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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years ago

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The Mask of Death - Fairy Tales and Waking Nightmares (aka Vader obliterates a Rebel unit in typical, spooky fashion)

He wasn’t real.

He couldn’t be.

When Viola Perry had joined the Rebellion, he had been entirely prepared for all that entailed. He despised the Empire and its government, despised its regime and its knack for exploiting the weaker star systems and depleting them of their natural resources for the benefit of the elite. Even as a chancellor, Emperor Palpatine had tended to favour only the worlds and civilizations he considered useful and worth a damn. As Emperor, he had doubled down on that mindset - and while the planets of the outer rim were falling into a lawless haven for criminals, while the Moffs extracted every ounce of goods, riches and pleasure from the worlds they had handpicked and settled down on; Perry saw her people waste away. True, she had been raised coruscanti, on a mid tier level by a single father who laboured day and night as a mechanic. His life had not been aided by the Empire’s rise to power, instead, he had been pushed out of service by official Imperial service systems requiring customers to pay a higher amount of credits for a lesser amount of expertise. Like so many other things, there was a penalty to disobeying and neglecting the restrictions and guidelines.

As soon as Perry was able, she fled. She joined the Rebel Alliance, seeking justice for her father who had died impoverished and imprisoned for conducting and encouraging illegal behaviour - apparently, doing a greater job as a mechanic than the Imperial forces was a crime and a felony - and she had been with the organisation for four years now. Four years of fighting the good fight, winning small victories and taking back the autonomy of the galaxy little by little as hope spread like a wildfire amongst those already saddled with doubt and distrust. Chancellor Palpatine had failed to live up to his hype, why would Emperor Palpatine be any different? Perry had seen firsthand just how far the Empire was willing to go, in order to eradicate the resistance fighters and downplay their growing masses as a trivial and unimportant wayward attempt at terrorism. Only the rebels themselves knew that they were slowly but surely becoming a legitimate threat.

Perry had, as had most rebels she had fought alongside, been wary of any information spread by the Empire from the start. Propaganda and deliberate misinformation were only a couple of the tools used to lure the populous of the vast galaxy into some sense of security. As such, she had laughed the very first time she’d heard the tall tale of Darth Vader. Apparently, a mole within the Imperial ranks had shared the myth as a warning. By most of the Alliance, it had been taken as fiction sold by the Imperial sovereigns to saw fear within their resistance. Vader, as the story went, was a seldom seen assassin of the Empire. The tale painted him as clad entirely in black, seven foot tall and wielding mysterious and invicible powers. He could kill with simply a look, or a wave of the hand. At first, the story had begun as such - vague, raising more questions than it answered about this fantastical and implausible boogeyman. Perry had concluded Vader could be little more than a false narrative, invented to instill doubt within the hearts of any nervously inclined resistance fighter.

But, as time went on, more and more stories with a similar twist kept turning up. Every now and then, a delirious dying fellow rebel with haunted eyes and baited breath would ramble about a monster clad in black. Eventually, the concerns grew to a point where even figureheads of the Alliance such as Mon Mothma and the Organas would openly discuss the matter. Rumours said viceroy Bail Organa in particular was inclined to believe the stories, and while Perry viewed him as level headed and logical - that was one leap of imagination she wasn’t willing to trust him on.

It was only when Perry’s closest friend and confidant, Oliwia Blix, was slain on her own home turf - an ambush assault led by what was later revealed to be the 501st Imperial squadron, surprising the freedom fighters she was responsible for - that Perry began to question her conviction. Oliwia had not survived the attack, and her body was never recovered but those who did persevere knew she was deceased - they had seen her there in the midst of the chaos, barking out orders and desperately attempting to call for help through the sliced comlink connections. Out of the handful of survivors, Perry trusted only Juno Eclipse. Eclipse was a young, blonde woman who had once been closely affiliated with the Imperial military but who had become disillusioned one way or another. She never spoke much of her Imperial days. Her insights were always helpful, and she had aided many a favourable outcome in battle. She possessed inside knowledge and codes that were invaluable - and she was firmly decided that the ambush had been a ploy to get her; she was the target and she was responsible for the death of her affiliates.

Eclipse was reasonable, and Perry admired her judgment. That’s why, when Eclipse spoke of Vader; Perry put aside her skepticism to actually listen. According to Eclipse, Vader was the man the Empire sent out when all else failed. He was undefeated, possibly invincible; shrewd and secretive. If he came for you, he would not stop coming until he had carried out his mission. In her case, Eclipse had expected she’d be put on trial for treason when she first broke away from the Empire, but once Vader had been sent on her trail - she explained - she had realized she was no longer worth the hassle. When Vader came to collect, you were as good as dead already. Perry had asked whether Eclipse had seen this infamous monster, and Eclipse had simply chuckled in sullen surrender as if she had already accepted her own fate.

‘He’s not a monster,’ she had said. ‘He’s a man. Or, I think he was a man, once. I’m not sure what he is now.’

Eclipse had said little in addition to that, only that she was certain that he had been present on the planet Cordaan’a where the incident had occurred. Perry got the firm impression that the ex Imperial officer had seen someone or something she perceived to be this Vader, and while she didn’t want to press the already anxiety ridden woman; she chalked most of it up to stress, fear and trauma. Even Eclipse - intelligent, brave and immovable - could be deceived by the rush of adrenaline that came with battle, as her senses were jumbled. That, along with the fact that her life was in jeopardy and that she knew the Empire wanted to see her punished for her desertion, could make anyone hallucinate a phantom such as the propagandistic tale of an Imperial hitman.

That was, until two weeks later. At noon, the base camp of Brakko had prepared for a subtle, incognito transfer. Perry’s unit had been targeted for elimination by Imperial forces, and while there were no signs suggesting the Empire knew where exactly their base was hidden - it was unsafe to stay in one place for too long. As the early afternoon rolled around, every necessary scrap of ammunition, weaponry, rations, credits, and other various equipment had been rounded up and packed away. Only a few chunkier, stolen cannons and proton bombs remained unaccounted for. That was the moment during which the Empire decided to make their presence known. A well aimed rifle shot, and the second largest of the docked freight vessels was blown up in the span of milliseconds.

As its explosive cargo content shattered the clunky ship, the shockwave sent most resistance fighters flying. Shrapnel became deadly projectiles, and as Perry struggled to regain her bearings - the force of the blast had sent her several feet back into the rough, and jagged gravel of the walkway leading towards the underground bunkers - she noted familiar faces; bloodied and beaten. Some unrecognizable, some wheezing as steady streams of red liquid poured out of their nostrils. Perry herself found her hearing was dulled, as if she were underwater - the distant, faraway yells and shrieks of her terrified comrades preparing retaliation blocked out by a loud shrill ringing. She struggled to her knees, instinctively reaching for her trusty blaster where it sat holstered at her hip.

As soon as she looked up, Perry could see the swarm of stormtroopers welling forth from every direction. They were undistinguishable in their white polished armour, black visors covering their eyes. Her legs moved out of self preservation, her chest burning with extortion as she fired aimlessly at her assaulters. A few fell by the wayside, and Perry dove behind the wreckage of one of the smaller shuttles that had been affected by the explosion. Three more rebels cowered there, taking turns firing fervently to keep the troopers at bay - only for the two additional blasters wielded by who Perry recognized to be Admiral Parlak and Sergeant Ilija to be literally ripped out of their grip with no visible cause.

“Come out with your hands on your heads,” said one of the troopers, his cadence entirely void of empathy.

“You’ll gun us down if we do,” Perry snapped in defense, and realized only afterwards that she had spoken at all.

Her hearing was beginning to return, as Perry and her small group peered cautiously over the edge of the ripped off shuttle wing that provided their makeshift shield. Even as her head became fully visible, no additional shots were fired. A platoon of what Perry estimated to be forty stormtroopers stood in a half circle, making three rows with their blasters aimed meticulously at the unguarded hideout. Around them, a few smaller squads mirrored their stance. A good four feet in ahead of the mass, stood a single trooper - his more lavish suit of armour indicating that he was a higher ranking soldier, possibly a commander - with his hand raised to signify cease fire. Perry assumed he had been the one addressing them.

It was only then that she realized how eerily quiet it had become. Her eyes darted around, both relieved and unsettled when she spotted a few grimy, scuffed and fretful faces poking out from behind various chunks of debris much like her and her group. Apart from feeble moans and sobs of pain, and crackling of the fires that had spread from the explosion to the trees and vegetation concealing the base camp - everything was deathly silent.

Silent, until a deep, booming voice broke the impasse.

“Not if you cooperate.”

In one fell swoop, the mid section of the platoon parted like a tidal wave. They made room with no fuzz, moving as one single unit and stood at courtly attention. From the smoke, the ashes and the flames behind them; the shadows of even more soldiers merely silhouetted revealed as a backdrop, came a predator. Even before it could be viewed in all its horrendous detail; its large frame drew all attention. Tall, broad shouldered, chest wide - and with it followed a hissing, mechanical breathing cycle reminiscent of a respirator. At any other time its pathetic sounds may have inspired pity or sympathy, but in this instance; its intervals were decidedly ominous, as this thing traversed the ground littered with fresh corpses in a careless stride.

Towering over and dwarfing the stormtroopers; the looming dark spectre emerged fully from the dust and cinders swirling through the air. Clad in all black; head to toe. Black armour, black cape, black robes, black gloves, black boots, black helmet; black mask covering the monster’s entire face from view. Still, the lenses through which the grim presence viewed the world were tinted ever so slightly crimson. In its hand, the thing clutched the hilt of a saber - its plasma blade red and humming as energy surged through it.

“Please, no,” Perry caught a hitched gasp, frightened disbelief colouring the unmistakable tone of Eclipse - and Perry spotted her pale face off to the side; crouched behind a severed landing hatchet.

“I have come for Captain Eclipse. I have been informed that she hides among your ranks. It is unfortunate for your organisation that she would lead me to you - I, however, view it as a welcome surprise.”

The voice was so deep, it seemed to reverberate through Perry’s very bones - and despite the heat of the flames' licking, flickering nature as they consumed the palm trees with a gleeful greed - the world seemed as cold as ice. Curling in on herself, Perry wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stave off the worst chill; her breaths coming out as puffs of condensed mist. Still, she could do nothing but stare at the empty, hollow eyes of that face plate. The monster turned its head slowly in the direction of Eclipse’s hiding place, tilting it in a disturbingly comedic manner. If she could have seen its mouth; Perry was convinced the monster would have smiled at the collective hopelessness at its disposal.

‘Darth Vader is real,’ so many fellow rebels had insisted - and Perry had disregarded every single one as superstitious and foolhardy.

'Darth Vader is a fairy tale,’ she had stubbornly countered.

Perry didn’t even have the time to flinch as the monster’s large right hand cut through the empty air. The motion was swift, smooth and effortless - and the bulky piece of scrap metal Eclipse had been huddled behind was sent flying as if it were completely weightless. The hefty durasteel went from sitting completely still to hurdling a distance of about thirty yards at an unfathomable speed; smashing right into a tree trunk which it sheared clean off simply by momentum. The monster did not move, even as the tree collapsed and brought another down with it; but Eclipse yelped and covered her mouth. Perry had never, never seen her be anything but resolute - and slightly shaken once, while relaying her tale of this predator whom Perry had refused to believe might materialize. Now, her features spoke only of regret and dread. Her shoulders were trembling, her blue eyes glassy with tears.

“Did you believe the Emperor would not aim to see you destroyed? Did you believe he would forget you?” the monster mocked, and with obvious sarcasm he added, “You must think so highly of the Emperor’s sense of compassion. I am truly sad to say that I must dissuade such unfortunate delusions.”

“Do what you please with me, but spare the rest,” Eclipse blurted out, desperation in her voice as she stumbled to her feet; taking one unsteady step towards the monster and dissmissing his jeering entirely.

‘He’s not a monster, he’s a man. Or, I think he was a man, once,’ Eclipse had said back then; and while her eyes were now still brimming with yet unshed tears, her expression was one of bargaining.

She was attempting to appeal to this thing’s - this man’s humanity. Instead, he simply cocked his head a bit farther to the side as if perplexed by her emotional outburst, regarding her silently with a deliberate intent to unnerve and rattle her. Perry realized only then that she, too, was trembling not only from the cold. It was as if this man’s entire being radiated a dark, black, vicious hatred. A vile, twisted sense of entitlement and disgust alike. It permeated his surroundings, spreading like a contagious disease; infecting everything it touched, tainting and tarnishing anything it could corrupt. His unwavering gaze and dead eyeholes seemed to demand a cruel mixture of respect and fear; and Eclipse clasped her hands in what resembled a feeble prayer.

“Lord Vader. I beg of you. Let them go. It’s me you want.”

A tear slipped down her gaunt face; her complexion ashen and her bottom lip quivering. Her blonde hair fell over her forehead in unruly chunks, a damp patch of dark blood staining the upper sleeve of her jacket. Vader simply raised his hand once more; beckoning Eclipse with his fore and index fingers in an almost gentle manner. Eclipse had no chance to move of her own volition, nor to deny the request before her feet were lifted off the ground and she was yanked unceremoniously forwards. Her motion stopped only when she was mere inches from Vader; her face level with his mask as she levitated freely in the empty air. Vader’s outstretched hand was steady, holding its posture - and Perry realized with horror that the powers all the rumours spoke of were factual, as well.

“While it is a touching sentiment - your saviour complex serves you no favours with me, Captain.”

There was no compassion in Vader’s tone, the cadence mechanical and stilted - and yet, the words came out an overt, obvious commination. Shifting the hand Perry had assumed was efficently preoccupied with suspending Eclipse in the air, Vader gestured at his troopers and they immediately switched into action. Eclipse still hovered several feet above ground; and Perry reared back as Vader’s empty lenses came to rest on her hiding spot. As before, there was no prelude - the torn wing of the shuttle was simply shoved aside in one fluid swipe. The same thing occured simultaneously to any other covers; Perry's fellow rebels attempting to defend themselves in vain. One moment, Perry was fumbling for her blaster with numb fingers; the next, a stormtrooper had her arms trapped behind her back. Some of her comrades attempted to resist the capture, and were subsequently executed on spot with a single blast to the back of their heads. As they were rounded up, only twenty-two of the at least seventy rebels that had stayed behind loading up supplies remained. They were forced down on their knees; hands on their heads. Perry glared at Vader who seemed to eye them all with a disinterested boredom, but her hammering heart betrayed her collected facade.

“I suggest you watch, Captain. Let this be a warning to abide by. I have orders to bring you off world. While the Emperor wishes no audience with you, Governor Tarkin is most excited to have a word preceding your eminent, public execution,” Vader informed as if there were no other witnesses, no further participants to the event than him and Eclipse alone. “You will watch this.”

The final words were sinister, their implication crystal clear and the demand irrefutable. Eclipse’s slumped head was forcefully yanked in the direction of her kneeling coworkers, the men and women she had bravely fought alongside, who had become her confidants and friends. Perry expected to be anticlimactically shot, icy dread churning at the pit of her belly. Still she was transfixed by Eclipse’s horrified; apologetic eyes as they stared back at her- wide and unblinking, as if she could not close them had she wanted to. Holding the stare, a pressure closed around Perry’s slender throat; like an unseen hand encompassing her fragile neck and squeezing her windpipe until she could no longer inhale. She panicked, pawing at her throat as her lungs burned and the edges of her vision began to fade away. Next to her, the choking noises of her fellow rebels rose; all of them clawing desperately at the invisible hand strangling them unanimously. The last thing Perry saw; pure terror coursing through her veins as her pulse slowed to die away and a loud, cracking pop signified the snap of her neck caving under pressure, was Eclipse’s guilt ridden eyes, and the tears now falling from them.

Perry slumped to the ground, and Vader’s large boots stalked past her crumpled body to sear themselves into her minds eye as one final bitter irony.

He was real.

Then, she was no more.

---------

Posted a teaser before, but I like this installment so much I felt I needed to post the entire thing so here you go. Link to the full fic below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/chapters/79969921

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magicalforcesau · 4 years ago

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Dancing With Ghosts in Your Garden~ Chapter 21 - Year 2: May

(ao3 link)

Palpatine would never expect his morning to start with something as pathetic as tripping over a potted plant upon entering his office. He managed not to fall, and bit back a sneer as he kicked the damned thing over. Someone had been in here… He could tell even if it wasn’t explicitly obvious. Not a single thing seemed out of place, but as he studied his desk it seemed to have been moved. Now that he mentioned it, everything in the room had been moved ever so slightly to the left, just enough to cause suspicion and clearly just enough to cause him to stumble like a newborn deer.

“Maul,” He growled, waving his wand in search of any hidden surprises, but had the madman tried to set any curses, his alarms would surely have been set off. Yes, he’d known he was close and had his suspicions that he was in the building.

A few days ago, the leeches had been let out of the potion storage. The Slytherin students hadn’t been very thrilled when several of them were found in their beds. Palpatine had dealt with it, regardless of how he’d prefer his house learn to deal with such trivial matters themselves.

The Slytherins he went to school with were much braver than the cowards of today.

Such an event he could chalk up to an accident, or a student lurking where they shouldn’t be. Yet even still, he found it unlikely that the leeches found their way into the common room on their own.

Of course he was the only one with such suspicions. The braindead ministry dogs stationed outside of the school had nary a clue to where Maul was at any given time. Maul would have to do nothing short of waltzing up to them in handcuffs before they’d realize what was right in front of them. With the sloppy way Maul was presenting himself, it was even more damning.

Even more useless were the pitiful dementors that couldn’t seem to find him even if he’d announced himself front and center. Though truthfully, Palpatine had some theories on that.

Maul had gotten soft in his time away it seemed, reduced to petty pranks and trickery like the student he’d never fully been. His former apprentice had never been particularly focused, becoming the killing machine of his namesake easily and with little prompting. Now, after many years to stew in the place where most lost their minds if not their souls, he refused to move his sights off of Skywalker.

Palpatine waved his wand again, righting his office to its proper position. He would not fall prey to such a mundane task as moving furniture, not when he had much bigger fish to fry. He walked around his desk staring a hole through the daily prophet left sitting there, Maul’s wanted poster still front and center.

If his former apprentice wanted to waste his time riling him up, he could do as he so pleased. Palpatine had worked too hard and too long to bring his plans into fruition. When he finally got his hands on him, Maul would learn to regret even the slightest action against him.

***

“Did that exam feel…” Satine paused, still in shock as they put greater distance between themselves and the courtyard.

“Short?” Obi-Wan finished for her, clearly still reeling from the same level of unease over the whole matter. They’d all passed- even Hondo- but that hadn’t exactly been hard since despite all of the drills and practices they needed to run, the exam somehow only consisted of a simple apparition across the lawn and back. Such practices were normally not possible at Hogwarts, with the sole exception being when a class was being taught.

“Yeah,” She nodded, confusion still pouring off her in waves.

“Even I thought it was a little too easy,” Cody admitted, which felt like a true testament that Obi-Wan and Satine weren’t simply disappointed that they hadn’t been challenged, “Normally, you’d never hear me say that, but…”

“And this isn’t our typical Charms or History of Magic exam,” Obi-Wan said.

“This is something akin to a driver’s license.” Satine turned to both of them, “And I promise you that while not rocket science by any measure, the driver’s test at least tries to prove that you can do the basics.”

“Hondo fell on his bum when he landed and he still passed.” Obi-Wan added, concern knitting his brow. “Makes me a bit worried what sort of people they’re allowing to apparate.”

“That’s just it, my brothers told me about the apparition exam and they always said they made you run drills like they did in class.”

“I remember Qui-Gon saying something similar,” Satine bit her lip, “Do you think they did this because of everything going on?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan said and they continued walking, “Think about it, we were all out in the open, with a murderer on the loose. I bet they wanted to get it over with and usher us inside as fast as they could.”

“Then delay the test,” Satine shrugged, “I don’t get what the rush was to approve all of us.”

“Maybe it’s a means of escape,” Cody said darkly. “I just hope it doesn’t result in any other consequences. I don’t know if either of you have ever been splinched, but-”

“-It’s not comfortable,” Obi-Wan filled in a bit too quickly for either of his friend’s satisfaction. Particularly Satine looked concerned at how immediate his reaction had been. She’d heard of it, of course, but as a muggle-born, it never happened to her. Most of the time, according to Windu, it was clothes or hair lost to splinching, but there were instances when flesh was wounded.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat before either could comment, “I suppose the bright side is, we passed.”

Neither were so sure how bright it was.

***

Ventress has truly anticipated expulsion or at the very least, suspension, and maybe this would have been the case under Headmaster Yoda’s rule, but whether she deemed it lucky or not, she was receiving no such punishment with Palpatine.

“I hope you understand where you belong, Ventress and see that I have afforded you mercy because of your family.” Palpatine said in that smooth, light voice. His eyes spoke of a different story. Something haunted him or perhaps he was the one who'd done the haunting. He was lauded as the kindly old potions’ professor, but she knew from experience that one didn’t climb so high up the social ladder without breaking backs on one’s way.

Dooku was that way and she’d been one of the backs he’d broken. She wasn’t even a high peg on a ladder to him, just a meager foot stool.

“Did you write them?” She asked, because it was always good to know when she’d be expecting a howler in the mail.

“Not yet,” He tsked, walking around his desk, “Though I suspect I won’t need to. Word travels fast enough.”

Yes, this cursed world did appreciate a show more than anything else. She had never expected hers to be deemed a pitiful tragedy- a failed villainous uprising. She’d hoped that when her story broke that she’d have the support and care of her sisters at either side. Instead, as always, Ventress was alone.

“What are you going to do with me, Headmaster?” She asked, looking up into his eyes. She didn’t feel remorse for her actions, per say, just that they were evidently in vain. Like any true Slytherin, she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve the means to an end.

Part of her wanted expulsion or to be thrown away without the key. Anything, at the moment, seemed better than going back home and groveling and pretending that she was an abused victim. She wanted, with everything in her heavy bones, for this to be her narrative rather than the reality that she was nothing more than a bookend to Dooku’s and his master’s. She loathed the concept of being used, of being the victim, even if she knew her survival would depend on playing that role.

Palpatine watched her with almost serene calmness, like he could sense the way her thoughts bled. Nobody knew Palpatine’s story, because he kept that close to the chest. Ventress wondered if they ever would, even after death.

Everyone had their secrets.

And Ventress missed hers.

“Well, I’m stripping you of all authority, for starters,” He said, walking around his desk to sit behind it again, “Seeing as you are still a minor, I’ve managed to convince the Ministry to not toss you into Azkaban. If and only if-”

If there was one thing Ventress hated more than pretending, it was negotiating, which was a large facet of the pureblood world. People negotiated the terms of courting rituals, business deals, even social events and how they would proceed. It was all one big set of terms and conditions.

Even if she quite possibly still stood solely for her pure hatred for Dooku, she still couldn’t help but agree with some of those ideals. Would she abandon them in an effort to sabotage him? Yes, without hesitance. It was but another means to an end. She’d abandoned so much of what she knew already. It was only icing on the cake.

“What?” She asked, keeping her hands cross in her lap to prevent herself from clawing at the desk between them.

“You must tell the aurors everything you know about Dooku,” He said sagely, but it was clearly rehearsed, quite possibly just before she came in, “And my dear, they will know if you’re lying.”

***

Despite the waning student population and the heightened anxieties surrounding Maul sightings in the area, they were still allowing the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. It seemed like a desperate grasping for normalcy from the staff members still trying to keep up morale. It didn’t feel very normal, however, when all four houses fit neatly within the bounds of the Gryffindor section of the field. The professors didn’t want everyone spread out and those with friends in other houses welcomed the opportunity to chat outside of class. Satine had positioned herself between Obi-Wan and Cody, they were sitting closest to the exit. She felt almost like she was being watched and kept glancing behind her, but there was no one there. Paranoia certainly.

“I hope Hufflepuff beats Slytherin,” Cody grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s the only way to get Gryffindor back in the running.”

“I think that’s fairly unlikely,” Ben nodded towards the field, a soft glare on his face, “Ventress looks angry.”

“When doesn’t she,” Satine muttered, ignoring Ben as he turned his concerned eyes onto her.

She was willing to put the experience behind her. Though she doubted she’d ever forget what it felt like to be slowly turned to stone. The girl in question had lost her title as Quidditch captain, but had remained on the team. It seemed though, they hadn’t gotten around to choosing a new captain because Ventress still approached Breha to shake hands. So it was simply the matter of losing a title and not really a position. If in fact Headmaster Palpatine didn’t bother to enforce such things.

Then again, she always knew he favored purebloods.

“Shouldn’t even be allowed to play,” Cody crossed his arms, “She shouldn’t even be allowed to be here at all.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t haul her off to Azkaban.”

“Do you really think a child belongs on that foul island?” Because that’s what they were, children. Satine didn’t think that such a horrible punishment would be worth it for someone who likely only recently turned 17. For something so horrible to be done on her account as well? She couldn’t stand for it. She wanted Ventress to find peace and she certainly wouldn’t be able to move past being a pawn for Dooku behind bars.

“It’s starting!” Cody grinned and leaned forward. At least this time since they were stuck in the back she wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him from falling over the ledge.

***

“Hey, Professor! You coming to see the match?” Anakin asked.

Kit Fisto flashed them a bright smile, which came easily for him even with the rumors that it would be cancelled due to Maul’s lingering presence. Anakin found that he was having a more difficult time offering legitimate smiles these days. Never did he ever consider that Maul was capable of drawing so close to the school.

“Just making sure there aren’t any stragglers, Anakin.” He said, “We’ve all got to stick together, after all.”

“Yeah, okay, but make sure you come watch! Gryffindor might not win the cup this year, but it would be pretty cool to see Ventress get beat by Hufflepuff.

“There’s got to be some punishment for what she did to us,” Rex growled with a clenched fist.

“And what’s better than getting demolished by the worst team in Quidditch?” Anakin said cheerily, although Rex didn’t seem so sure that was appropriate. Neither did the few Hufflepuffs that shot him dirty looks as they passed.

In spite of this, Kit Fisto laughed, his long green tentacles wiggling as he did, “Yes, well, I’m sure Headmaster Palpatine won’t let her off completely scot free.”

“I think he just let her play because she’s a good player,” Anakin grumbled.

“Now, now, there’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes than either you or I are privy to,” Fisto said placatingly, “We’re all doing what we can to keep you guys safe.”

“I know.” Both Anakin and Rex said in unison.

“Even if I do feel like this might be testing fate a bit,” He gestured to the large crowd of people, “I suppose it is nice to see everyone so happy for a change.”

It was, but even Anakin, who had made some bold and sometimes foolish decisions in the name of fun, thought it was a little soon. He’d heard rumors that Palpatine was being pushed by the Ministry to hold the Quidditch matches anyway. Apparently, there was a decent gambling pool that relied on which team would come out on top.

“It would make me happier if Slytherin loses.” Rex said.

He leaned down to their level and winked, “Between you and me? Same.”

“We’ll see you in there?” Anakin laughed.

“I’m right behind you,” Fisto nodded.

***

Breha was never one to underestimate her opponents. Slytherin team may have been without a captain, but she still knew they would be looking to Ventress for plays. They’d been working with her all year after all. It was, however, still something they could take advantage of. A few of the Slytherin players would certainly be willing to try and usurp the queen in order to gain the position next year and that would make their play style much more chaotic than it would otherwise be.

That was excellent for a team like Hufflepuff, who thrived in their teamwork. None of them had the same level of ambition as many of the Slytherin’s she knew. Ambition wasn’t always a bad thing, Breha would be hard pressed to say she didn’t possess some level of it herself, but in a situation like this, she knew her team would flow like a stream whereas their opposition would butt heads like a rockslide.

She knocked away the Quaffle from the golden hoops as she kept a careful eye on the bludgers that were being knocked her way. Her chasers were quick to grab it out from the competitive hands of two Slytherin chasers. Hufflepuff was steadily racking up points and although they were nowhere near to beating them without the snitch, it certainly was quite an embarrassment for the house of green and silver. Normally Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to get the ball through a ring at all.

“Get it together, you useless swine,” Ventress hollered at her team as she skirted dangerously close to their heads. If she likely wasn’t in the mood to get into more trouble, Breha wondered if she might hit them with her bat.

“Good job!” Breha cheered with a smile as her own team scored a point. The cheers erupting from the audience were quieter than they usually were, but loud enough to hear over the wind. Breha frowned, taking her eyes off the game for only a moment to search her surroundings. She almost thought she’d heard a scream.

She turned, around and narrowly managed to catch the Quaffle with her hands rather than her face before tossing it down field. The audience cheered again, but something didn’t feel right. Breha’s hands twitched on the handle of her broom. She could call a timeout, but she would hate to waste something over a feeling.

She glanced around again. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She raised her hands to make the call when a loud whistle jolted the game to a halt. Breha dodged a bludger as they both went sailing for their holding crate. Professor Tiin was holding up his hands in a desperate T. She descended quickly on her broom and the rest of the students in the sky followed.

“What’s going on?”

***

“They’ve stopped,” Satine was surprised. She’d watched a lot of Quidditch despite her distaste for it and she certainly hadn’t seen anything like this happen before, “A time out?”

“Somethings up,” Cody was the one to respond. He was watching the field with interest, but there was a layer of worry that he normally didn’t have when watching even the most dangerous of crashes, “Ref called for their grounding; there wasn’t anything wrong with the game.”

“No penalties,” Ben nodded. He too looked concerned, eyes flicking around the stadium. Satine found herself looking behind her again. She no longer felt eyes on her, but she certainly felt like the hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to raise. Before either of them could comment further though, Headmaster Palpatine’s voice, amplified, filled the stadium. His tone was less than pleased.

“Students and Faculty,” He started solemnly, “We must immediately return to the castle.”

Chatter filled the stands at once, not just the children either, but Satine caught Professor Plo turning to whisper to Professor Windu. Neither of them looked like they knew anything.

“What about the game?” A fourth year Gryffindor yelled, “It’s against the rules to stop!”

“What’s going on?” A Ravenclaw third year added from a few seats in front of her. Satine felt like her limbs were full of lead as she reached out to clutch the sleeve of Ben’s robe. She had a bad feeling.

“The game is not important,” There was a soft sigh that was barely audible past a few outcries from the student body, “It brings me a terrible sadness to inform you of the passing of Professor Kit Fisto-”

Cries of outrage and of sadness expelled themselves from the student body. The Professors, while schooled better on their emotions, looked just as surprised as they stood, immediately gathering students and shuffling them towards the exits. On the field, Professor Tiin was doing the same with the Quidditch teams.

“It has to be Maul,” Ben hissed at them, “He’s getting bolder.”

Neither she nor Cody could make much of a response though, being swept amongst other panicked students out of the stands and onto the sprawling grounds. Satine only realized she still had a grip on Ben’s sleeve when he tripped and fell, and she narrowly avoided the same fate by letting go.

“Ben-” She started reaching out a hand for him when she noticed he’d tripped over a first year who looked rather shell shocked, wide horrified eyes filling up with tears. He must have fallen first and narrowly avoided being trampled on.

“Oh, hey there, it’s alright,” Ben had noticed too, taking the time to help the boy up off the ground, despite the shouts of professors for them to get back in line, “Come on, we just have to get into the castle, alright? We’ll be safe there.” Satine felt like she was intruding, but refused to leave them there alone. Luckily, the boy took Ben’s hand quickly and the three of them shuffled back into the crowd quickly.

As soon as the last student was through the doors to the castle they slammed shut, latching forcefully behind them. The doors to the Great Hall did similarly.

“Bloody hell, I thought you two had disappeared,” Cody ran up to them, looking relieved. His own brothers fell at ease the second he turned away from them, clearly he’d rounded them up first thing.

“Is Anakin-?” Ben whipped his head around to look and Cody pointed towards where Anakin and Rex were looking pale and shaken, but alive.

All were accounted for it seemed, all but Professor Kit Fisto, who had died at the hands of a mad man while guarding the far side of the pitch, alone.

***

A funeral for Kit Fisto had been held off grounds- somewhere in the middle of the ocean for all of his aquatic friends and family members to properly mourn him in accordance with their traditions. His ashes were sprinkled over the Mariana Trench, where he’d done some of his biggest work.

His absence left the school caught in a limbo of uncertainty. Professors were in a mode of practicality only and it was hardly blameable. Maul had not only gotten within their barrier, but had committed a gruesome act of violence that some students had the horrors of bearing witness to the aftermath of.

Kit Fisto had been treated not like a person, but a sign to be waved on a stick, to show just what Maul intended to do to each of them if they didn’t give him Anakin Skywalker. Classes were taught within the confines of the common rooms to keep students from traveling elsewhere. With the blocked off tunnels, it seemed like the only safe space to keep Maul out.

No longer were even prefects allowed to walk the halls. Patrols were cancelled, and professors and aurors walked every space and brought food to students as well as taught their classes. It was a mess, really, and students were definitely affected by the change. Less and less faces were present, many removed from the castle altogether at the insistence of their parents.

However, those who remained were downcast and gray just like the sky outside their windows. A greedy part of Obi-Wan was thankful that his friends were still here, even if the current circumstances didn’t allow him to see Cody or Anakin. He was surprised Satine’s mother didn’t bring her home, though he had his suspicions of the extent at which she knew. It was hard to tell with the muggle families. They didn’t get the same news as wizards did, but it seemed awfully callous for there to be no warning from the school.

Then again, professors were quite busy working alongside the aurors to track Maul down. Part of him wondered where he could possibly be hiding, but really, there were endless corridors at Hogwarts that he’d never known of- not until the existence of the map, anyway. Even then, the fabled Room of Requirement was still out there untouched. Pure intentions were supposed to unlock it and he had severe doubts that Maul’s qualified.

This castle that they’d once been free to roam had shrunk significantly for all of them. He couldn’t even imagine being in Slytherin house and segmented only to the lightless space near the dungeons.

The news of Kit Fisto’s tragic demise took a while to reach outside outlets, for it wasn’t until an entire week later, shortly after his reported funeral, that they’d received a very dramatic and incoherent Floo call from Aayla. Even in the charcoal embers taking form into her face, he could tell she was blubbering like a baby.

“HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN?” She wailed and the other students in the common room, who were a bit piled on top of one another, turned their bodies to try and allow privacy to the fireplace. It wasn’t like Aayla seemed to mind much.

“Er, I know this must be difficult for you,” Obi-Wan tried awkwardly as he searched his eyes through the room. Where was Satine when he needed her? There weren’t too many places to go, after all.

“DIFFICULT? TRY IRREVOCABLY HEARTBROKEN TO THE LARGEST DEGREE? HE WAS SO YOUNG SO KIND SO BEAUTIFUL.” She shook with tears, “Too good for this world, honestly. I don’t… I don’t know how I’ll go on.”

Obi-Wan didn’t think himself a callous person, but he sure as hell didn’t know how to navigate this conversation without further setting her off, “He will be dearly missed as he was a favorite teacher for most.”

“He’s more than that!” She bellowed, but it wasn’t intimidating due to the hiccups she’d recently caught, “He was the kindest soul placed on this earth like an orb of light- and I but a moth drawn to him…”

“Yes, of course!” Obi-Wan panicked, “I didn’t mean to reduce your care for him, I only meant-”

“Aayla?” Satine was suddenly knelt beside him, looking over his shoulder and into the fire.

“Yes, Satine, Aayla heard the unfortunate news regarding Professor Fisto-”

“DON’T SAY HIS NAME IT’S TOO SOON!” She sobbed.

Satine flashed him a scathing look and he shrugged helplessly. Aayla did have a point about there being many extremely crestfallen students over the professor’s death. Beyond simply grieving a good professor and person too. Many of the remaining members of Fisto’s fan club were inconsolably upset, like they’d just lost the love of their young lives. It seemed he’d made a big impression in his short time as a professor, even if not necessarily the way he’d intended to.

Even on that scale, he’d be missed. Although reserved by bureaucratic restrictions, Fisto tried to teach them to fight, to protect themselves. In many ways, Obi-Wan preferred him as a professor to Dooku (even removing the sinister Sith stuff), because of how approachable and charismatic he’d been. Obi-Wan was in a bit of disbelief even still that he was gone.

“Did you see him?” She sniffled.

Satine tensed, but shook her head, “No, and I don’t envy those who did.”

“No, I suppose not.” Aayla said, “You know what my last words were to him?”

“What’s that?” Obi-Wan asked.

She breathed deeply to stabilize herself, “That I’d perfect resistance to the Imperius curse while at home. What kind of goodbye is that?”

“Well, you couldn’t have possibly known, Aayla.” Satine said soothingly and Obi-Wan wondered how she maintained the careful line of logic and empathetic. It would be beautiful to bear witness to under different circumstances that weren’t this depressing.

“Maybe not, but I haven’t even been able to do him justice by practicing my resistance!”

“Everyone’s having a hard time studying in this climate,” Satine said and looked around, “We’re all on top of one another in here.”

“Plus, rumor has it, someone’s fixed up a shrine for Professor Fisto in the girl’s bathroom,” Obi-Wan said.

“I should be there to pay tribute,” She said. “If it weren’t for my parents, I would be.”

“It’s better that you’re not,” Satine assured, “You can properly mourn him when you come back, when everything is safe again.”

If it was safe again. She hadn’t said it that way, but he could tell by her demeanor that she was thinking of it. It had only been a week since they were confined to their common room, but it was starting to feel very much like they were trapped. His only means of asking how Anakin was aside from the fireplace was through Qui-Gon and his daily visits.

“I’LL NEVER LOVE AGAIN!” She cried.

“Erm,” he bit his lip, “There there, he wouldn’t want you to be-”

“-He would never know what I want, because I, like many others, kept my feelings locked within my heart instead of on display. It’s the stupid logical side of me.”

“Well, he was your professor.” This was not the correct thing to say. “You couldn’t possibly pursue a relationship-”

“-Ben, why don’t you referee the first and second year’s game of gobstones, since you like it so,” The edge to her voice queued him into realizing that thankfully, it was not a suggestion.

“You still play that?” Aayla wrinkled her nose, briefly distracted from her woe, “That’s for children!”

“It’s a very tactical game, thank you!” Obi-Wan huffed.

“Kit liked darts.” Aayla remembered that she was supposed to be heartbroken.

Obi-Wan took his opportunity to exit before it was lost on him, feeling a bit guilty for leaving Satine with that mess to clean. As it were, sticking around was only making it worse. He just hoped that the other houses were faring better than they were locked up.

***

If it weren’t for the blanket of loss that stained everything, Anakin probably would have called their mandatory lockdown some sort of break from school. The concept of a “staycation” was lost on Rex and his brothers, but it was even less pleasant given the circumstances. The first day hadn’t been bad, since they all basically hung out and tried to distract themselves with snacks and jokes. Seven days in, however, it was getting tedious and it was even worse by the professors attempting to teach the entire common room at once, which meant that half of it was far too confusing and ahead of the game for even Anakin to grasp.

Plus, he didn’t have Obi-Wan to edit his stuff, which made a big difference. Qui-Gon did offer to deliver any parcels or letters back and forth, but that felt silly when he could always theoretically use the fireplace. Acknowledging that they might be in here for a while was starting to get to him.

“I’d give anything for a game of Quidditch,” Cody sighed as he flipped through a magazine on the very subject, wistfully running a hand on the glossy pictures that depicted summer fun in the most recent digest.

“Quidditch? I’d give anything to do a lap running around the castle,” Rex added with a stretch of his leg, “I’m going stir crazy.”

“Need I remind you all that you lot rejected our suggestion for indoor Aingingein.” Fives piped up from his spot on the floor beside his twin.

“Yeah, and I’ll never be desperate enough to try that inside!” Cody said, “We haven’t even got any barrels to light on fire anyway.”

“We could improvise!” Echo complained. “It doesn’t have to be on fire.”

“With you lot, it’s always on fire.” He said pointedly, “Even if it’s not supposed to be.”

“I have always excelled with pyrotechnic spells,” Echo said smugly, “Definitely a strong suit of mine.”

“Of ours, thank you,” Fives corrected.

“Never thought I’d hear the day where you’re the voice of reason,” Anakin said to Cody, who turned his head lazily with a crooked smile.

“Process of elimination, kid.” He said, though Anakin viewed Cody as more responsible than he gave himself credit for.

He felt guilty for allowing himself to feel monotony. Someone had died, after all, and the only reason they were all stuck here was because Maul wanted to eliminate the Chosen One- a title he couldn’t believe he’d once been proud of. They were all lucky to be safe within their common room and that Maul hadn’t incited anymore violence the day he got Fisto. Even that small consolation felt immediately hollow as Anakin thought of it.

It didn’t stop the darkest crevices of his mind from generating possibilities of Maul picking off each standing professor and auror, leaving them trapped and with no real way of knowing what was happening. It was horrifying. Judging by The Daily Prophet, reports weren’t being as authentic as they could be about the sheer amount of danger they were in.

“What’s the first thing you’re doing when we get out of here?” Rex asked him.

“Oh,” Anakin hadn’t really thought of it, “Probably never complain about having to wake up early for class ever again.”

“I hear that.” Fives said, “Getting up and moving to a different room sounds like a dream. Anything has to be better than sitting here wasting time.”

Anakin glanced over towards the other end of the room, where Padmé was perched near the window, allowing the natural light of the sun to provide an angelic glow on her face as she read the book in her lap. Even though they didn’t have to, she still dressed in Gryffindor robes and had her hair pulled back in two buns that were fanned out at the base of her neck and shimmering with a silver glitter.

In the pocket of his robes was the necklace he’d decorated for her. There were so many moments where he wanted to give it to her, to tell her that he painted it with his hands and that he knew life was short and that meant seizing it while you had it, not isolating him.

He considered standing and approaching her, sitting opposite and inquiring about what she was reading, telling her she looked lovely, and making this anything but wasted time for him.

The thought washed away faster than it appeared and an announcement chimed through the entire room, silencing everyone from the idle chatter that kept them sane thus far.

Anakin didn’t need to hear it before to know who it belonged to.

“Professors and students of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry,” Maul addressed them all like a king addressing his loyal subjects, “Despite how the Daily Prophet might paint me, I am capable of being reasonable. You see I am not as young as I used to be, so I see no issue in leaving the castle and its occupants unscathed. There is but one thing that I desire.”

Anakin’s heart was pounding in his chest and he felt Rex’s hand on his shoulder immediately. It should have been stabilizing and comforting, but all it really did was serve as a reminder as to why Maul was even here.

“Give me your precious Chosen One, and I will see to it that there is no more bloodshed,” Maul continued, “For it was not long ago that I was in your midst and though I was treated like a feral animal not worthy of teaching, I do have some sentimental nostalgia to this place. After all, every hero requires an origin story.”

“We do not bargain with murderers, Maul.” This time, Anakin truly did know the voice to be Mace Windu’s firm tone.

“A pity, Professor Windu, a pity indeed,” Maul remained completely calm and neutral, which Anakin hadn’t expected. They all watched the ceiling as though they waited with bated breath for him to sink through it. “Because until you submit to my conditions, I will cut through every single person in this school until I get what I want.”

“You will not succeed, Maul.” Palpatine, this time, echoed through the room, even if not physically present.

A long pause, and then, “I’ll be the judge of that, Headmaster.”

And then, a laugh so sinister and cold that Anakin swore his blood was frozen solid. Everyone was watching him as the voices faded and they were only left to the crackling of the fire. He stared straight ahead, burning with an anger and fear so bright that he felt he might physically glow.

“We aren’t going to let him get you, mate.” Rex insisted severely, “You hear me?”

He didn’t doubt that they would do everything in their power to save him, but Anakin already had the guilt of his mother’s disappearance weighing on his conscience. He wasn’t sure he could bear another.

At the thought of his mother, he practically saw stars. This monster had been the reason his family, his home, his protector was gone. He took her and did who knows what with her. And while he knew from deep within him, from the small little voice that told him so in his most horrible dreams, he wasn’t ready for such a threat.

But he also wasn’t ready to lose his mother and he certainly wasn’t ready to allow his friends to take any heroic falls for him. Maul was here for a reason and perhaps, that’s what he needed, to have it handed straight over to him.

“Anakin.” Rex said again and shook his shoulder, “I don’t like that look you’ve got on your face.”

He stared at his friend, memorizing the kindness on his face. He didn’t deserve him. “I’m sorry, Rex.”

“It’s not your fault!” He insisted, scoffing at the idea of it. “He’s a lunatic! He’s gone and murdered a professor because of a stupid poem that was written centuries ago! So what if you’re the Chosen One according to that! Isn’t Qui-Gon always saying the future is always changing?”

He was, but right now was the present, which Anakin could only control his own actions in.

“I am sorry for that… And for this,” He nodded, but then blasted his friend backwards with a swift stupefy spell, and raced out of the room before anyone could grab him. One of the Fett’s nearly succeeded and ripped a piece of his robe, but the door slammed behind him before he could be fully pulled back.

He was going to face Maul.

***

Satine, like every other student in the school, was horrified at the conversation they’d all heard booming in their ears. It felt like an immense invasion of privacy and had intended to have that effect, considering the initial source. They were lucky enough to have Qui-Gon present when it occurred for class, but any comfort that his presence might have offered was swept away when he immediately made for the exit with his wand ready.

“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan was paler than she’d ever seen him and watching his mentor with a fear they never should have known, “Don’t.”

“I will do what I must, Obi-Wan,” He nodded, “As will you, I’m sure.”

There was a passing secret language between them of which Satine did not understand and was not intended to. Whatever it meant, it caused Obi-Wan to look ready to snap in two right before her eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, not knowing what to say at all under such circumstances. They were under siege by one man, who couldn’t be stopped by aurors or Dementors or even their notable DADA professor. She felt her heart plunge into the pit of her stomach as the severity of this dawned on all of them. For a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the room but the three of them.

“Yes, Professor.” He said instead of what he’d meant to and just like that, Qui-Gon Jinn was gone and the door behind him locked.

Obi-Wan stared at where he’d left for a long moment, fists balled and whether it was the angle of the sun or otherwise, his eyes looked glassy. His lip didn’t tremble and his breathing didn’t change. Instead, he looked rigid beyond repair.

“I’m sure he’s just going to Gryffindor’s common room to check on Anakin.” Satine said as she cautiously approached him to rest a hand on his shoulder blade. He didn’t flinch or jump at her touch, but it did feel like he had transported off to another plane of existence.

“That’s exactly what he’s doing.” He said heavily and finally turned to meet her eyes, “Maul went to this school. Surely, he knows it well enough to know where the Gryffindors sleep.”

That had also occurred to her, but right now, standing in front of him, where they were both so desperately trying to grasp onto some semblance of hope, she didn’t want to voice it. She feared their time for seeking solace was well passed.

“Maul doesn’t know the codes to get in.” She said firmly, “He won’t be able to get in and get Anakin. The Fat Lady wouldn’t allow for it.

He did nod at that, “Yes, it was a security measure from-”

“-The war, I presume.” She raised an eyebrow, “As everything is?”

“Actually from the amount of teen pregnancies occurring from inter-house relations.” He said frankly and it nearly made her laugh if it didn’t sound like such a believably ludicrous solution only thought of by wizards.

Any light quip she was thinking of making disappeared into nothing as the fireplace burst into a hasty shout of, “Kenobi? Are you there? Satine? Anyone?”

They rushed to the fire again, recognizing their best friend’s voice in mind-numbing alarm. Any younger students dove out of the way immediately on instinct to avoid being knocked into the flames.

“Cody, I-” Obi-Wan hadn’t even gotten a word in edgewise before he was promptly cut off by Cody’s furious shout, which was no doubt trying to compete with the noisy background surrounding him.

“ANAKIN’S ESCAPED!”

“What?” It was Obi-Wan who interrupted this time. “What do you mean he escaped?”

“He’s going for Maul!” Rex cried, shoving his brother out of the way, “I tried to stop him, but-”

Anything else Rex said faded to the background, though she suspected it was mostly nonsense judging by how upset he clearly was.

No, that couldn’t be. Her heart was thundering in her ears at the implication. Anakin was giving himself up for slaughter, but she knew in her heart that despite his claims, Maul would not stop there. Violence only begets more violence, especially when from the hand of a bloodthirsty animal.

“Stay put,” Obi-Wan’s voice was almost unrecognizable. It was deeper, commanding, and completely unlike the gentle witticism she’d grown used to (and fond of) over the years. Had she not watched him speak, she might not have believed it at all.

“Kenobi, don’t you even think-” Cody shoved back in.

Obi-Wan didn’t allow him to finish the sentiment, ending the connection and shoving himself off the ground with nearly as much speed as he’d gotten to it, aggressively shoving through a surrounding crowd, knocking Fenn Rau onto his arse when he tried to block him from the exit with tremendous ease. Satine followed through the space he’d left in his wake, desperately trying to reach him with a pounding dread that washed her into a blinding panic.

She caught his hand just before he could leave, in a vice grip that under different circumstances she would not use, but it drew his attention back to her, his eyes blazing with purpose and certainty.

“Let go of me.” He said with strange calm.

“No.” She said, “I won’t let you do this.”

“That’s not up to you!”

“Like hell it isn’t!” She argued, “I won’t have you knocking on death’s door yet again out of some infuriating sense of nobility.”

“Satine,” His eyes softened as he focused on her and looked a little more like the boy who effortlessly stole her breath away, “It’s Anakin.”

She knew that. Her stomach curled and coiled at the vile revelation and what it meant for Obi-Wan, who despite not being the main character of this prophetic narrative, was a true hero despite his own self-doubts. And really, she wouldn’t care for him the way she did if he weren’t the type to run into the fire against his better logic for a boy who had always been chosen to him- prophecy be damned.

There was no one else in the room as she contemplated just how dire this moment was and how pitiful it was.

“Please be careful.” She found herself saying in a voice only he could hear.

“I always try to be.” It wasn’t a promise and she noticed that. He would never make a promise he couldn’t keep. Not to her.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and her mind raced with a flush of memories and regrets- that in this moment the cold reality was drenching them with how little time they likely had left. It seemed he was processing a similar line of thinking, because his eyes scanned her face as though memorizing every detail. Thousands of unsaid words passed between them, though even then she yearned to hear the real thing.

It was now or never, it seemed.

“At Christmas, I-” His breath hitched, “I- Well, I’ve never…”

He seemed quite infuriated with himself. A crash in the distance caused them both to break their spell and Obi-Wan turned back to her, regret swimming in his eyes as well as a fondness that could no longer be debated.

They didn’t have time.

“I’m sorry,” He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a single firm kiss to her knuckles, “Another time, I hope.”

And she watched him go, memorizing with painstaking clarity the feeling of his hand slipping from hers and out of reach as his perfect silhouette danced down the stairs hurriedly, never looking back. Perhaps, because doing so would make him run back to her. That’s what she told herself again.

Her hand burned as she clutched it tightly. She had a duty to uphold too.

***

Anakin ran, assuming logically that the grand staircases would be where Maul awaited. He seemed to be somewhat interested in being dramatic and Anakin could think of no better place to stage an assault. He’d expected to hear someone following behind him, a professor trying to catch him before he did something so stupid or a friend come to his aid, but neither seemed as crazy as he was to face a threat so great.

The closer to the staircase he grew, the more aurors were laid about, Anakin felt his steps falter as he purposely turned his eyes away. They were fine, they had to be, they were just… taking a nap.

Although even his own heart didn’t take the gentle suggestion at face value.

He saw green light reflecting off the wall up ahead. It gave off an eerie strobe effect that made Anakin hesitate. His wand was still gripped in his hand and he did know a fair few spells he was quite good at, but what did he know about going against someone so powerful? Countless aurors were lying about, clearly not able to take him themselves and it certainly didn’t seem like Maul was in the mood to play with his victims.

The thoughts of his own home kept his feet moving forward. His mother’s bedroom, covered with feathers and his mother, missing, possibly worse and it had to be at the hands of Maul. Who else would be trying to draw him out, but the man who was very clear at wanting him dead this entire year? He repeated over and over and over again the stunning spell in his head as he stepped out into the open area of the staircases.

An auror had just caught the end of a green beam and was falling down. Maul looked almost bored as he watched and didn’t flinch as Anakin did as they hit the ground with a thud. Maul had put forth no effort in his spree, but the thought didn’t deter Anakin from hurtling his own spell while he had the element of surprise.

“Stupify,” He tried to be quiet about it, but his spell still missed the man by a few centimeters. Maul had noticed him much sooner, by the way he just stood there, watching him like a predator would its prey.

“So you have the dignity to fight your own battles,” He flicked his wand and Anakin dodged, jumping onto a staircase as it pivoted past him. Maul stepped casually onto his own and they both spun around each other before their stairs clicked into place. Anakin held his ground, aiming to stay as far away as he could from the man. There were things he wanted answered and he surely didn’t come here to lay down and die.

“I want to know what you did to my mum!” Anakin yelled before sending out another stunning spell and missing narrowly. Maul was still unperturbed by this and stepped onto another staircase.

“What would I care about your mother?” Maul asked with a sneer.

Anakin’s heart leapt, he must be lying, “Y-you took her! I know you did!” He shouted, his wand still clutched tightly in his hand. He sent off a quick chain-cast, aiming to disarm Maul, at least then there wasn’t much damage he could do. Maul reflected it like it was a particularly pesky fly and Anakin’s spell slammed into the wall, showering debris all around them.

“I didn’t take your mother, boy,” Maul sent a spell knocking Anakin’s wand out of his hand and causing it to tumble down the steps. He shrunk back as Maul took each step down to him incredibly slowly, “But once you’ve been erased from this earth,” He grinned, sharp teeth grinding together in a hideous display, “I’ll send her to find you.”

Maul’s wand was moving and in a last-ditch attempt at living, Anakin rushed forward, jumping at Maul and trying to rip his wand out of his hand. Maul growled, a low dangerous sound before shoving Anakin off. Anakin stumbled, but managed not to fall just in time for Maul’s foot to come crashing into his chest, sending him tumbling down the stairs.

He landed hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but in the dust kicked up he managed to locate his wand before Maul could aim again and he sent out another desperate spell.

His heart sank as Maul simply stepped aside to dodge such a thing. This wasn’t how he wanted his life to end. He’d thought he’d be avenging his mother, locating her, being a hero. He was the Chosen One, he thought he could live through anything.

Maul raised his wand.

Anakin thought of his friends who he’d come to love like family. He thought of magic and all he had yet to learn. He thought of his mother, out there somewhere waiting for him.

***

There were bodies upon bodies lining the walls, all aurors, and all dead by Maul, presumably. Obi-Wan didn’t look as he went, not needing the horrifying distraction at the moment. These men and women gave themselves over to protect them and were treated like dominos to be knocked over in a chain reaction, all leading to-

-He came to an abrupt halt from his sprint, brain whirring as it tried to catch up to what his eyes saw to the left on the grand staircase. It was a body, and not just any body, but Anakin, small and limp at the bottom, completely unmoving. And just three flights up, completely shrouded in black save for his fiery face, was Maul.

“Stay away from him!” Obi-Wan shouted, drawing his attention immediately. Time only continued when he noticed Anakin’s chest moving up and down where he lay. All hope was not lost yet.

That was not to say that they were anywhere near out of the woods. The dementors had entered the space, but even this offered Obi-Wan no false hope. In fact, by the way they hovered beside him with a slight green glow surrounding their usual complete blackness, it was like they obeyed Maul somehow, serving the very opposite purpose than what was programmed of them.

Maul’s wand was sleek and smooth and undoubtedly did not belong to him originally. Obi-Wan knew enough about the clearances distributed by the Ministry that it belonged to an officer of some kind. He didn’t want to picture what happened to its original owner. Obi-Wan always struggled with conjuring patronuses, but if there was ever a time to learn, there was nothing like the present. He had to force his hand not to shake as he outstretched it, hoping he didn’t look as young as he felt.

He tried to channel happiness and positivity in a moment like this, in order to create the bright light needed to banish these dementors away, but every time a spark felt as though it might kindle, the gravity of their situation snuffed it out.

Maul said nothing, just as he hadn’t in Hogsmeade, but he did bear a full mouthful of yellow-stained teeth that matched the glowing eyes that appeared hollowed out in his skull. There was only hate and suffering behind those eyes, never a day of love or care. If Anakin’s life weren’t on the line, Obi-Wan might have felt sorry for him.

He knew the moment he made a move for the boy, Maul would only charge, but they couldn’t remain in this uneven standoff forever. Literally, they could not, because the stairs would not hold still for anyone, not even for the theatrics of a bloody lunatic. So, while it felt like a longshot, it also seemed like his only shot.

Obi-Wan took the leap, dashing to the end of the stairs, tumbling and grabbing Anakin on the way, just as the stairs moved and swiftly knocked them at an alarming velocity towards another shifting staircase. As predicted, when he moved, Maul moved, but not fast enough and stumbled as the stairs shifted, toppling over a railing in the process.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin sat up and rubbed his head.

He quickly inspected the boy, satisfied that there was no blood, but there would definitely be a large bump on his head from whatever fall he’d taken. They didn’t have time to dilly dally. They had to go. He grabbed Anakin by the hand and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs to the ground level, flickering his eyes up to notice the dementors closing in on them like nightfall.

For a brief moment, as the dementor positioned itself ready, Obi-Wan saw the future of Hogwarts as it was to be should Maul truly claim the school. He saw destruction, fire, betrayal, hate. He saw so much hate in the form of enraged yellow eyes. He couldn’t seem to feel his hands or his feet as the tunnel of darkness closed in on him. There was no life, there was no hope, there was no purpose.

All he wanted was for it to be over… Just put him out of his misery.

Why hadn’t Maul claimed them yet?

He saw his friends suffering at his failure. He saw the school itself burning to the ground. Cody was on the ground of the castle, a fiery hole in his chest that hadn’t cooled, unmoving and unblinking. Satine was surely next as she sobbed alongside him. Everything was painted in gray.

In the reflection of the green aura that tainted the dementors’ ragged cloaks, he met Anakin’s equally disillusioned gaze. That spark that refused to ignite earlier dragged like flint on steel and rubbed rapidly, starting to warm him up and remind him not of the bright spots of life, but of what he’d come here to do.

Positioning himself in front of Anakin, Obi-Wan yelled, “Expecto Patronum!”

Only an azure burst of light did not come from the tip of his wand, but somewhere above the dementors, taking the form of a beautiful blue and florid owl before circling and encompassing the dark phantoms with a blinding light. In the process, it knocked Maul backwards up a staircase and bolting forwards towards the person responsible.

He knew that patronus.

“Qui-Gon!” Anakin pointed up even further, where Obi-Wan’s mentor had thoroughly derailed Maul’s plans of following them by engaging in a violent trade of green and red bouts of magic back and forth, dancing along the stairs rhythmically, away from them, as though they were partners in an arranged production. Glass windows shattered and more dementors joined the game, never once standing a chance for Qui-Gon Jinn, though Maul proved himself quite the martial artist.

“We’ve got to help him!” Anakin began to move, which stalled Obi-Wan from his shocked reverie and he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and yanked him back.

“No, you’ve got to get to safety!” Obi-Wan said and held him close to his face, “You are in no shape to be fighting a Sith lord.”

“Neither is he!” Anakin pointed out the obvious, which was that Maul’s aggressively acrobatic fighting style was only going to wear Qui-Gon out should they continue to edge towards a dead end. Qui-Gon would have very little room to maneuver and parry should they corner themselves in a tower or a narrow walkway. “And neither are you.”

“I have to help him.” Obi-Wan said, “It’s the only way.”

He couldn’t explain it too, because it just felt like he needed to push forward. The logical thing to do would be to run back to Ravenclaw tower with Anakin in tow and reunite with his friends in safety, but he was drawn to the fight and not for any sense of bloodlust, but refined purpose.

“I won’t let you!” Anakin cried, “It’s my fault!”

“Like hell it is!” Obi-Wan chastised and shoved him forward, “You are in control of your own actions, not Maul’s. The only action you should be doing is getting the hell out of here.”

“But-”

“No but’s, Anakin! If you never listen to me again, listen to me now: run. Hide. Get help, whatever, but you stay as far away as your little legs can carry you, alright? You are the future of tomorrow. This is only today.”

It wasn’t what he promised Qui-Gon, but if Anakin was away from Maul, he was safe, so if Obi-Wan could help delay that, he would.

“Where?”

“Exactly where you need to be,” He said.

“I can never get those stupid riddles!”

“Trust me, you will.” Obi-Wan said. “Just run.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m right behind you,” Though as they stared at each other, they both knew it was a lie. With tears staining his cheeks, Anakin nodded and ran in the opposite direction. Obi-Wan watched him until he was far enough away before turning and racing back up the steps again. Just as he did, they began moving, knocking Obi-Wan around rather roughly and almost backwards again, but he kept running and even dove forward to catch the next staircase by the hand.

For a moment, he was suspended above by only one hand, forcing himself to use all the strength in his body to lift himself and keep climbing.

Qui-Gon and Maul kept moving, the sound of glass shattering in their wake.

***

Against every fiber of his being that told him to stay and fight, Anakin ran. He aggressively swiped tears from his eyes with his arm as he did so, trying to keep his vision as clear as possible. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. Gryffindor’s common room was the other way and he would never understand the Ravenclaw riddle to get in.

Obi-Wan had only told him to go, but not where, though he’d looked at him with conviction as though he had given him a clue. Anakin was far too distressed to think of any clues. Fear swelled in him, as he considered what his two mentors were sacrificing in order to protect him, to protect the future. They believed in him, but he didn’t quite believe in himself at the moment. Maul was going to tear through this entire school and if there was one thing that was proven, it was just how inescapable that was.

He was supposed to be a hero, but he was trying to escape. It had always been the plan, but he’d never expected to have to do so alone. He was supposed to save them all, but he’d learned the hard way that he was no match for Maul.

His feet rapidly hit the ground, never once breaking stride as he tred onward. There was only so far he could go before he ended up right back where they were. He needed a place where no one would find him. He needed a safe haven.

But between the Zillo Beast, Dooku, and now Maul, he’d learned that there was no real sense of security in this wizarding world. It was fantastic in both the best and worst ways possible, with no room for the mundane quiet of peace. Anakin never typically cared when it didn’t involve a sadist breaking in and trying to murder him.

As he rounded a particularly sharp corner and briefly considered hiding in an empty classroom under a desk or in a chest, his eyes went round as he noticed not one, not two, but three dementors lingering near the dungeons. Slytherin’s common room was nearby, but they’d never let him in.

“Skywalker, what the hell are you doing?” Windu dropped in from seemingly nowhere, banishing the now mob of dementors that were swirling around them like a tornado.

“They’re everywhere!” He yelled.

“How did this happen?” Windu asked.

“Maul turned them against everyone! I don’t know how!”

Windu grimaced as they closed in on them and kept Anakin close as he flipped his cape to the side and valiantly pointed his wand with the lethal confidence of someone who had done it many times before. From Windu’s wand, a glowing blue ram burst through the wall of spinning black to create a pocket just big enough for Anakin.

“Run!” He shouted and once again, Anakin obeyed.

He needed to make sure he paid attention if he got to live to see the day patronuses were taught in school. Clearly, it was going to be an important lesson and one that Obi-Wan didn’t quite grasp yet.

Other professors were on the front lines of this massive fight against dementors whether inside or outside. Anakin leapt around one that was trying to suck the face off of Professor Ki-Adi Mundi, but was immediately banished by the vigilant Professor Shaak Ti. He never received more encouragement to keep pushing forward and away than he did in that moment.

Who would help Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Who would save them if all of the other professors were trying to handle the immediate threat of the dementors turning on them? His heart started to rattle as he kept going, approaching a dead end and slinking against the wall. The dementors came quicker than he anticipated even possible. Their long and bony fingers reached for him, ready to pull him into his own worst nightmares imaginable and to make them living realities. He’d snuck many horror movies in his time, but he’d never seen anything worse than them.

Where was it written that the Chosen One would need a soul to save the universe? Nowhere, it would seem, because this didn’t qualify as death, but a fate worse than. He pointed his wand out, hoping he could also learn the patronus charm on the fly, but felt the immediate disconnect between his words and his wand. They were just words in the end.

He pressed himself against the door, never wishing more than to be anywhere but here. He wished he could have found where Obi-Wan was referring. He needed it. He needed that refuge if he was going to be brave and if he was going to fight back one day.

He needed- To open his eyes?

Because once he did so, he realized that he was in a completely different room that he’d never seen before. It wasn’t empty, exactly. There were old books stacked on some rickety tables. Cobwebs lined the portraits on the walls that chatted amongst themselves. They stopped dead in the middle of conversation when they spotted Anakin.

“Er- Sorry for interrupting.” He said with a wave.

“Who the blazes are you?” The dusty portrait of a man with dark hair and light brown skin frowned deeply at Anakin.

“Don’t be rude, Master Ketu.” The hooded man in the portrait opposite to him nodded at Anakin, “Congratulations.”

“Do you even know what’s going on out there? There’s nothing to be congratulated for,” He said.

“Boy, have you no concept of what you have uncovered?” The man called Ketu pressed, his arms crossed over the numerous medals of honor that hung from his neck.

Anakin looked around him, “Uh… A dirty old classroom?”

He pinched his nose, “I swear, these children grow more ungrateful by the years.”

“To be fair, we haven’t seen a new child in over a century.” The other man said placatingly, “And there’s no way he can be worse than him. I am Ters Sendon, archivist and historian and this is Master Ketu, former leader of the old Je’daii order.”

“Je’Daii?”

“He hasn’t even heard of us.” Scoffed Ketu.

“An old group of warrior wizards who used to combat the ancient Sith during the old wars.” Ters said and Anakin gasped when he lifted off his hood to reveal horns protruding from his head just as Maul’s did. “What is it?”

“You’re… You’re like him!” Anakin backed away, nearly stumbling over a stray chair as he did, “You’re like the Sith lord that’s currently taking over our school!”

“I’m no Sith!” He protested.

“You look like him?”

“So? Sith is not a race, it’s a religion.” Ters said, “There are good people that look like me and plenty of bad people that look like you.”

Anakin considered that and realized as he looked at Ters Sendon that he didn’t bear any of the malicious traits that Maul had. There was no hate radiating off of his gaze, no yellow or orange to his eyes, no hostility in his voice. He didn’t even really look like Maul aside from the horns. As opposed to a stark red and black patterned face, Ters was more the color of leather, with beige swirls around his eyes and nose.

Ketu, not nearly as bored as he was before, stroked his black goatee, “You mean, the Sith have returned?”

“I’m supposed to defeat them someday.” Anakin said, “I’m the Chosen One. Or at least… I’m supposed to be, but I’m hiding…”

“Well, you’re much too young to fight a Sith, my boy.” Ketu said.

“Everyone’s been saying that and I know that, but how can I let other people take the fall for me?”

“Take it from someone who has seen plenty of golden haired heroes that were supposed to be chosen for greatness, you must accept that they are not fighting for you.”

“Ketu! How is that helpful?” Ters asked.

“Because it removes the pressure that comes with the position. Everyone has their place in this war, but you… You must survive. You must survive so that many others can live.” He fixed Anakin with a stern look, “That is why the Room summoned you.”

“The room?” Anakin looked around, “This place is special?”

“The Room of Requirement manifests itself only to students who truly need it.” Ters explained, “In your case, it’s to hide from this dastardly foe that breached your school.”

“If only I were alive… I’d bring this Sith to his knees.” Ketu sighed wistfully.

“I can’t just sit in here and wait!” Anakin yelped, his voice echoing around the room.

“Clearly, whatever you were running from had outnumbered you. You were whiter than a ghost.” Ters said, “And I’ve seen many ghosts.”

“Ghosts can come in here?”

“Not here, no.” Ketu shook his head, “We are the only portraits in the school that cannot move, but in our time, there were ghosts too.”

“Why can’t you move?”

“We must protect the integrity of the room,” Ters explained, “And a good thing too, because the last boy would have destroyed the place to prevent anyone else from finding it.”

“The magical enchantments were too powerful for him then, thankfully,” Ketu whistled, “I wonder where he got off to…”

“We need to get more people in here, to protect them!” Anakin said. “How can I let others follow me?”

“I think they may be safer where they are.”

Anakin wasn’t so sure.

***

Qui-Gon had but one clear goal when parrying and deflecting the onslaught of fast green bolts that erupted from Maul’s wand: get him out of the castle. Hopefully, from there, other professors stronger than he could prevent him from entering again. Qui-Gon was no fighter by nature. It took a great deal of strength and focus and connectivity with his inner peace to remain in line with Maul’s attacks. He was definitely no one’s first choice in fighting off a man who murdered countless aurors in his wake.

However, the moment he saw Maul and his possessed dementors hovering over Obi-Wan and Anakin, he knew that this would be his fight after all.

He’d never faced anything like this in his life- growing up in a time of peace was like the beautiful summer and late fall that preambled a harsh winter. Well, the ruthless attempts at his head led by the tenacious Sith was more of enough proof that winter had arrived with the full impact of a blizzard at their heels.

Qui-Gon tried to analyze and predict the Zabrak’s next attack, hoping that his strategic capabilities would balance him against the superior fighting style that was the combination of martial artistry and power. There was much hate that spewed from every fiber of Maul’s being, so personal that Qui-Gon almost took it as such. It was like every person who stood in his way somehow became Maul’s target enemy and it was obvious he wasn’t used to anyone lasting this long.

Well, Qui-Gon did have the high ground when he snuck up on Maul and took him off guard, effectively clipping the wings that the dementors brought him. He wouldn’t even begin to question how he’d did it, save for that it was obviously an ancient magic known to the Sith. As they crossed the archway to the empty Great Hall, veering away from the direction of the student dormitories to Qui-Gon’s relief, and Maul was allotted true space to spew knives and broken shards of glassware towards him at once, Qui-Gon realized why this man hid all year.

He did not hide to feel out their positioning or to even tease them. Any of that had only been a cherry on top for the malignant evil before him. No, Maul waited it out to grow, to improve his strengths, to ready himself for this fight, because regardless of the ease at which he slipped through their clenched fists, he still expected a grave one.

“Protego!” Qui-Gon shouted numerous times in numerous directions, shielding himself from every blow Maul flung at him, but dodging an incoming killing curse as well.

That was going to leave a mark on the walls.

The candles came crashing down, bathing the entire room in a gray hollowness that he wasn’t used to, but didn’t ponder. It was only fitting that a Sith was trying to take everything good about this place with him. Well, he wouldn’t have it, not on his watch, anyway.

Their beams collided, his disarming and Maul’s for the kill, creating the collaboration of blinding green and red at the middle. It resembled a golden snitch at the heart of the contact, but despite having dueled Dooku just last year, Qui-Gon felt his arm, and eventually his whole body by extension, growing weak. Dooku had been going easy on him and he knew it. Maul would do no such thing.

Maul tapped further into his heat, bearing a tight grin as he pushed harder, showing just what the dark side could do, but Qui-Gon did not and would not envy his pain or his suffering that led him to such darkness.

“You were just a child, did you even get to choose?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to possibly tap into any shred of humanity left within the empty cavern that took place of Maul’s soul. That included, bringing up a history Maul did not want to remember.

“You don’t know me.” It only emboldened his opponent’s attack, making the push and pull of their tug of war look a great deal more green than red.

“Perhaps, I do. We were students here once, right? At the same time even.”

Maul remained silent and focused. He would not monologue for Qui-Gon. It seemed he was the sort of foe not worth quarreling with.

“Give me the boy.” Was all he said.

“I cannot do that.” Qui-Gon shook his head.

“Then you will die.” He smiled.

Sweat gathered at his temples as he pushed harder, channeling the peace that existed in harmony at his core, willing the spark to burn brighter than it ever had. If not ever again, now would be the moment.

It was not looking good.

Until, an unprecedented blast of blue sent Maul skidding across the table, sliding into every stray glass and plate that had been left in shambles on the way. He was up and charging within a matter of seconds, which was remarkable on its own right, but this also meant that Qui-Gon didn’t have much of a second to breathe or consider that the wizard that entered the room was not a colleague or auror, but Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Obi-Wan!” He shouted and moved to jump in front of him to be a last standing shield from Maul, as if that would do anything, but the boy was quick and immediately took to pursuing Maul with his own attacks.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said.

“But I am, and we can talk about this later, no?” Obi-Wan gritted as Maul whipped out a second wand from his utility belt and let his robe drift to the ground. It seemed he came prepared for this very situation. It was a very unfortunate way to learn Maul was ambidextrous as he was just as proficient with his left hand as he was his right and was able to perform the same spell from two wands.

“We definitely will.” Qui-Gon fired back, but had to concede that the very last thing they needed to be doing to get out of here was arguing with each other. Not to mention, a very small part of him couldn’t help but be proud of Obi-Wan’s prowess for being so young.

He’d never seen him like this before- so sure of himself and so determined, as well as so underdressed. His robe and jumper were completely discarded somewhere along his way here and the sleeves of his collared shirt had been pushed up. While still wearing the tie that symbolized his house with pride, he suddenly looked much older than the boy he knew.

Even more than that, he successfully and quickly reflected Maul’s own curse back on him, sending the Sith dizzily stumbling around, though never once losing speed.

With Obi-Wan at his side, he was able to take Maul on at a more even level, even with the two wands. He and his mentee practiced in sync together. They’d never formally fought alongside each other, but where Qui-Gon moved, Obi-Wan moved, and the two took to dejecting each and every distant move displayed by Maul.

That was not to say it was easy, of course. Between the physicality and ferocity of Maul’s magical and non-magical aggression, it was still throwing the both of them through the ringer. Obi-Wan’s face was red, but laser focused and never relieved with pride if he managed to land some sort of attack.

They left out the doorway they came and through the third floor corridor, only further exhausting themselves the smaller the quarters became. Maul began to literally bounce off the walls, running up them and doing backflips to dodge and alternatively, to gain traction. As his history showed, he wasn’t purely invested in the magical portion of a fight, but the physical combat as well.

Up the stairs they went to the very top, a difficult task when Maul decided to turn the steps into slippery goo in his wake and fire on the railings. Qui-Gon had learned the latter of that sequence on his own the hard way. Obi-Wan charged ahead, more athletic than he gave himself credit for, and twice as brave. It was a lethal combination, though not one Qui-Gon would fool himself into believing would be enough to seizing Maul completely. They needed to distract him until Windu found them.

They needed help.

Maul was quite pressed when Obi-Wan managed a leg-locker spell on him, though it was only one leg by his aim. It wasn’t his fault, since Qui-Gon had to shove him aside to avoid wand arrows that came straight for his head.

Even still, there was no doubt that they were fighting better together.

The ceiling of the pointed tower crumbled, specs of dust and later actual pieces of infrastructure raining down on them and hurrying their pace. When reaching the small bridge that connected the two towers, Maul blasted the center as he ran ahead.

“Where’s he going?”

“The classrooms, it seems.” Qui-Gon answered as he tried to catch his breath. “Anakin-”

“-Is safe.” He said with resounding certainty, his blue eyes sharper than glass as he regarded him with shoulders back and his jaw squared. He was still shorter than Qui-Gon, but it was evident now more than ever that he was a child no longer. Yes, Obi-Wan was ready. Or was it that he had no choice but to be ready?

It pained Qui-Gon’s very soul, because children fighting the battles of adults never soothed him. They leapt over the chasm and through the already crumbling tower that dwindled all the way down, catching Maul at his heels after a few flights of rapidly following suit. He was either leading them to the belly of his trap or he was trying to shake them. Qui-Gon didn’t know how that spoke for their success as his opponents, but was willing to take any wins offered to them.

They were far from finished in their pursuit, as the tower began to physically shake back and forth. Taking this battle to heart, or whatever stood in place of it, Maul turned, charging up the stairs with a sword at hand pointed straight at them.

On instinct rather than through thought, Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan hard against the side of the wall, narrowly preventing him from meeting the tip of the blade.

“Stupefy!” He yelled, but missed and Maul went for the younger man again, a tight smile on his lips as he flipped forwards against the current of gravity and spun the sword straight towards them. Obi-Wan, who was stronger than he looked, caught Maul’s wrist before the finality of the attack could be completed. Using his entire body weight, he flung them down, doing his own half-assed little stunt to avoid being stabbed.

Qui-Gon seized his moment to attack, turning the coat of arms by the doorway onto Maul, giving them three fighters on their side. This didn’t stop Maul, who only seemed delighted by the challenge and swung at the ground to encourage it.

Obi-Wan scrambled off the ground in time and trotted alongside Qui-Gon as the knight moved forward and Maul backed himself up to the wall of the rounded tower, clashing his sword with the knight’s, meeting every swing with one of his own caliber. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, meanwhile, tried to use this brief moment of distraction to their advantage and fired whatever spells could come to their mind.

Obi-Wan had gotten even more creative and used a tongue fattening spell, likely trying to limit his airway.

It didn’t seem he even minded the limited mobility, though it only seemed to anger him that he was wasting his time. Maul had the advantage, being alive, but the knight had nothing to lose. Sometimes, that wasn’t a strength.

In a fit of unbridled rage, which was the only way either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan could describe what transpired next, lightning rang through the sword and Maul leapt into the air, bringing the blade straight through the empty head of the knight and using the momentum of this force to fling the still sparking helmet towards them, hitting Obi-Wan directly in the stomach and sending him flipping over the railing with the added help of Maul diving forward to punch him square in the face.

“Immobulus!” Qui-Gon hollered, pointing his wand at Obi-Wan’s collapsing body just before he could hit the bottom stone at full-force. He was knocked out, nothing more, or maybe that’s what Qui-Gon needed to convince himself to continue edging through this battle.

The sword came down, achieving not a speck of flesh, but slicing Qui-Gon’s wand clean in two against the marble railing to their right. It was the closest he’d ever been to Maul and he understood why few wanted to approach him. He could feel the turmoil within this shell of a man, who was only driven by his own hate. He was like a walking timebomb who was expected to walk the earth like a person.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll kill the kid too,” Only he wasn’t referring to Anakin, but Obi-Wan.

“You won’t have the chance,” Qui-Gon said and kicked up his foot to toss the former knight’s sword into own hand. He was taught to wield by Count Dooku long ago, adopting many different tactics. It had always been in a gentlemanly fashion before, but Maul knew no such artistry or decency in this field. He was a predator and while he may have been playing with his food, he would still want nothing more than to collect the prize.

They backed out of the exit, Qui-Gon pursuing Maul as their blades clinked and clanked at rapid speed, each performing offensively without any pauses or breaks. Qui-Gon took his first success as they approached the classrooms and he managed to knock one of Maul’s wands free and clattering onto the ground. The Sith swordsman paid no mind, flipping backwards and inviting Qui-Gon to chase him into yet another trapped space.

He knew he was better where he could be afforded more breathing room, but at the moment, this was not a battle where Qui-Gon dictated the rules. Rarely, did the heroes get to do much of that in history. It was all about adaptivity and believing in oneself and the magic that lay within them.

“I am one with magic and the magic is within me.” He chanted on a harmonic loop inside his head, ignoring every fiber of his being that broke apart as they crashed through Professor Palpatine’s office of all places.

Perhaps, he was trying to pay a visit to his favorite professor. He looked disappointed even through the mask of focused disdain that he wasn’t present. He would never have known that Anakin might have been hiding here, after all. He lingered around the castle for a little while, but not long enough to see the students interact.

Thinking a bit like his enemy, Qui-Gon seized the weakness, going in for an elongated stalemate of the inner strengths, bringing them up close and personal.

“Who do you work for?” He asked calmly.

He knew that nothing splintered more than serenity or moreover, when their dastardly deeds took no effect on their desired target. Predictably, Maul clenched his yellow teeth to bare.

“I work for no one.” He scowled and shoved them apart, spinning and beginning a new onslaught of attacks that Qui-Gon met and dodged. The dodged shots ended up as holes that would need to be patched later and each designated attack seemed to chip away at him more and more.

Maul might have possessed an eternal source of energy from the cruelty at his very core, but he did not envy him for it.

They shuffled onto the external viaduct, which stretched back to the courtyard outside the Great Hall again, back towards the common rooms. He couldn’t let that happen. Qui-Gon knew that this was it. This long stretch of smooth stone that expanded over the chasm beneath them, was where this needed to end.

As if reading his mind, Maul closed in on him, making Qui-Gon overshoot a swing and nearly set himself off balance. Maul’s sword came down hard on the stone balustrade to their side, cracking it with the power and magical tenacity it contained, before retracting and kicking Qui-Gon in the sternum.

He rolled, backwards, and landed on his feet just in time to collide blades harshly, feeling like the swords might break if they strike again. This didn’t stop either of them and Qui-Gon desperately tried to seek out a window to take the advantage. And then, he found it. Maul’s gloved finger twitched just as he was reaching for his other wand- a dirty trick in a match of the blades, but Dooku might have done the same in his modern state.

Luckily, Qui-Gon didn’t necessarily need a wand.

He snatched the wand from midair by the sheer willpower of doing so.

“Petrificus Totalus!” And while Maul leapt to the ground, his frame stilled in the air as he caught the end of the charm, hitting the ground hard with his sword stuck frozen in hand.

He let out a heavy breath of relief. He pointed the wand at Maul and tossed the blade to the side and knelt over him. Only the man’s face could move, so he didn’t grow too close at risk of literally being bitten, but Qui-Gon looked at him sternly.

“What business do you have with the boy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Maul chuckled lightly, “To destroy him.”

“But for what? Because he’s a threat to you?”

“No,” He would have shaken his head if he could, “Because he’s a threat to all of us.”

Qui-Gon frowned, “That- No, he will bring about an end to monsters like yourself and whatever master you refuse to name.”

“Don’t you see?” Maul said, “He is the monster.”

The words trickled through Qui-Gon’s ears like rain hitting the hard sidewalk. That couldn’t be true. He was to bring balance. Though, it was never exactly said how. It couldn’t be. The prophecy spoke of a united world and for the hero, which was Anakin, to prevail at great sacrifice.

Or at least, that’s how he interpreted it after much studying.

“That cannot be.”

“It has been written in fate. I have seen it,” And by the legitimate fear that plagued Maul’s gaze, he could tell the Sith was not lying about having been exposed to a plethora of horror, “He is but the pawn in a greater plan. Just like you and just like me.”

“He’s so much more than either of us,” Qui-Gon shook his head, keeping the wand steady at his throat, poking the skin ever so slightly. “Especially you.”

“I am merely trying to save us all,” Maul begged, “Just as you think you are. We are not that different. Skywalker isn’t either.”

“Anakin is the hero of this story, not you.” Qui-Gon said, determined now, “I will see to that.”

“No,” And just as quick as he fell, he moved too fast for Qui-Gon to even blink and the sword that had seemed frozen in time was thrust right into the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach. Immeasurable pain soaked through him as he felt blood from all over rush through him and a varying list of parables cross his mind.

Maul brought him so close that their noses touched, “You won’t.”

He unsheathed the sword from the pit of Qui-Gon’s stomach and let him fall backwards, hitting the stone unceremoniously as sound seemed to fall behind in slow, deep motions. The blood rushed from his body and breathing suddenly became labored beyond measure. He was faced with warm sunlight, though he found himself only growing colder by the second. Slowly, the bright blue around the high sun was becoming a tunnel and getting fuzzier. The pain in his stomach was less aching as it was dull and detached from him. He saw stars and galaxies and far more than the human eyes could see.

He saw blackness that occluded the stars and realized strangely that it was a man in a dark cape. This was Vader, he knew somehow, but he couldn’t quite explain why. But there was more and as he looked into the stars that gathered in the eyes of his helmet, he saw the fates for what they were. There was so much loss in this montage of multiple realities that spawned in front of him. There was agony, hate, betrayal, death. So so much death beyond his own.

It was strange, to realize that he was dying and to not really care about the logistics of that. Instead, he cared for what he saw next: happiness, love, family, weddings, babies, revolution against an unjust cause, rebirth.

He saw the back of a man with white hair and a beard to match and while his heart initially spoke to him of his mentor, he found that the eyes that turned to meet him matched another that would grow to be wiser than them all.

He saw the good in the blond boy that everyone else feared. He saw the duality of the young brunette who was capable of far more than her small stature dictated. He saw friends he did and didn’t know. He saw them all come together and he saw them win. It was an imperfect future, full of not one, but many heroes.

Some that were chosen ones merely by their own volition. That fact settled hard and heavy. There was still much obscurity to meet the hope. Nothing, even at these far reaches of the universe, was written in stone. If there was one thing that was clear: Anakin was the key.

And in a flash he was back for a moment, given one last breath of life and to meet the tear stained eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He failed. But there was still hope.

***

“NO!” His cry was anguished and angry, his vision red like the blood dripping off the blade. He had already been running, hurrying to catch up with his mentor, not willing to leave him alone with that monster for more than a second longer than necessary.

He clearly hadn’t been fast enough.

He sprinted, faster still, wand automatically raised and flourished. A crack was heard as red light burst from his own wand and slammed into Maul, knocking him back a few feet and causing his sword to fly from his hand and over the bridge. He hadn’t even uttered the words, but his wand seemed to read his mind, connect with him and in this brief moment of connection, he hurtled as many spells as he could think of.

It was a dance of light. Maul had managed to pull his own wand out and was doing a fair job at blocking each colorful strike, but had yet to get an opening to counter. Obi-Wan tossed another stupify at Maul and it hit his protective spell so hard sparks flew.

“You’re too late,” Maul kicked a loose stone towards him, managing to distract him long enough that Maul could send a killing curse his way. He just managed to block it, the green spell falling apart just inches from his face. He staggered backwards nearly falling over the edge before launching another volley of attacks.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” Obi-Wan growled, although the pang in his chest reminded him of what he’d seen, what he hadn’t been fast enough to stop. He cast a smoke spell causing them both to be hidden within a dark cloud. Obi-Wan crept silently to the side, the only real chance he had was to catch Maul off guard. Just a few more steps-

A gust of wind kicked up from the center of the cloud blowing away the smoke screen and revealing an almost smug looking Maul. He grinned wildly, his yellow eyes gleaming like a tiger going for the kill.

Obi-Wan just managed to dodge as the spell Maul hurled blew a hole through the already crumbling parapet. He returned the favor with another stunning charm that did little more than knock Maul off balance.

Obi-Wan, however, took the opportunity rushing forwards a curse on the tip of his tongue before Maul fell backwards slamming a foot into Obi-Wan and kicking him back.

He stumbled to regain balance, but his foot slipped and time slowed as he desperately clawed for the edge of the bridge with his free hand. He swung there precariously, heart beating a mile a minute as he tried to think of something, anything. Maul grunted, he could only assume he was standing up again, making his way slowly towards what was surely Obi-Wan’s doom.

He looked to his wand, he couldn’t risk a spell, if he missed and hit the viaduct, he would surely be falling to his death. If he didn’t… Well he didn’t want to think of the terrible fate that would bring him. He swung his arm up, hand still gripping his wand, but allowing for him to pull himself up just high enough to see. Maul was approaching, wand twitching as he surely thought through every nasty spell he had at his disposal.

The dying sun came out from behind the clouds, reflecting its light off of something silver on the edge. A sudden burst of hope filled him as he whispered a series of spells that he hoped Maul took as nothing more than him praying for salvation.

Maul didn’t pause.

Obi-Wan dropped hold of the ledge flicking his wand upwards in order to soar up through the air landing behind Maul, just steady enough he was able to catch the silver sword, sapphires glittered across the bottom, a sight to behold if he weren’t busy lunging with it.

Maul had turned just in time to watch as Obi-Wan used every bit of strength, every bit of magic left in his body to bring the sword clear through his middle. The sadist had the decency to look surprised, shocked that he could be foiled by a scrawny 17 year old when so many had tried and failed before. Obi-Wan brought up his foot and kicked, returning the favor of pushing the Zabrak off the viaduct, he didn’t bother watching him fall.

The clatter of the sword falling out of Obi-Wan’s hand and onto the stone brought him out of his adrenaline induced daze and he turned his head almost robotically to where Qui-Gon still lay. He was breathing, but barely, each breath looked laborious even from afar.

“Qui-Gon!” One moment he was standing over where he committed a high wizarding crime and another he was on his knees next to his mentor. He ripped off his top layer and pressed over the wound desperately trying to stop the bleeding even though he could feel that his trousers were already being soaked through.

“No, no,” Qui-Gon batted his hands away, but it only gave Obi-Wan the determination to press harder.

“It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he focused on the task at hand. A shaky hand caught his wrist and he tore his eyes away from the gore and met Qui-Gon’s deep blue eyes. Eyes normally filled with mystery and whimsy were focused just enough to quelm his fast-racing thoughts.

“Obi-Wan,” He pleaded, “Anakin-”

“Anakin’s fine!” Obi-Wan shook his head angrily, “I already told you he’s-”

“I need you to see that Anakin gets his training,” Qui-Gon grasped for his attention again and he gave it though he struggled too, “Anakin must become a wizard, he is the chosen one,” Qui-Gon spoke the words with a strong conviction as if he had been born with this knowledge and hadn’t found out along with the rest of them last year.

“Yes, sure, but Qui-Gon-” Obi-Wan tried, but froze when Qui-Gon struggled for a breath.

“Promise me Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon managed to pant, “Promise me you’ll see to it.”

“I promise,” He answered, they looked into each other’s eyes for a beat more before Obi-Wan returned to his task, wishing quite desperately that he’d gone with Satine to those first aid classes instead of the dueling club, “But don’t worry about that now, I-”

Qui-Gon’s breathing ceased.

There were no other sounds. He couldn’t hear the birds in the sky or the breeze through the trees; it was only silence. He felt his mouth form words, but couldn’t hear them. He moved his hands from Qui-Gon’s middle towards his shoulders shaking him once, twice, three times. He felt tears trailing down his face and he tried to wipe them away, likely just smearing his own face with the blood of both that murderer and of Qui-Gon. Merging the two of their beings together like they were twisted up into some horrifying cycle of fate. He pressed his head, body trembling, to Qui-Gon’s chest, praying to hear even an unsteady heartbeat.

All he could hear was silence.

He stayed there, unable to move and hardly unable to breathe at Qui-Gon’s side, sitting vigil for his mentor, his most trusted ally, the wisest man he knew. Eventually the bubble was bound to break and if it wasn’t Qui-Gon growing cold under him it was the hand that fell on his shoulder.

He flinched, whipping to the side prepared to fight another enemy, but his hands fell at the guarded look of Windu’s eyes. The professor tried to pull him away, but he broke out of his grasp with more strength than he’d thought he had left.

“Where’s Maul?” Windu crouched beside him, gently pressing Qui-Gon’s eyes shut. Obi-Wan couldn’t find it in himself to speak and he shook his head to try and convey that, but Windu just grabbed his shoulders and looked him straight in the eye, “I need to know if he’s still around.”

“I ki-” He tried, voice croaky and ruined in his silence, “He’s gone. Dead.”

Professor Windu said nothing, just placed a hand on his back for a moment more before standing. He swished his wand, brilliant red and gold sparks bursting out and filling the night sky, announcing to all that they were finally safe. However, after the display of colors he did not lower his wand and instead kept it raised, the tip glowing softly in the night’s sky.

Professor Plo Koon was the next to join them, his eyes sad and mournful under the light of their two wands. Then one by one the professors arrived, each taking in the scene and lighting their wands in silence. Obi-Wan felt much too numb sitting there on his own, magic exhausted from the fight, to locate his own wand much less light it in honor. Qui-Gon had never been much for ceremonies anyways, but the thought brought him no comfort.

The unspoken vigil ended as Headmaster Palpatine lowered his own wand, followed by Professor Windu. Obi-Wan was stood up by the latter, this time he found no fight left in him, and escorted towards the castle. He kept an eye on Qui-Gon’s body for as long as he could, but surrounded by the Headmaster and various professors it was impossible to see long before he crossed the threshold into the school.

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obitine #anidala #the clone wars #tcw #star wars #magical forces au #hpau

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lilacmoon83 · 4 years ago

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 236: Fireflies

The fire could be seen reflecting in Jekyll's eyes, as he was just a few feet from escape, but he lurched and looked down to find Charming's blade protruding from his chest. He landed on his feet, just at the edge and turned around, looking at him in shock. He saw the blackness slowly spider webbing from his wound and started to see the ash flaking from his body.

"No...this can't be! You can't defeat me!" Jekyll cried, as he lurched again and the blade returned to David's hand.

"I just did," the Prince stated.

"You're done...and you're never going to hurt my wife again, let alone haunt her," David assured him.

"The Chalice absorbed the Olympian crystal long ago. No Underworld, no afterlife, nothing...you just stop existing and we rest easy, knowing that not even your soul can cause harm to anyone ever again," he continued. Jekyll tried to charge at the Prince again, but the white fire from the Chalice sword consumed him in a brilliant flash. He screamed briefly, as he was destroyed and his cries were swiftly squelched, as was his existence.

"And that is the end of the video that has more than fifty million views, worldwide. That tiny clip alone has double that, worldwide. It's action packed, it gets the heart racing, in more ways than one, and people seem enthralled by it to the point of obsession," Goldie said into her mic, as she conducted her latest live podcast. They had spent a pretty penny in the last year on the best equipment, including a high end VPN, to hide their location. They weren't wanted in the Land Without Magic, per say, but it was no secret that they were and they knew some idiot fans would only be too happy to make a citizen arrest if they might get the attention of the Charming family, who had gone mostly dark since the namesake of their family had killed the insane monster known as Dr. Jekyll.

On her show though, she was not playing the clip to celebrate it. But instead, she was playing it to continue to push her fear narrative. Her numbers were significant, as some out there did see the danger of a family with so much power.

"But if this one man, combined with his wife, has this much power...how can any of us truly ever feel safe? He could wipe us out even more easily than he did Dr. Jekyll. And he has sired five children that are potentially even stronger than him," she continued.

"Five children that can control the weather...and lay waste to an entire city with one conjured storm," she added.

"And I'm sure some might argue that the beloved Charmings would never do that...because they're good. But most of those same people have read the book and know that Snow and Charming have gone dark before. What is preventing that from happening again? Or preventing one of their kids from turning evil as well?" she said.

"If tragedy struck any one of them...what would stop them from lashing out with vengeance in their pain? If you've read the book...then you know that's what happened to the Evil Queen. She didn't just wake up and decide to be evil. She lost the man she loved and thousands died for it," she continued.

"What would stop Charming from doing the same if he lost his beloved Snow or Snow if she lost her Charming?" she asked, as she read the chat and smirked.

"I see many agree with me...but none of us know what exactly we can do about it. However, you'll be happy to know that there are those out there that are trying to see to our safety," she said.

"They are trying to develop a solution to this problem, but can only do so with the help of the people. And it's being done with your donations. With your donations, we can fight this fight," Goldie said.

"So donate today, share this podcast far and wide, and know that you're doing something to secure our future. Until next time," she said, ending the stream and taking off her headphones.

While it was true that they had spent most of what they had to get set up and lived the first few weeks in a crappy motel, it wasn't long before they were approached by an investor.

Amelia Blaine, owner of several billion dollar retail chains nation and worldwide, offered to fund them if they continued to push their fear narrative, with the stipulation that there was a solution. A vague, yet plausible one and help them build a citizen militia, without the citizens even realizing they were being radicalized. It was a common military tactic, so they weren't too surprised to learn that Ms. Blaine answered to a man named General Mendoza. They hadn't met him yet, but knew he was the man that Major Patricia Donovan had once worked for and then betrayed in favor of the Charmings.

Mendoza had gone almost as dark as the Charmings had in the last year and was working on ways to bring them down. This one was just one plan and Ms. Blaine even let it slip that they were working on ways to combat or even destroy magic. Goldie didn't know if that was possible, but she and Grimm were all in and used her podcast and his blog as a megaphone to put fear into people about the Charmings, the United Realms, and magic in general. In return, they were paid incredibly well and their equipment was upgraded to state of the art. They now lived in an expensive New York penthouse apartment and enjoyed all the luxuries.

"You really think General Mendoza and his team can find a way to destroy magic?" Grimm asked. She smirked.

"I don't know...but if they can, I'm going to enjoy watching the United Realms burn and the Charmings suffering," she replied. He smirked back.

"I'd bring marshmallows to that bonfire," he agreed.

"How are the numbers tonight?" she asked.

"About four thousand live on the biggest platform. Less, but significant on the smaller ones and we always get good numbers on replays," he replied.

"And the Truest podcast?" she asked, knowing that Eva Charming had streamed earlier that night.

"Let's not do that to ourselves," he replied.

"I want to know her numbers," Goldie demanded. He winced.

"On the largest platform...she had twenty-thousand live and her replay numbers are already climbing past our live count," he revealed, ready for the coming tirade, as Goldie let out a frustrated yell.

"Why!? Why is everyone so enamored with that prissy little upstart!?" she raged.

"She's not even a real journalist!" Goldie complained.

"Yeah...but she's their daughter. You shouldn't be surprised," he said.

"We have to get our numbers up…" Goldie said.

"I agree," Amelia Blaine said, as she arrived with her bodyguards.

"You can't just barge in here whenever you want," Goldie said.

"Oh, but I can since I pay the mortgage on this place," Amelia replied.

"Your live numbers tonight are dismal, at best," she added.

"What do you expect? Most people salivate over that damned family. Not many want to tune in and hear us talk crap about them," Grimm reminded her.

"I'm aware, Mr. Grimm. Even less people read your pitiful blog," she said. He glared at her, but was silent.

"What do you want us to do?" Goldie asked in frustration.

"You're hyper focused on the parents. Start going after the kids. Stoke fear about the children," she suggested.

"Snow and Charming are ignoring you. They're seasoned at this and don't care what people say or think about them. The children on the other hand will elicit a reaction and one we might be able to exploit if done right," she said. Goldie smirked.

"That I can do...and I'll enjoy it," the blonde agreed.

"Let's hope you do well...the General isn't impressed by your numbers at all. If you don't improve, this posh little lifestyle goes away and you're on the street," Amelia warned, as she left with her goons.

"So...who are you going to focus on first?" Grimm asked. Goldie smirked.

"Who else? Emma has interacted in this world more than any of their kids. She's got plenty to exploit and it will drive mommy and daddy Charming crazy," she said. He smirked.

"Indeed it will," he agreed.

"But we won't stop there. The twins will be next, then the youngest ones. By the end, Mama Snow will be at our door ready to rip my head off and I'll get it all on tape,"

"And the General will be ready to trap them both when they come," he agreed.

~*~

Rose and Fandral turned on the inter realm communication system that Sif had provided for them. Rose and Sif actually communicated on a regular basis, but it had been a while and she hadn't seen the twins yet.

"Good morning Sif," Rose greeted. She smiled.

"Good morning to both of you...I apologize for being out of communication for a while, but much has happened here recently," she said.

"Really?" Fandral asked. She nodded.

"It's a lot though and there have been many developments. Thor is leaving Earth soon...but not before the funeral," she replied.

"Funeral? Who has passed?" Rose asked.

"Well, I'm afraid Natasha is gone...but so is Mr. Stark," she replied, stunning them.

"Like I said, much has happened, though some of it is very good. Natasha and Tony are the reason that much of it is wonderful news. But I would rather explain everything in person," she said.

"Things are safe here now. I was hoping you could visit and so was Thor...before he leaves," she added. Rose smiled.

"Things are quiet here...I don't see why not and the kids would love it," she said. Fandral smiled and nodded.

"We'll contact Hermes and make all the necessary arrangements to be away. Zorro can more than handle things around here for a few days," Fandral said. Sif smiled.

"That's wonderful...and I can't wait to meet these two in person," she replied, as she spotted the twin babies in their arms.

"And Astrid and Gunnar can't wait to meet their Aunty Sif and Uncle Thor either," Rose replied.

"Strong Asgardian names...I will see you all soon," Sif said, as the transmission winked out.

"Poor Natasha…" Rose said sadly.

"I know...she helped us much when Seth banished us. I am glad we are going to honor her," Fandral replied. She nodded.

"Well, we should go tell the kids and pack. We have a lot to do in just a couple hours," she replied. He nodded, as they took the babies back upstairs to prepare.

~*~

Bobby closed his locker and slung his backpack over his shoulder, before meandering toward the direction of his first class of the day. Being normal definitely had its advantages and being back in school on a regular basis was nice. He would never be normal, even in a place like Storybrooke, but he had plenty of friends and was definitely enjoying the peace.

"Morning Bobby," Zia said, as she and Olivia rounded the corner to meet him.

"Morning," he said, as he joined hands with the dark haired girl. He was aware that both had a crush on him, shortly after he resumed his freshman year last year, but any romantic feelings he had were for Zia. Olivia understood and she was still good friends with them both. He saw the banner being hung up for Winter Formal that weekend and looked at her. Olivia smiled at them and went into the classroom.

"I'll make myself scarce," the blonde said.

"Well...that was subtle," Zia mentioned. He chuckled.

"I'm not sure I could be subtle myself even...tact is not something Charmings are known for, so you wanna go to the dance?" he asked. She smiled and nodded.

"I'd love to," she agreed.

"Okay...but I have to warn you that my Mom is going to go all out and take like a gazillion photos, so just prepare for being blinded by camera flashes," he joked. She giggled.

"I love your Mom and I'm prepared for our upcoming photo shoot," she teased back, as they went into the classroom and the bell rang.

~*~

After morning training with James and his father, David did a quick patrol around Storybrooke since Emma had taken the morning off and then stopped at Granny's for takeout. He arrived at Snow's office and nodded politely to her receptionist, who still got a little awestruck and blushed every time she saw him. He winced though, as he heard his wife raise her voice through the door.

"Meeting with the heads of state?" he asked. Chloe, the receptionist, nodded.

"Midas insists on arguing with her...I don't know why, because he never wins," she replied. He smirked.

"Because he's no match," David said, as he quietly went in and closed the door, waiting off to the side. Hyde and Hiram had unveiled a host of new inventions in the last year that they had rolled out. One was the hologram system of communication, allowing the heads of state to meet from their own castles or offices on most occasions. They got together in person from time to time, but this eliminated the need for neutral locations and saved a lot of time most days. It was probably the only reason Midas was still alive too, because by the look on his wife's face, he could tell she was ready to put an arrow in his eye.

"King Midas...we are only days away from the grand opening of the Pleasure Island resort. Our teams and crews have worked tirelessly to transform a once haven of crime and filth into a luxurious vacation resort for all ages and classes to enjoy," Snow said in a measured tone.

"I agreed to let you have the Casino wing, as I agreed that adults are free to make their own decisions on what to do with their money...but I draw the line at any kind of unsavory club as you're suggesting. I want this to be a family friendly place and not become an eyesore like Iago's," Snow said.

"Queen Snow...there is nothing wrong with the addition of a gentleman's club. There will be security and an age requirement, of course," Midas replied.

"No…" Snow refuted.

"This has to be put to a vote!" Midas insisted.

"Normally yes and most of the time, I would be reluctant to do anything without diplomacy, but this is one time I am going to use my executive powers. And gentleman's club is putting this nicely," she said, as she held up a folder that had his proposal in it.

"This is nothing more than a strip club and a brothel and I won't have it. Your motion is denied by executive decision," she said.

"You can't do that, your prissy little wench!" Midas said, as his anger exploded. David clenched his fist and rooted his feet into the floor. It was taking him every ounce of control he could muster not to tell him off himself, but he knew Snow could handle him.

"King Midas...if you're going to continue this kind of behavior, then you will be removed from this project. Am I clear?" Snow snapped. He shrank back a little.

"Very well, Your Majesty," he spat.

"It's clear we all need some time to cool off, some of us more than others. We'll take a long lunch and reconvene in two hours," she said, as she pressed a button on her computer and their holograms disappeared.

"It must have taken you every ounce of control you have not to intervene and rip his head off," she mused. He smirked.

"I know you can handle it, but you're right...I'd like to make him smack himself and turn himself into a gold statue," he replied. She giggled.

"I think we would all enjoy that, a little too much," she said, as he set the food down on her desk and then took her in his arms.

"So...long lunch?" he asked. She smirked.

"Mmm…I could definitely use it," she replied.

"And here I thought I was going to have to be quick," he mused, as they swayed together. She bit her bottom lip.

"Well, at the risk of inflating your ego...you're never quick," she said. He smirked.

"Good to know," he replied, as she looked in the sack, finding all her favorites.

"Two different kinds of dessert?" she asked. He shrugged.

"I figured we'd work it off," he replied. She bit her bottom lip again, as they moved to the sofa in her office. Maybe she should have made it a three hour lunch…

~*~

Leo hopped off Pegasus and petted his mane, before leading him to the trough for a drink and something to eat. He and Pegasus, along with Firestorm, also did an aerial patrol of the reserve in the morning and checked on all the animals. He and Elsa had hired staff that they trusted and vetted to help run the reserve to help out. Everything was running smoothly and Firestorm cawed, as he sat on his perch and watched Leo.

"I didn't forget you, buddy," he promised, as he grabbed a handful of seeds and held out his hand so the Phoenix could eat too. After he finished, Leo ruffled his feathers affectionately and checked over the inventory of food and supplies that had just been delivered.

"Leo...I think that mother Unicorn is about to give birth!" one of his young workers said, as he rushed in.

"Okay...did you call the equestrian vet?" Leo asked.

"That's the thing...he's in surgery. I guess one of the horse's at the stables needed emergency surgery this morning," the kid said, as he was nearly panicked.

"Okay...relax, I've gone this before and so has my sister," he said, as he dialed Eva.

"Hey...the vet is unavailable and we have a unicorn ready to give birth. Can you pop over here?" he asked, as he listened.

"Thanks Eva," he said, as he hung up.

"She's on her way," he said, as he started gathering some supplies.

"Need some help?" Kristoff asked, as he arrived with Sven. Kristoff and Sven were frequent visitors and helpers at the reserve too.

"Yeah, the vet is busy and we have a mama unicorn ready to go. Eva's on her way," Leo said.

"Okay...baby Unicorn time. Looks like Hope might get that Unicorn for her birthday," he teased.

"Yeah…Emma keeps telling my parents not to, but you know they're going to," Leo said, as they headed out to the stables, just as Eva arrived to help with the birthing.

"Thanks for coming," he said. She smiled.

"You know that I love this and it's a pretty slow day at the hospital. Plus, my audience will love hearing about the birth of a baby unicorn," she replied.

"You know...I wasn't sure your podcast was a good idea at first, but you're really good at it," Kristoff said.

"Thanks," she replied.

"Yeah...and it helps that you make Goldie's podcast look like a joke," Leo added.

"That is a bonus...I wouldn't usually wish misfortune on anyone, but she's the exception," she agreed, as they arrived at the stables.

~*~

Summer concentrated, as she went through her dance routine for the school's upcoming recital. Upon returning to dance, her instructor expressed a suggestion that Summer would excel in rhythmic gymnastics. Summer loved both dance and gymnastics and it seemed like the perfect blend of both. So she had begun training and her instructor had been right about it being her niche. She finished her routine with an impressive backflip and caught her baton, as her music ended. Her instructor gave her a hug.

"You are going to be the star of the recital," she assured. Summer blushed slightly.

"Thanks…" she said.

"Your parents must be bursting at the seams with pride," she mentioned. She grinned.

"My Dad was just showing me the new camera he bought last night for the recital and Mom has already bought new albums. It's a little embarrassing," she joked.

"I think it's sweet," she said, as then pointed off to the side.

"And you have another admirer," she said, as Summer spotted JJ watching and waiting for her, still in his uniform from working as a paramedic. She grabbed her towel and her bag, before hurrying over to greet him.

"Hey...you busy for lunch?" he asked.

"Not at all...Granny's?" she asked.

"They do have the best crinkle cut fries," he replied, with a smile.

"Definitely...it's a date," she agreed, as they joined hands and headed out to his car.

"How was work?" she asked.

"Slow day...but I guess that's good when you're a paramedic," he replied. They had been dating a little over a year now and things were getting serious between them. She hadn't told him that she loved him yet and he hadn't said it either...but she knew what she was feeling and was wondering if he felt the same. She thought about talking to Emma about it to see if she should tell him before he said it to her. She loved her Mom, but since her parents fell in love fighting trolls and her mom lost her memory, and her dad nearly died multiple times, and her mother was cursed before they could be together, Summer felt that her mother's experience in this matter was so different than the norm that Emma might be the better advisor in this aspect.

Her parents had this true, all encompassing love that was amazing, but could be intimidating at the same time. JJ was from the Land Without Magic, so she didn't want to scare him with all these expectations that she had about love. Emma had experience in his world as well and probably would have the best advice in this respect.

After an enjoyable lunch, they exited the diner, hand in hand and he looked over at her.

"You look like you have something to say," she mentioned. He smiled.

"Yeah…I'm just not sure how to say it," he replied.

"You can tell me anything," she assured him.

"So…I want to take you somewhere special tonight, for our date. But then I realized that I have no idea where," he said.

"Why don't we just take a walk? There's a lot of trails in the woods down by the Toll bridge," she replied. He smiled.

"Okay…I'll pick you up at seven," he said, as he leaned in and kissed her tenderly. Her heart fluttered, as she watched him go and then she turned to hurry in the other direction.

"Whoa...where the fire?" Emma asked.

"Emma...thank God, I have to talk to you," Summer replied. The blonde smirked.

"Okay...you can talk while I eat through these onion rings," she said, as they found an outdoor table at Granny's.

"So…JJ said he wanted to go somewhere special tonight and he didn't know where and stupid me just suggested that we take a walk on the trails down by the Toll bridge," Summer said. Emma shrugged.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.

"Emma...it's the Toll bridge! I mean, the Toll bridge, as in the infamous Troll bridge where the greatest love story of all time was freaking born!" she replied.

"What if JJ thinks I have some expectations from him and he bails?" she fretted. Emma smirked.

"What if he doesn't and slaps the big L on you?" the blonde asked, enjoying her baby sister's tiny little freak out. Summer sat there, thinking that over for a minute.

"This stuff is so...hard!" she complained, making her older sister chuckle.

"Oh I know...believe me," she said.

"Maybe Mom and Dad have it right. Maybe fighting trolls and dodging Black Knights was easier than this," Summer said.

"Nah…Mom and Dad are just weird. In the best way, but weird. Love usually doesn't blossom from assault with a rock and entrapment by net," Emma replied, as they shared a chuckle.

"Or fighting smelly trolls," Summer added with a giggle.

"Seriously though...if he's thinking about taking you somewhere special, then he certainly wasn't planning on bailing in the first place, cause he would have already done that," Emma said. Summer nodded.

"Yeah…I guess you're right," she agreed.

"And he's not from here so if he's not running away after everything he's seen...then I don't think he's going to," she said. Summer nodded, instantly feeling better.

"Thanks…I was right to talk to you," Summer said.

"Anytime," Emma said, as they hugged.

"I have to get back to campus...I'll see you later," she called.

"Good luck!" Emma called back, as she finished lunch and headed back to the station.

~*~

Snow kissed him passionately, as they got dressed and he was trying to button his shirt.

"Mmm…I should have called for a three hour lunch," she mewled, as he kissed her intensely.

"I know...but we can always have an encore later tonight," he promised, as he kissed her forehead and finished buttoning his shirt.

"I am going to hold you to that, handsome," she purred, as they held each other close.

"Summer will be out with JJ and Bobby is going over to hang out with Gideon at Belle and Gold's. That leaves us to our own devices," he said. She smiled.

"I can't wait for that then," she replied, as he kissed her again, before leaving her office. She turned back to her desk and pulled up the model of the upcoming resort that was opening imminently on her computer. It was going to be a beautiful vacation spot, but there was still much to do.

"You're late," Regina said, as Snow logged back onto the meeting.

"Sorry…" Snow replied.

"That's okay...we're all late. No one wants to spend another three hours with Midas, even virtually," she said.

"True, but it's better than being in the same room as him and this whole virtual thing solves the problem of finding agreeable neutral locations for our meetings," Snow said, with a sigh.

"Why are all these stuffed shirts so concerned by where we have the meeting?" she complained. Regina smirked.

"Men, especially men stuck in their old ways, tend to be territorial," Jasmine chimed in, as she logged in.

"Midas must be losing his mind since you haven't admitted him to the meeting yet," Phillip said, as he logged on.

"No one can stand the windbag and this is coming from me, who has a windbag for a father-in-law," Eric agreed.

"At least Triton refuses to attend, because he can't be bothered with matters of the "filthy human world," as he puts it," Glinda said.

"Yeah...why hasn't Abigail and Frederick taken over at least some of his duties yet. He's no spring chicken," Zorro said. Usually, it was Rose or Fandral attending, but since they had gone to visit Thor, Zorro was standing in for them.

"That's easy...control issues. My mother was only too happy to hand these duties over to me," Tiana chimed in.

"You know, we could just forget to let him into the meeting," Elsa said.

"I'm with her," Guinevere agreed.

"I'm all for that. Dad warned me plenty about Midas," Thomas said.

"I still can't believe he suggested we allow a strip club," Snow complained. Regina snorted.

"I can," she said. Snow sighed.

"I think we need to utilize the mute button a bit more or I'm going to permanently mute him this time," Aphrodite said, making them chuckle.

"Let's get this over with," she said, as she admitted him to the meeting.

"You are ten minutes late, Queen Snow. Again. If you cannot conduct these meetings on time, then perhaps someone else should organize them," he replied. Snow rolled her eyes.

"Or maybe you shouldn't attend at all," she retorted. He snorted.

"Oh, you would love that, but this is as much my project as it is anyone's and I have many more proposals to be considered. Neverland, after all, is a territory and we agreed that it and Pleasure Island should not be acquisitioned by any one Kingdom," he said.

"You only agreed to that, because we would never let you use military force to take that territory," Phillip said, but Midas ignored him.

"Fine, Your Majesty, you have the floor for a final time. But I warn you, if anything proposed involves the exploitation of young people, it gets an immediate veto," Snow said, as the meeting continued. It was going to be a long afternoon.

~*~

"Yes...that's all of it," Henry said, as he talked to his publisher in the Land Without Magic and listened to him on the other end.

"I know that you're used to a bit more calamity going on around here, but believe me, the rest of us are enjoying the peaceful times. I think my readers can appreciate that," Henry said, rolling his eyes. This guy wanted drama and battle all the time.

"I agree...the politics here are pretty much the same. Believe me, it's my grandmother's least favorite part of her job," Henry said, before listening again.

"Yes, you'll have a detailed exclusive of the resort opening next week. I'll be covering it all," he said, as he listened to his publisher again.

"Thanks," Henry said, as he hung up, just as Ella carried a box into the kitchen.

"Not enough drama in Storybrooke this week for him?" she joked. He snickered.

"Yeah...he didn't say it's been boring lately, but I'm sure he's thinking it," he replied, as he looked at the box.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It was in the closet," she replied.

"Oh yeah...this is the box of manuscripts that Grimm left behind. Great grandpa Xander gave it to me to sort through. Guess I forgot about it," he muttered, as he leafed through the notebooks and wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah...this guy writes some dark stuff," he said.

"Wasn't he writing these so he could get your grandparents blood and use it as ink?" she asked. He nodded.

"Yeah…I think that was their plan," he said, as he tossed it back in the box with disgust.

"And he was pretty intent on torturing my grandparents," he said.

"We should burn these," Ella said.

"You're right…" he agreed, as they took the box into the backyard and emptied the contents into the fire pit. She handed the lighter and he lit the notebooks on fire.

"No gruesome, horrible futures for our family. Only happiness," Henry said, as he put his arm around her. She smiled and they watched the fire together.

~*~

"This was a great place to come...I knew I could count on you to pick the perfect place," JJ said, as they walked along the trail through the woods. They were well past the Toll Bridge now and the winter foliage and dusting of snow was gorgeous.

"I think it's a Charming thing...we all seem to love the woods. Except Emma," she joked. He chuckled.

"Did you have special places you liked to go back in Boston?" she asked.

"A few. There were a couple of nice parks and bike trails. The city is so busy though...it's nothing like here," he said, as he smiled at her.

"In a good way," he added, as they stopped by the babbling stream.

"This place is unique...is that what keeps you here?" she asked. He smiled and brushed her hair away from her face.

"No...you keep me here," he replied and she bit her bottom lip, as she blushed.

"I'm really not good at any of this," Summer confessed. He chuckled.

"You're you...and that's what I love," he confessed, as their eyes met.

"Love?" she squeaked. He smiled.

"Yeah…I love you. I was kind of nervous about how to tell you. I mean, you're the daughter of two people that have this amazing love story and I'm just a normal guy," he replied.

"You're not just normal. Believe me, if you were, my family or this place would have scared you away long ago," she joked. He chuckled.

"Guess so…" he said.

"I love you too, JJ," she replied and they shared a kiss at that. They joined hands then and started back toward town.

~*~

"Well...what do you think?" Natalie asked, as she finished her latest exhibit. Xander held his grandson and smiled.

"I think it looks great...just like what Snow and David described," he said, admiring the Cibola exhibit, particularly the new addition of the tallest tower display. Anyone was allowed to tour Cibola, but it was known now that not everyone was allowed to venture to the top of the tallest tower. They weren't sure what would happen if someone did, but Zia had been clear that the texts she had read forbade the wrong people from going there.

"Thanks," she said, as she stood back to admire her work and he put his hand on her shoulder.

"This combined with the new Northuldra display should draw a few classrooms," she said.

"It will do more than that," Xander said.

"He's right, sweetie," her mother agreed, as Thalia sided up to Xander and smiled, as she took their grandson from him.

"Thanks Mom," Natalie replied.

"Are you considering doing the digital tours?" Thalia asked.

"I am...I mean, this stuff is so amazing and the world should see it all. I just don't want to do anything to endanger our family," Natalie replied.

"And Snow and David seem to think there is no harm in virtual tours. They said that there are good people out there that deserve to see all this and since we can't let them in...virtually is a safe way to do it," Xander said.

"He's right...this is always what you wanted. To present the discoveries and wonders like this to the world," Thalia agreed. She nodded.

"We agree," David said, as he and Snow arrived, hand in hand.

"Yeah, we don't see how sharing the Atlantis museum with the world, at least virtually, will hurt. As much bad as we've seen…" Snow said, as she looked at her husband fondly.

"We know there is more good in the world than bad," she finished. He gently lifted her chin with his hand, as he caressed her cheek.

"There is...even if it doesn't always seem that way," he agreed.

"And the exhibit looks great. You recreated it down to the last detail," he added, as they came closer. Levi cooed and Snow couldn't help herself.

"Come see Aunty Snow," she said, as Thalia handed him to her and she cuddled him.

"Oh...you're getting so big," Snow cooed.

"Yeah...you'll be ready for those wooden swords before we know it, won't you, big guy?" David cooed to him, as he peered down.

"You're really insistent on the sword thing, huh?" Natalie asked.

"Of course...it's a Charming tradition," he replied.

"Well…I was going to ask who wants to babysit tonight so I could get a drink with Diego," she said, calling Zorro by his first name.

"But I sense that I don't need to," she replied.

"Yeah, we'll watch him. I think it's our turn anyway," David said.

"It's not...but sure," Xander replied.

"It is kind of their turn," Natalie told him.

"Okay...well, we get next time," Snow said, as she kissed his head and handed him back to Thalia.

"Okay...well, you have fun with grandma and grandpa, sweetie," Natalie said, as she kissed her son and gathered her stuff.

"Granny's?" Xander asked all of them. Snow and David smiled.

"Yeah, we'll join you," he said.

"Sounds like the perfect evening," Snow agreed.

~*~

King Runeard emerged from the desert that evening and loomed around the Agrabah marketplace. He had found the desert surrounding Agrabah to be ideal in the past year. It was vast and rarely traversed and thanks to his powers, he took shelter in the cave of wonders without incident. Thanks to his unique powers, he went undetected by the magic guarding the treasures inside. He had to be careful where he went, lest he wished to reveal himself. When he was too close to a Charming, the elements seemed to go wild, as if to warn their chosen. It infuriated him. He was being denied his Throne and magic had grown to be a very great nuisance. When he exterminated the Northuldra, this had been his reason for doing so. Magic was a disease and only when it was eliminated could the balance be restored. And he was going to find a way to do that.

He disappeared from the Agrabah marketplace and outside Iago's in the rundown east part of Storybrooke. It seemed to be the only portion of the town that was resistant to the Charmings and refused to be bettered by their interference. The only reason they were probably still allowed to exist was because the Charmings were not dictators. He found it absurd though. It was rot like this that he would be their undoing. They refused to crush their opposition, but that opposition would not hesitate to crush them in return, given the opportunity. He took advantage of this little spot though and walked into the Tavern. No one there would tell anyone if they happened to recognize him and most probably wouldn't anyway. He signaled the bartender and he gave him a skeptical look, before coming over to him.

"Your strongest ale," he requested.

"This ain't that fancy artisan place like they have on the west side. You want something hard in here, you should go with brandy or whiskey," the bartender said.

"Fine then...brandy," he replied. The bartender poured it for him and he took a drink.

"I don't want any trouble. I see one badge or one freaking Charming poke their head in this bar…" Iago said.

"And you'll do what against my power or theirs for that matter?" Runeard challenged. Iago closed his mouth and continued to glare at the man.

"Not to worry, my friend...I am not ready for any confrontation either and they barely patrol this end, am I correct?" Runeard asked.

"Here and there...but generally no. Charming sends someone to check on me once a while to see if he can find any violations or reasons to shut me down...but I'm careful," Iago replied.

"Good man...use their rules of good conduct against them," Runeard complimented.

"Yeah…I miss the days under Seth. Those days were lawless and he had Charming on a leash. He didn't bother me for two years and we were like the Pleasure Island of the Mainland," Iago replied.

"Yes...they have taken quite a bite out of the crime, so to speak, in the last year when they took down the island," Runeard agreed.

"Is that what you and all your patrons do? Lament the good 'ole days when you could thieve and pillage without check?" Runeard asked derisively.

"It's better than what you do...lurking in the shadows and pretending you have real power," Iago spat. Runeard touched the man and he was stricken. He started to turn gray, but Runeard pulled away. He gasped and fell back against the counter, as he looked at the man with wide eyes.

"I am not pretending I have power...I could kill everyone in this town with a simple touch. But as you can imagine, that power is not always feasible or easily weaponized. But when I figure out how to do it...then I will shred all the realms down to nothing and begin anew under my rule!" he said, as he stood up.

"I trust my drink is on the house," he said.

"Whatever...just get out!" Iago stammered. Runeard started to leave when a man at a table he passed called out.

"You might want to contact this man...he may be able to help you find what you need," the burly man said. Runeard looked at him and took the card.

"General Mendoza?" he asked. The man nodded.

"And how can someone from outside the United Realms help me?" Runeard asked.

"He wants to take the Charmings down as much as you and has vast resources, plus information or so he says," the man said.

"And why would he use you to tell me, Mr.?" Runeard asked.

"Rourke...and he hired me, because I'm a mercenary for hire and he pays very well. Do with that information what you will," Rourke replied, as he finished his drink.

"He sent this too, since he figured you wouldn't have one of these," Rourke continued, as he handed him a flip style cell phone.

"You'll have to figure out the rest, but it's what's called a burner phone and can't be traced," he added, before getting up and leaving the bar. Runeard left to and returned to his solace in the desert to contemplate this new development.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #original season 9 storyline #Rose Red #Fandral the Dashing #Dashing Rose #romance #adventure #family #Finding You Always #the epic continues

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dear-wormwoods · 5 years ago

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Someone truly in the reddie tag saying Myra was not abusive and that she wasn’t like Sonia. Even saying Bev and Eddie don’t have similar arcs bc their abusive situations were entirely different and that people just reach to bend arguments in order to prove reddie. Biggest bs I have read in a while ahdhd

I’m assuming you are new to my blog, because uhh, I’m sorry to burst your bubble anon, but I am also someone who doesn’t consider Myra abusive. Idk what post you’re talking about specifically but I’d sure like to know what ‘proving reddie’ has to do with it, lol. But anyway, I have said before that I consider Eddie’s marriage to be toxic, but not abusive. These two people should not be married. And not just because Eddie is gay and doesn’t love her. Beyond that, they are definitely bad for each other. The entire marriage is a conduit for misery and deception. It’s a codependent circus of projection and enabling. It’s unhealthy as hell! But it isn’t abusive. And here’s why I think that:

Stephen King wasn’t trying to make a point that Sonia and Myra are exactly the same. He was, however, making a point that when people enter into adulthood and adult relationships while carrying a bunch of baggage from trauma they never properly dealt with, the cycle will continue in one way or another (this is why Eddie and Bev are ‘parallel’ characters, not the surface-level abuse interpretation). Eddie suffered from emotional abuse for most of his life; Sonia was very calculating and intentional about it and made sure that she always held sway in Eddie’s life to suit her own needs. The result is that Eddie is a very inexperienced and sheltered adult who believes in all of the lies his mother told him. He tried to move out three times and failed each time. Sonia controlled him until the day she died. It’s all Eddie knows. So in his mid-thirties, alone in the world for the first time, he doesn’t know how to take care of himself and, more importantly, believes he can’t learn. Because of his history of abuse and control, Eddie can’t fathom taking the reins in his own life and instead seeks out someone who will take care of him the way he’s become accustomed to.

So, Eddie meets Myra and latches onto her because she’s inexperienced and malleable, like him. She physically reminds him of his mother, so it’s easy for him to project onto her all of the abuse Sonia inflicted on him. And because that life was all he knew, it was also what made him feel comfortable, so he nudged Myra into the role he wanted her to fill - a replacement mom. He did this subconsciously at first, but he was able to recognize it before they got married… and then he decided to go through with it anyway.

Eddie brought a lot of baggage into that relationship, baggage that Myra was most likely completely unaware of. Obviously he’s a repressed gay man, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Eddie doesn’t love Myra, but it’s not just because he’s gay, it’s also because he has created a maternal figure in her and, since he (rightfully) resents his mother, he also resents Myra. She conforms to that caretaker role and enables everything he’s learned from a life with Sonia, and he in turn enables her bad habits too. Enabling is toxic behavior, but it isn’t inherently abusive.

But then, when he leaves to go back to Derry, it all comes to a head. She freaks out because as far as she knows, he’s very sick, and he’s leaving her without an explanation, this man who she is married to and financially dependent on. She has no idea how to communicate, so she resorts to panicky, emotionally manipulative attempts to get him to talk to her and stay. On the flipside, Eddie has no idea how to communicate with her either, so he withholds information, deflects, and snaps at her in moments of frustration. They both have irrational thoughts about hurting each other and they both do and say things that make the situation worse. They are both VERY bad at communication. Because they’re both grown adults with almost no relationship experience outside of each other and are therefore emotionally stunted.

That whole chapter reads, to me, like “bad breakups 101″ - one person can’t articulate how they feel so they’re deflecting and coming off as cold, and the other person is so over the top emotional that they end up making no sense and coming off as hysterical. And it’s no wonder! If you make it to your late 30′s without ever having much of a social circle or relationship experience, you’re not going to know how to act in a situation like this. And this applies to both of them. If what Eddie says about her is true, this is probably the first time Myra has ever been left by a partner, and it’s happening suddenly and with no explanation. So, she’s hysterical and resorts to manipulation - not out of habit, but out of desperation (Eddie makes the distinction that this isn’t typical behavior for her!!). For Eddie’s part, this is the first major decision he’s made in probably his whole life, and he doesn’t know how to explain himself, so he just… decides not to. And because he does not love Myra, he is completely emotionally detached from her. Their individual reactions to the situation just make it worse for them both - Eddie shutting down makes Myra more hysterical, and her hysterics cause him to shut down more.

People like to cite a couple of damning quotes about Myra as proof that she’s exactly like Sonia, but making that argument requires you to actively ignore the damning quotes about Eddie. There are also quite a few quotes that highlight the differences between her and Sonia, things Eddie himself acknowledges, as well as quotes about the guilt he feels for knowingly projecting his own baggage onto this woman. (Note: see the posts linked at the end of this for a breakdown of all those quotes) The text makes it clear that this was never a happy marriage. Neither of them are better for being in each other’s lives. They don’t help each other become healthier people. Rather, they both actively enable each other’s toxic habits. The marriage is, in a lot of ways, a form of self-harm for Eddie, and he knows it - upon Sonia’s death, he exited the cage his mother built for him and then built a new cage for himself and threw the key at Myra’s feet. For her part, I believe Myra began as an unwitting enabler but ultimately realized that she gained a “purpose” from the relationship (being a caretaker, being “needed”) and subsequently turned a blind eye to all the ways it wasn’t actually a healthy marriage.

This is such a long post already but I want to make it very clear that Eddie’s cycle of abuse continuing does not actually require Myra herself to be abusive - rather, it is Eddie’s projection onto her that exacerbates the toxic environment. It’s the ghost of Sonia that haunts him in that chapter and throughout the rest of the novel. Myra is not a villain in Eddie’s life - he hardly even thinks about her after he leaves. This is one of the main points that make Eddie and Bev’s parallel arcs different - Bev very clearly has a secondary villain in her life, Tom, and she gets the closure of him dying in the end. But Eddie doesn’t need closure about his marriage, because Myra is just an extension of what Sonia did to him.

The one time he does think of her unprompted is during his walking tour, and it’s such a great example of what his marriage actually means for him: when faced with the leper offering him a blowjob and other IT manifestations, he wishes he was home with Myra. He doesn’t think of her badly - he’s not afraid of her in any way. But she represents his comfort zone. IT is forcing him to confront things like his repressed sexuality, and he decidedly does not want to do that. That’s the only moment he “misses” Myra. But he doesn’t actually miss Myra. He misses the way her enabling allowed him to escape from having to face himself. And that’s really what it comes down to - Eddie’s marriage is toxic because it’s an escape, a way for him to avoid having to grow as a person and face the hard realities of who he is and what his mother has done to him. Myra isn’t evil, she’s not a calculating abuser like Sonia was, but she is toxic because her very presence prevents Eddie from reaching his full potential and being happy.

Sonia’s abuse permeates Eddie’s entire life, even well after her death. Her actions dictate how he sees himself, as well as how he acts in relationships. Sonia is the reason Eddie’s marriage is the way it is. Hell, Sonia is the reason Eddie’s marriage exists in the first place. It is Sonia’s ghost that continues to manipulate him throughout the book and it is Sonia’s voice he needs to overcome in the end. If Myra were truly abusive, she would matter more in the overarching narrative of Eddie’s trip to Derry. But she doesn’t matter and because of that, she’s never really given a personality or motivations. She’s truly a blank canvas for Eddie to project his issues onto, and then he simultaneously berates himself for projecting and resents her for existing within his projections. Through all of this, everything always comes back to Sonia. Due to the vast disparity between their respective levels of influence, placing Myra on equal footing with Sonia is, in my opinion, a form of downplaying how bad Sonia truly was.

Finally, and it’s wild that this even needs to be said, people need to recognize that saying ‘Myra isn’t abusive’ is NOT the same thing as saying she did nothing wrong. Myra was an enabler and that’s not okay, whether she meant to be or not. She also had moments of manipulation, terrible communication skills and poor emotional regulation. She was a toxic presence in Eddie’s life. Saying she isn’t abusive doesn’t mean I’m excusing her actions. But it’s also important to recognize that the chapter in which she appears has a lot more nuance to it than some people realize, and it’s necessary to hold Eddie accountable for his part in making that night so difficult. On that note, holding Eddie accountable and recognizing his harmful moments is not the same as calling him abusive either (fsr that’s become some kind of urban legend, but literally no one ever said he was! ever!!). There does not always have to be an abuser and a victim - sometimes bad relationships are just… bad.

Eddie is obviously a lot more sympathetic than Myra because we know about his past and get his POV. We know that he’s a good person. We also know that Sonia is the root of all of his issues. But the fact is, he has some shitty moments in that chapter, just as Myra does! His past experiences are not an excuse for that, they’re just an explanation. And, because I know there are people out there who equate accountability with victim blaming, being able to recognize where Eddie went wrong and why he entered into this marriage to begin with is NOT the same as saying he deserved any of his misery. There’s a huge, huge difference between accountability and blame. Holding people, even fictional characters, accountable is a good thing. In the end, Eddie is a very damaged person - an inherently good person, to be sure, but sometimes damaged people who are inherently good can, and often do, create, foster, and contribute to unhealthy relationships. It can’t all be unquestioningly pinned on Myra.

Anyway, if after all of that you’re still confused as to why some people choose not to use the abuse label, here’s some additional reading:

An amazing breakdown of the entire chapter, using quotes, by @tossertozier

A more recent & shorter breakdown using quotes by @richietozierhateblog

#asks #love how of all the things in my inbox this is the one i choose to respond to #the one that will give me the most stress #the dreaded myra discourse #long post #stephen king's it #it novel #it meta #my meta #eddie kaspbrak #myra kaspbrak #eddie spaghet tea #meta

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whateverthedragonswant · 4 years ago

Text

More proof in the pudding for 15x20 breaking the fourth wall theory

I kind of already discussed this theory on this post here but in going over the last two seasons of GoT to add to this dark!Dany meta I’ve got going, I noticed something that I think is worth taking a look at.

GoT 8x06:

We all remember what happens after this weighted ominous walk of Jon’s.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7XhfGY5pIPg&t=254s

“When I was a girl, my brother told me it was made from a thousand swords of Aegon’s fallen enemies. What do a thousand swords look like in the mind of a little girl who can’t count twenty? I imagined a mountain of swords too high to climb. So many fallen enemies, you could only see the soles of Aegon’s feet.” “This is our reason. It has been from the beginning since you were a little boy with a bastard’s name and I was a little girl who couldn’t count to twenty.” “You are my queen, now and always.” -- this is dialogue meant to call back to the Dany the audience has known since season 1 - this was done in an effort to keep her character sympathetic to the end but it’s problematic since she just torched an entire city that held a million innocent people, and it completely negates the true moral of her story - her brother is mentioned who we haven’t seen since season 1, who by all means is not a good influence or a hero in this story but in this last season, she has started to embrace the Targaryen side of things (that we’ve seen reflected in her wardrobe, I see you Michele Clapton, you brilliant woman, you) - the dialogue even invokes season 1 Jon in that one line, though obviously the focus is not on Jon but Dany herself - Jon who had just been acting as the audience mouthpiece in the jail scene with Tyrion (acting as the writers’ mouthpiece - again breaking the 4th wall), saying “You are my queen, now and always”, something the split audience (the ones who felt betrayed by Dany’s dark turn and still stan her to this day) keep saying - yes “now and always” was a common saying in the North, but this wording is purposeful as is this piece of dialogue for essentially what is Dany’s death scene, the most controversial death to come out of this episode, the end of this series I would even argue

15x20:

We all remember Dean’s monologue that took close to 10 mins to happen as he was “fading pretty quick”, so much so that Sam couldn’t call for help

youtube

“There’s a few things that I need you to hear. Come here. Let me look at you. There he is. I am so proud of you, Sam. Do you know that? I’ve always looked up to you. Remember when we were kids, you were so damn smart, you never took any of Dad’s crap. I never knew how you did that. And you’re stronger than me. You always have been. Hey, did I ever tell you that night that, uh, that I came for you when you were at school? You know when Dad hadn’t come back from his hunting trip? The woman in white, that’s right. I must’ve stood outside your dorm for hours because I didn’t know what you would say. I thought you’d tell me to get lost or get dead and I didn’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have you. ‘Cause I was so scared. I was scared. ‘Cause when it all came down to it, it was always you and me. It’s always been you and me.” “I can’t do this alone.” “Yes, you can.” “Well, I don’t want to.” “I love you so much. My baby brother.” -- notice anything...familiar? -- this is dialogue meant to call back to season 1, to the original audience that started out with the brothers in season 1, that may not have stuck with the show for all 15 seasons but maybe ducked back in for the finale just to see how the show chose to end the boys’ stories - John is mentioned who is not a good influence nor a hero in the story which the show has gone out of their way to show time and time again, despite 14x13 - this is the result of one of their dad’s old unfinished hunts from season 1 including the “villain” - Dean mentions events of the first episode when John hasn’t come back from an old hunt, when he goes to get Sam from school, the woman in white being their very first MOTW of the show, even the dialogue from that first episode where the lines are reversed and Dean tells Sam he doesn’t want to do it alone - the dialogue is meant to invoke nostalgia of that pilot and that time, that version of the boys’ stories, where it was Winchester only - Dean’s death (outside of Cas’) is one of the most controversial deaths to happen this episode, even this series (though it has a lot of problematic deaths, i.e. Charlie but I mean in the main character arena) - this was done to keep season 1, specifically the pilot, in the viewers’ minds and as a callback to the beginning of the show, the dialogue was very purposeful, it’s also no coincidence that Sam is the focus here and once Dean is finished telling him goodbye essentially, he looks away behind the camera and talks about how he didn’t think today was going to be the day but it is (which adds to the pudding even more, because this is later season Dean talking who did not want to die on a hunt and wanted something different for himself, season 1 Dean always knew he would die young on a hunt)

And let us not forget this:

Andrew Dabb: “If you thought Game of Thrones was bad, just wait” (x) - this is said in a joking manner but where is it said? Comic Con 2019, the same Comic Con D&D canceled their appearances at & left the cast who did appear to deal with the fallout. This isn’t a man flipping off people and being like “Ha! Crybabies, we’re doing what we want to do and that’s that! Ha!” He said it in a joking manner when he talked about how only 30% of people would be pleased after seeing the finale and Jared joined the conversation. This is the same man who pushed hard along with Bobo Berens for a spinoff that featured women and women of color as well as having proper queer representation but got shut down by the network in the end. The same guy who worked to separate Dean and Sam from their toxic co-dependency and bolstered the found family theme in the narrative, while also taking the baton that Carver started with of Dean and Sam thinking of what they would actually want for their endings, and running with it, developing that even further.

What did GoT have? 2 final seasons as it were. To be fair, season 7 cannot be considered an alternate ending, it had way too many open endings but here (x) it’s stated that D&D did want to end GoT with season 7 initially before being convinced by the network to go to 8. They wanted to move onto other projects (that never happened because they’re egotistical greedy idiots, but I digress) and their rush to end the series showed. HBO wanted 10 seasons but they didn’t want to move forward without D&D. GRRM thought at least 13 seasons would be appropriate.

What did SPN have? 2 finales. 15x19 is not only the finale that closes up the mytharc but also the found family finale. I’m not sure if they knew this ahead of time or found out last second (Misha’s line of “Cas’ ending was supposed to be different but I don’t think we’re supposed to talk about that” still haunts me), but ultimately, that’s how it worked out. 15x19 was for the later season fans, the found family, the mythology fans (meaning Heaven, Hell, angels, nephilim, Lucifer, Jack, etc). That’s why we get the huge montage of characters at the end of the episode, the initials on the table, Dean demanding Cas be brought back in the beginning of the episode and Lucifer’s phone call, Dean and Sam wanting Jack to come back to the bunker but he can’t, Dean and Sam driving off in Baby together with “Running On Empty” playing. 15x20 was the series finale for early season fans, Kripke fans, Winchester-only fans. That’s why there’s no big montage in the beginning of the SERIES FINALE that they had done every season premiere, every season finale, and every mid-season premiere. They didn’t want the found family (yes, including Cas and Jack) in the viewers’ minds. But they couldn’t remove those two characters from the narrative completely (they were too integral later on in the series plus later season fans are watching this too) so they get mentions. This is why the Carry On My Wayward Son twice, Sam married to Blurry Wife and having Dean Jr., the Winchester-only mantle, the MOTW that calls back to one of their big bads (vampires) in season 1 (outside of YED & any demonic forces), why the brothers-only ending. This is why Dean is all ‘Cas who?’, why Eileen disappeared, and why Jack is off shooting a new spot for Architectural Digest. They only wanted Sam and Dean on your minds in 15x20 with the extension of John, Mary, Rufus, Bobby, and Baby with a touch of the Roadhouse in the background. This is also why no pictures of Blurry Wife on the Winchester-only mantle either. This is why Sam’s son was named Dean. This is why after putting on the Party City wig, Sam goes to sit in Baby and cries, thinking of Dean.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: 15x20.👏 Was.👏 A.👏 Vehicle. It’s no coincidence that W*lker was more heavily promoted during 15x20 than any other time before. That what happens in 15x20 for Sam and Dean (and that Sam is once again the focus after having the story split between the brothers for years before) parallels somewhat to what happens in Jared’s new show and his character. This is the same network that uses its shows to backdoor pilots of spinoffs and other shows time and time again (think Green Arrow and The Canaries, Legacies, etc). It’s also no coincidence that W*lker is in the same time slot as SPN had been in, that they intersperse the use of #SPNFamily and #W*lkerFamily on Twitter, that the C*W SPN twitter account is used to steer followers to their other content, that the C*W YouTube account for SPN no longer has any clips or promos available for that show, almost as if it doesn’t exist. You know why? Simple, they don’t want SPN on your minds anymore. They want you watching W*lker and any other new content they are cooking up and throwing at you. Don’t be surprised if they start heavily promoting another new show (besides their returning ones) during W*lker episodes now. That’s just the name of the game, how it works. They already pushed the audience they wanted from 15x20 to W*lker and now SPN is an officially closed chapter for them. Dabb and the actors had other projects to move onto. In their minds, it’s done...until they try to reboot it in some way in a couple of years. And it will not only feature a younger generation of actors but will have what they consider to be appropriate queer representation as well as POC representation in the new cast. It may be the same Winchester story though changed or a whole new story in that universe. You laugh but watch. It’ll happen. This network is not known for its quality or originality, only for their brand. There’s a reason they keep on showrunners to head up new content if their original source of content works and they become “favorites” (i.e Julie Plec).

Ultimately, GoT was referenced many times on SPN, in dialogue between characters whether it applied or not. GoT was mentioned by the actors when discussing watching it, at cons and in interviews. SPN (and Dabb) was very well aware of GoT and what happened with that show. Not only because it was all over the media everywhere, being a pop culture phenomenon that had HUGE backlash, but also because they were there at the Comic Con where the backlash was felt strongest. To the point where even other people mentioned it in their panels (i.e. Seth Rogen). I’m obviously not in Dabb’s head nor was I on set when they filmed the finale or in the writers’ room with J2 and the writers when they pitched the ending so I don’t know. But isn’t it odd that 8x06 of GoT features a scene that has been confirmed by Kit Harington as breaking the 4th wall to speak to/get the viewers’ attention, make them think, and SPN is a show that has featured that same concept (usually in a comedic fashion) time and time again? And in 15x20 they have Robert Singer make an appearance? And the infamous bridge crew shot, J2 talking to you while still in costume as Sam and Dean from that same shot, and the voiceover “And cut” before it cuts to black?

I don’t think we’ll ever really get answers. I think any we get will always be complimentary to the network, or “we can’t talk about it”, or “it was always planned that way”. I’m not saying those people are being less than truthful (and seriously, I don’t blame any of them, it’s PR and they need to protect their careers, feed their families, if you speak out on anything in this universe, something really serious or the tiniest thing, you risk ever getting hired again, you will be blacklisted, it’s not right and it’s certainly not fair, but this is the way this particular business works) but something is not adding up (a lot of somethings actually). I think there was definitely a different ending for Cas, possibly even Jack (meaning he might have made at least one appearance). I do think there may have been a different resolution to Destiel and Saileen (unless they truly planned to keep it ambiguous all along). I don’t know if Dean would have had a different ending, I think he might have at one point as suggested by the narrative during Carver’s and Dabb’s eras, but I’m not sure what their “true ending” was going to be regarding him or Sam. To have Sam be the one that died would have been redundant from Swan Song (5x22) so I doubt they would have gone in that direction. I hate to think it but I don’t think we’ll ever really know. As far as death scenes go, Dean’s death in 9x23 was way more meaningful and impactful for me when he tells Sam that he’s proud of them, than what we got in 15x20. No offense to the guys’ acting or to the boys themselves, but the 9x23 scene was more appropriate imho. And that also leads me to believe that Dean’s manner of death may not have been what they planned all along. But until we get answers (which again I don’t think we will), we’ll never truly know for sure.

As for me, this is just more proof in the pudding. I’m not saying Dabb & Co purposely sabotaged 15x20 at all but I wouldn’t be surprised if they kept the reaction to GoT’s finale in mind at a couple of key points while getting these last two episodes shot. 15x19 was our finale, sad to say. 15x20 was the network’s finale, meant to induce nostalgia and callbacks, bringing the boys’ original fans over to Texas to watch a certain ranger do roundhouse kicks. Sad but true.

#The15YearShow #spn #spn posts #got mention #got and spn parallels #spn 15x20 #who's she #the rancid nutwork #daenerys' death #dean's death #season 1 callbacks parallels #for each

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blackevermore · 4 years ago

Text

x Wade In The Water

{ Chapter 6: Send My Blessing, Dear Child }

Summary: Ester Scott was once in love. She thought the days of her shortcomings were over and that the man she found was her one and only. But all that was taken away when the demons she had became too accustomed to finally took the one thing she had left. Louisiana was her home but the devil down below was calling her name. She only has herself to blame when it came to the hands dragging her under.

Notes: It’s Hazbin Hotel, be ready for everything. Also I apologize for all my mistakes in advance!

Word Count: 3,814

Angels for me will scare me with sharp teeth and many eyes. Angels for you will be of old loves and kiss you cheek. Both of our angels are righteous, both of our angels are kind.

- Ester R. Scott

It had been weeks since I saw the devil and his company. Nor had I seen the angels and their haunting eyes. One would think I’d feel more at ease not having someone watch me. But silence was the enemy, silence told you danger was coming before the skin crawling realization of danger was there. Every night before bed, before telling mama goodnight, I looked out the windows and waited to see something. Anything. But nothing was ever there and the disappointment paranoia that rested in my stomach grew.

Chemintine seemed to become catty with my neighbours who welcomed her with opened arms. That was good considering the impression she made when she first got here. They almost thought she fell off the bus and bumped her head, once she explained what was happening she came a causal. There were still some that didn’t like her being here. Said she would cause problems and bring someone else to come and cause bigger problems. There was no point in trying to change their mind, their fear was real just like everyone else here. The last time white folk stumbled into our neighbourhood we had to lock the doors. I was ten when I saw someone being drug down the street and never seen again. So I tell Clementine to just be the nicest she could be and have the same manners she would have if she met the queen.

She found it silly. I found it life saving.

“Will you be bring that friend of yours to church tomorrow, Ester?” Miss Bouchard asked me. Today I was helping one of the elderly ladies in the neighborhood with mending her clothes. When I wasn’t at the shop with a task list, I was out and out sewing and mending and caring for those around me. The best I could do when they took care of me when mama passed. Miss Bouchard was a fine woman of only 72 who was like a meme to me. I could tell in her youth was a firecracker that should have left Louisiana. She always kept her hair in tight pin curls with a headwrap tied in bows. As a child I could never tell if her chunky jewelry was real or if it was fake. I wasn’t sure it mattered since she always looked amazing. She never had a husband or children so her freedom was higher than anyone else. Mama would tell me she was nothing but a party girl, so much so every night she would stumble home with her girlfriends arms linked together still singing. Then in the morning she would still out in her robe with said friend nursing herself with coffee. No matter what though Miss Bouchard never missed a day of church, how could she when she was the lead singer in the choir. Now that I’m older I realize those women were never really her friends.

“I don’t think so ma’am, Chemintine isn’t much for church.” I smiled politely and continued to fold the bed sheets into a tight pile.

“You don’t have to be church folk to come to church. You just have to have an open mind and a free spirit.”

“Oh I’m sure Chemintine is all that and maybe more.” I chuckled to myself and Miss Bouchard tsked at me and I could help but laugh a little more. I finished the bed sheets and moved on to her shirts on her drying line.

“Be nice to that girl. I’ve seen many of her and she’s nothing but a sweet darling.”

“She’s mighty sweet. I’m just not sure if she’ll like it.”

“Have you asked her?”

“No ma’am.”

“Then don’t assume things. The worst thing you can do to another person is assume how they would feel or how they will act. You know better.” It wasn’t much of a scolding but I knew Miss Bouchard meant. All my life so far was a bunch of assuming, a lot of my mama’s life was, and I sure so way Miss Bouchard.

“I’m sorry ma’am.” I gave my apology and she shook her head and sighed.

“Bring the girl and let her see for herself if that’s somewhere she wouldn’t mind going.” Miss Bouchard waved her hand over to me to hand her a shirt and I did. We sat in silence for the rest of the folding till I eventually got up to put everything away. I said my goodbyes and moved on to the next house. My mornings were filled so I wouldn’t be home till the afternoon.

“Finally you make it home! I was starting to think you went off to work for the whole day.” Chemintine greeted me at the door with a hug and I shooed her off. She helped me out my coat and took my bag to place on the dining table. “This is what you do every weekend? Is this way you never go out?”

“I do this every so often, it's about giving back to those that helped you. I wouldn’t be here without these folks ‘round here.” I told her and she smiled sweetly.

“Ester, you really are a caring person. I had no idea this was your life.”

“Well I don’t go around talking about it, I preferred if I could keep some things to myself. Mama always said you never want people to be all up in ya business. Because then they’ll start trying to give you advice that won’t work.” Chemintine laughed and went off to the kitchen.

Mama was right though, a private life was safer than a public one. Even in the conditions we faced. Mama never told anyone where my father ran off to when they asked. Nor did she tell them why she stayed here in Louisiana when everyone else in our family left. She would just sit quietly and allow them to make up whatever story suited their narrative and corrected them only when it was necessary. She told me to never go around like the other black kids bragging about what we had or what we didn’t have at school. At that point you were asking for someone to rob you blind.

I kick off my shoes and pull my legs under me on the small worn down couch and relax against the comfortable back, “Chemintine?”

“Yes Ester?” The blonde stuck her head out from the kitchen arch way.

“They would like to know if you will come to church tomorrow.”

“A-Am I allowed?” Chemintine was hesitant and a bit scared.

“Do you want to?”

“I’ve thought about it. I see you get ready in the morning and when you leave I can see everyone else leaving their houses and they look mighty fine all dolled up. Then I hear yall singing coming home. I wanna sing coming home.” Chemintine smiled bashfully when she finished.

“Then when I say get up and get ready tomorrow I don’t wanna hear ya complaining about nothing.” I rolled my eyes and got up to go to the bathroom. Every morning during the week was a struggle to get Chemintine up for work. I have no idea how she managed on her own back at her daddy’s house. Luckily it didn’t take long for her to snap into action once she was up, it was only getting her out of bed that was the issue.

“I’se be ready! Be kind to me, Ester.” I could help but stop when she said those words to me. Everytime I teased her she said that to me as if I never was. I could tell when she was going to say it by now. Be kind to me. Be kind to me and I’ll always be kind to you. A very powerful saying.

Every Time since I told Chemintie about the angels she’s come to my bedroom door with her dress balled in her hands and her toes crossed over each other. Her messy blonde hair up in rollers and her sharp eyes staring right through me. Every time she would have a question rattling in her mind and I’d wait patiently for her to ask me. ‘Ester are they here’ and I would answer ‘they were until they heard you coming’ or ‘not tonight, Chemintine’ and she walked away a bit upset that she couldn’t be there with them. Tonight was no different as she stood in my door waiting for my attention.

“Chemintine, why do you want to know if the angels are here?” I finally had to ask her. She became so red in the face as she was placed on the spot. She started to twist the end of her nightie into knots as she stumbled back and forth a bit.

“It’s dumb, you’ll laugh at me.” Chemintine said, lowering her head in shame. I patted the space next to me for her to take and she slowly walked over.

“I won’t laugh at you.” I told her in a comforting voice, there was nothing she could really say that would make me laugh at her. Unless she started asking if angels were connected to love then maybe I’d snicker.

“Ya promise?”

“I promise, now what is it?”

“Since you can see them, and I believe you can, I was wondering if when I stand in front of you, you would see my grandma. She died when I was 14 and she always told me she be with me. I miss her so much right now.” Chemintine sighed and looked at me with a defeated look. I shook my head and took her hand in mine and rubbed circles on her thumb.

“I don’t need to see the angels to know you’re grandma is watching over you. Passed loved ones are always watching.”

“Are the angels around you actually your mama?”

“No, I wish one of them was but they ain’t. Mama is resting her feet with a drink in hand and I know it.” I chuckled and that seemed to knock the cloud off from over Chemintine’s head.

“I hope grandma Gogo is enjoying her music in a garden up there. She used to plant the prettiest daisies. That’s what my name was going to be, Daisy Eve Evans.” Chemintine did jazz hands in the air like magic fell from her fingers.

“Well who named you Chemintine?” I had to ask, I had to know who couldn’t spell Clemintine correctly and cursed this poor girl.

“My daddy, he named me after some hag from the family that came from France.” I pity that damn fool. “It’s a real name ya know, it’s the wrong spelling but for some reason people kept using it. I don’t really like my name.”

“Oh,” I was speechless a bit, I always thought she wasn’t aware of it. Silly me for assuming, Miss Bouchard was right. “Why don’t you change it?”

“I am, or I was when I got up to New York, I was going to become Daisy as I should have been.” Chemintine face said it all, she had a dream and one day it was going to come true.

“I’ll call you Daisy if you want.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not right now, I want to get out of here first, make a life of my own and then I’ll be Daisy. Daisy is a woman’s name and I’m nothing but a girl at the moment. I’m not like you Ester.” I narrowed my eyes and cocked an eyebrow at the comment and Chemintine stopped me from saying anything before she could finish. “You were born Ester, you seemed like you were wise ever since you were born. You had the old soul of a woman, never a little girl.” I thought about it a moment then shook my head. If only she knew about all the nights I cried myself to sleep or ran to my mama for comfort because the dark scared me. Sometimes the dark still got the best of me and I found myself hiding under my blankets.

“Well when we get up there I’ll make sure I’ll say ya name right, Miss Daisy.” I smile and nudge Chemintine’s shoulder and she smiled. She got up and said good night and walked towards the living room. Before I headed to bed myself I looked around my room. As always there was no sight of angels, pity, I would have loved to tell Chemintine there was.

}~~{

Before the sun was shining through my bedroom window Chemintine was waking me up for breakfast. I could care less where she got the food from as long as my stomach was full and a cup of tea was ready for me. As we sat and ate I read her a passage of the bible which was something mama would do before we got ready. Within an hour it was time to get dressed and leave. Chemintine beamed as she put on her best dress and did her hair. When I finally made it to the living room with my shoes in hand and my overcoat, Chemintine was sitting up on the couch clenching her purse.

“You okay?” I asked her as I sat beside her and slipped on my heels.

“You sure this is okay? No one will be mad I showed up are they?” Chemintine swallowed hard.

“Some might but not everyone, as I told you before just smile and nod and stay with me.”

“Smile and nod, got it.” When I was ready we headed out the door and down the street. Buses didn’t come on Sundays so walking was the only way to get to and from, luckily no one had to go to the city. When we made it to the church the first bell started ringing which signaled everyone to come in. A few old faces greeted me and when they saw Chemintine behind me they rushed to greet her. They asked her all the times you would ask an old friend and then some. As I waited for the old ladies to leave Chemintine alone with the promise she came by for dinner, I noticed the few sour faces watching from the side. They turned up their noses and held their bags close to them. Some even held their children close to their side so they could come over. Finally I had enough and walked over to pull my friend along.

“Come on now, Chemintine, we have to take our seat.” I smiled sweetly to the olders and excused us so we could get a seat in the front. I knew I wouldn’t be able to have my normal seat in the middle now that Chemintine was with me. So sitting with the elderly was our best bet and a good chance Chemintine wouldn’t notice people staring at her. As service began I was quickly drowning it out with my thoughts. Even when I tried to pay attention I couldn’t and I caught myself staring out the window to the old fields around the church. A few times Chemintine would poke me to ask if I was alright and I would quickly nod and face forward. But with every word the pastor said I turned my head back towards the windows.

“I see today we have a visitor. Would you mind standing and telling us your name?” The pastor called out in the middle of a recession while he thanked everyone for coming. I snapped back to reality as I felt Chemintine start to shake from nervousness. She slowly rose to her feet and I quickly held out my hand for her to grab for comfort.

“Morning church, my name is Chemintine Evans, I’m Ester’s guest for today.” Chemintine tried to smile but it was hard as she tried to keep her cool. Now she understood what it was like to be the only one of your skin color in a room full of others. Only difference was she wouldn’t get beat for breathing.

“Welcome Chemintine, we are happy to have you, everyone could you give a warm welcome for our guest?” The room quickly filled with clapping and “welcome” from people around us. Soon the pastor rose his hand to silence the room so he could speak again. “Chemintine is there anything you would like to say this beautiful Sunday morning?”

“I-I would like to thank Ester for taking me in. Things aren’t going very well at the moment but Ester was a true friend to me and allowed me to stay with her.” Chemintine shook my hand and pulled me forward to stand with her which earned us a few claps. “I’ve only known her for a few years but she’s been nothing but kind to me. Nothing but truthful and teaches me everyday and I want to be able to be just like that as I continue on. Ester is a real friend.”

“Sister Scott, thank you for doing god’s work, he has truly blessed you with a heart so kind and so open. I pray that the both of you will be blessed with god’s righteous path.” Every clapped once again and this time when I looked at Chemintine she seemed more at ease. We quickly mouth thank you and sat back down and for the rest of the serves I could finally pay attention. But beside me, outside the window, I could feel someone watching in and I could tell it was someone good.

After church Chemintine was once again surrounded by church folk asking her questions. Knowing them they were trying to find gossip but with a white girl like Chemintine all they would find was a dreamful country girl. As I waited by the end of the stairs I saw Miss Bouchard slowly walking towards me with a flower in hand.

“Morning Miss Bouchard, did you have a good service?” I asked

“Indeed I did, I’m happy you brought Chemintine with you, she’s a breath of fresh air. Reminds me of an old friend I had long ago who smiled just like that.” Miss Bouchard chuckled then handed me the flower. I took it and noticed it was a white daisy freshly picked from some garden. The church hadn’t had a garden in years so I had no idea where Miss Bouchard could have gotten it unless she held on to it all morning.

“Is this for Chemintine?” I asked gently tucking the flower into my elbow to hold it.

“It is, something told me she would need a flower so I brought one.” Miss Bouchard pointed towards the sky and for a moment my heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

“I’ll make sure to give it to her, Miss Bouchard.”

“Thank you, have a fine day Ester.”

“You too ma’am.” I waved goodbye and watched as the old woman made her way down the street. As I watched her I saw something faint form next to her and when it became less foggy I saw a woman with blonde hair waving goodbye as well. I watched the apparition closely and as she turned around to look at me I thought it was Chemintine. The apparition smiled towards me then looked back towards Miss Bouchard as the women grew small in the distance, then vanished. This was the first time I’ve seen what I believed to be a ghost. First it were angels, then it was the devil, now it was a ghost with faces like my friend. What was next?

“Ester?” Chemintine pulled gently on my jacket to get my attention. “I’ve been calling for ya. Are you okay?”

“O-oh yeah I’m fine. I was just making sure Miss Bouchard got on safely. She’s getting older and I know one day she won't be able to make the walk from her house to here.” It was completely a lie, just not the whole truth, but Chemintine didn’t need to know that.

“That’s really sweet of you, Ester. Are you ready to go?”

“I am, by the way Miss Bouchard wanted me to give this to you.” I gave the daisy to Chemintine and her eyes went wide. She smiled hard and took the flower and tucked it into her hair.

“See, I told ya, daisies are beautiful, ain’t it!” She spun around and I nodded as we started to walk away from the church steps. Chemintine was as happy as could be as she skipped ahead of me talking about all the people she met. She told me she wouldn;t mind going to church if it was with me. I told her she was welcome anytime as long as she didn’t promise anyone we would come over for dinner.

“Be kind to her.” a voice whispered in my ear and I quickly whipped around to see the ghost from earlier standing beside me. Her voice was airy and light but felt welcoming. “Be kind to her, Ester.” The woman looked beyond me towards Chemintine who was now half way down the road. The woman began to age as a slight breeze blew past us. Her blonde hair turned white and her posture started to hunch over as her skin wrinkled. She still had the same eyes as she did before.

“I will.” I whispered back and nodded as I began to catch up with Chemintine. I didn’t have to peak over my shoulder to know the woman was gone and it was only me and Chemintine walking.

“Chemintine?” I looked over to the blonde who was sitting on the ground reading the newspaper.

“Yes Ester?” She looked up towards me with raised brows and a soft smile.

“You’re grandmother was named Daisy, wasn’t she?”

“Why yes she was, Mrs Daisy Anne Evans, the sweetest woman of Spring, Texas. Raised ten kids all by herself when granddaddy fell into a river and drowned. Why’ya ask?” Chemintine put down her paper and scooted closer to the couch to rest her head against the frame as she looked up at me. I knew she was waiting for me to say something about the angels but I didn’t have to as she read my eyes. She reached up and touched the daisy in her hair before making to her feet and pulling me into a hug.

I patted her back as she cried and asked me to tell her grandma she loved her and missed her. I told her I didn’t have to because she already knew, all of our loved ones that passed knew.

“Tell her anyway, Ester.” Chemintine mumbled into my shoulder happily.

“Tell her yourself.” I chuckled. “I’m sure she can hear you.”

#🔻Red Thread🔻#chapter 6 #my writing #self ship #self shipping #self shipping community #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel

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chelsfic · 5 years ago

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*boop boop boop boop booop* Haunted Fic Watch!

Hello and welcome to a blog within a blog. This is *Haunted Fic Watch* where we take a look inside Chelsea’s Google Drive to find out what *the hell* she’s been working on lately...

900 followers - Bucky Barnes Angst requested by: @mrs-ari-tokoyami

First up is the unfinished Winter Soldier angst requested as part of my 900 Followers Clown Show Extravaganza. It’s causing a lot of strife AND confusion in the news room. Let’s take a peek!

He looks different. He’s wearing civilian clothing for one thing. And his eyes, though just as haunted as ever, are more lucid than you’ve ever seen them. He’s watching you with a doubtful expression, as if he’s not sure you’ll allow him inside. The Winter Soldier must have used your safe house dozens of times through the years and he’s never once seemed uncertain of his welcome. He’s always taken it for granted, in his cold, calculating way, that the house is here for his use and that you, too, will help him as a matter of course.

Today he shuffles his feet and fidgets with the straps of his backpack as you peer at him through the screen door.

“You’re back,” you remark unnecessarily. You’ve never had a name to call him by. And you won’t call him Soldier or the Asset; those are your father’s words for him, but they seem cruel and dehumanizing to you.

“Is this...umm...can I come in?” His voice is always raw from disuse. The Winter Soldier doesn’t have much use for words. In fact, this may be the most he’s ever said in your presence. The diffidence in his tone, in his stature, throws you off. But then again...the whole world’s come crashing down. Your father’s been arrested. This man has clearly been through it all as well.

“Of course, you know you’re always welcome,” you smile warmly, creaking open the screen door and beckoning him inside.

---

He doesn’t remember you, that much is clear. It’s not so unusual, although it hurts every time. Your father told you very little about the man when he first enlisted your help, but you’ve gathered that he’s been programmed somehow. So you try not to take it personally when he arrives on your doorstep seemingly without any memory of you, your name, your touch...your kiss.

He lumbers into your living room. Even without the tactical gear he’s a huge, intimidating figure and he looks so out of place in your tiny house with its kitschy decor. His eyes are huge and scanning the interior of your home non-stop. You notice the muscles in his shoulders standing out against his tight long sleeve t-shirt and, while you’re never above admiring his physique, you crease your brow in worry. He’s obviously tense and terrified.

“Hey, it’s alright. This is a safe place, remember? Do you want me to--I could read your safe words?”

You cross the living room and rummage through the drawer of an end table before returning with the small, black notebook you’d received when you first took on this task. The “safe words” are a series of short commands that soothe the Soldier. They don’t reset his memory or compel him to do anything other than relax...but you still feel strange using them. You’ve only used them a handful of times over the years and only after explicitly asking if he wanted them--but it still feels gross to you. You’d asked him once--on one of his good visits--as he held you in his arms, if it’s possible for him to consent. He had no answer for you on that day and the memory of his silence still haunts you.

You flip through the notebook as you walk back over to him, unaware of the dangerous flash in his eyes or the way his fists clench at his sides. It’s not until your wrist is suddenly caught in the vice-like grip of his metal hand that you realize anything is wrong.

He rips the notebook from your hands and slams you against the wall, switching his grip to your throat and letting his fingers squeeze menacingly.

“You. Can’t. Control. Me. Anymore!” he growls at you through clenched teeth. Stars appear in your vision and you claw uselessly at his hand, kicking your feet out and trying to shake your head. “You’re one of them?! Hydra….SHIELD…”

WOW! Where is this going????!???!??

Mine - sequel to Secret Keeper - Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Next we have a few paragraphs written yesterday for the much anticipated follow up to Secret Keeper. Will these paragraphs make it into the final draft?? Or will they be “erased from the narrative”? What do I look like, a fortune a teller?

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Horacio whispers as your alarm clock blares from the nightstand. “I’ll take care of you…”

You fumble, bleary-eyed, for the snooze button before collapsing back into the covers and nestling into your lover’s chest. You breathe in his warm, masculine scent and sigh with contentment as his strong arms wrap around you making you feel both safe and small at once. He presses kisses to the crown of your head. It’s tempting. It’s so damn tempting to stay here in this nest you’ve created with your reconciliation. Horacio would take care of everything for you. Your rent, your bills… You know the guilt tears at him from the inside. You can see it haunting his features at times when he stares into space or when his hands hesitate to touch you. You know he’d love to keep you safe from the world, himself included. And you want to let him.

“I know you’d take care of me, mi amor,” you sigh, nuzzling your face into his muscular chest. “But I don’t want to hide.”

But that’s exactly what you want to do when you step into the office that day and feel the heaviness of people’s eyes on you. Wondering why you’re still here. Wondering if you can even be trusted.

Fine? I guess?

Wish You Weren’t Here - Diego Jiménez x Reader

And...finally, what everyone has been waiting for: Diego’s first meeting with Piglet.

You’re still breathless and clinging to each other when Piglet finally decides to make her grand entrance. You catch a blur of motion from the corner of your eye and suddenly Diego’s body is rigid above yours.

“What? The fuck? Is that?” he hisses and the wide-eyed panic on his face has you convulsing in giggles. He glares down at you balefully.

“It’s my cat, Pig,” you explain, reaching around his outrageously broad shoulders and trying to shoo the feline away, “Piglet, stop that!”

She hops onto the back of the couch and stares down at the two of you with clear judgment in her eyes. Her tail twitches and you’re not all together certain she’s not about to take a leap at Diego’s head.

Other stuff on my mind

Damn, girl, are you going to update that Mando fic, huh? Also do you remember what the plan was for that orrrrr..............??

Should you rewatch Logan and start writing Donald Pierce fic just so you can thirst after bad, bad boi Boyd Holbrook???

Hey, you know you have a ton of people following you for Dracula content, right? RIGHT????

Sincerely,

Me. Bye.

#haunted fic watch!#boop boop boop #it's haunted dollwatch meets munch squad meets a clown show #chelsfic #preview

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upstartpoodle · 5 years ago

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Evens for the WIP meme ask? Thank you! ❤️

Hi, thanks for the ask! Since the number of WIPs I have are well into double figures, I’ll probably just choose a bunch of random ones for these out of the ones I’ve got on my computer.

2. Post a line from your WIP without context.

Once they had returned home, he had wanted nothing more than to head up to his room and hide, but his uncle’s iron grip on his upper arm pulling him into the drawing room had thwarted that wish. He hadn’t dared fight against the man. Uncle Cary had made it quite clear upon his arrival back from school that he expected to be obeyed in all matters, and George knew his future was far too uncertain to risk provoking his only remaining family member with displays of defiance.

4. Describe the setting of your WIP.

Hmm, I think I’ll go for my JS&MN AU for this one, an extract of which I have posted here. So this is basically an AU set in the universe of the novel Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell--for anyone who might be unfamiliar with it, it’s a book (and a pretty decent TV adaptation) set in a regency England where magic was once frequently practised but has declined after the Raven King, a medieval magician who conquered the north of England with a fairy army, left his kingdom behind to return to Faerie. The fic is set in Poldark’s s1 timeline, so about fifteen/twenty years before the events of JS&MN canon, featuring Dwight, Ross and Francis as magicians, George as a fairy nobleman from a neighbouring Faerie kingdom, and Elizabeth as a magician’s wife whom George ends up taking an interest in.

6. Search for the word “dream” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

I haven’t been able to find it in any of the extracts I have on my computer, but I’m sure it’s probably there somewhere in one of my notebooks. Unfortunately the majority of those are in a box over three hundred miles away so I can’t really check through them ha.

8. What is your biggest challenge?

Actually getting anything finished. Honestly, it depends on the individual fic but for a long time it’s been writer’s block. My undergrad dissertation took a lot out of me and I wasn’t really in the mood for writing for a long time afterwards. S5 airing gave me a bit of a kick up the arse writing-wise though, so I’d say my biggest challenge at the moment is trying to figure out where everything goes in my super long post s5 AU where George gets shot by Hanson. At the moment I’ve just got loads and loads of random bits with only a vague idea of what order they go in and how they join up to each other, and it’s getting to be so long I just keep putting off planning it out properly. Also finishing that last chapter of The Cornish Way damn I can’t even remember when I last updated that I feel so guilty about it ha.

10. How would you describe your WIP’s narrative style?

Well, as I’ve already mentioned I have a whooole bunch of WIPs, but I always write in 3rd person (1st person grates on me, both reading and writing, for some reason--I don’t know why). I’ve got several multi-chap fics in the works, some short, some long. Most of my shorter multi-chap fics tend to alternate between Elizabeth’s POV and George’s, but my long post s5 AU will feature the majority of the characters’ POVs at some point, depending on when they’re needed, though since the fic is George-centric, his perspective is the main one. When it comes to my one-shots, they’re usually either from George or Elizabeth’s perspectives, sometimes both if it’s a particularly long one. I tend to lean towards using Elizabeth’s POV for one-shots for some reason, but there’s a fair few from George’s as well, and a couple of angsty ones told entirely from Valentine’s perspective.

12. Which character do you have the least in common with?

Since my post s5 AU includes Merceron, Hanson and Dr Penrose, I’m glad to say that I haven’t the slightest thing in common with any of those three. But if we’re talking about a main character, I’d say probably Ross. The only thing I have in common with him is a tendency to get fed up at parties ha.

14. Have you chosen birthdays for any of your characters? If so, when are they?

Not really--tbh, I’m not sure how many of them, if any, were given birthdays by WG. I tend to headcanon George’s birthday as being in October, but that’s about it.

16. What would your characters be for Hallowe’en?

Well, I’ve got a couple of WIPs set in the modern era which this could work for, but since one of them is a modern witchcraft AU (in which Elizabeth, Caroline, Demelza, Morwenna and Verity live together in Truro as a secret coven of witches, Francis is a melancholy ghost who haunts the building and they’ve never been able to exorcise, and George, their landlord’s nephew, is their baffled neighbour who only puts up with their weird shenanigans because he has a soft spot for Elizabeth), I guess that’s appropriately Hallowe’en-y ha. For that AU, I reckon Elizabeth would probably dress up as something kind of classy, like as an Ancient Greek lady or a medieval queen, something like that. Caroline would dress up as a witch, I reckon, for the sake of irony (Horace, of course, would have a complementary costume :P). Verity, I think, would make a cute angel, and one of those wood nymph/woodland fairy costumes would probably suit Demelza. Morwenna might dress up as a Hogwarts student or something like that, and Francis insists that since he is an actual, literal ghost, there’s no need for him to dress up. George, on the other hand, absolutely does not do Hallowe’en, but they still manage to drag him down from the flat upstairs, put a pair of little Devil horns on him and make him watch scary films with them. Which he hates every minute of. Absolutely. Totally.

18. What’s easier, dialogue or description?

It depends, but I generally find description easier than dialogue. When I have dialogue-heavy scenes to write, I generally write them out in my notebooks basically in script form so I can figure out where the scene is going and once that’s out of the way, I find it much easier to add all the description in around it rather than having to constantly stop to figure out what the characters are meant to be saying to each other.

20. Post a brief excerpt.

So there’s a whole load to choose from, but I’ve decided to go with this one, which is from a ghost Elizabeth AU I’ve been working on ever since the end of s4 and have been really struggling to get on with because there’s so much bloody angst in it ha :--

The days leading up to Christmas dragged slowly on, and with each long hour that passed, George found himself regretting his decision to allow their initial plans for the festivities to go ahead with ever increasing certainty. The Blameys were neither unkind nor insensitive—quite the opposite in fact; their presence seemed to restore some faint but much needed cheer to Geoffrey Charles, and the company of another boy near his own age had restored Valentine to a fraction of his usual liveliness—but he, who had never been a friend to Verity, and was not well acquainted with her husband or stepchildren, felt the constant pressure of their scrutiny, alongside the horrible awareness of his own inadequacy as their host, whenever he found himself in their company. Verity, in particular, had taken to sending him at frequent intervals, whenever she saw him decline a meal, or else stumbled across him staring up at Elizabeth’s portrait hanging above the mantelpiece in the drawing room, what he had come to refer to in his mind as Looks. Verity had always been a kind and well-meaning soul, but there was a distinct pitying quality to those Looks which he had come to both resent and despise. He could have far more easily borne it if she had scorned his conduct. Her pity, however, wounded what little care he could summon for his pride in the wake of Elizabeth’s loss—he had no need to be reminded of the wretched creature he was fast becoming every time he met her gaze.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, the morning of Christmas Eve came. It had snowed once again during the night, and upon seeing the unblemished blanket of white through the window upon waking, Valentine and young master Andrew had rushed outside, accompanied by the Blameys Senior and Junior and Geoffrey Charles, in order to enjoy it. As the young Esther, whom it had not taken George long to discover was somewhat reticent in nature, had elected to break her fast in her room, that, unfortunately, left he and Verity alone together at the dining table, save for little Ursula, who was playing quietly and contentedly with her own feet in her cradle beside his chair. At barely a few weeks old, however, she was not quite an accomplished enough conversationalist to distract Verity from engaging with him. With a barely audible sigh, George reached for a slice of toast despite his lack of appetite in a vague hope of fending off another Look which he was sure was on the verge of rearing its unwelcome head above the horizon.

“I am glad to see that the boys have regained a little of their usual cheer,” she spoke up suddenly, causing George to pause halfway towards taking a bite out of his unwanted toast; a glance her way confirmed that, despite his best efforts, he was being treated to what could only be described as a Look. “It is a terrible thing to lose one’s parent, no matter one’s age, and certainly not a burden one should face so early in life.”

WIP Ask Game

#asks #ask meme #fic ask meme #harry-leroy #fic #poldark fic #mine #my fic

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travllingbunny · 6 years ago

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The 100 6x12 Adjustment Protocol

Unpopular opinion: I really liked this episode. Especially the first time I watched it (yes, I watch every episode the second time, usually a day later): it is the kind intense, plot-driven, high-tension episode that keeps you on the edge of your seat, exactly as you would expect from the penultimate episode of the season. My favorite episodes this season mostly focused on characters dealing with their demons and their feelings, but this is the part of the season when the plot has to kick into high gear, going into the finale. And this is not a bad thing at all, although it seems that reviewers mostly think it is, while the Twitter fandom is telling me that this episode was actually terrible, for… reasons. Most of which make no sense or are pretty irrelevant.

Although you wouldn’t know that if you just read what most frequent topics of discussion and comments about this episode are, it was the crucial episode plot-wise as the truth about the Primes was revealed to everyone in Sanctum, but thanks to Russell and co. constantly proving they are even more evil than we could have guessed, Sanctum was thrown into chaos, with violence erupting between believers (i.e. the brainwashed) and non-believers; and it also featured the death a main character who had been on the show and a part of since the start. I’m not sure about how I feel about that death and Abby’s arc as a whole. But in this episode, it was done very well – though it may have been predictable (and was kind of spoiled in the episode promo), and the strongest scene of the episode was Clarke learning about her mother’s death, not long after she had revealed to her that she was alive. (And with this, Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia are the only season 1 characters who were billed as mains and who are still alive - since Murphy and Raven were not billed as main characters in season 1).

Eliza Taylor really carried this episode, and a lot of the tension was about watching Clarke under over and worrying if she would be discovered. Not only is Eliza a great actress, playing Clarke, Josephine, Josephine pretending to be Clarke, and Clarke pretending to be Josephine - but Clarke herself turned out to be an amazing actress and plaed Josephine so well she managed to fool Russell – which her life and many others depended on - while, at the same time, going through emotional turmoil and having to hide it.

I’m not sure about how I feel about Abby’s death in the context of her entire arc. It’s safe to say that it’s certainly not among the most satisfying character arcs on the show. She started off as an idealist fighting against the Ark establishment and one of the few people on the Ark in season 1 who were doing the right thing, but over the following seasons, her role got a bit lost between acting as the supporting character to Clarke (from giving Clarke moral support, to being controlled by ALIE to create drama for Clarke) and being a part of the Kabby relationship – which, to be fair, was one of the best developed (or very few really developed) romances on the show. But between the two of them, Kane was the one who got the better character development and arc by himself. Abby was the Chancellor for a while, but then gave up that role in season 3, to be fought over by Kane and Pike. She also got other important relationship as a surrogate parent figure to Raven, and, to an extent, Murphy. But in terms of her arc, rather than her impact on others, she only finally got development in late season 4. Mind you, it was negative character development – which is a perfectly valid narrative choice, but one that fandoms usually don’t forgive characters. Because of the things she was forced to do, she lost not just her moral certainty but her faith in herself and, for a while, her will to live, and then her self-loathing turned into a drug addiction that she struggled throughout season 5. In season 6, she tried to recover, but instead developed a new addiction of sorts – her obsession with saving Kane, largely driven by her guilt over the things she did the previous 6 years and for kind of betraying the man she loves and indirectly causing his death, again (something that haunted her since Jake’s death) – which, in turn, led her to making some terrible choices and crossing moral lines. While I thought Kane’s death was perfectly fitting for his character, and that point, it would have been more interesting if the show had tried to have Abby survive and had to really recover and move on, rather than kill her off just a couple of episodes after killing off the ship she was a part of. One may even wonder if she was seen as useless for the show except as a part of the ship. Or, since her remaining main role in the show was as a mother to Clarke and surrogate mother to Raven, so she got killed off for their development/angst/possible bonding in future episodes. Which does make sense as Clarke is the show’s protagonist, and it was easy to guess that the older-Ark-generation characters (Abby, Kane, Jaha) would die once Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia are all adults and mature enough to not need mentors or ‘adult’ mirrors of themselves. Still, it would have been great if the show had given more attention and sympathetic moments to Abby herself in more than just this one episode, especially since the fandom has become determined to hate her – partially because it was convenient to blame her for other character’s actions, partially because fans are judgmental of any middle-aged mother character – especially if she is the mother of the protagonist – who isn’t focused on her children 100% of the time, even if said children are mature adults. But let’s forget about the fandom. It’s not necessary to have characters who suffer from addiction. PTSD or depression recover – Jasper’s arc was about someone who never recovered, but his death was the logical outcome of his arc and felt inevitable. Abby’s death isn’t really about her arc, it’s about Russell deciding to kill and bodysnatch her. Unlike Jaha and Kane, she didn’t get to go out on her own terms.

(I guess you could say that her injecting herself with Nightblood led to it, but Russell could have had her injected with Nigthblood anyway. Or you could say that he did it because he was convinced that she would look for revenge for her daughter’s death, so it was her love for her daughter that doomed her in a way.)

Still, this episode itself covered her death as well as it was possible to do – even if the fact that Abby got to save the life of a child – her granddaughter-by-adoption, find out that her daughter is alive (after having her heart broken in the previous episode, where she was made to believe Clarke was definitely dead), reconcile with and apologize to the two of the closest people to her, Raven and Jackson, and get closure – was a pretty big hint her days were numbered. Her death scene was good, with flashbacks of her happy days with Jake, with Kane, and many memories of Clarke, but the strongest scenes were those of other people reacting to her death, especially Clarke.

Raven has been a side character this season, but she has gotten some subtle character development lately, such as admitting that was way too judgmental with Abby. While she and Clarke didn’t get to talk things through, Raven has been, in a way, redeeming herself and making up to Clarke by making all the efforts to save her daughter and being focused on that more than anything else, just as Clarke is redeeming herself by trying to do the right and moral thing and save as many people as possible.

I’ve been really liking Gabriel more and more, especially in this episode, when he risked everything to stop more innocent people being killed by the Primes. However, what was his plan, exactly? Distract people and then – what – convince Russell to stop being evil? He is a bit like Kane – a guy who did bad things, had a moral awakening, and is now trying to be perfectly moral, but he is more pacifist than Kane was. And he comes off too naïve and sometimes ineffectual: he doesn’t want to kill anyone and allow any lives to be lost, and he can’t even make himself kill Russell – but if he had killed Russell, taken out and smashed his mind drive, he could have prevented many more deaths.

Speaking of mind drives, it was smart of Clarke to find the instruments and take out Ryker’s chip and keep it to later blackmail Priya with. I just wonder why more people don’t do the same. Surely everyone should be aware that killing Primes is irrelevant, if you don’t destroy the mind drives? They don’t even have to kill the Primes, for that matter, just take out those drives, smash the damn things, and you’ve stopped bodysnatching.

So many comments on this episode were about Clarke and Echo’s hug during her reunion with her, Miller and Gaia. Yes, Clarke and Echo are not particularly close – this season, they were on amicable terms, and Echo was one of the people who wasn’t verbally attacking Clarke, but they barely had any interaction and didn’t have any one-on-one talks since that dramatic conversation in 5x12. So, a hug just like the one Clarke had with Miller was maybe a bit odd/surprising But it was also weird when Clarke called Murphy her friend when she found him Polis in 3x07 – even though they had only had terrible interactions up to that point, or when she called Roan her friend or was on great terms with him a couple of days after he almost started a war with Arkadia and threatened Bellamy’s and Kane’s lives to blackmail her into political concessions. Maybe Clarke and Echo were trying to show the “we’re comrades in arms” solidarity, or are trying to be friends because of Bellamy, or Clarke is just happy to see any of the Earthkru and is glad when they hug her as friends, or a combination of all of that. In any case, I almost feel bad for even discussing this, because it’s been so overblown– the fandom seems to talk more about Echo hugging people than about Abby’s death or the chaos in Sanctum

.Another hug that, however, wasn’t surprising at all., was between Bellamy and Echo, but even that turned out to be an issue, because, apparently, a lot of people were shocked and disappointed by the fact that Bellamy cares about Echo and worries about her life, or that Bellamy and Echo were happy to see each other after not knowing if the other was alive. I’m not sure what exactly anyone was expecting? That Bellamy would say “Who are you? I don’t know you, woman!” or act like he doesn’t give a damn? Echo is one of the people he spent 6 years with, has been at least friends for 3 years, and has been dating for a while, so he would have come off as a real asshole if he didn’t care if she were dead or alive. Of course he felt a lot of guilt over leaving her and his other people, because he was focused on saving Clarke. Especially after Josephine called him out on caring for Clarke more than for the rest of them. He already showed guilt over leaving them in 6x11, so it’s mind-boggling that this is what some say is “inconsistent character behavior from episode to episode”. Also, apparently, when Bellamy and Clarke have the most intense hugs with heart eyes and romantic music, it’s just platonic or “baiting”, but Bellamy and Echo’s hug that was no more intense than that between Clarke and Echo, and that looked similar to how Bellamy hugs his sister (even with the same pat on the back!) is a sign that Bellarke is dead and Becho is endgame (?!) ¯¯\_(ヅ)_/¯Even though, again, like so many Becho scenes, it had Clarke in the frame, focused on Clarke and her sad face more than on Echo and Bellamy, and included Clarke interrupting their hug, twice, once asking Bellamy “What took you so long?” Followed by Bellamy looking at Clarke, while Octavia was watching the situation and glancing at all of them. (I see what you’re doing, show. We’ve been there before - except Bellamy and Echo were kissing back then, not just hugginh, and this is the first time Bellamy saw Clarke watching them.)

Is it too soon for the Blake siblings to already be on such good terms that Bellamy is even gently joking with Octavia? I’m not sure, but Bellamy has shown a great capacity for forgiveness, and he has now seen enough evidence that Octavia has genuinely changed, which is all he needed.

Bellamy, again, got to be the one to give another speech to the masses, helping kindle the flames of the revolution in Sanctum – though it wouldn’t have worked without Priya telling everyone the truth. (Good thinking on Clarke’s part to take Ryker’s chip, and good suggestion on Echo’s part to suggest using it to blackmail Priya.)

It’s amazing that the Primes were obviously evil from at least 6x04, but we still keep learning just how horrible they are. Russell is an amazing villain because he is so infuriating – a megalomaniac and a hypocrite who genuinely seems to think he is godlike and has the right to murder and exploit others. And then there’s the way he uses language to normalize terrible things, with terms like “adjustment protocol” (translation: make your own people go wild and kill each other, hoping that the religious fanatics will kill the doubters). He is even funny (unintentionally, on his part) with the way he talks, and in this episode he had gems like “I am disappointed in you, Priya. I am disappointed in all of you” and “ A mind drive is a terrible thing to waste”.

I was wondering before if Russell’s actions would turn a lot of the Sanctum residents against the Primes – and they did, but many of them are way too brainwashed, and his solution was to drop the toxin and cause chaos, while the Primes go to the ship to get away until Sanctum is safe for them again. But why are they so sure it will be and that it’s the Prime loyalists who will defeat kill all the rebels, rather than the other way round? If it’s based on previous experience – that was about fanatics vs people who had doubts, but the rebels who hate the Primes are (at least) just as angry as those who worship the Primes.

And Priya got to experience that when Delilah’s mother killed her to avenge her daughter, after getting a confirmation that Delilah was really dead. It was funny that Priya was still hoping to use Delilah’s name to get them to help her, just as she was lying to Jordan a few episodes ago that Delilah was ‘with her’ and happy. I just hope that someone took out and smashed her drive – and Ryker’s drive that she had in her hands, so we wouldn’t have any more resurrections.

The royal guards were the most brainwashed of them all. They heard Russell more or less admit in his conversation with Echo that bodysnatching was murder, knew he was going to do it as a punishment to someone who almost assassinated him, but they kept believing in the crap about being one with the gods? And three of them got the “honor” to be hosts to the Primes: Jade became Jasmine (after having failed to protect Rose, who was meant to be the host for Jasmine), Gavin’s widow became the host for Miranda, and another guard, a bald white dude, became Caleb. I can’t say I’m sorry for them – they were really “Too Dumb to Live”.

It was fun to see Murphy and Emori dressed and made up in the Prime fashion (which looks a lot like the fashion of the Capitol from The Hunger Games) and pretending to be two of the Primes who whose mind drives were wiped by Simone – Daniel and Kaylee Lee. And there was a rare comedic moment when they realized they were playing brother and sister. Russell is a massive troll – he could have given them the identities of the parents, Faye and Victor Lee – it’s not like it would have made any difference.

Clarke is really an amazing actress, to be able to fool even Josephine’s parents into believing she is Josephine, even when she had to hide her feelings about seeing Madi in pain and danger, and when she learned that her mother was dead. That scene was the strongest in 6x12 – even while we knew what would happen, Clarke finding out by seeing Simone in Abby’s body was really painful. That was too much for Clarke, who couldn’t hide her tears. Good thing that Gabriel was there to help by giving her a cover – and she did a great job playing a scene as a lovers’ quarrel and pretending that her pain was about Josephine’s disappointment with the “traitor” Gabriel. (And channeling a real experience from her own life – as actors often do.)

I’ve seen comments that Murphy’s actions in this episode were confusing, but it all seemed pretty clear to me. He told Emori and later Raven that he was doing what was good for their friends, too. He thought they were helping them all survive - which was definitely the case as they would have been burned if he hadn't come up with the idea about bone marrow. Then in 6x11 Russell threatened Emori to get him to bring "Josephine", even though Murphy was obviously already disgusted by the Primes at that point, seeing his reaction to when one of the guards touched him. I don't know if he's still really interested in immortality, but since 6x10, the issue was "immorality or mortality", the latter meaning – death in the immediate future, since that the Primes were going to kill Emori, and probably him and everyone else. But he expected them to keep everyone alive if they play along. When they killed Abby, it was obviously too much for him, since he said it to "Josephine"'s face, with disgust: "All she did was help, and you killed her". That and knowing that Bellamy, Octavia, Echo and Miller are somewhere in Sanctum needing help, made him decide to stay and help his friends.

I loved the Clarke/Memori scene. I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with Clarke telling Murphy that she’s proud of him, and it doesn’t mean that he does not get held responsible for his actions. He was held responsible in 6x10, to the point that his friends and himself assumed he would be the one chosen to die, and Abby slapped him and told him he would be. Clarke – who may not even know the worst of his actions (that he almost helped Josephine kill Clarke, and that he helped her manipulate Abby) – did not trust Murphy and didn’t tell him she was alive, but was watching to see whether he makes the right choice, and praised him when he did the way a mentor praises a student who fulfills their positive potential.

Quite a scene for Indra and co. at the ship – “Abby” and Clarke in royal robes and some blond guy in similar robes, pointing guns as Gaia, Madi and Raven. I don’t think the Primes have much of a chance, with “Josephine” being Clarke and the fact that the ship has 400 people who, if woken up, would absolutely wreck everyone in Sanctum, let alone a few pampered Primes. But it’s an interesting image: the Lightbournes always seemed like the evil version of the Griffins, especially with the casting choices for Josephine and both the original and the current Russell, so it is weirdly fitting that Josephine bodysnatched Clarke for a while, and now Simone bodysnatched Abby.

Rating: 8.5/10

#the 100 #the 100 6x12 #adjustment protocol #the 100 season 6 #clarke griffin #abby griffin #raven reyes #gabriel santiago #russell lightbourne #the primes #john murphy #bellamy blake #octavia blake

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