pulled out the kunai he had gifted Mitsuki the one he found, still buzzing with lightning, on their way out of the village. His grip only tightened more on the blade as he heard the woman laughing once again, only her voice sounded from far away. "Wait, just answer me this... was that child in some way related to that snake bastard? I thought as much when he looked up at me... Was that the reason you guys kicked him out of the village? Wow, now even we couldn't have planned that!" "What does it matter if he is related to him or not?" Konohamaru yelled in rage, creating another set of clones. "He is still a child!" He then used the clones to throw shurikens towards the woman's voice from all directions. "Did you know that he begged for his life?" the woman then said, from right behind him. This time, his body acted before his mind. Lightning fast, he reached out to grab the woman's shoulder and flipped himself over her in one quick motion. As soon as he landed, still holding on to her, he threw her over himself, basically slamming her into the ground. Without giving her a chance to recover, grabbing the adamantine staff tightly, he brought the end of it, hard, to Suzume's head, seeing her eyes widening in shock. "Cranium crusher!" Just before the staff touched her, though, the woman had disappeared in a flash. The jounin stood there for a moment, enraged. How the fuck did that just happen?! A few feet away, crouched behind a rock, the Oto kunoichi brought a hand to her chest. That... had been close. ... Hearing the growls of the lightning beasts as they drew closer, Kamiko gritted her teeth, she had to do something about them - fast. Turning around, she once again used the swords to create powerful air blasts - slice after another slice - and sent them after the hounds. Easily dodging them, one of them came running at her, its fangs bared, at which the woman dug one of the swords to the ground, swinging around it and kicking the air currents at the creature's face. Although it stopped the hound, its lightning did catch her left foot and the woman cursed as she knelt on the ground, holding it. Damn, this was going to make things hard for her. Hearing a sound right then, Kamiko took a dozen shurikens and threw four of them randomly, towards the cardinal directions. She saw a ninja rushing towards her from one direction, and she pulled the strings attached to the shuriken to make it fly towards the enemy, but the weapon passed through him and the body disappeared. A clone... The real ninja then jumped her from a completely different direction, forcing her to get up, which caused pain to shout up through her left leg. She didn't have time to concentrate on it, though, as she saw the opponent's fist soaring towards her face. So he was going to rely on taijutsu, huh? Well, that was just fine with her. Gathering chakra to the tips of her fingers, she prepared to launch her attack. This was meant to cause the sound waves emitted by the body, the heartbeat for example, to respond to her chakra and make a pressure powerful enough to cause some serious damage. Bonus points if she managed to hit the enemy in the chest area. So they fought, but her opponent was good. It was apparent that he was very skilled, as he managed to dodge her every move. Her hand did come close to his body once or twice, but caused nothing more than a flinch. Just when she made another move, the ninja suddenly brought up his left arm and right leg and before she knew it, her arm was caught in between them. A crack was heard. Crying out loud from the pain, Kamiko fell on the ground, holding the broken arm. Seeing that the man was still advancing, she tried to reach one of the swords using her left arm... Out of nowhere, tiny wires wrapped around the sword and before she could touch it, the weapon broke into tiny pieces. Eyes widened in shock, she turned around herself to reach for the other, but before she could do that, a powerful blast of power sent her flying. Just when she was about to get up again, she felt something... a powerful, burning electric surge directed to her back, not piercing it, but its presence so threatening that she found it impossible to even take another step... "Chidori. A thousand birds." came the voice of the sixth behind her. "One hit and you will die the worst death... Suffering as your insides burned on with hundreds of volts." Feeling the kunoichi shiver before him, Kakashi continued in the same cold tone. "Surrender now. It's over." There was really nothing else she could do. Slowly, cursing under her breath for it... She raised her hands up. ... Suddenly hearing a buzz from his ear piece, Konohamaru concentrated on it, while his keen eyes searched everywhere for Suzume. "We are done here, Konohamaru. It's all up to you now." Hearing that, a big grin etched its way on his face. That was it... "Did you hear that?" he yelled towards the woman, although he knew that she probably didn't. "Your little friend is finished. You are all alone now!" "Oh. Just like how you left that kid alone?" came the woman's voice. "I know what you did. I know how you trapped him so we couldn't hear him!" "Bet you didn't know how he was crying when we were finished with him, though?" came her whisper from right behind him then, and for a moment... everything came to a stop as the jounin froze... literally froze. He didn't believe her other words from before... He knew Mitsuki would never beg for his life and he knew for sure that no matter what that woman believed, he wasn't sent away from Konoha, Lord Seventh would never allow that... But... he... was crying...? How deeply must he have been hurt - not just physically but emotionally too - after what he had gone through in the village...? And they could do nothing to stop it... He himself had failed as his sensei... "Boy look out!" he heard Enma's voice, but then it was too late. He hadn't noticed Suzume sneaking up behind him. There was an explosion and Konohamaru felt himself thrown into the air, with a burning pain in his back. He landed a few feet away, and brought a hand to his wounds as he tried to get up. Enma was beside him in a second, with a disapproving look on his face. "Didn't I tell you not to get distracted? Zoning out is the last thing you would want to do with someone like her around! Get a grip already!" "I-I know," the brunet mumbled. "I'm fine..." Then he once again heard the voice of the Lord Sixth coming from the earpiece, although his tone was harsher than before. "Konohamaru. If you are going to be careless, I will have to step in." Then his voice softened a little. "You have come this far this good. You wanted to fight her alone. Don't let me take this chance away from you now." Those... were just the words he needed. Closing his eyes, Konohamaru straightened himself and got up, forgetting about the pain for a moment to concentrate on ending this. Focusing on his chakra, he called upon a rasengan... A big one... and watched it as it got bigger... [Flashback] ...this... this was not happening... It felt like time had stopped, trapping Konohamaru inside his own personal hell as he watched, too shocked to even breathe, his student... passing away... right before his very eyes… What he wouldn't give to be dying in Mitsuki's place right now... He was too young... Just barely thirteen... He did not deserve this - he deserved to live!... "...Sh... Shall I announce the time...?" When he heard the nurse... all of a sudden, he snapped back to life. Without seeing eyes, he strode to the door and burst it open, rushing inside... Two of the nurses managed to barely stop him before he reached the bed, and Konohamaru tried to control his breathing as he looked at an unmoving Mitsuki. "Konohamaru-san, please..." one of the nurses mumbled, tearing up. "Mitsuki!" the jounin yelled, barely recognizing his own voice, filled with so many emotions. "You can do this, kiddo, don't give up! You are so much stronger than this! Come back to us!" "Konohamaru-san, please you have to step back...!" said one of the nurses, she barely had the strength to push back a man like Konohamaru and he was clearly not accepting his student's death but... there was nothing more they could do...! The kid... was gone... his heart didn't respond... "Tsunade-sama...?" murmured the second nurse, looking at the former Hokage. "Wait... wait just a second..." Sakura mumbled in Tsunade's place, her eyes still on the machine. "Sakura-san... It might be too much already..." One of the nurses warned her. "No... no, please... please don't give up on him... He's strong, he'll pull through... I'm begging you, please don't give up..." Konohamaru said, almost as if in a trance. "Let's just leave the child in peace..." another nurse said, her voice shaky. Tsunade snapped back to herself and hastily hushed the nurse, staring at Sakura. "Sakura-san..." But as the nurse was about to mumble the same words as before... a tiny but sudden sound erupted from the machine, causing everyone's eyes to immediately set at it. As the heart rate slowly, very slowly fell back to a steady rhythm, Sakura broke into a smile, and laughed softly, while tears fell down from her eyes. "You really do like your surprises, don't you?" she mused fondly, leaning over to kiss Mitsuki on the top of his head. A tear fell on the closed eye of the child. Tsunade smiled too, but it was a broken smile. "Really, kid... I'm not a young woman anymore, don't scare us like that..." Konohamaru was hit by such a huge wave of relief that he almost couldn't stand his ground. He brought his hand over his mouth as he began to softly cry himself. He didn't object this time as the nurse told him he should really wait outside, and silently retreated out of the room, his eyes on Mitsuki all the time. [End of Flashback] He heard a sliding sound, trees crushing as the giant snake once again made her way to him. His eyes, however, were locked on the woman, who stood behind the beast, a disgusting smirk all over her face... And Konohamaru stroke forward. He swung the adamantine staff towards the snake, enlarging the staff. Enma burst out at the end of it, wrapping his arms around the snake before he pierced her throat with his fangs. And before she could do anything... Konohamaru had grabbed the woman by her collar, slamming her into a tree... Suzume's eyes widened for one last time before the rasengan hit her chest with full force. It was over... ... Enma turned to his normal form as the other Konoha ninjas gathered around, all just silently looking at the brunet. The monkey king had a small smile on his face, his look both exasperated and proud. 'You have quite the grandson, Sarutobi...' he thought to himself. ... Dropping the woman's body to the ground, the jounin looked at her expressionlessly, feeling only... relieved... a whole... [Flashback] Konohamaru felt so proud of his students... The second round of the Chuunin exams was over, and they had managed excellent teamwork. Much better than what he expected, really, what with Boruto being Boruto... Speaking of which, he noticed two genins in his team were approached by their family, receiving cheers and congratulations, big smiles on their faces... and of course, Boruto had been in a gloating mode... The next thing he noticed was his third student... standing all by himself, a couple of feet away from them, just looking at his two teammates and their families with a small smile. And something about that bothered the young jounin. About how Mitsuki had no one to cheer for him, at least for that moment... Making his decision, he started walking towards him. The blue haired boy was surprised when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to gaze into the smiling face of his sensei. "Well done, kiddo, great job," Konohamaru said encouragingly. "I knew you guys would do it." And slowly, the boy's face broke into a full-on smile as well... [End of Flashback] 'Thank you... sensei...' Hearing the faint voice brought by the wind itself, the brunet's eyes widened for a moment. Before he knew it, he had fallen on his knees beside Suzume's body, his head bowed low as he started weeping softly, and the sun's first rays began seeping through the trees...

A.N:

(1) Remember or note down these names. They are gonna be very important in the following projects. (2) You can search this and almost all of the technique names listed on this chapter on Narutopedia. (3) This Enma is the Enma who was Hiruzen's personal summon. We do not use Konohamaru's canon summons, the toad or the monkey, in our storyline. (4) This literally means snake child, but I used it here to mean "baby snake", as in Suzume telling Kessha to stop acting like a scared baby.

#boruto:sacrifices #boruto #naruto #konohamaru #mitsuki #boruto fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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unincised · 4 years ago

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It’s 12 in the morning and instead of doing homework I wrote a meta fic in the perspective of Dream and Wilbur during Dream SMP War. You can read it under the cut!

Inspired by (but not based around) <this post> and everyone’s replies, because that got me messed up tbh.

(It’s probably not chronologically correct / some events are probably forgotten or misinterpreted, but it’s early and I’m bored and inspired, so idk man.)

3k words; 2nd POV; any content warnings in the OG war apply here, but I don’t go into graphic detail so don’t worry. Might post on AO3 if I’m feeling cheeky.

You started to regret your decision. They haven’t existed on your land for too long, but they had already caused more trouble than what was worth. Still, you allowed them to stay, because they captivated your citizens; Strange accents, lovable characteristics, and a reputation that they grew from living elsewhere. You had figured that they would make great additions to your Court, for as long as they wanted it.

You never anticipated they’d take advantage. You never thought they’d stoop so low as to begin forming their own illegal acts behind your back.

There were whispers among the people; Forced smiles that promised secrets. You grit your teeth, because how could anyone keep secrets from you? From their King? Your closest friends knew nothing, but that didn’t mean nothing was happening. So, despite their best efforts to keep you calm, you went out scouting. There were tunnels all across your land, stretching as far as needed, appearing and disappearing, reforming to your needs. You knew this land better than anyone, and you used it to your advantage.

Tommy was acting awfully strange. Forced laughter, nervous glances over his shoulder, sword always strapped to his side. You tailed him until he was no longer on the main road, sneaking around a mountain and deep into the woods. Past a river. He stopped outside a single caravan, knocking on the door and being allowed entry a few moments later. Your eyes narrowed; No one informed you of a residence this far out.

Finding a better vantage point, you peered through the foggy glass and saw brewing stands lining the walls, a man you knew to be Wilbur pulling out a stack of blaze rods. Tommy visibly laughed, rubbing his hands together in excitement.

You couldn’t believe it. In his own home? Did they have no respect?

That night, you confided with George and Sapnap, watching as they sneered at the blatant lack of tact. It was the final straw: You made a final decision to ban them until further notice, maybe in a simple temporary status if they cooperated.

No one explained these things to you. You had no older advisors, no parental guidance, just your two friends who you’d trust with your life. You had no experience dealing with treason within your ranks, especially between two foreign ambassadors that weren’t supposed to break off with their own agenda. This was out of your control, and your confrontation hadn’t even happened yet. There was an unease within the three of you, but it was left unaddressed. You had no time to ponder these things. You needed to act.

Wilbur Soot was not like you. He was older, had experience, was once teamed up with legends that everyone knew the names of. He had a long-standing status within this very tight community. Compared to him, you were no one. You were younger, newer, growing fast but that meant nothing in terms of status. Your land was not well known either — if you ever needed help, you doubted that others would come to your aid. In this way, you were alone.

Despite your warnings, they did not back off. By this point, you were starting to get desperate. If you couldn’t handle a few criminals, how were you to keep your legitimacy as a ruler? You would be considered a joke, possibly even overthrown. Most importantly, how would your friends see you?

Through all of this, the citizens were turning. George arrived back looking frantic, shedding his commoner clothing and pacing around the room. He spoke of the murmurs in the crowd, of the people starting to lean towards those… those criminals. They spoke of you as a tyrant, singing praises of those foreigners’ bravery and justice.

Alone with your thoughts, you reflected. You knew that this war — and you knew it would become a war, no matter how much Alyssa denied it — would need to end with you on top. Luckily, this was something you could do. You were born to fight, knew the newest and deadliest attack methods, knew how to plan out traps, how to get people right where you needed them and strike before they even registered what happened. You had slain dragons; this team of misfits wouldn’t stand a chance.

The next day, you burned Tubbo’s house to the ground, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you screamed your declaration. WHITE FLAGS. OUTSIDE, BY TOMORROW! Sapnap cheered as the mansion lit the night up in a red glow. You knew that they’d be able to see it from where they cowered behind their walls in the forest. You hoped that they would back down before any real damage was done.

Two new allies joined your side, a young boy called Punz and a man named Eret. You only publicised one, the other was an Ace. Eret spoke in the accent of their opposers, came from the same region of their world, was charismatic and excellent at deception. Without hesitation, you gave him orders to be their spy.

“I want something in return,” There was a smug grin on his face, as if he already knew he’d get what was asked.

“Name your price.” You didn’t so much like compromises on such time-sensitive topics, but you knew that his role in this war would go a long way.

He wanted a castle, and a title to fit it. At first, you worried this was his obscure way of asking for your crown. It wasn’t; He wanted the title, not the responsibilities. With a suppressed sigh of irritation, you shook his hand.

Eret fit into the newly dubbed “L’manberg” seamlessly. He reported that they had no suspicions, going as far as to let him help build their wall of black stone. Slowly, the tension left your body; With this, the war was a guaranteed win.

Sapnap, ever the arsonist, strode up you with a mischievous smile, toying with a flint and steel. His idea was childish, would only really serve as something to fill the downtime and cause panic, but he agreed anyway. It was methodical, calming, watching the trees around L’manberg go up in flames until all that remained was a charred wasteland where a lush forest once thrived. George let out an exasperated sigh when he finally arrived, looking like a disappointed parent. To make up for it, you allowed him to light one block of explosives in the entrance of the nation’s walls, cheering and whooping as it cracked the stone and left a sizable indentation in the earth. For a time, things were perfect.

The harsh realities came crashing down when he arrived back home, finding almost no citizens on his side, harsh glares and spit words of villain. It seemed as if everyone forgot why the war was started in the first place. Did no one remember that it was them who came, betrayed what few laws he had in place, and then proceeded to create a nation on his land? Yet people sympathised with the four traitors — half of which were children. If anything, the notion that Tommy and Tubbo were being used for Wilbur’s own gain was something to fight against, but still no one listened.

You were beyond desperation: You needed to end this once and for all. Giving Eret the signal, and suiting up with your three other allies, the Dream Team finally headed off to war.

It was brutal. You arrived with the upper hand, camping atop the Embassy and sniping them off, effectively pinning them in Tommy’s old hut. The tides changed, and you retreated while they advanced. A game of cat and mouse, the roles switching mid-battle and no one knowing who was going to end up on top.

You sent off Punz to check on Eret, who had stayed behind in L’manberg. He arrived back with a confident smile, nodding once. The plan was set in motion, and you waited until the group of traitors returned back to their nation to regroup and restock. You lead the way through the charred remains of your land, dodging old traps and keeping to the shadows. The looming walls of L’manberg came into view, and a collective spike of excitement went through them. This was it; This was the finale. After all the failed negotiations: Discs, explosives, words — none of it mattered.

The hidden wall slid open, and in one fell swoop, you overpowered the criminals once and for all.

A message arrived the next day, from none other than Tommy. On it was a simple request for a duel, written in as few words as possible. As if the very notion of you reading his words disgusted him. George and Sapnap scoffed at the request, knowing the outcome with confidence, but you accepted it anyway.

Tommy was tired, bags under his eyes and the bow held low. Still, his eyes burned with passion, a promise of your defeat. Such a weak promise. At the count of ten you turned, appreciating Tommy’s unwavering resolve before firing a precise arrow and watching it plunge into the boy’s shoulder. His own arrow whizzed past your head, a few inches from its mark.

With one last look to the group as they crowded around Tommy in an act of protection, you turned and left.

The boy was persistent, a trait that you both appreciated and hated. A week later he was back, standing before you, a round object held tightly in his hands. You raised an eyebrow, finally impressed with the negotiation. Yes, this was something you could get behind. A fair trade: Something important to him for something important to you. A single music disc for an entire nation. Without context, the deal would seem weak and worthless. You knew better. You knew that his disc was treasured above anything else Tommy had. It wasn’t just a disc, it was leverage.

You took it from his weak grasp, watching as his hands clenched around empty air, head held low, but shouldered squared. The disc was turned over in your hands, as if in contemplation, before you acquiesced. He seemed to curl up into himself, and you wondered if this was something he wanted at all, or if it was the mental ministrations of Wilbur.

Nevertheless, you bid him a good day and went home. For now, you promised yourself, just for now you’d let them be.

The boy was surprisingly easy to betray. He gave you and your fellow friends free reign of his land so long as you followed his rules and played nice. You wanted to laugh outright, seeing right through that clay mask and into the eyes of a boy who knew nothing of real life. His position was unique, what with holding such a powerful title at such a young age, and that expanse of untouched land. He had no advisors, no guidance, following his and his friends’ own immature instincts. It was funny to you, but something else itched under your skin. You forced a smile at the interactions, convincingly obedient, but behind the curtains you sneered at this… child’s rule. What about him made for a King? How was he able to gather so many loyal citizens?

The amusement you originally felt twisted into jealousy.

To spite this boy and his very idea of ruling, you planned a coup. A revolution. Something to stir the pot, just to take him down several notches. The first step was Tommy. Naive, malleable Tommy, who played his part perfectly without even knowing it was pre-planned. Truthfully, nothing was remarkably illegal or interesting about creating a drug business deep into the forest, but it was a start. You snuck Tommy notes, telling of a fun project you wanted his participation in. You told him that he couldn’t tell a soul — sans Tubbo, of course — and waited for that reliable Tommy behaviour of not being able to keep a secret.

When he arrived on the doorstep of your Caravan, you could feel the eyes of someone else in the shadows of the trees. You made a show of it, leading Tommy to the room with a window, where everything was set up in plain view. The child was none the wiser, grabbing eagerly at the blaze rods, happily shrieking at this new turn of events. You promised him glory. You were on the right side of the war.

And there would be a war.

Dream was not a cunning ruler. He was smart, sure — everyone knew of his dangerous traps, of him outmaneuvering several people at once, of the several dragons he had slain just for fun — but he knew nothing of politics. He never addressed his people, never tried to win their favor, focusing all of his attention on countering every single one of your plans. You used this to its fullest potential, entering the empty spotlight and basking in the sympathetic gaze of the former King’s citizens. He no longer controlled them; They were yours. Their support was yours, their love was yours, and they promised you loyalty.

You took it all, and turned it back on Dream. In a beautiful display of true political power, you watched as your new followers pieced together their own narrative. Dream’s status was ruined, his name dragged through the mud, and you didn’t even need to do much. It was glorious.

There were casualties in war. Tubbo’s home was not a variable you accounted for, but with a few pats on the head, the problem was glossed over. Children were simple that way, you supposed. You told them that he could rebuild a new one, a better one. Homes were temporary, independence was forever. Tommy was the final word, escorting his friend away while trying his best to empathise. The sorrowful expression dropped on your face, and you turned back to more important matters.

A new face was standing at the entrance of your nation. He looked lost, hopeful, a tad bit tired. His eyes were covered by dark glasses. Eret was a sort of enigma, seeming to be a perfect addition to the team. They didn’t ask questions, did as they were told, was never mean to the younger boys. With his help, the wall around L’manberg was completed. Eret’s story was that had lived in Dream’s realm for a long time, but never seemed to fit in anywhere. As the tensions rose between the King and people of their origin, Eret no longer felt safe in the Kingdom. He wanted somewhere to belong, and he knew that you were the right man to give him that chance.

You had never heard of Eret before then, so you assumed the story legitimate. You had originally planned to still keep a close eye, but Eret was disarming, fitting into your ranks like he was there all along, never seeming like he was telling anything but the truth. He took on responsibility for Tommy and Tubbo, something you appreciated greatly. Until there was reason not to, you accepted him.

Tommy was enthusiastic, ready to charge into battle at a moment's notice. He stayed glued to your side, attempting to mimic and become a perfect copy. As if he was hoping to take your place someday. How funny. Besides that, he was comparable to a guard dog, which you could appreciate to an extent (you’d appreciate it more if he would stop trying to challenge enemies to 1v1s at every opportunity). You deduced that, in a few years — when he was finally combat-ready — he could make a formidable opponent. But Tommy didn’t have that luxury of time, so you made do.

Another thing about Tommy, was his obsession with two particular music discs. You wish you had found out this weakness sooner, because by the time Tommy told you, Dream had already discovered its leverage. Tommy and Tubbo would spend days off-schedule trading useless items with Dream, managing to trick him a few times until Dream came back with a netherite axe and forcibly stole them back again. It seemed to be an endless cycle, one which you did not appreciate. When Tommy returned with the two discs — confirmed to be the real ones — you told him that no longer was he to toy with the enemy like that. A dark look crossed his face, before compliance overtook. He saluted and went to find an Ender Chest.

You awoke to the forest surrounding your walls alit with fire. Standing on the outskirts, tossing aside a spent flint and steel, was Sapnap. His grin was maniacal, dark eyes staring at you with a challenging expression, knowing that he was untouchable. You had made it clear that nothing inside your nation was to be touched, but that of course excluded everything else. You grit your teeth, turning back to confer with Eret.

As soon as your foot touched the steps leading into the caravan, an explosion shook the ground under you. A cloud of smoke and fire emanated from the entrance of your country. Debris flew in all directions, gravel and dirt landing in your hair and dusting your clothes. The sound of cheering was heard in the distance.

When the final battle plan commenced, everything went wrong. Tubbo returned the day of the attack with news that they raided his home and broke all the potions he had spent days preparing. Your stock was nowhere near the needed amount. When on the battlefield, the group of netherite soldiers had you all pinned, fire arrows raining down from the skies. Even when you were able to change the tides, you quickly ran out of resources and needed to return home. It was a constant up and down, and you were only able to relax when inside the safety of L’manberg’s walls.

Eret had something up his sleeve. Something he’d been working on in secret. You felt an unease, because the man you had thought to be an open book was capable of hiding an entire underground bunker, complete with chests filled with…

Nothing. The chests were empty, and you turned in alarm when the sound of a button was pushed.

A few days later, Tommy entered your quarters, eyes downcast in something similar to shame. You suppressed a sigh, knowing that nothing good could come from a look like that. As it turned out, Tommy had challenged Dream to a duel. A final act, winner takes all. You didn’t know what to feel. As the war progressed, you saw the change in Tommy; He holds himself differently now. Dried cuts covered his face, bruises littered across his body, a near-imperceptible limp on the right leg. He was in no position for a duel, but it was out of your control. He had brought this upon himself, and despite it all you knew he had to follow through.

An arrow embedded itself deep into Tommy’s shoulder, and you swallowed harshly. He fell to the ground, and his friends surrounded him in a flurry of panic. Dream was gone just as fast as he arrived. Somewhere inside you, you knew that this would be the outcome. Still, you were disappointed.

You sat atop the walls, charred and cracked, needing several repairs after all they went through. But they weren’t your walls anymore, were they? Dream and his posse had won, and it was time for you to leave. In an attempt to overthrow that boy, you made him stronger. The citizens were divided, one half cheering at Dream’s victory, the other crying at L’manberg’s fall. When had this game become so serious? You didn’t expect this attachment to a throwaway nation that was only expected to live as long as it was entertaining. Now it felt like a real home, a place of sanctuary. You did this, you built this place, you fought for it. Still, it was no longer yours.

“I did it, Wilbur.” Tommy’s voice, normally loud and childish, had a somber tone. There was an edge of maturity, and of something gained while another was lost. You looked at him, taking in his eyes that seemed on the verge of tears, of exhaustion laced into every feature on his face, of calloused hands littered with nasty blisters. What did you do? The answer was not expected — you were ready to say goodbye to this place, to move onto the next project, to forget L’manberg ever existed.

A smile tugged at your lips. So faithful were his soldiers, so giving, so ready to sacrifice everything for something their leader barely believed in. You pulled Tommy close, embracing him in a tight hug that felt so unfamiliar. Your smile turned into a sharp grin, overlooking your land and seeing so many futures, so many possibilities.

“I’m proud of you, Tommy.”

#when I went back to link the post i found more additions to it #and i'm sad all over again #also wilbur is manipulative in here so just be warned #dream smp #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #wilbur soot #tubbo #theeret #I FORGOT FUNDY I'M SORRY #JUST IMAGINE HIM OFF ON THE SIDELINES BEING A NEGLECTED CHILD #punz

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theforsakenprince · 4 years ago

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Lost Light

whoo, another fic for the Guardians au! Hope y’all enjoy!

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: Bridal Carry

Ships: Prinxiety

Fandom: Destiny, Sanders Sides

Words: 2,397

Warnings: guns, fire, death mention, knives, (let me know if I should add anything!)

Virgil was in the apartment he shared with his fireteam when the Tower exploded.

He rushed over to the window as Roman and Janus barreled down the hallway. Outside, a storm raged. Fire and smoke rose from the top level of the Tower. A fleet of unfamiliar ships soared overhead, firing missiles at the city below.

Roman moved to stand beside him at the window as Virgil watched the fire below in horror. “Who- who are they?”

Janus looked thoughtful. “Those ships look like a Cabal fleet. Red Legion, to be exact,” he said. “But… why would they launch an assault like this? The Legion usually blow up the planets they conquer.”

“That’s not terrifying at all,” Roman muttered, frowning at the fleet.

“There are distress calls coming from all over the city,” Luna said, materializing next to Virgil. She tilted her shell, as if listening to something. “There’s… so many.”

Roman nodded. “Then let’s get down there.”

Minutes later, Virgil, Roman, and Janus were running through the city streets. Luna directed to where they were needed most and they quickly wiped out the Cabal with their light.

They were running toward the next distress signal when a crackle in his ear stopped Virgil in his tracks.

“If anyone’s there, there are fifteen people trapped in this building with me in the plaza!” A man shouted into his comms. “Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?”

“We hear you,” Luna answered. “We, umm…”

She trailed off as Janus shook his head. “Let someone else take care of it. We’re needed somewhere else.”

Virgil’s grip tightened on his gun as he considered the situation. “No one else has answered yet,” he said, and in a split second decision he answered the comms. “Help is on the way, sir.”

Roman shook his head in frustration. “Who’s going after the distress signal then?”

“I’ll go by myself,” he said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth. Roman stiffened and Luna looked at him like he was crazy.

Well, too late to back down now.

“Absolutely not,” Roman said immediately. “It’s too-”

“Let him go,” Janus said, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “We’re running out of time. Besides,” he said, looking at Virgil, “I think he can handle himself.”

“I’ll be okay,” Virgil said. He smiled reassuringly, though he knew Roman couldn’t see his expression under his helmet.

Roman sighed. “Fine. Be careful out there.” he glanced at Virgil one last time before following Janus.

He turned toward the plaza. Now that he was without his fireteam, the task seemed much more daunting.

As if reading his mind, Luna said, “Don’t worry, you won’t be alone, I’ll be with you the entire time.”

Virgil smiled. “Thanks, Luna,”

He started to run toward the plaza, hopping over debris and dodging any Cabal that got in his way. He slowed as he approached his destination.

The entire plaza was in flames when he arrived.

The fountain in the center was in ruins, and so were most of the buildings. The only one intact was what looked like a bakery, though the horde of Cabal standing in front of it was waiting to prove otherwise.

Virgil clambered his way up on top of the ruined buildings and crept along the edges. He leaped onto the roof of the bakery silently.

The Cabal were shouting something in their language at the terrified exo that stood at the front of the crowd with a gun. Nobody noticed the lone hunter throw a bomb at the Legion…

…That is, until the bomb exploded and smoke poured out, blinding the Cabal. Virgil leapt to the ground and summoned his light in the form of a void bow. He nocked an arrow and shot it at the horde. It struck a Legionnaire in the knee and it quickly dissolved into nothing.

He opened his hand to summon another arrow, but his fingers closed around empty air. He looked at his palm quizzically until he felt a sudden pain attack his entire body.

He doubled over, clutching his stomach. It felt like someone had reached inside him and ripped his lungs out. His void bow disappeared into the air, and when he tried to summon it again, nothing happened.

Somehow, he knew without a doubt that his light was gone.

The Legion seemed to have been waiting for this. They lifted their weapons and shot. Virgil tried to duck and roll, but a bullet caught his shoulder and he cried out in pain.

“Run!” he shouted hoarsely to the civilians as he fumbled for his rifle with his good arm. He shot blindly at the Legion until his gun was yanked out of his hand and he was shoved to the ground. His head hit the ground hard, and through a haze of pain he saw an Awoken man pick up his fallen rifle. He was immediately gunned down.

That spurred Virgil into action. He took his hand cannon out and shot at the Cabal that surrounded him. Bang- A body tumbled to the ground, headless- Bang- A bullet broke a Phalanx’s shield- Bang- A helmet fell to the pavement, its owner’s body blasted halfway across the plaza. A shield hit him in the side and he retaliated by stabbing them in the neck with his knife.

He stayed on his feet for as long as he could but eventually his wounds began to tire him and he dropped to his knees. He braced himself for the beating that would inevitably follow, but it never came.

Virgil looked up to see the ground littered with Red Legion bodies. “Did I… get them all?” he coughed, feeling like he was suffocating in his helmet but in too much pain to remove it.

“I- I think that was all of them,” Luna said, appearing over him. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

“Luna, what’s happening?” he asked. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t summon the light to his fingertips. It felt like he was missing a limb.

Luna’s eye darted around nervously. “I don’t know, they- they attached something to the Traveler, and now our connection the light is… gone.”

Virgil looked up, and sure enough, a claw-like thing had attached itself to the Traveler, trapping it in some sort of cage. Just looking at it made him feel sick.

“But that’s not important right now,” Luna said. “Are you okay? Because I don’t think I can revive you anymore.”

“I’m… fine,” he said, but just as the words left his mouth, a far off explosion shook the ground and he fell onto his side.

“Virgil!” Luna hovered closer, nudging him urgently. “Can you walk? We need to get you help.” without waiting for a response, she floated a bit higher and opened her shell, resembling an orb of light. She pulsed, brighter and brighter until it hurt to look.

Still, no one came.

“I’m going to look for help,” Luna decided, hovering farther away.

“No!” Virgil cried, panicked. He couldn’t imagine being left alone, not now. “Stay. Please.”

Luna looked conflicted. “Alright,” she said at last, floating down to rest in his palm. “I’ll stay.”

Virgil nodded gratefully. He closed his fingers around Luna’s shell, trying to take comfort from the warmth she gave off. He sighed, clutched her close to his chest, and began to wait.

Roman watched Virgil walk away, still unsure if their decision to split up was a good one. He forced himself to look away as Janus sighed impatiently.

“Come on, we don’t have much time,” Janus said, turning away without waiting for an answer. Roman sighed and followed.

“I’m sure Virgil will be fine,” Pluto, his ghost, said reassuringly. “But, um, maybe try to finish up quickly?”

“We’re always quick. Right, Janus?” Roman called. The warlock ignored him and kept walking.

When they arrived, Roman had to suppress a gasp upon seeing the damage. The street the distress signal had come from had almost completely burned to the ground. The building the civilians were hiding in was shaking, looking like a poorly timed sneeze would knock it over. It was a miracle it was still standing.

“They’re not going to hold for much longer,” Janus murmured, eyeing the Cabal that dotted the street. As they watched, one of the women shot at a Psion, but missed by a millimeter. The Psion retaliated, but the woman ducked before she could get hit.

“So, what do you say we charge in there and stop them?” he asked. Janus nodded, and Roman imagined he was smirking underneath his helmet.

“Let’s go.” together, they charged in, guns blazing.

They quickly gunned down the first few waves of Cabal, but they were vastly outnumbered. They were surrounded in minutes.

Roman glanced at Janus, and he nodded. As one, they called upon their light.

In his hands, Roman gripped a giant flaming hammer. He swung it in a wide arc, reducing the Cabal it touched to ashes. Beside him, Janus held up a fiery sword, his body wreathed in flame. He watched as the warlock tore through the Legion like paper.

No matter how many soldiers the Red Legion sent, they were no match for their light. Roman and Janus quickly burned through their ranks, and despite the circumstances, he grinned.

Roman raised his hammer, intending to slam it down on the ground, when a sharp pain in his chest caused him to falter. The hammer dissolved into the air. He watched Janus fall to the ground through a haze of pain, his flames extinguished.

“Pluto, what- what’s going on?” Roman said. He got to his feet unsteadily, dodging to the side when he saw a legionnaire charge him. He got to his feet again, legs trembling.

“I- I don’t know,” Pluto replied, voice shaking. “The light’s just… gone.”

Roman opened and closed his hand, trying to summon even a flicker of his light, but to no avail. He cursed and clenched his fists.

“Roman!” Janus yelled. Before he could even look up, he was shoved to the side. He collided painfully with the ground and he groaned. He was about to complain about being shoved when he saw a Phalanx’s shield crack the pavement he was standing on a moment ago.

“Come on, we have to leave,” Janus said, pulling him roughly to his feet.

“Wait, what about-” Roman turned toward the building the civilians were hiding in only to see that it was empty. “Where’d they go?”

“I told them to leave through the back door,” Janus said impatiently, pulling him through the crowd of Cabal. “Now come on, we have to find Virgil.”

That snapped him out of his daze. Together, they weaved their way out of the street, occasionally firing at any Cabal that confronted them.

“Do you think the light is really… gone?” Roman asked as soon as they were out of sight of the Red Legion.

Janus was silent as he scanned the ruined city for threats, and Roman wasn’t even sure he had heard him when he replied, “I think so. I can’t summon a Dawnblade, and my ghost…” he trailed off.

Roman understood his reluctance to talk about his ghost. Pluto had told him that he felt… detached, like he was drifting. Roman couldn’t get anything else out of him.

He looked up uneasily at the storm and the Traveler. The Legion had put up a shield- no, a cage- around the sphere, trapping it.

He shuddered and looked back down at his feet.

The two guardians (were they even guardians anymore without the light? Roman didn’t want to think about it) snuck from cover to cover, carefully avoiding the Legion’s gaze. There were far fewer of them out now, and Roman had a sinking feeling that they had accomplished what they had come to the city for.

“There’s a signal coming from up ahead,” Pluto said, breaking the tense silence. “It’s small, but it’s worth checking out.”

“That’s the place Virgil went,” Roman realized as they headed toward the signal. “Why hasn’t he contacted us?”

Janus quickened his pace. “We might want to hurry.”

They navigated their way through the ruined streets until they stumbled upon the plaza the signal had been coming from.

The plaza had been one of Roman’s favorite spots in the city, but it was almost unrecognizable. Debris was everywhere, as if someone had torn up the buildings and thrown the pieces. Most of the fires were still burning, making it difficult to see.

“Look,” Janus nudged his shoulder, pointing. “I think I see luna.”

Roman looked to where he was pointing, and sure enough, a little light pulsed over an unconscious body. It was too dark to be sure, but he thought he recognized the armor that the guardian wore.

His eyes widened. “No… is that…?” he couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. He ran over and knelt next to Virgil, wrestling his helmet off. Virgil’s eyes were closed, and he feared the worst.

Luna closed up her shell, still spinning it anxiously. “He’s alive, but he lost consciousness a while ago and I can’t heal him and-” she cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “I- I really don’t want to lose my guardian, Roman.”

“You’re not going to,” Roman said. He put an arm under Virgil’s knees and the other under his back, holding him close to his chest in a bridal carry. Virgil’s body was limp, and he pushed down a bout of worry. He needed to keep a level head.

He stood up and nodded at Janus. “Let’s go.”

Janus nodded back and took out his ghost. “Calypso, find the safest way out of the city.”

“There’s a ship leaving with as many people as it can carry to the west of this plaza,” Luna answered. “They haven’t left yet, but we should hurry.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go,” Roman said.

Janus hefted his gun, nodding at Luna. “Lead the way, little light.”

Roman adjusted his hold on Virgil as they followed Luna toward the ship that would take them away from the city. Away from the only safe home humanity had had for centuries. Roman would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified.

But we’re not going to die. He thought fiercely. None of us are. Not if I have anything to say about it

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kyndaris · 4 years ago

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The Cost of Honour

What would you sacrifice to save the lives of the people you love and the home you cherish? How long would you be able to hold onto your morals when faced with an enemy that is impossible to win against? In the last exclusive for the PlayStation 4, Ghost of Tsushima from the developer Sucker Punch, asks these hard hitting questions and many more as it follows the journey of Jin Sakai in his quest to drive out the brutal Mongols from the island of Tsushima.

Considering the pedigree of Sucker Punch and chafing to dive into the world of Feudal Japan, Ghost of Tsushima was an easy buy for me. Immersed in the world of the Yakuza series and delighting occasionally in fresh new anime, it seemed imperative that I see what this game could bring to the fore. After all, the game looked very much like Assassin’s Creed. I liked Assassin’s Creed. And hadn’t the fans of the Assassin’s Creed franchise been clamouring for something in a similar vein for a very long time?

Once I booted it up, I was immediately struck by the visual representation. The colours were vibrant (though one could choose to play in black and white mode) and coupled with the particle effects, I could have sworn I had been pulled into a cinematic world. The opening scene used this to great effect and proved to be a masterful attempt of immersing me immediately with the world. As Jin raced down the beach, I thoroughly enjoyed the rush that came with swinging my katana at anyone that was foolish enough to stand in my way. Yet, it is not long before it becomes exceedingly clear that the samurai have lost the battle. Many are slain on the beach and Lord Shimura, Jin Sakai’s uncle and jito (land steward) of Tsushima is captured. Jin, having taken a couple of arrow shots in the back, is left for dead.

Enter Yuna. It isn’t clear why she singled out our protagonist as being alive and pulled him away to nurse him back to health.

As the prologue continued, I wondered if she was questioning her choice of companion as Jin, armed with only his sword and a broken piece of armour went to confront the Khan at Castle Kaneda, in a desperate bid to rescue his uncle. This first attempt is met with failure and Jin is essentially yeeted off the bridge. Yes. I know. I used the word ‘yeeted.’ I’m basically roasting my own hands over hot coals as I type this.

Despite plummeting what looked like several hundred metres down into the water below, Jin manages to survive. The man, it seems, is almost unkillable. You could say...he’s a ghost. Badum tss. I’ll see myself out now.

From a discouraging defeat, Jin, however, vows to avenge his fallen samurai brethren and rescue his uncle from the clutches of the evil Mongol invaders. Here, too, was when my journey to collect everything and complete all the side stories began.

Unfamiliar with the works of Kurosawa Akira, I can not rightly say if the narrative nestled in Ghost of Tsushima’s maze of collectibles plays upon the tropes of those that came before. What I did manage to glean was a story of revenge and hate, the cost of war and the values embodied by the notion of ‘samurai.’ With his back to the wall, Jin Sakai must adapt if he hopes to win. Much like Yuna’s speech at the start of the game, he and Lord Shimura have forgotten what it was like to face someone stronger and smarter than they were. If Tsushima and its people hoped to survive, instead of throwing away their lives, they needed to change their tactics.

In the early stages, Jin is shown to grapple with the idea of going in quietly and silently stabbing people in the back. But after the first mission and the first outpost, he was free of the burdens that were his old code of honour. I suppose in that sense, there is a degree of dissonance between the narrative and the play. Alas, I couldn’t have cared less as I went from camp to camp, observing the leaders and unlocking new technique points.

The end of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, however, is when Jin Sakai’s actions finally catch up to him. Instead of following through with his uncle’s plan of rebuilding the bridge at Castle Shimura after an explosion killed countless soldiers and allies, he poisons the Mongols drink in a bid to save the lives of his comrades. Classic war crime manoeuvre. Learning from this, however, the Mongols use this against the people of Tsushima as well.

It is this devastation that we see after Jin escapes from his uncle’s stronghold, desperate to free the people from the Mongol’s iron grip. Despite the gruesome nature of it all, it helped put Jin’s actions into a different light. By making the enemy aware of a new weapon, could he have possibly doomed his own people?

Subsequently, when the Khan is killed and Jin is about to face his father figure, it makes sense for Shimura to point out many of his misdeeds. Can the people of Tsushima really be saved if Jin’s actions undermine the authority of those in power? What of the stories that paint him as a ten foot demon with eyes that glow in the dark?

So, it came as no surprise when Lord Shimura asked for a warrior’s death. And wishing to be the dutiful son, no matter how painful it would be, I granted it. One last ‘honourable’ act.

The gameplay in Ghost of Tsushima initially proved to be a challenge, although that was mostly due to the fact that I had to readjust my understanding of my controls. Navigating without a minimap in the corner or a HUD showing me the general directions of north, south, east and west also took some time to adjust to. I don’t think I’ve ever just ‘followed the wind’ when it came to video games before. But, because of that, it allowed me to actually keep my eyes focused on the screen in front of me rather than the top right/ left corner. I could actually take in the scenery instead of being solely focused on clearing out the fog of war.

As for the actual combat, the controls were incredibly intuitive. Square for a normal attack, triangle for heavy. L1 to block and circle to dodge. Where it seemed like the developers should have stopped a little when it came to the variety of options available to the player was mapping R2 as the interactions button - but also the stance and quick throw wheel.

Traversal also proved to be fun and because the HUD wasn’t as cluttered as I was used to, it made exploration easy. Equipped with the Traveler’s Outfit as soon as the game had started also made it incredibly easy to start hunting down collectibles and feeding my urge to see every nook and cranny that was on display. What pained me, however, was the fact that it took me a while to realise that I needed to progress the story and obtain the grappling hook before I could complete a few of the shrines in the first area. And to obtain a few choice head gear.

My only other gripe with the game is that my poor Nobu was felled so swiftly at the start of the third act. And the thin brown horse that served as its replacement was not the replacement I had hoped for. Thankfully, Yuna was able to gift me with another horse - which I named Sora - but my heart still goes out to the faithful Nobu.

Why do you have to kill all of my faithful steeds, video games? I was distraught when Red Dead Redemption 2 did it. Appalled when Shimmer was caught in an explosion in The Last of Us Part II and now...this?

The side characters and side stories also proved to be entertaining distractions over the course of the long journey to free Tsushima. While Masako’s revenge plot was a hollow echo of the pain Jin faced, it was Norio’s burning of the Mongol camp that left me frightened of the legacy of the ghost. At least the ending of Sensei Ishikawa’s story felt a little more redemptive and filled wit hope.

And, after IMDBing the cast, I was gladdened by the fact that many of the voice actors chosen for the game were Asian Americans. Jin Sakai was actually voiced by a Japanese man in the English dub! Imagine that!

Ghost of Tsushima is an excellent open-world game that hews quite closely to the more recent Assassin’s Creed formula. Despite that, I thoroughly enjoyed my time exploring Feudal Japan, inconsistencies and all! My favourite part of it was collecting Mongol artefacts, records and learning a little about each clan banner. The combat also provided a few surprises, although the duels were a little tedious in the latter half. With the world still unable to quite shake the virus that still threatens many of our loved ones, it’s fun to actually dive into this fantastical and historical inaccurate world that is Ghost of Tsushima.

#ghost of tsushima #video games #platinum trophy

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pauldron-pieces · 4 years ago

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Destrier Revel: For Leofore

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Leofore-Centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative boss battle scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Destrier Revel. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST: The Apex of the World (Rain) and Written By Wolves: To Tell You The Truth

Destrier Revel’s Backstory: Burn The Wicked

[Leofore is a human Oathbreaker/fallen paladin, and his appearance can be found here.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including vivid descriptions of gore, emotional/physical duress and character death. Stay safe!]

When we last left our party, Knight-Commander Leofore was believed to be dead, a casualty of the war. To the shock and dismay of the party, Leofore returned on the eve of their most ambitious push against the Urgals, their former friend and mentor twisted nearly beyond recognition and wearing a strange mask. Leofore proceeded to berate the King's Elite for their inaction before kidnapping both the prince and the queen and escaping into the night. The party has tracked him down in an effort to rescue the queen and prince, and possibly, Destrier's mentor as well ...

He knew they had arrived before they even entered the portal. Thranrok was always so loud .

The sound of their voices filled him with melancholy he did not entirely understand. Leofore's mind seemed to be in a fog, a daze that stole the strength from his very spirit. Was this what being undead was truly like?

The queen was still secured beside the throne, her regal poise maintained throughout the ordeal. Frail hands trembled ever so slightly as his gauntlet wrapped around her bound wrists, but other than that she gave no indication of her fear while she was pulled upright. King Jonathan's wife had always been the picture of composure, whether dealing with unruly nobility or Urgal hordes.

Leofore offered her a smile devoid of warmth. "It would seem your salvation is at hand, your Majesty. Better late than never. Unfortunately though, you will not live long enough to be rescued."

"I pray that your friends will be able to rescue you from the inky depths you've sunk to." The queen replied softly. "The Leofore I knew would never surrender so easily, would never stoop so low as to condone murder and kidnapping."

The torches lining the room suddenly flared bright, no doubt in reply to Thranrok's talents. A forlorn fondness swept the paladin when his old friends were revealed in the rising torchlight, his dagger moving without his input to slit the queen's throat.

Leofore couldn't remember why that caused him such distress, his thoughts clouded and confused while her hands weakly pawed at his blackened breastplate. He shoved her body away gracelessly, opening his arms in greeting instead. "My friends!" The paladin said gladly.

"Why the hell would you do that?!" Thranrok squawked, the sorcerer already bristling.

Naero advanced cautiously, his attention obviously split between concern for the queen and wariness for Leofore. " Easy big guy, we did what you asked for. We're here. Your negotiating skills could use a little polish, but whatever gets the job done."

Leofore could hear the judgement in his quiet words. Naero had always been good at reading him.

Knight Revel silently gathered the queen in his arms and Leofore's gaze was drawn to the large shield strapped on his back, identical to the one he himself had carried. The knight passed the rapidly fading woman off to Ganymethios, who looked as grim as a dragonborn could while he began to softly murmur a spell that would no doubt steal her back from death.

Pity they never afforded you such courtesies.

Leofore paid the queen's removal no further mind, predatory focus shifting to the two who now stood at the foot of the dais. The elf at least had the wherewithal to keep his expression neutral, but Destrier… "It is good to see you again." Leofore announced, his smile all bared teeth and false pleasantries. "How I wish that I had been able to see you all one last time before I died. Alone on the battlefield, eyes fixed to the horizon where I expected my aid to come from."

Died rang hollow in his head. He knew it was wrong , but he was unsure why. Why would that be wrong? He had perished.

Right?

The spectral grip at the nape of his neck tightened, phantom fingers digging in like iron talons. Right . "Would that we could meet under happier circumstances," The paladin mused.

"The feeling's mutual, trust me." Thranrok muttered.

Argon already looked ready to tear Leofore limb from limb, the werebear sampling the air briefly before affixing those beady little eyes on the paladin atop the dais.

He will be a problem. Get rid of him. That cold voice in his head again, the claws digging deeper. Leofore shook off the sensation, straightening his shoulders. "After you all so callously abandoned me to die , really, what was I to do?" He asked no one in particular, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveyed the room.

Destrier's voice cracked when he spoke up, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Knight-Commander. I had never seen King Jonathan weep so openly before that day, the day that he gave us the order to march on the main encampment instead of dividing his senior officers."

Leofore glanced at the young man he had trained and he was perturbed by the expression Destrier wore. The blond looked like someone had ripped the soul from his chest. And the idea of his dear friend King Yokam ordering the battalions forward with tears streaming down his face...it was-

Exactly what you wanted! He abandoned you, let him suffer!

Bitterness soured his mouth.

"We grieved for you, we mourned your loss!" Destrier continued when he did not comment, his fists clenched at his sides. "And when Gany told us that he may be able to return you to your former state-"

"I needed some time to work on the spell and gather resources, but yeah. We weren't letting you go without a fight." Gany inserted himself into the one-sided conversation, placing a hand on Destrier's shoulder to quiet him. "Thranrok and I aren't one hundred percent sure on what's going on, but for you?"

"Of course we would try!" The hairless dwarf chimed in. Leofore's throat tightened. "Leaving you behind-- none of us agreed with it! They called us heroes, honored your memory, but without you there…"

"An inescapable void in our team where our compatriot used to be." Naero paused, sharp eyes meeting Leofore's own steadily. "All the poetic words in the world won't cure the horror your lost soul must feel, therefore I won't bother with them."

Despite their relative proximity, Leofore suddenly felt as though there was a bottomless pit between himself and his stalwart brothers in arms.

Destrier raised his lance in a knightly salute. "You will never die alone again, my friend. We will lay you to rest as many times as it takes. I swear it." He promised fervently. "Whatever power dragged you from your grave, we will dismantle it and grant you the peace you deserve."

"I think all this is pointless." Argon rumbled bluntly. "He's not just gonna' lie down no matter how much you idiots talk at him. Even if he wasn't all screwed up, this is Leofore ."

"Too true, my ursine friend!" Leofore agreed with another smile, genuine this time. It was good to see them all again-

The angry mask of his helm slammed down without warning, the ability to control his own motions entirely removed.

What am I doing?

A terrible oath in Urgal left the mouth he did not own and then a pinpoint of black flame tossed itself lazily into the center of his former allies. Fick was the only one quick enough to sidestep the attack, the elf having the audacity to look bored.

What am I doing? Stop!

Knight Revel and Ganymethios were unable to avoid the hellfire explosion and were thrown back from the throne dais, the knight striking a pillar sickeningly hard and the wizard tumbling across the floor with a loud clatter of scaled limbs.

Stop!

His lance felt unwieldy and clumsy in his hand. Leofore advanced on the individuals he had fought beside so many times, his attention fixed on Argon. Argon, First General, was the largest and strongest of the group, the werebear towering head and shoulders over even Knight-Commander Leofore himself.

Get rid of him or he will cause trouble.

Thranrok struggled to help Gany rise, the sorcerer hurling angry verbiage in Dwarvish at Leofore. With those two preoccupied, Leofore was free to attack Argon uninterrupted. The werebear stared him down, then opened his mouth and let out a fierce roar of challenge.

An arrow sang through the air, Leofore dodging the shot to the face with a speed he did not possess. Fick grunted something that sounded like a swear under his breath and Leofore knew he was supposed to hear it, simply because the Spymaster didn't speak for his own benefit even when he was frustrated.

The familiarity was ice cold down his spine. He would have to kill them. Argon would feint left, then strike right. Destrier would use the haft of his lance to knock him off balance before going in for the kill. Ganymethios was the wild card, but even he had predictable routes. Thranrok would attack from the air, and Naero-

Gods help me. I will end up killing them.

But then, Argon bolted right . Leofore was caught off guard, unable to get his lance up in time to fend him off and the werebear grappled him with massive paws. Claws raked through his armor and Leofore snarled, words foreign to his tongue imbuing his lance with a terrible power. He pulled his arm back as best as he could to strike, to stagger, to kill -

He had forgotten about Destrier, more was the pity. "Garuda denies it!" the blond man barked sharply, his hand outstretched to render Leofore's spell null. The Knight-Commander was not even allowed the time to be irritated as Argon proceeded to maul him. Or try to, anyway. The blood hunter was certainly making quick work of his armor! Leofore was strangely lighthearted about this turn of events. Argon had factored in that he knew their methods inside and out. To change such tried and true strategies mere moments before battle-!

Revel was abruptly inches from his face and Leofore blinked, unsure if he had hallucinated the curled onyx horns he had seen briefly on either side of Destrier's pale visage. The younger man's lance roared like a bonfire when he struck Leofore, pinpricks of strange light arcing around his form.

The dark-haired paladin was then subjected to an ethereal weapon colliding with the side of his mask, catching the barest glimpse of a glassy obsidian battleaxe--no! A double-bladed spear, laced through with stars and flanked by those horns. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. Since when could Revel do that?! That was also a variable. It seemed Argon was not the only one who had adapted his strategies! Bittersweet pride surged in Leofore, seeing the determined look in those familiar brown eyes.

Please, my friends, stop me. I am lost to you, please stop me.

Kill them all, you insolent fool!

The decaying bodies of his men rose from the shadows beside the pillars, shambling corpses heading for the recovering wizard and unconscious queen. Thranrok flew into the air, fire whirling to life and immolating their would-be attackers. The stars that began shimmering around his bald pate warned Leofore that he was about to have much more than the angry First General werebear, his fierce Knight-Captain and their potshot-taking Spymaster to endure.

Get rid of Argon, before it's too late! He is the largest threat!

Leofore struggled wildly against Argon's grip, his lance puncturing the blood hunter over and over in a frenzy. Argon held on doggedly while the necrotic energy seared his flesh, one enormous paw swiping at the mask.

Destrier had entirely abandoned any pretense of composure, his attacks little more than frantic swings until Argon yelled at him to focus on the damn mask, Revel! Instead of stabbing his deadly lance through Leofore's head like a sane man would have, Destrier spun the weapon around and rammed the blunt end of it up into the underside of Leofore's chin.

Colors exploded across his limited field of vision and Leofore feared for a moment that Revel had shattered his jaw. The older paladin tasted blood in his mouth, viscous liquid spattering down his breastplate when he gasped for air. Argon's hold on him tightened even further, grim blackened pauldrons creaking in warning; another arrow glanced off the mask, chipping the bridge of the nose.

"Keep him still , will you?" Naero complained.

" Look Fick, he's hellbent on making me into a damn pincushion-- will you knock it off?! " Argon interrupted himself to pound a furry fist into the side of Leofore's head, the blood hunter sounding more like he was berating a child than fighting for his life.

Destrier abandoned his lance in favor of fumbling with the smooth edges of the mask, the knight swearing a blue streak when Leofore jerked his face up out of reach. "We are here to help you, Leofore!" He cried, clearly distraught. " Stop! "

Leofore silently bent his legs at the knee and planted his black sabatons in the center of Revel's chest, using the solid wall of Argon to his advantage so he could knock Destrier flat on his back. A mote of pure starlight struck Leofore squarely in the temple and he heard a loud crack as the mask lost a small piece from the forehead.

"Ha!" Thranrok sounded pleased, which boded poorly-

You stupid fool, kill him now!

Another Urgal spell left his lips and paralysis rippled across the battlefield. Thranrok tumbled helplessly to the ground, the dwarf landing hard beside Ganymethios and the queen.

Leofore wordlessly flipped his lance around and thrust it into his own stomach. His plate and chainmail shrieked in protest before giving way and the pain from his wounds (which had been a far-off, dreamy sort of thing), rushed to clarity. Radiant energy cut him to the quick and he choked down his yell, shoving the lance through himself and into Argon.

The werebear roared at the explosion of power and loosened his grip, finally allowing Leofore to tear free.

The man dropped heavily to the stone floor, another mote of starlight crashing into the mask and knocking him onto his hands and knees. Leofore was dimly aware that he was slavering as he clawed at the mask, beating a fist into the ground in frustration when it would not budge.

He scrabbled frantically at his belt for his dagger, drawing it and feeling bile surge up his throat when he realized the blade was still stained with the queen's blood.

Leofore then jammed it under the edge of the mask, trying desperately to pry it off. Fight it, Leofore! That was Thranrok's voice in his head, concerned, loudbright , grounding him in reality. Knight-Commander Leofore, leader of the King's Elite, reduced to this?

The dagger cut into his cheek while he struggled, the paladin digging and scraping like a rabid animal until the blade suddenly snapped with a sharp pang!

I warned you, thrall. Now, kill Argon.

" No! " Leofore screamed, slamming his face into the floor one last time and then staggering upright against his will. The chainmail covering his stomach was slick with blood; Leofore could feel it trickling into his greaves. He pressed a hand to the wound and gripped his lance even tighter, his breathing coming in harsh, liquid gasps.

The werebear lay still on the flagstones several feet away, badly bloodied. First one foot, then the other, Leofore slowly advanced the prone blood hunter.

"Don't make me do this." The paladin whispered, fighting for control with every step. "Gods, don't make me do this." The icy fingers dug deep into the nape of his neck, making him grimace.

You have no choice.

Destrier grabbed his lance arm, the knight digging in his heels when Leofore tried to shake him off. " I won't let you! " Destrier raged, his voice hoarse from yelling as he roughly dragged the larger man back a step.

On the opposite side, Thranrok wrapped his entire body around the paladin's other arm, the stocky sorcerer slowing him down even further. "Gany, get it off him!" Thranrok exclaimed urgently. " Hurry! "

The dragonborn's talons sank into Leofore's face before he could even think about dodging, Gany not even attempting to remove the mask so much as he was skinning it off of him. A crack formed down the center, the mask giving out under the strain.

No!

Thank you, my friends .

Pain shot through his veins, fever-hot and furious. Leofore couldn't help but cry out, a weak shudder of agony rocking his battered body. Ganymethios carried on with his grisly task and Leofore finally felt something at the nape of his neck snap off with a dull crunch.

/x\

Leofore collapsed face first, mere inches from his intended target.

Destrier couldn't keep from dry heaving at the sight of the bloody mask Gany now held, the dragonborn shooting him an apologetic grimace before stating, "Nasty stuff, but it had to be done."

Naero sauntered forward, already putting on his gloves. Destrier gripped his lance tightly while the elf reached down, two fingers tapping on the side of Leofore's neck in habitual search of a pulse. He wasn't sure what on earth Naero hoped to find, Leofore was-

Fick's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He's still circulating, boys."

"What? But I thought that he was undead!" Thranrok voiced what they were all thinking, scratching where his sideburns would be.

Destrier hardly cared, digging his gauntlets in at Leofore's sides so he could roll him over onto his back. He glanced to Gany, opening his mouth to ask for help, but the dragonborn was already muttering theories to Thranrok. The two of them were scrutinizing the inside of the mask pieces in the torchlight, holding the objects gingerly between them. Better not to interrupt if I can do it myself.

Destrier gave his healing freely, the hole in Leofore's stomach and his mangled face knitting themselves back together at a glacial pace. Revel's abilities may be able to keep himself alive in battle, but Ganymethios would forever be the better healer. Destrier's help had always been more akin to filling a pond by flooding it.

The Knight-Commander was breathing, the blond realized in stunned silence, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Destrier leaned forward, resting his forehead on Leofore's breastplate so he could feel the steady motion of his breath. " Please ." He implored softly, not sure of entirely who or what he was even asking for. He felt Naero's hand on his shoulder, the elf giving it a brief squeeze between pauldron and gorget.

Argon groaned, sounding more annoyed than pained. "Excuse me, senior officer over here? Guy who did all the work? Anyone want to give me a hand?"

Gany chuckled, absently tracing a well-worn sigil in the air. "Relax, Argon. We wouldn't leave you out in the cold."

The werebear grumbled at the quip, slowly moving to sit up after a moment or two. "So is he alive or what?" He asked. Destrier was uncertain who he had addressed, the Knight-Captain still slumped with his head bowed against Leofore's chest. Gany's healing spell washed over them all, but even after that Leofore did not stir.

"He breathes, anyway." Naero answered. "We should also make certain her Majesty is safe, and sweep the room for any further threats."

A gauntlet fumbled to grasp the back of Destrier's neck heavily. "Are you alright?" Leofore rasped, his voice barely audible. The younger knight was not particularly proud of how loud his sob of relief was, turning his face against his own shoulder in a futile attempt to muffle the pitiful noise with his tattered mantle.

"And lo, our sleeping beauty awakens." Fick said dryly. "The real question is, do we have to have Argon knock some sense into you again or will you behave this time?"

"I offer no promises." Leofore's laugh was a shadow of its former glory, the sound ragged. "I feel like death warmed over. Help me sit up, boys." Gany assisted Destrier with shifting their Knight-Commander into a sitting position on the stairs to the dais, Leofore nodding his thanks to the pair before glancing around the room. "What has happened?" He asked worriedly.

"We were hoping you could tell us." Fick replied. "This is lich business, after all. And someone didn't do their required reading the last time we dealt with one!"

"Hey! I can only apologize for not knowing about phylacteries so many times!" Thranrok protested. "Lich books are always so damn dry ."

"Well the one who reigned here was so damnable proud of his phylactery, he practically put the thing in my hands." Leofore shook his head. "That may have been the worst part of this whole endeavor, removing the reign of this lich while languishing under the tyranny of the previous one! That blasted mask-"

"Won't be able to do anything ever again." Thranrok interjected. "Gany and I will see to that."

"I thank you, my friends." Leofore sighed. "Near as I can recall, the prince is secured beneath the throne. The queen..."

"Already acquired. She lies over there, unconscious but alive." Ganymethios assured as Naero bolted for the throne.

"We must convene with Jonathan, discuss how to approach dealing with that other lich." Leofore rose slowly, clearly still weary from their pitched battle. He extended a hand to help Argon up from the floor, and was nearly toppled for his trouble.

The blood hunter grinned toothily, slapping the man on the shoulder. "We'll save you coming to my rescue for some other time, eh troublemaker?"

"Aye, I suppose we shall." Leofore paused for a moment, then turned to Thranrok. " Please tell me you can teleport us out of here, something . I am ready to be rid of this nightmare."

Thranrok looked offended. "Ex- cuse me, Leofore? Do my ears deceive me, or do I detect a hint of doubt in your tone?" A scroll was drawn from one of his many pockets. "The nerve of you, thinking that I wouldn't be prepared!" The sorcerer blustered.

"Wait, wait, we definitely shouldn't go directly to the castle." Naero called, hauling the prince's unconscious body out of a small cell beneath the elaborate throne. "King Jonathan is likely to slaughter us first and ask questions later if we just appear with his unconscious family and Dread Knight Leofore in tow."

"Too true!" Thranrok tapped his chin in thought, then snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Grab her Majesty, Gany."

"Wait, perhaps we should-"

Whatever Leofore was about to suggest was cut off as Thranrok enthusiastically rattled off the power words written on the parchment in his hands and the party was unceremoniously teleported away.

The familiar storage room of Maplecrest solidified around them and Destrier realized a split-second later that a wicked-looking cudgel was being swung at his head. His shield came up on instinct, deflecting the blow and making the metal ring loudly. "Illeria!" He said gladly, not really caring that she had come remarkably close to taking his head off.

The diminutive innkeeper dropped her weapon, her eyes wide in the dim light of morning. "Destrier! And--oh. And...Prince Timothy. Is that the queen? " She hissed, starting to hastily smooth out her skirts and apron.

She halted when she noticed Leofore and Revel reached out a steadying hand, certain that the young woman was preparing to grab her cudgel again. "It's alright, Illeria." He soothed.

Thranrok sidled to the main door of the inn, quickly scrawling a sign on a spare piece of vellum and then tacking it to the outside of the door. "We're buying you out for the day, Illeria. Y'know, for the trouble." The dwarf explained, the tips of his ears tinged slightly pink.

Illeria nodded dumbly, yanking on Destrier's arm. The knight allowed himself to be dragged into her living quarters, caught between laughing and crying when she whirled on him. "What the hell is going on, Revel?! You all-"

"I know. I can't even tell if I'm dreaming or not." Destrier confessed. "We had thought Leofore was lost to us, but he was working under the influence of a threat we believed we had destroyed."

"What, more Urgals?" She asked incredulously.

"Something akin to that, yes." Whatever Illeria muttered was decidedly uncharitable, the young woman holding her head in her hands. Destrier hesitated, then opened his arms. "Would you-?"

She tucked herself into his embrace without another word. The knight rested his chin on the top of her head, feeling a peace he had not known since Leofore had vanished.

"It is good to be home again." Destrier whispered.

"Home?"

"Aye. Home ."

/x\

Leofore stood in front of King Jonathan, his body language pensive. He still wore the blackened armor, stating that he felt unworthy of his gold and white plate, so he made quite the bedraggled sight. Once the king was done squeezing the breath out of his wife and son, he turned a stern look to the Knight-Commander.

"Fallen Knight Leofore."

Destrier grimaced at Leofore's wince. They had known this would come, but it still hurt. Leofore dropped to a knee, his shoulders rigid. "Your Majesty." He replied evenly.

King Jonathan meandered off the throne dais. Naero elbowed Destrier in the ribs, pointing surreptitiously at Jonathan's hands. More specifically, at the gauntlets he now wore. Destrier's brow furrowed in confusion, since when did his Majesty…?

Jonathan bade Leofore to rise, placing his right hand on the taller man's shoulder. Before anyone could react (though Destrier suspected Leofore knew the punishment was coming), he balled his left gauntlet into a fist and slammed it squarely into Leofore's nose.

Argon huffed out a breath that sounded suspiciously close to a snicker. Ganymethios was taken by a sudden coughing fit, Thranrok slapping him as high up on the back as he could reach.

Leofore staggered back with a grunt, cupping his face. Jonathan looked a fair bit pained himself, shaking off the impact of the blow. "Return to your duties, Knight-Commander Leofore. There is much work to be done." Despite his fierce expression, the king's eyes fairly danced with good humor. "It brings me great joy to have you back, my friend."

"Aye, the feeling is mutual." Leofore replied with a rueful smile, wiping the blood from his nose off his upper lip. "We bring news of enemy plots, my liege."

"Naero has informed me. We will tackle this topic ere the morn. Tonight, we feast." The king clapped Leofore's shoulder once again. "The queen and prince have returned, as well as the brave Knight-Commander we thought had been slain and the rest of the King's Elite. I would say that is cause for celebration!" He gestured a manservant forward, distributing tankards of fine ale amongst the adventurers before raising his own goblet. "A toast, my friends, for the new era! An age of peace shall finally dawn."

"For Leofore!" Prince Timothy exclaimed, saluting the Knight-Commander who waved it off with a quiet chuckle.

" For Leofore! " The King's Elite echoed, and there was the sudden snap of leather straps giving way as Destrier's shield flung itself off his back to hover at his side.

"You...gods, really? " Argon sighed.

Destrier rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat awkwardly. "It had to be a phrase I would remember." He tried to explain, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. "I wanted it to serve as a reminder of what we fought so hard for and why we fought as hard as we did."

"Well spake, my flushed friend!" Timothy teased, knuckling the other man's shoulder. "But come, we have a feast to prepare and drinks to indulge in!" Leofore's expression was unreadable when Destrier dared to glance over, and the younger knight feared that he had offended him.

Leofore approached him once the festivities were truly under way, asking for Destrier's presence while he circled the grounds. "It is very loud here, but I do not wish to be alone." He said by way of explanation, blue eyes strangely mournful.

Destrier agreed and the two of them made their way to the ramparts, walking at an easy pace and making inconsequential conversation.

Once there, Leofore ran a hand along the rich buntings that bore the kingdom's colors and insignia, his gaze far away. " Wars are not won or lost, merely ended ." He mused. "I know not who coined that phrase, but I have always found it to ring true." The dark-haired man leaned against a parapet and fixed Destrier with a calculating look. "Have we won this war, Revel? Or are we simply ending it?"

"Does it matter overmuch?" Destrier replied pragmatically with a question of his own, fixated on the bonfire in the courtyard far below crackling merrily away. "History will remember us as the victors and the people will recover with our help. Our work will not be over when the fighting is, you know that."

"Aye," Leofore nodded. "About the shield, Destrier…"

"I can change it." Revel rushed to assure him but Leofore waved him off.

"It brings me comfort to know that you would hold me in such high esteem." Then, "do you think Argon will forgive me for trying to turn him into a kitchen sieve?" Destrier tried to stifle his laugh to no avail. Leofore grinned at him, the older knight mussing his hair teasingly before returning to staring out toward the horizon. "Many things have changed, and yet even more stay the same. I will not be so foolhardy this time." He promised solemnly.

"I do not think we would be able to carry on with this new era if you were absent, my friend."

"Surely you jest. The strength I witnessed from all of you, the tenacity? I feared I would burst with pride. I understand your sentiment, though. I shall not go looking for my death, nor rush headlong into danger."

"Not alone, anyway." Destrier amended. "That is all I can ask for, Knight-Commander." He extended his hand and they clasped forearms in the typical knightly fashion. Leofore searched his eyes for a long moment and then nodded, seeming to have found whatever he was looking for.

"You have changed as well, Knight-Captain Revel. For the better, I would wager."

Part Three: Light And Home

#destrier revel #leofore #fallen paladin #dnd #dungeons and dragons #I loved the character of leofore so much #I'm sure my DM is sick to death of hearing me yammer about Leofore #but I am a simple man #angst #character death #conquest paladin #paladins #all paladins #of liches and those who fight them #NPC ruminations #a paladin and his mentor

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jinmukangwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Graceful

The third and final instalment to the Grace Trilogy. We’ve come a long way bois.

Summary: sometimes, things take a turn for the worse, and the world feels like it’s falling apart. Wild’s always jumped at the chance to save someone else, but what happens when the favor is returned?

Warinings: To avoid spoilers, they’re in the tags.

Note: I gotta dedicate this. Like. I absolutely have to. This whole series I want to dedicate to @spacemalarkey and @fox-moblin. Linni, I cannot thank you enough for how much you do for me, for always thinking of me and including me and being my go to person for bouncing ideas off. You helped with with so much and I swear you have been here since the beginning and that’s something I will always be grateful for. Ort, gal, my pal, my favorite cryptid, I love you, you are such an inspiration and your creativity always inspires me to try to be better with my own works. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t read Grace and deemed it good enough to reblog haha. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks to you two. It’s not like I’m not writing LU anymore lol, gonna keep writing for this amazing fandom. This fic just feels like a testament to how far I’ve come since Grace.

Anyway, who wants to cry?

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Twilight didn’t understand.

Before, he always questioned it. He would lie awake for hours into the night, tossing and turning on his sleeping mat, blankets tangling his legs and sweat dripping from his brow. Nightmare’s haunted him because of it, nightmares of a wild hearted boy jumping in front of a spear, in front of an invincible monster, in front of Twilight himself, to ultimately fall to the ground and never get back up, blood pooling besides the body.

Twilight never understood. He never understood why Wild was so ready and raring to put himself in the path of a killing blow, or any blow for that matter. He says it’s because he has the ability to come back and he may as well be the one to die and revive than Wind or Sky or Warrior or whoever that won’t come back.

Don’t get Twilight wrong. If someone else was in danger, he would gladly risk his life to save them. But that’s the game changer right there. Risk. Not willingly give away. Twilight believes in finding a way for everyone to survive. It was never about dying for his friends and country, it was about simply saving it.

Wild is hard wired about dying for it.

And Twilight didn’t understand.

He’s argued about it on multiple occasions. Ever since that first time where Wild took his own life to simply return stronger and finish the job, Twilight has found ways to argue about it. Thankfully, Wild eventually understood that letting himself die was heartbreaking for everyone there and a total abuse towards Mipha and her gift, but he’s still reckless. Reckless enough to get his neck snapped by a ball and chain. Reckless enough to push Sky out of the way of a charging bull and get hit himself. Reckless enough to take the arrow he saw heading towards Time’s head. Enough to get Four out of a booby trapped cavern first and ultimately get crushed by tons and tons of earth. Enough to pull Hyrule off from cracking ice and drown as a result, to eat an apple gifted to Warrior’s from a shady figure to prove it was poisoned, to charge unprepared into an enemy camp to save the newest hostage named Legend.

And he doesn’t do these things only for the group, but for innocent bystanders and travelers too.

Twilight would yell and yell Wild’s ear off whenever the little gremlin got himself hurt for others. He could have easily warned Sky or Time to get out of the way. Could have worked together with Four to get out quickly. Could of pulled Hyrule and himself off the ice. Could of could of could of. Wild never seemed to understand that risking your life is not always the first option. Still never understands it. He has this gift to come back from the dead and it’s gotten into his thick skull that if he can solve a particularly difficult problem by simply taking the blow and coming back, he’ll take it and there is nothing wrong with it.

Twilight never understood. It’s gotten Wild angry with him. Wild would try to make Twilight understand and Twilight would just get more and more agitated until finally they are separated via Time’s orders so they can calm down and call it a night.

Twilight would say how much he cares for Wild and he doesn’t want to see him dead. Wild would shoot back the same sentence with so much ferocity that Twilight is forced to let it go. At least he isn’t killing himself like he had done the first time, Twilight says to himself, at least he’s accepting health potions and fairies for his injuries even when they’re low in supply. At least Wild isn’t literally killing himself to save them.

But it isn’t stopping him from willingly and thoughtlessly putting himself in danger.

Twilight never understood.

He understands now.

There’s fire. And a lot of it. Twilight has only heard about the beasts that they’re up against, only seen the dead carcasses littering the plains and forests of Wild’s world.

“They’re all dead,” Wild had said with a almost reverent certainty the first time they had stumbled upon a corpse of a Guardian, “they died when Zelda and I defeated Calamity Ganon. All they’re good for now is scraps.”

A lot of strange stuff has been going on lately with all their worlds. They should have guessed, or at least prepared, for the possibility of one waking up and attacking. But they didn’t prepare. None of them, not even Wild himself, were ready for when the first eye blinked open with a menacing red flash and pushed itself out from the rubble that has tried to bury it over the years. A blood colored laser blinked to life and trained itself within moment’s onto Wind, a steady heartbeat of beeping piercing into the air, and Twilight, everyone, was frozen in spot because of fear, terror, horror, all those fun emotions. Thankfully, Wild knocked himself out of it pretty quickly, muscle memory forcing his hands to his bow before his brain could catch up. He loaded an arrow and shot it at the mechanical monster’s eye and a zing echoed in the air as the Guardian stumbled backwards on its eight legs, startled, but not a scratch.

“Run!” Wild screamed.

And oh, they did. Or they really tried to. If the Hero of the Wild was screaming at you to haul ass out of a fight you better listen. They would have probably gotten away before the Guardian found its bearings, but they were stopped in their tracks as another metal beast crawled over a close by hill, dragging a single injured leg behind it with its five remaining ones, it’s laser trained on Time who was leading the retreat.

So the next, logical, thing to do would be to turn and run to the left or the right, but a third Guardian, barely scooting across the ground with two working limbs, crawled from the side and the first one was now recovered and they found themselves surrounded, fighting their way out quickly becoming the only option out of this. The laser pointing at Time fired and they all jumped out of the way but the explosion sent them flying into different directions and the flames lit the ground despite how the morning dew still coated the grass.

They scrambled, Time stumbling from a very nasty burn on his leg and Four clutching his arm to his chest towards a particularly large boulder on the other side of the Guardian that had just fired at them. The other two had their lasers trained, the one that had fired was beginning the process of loading up its weapon. It was the safest route.

They thankfully managed to dodge around the second guardian towards the boulder and get behind the makeshift shelter before any shots can hit them. The boulder shook from the pure force of the deadly projectile hitting it straight on and fire blasted around the corners, making Sky (who was closest to the edge) cry out in shock as the flames licked his sailcloth.

“What do we do?” Time demanded, already they can hear the heavy steps of the monsters figuring out where their prey had gotten to. They had minutes at most to make a plan before the Guardians realized that they didn’t disappear, but were hiding.

The tortured, panicked, wide-eyed look Wild gave Time almost broke Twilight’s heart. The kid was always so sure about himself. Always having some sort of plan no matter how reckless or crazy it was. Right now, Wild looked lost, scared.

“Take them out one at a time?!” Wild said, his voice an octave higher than it’s normal range. “I don’t know! I’ve never fought three at the same time! I- go for the legs, the Master Sword would be best but any strong weapon will do. If it aims at you, fire it’s eye. Get them immobile- I-”

Wild looked at the verge of a panic attack, his eyes glistened and a hand went up to his arm, his scarred arm, like he was trying to pull himself together.

Another explosion hits the boulder, and another right after. Twilight brought his hands to his head as the structure behind them shook and chunks of rock fell down on them. They’ve ran out of time. The Guardian’s know that they’re there, and they want a fight.

“Sky,” Time barked over the roaring sound of fire around them, “take the Master Sword and get the legs of the least injured one. Wild, go with him. You’ll shoot the eye. Twilight, Four, and Legend, you three get two legged one, work together to get it’s legs. Legend, you’re on eye duty. Wind, Hyrule, Warrior, you’re with me. Wind, you’re in charge of the eye.”

At that was it. A barely thought out plan that everyone hardly had any time to agree or disagree to before a final blast broke their boulder in two. Everyone ran into battle, crying out, splitting off to their assigned enemies without a second thought.

And that’s where they are now. Fighting for their life.

Legend is a master of the bow. Not as good as Wild, but good enough. Good enough to release an arrow mid run and hit their target head on. Four bolted forward, lifting his sword into the air and jamming it into the first leg of the monster. Gears screeched together as the Guardian stumbles, but Twilight doesn’t wait for it to recover before he too is beginning his attack.

For a second, it all goes good. There is only two working legs and Four and Twilight each, with the support of Legend released an arrow every few moments, manage to shatter both of them. The Guardian crumbles to the ground, leaving it open for them to attack it’s body and within minutes, the eye shatters and blinks pitifully, metal bits falling as if relaxing in death.

For a second, Twilight thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

That was his mistake.

Because right after that second, Wind is screaming in pain as the guardian they were fighting manages to make a blow before Wind could stun it. Twilight spins on heel and takes in the complete chaos across from him. Time is rolling on the ground violently because of a leg that hit him, Hyrule is just managing to dodge to frantic legs above him, and Wind is scrambling to his feet, clutching his side, blood dripping down his forehead and fire singing his tunic.

Then another explosion shakes the ground as a misfired laser from the Guardian Wild and Sky are tag teaming on just manages to miss the group but explodes the earth past them, fire and debris shooting into the air like an evil monster itself, spreading it’s tendrils to destroy everything it touches.

The Guardian Sky is working on is thankfully stunned and injured thanks to a particularly nasty arrow sticking out at an odd angle in its eye, but it’s now firing rapidly, its four remaining legs frantically trying to find purchase.

“Legend- Four-” Twilight starts.

“On it, Twi,” Four says, grabbing Legends hand and rushing towards Time and the others. Twilight swallows and sprints in the opposite direction, towards Wild who is dodging out of the way of a misfired laser that almost didn’t miss.

Twilight grabs the bow on his back and shoots the Guardian again, hitting right in the middle of its eye and shattering the glass just a bit more. The metal creature seems to groan as its head spins around desperately looking for its target, but it jolts to the side as the Master Sword takes out yet another leg.

Wild nods in thanks and loads his own bow, firing at the eye, and Twilight rushes forwards, re taking his sword and slamming it into one of the remaining legs. There’s a couple close calls, this Guardian is a lot more fidgety and trigger happy than the other one Twilight somehow managed to defeat, but eventually, the last leg shatters with a mighty swing from Sky’s sword and the thing comes crashing down to the earth with a thud, firing fearfully into the air.

Wild runs forward and slams his sword down into it’s eye, sinking his weapon down into the hilt. Glass shatters and the Guardian shutters, blinking sadly, and shutting off with a pitiful whir.

Okay, Twilight thinks, now it can all get better now. There’s one left and Wild said he can fight these things one on one. He turns, Sky walking next to him, Wild climbing down from the dead beast.

The other guardian is literally on its last leg with the combined efforts of the rest of the group, it’s laser is blinking on Legend, who’s standing in front of an injured Wind, but Legend has his bow trained and is at that second releasing his arrow. His aim is true, but Twilight knows right then that something is horribly wrong.

The last Guardian’s laser was too loaded, too powered up to be simply shut off. It is knocked backwards, and the last leg breaking courtesy of Hyrule made it so it was looking directly at Wild when it finally released that explosive energy.

Twilight didn’t think. But in that moment, he understood.

He finally understood.

It the heat of the moment, Twilight didn’t have time to think about the options. About the consequences. About the ways everyone will make it out alive. He just surged forward, grabbed Wild by the shoulders, and shoved the kid behind him.

And then heat. Fire.

Agony.

His ears are ringing. He can’t breath. His skin feels hot and cold at the same time for a second and then he can feel nothing at all. Numbness takes over, and he’s left choking for air, staring up at the sky blocked by smoke. Orange flames lick the corner of his vision and that’s all he’s aware of. The fire. The smoke. The knives stabbing into his lungs with every breath he tries to take, even as the blurry outline of hands grab onto his tunic and drags him away from the fire.

The edges of his sight blur, his chest shutters, and he blinks and blinks and blinks until he can’t no more.

The last thing he’s aware of is Wild kneeling over him, trails of wetness glistening red with the fire running down his cheeks. There’s a cut on his chin, hair a little singed, but otherwise okay.

He’s okay.

And Twilight understands.

And with that, all the pain and worry leaves Twilight, and he enters the blackness of unconsciousness without any resistance.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Time didn’t know what… drew him towards Twilight.

From the first moment Time laid his eyes on the kid, he knew he would do anything to protect him, even before he figured out Twilight is a descendant. There’s just something about him that makes Time go crazy with protective urges and… almost attempts at parental guidance.

Time cares for each of the heroes on their group. Each have something so incredibly special about them, and their youth didn’t help with Time’s slow descent into “Dad Friend” territory, but Twilight was something… different.

If it was the way the kid instantly worried about others before himself, or the way he fought with a feral viciousness, or the intelligence that was always present in his gaze… whatever the case, Time eventually found that he saw himself in Twilight. And instead of that being a comfort, it made him almost go insane with worry. He wanted nothing more than to teach the kid to be himself, to not worry so much, to take the moment as it came, but he could never find the moments to teach those. Plus, Twilight always looked at him with a gaze that screams: “Don’t even start with me, old man” before he can even work up the courage to talk to him about it.

It takes a lot of courage to scold Twilight.

More courage than what Time had.

He planned to maybe leave him for Malon to chew out the next time they ended up at the ranch. Perhaps corner him in a quiet forest. Possibly just spit it out on the trail. Get him to understand that he’s young, and he doesn’t need to worry about everything, all the time, all day. He doesn’t need to swing his sword so hard, doesn’t need to lose sleep over other’s problems, doesn’t need to remember he has his own issues he should work out until it’s too late.

What a load of good those plans turned out to be, especially since Twilight is practically on his deathbed.

Or the “on the road” equivalent to it.

It’s a race against the clock, a race that Time can’t help but feel like they are losing. They were not prepared for a battle like Wild’s Guardians, they were not prepared for wounds or cuts or third degree burns. With the world constantly fading and morphing around them, they sometimes don’t have enough red potions or fairies for a broken leg, let alone burns so horrid that the scarred, blistering tissue of Twilight’s body outnumbers the unblemished.

One red potion. Courtesy of Four. Enough to stop most of the bleeding, but the burns are still so bad that Twilight is stuck in a perpetual fever and it’s only getting worse.

They have to find civilization, and fast.

And it doesn’t help that the world is no longer Wild’s, and no one recognizes the forest around them. The most they can do is walk until somebody recognizes where they are, the constant worry of maybe a town is in the opposite direction nagging at each of their brains.

Maybe they are somewhere in Twilight’s time, and none of them would know until they either find civilization or Twilight wakes up.

Finding civilization seems more likely.

Time winces when Warrior stumbles a little, jostling the makeshift stretcher they made with blankets, branches, and rope to tie it all together. Everyone has injuries, and with the single health potion being used to buy Twilight more time, Warrior is forced to push through a sprained ankle. Wind is the worst off from them all, sporting painful burns on his side and chest and various other cuts. He has a fever and is now half delirious from pain and exhaustion, forced to be carried along on the back of Sky. He isn’t in… immediate danger. He still needs medical attention. The rest of them thankfully all just have minor scrapes and bruises, a burn here and there but not enough to do much more than sting persistently.

Besides Twilight and Wind, it’s the emotional wounds that Time is more worried about.

Especially Wild.

Who hasn’t said a word in over five hours.

And there isn’t much Time can do about it. All Time can do is reposition his grip on the stretcher, ask Warrior if he needs to switch with someone, and let Four quickly check over Twilight.

“How is he?” Time asks.

Four sighs and pulls his hand away from Twilight’s forehead. The answer is in his pinched eyebrows and red rimmed eyes. “He needs help, old man,” Four replies softly after a second.

Time nods. And they continue their walk, because there is nothing more that they can do.

Time tries not to think about Wild, a few paces behind, hugging his arms around his body like he will crumble.

The walk continued, and no signs of human life ever presented itself. Warrior eventually had to switch with Legend so he could lean on Hyrule and give his injured ankle a much needed break. The walking only got slower from there, the weight of the stretcher and the body placed upon it only seemed to get heavier.

The sun travels. The forest continues.

Twilight begins to vomit blood in his sleep.

And that’s when any hope in the group shattered.

They were forced to stop. Moving Twilight any more would just quicken the inevitable. A grim mood falls over the group and the realization that unless help found them, Twilight is not going to make it. The least they could do is… make sure it’s not too painful.

They made a nest for him and placed him a generous distance away from the fire to not overheat him but also not to let the bite of the cooling night creep in too much. The mood of the group is grim. Time puts it upon himself to keep everyone together despite him wanting to break down himself. He stopped Hyrule from stomping off into the forest, a sword at his hip. He made sure Wind wasn’t alone as he sulked by the campfire by sending Four over to talk to him, maybe encourage him to allow them to change his bandages. He broke apart the argument Legend was trying to start with Sky for no reason at all. Warrior has closed in on himself and has announced that he will continue walking into the forest to find help, but Time forced him to sit down so he could better look at his ankle, trying to will Warrior to understand that there is nothing in their power to do, no matter how it pains the both of them.

Wild is at Twilight’s bedside. A solid arms distance away. Curled up in himself and simply staring at the bandages and scarred flesh.

Time may have told himself that he will make sure everyone is together and okay this night, but for many reasons he just couldn’t bring himself to quite confront Wild yet. He didn’t see what happened, but he saw the aftermath, and Sky saw it so he was told the details in quiet whispers a little while after. Twilight shoved Wild out of the way so he could protect the younger from the misfired blast of a Guardian.

Wild blames himself. Time doesn’t have any doubts about it. Wild is so ready to risk his life for others, but the second someone does it for him he goes to a place so deep in his own mind that Time isn’t sure that he can pull him back out without a fight. This is why Time has been dreading the moment he’ll have to talk to the kid, but he also knows Wild will do nothing but damage himself if left to his own thoughts. It’s already beginning, the distance Wild has set between himself and Twilight is a clear indicator of that.

Warrior clears his throat and Time is brought out of his worries, looking up from the makeshift split he’s been setting on Warrior’s injury. Warrior has a look in his eyes that lets Time know that they’re thinking about the exact same thing.

“I can talk to him,” Warrior says, voice low so no one but Time hears.

Time almost wants to agree. Warrior is fully capable of this task. He doesn’t talk too much about his trials, but Time does know he has lead armies into battle, into war. It’s in his name. He’s seen stuff like this before. Time’s sure he’s witnessed soldiers collapse in the heat of a fight; good soldiers, soldiers with friends and family waiting for them. Time could put this on him and let Warrior deal with the fallout of telling the hard truth to a boy who does not want to listen, to a boy who will only blame himself.

But Time also knows that he cannot dump this on Warrior. Time is responsible for the group, and he’s probably one of the only ones to truly know and understand Twilight.

The most important person in the entire world to Twilight wasn’t Zelda. It wasn’t Midna. Or Colin. Or Ilia.

It was Wild.

And that fierce… love went both ways.

No, no Time can’t let Warrior take the fall. The man may be a captain, a seasoned hero of war, but, in this group, Time is the leader. It’s his responsibility. He’s the only one that can do it.

“See if Four needs any help making dinner,” Time says, trying to give Warrior both a grateful and determined expression. Warrior studies him for a second, glances at Wild, then sighs.

“I trust you, old man,” he consents, though his voice still sounds stern, his look giving away nothing as he stands up and limps towards Four whose smacking Hyrule’s hand away with the spoon.

Time sighs and glances back over at Wild and Twilight, his heart tightening in his chest with indescribable worry and fear.

Don’t be a coward, Time. Rip it off like a bandage. Get it done and over with. Worry about the fallout later.

Finally, Time stands up, and before he could even hesitate he begins to walk towards the kid that’s supposed to be cooking right now. Towards the young man that’s losing the battle for his life. Towards two heroes desperately hurting in very different ways.

Time sets himself down next to Wild, and Wild doesn’t react. He just stares at Twilight and somehow manages to press his knees even closer to his chest. He doesn’t even spare a sideways look.

Slowly, with much unsurety, Time lowers a hand down onto Wild’s shoulder. Wild stiffens slightly, and usually that stiffening would go away after a few moments… but this time it sticks around. Time doesn’t let that deter him. He can’t afford to let it.

“How are you holding up?” Time asks.

Wild doesn’t respond, just takes a deep breath and lets it out. For a moment, Time really thinks that there will be no getting through to Wild. He’s too deep in his grief. Too deep to be pulled out by a few words and touches.

But then, Wild responds right when Time was about to jot this down as a hopeless venture.

“He won’t last the night,” Wild says, his voice thick. Wobbly.

Time swallows and follows Wild’s gaze down to Twilight, and for the first time since the incident, Time really looks at his protege. The skin not inflamed and blistered is pale and sickly green. Sweat is glistening off every inch of skin, soaking the bandages hiding the tendril like burns embracing his body. He matches Wild in the worst way possible. Destroyed tissue on his face, ear gone, scabs and puss staining the white cloth woven around his chest. He looks horrible. Looks like death. He’s probably in unimaginable pain and Time can’t help but think that Twilight not lasting the night would be a mercy.

“No,” Time croaks, “he won’t.”

Wild’s stiff shoulder suddenly jolts as he tightens his hold around himself, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat as he presses his eyes against his knees. Time sits there as Wild breaks apart, as another sob physically wracks through his small frame.

“It’s my fault,” Wild whimpers. “It’s all my fault…”

“No, cub,” Time says, heat threatening to break through his tear ducts, “it isn’t your fault-”

Wild only cries harder and Time does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his shoulders and presses the boy into his chest, holding him as tight as he can as Wild fully lost control of himself, cries of anguish and pain shooting out into the night. It’s loud, not a single emotion holding back, but Time doesn’t attempt to hush him. No one turns a judgmental eye towards them, all of them perhaps thinking the same thing.

It’s about time someone broke.

Time whispers every comfort he knows into Wild’s hair as he glances up at the others. Legend is leaning against a tree, glaring at the fire with a suspicious glisten in his eyes. Sky has Hyrule pulled under his arm in a comforting one armed hug, Hyrule’s shoulders shaking slightly while Sky glances at Time with an alone tear trailing down his cheek. Four and Warrior has stopped cooking, and by the looks of the pot sitting just off the fire, they have given up at it; neither are crying but both look very ready to, especially Warrior as Wind climbs into his lap and grasps around his waist, a look of pure sadness screwing up his youthful features.

Liquid finally breaks through, and Time doesn’t wipe the army of tears trailing down his face for a very long time.

Twilight stops breathing twice in the night.

They weren’t able to save him the second time.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Wild’s angry. Beyond angry.

The rage in his gut burnt with a fiery passion and the tree that came in front of him and his sword didn’t see it coming.

Neither did his now shattered sword.

But… that was weeks ago.

Now?

Now he’s just numb.

He doesn’t quite know how to… face it anymore. Anger, sadness, the whole process of grief didn’t work. It still hurts, It still clutches his heart and tear through his chest with every blink of his eyes, every flash of fire that came with each blink. It repeats, over and over and over and Wild’s pretty sure he’s tried everything to quench the guilt, the pain, and every time he ends up back at square one.

Alone.

He’s alone.

Alone and numb.

Numb because what’s the point of feeling anymore? All feeling does is hurt him, all feeling does is get the people he cares about killed.

It’s killed Mipha. Urbosa. Daruk. Ravio. It’s sentenced Zelda to 100 years of torture and solitude. It’s sent soldiers to die. It’s sent fields to burn. Mountains to fall. Dragons to become ill. Guardians to turn. So many people have died, gotten hurt, had their lives destroyed because of a boy named Link who decided to pull a sword out of stone, who thought he could be a hero.

All feeling is good for is causing a mess and leaving him to clean it up.

Twilight is just another name to add to the list.

So… he’s numb. The world passed easier that way. He made it through the funeral. The words they all said, that he stayed silent through. He made it through their group stumbling upon Ordon Village like some sick joke from the goddesses just a few hours later. Made it through Time telling the families there that their boy isn’t coming home. Made it through the crying children, the sobbing young woman beating against Time’s chest, the empty house filled with memories of a life snuffed out, the horse named Epona nipping at all their ears as if asking “Where is mine?”

He made it through all that without another temper tantrum. Without another break down, or panic attack, or any ugly crocodile tears. Made it through without saying a word even. He hardly remembers any of it, just the major details that his brain will naturally store away for him to remember in his nightmares. He has even avoided the temptations to grab his slate and hyper focus on every picture of Twilight that he has.

Because that hurts.

Numbness is better.

Yes, numbness is so much better, he thinks as he sits alone in a small clearing leading to a beautiful spring occupying a rather majestic stream of knee high waterfalls. He has just managed to avoid Time once again—the old man has been giving him a lot of looks lately and Wild is getting rather frustrated with them—and took off into the paths leading outside of the village he can’t wait to leave. He walked without purpose, only wanting to get away and not have the constant inkling at the back of his mind that tells him to tell them what really happened. Tell them all that Twilight didn’t die heroically, he died protecting a kid who can come back from the dead easily. He died trying to be a hero, only got himself killed in the process. If Twilight was thinking, he would have known that Wild might die from that blast, but he would have quickly came back. Twilight should have left it alone. He should have stepped aside and let the beam kill Wild for the second time in his life.

Instead, he got himself dead for a useless purpose. It’s Wild’s fault, he should have been paying attention so Twilight didn’t even feel the need to shove him back.

His fault…

No, no be numb.

He sighs and looks at the clearing and spring around him. It’s gorgeous here, and for a second he wonders if Twilight ever spent time here, if he ever played in that spring water or sat in this very spot watching the fish. He rubs a hand over his face, hoping to maybe banish those thoughts as well because they hurt and he really doesn’t want to hurt any more. He really doesn’t want to think about how even if Twilight used to spend time at this spring that his presence will never grace this place again.

Being alone is a bad idea, he realizes as he glares at the waters, thinking is a bad idea too, but thinking comes when one’s alone and he was never good at meditation.

But he also thinks being back at that village with his comrades and the kind strangers is a bad idea too. Wild can feel himself be wound tight light a string tied between two wild boars trying to run in the opposite directions. He’s succeeded for so long at ignoring the aching in his chest, but it isn’t like this is the first time he’s done this to avoid the hurting and churning. He’ll snap soon. He knows he will. It’s only a matter of time, and he’d rather do it silently and alone than loudly and with company.

A lung full of air. Out. The ripples in the water reflect the golden sunset. In. Breath wobbles. Out. Tears sting. In… his heart clenches. Out… the first unwanted whimper escapes.

In. A tear falls.

Out. His head sinks to his knees.

In.

He wants to scream.

Out.

He’s too busy biting his lips.

In…

Out… It’s his fault.

In… He didn’t get to say goodbye.

His breath catches.

He cant breath out. He’s sobbing now, his ears ringing. His brain is screaming at him to pull himself together, that he should just suck it up and ignore it like he’s done for so long—but then his heart clenches and he knows that he just let the dam burst. There’s no hope to stop the waters, they come out with every gasp, every whimper, every cry, every action to curl tighter and tighter within himself, and they’ll keep flowing until there’s no more water to flow, until he can work up the strength to build up the walls again.

It hurts. He hates it so much. Everything hurts.

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault.

Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda…

Twilight.

He cries harder. Faces. Names. Voices. It’s all too loud, and now instead of trying to ignore it he’s trying to drown it out with his own cries, his own pain. Maybe, if he shows how much he hurts, how much agony he’s in, the faces and blame will leave him alone for a little while longer. If he screams loud enough into his legs and arms, the voices will dim. If he-

Something brushes against his fingertips, and he’s startled out of his own misery, head shooting up to find that his fingers are resting in the golden, rippling water of the spring. His shoes are drowned up to his ankles, and his butt is soaked. Somehow, the water has risen, and now he’s sitting in it.

He blinks, wiping the tears from his cheeks and taking a gasping breath of air, and he looks at the waterfalls, trying to figure out how the water even rose in the first place. Oceans have tides, springs don’t. Or at least he doesn’t think they do. Not that it matters, he’s just… thankful that it managed to bring him out of his agony so it didn’t have to take it’s own time fading.

Something flashes at the top of the spring, at the third and highest waterfall section, and he blinks when the form of a silver creature catches his eye.

His breath catches in his throat when the figure comes a bit closer.

A wolf.

Thousand’s of emotions flicker through his head like a slideshow and he holds his breath as the wolf jumps down the first section of waterfall. It’s fur is a beautiful, glittering silver color that glitters like there’s a bucket of stars connected into each strand. He doesn’t even think to run or grab his sword, he’s too transfixed as the creature jumps down the next section and there’s not a single splash. Down the last and there’s white, familiar patterns on the muzzle and forehead of the creature.

He doesn’t dare breathe. If he breathes, whatever he’s seeing could turn out to be a sick joke.

The wolf pads towards him, head tilted slightly and those blue, blue eyes flashing with sadness and worry.

And then, the silver fur ripples like the pond it’s walking on. Flashing a pure gold and morphing to a taller, more human figure colored in grays and glowing whites like the moon. If Wild had blinked, one second a wolf would be tilting its head at him and the next he would be smiling down.

But he didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He’s terrified to.

“Hey, cub,” Twilight says, smiling.

And curse it, the dam breaks again, though, not in the same way as before.

He scrambles to his feet, golden water dripping from his clothes and splashing upwards with every desperate, running step he takes further into the spring. The smile on his face widens as Wild gets closer, but Wild can hardly even see through his tears as he launches himself forward in one last, desperate burst.

For a second, terror clutches his heart that he’s going to close his arms but they will only go through, but it’s too late to stop his arms, too late to stop his body, and the pure joy that fills his entire soul when he physically crashes into Twilight is intoxicating. If he’s dreaming, he will make the most of it and hold Twilight as tight as he can.

Twilight laughs and encloses his own arms around Wild’s body as they both stumble. Twilight sinks into the water and they fall together into the spring, drops splashing upwards and soaking both of them.

They hold each other. Wild has no plans on stopping as the tears fall again, as his chest lurches with his cries. Twilight doesn’t seem to mind a whole lot, in fact he helps position them both so they’re more cuddling compared to the mess of limbs they were before. The coolness of the running water ripples against their clothes and skin like a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” Wild chokes out after what must have been half an hour of just sitting there, hugging, and crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, cub,” Twilight soothes, “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. It was me, I made the decision.”

That makes Wild cry harder. His throat, stomach, and chest hurts so much.

“It’s alright, I’m here, it’s all okay, cub. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you again, I should have found you sooner.”

Wild shakes his head, because Twilight is trying to push the blame onto himself and nothing is okay, but he can’t work up the strength to argue anymore. He lets Twilight hold him as his shutters and gasping stops, lets Twilight continue to hush him and whisper comforts until there’s nothing but the spring water to pierce the silence of the evening forest.

It’s peaceful. Somehow, Wild feels more at peace than what he has felt in months. He doesn’t want to break it.

Twilight breaks it.

“I can’t stay much longer, cub,” he whispers and Wild bites his lip.

He knows how this works. Spirits can never stay long.

“I needed to see you,” Twilight continues, his voice sad, “and I needed to give you something.”

Wild lets Twilight grab his hands and help him to his feet. They’re both soaking, but the chilly breeze and the low sun doesn’t seem to affect either of them. He forces himself to look up at Twilight who is now standing just a arms distance away. His smile is sad, eyes glistening.

He opens his mouth, and cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. It’s so Twilight. It’s so him. The guy is like a child doing a bad impression of an adult in an actual adults body. He’s trying to be serious, to the point, factual, but Twilight is just as an emotional mess as Wild is, and he can never keep a straight face long even in the most serious of topics.

Wild feels like he can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“Look, I… I did what I did and I don’t want you to blame yourself, kid,” Twilight says and Wild’s lips thin, already preparing himself for the inevitable lecture. Trust Twilight to come back as a spirit and “give” him a lecture. Twilight must catch sight of Wild’s nonplussed expression because his face suddenly breaks out in to a splitting smile accompanied this time by a genuine laugh.

“Okay, okay, how about we leave that to the old man, huh?” He jokes.

“Why… are you here?” Wild asks, and man does his voice sound unused. Raw.

Twilight licks his lips and brings his hand to the back of his neck. “I… I can’t just leave you. Alone. I can’t. I’ll never be able to rest if I don’t know you’re safe.”

He sucks in a deep breath and Wild watches with wide eyes as Twilight reaches towards his chest and there’s a bright flash of golden light that has Wild blinking spots from his eyes. Within a second, Twilight is standing before him with an orb cradled in his hands, a blood red color.

Twilight isn’t looking at Wild, but down at the orb like he himself is fascinated by it. The corners of his lips tilt slightly upwards and he sighs. “Go, and do not falter, my child,” he says softly, as if to himself, but Wild doesn’t get to question it because Wild looks up at with with a set jaw and determined eyes. “Take it.”

“I-”

“Cub. Please. I love you so much. The gods gifted me this form in life… I want you to take it, and be safe. I have no need for it anymore.”

He holds out his hands and Wild cups the orb in his hands, waterworks starting up again, but he quickly wipes them away with his shoulder as the warmth of the orb dissolves in his palms, spreading over his fingers like a liquid and trailing up his arms to the center of his chest, where there’s a burst of golden light and the familiar feeling of something greater than himself entering his being. He feels warm. He feels safe.

Suddenly, he’s pulled back into a fierce hug and Wild grasps onto Twilight’s clothes because he knows, he knows it’s almost over. It’s almost time to part. To say goodbye.

“Promise me, cub” Twilight whispers into his hair, “promise me you will be safe.”

“I… I promise.”

-o-o-o-o-

At first, he was afraid.

Now, he’s loved.

He’s running, faster than what he’s ever ran before. The world is at his heels, branches and leaves whip past his snout as he pushes harder, faster, breathing hard and going going going-

Going where? Not sure yet.

All he knows is that… he’s free. The world is nothing but a blur zipping past his gaze, streaking past his pumping legs, left behind his tail.

He never wanted Revali’s Gale, or Urbosa’s Fury, or Daruk’s Protection.

He never wanted Mipha’s Grace.

The thought of owning the powers of his dead comrades, dead friends, set his stomach in a knot, but they were always useful. He learned to get used to it. Learned to appreciate the gifts he was given and use them in the best way he knew how.

He never wanted this gift either. Goddess, if you were to tell him that someday the Hero of Twilight would pass away, would sacrifice himself to save him, and then give him a very special ability that was such a huge part of who Twilight was… he probably would have thrown hands.

But… it’s been a few months since that meeting, since the funeral, since the death. Wild has learned to… appreciate it. Twilight is right, this gift definitely made him feel less alone. Every time he uses it (at first reluctantly, now whenever he gets the chance), he can feel Twilight watching over him from some unknown plane of existence. He can feel the warmth, and it’s not the dirty blond fur on his body radiating that heat. It’s a different kind of heat.

“I know you’ll find this gift useful,” Twilight had said, before he finally faded away, “I certainly did. Whenever you use it, I want you to remember how many people are there for you, how many people would fight for you. There are so many of them. Take it. Use it. Twilight’s Love is now yours… well, it always has been.”

Wild howls, feeling strong, feeling free, feeling loved, as he pushes himself faster up the hill, tongue lolling out of his panting jaws. Someone calls out his name and he sprints harder, barreling through the grass and jumping into the open arms of none other than Wind. Wind laughs from the bottom of his stomach, small fingers climbing up and latching themselves into Wild’s fur. Time stands off a small distance, the others not far behind, all smiling.

A broken family, all doing their best to remain strong.

And there’s something graceful about that, isn’t there?

#jin writes #fan fic #fanfiction #linked universe #hero of the wild #hero of twilight #hero of time #hero of the wind #hero of legend #hero of hyrule #hero of the sky #hero of warriors #hero of the four sword #major character death #description of injury

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saelwen · 5 years ago

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The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter8

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnings: death, burning corpse

Words:2k

The cold wind was hitting my face, drying my tears a little. How could I be so stupid! Mother always taught me not let man's get in my head, taught me to be strong woman. And never be manhandled...Valar Morghulis...that’s what mother would say.

Me and Drogon been flying for hours, if not a day. I would be lying if I say that I know where am I, looking down I only saw trees and around us there is no sight of civilization. A sigh fell from my lips, I know we should stop and let Drogon rest but I'm afraid that any threat could go upon us when we were resting.

My thoughts were interrupted by a roar that Drogon let go, manifesting his tiredness “I know, my sweet friend...Let’s rest for a bit.” I look down and saw a small clearing, I order him to land there for a bit, so he could rest. Climbing off from his back, I pet his head “Stay here and rest. I will go see if there is any river nearby.” with that, I walk into the dense forest, looking for some water to drink.

After a while, I found a small river, with clear water. I sigh in relief and sat on my knees by the river bank. I begin drinking some water and when I was satisfied, I begin washing my hands and face. As I was cleaning my dry tears, I notice my reflection on the clear water. I look weak and tired, there was dark circles under my violet eyes, my brown skin was paler and my long silver hair was a mess from flying. Closing my eyes, my thoughts begin to drift back to the emotionless, cold face of Thranduil. The evil smirk that it formed on his face when he told me that I was a mere pretty thing to pass time...just to be use like a doll and throw away when he was finished playing it. Thorin was right. I shouldn’t trust on elves...

I look to the sky, seeing dark clouds begin forming, ready to let go a heavy rain. Standing up, I begin walking in the direction where I came from. Suddenly, a sound of heavy feet's hitting the ground grab my attention. I look at the direction where the noise came from and start follow it, passing through some bushes and trees. I stop where the ground ended, that lead me to a huge cliff, I look down and a small gasp escape from my mouth. Down below, a huge number of orcs marched, full of armor and all sorts of weapons, ready to attack. I look at the direction that they were marching for and my eyes widened. They are going to Erebor! Turning back, I run to where Drogon was, climbing to his back “Come on, Drogon! Those stubborn dwarfs and snobby elves need our help!” with that he jumps into the air, flapping his wings, flying us towards Erebor. I hope that I will arrive at time.

~~~~~~~~~~

(Thranduil P.O.V)

How did I get in this mess? Not only that stubborn dwarf king didn’t accept our deal, now his cousin came with his army. I let out a sigh and order my elk to move in front of my army, I yell the order to shoot, letting go a rain of arrows on the dwarf's army but two huge propellers like, clean all the arrows on the air and land on my army. Damn! Those dwarfs have more defense mechanisms than us, I order the first front the ready they shield as I see the dwarfs cavalry coming closer. I stay back, seeing my army killing those filthy dwarfs. I look to Bard, who was trying to calm down his people, “Stay put! Let my army finish them.” I say firmly, he only nods and continue calming his people along with Mithrandir and the halfling.

Suddenly the ground begins shaking, I look to Mithrandir “They have arrived!” he said with a firm voice. Oh no! There was a huge explosion as the giant's worms jump from the ground, letting the orc army come out. Dain begins shouting for his army to ready and form a wall with they shields.

My army stay still, ready for my orders. Mithrandir runs to me “King Thranduil! This is madness! You need to do something!” he yells to me. My heart beat begins beat faster, as everything around me goes slow motion. What have I done? I led my people into a battle that it didn’t concern us! Everything I do, only bring death and pain.

Suddenly, a loud roar grabbed my attention and of everyone even the orcs. Looking up, I couldn’t see almost nothing because of the sun light hitting my eyes but I saw a black figure, flying down to us. I heard Mithrandir and the halfling gasp and look to them with a confused look “I knew it that she wouldn’t turn her back to us!” the halfling said with excitement in his voice, Mithrandir nods and smiled proudly. Looking up again to the black figure, now closer I notice that was Daenys, with her beast. My eyes widened as her dragon blow the most part of the orc army, setting fire to the first row.

The people of Laketown begin cheering for they savior, Bard looks to me “I will led my people to Dale and try to take the rest of the people out of here!” with that he was gone, leading his people away from the battle.

The iron foot joins the battle, killing every orc that pass in front of them. Mithrandir grab his sword “Thranduil! You must help them!” he says as he starts running to the battle with the halfling close behind. Grabbing tightly the handler of my sword, “Attack!” I yell to my army, ordering my elk to move forward.

(Daenys P.O.V)

Most of the first row of the orc’s army was burning, I turn Drogon and ready for another attack. I notice that the dwarf army have joined the battle as well the elves, I led Drogon more into the orc’s army for not kill any dwarf or elf.

I look down and saw some cave trolls running towards the Dale town, ready to attack the people there. Grabbing tightly on Drogon spikes “Dracarys!” I said firmly, making him burn every monster near the town. A smirk grew on my face as I hear the screams of agony of the orcs and the trolls, smelling they skin burning. Looking down, I notice that Thorin is still inside of his precious mountain. Why isn’t he here, fighting with his people? Suddenly a huge rock flew pass through us, I look down and saw a troll with a catapult on his back, aiming at us. Fuck! Drogon dodged the second rock and flew towards the troll, grabbing him by the head with his claws and threw him in air, as he rips off the troll head.

After some time, setting fire to orcs and trolls, I order Drogon to land on the wall of Dale town. I order him to blow his fire forward, killing every orc that was running towards the town. I see Gandalf and Bilbo running to me “I’m glad that you’ve came!” Gandalf says with a smile, I return the smile “And when our lovely dwarf king while join the battle?” I ask sarcastically. Bilbo looks down a shamed by his friend actions, Gandalf sighs “I hope soon enough.” as he said those words, a huge gold bell blows the front entrance of Erebor. A small smile broke on my lips as I see the company running to battle, joining us. I look to Gandalf “You were right, Gandalf. As always.” a smirk form on his lips, Bilbo smiled but it disappeared as he notices Thorin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili climb the mountain on they goats “Where are they going?!” he asked worried. Gandalf frowns “To cut the snake head!” I look up and saw Azog on top of the mountain waiting for them.

I could go and help them but the people here need me, and I know that Thorin could beat Azog on the fight. The sound hooves hitting the floor grabbed my attention, and saw on the bridge Thranduil mounting an elk running to us. A small smile form on my lips as I see that he was okay.

As he was getting closer to the gate, the orcs shoot they arrows to the elk’s neck, killing it. Thranduil falls on the floor, I turn Drogon back and order him blow his fire on the orcs in front of Thranduil.

The orcs scream in horror and start running away in fear of Drogon, yelling to retreat. Thranduil looks to me and give me a little nod in thanks, then begins killing every orc that was near him. A sigh fell from me as I notice how he looks to me with a cold look. Moving my gaze to the top of the hill, I saw the rest of the orc’s army arriving. I look to Gandalf “I will take care of the rest of the army! Protect the people here!” with that Drogon fly us into the sky.

As we were getting closer, I notice the eagles flying with us and on top of one of them was Beorn. A smirk appears on my face “I thought that a bear couldn’t fly!” I yell to him. Beorn looks to me and roll his eyes, jumping out of the eagle and transforming into his bear form, landing on the orc’s army.

The eagles started diving down and killing the orcs, throwing them on the air and ripping of they heads. I order Drogon to also dive down and set fire to the orcs, blowing everything below us.

~~~~Time-Skip~~~~

The battle was won. Sauron army has fallen but they took with them the last line of Durin. I was standing beside Bilbo, hearing Gandalf speech on Thorin, Fili and Kili funeral. The iron foot, people of Laketown and even the Mirkwood elves were there, mourning the loss of the King of Lonely Mountain. A tear falls from down my cheek, I didn’t end good with Thorin but I know that he was a good man and during the trip we had good moments together.

I look down to Bilbo and saw that he was trying to clean his tears. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, he looks to me and I give him a sad smile. This will be hard for him...He have never witness death this close.

After the funeral, I walk to Drogon and pet his warm scales, making him purring “Ready to go home, old friend?” I ask him with a soft voice. His eyes left mine and look behind me. Confused by this I look back to see what he was looking at, my eyes widened as I see Thranduil standing there looking to me. He took a step forward “I see that you’re leaving...” he says with an awkward voice, looking to Drogon suspicious. I nod and let out a sigh “Yes...I’m going back to Gandalf cabin...” I say quietly, we stay there for a while in silence, trying to avoid our gaze.

After a while, he let out a long sigh “I’m sorry, Daenys....for everything I’ve said to you. I’m here to ask you if you want to stay in Mirkwood?...Your friend also can stay.” his voice came out weak, full of guilt. Do I want to return there? Knowing that I was just a mere thing to him! I close my eyes, I know that I want to stay there...”Okay...i will stay there for a while. Then I will return to Gandalf cabin.” a huge smile spread on Thranduil face, he was about hug me as I took a step back “As friends of course!...King Thranduil.” I say softly, with a firm look on my eyes. He looks down , trying to hide his disappointment “Of course, Lady Daenys!...Now should we go?” he ask a while offering me his hand, I nod and turn back, climbing Drogon back “I will meet you there, King Thranduil!” with that me and Drogon fly into the sky, leaving behind a sad elvenking.

I will be firm and don't let him enter in my heart ever again.

Hey Guys!!! New chapter here, this one was fun to right. Hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

XOXO

Taglist: @crazyonesarethebest @yes-captainstark @gwendelerynan @foggyturtleknightangel @moonchild-stuff @llama2264 @tigereyesf @damnittjim @lespaceboi @ultrabumblebeeisus @daeb820 @burningcoffeetimetravel @peaky-marvel @nikipuppeteer @shanty-lol @demonquartz @inserttrendymeme

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overdrivels · 5 years ago

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Self destruction and self sabotage seems to be Hanzo Shimada’s very own modus operandi. It’s not that he was not trustworthy—no, he is a man who could be given orders to and expected to complete them with professionalism and such efficiency it is hard to argue his place on the team regardless of how certain members felt about the arrangement—but his presence left many uneasy.

For all the orders and missions he completes, he still had a lot of learn about teamwork or at least entrusting his back to someone else. Genji chalks it up to being on the run while solo for ten years. Others are quick to blame his personality. One or two even think that it may just be a ploy of sorts (but those thoughts are never really voiced). There were several close calls of Hanzo nearly breaking someone's nose for coming too close unannounced or not communicating his position enough (leading to someone nearly shooting him) only strengthens people's unvoiced doubts.

Regardless, it was decided by the powers that be (Winston) that the benefits outweigh the risks and still assigned Hanzo to group missions.

Like now.

Hanzo nearly chokes on his breath when he spots the blur from the corner of his eye. Too fast. Dangerous. He pulls hard on his bow string, spins sharply—

The muscles on his shoulders spasm with the abruptness in which he forces himself to stop. His heart hammers in his throat and head, frantic with a visceral fear that he had not felt in a long time. It almost makes him want to vomit. He barely avoids letting loose an arrow straight into your helmet.

Especially when you amble toward him, nonchalant in that pangolin hardlight suit of yours, hands together like the meek animal you represent, unaware of the danger you just were in, unaware you were just a hair away from death by his hands and if he had realized who you were a moment too late, you wouldn't even be standing or breathing or kneeling next to him or able to use your voice to ask:

"Are you all right, Hanzo?"

He slaps away your hand, barely aware of the fiery sting of his forearm.

"Get away," he snarls between panicked gasps.

Emotions make an assassin inefficient. An inefficient assassin is a liability. Liabilities need to be disposed.

He barely notices the appraising look on your face, too focused on steering himself away from his weaknesses as a professional.

"Excuse me."

So he could be forgiven for nearly smashing his elbow into your face when you grab him by the waist and hoist him over your shoulder. Hands scrambling, he seeks leverage to throw you from his position—he's done it before on bigger and stronger opponents—but the armor is smooth, the momentum too little, your grip a little too skillful, and the intent and motion too gentle.

You begin to run and not a moment later, the sound of gunfire follows. Snapping out of his head for a moment, he shouts, “What are you doing?”

“Saving you. Watch your head.”

He ducks just in time to avoid getting hit in the head by a metal bar twisted out from it's structure.

He could easily break your arms and choke you in at least thirty different ways, but you manhandle him like you don't care.

“I could kill you," he hisses as menacingly as he can. It's not just to remind you but to remind himself, will his body into action. He does not need to be rescued or carried. This sort of thing is for damsels in distress, injured persons, or the dead, and he is certainly none of the above.

“Yeah, I know. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, but just in case, I already have my will and power of attorney set up."

For once, Hanzo is completely dumbstruck, staring down at your profile. The blatant disregard for his threats seem to be almost on-par with some of the other agents who act like he isn't as dangerous as he truly is. But he never got a handle on you or your thoughts on having a brother killer on the team. Your reaction would be funny if you weren't both running for your lives, pursuers audibly behind you.

Using what little leverage he has, Hanzo disposes of his useless thoughts, swings his bow over your head and focuses on what he can do best: killing.

With you to absorb any attacks with your Pangolin suit, he only has to worry about accurate headshots from the enemies, and at this distance, they weren't going to accomplish that any time soon. Your scales were raised, able to deflect the full brunt of any stray bullets that came for his face.

The suit is just an over glorified suit of sectored hardlight armor, scales that form out of everywhere and can fire like a porcupine. In truth, it's a mess. Something that would be worthy of being called "Junker quality".

Regardless, it did its job long enough for you to carry him to relative safety and for him to take his shots, bringing the numbers down enough for Soldier: 76 and Mercy to take the remainder down from behind. A beautiful, but unexpected, pincer.

Even you give a satisfied hum, hands together and head bowed much like one of those ass-kissers back at Shimada Castle.

And your words, "We did pretty nicely," cements that thought even further, and he snarls, yanking his head away from the view of the other two approaching to make his way back to the ship. With or without you.

He expects this to be the last time he'll ever have to get manhandled or carried to 'safety'.

So needless to say, Hanzo gets surprised again when you jump in front of him during another, more harrowing mission, the sound of pulse bullets smashing into your armor, but his recovery is quicker as his mind snaps the situation into clarity.

He fires off three arrows right at you. By some trick, they twist around your helmet. Each make their mark, to his glee, and the rocking explosion resulting from the damaged reactor would’ve knocked him to the ground if you did not position yourself in front of him.

Through the stream of smoke and dust, he can see the bodies of his fallen enemies, thrown to the ground like ragdolls.

Mission accomplished. The reactor is destroyed.

But his relief is short lived when you turn again. The entire backside of your armor has been burnt off, revealing the crackling technology beneath it. And his victory curdles into rage.

"Why did you do that!?"

It allowed him to take that shot, yes, but he could have dodged and found another opportunity that was not fraught with risks and potential bullet holes through anyone.

No, he's not grateful even if your timely appearance did end the mission quickly.

You merely shrug at him, press some buttons to regenerate the bullet bitten scales of your suit.

He refuses to thank you for it. Or say anything else for the matter.

The next time you cover him—serving as his decoy more like, you're shot in the head. The force of it takes off your helmet.

Parts of it shatters, crystalline shards of hard light fall around you, shimmering in light. If the situation were not so sure, he might have thought it beautiful.

But as it is, the illusion is broken. You tuck and roll out of harm's way just as a rain of shrapnel comes down on you. Hanzo's arrows manage to fell them, allowing you to make your way to him without losing your head.

A very small head.

The contrast between your bare face and the rest of you is almost humorous. You're so much smaller than your armor would imply. That's a given, of course. Reinhardt and Brigitte are much smaller outside of their suits, but both hold themselves proudly, their personalities matching and exceeding the size of the suits they both wear.

But you're...you. Neither so strong in will or personality that it makes up for the gap between your current size and the size that the armor portrays.

Hanzo has seen you meander through the halls, posture weak and hands together. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you some ghost from Overwatch past, tossed and lost in the stream of time.

But you're here, beside him, watching out with a deceptively lazy gaze. He can't tell what's in your head or why you even care enough to stick by him. Is it because he's a liability? Or because he's a killer and you're keeping tabs on him? Or could it be that you are just waiting to stab him in the back?

Hanzo dares another glance at you, still watching out over the distance, unaware or uncaring of his scrutiny. Empty. Your head must be empty.

"They're coming. Let's go," you say suddenly. Snapping his attention back to the horizon, he sees that their targets have indeed regrouped and are making their way towards you both. He huffs, annoyed he didn't notice first and makes his way down with you hovering at his back.

He's reluctant to say he's gotten used to you covering him. Hanzo barely reacts during another mission when an enemy appears at his back just as he lines up his perfect shot. He feels the ground vibrate, guns firing but never feels the impact, and the enemy hit the ground with a loud shout. Inelegant, but effective. He's not surprised when he turns around to see you behind him, your back to his like you trust him.

It is a dangerous thing: trusting someone with your back. One could never know if that trust would ever be misplaced. Or if that trust will make him weak. A lonely night with his inner musings and a bottle helps him make up his mind.

Nipping it in the bud, so to speak, he asks Winston to stop putting the two of you together on missions. To which he gets a very deadpan look that makes him just slightly regret asking.

"Agent Hanzo, if there is an issue, I'd like it to be taken care of between the both of you or have it brought up now so we can handle it. With as few agents as there are, we cannot afford to be infighting or choosey about partners."

"...I understand," he says through gritted teeth. Hanzo leaves with nothing done except making it clear to Winston he has an issue with you that he isn't even brave enough to confront you about himself.

It doesn't take him long to find you alone in the kitchen, slowly eating what seems to be a late lunch, the wrapper of some meal wrinkled on the table.

"Cease what you're doing."

You look up at him incredulously, a fry hovering precariously off your fork halfway to your mouth. "Eating?"

"No." He wonders if you're being obtuse on purpose or if this is just how you are. "No. I ask you stop covering me on the field. It interferes with my work."

Slowly, the fork comes further down onto your plate as you squints harder and harder at him, measuring his request. A prickle straightens his spine and he refuses to take back his words or feel remotely bad for telling you to stop doing your job.

You rub your face for a moment, the cheeriness and glow in your eyes wiped away, replaced by a look that Hanzo knows all too well: one that screams, ‘I need a drink’.

"You know I can't stop protecting you."

Unconsciously, his upper lip curls. "I never asked for your protection."

"Genji did."

Time stops.

It could have been a fraction of a second, a million years, he doesn't know. The words bounce in his brain, growing louder with each echo, the defeated tone twisting itself into mockery.

He’s a Shimada, not a coward. But the moment those two words left your mouth, he could not stop himself. In an instant, he has you by the collar, pressed against the wall. The clothes you wear becomes your noose as he curls his hands into them as if that'll be enough to silent you.

“What. Did you just say.”

Even now, you look upon him dispassionately. Even when you struggle to give a voice to your explanation, face red—nearly purple, your demeanor is not shaken. “Gen..ji, asked-d me. 'Pro...tect Hanz..o-o. No matt-matter what he’s done. He’s...still my br..other. I forgave...h—'”

You choke on your words when Hanzo slams you against the wall again. Twice, thrice, four times until he’s sure you’re not going to speak anymore of the accursed words he loathed to hear from anyone.

It’s a lie.

A lie.

An insult.

Genji is making fun of him again.

Touting that he’s better.

He was always more recognized.

Always had father’s attention.

Always fawned over by their peers.

Always watched by their elders.

And now he wants to flaunt it again.

That he’s survived death and he’s stronger and deems Hanzo so worthless that he requires protection.

Protection from what.

Hanzo was the one who received all the awards, the honors, the higher marks, killed the most, gotten the most targets, the envy of those who would consider themselves his peers, the right to inherit his father's position, the clan.

And yet—

Yet…

With an animalistic yell, he slams you against the wall once more, a resounding crack covered up by his voice before he just drops you and flees the room, desperate to drown the renewed flames of his fury in alcohol.

#My writing #back on my bullshit

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timeisacephalopod · 5 years ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Tony is competent, why his company is no. 1 and who it was who actually taught pepper everything. Competent Tony is my no. 1 kink.....

Oh my lord it took me SO long to get to this but I finally have an idea! So, competent Tony it is (though mostly with the Avengers rather than his company).

Steve has banned him from the field and Tony might resent that more if he weren’t so worried about the team fucking dying. If Rhodey were around he’d agree but he’s not, he’s off on some kind of stealth mission in Butt Fuck Nowhere Russia at the moment so Tony is left to his own devices. “He’s leading you idiots on,” Tony tells the team through the comms.

He watches Steve on the security cameras he’s hacked into for a street view jump and then get blasted with one of Tony’s repulsers except deadly, if it were to hit Nat or Clint. It mostly knocks Steve out right after shoving him through a brick wall and Tony sighs.

“Can you not?” Clint snaps at him, trying to shoot an explosive arrow at Evil Tony who, after Steve reamed his ass, was discovered to not be the actual Tony Stark. Turns out HYDRA cooked him up in a lab figuring they can’t have Tony or his genius but they’ve got his blood so they made a new him. Fucked up, Tony knows, but the problem is less that there’s an evil him lingering around and more that the team has never really understood how he thinks. Before this it didn’t really matter, mostly it was just grating, but if they’re going to take evil him down they need a lesson in Tony Stark Brain and not in a way that results in them getting their asses handed to them.

By now he knows evil him has figured out team dynamics and he’s got a good understanding of the tech minus Steve’s shield, which doesn’t seem to follow any known laws of physics or react like any normal metal. Shit, even for vibranium its weird and its not how Steve uses it either. He ran tests with Shuri and by all accounts neither of them could figure it out. And Tony knows he’s good but Shuri is better, plus she’s far more familiar with the metal. Point is, evil him knows just about everything there is to know about them and idiot ass Clint is giving him more information by shooting exploding arrows at him.

“Clint stop fucking shooting those arrows,” Tony tells him.

“Bite me,” Clint snaps back.

Tony rolls his eyes, “fine, when he starts shooting repulsor blasts at your back don’t tell me I didn’t- oh, there he goes,” Tony says lazily as Clint dodges a blast aimed at his back.

“How’d you know he’d do that?” Natasha asks, taking up second in command easily.

“Easiest way to get rid of him is blowing him up now. Bonus points if you get close enough to him to either kill you both of kill him and injure you badly enough to take you out fast. You and Steve are priority,” he says.

“Then why the hell did he leave Steve after he sent him through that wall?” Nat asks.

Tony rolls his eyes, “first of all he needs to know how much damage Steve can take before he can kill him, hence why he’s mostly only trying to maim the guy. Second, the rest of you are pesky and the moment he went through that wall you all closed in. Wanda, I wouldn’t try and do that-” she ignores him and Tony watches as the energy that she uses closes around Evil Tony’s suit but he’d already noticed he’s done some kind of something to be able to manipulate Wanda’s energy too. Granted she has to be a certain distance away for that to work, which is why he’s avoiding close combat with her. That, and she’s the most powerful avenger as far as raw power goes anyway so its best to keep his distance and play more on her emotional side.

Not hard, when she’s as attached to Steve as she is. And to say she’s surprised when her power turns on her is an understatement. “Yeah, you’re going to want to stay within about fifty feet of him at all times. He’s figured out how to weaponize your energy signature, but only if he’s far enough away to do it,” Tony tells her.

Natasha sighs, moving closer to Clint and Tony rolls his eyes again. Do these people not listen to him? Well okay, they don’t and sometimes they’re right not to but god damn. “Natasha, stop fucking moving closer to Clint and get closer to Wanda. She’s your best bet at protection at the moment,” he says.

“How do you figure that?” Nat asks.

“And why are his priorities Natasha and Steve, shouldn’t it be me because of m power?” Wanda asks.

Tony shakes his head, “you’re the most powerful of us sure, but you’re also green and emotional and your ability to strategize on the fly isn’t near good enough to combat that,” he says. Which, despite his own emotional nature, is mostly how he gets around bad reasoning. “Steve is a strategy genius and so is Natasha, if they’re both alive then there’s a good chance the avengers will be a cohesive unit. If Natasha dies first Steve loses all reasoning and goes on a revenge bend, which is what he wants FYI, and the avengers fall apart. So basically Natasha, you’re the better leader and you should get him to kill Steve first. Or keep Wanda close enough that it makes sense to strategically retreat.”

“Fuck you,” Wanda tells him, Sakovian accent a little thicker than normal. Not his fault all that is true, though.

“The hell do you mean- Jesus Christ!” Clint yells, jumping behind a building to avoid being shot at again. “The hell do you mean stay close enough to Wanda to make a retreat?”

“I mean Wanda isn’t wrong about being the most powerful of us and that emotional side coupled with her inexperience in the field is a fucking disaster waiting to happen. She stays close enough to genuinely affect his suit he’s going to back off, it makes more sense to leave you all for another day than it does to brave an explosion of power that will more than likely nuke the damn city. The Natasha bit is just basic observation. Her heartlessness comes in handy for something and its that she doesn’t often let whatever she’s feeling affect her ability in the field. Unlike Steve, if we die she won’t lose her head and lead the avengers into disaster.”

“I would never do that!” Steve says, appearing back on the comms. So Sleeping Beauty is awake, great.

“Would too. Anyone need a reminder of Lagos?” he asks.

“You should be dealing with this,” Wanda tells him darkly. Meaning he should go die, because reading between the lines isn’t too hard in this instance.

“What exactly do you think I’m doing?” Tony asks them. “Besides, Lagos wasn’t entirely your fault anyway. The leader of a team should be able to determine when someone isn’t fit for duty and we all know Steve’s judgement, especially in regards to himself, is absolutely shot. Which again, Natasha doesn’t have that problem. Which is why you’re priority two despite being pretty easy to kill.”

“Where do I fall?” Clint asks.

“You’re basically the avenger equivalent to a cockroach on the banquet table, you only register because you keep interfering with his trying to kill Natasha,” Tony says.

“Why am I two instead of one if Steve’s judgement is so off?” Natasha asks. “Wouldn’t it make sense to kill me first?”

Tony shrugs, “yeah, but HYDRA doesn’t have a personal vendetta against you, he’s following orders there otherwise you would be his first target. Congrats on being the most dangerous. Well, kind of. Technically Wanda is the most dangerous but you’re more purposeful about it.”

“What exactly do we do?” Steve asks and oh, a switch up. Tony didn’t think he’d ask.

“He already told us, I have to stay close enough that he chooses to back off,” Wanda says.

“Try and kill him while you're there,” Tony adds. This is a pain in his ass to deal with.

Steve looks pissed, or as pissed as he can manage through his busted face. That’s got to hurt but Tony warned him not to go near Clint, who really only managed to toss his arrows fast enough to get pretty badly hurt rather than outright dead. But he’d accidentally tossed them at Steve in his panic and Tony would have been able to tell him to haul ass if he had the time to. But he’d barely had time to think the thought let alone say it out loud before the repulsor blast hit the arrows and sent both Steve and Clint flying.

Thankfully Tony had been able to warn Thor with enough time to grab Nat and fly off before Wanda went fucking supernova and leveled the upper east side. Not fast enough either, evil him made an escape so it didn’t even do anything to help them. Shit, as it is they’re lucky they evacuated that area anyway and the property damage, Tony’s pretty sure he just went bankrupt. And all because Wanda, however understandable, had done the same thing she did in Sokovia with Ultron when her brother died. She doesn’t do well with people she cares about being hurt in front of her and Tony gets that, really, but it’s not a good look when an entire section of New York gets destroyed about it.

Except now Steve’s mad about it and Natasha is thinking and Thor is confused as to why there’s two Tony’s and why one of them wants them all dead. “When did the one with the red energy show up?” Thor asks and Tony sighs.

“Oh buddy, you are so behind.”

Steve thinks its a bad idea and frankly so does Natasha but so far the only one who’s managed to keep up with evil Tony is not evil Tony so yes, evil Tony will be able to judge not evil Tony’s actions with the same level of clarity that Tony can judge his but something had to give. And she’s a bit tired of it being Wanda’s sanity. She’s a little worried its about to be back to Tony’s sanity because neither of them can manage to keep a cool head and that irritates her but teaching someone to keep themselves separate from their actions is a hard skill to teach. And she wasn’t much taught so much as she was tortured so she figures maybe she’s the one that’s missing out, who knows.

The point is that Steve nearly died, something she wasn’t even sure was possible for him, Clint also almost died, and Wanda is currently in jail. Which apparently Tony is working on but Natasha can see why the public is afraid of her. She’s gone, at least in their eyes, from one set of terrorist actions to the next. Though Tony is right in saying Lagos is more on Steve than her. Natasha told him she wasn’t ready and while he’s right in saying experience would make her more prepared that wasn’t the kind of mission she should have been on. Small stakes, low public interaction. That’s what Natasha suggested. Then she works her way up like SHIELD agents do.

But no, Steve didn’t do that and then Lagos happened and now New York and she’s pretty sure the people in the city are pissed off about being consistently screwed. Aliens were bad enough, but humans with the ability mimic bomb damage is a whole other preventable deal. Hence jail and yeah Tony’s on that too but Natasha isn’t sure how much good it’ll do given that Wanda has none of the clout the rest of them do. Even she has better standing despite her origins, though she’s also never blown up multiple cities and worked with a genocidal robot.

“And what if Tony loses it?” Steve asks, pissed.

“Then he dies and we better hope we can stop evil him,” she says easily.

Steve looks a bit horrified but Natasha has long since passed that stage. It is what it is and Tony is right, her level of heartlessness is useful. “There he is,” Steve says, pointing to the upper corner of the screen they’re watching on. Tony, their Tony, is already there waiting in stealth mode because somehow he managed to figure out where evil Tony’s hide-y hole was.

Natasha is fully prepared to curse Tony out when he gives away his position by firing a repulsor blast at his evil self, who predictably dodges it because he was way too far away for that to have done shit. When he fires back Natasha winces as Tony is hit, stealth mode blinking out as the suit takes the damage. “Why isn’t he moving?” Steve murmurs, looking closer at the screen. Natasha watches too, but nothing seems to happen aside, and this could be a trick of the light, the suit heals itself.

“What is that?” Steve murmurs. Natasha looks behind evil Tony though, because Tony isn’t in the suit that was fired at. Which evil Tony seems to realize as he starts to look around. A suit blinks into sight and evil Tony fires at it but it blinks out and must fly elsewhere before the blast reaches it. Another does the same thing but evil Tony doesn’t waste time on it. Instead he waits it out, obviously trying to determine Tony’s angle. So is Natasha because as far as she knew he only had a few suits and none of them look like the ones she’s seen on screen.

This happens for almost ten minutes, suits blinking in and out of sight before a suit right in front of evil Tony shows up and blasts the chest piece of the suit before blinking back out of sight and Natasha assumes he flies off. Evil Tony doesn’t take it well though and spins around, trying to relocate him. Doesn’t work but the next suit to blink into existence gets blasted not that much seems to happen aside from it not blinking back out in to stealth mode and oh. “Smart,” she murmurs, earning a frown from Steve. “The first suit was to test the damage that’d be done, the second plus the rest was a distraction. That last suit was to re-test to see if the damage would be the same. Once Tony’s hit his stealth is out of commission, he’ll need to move fast so he needs to make his hits count.”

Which, unfortunately, evil Tony probably already figured out. The next time Tony blinks into sight he aims for a leg and Natasha has no idea why when the power for the suit comes from the reactor but she doesn’t say anything about it. He also narrowly misses two separate blasts from his evil counterpart before he lands another blow and manages to get caught in a blast, effectively ending his stealth mode. Useless feature if it goes that fast and she swears, getting another look from Steve. “That’s a fucking set of prototypes!” she snaps. “He’s fighting himself with prototypes!” Idiot!

“Look!” Steve says as Tony takes another blast. “The suit, it's like... the damage is disappearing.”

She frowns, watching closer and huh, so it is. Tony lands another hit on the other leg and she rolls her eyes. “The chest plate!” she yells at Tony through the comms, “aim for his damn chest you built that suit what are you doing?” she asks.

“Jesus Nat, would you- shit- shut up?” Tony tells her. Evil Tony must know something she doesn’t because he starts to stay out of Tony’s range for an accurate shot. They hover for a long few moments, because evil Tony’s range for accuracy is the same as their Tony’s, before three suits blink back into sight and blast evil Tony, who falls from the sky with minimal power. When he lands the legs of the suit almost give out and okay, Natasha can see why Tony went for the legs now. Except it doesn’t do much to stop evil Tony from just fleeing out of the damn suit, which is exactly what he does, and disappearing underground.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that I have it covered,” Tony tells them before either of them ask. The screen they’re watching changes to follow evil Tony though his honest to god lair before he hits an invisible wall. He frowns, smacking at it and turning around only smack into another invisible wall. Tony obviously doesn’t want to risk it much because green gas fills the small contraption, which Natasha can now clearly see is a cage, before it filters out. Evil Tony is either dead or knocked out and she sits back in her seat.

“I can’t believe it was that easy,” she mumbles.

“Wouldn’t have been if he got further into that but he follows a highly specific pattern of walking when he’s in there, I went thought the footage. Hence the placement of his own invention, really nifty little cage that is. Totally invisible, probably got better bones for that stealth mode I was attempting. Anyway, uh... he didn’t anticipate me being able to break into his systems so we can um, be glad he didn’t try and break into mine. Probably wouldn’t have occurred to either of us given that we don’t need the other for intelligence. Its just that I knew he’d manage to slip the suit and if he was going to go down to his lab I needed to know what was in there, be prepared and all that, so I had to-”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve tells him, fingers pressed to his temples. “Next time you deal with you.”

Nat slumps in her seat. “I can’t believe New York blew up when we could have just done this,” she mumbles.

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the-walking-memelords · 5 years ago

Text

A2 - A Sequel to Allegiances: Chapter 1 : VvvvV

Hello, my lovelies! It is I, your third favourite writer here with the long and highly-demanded sequel to "Allegiances" that I am releasing today, December first, the 1 year anniversary of my posting of the original fic on Ao3!

Haven't read Allegiances? Read it here!

Tumblr | Ao3 | Wattpad Word Count: 1894 Pairings: Clementine/Louis | Ruby/Aasim | Brody/Mitch

Rating: M for Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Past mentions of Abuse/Trauma

Summary: Five years have passed since Clementine won her freedom against the plot of the Delta, but trouble always seems to find a way to catch her.

Because after all,

the war didn't end with the Delta.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

Sunlight filtered through the multicoloured trees as autumn once again. The bright orange and yellow leaves swirled in the chilled breeze and danced along the walking paths. This was the fifth autumn since AJ had come to Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youths. The time before was not something the boy liked to think of, but occasionally his subconscious would remind him of his days that were numbered. But AJ couldn’t think of any of that right now.

The forest was no place for idle thoughts.

Alvin Junior, now nearly eleven years of age, walked along the trail alone with an aged bow and arrow in hand and Clementine’s hat upon his head.

AJ crept past the trees being careful not to step on any leaves or twigs that may give away his presence. The safezone was far behind him, not that anyone abided by that old border anymore. Louis and Aasim were off in some other direction hunting for some extra trading material. The late afternoon sun began to drift lower in the horizon, signalling the end of their hunt if they wanted to be home before dark. AJ knew he should be heading back to the meeting point, but the fresh tracks he followed promised a find worth a scolding from Clementine.

Where are you, deer?

The tracks he stalked moved off the path to a sparse area of the forest. The boy halted still as stone, listening. He didn’t dare blink when movement caught his eye. Not the stumbling gate of a monster, but a smooth, deliberate turn of an animal traipsing along its way. Hiking up the sleeves of his oversized blue hoodie, AJ bit his lip and rubbed his thumb along the rough wire of his bow before slowly nocking an arrow.

He moved downwind from the deer, moving silently across the terrain as she slowly got closer and closer. The animal had a pristine coat. Unstained by blood or scars from encounters with the undead.

He must be a fast one.

AJ knew if he missed it was unlikely that he would get the chance for a second shot.

The sun stung his eyes as he quickly adjusted the brim of his cap and took aim. The stiff wire was difficult to pull back. Part of him wished he could just use his gun, but bullets were getting harder to come by as the years went on.

“Just for emergencies.” Clementine had reminded the boy as he tucked his revolver into his back pocket before setting off with Louis and Aasim.

The deer let out a half-startled grunt as it seemed to sense AJ’s presence, turning swiftly to face him a second before taking off. The deer was fast, but so was AJ. The boy released his arrow which missed its mark of the animal’s neck but lodged in its side, staining its light brown hide with fresh blood as it shrieked and fled.

AJ swore internally as the animal quickly lost him, leaving a trail of crimson drops behind. Now he just had to find it before the monsters did.

His frustration grew thicker with did the foliage as the boy followed the red smears, branches scratching at his face as he raced along. The bushes suddenly broke into a small clearing where AJ finally found his prey.

The deer lay dying in a patch of grass scattered with wildflowers as if it sought out something peaceful before it’s inevitable end. It’s breathing was rugged and forced, clinging to every bit of life it had. The sight made AJ a little sad, guilty even, knowing he had done this. Killing animals always tugged at his heart a little, but he knew he had to do it so his family could eat.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he pulled out his knife, slowly moving towards it to end its misery.

A muffled snarl came from AJ’s left. A walker with a bandanna tied around its mouth wandered into the clearing, paying the boy no mind as it stumbled towards the bigger meal.

“That’s mine.” AJ scowled as he kicked the walker’s knee hard, sending it sprawling to the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, he jammed his knife into the walker’s skull.

The boy smirked, glad he hadn’t fallen out of practice in the month or so since their last walker sighting. Perhaps it had to do with the explosion, or travellers passing through more frequently, but the monsters have mostly gone away around Ericson’s. Clementine said when they got to the school, things were going to get better. And she was right. Both the human monsters and the monster monsters had gone away.

AJ looked down at the bloodied knife in his grip, and back over at the wounded deer, electing to use his bow instead incase it got feisty. Stepping through the soft grass he aimed another arrow at the deer’s eye before another growl caught his attention. Shifting his aim he sent an arrow flying into the eyesocket of the second walker to approach his catch. By the time he looked back down the deer had died on its own. It’s deep brown eyes now glassy and still.

“At least you don’t come back.” AJ said as he retrieved his arrow.

He gave the second walker a second glance, noticing something familiar. The boy squinted as he ran his hand over the red fabric tied over its jaw. The fabric was cold and wet. Black ink smeared under his touch as he traced the odd symbol painted on.

One long spike on each side with three shorter ones in the middle. Spikes pointed down like teeth. The formation reminded him of this one sassy expression Rosie would make when she wasn’t getting as much attention as she’d like. The teeth were painted on the cloth over the walker’s actual mouth.

Is this supposed to stop it from biting people?

Doesn’t seem like it would work.

Why not just kill it?

The setting sun reminded AJ that he didn’t have time for this, but once the boy’s curiosity was piqued it was hard to ignore. Running back to the first walker, he checked the bandanna again and just as he suspected, there were the teeth, though older and more faded than the second.

Just like the other one.

Where they part of the same group?

But they look so old and the other pain was new...

A skeletal hand brutally digging into his shoulder jolted him out of his thought. AJ whipped around just as the walked pinned him to the ground. The boy pushed his arm against the monster’s throat as its jaws snapped just inches from his face. Unlike the others, this one had nothing holding back it’s lethality.

AJ reached for his knife as he felt himself coming closer to being overpowered, just for his fingers to merely graze the handle as it laid out of reach.

This is an emergency.

AJ snaked his hand under his back and found the cool metal of his revolver, wedging it out from under him and bringing the barrel to the monster’s temple and pulling the trigger. Blood and brain matter sprayed across the boy’s face and she sounds of the forest were immediately drowned out by an intense ringing in his ears as he threw the walker off of him, taking a moment to lay in the grass and catch his breath. He sat up as the ringing faded, replaced with the scattered chirping of birds and faint moans of what that gunshot just summoned.

Multiple shadows moved among the trees, far too many for one kid to fight. AJ cast a final apologetic glance to the deer he knew he couldn't drag back with him in a timely enough manner to escape the dead, and fled back in the direction he came from.

Anxiety turning to fear as the evening chill settles on his skin and the sunlight spread thin across the land, shadows taking over and hiding all that lurked among the forest. AJ’s heartbeat picked up as he ran. Eventually, the trees turned to all tall dark pillars, indistinguishable in detail. Dodging past one after the other until one dark mass failed to dodge him.

The impact was solid but softer than a tree, both parties well backwards as AJ quickly brandished his knife.

“Easy there, little dude.” A familiar voice said worriedly.

“L-Louis?” AJ’s iron grip loosened enough for Louis to take the blade from him as the boy heaved, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m here. I gotcha.” Louis put his arm gently on the boy’s should as he pulled him into a hug.

“Let’s get you home.”

AJ gripped the sleeve of Louis’ worn down coat as he stood. AJ couldn’t believe he still wore that thing, as stained and torn as it had become over the years. Though he supposed Louis hadn’t changed much over the years like some of the others had. His dreads were a bit longer which he mostly tied back in a ponytail, but leaving those same two dreads to hang in his face. He was still easily a head taller than, a fact he periodically reminded her about by resting his elbow on the top of her head.

“Where’s Aasim?” AJ asked as his breathing slowed.

“He’s waiting at the meetup spot, let’s go find him.” He said with a smile.

Leaves crunched under their boots as they found the dirt path once again. With the sky darkening by the minute, they began to head back.

“What the hell were you still doing out here?” Louis asked.

“We’ve been looking for you forever, and then I heard the shot. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t starting to freak out”

“I’m sorry.” the boy said, looking down guiltily.

“I was following a deer. I thought if we could kill it then we’d have food for a few days, or maybe Layla would trade us something cool for it.”

“A deer, huh?” Louis chuckled.

“Now tell me, AJ, how you were planning to drag a whole-ass deer from the middle of nowhere to the meetup point?”

“I thought if I could get it to the path you’d find me and help me carry it.” AJ sighed sadly at the lost catch.

“It’s walker food now though.”

A figure stepped out onto the path a ways in front of them that caused them both to freeze for a moment before letting out a breath at the wave of their friend Aasim.

“Thank god you found him.” Aasim said in a serious yet relieved tone.

“We gotta head back while we still have a little daylight.”

The three of them began to hurry back hoping the walk back would be as uneventful as the walk there.

“You’re not gonna tell Clem I went off on my own, right?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Louis knew he’d be in the same amount of trouble as AJ if Clem found out he allowed it.

“Details or not we’re all in deep shit when we get back.” Aasim sighed.

AJ smiled, knowing the lecture he was going to get from ruby when they returned, but that smile quickly faded, knowing he had is own lecture waiting for him from Clementine.

Maybe the deer wasn’t worth it after all.

#my writing #allegiances #a2 #twdg #the walking dead game #clouis #louisentine #louistine #twdg clementine #twdg louis #twdg aj

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quartz-slab · 6 years ago

Text

Nightlight

Word count: 2.3k

The angst squad (me, @nb-sponge and @mincecruft) wrote something else for @ask-elementalhermitcraft, and this time it’s moderately less angsty!

---

Sand... sand... sand. Stress was really starting to get tired of only seeing sand for miles around her. Maybe starting a build that used a lot of concrete was a bad idea, especially since the hot, arid climate of the desert didn’t exactly mix well with her ice powers.

Stress wiped away the sweat that formed on her forehead as she continued to dig. The ice she brought with her had long since melted into puddles, and those puddles had long since evaporated. She really should have called it quits a few hours ago, but she stubbornly pressed on anyway.

If her body would’ve let her, she’d probably have kept digging ‘till sunset. However, when her head started to spin and she nearly faceplanted onto the sandy terrain, she decided that maybe she should head back soon. It was starting to get late anyway, so it didn’t feel too much like quitting early to her.

She packed as much sand as she could into the shulker boxes she’d brought for that purpose and got ready to head home. The landscape around her had been changed enough by all the digging she’d done that it took her a moment to figure out which direction to go. Eventually, though, she found a landmark that she was pretty certain showed what was the right direction.

Stress climbed up a small sandstone outcropping to get some extra height before pulling out her rockets in preparation to take off. There weren’t as many left as she would like, since she’d left the majority of her stash at home to have more room for sand, but as long as she was careful it should be enough to at least get her near her base. With a small leap and the firing of a rocket, she took to the skies above.

----

It was still a bit lighter than his eyes were most comfortable with, but Ren was too full of energy to care. He’d been cooped up working in his base all day, and that combined with the rising full moon had left him restless and jittery. He wanted to run, to explore until he was completely out of breath.

The destination was irrelevant, as long as it was far enough away that he hadn’t been there before, so he just picked a direction at random. Grabbing his elytra, he ran out of his base and hastily soared into the air. Waving to False as he passed by her base, he continued onward in search of a place far away from the other hermits so he could run free.

He landed at the edge of a forest right as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. It was a relief to not need to squint anymore, and he took a few seconds to just bask in the extra surge of strength and energy that came with the night. Quickly taking a moment to stretch, he got into a running position, and bolted off at full speed.

Running always felt so freeing to him. He loved the feeling of the wind on his face and in his hair. The way the trees rushed past him enthralled him, and he pushed himself to go faster and faster, continuing onward without a care in the world.

----

This definitely wasn’t the way home. Based on her memories from the way over, Stress should have reached a birch forest a while ago. But, it seemed to take her far longer to reach the edge of the desert than it should have, and the trees bordering the biome were all dark oak. She was starting to lose height, so she reached for another rocket, only to come up empty. She’d used up all of her rockets already, somehow. Cursing under her breath, she glided downward and landed right where the sand and the grass met.

The sun set behind her as Stress stared into the nearly pitch black of the forest. She couldn’t see the edge of the biome from where she stood, so moving forward was her best option. Hopefully she’d reach something she recognized sooner than later.

It was impossible to see anything more than a few feet away, and Stress felt a chill run down her back. She still wasn’t feeling her best after spending so much time in the desert, so now was not a great time to get lost. Frost gathered on the grass under her feet as she walked in an automatic response to her nervousness, but it was thin and patchy compared to what she normally created.

A rustling sound to her left caused he to jump slightly and whirl around, drawing her sword out of instinct. After a few moments of dead silence, a small clucking noise came from the direction she was looking at, and a chicken came into view. Letting out a sigh, she continued onward in the same direction she was going earlier.

The dark oak trees loomed over her as she moved deeper into the forest, their thick leaves blocking out the moon and the stars entirely. Stress often glanced around her to check for anything hostile, but saw nothing. This only made her more anxious, however, since she knew that mobs should be spawning around her. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Don’t count your blessings, she told herself. Just keep moving and you’ll be fi-

Without warning, a hissing noise came from right beside her. Before she could react, an explosion forcefully threw her into the trunk of a tree. She rolled down to the forest floor and was still for a moment, the sudden noise still ringing in her ears. After taking a second to regain her composure, she forced herself upright, groaning slightly in pain. Her sword had been knocked out of her hand by the force of the impact, and she wasted several seconds searching for it before a glint of light caught her attention. She scrambled over and snatched it up, then turned in a quick circle to look for more mobs, eyes darting warily back and forth.

An arrow whizzing past her head alerted Stress to the fact that she wasn’t alone. Instinctively, she summoned a shield of ice with her free hand, while her head whipped around to the direction the arrow had come from. She squinted into the darkness, trying to decide whether she should try to fight the skeleton or just run away. Another arrow shattering her shield made the decision for her. She was in no condition to put up much of a fight, so she turned on her heel and started to sprint away, another arrow flying by as she ran.

Exhaustion and the damage from the explosion kept her from being fast enough to escape. After only a few seconds, a searing pain appeared in her leg and caused her to fall down with a startled shout. Dropping her sword upon impact, she shakily pushed herself onto her hands and knees. The eerie moaning of zombies began to surround her as she crawled towards the nearest tree. Using the trunk to move into a sitting position, she pulled the arrow out of her led with a grunt.

Looking up, Stress found herself completely surrounded. The zombies slowly approached her, their dead eyes staring at her. She shot a beam of ice at one of them, but it shattered upon impact, proving to her that there really was no way out of this. So much for collecting all that sand, she thought grimly to herself as she accepted her fate. The zombies closed in, inching closer and closer and-

“HEY!”

Suddenly, a shadowy figure slammed at full force into the zombies, pinning one to a tree and knocking most of the others to the ground. With a growl, the figure tore the mob apart effortlessly. Turning back, they lunged at the zombie closest to Stress, ripping one of its arms off with their teeth. They slashed wildly at the remaining zombies, not leaving a single one unscathed.

An arrow hitting their shoulder caused them to yelp, but it didn’t seem to deter them much as they then barreled into the skeleton, exploding it into a pile of bones. A staticy screech came from the dark forest as an enderman attacked the figure from behind. Whirling around, they slashed back, causing it to teleport away. The shadowy figure held still in anticipation of the next strike. This time, when the enderman tried to sneak up on them again, they dodged and then tackled the tall creature in retaliation. With one swift motion, the enderman’s head was torn from its body.

Stress stared on in awe as this all happened before her. The dark figure stood up, then looked directly at her. She felt a chill run down her spine as they started towards her. They hadn’t attacked her yet, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t now that there were no other targets available. The figure walked right up to her, causing her to tense up as she braced for whatever was to come.

They opened their mouth, revealing a sharp set of fangs. Stress flinched, thinking for sure that she was a goner. However, instead of getting her head bitten off, a familiar, but slightly distorted voice was heard. “Stress?”

She sat there for a moment, completely bewildered. After a moment, she managed to find her voice again. “R-Ren?”

A sudden, soft light filled the area as the figure started to glow, revealing that it was in fact Ren standing before her. His face showed an expression of concern as he looked at her. “Are you okay?”

“Uh… kinda,” she said quietly. She tried to stand up, almost succeeding, but her hurt leg gave out at the last second. Right before she hit the ground, Ren caught her, then lowered her down safely.

Shortly afterwards, he started to rummage through his pockets, pulling out a potion after a few seconds. Handing to Stress, she downed it quickly, feeling it’s magic begin to heal her shortly after. The arrow wound stopped bleeding, and the scorch marks from the explosion began to fade away. She once again tried to stand up, and with a little help from Ren, she managed to stabilize herself upright.

The glow coming from Ren grew brighter as he gave her a warm smile. “You feeling better now?”

“Yeah,” she responded with a small smile. After pausing for a few seconds, she continued on with a question of her own. “How did you do...that, anyway? You were so fast, and the way you just tore through those mobs…”

“Well! That is because of…” he pointed upward, but trailed off when he saw that the sky was covered by leaves and branches. “Uh… it’s ‘cause the moon’s full.” Quickly recovering from his fumble, he then flashed a grin and pointed his thumb at his chest. “I’m extra strong on nights like these!”

Stress giggled at her friend’s playful boasting, and Ren’s glow grew even brighter. After a few moments, he asked her “So, why are you out here in a random dark oak forest so late?”

“Well,” she started, “I was out collecting sand, and I ran out of rockets as I was flying back, so I had to go through the forest.”

“Wait, I haven’t seen you all day, how long were you out collecting sand?”

“Um… five hours?”

“What!? Five hours!? Stress, that’s way too long for someone like you to spend in a hot desert!”

“I brought some ice with me to cool down,” she tried to defend herself. “And it worked! I didn’t even get woozy until just before I left.”

“Wh- Stress!” Ren grabbed her shoulders and looked directly at her. “You can’t push yourself to your limit like this just for a bunch of sand!”

Stress was about to respond, but the sound of a zombie’s groan caused the pair to become aware of their surroundings again. In reaction, Ren unfolded his elytra and grabbed his rockets, giving half of them to Stress. “C’mon, lets head back.”

Nodding in agreement, She unfolded her own elytra, which thankfully hadn’t been too damaged in the explosion, and readied for takeoff. Ren went first, creating a hole in the foliage above, and Stress followed close behind.

The moon and the stars shone down brightly on the two of them as they soared over the trees. Stress felt the cold night air invigorate her as she flew, and Ren glowed brightly beside her. They continued onward in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the nighttime climate as they eventually approached Stress’ base.

Landing on top of the stone castle, Ren turned to face Stress. “Next time, can you promise me that you’ll not push yourself like that?”

She sighed, but responded with “Alright, I promise.” Ren gave her a thumbs up and turned away, looking like he was about to leave, but Stress stopped him by saying “Oh! One more thing!”

He turned back, and Stress continued. “I forgot to say this earlier ‘cause everything was happening so fast, so…” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Ren. “Thank you for saving me.”

Ren was stunned for a moment, but soon later a big smile formed on his face as he returned the hug, glowing brighter than he had all night. After a few moments they pulled apart, Ren then running up to the nearest edge.

He looked back and waved at Stress. “Bye! See you soon!” She waved back, watching him take off and fly away, glowing like a nightlight in the dark sky.

#hermitcraft #elemental hermits #ehcau #rendog #ren #stressmonster #stress #m writes

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