#ch: grace; power; wisdom

[clericofmystra]

I'm still absolutely cackling at this exchange between my cleric of Mystra and Gale:

[saccharinecoffee]

In merit and rule, Ch. 1 | LouWill

Pairing ◈ Louis Guiabern & Will

Chapter word count ◈ 2,102

Info & Warnings ◈ Post-canon, slow burn, mutual pining, future smut, Louis social link, spoilers for the whole game!!

Read on Ao3

"As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown." The rightful heir takes the throne, Louis bends the knee, and a strange bond of trust is forged.

“As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown.”

The throne room was dead silent as Batlin read his first decree to the Lords and Ladies of the United Kingdom of Euchronia. Will was seated at the very back, on the elevated marble podium where the people’s throne lay. At the very foot of it were his comrades in arms, the recently appointed Six Partisans and his captive in war. Between Leon Strohl and Eiselin Hulkenberg was the man every single person in the room was staring at with looks of utter contempt and disdain, a tall head of pale blond curls and soiled cream leather.

Bound in iron around his wrists and stripped of his igniters he was only a man, and one nobody could bring themselves to fear any longer.

“King William I does not pardon his crimes against Euchronia,” continued the crier, “but offers leniency on the count of the admittance of his guilt and his unprompted submission to His Grace.”

That was enough to prompt a buzzing of chatter amongst the crowd. In hushed voices and frustrated huffing they displayed their scorn, not just for Louis, but also his prosecution.

Batlin rolled up his scroll and glanced sheepishly at Will. He could only sigh. He’d always expected that dealing with the Lords would be the most difficult part of ruling, but he hadn’t expected pushback on his very first audience, much less with how overwhelmingly popular Louis had been.

The people were fickle, he supposed. Especially those who wanted to poke and prod their way up the social ladder.

He stood up and raised his hand, quieting the whispers across the hall in an instant. The long, regal cape he wore over his shoulders weighed down his every movement, and his crown just the same. Symbols of the responsibility he bore of carrying both his fate and the people’s trust. There was, however, a safety in that feeling, one he saw reflected in the eyes of his closest friends, his confidants, and now, his protectors. It only spurred him further and lit the dark path before his feet.

“Count Louis has done this country a great harm and disservice, be it in regicide, conspiracy, or magic-born atrocities – of this I will never deny,” he spoke loud and firmly. He took a step down, and then another, inching closer to his comrades and his captive with every word he uttered. “However! I will not put another man to the sword without due process and reason. The former was resolved the moment Louis Guiabern bent the knee before the Six and I. The latter is made clear if you take the smallest glance at the life he has led.”

He stood before them all on equal footing. Etiquette demanded the King to always stand above all, or so he learnt in his youth. Instead, he followed the rule he chose for himself. With his back to his chained nemesis and his front to the country’s most powerful figureheads. His journey to that point had taught him many a skill, and audacity was but one of them.

“My Lords and Ladies this man has more use to us alive than he does dead. No matter how you spin the truth, that much is clear.”

Years of stellar service in the military, unprecedented skill in battle, wisdom in war and intelligence in analysis. Resilience in facing horrors, shrewdness in overcoming obstacles, and building an empire of his own. Banding tribes of all creeds together and making them work with each other seamlessly was but the tip of the iceberg. Look a little under that and one could find a wealth of rich expertise. Louis was everything he needed in a new administration. If he weren’t so corrupted by grief he might have made an admirable ally from the get-go.

When he turned around to face away the disgruntled crowd, Hulkenberg eyed him somberly in concern. It mattered not. He knew he was doing the right thing.

“Do any of you know what it is like to hold no prejudice in your heart? To treat others equally and measure them on their work and character alone?”

Louis’s eyes pierced his own most sharply, something indescribable in the ice-cold blue of his irises. 

“This man’s crimes will not be ignored, and will not go unpunished. But he will be utilised to help further our nation’s project of unification and equity. Despite our countless differences, and despite his treason, we have a shared ideal.” He faced the crowd one last time, and in earnest, he concluded. “I ask only that you trust my judgement.”

Louis was tall and dignified, even when bound and rid of his prosthetic horns. He towered over Will as he eyed their Clemar, Roussainte and Rhoag guests with as much disdain as his stoicism permitted. It was satisfying, Will realised. So used to the vitriol of others he was, he’d quickly learnt to always keep his head down and save face. Louis cared little of it, especially now that the cat was out of the bag. Self-preservation meant nothing when stripped of titles and protected under the crown.

When he looked down at Will, he could have sworn he was smirking just a fraction. The notion aggravated him. It was hard not to when Louis was the reason he lost so much and almost lost a whole lot more.

“Louis Guiabern. Do you swear now and forever, in front of all the great houses of the Kingdom of Euchronia, your undying fealty to me as your King and to my sovereignty across the land?”

Louis’s eyes sharpened like blades, his gaze never leaving Will’s as he got down on one knee and reached his bound hands for Will’s own. The gesture was unexpected, more akin to how a knight might ask a maiden for her favour than a soldier begging forgiveness. Weeks of strange emotions welled up in him, weeks of taking apart and building Louis’s ideology back together, of analysing every look he gave Will over the course of their acquaintance in futile attempts and better understanding him, of begrudgingly easily empathising with his feelings as a fellow Elda, orphaned and cursed and left with nothing to grasp but a name. Spellbound, he watched the blond's elegant movements, his gaze met with his own. Like he could read Will wide open, in most infuriating defiance, he brought his left hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He felt his cheeks burn, heart caught in his throat as his lips curled into a scowl. The Lords were all used to rings being kissed by their vassals, the Ladies accustomed to roses and handkerchiefs. Louis was of the Eldan Sanctum, of the skies and the battlefield; what he did was a provocation, surely, not fealty.

Will looked up and met the mortified looks on his friends' faces, Hulkenberg and Heismay ready with hands on the hilts of their swords. But Will, heart pounding in his ears and so drawn into Louis’s strange web, only watched in vexed fascination.

The curly blond tresses of his hair were more matted than before in the aftermath of his imprisonment, but they curled into his cheeks and framed his face most handsomely nonetheless. His surcoat was dirtied in brown, either by blood died cold or dirt left unshrugged from the aftermath of their battle and fall from the skies.

It was arrogance. Everything about Louis dripped that brand of confidence built like gilded armour around a heart they both knew and saw was tortured with anxious trauma. To feign submission most transparently, after everything he did to him and his country, was begging for punishment. Will was forgiving and understanding, with a heart large enough to gather all with both flaw and virtue, but Louis was walking on a knife’s edge. Purposefully so.

He did not hide the frustration in his face. And Louis seemed utterly amused, gazing up through his lashes and pretty hair. If he could, Will would show him his royal archetype once more.

“I’ve already done so, Your Grace. But I swear it anew before the pigs who gorge themselves on that which they did not earn.”

It took Will’s best efforts not to laugh amidst his anger. It was a great offence, one that had gasps and loud sneers of indignation echoing throughout the hall, begging for their Majesty to cull the man’s head right off his shoulders for insubordination.

Will barely heard any of them, as he and the man below him shared something between their locked gazes that kept his feet rooted to the ground. His undivided attention rested not in the court or in the words he ought to say, but the conspiratorial smile the Count offered most willingly. Perhaps he did wrong in doubting him.

The look in his mirthful eyes wasn’t one of insubordination; it was one of a desire for challenge. His tongue peeked from between his lips and licked over the raw, pink skin, barely parched despite the less-than-optimal conditions of his prison cell. Will mirrored the gesture unconsciously, his heart fluttering with excitement in his chest, his palms growing sweaty.

Naive. They would call him naive. But how could they not, when they didn’t know what it was that swimmed between them when he grabbed Louis from the fall and brought him back to his senses amidst the humid earth at dawn. They didn’t understand the grief in Louis’s eyes as he saw the King’s archetype fall from around Will as he closed his hands in tight fists in his lap, his ego crushed and his ideals of equality smothered by his King. They could never even guess the strange grin he gave him as he admitted with uncharacteristic humility Will was his better, worthy of the title, and leagues stronger than he ever could be. 

For a man like Louis, that was loyalty in the truest form. Loyalty born out of pure, unadulterated merit. He was a man who followed not the rule of law but the rule of labour.

Vexation and feverish heat ever present, Will nodded, his voice so low only Louis and those closest to them could hear.

“Doublecross me at your own risk.”

Louis cocked his head to the side, not unlike a playful cat. His pale thumb unconsciously traced over his knuckle.

“Do you mistrust me so, that you’d doubt me after all you’ve seen?”

“I don’t know what to think about you.” The words were almost spat out, the months of exhaustion that had insidiously built up beginning to creep up on him the more he tried to make sense of the blond. 

“I think you do,” he said with utmost ease, his voice silky soft and caressing him in all the right ways. Louis was complicated, a right headache of a man, but at the root of it they were two sides of the same coin. Bound by tribe, by ideals, by fate. He could assume the worst all he desired, the truth was bare and spoken plainly before him.

He squeezed Louis's hand lightly, the walls around his heart hardening. As he slipped it away from his calloused palm, little jolts of electricity danced on the surface of sun-kissed skin.

New Bond: Rank one.

“You’ll earn my trust if you’re as honest as you claim to be.”

For a fraction of a second Louis seemed relieved, bowing his head as his shoulders relaxed before looking back up with the same infuriating smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Will took a deep breath, the weight of his Kingdom on his back as he took his sword out. He brought the tip to Louis’s left shoulder, then raised it and rested it on the right.

“I pronounce thee, Louis Guiabern, my loyal vassal and retainer henceforth,” he spoke louder, projecting his voice deserving of his title. He then sheathed his sword and took a step back. “Now rise.”

Louis did just that, towering over Will once more. He realised how relaxed he had been as he watched him quickly became rigid before the hateful eyes of the court. He was nothing if not a caged animal patiently peering through iron bars and salivating at his own bloody thoughts. It threatened to send a shiver down his spine.

“This audience is adjourned," he said finally, wiping the sweat of his hands on the pristine fabric of his trousers. "I bid you all good tidings and safe travels.”

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing and checking out my other works! 💗💗💗

[the-big-picture-bible-blog]

The power of the Roman pillars

The book of Romans can be divided into 4 primary pillars of truth. God’s righteousness, (ch.1-3), God’s grace, (ch.4-8), God’s dispensational wisdom, (ch.9-11), and God’s mercies over our Christian living, in (ch.12-16). Understanding these 4 pillars, in proper order and context, is critical for faith and spiritual maturity. Consider the effects on the growth and maturity of a Christian if we…

[spiritsoulandbody]

#DailyDevotion The Word Of The LORD Endures Forever

#DailyDevotion The Word Of The LORD Endures Forever Psalm 119 89O LORD, Your word (dabar) stands forever firm in heaven. 90You are faithful through all the ages. You formed the earth, and it continues to stand. 91By Your decrees (misphat) they stand firm today because all things serve You. 92If I hadn't been delighted in Your teaching (torah), I would have perished in my misery. 93I will never forget Your directions (piqqud) - by them You gave me a new life. 94I am Yours — save me, because I've studied how You want me to live (piqqud). 95The wicked have waited for me, to destroy me, but I want to understand the truths (edah) You wrote. 96I have seen how everything perfect comes to an end, but Your commandment (mitsvah) extends very far. Here we see the enduring character of the Word of God. The LORD's Word stands forever firm in heaven. It does not change. It cannot be moved. No one can add or subtract from it, though many try. This includes both the LORD's commands and also His promises. The LORD Jesus Christ is faithful to His word. While we can't see the heavens, we can see the earth. He makes the comparison to something we can understand. The LORD formed the earth and it continues to stand. It seems to us ancient and eternal. If this lesser thing seems so, how much more the greater thing that created it. The world and all that is in it stands firm because of the LORD's decrees. Paul writes in Col. 1, "16since in Him was created everything visable and invisable in heaven and on earth — thrones, lords, rulers, or powers — everything was created by Him and for Him. 17He was before everything, and He holds everything together." Hebrews writes in ch. 1, "3He Who shines with God's glory and is the Expression of His Being sustains everything by His mighty Word." All the teaching (torah) of the LORD gives us delight. At least, it should. Speaking narrowly, that would be the first five books of the Bible, though the author may be speaking more broadly here. But in those first five books we see the LORD's gracious creating all things for the good of humanity and then creating humanity itself. We see how gracious He is when He preserved us through Noah. We see His mercy as He creates a holy people to give His word to and to preserve and promulgate it among the nations that travel through His nation. He disperses His people throughout the nations so at the right time the Apostles will have bases throughout the world to preach the Messiah, the Savior of the world has come. This keeps him from perishing. Verses 93 and 94 both use the word piqqud. We wouldn't normally think of precepts giving us new life. Yet some of those directions would be the sacrificial system in which the LORD promises to be good to Israel. It would be like the pastor directing someone to baptism, absolution and the LORD's Supper to receive God's grace. Now all the directions God gives us point us to a life different from the one innate in our sinful flesh. This new life is a life not centered on self but on the LORD and our neighbor, pleasing one by helping the other. We cannot worry about the wicked. We have the LORD's truths which promise us eternal life and a new world which we will inherit. They will pass away but the Word of the LORD last forever. Many things come to an end, even that which seems perfect to us but it has its limits. The LORD's mitsvah however is broad. It never has a limit to how it applies to us. This is because it is eternal in nature. God's will is eternal. It never goes out of style. It is of unlimited duration. Since this is so, we should regularly meditate upon it. Let it give us understanding of the Eternal One who gave it. By the Spirit's working in us, it will give us delight and joy for all His wisdom manifested there. Heavenly Father, by Your Holy Spirit, give us understanding and then delight in all You have revealed to us in Your Word, Your Son Jesus Christ, so we may have life and light all our days meditating on Your revelation. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Read the full article

[akaneenaka33]

Been meaning to add my 2 cents to this (I have not had the time/brain capacity without combusting into madness to create my own, incredibly lengthy akayona ch 266 analysis, so here we are)

Okay. I definitely feel like this is supposed to be Ouryuu's redemption arc of sorts, but there are quite a few things that need to be acknowledged before it can happen because even if Ouryuu's help is a game-changer and is the dragon warrior's and Yona's saving grace, it does not change the fact that Zeno has every right to be angry with him.

Now, I agree that it's completely plausible that Ouryuu doesn't have the power to alter other's lifespans, so I understand why he might not have done anything here. However, the emotions that create the turmoil for Zeno in this moment are much more than simply grief. It's loss, fear, loneliness, abandonment, desperation, and a million other little things that have built up and continue to build up over the next two thousand years. Maybe Ouryuu might not have been able to prevent the grief or loss (human emotions are complex, and Kaya would have died eventually), but imagine the difference it would have made for Zeno to have him appear, if not to encourage or verbally comfort him, than just to simply offer a presence. An immortal presence. The argument can be made that Zeno might not want anything to do with the dragon god since he can't do anything and because he is the one who doomed him to this fate, but I'm sure that at some point or another, he would have appreciated the sentiment.

Then there's also the question of why Ouryuu chose immortality in the first place. The other three dragon's choices were much, much different, so what drove or inspired Ouryuu to choose such a heavy ability? Did he intend Zeno to be a guide for the future generations? Did he want to make his fragment the most powerful? Did he want a fragment that would serve Hiryuu the way Zeno does, with expertise, wisdom, and no bias from various political standpoints? Did he look that far ahead, assume that when Hiryuu returned he would be king again, and intend to plan for it?? Or, the more intriguing, sort of unlikely, but really fun question:

Did he get to choose his fragment's abilities at all? Maybe it wasn't his decision to make. Who knows?

Anyways, that's a whole other can of worms and I want to stay on topic here lol.

Personally, I think there's no excuse for Ouryuu to have not shown up at least once for Zeno, but there might also be an explanation behind it. Pride. To explain, I was watching a review on one of the chapters the other day, and the guy who was reviewing it (griever's review on 265, for reference) mentioned the fact that the crimson dragon is different from the others (kind, merciful, understanding) because he lived as a human. The white, blue, and green dragon gods have not lived, died, or suffered as humans. They don't know what it's like to work hard, to lose, to gain, to love, to grieve, because they're gods. They have the power to do and get whatever they want, and it ties into the reason why they act like selfish, spoiled, self-centered brats. It's because they are! They are cruel to Zeno and their own fragments, and ignore Yona's wishes because, to them, none of it matters because they're gods and they should get what they want. It also explains their hissy fits to the whole "Hiryuu remaining a human and refusing to obey their wishes" ordeal. Now with this in mind, consider Ouryuu two thousand years ago, just as selfish and inhumane as his dragon god brothers, and add his fragment into the mix.

If he truly was by Zeno's side all that time, there's a good chance he picked up a thing or two about humanity as well. Perhaps the experience softened his heart over the years (since he has one, apparently) and he finally started to see where Hiryuu was coming from. It's likely that this transition began or was just set into motion after the og dragon's and Kaya's deaths, when he was still too prideful to care. Or maybe the mindset change had already happened, and at that point, he was far too ashamed to show himself.

Not an excuse. Not condoning it, but I'm trying to understand the development here. And even if this all somehow aligns, isn't this still the same Ouryuu that technically allowed Zeno to fall into the sea of blood and be tossed around and tormented by his own dragon god brothers? The one who offered no explanation and just "Your life has not yet reached its end yet" and shoved Zeno back into life after reciting the prophecy to him when he tried to take his own life with the sword? Now with the last, "reciting the prophecy in Zeno's face" bit, I get the circumstances are different (Yona wasn't in the chalice/in danger yet) but it was still rather harsh. And hypocritical, considering the way he recites the prophecy again in 266, this time in Zeno's favor.

I want Ouryuu to be good. I'm incredibly grateful that he swooped in and saved the dragons and Zeno and Jae-Ha's leg. I'm glad he's taking them to Yona and making things right, but why???

Not that I'm complaining as long as everyone gets to eventually be safe and sound, but I'd like to understand Ouryuu's motives. Zeno might see this as an attempt to atone, but he still has the right to be bitter with the dragon god. Ouryuu's redemption does not justify his past actions and idk... he's weird.

All in all I just wish he'd have given Kaya more time. Or better yet, given Zeno an immortal partner support system thing lol.

I'm perfectly content with plot holes as long as everyone ends up safe and happy, but that doesn't mean I won't try to fill them! Take that as you will. I'm just here. Hoping to get my found family back <3

After reading akayona 266, these panels from chapter 104 have a new bite to them

“Dragon god, why won’t you come out? Please come out! Kaya… save her!”

[ourbygoneage]

Ch 29: Back in Full Force Verse 1

In the depths of slumber, Tailor finds himself caught in the realm of dreams once more. It is a familiar and haunting place, where symbolism intertwines with reality. The atmosphere crackles with an otherworldly energy as his mind becomes a canvas for visions that seem to echo with ancient prophecies.

In this dream, he finds himself standing in the midst of a vast city, its towering structures reaching towards the heavens. The air is thick with anticipation, and as he explores the streets, a figure emerges from the shadows, shrouded in darkness. It is the goat-headed man, his presence commanding and enigmatic.

"Welcome, Tailor," the goat-headed man intones, his voice carrying a weight that seems to transcend time. "I have been expecting you."

Tailor's heart races as he cautiously approaches the enigmatic figure. "Who are you?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

The goat-headed man offers a cryptic smile, his eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom. "I am the revealer of truths, the embodiment of secrets long hidden," he responds. "I am here to guide you through the labyrinth of your destiny."

As Tailor tries to make sense of the goat-headed man's words, another presence manifests itself in the dream. A powerful and majestic figure emerges, their form twisting and turning, embodying both grace and strength. It is Erzabet, adorned in regal attire, exuding an aura of commanding authority.

"Babylon the Great," the goat-headed man announces, gesturing towards Erzabet. "The embodiment of desire, the temptress of destinies."

Tailor's eyes widen in surprise as he looks upon Erzabet, his mind racing to process the symbolism unfolding before him. The connection between Erzabet and the enigmatic figure begins to take shape, a realization dawning upon Tailor's consciousness.

The dream takes on a surreal quality as Erzabet, now draped in the role of Babylon the Great, and Trace, transformed into a mighty dragon, engage in a dramatic dance of power and seduction. The symbolism is potent, reflecting the complex dynamics that exist within their world.

In the dream, Tailor is both observer and participant, caught in the crossfire of these powerful archetypes. He feels a surge of emotions—confusion, awe, and a sense of being caught in the tide of forces beyond his control.

As the dream begins to fade, the goat-headed man's voice reverberates through the ethereal realm. "Remember, Tailor, the realms of dreams hold many truths and illusions," he advises. "It is up to you to discern between them."

With that, the dream dissipates, leaving Tailor to wake in a world that feels both familiar and changed. The echoes of the dream remain, lingering in his thoughts and coloring his perception of the journey that lies ahead.

Tailor ponders the significance of his visions, knowing that they hold a deeper understanding of his own path. He is determined to unravel the mysteries and face the challenges that await him, guided by the lessons learned in dreams and the bonds forged with his companions.

[violetnatelley]

Changing of the Song (Parts 4&5) [Interlude]: Ch 2 - The Song of Mairon [Part Two]

A Marvel & Tolkien Crossover

Main Characters: Sauron

Also featuring: Celebrimbor, Elemmírë Oialëa, Elrond Peredhel, Ereinion Gil-Galad

Warnings: Violence. Angst.

Other Tags: The Second Age, Annatar the Lord of Gifts, Eregion, The Rings of Power, The One Ring, Ambiguous Romance, Sauron doesn't know how love works.

Notes: These are the new two parts of the long novel The Changing of the Song. I split it into 2 as the other was getting too long and the final two deserve their own spotlight. :)

Whilst the construction of his new stronghold was occurring in the eastern lands of Middle Earth, the now-created barren wastelands of Mordor: Mairon had returned to his greatest strength and forged a new identity. 

Moulded into one of the Firstborn, it was Annatar or the Maiar who would arrive upon the gates of Lindon.

With no recollection of the world other than his fake promise as an emissary for the Valar, Annatar was no mere bystander who faded into the background. Instead, he shone much like the light of the West, eyes filled with ages of knowledge and wisdom and the quest to heal Arda.

He could still recall the form in his mind, back when it felt so different and yet familiar to him. Dressed in all white, his eyes were the only remains of his past – shielded by a veneer of blue-silver that some of the Quendi bore. He walked amongst them with perfect grace, trying his might to not glide like those of the Ainur. Thankfully centuries of studying elves he knew how they articulated and acted. How they reacted amongst those that felt more powerful than them. Some in awe though most with hostility, which was understandable, as they were still recovering from the war. But those who were too young to live it were too easy to bring, and eventually allowed him to bring his cause towards the halls of the High King.

As he entered, the very air around him grew static.

Stood before him was the young High King…and upon beside him was her.

The Eternal.

Elemmírë Oialëa had changed since their last confrontation. Far from the hollowed and thinly framed elleth, she was wearing an elaborate set of blue and silver robes that he could only assume felt uncomfortable by how she sat upon her chair. Golden tresses braided back to allow a simple silver circlet atop her forehead, framing her face that almost glowed under the sun. He was surprised how much the young elf appeared under the conditions of the light, for he remembered the darkness truly ripped everything she was into a fraction.

However, he knew this wasn’t the full potential she had. It was obvious that her choice as an advisor to King Gil-Galad was only a duty she had to do. His memories experimenting with her mind and knowledge extended to remembering her extreme loyalty and love for the Fëanorians, and it was evident by her shifting discomfort that she didn’t choose the colours she wore that day. Nor was the style of her clothes, almost looking for the second to remove the jewels adorned her neck whilst she tried to look neutral.

Then their eyes crossed, and the years of memories of Angband began to barge through the locked gates as he tried everything to divert her thoughts away from them, surprising him. It would seem she had improved her skills in Ósanwe, not as subtle as his own but rather matching to even the lesser Ainur.

But to persuade them, Annatar allowed her to search his mind. He showed false memories, pretending that both Manwë and Varda had given him the task to aid them in bringing peace to Middle Earth.

-Excerpt from Sauron's viewpoint.

[shinymoonbird]

He is the Ancient One who prospers in his powerful natural state of mauna (silence), untroubled by questions of ‘where’ and ‘when’. He is the Wondrous One who, established in the glorious radiance of the supreme reality, banishes the mental creations that manifest as space and time. ~  Sri Guru Ramana Prasadam - v.418, by Sri Muruganar

🕉️  Annihilation of the Ego  🕉️

Do not make any real and firm effort except to annihilate the feeling ‘I am the body’ [the ego]. Know that the ego, ‘I am the body’, is the sole cause of all samsara-dukha [the miseries of life].

Know that the rarely attained supreme bliss, liberation, the greatest renunciation, the deathless death and wisdom are all one and the same – the destruction of the ignorant delusion ‘I am the body’.

The destruction of this delusion is also all these: reading and listening [i.e. sravana], reflecting [manana], abiding [nididhyasana], the attainment of Grace, Silence, the supreme abode, peace, ritualistic sacrifice, devotion, charity, tapas, dharma and yoga.

~ Guru Vachaka Kovai    The Garland of Guru’s Sayings, by Sri Muruganar    Part Two - The Practice of The Truth    Ch. 82. Annihilation of the Ego, V. 846, 847, 848

🕉

Refer here to Guru Vachaka Kovai, Verse B17, and Ulladu Narpadu-Anubandham, Verse 13

🕉

[davebuckleslefthand]

've nothing to hide

may be, but there are no real Patriots who will die for this now.

nobody cares enough to risk life OR even limb to fight crap like

is showing; even more relative to what buyhim is attempting to

ensure the ch eyenah compatriots do smile. THOSE ORIENTAL

INDIVIDUALS know what's up. they've been at this kind of stuff

for eons, and thousands of years on top. They are better, mental

fortitude the U.S.A. lacks. try looking at Kung Fu movies, and do

relate their wisdom to the situation at hand; strength came by a

knowledge the west had lost in the decades far gone. trust me...

this is in no way celebrating communism; it is not even tribalism;

but reaches further than mere fearless devotion to one's own life.

oriental wisdom is rife with instances. have not read that sort of

stuff in too many years to even mention any case in points. still i

have immense respect for the oriental society. the end might be

too much for western society. we have been saved by His grace.

-

Presenting Christianity to the Oriental peoples has always been a

very difficult issue, given that the Christian faith has been carried

by the standards of European powers. Christianity has always had

a long presence in the Orient, especially China, from the mid-600s.

But in the late 900s, Emperor Wuzong, in a spirit of what could be

considered hyper-Chinese nativism, expelled Buddhist, Christian,

and Zoroastrian teachings and initiated a massive persecution of

Christians that nearly exterminated Christianity altogether in the

East.  Under The Mongols, interestingly, Christianity returned to

China and much of the rest of the Orient though freely-moving

economic zones of the Mongol Empire.

Christianity has always had a difficult presence in East Asia, it is

especially China and Japan. In China, difficulty came in Christ’s

Gospel’s clashing with words Confucius' words, whose philos-

ophy was similar to Christianity in that man worships the God

of the heavens. The only problem is that the Chinese, heaven

was transcendent to earth, whereas heaven and earth are two

separate entities in Christian teaching. Therefore the message

of Christ turned into a force of insurrection against the Mandate

of Heaven that guided the state, since Christ was the King of All

kings. A similar story is true in Japan, where the Shogunates were

always suspicious of Christianity because it undermined the super-

emacy of Shogun rule by divine authority.

In the modern age, now that Maoism decimated China’s ancient

identity and traditions with atheism, Christianity is making new

stunning emergence in the nation that has historically rejected

it, as the Gospel of Jesus Christ brings deeper meaning of faith

into people perhaps even more wed to materialistic philosophy

than the Americans.

In South Korea, Christianity is exploding and is now the single

largest religion in the Republic of Korea. Much of the conversion

came after the Second World War, the United States sacrificed it's

blood to protect the Republic from the communists of the north. Our

United States then needed a powerful force on the Korean peninsula

loyal to its interests and consequently, after fifty years of economic

support coupled with intense missionary activity, South Korea is

now Asia’s leading Christian country.

A tragically opposite story exists in Japan. After war, Japanese

mythology of the god-emperor was over and the Japanese were

searching for something new to believe in. Rather than follow the

advice and model: General MacArthur to convert the Japanese to

Christianity, America instead gave them a different god to worship:

capitalism. Granted, it helped Japan rapidly modernize so Sony, all

Toshiba, Honda, and Toyota could own the American economy, but

Christianity has been utterly stagnant in a nation that worships the

god-dollar rather than the god-emperor or the one true God.

If current conversion rates continue, the center of Christianity

in the twenty-second century is going be Beijing and Seoul, so

rather than Rome or Westminster, with perhaps a sort of inter-

regnum period where Moscow serves as a Third Rome. Japan’s

future is uncertain, but if what happened to Rome does occur to

China and South Korea, a Christian Orient is quite likely. So if the

West cannot resolve an Islamic question the twenty-first century,

imagine what an empowered, militarized Christian China could ac-

complish.

we are (i am)

most respectfully

giving the props where

we should: faithandheritage.com/2015/10/ethno-christology-part-3-jesus-christ-of-the-orient a faith has it's truer glory where we admit: http://faithandheritage.com/2019/01/our-future-looks-glorious-if-we-repent - because we admit that we do not know exactly how to.

Jesus Christ is our savior. Jesus Christ died for us all; it is our foolish sin of vanity... pride did get us, especially U.S.. we may have lots of a different storyline, each understands peace's prominence, yours and our own.

[clericofmystra]

I guess my BG3 custom character headcanon could be de-canonized in game, but I doubt it, so here's one for my Tav/Larissa:

She loves magic. She always has. Her parents are both spellcasters (her father a less-obnoxious-than-usual sun elf, her mother a human sorcerer) and she grew up with magic all around her. She's longed to have magical power for as long as she can remember.

...but she's also always been bad at it. Really bad. After years of practice with her father, she managed to learn exactly one(1) cantrip—and while the ability to summon fire felt like a great achievement at the time, she couldn't do anything else no matter how hard she studied, how much she learned, how much she practiced.

But her fascinated study of magic and its lore took on an increasingly spiritual awe, and she developed an intense devotion to Mystra, goddess of magic. She swore herself to Mystra's service and as one of her priests, worked steadily towards greater knowledge, greater understanding of the mysteries of the world, greater preservation of magical lore, and over time, Larissa became one of the sages at her temple.

And she still sucked at magic.

She's personally kind and caring, if a little abrupt, but at heart, she longed to be acknowledged as one of the most devoted, most respected, most learned, most favored of Mystra's priests. Yet her near-total lack of facility with magic made it clear to her that she was not particularly favored.

Still, she continued to faithfully serve her goddess—and a year before the BG3 story begins, Mystra herself appeared to her in a dream and granted Larissa her blessing.

Larissa wasn't sure what that would mean until she woke to light flickering around her hands—and a distant sense of approval and power. She still can't use magic the way her parents can, can't feel the Weave properly: but when she prays, Mystra answers. In her thirty-nine years, Larissa has never felt anything to compare with the sensation of divine power flowing through her, and her devotion to Mystra has never been stronger.

[anghraine]

I'm having fun coming up with specialized tags for the sideblog, since I generally don't want to inflict my rambles on main tags.

Some of them thus far:

text posts = #t: the sacred text posts

Shadowheart = #ch: stow that blade or i'll show you just how messy things can get

Lae'zel = #ch: you may as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms

Gale = #ch: there's a mighty bargain to be made

Mystra = #ch: grace; power; wisdom

Gale/Larissa(/Mystra) = #ship: something like the anticipation of a kiss

All except the first are canon references!

[luminousbeansarewe]

wandering stars

ch 13: vigilance

pairings: none || rating: teen || characters: original characters, obi-wan kenobi, mace windu, commander ponds

tags: none

chapter list

tagged: @yourbitchystudentartist​ @lordimperius​ (message me or reply if you’d like to be tagged!)

*************************************************

Coruscant, Galactic City, Grand Army of the Republic Headquarters, 22BBY

    Obi-Wan Kenobi was making his way through the barracks, his mind crowded with concerns and plans and possibilities and questions, when he stopped in the middle of the hallway. The 212th was back for R&R; last he’d heard, every other clone unit was deployed to the field. So, when he saw a couple of clones he didn’t recognize practicing hand-to-hand in one of the rec rooms, his brow furrowed.

    Then, he felt it. Two ripples in the Force, one strong and familiar, the other weak and curious— he thought he'd felt it before, but it had been a long time ago. His keen blue eyes studied the figures as he moved closer to the window, watching a dance he’d only rarely gotten to observe before.

    When he spotted the white bun and smaller figure, he realized one of them wasn’t a clone at all. They were both in regulation blacks, crouching and circling one another intently. The trooper moved like all his brethren; his body was angular and sturdy, and despite his powerful musculature he was quick. The girl— Sol, that was her name— was more wiry, and the sinuous movements of her body never once betrayed the moment she would strike. Clones moved with energy behind every jab, kick, and block. Their high metabolisms meant that the same effort for each motion didn’t tire them, and maximized the potential that each contact would exact as much damage as possible.

    The thing that was curious to Obi-Wan was the way the Force flowed around his opponent. White lashes on her golden eyes already rendered her gaze unusual, but honed in on her target it pierced with predatory intensity; a lifelong vigilance hid behind her present focus. Unlike the clone, she had to conserve energy— and she did it well. Her strikes were precise, engineered to initiate a sequence of attacks if they landed. The Jedi’s eyes narrowed. He knew that style, that very particular strategy that this girl brought her own grace to. 

    More than that, though, the Force assisted her every move. Not to the degree a Jedi might use it. Not to push out from her strikes with concentrated effort and send the clone flying to the other side of the mat. But it seemed to carry her somehow, to hold her together. 

    Who was this girl Mace had found?

    Once Sol had managed to land an attack that ended with her opponent on his back on the mat, groaning, Obi-Wan entered the room. As he’d expected, Master Windu himself was sitting on the bench, observing. 

    “Very good,” the other Jedi said, not looking at his visitor, something of a smirk on his face. “Commander Ponds, Sol Tannor, this is General Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

    Ponds, the clone, was on his feet and at attention in half a second. “General,” he said, giving a stiff nod to Obi-Wan. Sol, on the other hand, simply turned to face him, feet still a little wider apart and hands still in loose fists by her side. Her nod was altogether more relaxed. 

    “Master Kenobi, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Mace asked, turning to look at him while still seated. 

    “Oh, I was merely passing through on my way to the offices when I noticed your lesson, here,” Obi-Wan replied with his usual degree of easy pleasantry. 

    “Yes, I was just having Commander Ponds drill my ward in the art of hand-to-hand combat,” Mace replied, that near-smirk flickering over his face again. 

    “All due respect, sir, but I believe she was the one drilling me,” Ponds said, looking almost embarrassed. But he was clearly impressed, too. “Haven’t had a spar like that in a while.”

    “Neither me, to be fair,” Sol said to the clone. Her smile seemed uneasy on her face, like it wasn’t used to being there despite being genuine.

    “Yes, I noticed you have quite a skillset, Sol,” Obi-Wan said. “Do you mind if I ask where you learned?” 

    “My father taught me.” Pain flashed behind her eyes, gone as quickly as it came. He seemed to recall her father being a bounty hunter, before his untimely death brought her here. “Master Drallig also taught me, while I was being considered for the Temple Guard.” 

    “Ah. Well I’m sure both your father and Master Drallig would be quite proud of you,” he offered with sincerity. Another uneasy smile, a smaller nod. 

    “Master Kenobi,” Mace began, “You lead some of our finest troopers. What would you say are the most important things a leader can practice in the field?” 

    Obi-Wan eyed the other Jedi. It looked like he was being roped into augmenting the girl’s lessons for the day. Which might have been slightly annoying, if it didn’t mean that Mace was clearly invested in his ward’s success. He chased down some reasonable thoughts between all the other stirrings in his mind.

    “Well, it’s safe to say that keeping a level head is a necessity. One must be quick and adaptable. I always advise several backup plans, which my former padawan is still not particularly fond of,” he said with a slight fond chuckle that everyone else in the room was quick to share. “And, always look after one’s men. Losses are part of war, but negligence is poor leadership.”

    “Ponds, would you agree?” Mace asked his commander.

    “Yes, sir,” Ponds replied with a nod. “On every point.”

    “Anything to add?” 

    “It helps to know when to be hard and when to boost morale, sir. That can depend on the squad or troop, though. And being with your men on the line will get you their respect quicker than anything.” 

    “Thank you, gentlemen,” Mace told them, and then his gaze fell back onto his ward. “I’m gleaning wisdom for you from everyone I can, Sol, but Lightning Squad is heading back out in two days. I’m afraid that the war is spreading much quicker than we hoped.” 

    “I understand, Master,” Sol replied.

    “I’ve always said you learn more quickly on the field,” Obi-Wan chimed in. “Perhaps you might accompany your master on his deployment.”

    All three of the other faces in the room looked uncomfortable. Ponds the most-- one could fathom why a commando might not prefer a rookie, even a well-trained one, under his wing on a mission. Sol simply seemed worried she wasn’t ready. Mace, though, was a little more opaque.

    “I think Sol requires more training,” he said after a moment, looking between her and Obi-Wan. “Particularly regarding working on a team, which is critical for leading soldiers.” 

    The bearded Jedi blinked, surprised for a moment. He hadn’t heard about the plan to put the girl on the field in a command position. That would be a rushed effort, for certain. The general level of panic about resources was a static buzz in the very air on Coruscant, these days. 

    “I see,” he said, stroking his beard. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised, if joining the Guard hadn’t worked out (and evidently it hadn’t.) Combat certainly fell well within her skillset. “Ponds, I feel your recommendation might be better than mine for this. Clones are unsurpassed in their teamwork, commandos especially.” 

    “Thank you, sir,” Ponds nodded. “I still say you might send her to Kamino. It’s the finest military training in the galaxy, after all,” he said with a glance at Mace. But the other Jedi’s frown deepened. 

    “I’m still not certain. But I’ve taken your suggestion under advisement, don’t worry.” 

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “Well, I’m sorry to depart so soon, but I’ve got to speak with Cody. We’ll also be shipping out in two days, or sooner if things on Thule continue the way they have,” Obi-Wan said soberly. He bowed to Mace, and then to Ponds and Sol. “Good luck, all of you. Sol, I look forward to your future.”

    She seemed surprised, but every emotion was ever just a passing shadow on her otherwise stoic face. “Vor’e— thank you, Master,” she said with that nod. Obi-Wan smiled, and saw himself out the door. As he continued along the halls, he couldn’t help but feel a little sadness for the girl. Whatever Mandalorian heritage she had— and she certainly had some, fighting the way she did— was obviously stripped away from her. It seemed there was no place for her inside the Jedi Temple. And now, her guide seemed to have no idea what to do with her. He hoped faintly that she might find her home somewhere, and regretted that it might end up being in the battlefield. 

    But this was war, and he had no time to fret over things he couldn’t fix— as though Anakin being knighted and war blossoming like wildfire across the galaxy weren’t enough of that. So he strode onward, and his trouble in mind went with him. 

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose ch. 67 - The War Dog in the Slips

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: None Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland, Cailan/Anora (background) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

-------

This letter is written on fine paper, in a steady if slightly scrawling hand, pressed with the seal of a rose in burgundy wax.

 Twelfth day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Dear Cailan,

Rosslyn agreed to marry me! She said yes, can you believe it? I know Brantis says personal matters should come after business in official correspondence, but this is important. She’s going to be my wife. I know I didn’t tell you I planned to ask her, or really ask permission, and I’m sorry for that. Everything after the battle was so muddled. To be honest when I did the words sort of slipped out without me really thinking about them, but I know you’ll be happy for me – us. There’s an us now.

Fergus has agreed to the match, to make it official as the head of her household, although Rosslyn said she would have challenged him to a duel if he’d refused, and of course after all the excitement died down she just had to go and be clever and point out there would need to be a wedding if I really wanted her to be my wife.

Since I do (very much) that’s part of the reason for this letter – neither of us know how to plan a wedding. The last one either of us attended was yours, and of course we didn’t have any hand in the arrangements. Rosslyn (my wife-to-be!) has been quiet about it, but I know she feels a bit out of her depth and misses the experience her parents might have shared with her, but we would both be honoured if you and Anora would lend your wisdom. She is writing a similar request to her grandparents in the Storm islands, and – she’s just smiled at me and now I’ve completely lost my train of thought. I never thought I’d be so lucky.

In any case, we should be with you in Denerim within two weeks, though our departure from Highever may be delayed for a few more days. R is worried about her brother’s condition, even though Enchanter Amell has agreed to stay behind and continue as his healer, and she herself is recovering only slowly from her injuries – slower than she would like, anyway. She has resumed training since you left, and is determined as I’ve ever seen her. Despite the strain, she’s insistent on learning the use of her left hand for more than just shieldwork. I understand why, but she keeps accusing me of clucking over her like a broody hen. I would have thought I’d merit something a little more impressive, like a dragon, or maybe a griffin. When I say that it makes her laugh, at least, so it isn’t all bad.

But I cannot take up an entire letter talking only about my betrothed(!) when the report of your victory in Denerim lies on the desk in front of me. We hope all is well, and that casualties have been minimal. We have also received news of unrest in Amaranthine, from both the banns and the people, which I hope won’t cause too much of a delay in us joining you, but aid has to be brought to the freeholders and sedition routed before it really takes root. One day, we’ll have a year where the entire country isn’t at its own throat – won’t that be nice.

Your brother,

Alistair

PS, She knows about the book. I’ll say no more and only mentioned this much because otherwise you’ll ask and then she’ll ask why I’m blushing and then I’ll have to tell her. Just know I’m happier than I thought possible, and that your advice is something I don’t know how to repay.

--

Cailan’s grip on the letter warped the paper as he scanned it a second time, the carefree betrayal of happiness turning a sour feeling in his stomach. His thoughts were unworthy of him, but shadows had preyed on his mind since the battle at Highever, twisting even the most innocent of gestures into cynical attacks, and it took effort not to perceive every line as a slight. He ought to be happy for Alistair, that his brother and Rosslyn had found contentment together, but the snide hollow in his mind that had been gaining a louder and louder voice in recent days pricked at the fragile walls he tried to build around his charity. Would it really be too far a stretch to believe the letter a veiled crow of triumph, his half-brother gloating that he had won the affection of the woman who rallied armies around her with a mere word and whose smile lit her face like the first grace of morning? To think of the queen she would have made…

She blamed him for what happened to her, he knew. He had been too paralysed by the strange terror that had come over him to run to her aid before the walls of Castle Cousland, and that shameful hesitation had almost cost her life. The sudden still on the battlefield haunted him. The shriek of pierced metal and the silence that followed chased him through his nightmares every time he closed his eyes, mocking him, goading him with the lack that everyone had seen in him since he took the throne. Maric would not have hesitated so; the great rebel king who had saved Ferelden would have rushed to put himself before the blade, would have won the heart of the fair maiden, would have halted Loghain’s descent into madness before it even began and thereby spared his subjects the chaos of war.

And Alistair – his brother was a proven warrior, amiable and respected. What had Rosslyn seen in him that she had not seen in the king himself? The pair of them must laugh at him, whispering secrets and plans in their bower as they held each other close. They had stood against Eamon, and won the trust of the Storm Islands – how short a leap it would be, with the other deals they must have made in Orzammar, and the Bannorn, and across the Waking Sea, for them to supplant him. When they reached Denerim, the people would cheer them as deserving heroes and the court would fawn over them while he looked on and was forced to smile even as they drove the dagger into his back.

One of the logs in the fire cracked and fell into two pieces. As the sparks vanished up the chimney, Cailan rubbed a hand down the side of his face and deliberately folded the letter from Alistair before laying it aside on the desk. He was sleeping poorly, and the fatigue made him restless, suspicious. On some days, even Anora turned into an enemy, one whose movements he tracked down to the wine she poured for him, so that he might discover any hint she still took her father’s side and only waited to overthrow him. In those moments, he dreaded that Rosslyn had told the queen of the half-baked plan to divorce her, and any protest from the more valiant part of himself was smothered by the knowledge that the Gwaren soldiers paroled at Highever had sworn their loyalty to his wife, and not to him.

“The people are starving, the nobles discontented, and sleep will not come for me,” he grunted, reaching for the decanter of brandy he had set on the table next to him. “I suffer nothing more.” The lies slipped away more easily with drink, and the fog that settled over him was preferable to the chase of dreams through his mind, the swirls of green smoke and voices calling out in reproach.

Next to him, an elderly mabari with milky eyes and a grey mask of fur around her muzzle lifted her head to whine at him.

“I know, Biscuit. I should know better than to disturb your naps with my malaising.” He reached down to stroke her head as she dropped it on his lap. “Any insight you can give me into Loghain’s plans would be helpful.”

There was the truly disturbing part. Rosslyn’s bartered blood mage had revealed that Erimond had planned to open a gateway to the Fade using the bloodshed at Highever, and whether or not Loghain had been party to the full plan, only luck had turned the battle’s purpose before the ritual was completed. All intelligence now pointed to a search for an equally powerful source of entropic energy. Regardless of whether Erimond found it, the threat to Ferelden now went beyond mundane civil war.

Biscuit whined again, and added her paw to Cailan’s knee, looking up with the same imploring, white-rimmed gaze she had first used on him as a pup when he had walked through the kennels on his twentieth birthday. The door to the study opened and he caught the smell of lavender and orange flowers, Anora’s winter perfume, and the tap of her shoes on the floorboards. Tail wagging, the dog creaked to her feet and limped over to ask for attention from the newcomer.

“What do you have there?” the queen asked as she bent to scratch between Biscuit’s shoulders. Her gaze swept over the accounts and reports organised on his desk, the ones he had been perusing when his thoughts took their dark turn. At first, she had been surprised that he applied himself voluntarily to bureaucracy, had been snide about Rosslyn’s apparent ability to train him to paperwork when his own wife could not, but in the time since arriving in Denerim, she had offered only help. He pushed away the thought that she was just waiting for him to prove himself incompetent and offered her a smile.

“It’s a letter from Alistair,” he said. “My brother has asked Lady Rosslyn to marry him, and she has accepted.”

She nodded. “They deserve some happiness after all of this – her especially. It is a shame her parents are not here to marry them out of her own house.”

“A greater shame that they were murdered,” he replied.

Anora pursed her lips, deciding whether to rise to the bait, but straightened her shoulders after a moment and crossed the room to lay yet more papers onto his desk.

“I came to bring you the scout reports from the Southron Hills,” she told him. “Though I hope you will not linger as late tonight as you did yesterday. You need your rest, and Ferelden needs it too.”

Meeting the pale blue gaze, Cailan slumped. His wife stood with the same neutral poise that had so fascinated him growing up, her hands folded in front of her and every golden hair on her head perfectly set in place, waiting for him to respond. And he was being unworthy, as sulky as he ever was as a teenager realising his life would never truly be just his alone. The events of the past year were not her fault; Loghain had used them both to further his own ambitions.

“Forgive me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am suffering a lack of sleep, now I think on it.”

The narrow shoulders, held so stiff and straight, relaxed slightly. “I worry for you.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he suggested, conviction settling the tremor in his voice. “We can… talk.”

“I am at my husband’s disposal, of course,” she answered, the smile she turned on him guarded, but genuine in the way it brought a crease to the corners of her eyes.

“Good. That’s – good.”

The past could not be undone, but nor could he step forward with despair keeping pace like a hound at his heels. Unless he fixed the problems that had led to war in the first place, he might find himself sitting in the very same position at some point in the not-so-distant future, presiding over a divided court with bodies towering on both sides. It was not just a habit for paperwork Rosslyn had drilled into him over the months on campaign; her wisdom haunted him. One who cannot keep the peace has not yet won it.

[justkarliekloss]

Just found this while looking for something else 👀

Supermodel, founder of Kode with Klossy, and philanthropist, Karlie Kloss, invites readers into her world and shares how, by making bold choices, overcoming the fear of failure, and cultivating curiosity, she was able to make her wildest dreams come true–and how they can, too.

At 15, Karlie Kloss considered herself an ordinary (okay, 6’2″ tall) girl from St. Louis who was presented with the opportunity to live an extraordinary life. In the past decade she’s graced the covers of TK magazines around the world; stomped runways as a supermodel; launched the national non-profit Kode with Klossy and a hit YouTube channel, amassing over 15 million followers along the way. Readers will be surprised to discover the secrets to Karlie’s success: not me-vs.-her calculation, but kindness, curiosity, confidence, conviction, self-love…and cookies. In THE KLOSSY CODE, Karlie opens up about her experiences, both exhilarating and daunting, and reaches out to a wide range of inspiring experts who spill much-needed wisdom and advice for women and girls with powerful aspirations who are determined to make their biggest and wildest dreams a reality. By working hard, digging deep and building on what makes you strong and special (as Karlie did), you will find that you already have the key to your own success: yourself.

On Sale: October 6th 2020

[mavda]

When Wisdom sleeps

Ch.1 |

Ch.2: Closing gaps

Paperwork always piled up and Ashei had made it pretty clear that Link was not allowed to leave before getting it done. Link had made sure to give both his sargeants full power to work as his own representatives, and although they had accepted it and would use it when necessary, both of them would rather have Link do his own work.

Sargeant Ashei, an aloof and tall woman with droopy eyes, came by to offer Link something to eat and Link nodded and waved her off. By the time food arrived Link had made a dent on the paperwork and Guile had entered the room with a plate full of the dining hall food and a drink. Link moved his shoulders and reclined on his chair, his back felt tight and he started massaging his muscles.

"Uh, sir?"

Link made room to the plate by moving a bunch of papers out of the way he barely checked to see their importance and looked at Guile letting him know he was listening.

"Why don't you take a break and leave tomorrow?"

Link shook his head as he gobbled down a piece of chicken. "I'm leaving today." And although Guile stood there for a couple of seconds he could only sigh and leave the room.

By the time Ashei came back to take the plate away Link was halfway done with the papers, the day was in full throttle and Guile had already shared with her Link's midday's stubborness.

It only took a shared glance between Ashei and Link for him to say, "I said I'm leaving today."

Ashei grabbed the plate and glass, gave him a bored look and turned on her heels, "Break a leg."

Link was half cursing the paperwork when Guile entered again. Link was mid-movement to tell him that no, he did not need food, when Ashei followed behind and Link kept silent.

"It's way past noon, boss," Guile fiddled in place and eyed the paperwork and then gave a step to the side to let Ashei step in.

"Leave," Ashei's frown was visible even behind her fringe, "we'll take care of what's left."

Link's eyes became slits. "You were the one who told me-"

"I know," she then moved her chin towards Guile in a curt way, "he begged."

Guile could feel Link's eyes on him and his hand found the back of his head and his shoulders raised, "I... can't say I didn't."

Link stood up, moved to the front of the table, stopped one arm away from Guile and let his hand fall heavily in Guile's shoulder. "I appreciate it, Guile."

Guile, young and naive and eager to please, could only raise his shoulders even further as the embarrasment filled his body. Ashei stayed still as a statue and then Link turned to her, "I appreciate it, Ashei."

"I know," she answered, "I just don't want you falling off your horse out of exhaustion."

"When have I ever-"

"You've been holed up in here since yesterday. Now leave."

Link raised his finger to refute her but Guile was pushing him from behind, "Sir boss, we'll be all right, now leave!"

Link had to chuckle at their antics and raise his hands in defeat. The moment Link started to list off the things that were due while he was away, both Ashei and Guile repeated his every words even before he said it. Ashei had brought Link's bags from his room and had readied Epona beforehand.

"Have a safe trip, sir." Ashei saluted.

"Have a safe trip, boss!"

Link kept waving till he was out of view of his subordinates. He cracked his neck and let the sun shine on him as he moved across the training grounds. A few people greeted him as he left and Link was starting to feel excited at the idea of seeing Ganondorf and Zelda again. The trip was a week and almost six days, but although the first time he had travelled his very bones had felt tired, this time his good humor was neverending.

Mira was playing outside when Link arrived and she stood still the moment she saw him, her eyes boring into him. "Are you staying with us now?"

Link had to shake his head. Pattrick had taken Link's going to Ganondorf's house to stay the best out of everyone in his family. Mira had looked slighted at the change, mainly because -just like Zelda- she had expected a new playmate to go around town and Link had disappeared the next day. Pattrick's wife, village chief Lenora, had met Link a little over a week after his arrival. Pattrick had been chatting with him in one of Link's daily visits to Epona and had presented each other over lunch. Lenora -knowing as much as her husband- had been polite and engaging and had waved Link goodbye with only one warning: don't make trouble for the village.

With Link's subsequent visits to Epona, Mira had gotten even more friendly and would tease and demand attention from Link. Whenever Link made his way back to Ganondorf's place, Mira would always make a show out of being left behind. She was outgoing and outspoken and enjoyed asking questions, and Link could not help but humor her however he could.

"Long time no see, Mira."

"Long time indeed, Link!" Mira pointed an accusatory finger and stomped her feet on the ground, "What were you doing? Leaving me and Zelda on our own?"

Link dismounted and could only keep a smirk on his face as Mira kept on going about how Link had had the gall to leave them. Mira was making her case about how Link should make it up to them when Link grabbed one of the bags Epona had carried on her saddle.

"Speaking of gifts," Mira eyed the bag in Link's hand and narrowed her eyes.

"Bribes, huh." Not that she minded, of course. Mira turned to her house, "I'll let mom know you're here!"

Lenora greeted Link with a polite smile and received Link's gifts with grace. Pattrick was more comfortable with the young man and patted his shoulder assuring him that he needn't had to. Mira was over the moon with her new dress and started talking with her mother about using it in the winter festival next village.

Link excused himself the next moment and left Epona in Pattrick's care, he grabbed the rest of his belongings and started the trek to Ganondorf's home. The way was the same as last year and Link could only relax when he entered the clearing. This time he had arrived just before dinner and the sun was already setting, the way it painted the clearing was nostalgic in a way Link couldn't explain and the warm light coming from inside the house filled Link with comfort.

When Link knocked on the door, he heard Ganondorf talk and a chair being pulled back with haste. Zelda greeted him at the door and her face was showered with warm light from the candles around her. Ganondorf greeted Link from his seat with his deep voice and Link smiled, he was home.

After dinner, Link opened the bags he had brought with gifts for Ganondorf and Zelda. A bunch of books and clothes for Zelda -whose eyes gleamed- and clothes and a bag filled with money for Ganondorf. Ganondorf closed his arms as soon as he had realized what Link was giving him, but Link had left the bag unceremonously in the table and had then focused on Zelda's unabashed glee.  Zelda started to peruse each book and Link had sat near Ganondorf, who patted the money bag and had joked, "So crass." Link barely gave him a glance, whatever it took for Ganondorf to accept the money.

Link played till Zelda tired and talked till Ganondorf had nothing else to say. He felt so comfortable in the place, so relaxed, that he eventually fell asleep in the coach in front of the chimney. Last time he had visited at the end of spring, but now it was mid-fall and Ganondorf had a light fire going in the chimney, and Zelda had taken to reading in the carpet in front of it and Link had sat in the couch. He was dozing off soon after, feeling the warmth fill his body, hearing Ganondorf moving around the house, having Zelda's blond hair shine everytime her head tilted enough, and he felt exhausted, and without realizing it, he fell asleep.

When Zelda had come to get a blanket out of the guest room and Ganondorf had asked her if she was cold, she pointed to Link and mouthed that he had fallen asleep. And Gan softened. Link, a soldier through and through could go on without days of sleep and act as if nothing, his movements never dulled, his mind never fogged and Ganondorf had wondered if Link was even Hylian. But he was, just extremely stubborn and filled with a sense of duty that could make him go through grueling task after grueling task with a serene semblance. So as Gan accompanied Zelda and as she draped the blanket around Link, Gan couldn't help the light smile that grew on his face.

⁂

The next morning Zelda was the first to greet Link as he walked outside his bedroom. The fire was already going and she had already claimed her spot in the carpet. Her hair was braided and Link commented on it and received a toothy grin from her, "Daddy made me look pretty." After cleaning himself in his room and letting Zelda know he was going outside she had commented, "Daddy went to the stream!" And that's where Link found him, knees deep in the stream cleaning a bunch of clothes.

"Need help?"

"'M good, thanks!"

Link looked at the shed Ganondorf had promised to do last time he had come and Link then decided it was time to make way for Epona to come.

"Is it really okay for me to make a path here?"

Ganondorf stopped washing and shrugged, "I mean, better now than never and it's high time Zelda gets a chance to leave this place without me."

"What is someone finds you?"

Ganondorf checked a piece of cloth againts the sky and nodded to himself. "Well, that's where you come in, mister "i'm someone important at the Castle""

But Link was not yet someone who could protect neither the Princess of the Kingdom nor a regicide. "I'm still not-"

"Then make sure you do it fast." Ganondorf turned and his face was emotionless, "you promised you would protect her, so how are you going to if you're powerless inside that place?"

"It's not that easy."

"Didn't ask whether it was or not" Link squinted his eyes and had to eat the words that threatened to spill. But Ganondorf was relentless, "Well, what's the worst that could happen, Link? We get found, I'm killed and she's taken, whatever."

Link felt the blood boiling inside him and he couldn't say anything before turning around and going back to the house. Link had to catch himself before storming inside and freaking Zelda out so he breathed in and out a couple of times before actually opening the door. Link was angry for the right reasons, but Ganondorf hadn't said anything that wasn't true either.

Zelda raised her head when Link entered and Link could smile back at her. "I'm going to make a path so Epona can come here."

Zelda's face brightened at the idea of seeing Link's horse at last, but immediately her face sombered. "Did you... ask daddy if you could?"

"Yes."

Zelda's face was unredeable as she stood up and put her book on the shelf again, "Can I go with you?"

Link could feel her uneasiness and only nodded, "We have to go around the forest first and decide where we could make one."

Zelda told Link to wait as she ran outside to let her father know, and although Zelda never kept to herself as they made their rounds and she asked questions Link was more than happy to answer, her face looked worried. After lunch, where Zelda and Ganondorf did their best to look carefree, Zelda and Link went outside again to keep on checking the terrain. Link raised his hand to size up the branches in front of him -they were low enough to bother a horse with a rider, but if he dismounted before going through there would be no problem. Zelda walked abstentmindedly around him and Link couldn't help but ask, "Is there something in your mind?"

Zelda looked up not knowing whether she should feel worried or relieved Link had asked. So she kept silent. But Link walked closer to her and sat beside her, the place they had decided on was the one with low branches and thick bushes. Link was thinking of covering with wood the whole stretch to prevent Epona from hurting her feet and then let nature do its thing and let the bushes cover everything again. As long as the floor was firm and plain in this section, Epona could handle the rest. Link explained his plan to Zelda and made sure to stress the fact that in a couple of months, but for sure before a year, the path they would make would look no different than its surroundings. After another bout of silence, Link tried again, "A rupee for your thoughts?"

And although Link looked at her hoping to get an answer, Zelda smiled and shook her head, "I'm really excited to meet Epona."

So Link smiled back and kept on talking about easier things.

⁂                                                    ��        

Ganondorf offered to cut trees and make planks out of them so Link could use after, so Zelda ended up helping Link with his stretch of ground. They started cutting and uprooting bushes and weeds, and also leveling the place. The third day they had devoted solely to that piece of terrain Link stood up, looked around and sighed, "And here I had thought it would be easier."

Zelda giggled as she pulled roots out of the ground. Link wiped the sweat from his forehead and leaned against his shovel, the sun was starting to go down. "Time to go see Epona," he clapped his hands in an attempt to get some dirt off them, "remember to go back to your house before the sun sets, ok?"

Zelda stood too and as she patted her pants she said, "I was thinking that maybe I could accompany you today." She sounded unsure, as if Link could even entertain the idea of telling her that no, she wasn't welcome. Link beamed back at her, "Of course, that's great! Let's let your father know and then we'll be off."

Ganondorf gave a smile as an answer as soon as Zelda finished her sentence, and although Zelda brightened at Gan's immediate response when her eyes laid on Link her face froze slightly. They were off into the woods and Link remained close to her the entire time, offering his hand in rough patches and catching Zelda whenever she stumbled. She would giggle, "It never gets easier."

When they went past their working place Zelda cleared her throat. "So," she started, and Link hoped she was finally going to share with him what was going on in her mind so he only gave back a humm filled with curiosity. "You're my father's friend, right?"

"Correct."

"And you're also a soldier."

"Also correct."

Zelda kept silent again and Link waited for her to keep on talking, but she never did, and by the time they arrived to the road she stared at him for a couple of seconds before smiling wide and shouting "Race you to the village!"

Link only had the time to blink before she was gone and he tried to catch her. Zelda was fast, and although Link had longer legs he never parted with his sword and at this moment in time it was weighing him down substantially. Zelda was laughing out loud when Link caught up to her and when Link lifted her in the air she squealed.

"Caught ya!"

"That's not how you play race!" Zelda said between laughs.

Link slowed down and could feel the heat of the run catching up to him, Zelda let her limbs go limp and patted Link's back, "Let me down," she whined.

"Not if you start running again, no."

Zelda pouted but couldn't help the smile on her face, "Promise," she relented, and Link let her down immediately.

Link was still heaving and his throat was parched, "I need water."

Zelda brightened up and skipped a little, "I can get you some!"

"I'll get some when we get to the barn, no leaving my sight."

Zelda fell silent again, but the smile was still there, "You're even worse than dad."

Link made as if he didn't register what she had said, but he was starting to worry about Zelda's understanding of her life. She was young, and he had thought more unaware of her surroundings, but her eyes crinckled and she looked at Link in a type of understanding he wasn't sure he wanted to see on her.

⁂                                                          

Zelda stopped right in front of Epona and told Link with certainty that this was his mare. Link had laughed and had asked whether her father had given her any clues, but Zelda had stared at Epona and had shaken her head no, "just a hunch," she had answered, and Link hurried to let Epona out before Zelda could keep on talking.

Zelda helped brushing Epona while Link cleaned her shed and brought fresh water and food inside it. Link's eyes danced around Zelda and Epona, ever prepared in case something -anything- happened, but Zelda only cooed Epona while his mare tried to nuzzle her whenever she could and whenever he saw Zelda like that the more he couldn't help but feel happy she couldn't remember.

"Wanna try riding her?"

Zelda's mouth hanged open and her eyes went from Link to Epona before nodding furiously, "I don't know how to, though."

Link offered his hand and Zelda was up in the air before she could notice. "I'm not letting you ride her alone," Link instructed Zelda as to how position her legs before he patted Epona's side, "easy, girl." He then offered his hand again and Zelda grabbed it unconsciously, "I'm right here," Link assured her, and as Epona started walking and Zelda's whole body moved with the horse, she clasped Link's hand.

"You can grab her mane."

"Won't it hurt?"

"If you yank on it, maybe, but if you just use it to steady yourself then she'll barely feel it."

Zelda grabbed Epona's mare with the barest of clutches, Zelda looked at Link and he gave her a reassuring smile. From here Zelda could see the barn at her back and the entirety of the corral around them, where a bunch of chickens where running around and a couple of cows stayed away from Epona. "This is great."

"Later we can try this with the saddle on."

Zelda nodded, "okay."

"Want to try going back on your own? I'll guide Epona." Zelda's panic was evident but Link nodded back at her, "I'll be right here," and Zelda gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go.

⁂

Before going back Link wanted to give a visit to Pattrick, just as he usually would, but Zelda's face had frozen the moment he had said that so he had tried to tell her that it wasn't that big of a deal. Zelda had refused vehemently and had yanked at his hand to make him go towards Mira's house.

Pattrick was as welcoming as ever and he opened the door to his home with a grandiose movement, "Lenora is out doing chief stuff," he said to Link, "and Mira is out with Lloyd, I'm afraid," he said to Zelda. Link couldn't help but feel the shift in Zelda's attitude the moment she heard that Mira wasn't there, her shoulders dropped slightly and her eyebrows raised in relaxation. "Oh, that's fine," she said. And Pattrick was none the wiser.

Zelda spent her time checking the books in Lenora's library and sitting in the chair next to Link's, while Pattrick spent the next half an hour sharing his day with Link.

"Also," Pattrick eyed Zelda, unsure if he should put this information out in the open, "I still haven't told Lenora about that big bag of money you gave me."

"Please just take it."

Pattrick wasn't sure how to tell Link about his feeling on receiving a huge amount of money from a young man, but Link was looking at him ready to answer whatever was thrown at him.

"Think of it as money for taking care of Epona."

"We don't charge people for using the barn."

"Then for taking care of me."

Pattrick squinted his eyes, "We haven't... done anything for you."

Zelda put the book on the shelf and turned, "Link, it's getting late."

The sun was long gone and its rays were barely showing. He stood up and gave Pattrick the best impression of an apologetic smile, "What can I do, gotta go."

"Funny."

Pattrick meant to keep on talking but Zelda cut him off, "Uncle Pattrick, maybe you should just say thank you." Pattrick was at a loss for words and Link's half smirk just made him give up.

"I'm at least gonna invite you to a feast one of these days."

"Hey, maybe we can make it so Gan can come too."

Zelda brightened at the mention of her father and Pattrick saw them leave from under his door frame. Zelda grabbed Link's hand on their way back -used to it thanks to the countless times she had gone back to her house with her father- and Link was just happy she felt so comfortable with him so he said nothing.

Mira found them just as she was turning over the corner with Lloyd at her back. Link called over to her and smiled as a greeting, Zelda followed suit but with less enthusiasm. Mira gave a toothy grin and waved but walked past them immediately. Lloyd eyed Zelda but barely glanced at Link, and Link could already feel something amiss. Zelda yanked on Link's hand the next moment, and Link had to forget about Lloyd's red hair and angry eyes. The way back was silent and Link reveled on the wind and the sound of trees moving their branches around.

"Have you ever fought with a friend?"

Link pondered for a second, "I have, yes."

"How did you make up?"

"Well. If it was my mistake then I apologize, if I think it was their mistake I try talking it out." Link then added, "you need a willing partner for that, though."

Zelda kept quiet for a second, and as they were leaving the road, she said, "Mira is mad at me."

"Why is that?"

Zelda had to fight back the need to keep her mouth shut, had to remind herself that this was not only a person she trusted, but a person her father also trusted. That meant something. "She got angry at me because I don't visit the village often."

Link loved the innocence of their quarrel, "Well, maybe after we finish our project you could?"

"She then said that I don't invite her often enough to my house either."

"Well, it is kind of disorienting to walk through the woods."

Zelda stopped walking and Link worried for a second she had hurt herself with a branch. He whispered her name, but then Zelda raised her head and there was mixture of feelings Link wasn't sure what they were.

"I don't want her to come either."

And Link frowned. "Why... is that?"

Link could see the battle inside Zelda, remembered how she had avoided his questions a couple of days ago. Zelda locked eyes with him and searched for something, "I know," she whispered. "I know daddy did something bad."

Link kneeled in front of her, brought both of her hands into his, felt his heart on his throat, "Zelda, I think you should talk with your father first."

"I'm not dumb," she retorted. "Daddy doesn't like going to the village, he doesn't like seeing people, doesn't like meeting people. The only times he goes out are when it's dark and he's covered from head to toe. Mira told me, she told me that the people who come here are running away from past mistakes, her mother said so. She also told me that the people who did really bad things cover themselves and don't like seeing other people and visit her house late into the night, and-" Zelda was frustrated and could feel her words getting stuck, but she needed to tell Link and that made her more upset, and why couldn't her voice cooperate? "Why can't she understand that I don't want her meeting daddy because he did something wrong and he doesn't want other people seeing him and-"

Link's eyes were shining under the moonlight and they looked so worried and so caring that Zelda just jumped into his arms and hugged his neck, "I don't want him to go away, I don't want daddy to leave me alone." Zelda's voice had cracked everywhere and it had been shaky and uneven and her breath was hot against Link's neck and all he could do was hug her back and console her with the sweetest voice he could muster, "Of course he won't," Link said, but his voice was uneven also.

Link carried Zelda all the way left back, and Zelda sniffled every once in a while. "I also know he's not my real dad," she whispered. Barely audible, as if she almost wanted for Link not to hear it, as if it would hurt more if she said it louder. "Lloyd's mom left him after a few years, do you think daddy will leave someday too?"

"He won't. I know." And Zelda wasn't entirely on board, but Link's voice was firm and she decided to trust him on that one.

Link walked into the clearing and headed to a stump near the river that was visible from every part of the house. He sat there and after a couple of minutes he could feel Zelda losing strength. "Are you here to take daddy away?"

"No."

"Are you here to help him?"

"Yes."

Zelda snuggled and made herself more comfortable before settling in, and after a while she fell asleep. Link remained sitting outside for another while, trying his best to make sense of what Zelda's young mind was worried about and what was the best way to reassure her. At some point, Link heard the sound of a door opening and then closing shortly after. Ganondorf was waiting inside when Link went back into the house, he looked worried but remained silent as he watched Link settle Zelda in her bed. When Link stood up and looked back at Ganondorf, the redhead walked up to the bed and took Zelda's shoes off and covered her under her bedclothes.

They stood outside around the dining table for a while. Link gave Ganondorf a short explanation about what had transpired and Ganondorf had to bit his lips. It was going to come sooner or later, she was a kid still, he had wanted for her to be carefree for longer, but somehow, one way or another, she would come to know everything.

"Well," Ganondorf started, but he didn't really know how to continue so silence settled again. "I'm not leaving her," Ganondorf stressed.

"I know."

"But I don't think it's a good idea to tell her what I did."

Link took on of the chairs and sat with his arms crossed, "I agree. This just happened because she got a bunch of information, she was just scared."

Ganondorf followed suit and sat at the table, he dragged his hand accross his face, "What am I supposed to say to her? Will she even want to talk about it? She went to you."

"She was probably scared."

"Then what should I do?"

"Just... she knows a bunch of things already, but the ones that bothered her where mainly how things affected you, so just let her know she can tell Mira to come? Do you mind if she comes?"

"I mean, do I want her coming? Not particularly, but if Zelda is going through this just because of that, I don't fucking care, she can come and stay for all I care."

"Well, that's one thing off the list."

"I'm not leaving her," Ganondorf looked unsure as to how that even crossed Zelda's mind, "I've never showed ever even the slightest of thoughts regarding that. I has never even crossed my mind."

Link raised his eyebrows, "Well, that looks to me like a fear born out of having Lloyd's situation in front of her and probably hearing people talking about you and her, you can't control that, you just gotta give it time."

Ganondorf gave a deep sigh and the way the lights of the candle played in his face somehow deepened his frown.

"You can always talk to her tomorrow about it and hug it out. I think she needs one."

Ganondorf nodded and gave a tired smirk. Who would have thought that big bad Ganondorf would someday placate all of Zelda's worries with a hug. He would give her a hundred if it meant having her happy. He presssed his fingers to his temple and sighed, he felt half-happy Zelda could feel all of this for him, half-terrified Zelda could feel all of this for him. She should have had a happy, warm family that would have adored her while also being surrounded by a Kingdom that would revere her. He should have had a life with the Gerudo, a harsh life surrounded by the desert but filled with his people and all the love he knew he would need. And yes, that would have never happened either way because he was destined to rage and destroy, and even if he had wanted to never remember, his life would have been filled with obstacles, but maybe that would have been better? Maybe then Zelda would have had had a happy life at least. Maybe he should have just left her in that crib and let Link find him alone in the forest down the line...

Link put his hand on Ganondorf's shoulder and got him out of his trance, "Don't go there," he whispered, and Ganondorf had to close his eyes, because Goddesses, how was he supposed to forgive what they were putting them through?

⁂

Zelda woke up the next day and stayed in her bed listening. She could hear Link and her father going around the house and speaking in low voices so as to not wake her up. Zelda remembered what she had told Link and wondered how her father would look at her now. Zelda could only feel anxious,  but there was no dread nor pain in her chest so she scrambled out of her bed and went outside before those feeling could catch up to her.

Her father saw her and greeted her just like any other day and as she sat at the table to eat breakfast, Zelda started to have doubts regarding what had happened yesterday. But after Link had gone outside to keep on leveling the ground for Epona, her father remained quiet and Zelda knew he was thinking about her.

He was nervous and stumbled upon his words but he wanted to assure her that she ought to do what she wanted to do without caring about him at all. "I love you with all my heart," and at that point Zelda couldn't fight her tears, "You are my daughter and I want you to be happy. So just do what you need to do, we'll figure the rest out."

His words had a severity Zelda treasured in her heart and she buried her face on her father's stomach, who caressed her hair with his warm hands. "I'm never leaving you," Zelda said, and as her father brought her into his arms and whispered, "That's my phrase, love, I'm never leaving you," Zelda had to keep herself from weeping.

Link raised his head and saw Zelda smiling at him. Disheveled, red eyed and still snifling, but smiling. "Daddy said I could start bringing you some planks to see how they fit."

"Do you need help?"

Zelda ran back, shouting her answer, "I can do it myself!"

That night, after Zelda had fallen asleep, Ganondorf walked to where Link was sitting and dropped himself on the chair nearby, his mouth was a line and he hunched over. "I'm scared."

Link brought a hand to Ganondorf's arm, "What for?"

"What's going to happen in a few years, huh?" Ganondorf could feel a cold grip around his heart thinking about Zelda confronting him about... everything. What use were his good intentions if their life was built in lies? Link put strenght behind his touch and Ganondorf could barely whisper, "I'm scared, Link."

And there weren't many words one could say to reassure a man who had done the things Ganondorf had done to the parents of the child he was raising. But Link had to try,"Whatever happnes, I'll be here."

⁂

As Link took a chug of water, Zelda appeared from behind the trees. They were a few days away from putting the final planks in place and Zelda had been the best source of mental support Link would have ever wished for. Any time Link would complain for the umpteenth time, Zelda would giggle or shout encouragements at him. As the days had gone by though, her energy had dwindled somewhat and today Zelda stood firm in front of him, and Link was glad now it was his turn to become a source of encouragement to her.

"I can't help you today," she stated and Link had to quickly clean his mouth with his arm because he was nodding before he could say, "Sure."

"I already told dad," Zelda said, and she turned and left.

 "Good luck!"

Zelda smiled as she started the trek to the village. Her mission was simple, stand before Mira and tell her that she had been right and wrong about what she had said. "I'll come more often, but I want you to know that it hurts me when you say bad things about dad," Zelda practiced under her breath. Even if he's not my real dad, even if he did bad things. Don't badmouth him.

Simple.

Zelda walked with purpose all the way up until the entrance to the village. There, her mind froze and her legs wobbled. If Mira didn't accept her apology then... then...

Zelda decided that some things were better left up in the air unless it actually happened, so she forced her legs to keep on walking. If Mira was with Lloyd, Zelda would wait. She liked Lloyd, he was funny, but this was for Mira alone. Her friend.

Zelda turned to enter the road to Mira's house and she saw uncle Pattrick tending to the flowers, her heart beat and Zelda was sure anyone could hear it if they stood close enough. Somehow, her legs brought her to the garden and somehow she managed to squeak a greeting. Uncle Pattrick gave her a tender smile and Zelda couldn't help but be reminded of Link's, and she knew that uncle Pattrick was in on her fight with Mira. Uncle Pattrick left her in the garden as he went back and called for Mira and Zelda had to understand that it was only fair for Mira to tell her parents about their situations if even Zelda herself had had no other choice but to find solace in Link and her dad.

Mira came out with an attitude Zelda had never seen on her. Subdued somewhat, calm, Mira's eyes could barely lock with hers and Zelda started to feel bolder by the minute.  Uncle Pattrick had had the care to stay away from earshot so Zelda's voice came out steady, "Do you think we can talk?"

Mira smiled and nodded and grabbed Zelda's arm and brought her to the farthest patch of grass on her house. Mira could only feel relief and as soon as Zelda opened her mouth, Mira raised her hands. Zelda had come all the way here, it was Mira's turn to show she cared. "Let me speak first, please."

Mira had been mad and had blamed Zelda for not caring enough. It helped that Lloyd was jealous Zelda wouldn't hang with them and fanned the flames of Mira's anger. But Lenora, Mira's mother, had brought her back to bed one night after listening to her story and had combed Mira's hair with her hand. Now, why are you mad, she had asked, and Mira had had to come clean about wanting to spend more time with her friend but not receiving the kind of answer she had wanted. And have you talked again? Mira pouted and tried to explain how Zelda's answer had made her feel and how her answer had been to shut herself off. Do you really think Zelda doesn't want to spend time with you? No, not really. She was nice and cared enough about Mira to send her letters through her father if they didn't meet enough and she was kind enough to go along with Mira's whims. Zelda had been nothing but kind and Mira had been... jealous.

"I'm sorry," Mira lowered her head, unable to lock eyes with Zelda. "I was being dumb and I'm sorry."

Zelda could feel relief washing all over her and she could only nod along Mira, because sure she had been dumb, but Zelda had also been stubborn and, "I'm sorry, too. I will try to come more often."

Mira straightened and looked straight at Zelda's chest. "It's all right, you don't have to-"

"I want to, though. Dad," Zelda had to force her words out, "doesn't really like meeting new people or seeing people he doesn't feel comfortable enough so I'm really sorry I can't invite you to my house as much as you want to, but I promise to come more often."

Mira thinned her lips, "I'm sorry I said mean things about your dad."

Whenever it came to her dad, Zelda could feel a flaming hand ready to lash out inside her heart, but now she controlled it, "I... just don't want you to say those things anymore."

Mira nodded, "I won't," Lenora had sat her in her legs, how would you feel if Zelda said mean things about us? Mira snapped her head towards her mother and realized how much she had hurt her friend, "I'm sorry about that, too."

Both kept their eyes fixed anywhere but the other's eyes. "Link," Zelda started and Mira had to snuff out the start of jealousy in the pit of her stomach, "is making it easier to come and go from my house to the village, so I'll be able to come alone sometimes."

Mira had to blink at that, "You can always write me and I could meet you halfway."

And finally Mira looked at Zelda and Zelda looked at Mira and they smiled.

"Okay."

⁂

The moment Zelda heard sound coming from Link's room she rushed there.

"Link!"

Link was fresh out of sleep and he gave her the best attempt of a smile he could at this hour.

"Today we go get Epona!"

"We do," Link answered and he ruffled her hair before going to the bathroom outside.

Zelda followed behind him but stopped at the door, "You promised today I could ride Epona on the way back!"

And Link had to smirk at Zelda's unabashed glee, "I did!"

Zelda could barely keep herself on the chair during breakfast and the moment Link decided it was time to go get Epona, Zelda bolted outside. She walked in front of Link, making this trek as if she were alone, practicing for when she would do so to go see Mira.

"You have to remember to tell her and your father before you go."

"I know!"

When they stepped into the planks, Zelda started skipping and Link looked at the finished job with pride. "The shrubbery will grow back, you gotta remember where this is."

"I know!"

Link looked to the stretch of land that hadn't been touched and remembered all the rocks they had moved, all the weeds they had pulled, all the bushes they had cut. He was glad from now on his steps could be more confident through this patch and that somehow, this helped Zelda make up with Mira. Zelda hadn't said much that day, she had just told them she was planning on visiting Mira someday in the future alone. Ganondorf had just nodded and had reassured her that he could go as long as she gave him a heads up, made sure to tell Mira and returned before sundown.

Zelda stumbled in the way and Link had to force himself to stay away.

"How are you going to take care of those things for Epona?"

Link looked at Zelda and pointed at his back, where he strapped his sword.

"Oh," she giggled.

Mira was playing with the chickens when she heard Zelda and Link talking.

"So slow!" she laughed, and Zelda came running to hug her.

Link focused on getting Epona out and putting on her saddle while Zelda and Mira talked. And as soon as Mira saw him ready to depart she tried her best poor me face to ask, "Can I ride with Zelda for a while?"

"Of course."

Since Pattrick and Lenora were going around the village and Link couldn't go to their house, they started the way back soon after with Mira and Zelda riding Epona. The girls laughed and pointed at things they usually didn't see from their original heights and Link felt a little disappointed the village was so small and Mira had to get down so soon. Mira gave Link her thanks for letting her ride Epona and waved as they kept on going through the road.

"Mira is using the dress you gave her next festival."

Link racked his brain trying to remember talks about a festival in the village and Zelda must have realized his cluelessness because she explained immediately. "Next village," she clarified, "it's bigger than ours and they celebrate Summer and Winter with a festival at the end of December and June. Don't you...? At Castletown, don't you celebrate?"

Link panicked at the thought that Zelda would know he was overworking himself so he rushed himself to answer, "Ah, no. Well, they do have celebrations, you know? A bunch of them, I sometimes see them and have no idea what the festival is about. But yes, they do have festivals for Summer and Winter, Guile is always eager to go, Ashei and I are more reserved, I guess."

Zelda realized she knew next to nothing about Link's life in Castletown, and she felt she wanted to know, "Is Guile a friend?"

And Link could deny her nothing, so they spent the way back talking about Link's work and friends. Who amounted to Ashei and Guile and his family.

Zelda opened her eyes and looked worried, "I didn't know..."

No one really knew, thought Link. Ganondorf had asked everything about Link soon after meeting again, but Link wasn't much into sharing his life with people. "Oh, don't worry, it happened a long time ago and my uncle has been nothing short of a father."

Zelda, who had little experience with such heavy topics and could somewhat sense Link's feeling, wanted to go back to something easier to talk about. "Uhm, you know, next time you should come to the festival, Link. Mira always goes."

Link helped Zelda dismount from Epona before going through the planks. "And you?"

"I haven't gone yet."

"What about this one?"

Zelda played with her fingers, "I don't want to leave daddy alone."

"How about," Link pressed his hand on Zelda's shoulder, "next time I come on time for the festival and you go with Mira and I stay with your dad?"

Zelda tried to supress her excitement at the idea of going, "You don't have to."

Link ruffled her hair, "I insist." Link then straightened and made as if thinking, "You know what? I actually made up my mind, that's what I'm doing, next year I'm comming in time for one of them, make preparations."

Zelda jumped in place and grabbed Link's arm out of joy, "Link!"

"I'm talking with Gan when we arrive, okay?"

And Zelda grinned and skipped all the way left back.

⁂

"Zelda!" Mira opened her arms in a dramatic fashion before bolting towards Zelda. The days were getting colder by the minute and both Zelda and Mira had decided to see each other the first day the sun shined on any given week. No need for letters on winter, when soon they would have to lock themselves up due to either rain or snow.

Link had left a few weeks back and Mira had been ecstatic at the idea of having Zelda go to one of the festivals next year.

"You think he'll make it to this Summer Festival?"

"He did say next year, so I don't think so."

"Well, one can always hope!"

Lloyd was waiting for them back at Mira's house, warm milk in hand and he gave a lazy wave as a greeting. Mira's excitement levels went off the roof at having her two friend in her house and she pushed them both to her room immediately. "We need to plan!" Mira had grinned and Lloyd looked confused as to what she was talking about.

"Zelda is coming with us to one of the festivals next year, and we have to plan!"

Lloyd turned to Zelda and squinted his eyes at the information. How, he thought, aware of Zelda's feeling about leaving her father behind.

And Mira answered, "Link is coming to help!" Knowing Link had not only helped with their reconciliation, but also that he was the direct cause of Zelda accepting to attend one of the festivals made Mira adore the young man even more than before.

But Lloyd was still coming to terms with Link, "Oh, so now you've fallen too."

Mira had raised her head from the crude drawing she was making of the stalls at the festival -an attempt to help Zelda visualize the magnificence of what she was going to experience and to help her decide which places would be crowded and what places she would want to visit- and frowned, "Lloyd, don't be childish."

Lloyd had to hide the frustration bubbling up inside him. He was not going to keep on arguing about Link, not if he could help it.

Mira kept her head down so she couldn't see Lloyd's inhumane attempt at politeness, "'S not like you could ever be better than him," but she knew how much Link bothered him, so she raised her drawing for them to see and gave out a humongous laugh.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Second Chances - Ch. 31

May the Wind Be At Your Back 

Warnings: I guarantee you will cry (I sobbed writing this), swearing, blood, gore. 

Word count: ~10,700 (sorry it’s long!) 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

The next morning, you wake to an empty tent. You rub the tiredness from your eyes and get out, finding Arthur setting down the percolator to make coffee. He smiles and stands up when he sees you, folding you in his arms. He’s changed from his blue shirt to his black one with the red vest and green shotgun coat. He must know you love seeing him in it. The scent of leather and pine envelopes you. 

“Reckon we oughta make a quick breakfast and head out,” Arthur says, letting you go. You nod and join him by the fire, pulling out a can of peaches. He adds a small loaf of bread and some salted, dried beef to the mix. As you eat, you make easy talk. It feels more normal than you expected it to be, but that in itself is a comfort. 

Arthur douses the fire while you fold down the tent and pack it into Artemis’s saddlebag. She’s standing particularly close to Rannoch, has been since you made camp. Arthur walks over, smiling. 

“Think she missed him,” he says, rubbing Rannoch’s neck and feeding him a sugarcube. 

You pat her fondly. “Well, I’m sure he missed her too. When I was at Charlotte’s and he was loose in her pasture, he used to watch the trail as if waiting for her to show up. Was kind of sad, really.” 

Arthur smiles down at you and loops an arm behind you, bending down for a brief kiss. “Well, they won’t ever be parted again.” 

He lets you go and you mount up, heading slowly to Beaver Hollow. It’s clear Arthur doesn’t want to go back again either, not that you blame him. You can only imagine the rage he must feel towards Dutch for being abandoned. You’re angry about it too. If things have digressed to the point that Dutch no longer sees Arthur as someone worth having around after everything he’s done for the gang, then it’s hard to say how he will feel about you coming back. 

It’s midday by the time you and Arthur arrive. The camp is even more empty and quiet than before you left. The wagon that sheltered Mary-Beth and Karen is gone. As you and Arthur walk towards your shared tent, there seems to be fewer people. It appears that Mary-Beth, Karen, Uncle, and Charles are gone. You already know Charles left; Arthur explained how he stayed to help the Wapiti. You’re surprised about the others though. 

Your eyes drift over to Dutch’s tent, where he sits inside. Micah’s at the table, which isn’t unusual. He’s never far from Dutch anymore. However, two new figures sit beside the tent, looking out of place. One of them is rather thin and lanky, his face too long under his blond hair. When you see the other, your heart drops. You recognize the flabby, long face, the drooping jowls, the dull eyes hidden underneath moppy brown hair. He’s one of the men who attacked you. 

You latch onto Arthur’s arm, your eyes glued to the man, who hasn’t seen you so far. Arthur stops and looks down at you. 

“What is it?” 

“Him,” you whisper. “He-he gave me this.” Your hand reaches up to touch your face where the cut is. Arthur glares across the clearing at them.

“That son of a bitch, what’s he doin’ here?” Arthur growls. He’s about to stomp over to him when you grip his arm harder. 

“Don’t, Arthur. It’s not wise to kill him here. Let’s find out what he’s doing here in the first place.” 

Arthur raises his lip in disgust but agrees. He gently instructs you to stay in the tent, away from the man, while he goes and talks with Dutch. You sit on the cot and watch him leave, but when he’s far enough away, you get up and follow him, skirting along the sides of the mountain towards the cavern’s mouth where Dutch’s tent sits. Arthur throws the strangers a foul look and then stands at the opening of the tent. 

“Well at least you ain’t run off,” Dutch growls from inside. “Pearson left, old Uncle, the traitors. Both gone, took some of the girls with them. But I see you brought your girl back.” You hear the venom in his voice as he talks about you. “Micah brought in a couple of friends of his to help with some things. Anyways, Pearson and Uncle told young Tilly they were runnin’ to save themselves.” 

“So it goes,” Arthur says. 

“They are goddamn cowards, Arthur. Cowards. After all the time we spent, just to run off.” Dutch saunters out of the tent. 

“Well, I guess they don’t wanna die, Dutch.” 

“Ain’t nobody gonna…” Dutch grabs Arthur’s shoulder and guides him around the tent to where you’re standing. You quickly dart to the back of the tent that stares down into the mouth of the cave. The stench of decay floods your nose, choking you and an overwhelming feeling of being trapped envelops you. You force down the desire to run as you listen and peak around the tent. 

“This is a tough time,” Dutch continues. “But we, our community, we will survive. They will not crush us.” 

“I hope so,” Arthur pauses and looks out at the camp. “But if we let Jack and the women free then maybe we can-” 

Dutch cuts him off. “There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more, Arthur. One more big score, we got enough money to leave. All this turmoil has the army and the Pinkertons spinning. We take a boat and slip away.” 

“I don’t know what you’re saying, Dutch, but it sounds like I heard it all before.”

“Just one more train-” 

“Yeah, there’s always a goddamn train!” Arthur’s voice raises loudly. 

“Arthur! This is different.” Dutch puts his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “We know this is full of cash. Army payroll. Money and supplies to repair the bridge that you blew. This is all going to plan. We rob Uncle Sam and we leave. What do you think?” 

“It sounds wonderful, Dutch. However, I think it should be just us. None of Micah’s friends. You know, Y/N said one of them fellers is the one who attacked her on the road a week back. She said he was told to try and kill her. Now I know what you think of her lately, Dutch, but that don’t change the fact that she’s gonna be my wife soon and I don’t want those men around.” 

Dutch gives him a hard look. “We need their help, Arthur. With how many folks have left, we need their gun power. Now as soon as we have the money from the train, I’ll send them off. Does that suit you?” 

Arthur sighs heavily. “I suppose. But if I end up putting a bullet in his head-” 

“That ain’t gonna happen. Perhaps Y/N is mistaken and he’s not the same man. Even if he is, he’d be a damn fool to touch her here. Like I said, they won’t be here much longer, so just keep your head.” 

“Fine, but…” Arthur gestures to the camp. “You know the women and the children, and John and his family, I’m afraid I have to insist. We gotta let ‘em go, because if the Pinkertons find us again, they will kill everyone.” 

“John? Insist?” Dutch says quietly. 

“Yes,” Arthur says resolutely. “Insist.” 

Dutch pauses and takes in a deep breath. When he speaks, his voice is higher than usual, giving you a sense of unease. Has Arthur stepped an invisible line? 

“Of course, pal. Whatever you think is best. I will see to it. Now, we gonna rob a train?” 

“Sure,” Arthur growls. 

Dutch pats him on the arm and starts walking away. Arthur follows him and you take the opportunity to slip out of the cavern and towards your own tent, sitting down on the cot as if you’ve been there all along. 

Dutch approaches the fire where most of the remaining gang have settled. “Alright everyone, we have work to do. We are gonna borrow a little money from Uncle Sam and be out of his hair once and for all.” 

Dutch walks over to the horses. The way his shoulders move and the speed of his step, you can tell he’s angry. Arthur beckons for you to come to him, so you do, avoiding the gaze of the strangers. Despite trying to not see him, you can’t help but keep an eye on him. The one who cut you and you lock eyes. You can tell he’s trying to act like he doesn’t recognize you, but his eyes give him away. He says nothing however as he and the other stranger mount onto their horses. 

“Let’s go, gentlemen!” Dutch hollers from the back of the Count, ignoring the fact that you and Sadie are among the group going along for the robbery. He leads the gang south, past Butcher’s Creek and towards Lemoyne

You wish Arthur was riding next to you, still feeling nervous about the strangers. He’s riding up near Dutch though, probably trying to ease him into complacency about letting you and the other women and Jack go. Sadie gallops beside you, her horse sweating as heavily as Rannoch in the humid heat. 

As you’re approaching the border of Lemoyne, Dutch calls out behind him that the train is due in Saint Denis in an hour. Arthur automatically questions the wisdom of robbing a train in the middle of the city. Dutch explains the gang won’t be robbing them there, just hopping aboard and hiding until it gets closer to the bridge Arthur and John destroyed. Micah adds in; he must have had a hand in planning this robbery. How could he not, with how close he’s kept himself to Dutch. 

Dutch orders John to grab the remaining dynamite left and Arthur volunteers to go with him. You almost go with him but realize that to do so would be a mistake. You’re sure you’re not back in Dutch’s good graces for leaving, not that you’ve been in them recently anyways. It’s clear he hasn’t liked your relationship with Arthur since he proposed to you, convinced you’ve been trying to take Arthur away from him. You watch John and Arthur ride off into a woodland as the gang continues south. 

As you’re riding along, you realize how much things have changed with how Dutch runs things. On previous jobs, Dutch never let any of the gang leave in groups of more than four, even if the whole gang was involved in the job. Now there’s only one group, being more conspicuous than ever. 

When the group reaches the train tracks just outside Saint Denis, Dutch stops in order to wait for Arthur and John. Only a few minutes pass before they regroup. Arthur glances at you and then takes his spot beside you, nodding to you in order to reassure you. You nod in return. After this is done, you and he will be abandoning the gang, heading off to begin your new lives. With any luck, things will go smoothly. Of course, you’re not too optimistic when it comes to luck, not with the way things have been going.

Dutch throws the cigar he’d been smoking while waiting and leads the gang into the farms lying on the outskirts of the city. 

“One last time, gentlemen!” he calls out. “I got us a riverboat, it’ll be waiting for us at Annesburg. We’ll head up to New York or Chicago and get a real boat from there out to the tropics. It will be paradise.”

“It’s all coming together, Dutch,” Micah simpers at him. “Just like we planned.” 

“I hope that’s okay with you John, and you Arthur. Or do you insist on something different?” He puts a particular emphasis on the word that makes you even more nervous. 

“Sounds about as good now as every time I heard it before,” John says. 

“Abigail must be real excited, all packed up the way she is,” Micah retorts. “I can just see her and Y/N and the other girls in little grass skirts.”

Dread fills your stomach. While today’s been your first day back in camp, you did notice Abigail had packed her things up. How long has Micah known about them leaving? Does he know about you and Arthur as well? And if he does, is he planning on stopping you, or worse? Questions begin running through your mind until John cuts them off. 

“Don’t talk to me, you son of a bitch.” 

“That’s enough, boys,” Dutch commands. “Let’s keep it down for now, don’t want to be attracting any attention.” 

“Any more attention, you mean,” you say before you get the chance to stop yourself. You haven’t been back in this shit-hole of a city since Hosea died, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your face, along with everyone who was involved, is plastered on a wanted poster in every corner of the city. You hate being back here, too much bad has happened. 

“Just take it nice and easy, fellers,” Dutch says, but his voice portrays that he’s irritated with your comment. 

“Ah, Saint Denis. Good to be back. Happy memories, huh John?” Micah says. 

“Will you shut up, Micah?” Arthur snaps. 

“Enough!” Dutch says. “Quiet, all of you.” 

The gang falls silent as you trot in single file down the main street of the city. This all feels wrong. There’s so many of you riding along like this, the first person who’s seen you must already be reporting your suspicious activities. You just pray that no one else dies. Well, maybe Micah or the strangers, but no one else. 

Dutch pulls to a stop at the trolley station just across the street from the railroad tracks. He hops off and addresses Sadie along with the blond stranger, who he calls Cleet. He instructs them to board half way along the train, and then he tells John, Arthur and you to board at the back. The rest will be riding along with him as they tail the train on horseback. The gang nods their heads and approach the tracks.

After a few seconds, the distant rumble and bell from the train echo, signaling its approach. You sniff a little and stand close to Arthur, glaring down the tracks. The train chugs down the track, going far too fast. The horn bellows and the train passes the group without stopping. Has the engineer been tipped off about a possible robbery in the city? Arthur looks as confused as you do as he looks down the passing cars. 

“Should I just sneak on now?” he asks Dutch in a gruff voice. 

“Goddammit,” Dutch says. “Everybody mount up. We’ll do this on horseback.” 

“We still going through with this?” John asks. 

“Of course we are.” 

The gang quickly get on their horses. You give Rannoch a reassuring pat before kicking him hard into a gallop, joining the others as they trail the train. It hasn’t slowed down at all, in fact it seems to have sped up even more now that it’s leaving the city. John calls back at you and Arthur, stating you can jump onto a flat car from the side. 

Just as the train’s passing the farms outside the city, you and Arthur ride alongside the last car, which happens to be a flatbed. You’ve never jumped onto a train like this, which makes you nervous. Despite your anxiety, you position your feet on the saddle and leap towards the car with as much strength as your legs can muster. Surprisingly, you feel your shoulder slam onto the flatbed. Arthur lands beside you with a heavy thud. He pulls you to your feet and slides the rifle from his shoulder. In your overthinking of how to jump onto the train, you’d forgotten to grab one of your own. Your pistol and sawed-off will have to do. 

Just as John’s slamming down on the flatbed, guards come out of the boxcar ahead and begin shooting. You and Arthur take cover behind some of the cargo, returning fire. The men go down quickly, allowing you and the other two to head up. The next car is another flatbed, and the one after is another boxcar. You watch as Sadie jumps onto the boxcar. Cleet, the blond stranger, leaps on and Sadie offers her arm to pull him up. More men are coming out of the boxcar and you fire at them, continuing to move up. John keeps hollering to push up. 

Just as you’re climbing up to the top of the boxcar after Arthur, you hear him yell, “This is crazy.” 

“You feel like ditching?” John responds.

“Of course not. We gotta get this done.” 

As you’re straightening up from climbing up the ladder, a man climbs up on the other end. He’s barely put his hands on the roof when a bullet slams into his forehead. Arthur reloads his rifle as you whip out your revolver again. You and Arthur hop onto the next car and then drop down to another flatbed, followed by John. 

“Where the hell is Dutch and Micah?” Arthur roars, shooting more guards. 

“I don’t see ‘em!” John answers. 

“Who knows, this might have been their goddamn plan all along,” you say as you shoot a guard on the roof of the next car. 

As you and Arthur run through the cars, a guard at the end pops out and fires quickly. You’d seen him before Arthur so you push him as hard as you can into the wall. The bullet glides above your arm, missing you and Arthur’s chest by inches. You raise your revolver and shoot the guard in the neck. 

Arthur hardly has any time to say anything before two more guards barrel in your direction, raising their rifles. As you and Arthur take them down; John calls up. 

“Just like the old days huh, Arthur?” 

“This ain’t nothin’ like the old days,” Arthur growls, heading up with you. 

There’s nearly half a dozen men ahead, so you pull out your sawed-off and fire, causing the head of one of the men to explode. You and Arthur push up, taking down more men with John’s help. 

One guard is left standing in the doorway of the next car. Arthur shoots him in the chest and he stumbles back. As he lands on the floor, he fires again but his bullet strikes a lantern hanging from the ceiling. Bits of burning glass and metal fall onto his body, the fire spreading quickly since the hot oil from the lantern splattered onto him and the floor. The fire spreads to some of the cargo and a crate suddenly explodes, making the car completely impassable. 

John runs to the side of the flatbed you’re all on and waves towards the back of the train. “Come on, we can’t get through!” 

Micah, Dutch and the mop-headed stranger gallop up to the side of the car. John hops behind Micah. Dutch yells at Arthur to jump onto his horse, but Arthur ignores him and leaps onto the stranger’s horse, allowing you to take Dutch’s mount. 

You’re nervous once again about jumping, but you kick off the car as hard as you can, landing on the Count’s narrow hind quarters. You fold your arms around Dutch’s waist as he gallops ahead, passing the burning car to the next flatbed. Sadie and Cleet are already waiting on it. You carefully position your legs and leap onto the flatbed. A heavy thud tells you Arthur’s landed. 

As Arthur gets up, he points to the burning car and yells to John. “Uncouple that carriage before it blows us all up!” 

John runs to where the cars are connected. You look down, trying to catch your breath and see in an open crate the components of a gatling gun. You call Arthur’s attention, but he’s staring out at a cliff the train’s passing. You follow his gaze and see a man standing on top of it. He looks behind him and hollers something, waving his arm. 

“Shit, I think that was a lookout,” Arthur says. “They must have known the train was gonna get hit.” 

“Come on, Arthur,” you say. “Let’s get this going.” 

You lift up the heavy tripod that holds the gun up and slam it onto the ground, spreading the three legs as Arthur grabs the barrel, the chamber and the pin. He puts the gun together quickly. 

“Get behind me,” he tells you, taking position behind the gun. Just as you stand behind him, John gets the burning car uncoupled. The three of you watch as the car slows down and then explodes after the cars behind it crash into it, causing whatever was inside to blow. 

After watching the cars derail, Bill hops onto the flatbed after Dutch tells him to go stop the train. As you turn to watch him, a guard on top of the boxcar ahead appears. He aims his gun and shoots, the bullet striking John in the shoulder. Before you or Arthur can do anything, he stumbles back and falls off the flatbed. 

“John!” Arthur screams. 

The guard shoots again, causing you all to flinch. You and the others aim at him, but it’s Arthur’s bullet that takes him down. 

Dutch, galloping alongside the train, calls to Arthur. “I’ll get John, you protect that money.” He and Micah fall back, turning down the tracks. 

“Man the gun, Arthur, I’ll go stop the train!” Bill calls.

“No! Whatever you do, do not stop the train!” Arthur yells back. “You secure up ahead, but keep us moving. I’ll deal with that patrol when they come through.” 

He finishes putting the gatling gun together and then turns to you. “Go with them, see if you can find that money.” 

You nod and approach Sadie when you hear the gatling gun begin firing. The patrol has arrived. You and the others take cover behind the cargo on the flatbed, firing at the horsemen. Your revolver does little at this distance, so you run over to Arthur and tug on his rifle, removing it from his back and hiding behind him as you reload it. 

“Take cover!” he yells at you. Quickly, you slide back behind the crate again, taking down two riders with the rifle. Of course, Arthur does a much more thorough job with his gun. 

“You sure you can handle that gun?” Cleet shoots at Arthur, “‘Cause I can take over if you want.” 

“Just shut up and kill these bastards,” you snap. 

“Hey, we all gotta work together on this.” 

“And that’s what we’re doing, now just shut the hell up and shoot!” 

Arthur continues firing at the riders, but they just seem to keep coming. 

“How the hell I get saddled up with you two girls?” Cleet snarls. 

“Watch your goddamn mouth!” Sadie says. 

The next several moments are filled with you and the others shooting the patrol, Arthur taking down the majority. It seems like every moment or two, Cleet says something to antagonize you or Sadie. It takes all your willpower to not point your rifle at him and you tell him so.

“I ain’t afraid of you, woman.”

“You should be!” Arthur hollers over the gunfire. “She’s already got your friend tagged for murder. Hope you ain’t close to him.” 

Cleet says something that’s drowned out by the engine’s horn as it approaches a short tunnel. Your car is temporarily covered in cool, damp darkness before bursting back out into the hot sunlight. The few riders remaining suddenly scamper off, probably figuring it’s a lost cause at this point. 

“Get off the gun, we need to go for the money,” Cleet says. You and the others follow him over two more boxcars and then another flatbed. The last car before the engine is another box but Cleet says it should have the money inside it. Arthur runs up to it and slides a stick of dynamite in the door handle. He lights it and you all take cover behind some crates and barrels. The metal door is blown free with a loud shriek of wrenching metal. Just as the smoke clears, the train enters a long and dark tunnel. Arthur pulls out his lantern as he runs up to the doorway. 

The train exits the tunnel just as Arthur comes out, snuffing his lantern. “We got somethin’!” He goes back inside and then exits again, tossing a large burlap sack to Cleet. He throws another at Sadie and one more at you. The heavy weight of coins and stacks of bills inside the sack pounds against your chest as you catch it. 

Just as you’re setting down the sack to catch another, Bill climbs down from the car. 

“Morgan! The driver’s dead, we gotta get off this train, it ain’t stoppin’!” 

“Let’s go, then!” Sadie says, grabbing her sack and throwing it over the side of the train and leaping off. Cleet and Bill do the same. Arthur comes out of the carriage, hauling another large bag. Slightly breathless, he gestures for you to jump. You heave the sack onto your shoulder and toss it onto the grass, painfully aware of the quickly approaching chasm with the broken bridge. You breathe out and jump, your feet landing painfully on the grass and your knees buckling, slamming you down. Arthur grunts loudly as he lands.

You and the others get up and watch as the train barrels down the tracks, falling down the broken bridge and crashing into the canyon below. The engine breaks apart, crushed under the weight of the cars and then the canyon finally falls silent. 

“Jesus,” Bill says quietly. Arthur agrees and tells you and the others to move. You go back to where you’d dropped your sack, heaving it onto your shoulder just as Dutch, Micah and the stranger trot up, followed by everyone else’s horses. The trotting is oddly quiet after having heard the loud chugging of the train and the screeching of shredding metal. However, as you and the others walk up to Dutch, John is nowhere in sight. 

“Where’s John?” Arthur asks. 

“I tried,” Dutch says heavily. “I tried.” 

“He didn’t make it. That patrol killed him. We had to run.” Micah says. Something about the way he says this feels off to you.

Arthur puts down his sack and looks down, his face hard. You can feel his grief rolling off of him, but when he looks up, he almost seems disbelieving. 

“Come on,” Dutch orders. “Let’s go, before another patrol turns up.” 

You take Arthur’s free hand in yours after he lifts up his sack again. He only responds with a gentle squeeze. The two of you throw your sacks over your horses. He sighs heavily as he mounts up on Artemis. You understand why. The two of you only came back in order to save John and his family, and now he’s dead. You just hope Abigail has enough sense to leave with her son for good. 

Arthur kicks Artemis into a gallop, Rannoch rushing to keep up, as the gang begins heading back to Beaver Hollow. You’re glad that you and Arthur are only returning to pack your belongings and then, when things are quiet, you’ll disappear with Arthur, taking one of the sacks of money you’ve just stolen.

The gang rolls pass O’Creagh’s Run. You glance to Hamish’s cabin, spotting Buell standing in the small paddock beside it. He lifts his head from grazing as your horses thunder by. 

As the gang approaches the hills marking that you’re close to Beaver Hollow, a horse comes over the rise and a shrill voice calls out. 

“They came and took Abigail!” 

Dutch stops his horse at the head of the group as Tilly rides over with Jack in front of her. 

“We hid, but they took her!”  

“Who did?” Arthur demands, walking his horse to stand next to the Count. 

“Agent Milton and his men took her to Van Horn to be put on a boat and tried for murder.” 

“I am sorry to hear that,” Dutch says with no warmth in his voice.

“We gotta let her go,” Micah says. “John’s um, well sorry son.” He looks pointedly at Jack with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Without John, she’s just bait. Got a bunch of money, Dutch, she’s just a girl. They won’t do nothing to her, but me, Cleet and Joe know we need to keep riding on this one, Dutch.” 

Cleet and the other stranger Joe nod behind Micah. 

“So we just gonna let this boy be made an orphan?” Arthur says. 

“It ain’t like that!” Dutch shoots, waving his arm at Arthur. 

“What is it like?” 

“I wanna live, cowpoke!” Micah sneers. “Dutch, it’s just a girl.” 

Dutch pauses and then nods. “You’re right.”

“Dutch!” Arthur yells, dismounting and standing near Dutch’s leg. His eyes beg him to see reason. 

“It pains me to say it, Arthur, but Micah is right.” 

“Dutch!”

“Now come on boys,” Dutch says, taking a tighter hold of his horse’s reins. He kicks the Count into a gallop and Arthur is forced to take a quick step back to avoid being trampled. He glares at Dutch’s shrinking form as everyone except for you and Sadie follow him. 

“Well I guess that’s that then,” Arthur growls. He looks over at Tilly, who looks confused and scared. “All them goddamn years.” 

“Come on, Arthur,” Sadie says heavily. “Let’s go get her. Us three is all we need.” 

He nods and glances at you before addressing Tilly. He heaves the sack of money from Artemis and throws it over Tilly’s horse. 

“Take this,” he says heavily. “Take Jack and wait at Copperhead Landing for Abigail and Mrs. Adler.”

“Thank you, Arthur,” she says a bit breathlessly. 

“You’re a good girl,” he says. “You live a good life now you hear?” 

“And you too, Arthur. I’ll miss…” 

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.” His eyes flick down momentarily. You feel like crying as he smiles at her and then turns to Jack. “Be brave, son, I’m gonna go get your mama.” He takes Jack’s hands in his and looks him hard in the eyes as he says this. Finally, he lets them go and turns to you and Sadie. “Mrs. Adler, Ms. Y/L/N, ride with me.” 

He kicks Artemis into a run and you and Sadie follow. You glance behind and raise a hand in farewell to Tilly, painfully aware that you’ll probably never see her again. Your heart grows heavy at the thought of how much your family has fallen apart. You swallow tears at the thought that you didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye to Mary-Beth, Pearson or even old Uncle, useless as he was. 

As you and the other two ride, Sadie and Arthur discuss the best way to get into Van Horn since it’s been overrun by Pinkertons. It’s decided you’ll go in on the south end near the lighthouse. 

“Those goddamn bastards,” Arthur growls. “Now he don’t care if he orphans his friend’s child so long as he gets rich? All his goddamn talk all them years. Seems like it was always a lie, or he went crazy. Goddamn this mess.” 

“Sure,” you say. “Guess he began to believe he was God or something.”

“The Dutch we know now is not the Dutch who put a blanket on my shoulders in the snow all them weeks ago,” Sadie adds. 

Arthur sighs. “I’m sorry you both got dragged into this, into us.” 

“Listen, if you hadn’t shown up at my house that night, I’d be dead.”

“As would I, Arthur. I don’t think I would have lasted much longer if you hadn’t found me when you did. Even this bullshit beats dead.” 

“I thought I could find a way to get John, Abigail and Jack out of this mess,” Arthur says. “To try and give them a life. Seems like I left it too late.”

“Let’s just get Abigail, they could still have a chance,” you say. 

Arthur sighs again. “John, Hosea, Mac, Davey, Jenny, Sean, Lenny. We have to put an end to this! And Eagle Flies. Another angry fool he used, just like he did with the rest of us. No one else is dying for Dutch’s crazy dreams. ” 

“Like I said, Arthur,” Sadie growls. “We don’t need them. We’re gonna make this right.” 

The three of you run on to Van Horn. Once the lighthouse comes into view, you dismount and send the horses off. Sadie asks Arthur to take point in the lighthouse with his scoped rifle and keep watch while you and she run up to the boathouse where Abigail’s likely to be held. He clearly doesn’t like you two doing the most dangerous part of the job, but he agrees when you tell him he’s the better shot and that  you and Sadie are the faster runners.

As he runs over to the lighthouse, you and Sadie take cover behind a broken wagon. You look over the edge, counting at least a dozen Pinkertons standing at different spots on the street. The way they’re glancing at each other and the points of the road, it seems Micah was right about one thing: they’re holding Abigail as bait. 

You check your rifle quickly and then the Pinkerton standing closest to you and Sadie is suddenly thrown back, blood gushing from his head. The Pinkerton standing closest to him yells out, pointing his gun in your direction. You raise your rifle and shoot him. 

“Come on!” Sadie yells, moving forward as more Pinkertons fall from Arthur’s shots. You skirt around a crumbling brick building close to the river since it is harder for the Pinkertons to shoot you from this spot. You and Sadie continue shooting at them, moving up considerably fast, thanks to Arthur’s keen aim. 

Within moments, you’re running up the deck towards the boathouse. Sadie slams the butt of her rifle into a Pinkerton’s face and then goes to the door. You’re suddenly slammed into the ground by a heavy weight and realize a Pinkerton must have been hiding and grabbed you when you passed him. He’s suddenly wrenched off you as Arthur’s bullet rips through him. You stand up and find Sadie gone. She must already be in the boathouse, so you run inside it. 

As soon as you step in, you know something’s wrong. Abigail’s tied to a chair, her mouth covered by a thick bandana. A Pinkerton is tying Sadie up and your vision suddenly flashes white as something hard slams into your head. You fall back and the breath is knocked from your lungs as you land. You blink and your vision clears, showing Milton standing above you. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N, I had a feeling I’d be running into you. By the way, I failed to send my congratulations for your wedding announcement.” 

You’re about to ask him how the hell he knows about that when you’re rolled roughly onto your stomach and tied up and gagged by another Pinkerton. He picks you up and throws you into the corner of the room near Sadie. She looks at you, but there’s no fear in her eyes. You doubt you can say the same about yourself. 

Milton walks around the room slowly. “Alright, men, now we wait. I doubt these two ladies were alone, I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the men comes charging in, guns blazing. Prepare yourselves.” 

He slides into a storeroom behind the counter, which blocks your view of him.

Gunfire suddenly echoes from outside. Arthur must know you and Sadie are in trouble and is advancing. You wish you could yell for him to run the other direction. You and Sadie can find another way easy enough to save yourselves and Abigail. Of course, you know better than anyone that’s the last thing Arthur would do. 

The door slams open, revealing Arthur, bathed in sunlight. He pulls the hammer of his pistol, which he’s already unholstered, and shoots the two Pinkertons waiting by Abigail. They fall heavily and Arthur marches in, pulling out his knife to free Abigail. 

“Okay, ladies,” he says as he removes Abigail’s gag and begins cutting the bonds around her right wrist. “Let’s get out of here.” 

You try yelling through your gag, but the click of a hammer comes from behind Arthur. He stops and straightens up. 

“Calm down, Mr. Morgan,” Milton says. 

Arthur clenches his jaw and lifts his hands, turning to face Milton. 

“Game’s over, Mr. Morgan. I was honestly hoping you’d be the one to come to the rescue. I had a feeling Dutch wouldn’t fall for the trap, he isn’t that foolish. But I’ve heard about your… habit of swooping in to the rescue.” 

“Then I guess I’ll be dead soon, and you with me, Mr. Milton.” 

“Oh you’ll be dead, but I’m gonna be just fine. We offered you a deal, Mr. Morgan, you should have taken it.” 

“I’m a fool, Mr. Milton, like you said.”

“Sure, but not all you boys have quite so many scruples. Old Micah Bell-”

“Micah?” Arthur cuts him off. “You mean Molly.” 

“Molly O’Shea? We sweated her a couple of times, never spoke a word so we had to let her go. But Micah Bell, we picked him up quite some time ago. Just before Dutch’s famous failed attempt to rob the Blackwater ferry. I’m sure you’ll be surprised to hear he wasn’t completely compliant until you and the others came back from the Caribbean. He was particularly stubborn about the bank job in Saint Denis, but he’s been a good boy ever since we picked him up from the boat.”

You can hear Arthur breathing harder. Micah Bell, the goddamn rat. Now you understand why he started spouting that there must be one when the gang moved up to Beaver Hollow, he was trying to point the focus from his own ass. Worse, he’s been playing the gang for fools the entire time. He’s responsible for Jenny and the Callendar boys and Hosea and Lenny’s deaths. Rage burns in your chest and you strain against your binds. 

Arthur bends down as though personally struck by this news. “Okay,” he says. Suddenly he launches himself at Milton, grappling for the gun in his hands. The two men struggle for a moment, but Arthur has a poor grip on the gun and Milton begins overpowering him. You scream his name through the gag as the barrel lines up with his head. The sound of a gun fires, making your heart stop and a body thuds. You crane your neck, trying to see who’s left standing. 

Abigail lowers the gun she’d taken from one of the dead Pinkertons. You hadn’t even noticed her freeing herself. Arthur must have cut the ropes enough so she could do so. She raises a lip and throws the revolver at the body. “Horrible man.” She picks up Arthur’s knife and cuts you and Sadie free, then approaches the wall. 

“Now come on, all of you.” Arthur’s hand reaches up and takes the knife before he stands up as you untie your feet. You stand up and clutch him, pulling him close. 

“God, Arthur, I thought he got you.” 

His breathing is heavy but he pats your back. “I know, darlin’, I know. But come on, we got work to do.” 

He pulls himself free from your grip and the four of you run out of the boathouse. As you’re running down the deck with the others, shots ring out. You look to the path and find a patrol of Pinkertons running up on horseback. One aims at you and shoots, ripping the hat from your head. You flinch and aim, but he’s already falling from Arthur’s bullet. 

Sadie whistles loudly and the horses come running down the path as you and the others continue trading gunfire. You notice the sack of money you put on Rannoch’s back is gone. It probably fell off at some point, but you can’t worry about that now. 

“Where’s Jack?” Abigail yells as she runs towards the horses. 

“Tilly’s got him, he’s safe,” you respond, shooting again. She breathes a sigh of relief as Arthur tells her to hop onto his horse. Sadie mounts up and Arthur climbs up behind you on Rannoch. You kick Rannoch into a gallop, following Sadie and Abigail out  of Van Horn, pursued by the Pinkerton’s. They seem to come out at you at every turn in the trail, but Arthur’s more than a match for them. 

The group gallops up towards Annesburg, but the path gets blocked by a troop of Pinkertons. They even flank you from the train tracks, forcing you to take the trail heading west. You run along with Sadie and Abigail for several moments, Arthur gripping your waist almost painfully as he shoots. You shoot as much as you can as well, but the fighting is hotter than you’ve ever experienced and you have to carefully guide Rannoch down the twisting trail. Finally, as the road heads in the direction of the river, the Pinkertons finally seem to stop appearing. 

Abigail speaks up from the front of the group. “Bastards grabbed me outside camp. I was with Tilly and Jack, it happened so fast I couldn’t do anything.”

“It’s alright, Jack and Tilly are fine.” 

Arthur suddenly squeezes your waist. “Ladies, we need to stop. Stop!” 

Abigail and Sadie do so, looking back at him. You pull Rannoch to a halt and Arthur lets go of you. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

He dismounts as Sadie says, “Arthur, there’s no time.” 

He puts a hand up to her. He takes off his hat and then goes to Abigail, puts his hat in his saddle bag and then lifts his arms to signal he wants to bring her down. 

She looks at him almost as though worried. “What happened to John? Where’s John?”

“I don’t… I think…” Arthur stumbles. He gestures to her again and she humors him, sliding off Artemis’s back and letting him catch her. 

“Arthur?” she says.

“He, um, he got killed or he got captured.” 

“No!” Abigail cries out.”

“I’m really sorry, Abigail,” Arthur says as Sadie dismounts and hugs her as she begins to cry. “I was on the train and I didn’t see it.”

He pauses as Abigail continues to cry. You dismount and walk to his side.

“Listen,” he says, “we got Jack, he’s safe. Mrs. Adler will take you to him, but John… I want you to know this: he loved you. He loved you and Jack, he did.” 

She looks away as she sobs as though torn between wanting to believe it and not being able to.  

“He wasn’t perfect, but he did. Now you gotta go get that boy.”

She looks at him and her head twitches in a slight nod. Arthur looks to Sadie and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Now go on, get outta here.”

“Arthur, what are you doing?” Sadie says as she climbs onto her horse. 

“I gotta go have a little chat with Dutch, try one last time to turn his head to reason.”

He walks over to Abigail to pick her up, but as she’s still distraught over John, she cries out, “Oh Arthur!” 

“Don’t you ‘oh Arthur’ me. I’ll be fine.” He picks her up and places her on the horse behind Sadie. “Y/N will go with you and take you to Jack-”

“No I’m not,” you say, staring hard at him. “I’m not letting you go back there alone to get shot by Micah, not when you’re going to point out how much of a rat bastard he is. He ain’t gonna like it.” 

“Y/N-”

“Don’t, Arthur! You asked me to be your wife and I agreed, that means that where you go, I go, remember? And I just got you back, I’m not going to lose you again. Not like this.” 

“Dutch won’t kill me-”

“He already left you to die, Arthur! I’m not banking on that chance. Now I’m going with you, whether you like it or not. We’re in this together and we’ll get out together or we’ll die together.” 

He stops and looks at you, his mouth pulled down in a frown. “Okay,” he finally says. He looks back up at Sadie and Abigail. “You’re good women, good people. The best. You go get that boy. They’ll be time for good-byes later.” 

He starts to turn away when Abigail speaks up. “Since you’re headed back there, Arthur, take this.” She breaks a chain necklace she’d been wearing and removes the key hanging from it. “I don’t need it anymore. There’s a chest in them caves. Dutch’s chest. With all our money.” She tells him where to find it in the cavern at Beaver Hollow and then pauses as a fresh wave of tears comes.

“Why, Abigail Roberts,” he takes the key from her as she starts to cry. For some reason, the emotions hit you and you have to wipe your cheek.

“I always been a good thief.”  

“That you was. Now go on, get outta here.” He pockets the key and then turns to you. As Sadie rides off, he helps you onto Rannoch and then he climbs onto Artemis. He pauses a moment, almost as though the weight of everything has finally hit him. He pulls his hat out of his saddlebag and puts it on, his face set. He glances at you and then kicks Artemis into a run. 

Rannoch follows obediently, but you say nothing. The heaviness of what’s about to happen rushes through you and it feels like everything you’ve done comes to you. You remember your parents, the things they said, your grandmother, watching Rain being born and then dying. The day you found out your grandmother passed. 

Just as you’re passing Butcher’s Creek, you remember finding out your father paid James to marry you, the cruelties he put you through. Murdering him and then your parents. The loneliness of the year you spent alone. Arthur finally finding you and how you created a family with the gang, only to watch it fall apart. You wonder what it all means and if it could have been stopped. 

Artemis runs down the path heading to Beaver Hollow. Arthur hasn’t said anything the entire ride, but you feel he’s in the same mindframe as you, wondering if it could have been different, what everything he’s done really comes down to. 

Rannoch slows to a trot and you see the few remaining gang members milling about, packing up as quickly as they can. Cleet and Joe are still here, unlike what Dutch said, not that you’re surprised. 

As you and Arthur dismount, you hear Micah bark across the clearing. “Get them bags packed up quick, Miss Grimshaw. Hurry up, we ain’t got long!” 

“We’re doing our best!” Grimshaw snaps. 

“We got plenty of time, Micah,” Arthur growls, walking slowly into the clearing. Micah looks at him, almost as though surprised to see him. You follow, glaring at him, your hand on the butt of your revolver in its holster. “We all need to have a little chat.” 

 “Cowpoke, you’re back. Hooray.”

Arthur ignores this and glares at Dutch, who’s doing his duty by standing in his tent. “I just saw Agent Milton, Dutch. Abigail shot him. She’s okay, not that you care. You rats.” He glowers at Micah and his friends. “Seems old Micah was pretty close with Milton.”

“What the hell you talking about?” Micah demands. 

“You talked. Been talkin’ to Milton for some time.” 

“That’s a goddamn lie.”

“Milton told me.” 

“And you believe him, cowpoke?”

Arthur narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “It all makes sense now.” 

“No, it damn well doesn’t,” Micah hisses. 

Suddenly he and Arthur whip out their pistols and point them at each other. Cleet and Joe point theirs at Arthur and you point yours at Joe. Dutch doesn’t move from his tent, just stares between the two groups.   

“Dutch, think, just think!” Arthur says without taking his eyes from Micah. 

“Dutch,” Micah simpers, “be practical now.”

Your finger traces the hammer just as another voice calls out Dutch’s name. The group looks and down the path walks John, clutching his shoulder and limping along. 

“You left me. You left me to die!” he screams. 

“My boy,” Dutch says, finally taking a few steps away from his tent. “I didn’t have a choice. John, I didn’t have a-” 

“You left me!”

Dutch glares at him. You wonder now how genuine Dutch was being when he said he tried to help John. You’ve no doubt that he abandoned him just as he did with Arthur. 

“All of you,” Arthur demands. “You pick your side now, because this is over.” He glances at Dutch and shakes his head as John stands beside him and pulls out his gun. “All them years, Dutch, all the things we sacrificed. For this snake?”

“Be quiet, cowpoke.” 

“No!” Grimshaw says, walking up to your side, holding a shotgun. She cocks it. “You be quiet, Mr. Bell. Put down your gun.” 

Javier rushes in suddenly, calling out, “There’s Pinkertons coming fast.” 

Grimshaw looks to him, distracted and Micah takes his chance, shooting her. His bullet strikes her in the stomach and she cries out.

“Susan!” you say, dropping to her side as she cries out again. You look up again, pointing your revolver at Micah, your other hand on Susan’s shoulder. 

“Now!” Dutch yells out, whipping out both pistols and pointing them both at Micah and Arthur. “Who amongst you is with me and who is betraying me?” 

He walks between yours and Micah’s group. Bill now also points his gun at Arthur while Javier, looking confused, points his pistol up in the air. John and Arthur back up towards the cavern. You stand up slowly, realizing Grimshaw’s dead. You can’t think about that now as you back up to Arthur’s side, still pointing your revolver. 

“Bill, Javier, think!” Arthur pleads. “Think for yourselves.”

“He’s lying,” Micah says. “He’s lying!”  

Just as it seems like Dutch is about to pull the trigger, a voice echoes down the pathway. “Put your guns down!” Shots ring out suddenly as men dart between the trees.

“Goddamn it, move!” Arthur shouts, grabbing you roughly and shoving you behind a table. He tips it to act as a barricade as John takes cover behind Dutch’s tent. 

“This is Agent Ross with the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Put your guns down!” 

“Everyone get into cover!” Dutch hollers. He and the others disappear from your view as you, Arthur and John open fire upon the Pinkertons. The fading light makes it more difficult, but you keep shooting. More and more Pinkertons seem to arrive. 

“Dutch, we gotta move!” Micah yells. “There all yours, Morgan!” 

“Come on, we need to get out of here!” John screams at you both. Without hesitating, you and Arthur follow him into the cavern. You ignore the pungent stench of decay and the sight of the cage you’d been kept in when you were a captive here. Arthur runs behind you, shooting the few Pinkertons who run into the cave. 

As you and the others run deeper, Ross’s voice echoes through the cavern. “Mr. Morgan, Mr. Marston, Ms. Y/L/N, stop! You’re trapped. Surrender and we will take you alive.” 

You and the others ignore him, heading to the back of the cave. You see the wagon where Abigail said Dutch’s chest is hidden under. You’re tempted to stop and grab it, but a shot rings through, the bullet whizzing past your elbow. 

“Come on!” John says, climbing up a ladder to a ledge. “Those bastards left me for dead.” 

“Seems that’s what they do now.” Arthur says as he pushes you to the ladder. You climb up as quickly as you can and you run down a ledge after John, climbing up another ladder and over a bundle of rickety boards to another ladder. There’s light flooding in from the top of it, signalling you’re almost out as you hear the Pinkertons hollering from down below.

“Stay with me, Arthur!” you yell.

“I’m here,” he replies. “Micah was the rat, John. Milton told me.” 

John reaches the last ladder. “We should have killed him months ago.”

You reach the top of the ladder as you hear Ross snarl from the ground below, stating he doesn’t care if you all end up dead. Arthur climbs up and then leads you and John down the slope of the hillside. He whistles for Artemis and the other horses, and then looks to John, panting hard. 

“Abigail, she’s safe. So’s Jack. They’re with Sadie at Copperhead landing.”

John grabs Arthur’s hand. “Thank you, brother.” He looks over at you. “Thank you. Both of you.” 

Just as he begins to let go of Arthur’s hand to run to the horses, Arthur stops him. 

“I want you to not look back on any of this, okay?” 

“You’re co-” John’s suddenly cut off by another round of shots in your direction. Glancing briefly, you see Micah leading the charge, his pistols aiming at you. You and the others run and mount up, kicking them into a gallop as Dutch sends a bullet your way. 

“After all these years, boys!” Dutch calls. “I took you in! Y/N, you’d be dead without me!” 

“Arthur saved me!” you call back. He replies by shooting again, but the bullet slams into a tree trunk. 

“Pinkertons!” John cries out. Ahead, more men on horseback come down towards you. Arthur and John open fire and the path is clear again. 

You weave down the trails as the darkness deepens, making it even harder to spot your quarries. Micah and Dutch still follow, continuing to holler up, but their taunts go ignored. Pinkertons keep coming from every turn in the trail again, guiding where you and the others go. The horses climb out of Roanoke Valley into the Grizzlies East, grunting and sweating as they’re kicked to go faster. 

The path ahead gets blocked again by a wall of horses and Pinkertons, forcing the three of you off the trail and up the foot of a small mountain. Just as you leave the cover of the trees, Rannoch grunts and he takes an odd step. Before you even have the chance to wonder what’s wrong with him, he collapses just as Artemis rears up and falls. John’s horse suddenly crashes to the ground. 

When Rannoch lands, he pins your knee between the saddle and the ground. Your shoulders slam down, knocking the wind out of you. Because of the continuing gunfire, you quickly sit up and shoot the arriving Pinkertons. They go down and the gunfire pauses, but you know it’s temporary. 

You try pulling your leg out from under Rannoch, but it’s pinned and he’s not moving. You pat his neck as hard as you can, crying out his name. Not another horse, you think, not another one. But no matter how hard you smack him or how loud you cry his name, he doesn’t move. 

As the realization that Rannoch is dead hits you, your eyes find Arthur. He’s dropping to his knees beside Artemis’s head. She’s grunting and struggling to breath, her legs twitching. He pats her neck gently, trying to calm her. 

“Come on, Arthur!” John says, rushing over to you to try and help pull you free. “Brother, let’s go!” 

“Gimme a minute,” Arthur says. He pats Artemis’s neck again and she nickers softly. He bends low and says in her ear, “Thank you.” 

“Arthur!” John calls again. “Help me get her!” 

Arthur finally looks up at you. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see the tears in his eyes. He gets up and runs over to you and John, lifting Rannoch’s body up as John grabs your shoulders and pulls you out. When you’re free, you start to stand up, but struggle due to the pain in your knee. Arthur takes your arm and drapes it across his shoulders, then wraps an arm around your waist. 

“Come on, let’s go,” John says. 

“What-what about the money?” you ask. Without the money you stole from the train, you and Arthur will struggle to start a  new life. In order to escape, you have to have money. 

Arthur nods a little. “Abigail gave me the key to Dutch’s chest.” 

“I head down there, I’m a dead man, no question,” John says. “I got a family. I care about them more.” 

“Ah, maybe you’re right but…”

“You want the money? Go get it, but I’m going to my family.” 

Arthur looks at you. By his eyes, you can tell he’d rather help John. He silently asks the question and you nod. At this point, you’d be surprised if any of you make it out of here alive. The least you can do now is try and get John back to his family. They need him more than you need money. 

Arthur puts his hat back on. “We’re coming with you. Gonna get you out of this bullshit if it’s the last thing I do.” He pauses and looks at you. “Can you walk, sweetheart?” 

You nod and let go of him, putting weight on your knee. It twinges angrily but you ignore it. With the adrenaline still pumping in your blood, you’ll be able to keep you going. 

“Thank you, both of you,” John says, running up the hillside. You and Arthur chase after him, trying to ignore the pain in your knee. 

Shots begin ringing out again, plummeting into the rockbed as you continue to run alongside the bend of the mountain. There’s a small break in the cliffs of the mountain, forming a gorge and you run through it, climbing up the next hillside just as the Pinkertons show up. 

You and the others take cover behind some boulders. Arthur’s behind the shortest one and he stands up to get a better aim at some of the Pinkertons. He takes down four of them and then is suddenly thrown backwards, grunting in pain. 

“Arthur!” 

He starts sitting up and then cries out in pain. Staying hunched over, you run over to him and see blood seeping from just above his left hip.

“Oh God, Arthur!” you cry out.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” He pushes you away and stands up, despite the bulletwound. He puts his free hand over it and shoots again, taking down another Pinkerton. You begin reloading when white hot pain skids across your upper left arm and shoulder as a bullet grazes you, causing you to drop your sawed-off. 

“Come on, we need to get out of here!” Arthur roars as John takes down the last visible Pinkerton. John runs up the hillside to a ledge that levels out. You chase him, clutching your bleeding arm, and Arthur hobbles after you. He only takes a few steps towards the ledge when he stops, clearly in tremendous pain. 

“Come on, Arthur, let’s go!” John calls back. You stop, wincing from the pain in your arm and knee. 

“You go,” Arthur grunts, clutching his hip. 

“Keep pushing, Arthur.” 

“No. No, I think I’ve pushed what I can for now. Now go on, take Y/N and go, I’ll hold them off and then when the bleeding stops, I’ll follow you.” 

“Arthur!” you cry out. “Where you go, I go! I’m not leaving you.” 

“Don’t, Y/N! Please, I don’t wanna split up either, but I ain’t letting you die.” 

“We’ll die together.” 

Arthur looks up at John. “You gotta take her. Even if you have to pick her up and run, do it.” 

He pauses and takes off his hat before gazing at you again. “Sweetheart, you gotta go. Please. I… I’ll never forgive myself if you die with me. Now come here.” 

“Arthur-” you start, your voice shaking. He grabs you by the shoulder and puts his hat on your head. 

“I’ll see you again, darlin’, alright? Maybe in a few days, or maybe in the next life. I promise, I’ll find you. But please, please for me. Go with John. It would mean a lot to me.” 

Your heart breaks as you realize you haven’t got a choice. It becomes painfully obvious that he doesn’t plan on leaving this mountain alive, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it. You sob and nod your head. He smiles at you. 

“I love you, Y/N. You’re a good girl. You saved my life, least I can do is return the favor.” 

He pulls you close and kisses you hard. 

“I’ll always love you, Arthur. No matter what happens, I won’t stop loving you.” 

“I know, sweetheart. I wish it could be different, but this is the way it is.” 

He lets you go and looks at John. “Now get her out of here, John. There ain’t no more time for talk.” He removes his satchel and throws it to John. “Now go.” 

From the other side of the mountain, shots begin ringing out again, warning of the approaching Pinkertons yet again. 

“Arthur…” John says. 

“Go to your family, John and save mine while you’re at it.” 

“Arthur!” you call out. You can’t leave him now, not after he’s called you his family. 

“Come on, keep pushing, Arthur. We’re almost out-” 

“Get her out of here and be a goddamn man!” Arthur roars, clutching his hip again. Despite his wound, he starts climbing up to the top of the mountain. 

John pauses and gazes at him, torn as you. “You’re my brother,” he finally says. 

“I know.” 

“Arthur. No. No! Arthur!” You’re about to take a step to him when John grabs your right arm, dragging you along. You continue to cry out his name, tears streaming down your face. 

“Come on, Y/N, you heard him. We gotta go!” 

“Arthur!” 

John growls and suddenly picks you up, throwing you over his uninjured shoulder. You begin screaming at him, throwing as many insults as you can and poudning his back and sides, but he ignores you. 

“This would be a lot easier if you would just shut up and run with me, Y/N!” 

“Fuck you, John Marston! Put me down!” 

He stops and throws you down, your injured arm slamming onto the ground, making you cry out.

“I got a family, Y/N! I don’t know about you, but I want to see Jack grow up! Now I thought you and Arthur promised to help me. So help me, goddamnit!” 

You begin sobbing, folding your arms around yourself. John’s patience is waning, you can feel it. When you look up at him, you see the sky through the trees beginning to lighten as dawn approaches. He glares down at you. 

“You gonna help me or what?” 

You clench your jaw and get up painfully to your feet. “Alright, let’s go, John. Arthur and I made a promise. Guess all I can do is try to keep it.” 

John nods, his face relaxing. “Thank you, Y/N. Now come on.” 

He begins running through the forest again, heading south. You limp after him, your knee, arm and lungs burning from the night’s activities. You just hope you have the strength to make it. 

You seem to run for a lifetime, pain shooting through every inch of your body. It’s nothing compared to the agony of your heart. All you want to do is fall to the ground and lie still, let nature grow over your body, but you keep pushing with John’s encouragement. You both burst through the trees, the river greeting you as it glitters with the light of the glowing horizon. You stop for a moment to try and catch your breath. After a moment, you straighten up to see the rising sun, bathing everything in gold. It truly is stunning.