#because i’m sick me i wish i could lay down like eclipse

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Eclipse: AND NOW I CAN TORTURE YOU TW-*starts coughing and choking, voice breaking* Hold on. *practically coughs up half a lung*

Sun: I really think you shouldn’t be up right now.

Eclipse: I’m fine! I’m not even sick! You’re lying! *grabs onto the railing because he’s dizzy*

Moon: Okay, kid, come on. I have warm wire and aluminum soup for you if you lay down.

Eclipse: …

Eclipse, pouting: I would really like wire and aluminum soup.

[zelda7999]

Small lil comfort Drabble written from my phone

Title; Sick Day | 906 Words | Not Canon to New Horizons

I also want to state this is more a comfort drabble for me, but if others suffer from chronic pain/medical conditions too, maybe this will also comfort you? So I’m posting it. This will be VERY self indulgent and have mentions of pain (mostly unexplained)

Read the Drabble below the read more vvv

You had been dreading this day. It was bound to happen, but you wish it didn’t. Most days you could take your pain meds and be on your way out. Today, was not one of those days. You had already taken your medications earlier and the pain was only getting worse. You barely had enough energy to get out of bed, so forget walking around the lab all day. However, you would have to make the dreaded call to management and let them know.

Calls like this always ate away at you. You felt like you should be able to work, to simply drink some coffee and power through. You couldn’t though. Even doing the basics today was going to take more energy than you had. So once the call to management is made and finished, you lay back down in bed with a sigh. Even sleep wasn’t going to work today. The pain wasn’t going to let you ignore it.

Bzzzt bzzzt! Your phone goes off. At least this was something simple… or maybe not. Did they already tell Eclipse you weren’t going to make it today? Because you could have sworn that the text read “I’m coming over.” After a couple more reads, and a lot of staring, you finally process that he meant it. Based on the time as well, he would be here any minute. Did you really just lose all that time staring at a message?

Before you can mentally scold yourself, you hear your front door click open and the jingling of keys. Damn it, you should have moved those spare keys.

“Just me, Y/N! Where are you?”

His voice is a welcome sound, but you wish it was in better circumstances.

“in my room!”

You call back, but almost regret it. You were still in your sleep wear, and if you looked as bad as you felt… then it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Maybe he was actually here because he forgot something, and not here for you. That’s the hope at least, but he comes into your room anyways. A small grocery bag in one of his hands. What did he have there?

“Good morning, did you rest well? How are you feeling?”

“Good morning… I um… I rested okay, could have been better… And I’m uh, not the best right now.”

Eclipse walks closer and sits down on your bedside. Two arms gently run up and down your side in comforting motions. What exactly did management tell him when you called out?

“I have the day off as well. So please, let me help out a little.”

He smiles a little wider at the end of that sentence, though it doesn’t completely mask the concern racking his body. It was sweet he wanted to help you out too, and even sweeter that he took the day off for you. All in a moments notice.

“Sure, Eclipse. I could use a little help today, but don’t get too excited. I don’t think I have the energy for that.”

You chuckle and attempt to slowly sit up. Pain jolts through your hips and lower back, travelling all the way down to your knees. You instantly you rag doll back down to the bed. There wasn’t going to be an easy way for you to sit up. At least that’s what you thought before Eclipse was ever so gently guiding you to a sitting position. You didn’t have to move a muscle, and the relief you felt from sitting completely overcame any other feeling.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

His hands don’t leave your sides, three of them staying with you while one still held the grocery bag. You help yourself to one hand and start gently playing with his fingers. Folding them in and out while you bask in the fact you were now sitting up and didn’t have to fight for it. You only had to fall down once before you were sitting, and it was thanks to his help.

“so what’s in the bag?”

“Oh!”

He hands it over to you, and you peek inside. There’s a store bought sandwich and a couple other snacks inside. All of which were your favourites. He must have seen you snacking on them during your lunch breaks.

“You got these for me?”

“I can’t cook. I thought you might be hungry.”

“Thank you, thank you so so much. I… I don’t think I would have had the energy to eat today. If I’m completely honest… Getting out of bed would have been a couple hour struggle without you here.”

Eclipse moves to stand up but you grasp his hand tighter. He stops moving and tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Will you stay? Just… just sit with me for a little? I really don’t want to move.”

“Of course, let me go to the other side of the bed, I’ll sit down with you.”

You nod and let him go. He goes around to the other side of the bed and sits down beside you. His arms gently wrap themselves around you and hold you close. Most of the day is spent like that, sitting in your room and cuddling close. Eclipse helps you around the house, helps you move and stand, while also assisting in other household chores you wouldn’t have gotten done otherwise. Thankfully he was there for you. You couldn’t imagine today without him.

Writers note: While not all chronic pain is the same, mine is mostly in my lower back, hips, knees, and really just my entire lower half entirely. So that’s what ended up being written in here. 

[fanfickittycat]

Warmth

TITLE: Warmth

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: fanfickittycat

FANDOM: Haikyuu!!

CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

GENRE: Romance/Fluff

FIC SUMMARY: You and Wakatoshi get caught in the rain when you wait for him after practice and he is determined to keep you warm

RATING: T  (no smut but kinda spicy at the end)

AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: nudity and ushijima being blunt af lmao. You can also read it on AO3 here

Ushijima sighed when he saw you, which wasn’t the greeting you had wanted at all. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” You asked, feeling a little hurt. He told you that practise had been extended by a couple of hours and you had insisted on meeting him anyway, taking the opportunity to get some much-needed reading done in the meantime. “I’m always happy to see you” he said, not letting you continue with that train of thought “but I told you not to wait for me.” This was true. Wakatoshi was never one to mince words, always saying exactly what he meant, even if it was over text. “I thought it would be nice. We always hang out on Fridays.” You felt dejected now, and worst, embarrassed by how desperate you were to see him. You looked down at your shoes which were still damp from the rain and tried to silence the sad thudding of your heart. He was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but you wished he would say something to ease the aching in your chest. “I don’t like when you’re out late” he said plainly “it’s dark, and all this rain isn’t good for you.” You huffed “I’m fine.” Ushijima always seemed to see you as smaller than you really were; fragile and bearing a label that said, ‘to be handled with the utmost care’. He would never let you clamber on the counter in search of something on the top shelf; always insist you wore a scarf when there was even the slightest chill in the air; and even if you were just tipsy off of wine, he’d make you drink a full glass of water. He was sweet but overbearing at times. “I don’t want you to get sick.” “I just wanted to do something nice for you” you mumbled, feeling yourself stiffen and then relax when he petted your head. “I don’t doubt your intentions” he said, and you peeked up at him, finally looking him in the eyes again “I appreciate it.” You smiled, feeling your cheeks flush despite the temperature drop from the evening’s rainstorm. He smiled too, letting his hand cup your cheek. It was warm, and rough from practise, but he cradled the side of your face like it was something precious. His thumb stroked over your skin softly, and you leaned into his touch happily like a cat.

“Come, let’s go.” He said, taking your umbrella from you and shaking it out. He opened it before taking your hand in his to walk to his apartment. It was a short distance away, but the rain was relentless, and the added gusts of wind made it worst. You winced, as the wind whipped your cheeks, and the stray raindrops wet your back, making you shiver. You heard Ushijima mutter something under his breath and looked up to see his teeth clenched as the wind forced the umbrella to fly up and turn inside out. He took his hand off yours to try and close it and open it properly, but the elements had taken your red umbrella and promptly battered it, making it impossible to open smoothly again.

“Let’s wait there” Ushijima pointed to an awning that hung over a closed store, and you rushed to be out of the rain. “Toshi…” you watched him struggle to work the umbrella again “I think it’s broken.” He joined you in looking down at the broken metal rib of the umbrella and pressed his lips together momentarily. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.” “It’s okay” you reached out to touch his arm “you’re soaked.” He looked down at you apologetically. “You are too.” He blinked when you giggled at your shared predicament. “We’re nearly at your apartment” you pointed out “we should run.” He raised an eyebrow “how will you keep up with me?” This was harsh but true. You weren’t built to run like he was, he actually trained, you just lay in bed and scrolled through Twitter. “I have a better plan” he announced, going to throw your umbrella in a nearby bin before returning to you. You watched as he shrugged off his sports jacket and handed it to you. “But Toshi!” “Put it on. You need it more than I do.” You knew he wouldn’t let up, so you conceded, putting your arms through and zipping it up. Only the tops of your fingers peeked out of the sleeves, and the bottom of the jacket brushed your knees. You felt ridiculous but the newfound warmth eclipsed it easily. “Here” he leaned down, squatting nearly to the floor. “Ummmm…” He turned his head so you could see one of his dark eyes “climb on my back. It’s more efficient than you running beside me.” You nearly choked on your saliva when he said that. You had never gotten a piggyback ride from Wakatoshi before, you weren’t even sure he knew the phrase ‘piggyback ride’. Gingerly, you put you secured your hands on his shoulders, feeling shy suddenly. You squeaked when his hand gripped the underside of your thigh, and he hoisted the two of you up. “Wow. You’re really tall” you said dumbly, looking down at the pavement from his height. No wonder he was always so concerned about you, you must have looked tiny to him. “I’m below the average height for spikers” he informed you patiently, but he couldn’t deny the swell of pride he got whenever you were in awe of his physicality.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting his bag so that it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for you. You squeezed his shoulder in confirmation, holding on tighter as you felt him tense before breaking into a run. The rain hit instantly, soaking Ushijima’s jacket again, and the wind was persistently thrashing your hair, but it was exhilarating. You couldn’t help but break into a fit of laughter as you clung to your boyfriend. It wasn’t something you could explain. The rain lashing against you, the wind raging, the utter absurdity of the situation, the feeling of Toshi being so close to you. It was a heady, hysterical mix. When Wakatoshi bent down for you to climb off his back you almost stumbled, still giggling a little as you did so.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself” he said, putting his key in the door. “I don’t remember the last time I laughed that hard” you said, shivering as you followed him to the lifts. He took your hands in his and breathed on them, rubbing his palms against the tops of your hands to warm you up. He led you into the lift, clicking the 3 before resuming his task again. “We’ll have to do it again” he said, “I like hearing you like that.” “Toshi” you mumbled his name, feeling butterflies spawn in your stomach again.

“Come, let’s get you warmed up” he said, pulling you towards his door. He opened it, ushering you in before closing the door. He was so methodical in his actions. With a practised hand he tossed his keys into the bowl by the door and hung his bag up. You unzipped his jacket, and he took it from you to hang up alongside his bag. “T-Toshi, what’re you doing?” you choked, watching as he pulled his shirt off. It wasn’t as though you’d never seen him shirtless before, you had been intimate with him many times, but it never failed to make your brain malfunction when you saw the smooth planes of pale muscle. You struggled to form a coherent word when he tugged off his sweatpants, looking curiously at your warm face. “One of the easiest ways to develop a cold is from staying in wet clothes” he informed, approaching you to unbutton your blouse. Your breath hitched as he undid each button carefully, not wanting a repeat of the time he pulled too hard and broke half the buttons on your shirt. You had to go home the next day in one of his t-shirts and a promise to buy you a new one, but you hadn’t minded too much, instead declaring that you should get to keep the t-shirt as compensation instead. He hadn’t argued against that and now you slept in it. “It is imperative that we shower as soon as possible” he said, tugging your jeans down, you leaned one hand on his shoulder as you stepped out of them. His hot breath against your thigh almost made your knees weak, causing you to grip him harder. You were almost afraid to let go of him when he remerged, holding a bundle of your shared wet laundry. “I’ll put these to dry, you start the shower” he said nonchalantly, turning to put them on the drying rack, as though the two of you weren’t stripped down to your underwear.

You tiptoed to the bathroom, starting the shower as you usually would, straightening up when you heard him pad towards you. “Do you want to go first?” You asked, feeling the water. “It’s more efficient if we go together” he said directly, he looked at your face “why are you shy? We’ve seen each other naked before.” You cringed “yeah but…” you struggled to justify your bashfulness, hooking your thumbs into your panties and nervously bringing them down your damp legs. “Here” he unclipped your bra expertly after seeing you struggle to do it with your numb fingers. Wakatoshi stepped into the shower first and then offered his hand to you to hold as you got in. The warm water was a welcome relief, but you couldn’t feel that much of it because Ushijima was in front of you. “Come here” he took the shower head down and sprayed you directly whilst you lathered your hands with soap. He hummed happily when you began to massage it into his taut arms, working your way up to his neck which you could barely reach, and then down his pectorals. “Toshi” you huffed, as your soapy hands pressed against his abs. He affixed the shower head and looked down at you. “Do you want me to wash your hair?” “No. Yes. I mean yes.” You cleared your throat, quickly stopping his hand from reaching for the shampoo “kiss” you said urgently, clawing at his abdomen for him to come down to you. He complied, leaning down and capturing your lips lightly with his. He made a soft groan into your mouth when you pushed yourself closer to him, tangling your digits in his wet, olive hair. His own hands curled around your waist, and your thighs pressed together as the warm stream of water flowed down his arms and then the back of your legs. You pulled away and smiled at his red, dumbstruck face “thanks for always keeping me warm, Toshi”.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Eleven

Read on AO3

They had been so careful. On the supposedly most fertile days of her courses, they had, well they had done other things. She religiously took her vial of posies and fennel each day and used the protection provided from her twentieth-century life. For months now. Still, it wasn’t enough, and she knew the only one hundred percent assured prevention was abstinence. She felt the ghost of a flutter in her womb. 

 Jamie found Claire on the floor next to their bed, her cheeks stained with tracks of tears and snot crusted against the deer pelt that her face was squished into. The chamber pot full of her sickness had been shoved away from her on the wood in her dejected anger. 

“Is it true Claire?”

 “Can ye..” he swallowed thickly. “Yer wee herbs can ye-“

 “No, that’s the last thing I want Jamie! God!” Her palms rubbed into her eye sockets. “I just wish- there wasn’t so much uncertainty. I could never survive- Jamie promise me, if it ever came down to it, you would save the child, not me.”

 “Claire,“ he levelled a determined gaze at her. ”That will never happen. Ever. That I will promise ye.”

 “But it might. You made me promise, should the time come, that I’d go through the stones. Of course, I was reluctant, but I did give you that promise. I followed through on it. Now you promise me.” 

 “Aye Claire, I’ll save the bairn, but it’ll no’ come to that.”

 “I’m going to instruct you. On how to help me. No matter if it goes wrong or the delivery is perfect.”

 “Ye wouldna prefer someone else? A woman?”

 “You’re the only one that I would trust.” She smirked in anticipation of her next words. “And you’re the one who did this to me, you can see it through.” 

 “Ye seemed pretty enthusiastic, if not overly pleased the many times I did that to ye. And I seem to recall the many times ye were the one clawing at me.” 

 She laughed at the big goof and then sighed into his embrace, relieving her stress and worry into him. 

 What if the baby never even made it long enough to make its true presence known? What if Jamie did have to follow through in his presence? Would she be able to survive the birth? She’d never given birth to a live, full-term baby yet. Or, even worse, would she be a terrible mother? When her mind drifted to these thoughts, she shook her head out of the daze. Stress wasn’t good for the baby. And if she constantly worried about her child’s health, her thoughts may very well become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 It was March, and flowers and trees were slowly crawling out of their hibernation. Claire’s pregnancy felt… off from how she carried Faith. It didn’t raise alarm for her baby’s health, but she did have her suspicions.

 “What is it Sassenach? Ye’re smiling so hard I fear yer lips will fall off.” 

 “Well, I have been a bit… bigger than usual.” 

 “Aye, yer round wi’ my bairn. And I’m no’ complaining one bit. Wi’ yer fine plump arse even bigger than usual.” He grasped a healthy amount of said body part and smirked.

 “Well, I think I’m carrying twins.” 

 “Ifrinn!” All the colour drained from his face. “Two bairns? Two bairns! Sassenach!” He gripped her in his arms as joyous laughter rumbled through his chest and her feet left the floor. More words of love in his native language rumbled out and her eyes crinkled with her smile. 

 When she was absolutely sure it was twins, Jamie’s daily ritual of one kiss to her belly each morning and night turned into two kisses on either side of her stretched skin. 

 Not only did one life depend on her at once, but now two. She was terrified. Even with constant reassurance from Jamie that the bairns kicking in her stomach were braw, a twitch of doubt seeped into her mind. 

 To ease her worry, she thought of something that could reassure her. She traced the design onto the back of a discarded pamphlet. A pinard horn. So Jamie could hear the strong heartbeats of the babies tumbling within her belly. Fergus laboured hard on the project immediately, while his ‘milord’ was off working the lands of their croft. It was expertly crafted, even with her rudimentary designs. 

 Jamie manoeuvred the hollow horn over the expanse of her belly, brow furrowed in concentration. He paused over one spot and nearly fainted. 

 “Ah Dhia!” His eyes widened in fascination. “He’s really in there!”

 “Yes, they are.” She placed her hand over his on the pinard horn and slid it across where she thought she felt the other heartbeat to be. 

 His hands were shaky now and he choked on his tears, almost painfully bursting with joy. “Two braw bairns. Wi’ wicked thumping hearts.”

 They felt more concrete to him now, actual people instead of the imaginations of what they could be. He spoke every day to them in Gàidhlig, when Claire said they should be able to hear now.

 It was bittersweet. She was carrying them for over seven months now, longer than her other children. She was constantly caught between unflagging joy and unrelenting grief. Sometimes it felt like a betrayal to be so happy. But she carried through, with her husband and son by her side, and the promise of the future tucked under her heart.

 The day after Jamie’s birthday, she started labouring. Jamie commented on the decency of his children to not eclipse his day with their own arrival. It was as difficult as any other birth, but thankfully there were no complications. Claire had gripped, clawed, and screamed at her husband. She’d scream the promise to have him castrated many, many times. While she paced around the room, Jamie tried to assure her or crack jokes to lighten the atmosphere, but every word he said she turned it against him. He was silent after that, but then Claire would call out for him as each contraction ripped through her body. He stood behind her squatting form above the straw and she dug her nails into his arms as she bore down. A beautiful squalling boy was born after nine hours of labouring. William Brian Beauchamp Fraser. While she felt distraught placing the name Brian within the middle, Jamie assured her it was to not only honour his father, but now the child that they had lost, and she warmed to the idea as well. His brother met the world soon after, almost a quarter of an hour apart, looking exactly the same as the brother who beat him out of the womb. Henry Alexander Murtagh Fraser. Beautiful healthy boys, both with tufts of the same brown downy hair and slanted Fraser cat eyes. 

 They opted to have their sons sleep in their bed that night rather than the cribs Jamie had carved, tucked in securely between their parents. Neither of them could sleep and Claire was watching the steady rise and fall of each small chest. 

 “They’re real.” She whispered, brushing her pinky across William’s cheek. His lips tugged up into a smile, just like his father’s did. 

 “Thanks to ye Claire. Ye were braw.” He squeezed her hand, their arms hovering over their sons. “But I dinna wish to ever see ye like that again.”

 “Is it wrong to feel so happy? To rejoice in my sons while-?” 

 “They’ll be happy fer their brothers. I ken it. And they’re watching o’er them as their angels now. Lord knows how much these lads will need it. These two will be trouble, I can feel it.” He affectionately patted their bums. 

 Claire finally let her exhaustion take over and curled protectively around her son as she drifted off to sleep. Jamie never slept that night, too preoccupied with the sight of his wife and the children she had blessed him with. His wife learned just how real her sons were in the middle of the night when they would scream their lungs out unceasingly until attention was paid to them. Jamie insisted she rest and recover, and leapt up at every cry to take care of it, but was instantly horrified at what he found in the cloth swaddling Willie’s bum. 

 Fergus was elated the next day to meet his new brothers. Jamie and Claire had already spoken many times about how the new babies wouldn’t change anything about how they felt for him, but they could still sense some worry. 

 “Would you like to hold your little brother Willie?” At the indication that it was true, he had a little brother, all his worries vanished.

 “Oui maman.” He was so gentle with them with so much adoration in his eyes, and it made Claire cry just to see her boys together.

 He traded for Henry next and Jamie pulled Claire into his lap. 

 It was six weeks after the birth, and Jamie and Claire were equally ravenous. Both the babies had finally fallen asleep together, being unusually generous to their parents.

 “I need my wife.” He crawled over her. 

 “You still want me? After seeing all that…?” Her confidence has waned slightly. She was still pudgy around the middle and there were new scars lining her belly. There was also the fact that he had seen her sweating, cursing, and wailing like a cow on their bedroom floor before the fire, and had taken multiple peeks down there to check her progress. It was apparent, however, that he wanted her desperately despite of and maybe even because of that fact. 

 “I could never stop wanting ye Sassenach.” He peppered kisses across her abdomen and paid special attention to the fading purple streaks on her skin. The burns on her stomach had long since faded and were barely even noticeable unless one were to look very closely, as her husband was now. She let her knees fall to the side and a moan escaped her lips when he ducked further down. 

 “Now, as much as I love yer wee noises mo nighean donn, ye’ll have to be quiet tonight.” He covered her mouth with his, silencing the cries that he brought out of her body.

 When they both had finished, laying boneless on the sheets, Jamie pulled Claire’s back close to his chest and she curled back into him. Henry began to cry, waking his brother as well and throwing them both into fits of hungry wails. Jamie silently walked over, wrapping his kilt loosely across his hips and placed a baby in each of his arms. The sight made Claire want to ravish him with a sudden ferocity, even though they had just joined together moments ago. But, her babies’ hunger won over and she placed one on each breast. Jamie watched fascinated, as he always did. The babies hungrily gulped down their meal and then slumped against their mom, tired from weeks of growing, crying, and eating. Their tiny fists laid on top of her skin and Jamie slowly adjusted himself to hold Henry. He fell asleep, Henry’s body rising and falling with each of his father’s breaths. Willie stirred again, inquisitively staring up into his mother’s eyes. Claire stroked Henry’s cheek eliciting the same smile she loved so much, and then reached for Jamie’s as well.

 “God, I love you, Jamie. So much.” Her attention shifted down to the babe on her breast. “You have such a wonderful father, don’t you Willie?” She spoke down to her captive audience. “And I love you.” She kissed his small nose, then leaned over for Henry’s “And you.” She pulled on Jamie’s bottom lip. “And God how I love you.”

[o-wise-corvid]

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”

[birdymuses]

💫 ( for Hanako? :) )

Send me a 💫 and I'll set my music player on random. I'll then pick my favourite line from the song that comes on, and write a Drabble whole ass fic oops based on it.

Words: 3,001

“I like you so much that it scares me,” he admitted, because he was a sinner and this was a sin and Nene’s arms were a confessional he’d gladly rot inside of.

To live, we're dying Why wouldn't we see our world as dark? But I won't spend time Resenting the way things are  ♫

He looked at her sideways under the plump passing clouds, breeze blowing her hair around in a flurry as little rays of sunlight danced across her upturned face. This show in itself was so captivating to Hanako that only the threat of Nene’s ire was enough to turn his gaze away from her.  It happened the same way all the time.  She’d glance over and he’d settle down innocently, eager to appear natural and unassuming, and then he’d be’d be back just the same the moment she seemed preoccupied. 

Afternoons on the roof included a lot of this sort of thing lately.  Lots of “studying,” lots of goofing around, laughs and glances, tit for tat.  Today looked to be about the same as always, save for the a row of gloomy clouds on the horizon. Way off in the distance loomed the threat of a dark end to their expanse of August blue. Picturesque as the the afternoon was, he supposed a storm couldn’t hurt. Even if it sent them back inside, it didn’t matter as long as he could be with Nene. And for now, he could be with Nene, if only for a little while longer. Hanako resolved that he wouldn’t spend time resenting the way things are.

It was a shame, though --the storm that came today, and the storm he knew he’d bring tomorrow.  It would be a study camp for the ages, at least.  One passed down as legend from student to student for at least a year or three.  Nene would be mad at him as long as she had the wherewithal to, but even that would pass. After all, everything had to end, didn't it? Even this. Everything would always end around him even as he remained forever doomed to stay the same.

Lost in thought, Hanako nearly failed to notice Yashiro’s lack of commentary for this particular afternoon, but once he did notice, the silence was deafening. She had grown so quiet that Hanako feared he might need to roll over to wake her before the rain came in. Just as he sat up to do so, the familiar lilt of her voice broke the silence.

"Do you have regrets?"

Her voice was soft, reverently so, and she seemed to be deep in thought about something.  He frowned. He did his best to read her question, coming up short in every respect.  

"Regrets?" Hanako asked.

"Yeah, like...before you died. Were there things you wanted to do?"

Hanko balked at that, stuttering, buying time   Some sick, needy part of him knew exactly where this was going and knew that he couldn’t bear for it to go there.  On any other day it would be easy to grab hold of this conversation, to joke and lie in some bombastic manner that would make it all go away, but he couldn't shake the feeling that today was different. Her face remained alarmingly neutral, giving Hanako the distinct impression she wouldn’t let him slide this time.  Her eyes bore into him, almost as though knowing that this was the last day they’d ever have to talk about this.

"You're not going to die," Hanako said direct and dismissively. He thumped back down onto the pavement. "I don't want to talk about this again."

"But if I do, die!" Nene huffed defensively, pushing up abruptly on her hands. “When I do!” 

She loomed over him, scowling, and Hanako dared to think that she was pretty even then. Even clenched up and hot to the gills with irritation, she couldn’t escape being that way. 

"I don't have much time left. You said it yourself! You said--"

"You're not going to die!" Hanako repeated impatiently. He rolled over to avoid her glare, which grew all the more dagger-like with each passing second. “I’ll make sure of it. You wont have regrets because you're gonna live a long life and find your first job and meet a hot guy and have a happy family and find all the time in the world for everything and anything you could ever want. You'll--"

Hanako snapped to silence, his teeth clattering painfully as he felt himself pulled back to face Nene. Leaving his gakuran unbuttoned had been a mistake, he noted, now effectively leashed by the permanent school tie he wore.  The end of it was wrapped daintily around Nene’s palm, and her eyes glinted with a terrifying willingness to use it. He nearly found the voice to protest when Nene cut him off.

“Would you stop talking for once and just listen?”

Hanako’s jaw clamped shut immediately.

“Be honest with me. Why do you care so much?” Nene asked, her vise grip insisting upon his prompt and direct answer all the while. “If I die, I mean. I don’t have much time to figure this out and you won’t even let me talk about it. You’re the only person I could ever talk to who has experience with this, so why...?”

Hanako’s eyes had blown wide now, expecting something like comeuppance but wholly unprepared for the force of it. When he didn’t speak up fast enough, Nene continued, her tone growing frantic.

“Answer me! You’re a ghost, so why should you care if I live or die?  What does it matter? It’s not--”

“It matters,” Hanako interjected, though he struggled to supply a reason. It shouldn’t matter, at least not to him. By all accounts Nene’s life was equally meaningless as his own, equally meaningless as anyone else’s, but...

“It just does,” Hanako said, his voice barely a whisper. “I wont let you die. So please, let’s not...”

Releasing the tie, Nene sighed deeply and settled back on the pavement.  She seemed to recognize the brick wall before her as she pulled her knees to her chest, clearly unsatisfied, but apparently unwilling to have this argument again.  All of a sudden it was over, just like that, quickly as it had begun.  Hanako couldn’t do a mental victory lap, though, not while watching her deflate mere feet from him.  He fidgeted guiltily, glancing between her and the view overhead.

“It matters,” He repeated at length. After a long few moments the silence between them had somehow circled back to being comfortable enough to break.  Nene was good at that, Hanako observed. Making everybody comfy even when she could rightfully strangle them right then and there. Making everybody at home even when they didn’t deserve it. It was this kind of ease between them that made Hanako entirely too honest, and he shoved himself to say something before he could could think better of it. 

“The world is lucky to have people like you living in it.” he said. “If I had known somebody like you when I was alive, I think maybe I would have had fewer regrets. So...take a long time.”

Take a long time to live. Take a long time to die. Take whatever time is needed to be free of the Near Shore when everything finally ends. Take every precaution to never end up wayward spirit, shackled for all eternity to a toilet. But Nene didn’t move, apparently not satisfied by that answer either.

Pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes, he sighed.

“Sorry...”

“It’s okay,” Nene replied, a little too immediately for Hanako’s taste. The afternoon stretched on in agonizing slow motion.

The two lay in silence for a time, feigning some semblance of a usual day. As the clouds above knotted together in groups much thicker than before, Hanako wished he could be the same.  He wished he could be knotted up somewhere, blending in and blowing by, not sticking out or prodding as the thorn he was doomed to be.  The sky took on a drab gray and Hanako dimmed to match.

“I like you, you know?”

Hanako jolted up, nearly bashing his skull against Nene’s in the process. She was beside now, her face suddenly every inch as close as her voice led him to believe. Somehow, Hanako hadn’t noticed her drawing near.  She grinned at his reaction, apparently delighted to have the upper hand for once, and batted playfully at the brim of his cap. The offending article tipped off of Hanako before he could catch it, leaving him exposed under Yashiro’s attention. He stifled a grin of his own. Her nerve was unfortunately always a delight.

“I like you, too,” he mumbled back. Because of course he did. Because it was normal and completely unprovocative for a friend to like their friend, and anybody with a pulse could immediately identify Miss Nene Yashiro as likable. Anybody with a pulse, and at least a handful without. The plausible deniability of it all might have been wonderfully deafening were the beating of Nene’s heart not doubly so.

The girl brightened somewhat and took Hanako’s hands in hers. She settled down on her knees within Very Serious Heart to Heart distance, apparently dead set on whatever point she had come over to make.

“I’m sorry you have regrets,” she began. Hanako nodded, indicating that he was in fact listening this time, even if it meant ignoring the powerful urge to contest that assertion.

“I’m going to die one day, whether you like it or not. Maybe today, or tomorrow, or next month...”

Hanako opened his mouth, but immediately snapped it shut again when he felt a warning yank at his tie.

“Even if it’s in 90 years!” she insisted, effectively neutering his commentary, “It doesn’t make a difference. I’ve decided that when I die, I don’t want to have any regrets. So starting right now, I’m going to do everything I want to do. Even the stuff that’s scary. And that means saying what I want to say even though it might turn out embarrassing.”

Nene was glowing scarlet now, her body shaking with the force of all the teenage hormones she had gathered to forge into this raw willpower.  Her newfound gall was now a bludgeoning weapon, and Hanako its waiting victim. He gave her fingers a light squeeze, mentally pawing at anything he could think of slow this obvious freight train of a conversation.  Its approach eclipsed everything, loud and speeding, promising to flatten every single protective measure he’d put in place up to now.  Impulsively, he interrupted.

“You’ve already said that though. Before. You’ve said it, so it’s a silly thing to regret.”  Don’t think about me. Don’t regret me.  Don’t become attached to me.

Nene’s expression fell, unimpressed. It was the kind of face that had played games like this before--the ones where he derailed her point-- and she very clearly wasn’t interested in playing again.

“I wanted to say it again,” she defended, indignant. “I like you. I’ll say it as many times as I need to if you’re gonna keep being a dummy about it.”

She pushed him roughly, and Hanako grinned despite the turmoil inside him. His escape was suddenly in sight. He could make it embarrassing. He could make it a game. Playing in was the way out.

“Why do you like a dummy so much?” he teased, sitting up to take her hands again. He narrowed his gaze, practically daring her to say something sincere in this intimate position. Anything that he could gawk and laugh in her face about.  Nene, familiar with this tactic, deflected.

“Why do I like a dummy so much?” she huffed aloud. Hanako was about to answer, when her face softened to something uncomfortably frank.

“Don’t tease me about it.”

A beat passed between them, and like that it was settled.

“...okay.”

He was always powerless against Nene’s wishes, it turned out. Ghost abilities notwithstanding.

The two sat in another uncomfortable silence, neither willing to engage again even inches apart. Even hand in hand.  Nene’s frustration was always tangible in moments like these, thick and heavy in the air, a weight slamming down on Hanako’s shoulders and anchoring him for the remainder of the day. It wasn’t unfamiliar, he supposed. Even before Nene, plenty of people had tried and failed to get a satisfying conclusion out of him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that dealing with him was akin to pulling teeth. It wasn’t like he didn’t do it on purpose.  Nene wasn’t the first and likely wouldn’t be last, so why did it sting so much?  He sighed, tightening his grip on her hands.

“I’ll say it again, too. If you want.”

No. 

No, no, no, don’t do that. But Hanako was too selfish, too cowardly to do anything else. Not when every fiber of his being screamed to see her smiling again.

“I like you, Yashiro.”  Releasing her hands, he moved to put his arms around her.  “I like you a lot.”

Nene returned the hug immediately, emboldening that mongrel, clinging thing that thumped at Hanako’s heart, howling and whining for him to just fucking be honest for once. He inhaled deep, vomiting the words before he could stop himself.

“I like you so much that it scares me,” he admitted, because he was a sinner and this was a sin and Nene’s arms were a confessional he’d gladly rot inside of. “I like you so much that I daydream now, every day. And I have something to look forward to, every day. And I barely think about anything else lately, and I...”

Hanako trailed off, gasping desperately at air he did not need, trying to collect himself, trying to land on something. A point maybe? A reason for puking his metaphorical guts all over someone who would surely suffer for it.

“And, and...I need a next life, because I’m not satisfied to know you just once.”

Nene was stock still when he pulled away, her eyes blown wide, startled by a sincerity he’d never once offered even to her. For all her prodding, she apparently hadn’t foreseen anything quite so explosive as this.  Then,

CRACCCK!!

A loud boom shook both of them from their stalemate, and Hanako looked away just in time to see a flash of lightning in the distance. All the fluffy clouds had turned dark now, signaling the imminence of rain.

“My rosemary!” Nene gasped, before remembering that she was in the middle of something kind of important.

“Hanako, I--”

“Go!” he said before he could stop himself. Before he could stop her. “Go get your plant, it’s fine!”

“I can’t just--”  Nene glanced frantically between Hanako’s face and the garden below. The rest of the gardening club had almost certainly gone home by now, so their rosemary had little hope other than Nene herself if it wanted to avoid being drowned alive. Still, she didn’t seem eager to move. “Are you sure?”

Hanako nodded fiercely as the first drops began to fall. 

“It’s fine, I don’t need another murder on my conscience. Get your plant.”  He tried to smile, but couldn’t find the heart to.

Nene hesitated only a second longer before giving a reluctant nod.

“Okay.”

Then, with no preamble to speak of, Nene threw herself around Hanako once more, leaving a ferocious peck on his cheek.  She whispered a hurried “thank you” before giving a firm squeeze. Then, just as quickly she pushed away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” she called, sprinting to the stairs, glowing brighter than he’d ever seen her. No rosemary plants would come to harm this day, and nor a single Yashiro so long as she didn’t fling herself down the stairs too hard.  Hanako wasn’t sure he could say the same for himself.

And just like that he found himself alone, burning supernova, alight with the shock of it all.  His eyes began to flood all on their own, attuned to the joy and horror that clashed inside of him in equal measure. Even as he tried to focus on the front of the school, the flood did not stop. He blinked hard, fixing his gaze on the same place as always, at the entrance where Nene would eventually appear, panting and calling at the guard to please wait just a second before closing the gate for the evening.  She’d ran into that guard a lot lately.  They’d been cutting things close lately. He’d let them cut things close.

Before long the sky tore open in earnest, but Hanako didn’t move. Even when he saw Nene at the gate, even after she was long gone, he remained affixed to the spot, soaked to the bone well before it occurred to him to become intangible.  How could he have possibly let this happen?  

He only had to wait one more day, and he couldn’t even do that much.  One more day, twenty four measly hours, and Nene would have gone to study camp and things would worked themselves out. She’d be free of him forever, completely unaware of just how much she’d gained, unaware and happy, free, and alive.  But Hanako couldn’t just give without taking, could he?  That was how these things worked, after all. There was always a price when it came to wishes.

The storm that was always brewing in Hanako’s heart was real now, raging unbidden through his body, whirling overhead and pulling the leaves from nearby trees.  Maybe he could just...not go through with it. Maybe he could stay here and Yashiro could live or die or whatever she wanted, and they could like and like and like each other all they wanted, and then...

He sniffled, stifling a sob.

No, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? To keep being selfish. To let Nene waste all her time on somebody who had no time of their own left. To let her become tethered to this place, doomed to haunt it forever just like him. Doomed to live a wasted life and die a miserable death.

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t be selfish again.  This was just how things had to be, he thought, dragging himself into the stairwell at long last. Tomorrow somebody’s time would run out, but he’d see to it that it wasn’t hers.  There was no sense in fighting it. This is just the way things are.  

And I wont spend time resenting the way things are.

[iggy-of-fans]

Daminette AU idea part 4

I did not think this story would take off like that. Thank you all for your support! I also want everyone to know how difficult this part was for me to write. My Oma (grandmother) suffered from schizophrenia and PTSD, and a lot of Adrien's actions today will be a mirror of what she did or said. I apologize to everyone if this is offensive to you, I am basing this on my own personal experience but this is by far not what the majority of people are like when suffering from any mental health issues. If anybody has any tips for writing this, please message me! 

For better or for worse

The batfam immediately jumped into action, Dick rushes to the penthouse to pick up the Miraculous box, Tim runs to the batcave to locate where they might be, Jason goes immediately for his guns and Alfred transforms on the spot for the first time in 3 decades. Bruce makes sure the rest of the League has their costumes handy, while Barbara calls her father to set up a perimeter preemptively and minimize casualties. Damien holds Marinette close, wanting nothing more than to go get his sword and cut them down now, but not wanting to leave Marinette alone. Diana stands beside her also, looking at Marinette's pale face. She asks her quietly, will you run? Or fight? She says it in a steely voice that pulls Marinette from the tortures of the past and make her consider her surroundings. She will not stand by idly. She MUST protect the Miraculi. And she will not be a useless bystander. Her face still pale but set, she smiles to Diana. Dick chooses that moment to Portal back with the box and Marinette jumps on it, pulling out the Snake for Dick, telling him to transform and put his costume overtop. 

"if anything happens, this will give you a second chance. Use it as often as you need to, but know that you will need to recharge after" she then grabs another miraculous and asks him to pass it to Tim. She grabs the cat and gives it to Damien. "Transform or don't, but make sure that ring is well hidden." she grabs the dragon and calls Tikki to herself, asking her to change the shape. As she's doing that she turns to Diana. "Diana Prince, can I trust you to protect the Miraculous I hand you? Will you make sure that no matter what, this Miraculous will never fall into the hands of darkness and evil?" Diana nodded solemnly. ." I swear". Marinette nodded, picking up the changed Dragon Miraculous and handed Diana the Miraculous she would protect, while she transformed herself. The suit was still mostly black, with a red cape, but the five circles on her Cape and gloves looked slightly different. Damien couldn't place it, but something was different. Diana took her leave to quickly change. Damien turned to Marinette, still reluctant to leave her without a Wayne. Jason came in at that moment, nodding to Damien he then took the rest of the box and and led Marinette to the bat cave. Alfred was on the computer with Oracle already, Tim was trying to figure out how to hide the ears that came with his under costume, listening to the police scanner to see if they had any leads yet. The League was starting to gather and Damien as Robin materialized at Marinette's side. 

"The situation we find ourselves in today is quite different. Few of us are masters at magic, let alone an ancient magic to do with gods. However, this is what we know: Adrien Agreste, former Chat Noir, has lost his mind and is coming here because he saw the Miraculous Cure from Guardian Angel two weeks ago. According to our public source, he wants the Miraculi of the cat and of ladybug to wish back a dead classmate and create a "perfect world" for himself. What that world looks like for the rest of us is anybody's guess, but something I am unwilling to even entertain. With the permission from Guardian Angel we have the use of a few Miraculi at our hands. Angel? Do you have information to pass on?"

" I want everyone to remember that yes, we're dealing with teenagers, but they're not without their dangers. We're not only dealing with the former Chat Noir, but also Rena Rouge. Neither of them were big planners, but Rena Rouge was sharp and observative, and we also know that they have the, unwilling it may be, help from a brilliant strategist and hacker. Max created a sentimental robot at age thirteen and can override street cams and home security. Alya is an aspiring journalist, she spent her every minute since our first appearance tracking us, trying to unmask us. We know from Nino's message that they've got the backing from a metropolis villain, and that Adrien and Alya are more than slightly unhinged. That means there is very little they're NOT willing to do" 

The next 20 minutes were spent planning, they were counting on robots and guns, so they put the more bullet resistant members at the front. The majority would remain back up, protect the Miraculi in the tower, and run interference to keep civilians safe. All the planning in the world would not prepare them for what they met at Gotham City outskirts. 

Nino was worried. He'd seen some weird and nasty things in Paris during Hawkmoth's reign, but the fear he felt now eclipsed it all. Adrien was standing by the window at Luthor corp. He looked serene, a soft smile on his face. But his eyes weren't seeing the Metropolis skyline. They were unfocused and every once in a while he'd nod his head, as if agreeing with a thought he'd just had. His smile would become a smirk, and he would look dangerous, like when he had killed Max's parents. He'd been reluctant at first, Nino could tell. He'd hesitated. But then he'd turned his head, as if hearing something, nodded along, and then done what he had to. He'd turned back to sunshine child in a heartbeat, smiling reassuringly and telling Max that the Miraculous would bring them back, he just had to help them get it. The blood dripping down his shirt made the boy look far more deranged than reassuring. The fact he was looking over Max's shoulder rather than at his face made it even worse. This pattern continued for a while. He'd hesitate, and a bit of the Adrien from the first day of school would shine through, but he'd hear something and he'd do it. He always turned back to the sweet boy next door afterwards, but everytime became easier for him do something atrocious. Fourteen victims later and now he just smiled, as if trying to reassure his victim that they'd be okay. Nino shuddered. What the heck was happening with Adrien? He looked to the other two in the room. 

Alya was glaring at a computer provided to them. She shuddered at Adrien's behaviour as well, but she needed to get revenge. Ladybug had been her hero and then had turned around and had Alya arrested and Lila deported. And Lila could NOT be a liar. Because if Lila was a liar, that meant that Alya had ruined her reputation as a journalist, had fought with and hurt her friend for a nobody. And that was unacceptable. She was a journalist. She was never wrong!.... Except right now, when she was trying to prove Lila's innocence. Now, as she researched all the amazing things Lila had done, all she was finding were the stories she herself posted. And videos debunking each and every claim. Even Lila's mother had stated that they hadn't left Paris once since landing. "Dammit! Lila is not a liar!" Alya screamed at her computer. 

"She won't be when I make my wish" Adrien said, still smiling softly over Alya's head. 

"What do you mean?" Alya's voice was sharp. 

"Nothing" Adrien shook his head. 

"We're ready to proceed" Lex Luther stated from the door, a sick smile on his face.

Max was ready to wet himself. Or have mental breakdown number five. This was insane! How could Adrien think any of this was okay? How could he think the Miraculi would fix all the damage he had done, when there was no proof it even worked outside of magic? Max looked fearfully towards Nino for reassurance, but there had been no reply so far from any heroes. Had they received the message? Were Nino and Max also in trouble by association? What was their plan to help the heroes? Looking out at the elaborate lay out of Luther's hidden base, Max wasn't sure if there was anything they could do. Looking at Nino's pale face and Adrien's serene smile was not at all reassuring.

This is bad, was the collective thought from the members of the League. Usually Luther was a one man (even if that man was Super) job. But this.... How had he gotten so many people under his thumb? When? Staring back at them were the faces of jot only Luther's Army, but all surviving member os the League of Assassins, including Bane, and what looked like Scarecrow. Interspersed were some Luther Tec robots and hired guns.

"OH.... This is much worse than I thought"

Thank you so much for sticking with me so far! The next part will hopefully be out by tonight and then the last part will likely take me a few days between University! Hope you enjoy! I hope I got all the people who asked to be tagged. I'm still learning the ropes but I'm trying my best.

@bookreader20003 @mooshoon @artxyra @spicybelladonna @nyctamaximoff @captainmac6 @fsketchart @2sunchild2 @northernbluetongue @kuroko26 @multishipper1needshalp @ginamarie1512 @blue-peach14 @xxkelsey39

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen

[ohgoddard]

What’s Faster? My Heart or Light Speed? Chapter 2

Space is the truest representation of space between atoms, the astounding nothing that exists is truly mindboggling. While billions of miles away I can see the shimmering lights of stars and the swirling masses of gas clouds and galaxies, I still find myself surrounded by nothing. An apt representation indeed.

Except I’m not truly alone. Mere days ago I was expecting my slow and uneventful death to occur, where I was then saved by the( and I sound like a school girl when I say this) illustrious Dr.O’Reilly, who has yet to tell me her first name. She and I spend a lot of time together right now, being the only ones awake on the ship. But, its mostly been my laying down on a bed due to my not eating and dehydration affecting my abilities to move. But that hasn’t stopped me from struggling around the ship when she’s not around (doing literally God knows what, there is no one else on this ship).

The ship seems to be made for so much more life, and I guess that makes sense. It would serve as our base when we got to the new planet. The good Doctor has a room to herself on this ship, one reserved for the Captain. She told me that he wouldn’t be using it for a few hundred more years, so he wouldn’t mind.

A few hundred more years. That is how much time was left in this little expedition we were on. I wouldn’t even eclipse one of those hundred years, let alone the other five or six. I tried to ask the Doctor about what we’re going to do for the rest of our lives here, but she just kinda smiled and said “Don’t you worry, i’ll think of something.” And let me tell you, right there no solar flare could match the level of heat that rose in my face when she gave me that smile. Could she have been flirting with me there? That little smile? Usually I talk to someone about this kind of stuff, but...no one appears to be here.

In a way I could say i’m trapped again, but this time its far worse. No, it is truly the worst. I am trapped by myself this time. Not in the “I am trapped and alone”, no no. Me myself is trapping me. Which sounds really dumb but i’m panicking ok?! What am I supposed to do when a VERY beautiful woman looks my way and gives me a sly smirk and potentially flirtatious sentence? I need to clear my head.

I,very slowly, throw the covers off of me and  (once again) very slowly move myself onto the crutches I've been provided. My ‘”room” was no more than a bed and dresser. A small TV screen hung over me, having the entirety of Earth’s media lexicon (how they got those companies to agree to put everything together a feat more impressive than space travel). Other than that, barren. I hobble over to my dresser to change out, and I sigh as I pull out an almost identical colorless white and blue streaked suit to the one I wore in my “coffin”.

It was a struggle to get on, what with the pain and general reluctance to leave my room at all. A trait I carried on from my childhood I guess. Eventually I do get everything on and I hobble outside my room to the communal area that was intended for far more people than who is currently using it. I.e. Me. And, surprisingly today, Dr. O’Reilly.  If one could stumble awkwardly in crutches as I could, then I would like to see them. It was like a new born deer. The doctor today was dressed in a yellow sweater, her usual lab coat,and Jack Skellington pajama pants. Her fluffy bunny slippers were as red as her hair, and i’m thinking my face as well. Her freckles mirrored the stars outside, her eyes like two planets obscuring them. I could get lost staring at her, and I would’ve had she not looked up from the book she was reading and cocked her head at me, her glasses slipping down her nose as she did so.

Now, I was never good around those I had a crush on. I act pretty much that same every time. This lead to my perpetual singularity. It comes in stages, whenever I talk to someone I’m interested in.

“G-good morning Doctor! Y-you’re here , why’re you here?”

First I stutter and try and be casual, which never happens.

She smirks (AHHHHH) and gets up from the lounge chair she was sitting in. “Ms. Derringer, are you having a cold? Your face is heating up and you’re shaking quite a bit.” Yeah there’s the second part, the shaking.”Now, this absolutely cannot go on. Go back in your room and I will take care of you.”

“W-wait im fine really. I-i’m not sick!” “I will not take no for an answer on this one, I am the doctor after all!” . She physically picks me up and turns me around. Which, left me in quite a bit of shock on a number of things. 1. The doctor was WAY stronger than I originally thought.I guess when you’re alone a ship what’re you to do? 2. I didn’t know I’d lost that much weight, but pretty happy I cut that down a bit not gonna lie. 3. AHHHHH THE DOCTOR TOUCHED ME, WHAT .

“Come on now, lets get back to bed. I’ll be right back.” She guided me back to my bed and laid me back down. She placed her hand on my head after wrapping me up. “Wow, you’re burning up! I think I was right on the money. I will be right back with something to help with this.” She was so close to me. I could smell the vanilla perfume she used. I think this is a kind of torture in countries, to be this socially awkward around someone who you absolutely cannot stop thinking about. Except its worse for me, because she is literally the only other person on this ship and I can’t help but think of her. Her being drop dead gorgeous is NOT helping me either.

A few minutes pass, me lying in my bed slowly dying of embarrassment. The door opens once again and the doctor is is back. And she is carrying a small tray. On it is a bowl and a water bottle. “ We’re going to give you the good old-fashioned medicine. Rest, soup, and hydration. And, company! I don’t believe you’ll get me sick, so i’ll spend some time with you today!” She closes her eyes and gives a huge smile. I’m reminded of my 8th grade literature class, saying that starting a war over one girl because of something as dumb as beauty. 

I wish I could eat my own words.

I was never much to be attracted to anyone, mostly because they never were back. However, now I find myself absolutely head over heels. A million reasons race in my head. Could it be because she saved my life and im just really thankful? Is it because she is the only one on the ship and we’d just naturally gravitate towards each other? Or do I truly feel these feelings for her.

“Oh! Let me bring in a chair so I can sit with you. And put on something cool! Like Firefly.” 

“What’s Firefly?” I ask. She stops in the doorway and turns around with an incredulous look on her face. “ Something that we’re going to watch immediately. We have all the time in the world, so you’re going to learn about the best shows to ever exist.” And as she left, I sat there in a state of utter...joy? It was in this minute that I knew I truly did like the doctor that way. Perhaps this could be the start of our relationship?

She came back in with one of the lounge chairs and pulled it up to my bed. As the show started, some scifi cowboy thing, I turned to her. 

“Doctor, I..I dont believe I got your name?”

She smiles.”Leah. And don’t worry, I already know yours.” 

[a-sweet-pea]

Untitled: Cowboy

Next

Refer to THIS POST if you want to know why this is an unpolished, unfinished mess that I’m posting anyway. I’m including a bullet-point summary of the set-up I couldn’t be bothered writing, hopefully that provides enough context to make this enjoyable.

- Anne is in the desert. Why? How? Who’s to say. That’s a problem for past-sweet-pea who came up with a vague premise and ran with it without developing it any further. It’s safe to assume that something unintentional and indian-in-the-cupboard-y was involved (I vaguely remember something from the later books where the magic key got turned into a car key and sent people back when they tried to start the car? Something like that I bet.

- It is hot and dry and there is exactly one object providing shade within walking distance, so she walks to it.

- It is not, as first assumed, some bizarre rock formation, but a knapsack. The size of a rock formation. This does her a concern.

- Another shadow appears, which does her a new, more concerning concern, and rather than stick around to see what that’s about, she begins to run in the direction of NOT THAT THING

- Unfortunately, THAT THING evidently has other plans, and Anne is trapped under something in stuffy darkness

- Until she isn’t anymore, because whatever is on top of her begins to be lifted up…

A sliver of light appeared at the ground and like the sun rising, it grew and spread across the dirt toward her. She shaded her eyes just in time to spare them the sudden brightness. The rising darkness took form; a smooth brown wall that curved around her with a dry creased texture. 

Leather? 

There was a square of white cloth stuck to the wall. In the dim light, she could just barely make out the words ‘Jenkins Haberdashery’ inked into it

A hat. This is a giant hat.

And it was the hat’s brim that was slowly rising, revealing a growing swath of the yellow dirt beyond. And, pressed into that dirt, another leathery shape.  Another perfectly ordinary thing made heart-stopping by its baffling scale. 

A hand. 

She didn’t want to look, but the receding hat was revealing an entity that filled her entire field of vision. The hand was attached to a tree-like arm, partway covered with the sleeve of a checkered shirt rolled up to the elbow. And the arm was attached to a shoulder and the shoulder to a torso of a man, a giant, kneeling in the dirt. He loomed over her tall as a building, blocking out the sun. He was holding the wide-brimmed leather hat in his hand and staring. 

"What the hell?" His voice rang out above her like a clap of thuder.

She wanted to ask the same question. Or scream and run away. Or maybe both. Probably both.

“This don’t make a lick of sense.” He squinted, eyes practically disappearing beneath furrowed brows. His face looked like it had been carved out of the side of a mountain. "I’ve been dry as a creek bed for a week now. Week and a half if you don’t count the swig a’ dirty water Buck Thompson calls moonshine.” The air shook with a deep rumble that might have been a laugh. "I sure as shit didn’t get drunk offa that.” With a movement like the swinging of a construction crane, he lifted the hat to his head.

“Oh well, better you than the flying scorpions."

His legs shifted; the sound of denim rubbing against denim was as loud as a conversation and the stretching, shifting shadows were dizzying. She shut her eyes and clenched her fists until the upheval stopped. When it did, and she opened her eyes again, he was cross-legged. The toes of his brown boots poked out from under his knees, and there were furrows in the soil where his heels had dragged across the dirt.

“So, what are you supposed to be?”

He’s talking to you.

She couldn’t form words, she could hardly formed coherent thoughts. Her heart was in the vice grip of the most basic, primal kind of fear. Goosebumps rose on her arms, in spite of the baking heat. She wished she could throw up the awful sick lump in her stomach.

“A spirit? One of them ‘demons of vice and iniquity’ Sister Jo’s always frettin over?" 

“N-no!" 

His brows shot up; his eyes were pale blue, almost grey. “Seein' and hearin' things? That’s new.” Something about the implication that she was a figment of his imagination irked her enough to eek out a sentence.

“I-I’m not a demon!"

The giant smiled wide, teeth shining against his sun-baked skin. “Well, ain’t that just what a demon would say?” He rested his elbow on his knee and leaned his head on a balled fist. “You’re a bit plain for a hallucination though. No wings? No funny colors?”

Anne took a wobbly step toward him. “I’m…real! I don’t know why I’m so small, or-or everything’s so big, but I-I’m not imaginary.” Shouting made her head hurt. Or maybe it was the heat. “If anything, you’re imaginary.” She nodded. “That’s got to be it,” she said more quietly, to herself. “I-I’m dehydrated, I’ve got heatstroke from walking around in this desert." 

She wiped the sweat from her forehead. It mingled with the sweat on her face and dripped down her chin. How many pints of water had she lost already? It was no wonder she was seeing giant hats and bags and cowboys.

“If you’re real, how come you ain’t got any substance?"

Anne didn’t see him reach out; she was busy staring off into the distance, trying to set eyes on some reasonably-sized landmark. By the time she turned around, it was hardly a few feet from her.

His hand.

A human hand the size of a four-door sedan, coming toward her palm first. A scream lodged in her throat, she couldn’t voice it. Warm fingers thick as her thighs wrapped around her and just like that she was off the ground; carried ten, fifteen, twenty feet in the air, as if by a rogue amusement park ride.

This isn’t happening.

But incredibly, it was. Neither hand nor girl had passed through the other, both were equally, improbably, corporeal. Anne slid down a few inches in his half-committed grip; It seemed he hadn’t expected her to be quite so solid. Her feet kicked uselessly in the open air as she scrambled for a foothold.

“What the...” The giant’s voice coming from some ambiguous direction, maybe all of the directions at once.

She tumbled head over heels in the air and then she was free-falling. Before she had a chance to scream, she hit the ground. But not the ground. Brown leather. She was in the hat again. It was upside down this time, and beyond its walls was nothing but dazzling blue sky, and the head and shoulders of the giant. The bemused smile was gone from the his face; his eyes were wide, his mouth hung open, he was shaking his head slowly.

“Well, don’t that beat all…”

The head eclipsed half of the circle of blue above her, and it was getting bigger. The hat was rising; slower than the gut wrenching grab of the hand, but it still made her queasy.

“A little lady.”

Warm breath washed over her face and the sound of his voice vibrated the air around her. It was all just too close, too loud, too much. She pushed away from the face until her back was pressed up against the curved leather wall, but the hat was still rising up, the face was still getting closer.

“Howdja get so small?”

She hugged her legs tight to her chest and tucked her chin against her knees. It didn’t help her feel any safer. He was smiling again. His face hung in the air twenty feet above her, like a hot air balloon with teeth.

“S’matter, cat got your tongue? You were awful talkative before.”

“I, I-” Anne couldn’t take her eyes off the enormous face, but staring at it was only making things worse. The huge staring eyes, creases in his forehead long and deep as furrows in the dirt, the whole bulk of him like some cowboy-Mount Rushmore. It was all too much. “Please…” She couldn’t finish the sentence becuase there wasn’t an end to it. There was just the wordless, overwhelming fear swirling in her head. And tears in her eyes

“Hey, it’s alright, I was only teasin!”

She laughed, and cried, and tried to take a deep breath but it came in hiccupping bursts. Something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned her head and the source of the movement became clear as the glaring desert sun disappeared behind the silhouette of a giant hand.

“N-no!” She pushed her back against the wall of brown cloth, as if she could disappear into it.

The shadowy hand held still in the sky above her. "Easy, easy.” The giant spoke quieter, almost a whisper. “I ain’t gonna grab you. Honest.”

The hand didn’t come toward her, it moved to the pocket of the giant’s shirt, and pulled out what looked like a red and white spotted bedsheet (but was no doubt a handkerchief). Then the hand, holding the handkerchief, did come toward her. Down from the sky and into the hat, closer and closer, pinched between a massive finger and thumb, until it was only a foot away from her. The cloth looked surprisingly clean, given that there was a fine layer of dirt settled into the creases and wrinkles around his thumbnail.

“How about you dry those eyes?”

She reached for the corner of cloth, her arm was trembling. Pull yourself together. There was a warm breeze coming from above her. She didn’t want to look up; she knew what it was. But she couldn’t help herself. She looked up and immediately back down. His face is so close. Her hand was shaking even more now, she couldn’t even bring herself to reach the extra few inches to the cloth.

“Go ahead.”

“I-I’m trying,” her voice cracked pathetically. “You’re just…really big!” Her eyes stung hot, and suddenly the tears were flowing again. He’s not though, you’re small. Tiny, and totally helpless. She tried to take a breath to calm herself but the air came in sniffs and catches, she couldn’t manage a lungful.

The hand and handkerchief receded. “Aw, now you’ve got me goin.” She looked up, managing shuddering, but full, breath. There were tears welling in the giant’s eyes and his cheeks were flushed.“I don’t mean to frighten you, darlin,” he wiped the tears from his eyes; leaving shining trails across his dry skin. “Honest, I wouldn’t lay a hand on ya, even if you was a demon!”

She hiccuped, a puzzled smile on her face. “Why are you crying?” She pressed her sleeve against her eyes.

“I got a-” he blew a thunderous blast into the hanky. “Soft heart. Cain’t stand to see a lady in distress.” He wadded up the soiled cloth and tucked it back in his shirt pocket. “Cry so much, the boys even got a nickname for me, back in town.” He chuckled. “Boo-hoo Boone.”

“Is that your name?” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “Boone?”

“Sure is.” The giant inclined his head. “Would you be so kind as to give me yours? Unless you prefer darlin’.” His lip curled in a sort of half-smile, and she couldn’t help smiling back.

“It’s Anne.”

“Well, it’s mighty nice to meet you miss Anne. I’m awfully sorry I gave you such a fright.”

“I-it’s okay.” She nodded. “You didn’t mean to.”

“I sure didn’t.” He looked up and squinted, and wiped something from his forehead instead of his eyes. “Miss Anne, I don’t suppose I could ask a favor of you, could I?”

“Sure?”

“Well, I’m gonna burn red as a cherry if I ain’t careful.” He looked down sheepishly, and then slowly, the baking sun was once again eclipsed by a shadow hand. “May I, uh, escort you…um…outta my hat so I can put it on again?”

“O-Oh! Yeah, I didn’t mean to monopolize it.”

“Well, I reckon it’s my fault for dropping you in there in the first place; I’m awfully sorry about that by the way.” His eyes went wide and earnest. “I won’t do somethin as damn foolish as that again, I promise you that.”

Anne just nodded. The hand was coming closer, and she didn’t feel confident in her ability to talk without squeaking. Slowly, tentatively, rough thick fingers reached out to her. They just brushed against her first; a few fingers against one side, the thumb against the other. She didn’t scream, or squirm, or try to get away, so the warm digits gently pressed against her, and then she was lifting up into the air.

Her heart was racing, maybe Boone felt it, because he whispered, “It’s alright, I ain’t about to drop you.” She looked down in time to see the brown oval of the hat slip away beneath her, and looked up in time to see it placed firmly on the top of his head.

“That’s better.” She hadn’t thought there was anything missing about him, but seeing the hat on his head, Anne got the sense of the last piece of a puzzle being put in place. His face certainly had that satisfied look about it.

“Now then…” Anne was lowered slowly, and her feet touched something warm and soft. The fingers loosened their grip and Anne fell to her hands and knees on the skin of a giant palm. Warm and living and utterly incomprehensibly enormous. “Lemme get a proper look at you.”

Anne stood up, and fought to stay standing as the hand shifted beneath her. Boone shook his head slowly, blowing a long stream of air through pursed lips that washed over her like a cool breeze. “You sure are something, you know that?” He’d lifted her high enough that they were almost eye level with each other, and his were wide with wonder. “You, you ain’t even knee-high to a strawberry.” His low chuckle filled the air around her, but it was too pleasant to be thunder.

Ps @a-black-pegasus , this is that cowboy thing I mentioned that one time. Also, what up @questionable-breads . @wolfie180g @mostgarlicofbread Please enjoy.

[wanderingpride]

A short story with Auro and Cassius.

It was getting late; the sunset was stretching its last rays over the mountains in the distance, Auro slumped on the grass in Cassius’ backyard, waiting for dinner. He always felt a little bad for Cassius. Not only did he have to worry about providing enough food for himself, but he had to make food for at least twenty extra regular humans on top of that. Auro shook his head, trying to get the thoughts out of his brain whilst taking a deep breath in, inhaling the scent of freshly cooking steak. Mouth watering a little, he felt his stomach about to rumble, hunching over trying to suppress the sound. Alas, it didn’t work, as Cassius gleefully opened the window and chuckled.

“I heard that. Worry not, it’ll be ready soon!”

That smile never seemed to leave Cassius’ face, something that Auro secretly admired about him. His generosity and altruism were unrivalled. Auro wished he could match it. A sigh escaped his lips as he goes back to drawing soft circles in the grass, barely feeling the individual blades on his fingers anymore; a combination of tough calluses and the finger simply being too large the cause. He missed those little things.

The door to the backyard opens, Cassius barely able to keep his balance with the sheer amount of food he’s carrying as he places a very full tray of meat on the little picnic table next to where Auro is sitting. Cassius is barely phased by Auro’s enormous form now, it wasn’t the boy’s fault he ended up like this. That he believed wholeheartedly, no matter what disgruntled townsfolk say. Cassius serves himself some meat and oven-roasted vegetables, before pushing the rest of the enormous tray to Auro, a routine that both of them know very well. But most unusually, Auro doesn’t even look at the food, a thousand yard stare frozen into his face as his brows furrow, pushing the tray back to Cassius.

“Auro? What’s wrong?”

Cassius’ dinner now lay abandoned on the picnic table as the old man leapt to his feet and approached the giant, running a gentle hand down the side of Auro’s thigh as he walked around to the front. Auro’s gaze flickered down for a brief moment before looking away, eyes deader than before, face sunken and void of emotion.

“Cass.” Auro said, his voice booming.

“Yes?”

Auro bows his head before diverting his dead-eyed stare back to Cassius, taking in a breath.

“Why do you do this?”

Cassius tilts his head.

“Do what?” he asks, a little confused.

“You know...all this. You give me free food. A place to sleep. I can do all of this on my own, you know. I don’t need your help.”

Cassius’ brows raise. He knows better than to automatically assume Auro is being ungrateful. 

“What? You know why I do this. Because I love you; you are my son and I care about you. Do you take me to be the type to leave someone to suffer?”

“Maybe I wasn’t suffering.” Auro snaps back.

Cassius takes a step back, crossing his arms.

“Let me head upstairs so we can talk face to face like adults.”

He briskly walks to the picnic table and collects all the food, putting it on the kitchen counter for the time being. Cassius soon emerges from the balcony of the master bedroom, Auro standing up to meet him despite still having to crouch a little bit to meet eye to eye.

“Auro,” Cassius begins, “what is this about.”

The giant’s shoulders tense, his face contorting into a scowl as his temper begins to flare.

“I’m just...I’m sick of being an inconvenience.” Auro answers, “You make me all this good food and built an entire goddamn fucking barn for me to sleep in and for what? This does nothing but make more problems, you have more to do around here now. You don’t just have one human mouth to feed, you gotta make a fucking army’s worth of grub for one person! And let’s not forget everyone who I’ve had to steal from otherwise I’d DIE otherwise.”

He begins to raise his voice, losing his composure.

“I feel pathetic! I can’t even fend for myself. Everyone I have met has showered me with life’s most basic necessities; things that I should be able to get on my own. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to be babied. I know I’m an overgrown freak of fucking nature now but I still have my fucking DIGNITY! How am I supposed to survive if I can’t even rely on myself to stay alive...”

“Auro.”

“DON’T AURO ME. LISTEN TO ME.”

“No, Auro. Listen to me.”

A little taken aback at Cass’ sudden change of tone, Auro begins pacing back and forth, the wind from his movements rustling Cassius’ hair a little as the old man covers his ears slightly at Auro’s raised voice. But Auro doesn’t notice, too wrapped up in his own overflowing emotions to even look at Cassius properly. But Cassius doesn’t look away, not even for a second. Auro’s frustration tugged strongly on Cassius’ heartstrings; this definitely wasn’t a case of him being bratty. 

“You can ignore my words all you like, but the truth cannot be denied forever. Do you know why people give you all these things? Do you know why people willingly part with these necessities to help their fellow man?”

Auro turns back to Cassius, his expression twisting with guilt as he sees Cassius remove his hands from his ears.

“No but please, enlighten me.”

“Because we want to.”

“WHAT KIND OF A REASON IS THAT.”

Cassius’ hands swiftly cover his ears again.

“A perfectly valid and believable one.”

“WHAT GOOD IS HELP IF ALL IT’S DOING IS SOFTENING ME AND MAKING ME RELY ON OTHERS FOR MY OWN WELL BEING?! DON’T YOU GET IT?!”

In a fit of rage, Auro’s hands grip the roof with a mighty thump, dislodging the dust on the balcony ceiling as it lands on Cassius’ bun. The man cowers a little at the thump, expecting the roof to cave in.

“Auro, please--”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

The only thing Cassius hears is the sound of Auro’s heavy breathing, the giant beginning to hyperventilate, unsure how to handle what he’s kept pent up for so long now finally bursting at the seams. Auro hunches over the balcony, blocking out those last few rays of sunlight as it plunges Cassius into darkness, eclipsed by Auro’s torso. Cassius crouches down, hands above his head, Auro too worked up to truly take note.

“IF PEOPLE WANTED TO HELP ME, THEY WOULD HAVE HELPED ME BACK WHEN I ACTUALLY FUCKING NEEDED IT. WHY WAIT ALL THIS TIME? WHY WAIT UNTIL I CAN LITERALLY NEVER FUNCTION IN A HUMAN SOCIETY EVER AGAIN?!” Auro cries, rearing his foot back.

“I don’t know Auro, I don’t--”

“THEN WHY ARE YOU HELPING ME NOW? I’LL NEVER LEARN IF I DON’T--”

A splintering crunch brought silence to the pair, Auro waking up from his blind anger looking down to the ground. He lifts up his foot, finding the picnic table utterly destroyed. He glances back to Cassius, still cowering as Auro takes another step back, letting light back onto the balcony.

“Cass...I…” he mumbled, barely able to speak behind choking sobs.

Cassius cautiously rises to his feet, peering over the balcony to look at the destruction. His gaze is interrupted by the sound of a hiccup, eyes darting to Auro, eyes teary and face contorted in grief. The man sighs, all fear he once had melting away as he feels a wash of relief seeing Auro calm down once again. Auro covers his face, shoulders heaving.

“I’m sorry, Cass…”

Cass smiles gently.

“Come here.”

Auro approaches the balcony once again, peering at Cassius through a space in his fingers. He wipes away his tears, crouching down to meet Cassius face to face again as his eyes glisten once again, barely able to look at the man. Cassius reaches up and wipes a tear away from the corner of Auro’s eye, the man’s hand and sleeve utterly soaked.

“Do you know why we help you? Because we love you. Because humans are a social species. You and I, we are not meant to live alone. We are meant to connect with one another, to communicate with one another...to form incredible relationships and be a part of the wondrously wide network that is the human race. Humans help each other for a myriad of reasons. For me? It’s because you are a son to me. You are my son, and there is nothing more important to me than family.”

Cassius runs his hand down Auro’s cheek, Auro too ashamed to look at him.

“Helping people does not always mean they are too pitiful or lazy to get what they need themselves. Sometimes it simply means that people love and care for you so much, that they are willing to part with what they have for the wellbeing and happiness of somebody else. Don’t you see? People love you so dearly, that they are willing to part with everything they have for your sake. You are not the easiest person to care for, I admit, but seeing you thrive, recover and grow brings me so much more pleasure and happiness than any amount of material possessions ever could. You make me so proud, Auro Lengdreal, and I love you more than you realise.”

Auro backs away, a few seconds of silence befalling them before he bursts into tears, his weeping filling the air as his hands fall away from his face. Auro sits back on the ground, too exhausted to keep standing up as Cass recognises the cue to rush back downstairs, meeting Auro outside merely a few seconds later. 

He lays on the grass, continuing to weep, as Cassius nestles himself in between Auro’s arms and chest. Auro places a very careful hand on the back of Cassius’ head, resting his fingers on the man’s shoulders. Cassius softly hushes the man, feeling Auro’s body convulse with heavy hearted sobs. Auro gently pushes Cassius into his chest, Cassius allowing himself to sink into the pressure, closing his eyes as he feels Auro’s warmth soothe him. He continues to quietly hush Auro, regardless of whether Auro can hear him or not. Auro begins to speak, Cassius feeling every word rumble through Auro’s chest.

“Cass?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about the table.”

Cassius laughs, wriggling himself free from Auro’s hand as he meets Auro face to face, giving him a few endearing paps on the cheek.

“Tables can be replaced. Lives cannot. I’ll just get another one.”

Auro sits up again, running a hand through his hair bashfully.

“Yeah...I suppose. And uh, Cass?”

“Yes?”

“...I’m still hungry.”

A cheeky smile brightened up the old man’s face as he turned on his heel.

“As am I. I’ll go heat up the steak again.”

“Mine was medium rare right?”

“Of course. Extra fat on your cuts, correct?”

Auro reached over and gave Cassius’ hair a light ruffle, loosening his bun.

“You know it...dad.”

[albionscastle]

We’ll Meet Again Pt 4 (A Collins Fic)

Ok so I’m apologizing in advance as this chapter is just as dark as the last one. But I promise the next couple will be bright and wonderful.

Again with the graphic descriptions of warfare, death and the like. The scene in the tunnel later on I got from a photo I saw of the aftermath of The Battle of Britain, which I won’t post here but it was pretty horrific. My great nana told me horror stories about the Blitz when I was younger so a lot of this stems from her experiences...which probably somehow just makes it worse.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

FIC MASTERLIST

SEPTEMBER 15 1940 LONDON 6AM

When you woke with the sunlight streaming through your small window, Jack’s blazer was still wrapped around you, his smell filling your nostrils with every breath, letting you believe for half an instant that he was there with you. You sighed, allowing yourself the time to make-believe, to remember the little moments from the day before. The feel of hand as it slid across your back, the little snort he emitted right before he laughed, and the way he had looked at you, as if you were the whole world.

Your heart clenched as a sob rose in your throat. You felt the absence of him like a missing limb, a deep agony inside of you. It hurt to breathe, just knowing that he was back out there, every second in danger, every moment another opportunity for a German fighter to shoot him out of the sky.

God, how were any of you going to make it through this?

It was 2 hours before your shift at the factory and the crisp breeze was calling your outside, a walk would do you good, perhaps blow away the feeling of dread that had been with you since you waved Jack off the night before. Looking out the window you breathed it in, nose wrinkling at the distant smell of smoke. The bombers had come again last night, as they did every night and day, though this had been on the other side of the city. The radio was reporting it as a small raid, much smaller than the ones the city had experienced in the last week. They were saying that it was a sign the Germans were going to back off because their tactics weren’t working. All their attacks had done nothing to hold back the RAF so why would they think their attacks on the cities would dampen British morale?

You felt wrong. The clear blue sky mocked you. Something was coming, something big and you somehow knew there was no way you were going to able to escape it.

Pulling the jacket over your thick overalls you decided to see if Margot wanted to walk in the garden with you. You made sure Jack’s letters were tucked safely in the deep pocket before making your way down the hall to her room. Hand poised to knock, you heard the sound of music from inside, inviting you to push open the door a few centimeters, peeking inside.

Your breath caught when you saw her, still in her pyjamas, Charlie’s uniform jacket on a hanger in her hands. Her fingers ran over the olive green wool, smoothing it before holding it up in front of her, head resting against where his heart would have been. Tears stung your eyes as she began to move in time to the song, their song she had told you once. Her eyes closed as she danced, tears leaking from behind her eyelids and you backed out of the room, your heart breaking at the sight of her.

You ran downstairs and out into the garden, chest heaving as you tried to hold back both your tears and the rising panic. There was so much sadness, so much suffering, how could you keep your hope alive in the face of it all? You thought of Jack, of the jacket you wore being the only piece of him you had left and what that would be like? Would you sleep with it every night or hang it away to be brought out only in moments like the one you’d just witnessed. The thought of never seeing him again, hearing his voice or feeling his skin against yours was such a torment that you wanted to scream, yell and rage against whoever was responsible.

How long you stayed crying in the garden you didn’t know, the sound of Margot’s steps making you realize it was getting late. You tried to wipe away the tears before she could see them, not wanting your sadness to eclipse her. At least your Jack was still breathing. You hoped.

“I know you miss him Y/N” she said sadly, her hands on your shoulders.

“How do you do it Margot? How do you go on feeling like this?”

“I have to, for Charlie, he would have wanted it. And I remember. All the happy memories that keep him alive in my heart. Some days I can almost fill the hole he left behind with them, most of the time I can’t but I still try. One day at a time, it's all you can do.”

If Margot could pull through this, then so could you. You had hope that she didn’t have, the hope of seeing Jack again, of feeling his warmth and his beating heart. Margot would never again see Charlie’s face, hear his voice or feel his touch. All she had was her memories, and they were enough to sustain her. You thought to yourself that you had never met a stronger woman in your life and you could only hope to be even half as strong in the face of things to come.

You both sat and talked for a while, letting Margot tell you stories about Charlie, laughing at some of the antics he’d managed to pull. He sounded like a really decent fellow and you wished that you could have met him.

“Right, enough reminiscing, we have to get to work.”

With a sigh, you both stood, trying to shake off the melancholy. The sense of impending….something...you couldn’t shake off and it stayed with you like a heavy blanket as you began your work. The factory was dirty and hot, and more often than not you ended the day greasy and grimy from head to toe. You loved it. Loved feeling useful and needed, loved knowing you had some small part to play in the effort to win the war.

Collins’ blazer hung in a locker in the common room, too far away for comfort and you felt nervous and jumpy without it, the urge to wrap it around yourself despite the grime almost overwhelming. Biting your bottom lip until it bled you kept going, trying to squash your anxiety, one eye on the clock.

11am

You were looking over blueprints with a co worker when you heard the screeching wail of the air raid sirens begin. All around you people ran for cover, heading for the shelter. Your eyes wild, you tried to push the opposite way, towards the common room and everything you had to keep Jack close to you. “Y/N! Forget it, we have to go!”

“No! Go, I’m right behind you!” You flung open the locker door, hauling the jacket over your shoulders as you ran for the exit behind the others, Margot glaring at you.

“Think about how he’d feel if you got yourself killed trying to save his damn uniform!”

“I couldn’t leave it, Margot. His letters. I couldn’t.”

She sighed in comprehension.

“Come on then. We have to hurry.”

You rushed out into the daylight, surrounded by the screams and running feet of the people still left on the streets. There was a droning, grinding sound, pulsing louder and louder overhead and you looked up towards it.

“Oh my God!”

The skies above the city were full as row upon row of German bombers flew over like a swarm of locusts. The rat tat tat of anti aircraft fire echoed around you as you realized what you were seeing. The bomb bay doors of some several hundred enemy planes were wide open, fat, dark objects pouring from their bellies and plummeting toward the ground.

The earth around you shook from the guns and you could hear the BOOM CRUMP CRUMP of heavy bombs finding their targets, not too far away from where you stood paralyzed.

“Get in the shelter! Now!” margot’s scream roused you as the bombs continued to fall, closer and closer.

There was the rumble and crack of them tearing buildings apart, the terrified screams of women as they ran for cover. Through the thickening dust you could see the formations overhead, watching as scores of Spitfires and Hurricanes came screeching into the arena, lines of tracer fire streaking across the sky. A bomber was hit and you saw it dive, breaking apart. The Spitfire behind it twisting and spinning into position behind a German fighter.

He was up there. You knew it and you couldn’t look away, no matter what you saw.

The same Spitfire fell into a terrifying spin and you held your breath as he plummeted toward the ground, pulling out in time and racing back into the thick of the fighting.

Suddenly there was a BOOM beside you and the ground shifted, knocking you into the air to land with bone-jarring force on the street. You were lucky that Jack’s blazer and the thick denim of your work clothes protected your skin from the concrete and you lay trying to catch your breath as rubble landed around you, explosions popping from all directions.

Your ears rang and acrid smoke filled your nostrils as you crawled over the pavement toward the shelter entrance. Two sets of arms hauled you up, your body screaming as they dragged you inside and down the wooden steps.

“I’m ok.” You managed to croak as one of the girls forced a tin cup of tepid water to your lips. “Where’s Margot?”

“I’m here, you idiot.” she pushed through, a blanket in her hands. “You like a fright Y/N, what the hell were you thinking?”

“Spitfires.”

“I’m starting to think your Jack is the one who should be worried, not you. You have a death wish.”

More explosions rumbled around you, everyone in the shelter jumping as the earth shook.

“I think they hit the factory. There’s hundreds of them. It's not just certain areas, they’re just bombing the entire city.”

Margot managed to get you over to a cot, helping you clean up as best you could. There was brick dust and soot all over you, all over Jack’s blazer and you shook it out before hugging the wool close. It still smelled like him, faintly now. When you thought about how close you’d come to losing it you wanted to be sick. Instead you curled up under the blanket as your head ached and spun, Margot sitting sentry silently beside you.

It was an hour before the sirens stopped and the all clear was given. Your head pounded and you could feel the bruises forming all over your body. There was a large graze on your cheek and a cut across your forehead that had bled like a bitch. White dust coated your hair, making it itch. But you were ok. You had survived.

The sight that greeted you as you exited the shelter was nothing short of the end of the world. A huge crater surrounded by rubble marked where the main floor of the factory had once been. What little was left standing was engulfed in an inferno. The street was full of rubble, crumpled and mangled vehicles and fire seemed to rage all around you.

“We have to get back to the boardinghouse.” Margot called through the smoke.

You nodded, moving toward what seemed like a clear path. The building beside you groaned and you both screamed  and jumped as it came toppling down in a rain of stone, dust and flame, crashing into the street where you had just been standing. A little further along you met another huge crater. Margot tried to tug you back as you stepped to the edge.

“Leave it Y/N, there’s nothing we can do for anyone in there.”

She was right of course, you realized when you saw what lay inside. You gasped, hand covering your mouth as you looked over the remains of what used to be a trolley car, the crushed and dismembered pieces of what used to be its passengers scattered about the hole. A young woman lay there, no older than you, like a brokendoll, her vacant dead eyes staring at you accusingly, half her body ripped to shreds by fractured metal.

Bile rose and you scrambled away from the edge, falling to your knees in the ruined street, gasping and vomiting, tears streaming and your chest tightening.

“Oh God, oh God oh God.” you were almost hysterical as Margot pulled you back to your feet.

“Y/N, you have to stop. We have to get out of here. You know they’ll be back. It's not over. I need you to calm down.”

She held your head, forcing you to look at her, to watch her take deep, calming breaths which your body slowly started to mimic as you managed to gain control of yourself again.

“Are you with me?”

“I’m with you.”

You walked arm in arm, avoiding the craters and the piles of stone. Explosions still rocked areas in the city, flames meeting petrol and other incendiary materials. It was strange, you thought, as you made your way through the streets. Whole blocks had been left untouched except for dust and paper debris while others had just been decimated.

Here and there bodies lay in the streets, some volunteers from the ambulance corps already there to cover them up and check to see if any might still be alive. You felt completely useless against the sheer enormity of the horror, what did you even know how to do?

Your neighbourhood had been left untouched and you wanted to weep with relief when you saw all the other girls crowded outside the house beside a Red Cross lorry. Della and Dolores rushed over, screeching, sure until that moment that you and Margot had been lost in the factory explosion.

“They need volunteers,” Dolores was explaining as Della forced water over your face, tutting over the injuries when you winced. “They want people to go back in and help look for survivors who might be trapped.”

“You know they’ll come again, right?” you handed a canteen of water to Margot, who had reappeared from inside the house with two sandwiches.

“That’s why they want ‘volunteers’, it’s going to be dangerous no matter what.”

“Well, count me in. Margot?”

“I’m sure as hell not sitting around for the next bomb to drop so I guess I’m going too.”

You were taken to an area of the city where the fires hadn’t reached yet. Piles of stone and brick was all that remained of the whole street, a few skeletal wooden frames still standing. But not for long. Men and women, civilians and Corps rushed back and forth with stretchers, supplies and survivors who were dazed and injured.

“Here.” A man handed you Red Cross armbands, which you slid over the arms of Jack’s blazer, and a bag filled with bandages, alcohol and water. “Check for signs of life, if they’re dead then mark them with the grease pencil. Listen for survivors trapped under the rubble. Call out if you hear anyone. Get as many people as you can into the Tube, there’s a triage set up down there. Do not, under any circumstances, go into a structure, even if it looks solid. Call for help if you hear someone inside. Any questions?”

You all shook your heads, dispersing to help the volunteers already in the thick of things. What seemed like hours passed as you hauled stone, dug into wreckage and searched for survivors. More often than not you simply were marking bodies for pick up.

“Over here!” Margot called suddenly. “Hurry!”

Sticking out of the rubble was a child’s arm, fingers grasping, still alive. With a cry for help you scrambled onto the pile, tearing up your hands as you dug at the wreckage.

“Hold on honey, we’re coming! Della, Dolores, help!”

The four of you dug around the arm, revealing the face of a little boy, no more than four years old. His face was black and red with soot and blood, one eye swollen completely shut.

“Mummy! I want my mummy!” he started crying the moment his head was free.

His mother was dead, half her body covering his, under the rubble. She’d died protecting him. Tears streaming down your cheeks you worked to free him, noticing one little leg was broken.

“Here sweetheart, have some of this.” you let him sip of the water, gently wiping his face and knowing how much moving him was going to hurt. Margot had run for a stretcher, Della and Dolores were out of sight, called to help someone else. You had been left alone to comfort the child.

“Where’s my mummy?” You cried as you held him, keeping his head turned away from where her body lay a few feet away.

You murmured words of comfort to try and keep his mind off his pain and fear. Stroking his forehead you told him about the heroic pilots you’d seen while he spun in and out of consciousness.

“Over here! Hurry please!” you heard Margot’s voice and sat up to see her about half a block away, two men with a stretcher following behind her. Standing up you waved, glad to see her, smiling as she waved back, pointing the way to help.

2pm

You hand stilled in midair as the sirens began to screech, the familiar and terrifying grinding noise of German bombers quickly filling the air. Everything slowed down as you turned your face to the sky, horrified as it turned black with swarms of planes.

They were right above you, rows of death, black spots falling from their cavernous insides toward you.

You spun, time almost standing still, a scream dying on your lips as the ground in front of Margot suddenly erupted in a geyser of earth, stone and fire. Your body was thrown forward, over the screaming child in your charge, soundless screams tearing from your throat as you saw the crater stained red where your best friend had just been standing.

There was nothing left.

Moments passed in a daze as bombs rained down around your city, volunteers running past you for the shelter of the Tube.

“Oy, luv, come on, let’s go!” An older man clambered up to you, taking in the situation. “You need to get your boy to safety! Here now, that’s the way.”

His arm came around you, helping you to your feet. The boy screamed as he was lifted, bringing you back.

“His leg’s broken, we shouldn’t move him.”

“Better a few minutes of pain than dead miss. Let’s go, I’ll help you.”

The child hollering in your arms, helped you down from the rubble, running beside you, his hand on your back as he led you to the Underground.

“Here now, miss, you’ll be safe down ‘ere.”

He handed you off to a volunteer before disappearing, lost in the sea of terrified civilians. The boy was taken from you into the triage area, closed off by hanging sheets. The screams and moans coming from behind them left no-one in any doubt of what was happening behind them.

“Come with me miss, looks like you could use some help.” An elderly Nurse drew you behind the sheets, sitting beside you.

You looked around at medics trying to save lives, set broken limbs and stitch gashes. An exhausted looking doctor with blood covering his apron walked past you, wiping his brow and barking orders. A pale arm hung from under a sheet as a stretcher was carried past you into the tunnel. A decent look in that direction made you wish you could be anywhere but inside that Underground tomb. Bodies covered in sheets lined both sides of the tunnel, as far as your eye could see in the darkness. Hundreds of people. Men, women, children, it was unfathomable.

The nurse began to clean your face and hands and you winced when she dabbed at your skin with alcohol. Tears streaked through the dirt and blood on your face, dripping onto the sleeve of the blazer.

“I’m going to have to stitch this.” the Nurse handed you a bottle of brandy, motioning that you should drink it. “I’ve no anesthetic, this won’t be pleasant.”

You didn’t care, pain meant you were alive, unlike Margot. She would never feel anything again. You drank heavily from the bottle, the alcohol burning its way into your stomach as the Nurse applied the needle to your face.

The pain was nothing compared to what you felt in your heart.

“Y/N.” a whisper beside you, Dolores with Della standing beside her, dirt covering them. “Where’s Margot?”

Sobs rose in your throat as you shook your head, unable to put it into words. Dolores sat beside you, holding you against her shoulder as the Nurse kept stitching, Della kneeling to clean and dress your torn and broken skin.

There were no words to be spoken, nothing that could even be said to make sense of it.

When the bombs stopped falling finally at dusk you all made your way home, silently.

When morning came you didn’t move from your bed, that part of Jack wrapped around you, dirty and bloody, his letters safe. Dolores sat on the bed a copy of the paper open to the front page. They were calling it The Battle of Britain, a decisive victory with poetic speeches about the bravery of the pilots who’d risked their lives, “The Few” they were being hailed as, heroes they certainly were.

“Here, this came for you. Hand delivered.” Dolores handed you an envelope with your name and address scrawled on it in writing that wasn’t Jack’s.

With rising fear you stared at it, noting the dirty fingerprints. Your hands shook as you tried to open it and Dolores had to take it from you to finish. You watched her slide out a single slip of paper, it looked as though it had been torn from a flight book, crumpled and filthy. She looked it over and handed it to you without a word.

It was his writing, seven words scribbled across a page streaked with petrol and tears. And they made you weep.

“I’m alive. I love you. Forgive me.”

“He’s ok, thank God he’s ok.”

Dolores simply lay down beside you, holding you while you both wept.

[prettieparker86]

All For You || Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, part 3 & Part 5

Pairing: William “Cap” Hatfield X Reader

Gif Credit: @rkhe, @koriiandr, @tswift1989daily @taykoreatayphoto . Thank you for letting me use your gifs! They are beautiful!

Shout out: This chapter goes out to @lainey-lane, my editor and all around muse. She makes these things happen when my mind get stuck. And to @cryxlowrites who’s beautiful Cap vid made me fall in love with Cap all over again. Thank you both!

Tag: @lumifuer, @hannahmariea If you don’t want to be tagged in the future friends just let me know. Thank you again friends!

A/N: This chapter is very long. Sorry. I didn’t plan it that way, but there was a lot to cover. Also, I originally said, only four parts to this story. BUT I wrote a few more. Now, if you all feel done with this tale I can end it here for tumblr and post the rest elsewhere. OR, I can continue. Let me know if you want more or end it here.

“I saw the look in yer eyes that night. When you said you couldn’ marry ‘im. Said you couldn’ bear it… Now ya don’ have to Darlin’.” Will finished unflinchingly, his eyes reaching for you before he leans down to place a soft kiss upon your forehead.

Pulling back, Will moves to the front of the porch. Moves down the steps till he lowers himself onto one. His eyes scanning out over the field and into the dense woods as nightfall takes hold over the ridge.

 Your heart thumps in your chest. The feel of his lips still burning on your skin. The jolt of his kiss still humming through your veins. 

Nobody’s ever made you feel the way Will can. Like he knows every part of you. Can awaken even places you didn’t know existed inside yourself with a single touch. 

Why couldn’t you have remembered that that dreadful day? Why couldn’t that truth have been more powerful than Johnse’s bitter whiskey and the insatiable hunger of your grief.

 You move to sit beside Will, wishing like so many times before that you could just take it all back. 

You lower slowly onto the creaking step beside him, lifting your long skirt behind your legs as you go.

Will glances over his shoulder, looking back at the house only muffled words of exchange have escaped out of since you all were sent outside, and you’re reminded that regardless of what Will has just thrown himself in the middle of, your Uncle and Aunt hold all the cards.

 As if sensing your thoughts or maybe you were just sensing his, the way you two have done so many times before, Will turns back to you.

“I wan’ you ta know no matta’ what Ma n’ Pa decide, yer not alone in this. I’m gonna stand by you.” Will declares, his eyes piercing you, one blue, one white. The insistence on his breath almost enough to steal yours.

 “Why ‘er you doin all this for me?” You finally ask. Your eyes searching his, needing to hear the truth off his own lips. 

Not the honorable reasons, not the loyal ones. The reason he’s ready to take this on even if it means going against their family. 

The reason he’s willing to raise his brother’s child as if it were his own and make an honest woman out of you. 

You have to hear it.

 Holding your gaze, an undeniably sexy smile eclipses his face, like butter on a skillet, filling his good eye with an iridescent glow.

“Surely by now you know how I feel ‘bout you.” He answers with absolutely sincerity.

Your cheeks burn against his smile and the weight of his stare as an impossibly happy grin finds your face. 

Finally getting the answer you needed. That he’s as crazy about you as you are him.

 You wined your arm around his as you nestle in close to his side, resting your head upon his sturdy shoulder. 

Your face turns in toward his neck, soaking in the smell of musk and gun power as you gently nuzzle your nose and lips against his sensitive skin, while his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. 

In that moment, you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

And while you don’t know what’s going to happen, for the first time since this nightmare started you feel like things might actually turn out alright.

“I still ‘member that day Johnse brought you home. I’d been worried sick when you weren’ back by dark. I wen’ lookin fer ya but-“ His words die suddenly with a heavy breath as his confession sends your heart aching and your arms clutching him a little tighter.

“I saw you that morning ‘fore I left for the hills. I saw you cryin’. I shoulda gone to you ‘steada taking off shootin’. But my head wasn’ all right after the McCoy boys. But I a, I shoulda been there for you. Maybe if I had, none of this woulda happened.” Will confesses on a heavy breath, you feel the weight of his words on his slumping shoulders as your face lifts from him and you gently tug his face your way.

 “You listin’ ta me Willian Hatfield. I was the fool. I was reckless. This ain’t on you.” You tell him firmly, your eyes imploring his, trying to get him to let go of this nonsense. This burden ain’t his.

“You needed somebody.” He reminds you, the look in his eyes painfully vulnerable with the weight of that truth.

“I ain’t yer responsibility.” You say softly, trying to unshackle this blame he’s wrongly setting at his door.

Gazing deep into your eyes, Will slowly shakes his head.

“Yes, ya are, Darlin’.” He corrects you, reaching to grab your hand from his face and pull it to his lips where he gives your knuckles a gently kiss. “Yes, ya are.”

You quickly pull apart as you hear the front door finally open. Both turning back over your shoulders to take a peak. You see your aunt Levicy standing in the door way.

“Come on,” She beckons with a wave of her hand.

Not needing to be told twice, you both scurry up the steps and enter the house, but nerves start creepin back into your belly as soon as you lay eyes on your uncle Anse. Pipe between his lips, eyeing you both like an executioner about to hand down the sentence.

 Levicy goes to stand by her husband as you and Will stand side by side awaiting your fate. Removing his pipe, Anse clears his throat before he speaks. 

“You both made a real mess a’things. Disgraced yerselves an’ this family. Hell, I expected betta of both a you.” He drawls out, his voice gritty and edging with anger.

Tears spring to your eyes as your face drops. Biting your lip to hold back the tears, you nod in agreement. Still can’t believe you got yourself into this mess. 

Your only solace is your pap ain’t around to see it. No matter you and your brother were born on the wrong side of the bed. You know this news would have broken your Pa’s heart.

 You wish Will would take your hand, but you know he can’t. Neither of you can risk setting off Anse’s anger more than it already is. 

No, you gotta take this sentence on your own, because you know as good as any, sometimes in life when you make a bed as you have, you just gotta lie down in it.

After a long pause and pull from his pipe, Anse shares a look with his wife. You watch Levicy’s give a subtle nod before he starts back up again. 

“This familys got ‘nough troubles already… But what’s done is done. I’ll be sendin’ for Wall in the mornin’. Yer gonna make this legal, make it right, ‘an then I don’ wanna hear it spoken of ‘gain.”

 His words sink in as wave of relief washes over you and a breath you didn’t know you were holding comes gasping past your lips. 

In seconds, Will is pulling you to him, wrapping you in his arms as your clinging desperately to him, as he places a brief kiss upon your head. 

Breathing in the scent of gun powder and pine as your fingers dig into Will’s back, and his warm breath fans against your scalp, and the same words echo and vibrate through your head… Everythin’s gonna be alright.

Your aunt Levicy helped you into your best dress. It was long with tiny blue flowers scattered all along the fabric, the sleeves went past your elbows with white lace ruffles at the ends and buttons down the front.  

Your pap had purchased for your birthday last year and you only had one other occasion to wear it before this.

The dress lay forgivingly on you, but the tapered waist felt tighter than you last remember. 

You try to hide the shame from your face as your aunt tugs a little firmer at the fabric to button it. 

The nicest dress you own. It was a summer dress with buttons up the front and ruffling down at the bottom. 

Your aunt and cousin Nancy tied your back in a twist with a few wisps hanging down to frame your face. 

For a wedding thrown together in a day, you felt beautiful.

Levicy had gone to check on preparations for the meal after the ceremony when the sound of boots on the floorboards sends your and Nancy spinning around to see who’s coming.

 “Aunt Levicy says it’s time.” Your brother calls from the door way.  

 “I’ll go see if Mama needs a hand with anythin’.” Nancy answers with an easy nod, giving you and your brother a moment.

“Well jus’ look at ya now, don’ you look handsome.” You tell your brother, taking his hand into your own as you draw him closer to you.

 Tugging him into the light that’s streaming in through the window, where you can get a better look at him. 

Admiring his matching slacks and button up vest, his clean button down shirt underneath. 

You haven’t seen him look this nice since election day when your Pap died. Seeing him now coupled with memory of that painful day leaves a bittersweet ache in your heart.

 “Ya look beautiful.” Cotton tells you, amazement thick on his breath as his pale blue eyes light up as he looks you over.

That smile and the innocence’s that emanates off your brother’s breath has you reaching for him, pulling him into a tight hug. 

Your breath shutters against his shoulder as clutch him tight, his arms wrapping tightly around you in return. 

His joy reminds you of days past… he always did have your Pa’s smile. 

Seeing Cotton, holding onto him, you realize how badly you wish you Pap were here. 

How much you miss him, no less than the day he died, but you’re also thankful and grateful the lord see fit to let you keep Cotton. You can’t imagine your life without him.

 Pulling back from his arms, you gently comb the hair back from his forehead, tending to him like you’ve done since you were just a little girl. 

It’s moments like this he feels more like your child than your brother, as you gently cup his cheek and find his soft eyes once again.

“I’m so happy yer here.” You tell him on a rattled emotion thick breath as a tear slips free. Unable to hold back the love and loss making waves inside you. 

You’d give your right arm to have your Pa here today. You never imagined your wedding without him, but you also can’t help but count your blessings knowing you at least have Cottton.

 “Don’ be sad, sissy.” Cotton tells you, the smile falling from his face as he wipes the tear from your cheek.

“I’m not, Cotton. I promise.” You reassure him, taking his hand into yours and giving it a good squeeze. 

Looking at him now, that innocence of his that nothing and nobody can steal, he seems more childlike than a man nearly Cap’s age. 

And with everything about to change, you need him to know you would never leave him behind. No matter what turn of events your life is about to face.

 “Listen Cotton, we haven’ had time to talk much with everythin’ happenin’ so fast, but I wan’ you to know nothin’ changes between us. I’m always gonna be here. Is’ always gonna be me and you. You understand?” You tell him, needing him to know that no matter what happens you’ll always be there for him. 

You may have a baby growing inside your belly and a heart about to be promised to Will for life, but nothing changes the bond you and Cotton have. 

Nothing changes the promises you made long ago to always look after him. And you don’t want him to worry about none of that now.

 “With Cap?” Cotton corrects you, your Pa’s smile filling his face as he seems to grow excited by the idea.

A smile begins to grow on your own too and you nod in agreement. “Yes, with Cap.”

“You love ‘im.” Cotton says, his eyes holding yours, smile still from cheek to cheek. 

And it’s moments like these you swear Cotton is smarter than everybody. That he sees things our brains have made the rest of us blind to. 

Too much thinking, not enough feeling.

Your smile grows blinding wide on your face with his statement. Unable to deny the way it fills your heart like it’s ready to burst.

“I do… and I love ya too. Always.” You promise, leaning over to place a quick kiss on his pale forehead.

 “I love ya too sissy.” Cotton tell you back in the earnest way he so easily gives love. Making you admire that big heart of his all the more.

“Wanna help me downstairs?” You ask, wrapping your arm around his before he gives you a hearty nod and you both move for the door.

 You descend the stairs dressed to shine, the old wooden steps creaking beneath your feet, but there’s only one pair of eyes you hope to catch. 

Your aunt Levicy and cousin Nancy really made you feel more special than anyone could have asked for under these circumstances and with no time to prepare. 

Braiding your hair and pinning it back from your face as wisps dance around your jaw and cheeks. Your dress slims down your figure forgivingly, none would be the wiser to the real reason behind your hasty marriage. 

Despite the situation and the means you’ve found yourself here, you feel beautiful. 

A feeling that only grows as Will catches sight of you. You spot him first, lost in conversation with Jim by the fireplace as you descend the stairs, but as he turns with the sound of your steps. You watch his words die, his jaw fall slack just a little, his eyes transfixed upon you for every step as your eyes hold unbreakably steady with his in return. 

Your heart begins to race with the thought that you’re about to marry him. About to be his wife, finally his in the deepest sense of the word. A wish you had thought was all but lost before last night.

 You can’t help but notice how handsome Will looks all cleaned up, in his Sunday best. You’re not sure the last time you saw him in a button down, his hair combed to the side, clad in a pair of clean black trousers and matching buttoned up vest. 

He reminds you of your uncle Anse and uncle Wall dressed up so finely as a smile creep up on your face.

Meeting you at the base of the stairs, Will extends a hand. 

Giving your brother’s arm a gentle squeeze of thanks and a quick kiss on the cheek, you take Will’s hand as he draws you close. 

His eyes are glued on you with a look of sheer wonder you’re sure your own face must mirror. 

In that moment, as you take the sight of each other in fully, everyone else in the room disappears, but the two of you. The rest of the world practically falls away.

 Gazing up at him, you swallow hard as Will’s callused hand tenderly finds your cheek, sending tingles rippling beneath your skin with his touch.

“I do believe yer the mos’ beautiful thing I’ve eva’ seen.” Will tells you, leaning in close near the shell of your ear, his voice deep and low, his words only for you.

 Your cheeks flush with heat under the charming grin curling on his lips and wonder in his gaze as he pulls back. 

You get lost in the magnetic quality of that smile and the way you could stare at it all day - until your uncle Anse’s clears his throat, breaking the spell.

“…How we got into this damn mess to begin with.” He grumbles low on his breath to your aunt Levicy, tugging at the pipe in his mouth before marching for the front door, signaling to everyone it’s time to get on with it.

 Will quickly releases the hold he has on your face with his father’s disapproval. His smile dropping as he steps back from you, always obedient, always mindful. 

Your heart aches just a little with the exchange, wishing you could tell Anse just how honorable and obedient his son really is. That despite how things look, he’d never dishonor you or this family, but you know that isn’t possible without undoing this whole thing in the process. 

So you drop your gaze and try to appear obedient as well instead, but as the rest of the family falls in line, moving for the open door, Will surprises you and leans in close to your ear once again, taking advantage of the moment.

“Almost mine, Darlin’” He whispers, pulling back before anyone can notice, causing a rush of heat to fill your face as he offers you his arm to which you gladly slip yours through. 

Never more sure of any decision in your life than the one you’re about to make.

The air is crisp and cold on this winter day as you leave the house, trudging through the thin layer of tightly packed snow. 

Your aunt Levicy and the girls arranged an area near the back of the property, past the main house and barn. 

Out where the mountains surround you as the clouds dance and sway within the valleys in the midday light. 

Uncle Wall is waiting for you and Will as he leads you both over to the properties edge. 

Your arms intertwined as the sun peaks through the winter clouds hanging over head, bathing you both in warm rays of sunshine that feel like halos from above. 

The morning had been overcast and dreary, but now the clouds have begun to break apart, raining heavenly lights down upon you and the few family members in attendance.

 A wedding arranged this hastily only family members who lived in the Hatfield homestead or immediately nearby were in attendance. 

Anse made it clear, that as far as he was concerned the less people that knew about your transgressions the better. 

You overheard Anse grumbling to Will just this morning. Instructing him that if anyone was to inquire about the speed of your marriage that he was to say it was done to ensure you and Cotton were taken care of after your Pa’s passing. 

But the Hatfield’s weren’t a bunch of fools and even less would be confused about the sudden nuptials when your baby comes in the not too distant future. 

And as much as that thought shames you, knowing you’ll have Will by your side when talk stirs up, leaves you unafraid to face it.

 Moving across the snow-covered field, Uncle Wall pins you both on approach, his face set as his stern gaze sweeps between you. 

As a child, you knew a lecture was coming with a stare like that, but standing here on this winter day, about to become Will’s forever, not even Wall’s glare can dampen your spirits.

“Thought you two were smarter than this.” Uncle Wall admonishes with a shake of his head, only loud enough for the three of you to hear.

Your throat tightens with a guilt you’re still learning to sit with, but that feeling quickly quiets as Will pats your hand reassuringly.

 “Jus’ wanna make this right. Im gonna take good care ‘er.” Cap swears, meeting Uncle Wall’s gaze dead on, man to man as your eyes drift onto the man you’re about to marry, the man you’ve admired and wished for since you were just a girl, watching him in wonder. A truly is a good and just man.

Turning back, you watch Uncle Wall’s gaze sweep between you two for a moment before he concedes with a steady nod.

“You better, son.” He practically warns, before turning his gaze to you. 

“An’ this is what you wan’ too lil’ lady?” He asks, concern laced on this breath.

 You’d never admit it aloud, but Uncle Wall was your favorite uncle. More gentle and open than Anse, he’s been sweet to you your whole life, his baby brother’s little girl. He was always buying you books, and talking with as if your thoughts mattered just as much as any mans did.

His question sends your eyes falling back on Will, his gaze waiting for you as you stare into one pricing blue eye, one beautifully milky, your heart thumping hard in your chest with assurance.

“Is’ all I wan’.” You confess, never more sure of anything.

 “Well then, let’s git to it.” Uncle Wall agrees, opening up the thick book gripped heavy in his hands.

You and Will turn to face each other. His hands tangle with your own as your eyes can’t help but scan the snow-covered winter wonderland around you. 

Mostly blank faces meet your gaze in return and instantly you wish your Pap was there. Wish his gentle eyes were staring back at you. 

You spot Jim snickering to himself over a swig of whiskey before Anse shoots him a quick look that shuts him up quick. 

Levicy stands strong and silent, her arm wrapped around Anse as your uncle stares on, his face expressionless. 

Nancy and Robert E stand amongst the children who fidget and stir, holding a strangle knowing glint in their eyes as they meet your gaze. You can only imagine what they must think was going on when they spotted you and Will alone in the past. 

Everyone’s quiet, resigned to the state of affairs, the awful truth, except your brother. Except your sweet Cotton. 

Only Cotton sees fit to hold a smile wide on his face as your eyes meet. Your silver lining in any storm.

Then you feel it, the gentle squeeze of your hands all tangled up in Will’s big callused ones. 

Your eyes drift back to Will’s and instantly the look in his gaze sucks you in, takes you captive in the moment. 

The light of happiness in his eyes mesmerizes you, fills your heart with a joy you’ve never known. 

He hasn’t said it yet, neither have you, everything happened too fast, but in that moment, you can see it, he loves you. 

Staring into his eyes you know, no matter the circumstances that brought you here, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

 The rest of the ceremony goes off without a hitch as you stare lost in Will’s eyes. No one else matters in that moment. 

You say ‘I do’ with a pounding in your heart, and when you hear the words ring off Will’s lips they practically sound like I love you. 

When Uncle Wall finally pronounces, you husband and wife, when you stare into Will’s eyes, knowing you’re his forever as he moves toward you in earnest, his steady hand finding your cheek as his face descends slowly to yours, you feel it deep in your heart… Absolute peace.

 A family gathering and small feast ensure after your nuptials. To honor you and Will, despite circumstances surrounding your marriage. 

When your aunt Levicy asks you to round up the lil ones before they catch a death of cold rolling around in the slush and snow outside you don’t hesitate. 

She and your cousin Nancy have already done too much, fussing over a proper family meal, refusing your help as you stand about all dressed up. 

Will’s been steady by your side. The quiet touches against your hand or along your side making you crave more of him in way you’ve never felt before, but normally you’d be helping to prepare the meal and it don’t feel right watching as they slave over it and not offer a hand.

 So instead you jump at the chance to give a hand wherever you can, even if that means leaving Will’s side. 

Trudging out in the snow to gather up the little ones. The sun still shines, but it’s lowering on the horizon and the clouds have begun to thicken, blocking out the suns warming rays more than they show.

 Your boots sink into the slush as you spot Levicy’s youngest, Elliot. At barely two, the bottom of his little trousers are all soaked from the snow and slush that comes nearly halfway up his calf’s and the front of his cloths are wet too, no doubt from tumbling as he tried to chase after the older ones. 

Scooping him up, you placed the toddler on your hip as you began to call the others children inside.

 Making a mental count of them all just to make sure they were all accounted for as they moaned and protested, but scurried inside.

 Then you feel it, that prick on the back of your neck when someone is watching you. Your eyes scan about and sure enough you spot Johnse coming down the porch steps. His gaze steadies upon you, headed your way. You clutched Elliot closer to you as your eyes hold with his, unable to look away.

“You make a beautiful bride.” Johnse tells you in a way you know is him just being cordial.

You and your cousin were once so close, he was always your favorite after Will. Could make you laugh like no one else, besides Will, but after what happened between you all, you don’t know how to feel about him, don’t know how to act. 

What happened between the two of you still hurts your heart and what came of it you’ll have to live with forever. 

You don’t hate him and you don’t want to not trust him, but things ain’t like they use to be.

 Turning for the house you start up, breaking from his gaze as your eyes turn onto Elliot offering him a gentle smile. 

“Thanks Jonce.” You answer politely.

“Motherhood suits you, I do believe.” Johnse tells you, following you over to the front steps.

A nervous edge creeps up your spine with his words as if they’re laced with some hidden innuendo you’re afraid to face.

“Best git Elliot into the house ‘for he gits sick.” You offer back. Trying to feigned a casual air as you try your best to escape this time alone with Johnse. Your gut sensing whatever he has to say, it ain’t gonna be good.

 You almost make it when Johnse suddenly grabs your arm on the front steps. His grip gentle, but halting as you’re forced to turn back and meet his gaze.

“Listen, I was hopin’ we could talk-“ Johnse tells your gently, his light blue eyes reaching for you before his words died against the sound of a new voice.

“Yer gonna catch a cold out here with no coat on, Darlin’.” You hear Will’s voice coming up quick beside you as your face whips back around toward the front door. 

Spotting Will moving to the step above you, you feel a sigh of relief leave your lungs.

“I was just gittin’ the children.” You explain.

 Coming up on you, Will’s hand slips around your back, running gently up and down your spine as he sends you a warming grin that always makes you feel safe before his gaze drifts up to his brother.

“I was jus’ goin’ to gather up some more fire wood from the pile. Hows about you gimme’ a hand, Jonce?” Will implores more than he asks as his hand leaves your back and he moves toward his brother.

You catch Johnse’s gaze fleetingly as Will grabs at his brother arm, turning him back the other way and practically pulling him down the steps.

 A tightening fills your heart as you watch them go. Knowing with every beat of your heart, somethings not right and they ain’t going to no wood pile. 

You had tried to make quick work of getting all the kids inside. Tried to get back out to Will and Johnse as fast as you could. 

The sick feeling in your heart sure something wasn’t right between them, but then Aunt Levicy needed you to pull a pies from the oven while she mashed up the potatoes and after everything she had already done, you couldn’t deny her such a simple request. 

But once the pies were lined up on the window sill cooling, you were racing back outside to find them.

When you can’t find Will and Johnse near the wood pile, your heart starts to race, worry begins to twist tighter in your gut. 

Confirming every fear you had when he and Johnse first took off… This was never about gathering wood. 

Clutching your shawl tighter around your shoulders as the cold creeps in beneath the fabric of your dress. 

Your eyes scan about your surroundings as your body moves in a steady circle to get a good look about, the skirt of your dress twirling with the motion.

 The font yard is clear as supper is almost ready. The open snow covered grass surrounds the house, surrounding you. Just beyond that lies the forest. Full of dense foliage, trees taller than five men stacked. 

Normally their luscious green hues would stare callingly back at you, but it’s winter, only barren branches and brown dead leaves meet your gaze.

 You’re heart starts to deepen with worry when suddenly you hear it. Muffled, but not too far away as you follow the sound like bread crumbs left to lead the way. 

You hear Will’s voice, you’d know it anywhere, as you move steadily along the side of the old wooden barn, hear the grit thick on his breath. It tells you he’s displeased far stronger than any choice of words ever could. 

You tug your shawl a little tighter around you as the setting sun begins to draw in the cold mountain air or maybe’s it’s just the apprehension finding its way into your heart… You’re not sure which.

 “Coulda had all the girls in Wes’ Virginia and Kentucky alike fer all I care, ‘nyone but her. You knew what she meant ta me, but you didn’ thinka that did ya?”

“I never meant neither of yous no harm, Cap. I tell you true, but if she’s carryin’ my baby-“

Will and Johnse’s words send a quick shiver down your spine. Send your mind racing with thoughts of what Johnse’s got cooking up, but you never get to hear what his intentions are, before a loud bang sounds. 

Nearly startling you as the wooden walls of the barn start to rattle from the force of it, and you know Will has lost his temper.

 Grabbing the skirt of your dress, you trudge quickly through the layers of mud and snow. 

Rounding the back of the barn as quickly as you can, and when you do, your intuitions prove you right. 

You find Will’s got Johnse pinned up against the barn by the collar of his shirt. 

Your new husband’s chest is heaving, his nicely combed hair now fallen wildly in his face as he stares his big brother down with a raw intensity that leaves even you feeling rattled.

“This is my family, you understand Jonce? ‘n you’d best not to get any ideas otherwise.” Will seethes in his face.

You move quickly toward them, your own fears momentarily forgotten as the situation suddenly escalates. 

Hoping to stop all this nonsense before someone else catches wind of it. 

The back of the barn has you all covered for the time being, but with the way this situation is rapidly unfolding, it’s likely someone will come to intervene if Johnse and Will start to brawl. And then everyone will know the awful truth. 

The terrible truth you thought you had managed to bury when you wed Will today, but you’re beginning to see this secret is too big to completely disappear forever.

 “Will,” You call as you come up on them, but your voice only gets drowned out by Johnse.

“But if she’s havin my-“ Johnse tries once again to reason with his brother like the well-meaning fool he is, missing the importance of this to Will completely.

“Nah, you listen Jonce, you took somethin’ that wasn’ yours ta take and then you ran off like a coward when it came time to own up to it, jus’ like you always do. I stood by her. I faced Pa. The baby she’s carryin’ is mine. You best to forget anything else.” Will carries on. His fists clenched so tightly around Johnse’s collar his knuckles are turning white. 

He hasn’t even glanced your way. In all his anger, you doubt he even knows your there or realizes it’s you.

 “Will,” You try again, your voice low from shock as the truth of Johnse’s realization sets in. 

You had known in your heart he knew the baby was his. Despite what Will told his Pa. 

How could he not? But after Johnse said nothing when Uncle Anse pressed you, you’d had somehow thought he had accepted the possibility the baby could be Will’s. 

But thinking on that now you realize how silly the notion was. Why would he believe you had been with them both? He knows you better than that.

You try to catch Will’s eye, but he’s too deep in it now to notice you anyway. Breathing hard, intense gaze piercing on Johnse like the rest of world has fallen away as he drives his point home.

 “Yer my brother Jonce, but if you try ‘n interfere with my family. You will answer for that.” Will threatens, his breath heavy, his eyes drilling into Johnse so fiercely it surprises you. 

You’ve never seen him look at his brother this way before. Johnse’s older, thicker, and harder, but Will is taller, more lanky, and has an intensity inside him any man should fear. 

The kind you know could turn on Johnse if he pushed Will too far. It’s not something you dwell on often, but you’ve noticed a change in Will. 

Since he took part in avenging your Pa’s death, since skunk hair was savagely murdered, since all this nonsense with the McCoy’s sent men into these hills hunting you family down for a bounty. 

Will’s harder now, more on edge, more quick tempered, and Johnse has certainly stirred up the worst in him just now.

 “Cap!” You finally shout, finding your voice. You’ve never called him that. 

Not in all your years together, but nothing else was breaking through the heat of his gaze and you knew in your gut this whole mess was only gonna turn more sour.

His face whips over to you almost instantly, his pupil going wide as he takes the sight of you in as if he’s just now realizing you’re there.

 “What’s goin’ on?” You ask, concern laced on your breath, your eyes searching his, before briefly falling on Johnse and then back onto Will. 

You can’t say you’re entirely surprised by this turn of events. Can’t say your surprised Johnse’s wants to own up now after leaving you when you needed someone most. 

You also knew how upset Will was with his brother over what happened and then for leaving you to face it on your own. 

You’d seen that fire in his eyes when Johnse had tried to talk you earlier, but it’s your wedding day, as last minute as it was, didn’t seem like the best time to air these grievances.

 Turning back to Johnse, Will instantly let his brother go, smoothing out the collar of his shirt.

“We was just having a word, is all. Right Jonce?” Will said, his voice edging with the answer he expected his brother to give, but you can also tell he’s trying to cover. You can tell he senses your fears and is trying his best to ease them.

“That’s right,” Johnse agreed, tugging down his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. His gaze heavy upon you.

Your eyes pass between them both, not fooled in the least. You heard what they said, saw them with your own two eyes, but as long as it was done, you’re willing to just let it be.

Will steps closer to you as Johnse pushes off the barn wall, becoming practically a barrier between you two, but as Johnse moves to leave, Will leans in with a parting word.

 “Stay away from her. I don’ wan’ you upsettin’ her. Yeah hear?” Will warns low on his breath, leaning in close, blocking his brother’s retreat.

Will’s words surprise you, the warning on his breath, but then you watch Johnse meet his gaze dead on.

“Don’ look like I’m the one upsettin’ her.” He cuts back as if Will is making a whole lot out of nothing, before pushing past his little brtoher and moving toward the house.

 You hear a huff leave your husband, watch his shoulder grow tight.

“Will…” You say gently, reaching out to place hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently at the tension you see building between his muscles.

“I didn’ wan’ you to see all that.” Will admits on a heavy breath before he turns around slowly to face you.

“He knows? He gonna tell ‘nyone?” You ask with apprehension, biting on your lower lip at the thought. 

Holding back the heaviness that wants to build on your heart with this news as your gaze wanders over your shoulder to the direction Johnse’s left in.

This day didn’t go at all like you planned. Yer Pa wasn’t there, most of your kin wasn’t either, but you still got the result you always wanted, the one you always prayed for, to be Mrs. William Hatfield and the thought Johnse could stir up something that could hurt that, broke your heart.

You feel Will’s big callused hands surround your face as he draws it back to him. You find his eyes waiting for you before he speaks.

“My brother’s a fool, but he ain’t that dumb. Don’ matter though, we’re married now. Nothin’ he can do. I’m not gonna let him or anyone’ come between us. Yeah hear?” Will swear it, in that deep breath gritty way that always has you believing him, but still you’re scared. 

Scared Johnse will stir up trouble. Scared others will look down on yeah all if the truth came out. Sacred Will might change his mind after the baby comes. Scared this bubble will burst. Scared.

 But Will seems to sense that, the way he knows you so well, as you feel this thumb gently stroke over your cheek as his forehead drops down to yours.

“Yer my wife. There’s nothin’ I wouldn’ do to keep you safe and happy, Darlin’. You ain’t gotta worry about Jonce or ‘nyone else.”

“But the baby?” You ask, fear edging in your voice. Your nervous, nervous over what all this means.

“Our baby,” Will corrects you, his choice of words making your eyes water as your arms reach out and wrap around him.

“Our baby?” You ask on a shuttered breath, making sure he really means it.

“We’re a family now, Darlin’.” He tells you, smile spreading wide on his face. 

The smile that always leaves you weak in the knees, that makes your heart flutter and belly flip. 

Hearing all your need to, you pull Will into a passionate kiss. Knowing he’s finally yours, all yours, to have and to hold as you please.

[someonesingingalong]

let it go

let the ashes fall, forget about me

-

It’s complete chaos at first. Sudden gasps followed by hushed murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Some players lunge forward shouting urgent requests. Trainers and medical staff spill onto the field before there’s even a sound of a whistle, not that such a sound could be heard amidst the shuffling of feet and emphatic conversations.

A solid ten minutes pass and it’s hard to believe that the stadium everyone currently occupied was the very same one just moments ago. It’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. The crowd falls silent, but their expressions speak volumes. Players are huddled in various places on the field. Trainers and medical staff have doubled, equipment included.

Kelley doesn’t care if she’s in the way. She’s appalled by the subtle noise level in the stadium because to her, it’s so freaking loud. All she can hear is Hope and the piercing cry that she let out as she grasped her shoulder and fell to the ground. That noise continues to vibrate every fiber of Kelley’s being. She didn’t even know it were possible for someone to make such a noise, full of immense pain, and she knows she never wants to hear it again.

She feels a pair of hands on her shoulders, but she doesn’t budge. She can’t move, not now. She watches until she begins to feel sick, and finally gives in to being lifted from her knees and gently guided away. As Alex carefully lead her away, Kelley can’t help but notice Carli and Becky walk by, taking her place from before. They finally come to a stop and Alex hands her a water bottle. She takes one sip before pouring the rest down her neck, shocking her back to focus and washing away the trauma. No one’s really into the game after that.

-

Kelley’s the first to sprint off the field at the final whistle. When she runs through their locker room and reaches the training center, she instantly recognizes the signs telling her that things aren’t quite right.

The first sign is no sign at all. Hope’s nowhere to be found. Normally, she’s on her feet, holding an ice pack against her shoulder and telling the trainers that it’s really not a big deal. She’s usually convincing them that she’ll be brand new in no time and that it was a mistake to have taken her out of the game. She’s well spoken and forward, clearly pushing limits- partly because she thinks it’s fun and partly because she’s so damn good at it.

But not this time. Kelley stands in an empty room until she hears voices coming from a private medical bay just down the hall. She impatiently waits to the side, tuning in to caretakers whispering remarks and observations beyond her scope. She notices their entire medical team disperse and exit the bay- thankfully, because she wasn’t going to wait another second before going in. But just before she takes another step, she pauses. What she sees in front of her brings her to an immediate halt. Hope lays still on the examining table and despite her presence, Kelley’s never seen her look so small.

The second sign is visible in the tears that brim Hope’s eyes, eclipsing their usual shine. It’s indicative of a storm brewing against a bright blue sky. Only once has Kelley ever seen Hope cry, and even then, she pretends it never happened.

The third sign follows shortly. It’s in the way Hope hesitates as she opens her mouth, like she’s paralyzed by fear itself. She swallows bravely, but the beginning of her sentence falters from the heavy emotion plaguing each other.

“I…I can’t…”

Kelley inches impossibly closer., but she holds back because she’s not sure how to react. They’ve never been a situation like this before, so helpless. She eventually settles for moving a couple stray stands of Hope’s hair to the side, an act of care and comfort at its best. She stares, yet Hope fails to make contact with her. She’s too busy concentrating on staring up at the ceiling, and Kelley knows it’s to prevent any more tears from escaping. It’s Hopes way of hiding her pain and at first, Kelley wishes that Hope would just let go in front of her- succumb to the pain because she has every right to- but as soon as she does, Kelley’s not sure if she can endure it any longer. Hope’s body shakes from the tears and her voice trembles as she so bravely admits the truth.

“I-I can’t f-feel m-my arm.”

Time stops.

Kelley’s lightheaded. Thoughts bounce freely from what if to what if.  Opportunities are shot down. Possibilities build them back up. Staff bark orders over phones. Footsteps of teammates create a stampede in the hallways. Sirens are closer and louder.

The future changes each second.

Time picks up where it left off.

-

“I can’t feel my arm.”

Hope repeats again and again, with each time becoming more concrete than before. It only makes things more real- so real that Kelley’s done staring at the hauntingly still limb hanging loosely at Hope’s side and decides to grasp her other arm, the one fortunate enough not to be plagued by years of aches and multiple surgeries. Kelley intertwines their fingers because it’s the easiest and only puzzle she knows how to solve in that moment.

Hope feels her. She grips so hard that her knuckles turn white. She feels Kelley and she holds on tight. She holds on to support, security and every little bit of normal she might have left.

-

“Hope? Where is she?! Hope!”

His voice booms over everyone.

“Where is my wife? Where is she? Hope?!”

Kelley knows it’s him. She recognizes his voice instantly; it’s not one she easily forgets. She immediately lets go of Hope’s hand, severing their connection. She falls back into the lone chair in the corner of the room, lowering her head. She can’t bear to watch, even if Hope needs her more than ever in this moment. It’s the first time in their secret affair that she’s selfish.

Everything in front of her swirls into a blur. Kelley does everything in her power to tune it all out, but his voice carries. It’s full of worry and concern, as it should be. She’s suffocated by his presence until it comes time for her to leave. Family members only. Kelley lifts her head, her own tears teasing to steal the show. She meets Hope, whose head is turned to her.

Her eyes offer a glazed compassion before she’s wheeled away.

-

The chaos begins to dissipate and settle. Everyone seems to mind their own business, falling into their post match routine. Kelley returns to the locker room, showers, and packs her belongings. They all pile onto the bus and return to their hotel, only for Kelley to settle in the discomfort of the lobby. She plants herself on one of the couches with her phone in her lap. She looks at it restlessly, willing it to light up with some news. She doesn’t even know why she does. There won’t be an update, at least not for her.

“Hey.”

Kelley’s startled out of her obsession over her small device and looks up. Her friend greets her gently.

“Some of us have plans to go out later tonight. Want to come with?” Alex informs her.  Kelley shakes her head and Alex presses again, “You sure? We’re just going to grab some food.”

“Not hungry.” Kelley murmurs.

Alex sighs and sits down next to her friend. She places a hand on her shoulder and says, “I know you’re worried. We all are.” She pauses in hopes that Kelley might speak, but receives silence in return. She continues, “I spoke to the trainers. They don’t believe it’s permanent and mentioned something about the pinching of nerves. I know you want to wait for news, but perhaps going out tonight will take your mind off things and-”

“I said I’m not interested!” Kelley cuts her off, abruptly distances herself from Alex’s comforting hand. It’s clear she’s not in the mood to talk.

“But Kelley…” Alex says her name with good intention, trying her best to show her support. She almost opens her mouth again, but when Kelley finally turns and looks her straight in the eye, Alex can’t find her words. She notices Kelley’s features etched with frailty and weakness, and she backs down. Kelley’s pleading with her in a clarity she’s never seen before. Don’t you understand? Don’t you see?

Alex nods and leaves, but only momentarily as she finds her way back. Kelley’s about to object, but Alex beats her with a stern voice. “We’re going for a walk.”

Kelley trudges behind her, but not without making sure her phone is secured in her pocket. She gives in because she doesn’t feel like fighting with such a small amount of energy, but as soon as the evening air hits her face, she gains an ounce of strength. She keeps up with Alex as they walk side by side, aimlessly. Alex understands that she doesn’t want to talk, but more than anything she wants Kelley to know that she’s there if she needed her. They aren’t more than two blocks from the hotel when Kelley stops dead in her tracks. She can’t bear it any longer. She hates not knowing. She hates feeling restricted. She hates being without her.

“If I go, I won’t be allowed to see her.” Kelley finally opens up, “But if I don’t go, I’m going to lose it.”

“I’m sure you could find a way to be let in and visit her.” Alex tries to reassure her, “If she’s still in the hospital by the end of the week, the whole team plans on going as well.”

“But I need to see her now.” Kelley crosses her arms, tucking herself away from all the uncertainty and anxiety. “When she needs it the most. I have to see her and tell her that it’s going to be alright. I can feel how scared and helpless and small she is. I can just feel her, Alex.”

Alex watches her friend crumble before her, barely managing to get any other words out. There’s a fierceness to Kelley’s tone that makes her realize that this is so much more than the injury itself. A lot of people had their suspicions, but Alex would bet her entire life savings on the two of them. Hope meant a lot to Kelley, and whether she knew it or not, it was destroying the younger woman nevertheless.

Alex doesn’t know what else to do but to bring her friend in for a tight embrace. Kelley breaks, her words muffled, “Alex, I’m not allowed.” She speaks louder with devastation, revealing the cruel reality she lived in. “I’m not allowed to be with her.”

Not another minute go by before Alex calls a ride and they’re on the way to the hospital. She leads Kelley to the waiting room for a forced kind of closure, but it’s as far as they can go. It’s the one thing he couldn’t deprive Kelley of, just being there in support. Kelley feels guilty for making this suddenly about her, but this thing between them can’t be contained. It never could be. When you love someone, you can’t help but wish to take all their pain away. You’d do anything for them- and Kelley’s not allowed to do that, to be what she wants to be, for Hope right now. It frustrates her to no end that she’s so deprived, that she can’t do the one thing that every human being on this earth is entitled to: love.

[hegemoneapple]

Basilisk Eyes: Chapter 3: Getting sorted out

Crossposted: Basilisk Eyes by Hegemone | Completed: Chapter 3 out of 157 | T | AO3 | FFN | WATT | HPFF

Summary: As Harry Potter slays the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, blood and venom get in his eyes, mostly blinding him. While Harry learns to adapt, he makes some new friends. But this is more than a story of adaptation and friendship as there are threats... and Harry isn't the only one with a past that haunts him.

oO0OooO0OooO0OooO0Oo

Harry stood for a moment on the spot, not really sure where he was in the room. He felt a bit nauseous from the unexpected jump through space in the corridor outside Professor McGonagall’s office to the hospital wing. He let the familiar odors of the hospital wing wash over him and listened. Madam Pomfrey must have given Ginny a pepper up potion—the smell permeated. He could hear people talking quietly at the end of the wing, near Madam Pomfrey’s office. 

He squinted trying to make out the shadows, but couldn't see anything except a low, hazy light that must be the fireplace—he could smell it, too, and hear it pop occasionally. It was indistinct—the essence of light without any shape or form. 

He thought about how the wing was laid out with rows of beds and a long corridor down the center and reached out trying to find the nearest bed. His hand passed through empty air, so he took a few steps. His foot without the sock felt funny—his trainers were slippery with who knows what… mucky snake pond water, Basilisk blood, his own sweat.

He took another pass with his hand and softly hit a metal bar with his fingers. He grasped it. It was the cool metal tube that made the foot of a bed. He ran his hand over it, feeling the hooks where a chart would hang if someone were in the bed being treated.

His stomach gurgled as he walked in the open space between the beds; he was feeling a little lightheaded; he was so hungry. He reached, guessing where the next bed would be and found it.

At the next bed, his foot collided with the metal foot of the bed and made a ringing sound. The murmured conversations at the end of the wing stopped suddenly. Harry imagined people looking at him and flushed.

“Harry!” Ron’s voice rang out and his feet slapped on the stone floor as he grew nearer. 

“Hermione’s about to get the potion!” Ron exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him away from the row of beds that he was making his way along. 

Harry stumbled after Ron, trying to get his footing.

“Oi! Ron! Wait!” Harry said. “Let me hold onto you. I don’t like being pulled.” 

He put his hand on Ron’s shoulder as he had with Ginny earlier, and walked a little behind Ron. Ron seemed to tense and his gait was unnatural as if he wasn’t sure what to do. Harry blushed, imagining how silly they must look walking down the corridor like this. Everyone was still pretty hushed and he felt as though all eyes were on him.

Swishing skirts or robes (Harry wasn’t sure which) and footsteps approached along with a familiar scent that put Harry in mind of a warm and bustling kitchen. 

Mrs. Weasley started wailing as she pulled Harry into another fierce embrace, “Oh, Harry! Ginny told me that something happened to your eyes down in the Chamber! Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey. I don’t know why Professor Dumbledore kept you so long. And why are you here on your own? Surely he didn’t leave you to find your way here by yourself… not able to see… and who knows what wandering the corridors at this time of night!” Molly effused as she pulled him alongside her, arm around his shoulders. 

“It’s okay, Mrs. Weasley. Dobby brought me here,” he said. 

Harry could hear someone moving around clinking glass jars and imagined that Madam Pomfrey was mixing potions at her potions station nearby. He wondered why he couldn’t see people’s distinct shapes anymore, like the dark shadowy form of Riddle that he had seen in the dungeons. He wondered if his vision was getting worse. 

“Poppy!” Mrs. Weasley called. 

The clinking of glass bottles stopped and the clipped footsteps of Madam Pomfrey approached. “Can you take a look at Harry’s eyes? Ginny said that he got venom in them.”

“Oh, yes!” Poppy exclaimed. 

She gently guided Harry to a nearby bed and asked him to lie down. 

“Lumos,” she said as a bright light exploded into the space in front of Harry’s face. 

Again he yelped in surprise and pain as he shut his eyes tightly against the piercing light. 

His head throbbed.

“Hmmm,” Poppy murmured and a soft “nox” eclipsed the light that shone through his closed eyelids.

“What?” Harry asked, daring to open his eyes again.

“Nothing dear,” she hushed. “I’m just going to run some diagnostics.” 

He felt the air moving around his head.

After a moment of this, punctuated by grim mutterings from Madam Pomfrey that made Harry’s stomach clench in dread, she asked, “Ginny said that Fawkes used his tears on you. Did he cry in your eyes, too?”

“Yes, Madam Pomfrey, down in the Chamber. Dumbledore said they had healing properties and Fawkes had cried on the wound I got from the Basilisk fang in my arm and it went away completely. See?” 

He lifted up his arm, pulling back his robes to show her where the wound had been. He ran his fingers over his forearm, not able to discern any difference in the skin.

“But it was later. I didn’t think of it right away… about asking Fawkes to use the tears on my eyes… that is.”

“Oh, well,” murmured Madam Pomfrey, absentmindedly. “You were lucky to have Fawkes nearby. It doesn’t take long to die from Basilisk venom. I can’t believe that a monstrosity like that has been lurking in the dungeons of this castle for so long.” 

The venom in her voice made Harry want to shrink away from her.

“Alright, I’m going to get you cleaned up,” Madam Pomfrey said.

Suddenly things began to move around Harry and he hoped that one of the sounds he heard was of curtains being placed around his bed because his clothes had been whisked off, his body scrubbed, and he was suddenly dressed in clean hospital robes. He heard his wand and broken glasses clatter on the top of the small table by his bed. 

It wasn’t as restorative as taking a hot bath, but it did feel good to be in clean clothes. He wiggled his toes and relaxed into the bed, his limbs so weighty that they seemed submerged in the soft mattress. His eyelids were heavy and he fought against the sleep that was overpowering him.

“Is Ginny okay?” he asked Madam Pomfrey who was still close by, he could hear the scratching of her quill on parchment near the foot of his bed.

“Yes, dear. She’s fine. Just resting now after her pepper up potion.”

“And Hermione? Is she okay?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes. I was just about to give Hermione her Mandrake potion when you showed up. The others are doing well.”

“So… ” Harry asked—he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. “What about my eyes?”

“Oh, well. I’m… I’m still looking into it,” Madam Pomfrey said. “You rest while I consult with the healers at St. Mungo’s. We might need to send you there.”

“Oh,” said Harry, his apprehension mounting. He had been so confident that Madam Pomfrey would restore his eyesight with a flick of her wand. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. In fact, he felt like he might be sick. He moved to his side and felt around the sides of the beds to see if there was a basin that he could use, just in case. He found one sitting on the table by the bed and felt reassured. He lay back on the pillow trying to calm his stomach.

He could hear the others talking in low voices nearby. Madam Pomfrey had walked away from his bed and he heard the glass vials being moved around again.

Footsteps approached his bed, Ron’s heavy slapping feet. Harry felt a smile play at his lips. He heard Ron fumbling with curtains and was relieved to learn that he hadn’t been exposed to everyone in the room when Madam Pomfrey cleaned him up.

“How are you, mate?” Ron asked.

“I’m fine.” 

“Right.”

“Well, I’m alive and I’m not petrified, so that’s a good thing. I know who I am. I wasn’t eaten by a monstrous snake or Avada Kedavra’d by Riddle.”

“Okay, but why didn’t Madam Pomfrey fix your eyes?”

“What—you can tell?” asked Harry.

“Yeah. Your eyes don’t look right. They are bloodshot and puffy and kind of darting around, not fixing on anything.”

“Oh.”

“Oi! I think she’s going to wake up Hermione now. Be right back.”

“Okay, I’m not going anywhere,” Harry sighed and laid back to stare at the ceiling. Except he couldn’t even see that. 

It sounded like the people in the room had gathered around another bed, a few beds down from his on the other side of the corridor. He was trying to figure out who was in the hospital wing. He knew that Ginny was in a bed just two or three down from him and he could hear Mr. Weasley speaking softly to her. He wondered if other people were here to see the other victims of the Basilisk… Colin, Justin, Penelope, and Nearly Headless Nick. Was it just Hermione left? Had the others gone?

He wondered if anyone had notified Hermione’s parents. Did they even know she had been petrified? He wished he had asked Ron to stay with him and describe what was going on. As much as he wanted to just go to sleep, he was also desperate to know that Hermione was going to be okay. He got out of bed, grimacing when his feet came in contact with the cold, stone floor and felt around on the table by his bed until he located his wand that had rolled next to the basin.

He wished he knew a spell that would help guide him through the obstacles in the room without stubbing his toes.

“Posuit soccis,” he muttered pointing his wand at his feet and was relieved when his slippers magically encased them. He smiled gratefully for that one, remembering when Neville had taught it to him first year. Castle floors were too cold to manage without slippers.

He moved to the end of the bed, fussed with the curtains until he found the opening, and then moved down the aisle from bed to bed toward the voices.

“Is Hermione waking up?” he asked, hoping that Ron would hear him.

“She’s just starting to depetrify,” said a girl’s voice that he didn’t recognize.

“Oh,” said Harry, wanting to move in closer, but not really sure where closer was. 

He could feel and hear people jostling around, but he imagined that they were all looking at Hermione and didn’t see him. He stood awkwardly outside the group trying to glean what was going on by the conversation.

“Is Ron nearby?” Harry asked the girl. He waited, but she didn’t answer so he figured she hadn’t heard him. He asked again, a little louder.

“He’s right in front of you,” her voice laced with irritation and incredulity.

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said blushing, realizing that she must have gestured before.  

“Hey, Ron?” Harry reached forward, his hand coming into contact with someone’s back. He hoped it was Ron.  

“Oi, Harry! What are you doing out of bed?” Ron asked, grabbing Harry and pulling him forward. Harry stumbled and caught himself on the bed that everyone was clustered around.

“I wanted to see Hermione. Is she okay?” he asked.

“She’s just starting to come back.” 

Ron’s voice was thick with emotion and his hand squeezed Harry’s upper arm. Harry felt around gingerly on the bed in front of him, trying to figure out where he was. He found Hermione’s hand, still cold and hard where it had lain before with the page about the Basilisk scrunched into her fist. He held onto her hand and marveled as it gradually warmed beneath his.

“Hermione?” 

Her hand twitched almost imperceptibly.

“Harry? Ron?” 

Her voice was weak.

“We’re here, Hermione!” they said, trying to crowd closer to her bed.

“Did you find the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Yes, Ginny’s okay.”

“What?”

“The Basilisk is dead.”

“Oh, thank goodness… Are you okay?” Hermione shifted in her bed. “Harry, what’s wrong with your eyes?” 

“Oh, I got some venom in them. Madam Pomfrey’s working on it. I’ll be okay,” he said, realizing that he wasn’t really looking in her direction, and pointed his nose toward her voice. He squeezed her hand which was now warm and soft again. 

“How are you going to study for your exams if you can’t see, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed.

“No idea,” he said smiling a bit at her response. He was more worried about other things. But for now, he was really relieved that Hermione was okay.

“Hey, Ron. Can you take me over to see Ginny?” Harry said as he found Ron’s arm and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Sure.”

They moved through the crowd of people who were filling Hermione in on all the events that had taken place while she was petrified.

“Hi, Harry,” Ginny said, her voice floating softly up from the bed where she was reclining.

“Hi, Ginny,” Harry said as he found the edge of the bed and sat next to her. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped.

He was afraid that he’d set her off again. He felt around for her hand and found it, squeezing it gently.

“Hey, we’re going to be okay, you know?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “What did Madam Pomfrey say about your eyes? Why hasn’t she fixed them yet?”

“She’s got to talk to healers at St. Mungo's,” he said, trying to put a brave face on.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Ginny, you know this isn’t your fault, right?”

“Yeah. Dad’s been talking to me. He was so mad at first, but he’s just sad now. And he’s been telling me about all the people who You-Know-Who possessed and made do things that they didn’t want to do… and I guess, I’m just one of those people now.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Harry said. 

Turning to Ron who was fidgeting by the bed, he said, “Ron, do you mind leading me to my bed. I’m so tired.”

“Your hospital bed or your bed in Gryffindor tower?”

“Good question. I think Madam Pomfrey wants me to stay here tonight. Keep an eye on me, and everything. Maybe she’ll put a silencing charm over my bed so I can sleep.” 

Harry and Ron walked over to his bed and Harry climbed in.

He decided to try out the charm—he had heard her cast it enough, “Silentium”

All the bustling sounds of everyone in the room were suddenly cut off and Harry realized that it was too much for him to handle. He didn’t like not being able to hear nor see anyone and quickly he muttered, ‘Finite’ and the sounds flooded back. He was relieved. He realized that he was tired enough to fall asleep despite all the noise and conversations. 

Maybe they’d all head to the feast soon, anyway, he thought as he nestled into the soft pillows and let sleep take him.

[dialux]

you will not rob me of my birthright

[a tribute to dornish women; sainted, besmirched, or misunderstood]

Part 3 of the series gentle mother, strength of women

i. Elia Martell

Doran went still in a temper; cold, steady as the mountain passes in the moments before lightning struck. Oberyn raged, louder than any storm.

Elia smiled, thin and small, and struck.

The sun wasn’t shining when Elia was born.

This, the people claimed, years later, was a symbol; a sign from the gods: Elia Martell’s life was never anything but a tragedy, never anything but a thing to whisper on dark nights, fearful nights, of what happened to those princesses who were unlucky.

Wait. Step back.

Look again.

Elia came into the world on the day of an eclipse, skin dark as a roasted chestnut, squalling, bloody. She was a month early, and always impatient for it. She was the first daughter of a woman who ruled Dorne, and Elia had that right, that crown, hewn down deep in her bone and muscle.

It wasn’t bad luck that killed her- though it was, slightly, partially; but Elia believed in only three things in her life, and luck wasn’t one of them.

…

She was quiet, and knew how to use it. Silence isn’t meekness, not in a girl raised with a crown in her palms and two brothers to love beside her.

Or, at the least: not in this girl.

…

Elia loved Oberyn, loved him to delirium. When she remembered her brother, she remembered sticky summer days in the Water Gardens; the taste of oranges heavy on her tongue; the same sort of shocked, sharp pain that came when she cut her tongue on a blade.

(To be perfectly fair, that particular incident was a result of Oberyn daring Elia.)

Most of Elia’s foolishness could be ascribed to Oberyn, in fact, or that was how everyone remembered it; people tended to forget, because Elia coughed easy, because Elia had large eyes and thick hair and a way of tipping her head to the side, all innocence-incarnate- people tended to forget that Elia had mischief thrumming through her veins, and only half of it was because Oberyn prodded her into it.

…

Ashara Dayne was- interesting.

Large purple eyes, with the height that Daynes were known for; Ashara was vivacious, brilliant, unapologetically bold. Elia was at once simultaneously envious and awed.

She came to the Water Gardens when Elia was fifteen, old enough that she did most of the governing around the palace herself. Sums came easy to her, and so did the kind of voice that made grown men bend their heads. If nothing else, Elia simply held a kerchief to her face and let her shoulders shake; Oberyn always stepped in, then, to handle it.

But Ashara didn’t flinch when Elia got flustered and brandished the square of silk as if it were a shield. She only grinned, sharp and bloody, and leaned forwards.

“You’re not half so delicate as you want yourself to be,” she said, eyes glowing like lanterns, like lightning. “The day you accept that, Princess, is the day the world’ll shake open.”

…

They kissed, a month later, under the large palm trees. The sun was hot enough to leave Ashara’s pale skin peeling, pink and angry; Elia breathed in, breathed out, swallowed Ashara’s gasps with her mouth and twisted to get deeper.

When they separated, Ashara’s mouth was red, kiss-swollen. Her eyes were over-large in her narrow, pale face.

“I told you so,” she panted, and Elia felt her lips twitch into a smile.

“Told me what?”

“The world’s going to shake if you keep doing that,” Ashara said, and stepped closer, wound a finger in one of Elia’s curls. “You ought to show off this part of yourself more.”

Elia let her smile widen, teeth sharp against her tongue, against her lips. “I like to keep some parts of myself private.”

“Continue to kiss me and you can do anything you want,” said Ashara, and they didn’t talk after that.

…

The marriage to the Westerlands- to Jaime Lannister- hadn’t been something that her mother had expected, entirely; after Joanna’s death, Tywin Lannister had been acting more and more unpredictable.

But, still- marrying Elia off to a second son of a man so proud as Tywin Lannister? Marrying her to a babe just born?

She was a princess in her own right, and so would her children be. Arianne didn’t so much as wait for sundown before telling Elia and Oberyn that they would leave. On the ship, Oberyn raged; Elia only sighed, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad enough to stay home,” she told him.

“They insulted you.”

“Yes,” said Elia. “They were rather foolish about that, weren’t they? But an insult is only one that stings when I take it as one. And I’d much sooner be in the Water Gardens with you and Doran and Mother than anywhere else.” Her smile was small, thin, bladed.

Oberyn bent over her hands, pressed his forehead to the curve where her wrist flared out to meet her thumb. “They don’t see you,” he whispered.

Neither do you, thought Elia, but she only pulled her hands away from him gently.

“I will not spend any time mourning that people whom I don’t care about cannot see me,” she declared, firmly. “I do not believe in any of the Lannisters, Oberyn, and I could not care less for them. Let us spend our time on better people, and better times.”

…

Elia arrived at the Water Gardens a few days after their ship arrived in Dorne.

Ashara kissed her almost as soon as they were in her rooms, crowding her against the wall, hotly, long enough that Elia felt like she was drowning. She pulled away, a little, and Elia doubled over in great, racking breaths.

Slowly, the world returned to her- Ashara was bent over her, white-faced and worried.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Elia waved it away impatiently. “You didn’t. Just- next time that I push you, take a step back, alright?”

Ashara bit her lip. “Elia,” she said.

It was hesitant. There was something like pity in Ashara’s lovely eyes, and Elia felt something hot and heady unfurl down her spine in response. She wasn’t the loud one, however, so she only tossed her hair back, clasped her hands together, and said, magnificently scornful: “If you’re going to pity me, you can go back to Starfall right now.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!” Ashara snapped.

“You won’t,” Elia bit out. “You said it yourself: the world will shake. Did you mean that, or did you just want to get your hands all over a Martell Princess?”

“You are strong,” said Ashara, eyes rolling. “You rule over the Water Gardens all by yourself, and you don’t let anyone hurt you, and you’re as unbending and prideful as your brother on his worst day! That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what was it?”

“That maybe I shouldn’t-”

“I will tell you what I can or cannot do with my body,” said Elia. “We will learn. We will find ways to do what we wish to do. But the only reason we will stop is if you decide that you pity me.”

Slowly, Ashara tipped her head forwards; and then she said, smiling, “Fine, then. I’ll swear to that, Princess: I’ll never pity you. Not even on my deathbed.”

…

Was that a prophecy?

Well- Elia believed in only three things in her life, and prophecy wasn’t one of them.

…

“This cannot continue,” Doran told her.

Elia blinked. “What cannot continue?”

“Your- affair.” Her elder brother, her lovely, protective, distant brother- he flushed under Elia’s quizzical look. “With Ashara Dayne. You know that you are to marry outside of Dorne, Elia.”

“And the other kingdoms shall look down on me for having loved another woman?” Elia asked, beesting sharp. “I think they already do for my womb. I think there is nothing I can do to gain their love, so why should I-”

“I only wish not to see you with a broken heart,” said Doran.

Elia bit her tongue instead of answering tartly. If anyone in their family was going to have a broken heart, it would be Oberyn; the boy had already approached and been rebuffed by three noblewomen, and he’d sulked around the palace for almost a fortnight before letting it go. Elia, who’d only ever kissed Dagos Manwoody before Ashara, couldn’t fathom Doran’s words.

And yet- Oberyn wouldn’t leave Dorne. Elia would.

“If I am to leave Dorne,” Elia said quietly, “then I shall not go without Ashara. I promise you, Doran: you shall never see my broken heart.”

Because, thought Elia, smiling, close-lipped, gentle-toothed, I will not let it break.

…

Rhaegar was a handsome man, as everyone said.

He was, also, a man who never looked at what he saw; a man who refused to smile when he could frown; a man who couldn’t appreciate beauty without bemoaning its sadness.

(Elia was sure that the only reason Rhaegar consented to marry her was the way her collarbone looked, in the cold winter sunlight- all bird-beak sharp, all cut-glass fragile. He only ever looked at her and saw something to mourn in her sickness.

Say what you would about him; Elia had nothing but contempt for her husband.)

He came to Dorne, after their betrothal was finalized by a mad King Aerys and an ailing Queen. Elia waited for him on the steps of the Water Gardens, and offered up the softest smile she could when he pressed his lips to the back of her palm.

That afternoon, Elia kissed Ashara breathless back in her rooms. Her palms, delicate, sugar-spun, fragile bones- they spanned Ashara’s shoulders, dug deep, yanked her close.

“I don’t want him,” said Elia, passionately. “I’ll never want him. I’d spend the rest of my days here, with you, if I could.”

Ashara tipped her head back and made a mush-mouthed noise when Elia nipped at her sharp jaw. “You can’t, though.”

Elia pulled away; Ashara looked at her, eyes large and dark, dotted with tears like a star-strewn sky.

“You’ll leave,” she said, breathlessly.

“Yes,” said Elia. “But I’ll take you with me.”

…

There were three things that Elia Nymeros Martell believed in, and three things alone:

First, in Oberyn’s temper, which raged truer than any flame. There was something honest in Oberyn, something that neither Doran nor she had. Second, in her own weakness; or, at the least, that the world would only ever see that sickness first, before anything else.

But last: Elia Martell believed, in every fiber of her being, down to the last cell, in Ashara Dayne’s love.

…

Of the three children of House Martell, Doran went still in a temper; cold, steady as the mountain passes in the moments before lightning struck. Oberyn raged, louder than any storm.

Elia smiled, thin and small, and struck.

…

And so: when she went to King’s Landing, Elia took Ashara with her.

…

People took notice at her wedding feast, hissing under their breath when Ashara knocked her goblet against Elia’s, a too-wide smile across her lovely features. Rhaegar didn’t, because he was Rhaegar- but Elia could see the disgust in the courtiers’ faces when Ashara dipped too close. They would question it soon enough, if they hadn’t begun already.

Elia felt the weight of Aerys’ gaze heavy across the back of her neck, and she refused to shudder.

Slowly, she leaned forwards and caught Ashara’s hand, trapping it flat against the table. She could feel the rabbitish flutter of Ashara’s pulse in the tips of her fingers.

“You ought to dance,” said Elia, and for all that it was quiet, it brooked no argument.

“I don’t want-”

“You do,” Elia said, low, fierce. “If you wish to stay here, you do. Now go and pick any partner that you wish for. But if you stay in that seat, then you will not stay in King’s Landing.”

Ashara’s eyes flashed with purple fire. Elia removed her hand and straightened, smiling serenely out at the world, as if she hadn’t just told her dearest friend, her lover, to leave.

And then, Ashara yanked herself out of her chair and grabbed the nearest lord- the poor boy went along with it, dancing when Ashara dragged him over to the dance floor; trying to offer her his arm gallantly; but Ashara only sneered, ignoring him and instead flinging herself almost recklessly into the next dance, movements ferociously wrathful.

Elia only smiled, and sipped her wine, and four days later, kissed Ashara in the gardens, scattering rose petals about them.

…

Arthur confronted her about it two months later.

“She is my sister,” he said, hissed, when Elia was alone with him. “She is my sister, and she deserves better than to be the cast-offs of a woman without enough honor to stop something she knows to be foolish in a multitude of ways!”

“Ashara is a woman grown,” said Elia, mildly. “If she wishes to leave, then she shall- and I would not dream of stopping her.”

Arthur was a knight in the fashion of a star, cool and distant and blazing all the same. For him, duty was paramount; he couldn’t fathom a life worth anything without it. To Elia, for whom duty came far distant to family, to pride- he was a fool.

“If I told her to leave, she would go?” He looked doubtful.

“Well, no,” said Elia. “But that is because she wishes to stay beside me.” Deliberately, she softened her tone. “Ashara is not anyone’s leavings. Doubt my honor if you wish, Ser Arthur, but do not doubt her pride.”

Arthur’s famed purple eyes were measuring as he stepped away, sliding once more into his role of a Kingsguard.

“Ashara’s never been half so proud as she shows,” he said. “No; if there’s anyone here with enough pride to name prideful, it is you.”

…

Her first birth was a difficult one, a labor in which Elia almost bled out thrice and only survived by pure luck. When she heard that it was a girl, Elia first thought wasn’t, I’ve failed, or there must be another then, or even gods above-

Elia smiled wide, heart cracking open, tears staining her face, and she thought, the next person to sit the Iron Throne shall be a girl from Dorne.

It was only when she saw her husband standing, feet braced apart, shoulders stiff, that she realized- no one would accept a woman on the Iron Throne. She flicked her hair away from her face and demanded, silently, vengefully, that Rhaegar love this child any less than others that he’d bear.

Let him try.

Elia would shred him open with knives hot as the sun’s own fire if he dared.

…

Rhaegar, in his own fashion, loved them all equally- that is to say, he loved none of them. Or if he did love them, it was distant, cold, uninterested.

Elia never could find it in herself to forgive that.

…

The news of her mother’s death came only a scarce few hours before Elia was to present Rhaenys to the King and Queen. Rhaegar made some consoling, half-meant sounds; Elia brushed him aside and kept her jaw tight when they entered the throne room. Ashara strode behind her, a pale, thin-lipped shadow.

Rhaella embraced Elia, tight as her own mother would, when Elia presented little Rhaenys, but Aerys- his long white hair hung in unwashed strands about his sharp-jawed face, and there was contempt written across the features.

“She smells Dornish,” he sneered.

Elia felt everything inside of her condense into a single scathing, seething moment. Had she not had Ashara behind her, or Rhaenys in her arms, she might well have tried to claw the king’s face bloody. As it was, she only cradled her daughter closer.

“Your Grace,” she said, cold, flat, empty. Her hands itched for a silk square to brandish, but all she had was her little daughter. “I find I cannot stand for over-long; I’m still not quite recovered from the birth.”

Her muscles trembled when she arrived in her rooms. It wasn’t entirely out of exhaustion, either; mostly, it was just anger. Ashara took Rhaenys from her, carefully.

“You must be careful,” she said. “He is the king.”

“Nobody else noticed me,” said Elia. Nobody had so much as recognized the rage thrumming under her breastbone, hot and sickening. “They see dark skin, and even if they look past that, all they see is my sickness. They name me my mother’s god-weak daughter, or a whorish princess of Dorne, or a gentle lady- I am tired of it.” Her hands twitched towards a lamp, but then she folded them together. “I am sick of this foolish land.”

I want my mother.

“Your children will sit the Iron Throne,” Ashara replied. Elia shuddered, and Ashara’s eyes were very gentle when she said, “It is little enough of a kindness, perhaps, but it is as close as you have. But I swore to you once: I’ll never pity you. And I’ll swear another oath, Elia: I’ll always be there for you. Whatever happens.”

…

That, of course, was Elia’s tragedy- everyone always swore their vows to her.

(That didn’t mean that they kept them.)

…

Elia hadn’t precisely expected her husband to name her the Queen of Love and Beauty, but she hadn’t expected him to crown anyone, really; when he placed the blue roses on Lyanna Stark’s head, Ashara’s hand clamped tight on Elia’s arm, bruisingly tight, but Elia only lifted her chin proudly and kept herself very still.

“I’ll kill him,” Ashara snarled, loud enough to be heard outside of their tent.

“You will not,” said Oberyn. “I will rend him limb from limb first, so-”

“-if you wish to contemplate treason, you shall do it outside.” Elia folded her arms over her chest. “And know that I will not mourn either of you if the king decides to take your heads for the insult.”

Oberyn glared at her. “Aren’t you angry?”

“Incandescently so,” said Elia dryly.

“Elia.”

“What is the point?” She demanded, voice sharpening. “He is the crown prince. He is a Targaryen. Rhaegar answers to none but his own sense of self-importance and prophecy, and there is nothing you can do to change that. It was humiliating, yes, to see him place the crown on Lyanna Stark’s head; but she is of little consequence in the larger scheme of things. I am his wife.”

“So you want us to do nothing?” Ashara asked.

“My children will sit the Iron Throne,” said Elia. “I want you to see that, not get your heads chopped off by King Aerys in a useless attempt to save my honor.”

Ashara bared her teeth. “I won’t go after him, then, but you can’t stop me from talking with Arthur.”

Later that night, Ashara danced; with Arthur, and Oberyn, and after some time- with Jon Connington, and then the second Stark boy. She sank into the chair beside Elia, face damp and sweaty, a broad smile across it.

“Having fun?” Elia asked.

“Of course,” said Ashara. “The boy- Eddard Stark- gods I had a hard time keeping a straight face while we danced.” Her eyes sparkled when she cut a look over to Elia. “He’s handsome though, isn’t he?”

“Not quite your usual fare.” Elia hid her smile behind the rim of her cup. “I rather think their blood is far too thick for your liking.”

“He’s far kinder than you,” Ashara replied.

“You’ve known him for all of an hour.”

“I’m a good judge of character!”

Elia sent her a disbelieving look. “You thought I was the mischievous one, and that Doran was the angry one, and that Ser Barristan was just very devoted to his duty in the Kingsguard-”

“You are mischievous,” said Ashara. “Doran holds to his anger far more than Oberyn, and is far more dangerous when roused. And the Barristan thing was a misunderstanding!”

“A misunderstanding,” Elia repeated. “Was that all it was?”

When Ashara just sputtered, her face flushing a deep, unflattering shade of red- Elia threw her head back and laughed.

…

People named her life a tragedy, a warning to whisper on stormy nights of what happened to unlucky princesses, to pitiful highborn women. Elia called herself the trueblooded descendant of Nymeria, a woman who led her people from certain slavery to freedom. Elia embraced Rhaenys, embraced Ashara, laughed until her lungs ached.

If this were her last day to live, then Elia would die hard.

She’d die as she’d lived.

…

“If I die,” said Rhaella, eyes large and purple and lovely, just three shades lighter than Ashara’s, “then you must care for Viserys. Rhaegar won’t be around, not for long; and Aerys is… not suitable.”

“I shall do what I can,” said Elia, laying a hand against Rhaella’s.

Aegon was a warm weight in her arms, and Rhaenys was toddling around the gardens. It was a nice day, not overly hot or bright. Rhaella had asked Elia to join on a walk in the gardens, and she’d seated herself in one of the secluded benches. It was as close to privacy as they could come.

The queen was gentle, soft, calm. She was lovely, as well, with the quiet dignity of a martyr resigned to their fate. Elia couldn’t imagine ever being in such a place- with no one to trust, nobody to love, only a distant son and a mad husband and a cold crown on her brow.

Even now- Elia’s hand brushed Rhaella’s wrist, and there was the faint shadow of bruises along the pale skin. At least Rhaegar had never hit her. Oberyn would’ve lopped his head off where he stood, and then the continent would’ve broken out in war.

“I swear it,” she whispered, a princess to a queen, one woman to another, one innocent pawn caught up in a web spanning far too large for anyone to feel safe- to the mirror that showed what might happen to her in the years to come. “I will do everything in my power.”

…

Rhaegar died at the Trident, and Aerys sent Rhaella to Dragonstone with Viserys. Elia wished she could say she mourned her husband, but she didn’t. She wept more for her uncle than for her husband, and despaired far more than grieved their deaths.

“You must leave,” she told Ashara.

“I promised not to leave you,” Ashara replied, not looking up from her embroidery.

Elia dropped to her knees and caught Ashara’s hand, uncaring when the thread snarled.

(When Gregor Clegane pressed his meaty hands against her throat, Elia had bruises on her knees. That ache was one of the last things she felt.)

“Look at me,” she said. “No- see- you fell in love with Brandon Stark. You slept with him, at Harrenhal, and now you’re pregnant. That’s what we’ll tell everyone.” Her hands trembled, finely, but hope and fear was clawing at the insides of her throat. “You must go home, Ashara. You’ll be safe in Starfall.”

“I’m not leaving,” said Ashara, eyes flaring eldritch purple. “I will not leave you, Elia-”

“If you can take Rhaenys and Aegon,” said Elia, heart hurting. “Would you do it then?”

Ashara’s face twisted as if someone had emptied her lungs of air. But she loved Elia’s children as dearly as if they were her own, and Elia knew exactly what she was asking of her.

“When?” Ashara asked, and Elia smiled through the tears welling in her eyes.

“Tonight,” she said.

…

Before dawn the next morning, two guards entered Elia’s chambers and told her that the king was demanding her presence. Elia dressed quickly; when she entered the throne room, her heart dropped away at the sight before her.

Ashara, with a sleeping Aegon and Rhaenys in her arms. Her eyes held no laughter in them, for once in her life; just fierce defiance.

“My King,” said Elia, sweeping a curtsy.

Aerys’ lips thinned in displeasure. “You thought that you would defy me?” He asked coldly. “After I told you that you would stay here. Did you think to run off into the night, like all you Dornish cowards?”

“I wouldn’t think of defying you,” Elia said, folding her arms over her chest, digging the edges of her nails into her elbow until it stung. Her chest ached, but she stood straight, stiff, as close to her mother’s daughter as she could be. “I am a loyal supporter, your Grace.”

“I don’t think you are,” he snapped.

Elia could still smell the stink of burned flesh in the room. Rickard and Brandon Stark had died here. With a touch of horror, she realized that Ashara was standing in the same place as them.

No, she thought. You will not end here. I will not let you.

“I sent Lady Ashara away because she has shamed me,” said Elia, the words dropping from her mouth like cold stones. “She has lain with a man, and carries his child. I asked her for the father, and she refused to speak it- she is banished to Starfall until she gives it up. Taking Rhaenys and Aegon was not of my will.”

Ashara’s eyes widened, and Elia turned away.

“I will have my own guards accompany her to Starfall,” Elia announced. “Rhaenys and Aegon shall stay here as long as it is your will, your Grace.”

Aerys’ interest had dropped as soon as Elia mentioned the gossip- as she’d hoped. He’d never had much interest in such women’s business, as he termed it.

“Very well,” he said, waving his hand, and Elia gathered her children up and looked behind her- Ashara was being escorted out of the room, mouth still open, twisting to catch Elia’s gaze.

The captain of her guard looked at her. “I do not wish to leave you,” he rumbled.

“You must do as I promised,” replied Elia, laying a gentle hand on his arm. “I am safe enough here, I know it. Take Lady Ashara to Starfall, and make it back as quickly as you can.”

The man’s eyes were dark, and there was something in his features that reminded Elia of Doran. It made something prick in her chest uncomfortably.

“If it comes down to it,” he said abruptly, pressing something cold into her palm, “take this. Promise me, Princess. In the end- if your guards aren’t enough. So you won’t feel any pain.”

“Death of poison isn’t an honorable death,” said Elia.

“It is a quiet one,” he replied. “Promise me, Princess.”

Slowly, Elia nodded. “Very well. If it comes down to it- but it won’t. You shall be here soon enough, to protect me, I know it. Ride hard and ride true, Captain.” He bowed, and had almost left, when she stopped him. “I would be grateful-” she swallowed, hesitating, and then said, softly, “-if you could tell Lady Ashara that I don’t blame her. And that we shall see each other soon.”

He smiled, and nodded, and left, leaving Elia all alone with two children in her arms.

…

(When they arrived at Starfall, the rooms were draped in black.

“Why?” Ashara asked stupidly, and Allyria stepped forwards, drew her into an embrace.

When Ashara threw herself off the tallest tower of Starfall, the Palestone Sword, weeks later, it was due to a drowning sort of grief.

Her brother was dead, yes. So was a babe that Ashara had loved with all her heart, and a child that deserved all the warmth of the world. So was a woman Ashara had loved long enough that she didn’t remember a way to not love her.

Ashara left a note before she leapt- she wrote, simply:

I told her we’d always be together, whatever happens.

I love you, she thought, and jumped, and when the waters swallowed her she didn’t feel any pain.)

…

Elia was born unlucky. She was lucky to be born.

But in the end she took what was given to her and didn’t let go. She wrestled down chest-aches and brandished a silk square as if it was a shield. Her eyes glowed, bright, brilliant, outshining each of the stars to make everything else fade away, blazing as the sun.

Elia was loved, too, for her silences, for her gentleness; for the mischief she’d escaped scoldings from with a flutter of her long lashes. All of Dorne hung black banners about their homes and sung songs praising her kindnesses.

(One man- he’d been a captain, once, and a father after. When the anniversary of Princess Elia’s death came around, everyone raised a cup to her in the taverns, and cried to Princess Elia the kind, the gentle, the good-hearted-

This man raised his cup and remembered the way her fingers wrapped around a vial of poison. He remembered the warmth of her hand when she told him to leave her in King’s Landing. But more than anything, he remembered a Princess of Dorne with sun-dark skin and hair the color of the sky in an eclipse, standing in a room against Mad King Aerys without flinching.

To Elia, he didn’t say. To Elia, the queen without a crown.)

…

When the Lannisters stormed King’s Landing, when the screams started to echo, Elia ducked her head and tried not to sob. Her hands shook, and she held Aegon too close, too tight. The vial her captain had given her was in her sleeves, and she only fumbled it a little when she drew it out.

An adult is twice a child. She sank to her knees, and didn’t wince at the bruises already there. This poison is enough for me, and enough for you both.

I cannot offer you anything more than a painless death.

“I am sorry,” she whispered, croaking it out to Rhaenys- who had sunny eyes and a lift to her cheeks that was all Doran’s, a bright-eyed wonder that was all Oberyn, who deserved to live- but that wasn’t possible, and so Elia drew her daughter close to her and pressed poison to her lips.

Half to Rhaenys, and then half to Aegon. The vial felt impossibly lighter when she dropped it, and felt the footsteps shaking the ground under her hands. Elia could see the sleepy confusion in Rhaenys’ face, and she nudged her away, towards the stairs that led to her bedchamber. She placed Aegon behind her, and straightened when the door shuddered.

…

Elia didn’t believe in gods or prophecy or anything that wasn’t her brother’s rage, her lover’s love, her own weakness. She laughed at her husband’s belief when he wasn’t looking, because how could anyone believe in something so intangible? Elia had the proof of each of the things she trusted in, had them carved down into her sinew.

That kind of surety takes bravery. Of course Elia was brave- not, perhaps, as her brothers, or her nieces, or any others of her blood. But Elia was brave in the fashion of a person whose every morning ached, a person who rose, nonetheless, to marvel at the dawn.

It takes bravery, courage, and the same sort of foolish bravado that Oberyn would show years later, after all, to try to throttle a man who just killed your son.

...

See: when Gregor Clegane broke down the door, he killed a boy who was already dead. 

When he turned to Elia, she marked him: along his neck, for the rest of his life, Gregor wore a pale white scar from Elia’s nails.

…

She was forgotten, she was mourned, she was loved.

She was unlucky and lucky by turns. Her death was terrible. Her sacrifices were innumerable. But Elia was alive, for however short a time before that, viciously, undeniably, deliberately alive- and that, in the end, is something to celebrate.

[acelucky]

In the presence of the Gods

So Esca fandom I did a thing, it’s the thing I said I was going to do nearly a week ago... I got there in the end. Here it is, Chapter one of my Escaflowne/Berserk crossover. I’m not really sure where it’s going or how dark it’s going to go in terms of following the events of the Eclipse, but for now I have this. Also as a side note, as this is AU I’ve made a few changes, after Zaibach are defeated, the Crusade heads to Asturia to pick up Dryden and Millerna so they can all head to Fanelia together (before Hitomi returns to earth). I might put more of an explanation in eventually, but for now... Also Merle is with them for some reason, as she finds it hard to leave Van, so I imagined her staying with the Crusade throughout the battle. I don’t think this chapter needs any TWs, further chapters will. 

I tried to capture Van/Hitomi’s relationship, as well as Guts’/Judeau’s friendship, Corkus pretending he doesn’t care, Allen and Van being over-protective, Gaddes being super caring etc. I hope I did okay!

Hitomi sat on the edge of the Crusade, she’d climbed out onto the top deck for some fresh air. The air inside was too stuffy, amplified only by the amount that they had been drinking the night before and subsequent hangovers that followed.

She sighed as she watched the landscape float by, it was so beautiful that she could not image ever saying goodbye to Gaea, though she knew the moment was near. No matter how majestic the world she had found herself in, she longed for Amano and Yukari…

There was a thought that entered into her mind then, she longed not to be back at home, but for them to be there with her sharing in the adventure. She was certain that after the toil of war this world had to be calmer, easier living than earth had been with all the stress of ‘modern living’, the rat race, the maze humans found themselves in. A world based on constant growth…How she had longed to escape it, even at her age she had seen it for what it was, there was a purity about Gaea, even man’s greed seemed more simple. Maybe she was getting soft?

She sighed and rolled up her jacket, placing it on the deck she gently leaned back and looked up at the sky and the clouds drifting by. It had been a while since she had done a tarot card reading but she felt that this was the perfect time, she’d been dreadfully uncertain and needed some clarity.

She sat up, unable to sit still and pulled the cards out from her pocket and shuffled them for longer than she usually would, there was no breeze so she didn’t feel the need to take them back inside to do the reading.

She turned over the first slowly, “The tower,” the second, “Death,” the third, “The Fool.”

She internally cursed herself wishing she hadn’t bothered, though these cards tended not to have the negative connotations that others thought they did, they didn’t sit right with her. The longer she stared at the death card the more she thought she saw a vision of further decay, but not death on Gaea nor earth, it was somewhere else… somewhere far away.

A vision came to her of a woman, a woman was laughing, she had short hair just like herself, she seemed so at peace that it warmed Hitomi’s heart. The woman reminded her of someone, there was a man there beside her, just a silhouette but he seemed loving, tender for the size he was, reminding her of a great broad tree trunk. Yet he caressed the woman’s cheek, their lips met. The expression on the woman’s face froze as the sky changed, the horizon seemed to weep upwards, stained almost by blood, a great moon in the sky unlike Gaea…

An egg hung in front of her, so close but every time the woman tried to grab it, it was always further away. Hitomi instinctively swatted for it and for the briefest of moments felt physical contact with the object. In that moment a face appeared on the smooth surface of the oval and behind stood a god with long silver hair, wings spread. “Van….” She spoke half in question, another Draconian? “Folken?”

As she concentrated on the images she saw flashes of people, of others that inhabited this world. An overwhelming sense of loyalty, dedication and betrayal flooded her senses.

She dropped the card back onto the deck as the eyes on the egg opened, it’s mouth opened and it let out an almighty scream.

“Hitomi!” Gaddes was calling her.

When she opened her eyes she saw that she was lying down, her knees up to her chest, arms round her head as if trying to protect herself.

“G—Gaddes,” she stammered as she tried to pull herself up, but found she was too weak.

Gaddes knelt beside her, he picked up the cards and put them safely back into her bag, “Hitomi, what happened?” He brushed the hair from her face.

In a way she was glad it was Gaddes that had found her like this, had it been Allen he’d be too over protective. As for Van, he had been acting strange around her, not necessarily in a bad way, she guessed it was because he knew she had to leave soon and so had distanced himself.

“I don’t know… I was doing a reading and…” she gulped, “I saw such terrible things Gaddes!” She raised her voice as she started to cry.

“Of what?” He was holding her steady.

She shook her head, “Not of here, a land far away… I didn’t want to see those things Gaddes, I don’t want to see anymore.” She gripped tightly onto his shirt collar.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to, no one is going to make you,” Gaddes stroked her back. He jolted a little when she passed out into him, he gave a low groan and then picked her up into his arms.

He carried her below deck, the rest of the crew staring at her, clearly worried but no one said a word, just nodded in acknowledgment as he passed. Reeden went to fetch some water and blankets.

Gaddes lay her gently into her bed and pulled the covers up around her. He dabbed at her forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, she felt like she was burning up.

“If only Millerna were here,” he muttered.

Reeden entered the room with a tankard of cool water and a damp blanket, Gaddes smile gratefully and went to take them from him when Allen stormed into the room, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“What happened!?”

Gaddes gave an exasperated sigh, “Allen it’s fine.”
 “What happened to her, Hitomi!” Allen pushed past his Sergeant.

“Shhh you’ll wake her!” Gaddes pulled Allen’s sleeve back.

Allen shot a look at him with daggers, “What happened Gaddes, why wasn’t I called immediately?”

Gaddes slammed his hand on a desk in frustration, “Really Allen? She got upset doing a reading that’s all, nothing to do with Gaea or her home, a vision of elsewhere. She passed out and I brought her down here, she just needs rest and space. Not everyone crowding round her like-“

Gaddes was cut off as Van and Merle burst into the room, “Hitomi, Hitomi! Allen what happened?” Van demanded.

“Oh for the love of -“

“Gaddes,” Van spoke questioningly.

“I found her okay, she’s fine, just give her space.”

Van and Allen were staring at one another the way they used to, old resentment stirred up momentarily, ready for a fight.

Gaddes looked across at Hitomi, there was a slight twitch just above her cheekbones and he noticed her eyelids flicker.

“Look can you two do this outside? You care about her, so let her rest,” Gaddes pleaded.

He was thankful when they both looked at one another, back at him and then nodded before leaving the room. He could hear them beyond talking in overly loud, yet hushed tones.

He closed the door behind him and looked across at Hitomi, her eyes were now open and she had a small smile on her face, “Thank you Gaddes, I appreciate it.”

He sat down on a chair next to her, “You’re welcome, I know that was the last thing you needed right now.”
 “Allen and Van, they can be a little too much at times, a bit intense…” she whispered.

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled.

His laughter warmed her yet as much as Hitomi tried to fight it she couldn’t push the vision from her mind. She had been transported here after all and the Crusade was transported to the mystic valley, who was to say a similar thing wouldn’t happen again. But she did not want to go there, did not want to enter into whatever awful world that was.

Gaddes’ face hardened, “Is everything okay? I mean… it was just a dream?”

Hitomi gulped, “I don’t know Gaddes,” she took a sip of water, “My visions are almost always exclusively about people and places I know but this was different, but…it was so real. I-I could taste the ash in the air, and iron, my lips were wet with blood.” She shuddered.

He placed an arm round her and pulled her in tightly, “You can rely on them you know.”

She nodded, “I know, but what if,” her eyes were cast down, “What if they’re not enough? What if there’s some enemy that we cannot beat?”

Gaddes shook his head, “You’re going to worry yourself sick, besides if Allen and Van don’t get it sorted, you’ve always got me and the rest of the guys,” he offered her a weak smile.

She nodded and lay back in bed, “I just need sleep.”

“Sleep is often the greatest medicine.”

“I thought that was laughter?” She grinned.

“Yes, well that too, myself and the other members of the Crusade can help with that tomorrow.”

He pulled the covers up around her again, and snuggled down low into them and promised herself she would dream of the ocean.

                                 ****************************************

Judeau sat with his head between his knees, his eyes were closed, he liked to imagine a better world than the one they were living in. Casca would be their leader now, unless of course she left with Guts. A part of him wanted them both to leave, they deserved a better life, but then again, didn’t the whole of the band of the Hawk deserve more than this?

Judeau gave a mirthless laugh, this was what it meant to be a mercenary then? No hope, just endless day to day survival. Judeau found himself oddly comforted by no ties, this was the life he had chosen for himself and now he had to embrace it.

He looked up and stared out at the field in front of him, the blades of grass blowing in the wind, the sound of a kestrel above hunting for pray.

“Oh look blondie is staring out into the horizon, daydreaming again,” Corkus snarled, he threw a small rock that landed next to Judeau.

Judeau looked up, smile painted on his face, “You know all that sarcasm and pain isn’t going to do anything to make our lives better you know that?”

Corkus scoffed, “Yeah right, so what happens now?”

Judeau shrugged and looked over to Guts and Casca in the distance, Griffith would never be the same again and they all had to come to terms with that. But Judeau was wise to the world, despite not being as old as others in the band of the Hawk his experiences had taught him that men often found it difficult to swallow the truth. They would invent excuses for others, magical worlds, fake gods to worship, they would do whatever they could to escape harsh and uncomfortable truths.

“We continue to fight for them,” Judeau said as he examined the owl he had been carving, it was nearly complete.

“What for? We have no food, no money,” Corkus slumped down beside him.

“Fine, do what you will Corkus,” Judeau smiled, “I can’t change how you feel, but tell me how would you survive on your own? We stand a better chance together, besides you said it yourself, we got to live a good life for a while, that’s better than some.” Judeau patted Corkus on the back as he got up and walked away whistling to himself as he did so.

Pippin joined Corkus in silence, he appeared to be meditating and whilst Corkus would never admit it, it made him feel better, warmer, calmer to have the near silent warrior by his side.

Hitomi awoke with a start, her head was pounding, she’d been dreaming again, dreaming about the redness in the sky, “Oh no…” she muttered. She should have returned home already, that would have made things better if she’d been able to go back to earth and escape before anything else happened, but then she didn’t want to let anyone down and abandon them in a time of need.

“Hitomi?” Van was sat beside her looking concerned, Merle was curled up by his feet purring softly.

She smiled, “It’s fine, it’s nothing.”

“You’re feeling better now then?”

Hitomi nodded, though afraid her facial expressions would portray her true feelings, she was terrified and didn’t feel remotely better.

“Hitomi?” He asked again reaching for her, not quite trusting her words.

She nodded, “We’re nearly in Astoria right?”

“Yes, Millerna and Dryden will be here soon and then we’ll be back in Fanelia before you know it.”

She smiled at that, the thought of getting back to where her story in Gaea started, the thought of being reunited one last time before she returned to earth.

*******************************

When Hitomi awoke, the first of her senses to be stirred was sound, she heard something, a low humming coming from the distance but getting louder. The bed she was in seemed to shake but no one else seemed remotely bothered by this occurrence.

“Van,” Hitomi said aloud and turned to take hold of his hand.

He brushed the hair from her face, “What’s wrong?” He went to kiss her, but she turned her cheek, “I’m sorry Van.”

He looked visibly hurt at the rejection. 

She felt sick as the humming got louder, “Van don’t you hear that?”

Van shook his head clearly confused, Merle bounced over to Hitomi, “Hey what’s wrong?”

“Where is everyone? Where are we?” Hitomi asked.

“We’re in Astoria, everyone is on board ready to leave.”

“We need to get off the Crusade,” Hitomi ordered.

“Why what’s wrong?” Van asked, his hands on her shoulders.

Hitomi leapt out of bed and ran out of the small room, “Everyone!” She shouted, “Get off to the Crusade,” in truth she didn’t know what difference this would make, but something was telling her off the ship, in the Palace, was safer.

Dryden scratched his head, “What’s wrong Hitomi?”

Van appeared behind her, wrapped his arms round her waist, his head buried in her neck, a pure moment of safety. Hitomi gave a sigh, the scent of him gave her time to pause, the briefest moment where she forgot her grievances.

She gave a sigh, her head tilted to the side to allow Van to rest there, “I don’t know, just… I know we’re not safe here, everyone needs to get off, please you must believe me.”

She pulled herself away from Van and ran over to Gaddes, nearly pushing Reeden over in the process.

“What’s going on?” Millerna asked as she appeared in the room, only half dressed and in the middle of brushing her hair.

“Gaddes please,” she placed her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes, “You believe me you know.”

Gaddes looked helpless for a moment, he was about to answer when Hitomi covered her ears and screwing her face up in pain she slumped onto the floor. She closed her eyes, squeezing out tears, her head was in her knees and when Van tried to comfort her she pushed him away.

“Hey…” Gaddes said softly, Kio knelt the other side of them, Van seemed positively indigent when she didn’t push them away too.

“Whoa,” Dryden spoke, staring in disbelief out of the windows.

Hitomi dare not open her eyes and was praying that it wasn’t happening again, “No, no, no,” she said but as she opened her eyes she saw her nightmares were coming true. The crusade was bathed in pink light and started to lift into the sky.

“It’s just like when we went to the mystic valley,” Van said.

“Lord Van what’s happening?” Merle pulled at his sleeve.

Van shook his head, “I don’t know…”

“Boss!” Kio shouted at Gaddes, “We’ve lost all control of the Crusade, she’s not responding!”

Gaddes turned to Reeden, “Anything?”

“She’s not responding.”

“Hold on tight!” Gaddes ordered.

Hitomi had closed her eyes once again and was shaking in Van’s arms, “Not again, not again, not again,” it was as if she was in a trance.

When the pink light disappeared they found they were in a wood that didn’t look so different from Gaea, only the mystic moon no longer hung in the sky above them.

“Where are we?” Allen asked as he disembarked the vessel.

“How the heck should I know?” Dryden replied as he surveyed the landscape.

“Well you’re the intellect, the great reader,” Allen said sarcastically.

“Hey you two, not the time,” Gaddes interrupted as he jumped down from the Crusade.

Van came down with Hitomi in his arms, “Is she okay?” Gaddes asked.

“She’s passed out again,” Van replied as he lay her down gently in the grass.

“At least it’s warm here,” Allen said.

Dryden nodded, “It seems much like Gaea, but what reason is there for us to be transported here?”

“I don’t like it whatever it is,” Van said.

Merle ran off and climbed up a tree, a moment later she appeared again, “There’s just trees, fields, mountains in the distance, there doesn’t appear to be anyone around, but there’s a river.”

She picked a berry off a nearby bush and sniffed it, she tasted it and then ate several, “Well these are edible at least,” she smiled.

“Hopefully we won’t be here long enough to need that,” Dryden said as he thoughtfully ran his fingers through his goatee.

**********************************************************

Judeau was stood at the edge of the forest staring up into the sky clutching the owl tightly to his chest. He watched as the pink pillar of light appeared and a sort of ship appeared in the middle of the light bathed in it and was slowly lowered. The rest of the men in the camp weren’t looking where he was, they were all so busy in their self indulgent crying and despair or sleeping. But Judeau was ever watchful and cautious, however the light made him smile, it was something new to challenge them or maybe help?

After all the horror that they had seen recently, this seemed one of the least worrying things they had come across, perhaps this was some God come from the sky to save them all. That was a nice thought, the kind of thought another man would have but not Judeau. He wondered if there were men on board the ship and if so he felt sorry for them, there was nothing but hell awaiting them on this earth.

“What’s that?” Guts appeared behind him and placed a sturdy hand on his shoulder.

Judeau shrugged, “No idea Guts, something to explore? Hope? Who knows…”

“Wanna check it out with me?”

Judeau shrugged, “Sure, maybe they’ve got some nice food and besides there’s nothing else to do.”

Guts grinned, “I’ll just tell Casca where we’re going and I’ll be back with two horses.”

Judeau nodded not taking his eyes off the light, “I’ll be here.”

Back by the Crusade Hitomi was still unconscious, Van was sat on the grass with her head in his lap gently stroking her hair. Merle sat attentively next to Van, singing softly as she watched gossamer threads blowing in the wind.

Dryden re-emerged from the Crusade with a load of books in hand, “Well none of this is any help at all!” He exclaimed, “I mean sure I’m all for exploring new worlds and discovery, that’s how we gain knowledge but this,” he looked at the land in front of him, “Is ridiculous.”

Gaddes climbed back on board the Crusade, “Reeden, Kio, any of you got any idea where we are yet?”

The crew shock their heads, visibly as baffled as the others.

Gaddes sighed, “Great, I was hoping for a quiet life with the defeat of Zaibach and we get this.”

“Hey, hey guys there’s something rustling in the trees,” Merle said as she pointed away from them.

“It’ll just be the wind Merle,” Van said without looking up.

Merle stuck her tongue out, “I’m serious!”

Allen placed a hand on the grip of his sword, “Gaddes get down here,” he said firmly.

Gaddes appeared a moment later and the two stood side by side staring in the direction Merle had pointed in.

Van wrinkled his nose, “Oh man what is that?”

Allen coughed, “I don’t know.”

Gaddes had all but turned green as a stench akin to rotting flesh and swamp mud filled the air.

“Maybe this would be a good time to get back on board?” Dryden said as he started to climb the ladder.

There was a loud thud and what appeared to be a large foot emerged from behind the trees. Just then Hitomi woke up with an almighty scream, clutching her chest as she did so. This was met with a roar from the creature who had been watching them.

“Noooo!” She moaned as she tried to force her way up.

The creature stepped out so it was in full view of the others.

“Hey, come on, let’s go!” Dryden shouted.

Allen hesitated for a moment, considering fighting the foul beast that had shown themselves to them but had to agree with Dryden, it would be better to run for it when they had no idea what they were dealing with.

“Boss it won’t move,” Kio said in desperation.

“What?” Gaddes replied.

“The levistones aren’t working, we’re stuck here,” Teo confirmed.

The beast roared again and suddenly the Crusade was being rocked, Hitomi clung onto Van and Merle.

“Allen what’s happening?” Van asked.

“We’ll have to fight, we have no choice!” Allen answered exasperated.

“Fight that? How?” Dryden said.

“Not much different to a dragon I guess,” Van said as he moved away from the girls and over to Allen’s side, “We can do this together.”

“It has seven eyes,” Hitomi’s voice was quivering, “And multiple limbs and teeth stained with blood, and claws and oh no,” she buried her head in her hands, “A sea of blood is coming, a night that never ends.”

“Hey Van can you shut her up?” Katz asked.

The colour had visibly drained from the faces of the men on board, they knew from past experiences that Hitomi’s predictions were not just nightmares or exaggerations, but more often than not a vision of the future that unless they interfered with, would come true.

“Gaddes, Van, come on!’ Allen shouted as he jumped off the Crusade, “That’s right you big brute follow me!”

The monster followed Allen, who, safely away from the Crusade, engaged in battle. Allen swung for the beast and to his delight he managed to hit it straight in the stomach, he tugged the sword down hoping to spill entrails onto the ground.

For one glorious moment he thought it had been easy, thought he had killed the beast, but then the lips wrinkled, pulled back and revealed gnawing teeth in a grinning mouth. The monster seemed to laugh at him, clenched it’s fist and made ready to pound Allen into the ground who was too shocked to move.

He was sure he was dead meat, “Allen watch out!” Van shouted.

“Boss!!” Gaddes joined in, in an attempt to alert Allen.

But he had frozen, transfixed looking into the pit of hell through the eyes of the monster. Gaddes and Van leapt to his side, Van jumping up and taking a swing at the creature’s arm whilst Gaddes pushed Allen out of the way. Suddenly there was the sound of hooves and in seconds the sound of a sword against flesh. The battle took several minutes but before long the creature was dead, it’s blood pooling out underneath it beside the Crusade.

Allen, Van and Gaddes were panting as they looked up to see who had saved them, there was a younger man, blonde hair, armed with multiple knives just like Ort. And another man, far broader than the first, black of hair and with the largest sword any of them had ever seen.

“Well,” the blonde man said as he walked forward, smile on his face far too keen for one who had just fought such a brute, “You must be the ones who arrived in that pink light.”

Allen swallowed, unable to speak, Gaddes stepped forward, “Yeah…errr.” He didn’t know what to say.

“Judeau,” Judeau held out his hand and Gaddes took it, shaking firmly but aware of the blood.

“Gaddes,” he replied, “These are my friends, the Knight Allen Schezar and King Van Fanel of Fanelia.”

Judeau looked surprised and then gave a small laugh, “A King I haven’t heard of, well now I know for sure you’re not from round here.”

“Enough with the niceties!” Guts interrupted as he stepped forward.

“Hey, hey big guy calm down,” Judeau laughed as he placed a hand in front of Guts to stop him from getting any closer, “This friendly guy is Guts.”

“Thank you, both of you, you saved our lives, we are forever in your debt,” Allen said as he bowed.

Judeau grinned, “Not at all, you’d have done the same I’m sure.”

Gaddes gave an awkward smile and nodded, “What the hell was that thing?” He looked at the floor in revulsion.

“That,” Guts pointed to the body on the floor, “Is the least of your worries.”

Van grew angry, “What’s wrong with you.”

“Van please,” Hitomi pleased reaching out to him, “They saved us, they didn’t have to…I’ve seen such terrible things, he isn’t lying,” she looked at Guts with terrified wide eyes.

“Heh,” Guts snorted, “This lady seems more intelligent than you.”

Van put a hand on his sword but Allen blocked him and shook his head.

“Anyway,” Gaddes tried to change the subject back to what was important, “So this is the least of our worries, why? What’s coming, what was it? Where are we?”

“For that many questions you best have some wine to accompany the answers,” Guts said with a wink.

Gaddes grimaced, “Sure, come on this way.”

They all climbed aboard the Crusade, Hitomi wishing they were anywhere in the world but here, “Van I don’t like this one bit,” her lips were trembling as she spoke.

Van pulled her closer, “Whatever happens Hitomi I will protect you I promise.”

Inside they huddled round the table with a spread of books and maps in front of them, Dryden hovering lanterns over each one.

“Those won’t help you here,” Guts said coldly. “You’re in Midland.”

“Midland?” Dryden asked pushing his glasses higher up his nose.

“And that thing that attacked you was an apostle, there’s plenty more of them where that came from.”

“You mean there’s more of those things?” Allen asked.

“Yes that’s what I’m saying.”

“That wasn’t the only one?” Allen repeated sounding disbelieving.

“That’s what I said isn’t it?”

Hitomi was trying to sleep, she didn't want to hear anymore about these terrible monsters or what hell awaited them. Van had tried to convince her, in the most loving way, of using her powers to help. She'd tried but everything was black and red, some filter had appeared in the future, a void like she had never known. Merle, though awake, curled up at her feet and purred softly as Hitomi's hand landed on her head.

"If you want to live, I suggest you follow us," Guts said as he threw his sword over his shoulder.

"Do you have a castle? Fortifications?" Allen asked.

Guts scoffed, "I wouldn't bother with that, it won't save you."

"When then what will?" Van demanded.

"Strength and a lotta luck!" Judeau tossed a knife into the air so it spun and caught it again by the handle, peeking Ort's interest.

Gaddes scratched behind his head, "look I feel we're getting no where here, just antagonising one another. What can we do?" He asked in earnest.

Guts smirked at him, "now you, you I like."

"We don't really know ourselves, but we do have knowledge of the land and these creatures," Judeau offered.

Gaddes nodded, "Can we come with you?"

Guts sighed, "Sure why not, we're kinda short of men."

"And the woman," Allen turned to Millerna, "And those who can't fight?" He added casting a fleeting glance at Dryden.

"They come too," Judeau answered.

“Really?” Allen asked raising an eyebrow.

Judeau nodded, “Just wait till you meet Casca.”

Guts did not seem amused by the last comment, it appeared to Van and the others that whoever Casca was, he would rather say less about her.

“Look no one is getting left behind, not on my watch,” Guts sighed, “Now come on already we don’t have all day.”

Gaddes and Dryden nodded, “Right,” they said in unison.

Van and Allen looked a little more uncertain, “What right now?” Van asked.

“We need time to prepare,” Allen interjected.

Judeau gave a soft laugh, “We need to get to camp before night fall, the sun,” he pointed out of the window of the Crusade, “Is already starting to set. Trust me you don’t want to be caught out here alone in the dark.”

Ort snorted, “Sounds like an old wives tale to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Guts smirked, “You reckon that’s what that monster was that attacked you all? An old wives tale,” he shook his head, “You guys have no idea.”

Reluctantly they gathered their belongings and left the Crusade, Judeau had been right, night was falling fast.

“So we just leave the Crusade behind?” Allen asked in an almost mocking manner.

“Feel free to bring it with you, but if it’s anything like when it arrived don’t expect it not to attract more of those things.”

Van shook his head, “We’re just fine following you by foot.”

Judeau agreed to take Hitomi on the back of his horse, she was still weak and half asleep, Van helped hoist her up.

“Will she be okay?” Merle asked tugging at Van’s shirt.

As they walked into the heart of the wood, Gaddes took one last look behind himself at his faithful ship, he gave a sigh, “See you later old friend.”

“Where are we going?” Allen demanded as they got deeper into the wood.

“To our camp,” Guts shouted as he looked over his shoulder, “Try not to fall too far behind would you.”

“What was that?” Millerna asked staring at the bushes where she heard a rustling sound. She moved closer to Dryden, her arm linked round his.

The group stopped and stared, Van’s breathing increased as his heart pounded. They waited with baited breath to see the enemy that was lurking.